you were used to matchmaking, after all you were the reason your sister found her boyfriend but truthfully you didn't think much about love for yourself, not until you found yourself feeling more than you should for the local rich boy.
pairing: roommate!jungwon 𝓍 roommate!femreader word count: 22.2K — one-shot ★⋆ content: fluff ⋆ angst ⋆ eventual smut soulmate au, kinda love at first sight, heavily based on xo kitty (but mature), loverboy!jungwon, matchmaker!reader, you don't have to have watched to read this!. SLOW BURN, a whole lot of yearning, jealousy, denial of feelings, introvert reader, refs to aot, refs to beautiful boy, characters from xo kitty, feat bsf!jake & enhypen!
★ | LISTEN ALONG! | PLAYLIST | LIBRARY
⚠︎ : alcohol, nightmares, cheating? (pls js wait) , toxic themes, at some point during this you're going to dislike jungwon but PLEASE let him land. jw loses his mind slightly.. making out, dry humping, spit play (ish), kinda mean!dom!won, fingering, nipple play, hair pulling, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.
— dreams are a form of communication for soulmates—a door into a life that could be. at the first meeting with their soulmate some become fortunate enough to develop dreams of them, it could be of anything, they could even be a background character, it'd be easy to mistake them for usual dreams but only few get blessed—cursed with these dreams.
being a match maker wasn't something you sought out, if anything it sought you out after all you didn't know sending out your sisters letters would land her, her soulmate. your sister and her boyfriend had gone through their fair share of tests but made it out each time, not unscathed but they made it out.
their relationship made it abundantly clear they chose each other every time—without fail and their determination to better their relationship was something you deeply admired, even being something you would strive for.
however you didn't bother yourself with something as trivial as boys, or anything of the sort. who needed love when you were always accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) matching people up.
this was a constant, even when you transferred to korea's international university of seoul (also known as kiss) into a dorm with your best friend jake who had graciously asked the board to let you room with him and his friend.
you melted into your desk chair sighing out in relief, decorating your new room had taken more out of you then you'd originally bargained, but at last the room was homey—comfortable and exactly how you liked it with the smell of your vanilla candle burning. you told jake you'd meet him at the welcome party, which really you said to have time to wind down before being overwhelmed with new people.
truthfully you were a little nervous to meet jake's roommate, mainly because you knew nothing about him—not even being able to point him out in one of jake's posts if asked.
you smoothed over the dress you picked out after a long internal debate, you paired it with your favourite necklace and a handbag. the mirror stared back at you whispering spells of confidence through you—you peeled your eyes away from the mirror with a satisfied hum.
before you could overthink going to the party any further you put on your favourite shoes and scrambled out the dorm with a little copy of a map of campus.
the air was light, a little cold but refreshing—this was about the time you regretted not bringing something to cover your arms.
thankfully for your goosebump ridden arms the hall wasn't far at all, you eyed the coloured sigh above the entry way "WELCOME PARTY!" feeling a little unease settle in your stomach.
the sound of laughter and music boomed through your body as you stepped through the room, on a plus you didn't have to graze against anyone to get through or else you would've turned around by now, especially with no alcohol in your system.
as if reading your mind a table packed with refreshments almost materialised in front of your eyes, it peeked through the swarm of people and a familiar brown fluffy haired man stood as he looked over the options.
[ NOW PLAYING > CON LA BRISA ]
a mischievous smile graced your lips as you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making the taller boy stiffen with a subtle rise of his shoulders, he turned his head—eyebrows raised until they settled on you a familiar adoring boyish smile taking over his features.
"y/n!!" jake gasped pulling you into a hug "jake!" you returned against his shoulder, "you look amazing y/n!" he spoke over the music, you laughed complimenting his own outfit before you caught him up on the details of your journey, not noticing a certain blonde watching the exchange.
jungwon raised an eyebrow a smirk playing on his lips watching his friend talk to a girl he couldn't quite see behind him, he walked over as you got distracted with someone asking you about your dress, "i didn't know you had a girlfriend" he joked hush against his ear, eyes drifting over the back of your head, jake shook his head shooting him a eyeroll.
he snaked an arm around your shoulder as you finished your exchange pulling you so your shoulder bumped his, "this is our new roommate y/n" he beamed to jungwon.
your eyes fell him, his fell on you. for a split second you felt a tightness in your eyes—like they wanted to cry for you, like someone had wiped your memories of someone dear to you but your body still knew who he was—he felt so achingly familiar.
with your eyes full of wonder boring into each other you spoke together.
"have we met?".
you watched his lips curl, your own doing the same with no protest, his eyebrows furrowed looking over you as if he was trying to figure you out right there, or try to understand why his heart was beating faster, louder in his ears.
he looked like someone your eyes could fall to easily as your mind wandered into different realms, someone your eyes could find peace in as you thought of places you couldn't recall if asked.
the type of man you'd see on the front of a magazine wearing various designer pieces. only here he was sporting a black jacket with a white undershirt and grey baggy cargos. he knew how to dress, perfectly at that.
he didn't know what he expected when jake had asked him if you could move into their dorms, he just knows he did not expect you. not you with your eyes or your face that would leave people wondering who you were.
he smiled soft and polite "nice to meet you, i'm jungwon", you returned the smile, tilting your head "you too, i'm y/n".
he automatically repeated your name in his head over and over as if he was trying to ingrain your words into the corners of his mind—his brain short circuited when he realised what it was doing. you however didn't see any of this, just a stiffer smile than before and a little nod.
jake looked between the two of you trying to figure out why such a small exchange felt like it had an underlying secret under it. he grabbed a cup for each of you with some liquid sloshing around and pulled it around your shoulders in front of you.
you thanked him with a grin taking a long sip of the mystery substance, the taste of cherry and a liqueur you couldn't name sliding down your throat with a burn, you scrunched your nose giving your friend a nod of approval, your eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde watching his own reaction.
he also scrunched his nose in something between disgust and approval, approval not for the taste but for the alcohol. you all laughed together in uncertain familiarity, warmth seeped through your body, a comforting feeling—a hope for this feeling to continue.
after some time wandering around the room catching up with jake you caught the sight of a well dressed lady your age walking your way, "hii killer dress!, i'm yuri!" she spoke enthusiastically with an american accent eyeing you up and down.
"hi! you too, i'm y/n" you replied as she beamed proceeding to ask you the details of the dress, the discussion quickly switching to uni life "my mom is a professor here" she explained with a point towards the centre of the room towards a tall woman laughing comfortably into a taller man.
after a lot of getting to know your new friend and finding out she had mutual friends with yours, your social battery felt worn out and old wanting nothing more than to teleport home into comfy clothes and a cup of tea heating your palms, you bid your goodbyes to yuri and turned to let jake know you were going to turn in for the night. "we were just about to ask you if you wanted to go home" he replied as his eyes darted around looking for his friend around the hall.
you spotted him first next to the door with a tall black haired boy you'd later know as park sunghoon.
you nudged your friend and dragged your eyes back to where jungwon stood with a pointed look, he gave you a appreciative nod and motioned you to follow him through the wave of people who seemed to spawn in as you were leaving, you for one were thankful everyone came later.
"yo jungwon you coming?" jake asked as he dapped up the mystery man, "yeah" he replied eyes darting between you, the taller mans eyes followed jungwon's landing on you with a charming smile.
"hi, i'm sunghoon" he spoke clearly, you mimicked his smile feeling their eyes taking you in.
"hey, i'm y/n" you returned, he sent jake a look you had seen between friends many times, the slight eyebrow raise, the flick at the corner of his lips. jake raised an eyebrow as if to say don't even think about it.
jungwon unintentionally pulled you out of your thoughts with a cough, "alright we should get going" he spoke angling himself towards the door.
[ NOW PLAYING > NEW KIND OF LOVE ]
you let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding in as you slipped off your shoes and placed them by the others. "tired?" jake sent a comforting smile placing his own by yours. "i have a couple hours left in me".
"good you should come watch a movie with us" he spoke as you led him through the dorm to your room "roommate bonding" he added with a laugh, you hummed placing your bag in it's new home—laying out your pyjamas for the night. "sure, why not" you smiled turning to face him, only to see both your roommates in front of your door frame.
their eyes gawked over the transformation of the once bare room, now filled with.. well you. "this is so comfy" jake exhaled sinking into a beanbag in the corner of your room. "i outdid myself" you replied playfully, jungwon also looked over your room taking in all your interests with slightly widened eyes before they landed on you. "movie in 30?" he asked you both leaning against your door, you both agreed before they dispersed into their own rooms to shower.
the hot water ran over your body like a blanket of comfort as your mind wandered to the first meeting with the blonde boy. you didn't mean it to, if anything you'd tried willing yourself to stop thinking about something you couldn't explain. after all the only explanation you could think of was temporary insanity.
he was a stranger not even 2 hours ago and now? he was your roommate, your pretty head fuck of a roommate and all he had done was look at you. you shook your head comically as a scoff left your lips at the invasive thought and with that you pushed it to the corners of your mind opting to forget about it completely.
unbeknownst to you jungwon's brain was fighting him about the same topic—a string of confusion clouding his usually clear mind, he too chose ignorance.
after drying yourself off and changing into your pyjamas—you opened your door and walked towards the kitchen. jungwon stood by the counter pouring hot water into a mug, his hair freshly washed—a slightly oversized black tee clinging to his body and grey sweats hanging off his hips.
you walked over and grabbed your own mug from the side before settling in step beside him. "hey" you said as you switched the kettle on, he looked over to you, almost like he'd forgotten you'd be here—or at least that's what you thought.
"hey, tea?" he said softly. "yeah how'd you know?" you replied before grabbing a tea-bag and sugar, "just a hunch" he slid closer to you—tilting his cup to show you the contents of the cup, the heat and scent tickling your nose.
"you have good taste" you smiled flicking the teabag into the bin, with his back to the counter he leant against it studying your movements. "so do you" his cat eyes still held the same familiarity you met him with now a curious arch to his brows.
you mirrored his movements leaning against the counter as the steam swirled into the air. "what movie do you want to watch?" he asked "hmm i'll let you and jake decide for today, see if you guys have what it takes" you playfully spoke, he let out an unguarded laugh and for a split second your mind tumbled into a eery silence—only that laugh spinning through you.
"i guess we can't fuck up then" he replied playfully checking the heat of his tea. "i guess not" your lips curled as your eyes met for a few more seconds than either of you intended, you looked deep into each other as if you expected the answers to reveal themselves to you.
you peeled them away first with a polite smile not catching his eyes lingering on you even after you turned.
jake slipped into the room with an exhale and a towel on his head, his eyes fell on you both "hey guys" he grinned lazily rubbing the towel into his damp hair.
he slid in next to you as you replied with your head knocking into his shoulder, "you and your tea obsessions" he scoffed with a ruffle to your hair, you slid away with a huff fixing the strands. jungwon watched in amusement but also something deeper, something he couldn't admit even to himself, a sense of longing—wanting to be closer, the thought was pushed away almost as quickly as it entered his mind.
you pushed yourself onto the counter and sipped on your tea as jake discussed movie options with jungwon. the blonde leaned over into jake's ear, you watched his expression taking a form of delight, his eyebrows lifting, "that might be perfect for her" jake said.
"alright can you fill me in" you looked between them, they nodded to each other, "the conjuring" jungwon looked at you with a corner of his lips twitching up.
you raised your eyebrows with pursed lips before cracking a smile, his lips mimicked your own, dimples peeking through.
you watched for a second, just enough time that it wasn't noticeable or so you thought, that dimple had the power to short circuit your brain, you just didn't know it yet. right now all you could think was that of a child, pretty blonde, pretty dimples, pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty.
he watched your eyes do that thing he saw earlier, the split second of big wide eyes with thoughts running through them at a million miles per hour and then without warning it all stopped as though you were keeping yourself in check, what he didn't notice was himself doing the same.
"did he tell you it's one of my favourite?" you playfully interrogated looking between them "nope just a hunch" he replied with a tilt to his head and a smile as jake shook his head, "-also i saw your books" he added.
you turned your head as a laugh bubbled through you, not seeing how his eyes lit up, his mouth mirroring your own, his bubbly intoxicating laugh.
as your laughs died down jake's eyes caught jungwon's on you, the introvert laughing with girl he met a few hours, a knowing smile graced his lips.
[ NOW PLAYING > CHAMPAGNE COAST ]
you sat in between your two roommates with a shared blanket draped over your legs, your attention on the movie playing in front of you, you got through the movie feeling heaviness in your eyes.
he looked over to you for a split second, doing a double take when he saw your head drooping to the side before hitting jake's shoulder—jake lifted in shock from the sudden weight. he looked over to jungwon, stiffening afraid to wake you. he tried shuffling down so you could be comfier, only to be met with a groan and an arm flailing.
jungwon watched in amusement as jake huffed wrapping the blanket further on you, the movie finished with you breathing softly into jake's lap and legs brushing against jungwon's.
he looked over to jungwon with a small motion to help. jungwon gaped at the sight before him not knowing how to approach this, he teetered forward and blew some air through his nose.
his hand rested against your arm before carefully lifting your legs onto his lap, he pulled you further down as jake lifted your head, you stirred making them both freeze in their steps, as though searching for comfort with a little huff you ended up with your head in jungwon's neck.
he swallowed hard, wide eyes looking to jake as if he could help him, without a second thought he pulled himself to his feet with his arms wrapped safely around you, jake opened the door with a small laugh and peeled back your sheets. he placed you down gently and watched as your lips jutted out in a pout from the lack of warmth.
he couldn't decipher his thoughts—there were too many, for every thought he had about you, your softened features, your pretty lips, your huffs, also came a little voice telling him he's insane, to stop, he listened.
he draped the thick sheets over you before retreating to the safety of his room, mind spinning with ghost of you nestled in his neck.
you cracked the door open with rubs to the eye, a faint sting in your head loomed in the peaks of your head. the two men sat at the kitchen island with cups in front of them, they both looked up, small smiles gracing their lips. "morning" they both greeted.
you rubbed your head managing to give them a morning back, "i don't even remember getting to bed" you spoke as you made your tea, "yeah you were drooling on me" jake laughed loud. you set your cup on the table and groaned "i don't drool!" he laughed louder as you huffed.
"yeah no you didn't, if you did i would've thrown you to jungwon". you brain silenced you at the thought of such an intimate act, well it's normal with jake why not jungwon? you countered to yourself.
it's not the same.
"but jungwon got you to your room safe" he added as he chewed his food, you turned to him and mustered out apologies at that, saying they should've woken you up. he shook his head with a comforting laugh making your eyes meet his and with a rasp to his voice he said "i was glad to, really. besides you looked too peaceful".
you mustered a nod and a thank you not being able to meet his eyes.
"you guy's got classes today?" jake asked as you both sipped your tea. "i've got some induction meetings and then i'm freed" you spoke resting your chin on your hand.
"i've got to be there too" jungwon said finishing his tea. "your dad funded it?" jake asked.
"yeah he asked me to sit in since he can't be there" he spoke impassive. "jake do you have any today?" you asked looking over to him.
"nope gonna be a housewife today" you laughed feeling a little more awake now, the sting in your head now non-existent.
after finishing your tea you changed into some clothes and got ready for your class opting to go without your scarf since it was hiding from you, jungwon was going to your class today—you didn't quite know what to make of this, nothing wrong with getting closer to your roommate that your heart seems to come alive for.
without a word you both put on your shoes with a polite smile between you, he opened the door for you and locked it as you thanked him, you noticed his eyes still looking at you with that same curious gaze, except now it was like he was trying not to and failing.
you fell into step together walking towards the class, now out of the safety of the halls and onto the streets the air was fresh with the smell of rain, colder than yesterday. jungwon stopped in his tracks—his eyes on his phone, you stopped with him, "everything okay?" you asked, he glanced up "yeah, class got cancelled the stand in professor called in sick.. do you want to grab tea?".
"oh, yeah sure" you spoke with a chill running through you.
"are you cold?" jungwon spoke through the sound of birds and the odd car.
"just a little, i couldn't find my scarf" you spoke with a sigh as you looked over to him, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, a black backwards cap sat on his head, a red scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.
he immediately stopped walking, you turned to him with confusion written in your brows, he unwrapped the scarf walking over to you, you backed up "no, no i'll be okay" you spoke fast, firm.
"besides our dorm is on the way to the tea place".
"y/n come here" he raised an eyebrow leaving no room for debate, you stood still as he stepped forward, you thought he'd just give you the scarf, instead he looked at the scarf with concentration as he wrapped it neatly around your neck, as if this was the most important thing in the world in that moment.
"let's go home"
his deep red scarf sat comfortably around your neck, the clean scent of him happily invading your nose, you were picking up on his habits, if you lagged behind for even a second he'd slow down without a thought, always making sure doors don't fall on you without making a show of it.
"if you can't find it don't worry, just keep mine on" he spoke as you walked into the dorm, "no, i'd feel too bad" you looked up at him into his eyes for the first time that day, he faltered mouth opening and closing.
"will it make you feel better if i grab my turtleneck jacket" you made a faux thinking pout before nodding.
"that would make me feel better yes" he sent you a sweet smile, dimple hollowing, your heart flipped involuntarily.
you rummaged through your closet seeing no sign of your scarf—you turned back closing the door to your closet, where is it.
your eyes scanned over the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your bed with it's usual blankets folded lazily at the end. a slight annoyance tinged in you as you walked back to the kitchen.
"hey, back already?" jake greeted you, "yeah class got cancelled but we're going to a tea place if you wanna come?" you asked as you put your shoes back on.
"i'm feeling lazy but i'd looove if you could bring me grape-ade?" he asked with a cheeky grin and a head tilt, you rolled your eyes giving him a nod.
jungwon walked out from his room, now sporting an olive jacket, he grabbed his shoes and walked over to the sofa as you and jake conversed about something you wouldn't be able to remember if asked later on.
"you ready y/n?" he asked as you finished your conversation, "yeah i couldn't find it but i'm warm enou-".
"if you even try taking it off i'm gonna start wrestling you" he joked as he tied his laces into bows, "i could take you" you laughed with no thought behind the words, he rolled his eyes playfully before gesturing to the door for you to go ahead.
"bye jake!" you waved to the boy, jungwon joined before locking the door hearing a faint "don't forget the grape ade!" you both shared eye contact, giggles falling into the air with a warmth pooling in your stomach.
you'd settled into a comfortable talk of classes as you walked side by side, pushing all the nonsense from yesterday to the backrooms of your mind by force, because this was your roommate and you wanted to be friends with him... without your brain dangling a carrot etched with perfect man over your head.
you had a suspicion of what was happening, you'd had crushes before but quickly came to the realisation that crushes were nothing but a lack of information and you had a habit of falling for the thought of a person rather than who they actually were.
however this wasn't something you had dealt with since you were younger but for right now, that's all you could come up with.
you were brought back to reality when you'd finally reached the warmly lit cafe, jungwon pushed open the door, keeping it open for you as he had been. you thanked him as you both sat opposite each other at the front of the cafe, in front of the window.
he sunk back in the chair sighing under his breath as he pulled the cap from his head, he shook his head softly letting it fall to his forehead. his eye winked at the intrusion—he blew the hair away as he usually would.
you cursed in your head as you let your attention swerve back to the list of refreshments, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.
"what are you getting?" he asked with his eyes already on you, as though he'd been watching. "black tea, you?" you replied easily.
"me too" he tilted his head with a small smile. he watched as you averted your eyes to the window, a muscle in your jaw tightening as you turned your head towards it, his eyes softened as he watched you stuck in your own head—wondering what was going through your mind.
his scarf sat snug around your neck, only he knew who it belonged to. in shadows of his mind you were the water behind a dam, cracks deepened as you leaked through.
you ordered your drinks and talked as you looked out at the life outside the windows, through the background chatter of the others in the cafe jungwon's voice cut through.
"so.. jake tells me your a match-maker?" he started with a mischievous glint to his eyes. you groaned head tipping back, hands covering your face.
"he didn't.. oh my gosh" you spoke behind your hands. "don't worry he barely told me anything, he told me he was catching up with your sister and her boyfriend and about how you matched them up" he laughed softly as his fingers hovered over the cup.
"it wasn't intentional" you started, he encouraged you to go on with a pointed look, "she wrote some love letters and as the curious silly little sister, i sent them.. and they ended up dating for real after fake dating, they've been together about 6 years now" you added watching as his eyes widened slightly at your words.
"that sounds like the plot of a bad romcom" he spoke, eyes crinkling a laugh bursting out both of you at his words, "it really does".
"but since then it seems like i keep unintentionally matching people up, so i just did it when i saw something between people, even when they couldn't see it" you trailed off a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers skimmed the rim of the cup.
"how do you even notice things like that?" he asked with genuine wonder.
"sometimes all it takes is catching a look between people, other times it's been places i spend a lot of time at, like when i was at school i noticed my teachers yearning for each other like they were in a drama, so i put a rose on her desk from him, which got them talking and now they're married" you spoke happily, eyes lighting up at the memories of their wedding.
"wow, you are a modern day cupid" he spoke incredulously as you shook your head with a laugh.
"i'd rather not be, cupid's love story is complicated to say the least" you responded finishing your tea.
"aren't all love stories?" he countered.
"touché" you responded as you both finished up your tea. you ordered a go to grape-ade for jake and walked back to your dorm, sharing more details about your sister and her boyfriend.
you walked in laughing about one of your match-making stories as jake sat on the sofa scrolling on his phone, his ears perked at the noise. you sat next to him after taking off your shoes and coat and handed him his drink, he thanked you with a smile and a how was it. as you told him how cute the cafe was you felt a dip in the sofa next to you.
jungwon watched as you sat back and tilted your head back talking about the cafe, it wasn't much but he noticed it all, in the little time you'd spent together you were becoming a little more comfortable, bit by bit.
you caught his eye as you gestured to jake, he watched as your breath halt when you saw his feline eyes already on you, you pulled yourself together with a breath, his eyes glazed over your face—landing on your neck.
your own followed his and you unwrapped the scarf from your neck before holding it between your palms, "i'll wash it and get it back to you, is that okay?" he looked between your eyes slowly.
"no, it's okay i'll do it" before you could fight back, he read your mind and placed a hand on the scarf with a grin, you felt his hand graze yours, a light tingly feeling bloomed as you felt a flutter in the pits of your stomach.
you both pulled back in silence shifting back to your original position, jake sat sipping his grape-ade looking over with a side eye.
jungwon retreated into his room to freshen up, with his scarf. he hung it up, the scent of you causing him to stop in his tracks, with a shake to his head he left it hung on the hook by his wardobe, with no intention to wash it.
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you had the same encounters, the same shared looks that neither of you addressed or could even admit to yourselves and then you had your first class, with yuri sitting next to you, occasionally making conversation about clothes or class.
that evening you got home and had a shower as usual, washing away any stress from the day and getting changed into pyjamas—then proceeding to the kitchen to make your tea, only to find jungwon sat at the table with two steaming cups beside him.
he motioned you to sit, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat beside him at the island—he slid the cup over while sipping his own.
you'd always been better at showing appreciation physically, with a thank you and a smile—a hug or a head on a shoulder.
so when you placed your cheek on his shoulder with a small thank you, you told yourself it was like how you would with jake, that it wasn't different.
he stiffened not having time to relax—you'd already pulled away, his body missed you when his mind couldn't understand why, he chased the feeling of your body on his without giving himself permission to.
"you didn't have to" was all you could muster with your voice coming out softer than you meant it to, quieter.
"i wanted to" he said back, with the same tone—that same tone that made it feel more intimate than either of you allowed it to be.
you took a testing sip, it tasted exactly as it would if you'd made it yourself—he watched over your expression.
"good?" he asked with a curious arch to his brow.
you turned to him "perfect... thank you".
his smile gleamed under the dim orange lamps scattered around the dorm, a small shy smile you only saw a handful of times but relishing in it each time.
[ PLAYING NOW > TAKE A BITE ]
he couldn't breathe feeling you against his neck, hot—heavy. your lips ghosting over his ear, he whispered incoherent words in your ear, his hands not touching you—not yet.
he was close enough that his presence maddened you, a slight pull could intertwine you but neither of you dared to cross that line.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
your eyes stung—cold sweat clung to your forehead, you were shaking, you groaned as you stumbled out of bed with your chest burning—eyes darting to the clock on your bedside table, lighting up a green 3:21AM.
you splashed cold water on your face and walked heavily through your door to the kitchen in the dark, without warning the under lights of the kitchen turned on—you gasped loud causing the other figure to jump with you, a startled jungwon stood before you.
his face was flushed, eyes wide, like he'd seen something he couldn't explain.
you let out a breath of relief sinking into the chair, his shoulders also slumped in something between relief and defeat.
neither of you spoke at first just breathing in the shared space, he also melted into the chair next to you.
"you look like you've seen a ghost" you finally spoke after minutes.
"so do you" he managed back.
he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and slid back into his seat, you thanked him before guzzling down half the bottle.
you couldn't remember much from the dream, only that you were not you—you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes, you remembered they had made you look like you'd stepped out of a romcom, with the dreamy lens and the heart eyes.
you remembered the words.
and even so, you had no idea why it led to this reaction, why you were sat at your kitchen island with your roommate like you just had a life altering experience.
you weren't comforting each other for what you were going through, you were simply living through the same experience, unknowingly.
you were so focused on your thoughts you didn't notice jungwon's hand inching towards you, not until it held your arm—so light you'd think you were made of glass, only until then you didn't realise you were shaking.
you startled before dragging your eyes over to him, he tried inching closer to be able to hold you comfortably but the chair was stuck—he let go of his hold on you to grapple onto the bottom of your chair, dragging it closer so your shoulders touched.
you would've found it hot if you could think about anything other than whoever was with you in your head. his hand came back to that same spot, as if to ground you, he rubbed up and down, the sleeve of your shirt occasionally getting in the way.
without a word you turned, tilted your head and sighed falling onto his shoulder.
the last week scared you more than you could verbalise, you weren't scared of what was happening, more so of the uncertainty—the unknown.
the whys, hows, there was no real explanation to anything that had happened recently, it was all catching up to you after a week of pushing it all down and wishing it'd go away.
you felt him tense beneath you at the weight, he quickly relaxed—sighing into your touch, for a second you thought he was going to pull away, instead he pulled his hand from your arm and wrapped it around you, letting your weight fall on him.
he was telling you without words that you could lean on him, he could take it but all you could think was, who does he lean on?
after some time you tilted your head to take him in, his flushed cheeks, the curve of his nose, his eyes still sparkling despite the clear exhaustion—his eyes locked with yours.
"are you okay?" you asked as if you weren't the one shaking a couple minutes ago, not even realising you'd stopped.
he paused before laughing in fond disbelief "you're asking me that?"
you rolled your eyes, still so close to him, "you don't look too good yourself.. answer me".
"yes ma'am, i'm- well i'm fine—tired i just woke up after a dream" he spoke slow, careful.
"me too" you spoke under your breathe. he nodded finally looking away like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.
"good or bad dream?" he asked.
"i don't know yet".
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you spent most spare moments with those words in your head.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
after that night with jungwon you'd gone to bed with those words echoing in your mind like a prayer, you went to class as usual—one of them was with your roommates.
jake and jungwon had coerced you into sitting with their friends, sunghoon, ni-ki, yuri and her friend juliana, they welcomed you easily, as if you weren't new, they included you when they didn't have to.
after spending more time with them in classes sunghoon and ni-ki decided to come over more, you often found them on your sofa with a smile encouraging you to hang out with you, which you always did.
jungwon couldn't understand why this was happening to him, he went to class as usual, lived his life as usual. only now his heart raced when he heard your voice—he heard you everywhere, he heard you in the laughs of people he didn't know, always turning without fail to see if it was you behind it.
he hated it but he relished in your presence—he'd told himself you were roommates—friends, nothing more.
which is why he didn't know what he was thinking when he'd suggested studying in the library to his friends, of course you'd be invited.
it's not like he was avoiding you, but he'd made it a point to try not be in close proximity with you outside of the dorms. it seemed to have no logic behind it and he knew that but people do illogical things when they're going through a mental war.
so when he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you realised he didn't mean to include you in the plans, he felt his heart squeeze—ache.
it did it again when you excused yourself with a poor lie about being tired—a lie no one else looked into but him.
the hurt sat low in your chest, you started wondering if you missed other signs from him indicating his lack of wanting you there. no matter how much you had tried, you couldn't stop the hurt from leaking into the cracks forming around your heart.
even when you'd told yourself it wasn't deep—that it didn't matter, you knew it wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else but you found yourself asking yourself the same question of why.
so the second you realised what he had meant, you mumbled an excuse with the most convincing smile you could muster, avoiding his eyes and you walked to that tea cafe, because one thing you couldn't do, was be somewhere you weren't wanted.
that evening he couldn't focus, he slumped in his chair—absentmindedly chewing on his pencil. the odd flicker of pages, the muffled chatters acted as a playground for his mind.
his notebooks were long forgotten by now, jake sat besides him working on some physics equation, yuri on the other side chatting away with juliana as sunghoon and ni-ki sat in front, with all the people he held dear close by, all he wanted was to see you, was to tell you it wasn't that he didn't want you there, he just didn't trust his mind—or heart not to jump for you.
he turned to his friends, "i can't focus, i'm gonna work at home" he muttered to them.
he walked as fast as he could towards the dorms, he needed you to understand—you weren't unwanted, how could you be. the wind ran past his hair with a hiss, the knocking of his shoes loud against the concrete.
he opened the door and walked in, not bothering to take off his shoes, immediately looking for any sign of your presence with his heart in his throat.
no sign of you in the kitchen, living room—anyone's rooms.
so he did the next most logical thing, he messaged you—despite the fact that neither of you had messaged outside of the dorms group chat or the friends chat.
"hey, where are you?"
[ NOW PLAYING > CARDIGAN ]
you sat with your ear-phones in—trying to will the music to take over the noise in your head as you nursed a cup of black tea with a heavy heart.
the emotions you were trying so hard to deny were breaking through without permission but now you'd been let down for the first time, he'd rejected you without words—without even knowing what he was doing.
the stubborn flesh in your head called your brain took it as a deadline, the first pull—you'd unknowingly opened yourself to him without grasping what it would mean—that you had let yourself be hurt, you allowed the hurt by opening yourself.
you hated that more than you understood why. from now you wouldn't allow more, he was your roommate and a friend.
nothing more.
the second you came to this conclusion you felt a stinging in your heart, like it was fighting you—telling you to hold onto the hope in your heart for him to fix this.
your finger twirled around the rim of the cup as you stared off into the life beyond the windows, the lovesick couples, friends—all walked by, serving as a mocking reminder of your situation.
after what felt like hours you sipped the last remnants of the lukewarm tea and snapped the backwards cap closer towards your scalp before pulling open the door.
you walked without looking, not really—your eyes scanned over the cars to the right and the river to the left, which is why you didn't see the person in front of you until their hand was on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydream.
jungwon stood in front of you, wide eyed—scanning every inch of your face like he was looking for signs of pain, hurt "y/n" he breathed out, letting go of your shoulder.
he watched as you looked at him before taking out your earphones, eyes holding a slight shock before melting into an emotion he couldn't understand, a thin lipped smile you held for a second.
"hey" you responded with a rock from the heels of your feet, dragging your eyes from your feet to the river—it glistened under the city lights.
"you didn't get my message?" he asked with a worried furrow to his eyebrows.
you pulled your phone from it's place in your bag and sighed through your nose, "it's silenced, sorry.. was it important?".
yes it was, it was so important but how could he do this without the dam breaking.
"yes y/n i'm.. i'm sorry about earlier, i didn't want to make you feel like-like i didn't want you there, i did—i do! i just.. i didn't want to make you feel like you had to be there" lie lie lie but the alternate was pouring his soul out about something he didn't understand and what would hurt more?
you stood shocked, shocked that he even addressed it—expecting this to be washed away with time as most conflicts between friends are.
"it's alright, i didn't feel like i had to be there..but it's fine. really" you watched his shoulders relax, the walls you'd put up that day slumped with them.
he turned so you were both now facing the river, his shoulder brushed against you, neither of you moved—his hand snaked onto your arm pulling you to face him.
"i don't want you to pull away.. okay?" he looked between your eyes, soft pleading.
the dam in your minds creaked heavy, the sting in your hearts vanished without further complaint.
"okay.. i won't" you spoke quiet, a dimple carved into his cheeks at your words.
you mimicked his smile unwillingly, eyes drifting back to the water.
his eyes followed your own to the mass of water in front of you, it was beautiful—with the dimmed orange lights glistening in the ripples, it was almost hypnotic—especially through your eyes.
"home?" his eyes didn't leave your face for a second, catching your immediate shyness.
"home" you smiled as he motioned for you to walk on the inside of the path, that night your mind grew weaker for him, never expecting him to take responsibility—but that small part of you that was afraid of letting him in, being hurt—wished he was ignorant, wished he didn't read you perfectly.
it would've made it easier to stay away but that was never in the cards for either of you.
[ NOW PLAYING > ROOMMATES ]
now comfy in some pyjamas after a warm shower you walked into the kitchen feeling content, comfortable compared to earlier—the discomfort in your stomach now gone.
jungwon had prepared a cup of tea for you alongside his own, always perfectly timed after you got ready for the late evening, you hummed as you slid in next to him on the sofa, sitting closer than you intended, he turned to you giving you a smile as you murmured a thank you.
he mimicked your way of accepting, leaning into your touch, shoulder pushing against you as he slumped further into the sofa—you sat flushed against each other as whatever documentary played in the background.
for the time you spent curled next to him, you thought about how the feelings you had earlier—the doubt had dissipated into nothing, you were so adamant on this changing things but how could it when he did everything you hadn't allowed yourself to think was possible.
"heyy!" jake slid in next to you with a cheeky grin, you both greeted him as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of you, "movie?" he spoke as he pulled a blanket from the side and passed it to jungwon.
you hummed in agreement placing the now empty cup in front of you "do you guys wanna carry on with the conjuring series?" you looked between them, they nodded enthusiastically.
with the lights now off and your drinks finished you started the movie with the blanket pulled up to your lap.
jungwon's attention wasn't all on the screen. he tried—he really tried to keep them fixed on the pixels but his eyes kept drifting, he didn't mean to—it's like they were magnetised to you.
the way your lips tilted every time you saw the couple have a moment, the way your eyes were lit with longing—he wondered in that moment if you'd ever been in love before, he choked on nothing realising his brain was no longer under his control—instantly coughing to try cover it up.
"you okay?" he paused feeling caught before looking over to you and nodding, mustering up a smile—even though he was malfunctioning.
you with your alluring eyes, your adoring smile, your laugh that he was hearing in places you weren't.
god he thought he was past this.
friend, roommate, friend, roommate. he repeated over and over.
you however felt clarity at the situation, because really this wasn't a situation at all, all the pulls and pushes in your head were just that—in your head, he didn't feel this.
friends. roommates.
you acted as though you would with any friend, pushing your legs on top of jake's lap and leaning your head on jungwon's shoulder. jake made a faux noise of annoyance just to pull the blanket over your legs comfortably.
and jungwon? his eyes hadn't left you, so when you had let yourself melt into his shoulder, he let his head fall against your own. he could smell your shampoo, barely but it was unmistakably you.
jungwon heard that people get sleepy when they're around people they're comfortable with, he thought that was ridiculous until he found himself drifting into dreamland, slumped against you.
you stiffened slightly as you heard his breathing slow down—his body growing heavier, he twitched every now and then with huffs at nothing in particular.
you felt his breath on your nape, his arm draped over your waist—in flashes you saw his dimple shining pretty as he kissed your cheek lovingly, he pulled your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings.
"i'm right here".
he woke up, breathing hard—a buzzing ache lingering behind his eyes. his surroundings became clearer with each blink, the hum of the tv, the warmth of your body. he looked around with wide eyes as you sat up looking over to him with concern written across your face.
"bad dream?" you asked softly. he turned and slumped lower so you were eye to eye, he took in your tired eyes, the stiff crease in your eyebrow—the way the tv light shone against your face.
"have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?" he spoke quietly, flitting between your eyes.
"yeah actually.. pretty much every dream i have" you joked, his lips tilted in amusement—until you saw his eyes cloud over in real time by a deeper thought.
without warning you stood up and grabbed a water bottle, slumping back into that same position slowly—careful not to wake jake. he watched as you opened the bottle and passed it to him, he thanked you.
he didn't realise how thirsty he was until then, or how flushed he was. he guzzled down the water—sighing out from the lack of breath.
"do you know what a soulmate dream is?" he finally spoke.
"yeah of course, well not from experience but i've heard of them" you looked over to him—catching the way his eyebrows were knit in thought.
he gave you a look telling you to continue, "i've heard they can be pretty much anything, depends on the people.. my aunt found my uncle through the dreams when they were about our age, her dreams were from his eyes—she told me the first time she had the dream, she thought she was having a panic attack.. and she couldn't understand why something like a dream had caused so much stress..".
you trailed off as the cogs in your mind turned, clicking missing pieces into place with a flag waving that said "you are a fucking idiot."
surely not, you thought—mind flashing back to that dream, the words, looking through his eyes—your soulmates eyes.
you could be wrong.. but you if you were right then maybe you had somehow made contact with your soulmate, maybe it was someone in passing—maybe it was slight eye-contact with someone you had never even conversed with.
[ NOW PLAYING > BACK TO FRIENDS ]
"y/n?" jungwon waved a hand in front of your face—disrupting the mental war going on in your brain.
"sorry.. i just remembered something" you exhaled, head still dazed in the idea of having a soulmate, someone promised to you by the universe, to be destined to you.
you felt as though you should have been happier at this revelation, here was the possibility of having a soulmate and yet you couldn't stop thinking, what if it wasn't the blonde boy sat next to you. you pushed it away as you had been with any thought you didn't enjoy.
jungwon caught the whirl of thoughts in your head, he saw the conflict, although he had no ideas for what it could be for—who it could be for, his hand snaked around your back, settling on your bare arm, his thumb rubbed circles.
you looked over to him as the flutters in your stomach subsided, his eyes held the stars, they bored into yours—every twinkle in his eye had you falling deeper into his soul. his spare hand reached up settling on the base of your neck—he watched as your throat bobbed up and down.
your eyes flitted over his lips, to his eyes. he paused as a thought intruded, your lips were glistening—they looked soft, how would they mould against his, how would you taste?
you watched as his eyes dilated, closing in on your lips.
his hand shifted up, his thumb rested on your jaw.
in one swift movement you pushed your head into the crevice of his shoulder, his hands gravitated to your waist immediately.
your bodies moulded together, your chests flushed against each other, you felt his breath falter, loud. you wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling your body back slowly—his hands chased yours grazing against them.
you pulled your head back, your nose grazed his jaw—he faltered, he steadied himself with a hand on your thigh. for a moment neither of you dared to move, your breath grazing against his jaw.
and then as a cruel twist of fate, jake stirred.
neither of you knew why you felt like you had been caught, so when you both pulled away sitting back into your given places—you couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why you both bolted like you'd been stung.
you didn't talk about that night again, not as you sauntered around the lingering touches—the yearning stares as the other remained oblivious, the strings of life pulled you together in ways you didn't want to allow.
he was everywhere, at home, at the cafe, at the library, in your mind. even when you'd found peace at the river alone, he was in your mind, if he wasn't there physically he was mentally.
you were in this perfect frenzy of close friends but not too close—both doing so well at maintaining this friendship, this perfectly curated back and forth.
but now the dam had a gushing—heavy leak and there was no fixing it.
[ NOW PLAYING > BLIND ]
your heart ached, your chest was pulsing with hurt—your throat burned as you were grasping for air, you didn't know what it felt like to be heartbroken—never felt the lack of hope, of knowing there's nothing left but here you were, on the floor of your bedroom.
you woke up screaming—sweating, you only knew it wasn't reality when you heard him.
"y/n, hey wake up"
you bolted up before you even knew where you were, the sound of your sobs quieting down as you gained consciousness.
jungwon stood over you with concern and sleep printed in his expression. "did..did i wake you? i'm so sorry" you breathed feeling tears run down your face, he shook his head—an amused huff left his lips as he sat himself on your bed.
he leaned in closer than you expected, a hand softly resting against your cheek and jaw—he held you for a moment before wiping away your tears. his eyes held an adoration only he could explain.
"bad dream?"
"the worst" you sighed.
you sat further up with a sniffle and a sigh as he pulled you into his arms, you squeaked in shock—his arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head.
"you're okay" he whispered.
you both breathed each other in, he held you like this would be the last time, like he'd never get the chance again—as if this was the first meeting after a lifetime of waiting.
you felt as though you were in another dream, one with no consequences—but even comfort after a bad dream felt like an excuse to touch him, so hyperaware of the meaning.
you pulled away with murmurs of needing to freshen up and more apologies, you had thought yourself into overthinking.
it was all too much, you felt too much, his presence alone dampened the hurt you'd felt, no one else could do that—so you showered it all away and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping back into your room and closing the door behind you.
you turned to see a flushed jungwon with his hand on the door handle covering his eyes. you jumped back as he whisper yelled apologies with his back turned.
"fuck i've been tryna get the door open since you left" he stuttered as you backed up to your closet, grabbing pyjamas.
"let me get changed and then i'll try help" you laughed at the sheer gravity of the situation as you pulled your clothes on and trudged over to him. he turned around and took you in, his eyes flit over you, a faint smirk on his lips.
you rolled your eyes as you tested the door yourself, it wasn't about strength—besides you'd seen jungwon's arms, that wouldn't have been a problem. the handle rattled, turning easily with no clicking, no confirmation of the cogs fitting into place, nothing.
you looked at him, he was already looking with a defeated expression. "what are the chances jake's awake?" you asked before bursting into laughter with him at his theatrical sigh.
"it's 2am, you need to sleep" he spoke as you both sat on the edge of your bed. "so do you" you countered, he hummed in agreement as you sat yourself under your covers, patting the space besides you.
this was fine, you told yourself as if you didn't run away from him for comforting you too well. you looked him over as he slid in besides you, his black tank-top clung to his figure perfectly, the shadows on his muscles perfectly lit under the fairy lights.
you slid down to get comfy, he mimicked your movements until you lay looking towards each other. how is it possible for someone to look so beautiful with no effort he thought as he scanned over your tired features.
"why are you looking at me like that?" you spoke into the comfortable silence of the room.
"like what?" he asked feeling his throat close up.
"like you've never seen me before"
he opened his mouth, closing it immediately—truthfully he looked at you like that every time he saw you.
"maybe i forget, so i take my time, make sure i can never forget again".
you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the way your heart soared at his words.
"save that for your soulmate" you joked.
the reality of your words sunk in too late—hurting your own feelings as the object of your desires lay in your bed with you.
you pulled the covers over your shoulders feeling the warmth seep through your body, his eyes never once left yours as you both talked yourself to sleep.
your eyes flickered open slowly, you yawned before blinking a few more times, adjusting to the golden rays peeking through. you tried to turn, only to be stuck—jungwon's arm was lazily splayed across your waist, his chest pressed to your back—his soft breaths against your nape.
you didn't dare move, didn't dare ruin this—for it wouldn't last.
you felt guilt for not waking him, for letting yourself live in this delusion while he slept—peaceful with no idea of where he was.
after minutes of laying there, your sleepiness wearing off—jungwon stirred, he groaned with his mouth closed as he pulled you by your waist further into his chest, you squeezed your eyes together and let yourself relax.
he twitched again a few minutes later, only now his eyes fluttered open—it was only evident he was awake when he yawned as quietly as he could as he took in his surrounding bit by bit, you half expected him to immediately let go of you and retreat into his space on your bed.
instead he let himself relax and closed his eyes with a faint smile.
you didn't know how much time it had been but by now you thought he was back to being asleep, until you heard a voice "yo y/n! i got the door open-" jake swung it open with a screw in one hand, his face morphed from glee to his jaw being dropped—and then a large toothy smile took over.
you shook your head with wide eyes motioning to the blonde boy being asleep, he hushed himself immediately not before raising his eyebrow and whispering "when did this happen?".
"nothing happened.. he was locked in here—so we slept" you shrugged your shoulders, praying your lips wouldn't betray you as your heartbeat already was.
you turned yourself slowly so you could face jake, only now jungwon huffed pulling you into his chest, his head was now in the crevice of your neck, his legs tangled over yours. jake laughed into his hand as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
"fuck" you breathed as he doubled over in silent laughter. he whined as you pried yourself from his grasp with little apologies, his hands looked for you—a small pout forming on his pretty face.
you smiled as you pulled the covers over him before getting ready for the day. with your teeth brushed and your skincare on you skipped over to the kitchen, eyes catching on the pile of letters and cards.
a little pink card with the words "SYMPHONIA IX GALA" you'd heard about this gala from yuri, the gala where everyone goes all out with their dresses, dressing as princesses for the night—there was still a while until the night but tickets were already out and selling fast.
you had never been one to take initiative but last night with jungwon, that meant something—you were sure of it. it couldn't have been nothing, not with the way he looked at you—the way he held you.
maybe you could go together—as friends.. and see what happens.
half an hour later you walked back into your room with the pink card to see jungwon sat up rubbing his eyes, "morning" you smiled as you tucked the card under your alarm clock.
you sat yourself on the edge of the bed as he yawned with a stretch "morning y/n" he rasped leaning back on his arms.
"come on princess you should get up" you spoke pulling the covers down to his hips. he groaned as you jumped from the bed with a yelp, running from his swats.
"also your tits out!" you laughed turning the corner of your door.
[ NOW PLAYING > SYMPHONIA XI ]
that night you found the courage you needed to do it, after all you were only asking as a friend. that's what you told yourself, even if you wanted more—even if you knew you'd be hurt if nothing more was to happen.
you told yourself the next time you see him, you'll do it.
only you didn't expect to see him on your way to meeting your friends, he was sat on a bench with yuri—you walked over, telling yourself you can do this over and over.
"hey guys" you spoke watching as their heads snapped to you as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't.
"hey y/n" jungwon smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
yuri only smiled, "hey, did you hear about the gala? the tickets are out" you spoke to jungwon, feeling a chill of anxiety run through your body, it's too late to back out now.
"yeah, were you planning on going?" he nodded.
"yeah.. actually i was wondering if you wanted to go"
you watched a smile form, until he felt yuri grab his hand—his face dropped, his mouth opened as if to speak but before he could respond, yuri spoke "actually we're going together".
you looked between them, the hand she was so easily holding between her palms.
"oh that's cool, i'll ask jake" you nodded, ignoring the blooming envy in your heart, jungwon's face held conflict—like he wanted to speak but he couldn't bring himself to.
and to confirm the fact you were so badly trying to deny.
"we're dating" she added. you looked over at jungwon—he took one look at your face before avoiding it all together.
you breathed in, holding back any emotion and mustered a "congrats" yuri smiled sweetly, "i've got to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, i'll see you guys".
you walked as fast as you could but not to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, you pulled out your phone and messaged them a vague excuse and then you walked and walked.
not even a day ago he was in your bed, holding you as though he was used to the feeling. it burned, your heart—the sting turned into an aching you couldn't quite fathom, couldn't quite push down. the rain started slowly, you sat by the river feeling the drops run down your face along with your tears.
you were grateful for the rain, grateful it grew heavier, swallowing your sobs—somewhere along the way you opened your heart, despite your efforts to keep it hidden, you'd fallen for your roommate.
you hadn't been in the picture for long but you were observant, you had to be to be a match-maker. so how had you not caught this—caught a vibe, a look.. anything.
you knew it was late but your phone was dead and you couldn't bring yourself to care because along with the hurt of rejection, you hurt for the friendships you would lose—because you couldn't keep yourself from falling for him.
you mourned the memories you'd created, you knew nothing could be the same from now and anger at yourself for deluding yourself.
by the time you got back to the dorms you were soaked and freezing, it was late—so late that you got back to a furious jungwon and jake.
you closed the door behind you with the click of the key and kicked off your shoes, "where the hell were you?" jake jumped off the sofa walking to the hallway.
you turned to face him—he took in your state and gawked, "phone died" you sighed walking through to your room and shrugging off your coat, "where were you?" jungwon repeated as they followed you.
"river" you answered plainly as you shivered, they grabbed towels for you, walking to you slow—with distance, not being able to decipher your emotions. you turned to the door, jungwon stood in front of you, trying to drape the towel over you, "i'm fine" you sighed in annoyance pushing past him.
"you're out until 2am and you come back frozen but you're fine?" he gawked eyebrows— furrowed. "yes i am fine" a muscle in your jaw flexed as you looked away from him, you couldn't look at him.
it wasn't his fault he doesn't feel the same but you also couldn't pretend you could stand his touch anymore—his presence, you couldn't let him have this hold over your heart the way he did right now.
you sat down on your bed finally feeling the cold catch up to you, your breathing slowed as you sunk onto the bed.
jungwon slid over as you sunk, "stop, m-fine" you breathed pushing him with no force, jake ran over pulling the towels over your body. you felt weak, your eyes drooped until you felt yourself drifting, "no come on don't fall asleep" jungwon shook you as you groaned in annoyance.
they pulled you into the shower running hot water over you as you sat in your clothes, you managed to convince them you could change by yourself.
finally laying in bed with your covers pulled to your chin, jake sat by you as jungwon made tea, "what happened?" he slid in next to you rubbing your arms as you shivered.
"i just lost track of time.. that's all" you sighed as you wrapped yourself around him, your head in his shoulder.
"you lost track of time, sat in the rain?" he turned to you, speaking against your hair.
"yeah—it's therapeutic really" you spoke. he hummed—not believing you one bit.
by the time jungwon came back you had drifted off into sleep on jake, he looked over with a mixture of envy and relief but neither of those things could compete with the grief in his heart—the loss of your comfort around him, the annoyance in your expression at his mere presence.
jake watched over you—with an expression jungwon couldn't decipher, he sighed through his nose before speaking. "she looked happy this morning, she was even meant to meet the guys—they told me she cancelled, saying she's tired" they took in your peaceful expression with knit eyebrows.
jungwon couldn't think clearly, he wanted to believe that maybe you were thinking about him—maybe you were hurt, about him and yuri.
maybe you were just angry, that as his friend, you knew nothing, you were told on accident—with no prior knowledge or even inkling.
jake stayed through the night, telling jungwon to get some rest—which he reluctantly did after hours. he soothed you when you stirred, he rocked you when you groaned awake, he eventually drifted into sleep alongside you.
you stirred as jake slipped out and got ready for his classes, waking up a little while later to tea by your bedside, assuming it was from jake you didn't overthink it—opting to get ready, learning to live with the sting, instead of ignoring it this time.
this entire time you had pushed down your feelings, pushed them to the corners of your mind for you weren't used to feeling so much.
you told yourself you needed to feel to let go, to let go of him—to let go of the feelings you had harboured without allowing yourself to.
but that didn't mean you had to be around to witness him with his new girlfriend, which also meant distancing yourself from your friends, not because you wanted to but because they would be there and just by their presence the peace you seeked would dissipate.
you got through it alone, avoiding everyone—justifying it by telling yourself you needed time but they didn't make it easy and it didn't go without annoyance from jake, especially for staying out later than usual and avoiding the usual hang-outs.
the tea cafe had become somewhat of a sanctuary—it being open 24 hours was of great help for someone actively avoiding a roommate but you were surprised you hadn't seen him here, after all he had introduced you.
there were also a few times you weren't so lucky, in your shares classes yuri talked to you as usual, which to your surprise didn't come with talks of her new boyfriend.
as for jungwon, he didn't know what to expect—he just didn't expect silence—to be shut out like you hadn't spent the last couple months becoming closer, becoming friends, you didn't even come out for tea after your shower anymore.
you didn't walk to class with him—always walking earlier. every time he tried to talk to you but he was met with a brief cold response or bitter shut down, eventually even your silence turned into sour remarks.
he didn't push, because pushing meant the possibility of you pushing you away for good and he couldn't take that—but he could take this, he would take this over nothing.
you couldn't see it but jungwon's patience was wearing thin—each day he went without so much as a stray glance was undoing his resolve.
after another morning of solitude, you walked through the kitchen and out the door with no words to the blonde sat at the kitchen island, who unknown to you was waiting for you, he locked the door and walked a few paces behind you.
you sat in your usual seat a few minutes early to the lecture, consumed by your own thoughts—until you felt a presence besides you, sunghoon sat in his place besides you as he would. you settled into your usual conversations, until he talked about you helping him study after class,
"when did i agree to this?" you joked, "when yuri said we're all studying at your dorm later" he laughed with confusion, you opened your phone to the messages with a sigh, "i actually already have plans" you spoke, avoiding his eyes.
"what plans" he asked as you put your phone away, "i wanted to go to the cafe and juliana asked me to go out tonight".
he hummed, "i haven't seen this infamous cafe.. care for some company?".
you made a faux thinking face as he groaned "yeah sure, why not" you answered feeling eyes bore into the back of your head.
after your class you both walked to the cafe, narrowly avoiding an interaction with yuri on your way—you did however run into juliana who invited sunghoon to join you that night.
you didn't quite know why juliana had messaged you separately for your outing but you weren't complaining, if anything this was ideal. after the cafe you walked back to your dorms to get changed, with anxiety looming in your chest—knowing everyone would be there.
you clicked the door open and closed it after sunghoon scurried in, "you wanna wait here or come with?" you asked as you slid off your shoes, "i'll come with you" he replied.
you walked in to papers scattered over the coffee table and the kitchen island, jungwon and jake sat at the kitchen as yuri sat with ni-ki on the sofa.
you tried your best to walk through without seeming rude, "where have you guys been!" yuri asked with a smile as sunghoon stood behind you, "y/n showed me that tea cafe" sunghoon replied sensing your discomfort.
"aww you should take us some time" she spoke, you hummed as jake motioned you to come over, he pulled you in for a second. "you alright?" he whispered, you nodded with a ruffle to his hair—he swatted you away as you tried your best to avoid the blondes stares.
"i've got to get ready, but i'll talk to you later" you said to him as you moved to your door with sunghoon following.
"before you guys go, i wanted to just say while everyone's here that jungwon and i are dating!" juliana spoke enthusiastically not looking at anyone.
silence. dead ghostly silence.
for a split second you looked for jungwon's reaction, you couldn't help it. his eyes were already on you—you caught his discomfort, your face stayed straight—not so much as a grimace, you couldn't.
[ PLAYING NOW > MANEATER ]
the boys all looked at jungwon in disbelief, they had always sensed the vibes between you two, even when you didn't. you'd already turned around opting to head into your room with a goodbye.
"she's getting ready with sunghoon?" yuri raised a playful eyebrow and a nudge to ni-ki's shoulder, "they're friends" jungwon responded impassive, eyes still on the page.
"they'd be cute together" she hummed, jungwon looked up with a rise to his brow, before shaking his head—focusing on the click of his pen instead of the ugly green blooming deep within him.
you got changed in the bathroom, into a outfit you knew would turn heads for your first proper night out in a while.
you came out in a lowcut dress and your favourite going out shoes, sunghoon gawked shamelessly "are you trying to kill people?" you responded with a laugh and a "maybe" as you grabbed the chosen bottles of liqueur and walked through the door of your room to the kitchen.
you took two glasses pouring an equal amount of liquid in both—handing one to sunghoon, you hadn't noticed the pairs of eyes on you as you walked through.
"y/n you look hot as fuck" yuri spoke first, everyone hummed in agreement—except jungwon, who could only stare, the first genuine smile in a good second bloomed as you thanked them, you handed sunghoon the drink watching as he took a big mouthful.
you took a sip, testing the waters—when it was deemed safe you took a long swig, with only a sample of the drink left in the cup.
"steadyy" jake took the cup from you, drinking the remnants up.
"where we going n/n" he grinned all toothy, "we aren't going anywhere jakey" you smiled, he fake pouted—you turned your head with a groan laughing.
"we should probably get going" you made another drink, drinking half and leaving the rest for sunghoon who gladly chugged the rest. jungwon walked over pouring himself his own drink next to you, his eyes flit over you carefully, like he was absorbing you into his soul—or like he wanted to test you.
you decided to pay him no mind, instead securing your handbag and walking out the door.
you waltzed in to the sound of 2000's music blasting in your ears and thankfully you found juliana within the first couple minutes of being there. "hii guys" she squealed pulling you into a brief hug before pulling back and taking in your outfit.
"you look soo fucking hot!" she exclaimed—you complimented her own outfit with a giggle and a buzz running through your body. the three of you took shots as you all sat at the bar laughing and singing along to the music, until you felt arms around your waist and a head on your shoulder.
you were fully prepared to head-butt whoever was touching you, until you heard jake's laugh, "guess who!" he spoke over the music. you turned in happy shock "jake! what are you doing here?" you laughed.
"yuri forced us to come, something about juliana" he spoke hushed before ordering shots but unfortunately, where ever yuri was—so was he. you turned to see jungwon stood with his hands in his pockets, already looking at you—you rolled your eyes in annoyance before pushing yourself up and taking the shots.
"i'm gonna dance" you said to no one in particular already walking towards the dance floor—juliana opted to join you but not without daggers in her back.
throughout the week you felt your upset—sadness—hurt dissipate into anger, you knew it wasn't going to last, but for now angers always easier to navigate than hurt, especially when you're drinking.every time you caught him staring it fuelled the anger you so desperately craved to feel.
you swayed your hips with rhythm, each sway on beat. juliana stood in front of you mirroring your movements with a large smile, you noticed her also sneaking peeks at where the group would be, for why you didn't know—you didn't think much about it either.
especially when there was a cute guy eyeing you from the bar, "go talk to him!" she shouted over the music, you shook your head with a scrunch to your nose "i don't chase" she laughed at that, you watched as her mouth drop into a smirk.
you followed her gaze, said cute guy was now besides you with a drink in his hand "i couldn't help but notice you, you look beautiful" the mystery man said with a grin, "thank you! i'm y/n, this is my friend juliana" you smiled as he handed you the drink.
"i'm jay, nice to meet you both" he spoke over the music, you gravitated back to the bar with him after juliana whispered for you to go. you couldn't help but feel pricks on the back on your neck, feeling piercing jabs like someone was watching you, your conversation with jay was going well, he was beyond cute—well mannered.
everything you'd look for in a man.. if you were looking for a man.
the second the passing thought of him being a potential partner whizzed through you felt as though you were being hissed at by your heart and to make matters worse, you heard a familiar sweet voice.
"hey jay, been a while" jungwon spoke with a strained jaw, jay looked up with a genuine smile at his presence.
"yoo jungwon!" he exclaimed as he went in for a dap up, you however was stumped they knew each other.
"how do you-" you gestured between them speaking only to jay, "he's in most my classes" jungwon chimed in before the other man could speak, you hummed to jay as if he had replied.
"you wanna dance?" you asked jay, feeling a need to get out of this interaction but before he could respond jungwon edged closer to you, almost forcing you to look at him from the proximity, "actually jake asked for you" he spoke sweetly.
jake had not asked for you, he actually asked where you were. you apologised to jay and excused yourself as the blonde trailed dangerously close to you.
"hey jake" you smiled sitting by him at the bar, "y/n! where have you been!" he whined with a clear red tinge to his cheeks. "just was on the other side of the bar" you responded.
"you guys looked good together" yuri smiled, you reciprocated not seeing jungwon's daggers at his girlfriend.
"i'm getting so tired" jake whispered to you before dropping his head on your shoulder, you nodded already taking out your phone.
[ NOW PLAYING > PARTY 4 U ]
"i'm gonna take jake home" you spoke to whoever was listening, already pulling jake up with you not without a wobble.
"i'll come" jungwon spoke quicker than you'd have expected, quick enough to show he was engaged before you even spoke. "stay here, we're good" you responded not looking at him.
"i'm coming" he finalised despite the protests from yuri in forms of whispering near his ear. the car ride was quiet, not awkward—just silent, the only noise being the hum of the engine.
you all sobered up as you wound down for the night—ending up laying on jake's bed as he rambled about physics—feeling more awake after a cold shower.
"about earlier.. jungwon and yuri, did you know?" he started—slowly, words laced with caution.
"well..yeah i did, i found out like a week ago" you replied looking up from your phone, he looked like he was ready for a bomb to go off.
"like.. the day you came home late?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. you raised your own eyebrow—challenging "you'll have to be specific, i've come home late a few nights" you feigned ignorance.
the night you felt your heart hurt in ways you hadn't thought was allowed.
"the night you came home almost hypothermic" he spoke as he sat by you on his bed, his eyes scanned over the mass of your face, peering for any reaction—any indication he was correct.
"yeah, found out earlier that day" you said unbothered, as if that wasn't the reason you were spiralling deep into a burn no one could soothe.
"it's unrelated" you spoke before he could, as if he asked.
"is it?"
you watched his own expression, the worry etched in his forehead, in his eyes—he just wanted you to learn to lean even if it wasn't something you were used to, leaning on someone with the rawest edges of your thoughts, handing over emotions that took weeks to be allowed to exist.
jake of all people knew this wasn't your strong suit, which is why he didn't push—he only encouraged, he let you lie because he knew how badly you needed the lie to be real.
"i don't know" you sighed, you tipped your head back onto his pillow—blowing air through your nose in the process.
he let you speak, only moving to sit closer to you.
"ever since we met, it's like my brain is pushing me towards him, like it wants—needs me to be close to him..i know how insane that sounds and i tried—i really tried to ignore it but after a while i just let it happen, maybe because i hoped it would be reciprocated, i don't know what i thought, i told myself i wouldn't care if it wasn't but as we got closer, so did whatever was pulling me towards him and that night we got stuck in my room.. i thought- just maybe there was—there could be something more but i was still so, scared? so i asked him if he wanted to go to the dance but yuri said they were going together.. and i said i'll ask you instead and then she told me they were dating and my brain just went into overdrive".
as you rambled you watched him go through a plethora of emotions—from earnest listening to shock he was trying to be subtle about and then something bordering on appalled confusion.
"so you think a cosmic force is pulling you together-" he started, you nodded with a swift scrunch to your nose at his wording.
"and you asked him to the gala as a friend even though you wanted more but you didn't wanna admit it" he added.
you nodded "i'm so glad i was too stubborn to ask properly, imagine i did that and she told me they were together, i think i would've blown up" he laughed at that with his usual gummy smile.
"i don't know, i don't think you're insane or looking into things too deeply, anyone can see he's insane about you" he spoke casually as if you weren't being presented with new information.
you gawked for a second "what is wrong with you—don't say shit like that" you spoke as you swatted at his chest.
"nah i'm serious, he looks at you like you personally give him life every day and since you started avoiding him he's been looking around like a lost kitten always looking in places you'd usually be".
"jake he has a girlfriend" you sighed pushing your head deeper into the pillow.
"that's true, but he didn't stop looking for you whether or not he has a girl" he retorted.
"well he can keep doing that, i'm not waiting up on anyone just because there's a possibility he could like me especially whilst he has a girlfriend, besides i still just need time away from him, when he's close i can't hear myself think—it's like all rational thinking goes out the window" you groaned as a hand wiped down your face.
it was all becoming a bit too infuriating, even when you did your best to put yourself in positions where you couldn't be interacted with, he found a way, when you'd walk to class—he'd be right next to you. when all you wanted was to drink tea and read, he'd be in the room— hovering.
when you were playing a game with jake, he made it a point to sit next to you—closer than you wanted, at least a knee brushing yours.
which didn't help when your emotions towards him were currently in a hurricane you didn't care to address.
you even decided you'd spend all night at your tea cafe to study, not wanting to be distracted by jungwon's constant hovering. only he showed up not even an hour in and sat in front of you like it was his given place.
you looked up from your work without moving your head and blew air through your nose in annoyance, he looked at you with his signature curious feline gaze, which if anything annoyed you further—because why was he looking at you like he wasn't the one who sat down without permission.
"hey" he spoke after seconds of silence, with the sound of the rustles of paper and the chatters of the workers hanging as its own white noise.
"hello?" you breathed eyes still stuck on your work sheets—only your mind wasn't focused on the pages, not anymore.
"are you staying here—all night?" he asked eyeing the empty cup of tea besides you.
"probably" you spoke stifling a comedically timed yawn.
"you want to walk back with me?" he said before he could over-think the words coming out his mouth.
"i'm fine right here" you finally look up—expecting him to back off, to take the hints you'd been so easily throwing at him.
instead he stayed in his seat—sinking further into it with a nod at your words. your eyes stayed on him—challenging, he held your gaze as if he waiting for you to do something.
"are you not leaving?"
"thought i'd keep you company" he smiled as he ordered his own black tea.
you narrowed your eyes in disbelief and took a breath to compose yourself, he couldn't be serious..
"i don't need company" you responded with a sweet venom-laced smile, he smiled with a tilt to his head.
"you have mine anyway" he said easily—as if those words wasn't something you would've dreamed of weeks ago.
[ NOW PLAYING > FALLEN STAR ]
he was trying to be your friend again but you knew your friendship was never just that—it strived on touches neither of you wanted to pull from—contact you so deeply craved after convincing yourself you wouldn't.
but you didn't feel guilty for wanting those things, because he was just jungwon—but now, he was her jungwon.
which is also why you couldn't fathom how he could be here—in this position, you knew your feelings were painfully obvious—your reaction to their relationship only made that clearer.
"how can you do this to her?" you said before you could stop yourself.
if he felt any forms of guilt—anger or defence he hid it well.
"what am i doing?" he responded slowly, it felt almost mocking—as if he had no clue at all.
"i'm not going to spell it out for you" you spoke with a clenched jaw as you shoved your things into your bag and swiftly left the cafe.
the clacks of both your shoes were the only noise in the other-wise clear air.
"speak to me y/n" his voice soft and warm, the kind that had the power to soften your roughened edges.
he trailed behind you as you walked with a mission, this was where he would finally leave, was what you thought as you reached the river—you took a definitive turn to walk towards your designated spot.
only he was still here, "what are you doing?" you finally turned with frustration bubbling through you.
"speak to me.. please" he repeated again, in that same voice.
"what do you want me to say? that i don't understand why you're still talking to me—as if we can be friends—we can't" you let out finally.
"why can't we be?" he asked.
"you have a fucking girlfriend jungwon" you spat.
"so?" he walked closer to you.
"what the fuck.." you scoffed turning away from him, he grabbed your arm pulling you closer to him—turning you to face him again.
"that doesn't mean we can't be friends" he said, peering into your eyes, before you could shake yourself out of his grasp.
"does she know?" you responded quickly, not letting any silence settle.
"yes, she does".
"does she know everything?" you emphasized.
any girlfriend surely wouldn't let her boyfriend be friends with someone they almost kissed.
"she knows everything" he reiterated—only now did you notice his hand still hanging onto your arm.
you nodded, beyond confused—still with that same raw ache that only presented itself to you in his presence, his arm on you still felt far too intimate.
"i'll prove it to you" he added after seeing your inner conflict.
even if she allowed this friendship—you couldn't, not when you knew you craved more than his friendship could ever offer.
but even with the cold exterior you had on for him, you didn't tell him you couldn't allow it.
"fine, we'll see"
because space is easier when only you're aware of it.
he gave you real unfiltered smile, of relief—the kind that was currently making you feel guilty. you once again expected his words to be forgotten—erased with time, what you didn't expect was yuri herself talking to you about this.
she showed up at your dorm with a polite knock to your door and a stomach churning.
"hey can we talk?"
you sat on your bed patting the space besides you as she closed the door behind her, "look i'm gonna cut the bullshit and get to the point, i'm really cool with you being friends with jungwon—i know you had feelings for him and i know you almost kissed"
you couldn't decipher the exact course your emotions took—one of them was a stinging, stuck in your throat—that he had told someone something either of you had failed to address with even each other.
"why would you let us be friends? i don't know if you're aware but all of that was still very fresh before you dated" you spoke not bothering to hide your perplex.
"i know, it's simply because i trust you both—you were both my friends before any of this" you stared at her almost waiting for something to break, a crack—but it never came.
"right.." you responded not quite knowing to say at this point.
"you guys can do whatever you did before i was in the picture i'm not just going to ask you to cut off your roommate" she scoffed.
but you were never truly friends, every action had an underplating of your longing for things to change—if he had a girlfriend on the first meeting those course of events wouldn't have even occurred.
"if we almost kissed as friends—roommates.. do you really want us to do whatever we did before?" you raised an eyebrow now your confusion only deepening with each sentence. her expression didn't change, not once.
"truly i'm not strict y/n just don't kiss obviously" she laughed as though this was all some funny inconvenience. you just gawked in pure disbelief as she switched the topic to some off-topic party she was inviting you to with no mention of the prior conversation again.
you realised as she talked about clothes and drinks that you had never once seen them so much as hold hands—not that you wanted to see that or that it mattered, you were by no means judging their relationship—but you couldn't help but make the observation.
not long after that you got changed for the party, only opting to go because jake had begged with his big eyes and pout—you sat in the centre of the sofa nursing a half full glass of an alcohol you couldn't name.
sunghoon and ni-ki were stood leant against the sofa debating some game you weren't engaged in enough to name—yuri and juliana were whispering intensely about something in the kitchen.
[ NOW PLAYING > HOUSE OF CARDS ]
and you were teasing jake about his inability to handle his liquor—already noticing the light tinge of red on the tips of his cheeks, as he groaned in annoyance you felt a dip in the sofa besides you and a leg flush against yours—you turned to see the culprit, jungwon with his head tilted looking over you with his pretty glistening eyes.
you averted your head after sending a corporate smile—immediately focusing on the drink in front of you, he looked with you before softly wrapping his hand around the glass—pulling it gently from your grasp and bringing it up to his plush lips—taking a sip.
"mmm" he hummed as his tongue darted out—licking the remnants from his lips—eyes still trained on yours.
something in your stomach flipped—harsh, you managed a tight lipped smile as you placed your hand over his on the cup, taking it back into your hold.
yeah.. this was not going to work.
you gave it a subtle couple minutes before excusing yourself from his overwhelming touch to top up your drink, you felt his eyes follow you with a slightly darkened gaze.
the party was a typical house party at the home of someone you couldn't name—with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls and the lights dimmed enough but not too much.
you grabbed a random cup of a drink to further the harsh buzz you already felt, this night was a night of letting go—a night to live without a plan or a designated time to get home.
you conversed with random women complimenting them on their outfits, danced with your friends—but never without that familiar prickle on your nape, the one that only presented itself when you felt as though you were being watched. you settled yourself onto the end of an empty sofa with a drink someone had brought to keep your high going.
"hi beautiful" you heard a voice settle besides you along with the momentary sink of the plush sofa.
"hey jay!" you responded with a tilt to your head and a look you only reserved for shameless flirting on nights you couldn't recall.
"i missed you" he smirked inching closer, whispering close to your ear.
"oh really?" you smiled leaning closer.
"how could i not?" his breath tickled your ear as he snaked an arm around the back of the sofa.
you looked around the room—looking over nothing at particular with hazed over lens as he whispered words you could only giggle at, until your eyes fell on jungwon, his jaw was tight—his eyes were dark, his cup was slightly indented as if he was fighting every urge not to crush it right there.
you held his eye contact as jay's hand drifted from the back of the sofa to your shoulder—your arm before settling on your waist, you averted your gaze looking back up to the man before you.
his eyes were shamelessly trained on your lips, waiting for you to give the greenlight—the second you looked at his own slightly pink lips he leant forward—with a hand on your jaw.
and then you felt it, the chorus of complaint your heart was pushing onto you—you ignored it as you had been. whether or not this man was your soulmate didn't concern you, for you were lost in anything but who he was in this moment.
you smelt the alcohol on his lips as you were sure he could too, his lips pushed against yours for barely a second when you felt a hand pull you up, ripping you from his hold.
you barely registered anything as you looked at the hand connecting you to whoever was furiously pulling you to the nearest room. he slammed the door, pushing you against it.
"what the fuck jungwon!?" you spat tilting your head up, he was close enough you could smell his cologne, his nose inches from yours.
"you're kissing random guys now?" he scoffed not moving from his current position, caging you in against the cold wood of the door.
"random? what do you care" you laughed attempting to push him back, he didn't move.
he almost growled at your words, his breathe now fanning your ear as he composed himself, breathing low.
he pulled back, enough to see his eyes hold onto your lips, contemplating—his tongue ran over the span of his bottom lip—angry. you pushed yourself forward, just enough his chest grazed yours—just enough that he could feel every word.
"what do you care" you repeated low, venomous.
his throat bobbed as he breathed heavy against your lips, his hand splayed against your waist—possessive.
"fucking pussy" you shook your head with a mocking scoff—just as you straightened to move out of his grasp—his hand held the back of your head and he pushed your head back by your chin—tilted against the door.
you both breathed heavy against each others lips—parted barely grazing, his hand was imprinting into your jaw.
"say that again" you felt him speak against your lips.
"fucking p-" he closed the space between your lips, hard—you whimpered against his mouth as he kissed you, open mouthed—messy, he groaned low as he tasted you—his tongue whirled against yours as his hand released your jaw, it ran along the curve of your back settling on your lower back, he pushed against your body into the imprint straining against his pants.
he whimpered loud and unrestrained into your mouth as a gasp left your lips without permission, you pulled back just enough to get a glimpse of him in this state—his tongue lolled out as he caught his breath.
your heart was still—not screaming or thrashing against it's restraints, instead beating hard—with a thrill it only craved further.
months of back and forths, of stolen touches led to this, to a single vulnerable moment neither of you could pull away from—you could blame it on the alcohol, just a drunken mistake but you knew better.
he watched as you looked up at him with a gleam of pure fevour—he felt himself slip in that moment, his mind reducing into a puddle.
"driving me fucking crazy" he groaned as he pulled you up against the door, you made a noise in-between that of a gasp and a whimper as you wrapped your legs around him—your dress hiking up giving him access to the plush of your ass against his hands, his lips attacked you, his tongue battled yours hungrily, the only sounds in the room being your sinful noises mixed with the sound of his tongue sucking yours—pulling away with a slick pop and a string of saliva connecting you both.
his hips ground up into you as his lips kissed your jaw—chin and then licking against your ear before gasping and grunting sweetly.
"baby i can feel how wet you are" he whispered low, you whined in response pulling his head back by his hair and suckling on his bottom lip making him mewl against you.
you could feel how big he was even against the layers—your panties were beyond flooded with your arousal, you felt your stomach tightening as his movements grew erratic, he huffed against your lips as your own hips rolled down—desperate.
one hand left your ass—moving to where your bodies met, he drew fast rhythmic circles over your panties where your clit sat—aching to be touched. "f-fuck—i'm so close" you breathed. broken sounds fell from your lips against his as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap
"yeah? fuck- c-cum with me baby" he breathed before a final roll of your hips undid you both, the coil snapped hard—his hips stuttered with a shuddering groan and your name on repeat as though it was all he knew.
he held you as you slumped in his hold—head falling to his shoulder as you both caught your breath.
you finally lifted your head after however long of breathing against each other—in his arms. he set you down and smoothed over your dress as you sighed against the back of the door, his hand came up and cupped your jaw—he held it—gentle almost loving.
his eyes held a softness and spark you'd only seen in the moments you believed there could be more, his lips curved up before he pressed a sweet kiss against your lips—you kissed back.
[ NOW PLAYING > NOPE YOUR TOO LATE I ALREADY DIED ]
for a time you had forgotten where you were, who you were—who he was, only in that kiss did it hit you, he wasn't yours—not really.
you were kissing a man who belonged to someone else. you felt your stomach lurch as you pushed him away, your head spun—partly because of the alcohol but mainly because you felt disgust creep into your body—chills.
"y/n?" jungwon watched as your eyes darted with furrowed eyebrows—your breathing was shaky. you shook your head attempting to push open the door, only for him to stop you.
"just speak to me-" you looked at him incredulously, the hatred spinning through your body was mainly directed at yourself—but as you looked at him you couldn't help but feel disgust at him—hatred at him for so easily cheating on his girlfriend, the same one who had trusted you both to keep to yourselves.
"i'm more than this—i'm more than a side bitch, and yuri- she deserves so much better.. from both of us" your eyes pricked with tears, he shook his head.
"that's not—just please hear me out, you're not a side anything i only want you-" you scoffed as your tears fell—not wanting to hear another word you ripped the door open and pushed yourself through a group of people—hidden from him.
you found a bathroom and let yourself calm down, the only thought in your mind right now was finding yuri, the guilt ate at your heart as the tears fell, your chest hammered with a pain no one could comfort.
you had never felt so lost, your tears were for the loss of your respect for yourself—the pain you were going to cause—the people you'd lose and for losing yourself, you wanted to believe this was far from who you were—but right now you weren't so sure.
because in that moment you hadn't thought of yuri once, your mind never once flipped to the person you were hurting most.
so you wiped your tears and cleaned yourself up and then you opened the door and went to find jake.
"where's yuri?" you spoke over the music, suddenly feeling the harsh sting of a head-ache behind your eyes, the noise of people, the light all becoming entirely too overwhelming. jake turned his head to you—taking in your glazed over reddened eyes—and something between pain—defeat and disassociation.
"she went back to ours—with juliana, said it was the closest place and she felt sick" he spoke. you nodded and turned towards the door, his hand grabbed yours before you could start walking.
"are you okay?" you paused, just long enough to send doubt to his head and then sent him a tight lipped smile and stiff nod before setting off, only he trailed behind with worry in his brows. you finally reached your apartment after much overthinking and a lot of anxiety, the alcohol was just a buzz in the form of that same head-ache.
you opened the door to loud music blasting in your ears and walked through the hall, looking around for any signs of life—except you found it faster than you thought.
yuri sat on the sofa with her lips on juliana's. you stood still with your jaw dropped to the ground, jake walked up next to you—catching your expression before seeing the reason for it, his eyes followed yours before matching your dropped jaw.
jake composed himself first and coughed—loud, their heads snapped up, you had no idea what to think at this point your prior guilt and self-loathing filtered into a state of utter confusion.
neither of them spoke, just gawking—looking between each other with fear written all over them.
"so.. i came here to tell you that jungwon and i..uhm well—we" you scrunched your nose in discomfort, becoming too aware of the amount of people in the vicinity.
"i know" yuri spoke first, she looked at juliana who only nodded.
"look i wanted to tell you earlier but i was so scared—i really didn't know how to do this and i know i fucked up—but jungwon and i aren't dating, it was fake..i love juliana, i asked him if we could fake it, only because our maid caught us and my mom would approve of me dating him...but she would never approve of me and juliana—i made sure he didn't tell anyone and i know how badly he wanted to... i'm so sorry" she spoke fast, with tears in her eyes—and a shake to her voice.
you let out a breath—you felt their eyes on you waiting for you to speak but you couldn't find the words, so you opted to nodding and locking yourself in your room—overwhelmed with emotions, stuck in a frenzy of all the events that occurred in the last couple hours.
you showered away the grime from that day and got changed into your favourite jumper and pyjama pants, deciding to get some fresh air.
you wrapped yourself in a coat and slipped out—ignoring the people scattered around the room because you were afraid of that confrontation—afraid of all the conclusions you had failed to come to.
as you walked you tried thinking it all over, yes he wanted to tell you—yes you understood why he couldn't, it wasn't his place.
but he could've left you alone—he could have let you push away instead of trying to pull you back with the knowledge of how complicated it all was, knowing he couldn't tell you but still playing with your feelings.
you also knew that you wouldn't have wanted him to let you push away.
your mind ached with confusion as you walked along the river, leaning forward against the railing. the water swayed back and forth—imperfect ripples dancing throughout. you looked into it for answers—to tell you how to navigate this without losing your mind completely.
you huffed into the air as you sat with an odd sense of calm, you felt a drop land on your head—and of course you had nothing to protect you from it.
[ NOW PLAYING > MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ]
with no attempt to move you felt a couple more drops and then a shadow, you looked up to see a clear umbrella hovering over your head.
jungwon stood beside you with a hat on and an unreadable expression—something along the lines of adoration, a slight worry and pure unadulterated pining.
for a moment you just looked at each other, trying to figure out how this would go—you noticed the furrow in his brow, not angry, not confused, a furrow that made him look at you as if he was scared you'd disappear if he stopped looking.
his eyes looked slightly glossed over, sparkly as though he was from a dream.
"thanks" you spoke under your breath—the patters of ran fell against the plastic as you felt a light tension that only presented itself in his presence, not the bad kind—just a clear shift.
"i saw you leave, guessed you'd come here" he spoke.
"why'd you come?" you looked over the railing again, not catching him wince.
"i know you must be confused right now, i wanted to be here—and i wanted to apologise.. for lying to you, for making this so much more complicated than it had to be—y/n i am so sorry" he turned to face you completely, eyes boring into yours with guilt.
you nodded, unable to think of a response "so much has happened..i'm mainly angry" you started.
"i'm angry at myself for letting anything happen with you.. while yuri-"—"we weren't together" he interrupted, you turned to him and shook your head—blowing air through your nose.
"that doesn't matter! i thought you were and i still let it happen.. and i don't know how i could do that, i believed you were together and i didn't think about yuri once" you sighed—frustrated.
"y/n i know why that happened" he said fast, as though he didn't know if he should say it.
"what are you talking about?" you asked. he looked at you with a mixture of fear and anticipation, he stepped closer—under the umbrella.
"i can't breathe when i'm around you—i was scared of losing you, which is why i didn't come here after that night" he breathed in, as if to compose himself.
"i couldn't bring myself to..-" he shook his head, tightening his lips together before breathing out—he stepped forward, close enough you could see the sheen over his eyes—close enough you could count his eyelashes.
"i love you.. if you could take all the words in the language—it still wouldn't describe how much i love you, if you could put all those words together, it still wouldn't describe what i feel for you.. what i feel for you, is everything, i love you more than everything".
"everything?" you felt a tear you hadn't anticipated running down your cheek.
he smiled, sweet and soft—with a curve to his dimples and cupped your face with his free hand, running his thumb over your tears.
"everything" he nodded, you let out a laugh full of relief—he returned the laugh with his own, you inched forwards—he tilted his head, eyes now focused on your lips. he leaned forward—pressing his lips to yours delicate—loving, he pressed harder against your lips, his hand sliding to your nape—pressing just enough so you could feel how long he'd been waiting for this.
you cupped his face pressing a final peck to his lips before pulling away with a shy smile, his face was still inches from yours, now sporting a pink flush.
"i love you jungwon" you whispered between you both, as a promise as much as a confession.
his smile widened, he looked off to the side as if to compose himself and then he giggled dropping his head to your shoulder.
[ NOW PLAYING > LOVERS ]
"i think we're soulmates" he whispered—clearly without thinking.
your breathing stopped as you remembered your previous revelation, the beginning of your soulmate dreams. he lifted his head up from your shoulder—slowly, looking over everything inch of your face as he heard your breath falter.
"we couldn't stay away from each other, because we're soulmates" he held your gaze.
"yeah, you didn't think about yuri, not because you're a bad or selfish person—but because that was the first time your heart beat with me—..the first time our hearts beat together" he placed his hand over your heart.
"you know, she even said she doesn't expect us to stay away from each other" he joked—but your mind was somewhere far from here.
"what if we're not" you blurted out. he only smiled, looking as though you'd said the most endearingly—stupid thing possible.
"baby, soulmate or not you're stuck with me, i choose you—every time" you stifled a giggle at his words, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.
"that night we found each other, in the kitchen—that wasn't coincidence, i refuse to believe any of this was" he spoke slowly.
"let's go home" he pulled you close—whispering into your hair.
as those words left his mouth, lips against your hair—you felt content, you felt the ache you'd be harbouring in your heart lift, at first the comfort scared you—because nothing was made to last.
but there was beauty in the fear, for every irrational thought, you felt him—like an orb of light—strung between you, wrapping you together—not noticeable, not claustrophobic—just a presence. you both felt it in the pats of the water—in the freshly rained air, it was devastatingly beautiful.
that night you walked home, hand in hand under the little clear umbrella—occasionally bumping shoulders and bickering after trying to force him under the plastic.
once you got home and heard that familiar click, you got ready for the night, before being pulled into jungwon's room with gentle hands. of course you'd been in here before—but only with jake. his perfectly clean room with grey sheets and a little plant on the desk next to the stack of books, you couldn't help but notice that red scarf hanging on a hook by his wardrobe.
"sleep here tonight?" he looked to you with pleading eyes, no one could say no to that face.
you had barely nodded before he was pulling you down to the bed, paired with a mischievous giggle your heart could only swell at. he pulled you so you were almost on top of him, the moonlight spilled through the window—carving a shadow over his face.
one hand on your cheek, the other splayed around your waist—he held you as though he wouldn't get the chance again, his lips pressed to each inch of your face, spilling sweets into your ears. you fell asleep in his arms, to the sound of his honey voice whispering words he'd only dreamt of speaking to you.
his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin on your shoulder—he felt you hum against him as he pressed a sweet kiss against your jaw, only now he saw you clearly—through his eyes.
you found me.
your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of a hand brushing over your cheek—as they adjusted to the light a sleepy jungwon came into view.
"sorry, your hair was in the way" he whispered with an apologetic pout.
you only smiled lazily, stretching as you nuzzled into his neck eliciting a comfortable hum from him. "how long have you been awake?" you spoke muffled.
"maybe 10 minutes, you're a pretty sleeper" he said with rasp, pressing a kiss to your temple. you nudged your nose against his neck in protest before remembering your dream, seconds before you woke up.
you believed jungwon when he told you he'd choose you, that didn't mean you weren't allowed to worry bringing up your dream.
"baby?" you whispered, tilting your head just enough so he could hear you clearly.
he tilted his head away with a hand over his face, cheeks clearly turning red even as he hid his face. "that's new" he choked as you laughed, he attempted to composed himself with a cough.
"yes y/n?" he turned to look down at you "did you happen to have a dream last night?" you spoke quietly between you, watching over his every expression, his face morphed from light confusion to recognition.
he turned to you completely and cupped your face between his hands.
"you found me"
he pulled you closer to him, as you breathed out in relief, all you could do was take in each and every detail of his face with a profound joy no one could describe, a feeling you didn't think you'd get the clarity to enjoy.
"there's no one i'd rather be destined to" he whispered as he stroked your jaw. in a way you thought you'd felt all this before—all in your dreams but in your dreams you'd wake up alone, wondering when you'd feel it all, really feel it—in the world and not in your head.
you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his slowly, he hummed pulling your body impossibly closer.
"thank you soulmate" you spoke between kisses, he giggled—sweet.
[ NOW PLAYING > LES ]
after a lot of cuddling and kisses you begrudgingly got up—out of jungwon's death grip, you tiptoed out of his room into your own and decided to do some cleaning—as you folded the last of your washing, you laid some clothes out on your bed, grabbing your towel for a shower.
you pulled your curtains back, letting the morning glow wash over your room—soft rays fanning over the room in a pattern against each surface. as you stood out watching the life outside your windows, you felt hands creep around your waist—yelping out at the foreign feeling.
"jungwon! you scared me" you gasped—"mm i'm sorry baby" he spoke before pulling you into a kiss, you hummed into it as he deepened it slowly—walking back, you made an unintentional gasp-whine as the back of your legs pressed into the bed.
he swallowed your noises, hands wandering up your waist—your own pulled onto the back of his head, raking through his hair. he whined into your mouth loud—unfiltered.
"you're addicting" he breathed in-between kisses, your tongues traced each others, both spurring each other on with each noise.
"baby i was gonna shower" you giggled after pulling away to breathe, he shook his head for a split second a light bulb practically appearing above his head, he took your hand and pulled you to the bathroom—with a clear problem in his pants..
"let's shower then" he tilted his head, pulling you back into a deep—messy kiss, pushing his hands into your hips, you laughed at his boldness as your hands reached behind you to lock the door.
you parted just for a second to start the shower before capturing his lips again, hands toying at the hem of his shirt—he pulled it over his head as you pulled your sleep shorts off, kicking them somewhere in the bathroom. you took in his toned—golden chest, letting out a breath. he smirked at your reaction, you leaned in pressing kisses to his cheeks "so pretty".
he pulled your top over your head—his lips parted as he pulled you closer towards him, pressing small kisses to your collarbones—shoulders.
"my beautiful girl" he spoke looking over the details on your face—the crease in your cheeks as you smiled at his words, the love swirled with desire in your eyes. you felt your stomach twist as you scanned over the large imprint over his joggers, he kicked them off as you stepped over the ledge into the shower.
you gasped at the chill of the water, as you turned to change it jungwon turned you back towards him.
"don't bother" he grinned, pushing his darkened blonde hair back—your back pressed against the cool wall as he pressed his length against you, you caught sight of his painfully hard dick, mouth watering.
"not yet" he whispered before shoving his tongue into your mouth—pressing his fingers over your slit, you gasped against his mouth. he hummed, teasing—rubbing over your leaking cunt.
"don't fucking tease" you whined, teeth grit. he only chuckled—dark and taunting. "or what?" he licked against your ear.
your words got caught in your throat as he shoved two fingers deep into you with no remorse, you moaned loud as the cold water soothed the heat surging through you.
"shh baby, wouldn't want jake to hear your pretty noises now would we?" he mocked as he curled his fingers perfectly—repeatedly against your gummy walls.
your lips formed a pout as you bit your bottom lip—shaking your head with a whine mouth closed. your hand shook as you held the wall with enough pressure to drain the colour from it, the other on his shoulder—holding on for dear life.
he bent his knees, tilting down with his fingers thrusting in and out—his lips captured the peak of your tit with a low groan tearing into the mixed echoes of the room. his groans and your whines mingled with the sound of water hitting the two of you—it was truly filthy.
his tongue twirled over your tits as he alternated, finally letting them rest as his thumb joined the torment, transfixing on your clit. he straightened his legs—pressing your cheeks together to lick into your mouth, kissing you open mouthed. a low mewl tore from your throat into his mouth. you felt your stomach threaten to snap, cunt tightening around his relentless fingers.
"don't you dare" he whispered against your lips, eyes black with desire. he pumped his fingers harder, faster.
"i-mmph' i can't" you gasped, he dropped down to his knees as your legs shook hard, replacing his thumb with his lips—he sucked and licked against your clit. his eyes locked onto yours as his lips worked on you alongside his fingers, sinful noises shook through the room as he undid whatever he said about being quiet, with his mouth.
"cum-on-my-tongue" he breathed in-between sucks, with one final simultaneous curl to his finger and flick of his tongue you came.
you came hard with a drawn out scream, jungwon ate up your arousal through your high with enthusiastic moans of his own, your legs buckled as the heat rose through your body. he finally came up as you started twitching—overstimulated.
he pressed his lips against yours with a groan as you tasted yourself—you traced your fingers over his stomach working down to his cock, he twitched violently as you wrapped your palm around it—applying pressure.
he hissed at the contact and then hiked your leg up, around his waist. he grabbed your hand placing it back on his shoulder before wrapping his own hand around himself—teasing his reddened tip against your entrance.
he pushed in an inch, slowly—watching your every expression with parted lips and groans. your breath stuttered as he inched further and further in, until he bottomed out with a sweet whine against your ear.
you gasped as you adjusted, head against the wall—he kissed your ear, jaw—finally nipping on your bottom lip.
"mmph' move please" you whined as his cock twitched inside you, he held eye contact as he experimentally thrust into you, you gasped loud—immediately silencing yourself with closed eyed.
"open your eyes" he spoke as he thrusted again—his free hand started pinching at your nipples as he bounced you rhythmically.
your noises loudened as he pumped faster—harder into you, with his darkened eyes trained on yours, his own resolve breaking as whines spilled out, his fingers left your nipples—working on your puffy clit.
you cried out just as you felt your stomach tightening, for your second orgasm.
"y/n! are you good i heard you scream?!"
your head snapped to the door in fear hearing jake through the door, you looked at jungwon's face—only to see his eyes darken further with each moment, his once parted lips now upturned into a sly grin. he immediately tightened his grip on you, fucking up into you at an animal pace—your jaw dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth.
"can feel your pussy sucking me in, you fucking like this?" he chuckled low into your ear, you clenched harder at his words, his hips stuttered as he sighed through his nose—as if to compose himself.
"go on, answer-him" he spoke with grit teeth—you slowly released the hand over your mouth, teeth now sunk into your lip.
"m-i'm—fine, slipped!" you choked out as jungwon's cock slammed into you, your vision slipping as tears rolled out unknown to you.
"okay.. be careful!" he shouted and then you heard the door to your room close.
as if on cue the coil snapped, hard—you saw white as you came for the second time, jungwon's head fell to your shoulder as he rode out his own high with a violent stutter to his hips and a drawn out groan as he filled your cunt with his milky cum.
you both gasped for air, he pulled out with a grunt as you hissed at the sensitivity, the gasps slowly dying down into deep breaths as the cool water washed away the sin and heat.
you felt his lips press kisses from your collarbone to your lips, pecking a few times with a dazed lazy smile. you both stood under the showerhead—whispering i love you's between kisses.
you washed each other, taking your sweet time—that was until you felt wave of sleep attack your eyelids, which prompted jungwon to swiftly pull you out and wrap you in a towel—making you do your skincare as he pulled out pyjamas for you. you got changed as jungwon sprinted to his own room, he came back within minutes to join you, he sunk into the bed besides you with a drawn out sigh as he pulled you into him.
your relationship with jungwon didn't fill any void, it didn't make you feel more accomplished—it added to the joy you already felt, you didn't need him to better your life—he added betterment without it being a necessity.
as a soulmate jungwon fit into place with ease, the changes that came with your relationship wasn't overwhelming—he was attentive without being overbearing, your wish was his command even without wishing—always thoughtful, with your shared teas becoming more frequent, often waking to them waiting for you on the kitchen island.
he did however have a hard time keeping his hands off you, during movie night or in public, of course jake had noticed the shift—unbeknownst to you he saw it in the way jungwon no longer looked at you how he did, he used to look at you as though he'd have to savour it—looking away almost as quickly as his eyes landed on you.
now his eyes lingered—they watched over your figure, sometimes with a deep fulfilment, other times as a predatory up and down.
what jake didn't know, was the soulmate news. he had no idea you were destined for each other. which you weren't trying to keep a secret but you hadn't quite known the best time to bring it up.
and you certainly hadn't expected it to come out when you assumed jake wasn't home.
you stood with your back to the room, making a drink as the tv played some animal documentary into the otherwise silent room. you huffed in faux annoyance as jungwon slid in behind you—resting his head on the blade of your shoulder as an amused noise left his mouth.
his hands slid around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek—you turned your head enough to meet his lips, humming into an all too sweet kiss.
"morning soulmate" he spoke as you turned yourself around, hands leaning on the counter behind you—his hands traced your waist as you turned pulling you into another kiss, as you pulled back from his lips your words got lost on your tongue—a shell-shocked jake stood at the island.
his jaw dropped with a shopping bag in hand, jungwon followed your shocked expression to jake's—his own face falling.
"soulmates?!" he gawked looking between you both, you walked over to him setting the bag on the island and propping yourself up on it.
"yeah, um we've only known for a couple days.." you started as he continued looking between you both.
"alright i knew you were together or-or something! but soulmates?" he stammered, jungwon had walked over at this point standing besides you as you talked.
"wait, pause—did we make it that obvious?" you responded.
"well yeah? he looks at you like he's allowed to now, also you did kinda hint something happened when we caught yuri and juliana.." he raised an eyebrow as jungwon choked looking around the room.
"we have a lot of catching up to do" you sighed as he punched jungwon's shoulder making him groan out who only nodded with his lips tightened into a line.
"i deserved that.."
.⭑ˎˊ˗
time moved as your relationship progressed, each day melting together in a comfortable rhythm—jungwon found a new way to show his devotion towards you each day. sometimes he'd show up after your classes with a paper cup of your favourite tea—other times he had pulled you to your river, talking about finding the stray cat he had ran into.
you fell into a unspoken routine, having sleepovers every so often—sometimes you'd fall asleep early and wake up to a sleepy jungwon nestled into your back. he insisted on walking you to your classes each morning—even if he didn't have any.
your friends hadn't questioned the change at all, they welcomed it with open arms—all of them had pretty much seen it coming, they even went so far as to give those couple months you'd spent pining a name, the yearning trials..
yuri had also apologised many times in her own way, often sending flowers before you stopped her, telling her you understood—it was a cycle of pain for everyone.
nothing changed with jake—if anything he took your relationship as an opportunity to tease jungwon when he'd inevitably be caught lacking, leaving jungwon a flushed mess trying to convince you both he wasn't embarrassed. however burying his head into your shoulder denied that.
he also often walked into interesting scenes at the dorms.
one time he walked in to you baking, with jungwon on washing up duty, quickly coming to the conclusion baking wasn't for him—he beat each substance into the dish with zero patience of his own, you had to take the bowl from him in the same manner you would taking a toy from a child.
the last couple days you had felt slight unease, everything flowed the same—your life was beyond magical, except there was a little tingle in your spine that suggested otherwise.
you noticed it in the way jungwon looked slightly worried anytime you went near his desk, also not letting you grab his glasses for him—mumbling a vague excuse about being comfy on you, except he had complained about having to get them.
after some particularly tiring classes you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket as you trudged into your room, walking in to a little pink paper sat on your pillow.
come to the roof
slightly ominous.. but you easily knew who it was from the writing. a smile graced your lips as you slipped on your shoes and ran up the stairs. you pushed open the door immediately being hit with a slight chill—and jungwon sat on a blanket, barely being able to contain his smile as you sauntered over.
"what's this?" you laughed as you slid in next to him, he pulled you close by your shoulder—pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"so you remember when you asked me to the gala" he wiggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes.
"unfortunately" you said with a dropped voice.
"would you like to go with me y/n?" he spoke between you, low and shy.
"baby tickets would be long gone by now" you smiled as you kissed his nose.
he pulled out two pink tickets between his fingers as if he was holding a card—mischief riddled in his wide eyes.
"how did you-" you gasped.
"i got them the day before you asked me.. because i wanted to ask you" he whispered between you, his eyes crossed over your face before landing on your own—staring so deeply, with his head slightly tilted.
"of course i'll go with you, thank you baby" you tilted your head forward—just enough so your nose was nudging his.
"everything?"
"everything."
had to reference the anime that broke my heart for the first time.
he so fucking pretty lord stopp i'm on my writing block but i feel the urge to make him pregnant thru my writing, to write nasty and filthy shit and just write whatever i want but i can't write with my brain fried atm 😞
ᛪ༙gist: your chef boyfriend calls in. and you reward him with a great tip for his cooperation.
ohyul’s hands move like they have a mind of their own. quick, sure, never hesitating. even half-asleep at the kitchen counter, with dawn barely prying through the blinds, he dices scallions into perfect little rings without looking. the knife clicks against the cutting board in a steady rhythm. you lean in the doorway, marveling at the way his shoulders roll with motion.
he catches your gaze and grins. the kind of grin that starts in his eyes before it reaches his mouth. “morning,” he says. the stove hisses as he drops a pat of butter into the pan, filling the apartment with its sweet, salty aroma. “you hungry?”
the scallions sizzle, and he nudges them with a spatula absent mindedly. your mouth waters. ohyul’s a phenomenal cook. even if it is his occupation.
“starving,” you admit.
his bare feet shift against the tile, restless, already mentally back in his restaurant kitchen. somewhere he shouldn’t be today.
“gotta leave in twenty,” he mutters, more to himself than you. his phone buzzes and you see his sous chef’s name flash. you slide in beside him, your hips nudging him, and swipe the phone from the counter before he can react. he arches an eyebrow but doesn’t reach for it.
instead, he leans into you, shoulder pressing firmly against yours. “should probably respond to it,” he says, playful, but he makes no real protest. the scallions caramelize, sweet and sharp, and he flips them effortlessly.
“call in,” you say, pressing your chest to his. your fingers settle over his ribs. “just once. tell them you’re taking a personal day.”
you can already see the argument forming behind his eyes. stacked reservations, the prep list, the way his boss will sigh with disappointment over his star chef missing.
so you cut him off before he can voice it. "I’ll tip better than your entire section ever could."
ohyul laughs but he doesn’t respond to you immediately. he flips the scallions one last time, then kills the heat. his forehead drops against yours. “you’re gonna ruin my reputation.” he says, sliding his hand up your spine.
you audibly sigh. him and his damn work ethic.
he exhales slowly, tension leaving his shoulders, curling into you. “okay. fine,” he relents. his lips brush yours briefly.
“you plate breakfast. i’m off the clock.” he takes a step back, letting you take over.
you snort. “you realize this is your specialty. plating included.”
the spatula feels foreign in your hand, heavier than it should be. ohyul just hums, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. he’s watching you with that lazy, indulgent smile that usually only appears after closing time.
you flick a scallion at his chest. it sticks for a second, sliding off with a tiny grease mark. “stop looking at me like that,” you grumble, scraping the scallions onto a plate.
you move the plate full of scallions away from you. and lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. his hands settle over yours on the countertop.
“you’re really staying?” you ask.
his chin hooks over your shoulder. “told you I was,” he says, thumb tracing idle patterns over your hands.
for once, no timer ticks in the background.
you twist free before he can protest, grinning at the way his hands hover in the air for a second, empty. "okay, since you’re calling in. and spending the day with me. here's the second thing."
ohyul's eyebrows knit together, but there's a spark of curiosity in his eyes as he leans against the counter.
"a hot bath," you continue, smiling. “lots of bath bombs. the kind that turns the water stupid colors.”
he laughs, rubbing a hand over his face. “you just want to watch me turn into a human glitter bomb,” he accuses, but he’s already following you towards the bathroom.
steam curls into the air as you drop lavender-and-cobalt bath bombs into the clawfoot tub. the water fizzes, swirling colors bleeding like watercolor.
"i don't want to turn you into a human glitter bomb," you say, glancing over your shoulder where ohyul lingers in the doorway, hip cocked against the frame. his arms are still crossed, but there's a softness around his eyes now, the kind that only appears when he's truly unwinding. "more like a human who should relax sometimes."
ohyul huffs a laugh, pushing off the doorframe to step closer. "pretty sure my chef's contract says something about never relaxing," he murmurs, but he's already tugging his shirt over his head, the motion effortless. "think it's punishable by death, actually."
you laugh, pushing your head back until the bathroom tiles press cool against your scalp. “poor baby,” you coo, watching without an ounce of shame as ohyul hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants.
it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before. every scar, every mole, the way his left hip dips slightly lower than his right from years of shifting his weight while plating.
he sinks into the water with a groan that vibrates through the porcelain. his muscles loosen in stages until he’s half-submerged, arms slung over the tub edges. you crouch beside him, grinning at his pink-tinged shoulders and damp tufts of hair. “why don’t we do this every day?”
he’s always been like this. hardworking to a fault, even to his own detriment.
you swipe a dollop of bubbles across his upper lip. ohyul wrinkles his nose but doesn’t open his eyes, just lets the foam sit there like some ridiculous, frothy mustache. “because you never have time.” you remind him.
you lean in pressing a kiss to his forehead. “finish up. i’ll get the living room ready.”
ohyul cracks one eye open at that, curiosity flickering behind his lashes, but you’re already backing out of the bathroom before he can ask. the door clicks shut behind you, cutting off his half-hearted protest.
adrenaline surges as you dash to the cooler in the car downstairs. you retrieve the cooler along with a tissue-wrapped package tucked in the back of the truck. lace, black and barely there, slips into your pocket.
you make it back into the apartment, the cooler's handle digging into your palm as you fumble with the keys. you freeze halfway over the threshold, listening for the telltale slosh of bathwater from down the hall.
silence. good.
in the living room, you adjust the straps of the lace against your skin. the mirror catches fragments of your reflection. thigh, waist, curve. you bite your lips. ohyul’s going to lose his mind once he sees you.
down the hall, the bathroom door creaks open. damp footsteps approaching. ohyul’s voice calls, “babe?” he reaches the living room. towel around his hips, wet hair clinging to his temples. “what,” he asks hoarsely, “is happening?”
you tap the edge of the cooler with one finger, watching his gaze flick to it, then back to you. “closing time,” you answer innocently.
"but not yet," you add, stepping back just as he reaches for you. "get dressed. sweatpants only."
ohyul's mouth opens to protest, to ask, to demand. your bare shoulder brushing his damp chest as you sidestep his attempt to reach for you again. your head cocks to the direction of your bedroom, signaling for him to change.
the couch cushions feel like they’re vibrating under you, or maybe that’s just your knees bouncing. a nervous, giddy rhythm. the cooler sits on the coffee table, lid still shut, a silent accomplice to whatever this is about to become. you’ve rearranged the throw pillows three times already, then kicked them aside entirely when you realized you were just fussing.
ohyul’s shadow stretches long across the floor before he steps into view, and when he does, he’s exactly as you imagined. barely towel-dried hair curling at his temples, sweatpants slung low enough to show the sharp cut of his hips. his gaze lands on the cooler again, eyebrows hiking up, then drags over you with a heat that makes your skin prickle.
“you,” he says slowly, “are trouble”.
he’s already moving, crossing the room in three strides to kneel beside the coffee table. his fingers hover over the cooler’s latch. “what’s in here? a live lobster?”
you flick the cooler latch open with your thumb. “even better,” you tease. “wine. non-alcoholic.”
he lifts the frosty green bottle, studying it like rare truffle oil. “sparkling apple. fancy,” he murmurs. condensation drips onto his sweatpants, unnoticed. "you really thought of everything, huh?"
you slide the strawberries dipped in chocolate closer. “dessert first, or your tip?”
he laughs, fingers brushing yours as he picks up a strawberry, holding it between you. “you’re really gonna make me choose?”
ohyul doesn't bite into it. his thumb swipes a stray drip of chocolate from the berry's stem. his gaze flicks to your mouth, then back up.
“I think the chef wants his tip first," you say, unable to wait any longer. you pluck the strawberry from ohyul’s grip before he can protest. you lean in, pressing sticky lips from the chocolate, to his with deliberate slowness.
ohyul lets out a soft, startled sound against your mouth, his hands snapping to your hips. the taste of chocolate lingers. messy, sweet.
“that’s not” he starts. his voice falters when you lick a stray smear of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. you slide forward until you’re straddling him. your legs draping over his thighs.
ohyul’s sweatpants cling obscenely on his skin, still wet from his bath and his own heat as you drag your palm along the outline of him. his head thuds back against the cushions, a groan rattling loose from his chest when you press down, just shy of cruelty.
"babe," he grits out, hands scrambling for purchase on your thighs.
you smile in response. and his hips jerk instinctively when your fingers finally dip inside his sweatpants. your hands find his cock, already slick with anticipation, and you tug him free from his sweatpants in one smooth motion.
the sound he makes is downright indecent. a sharp, punched-out exhale that dissolves into a whine when your fingers curl around him properly. his skin is fever-hot against your palm. his cock heavy, twitches as you stroke him slowly.
ohyul’s fingers dig into your hips hard. his thighs tense under you like he’s resisting the urge to thrust up into your grip. he’s unable to speak. eyelids fluttering when you twist your wrist just the way you know he likes.
the flush on his chest spreads higher, staining his throat pink beneath the damp curls clinging to his skin.
you perch high enough to guide him into the slick heat between your thighs. but stop short, letting only the tip catch, teasing.
ohyul’s entire body halts beneath you, his breath stuttering.
"chef," you manage, voice already wrecked. your hips struggle to keep him right there.
barely inside you.
his hands scramble again for your hips. desperate for some kind of leverage. you hold firm to your stance, pushing them down.
copihue: sergeant! kwon ohyul x military nurse! reader
cw: smoking, probably incorrect treatment procedure/medical/military terms, major character death, war setting, emotional distress
the smell of the cigarette fills the tight tent as you gently take out the tiny lead alloy using a bullet forceps from the sergeant's arm. his reaction is unfazed, releasing each puff of the smoke as his eyes sharply darted on you.
a small bullet sunk in his arm is basically nothing when he already witnessed his comrade getting shot in front of his eyes. it's normal anyway for a soldier to deal with a terrible injury or a horrible tragedy like dying and having no promise to make it out from the battlefield alive.
"sir–"
"ohyul"
the sergeant cut you off by heavily stating his own name. he told you a good amount of time, whenever it's only you and him, just drop the position or title.
"sorry. well... ohyul?"
he hummed softly. his eyes go down from your eyes to your hands, carefully dabbing some antibiotic ointment on the wound after you wipe the remaining blood using a clean cloth. he adores how you always treat and mend him extra tender compared to when you treat the other soldier.
"stop smoking whenever i'm mending you."
he let out a faint hum once again before he stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray. a slight smile automatically forms on your lips. you wrapped his wounded arm with a bandage. after rinsing your hands in the stainless steel bowl, you get up from your stool, only for the sergeant to reach and grab your wrist.
"stay"
your eyes locked with his for a few seconds. he gave that yearning look once again. a look that isn't casual at all for the lieutenant with their military nurse. the look that makes your heart sink.
without any words, you take your seat again, facing him. his calloused fingers, which mostly were wrapped with grenades and rifles, are now safe on your soft palm. you hold his hands tightly, as if you don't want him to let go of you.
both of you are not uttering any words, but the silence, the cricket sounds, and the remaining scent of the cigarette know what is going on.
"can i have your nurse cap?"
ohyul finally breaks the quiet atmosphere. his words just add to the uneasy feeling of yours that you had since the beginning. you take off the cap, putting it on his head. a gentle smile immediately flashed from his face, and it only aches your heart more, knowing you might never see it again later.
tears falling down, damping your cheeks without you asking. you force yourself to smile as you wipe them quickly; you don't want ohyul to do it for you.
"why the hell you want my nurse cap when you already got me?"
you asked, the voice cracked in the middle.
"because if i die tomorrow, at least i have your things with me."
die. you despise that word to your core. you rolled your eyes in annoyance. your sight still blurry due to your tears.
"you're strong. you're not going to die."
and your words come true. he doesn't die.
you sit across from ohyul and a few more soldiers in the M998. the thick fog gradually shifted to heavy green forest as the vehicle finally penetrated the enemy's territory. ohyul's knees are glued to yours tightly to keep you steady as the road is eroded.
as the vehicle moves further, you reach down to adjust your medical bag. your fingers slightly brush against ohyul's combat boot. his eyes travels down to you, and even before your eyes can meet his, a loud gunshot tears up the sky. the sound strikes even before you are able to lift up from your spot.
the lapua magnum doesn't hit the tyre nor the frame. it went sharp through the thin canvas, between the air you shared with the soldiers and another nurse.
and it happens so fast that your brain can't even register what was just happening until your body forcefully slams against the metal seat frame. your medical supplement is scattered all over the ground.
"doc's hit! doc's hit!!!"
ohyul screamed, signalling the squad that their safety net is gone. the driver swerves the humvee as the other four soldiers suppress fire while the other nurse immediately presses the field dressing on your bleeding chest. she urge ohyul to switch place with her as she prepare the intravenous for you.
"she's running way too much blood!"
"pressure,sergeant! keep your hands on the wounds!"
the nurse replied as if ohyul's hand wasn't there. ohyul's lips are trembling, eyes slowly to get fuzzy as he tightly holds you in his embrace. your crimson blood was painted all over his hand and uniform, but he couldn't care less. your fingers twitch, trying to find his to link with them for the last time.
"sergeant..."
ohyul's tears immediately fall once that word escapes from your weak lips.
"i'm glad that you have my cap now..."
with a trembling hand,ohyul pulled out the cap you gave him last night from his back pocket. the smell of your shampoo lingers in the air, mixing with your blood scent. tears running through his scarred cheeks like a broken faucet. you forced a faint smile for the last time.
and for once again, he witnesses another beloved person of his gone right in front of him. you was right, he didn't die.
────── you're tired of being princess peach: the perfect life, the perfect husband, the suffocating routine. for months you've been secretly fucking heeseung, the bowser: fake kidnappings that turn into real, filthy nights of rough bondage, his mouth devouring you, his cock claiming you while you pretend to resist.
➛ pairing: bowser! heeseung x princess peach! reader | ➛ genre: mario bros au, smut (mdni!!), i would say crack fic bc come on, cheating, rivals to lovers, pwp, secret relationship | #nowplaying: the sweet escape - gwen stefani | you right - doja cat | big girls don't cry - enhypen | the weekend - sza | bad guy - billie eilish | ➛ word count: 5.8k
➛ warnings: smut (mdni!!!), piv, unprotected sex, monster fucking, kidnapping roleplay, bondage, spanking, oral sex (m & f receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation (public ish / voyeuristic), anal play, cuckolding, dom brat tamer! heeseung, infidelity, cheating (reader is married to mario loll), consensual dub-con (fake kipnapping roleplay), yandere behavior, mild pain play
➛ ronnie's notes: ok so i just wanted to write heeseung as bowser and make the reader absolutely rail him (or get railed by him whatever floats your boat) idk what else to say tbh but this is a 5k words drabble and not really proofread wrote that in 3 days but we ball..... enjoy i guess lmao
IT'S NOT EASY BEING PRINCESS PEACH. you've been rotting in this castle for months. your castle i mean — with the stained glass windows and the gardens that bloom and the marble floors. it's beautiful, but it's suffocating.
your dress is gorgeous, silk and lace and embroidery that took someone weeks to finish. but it weighs a ton, and the corset digs in just enough to remind you that looking the part isn't the same as wanting to play it. your heels scrape marble when you pace (which you do a lot, especially lately) until the sound gets so deep under your skin you want to scream.
your husband has been gone for a week. some mission in the mushroom forest, maybe, something about goombas. you stopped listening halfway through. the toads check on you every few hours like clockwork. bring tea you don't drink, ask if you need anything. you smile and say no and then they leave. they tried to save you the first few times. they don't anymore. and your husband — god, your husband probably thinks you're still waiting with your hands folded, hopeful, counting on him. but you stopped counting weeks ago.
and then you wait.
because heeseung always comes back. and he doesn't break down the door this time.
he just walks in, boots heavy on stone slowly like he's got all the time in the world. the chandeliers shake a little even though he's trying to be quiet — they always do when he's around, like the whole castle recognizes his presence and tenses up. you hear the clink of metal. he stops in the doorway of your oversized bedroom, with his hands in his pockets, dark hair falling into his eyes. looking at you like he's double checking he's got the right princess, the right tower, the right night.
you don't scream, damn you don't even flinch. you just sit up straighter on the edge of the bed, smooth your skirt once, and say calmly, almost bored:
"you're late."
heeseung grins, lazy and shameless.
"had to wait for your boyfriend to leave first," he says, stepping inside. the door clicks shut behind him but he doesn't lock it. "he's real chatty, you know that? i almost felt bad."
"you don't feel bad about anything."
"true." he walks closer slowly. the floor creaks under his weight and you feel it more than hear it. "but i could pretend, you know, for you."
you tilt your head slightly and let the crown sit crooked. a strand of hair falls across your face and you don't fix it. "the toads are gonna notice i'm gone soon," you say. not worried, just factual.
"good." he stops right in front of you now. close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to look at him. "that's the whole point, isn't it, princess?"
you raise an eyebrow. "remind me again why we're doing this?"
"because," heeseung says, voice dropping lower, rougher, "you man's gotta come save you. and you gotta be stolen. and i gotta be the bad guy." he leans down just slightly. "it's all very tragic."
"right." your lips twitch with almost a smile. "so tragic."
"heartbreaking, really."
"and the part where you tie me up and drag me out of here kicking and screaming?"
his grin sharpens, all teeth. "that's my favorite part, baby."
he doesn't answer right away. just reaches behind him and pulls out rope this time, thick, rough hemp. he lets it uncoil slowly in his hand, dragging across the floor with that low rasp that makes your stomach flip. his hands reach your hips, gripping, and then he turns you around, looping the rope once around your wrists, crossed behind you. his fingers brush your skin as he works.
"last time you used the chain." you muttered.
"last time i wasn't worried about evidence." he tugs the knot tighter. "gotta make it look like you fought back."
you tilt your head so you can see his face. "what if i don't fight?"
he pauses and looks at you with that dark, lazy amusement. "then we improvise." another loop, higher this time, binding your forearms together. "you can scream in the hallway. thrash a little. toads eat that shit up."
you flex your fingers and feel the rope pull. "you like this too much."
"maybe." he finishes the knot at the small of your back, then comes around to face you. crouches down so you're eye level. "but you're letting me. so."
you hold his gaze. "he's gonna see these," you say quietly.
heeseung tucks that loose strand behind your ear with the knuckle of his index finger first — slow drag, rough skin catching lightly on the shell of your ear before he switches to his thumb. it lingers there on your cheekbone, pressing just firm enough that you feel the callus from whatever weapons he swings when he’s not playing villain. "who fucking cares? tell him i was rough," he says, voice pitched low and close. "that you begged me to stop. cried a little maybe." his thumb slides down, traces the curve of your jaw, then hooks under your chin to tilt your face up higher. "and while he’s kissing it better you’ll be thinking about how i tied you up spread out on your own bed, skirt shoved to your waist, while he was out playing hero somewhere stupid."
your breath snags in your throat and he hears it. his eyes flick down to your mouth for half a second then back up. "you’re the worst," you whisper and it comes out shaky.
"yeah." he stands in one smooth motion, yanks the rope upward like it weighs nothing. he steadies you with a hand on your hop, fingers digging in deep enough to leave crescent marks through the silk “but you keep letting me come back right?” he adds.
he steps behind you then. both hands on your wrists now — rough palms sliding up your forearms, checking the rope. he tugs each coil tighter until the hemp bites red lines into your skin. his thumbs press into the pulse points at your inner wrists, feeling how fast your blood’s moving. then he leans in close — chest to your back, hips slotting against your ass — and reaches around to adjust the front of your dress where it’s slipping off one shoulder. his knuckles graze the swell of your breast on purpose as he pulls the fabric back up, just enough to tease the edge of your nipple through the corset.
“i’ll mark you real good tonight,” he murmurs against the side of your neck. hot breath and his teeth scraping once over your earlobe. "he’ll see these tomorrow and think you fought like hell.”
he steps back, grabs the chain from his belt. he drapes it over your shoulder slow — heavy links sliding across your collarbone, cool against flushed skin — then lets one end trail down between your breasts like a deliberate path. his fingers follow it for a second, brushing the valley there, pressing just hard enough you feel it in your nipples. "for effect," heeseung smirks. “and because you like the sound it makes when you move.”
you roll your eyes but the smile’s already there. "so what, you just carry me out screaming?"
"yeah that’s the plan." he hooks one arm under your knees, the other around your upper back, and lifts you like you’re nothing. the motion forces your thighs apart around his waist, rope pulling your arms tight behind you so your chest arches forward into him. your bound wrists dig into the small of your back; the angle makes your hips tilt up, cunt pressing right against the hard ridge of his belt buckle through your dress. he shifts you higher on purpose — one quick bounce — so the metal grinds against your clit for a split second. you choke on a sound that’s half gasp, half moan.
“you ready?” he asks, his voice wrecked already.
you lean in, lips brushing his ear. "make it convincing. he’s gotta hear it from the next kingdom over."
he kicks the door open so hard the frame rattles. strides into the hallway, boots slamming marble in steady rhythm. you count two heartbeats and then scream loud and raw, the sound echoing off stone walls like you’re being torn apart. you thrash, your hips rolling against him more than fighting, thighs squeezing his sides, heels kicking once into his thigh. the rope creaks with every twist; the chain clinks against your chest. he doesn’t flinch, just clamps his arm tighter under your ass — fingers splaying wide, one slipping between your thighs from behind to press flat against your soaked cunt through the silk. he rubs once — slow, firm circle right over your clit — while he keeps walking.
you roll your eyes but the smile’s already there. “so what, you just carry me out screaming?”
"that’s the plan.” he hooks one arm under your knees, the other around your upper back, and lifts you like you’re nothing. the motion forces your thighs apart around his waist, rope pulling your arms tight behind you so your chest arches forward into him. your bound wrists dig into the small of your back; the angle makes your hips tilt up, cunt pressing right against the hard ridge of his belt buckle through your dress. he shifts you higher on purpose — one quick bounce — so the metal grinds against your clit for a split second. you choke on a sound that’s half gasp, half moan.
“you ready?” he asks, his voice wrecked already.
you lean in, lips brushing his ear. “make it convincing. he’s gotta hear it from the next kingdom over.”
he kicks the door open so hard the frame rattles. strides into the hallway, boots slamming marble in steady rhythm. you count two heartbeats and then scream loud and raw, the sound echoing off stone walls like you’re being torn apart. you thrash, your hips rolling against him more than fighting, thighs squeezing his sides, heels kicking once into his thigh. the rope creaks with every twist; the chain clinks against your chest. he doesn’t flinch, just clamps his arm tighter under your ass — fingers splaying wide, one slipping between your thighs from behind to press flat against your soaked cunt through the silk. he rubs once — slow, firm circle right over your clit — while he keeps walking.
“that’s it,” he mutters against your hair, so low no one else hears. “sell it, pretty. scream like i’m ruining you…”
you do, louder. wetter sounds slipping between your fake cries every time his fingers grind against you with his next step. and the whole castle hears the princess being stolen while the monster carries her out like she belongs to him.
heeseung doesn’t slow down until the castle gates are long behind you. the night air hits cold against your flushed skin as he crosses the bridge, then ducks into the shadowed path that leads straight to his domain — the dark, jagged spires of bowser’s keep. the drawbridge groans open without him even asking; the lava moat bubbles low and angry below.
inside it’s warmer and the stone walls pulse with heat from the torches and the underground fires. he carries you through echoing corridors, past chained goombas who don’t even glance up, until he hits the spiral staircase to the tallest tower. he shifts you roughly and flips you over his shoulder. your wrists still tied tight and your ass is up and your thigh is framing his neck.
the first step up the stairs jolts you. his shoulder digs into your stomach, forcing a real huff out of you. then his free hand comes down — hard, open palmed slap right across your bare ass cheek and the sound cracks through the stairwell. you yelp, legs kicking once on instinct.
"quiet down," he growls, but there’s a grin in it. another slap sharper, catching the sensitive underside where thigh meets ass. your cunt clenches hard around nothing; you feel the slick slide down your inner thigh. "here you don’t need to keep screaming for your husband anymore, princess." another slap and this one lingers, his palm stays pressed flat, fingers curling in to squeeze the stinging flesh. he spreads you a little with the grip, thumb brushing the edge of your dripping slit from behind. “no more lying about how wet you get when i take you.” his voice drops darker. “just you, spread out, begging the monster to fuck his pretty little traitor.”
you moan muffled against his back and he laughs mean. he keeps climbing, every few steps another slap, alternating cheeks, building the heat until your skin’s hot and throbbing, every smack sending fresh sparks straight to your clit.
by the time he reaches the top, your thighs are shaking. he kicks the heavy door open and it bangs against the wall and strides straight to the massive four poster bed in the center of the chamber with black sheets and red velvet hangings.
he doesn’t set you down gentle, he throws you. you land on your back with a bounce, wrists still bound behind you, forcing your shoulders to arch, tits pushed up against the tight corset. the dress is a mess — hiked to your hips, soaked silk clinging between your legs. he stands at the foot of the bed with his eyes raking over you slowly. heeseung's chest heaving a little from the stairs, belt already half undone.
"look at you," he says and his voice is rough and mocking. "princess peach, all tied up and dripping in my bed. what would your husband say if he saw his perfect wife like this? legs open, cunt leaking for the monster who just kidnapped her."
you try to close your thighs, more tease than resistance, but heeseung grabs your ankles, yanks them apart, your knees hooked over his elbows. the rope pulls tighter behind your back and you whimper. "don't even try," he warns you as he drops to his knees between your legs. "you're not going anywhere."
heeseung doesn't pull your dress up further, instead, he just ducks his head under the silk skirt, like it's a veil, his shoulder forcing your thighs wider. his hot breath hits your clit first, then his tongue, flat, with a slow drag from your entrance all the way up, tasting every inch of the mess you've made. he groans against you like hés starving. "fuck, this pussy tastes so good," he mutters into your cunt. "sweet and dripping, all f'me."
then he really dives in, his tongue pushing inside you, fucking you open while his nose grinds against your clit. you arch hard and he just grips your hips tighter, nails digging crescents into your ass to hold you down. he sucks your clit into his month, then releases it with a wet pop, only to lick broad stripes again. the sounds are loud, he's slurping and sucking and your own choked moans are mixing with the wet smack of his mouth.
his hands keep your thigh pinned wide, his thumb spreading your lips open so he can get deeper. "scream for real this time," he orders, his voice muffled against your pussy. he pulls back just enough to spit on your clit, then drives back in. "let the whole fucking tower hear hoe much you love getting eaten out by the bad guy."
your hips grind up into his mouth harder now, the rope pining your arms so tight behind your back, that every buck makes the hemp scrape fresh burns into your wrists, but you don't care. you chase it, thighs clamping around his head. "f-fuck heeseung, —" you gasp. "please don't stop—"
he pulls back just enough to make you whine, and he smirks from under the skirt. "who said you get to tell me what do do, princess?" his voice is mean and his fingers dig harder into your ass, bruising. "you're the one tied up, baby. the one cheating on her hero husband with my tongue buried in her cunt. shut up and take it."
you giggle, and kick your heel lightly into his back. "make me."
so he does. he dives back in rougher, his tongue flicking fast and relentless over your clit, two fingers shoving inside of you without warning, curling hard and pumping deep. his free hand slaps your inner thigh and then he holds it open wider. "that's right," he growls against your folds. "keep running that pretty mouth, see what it gets you."
you're responsive now — every lick pulls a sound out of you. moans turn into whimpers, your hips rolling messy and urgent. "harder— hee, please, fuck—" you're begging, thighs shaking harder around his ears. he sucks your clit between his teeth and you shatter. whole body seizing up, cunt clenching around his fingers as you cum hard. a raw cry rips out of your throat and you flood his mouth, your vision spotting white. he doesn't stop, just laps you through it, his tongue slow and filthy now, drinking every drop of you. your hips twitch and even though you're oversensitive you grind down anyway because it hurts so good.
when you finally slump back, he pulls out from under the skirt and stands up slowly, at the foot of the bed. his face was wrecked — his lips were red, his chin dripping, his eyes dark but still fixed on you like a prey. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand but his gaze doesn't leave yours. "look at the mess you've made," he says. "cumming all over the monster's face, while your husband is out there saving the day. how pathetic."
your bratty fire sparks back, so you bite your lip and shift on the bed, pushing yourself up to sitting, your knees together like you're trying to play innocent. "yeah? then why are you so hard?"
your eyes drop to the bulge straining his pants, and heeseung's jaw ticks. he steps closer and towers you from the edge of the bed. he grabs your chin hard, bruising, his fingers still slick with you, and forces your face up. "on your knees," he orders.
but you don't move, instead, you just stare up at him, defiant. "make me."
his grip tightens, he yanks you forward by the chin until you're sliding off the bed, your knees hitting the stone floor with a thud. you're so much smaller like this on your knees, looking up at his bigger frame, his boots plant wide on either side of your thighs, basically caging you in. "yeah, that's better," he mutters. his thumb smears your own wetness across your bottom lip. "brats like you belong down here anyway."
you lick if off slowly, eyes locked on his. "fuck you, heeseung."
"you will." and then he lets go of your chin, his hands moving to his belt, unbuckling it completely. he pulls the zipper down slowly and he shoves his pants open, pulls himself out — he's thick, hard, huge, veins pulsing under your gaze. you almost drool at the sight, pre cum beads at the tip already, and he strokes once, base to head, unhurried. "open," he says.
you make him wait a second longer just to be a brat. "what if he walks in right now?" you murmur, your lips almost brushing the tip of his cock. "sees me on my knees mouth full of his rival's cock?"
heeseung growls and grabs the back of your head, his fingers tangling hard in your hair, and pushes in without warning, filling your mouth deep. "then he would know what a cheating little slut his wife really is," he hisses. he holds you there for a second, feeling your throat adjusting to his size. "now suck this cock, princess."
you moan around him and he starts moving, your tongue swirling messy under his shaft, cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper. your spit slicks him up quickly, dripping down your chin onto your chest. he's thick enough it aches your jaw, but you push through, looking up at him the whole time. "that's it," he mutters, with his hips rocking forward. "choke on it. pretend it's his — but we both know you'd rather have mine." his free hand cups your jaw, thumb pressing into the bulge where he's filling you. "gonna cum down your throat and send you back to him with my taste still on your tongue."
you hum in agreement and suck harder, heeseung's grip tightens on your hair, and he rocks forward letting you feel every thick inch sliding deeper, until the tip of his cock bumps the back of your throat. "relax that pretty mouth," he mutters. "you're gonna take it all princes, you know how, don't you?"
so you try, your throat working, but when he pushes the last inch in, your eyes water instantly. your nose is pressed to his pelvis and you make a muffled wet sound around him, half protest and half moan. he groans with his hips twitching forward. "fuck, that's it — feel how deep i am?" he holds you there a second longer than you can handle, feeling your throat squeezing him. he pulls back just enough for you to drag in a shaky breath through your nose before sliding back in, slower this time.
"look up at me," he orders. so you do, and your lashes are wet, tears clinging, but you blink up at him anyway. "good girl. your husband is never gonna get this version of his princess, is he?"
you shake your head and whine around his cock, and then he starts fucking your mouth for real. every thrust bumps the back of your throat making your gag reflex flutter. spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth and drips down onto your chest. "fuck, you're taking it so well." your eyes are rolling back a little when he grinds in deep and holds, but then he speeds up, chasing it. "gonna cum—" he warns. "gonna fill that mouth and you're gonna swallow every drop, you hear me princess?"
you moan in agreement and he loses it, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing thick on your throat as he comes hard. you swallow reflexively, throat working around him, milking every last bit. when he's done, he doesn't pull out gentle, he yanks your head back by the hair, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. strings of spit and cum connect your lips to the tip for a second.
you gasp, coughing once, your chest heavy. "up," he snaps. his hand is still fisted in your hair and he hauls you up to your feet. your legs shake, your knees weak from kneeling so long but he doesn't care. he spins you around fast, shoves your face down onto the bed. your bound arms twist awkwardly under you; cheek pressed to the sheets, your ass up, dress still bunched around your waist.
he kicks your thighs wider apart. one hand plants between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard. the other grips your hip. you whimper whiny, your hips rocking back instinctively. "heeseung — please —"
"please what?" he mocks. then he leans over you, his chest to your back, his cock still hard and sliding between your folds. he teases your entrance without pushing in. "please fuck your cheating cunt? please make you forget your fucking husband exists?"
"yes—" you whine, voice breaking. "please, just — i need it, i need you—"
he laughs and slams in in one brutal thrust, bottoming out so deep your breath punches out of you. the stretch burns so good and you're still sensitive from cumming earlier, walls fluttering around his cock. "fuck you're tight," he grits out and starts moving roughly in a punishing rhythm. hips snapping hard enough the bed frame creaks. every thrust jolts you forward, face smushing into the sheets. "taking me so good even after i fucked your throat raw— greedy little thing."
you moan into the mattress pushing back to meet him as best you can with your arms tied. “harder — please, heeseung—”
he slaps your ass once then grips both hips, yanking you back onto him with every stroke. “you want it harder princess?” his voice was strained. “you just take it. take it and think about how you’re gonna crawl back to him tomorrow with my cum leaking out of you.”
your whines turn higher, needier. “gonna — gonna feel you all day—”
"damn right you will." he angles deeper and hits that spot that makes your toes curl. one hand slides up and wraps around the rope binding your wrists and he uses it like a handle, pulling your shoulders back, arching you harder. "scream for me again, let the whole fucking castle know who owns this pussy."
you do, while he fucks you rough and relentless, claiming every inch like he's marking territory your husband will never touch again. heeseung's hips snap harder now, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room like a filthy rhythm. your whines turn desperate, high pitched, every thrust punching the air out of your lungs. "f-fuck — too deep, hee —" you gasp.
he laughs darkly and breathless, one hand sliding up your sweat slick back to fist your hair again. "to deep? you're fucking soaked, princess, dripping down my balls." his voice is wrecked and mean, his hips grinding in deep circles. "bet you never cum this hard on his tiny dick. that's why you keep letting me steal you, huh? you need a real monster cock to stretch this cheating pussy?"
you're right on the edge — walls fluttering tight around him, clit throbbing from the friction every time his hips slam. "heeseung — i'm gonna — please"
that's when the door bursts open and slams against the wall with a crack. in waddles this short, stocky guy, his red hat crooked, his mustache twitching, overalls dirt streaked from whatever dumb quest he was on. his eyes go wide, his face flushing redder than his shirt as he freezes in the doorway. the little gloves on his hands clench into fists but he doesn't move. he just stands there, staring at the scene: you face down on the bed, ass up, bound arms pinned, your dress ruined and shoved to your waist while heeseung fucks you from behind.
heeseung doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down. if anything he goes even harder, his thrusts turning brutal, cock slamming so deep you feel it in your guts, and the obscene squelch of your cunt taking him deep fills the silence in the room. he glances over at the intruder, smirks wide and feral and then he turns back to you like the guy's not even there.
"oh look," he drawls, voice loud and mocking. "your little hero showed up early, probably thought he was gonna rescue his perfect princess." he yanks your hair back harder, forcing your head up so you're looking right at the door, right at him. tears streak your cheeks from the overstimulation and you bite your lip, but a moan slips out anyway, raw and needy. "tell him how good it feels, baby, come on. tell him you're creaming all over my cock instead of waiting for his pathetic ass."
your husband stammers something high pitched italian accented gibberish, his face twisting in horror and humiliation. his eyes dark from your flushed wrecked expression to where heeseung's thick cock disappears into you, slick and shining, his balls slapping your clit with every rough pound. your husband takes a step forward, then stops, his hands shaking like he doesn't even know what to do.
you try to speak, but heeseung cuts you off with a hard slap on your ass. your cunt clenching hard around him from the sting, and you whimper, your hips pushing back on instinct. "heeseung, f-fuck—"
"don't lie to him now baby," heeseung growls, leaning over closer, chest to your back, his mouth hot against your ear. "tell your husband the truth, tell him how you beg me to tie you up and fuck you raw every time. how his wife's pussy milks my cock." he punctuates each word with a deep thrust — in, out, in — making your tits bounce under the corset.
your husband's face crumples and he backs up a step, muttering something and then he spins on his heels and bolts out the door, slamming it shut behind him so hard the torches flicker. heeseung bursts out laughing and immediately pick up the pace, his hips pistoning faster now. "poor little guy," he mocks, chuckling under his breath.
his hand slides down from your hip, his fingers slick with your arousal, and without warning he presses one thick digit against your asshole, slowly at first, circling the tight rim before pushing in knuckle deep in one smooth slide. you jolt forward with a chocked whine, whole body clenching around both his cock and digit. the stretch burns, making everything feel even filthier.
"fuck you just squeezed me so tight," heeseung groans against your ear, finger curling inside you in slow, teasing pumps matching the brutal rhythm of his thrusts. "you like that, huh? my finger in your ass while i fuck this cheating pussy raw?"
you can't form words, just moans and whimpers, face pressed into the sheets now, drool pooling under your cheek. your hips push back chasing both sensations and heeseung laughs again, darker this time and twists his finger deeper. "answer me, princess," he demands. "tell me you love being stuffed full like a dirty little slut while your husband's probably crying somewhere."
"y-yes—" you sob, voice wrecked. "fuck yes — i love it, hee, please don't stop—"
"that's my girl," he hisses, stretching you wider with his finger while his cock pound relentless. "now cum for me, princess, cum hard on this cock."
and you do instantly, walls clamping down like a vice, your whole body shaking as the orgasm rips through you. "heeseung — fuck yes—" you sob, your voice whiny, gushing wet around him in hot pulses. he groans loud and follow right after, burying deep with one last brutal thrust. his cock throbbing, spilling thick ropes of cum inside you, filling you up until it leaks out around him, dripping down your thighs in warm, sticky rails.
heeseung collapses over you for a second, his chest heaving against your back, his cock still twitching inside you as the last pulses fade. his breath fans hot across your shoulder before he finally exhales. he pulls out carefully, watching the thick white spill out of you the second he bottoms out. it drips slow down your thighs, mixing with your own slick. he groans low at the sight, his thumb brushing once over your asshole down your swollen folds just to spread it wider, like he's admiring his work.
"that's my good girl," heeseung murmurs, the mean edge softening. he flips you over gentle, his hands under your shoulders, easing you onto your back so the rope doesn't dig in worse. your arms ache when they finally relax forward and he notices, and his fingers work the knots loose one by one, careful not to yank, rubbing slow circles over the red welts left behind. "fuck look at theses marks," he says. "gonna bruise so pretty tomorrow."
you shiver at the thought. he leans down and presses a slow open mouthed kiss to each wrist, his tongue flicking over the rope burns like he's soothing them and claiming them at the same time. then he hits back on his heels, his eyes raking over the rest of you: corset still half laced, dress a crumpled ruin around your waist, crown long gone somewhere on the floor.
"c'mere," he says, sliding his arms under your knees and back. he lift you like you weigh nothing, cradling you against his chest. your head lolls onto his shoulder, you're boneless and wrecked and still leaking him down your thighs. he carries you across the room, past the heavy velvet curtains into the attached bath chamber.
the tub's massive, black marble, filled and steaming with hot water that smells of something herbal like he planned this part too. he stops at the edge, still holding you, and sets you down on your feet gently, steadying you with his hands on your hips when your legs wobble. "easy there. let's get this off," he murmurs, his fingers finding the laces of your corset, working them loose one by one, slowly pulling out the silk loosen around your ribs. you breathe deeper, and then he peels the ruined dress down, no rush and no roughness. he strips down every last layer gently until you're completely bare.
he stands again, his eyes dark but soft as he takes you in. he doesn't say anything filthy this time, just leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth, soft. he scoops you back and lowers you into the sub carefully. the hot water stings the fresh mark on your wrists and the raw skins of your ask for a moment, then melts into soothing warmth that makes your whole body loosen.
heeseung strips himself next, armor pieces first, his leather straps undone, shirt tugged over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the hard lines on his chest, the faint scars that look like old battle marks. pants down next, kicked off with his boots, and he's bare in seconds, his cock still semi hard, his thighs thick and his skin flushed from everything you just did.
he slides in behind you after, water sloshing over the rim. his long legs bracketing yours, chest to your back, pulling you in until you're resting against him completely. his arms come around you — one hand splayed low on your stomach, the other dipping under the surface to rest between your thighs, possessive but careful.
"relax baby," he murmurs against your ear softly. "let me clean you up, mhm?" he reaches for a cloth on the edge and dips it, squeezes warm water over your shoulders. he watches it run down your collarbone, between your tits and his hand follows, soapy now, sliding over your skin in long strokes. his hands roam over down your arms, careful over the rope marks. across your stomach, and then, between your thighs.
you tense when his fingers brush your cunt still sensitive and swollen but he shushes you. "easy, princess, i'm just washing you." but his touch lingers. two fingers part your folds gently, rinsing away the mess he left, thumb grazing your clit in slow barely there circles. you whimper, hips twitching up into his hand on instinct.
he chuckles low, his breath hot on your neck. "still needy huh? after all that?" he presses a kiss to the side of your throat, then another lower, teeth grazing your pulse. "good, means you're mine."
his hand keeps moving, washing and teasing, never quite enough to make you cum again but enough to keep you trembling. the other hand slides up to your neck, thumb under your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you properly. he kisses you slowly and deeply, his tongue sliding against yours like he's tasting the last of himself on you.
when he pulls back, water dripping from his hair onto your shoulder, his voice drops quieter, rougher. "i want you to be my princess now," he says, his voice raw. "for real this time. not the fake kidnapping bullshit, just… you. here with me, no more going back to him."
you swallow, his fingers are still between your legs, but not moving now, just resting there. "say it baby," he whispers, lips brushing your ear. "say you're mine, please."
your breath hitches. you turn your head just enough to meet his eyes. "i'm yours, heeseung," you murmur, your voice small but sure.
heeseung exhales hard through his nose and kisses you again, harder this time, and his hand finally moves. his fingers slipping inside you slow, curling gentle but deep, his thumb pressing firm on your clit. "good job baby," he growls against your mouth. "now cum for me one more time, mhm?"
so you do — arching back against him, water sloshing over the edge, moaning soft and broken into his kiss while his fingers work you open and claim you all over again.
your husband will never know you spent the whole night tied up and desperate under the guy he thinks is his enemy. at least, it's not that hard being princess peach anymore.
YALL RONNIE LOCKED TF IN FOR THIS ONE GOT KIKI AND I TREMBLING AND SHAKING IN OUR BOOTS SO READ IT ITS SO GOOD I PROMISE YOUUUUUUUUUUU the most delicious mouth watering mouth foaming eye twitching core clenching shit ever like heebowser im ctfu GO READ IT U FREAKS🤨🫵❤️
PLSSS 😭 addie and kiki were literally sitting there watching me write LIVE in the doc like 🤨 oh that’s….. definitely a sentence!!!! LMAOOOOO u saw the most unholy criminal downright FOUL smut lines being typed in real time and didn’t stop me that’s real friendship !!
Kim Sunoo has always been one of the girls: soft-spoken, pretty, utterly devoted to the allure of men, men and more men. Women were never his thing, not really—especially not you. You, with your cigarette-drenched, red fucking lips, that wicked mouth always spitting nonsense. He loathed your strut, your cruel tongue, those perfect, infuriating tits that made his cock twitch no matter how hard he tried to look away. And he hated the thought that maybe — he’s starting to think that he swings both ways after all.
content tags/warnings: pansexual!sunoo x bisexual! reader, slowburn, one sided enemies to fubu to lovers, misandry comments, gentle angst, reader is a heavy smoker and have a lots of piercings and tattoos. jealousy, mentions of cheating (past rs). light emotional manipulation, toxic behaviors, second chances, queer coded relationship dynamics. sunoo is a nursing student and reader is a fashion design major. two years age gap, reader is shorter than sunoo. explicit content (smut): plot with porn. four different smut scenes. blowjob, some content might be dubious, pussy eating, fingering, protected and unprotected sex: public sex, rainbow (period) sex, multiple sex positions and places lmao, sunoo have a big dick, also dom! sn <3 WC: 45.4K (long ass ride)
note! this is a work of fiction and is not intended to offend anyone in the lgbt community or to fetishize any identities. the themes and characters are purely imaginative and should not be taken as a reflection of real people or experiences. and if you don't like it? don't read it. :)
KIM SUNOO has never truly identified as a man, not in the way society tries to define it.
He was born with what people like to label as "male," but the label never felt like it belonged to him. He's always been one of the girls. Not because he was trying to be anything other than himself, but because that's where he belonged, where he felt seen, understood, and safe. There's no pride in masculinity for him, no comfort in aligning with a category that has done nothing but let him down. Whatever was hanging between his legs didn't mean he owed anything to the idea of manhood, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start pretending it did.
And yet, for all his clarity, all his softness, all his truth—Sunoo, no matter how sharp his wit or clever his comebacks, keeps getting cheated on. It used to be just the straight boys he rolled his eyes at, but the betrayal has evolved. Gays aren't safe anymore either. There's no longer a clean line between "they'd never" and "they did." Gay, straight, bi, whatever — the problem is not orientation, it's the universal mediocrity of modern manhood. There's a plague of emotional negligence infecting them all. He trusted boys who called him beautiful, who knew how to flirt over text, who said "I'm not like the others" — and then turned out to be exactly like the others, but with worse excuses!
And still, the question haunts him: Why? Why does it keep happening? Why do they always cheat? What is it about commitment that scares them so much? He's been good. He's been better than good! He listens, he nurtures, he gives. He doesn't ask for much. Is that really too much? Because it feels like no matter how much effort he puts in, no matter how present he is, no matter how he softens himself to make space for someone else, it never ends with someone choosing him back. The worst part is how often he wonders if it's his fault—if maybe he's just not enough. Not hot enough, not loud enough, not strong enough, not whatever version of "desirable" men have invented that week. It eats at him.
"Good thing you broke up with him. He's not better for you, anyways." Sunoo rolled his eyes, brushing his hair back as he stared blankly at the colorful crochet pieces arranged neatly in front of him. They were at the National Art Celebration, wandering through the Art Museum's marketplace.
He didn't respond to his friend's comment. What was there to say?
His fingers hovered over a small adorable crochet strawberry keychain, the kind of thing he'd usually buy without hesitation but he didn't pick it up, because his mood didn't match the softness in front of him. It hadn't even been a full week since everything crashed. His ex had been sleeping with more than just one person behind his back. Sunoo had confronted him head-on, shaking with anger, and left. The next day, he was at a clinic, filling out forms with numb fingers, waiting for results that thankfully came back clean. Still, the damage wasn't something that a negative result could fix.
"I hope he chokes on his small dick and dies," Sunoo muttered under his breath, not even trying to sound playful about it. He turned from the crochet booth and walked a few steps over to the next one, where rows of stickers were arranged neatly across a dark velvet cloth.
His lips twitched slightly as he noticed a sticker of a cat holding a cigarette in its mouth. The drawing was a little messy nothing like the soft pastel style he usually liked. The rest of the stickers shared the same energy—guitars, ghost-like figures, strange shapes in heavy red and black tones. The entire table had a darker, rougher feel to it, but instead of pushing him away, it pulled him in. Something about the way the lines were drawn, the way the art didn't try to be friendly, and it felt honest, that honesty intrigued him. He picked up the cat sticker, turning it slightly under the light. "This is so cute. Are you the artist?" he asked, glancing up at the boy behind the table.
The boy shook his head with a small grin. "Thank you, but no. I'm just her cousin. She went to grab some food. I'm babysitting her table for now."
Sunoo nodded, eyes still scanning the stickers laid out in front of him. He wasn't even sure where he'd put them if he bought any—his laptop was already full, his tumbler too—but something about them felt worth having. Maybe he just wanted to support someone who clearly put effort into making something different. Without thinking too much, he picked out five more, dropped a bill in the little payment box, and gave a quick thank you before stepping back into the flow of the crowd.
"I'm gonna get the car. Just wait here. The parking lot's, like, so far and it's insanely hot," his friend said, already fanning her face with a brochure as she walked away. Sunoo just gave her a lazy nod and stayed in the shade, sipping his strawberry soda and lightly tapping the tip of his shows against the concrete to keep himself distracted.
It was Saturday, supposed to be relaxing day, but Sunoo's mind didn't know how to slow down. The breakup still clung to him, but even beyond that, the stress of his return demo for nursing school kept replaying in his head. It was getting close, and he still didn't feel ready. His eyebags were starting to sink into his face again, darkening with every late night he spent crying or spiraling in bed, wondering how things managed to fall apart this fast. He'd thought about going out again, just to dance, to pretend, to flirt with someone but he already knew it wouldn't help.
Just as he was about to take another sip from his drink, he froze. His nose twitched — Was that... cigarette smoke? Sunoo immediately grimaced, pressing his fingers over his nose and mouth. What the hell? Who the fuck smokes around here? The whole place was filled with kids and art booths, and there was a giant NO SMOKING sign that was printed in bold red letters, stuck on a wall not even ten steps away. His eyes scanned the shaded rest area until they landed on the source.
There you were—sitting alone on the bench with one leg drawn up, smoke curling lazily from your lips, completely unbothered.
"The fuck?" he muttered, eyes narrowing as another wave of smoke drifted toward him, already starting to irritate his throat. He wasn't trying to start anything, but the longer he stood there, the more it felt like the smoke was reaching out, wrapping around his skin, sneaking into his lungs, clinging to his clothes. He was already dealing with a bad day, and now this?!
You exhaled again, your gaze flicked toward him, catching the look he gave you but you didn't react. If anything, you just blinked, relaxed, fingers still holding the cigarette loosely between them.
Sunoo stood there, clearly expecting you to look guilty or maybe at least pretend to care, but when you didn't, he clicked his tongue in frustration and glanced at the sign again, like pointing it out. "Do you not see the sign?" he said, irritation in every word. "This is a public area, kids are here, and secondhand smoke—do you even know it's worse than smoking yourself? God, the sign is literally right there. It's huge."
You looked at him again, blinking like you didn't quite catch what he was saying. Your hand, holding the cigarette near your mouth, paused midair. Then, slowly, you turned your head to glance over your shoulder, as if making sure he was actually talking to you and not someone else behind the bench.
When your eyes met his again, they stayed on him a second longer. He stood there with a roughness that didn't match the soft features on his face. You let your gaze move over him without shame, noting the little details—the way his hair was clipped back by a cute pink clip, the pale tone of his skin that looked untouched by the sun, smooth, almost too perfect. His lips had a natural flush, a little swollen like he'd been biting them out of stress, and even with that annoyed look carved into his face, there was nothing harsh about him.
What a beautiful man, you thought, not even trying to hide it. You let the moment hang for a bit longer, then flicked the ash off the end of your cigarette with a small movement. Your voice was unbothered when you finally spoke. "You always pick fights with strangers, or am I just lucky today?"
He blinked, caught off guard by how casually you responded. "Start fights?" he repeated, eyes narrowing further. "You're the one breaking the rules. 'No smoking' doesn't mean smoke quietly. It means don't fucking smoke."
You took another drag without rush, then exhaled away from his direction, watching him. "Right. And you yelling about it in public—real mature. Definitely better than me just sitting here minding my own business."
Sunoo stepped forward slightly, jaw tightening. "You're not minding your business. That's the problem."
You shrugged, leaning back just a little on the bench, clearly not moved. "Then move somewhere else. No one's forcing you to breathe next to me. I don't fucking care."
You saw the way the color started creeping into the tips of his ears, how his hands curled into tight fists at his sides like he was holding himself back from saying something worse. He was clearly seething, barely keeping it together. You smiled to yourself then turned your head away to take another drag from your cigarette, the smoke curling softly from your lips.
"Bitch," you heard him muttered under his breath.
You turned your head back toward him, one brow lifting as you exhaled the smoke without rushing. "Excuse me?"
You started to shift, one foot planting on the ground like you were about to stand, but before anything else could happen, a small car pulled up right in front of you. Sunoo didn't waste a second. He walked straight toward it, yanked the passenger door open, and slipped inside as if the vehicle were his escape hatch. He slammed the door, and through the window, you could see the tension still sitting in his shoulders. But what caught your attention was how he didn't look away. Even as the engine came to life, even as the car rolled slowly forward, Sunoo kept his eyes locked on you. His glare was sharp and it's lingering.
You pressed your tongue into your cheek as you took another slow hit from the cigarette, still watching. When the car passed, you caught his reflection in the side mirror, and there he was—still glaring.
You flicked the smoke away from your face, the faintest smirk on your lips as the car disappeared down the road. Hah. He's such a pretty guy. You liked him already.
"Who's that guy?"
Sunoo didn't even try to hide his curiosity as he pointed across the room, eyes fixed on the one person who'd completely pulled his attention. The music was loud, bass thumping through the floor, and bodies moved around the house party in various stages of drunken celebration. It was supposed to be a simple gathering, just something to celebrate surviving midterms and their return demonstrations. He wasn't expecting anything wild tonight. Honestly, he'd shown up mostly out of pressure and to avoid looking like a killjoy. As someone in healthcare, he was all too aware of the risks, especially when it came to hookups. The rise of HIV cases was something that always lingered in the back of his mind, and the weight of what his ex put him through was still fresh. He wasn't exactly in the mood to relive that. But even so... looking didn't hurt, right?
"That's Park Sunghoon," someone answered beside him, casually sipping from their red cup. "Physical Therapy."
Sunoo's eyes narrowed slightly, studying the guy. He was leaning against the wall, laughing, drink in hand, head tilted just enough to show off a clean jawline and that effortless hair. "Does he have a girlfriend?" Sunoo asked, still watching. His friend shrugged. "I don't know? Maybe? You interested? Go talk to him!"
Sunoo rolled his eyes and sipped from his drink. "I don't even know if he's into men." His friend leaned in, grinning. "Ngeh, I don't know either, but he looks like he's giving off some BL energy. Just try!"
Sunoo didn't respond right away, but his gaze drifted back to Sunghoon, eyes half-lidded from the buzz. There was something about him, the kind of guy who knew he looked good but didn't make a show of it. And okay, maybe there was something about the way he stood that didn't exactly scream masculine authority. There was a softness to it, or maybe just an openness that made Sunoo curious.
He tapped his fingers against his cup, considering. He wasn't looking for anything serious but after everything he'd been through, a little fun wouldn't hurt. And if Park Sunghoon happened to be fun and hot? Well... why the hell not?
With one final sip, Sunoo set his cup down and gave his friend a sly look. "Fine. I'll try."
He took a breath, adjusted his shirt, and began walking through the crowd, weaving past groups of loud classmates and half-finished games of beer pong until he finally reached the corner where Park Sunghoon stood. The table beside them was lined with vodka, soda, and mixers. Sunoo casually took his place beside him, pretending to look through the drink options while stealing a glance at the boy he'd just been staring at across the room.
Sunghoon turned his head slightly, noticed him, and smiled. He raised his cup. "Cheers?" he offered.
Sunoo smiled back, trying not to let it show how fast his heart had just jumped. He reached for a drink off the table, tapping his cup gently against Sunghoon's. "Physical Therapy?" Sunoo asked, trying to keep his tone light, confident and a little sweet.
"Yeah. Nursing?" Sunghoon replied smoothly, and when Sunoo nodded, something about the way Sunghoon smiled deepened, more focused now. That voice—fuck. Sunoo could already feel the heat crawling up his neck. His body wasn't even trying to be subtle about how attracted he was. And God, those hands—Sunghoon reached for the bottle of rum to refill his cup, and Sunoo caught a flash of the veins along his forearm, the easy flex of his wrist, the way his fingers moved with control. For a second, Sunoo lost the ability to form a proper thought. Break my bones. Please. I beg.
They were already halfway through the conversation, and Sunoo could feel himself falling a little too deep for comfort. Sunghoon wasn't just attractive—he was engaging in a way that didn't feel forced. He spoke with confidence in his voice, and Sunoo found himself drawn in with every word. It surprised him how someone could make something as dry as tendons sound this interesting, especially when he usually avoided any talk of lectures once he stepped out of school. But with Sunghoon, it felt different. His voice was soothing, and the way he explained things had a rhythm that made Sunoo want to listen, even if he already knew the topic.
"And you know the tendons that connect from the—" Sunghoon started, his fingers gesturing as he spoke.
Sunoo nodded along, genuinely interested, eyes fixed on him, but then, right in the middle of the sentence, Sunghoon stopped. His posture shifted, back straightening, and his eyes flicked past Sunoo's shoulder like something—or someone—had just pulled his attention. Sunoo frowned, eyebrows drawing together, expecting him to finish the sentence, but instead, he watched as Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his expression softening in recognition, lips curving upward.
Sunoo glanced behind him, confusion setting in. Then Sunghoon cleared his throat, gave him a polite smile, and said, "Uhh, sorry. If you'll excuse me. Nice meeting you, Sunoo," before lightly tapping his shoulder and walking off.
Sunoo's mouth fell open, completely caught off guard. He barely had time to react before his eyes followed Sunghoon's retreating figure—and then he saw exactly where he was heading. Fuck?!
You were leaning casually against the wall near the hallway entrance, drink in hand, watching the whole interaction. You didn't look surprised to see Sunghoon making his way over. In fact, you barely blinked. The moment he reached you, your body turned just slightly to make space for him. Sunghoon leaned in, said something only you could hear, and your quiet laugh in response said everything else Sunoo didn't want to believe.
Sunoo blinked, chest tight. He could almost feel something short-circuiting inside his brain, like a wire snapping clean. His thoughts were a blur, but one thing was clear—you. His pulse quickened as his body processed the shift, his amygdala practically lighting up with one conclusion: you are a threat.
A threat to his night, his mood, his already bruised ego. God, how was it even possible for someone he'd only met twice to piss him off this much? The universe really had the audacity to let you show up again, and not just exist, but actively ruin his chances at getting laid. Because let's be real—he wasn't looking for love, just something to distract him, and now even that had been snatched by the same cigarette-smoking bitch who couldn't be bothered to respect a no-smoking sign?!
His friend appeared beside him, holding a fresh cup and scanning the room. "Hey, where'd Sunghoon go? You two looked like you were hitting it off."
Sunoo didn't turn to look at her. He just brought the rim of his cup to his lips, finished what was left in a single gulp, and slammed it back on the table. "He went to hell," he muttered. "With someone who clearly lives there." His friend blinked, confused. "Wait—what?"
Sunoo turned to her, face tight with a forced smile. "Don't worry about it. Just remind me next time I say I'm open to meeting new people—slap me."
He exhaled sharply as his eyes drifted back to where the two of you had returned from the hallway. And when he really looked—when he took in your outfit, the way you were dressed like you didn't give a single shit what anyone thought—he almost laughed out loud.
A strawberry shirt? Jorts? Those shoes? That's what Sunghoon left him for? Sunoo scoffed under his breath, shaking his head slowly, barely believing it. He looked down at himself—his carefully styled hair, his clean lines, and then back at you. "Seriously," he muttered, eyes still locked on you. "That's the one?"
He couldn't decide if he was more offended for himself or embarrassed for Sunghoon. Whether you were just a friend, a fling, or something in between, one thing was clear to him now: Park Sunghoon had no taste. And if he did, it was broken.
Anyway, there were plenty of fish in the sea. Sunoo wasn't going to waste his energy sulking over one guy, especially not if you were somehow involved. If Sunghoon had any sort of connection to you then Sunoo would rather tap out early and save himself the trouble. He had enough baggage without adding someone who came with your name attached.
At least, that's what he told himself.
But then again, Sunoo had also said there were so many fish in the sea—yet somehow, it felt like every damn fish was just swimming in circles around you. It was getting ridiculous. He wasn't being dramatic, either. There was always something—some random detail, some little coincidence, and suddenly, boom. You. Right there again.
Date number one: a gym instructor. Hot, yes, a little edgy, had that calm, slow-talking voice Sunoo secretly liked. Things were going okay, until the guy pulled out his phone to show pictures of his niece's birthday party and proudly pointed to a group photo. Sunoo was nodding politely, until his eyes caught on one specific person in the background, holding the cake and grinning. He blinked. Zoomed in. Yup. You. Holding a cake with your horrible strawberry tank top. Niece, cousin, whatever—you were related. Add to that the guy reeked of cigarettes the whole time, and Sunoo was done before dessert.
Date number two: a Med Tech student. Good on paper, clean cut, same healthcare background, probably understood his schedule and stress levels. Sunoo was really trying with this one. But on their second date, as they were walking to a café near the guy's family's shop, Sunoo noticed someone standing out front during a break—leaning against the wall, cigarette between your lips, looking bored out of your mind. You. Again. You even smirk at him! Sunoo didn't even finish the coffee. He went home and ghosted the guy the next morning.
Okay, maybe he was being petty. Maybe, in a community as tight as theirs, having overlap wasn't that deep. But could anyone really blame him? Sunoo could admit it—he was petty, fine. He could own that. His feelings were valid. He was the one showing up, putting in effort, trying to start something new while somehow tripping over you every single time.
And if anyone dared to question why he was so quick to shut people down the moment your name and face got involved, well—he'd like to point them toward basic psychology. According to research, the brain forms first impressions within seconds. These impressions are shaped by appearance, voice, body language, even scent—and they trigger implicit biases, unconscious reactions that color how we feel about someone before they even say a word. And what had his brain learned to associate with you? Cigarettes, interruptions, stolen men, smug grins, and the color strawberry.
So, yes. Sunoo was triggered. And he was allowed to be.
"Damn, my neck is killing me from all these hospital duties. I'm seriously craving mint ice cream right now," Sunoo groaned, letting himself collapse face-first into the couch at Jungwon's dorm. He had no energy left and zero motivation to head back to his own apartment. Everything hurt—his back, his neck, even his brain.
"I'm begging for a break," Jungwon said from his desk, not looking up from his laptop. "God, give me a date."
Sunoo's voice came out muffled, his face still buried in the cushion. "I'm fine with God not giving me a date as long as I get a decent eight hours of sleep."
"What happened with all those dates you went on?" Jungwon finally asked, turning slightly in his chair. "None of them worked out?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," Sunoo muttered, one hand waving in the air like he could physically dismiss the topic. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Forget it. I'm going to grab ice cream before I start crying about my life again. Want anything?"
Jungwon leaned back and grinned. "Can you buy me some lube?"
Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard. "Get your own, freak."
He stood up, grabbing his wallet off the coffee table and brushing off invisible lint from his pants. He didn't even know if he actually wanted ice cream anymore or if he just needed an excuse to be alone for a bit. Either way, he needed air. And distance. And ideally, a world where you didn't exist in every corner of his social life.
But of course, fate had other plans—because who else would be behind the counter of the convenience store at 10:42 PM but you, punching in his order with that same lazy grin plastered on your face as your eyes dropped directly to the bottle of lube and box of condoms on the counter.
Seriously. How many fucking jobs did you have? Sunoo stared at you, disbelief turning to horror, then to full-blown irritation. "Can you not grin like that?" he snapped, arms crossed. "What happened to discrete and nonjudgmental service? I need to speak to your manager."
You tilted your head slightly and blinked at him with exaggerated innocence, hand pausing over the touchscreen like you were truly offended. The expression only made his eye twitch harder. "That's discrimination," he added, glaring. "I should be allowed to buy whatever I want without being mentally harassed by your face."
Your lips twitched. You tried to play it cool, but the smirk slipped out before you could stop it. There it was again—that look of yours, amused and smug. So ugly!
Honestly, you hadn't expected to see him again so soon. It was the third time now, and at this point, his dramatic reactions were starting to feel like a reward. The moment he walked through the door and made eye contact with you, something in you shifted—your lips curled up instinctively, and the weight of the day suddenly didn't feel so heavy. "Huh?" you said innocently, your voice small as you tilted your head slightly, letting your bottom lip pout just enough to be annoying.
Sunoo looked like he was one breath away from combusting, especially when his eyes flicked to your mouth and you knew he caught the glint of the piercing on your lower lip, because his gaze lingered just a second too long before his face twisted in irritation.
"Huh?" he mocked, eyebrows raised and lips pushed out as he mimicked your expression, only to immediately roll his eyes so hard. Without another word, he reached across the counter and snatched the bag from your hands, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet. He slapped a $50 bill on the counter, pointedly avoiding your eyes.
"Keep the change and never show your face again," he snapped, already turning on his heel. "God, bye," he added with a dramatic flick of his head, tossing his hair back.
You barely held in the laugh bubbling up your throat. Cute! you thought, bracing your hands on the counter as your smile widened. "Enjoy your night, sir!" you called after him, loud and obnoxiously cheerful.
You caught the twitch of his shoulders as he froze for half a second at the door. Then, without turning fully around, he glanced at you over his shoulder, hand lifting to flash you a very clear middle finger before pushing the door open and disappearing.
You leaned back, shaking your head with a quiet chuckle. Yup. Definitely your favorite regular now.
With Sunoo buried in nonstop clinical duties, he was starting to believe that God had decided to personally test his patience. Every day was a cycle of waking up too early, surviving rounds with barely any caffeine, and crashing into bed with a brain too tired to think but still too anxious to sleep. If this was divine character development, he wanted a refund. But fine, he'd give credit where it was due. At least he wasn't in a relationship. He couldn't imagine juggling a partner on top of exams, hospital reports, and constant reminders of his nonexistent social life. That would've been a mental breakdown waiting to happen.
Sunoo still hated men or so he said. But hatred, as he often reminded himself bitterly, was a slippery slope. The more you hated, the more they crawled under your skin. And men, those confusing, beautiful disasters, were impossible to avoid. The way they smiled, the stupid flex of their arms when they weren't even trying, those veiny hands that somehow haunted his imagination late at night—ugh. It was criminal, really. He wasn't desperate, but he wasn't made of stone either. If he said he didn't miss at least a little action, he'd be lying.
So when Jake asked him to tag along to the university gym because he was meeting a friend there for a commission, Sunoo agreed—reluctantly at first. But the moment they stepped into the gym and his eyes landed on the group of basketball players practicing on the court, all thoughts of regret evaporated.
"I was waiting for my friend. Sorry to drag you into it. I have a commission with her, she told me to meet her here. Is that okay?" Jake asked, casually.
Sunoo could barely hear him over the internal scream in his head. Of course it's okay. It's so okay he might cry. His gaze was locked on one specific figure—Lee Heeseung, the captain of the university's basketball team, currently making shots. Sunoo's mouth may not have been literally on the floor, but it was dangerously close. His eyes followed every movement of how Heeseung's shirt clung to his back, how his arms flexed with every jump, how sweat dripped down his neck—
Jake nudged him. "You good?"
"Peachy," Sunoo replied, voice an octave too high as he cleared his throat. "Just... appreciating," his eyes scanned the gym, trailing slowly over the players until, inevitably, they landed on the captain, Lee Heeseung. Sunoo raised his hands vaguely, motioning toward the court as if trying to justify the way he was staring. "...physical education."
But of course, like in some movies he never signed up for, the metaphorical glass shattered the moment you appeared. Just walked right into his field of vision. The air shifted, his stomach dropped, and his brows furrowed. His expression twisted into something between disgust and disbelief as his arms dropped in surrender. What the hell were you doing here?! Oh God?! You and him are in the same university?!
And then, just as Sunoo thought the scene couldn't get worse, Jake stood up, grinning wide. "There you are!" he said before pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss on your cheek.
Sunoo's entire soul left his body. What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Jake was gay—openly and proudly gay—and Sunoo, as judgmental as he sometimes got, couldn't help but squint suspiciously. Are you seriously friends with his friends? Because if anyone was giving homophobic vibes, it was definitely you. Sunoo blinked hard. The math wasn't mathing. Did Jake not feel the same tension he did? Oh no. Jake needed help. Jake needed saving. God, someone had to sit him down and explain a few things before it was too late.
"Oh! Meet Sunoo! He's my best friend from nursing."
And there it was—the inevitable moment where Sunoo had no choice but to lock eyes with you. The second your gaze met his, you smiled so sweetly it made his entire body crawl. You even added a little wave, like this was the friendliest encounter on earth, and not the fourth time you'd popped up in his life. Sunoo felt the twitch in his eye before he could stop it, jaw clenching as he forced the most plastic smile onto his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled with pure performance. He stood up, cheeks already aching from pretending, leaned in for a polite cheek-to-cheek like he wasn't imagining pulling your hair back in pure rage, and was immediately hit with a mix of cigarette smoke and YSL Libre perfume. Ugh.
Jake, completely oblivious to the silent war unfolding, beamed as he gestured between the two of you. "She's a fashion design major! Does commissions too—drawings, paintings, cakes, you name it."
Sunoo nodded stiffly, barely reacting. Inside, he was sighing so loud he could practically hear himself. As Jake went on, clearly proud to know someone like you, Sunoo watched you nod and smile with just the right amount of humility, your tone gentle, polite, soft—like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. This is fake. You're fake. This whole performance is fake. God, Jake deserves better friends. He forced another smile, barely hanging onto his sanity. Because the way you were looking at him right now and you knew he was crumbling inside was enough to make his blood boil.
And worst of all, you looked delighted about it. Bitch. You're a bitch. Sunoo didn't even try to be polite about it in his head anymore. He had fully accepted the fact that you existed in his life for the sole purpose of testing his patience.
But of course, it didn't stop there. Since Jake thought you and Sunoo were getting along just fine, he began inviting you everywhere. Lunch, coffee breaks, study sessions—any time he had a free hour, he'd text both of you like this was some little trio. Fuck him!
And every time you showed up, Sunoo could feel that familiar twitch start behind his eye, the one that pulsed when he was one annoyance away from losing it. Your voice would float into the conversation like you had no idea you were driving him slowly insane.
But the worst part? The absolutely most humiliating part? He was starting to notice things. Little details that stuck with him even though he never asked for them. You smoked Marlboro Reds, but you always kept a strawberry-flavored vape in your bag. You wore outfits like you just rolled out of a punk indie concert, all black with layered chains and boots that could kill a man, but he'd bet money your favorite color was red—based on the red phone case, the red liner under your eyes, the strawberry pins you sometimes wore on your bag. You had a piercing on your tongue—he found that out when you bit into a donut one afternoon and casually stuck your tongue out in surprise because of the powdered sugar.
He didn't mean to remember all of this. He didn't even talk to you. Not directly, at least. Every time Jake tried to bridge conversation between you two, it felt like some weird form of punishment. Sunoo would answer, you'd smile knowingly, and Jake would keep chatting like this three-way exchange wasn't slowly draining Sunoo's soul.
"Jake has a fear of needles, so maybe stop trying to convince him to get a piercing or a tattoo," Sunoo said, not even glancing up from his drink.
He hadn't meant to speak, but with Jake in the restroom and the silence between you two stretching, the words slipped out. His tone was calm but the way his fingers tightened slightly around his cup betrayed the irritation simmering under his skin.
You turned your head, raising a brow slowly as if deciding whether to entertain this or not. "Hmm? I didn't know we were handing out unsolicited advice now," you said, tilting your glass to make the ice clink. "Is that your subtle way of joining the conversation, Ddeuno?"
His jaw flexed the moment the nickname left your lips. He finally looked at you, eyes sharp. "It's not joining if I'm already in it. Jake was talking to both of us. And it's Sunoo. Not that hard."
You smiled, amused by the twitch in his expression. "Sure, Sunoo. But don't you think Jake's capable of making his own choices?"
"He is," he said, voice a touch tighter as he leaned forward and crossed one leg over the other. "Which is exactly why I know he wouldn't have asked if you didn't plant the idea in his head."
You rested your elbow on the table and glanced at him with casual ease. "I didn't plant anything. He saw my piercing and asked. Maybe you're just not used to people being curious about something you can't control."
He scoffed, shaking his head as he stirred his drink, the metal spoon tapping against ceramic. "Right, because nothing screams freedom of choice like peer pressure with a side of aesthetic superiority."
"I never pressured him," you said, eyes locked on his. "But if he wanted to try something new, I wouldn't stop him. You, on the other hand, sound like you'd tackle him to the ground before he could book an appointment."
Okay, fuck this. Sunoo's patience was thinning by the second, and he could feel the irritation rising and rising and rising! He hadn't come here to argue, but the way you kept smiling, like you knew how to push every single one of his buttons, made it impossible to let it slide.
He wasn't trying to control Jake. He was just looking out for him because someone had to. Sunoo had this belief, stubborn as it was, that people who covered themselves in piercings and tattoos didn't exactly value their skin the way they should. It wasn't about being judgmental, it was about keeping things clean, presentable, safe. Sure, he wouldn't tell strangers how to live their lives, but when it came to the people around him? The people he cared about? He preferred them untouched.
He turned to you again, eyes hard. "There's nothing wrong with wanting the people I care about to take care of themselves properly."
You didn't flinch, just tilted your head slightly, like you were waiting for more. "Tattoos and piercings aren't unhygienic if done right," you replied. "But sure, let's pretend this is about safety and not just your obsession with control."
Sunoo laughed under his breath, the sound hollow. "Yeah? And let me guess—you're the expert now because you sat through a couple needle sessions and watched some tattoo TikToks?"
You leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, gaze unshaken. "No. But I'm someone who understands that self-expression doesn't need your permission."
The tension in the air crackled. And just when it felt like one more word would tip things over the edge, Jake returned to the table, smiling. "Miss anything?" he asked, completely unaware.
You leaned back smoothly, picking up your drink like nothing happened. "Not a thing."
That was it. He couldn't keep letting this slide. As much as he tried to convince himself he was just being overprotective, he knew deep down he was past the line of tolerating your presence. You were a bad influence on Jake—he was sure of it—and sooner or later, someone had to say it. That someone was going to be him.
Later that day, when you'd left first and it was just the two of them walking toward the station, Sunoo finally spoke. "Do you... ever feel a certain vibe from her?"
Jake blinked, looking over at him with an innocent confusion that made Sunoo want to scream. "Huh? Vibes? What kind of vibes?"
Bitch vibes, Sunoo almost blurted out. He had to stop himself from saying it out loud. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more composed. "Just... like, the way she talks. She always has something to say, and it's never just casual. It's like everything's meant to get a reaction."
Jake tilted his head slightly, clearly trying to follow. "You mean, like, she's too witty?"
Sunoo narrowed his eyes. "No, like... she's too comfortable? It's weird. And I don't trust it."
Jake just laughed, brushing it off too easily. "She's just chill. That's how she is with everyone. She's a good person, Sunoo. You just haven't gotten used to her yet."
Sunoo sighed, irritated. "That's the problem. I don't want to get used to her. And maybe you shouldn't either." He let the word slipped on his mouth.
Jake glanced at him, and for the first time, his smile faded a little. "She's my friend. You're my friend. Just... try not to be mean, okay?"
Maybe he had sounded a little too harsh, a little too pointed—but it wasn't like he was being mean for the sake of it. Sunoo knew what it looked like, but deep down, it wasn't about jealousy or drama. He was just trying to protect something that mattered to him before it got tangled up in whatever messy situation. He didn't trust easily, and the way you walked into their lives set off every internal alarm. But Jake... Jake wasn't the type to see danger. Not like Sunoo did.
"Sorry," he said quietly, reaching out to gently hold Jake's hand with a small smile. Jake just nodded and gave his hand a soft squeeze in return, the silence between them filled with a quiet understanding even if they didn't see eye to eye on everything.
Meanwhile, from your side of things, things were quite different.
The more time you spent around Kim Sunoo, the more curious you became. You weren't really interested in men. They were too predictable, too performative, too eager to please and too quick to disappoint. They were fun, sometimes, but they didn't hold your attention. But Sunoo was something else. You didn't even notice when it started. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Maybe it was the way he bit back when provoked, or how he tried so hard to hide that he cared too much about the people around him.
You'd seen beautiful people before. You'd had flings, hookups, distractions. But Sunoo... he stuck. You were clearly interested. and there were moments that he annoyed you, sure. Challenged you. Threw shade but he made your brain work. He made your skin itch in that specific way only people you couldn't quite figure out ever did. And fine, maybe it was because he looked a little like a girl. Soft skin, pouty lips, those lashes that curled perfectly for no reason. You couldn't stop looking at him.
Well, too bad for you, he didn't seem the least bit pleased with your presence. And honestly? The feeling was mutual. He had that almost condescending way of speaking that made everything sound like a warning label. Foul controlling mouth, always ready with a "don't do this," or a "you shouldn't do that." He was a walking killjoy wrapped in pretty skin, constantly policing the air around him like joy was something to be monitored.
It didn't make sense. How could someone so tightly wound be friends with someone like Jake, who floated through life like a balloon one gust away from flying into the sun? What were they even talking about when you weren't around? Did Sunoo lecture Jake on posture and caffeine intake? Did Jake actually listen?
"Are you getting along with Sunoo well?" Jake asked.
You paused mid-hit with your vape, the familiar strawberry taste lingering on your tongue as you raised your leg up onto the bench, shoulders lifting in a shrug. You exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift upward as you looked off to the side. "Define 'well,'" you murmured.
Of course, Jake would ask. And of course, Sunoo had probably said something. It was expected. That boy had a hard time keeping anything off his chest, especially when it came to people he clearly couldn't stand. Jake sighed, slumping back against the bench like your answer had physically disappointed him. "Aww, come on. I really want you two to get along," he muttered, pouting.
You glanced at him, the corner of your mouth pulling into a faint smirk. "Jake, I don't not get along with him. We just don't operate on the same wavelength." You watched as Jake's shoulders dropped a little, disappointment settling in. There was a pause, not long, but long enough for you to notice the way he kept looking at you like he was hoping for a better answer. So you gave him one, even if it came reluctantly. "He's interesting, though."
That made Jake perk up, turning to face you more fully, hope flickering back into his expression. "You think so?"
And with that soft look on his face, that typical sunshine that you could never seem to say no to, you found yourself giving in. Fine. The next time you saw Sunoo, you wouldn't provoke him. You'd leave his nerves alone for once, maybe even make an effort not to smell like smoke. You already knew that Sunoo probably hated the smell of cigarettes. The way he wrinkled his nose when you were near, how he subtly shifted his body away like he didn't want to breathe the same air, said more than enough.
He was the type who liked rules. Cleanliness. Probably thought smoking was a character flaw rather than a habit. So controlling. But if it meant keeping peace with Jake, you could give it a shot. And you really want to get along with him, though. Not just a friend.
If men were animals, Sunoo would absolutely agree they were monkeys but honestly, even that felt unfair to monkeys. At least monkeys had a sense of community. They groomed each other, protected their own, had an instinct to care. Men? Men could barely carry a conversation without twisting it to revolve around themselves, like everything was orbiting their fragile egos. And what did it even say about him that he'd still actually tried to be patient with that last one? The man had poor communication skills, grammar that made Sunoo want to cry, a sense of humor so dry it could choke a cactus, and hygiene that was clearly not taught with enough urgency in his household. Sunoo had still shown up, been kind, understanding, even offered grace where he really shouldn't have.
And he got ghosted. After all that effort, after tolerating body spray that didn't cover the scent of unwashed laundry, and laugh emojis used in places where no jokes existed—Sunoo was the one who got left on read.
And as if the universe hadn't done enough damage, this morning, their Clinical Instructor decided to nitpick his grooming. Said his hair was too long and should be "cleaned up to maintain a professional image." Too long? It was barely brushing his ears!
Sunoo slammed his locker shut, lips pressed into a thin line as he yanked his lanyard off and stuffed it into his pocket. "I need a mango shake," he muttered under his breath, storming out of the building. "Or I need a drink. Or I need to get laid. Honestly, at this point, any of the three will do. Fuck this life."
And as if the day hadn't already tried to ruin him, it just kept going. Sunoo tripped over one of the uneven bricks in the university garden—in front of three freshmen and a couple from Dentistry—and his whole body hit the ground like it had something to prove. The worst part? He was wearing his white clinical uniform, freshly ironed this morning, and now it had mud on the knee, a grass stain on the sleeve, and his shoe was ruined. The sole peeled at the side like it was giving up on life, just like him.
He stood there for a moment, fists clenched, eyes locked on the sky like he was daring it to rain. His pride was already dented, his clothes dirty, his patience snapped and now, of course, not a single damn taxi in sight was stopping. He raised his arm again, waved it with enough energy to summon a ghost, but every car either sped past or pretended not to see him. People were staring. He could hear the soft chuckles, see the sideways glances. He was half a second from screaming into the void or kicking a bush, whichever came first.
And then came the low sound of motorbike. He turned his head, expecting just another person speeding past him like the rest of the universe, but the bike slowed down instead. The helmeted rider stopped in front of him, casually lifting the visor.
His eye twitched instantly. Of course it was you. Like the universe had specially selected you to appear right when he had the least energy to deal with anything, especially you. His grip on his bag strap tightened out of habit, maybe even to stop himself from doing something regrettable. The strap strained against his palm as he imagined how satisfying it would be to swing it straight at your little helmet.
You didn't speak but the amused curve of your lips said everything. Your eyes scanned his state—mud on his uniform, one shoe visibly damaged, face flushed with humiliation and frustration—and that damn smile only grew. "Rough day, pretty boy?"
Sunoo closed his eyes, shoulders rising with a deep inhale of your voice. He hadn't seen you in weeks, maybe months, and yet here you were, showing up when his life was at its absolute worst. He opened his eyes slowly, and instead of giving you the satisfaction of a scowl, he gave you a sweet, polite smile. "Fuck off."
You tilted your head slightly, helmet still on, visor up, as if you were genuinely trying to decide whether his attitude deserved a response. "Hmm," you murmured, nonchalant. "Need a ride, or are you into being publicly humiliated? Because you're doing a great job."
"I'd rather crawl," he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight, and instantly regretting it when his soaked shoe made a gross squish. Disgusting. This day was disgusting.
"Great," you replied, gripping the throttle. "Let me know how far that gets you. Good luck."
The engine growled once beneath you as you rolled the bike forward a little, just enough to make it clear you were ready to leave him standing there. And that should've been fine. He didn't need you. He didn't want your help.
Except he did. Because his legs were aching, his socks were wet, and none of the taxis had stopped for the last fifteen minutes, plus he had class at 2, and to make things worse, he had class at two o'clock sharp. There was no way he could show up looking like this, not with the nursing department's obsession with cleanliness and grooming. One look at his uniform and they'd send him straight home. He didn't have the time or energy to risk that.
So, against every ounce of pride in his body, he swallowed hard and called out, "W-Wait."
The second it left his mouth, regret settled in. You didn't even bother to turn off the engine. You just tilted your head again, that damn helmet catching the light, your eyes already locking on his with that same irritating amusement you always wore around him.
Sunoo's eye twitched. His fingers curled tighter around the strap of his bag. Every part of him wanted to kick your stupid motorbike over and walk away barefoot, but his common sense—the part that knew wet shoes, strict instructors, and a late clinical check-in didn't mix—kept him rooted in place.
You raised your brows. "Changed your mind?"
"No," he snapped. "The universe is just clearly mocking me and you're the cherry on top."
You let out a short laugh. "That's not a no."
He clenched his jaw and looked away for a second, like maybe if he didn't see your face, he could pretend this wasn't happening. Then finally, after a long pause, he muttered, "I need a ride. That's it. Don't talk. Just drive."
You patted the back of the seat, without another word, the engine rumbled beneath you as you steadied the bike, shifting slightly to pull your helmet off and offer it to him. Sunoo blinked, hesitating. "You're not wearing one?"
You tilted your head, brushing your hair out of your face as you balanced the bike with one leg. "You're in a clinical uniform. If we get stopped, guess who they'll blame for not following safety rules? Just take it, Nurse."
He didn't reply, just snatched the helmet from your hand and mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, I hate you, though it came out too tired to carry any real hatred. He shoved it on, adjusting the strap a little too aggressively before climbing on behind you.
"Jake said your place is near the Avenue, right?" you asked, eyes already ahead. "I'm going the long way. No checkpoints."
Sunoo gripped the back handle awkwardly at first before giving in and placing his hands lightly on your waist for balance, trying not to think too hard about the contact. "Whatever," he muttered. "Just drive."
The wind wrapped around both of you, warm against his face, tugging at his hair and slipping into the space between his collar and neck. He hated how natural it felt to sit there with you, hated how the scent of your perfume still clung to the inside of the helmet. He hates the smell of the strawberry yet he don't know why it was giving him comfort right now.
"Drop me off at that corner," he said, leaning closer to make sure you heard him, pointing toward the shaded part of the sidewalk ahead.
You didn't say anything—just pulled over smoothly and tapped the brakes until the bike came to a steady stop. The second it did, he got off like the seat had turned hot, quickly removing the helmet and smoothing down his messy hair. He held the helmet out toward you stiffly.
You took it, setting it on the handlebars, and exhaled a breath. "You know," you started, giving him a once-over, "for someone who acts so obsessed with respect and rules, you're really bad at saying thank you."
Sunoo let out a breath that was halfway between a scoff and a sigh. "I didn't ask for your help."
You shrugged, hands settling easily on the handles. "Yeah. But you still climbed on."
He looked at you for a moment, lips twitching like he wanted to say something else but couldn't find the energy. Instead, he turned his gaze away, cheeks flushed from heat.
"Fine," he said, barely above a mutter. "Thanks. For the ride."
Your smile widened, "anytime, pretty boy."
He rolled his eyes, turned around, and walked off before you could enjoy the look on his face any longer. But you were already watching his back as he stormed away, your fingers brushing against the helmet. Cute. So damn cute!
"What do you mean you're not going?" Sunoo asked, frowning as he walked alongside Jake through the hallway.
"I'm busy," Jake replied, reaching for his locker and spinning the lock. "Jungwon's coming anyway, right? Just vibe with him for now. You'll survive a night without me."
Sunoo let out a dramatic sigh and stomped his foot, clearly not in the mood to be reasonable. "But I want you there! It's not fun without you."
Jake pulled out a thick review binder and glanced at him over his shoulder. "I've got a summative test on Monday, remember? It's kind of important. We could just crash at my place after, maybe do a sleepover?"
"Ihhh," Sunoo whined, dragging out the sound. "I don't want to sleep, I want to drink."
Jake raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was headed. "Don't tell me this is about that guy from the other school ghosting you. Again."
Sunoo rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. "It's not about that. I just... feel like drinking. That's all."
Jake stared at him for a moment, closing his locker slowly, trying to read beneath the surface. "Right. Totally not about him." He slung his bag over one shoulder and sighed. "Look, let me get through these notes first. If I finish early, I'll come join you. But until then, just go with Jungwon, okay?"
Sunoo pouted but didn't argue further. He hated going without Jake, but sulking alone wouldn't change the plan. He was going out tonight, one way or another and with Jake or not, he was going to forget every bit of bullshit the week had piled on him. Even if it meant dragging Jungwon into whatever he was about to step into.
He swore it was going to be just one drink—maybe two, while waiting for Jake but the moment they arrived, it turned out the party was practically a shrine to drinking games. The music was loud, the lights were low, and every corner had someone yelling "bottoms up!"
Jungwon, despite his initial confidence, was barely holding it together after three rounds of some game that involved slapping the table and chanting nonsense. He stood up abruptly, wobbling slightly as he pressed a hand to his stomach. "Oh my God, I feel like I'm going to vomit. Why am I such a loser?" he groaned, and without waiting for a response, excused himself, muttering something about needing air—or a toilet.
Sunoo, meanwhile, wasn't faring much better. His head was spinning, cheeks flushed, and his limbs felt like they were being operated by someone else. He didn't even realize when the giggles turned into sniffles, and the sniffles turned into full-blown tears. He ended up kneeling by the edge of the marble platform near the open balcony, smacking his fist weakly against the cool surface as the alcohol dragged his emotions right out of him.
"Ehhhhhh," he cried, voice cracking pitifully. "I want a boyfriennnnddd!"
Jay, who had been casually sipping beer on the couch nearby, looked up in alarm as Sunoo stumbled toward him with watery eyes. He stopped in front of him, wiping at his cheeks like it would hide the mess.
"Pleaseee," Sunoo sniffled, leaning close. "Find me a boyfriend. I want to be loved. I'm so soft. I'm so kind. Why am I suffering?! Ugh."
Jay blinked, glanced around the party like someone might swoop in and handle the situation for him, and when no one came, he slowly set his beer down. "...Do you want water?"
Sunoo gasped, "I want love, not hydration!" he wailed, continue to sob.
Before Jay could figure out what to do with that level of emotional spiral, someone approached from behind.
"Jay, the owner's already handing us the money—what the fuck?"
Sunoo blinked through his tears and looked up, vision blurry as your voice rang out. You stood just inside the balcony doorway. Red halter sando clinging to your shoulders, he noticed a tattoo. Ink, in a soft pinkish-red tone, winding delicately along your shoulder and upper arm. The design was detailed floral vines and swirls that traced across your collarbone and around your bicep. It was so beautifully done, it almost looked like it was growing from your skin, and that pissed him off even more. Your baggy jeans low on your hips, your hair twisted into a messy bun. A guitar strap slung diagonally over your body, cigarette hanging loose between your fingers. Your eyeshadow was smudged black and glittery, clashing violently with your red lipstick, but somehow you made it work—though Sunoo would never admit that out loud. Not even if he were dying.
There was no smirk this time, no teasing glint in your eyes. Just a quiet kind of concern as you stared down at him. And he hated it. Absolutely hated it!
So, naturally, he raised his middle finger at you with zero hesitation. Jay glanced between the two of you and awkwardly took a step back. "You know him? Can you, like... deal with that? I need to talk to someone real quick." And just like that, he vanished quickly into the crowd, getting the guitar off on your shoulder to avoid any responsibilities.
Sunoo only sobbed harder. You sighed, dragging your foot across the cigarette to put it out before crouching in front of him. "What the hell happened to you?" you asked, eyeing his flushed cheeks, watery eyes, and hands tugging uselessly at the front of his shirt. "Where's Jake? Did he leave you here like this?"
Sunoo sniffled, bottom lip trembling. "I want to get laaaaaiiiid," he wailed, grabbing your shoulder. "Why can't people stay? What's wrong with me?!"
You blinked slowly, barely reacting to him shaking your shoulder with every word. "Maybe... because you're controlling?"
Sunoo froze, then glared at you, eyes wide and offended. "Fuck you! You can't even give me basic emotional support? What kind of monster are you?"
You let out a breath and sat down fully in front of him. "You want emotional support? Fine. You're hot. You're smart. You've got flawless skin and cheekbones people would sell their soul for. Now stop crying like the world ended. You're embarrassing both of us."
Sunoo sniffled again, staring at you with eyes too round and glassy for his own good. "Do you mean it?"
"Yes, I mean it," you muttered, already unlocking your phone to text Jake. "Now let's get out of here before you sob all over someone else's balcony—"
"No!" he snapped, suddenly snatching your phone and stepping back.
Your eyes widened in disbelief, your fingers twitching in the air where your phone had just been. Sunoo stood tall now, swaying only slightly, the alcohol clearly still sitting heavy in his limbs, but his grip on your phone was surprisingly solid. "Sunoo—" you warned, reaching for it, only for him to lift it higher. Damn his height.
He looked down at you, still flushed, lips pulling into a mischievous little smile that was way too proud for someone who had been sobbing on the floor five minutes ago. "It's my turn to be annoying," he said, tilting his head. "Am I actually hot?"
"Sunoo—" you sighed through your teeth, rising onto the balls of your feet. "Yes, you're hot. Now give me my phone back."
He raised it even higher. "So I'm not ugly?"
"You're pretty, Sunoo. Very pretty," you said, swallowing a dry knot in your throat as you felt your face heat up. His body was too close again, and this was definitely not where you thought the night would go.
Before you could collect yourself, he slumped forward, head landing against your neck with the weight of all his sadness. "Then why the hell does everyone cheat on me?" he wailed, and the force of him nearly knocked you backward until your spine hit the metal railing.
You stood there, half-pinned under a very clingy Kim Sunoo, awkwardly patting his back as you tried to retrieve your phone. But his grip only tightened.
He pulled away slightly, just enough to look at you, eyes still red, but his lashes clumped and wet and his lips trembling. "L-let's drink?" he mumbled. "You're annoying. I still hate you a little but I'll forget it. J-just... just don't smoke, okay? I don't like it when people smoke, okayyy?"
"Sunoo," you exhaled slowly, adjusting your balance as he kept his weight partially slumped on you, "I'm not drinking. I only came here for a gig. And I'm driving my bike. I have work tomorrow—"
"Owww-kayyy?" he cut you off with a lopsided pout.
You stared at him, unblinking. "I'm going to call Jake now."
"Owww-kayyy?" he repeated, holding your phone.
You sighed and pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose. "Okay," you muttered.
That was all he needed. Sunoo let out a soft cheer, grabbing your hand with enthusiasm as he pulled you back into the party. You thought you were just going to drink with him, maybe a shot or two to shut him up, but Sunoo clearly had other plans.
His version of "let's drink" turned out to mean filling an entire cup with whatever was on the table and practically forcing it into your hands. You barely had time to brace yourself before he was tipping the rim toward your lips, eyes wide and sparkling.
You coughed through the first one, gagged through the second, and by the time the third hit your throat, you were wincing with every swallow. It burned all the way down and you already knew you wouldn't survive the night. For someone who smokes like it's your job, your alcohol tolerance was embarrassingly low and hangovers always hit like a truck. But then again, Sunoo was too pretty to say no to when he smiled like that, even with that annoying bratty glint in his eye.
"Party, partehhh! Yeahh!" he shouted, twirling you into the crowd like you were suddenly best friends.
Somehow, you ended up in the middle of the dance floor. Lights spinning, bass vibrating through your chest, and before you could stop yourself, your body had already leaned back against him. His hands found your waist automatically, and you didn't know if it was the alcohol or something else entirely, but your hips were moving, grinding gently against him in time with the beat.
You tilted your head slightly, cheek brushing his jaw as you muttered, "Maybe... men aren't for you, Sunoo."
He blinked down at you, clearly dazed, but still gripping your waist. "What?" he said, almost laughing.
"Swing for girls this time," you slurred with a half-smile, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek, your eyes struggling to focus. "Girls won't cheat on you."
He snorted. "Women were never my thing, bitch."
Your smile faltered just a little, and you pouted up at him, thumb brushing over the edge of his cheekbone. "In a relationship... or in sex?" You tilted your head and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Because girls? They'll treat you right. They'll adore you. They'll give you the kind of head that makes you forget your own name."
Sunoo's breath caught for a second, but he didn't move away. "I know that," he muttered. "I'm one of the girls."
You hummed, dragging your gaze along his features, watching the way he blinked slower now, how his lips parted slightly as your words pressed deeper. "Mmm. But have you ever been treated like that by a girl?" you asked again, your hips shifted, rolling back just enough to press against the heat of him.
Sunoo bit his bottom lip, hard enough to leave a mark. He wanted to shove you away, curse you out, remind you just how much you irritated him—but something burned hotter in his veins than the alcohol and it was how intoxicating you looked.
He shouldn't be doing this. You were the last person on earth he should be doing this with, but then again, nothing about tonight was going according to plan. And before he could stop himself, his hands gripped your waist tighter, dragging you closer as his lips crashed into yours.
The next thing he knew, the two of you were stumbling into the restroom at the end of the hallway, the door slamming behind you. His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling tight as your back hit the sink. He hated the taste of your cigarette on your tongue, but he kissed you harder anyway. Your hands were already under his shirt, nails scraping lightly down his spine, pulling a sharp breath from his throat.
You feel his tongue exploring your mouth, moving slow, tasting you with a hunger that makes your body respond without thinking. A moan slips from your lips as heat builds between your thighs, your panties dampening at the way he kisses you.
When you finally break the kiss, your lips trail down to his neck, licking and sucking lightly until you reach his collarbone. He presses closer, breathing heavily into your hair, hips grinding into you with shaky rhythm. Both of you moan at the friction, your bodies feeding off each other's heat.
Your hand finds his waistband, fingers tracing the bulge that's been growing harder against you. The shocking huge shape beneath makes you sigh, anticipation curling low in your belly. "Fuckkk," you moan, dropping to your knees without hesitation.
Sunoo's body fell back against the sink, one hand gripping the edge, the other running through his hair like he didn't know what to do with himself. His hands were trembling as he tried to undo his belt, and he almost laughed at how clumsy he felt. But the moment was too charged, his head was light, his blood too loud. The part of him that used to think only about what it felt like to be touched was now spinning with curiosity. This—this was different. He never imagined being on the receiving end like this would feel so... unreal.
He glanced down, and the sight of you kneeling for him, eyes locked on his, lips slightly parted and ready—his mind just blanked. The way your tongue pierced glinted under the light, the tip teasing out like you were offering it, patient and inviting, made his stomach tighten painfully. "Shit," he whispered, voice cracking slightly, pulling his pants and briefs down. You stared up at his cock, your lashes fluttering at the sight. Your mouth watered at the sheer size of him, and without hesitation, you leaned closer, resting your hands on your knees like you were waiting for a command.
He couldn't believe this was what guys saw. No wonder they were obsessed with it. The view of you like that, lips ready, eyes dark with need, tongue out with that cold little metal ball waiting to touch his skin, it was pure insanity. No fantasy ever looked like this. "Fuck," he groaned again, gripping the back of your head gently as he pushed his tip toward your tongue. The second the metal touched him, he hissed, his thighs twitching from the shock of cold piercing against the heat of his cock.
And as you looked up, never breaking eye contact while slowly letting him in—he knew. He knew exactly what he'd been missing.
Sunoo had always been the one with his knees pressed down, the one getting grabbed and pulled and used, and he loved every second of it. But this was different. The way your mouth wrapped around him, how you looked so eager, how your tongue pressed and moved with purpose—his stomach was already tightening with every wet glide and suck.
"Ahh, fuck, fuck..." he whined out, head falling back as his fingers tangled in your hair, pushing you down farther. He heard the sound of your throat struggling to keep him in, your soft choking only making his hips twitch with more urgency. It was too wet, too warm, too fucking perfect.
You stayed steady, letting your throat open the best you could as you followed the rhythm of his grip. Your tongue dragged along the underside of his length, right at the base where you knew it would hit different. His moan echoed across the small room, shameless and wrecked, not caring who could hear him anymore. All he cared about was the heat wrapping around his cock and how your mouth didn't stop. You glanced up again, needing to see him, and the view made you moan around him. His skin was flushed, red climbing up to his neck, his lashes low and trembling, mouth open as he gasped through each thrust. He looked completely undone—eyes barely staying open, hands gripping you like he needed you to stay exactly there.
Your throat tightened as he gave you no space to breathe, and still, you didn't pull away. Your hands stayed planted on your knees, nails pressing into the denim as tears blurred your eyes, your breath hitching through your nose. But the way your pussy clenched from it—the helpless feeling, the rawness of it—made it all the more addictive.
Especially when both his hands now gripped your head tighter and pushed until your nose pressed flush against his navel. "I-I'm close... oh fuck, I'm close, I—I'm—" Sunoo cried out, his voice cracking with how intense it felt. His hips were moving faster now. The sound of your mouth choking around him only pushed him over the edge harder. He didn't think it could feel this good, he didn't even know he could feel this way at all.
And you didn't either. You didn't know why it felt so right, so filthy, so addicting. You'd never had anyone this desperate for you before. And Sunoo had never had anyone take him like this.
His moan was loud, body trembling as his legs struggled to keep him upright. His hips kept moving on instinct, grinding into your mouth until he finally came, thick and hot down your throat. You felt it hit the back of your tongue, swallowing quickly as he groaned above you, the pleasure written all over his flushed face.
"God, fuck... it feels so good," he breathed out, chest heaving while his hands held you there, not even realizing how hard you were trying to breathe through it. Your eyes fluttered shut as you swallowed the last of him, head light and lungs burning.
You tapped his thigh with a shaky hand, and after a moment, he loosened his grip, letting you fall back slightly. You coughed a bit, trying to catch your breath, throat sore but mind still hazy from the alcohol and heat. Everything felt like it was spinning a little when you stood up, your body swaying slightly as the room tilted around you.
Sunoo reached out, catching your shoulder to steady you, and turned on the sink. He cupped a bit of water in his palm, guiding it to your lips. You leaned in, letting the cold water cool your mouth, then wiped your lips with the back of your hand. You coughed again, softer this time, and both of you stood there in silence for a beat—still too drunk to make sense of anything, too tired to care.
"I want to sleep," Sunoo mumbled, voice groggy as his arms hung by his sides. You helped him pull his pants back up, your fingers clumsy, and when you looked up, he was already leaning into you. His lips brushed against your neck, then your jaw, then a small kiss landed on your lips softly, a quiet thank-you or maybe just a mistake.
Neither of you said anything as you stumbled out of the bathroom together. Your feet dragged, his weight slumped against you. When you pushed open one of the nearby rooms, the two of you collapsed onto the bed without thinking. His body pressed into yours, your hand resting on the curve of his thin waist, and with a final exhale, his breathing evened out into soft snores.
You stared at the ceiling for a moment, the night still buzzing in your head, and quietly hoped that come morning, Sunoo wouldn't look at you like it was all just a drunken blur he wanted to forget.
Well. You woke up to a loud squeal beside you, the sound shooting straight through your skull. Your head was pounding, every throb pulsing deep at your temples. This was exactly why you preferred smoking over drinking, at least cigarettes didn't make the world spin like this.
"Oh my God! W–why are we cuddling?! Why are you here in the first place?! D–did something happen to us?!" Sunoo's voice cracked in pure panic, his hands clutching the blanket to his chest. Even though he was fully clothed, he looked scandalized beyond belief.
You groaned and squinted against the light, trying to sit up despite the dull ache in your body. Your fingers pressed to your temples, trying to remember what the hell even happened. The room was unfamiliar, the sheets smelled like detergent, and your mouth tasted like cotton.
Before you could even collect a full thought, Sunoo slapped your back hard. You let out a sharp whine and turned to glare at him. "Aww, fuck! What the hell was that for?"
"Did something happen between us?!" he repeated, eyes wide and clearly on the verge of spiraling.
You stared at him for a second, still processing. "How would I know?" you mumbled, rubbing your face. "I drank more than I should have, and my memory's a blur. You're fully clothed, I'm fully clothed. Relax."
But he didn't calm down. In fact, he froze completely, the color draining from his face as something clearly hit him. You watched as his hands slowly moved to grip his hair, fingers tangling at the roots while his expression twisted into disbelief.
"No. No. No no no—" he whispered, and then gasped. "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God."
He wasn't even looking at you anymore. His eyes were somewhere far away as flashes from last night started to crash into him. Your lips on his, your hands tugging on his belt, your mouth sinking down while he leaned back against the sink. The heat. The noise. The way he came so hard he couldn't feel his legs. His whole body went stiff.
"You... you gave me head," he said in a whisper, voice dead with disbelief. "Oh my God. You gave me fucking blowjob."
You blinked, trying to place it. You remembered the bathroom. The taste. The sound of his moaning echoing off the walls. Shit. "Something did happen to us, you fucking bitch!" he suddenly screamed, face flushed red with shock and rage. "I'm reporting you—I'm serious, I swear—"
You screamed when he lunged and grabbed a fistful of your hair, the shock of it making you yell right back. "Fuck! Let go of me, psycho!" you snapped, swatting at his hand, your own hangover making it feel ten times worse.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he screeched, shaking your head like he could shake the memory out with it. "Why would you—?!"
"Why would I?!" you shouted, finally pulling away, hair a mess and heart racing. "You literally moaned like it was the best thing that ever happened to you!"
"Because I didn't know what was happening! I thought it was a dream! I was drunk!"
"So was I, dumbass! You kissed me first!"
Sunoo froze again, mouth open, his chest rising and falling. You watched him in silence, heart sinking a little at the way he looked at you—like he was scrambling to make sense of something that never should've happened.
Your mouth felt dry again. There was this strange weight in your chest, like disappointment settling in even though you couldn't quite figure out why. You were both drunk. He was gay. Of course it didn't mean anything. And, if you weren't drunk, you wouldn't have done it either. You lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek as that silence started to stretch between you.
"L-let's just pretend this never happened," Sunoo finally said, breaking the quiet as he stood up. His voice was shaky, not angry anymore, just desperate to erase it all. He dragged his palm down his face, then pressed it against his mouth like the words were spilling out faster than he could stop them. "I'm gay... and you're... whatever. Uhh... Let's not tell this to Jake, okay?"
You rolled your eyes as you got to your feet, fingers brushing through your hair while ignoring the lump tightening in your throat. "Whatever you want," you muttered, focusing instead on searching for your socks and bag, anything to avoid the way your chest ached for reasons.
"This will never happen again. God. I feel like I just betrayed my own kind," Sunoo muttered, slapping both cheeks with enough force to make you wince. "I need to go. I need to wash everything. This is disgusting. I'm disgusting."
You didn't say anything. Just watched him from the corner of your eye while pulling your socks on, keeping your back straight and blank face.
Sunoo glanced over, eyes catching on the side of your face. Something about the way you sat there so still, lips pressed together, skin marked faintly made his chest tighten. The memory crept in again—your hands, your mouth, the sound of your moan swallowed around him—and it made his stomach twist in the worst way. He shook his head. He was sober now. He shouldn't be feeling this again.
"Let's never see each other again," he said before leaving without waiting for a response.
You stared at the floor for a long second, blinking slowly. Never see each other again, huh? You almost laughed. As if you'd let him go that easily.
Sunoo didn't even understand why the memory was still stuck in his head, looping in the background of every moment like some curse he couldn't shake. It had already been a seven full days and yet the image of your lips, the sound of your moan, the warmth of your mouth still haunted him like it just happened yesterday. Worse, every time he thought about it, his dick twitched like it had a mind of its own, getting hard embarrassingly fast without warning.
He tried to brush it off as stress. He was tired, overloaded with work, and his hormones were probably all over the place. It made sense, right? Wet dreams weren't exactly rare. They were involuntary, normal even, just a sign of the body releasing tension during sleep. But the part that bothered him the most wasn't the act itself. It was who was in them. Why you? Out of everyone, why was it you? He would've understood if it were someone like Byeon Woo Seok. But no. It was your voice in his ear, your mouth on him, your name falling from his lips as he woke up in cold sweat with a sticky cum in his pajama pants. It was fucking humiliating.
He had just started to zone out again when a voice broke through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.
"Erection is normal," Jungwon said clearly, standing at the front of the room with a microphone in hand. The school's seminar hall was full of restless teenagers, and he was doing his best to keep the attention. "It's a biological response to arousal or stimulation, often caused by elevated testosterone levels, especially during adolescence. That's why morning wood or even spontaneous erections can happen—it's not always sexual. Sometimes, it's just hormonal regulation or increased blood flow."
Sunoo swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Great. As if he needed that lecture right now.
"It's also common to have sexual dreams," Jungwon continued. "It's the brain's way of releasing suppressed feelings or stress. It doesn't always mean you're in love with the person in your dream—it could just be your mind reacting to unresolved tension."
Sunoo sat motionless, trying not to roll his eyes. He knew Jungwon probably didn't believe half the words he was saying and was just parroting the textbook to get the presentation over with. Unresolved tension? Please. That had to be the most bullshit, overused explanation. Sexual dreams were normal, just a biological function. A reflex. Wet dreams, erections, the occasional stray thought—they were all just part of how the body worked.
It was only men who liked turning every little reaction into some psychological crisis. Like it wasn't enough that your dick got hard at the wrong time, you now had to wonder why. No. He refused to play into that.
Still, he felt hot under the collar. He shifted in his seat as Jungwon kept talking, his voice fading into background noise while Sunoo's thoughts crawled back where they weren't supposed to go. Your mouth. The pressure of his hands on your head. That one sharp breath he let out when your tongue pressed against him just right. The way he swore he could still feel the metal ball of your piercing even when he was lying awake, sweating in bed, trying not to think about it —
"Sunoo!" His whole body jolted forward when someone suddenly slammed into him from behind. He turned sharply, only to see Jake grinning as he wrapped him in a tight hug.
"Long time no see! How've you been?" Jake beamed, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Sunoo blinked, his heart still racing from being startled. He squirmed out of Jake's grip, pulling his arm away from around his waist with a small scowl. "You fake bitch," he muttered, brushing off his uniform. "You said you'd go to the party last week!"
Jake tilted his head and gave him a sheepish grin. "I did! I just didn't come up to you because you were already with someone," he said, voice light but teasing, his smile carrying that knowing edge that made Sunoo freeze on the spot.
The words hit him like a cold splash of water, cutting straight through the fog of his thoughts. Shit! Sunoo's back straightened as his chest squeezed uncomfortably tight. "I-It's not what it looked like, Jake," he said quickly, voice pitching higher than he meant. "I can explain. N-Nothing happened, I swear—"
Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion, his playful smile returning as he slung an arm over Sunoo's shoulder again. "What are you talking about?" he laughed. "I'm just happy you're getting along with her! You know how much I wanted the two of you to be friends. So when I saw you drinking with her, I thought, finally! I didn't want to bother you two."
Sunoo's jaw went slack for a second. He blinked slowly as Jake's words settled in and then his face flushed with heat, the panic collapsing. You two. Drinking. Laughing. And Jake saw it. He saw it and just... assumed it was some innocent bonding moment. Sunoo nodded stiffly, forcing a laugh that came out more like a wheeze. "Y-Yeah... totally. Just... friends."
Jake didn't notice his discomfort, he just kept smiling, talking about the seminar and how awkward Jungwon looked trying to talk about erections with a straight face, but Sunoo could barely listen. If only he knew that every time Sunoo closed his eyes, it wasn't friendship playing behind his eyelids.
All your life, you've gotten things on your own terms. It wasn't about being selfish—it was about knowing what you wanted, and not being afraid to take the steps to get there, even if it meant breaking a few unspoken rules. You never apologized for it. Why should you? The world had never handed you anything easily, so you carved out space with your own hands, shaping your wants into reality.
You liked pretty things. You liked strawberries. You liked painting girls with soft collarbones and delicate fingers. You liked drawing in sharp eyeliner and wearing red lipstick even when it didn't match your outfit. You liked the way women looked in moonlight, skin glowing and bare emotion written on their faces. Women were softness and power and aching beauty, and for a long time, that's all you thought you'd ever want.
Boys were always just background noise. You flirted with them when you were bored, when you needed a distraction or when you were too tired of explaining to everyone why you leaned toward women. It was easier to let boys talk, to let them orbit around you. Most of the time, they never lasted long. They'd get close enough to realize they couldn't figure you out, and then drift away. It never bothered you. You liked being the one who stayed in control anyway.
But Sunoo was too pretty to be background noise. Too loud in your mind, even in his silence. He was sharp and delicate all at once. Sunoo is not boring. He was vibrant. Infuriating. Complicated. Unlike everyone else, Sunoo wasn't supposed to want you. And you weren't supposed to want him. You didn't chase boys. You didn't even like most of them. But with Sunoo, it wasn't about gender—it was about him. His contradictions. His moral high ground that cracked when his lips were on yours.
Now that you got a taste, you wanted to keep him. You wanted to grab him by that pretty throat and tie a little ribbon around it, mark him, stake your claim. All that fire in him, all that sharp defiance, the self-righteous storm he carried — it would be such a waste to let someone else come along and break him in the wrong way. Someone who wouldn't know how to cherish it like you would.
The wanting was dangerous. But so was he. And it was so much fun to want something you weren't supposed to have. And lucky you—Jake, in all his well-meaning sunshine, handed him right into your lap.
"I'm really glad now that you're friends," Jake grinned, arms flinging around both of you as he squeezed you close. "I can finally call us a trio now!"
You blinked in mild surprise. You hadn't even known this was a sleepover. From the way Jake had worded it earlier, you assumed it was just the two of you catching up over snacks and maybe a few drinks. But now here you were, wedged on the couch with Sunoo stiff on your other side, Jake's warmth pressed between you both. How thoughtful of him. You smiled. Jake was far too kind for his own good and far too generous with forcing proximity, but you didn't mind this time.
Sunoo, on the other hand, looked like someone had physically unplugged him. He was hugging his pillow so tightly it, eyes unfocused as he stared at nothing in particular. His face was blank, but you could read the confliction in every inch of him. Like he was holding himself together by a thread.
What you couldn't see was how hard he was trying to think of anything else besides the fact that he could smell your perfume again and it triggered something in his body. He clenched his thighs together subtly, trying to shift his hips so the growing problem in his pants wouldn't become visible. But the effort was a losing game. God, what the hell was wrong with him? He was still angry, still confused, still mortified that it happened in the first place and yet, his body clearly had no loyalty to his conscience.
What made it worse was Jake who had somehow tricked him into showing up for a supposed movie night and now had them sandwiched together like nothing ever happened between you and him. Jake didn't know, of course. And he couldn't know! Sunoo would rather choke on his own tongue than have to explain why his best friend's not-so-favorite person was suddenly invading his dreams at night and, worse, making him wake up soaked and panting like a hormonal teenager.
"What movies should we watch?!" Jake practically bounced on the couch, his grin wide as he looked back and forth.
You leaned closer, sliding your arm around Jake's. Your gaze flicked to Sunoo, who sat stiff on the other end of the couch, his posture awkward, eyes avoiding yours. "What about horror?" you said as you tilted your head, pretending not to notice how Sunoo seemed to sink deeper into the couch cushions. "Sunoo?"
Sunoo blinked, eyes snapping toward you. "Huh?" His voice cracked, his hand subtly dragged the throw pillow over his lap, fingers clutching the edges.
"Horror is gonna be fun! Imagine the thrill!" Jake turned toward you with shining eyes, already fired up. "Remember Sunoo during Evil Dead Rise? He was screeching like someone dipped him in cold water!" He burst out laughing.
You joined in, not because it was that funny but because you liked the way Sunoo glared at you when you did. His eye twitched, lips tightening in a way that made you want to press your thumb against the corner of his mouth just to see if it would twitch again.
"I didn't scream," Sunoo muttered under his breath. "It was a reflex."
Jake leaned forward to grab the remote, still chuckling. "A reflex that shook the entire floor. I had to check if we were having an earthquake."
Sunoo gave a tight, silent laugh that didn't reach his eyes. You stretched slightly, draping one leg over the other, your foot brushing lightly against Sunoo's knee. "So horror it is," you said.
Sunoo immediately jerked his leg away. "I'm not scared," he snapped, voice thin with defensiveness, eyes flicking toward you but never staying long.
"Who said you were?" you asked sweetly, lips twitching. "But maybe I can hold your hand if you get too nervous."
"I'd rather hold hands with a corpse," he muttered.
Jake, oblivious to the growing tension between you, scrolled through the options. "Let's start with Hereditary. That one's a classic."
You leaned back, settling comfortably against the couch cushion, your arm still loosely around Jake's. But your gaze stayed fixed on Sunoo, watching how he tried to keep his composure. The way he looked everywhere but at you made it all the more tempting to push again.
"Oh my God!" Jake screamed, flinging himself off the couch just as the possessed girl on the screen leapt out from the shadows.
Sunoo jumped, too, not because of the film but because Jake's yell had blasted straight into his ear. "Fuck you!" he gasped, swatting at Jake's shoulder. "You're louder than the demon, you idiot!"
Jake laughed breathlessly, holding a hand over his chest. "I told you it was gonna be scary! I warned you!"
"You didn't say you were gonna be the jump scare," Sunoo muttered, rubbing his ear.
You couldn't help laughing from your corner of the couch. It was warm in the living room, the ambient light from the TV casting deep shadows across everyone's faces. The horror movie had wound itself tight with dread, and now, near the end, the tension in the room had shifted.
Jake reached for the remote to pause it. "Okay, okay, let's all take a break. My heart can't take it. I'm gonna set up the bed and grab more snacks before we finish the last part." He stood up with a stretch, already walking toward the shared room.
You watched Jake disappear down the hallway, the sound of his slippers dragging against the floor fading behind him as he excitedly prepped the bedroom with pillows and snacks, then turned your eyes to Sunoo, who had sunk deeper into the couch, hand rubbing his temple.
Your gaze drifted past him, toward the hallway where the bathroom light glowed faintly at the end. And just like that, the tiniest smirk curled at the corner of your lips. Bingo.
You grabbed the water bottle from the table and tipped it back, pretending to take a long drink—only for the opening to "accidentally" spill, the cold splash soaking the neckline of your shirt and running straight down your chest.
"Shit!" you hissed, jumping slightly as you stood up, swiping at your top with both hands in panic. The fabric clung to your skin, the damp cotton tracing the curve of your collarbone and neckline.
From the corner of your eye, you caught Sunoo's head snap toward you. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing again, his signature glare sliding back into place. "Are you an idiot who can't drink water like a normal person?" he snapped. His eyes flicked from your face to your soaked shirt and back again before he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the pillow over his lap again.
You scowled. "It was an accident," you muttered, pinching the hem of your shirt and pulling it slightly away from your body to keep the wet fabric from clinging too much. "I'm going to the bathroom." You turned your back, already halfway to the hall, but then paused just before you rounded the corner. You peeked back over your shoulder with a faux-hesitant voice. "Sunoo," you said sweetly, "can you... come with me?"
He straightened in his seat, eyes narrowed immediately. "What are you, five? You can walk to the bathroom on your own."
You turned around fully and gave your best pout. "But I'm scared," you said, dropping your voice. "What if something jumps out of the mirror and eats me?"
His lips parted slightly in disbelief. "It's literally a bathroom, not a haunted house. Get a grip."
You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching. "I'm telling Jake—"
That was all it took. Sunoo moved fast. His hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist before you could finish the sentence, his grip is tight, more panicked than forceful. "We agreed to forget that already!" he whispered harshly, dragging you toward the hallway with quick steps. His face was already flushed as he pushed the bathroom door open and practically shoved you inside.
He followed, slamming the door shut behind him and twisting the lock.
You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "I meant I was gonna tell Jake you were being mean to me. What exactly were you thinking, Sunoo?"
The color that spread across his face deepened from pink to a furious red, blooming up his neck and across his cheeks. His eyes darted away from yours, jaw clenched so tight you could see the tension ripple along the muscle there. He didn't answer immediately—his thoughts were clearly a mess, the memory of that night dragging up feelings he didn't want to admit were still there.
God, you were such a bitch. A beautiful, infuriating, unreadable bitch. "Fuck you," he muttered through clenched teeth, pressing his back to the door. His arms crossed over his chest, defensive, but it was already too late for that. "What the hell do you even want?"
You smiled, taking a small step forward, head tilting like you were weighing your options. You let your gaze drop slowly—first to his parted lips, then to his hands clenched into fists at his sides—and then back to his eyes.
"Hmmm," you hummed, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the sink behind you as you leaned back, unbothered by how tense he was. "You."
Sunoo's pulse jumped so hard he felt it in his ears, and it really annoyed him.
"I think we're past the point of shyly pretending we're not attracted to each other, don't you think?" you asked casually, your foot tapping against the floor. "I mean, unless you're really going to pretend you don't think about it."
Sunoo swallowed hard, jaw tightening as he forced his expression into a cold and distant. His voice came out with a bite. "I was drunk. Whatever happened, it wasn't real. I'm sober now, and clearly, you're forgetting something—I'm gay." He stepped forward, huffing, defensive, like he needed to say it aloud to remind himself. "Even if I wasn't, even if I magically woke up straight, do you really think I'd be into someone like you? I wouldn't even hold your hand."
You smiled, unshaken. Your gaze dropped to the tile floor for a moment, nodding slowly like you were mulling it over, like you could almost believe him. "Hmmm. Really?" you said again, softly. Then you looked up and held his stare. "That's interesting."
"What happened was a mistake," he pressed. "Stop getting it twisted. You're not going to change anything. I like men—I've always liked men—and if I ever did like women, it sure as hell wouldn't be someone like you."
His words were sharp and cruel, but his voice cracked slightly on the last sentence. Your eyes flicked down to his hands again. Still clenched and shaking, you almost laughed, he was angry because he didn't know where to put this feeling, and his body was betraying him in every way.
"Okay," you said. "Sorry."
You didn't look sorry. You didn't even sound sorry. Then, without warning, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. Sunoo nearly yelped. "What the fuck?!" he squealed, spinning around so fast. His hands flew up to cover his face. "Are you insane?! Put that back on! Jesus Christ, are you trying to traumatize me?!"
You didn't say anything at first. Just laughed softly, "you said you weren't interested, right? So what are you panicking for?" You rolled your eyes slowly and watched his stiff posture as he stayed plastered to the door. "Relax," you muttered, fingers reaching behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. "I'm wet, Sunoo. I'm not trying to seduce you—I already got my answer. Now, move."
His spine straightened at your words like you'd just smacked him. "What the fuck? Move where?!" His voice rose in panic, still facing away from you.
"I didn't bring an extra shirt. My bag's in the living room," you said flatly, stepping closer. "Now move."
He hesitated, like if he turned around something irreversible would happen. But his curiosity, or maybe his stupidity, got the better of him. Slowly, cautiously, he peeked over his shoulder—and then froze completely.
You were naked from the waist up. Completely bare, with a confidence. Your arms were crossed beneath your chest, body leaning against the sink like you were just waiting for him to get over himself. And God, he should've been used to this. He'd seen breasts before—he had female friends who changed clothes in front of him all the time. It never bothered him. It wasn't a big deal.
He tried to look away and he really, really did, but his eyes kept coming back to you like they were on a leash. Your skin glowed under the light, smooth and warm-toned, shadows carving down your ribs and hips. He noticed the tattoos. The delicate ink on your shoulder had already left an imprint in his brain from that day, but now he saw more. A fine, detailed floral design wrapped along the side of your torso, just above your hip and curling slightly toward your waist. A single lily bloomed in black and soft pink, with gentle shading that made it look almost alive. Watercolor-like strokes trailed from the petals, fading like smoke. The lines followed your curves perfectly.
Sunoo was breathless. He never cared for tattoos, they weren't pretty, but on you, they looked dressed as an art. And fuck, he couldn't stop staring. His gaze flicked to your chest, and a fresh wave of heat rolled through him. Your nipples were tight from the air, drawn and pointed, resting against full, natural curves that made his stomach knot. Why was he getting hard? This didn't make sense. Fuck. You were so hot it pissed him off.
You were staring at him, head slightly tilted, waiting for him to move. "Sunoo?"
Sunoo's fists clenched. He could feel saliva collecting in his mouth, and he swallowed hard like that would put out the fire already crawling down his spine. He blinked quickly, shaking his head. "You—fuck, you need to put something on," he said.
"My shirt's in the living room—"
"I don't care. Put something on," he cut in sharply, brows furrowed and his gaze turned firmly to the wall.
You didn't budge. "Jake already saw my tits, Sunoo. It's not a big deal—"
He didn't even know why it made his stomach flip and his chest burn, but it did. The thought of Jake seeing you like this, made a feeling claw up the back of his throat.
Sunoo was a nursing student. He studied hormonal response, human behavior, and the mind's reactions to stress and desire. But this wasn't in his textbooks. This wasn't just dopamine or misplaced frustration. Human emotions were more complicated than any clinical definition. No scientific framework could fully explain the way you made him feel.
"You're hard."
Sunoo felt his entire body go still. He could feel it too. The tight pressure in his pants, the unbearable way his cock had hardened while his mind scrambled to deny everything. He turned toward the mirror above the sink, refusing to meet your eyes as he muttered, "I-It's normal biological reaction."
The excuse felt paper-thin, almost pathetic in his mouth, but it was the only thing he could reach for. He was clinging to whatever logic he had left, because logic was safer than whatever the hell this was. Logic didn't leave him aching in places he shouldn't be aching. Logic didn't twist his insides just from looking at you.
You were still standing there, unfazed, topless and confident, your arms crossed under your chest like you were waiting for him to catch up. "Sunoo," you said his name softly.
He finally looked at you, eyes glaring. "I told you I'm gay," he said, and he hated how shaky his voice sounded. "This—this shouldn't be happening."
You took a slow step closer, and he didn't move. "You said that," you nodded, voice calm. "But I didn't ask what you are. I just told you what I want."
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read between your words, searching for an angle, a trick. "So what is this to you? A joke? Some kind of game?"
"No. You're the one making it complicated."
His chest rose and fell unevenly. His mind kept trying to name what he was feeling—confusion, tension, desire, maybe all of it at once—but it was all bleeding together in a way that felt like drowning. "I've never—" he started, then stopped himself.
You waited. "Never what?"
"I've never felt this confused before," he said, eyes searching yours like he was hoping you'd give him a reason to pull away, something to ground him. "I don't even like women. I'm not supposed to want this."
"Then don't want it," you said simply, shrugging your shoulders. "But don't lie about it. Do you want me, Sunoo?"
He hated that. Hated how sure you sounded, how unapologetically honest you were while he was still tangled in his own fear and guilt, still gripping the edge of what he thought was certainty. You made everything seem so simple, so easy to name—want, touch, feel—while he was still trying to unlearn the rules he had been clinging to for so long. He wanted to push you away, wanted to hate you for making him feel like he was coming apart in his own skin. But even as that thought surfaced, his eyes dropped again to your lips, and lingered there too long. He hated how much he wanted you to close the space between you, how much he needed you to.
His breathing grew shallow, his chest rising in uneven waves, and when you leaned forward, he didn't retreat. Instead, his eyes fluttered closed. The second your mouth brushed against his, something inside him cracked open. He kissed you with a kind of desperation that made it clear he'd stopped pretending.
There was no hesitation when he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of your body beneath his hands made his head spin. He held you tightly, anchoring himself to the moment, to the gravity of your touch. His lips moved against yours, his hands trembled as they explored the lines of your back, fingertips pressing into your skin. You knew he was falling, and you welcomed it. You let him cling to you, let him kiss you and when your lips finally parted, you didn't say a word. You just let your hands trail down his chest, eyes locked on his flushed face as you sank down onto your knees before him.
Sunoo's breath hitched audibly. His hands flew to the edge of the sink behind him, trying to steady himself. You looked up at him, gaze dark and patient, and he looked down at you. His cock strained against his pajama, and when you undid the strings, your fingers brushing against him through the fabric, he nearly buckled.
The moment you freed him, he hissed through his teeth. You didn't tease him this time, you took him into your mouth. His hand instinctively reached for your head, gripping your hair too tightly as you slid your tongue over him, slow at first, deepening only when he let out a choked moan that vibrated from somewhere deep in his chest.
"F-fuck..." he whispered, eyes fluttering open, and the sight of you on your knees—bare, hungry, focused only on him. This time, there was no alcohol to blame. No drunken impulse to hide behind. Both of you were entirely sober, breathing the same heavy air. And you were right. You were far past the point of pretending you're not attracted to each other. Because, fuck...
He bit down on his bottom lip, struggling to hold back the sound threatening to crawl out of his throat when you pulled your mouth off him. The cold air brushed his wet skin for only a second before your hand wrapped firmly around his cock. You were looking up at him with such dark, focused eyes, and the glint of your tongue piercing when you stuck your tongue out made his stomach twist in ways.
His moan trembled out of him, a low, broken thing he tried and failed to swallow. His eyes fluttered shut as you began to stroke him, slow and tight, your fingers knowing exactly where to squeeze, where to drag your thumb. His hips jerked forward against your fist without thought. He was trembling, his thighs already straining, and when his hand moved to your head again, he didn't even register that he was holding you there, like he needed you in that position, grounded and close, while everything else slipped away.
With a choked sound, his release surged forward, hips stuttering as thick, hot ropes of cum spurted from him—painting your face, your tongue, and even your lips. You closed your eyes, but kept your mouth open, breathing heavy, letting it drip and settle across your flushed skin. The sight of you on your knees, panting, tongue out, face stained with the proof of what he'd given you—was too much. He'd never seen anything that fucking beautiful.
Sunoo's breath came out in short, ragged gasps. He couldn't look away. You were absolutely wrecked, eyes half-lidded, mouth still parted, tongue twitching slightly as the last of him spilled from the tip. His knees nearly buckled. And even as shame flickered somewhere in the distance, it didn't touch the way his chest clenched with need.
You were far past the point of pretending you're not attracted to each other. Because, fuck... in Sunoo's mind— You're really, really, really, attractive. You tilted your head, eyes still soft despite the mess on your face. "It's okay, Sunoo."
And that simple assurance hit harder than anything else had tonight, he had never felt so completely defeated and relieved at the same time.
Sunoo always joked that he was betraying his "gay motherhood," whatever the fuck that meant, but deep down, he was unraveling more than a label. His whole sense of self was spiraling, not because he didn't like men anymore, but because he couldn't stop liking what you did to him.
He was raised sure—sure he liked men, sure of who he was, sure of how the world saw him. But your mouth? Your hands? Your eyes on his body? That changed something. And maybe it wasn't even about gender or attraction or breaking rules, maybe it was just about how good it felt. Because, it did. Every time your tongue slid down his length or your lips curled into a smirk right before you swallowed him whole, he would grip your hair like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.
And he still hated it. Hated you. Hated how easily you pulled those sounds from him, how willingly he spread his legs, how badly he wanted to feel your throat tighten around him when he was too stressed to think straight. But hate was a weak word when it came to you because what he really felt was full of hunger and questions he couldn't answer, of relief he couldn't explain, and of moments when he forgot who he was supposed to be.
Somehow, this arrangement—whatever fucked-up kind of companionship it was—had become routine. He was stressed? You showed up, dragged him onto the bed, and made him forget the weight in his chest. You were tired of people? You'd drop to your knees and pull his pants down, muttering snarky words before your tongue did all the talking. When Jake invited you both for café dates, you'd suck Sunoo off in the bathroom beforehand, as if taking the edge off made you more tolerable in public.
And in between all that, without either of you saying it, you started learning each other. You knew the way his breath caught when you traced the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock, the way he liked his thighs rubbed when he was overwhelmed, the way he pretended to hate your voice but kept asking you to hum while he was inside your mouth. He knew the difference between your smirk and your real smile, he noticed the way you always fixed his collar before he left for class, the way you paused before walking away like you wanted him to stop you, just once.
"Did you see my guitar pick? I was really sure I left it here." You asked, already half on the floor as you looked beneath his bed, your voice muffled against the floorboards. "My pen? Where did you put my pen?"
Sunoo didn't answer right away. He just scratched the back of his head, eyes skimming over his textbook. "Also, I think I left my hoodie here last week," you continued, lifting his blanket and peeking underneath. You spoke like it was nothing, like this wasn't the fourth time you'd been here this week, like you hadn't sucked him off on this very bed two nights ago while the rain beat against his window. "The red one? Oversized. The one you said was ugly."
"Stop leaving your things here and expecting me to be your lost and found," Sunoo muttered with a sigh, rolling his eyes as he stood from his desk. His hands moved to the drawer beside his bed, fingers quickly rifling through the clutter until he pulled out the small pile of things you'd been searching for.
Your guitar pick. A pen with a chewed-up cap. The scrunchie you claimed you didn't care about but had asked about three times. "Yay!" you chirped, voice bright as you threw your arms around his neck without hesitation. Your enthusiasm was full of sunshine and zero awareness of boundaries—not that he'd set any for you lately. Your body leaned into his, so warm, and for a moment, he didn't pull away. He didn't even stiffen. If anything, he just stood there with his jaw tight and eyes soft, letting you hang onto him.
Sunoo had learned a lot of unexpected things from you, but the first was this: you were clingy. Not in the way people usually mean it. You were clingy in the way a storm was clingy, so loud and unpredictable, but always returning, always right on time. You'd barge into his room to ruffle his hair without asking, leave lipstick stains on the rim of his mugs, and curse while crocheting in his living room.
Despite your sharp tongue, your smug smirks, and that bitchy little smile you wore whenever you knew you had the upper hand, there was something about you that kept curling into the edges of his life. The softness you tried to bury always slipped through—like now, as your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, your breath warm on his collarbone.
You hadn't even fucked, not really. Whatever this was between the two of you, it never crossed that final line. Sure, you'd given him head more times than he could count now, slipping between his knees, sometimes right after class or before dinner. Sometimes with a joke still on your tongue, your fingers working his zipper like it was just part of your daily routine. You'd even played with yourself while looking him dead in the eyes, teasing him, daring him, and yet still somehow managing not to strip yourself bare.
Pleasure was always good. You knew exactly what to do to unravel him. But it confused him on the way you stayed after. The way you talked to him about your professors and complained about your classmates, how you crocheted lopsided sweaters and left your yarn all over his room, like you expected to come back and finish them.
It was how you kissed his cheek when he looked stressed, how you'd fall asleep next to him fully clothed while he studied and pretend not to notice when he pulled the blanket over you.
"You need to stop acting like this is your place," he muttered, trying to keep his voice flat.
You didn't take the bait, instead, you leaned in and kissed his cheek loudly. Sunoo's entire face twitched in immediate response. His hand shot up, rubbing his cheek with the heel of his palm. "Eww," he muttered under his breath.
"Sorry!" you giggled, clearly not sorry at all with that look you always wore when you knew you were testing his patience, and then your hands were on his face again, squeezing his cheeks with affection. "You're just so adorable when you're cranky. I can't help it."
He groaned loudly, swatting at your wrists, trying to pry your hands off. "Stop calling me that."
You didn't flinch. In fact, you leaned closer, squishing his cheeks harder, and making a cooing sound that only made him more irritated. He slapped your arm but when you laughed again, that same light, reckless laugh that always made his ears feel too warm, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged.
"Ow, ow, ow!" you yelped, wriggling in place with a pout. You batted his hand away, fingers tangled in your strands, while your eyes stayed locked on his with a mixture of amusement and challenge.
"Leave me alone. I'm trying to review for my exams," Sunoo muttered, barely glancing at you as he rolled his eyes and turned back toward his desk. His hand reached for the highlighter beside his textbook, the yellow ink already bleeding into the edge of a paragraph he'd probably read four times without actually absorbing anything.
You walked over anyway, you squeezed into the tiny space beside him on a chair meant for one, and Sunoo groaned out loud, shifting his body to the side. The chair creaked beneath your combined weight, and your thigh was pressed flush against his. "I just need a favor from you," you said, casually brushing your hand across his table.
Sunoo let out another sigh. He looked over at you, unimpressed. "Favor? Only friends do favors," he replied flatly.
You turned to him with a gasp, placing a hand to your chest in mock offense. "Wow," you said, eyes wide and sarcastic. "Damn, after all the blowjobs I gave you? After the way we've made out on your bed, your floor, and that one time in your fucking kitchen? After all the hours I spent here telling you about my day while you pretended not to listen? You're telling me we're not even friends?"
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his hand frozen halfway through underlining another sentence. You weren't wrong. You'd been coming around so often that your scent had started to cling to his sheets, your hair ties and red lipstick had begun appearing in random corners of his room, and your laugh had started to echo in his head long after you'd gone home.
You leaned in a little, close enough that he could feel your breath fan across his neck. "If this isn't a friendship," you added softly, "then what is your definition of friendship, Sunoo?"
He made a show of thinking, lifting his eyes like he was searching the ceiling for inspiration, but there was a glint in his expression that gave away how amused he actually was. "I don't know, girl. We haven't even properly introduced ourselves because you were too busy sucking my dick off," he replied, words nonchalant but his ears tinted red. He tried to keep his voice flat, sarcastic even, like that would mask the heat crawling up his neck.
You laughed, unbothered, and leaned your head against his shoulder with a casualness that shouldn't have felt so intimate, but somehow, it did. Sunoo shifted under the contact, scoffing, rolling his eyes, acting like he didn't care but you could feel it in the way he didn't move away.
"Okay, let's do this properly then," you said as you let your hand play with the edge of his sleeve. "I'm twenty. Fashion design major. I work part-time at two different cafés. I play gigs when I can, lead guitarist and vocalist of Jay's band. I crochet, bake, draw, paint—basically anything that can bring in money for tuition. I have three ex-girlfriends, all toxic in very different ways. And I like—"
"Wait," Sunoo cut in, body suddenly stiffening as he pulled back just enough to stare at you. His eyes were wide, lips parted slightly like he couldn't believe what he just heard. "You're gay?!"
Your mouth dropped open, blinking at him as your brain scrambled to rewind what you'd said. "I—I mean, isn't it obvious?" you managed, slightly flustered, though a part of you also found his surprise endearing in a frustrating way.
Sunoo didn't say anything right away. He kept looking at you, brows furrowed, lips parted in a stunned kind of silence like he was trying to piece you together again with this new piece of information you just casually dropped. You watched the flickers of confusion, surprise, maybe even a bit of disbelief in his face, and though you didn't fully understand why it mattered so much to him. "I like girls," you clarified again.
There was a beat of silence. Then Sunoo blinked hard, like he'd just snapped out of it, and his reaction was nothing short of dramatic. "I—I thought you were straight, girl!" he cried out with a squeaky kind of disbelief, and before you could defend yourself, his hand flew out and smacked your arm. Hard. The kind of smack that made your whole upper body jerk slightly from the force. You almost flew off the chair.
"Shit, Sunoo!" you yelped, rubbing your arm and glaring at him with a twisted expression of both pain and outrage.
But Sunoo wasn't listening. He was laughing—loudly, eyes crinkled, hand over his mouth like he couldn't believe what he was hearing and also couldn't stop himself from reacting. "I really didn't like you at first," he gasped between giggles. "Like, genuinely. I thought you were giving homophobic vibes! You were too confident, too flirty, and you stared at me like you were ready to fight or fuck, and I swear to god I thought you were trying to make me your weird little experiment!"
You blinked again, thrown off by the way he said it all so fast. "What the fuck, Sunoo," you muttered, half-offended but also kind of shocked that he thought all that while still letting you suck him off on the regular.
He slapped your shoulder again and kept cackling, his entire body tilted forward as he wheezed through it, completely losing himself in his own joke. "I mean, it makes sense now," he managed between laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "That's why you're such a bitch—because you're gay!"
You didn't hesitate. Your hand landed right on his arm, a loud smack echoing through the room. "Are you forgetting that you're gay too, idiot?" you shot back, trying to sound annoyed but failing to hold back your grin.
Sunoo hissed dramatically, rubbing the spot, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. The teasing should've stopped there—should've stayed in that usual back-and-forth where you both knew the lines and how far to push. But something in his expression shifted. "I still don't get it," he murmured, the laughter dying down to a softer tone, his hand now gently pressing the spot you'd hit. "If you're into girls, then what does that make... this?"
For a moment, you didn't know how to answer. So many things about you didn't fit into the easy explanations people seemed to expect, and honestly, you never cared to try and fit them. "I don't know," you said at last, "I've hooked up with guys before, and it was never really a big deal. I always knew I liked girls more, but that never stopped me from doing stuff with boys when I felt like it." You shrugged, then leaned back a little, giving him space to process what you were about to say. "Sexuality is just a word people use to make sense of themselves. I might call myself bisexual—or gay—but honestly, it never fully explains what I want or how I feel. Labels don't always fit."
He looked at you then, and there was something quiet different in his eyes. It wasn't annoyance or mockery for once. You continued anyway, because you needed him to understand. "All I know is that I like doing things with you. Whether it's talking, teasing, sitting around doing nothing, or yeah... getting on my knees for you. It sounds messy, but it's the only thing I'm sure of."
That made his throat bob. His heartbeat, already unruly from earlier, thudded faster at your words, and he could feel the heat creeping into his face before he could stop it. He wanted to brush it off, wanted to say something sharp or stupid to deflect, but nothing came out.
He forced himself to roll his eyes and gave your shoulder another slap, more gentle this time. "Ewwww," he groaned with an exaggerated squeal, scrunching his nose. "It might be our routine, but could you not say that in my ear? It's still weird hearing you talk so casually about sucking me off!"
You only grinned wider, catching the flush starting to bloom across his cheeks. "What? Are you blushing?" you teased as you reached up and pinched his cheeks between your fingers, delighting in how quickly he tried to jerk away.
He groaned, then reached up to grab a fistful of your hair in retaliation. "You're so annoying," he muttered, tugging hard enough to make you yelp and try to push him off.
"Fuck!" you shrieked through laughter, smacking his arm and trying to wriggle away. But the tangled mess of limbs ended with both of you tipping sideways and falling back into the chair. He hit the floor and let out a long-suffering groan as you collapsed on top of him in a heap.
"Great," he muttered, pressing a hand to his lower back. "Now I'm going to fail my exam with spinal damage." You were still laughing, unbothered as you rested your chin on his chest. Even now, with your weight on top of him and your hair tickling his face, Sunoo couldn't bring himself to shove you off.
Instead, his eyes wandered to the ceiling, mind replaying the words you said earlier. Maybe you were right. Sexuality was just a word. A way to make sense of something that couldn't always be explained. And maybe the way he felt this complicated, frustrating, strangely comforting pull toward you wasn't something that needed a label at all.
"Get off. You're so fucking heavy," Sunoo hissed, snapping himself out of it as he tugged at your hair again, a little rougher this time. But deep down, buried under every eye roll and complaint, he enjoyed doing things with you, whether they were sexual or not. That part, at least, he could admit to himself. Maybe not out loud. Definitely not to you. He'd rather drop dead than say it out loud.
The favor you had asked was to practice your creative makeup on him, get his measurements, and use him as some sort of living mannequin for the designs you'd been working on. It sounded harmless enough when you first mentioned it, though the way you said it—bright-eyed, insistent, and practically buzzing with ideas—made it sound like you were dragging him into something bigger than he could imagine. He hadn't thought much of it back then, especially since hospital duties had swallowed him whole. The weeks stretched on, filled with endless shifts, late nights, and exhaustion so deep he barely had the energy to eat before collapsing into bed.
But still, in the middle of those long nights, he'd catch himself thinking of you. Of how irritating you could be, how you texted him nonsense memes at ungodly hours, how you spammed his phone like you had nothing better to do. He never admitted it, but the absence of your loud presence gnawed at him. The quiet felt heavier without you around to annoy him into feeling alive. That was what made him finally agree to see you again, even if it meant dragging his tired body to your apartment after his shift.
At the bus stop, Sunoo sat slumped beside Jungwon, eyelids heavy as the night air pressed around them. Jungwon let out a long groan, stretching his arms above his head. "Do you want to sleep over at my place instead? Later, I'll order Jollibee. Kinda been craving their spaghetti."
The offer was tempting—comfort food and a soft bed—but Sunoo only shook his head, his lips curving faintly as he pulled out his phone. "Maybe next time. Thanks for the offer, though. I've got some business to attend to."
"Business?" Jungwon repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. "At this hour?"
Sunoo didn't answer right away. His thumb scrolled down the flood of messages on his screen—your name glowing at the top of the chat. Rows of texts, some with too many exclamation marks, others filled with random pictures, all ridiculous enough to make his scrunched-up expression betray him with a small, undeniable smile. Jungwon noticed. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "That's new," he muttered, side-eyeing. "So... where exactly are you going?"
"Just there," Sunoo replied vaguely, sliding his phone back into his bag before Jungwon could ask too much. And then, Sunoo leaned over and kissed Jungwon on the cheek, accompanied by a rare, boyish grin. "I'll get going now. Bye-bye!"
Jungwon froze, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief as he watched Sunoo walk away, his figure retreating down the street with a kind of restless energy. Jungwon's mouth fell open, his thoughts spinning in circles. He looked off to the side, considering whether to press or not, but in the end he only sighed and rolled his shoulders in resignation. "Huh. Weird," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "But whatever."
When Sunoo finally stepped into your apartment, you didn't hold back. You practically launched yourself at him, arms flinging around his shoulders as though you had been waiting for this moment for weeks—which, in truth, you had. The sound of your laughter filled the air immediately, loud and full of the joy that spilled out of you so naturally.
Sunoo, on the other hand, reacted exactly the way he always did when you overwhelmed him with affection. His face scrunched into that familiar look of feigned annoyance as he huffed, one hand coming up to shove your face away. "Geez," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile, "it's already ten in the evening and you're still bouncing around? Spare me, please." With a heavy sigh, he slipped his bag off his shoulder and tossed it onto the nearest chair. "I'm just going to change my clothes."
Your eyes widened immediately, and you froze mid-step. "Wait—does that mean you're going to sleep here?"
Sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, as if the answer should have been obvious. "What? You really think I'd go home after letting you disturb me at this hour?" he said, his voice dry. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around your apartment for the first time.
It was nothing like his own space. The moment his gaze swept over the room, he felt an odd tug in his chest. Guitars lined one wall, their strings gleaming faintly under the shifting glow of LED lights taped along the corners. The posters that filled your walls, mostly of metal bands he actually recognized—thanks to one of his friends who was just as obsessed with that scene as you seemed to be. There were canvases, too, half-finished and scattered against the sofa. The whole place felt alive, buzzing with your energy even when you weren't moving.
"Missed me?" you teased, leaning closer with a grin.
Sunoo didn't even spare you a proper glance. He rolled his eyes and shoved you lightly away, muttering under his breath as he dug into his bag. "As if. The only reason I even bothered coming here is because your annoying ass wouldn't leave me alone."
You watched him unzip his bag, pulling out a neatly folded set of clothes, and despite his flat expression you noticed the way his shoulders sagged, how exhaustion clung to every movement. He had been working himself to the bone, yet here he was, standing in your apartment at ten in the evening. That alone made your chest warm.
"God, I need to shower," he muttered, already moving toward the hallway without waiting for directions. He pushed open a random door, somehow guessing correctly that it was the bathroom, and slipped inside. The door shut firmly, leaving you behind in the living room with your laughter spilling out in echoes.
You padded after him without hesitation, knocking against the bathroom door with force. "Let me join!" you shouted through the wood.
From inside, there was a short pause, followed by the sound of the shower starting, and then his indignant yell. "Fuck you!"
You laughed so hard you had to lean against the wall for support, the sound echoing through your apartment. There was something deeply satisfying in knowing you could still pull that reaction from him even when he was drained from his long shift.
Sunoo ended up on your bed, sitting stiffly. His eyes moved slowly over your room, taking in the mess sprawl of your belongings. Clothes half-folded, books stacked unevenly, random brushes and palettes scattered across your desk. He bent down with a sigh, picking up a stray eyeliner pencil and a crumpled sheet of paper from the floor before dropping them on the bedside table. "Unbelievable," he muttered, glancing at you. "How do you even live like this?"
You ignored his complaint, too caught up in your own excitement. With the measuring tape in hand, you motioned for him to sit still. He shifted reluctantly, rolling his eyes but letting you circle around him, brushing against his shoulders and arms as you worked. You could feel the weight of his gaze following your movements even though he tried to pretend he wasn't paying attention.
"Our theme is under the sea," you began, your tone lively, words spilling out in a rush. "The makeup I have in mind isn't too heavy—it's soft, glowy, more like a douyin-inspired style, but with hints of shimmer, like reflections on water."
Sunoo raised a brow but said nothing, still trying to sit as if he wasn't secretly curious. "Wait, hold on." You darted to your desk, shoving aside piles of papers and empty cups, searching frantically until you found your sketchpad. The mess you made in the process only made him sigh louder, and when you finally returned, your arms were full of sheets, pencils, and smudged notes. You plopped beside him on the bed without an ounce of care, your hair brushing against his shoulder as you flipped the sketchpad open to the right page.
"Here, look!" you said eagerly, turning the pad so he could see. The drawing wasn't perfect, but it was vibrant, full of details—flowing lines like waves, soft glitter patterns around the eyes, hints of pearlescent tones. You leaned close enough that your knees brushed his, smiling up at him as if waiting for approval.
He glanced at the sketch, then at you, then back again. His face was blank, though his lips twitched as if fighting back a reaction. "You did all this just for practice?" he asked finally.
"Of course," you said without hesitation, tilting your head at him. "You're my muse tonight. Who else would I trust to pull this off?"
That word—muse—hung in the air between you. Sunoo blinked, looking away quickly, pretending to study the messy corner of your room instead. He scoffed under his breath, though his ears betrayed him with the faintest hint of red.
"Whatever, just do your job so I can sleep," he said, voice carrying that familiar sharpness. Still, he didn't shift away when you leaned in, didn't flinch when your hand brushed against his wrist as you measured, nor when you adjusted the tilt of his chin so you could see him better. He stayed still, letting you come closer.
If someone asked you at that moment how you felt, you would have answered easily—you were happy. Happy in a way that was simple yet overwhelming. Happy because lately, it felt like things were turning in your favor, even the little things. Happy because just yesterday you'd gotten a new tattoo for free. Happy because sitting here, in your messy room that never seemed good enough for guests, you had a boy in front of you who was almost too pretty to be real. A boy who had an attitude sharp enough to cut, but whose presence made you feel full.
You weren't known for being soft. People said you were rough around the edges, cunning, always quick with words that made others falter. But with him, it was different. You couldn't help yourself from speaking, from filling the silence with random stories, thoughts, jokes—anything. To most, your voice could be overwhelming, but Sunoo had already grown used to it.
"And Jake was also planning his first date to a hotpot—" you rambled on, your hand steady as you blended shimmer onto his eyelid.
Sunoo let out a heavy sigh, his lips parting slightly as he resisted the urge to open his eyes. He had been sitting there with his lids closed for what felt like an eternity, and still you weren't finished. "Do you ever shut up?" he muttered.
You grinned, your brush tracing along the curve of his brow bone as if you didn't hear the complaint. "Why would I? My voice keeps you awake."
"More like gives me a headache," he countered. You tilted his face to the side, carefully catching the light so you could see your work better. These were just trial runs, after all, and even though you hadn't used foundation or concealer—because his skin was already annoyingly perfect—you still wanted everything to look right. The green-brown lenses had shifted the color of his eyes into softer glow, and with the eyeshadow fanned out at the corners, it gave him a kind of effortless charm that made you pause. There was something about working on his face that always made you fall quiet for a second, like you were afraid any sudden movement might break the moment. His features, up close, were unfairly beautiful—the curve of his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, the small, barely-there freckles you'd playfully added to give him a more sun-kissed look. Everything about him was pretty in a way that didn't feel delicate, but confident. His lips especially—plump, soft, and just slightly parted while he sat there with his eyes closed.
You turned, rummaging through your pile of lip tints and glosses until you found the shade that instantly reminded you of him. It was a sheer pink with a little bit of shimmer, and you already knew how good it would look. Without warning, you swung your leg over and settled onto his lap, grinning as you balanced your weight. The reaction was immediate—Sunoo's eyes snapped open, brows pulling together.
"Seriously?" he sighed, exasperated, but his hands came to your hips anyway, holding you steady so you wouldn't slip off the edge of the bed. "Are we done now?"
You tilted your head and gave a sheepish smile, not answering as you leaned in to carefully dab the gloss over his lips. The shape of his mouth, the way it gave the tiniest twitch when your finger brushed the edge—it made your pulse jump. You were so close now that his breath brushed against your cheek, and you had to focus hard not to let your hand shake. You wanted to kiss him. The urge sat so close to the surface that it made your chest feel tight, but you didn't. You just pulled back and admired the finished look with a soft exhale.
"Perfect," you whispered to yourself, more than him. You reached behind you and grabbed the mirror without moving from his lap. Sunoo rolled his eyes but took the mirror from your hand. You stayed right where you were, watching with quiet excitement as he looked at his reflection. There was silence at first. He tilted the mirror slightly, studying one angle, then another. He reached up to touch his hair, fixing a stray strand, then let his gaze drift toward his lips. His expression shifted slowly, quiet surprise then the corner of his mouth curled upward.
"Hmm, it doesn't look bad," he murmured.
Still straddling his lap, you leaned in closer until your face hovered just near the side of his neck, taking in the soft scent of his body wash still lingering from his shower. Your voice dropped as you murmured, "You look so much prettier than me."
Without missing a beat, Sunoo gave a soft scoff, his eyes still on his reflection. "Of course. I should be."
That earned a laugh from you. Typical Sunoo. You didn't stop yourself when you leaned forward and pressed your teeth lightly against his neck, a teasing little bite that made him flinch. Sunoo immediately pinched your waist, just hard enough to make you jolt. "Don't leave marks, I swear I'll kill you," he hissed, finally putting the mirror aside and turning to glare at you.
You only grinned wider, pressing closer until your hands slid up to frame his jaw and your nose brushed against his. "What if I want to leave marks?" you whispered. "What if I want people to know you've been thoroughly used?"
He stared at you, deadpan, though the faintest flush started to bloom across his cheeks. "Used?" he echoed, blinking slowly.
You nodded, the tip of your tongue peeking out as you teased, "Yeah. Like a good little stress toy. I could sit on your face"
His jaw clenched in restraint. "You're disgusting," he muttered, but his hands never left your hips. In fact, they gripped a little tighter now.
"That's not a no," you said sweetly, letting your thumb trail along the curve of his throat. "You're holding me so well. Kinda makes me think you like this. You want me to keep going, Sunoo?"
He inhaled sharply and leaned back just slightly, giving himself space to think. The dim light of the room cast a soft glow across his cheekbones. The red LED strip near the ceiling bled into shadows, blending into the yellow hue of your little desk lamp, illuminating parts of your skin in warm patches. Your hair messily pinned up, strands falling out of your bun, wearing that worn-out Hello Kitty sando and those barely-there shorts. He swallowed hard.
And for a moment, he just stared. The edge of lust in his expression softened. The corner of his lip twitched like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. He was thinking, really thinking. and the thoughts weren't just about your lips or your thighs or the heat pooling between you. He was imagining your face twisted in pleasure, not because you were teasing or in control, but because he was the one making you fall apart. He wanted to see that. Wanted to own it.
His body betrayed him first. You both felt how hard he was getting beneath you, the tension radiating off him as you shifted on his lap and rolled your hips in a slow circle against his clothed cock. Your breath hitched as your core dragged over the growing bulge beneath his sweats, and you felt his fingers dig in harder.
Sunoo bit down on his bottom lip and didn't break eye contact. His voice came controlled, but his expression betrayed how much restraint it took. "Sit on my face, then."
Your entire body tensed. The shift was immediate. The teasing smirk that once played on your lips faltered. Your hips stopped moving, stilling right on top of him. You blinked, staring down at him, wide-eyed and visibly caught off guard. "H-huh?" you stammered, breath shallow.
His hand slid up beneath your sando, fingertips grazing over the soft skin of your waist, then higher toward your ribs, slow and unhurried as his gaze didn't flicker. "Sit on my face," he whispered again. "What's the matter? You seemed so eager earlier."
You could barely form a thought. Your pulse thundered in your ears, your breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a plea. "I was just joking," you mumbled, already shifting as if to climb off his lap, trying to dismiss the thought. "You don't have to. I mean—vaginal fluid doesn't even taste good..." You avoided his eyes, flustered and scrambling for your scattered makeup products, needing something to shift the atmosphere. But before your fingers could wrap around the nearest compact, Sunoo moved. He caught you by the wrist and pushed you back onto the bed in one quick motion. You let out a small, surprised squeal as your back hit the mattress.
His body hovered over yours, his knees pinning either side of your hips, eyes fixed on you. "I've let you get me off with your mouth more times than I can count," he said in annoyance. "And now you're acting like I don't get to touch you back?"
Your heart kicked harder in your chest, thudding against your ribs as you stared up at him. "I—" you started, but your voice came out small. "Sunoo, I didn't even shave..."
He didn't blink. He sat back just slightly, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts. "And?" he muttered, raising a brow as if that wasn't even a detail worth considering. When you moved to stop him, hands fluttering at his wrists, he caught one and pressed it into the mattress. His other hand cupped you through your panties, his palm fitting against the damp heat between your thighs.
Your breath hitched. Your back arched into his touch instinctively, and you saw the way his eyes darkened, how his lips parted ever so slightly. "You're soaked," he said, thumb pressing a little firmer.
You tried to deflect, though your voice wavered. "Do you even know what to do with it?" Your tone was teasing, but your body betrayed you—already trembling under his touch, heat pooling low in your stomach, breath quickening. You weren't expecting his answer.
"No," he said simply, like he wasn't embarrassed by it. Then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging the fabric down your thighs in one slow motion before tossing it somewhere across the room. "So teach me."
He slid a hand under your thigh, lifting and spreading your legs. Then he leaned down, his lips brushing soft kisses along your inner thigh slowly, all while keeping his eyes on you. The contact made your pussy flutter, a pulse of need tightening in your abdomen. Your breath hitched again, your hips twitching with anticipation. The sight of him makeup still intact from earlier, your lip gloss still lingering faintly on his mouth—made your body anticipate.
He dipped his head between your legs and dragged his tongue along your folds, one long, unhurried stroke from your entrance to your clit. The sensation made you jolt, the sudden wave of pleasure catching you off guard. "Fuck," you gasped, one hand flying to his hair, fingers curling in his soft strands.
Sunoo's tongue was slow at first, careful in a way that almost betrayed how new this was to him but he was quick to find what made you tremble. He closed his eyes, letting the taste of you settle on his tongue as he circled your clit with careful strokes before dragging his mouth lower to collect everything your body was offering. For a second, he could barely breathe.
So this is what pussy tastes like. That thought rang in his head, the warmth, the wetness, the way your whole body jerked when he hit the right spot—it was more than he imagined. He'd spent years scoffing at the way straight guys romanticized it, mocked their obsession, swore he'd never enjoy it. But fuck, now he understood why they bragged about it. Now he understood the hype.
His hands gripped your thighs as he dragged his tongue through your folds again, slower this time, savoring it. He moaned into you when he heard you whine his name, your voice shaky and breathless. The vibration of his voice against your pussy made your whole body twitch, and Sunoo's cock throbbed from the sound alone. If he wasn't already half-hard before, he was fully aching now, painfully so.
"S-Sunoo," you whimpered, hips lifting off the bed in a desperate rhythm that told him just how good he was doing. His mouth moved instinctively—less cautious now, more eager, more confident—as he pushed his tongue deeper, tasting you from your entrance all the way up, mouth hot and greedy. You were clenching around nothing, so tight and needy, and he wanted to bury his face even deeper, get drunk off you.
When your thighs began to tremble and squeeze around his ears, he didn't stop—instead, he pressed your legs apart with both hands, holding you open like a meal he wasn't finished with yet. Your slick coated his lips and chin, dripping down, and he didn't care. If anything, it made him hungrier. He licked through it all, mess and all, letting it smear over his tongue and down his throat as he sucked your clit hard, then softened his strokes just enough to tease again.
"Ahhh!" Your body writhed underneath him, moans louder, messier, fingers clawing at his hair. His nose bumped into your clit as he worked his tongue into you again, his face wet with your slick, breathing through his mouth as he chased the way you tasted.
His mind was spinning—nothing existed in that moment except your moans, the heat of your pussy, and the steady throb in his pants that begged for release. And when you cried out his name again, legs shaking harder, nails digging into his scalp as your hips rocked into his face, Sunoo moaned so loud it vibrated against your cunt, eyes rolling back as he thought—fuck, he could come from just this.
Sunoo's hips were already grinding against the mattress, his clothed cock rutting helplessly into the sheets as he kept his mouth buried between your legs, tongue swirling slow, then fast, then slow again as he tested how you reacted to every flick and drag. But it was your clit that made him obsessed, the way it throbbed, the way you twitched whenever he sucked it, the way you squealed when he circled it just right. He focused there now, licking harder, more deliberate, tasting every ounce of you like he was making up for all the time he'd dismissed ever wanting this.
This wasn't just payback for all the times you teased him, for every shameless comment or cocky flirt that came from your mouth. No, this was Sunoo owning you. Silencing you. Making you feel exactly what you put him through—restless, aching, desperate.
Your moans started to rise uncontrollably, your voice shaky, your fingers now tangled tightly in his hair as your hips rolled in sync with the rhythm of his tongue. "Wait! Fuck!" you gasped, thighs twitching as your climax built hard and fast, threatening to snap. But Sunoo didn't let up, if anything, he gripped your legs tighter, keeping them wide open, anchoring you in place so you couldn't run from it.
He looked up at you, flushed and wrecked, your eyes squeezed shut in overwhelmed pleasure, lips parted as your body trembled. His cock throbbed painfully from just the sight, and his tongue moved faster, dragging flat and then curling upward to suck your clit hard before flicking again.
When you came, it hit like a wave crashing through your entire body, your back arched off the mattress, mouth open in a cry you barely recognized, legs shaking hard in his hold. Your breathing turned ragged, stuttering as the orgasm took over, intense and blinding.
But Sunoo didn't stop. He lapped through it, almost like he was trying to drag more out of you, milking the high as long as he could. His mouth was soaked, face buried so deep you had to push at his head with trembling hands, voice breaking as you choked out, "Too much—fuck, I can't—"
He let you go, finally, pulling back with a smile. His lips glistened with your cum, cheeks flushed, and his hair was a mess from your grip but those green contacts made his eyes look almost unreal in the soft red light. And god, the makeup you'd done earlier was perfect. Smudged only a little at the corner of his lids, giving him an edgier look that made your cunt clench again.
Sunoo was pretty. Too pretty. Pretty enough to ruin you without even trying. What made it worse—or better, depending how fucked up your brain was—was the way his tongue slowly dragged along his bottom lip, catching the last traces of you. "How was it?" he asked, tilting his head to seek of your approval.
You couldn't even answer at first. Your legs were still trembling, thighs sticky and wet, your heartbeat thudding too loud in your ears to think straight. You swallowed, chest rising and falling fast as you tried to catch your breath. Then you looked at him again—at the shine on his mouth, the hunger still flickering behind those pretty green eyes, the way he sat back slightly.
"Not that bad," you breathed out, voice shaky as your trembling legs bent down and your fingers slowly pressed against the hard outline of his cock through the soft fabric of his sweats. You didn't even try to hide how your hand lingered, almost testing him—your palm flat, applying a bit of pressure. Sunoo raised his brow at your answer but you didn't meet it. You were too busy fighting off the embarrassment clawing at your chest from the way you moved so eagerly, so unlike how you usually carry yourself.
"Down to fuck?" you asked, forcing a playful smirk as you tilted your head, though your voice cracked slightly at the end and your legs still hadn't stopped trembling. The moment you saw the way he blinked at you, you almost backtracked, your lips parting, about to laugh it off like you were only playing.
But then Sunoo was already pulling down his sweats. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed and angry-looking, the head pink and glistening, practically pulsing with tension. You stared. Your mouth went dry. Then wet. You swallowed thickly, clenching your thighs, heat crawling under your skin and settling low in your stomach. There was no hesitation in him now, no teasing smile, just hunger written across his face as he sat back on his heels. His hand wrapped around himself, stroking slowly as he watched the way your breath caught. You didn't even try to hide your stare.
Your mouth went dry, your legs pressing together out of reflex, and you could feel your whole body heat at the sight of him. He looked desperate, flushed, needy, barely holding himself back. "W-Wait," you blurted, hand reaching out like you meant to stop him, even though your body clearly didn't agree. Your pulse was racing, and your thoughts were already spiraling, too many emotions crashing into each other all at once—desire, fear, anticipation.
Sunoo let out a rough sigh, dragging his eyes up to your face. His brows furrowed and his lips parted like he was going to say something else, but then his jaw clenched tight. You could see the frustration in his eyes. "What more do you need?" he asked, voice low and strained. "Do you want me or not?"
You swallowed hard, because the truth was yes, more than you'd ever expected to. But something about how exposed both of you were now made it suddenly harder to breathe. "I just..." you began, "I don't want to ruin this. You've never done this before and I—what if it's too much?" It was fear—real and sudden fear. The weight of what you were about to do had finally caught up, hitting somewhere deep in your chest. This wasn't just another messy hookup. Not with him.
Sunoo stared at you in silence. You could see the flicker in his eyes, between disbelief and restrained annoyance. He almost looked like he was about to roll his eyes and shove you back down onto the mattress with that sharp tongue of his, throwing some cutting comment about how ridiculous this was when you were both already naked, your legs trembling and his cock painfully hard between them. But he didn't. Instead, he took a breath, he reached out, fingers brushing gently against the inside of your knee. You felt the warmth of his palm slide up your thigh until it rested there. "It's already too much," he said. "It's been too much since the first time you kissed me."
You swallowed hard as you sat still beneath his touch. Then his hand slid a little higher, his thumb brushing softly against the crease where your thigh met your hip. "So..." he tilted his head, the corners of his lips twitching into a slight smirk that couldn't hide the heat still simmering in his eyes. "Are we gonna fuck or not?"
You let out a shaky breath, laughing despite yourself. You leaned in, pressing your mouth to his jaw, feeling the slight tremble in his skin. Your hand slid down between you, curling around the base of his cock, hot and twitching in your grip. His breath stuttered, hips jerking slightly. You looked up at him, lips brushing his cheekbone as you whispered, "Lay back for me. Let me take care of you first."
Sunoo obeyed without a word, his body moving almost too quickly. He leaned back against the headboard, chest rising fast, lips parted as he tried to steady his breath. You saw the way his cock twitched in anticipation, pre-cum glistening at the tip, practically begging for friction.
You pulled your sando off, discarding it somewhere off the bed. The bra came next, your bare form revealed under the room's dim lighting. You weren't shy—at least you tried not to be—but you were aware of the way Sunoo's eyes darkened the moment he saw you fully.
Sunoo stopped breathing altogether. His lips parted slightly, stunned, staring at the shape of you, the ink on your skin, the curve of your breasts, and the subtle shimmer of sweat from earlier. Everything about you was too much. Too fucking beautiful.
You straddled him slowly, settling over his thighs as you reached toward your drawer and took out a condom. Sunoo's eyes didn't leave yours, not even when you tore the packet open and rolled it down the length of his cock with deliberate care. His head fell back against the pillows as he let out a groan, hips twitching up into your hand.
"Fuck," he groaned, hips bucking just slightly into your hand. His cock throbbed under your touch, hard and leaking. He couldn't believe how sensitive he was. How badly he wanted this.
You smirked at the sound, giving him a slow stroke just to see him twitch again. "First time?" you teased. "You better tell me later what's better—dick or pussy."
He let out a breathless laugh, but didn't answer. Not when you were already lifting your hips and guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance. That wiped the grin from both your faces.
As he breached you slowly, you gritted your teeth, trying to hide the way your body resisted the stretch. Your hands pressed against his chest for support, and you felt his hands move instinctively to your hips, holding you steady but not forcing anything. His grip was trembling. So were your thighs. You widened your legs as best as you could, adjusting inch by inch, trying to take him fully without showing how much it burned on the way in. You tried to play it off—tried to look confident even when your face couldn't hide the pinch of discomfort.
The truth was, you didn't have a lot of experience with men. Maybe just one, and that didn't really count. It was fast, fumbling, and forgettable. You'd never ridden anyone before. You knew how to move your hips with girls—scissoring, grinding, finding the angles—but this was different. This was slower, deeper, stretching you in ways you hadn't prepared for. You didn't want to look clueless. You didn't want to ruin the moment.
Still, you refused to back down. You braced yourself, breathing through your nose, trying to remember every move you'd given and received, every grind and swivel you'd learned with women—just enough to give yourself rhythm. You focused on how wet you were and how turned on he clearly was, Sunoo gasped beneath you, both hands tightening on your waist like he was afraid he'd lose himself the second you sank further.
"Fuck—" he choked, voice cracking. "You're so—tight. Oh my god—don't move yet—just—fuck—"
His head tilted back, lips parted in a perfect 'O' as he moaned, eyes squeezed shut. His reaction made something clench in your chest and between your legs, but you held still, letting yourself adjust, letting him calm down before either of you pushed too far too fast.
You looked down at him, sweat already starting to gather at his temples, and leaned over just enough to press your forehead to his.
You finally managed to sink down all the way, and the stretch was so intense it knocked the air out of your lungs. Your mouth fell open in a breathless moan, your walls clenching tight around him, struggling to adjust. The pain hadn't completely faded, but it was being overtaken by a creeping pleasure that curled low in your belly. Still, your legs were shaking violently beneath you, the burn in your thighs making it impossible to lift yourself.
Sunoo blinked up at you, concern slipping into his dazed expression as his hands rubbed your waist slowly, gently. His fingers were trying to soothe you, but he could feel the tremble beneath your skin, could see the panic flicker in your eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
You couldn't answer right away. You pressed your face into the curve of his neck, hiding the stutter in your breath as your hands gripped his shoulders. You nodded, though it was shaky. "I'm fine," you said but it came out weak, and the moment you tried to lift yourself, your legs gave out again. You choked out a sound, "just... g-give me a minute."
Sunoo stiffened underneath you when he felt the hot tear that rolled down onto his skin. His brows furrowed as he turned his head slightly, lips brushing your temple. He almost felt bad, guilty to be exact. He knew what that stretch felt like, that burn of being too full, and for a second, he almost paused. Almost. But then you clenched around him again, and it told him everything he needed to know.
"You're such a liar," he breathed out, a soft laugh slipping past his lips. "All that talk... and look at you now."
You didn't respond—just let out another breathy moan, face still tucked into his neck, skin hot with embarrassment. He could feel how tight you were, feel how you clenched around him every time he moved even the slightest. Without warning, he planted both feet flat on the mattress and thrust upward, driving himself deeper inside you. Your entire body jolted, and the moan that tore out of your throat was loud and desperate. He clenched his jaw at the sound of it, biting back his own curse.
You tightened around him, body clenching in response, and his hips bucked again, this time slower, more deliberate. His mouth moved to your ear, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there as you trembled in his hold. "Let me take over," he whispered. His arms wrapped around your waist, locking you in place, and his hips moved again—shallow but deep, fucking into you from below.
You both moaned out loud. It was past one in the morning and the silence outside made it worse, like every sound would carry past the walls, but Sunoo didn't seem to care. His rhythm picked up, hips snapping against yours with rising urgency, chasing the high he'd only ever imagined.
His thrust hit that perfect spot inside you and your whole body arched, a sharp cry ripping from your throat. Your hands fumbled to hold onto something—his arms, the sheets, your own sanity—but it was already slipping.
Sunoo didn't pause, didn't even look apologetic as he murmured, "Fuck, that's it," like he'd just discovered your weakness. Your pussy was gripping him so tight he could barely move, but that only drove him further. The struggle made it more satisfying.
And then, he pulled out. You barely had time to protest when he shifted your position, guiding you back onto the bed with your legs spread wide. He stared, breathing hard, hands trailing down your thighs before his fingers spread your folds gently. He took a second just to look at you, to admire how wet and swollen you were for him, how much you wanted it. Then, with two fingers, he circled your clit—light, teasing touches that made your hips jerk and your legs try to close on instinct.
So this is why tops get cocky, he thought, watching the way your eyes fluttered, the way your lips fell open in a silent moan. This is why they hold someone down, grip their legs, call them pretty, beg them to take more. He could feel the power of every thrust, feel the way your body reacted. He never understood it before. He always thought tops just liked being in charge, that they were addicted to control—but it wasn't just about that.
"You always run your mouth," he muttered, watching your body twitch with every motion. "But where's all that attitude now?"
He caught your leg, draping one over his shoulder as he lined himself up again. The stretch was immediate, deeper now in this new position, and he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, dragging his cock along your walls until the tip pressed against the spot that made your back arch on reflex.
"You always talk too much," he muttered, groaning at the way you clenched again. "Guess my dick's the one to shut you up."
You sobbed harder, face turning to the side as your hands gripped the sheets. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, tears streaking your cheeks as you moaned his name. "P-please, Sunoo."
Sunoo's stomach tightened at the sound. He threw his head back, letting out a moan that was nearly a growl. His grip tightened on your thighs before he grabbed both, pushing your knees up beside your head as he leaned in close. His arms braced on either side of you, the shift pressing you into the mattress, trapping you with his weight.
Then, he pulled almost all the way out, letting you feel every inch slip from your body before slamming back in with a force that made your eyes roll back. The bed creaked beneath you, the room filled with the slick, wet sound of skin on skin.
"Fuck!" you screamed, arching harder beneath him, your voice cracking on the edge of a sob. Without a second thought, he dropped his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing fast, precise circles. "G-gonna cum, wait! Wait, wait, wait—" your voice dissolving into a high-pitched wail, so loud and unfiltered that Sunoo instinctively leaned down to kiss you, swallowing the sound against your lips.
The moment his mouth covered yours, your walls spasmed around him, tight and wet and so hot that he couldn't think. Your climax hit, your hips jerking uncontrollably as your pussy clenched around him over and over, fluttering in a rhythm that made his own control snap completely.
Sunoo moaned against your mouth, almost choking on it, his own breath ragged as he held still for a heartbeat but your body pulled it out of him. He couldn't stop moving, not when it felt like this. He gripped your waist tight and kept thrusting, shallow and fast, keeping the head of his cock angled against the soft, spongy spot inside you. He wanted to feel all of it, ride it out, draw it out until you were crying again.
Your legs shook violently as you clung to him, your mouth parting beneath his kiss in gasping, sobbing breaths. You didn't even care that you were a mess now, sweat-slicked, trembling, lips swollen from kissing and crying. You couldn't stop clenching around him, couldn't stop shaking from how intense it was.
And Sunoo, he'd never felt anything like it. That pressure, the way you pulsed around him, the wet squeeze of your walls, the heat, the smell of sweat and sex, the muffled sobs against his mouth—it was too much. He buried his face in your neck as his hips stuttered once, then twice more, before he groaned loud, biting down on a moan that still escaped him in a rush.
"Shit! Ah! Fuck, fuck fuck." He came hard, harder than he ever remembered. His body curled over yours as the orgasm crashed through him, his muscles locking up, breath ragged as his cock twitched deep inside the condom. The sound he made was almost a sob of his own because the moment you clenched around him like that, it was over. He had no chance.
He stayed inside you, breathing hard against your collarbone, trying to get control of his heartbeat. His arms wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you close. You blinked up at the ceiling, dazed, chest rising and falling in erratic waves. Sunoo pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing hair out of your face with one trembling hand.
"One more?" you asked, voice still breathy as you gave him a weak smile, your lashes still wet with the remnants of your tears. There was a glow in your face from that dazed, post-orgasmic haze.
Sunoo let out a scoff, tossing his head to the side. "My legs feel like noodles. Leave me alone." He covered his eyes with one arm.
You let out a small laugh, too drained to do more than let your body sink deeper into the sheets. You didn't push back with another tease. Sunoo sighed as he finally peeled himself off the bed. He removed the condom carefully, tying it off and tossing it into the trash. His limbs felt too light, a little shaky, and for a second he just stood there, catching his breath with a hand braced against the edge of the drawer.
Most of his exes never really gave a shit after sex. They'd turn their backs, light a cigarette, or scroll through their phones. And Sunoo hated that—hated how cold it used to make him feel, even if he pretended it didn't. He wasn't about to become that kind of person, no matter what this thing was between you two. No matter how casual you both claimed it was. So he pulled on his briefs and then his sweatpants, still trying to recover as he looked at your spent body lying there, eyes fluttering closed, chest flushed and rising slowly. You weren't asleep yet, but you looked like you could drift off at any second.
"Don't pass out on me," he muttered under his breath as he leaned down, arms sliding under your knees and back. His muscles protested immediately. "Shit—what are you eating?" he groaned as he lifted you, stumbling a little. "Why are you so heavy? Fuck, my back hurts."
Your laugh came out as a soft wheeze, your head dropping onto his shoulder. "You're so sweet," you mumbled, not even bothering to open your eyes.
Sunoo let out a sharp, incredulous sound as he adjusted his grip on you. "Sweet?" he scoffed. "Bitch, I'm carrying you to the bathroom so you don't get a UTI. That's not sweet, that's basic sexual hygiene."
You didn't even have the energy to be embarrassed, just groaned and buried your face deeper into the crook of his neck as he trudged down the hall. "Still sweet," you mumbled against his skin, barely audible.
After that night, you truly believed something had shifted between the two of you. And if anyone asked how you felt, you'd say the same thing every time: you were happy. Deeply, undeniably happy.
4 Months Later.
"Ah! Harder!F-fuck, Sunoo!"
Your voice cracked as Sunoo pressed a firm hand against the small of your back, forcing your hips higher while his other hand anchored tight around your waist. He dug his nails into your skin without realizing, the sting only mixing into the heat already flooding your body. His pace grew rougher, steady and merciless, and when your moans pitched too high, he slid his palm up to the back of your neck, pinning your face into the mattress to muffle the sounds.
Sunoo's eyes dropped, gaze fixed on the red lilies etched into your lower back. The ink bloomed outward in delicate, mirrored curves, the lines dark against your sweat-slick skin. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he had become addicted to this view. From behind, with your ass high and that tattoo staring back at him, he always came harder than he thought possible. He'd never say it aloud, of course—he'd just brush it off with some offhand jab about your face being annoying. But deep down, he knew the truth: doggy had become his favorite position because it gave him this sight, this control, and it drove him insane.
His thrusts grew uneven, his groans breaking apart as his orgasm built and finally tore through him. A strangled moan left his lips as he spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering before he slowed to a stop. Breathing harshly, he carefully pulled out, muscles trembling.
He tied off the condom and tossed it into the trash, staring at the small pile already gathering there. "Fuck," he muttered, dragging a hand through his damp hair. "We should've stopped after the third round. My head feels groggy every time and I still have duty tomorrow."
You collapsed forward onto the bed. "You're the one who kept asking for more," you teased, voice hoarse but playful as you reached for the drawer by your side. You pulled it open and slid your fingers around the familiar box of cigarettes, only to flinch when Sunoo's hand smacked yours away with no hesitation.
"No cigarettes while I'm here," he snapped, eyes narrowing as he shoved the box back into the drawer and slammed it shut.
You turned your head lazily to glare at him, lips jutting into a pout. "Come on, I always smoke outside. Just one, it won't kill me."
Sunoo rolled his eyes and flopped down beside you, his arm heavy as it landed across your waist. "Yeah, and you'll say the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and then you'll be coughing your lungs out when you're thirty. No thanks, I'm not kissing an ashtray." He buried his face briefly against your shoulder, breathing in your scent, before pulling back with a huff.
You stared at Sunoo for a moment, your palm brushing over his damp hair as you gently pushed it back from his forehead, fingertips catching against the fine strands still slick with sweat. His skin was flushed, chest rising and falling in steady breaths, the aftermath of exhaustion softening his features in a way you rarely got to see. He let out a low sigh at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed just for a second before he opened them again, blinking up at you like he didn't want to move. "Come on," he murmured, "let's take a shower and sleep already. I'm leaving at six-thirty."
You nodded, smiling as you leaned down to nuzzle your nose against his cheek. Your legs slipped around his waist without needing to be asked, body folding into him easily. Without a word, Sunoo shifted and lifted you up, muttering something under his breath about how clingy you were.
It wasn't often he had time like this. With his final year piling up and hospital internships consuming his days, Sunoo was constantly in motion, constantly drained. But when he made space for you, it was always in small, quiet ways—sitting still long enough for you to do his makeup, letting you slip him into the clothes you had designed, experimenting with textures and colors against his skin. He'd roll his eyes, complain about the shimmer on his cheeks or how ridiculous he looked, but he never told you to stop. And more often than not, those moments ended the same way—clothes discarded, skin pressed together, his sharp tongue replaced by soft moans. Always sex.
By morning, you usually woke up first. You'd reach for him half-asleep, sometimes without even meaning to, and he'd let it happen—sleepy eyes cracking open as he let you ride him or even give him a morning blowjob.
He told you to keep things quiet, especially when it came to Jake. Around other people, you played your part, but your restraint never lasted long. When the three of you were together, you couldn't help but lean too close to Sunoo, let your fingers graze over his hand or your palm rest lightly on his thigh. He'd shoot you that withering look, roll his eyes and he'd always yank your hair or slap your hand away.
You yawned as you bent over to pour cat food into Luna's bowl, the dry sound of the kibble clinking against ceramic echoing through the quiet. Your cat was rarely ever home, she rubbed against your ankle before settling to eat, her sleek black fur rising and falling with every breath.
Behind you, Sunoo stepped out from the bathroom, towel draped around his neck, still drying his hair. He passed by silently, stooping to give Luna a little scratch behind the ear before wandering around your room to gather his things. "I ironed your scrubs already," you said, yawning mid-sentence, arms stretching overhead as you turned to face him. "Your bag's on the table."
He paused mid-motion, glancing at you. You weren't the type to hover or fuss over anyone, but with him, it was different. You'd stopped staying at his place, mostly because you knew how little sleep he got. You didn't want to disrupt the hours of rest he did manage to find. So instead, you made sure that whenever he came over, everything he'd need by morning was already in place. Scrubs clean and folded. Bag packed. Sometimes even the lunch you'd made slipped quietly into his bag.
"I bought an energy drink yesterday," you mumbled, already at the fridge, grabbing out a pack of three. "Bring one for your friend. Sungwon, right?"
Sunoo scoffed, eyes narrowing in exaggerated offense. "His name is Jungwon. You've met him—don't act fake now."
You grinned as you handed him the cans, laughing softly as he leaned in and kissed your temple. "Thanks, girl," he muttered against your skin, then he pulled back slightly, still toweling off his damp hair, and gave you a small smirk. "Can you dry my hair and slick it back for me?"
You blinked, a little taken aback. Usually, Sunoo did things on his own, and even when he didn't, he rarely asked for help like this. You nodded without thinking, already reaching for your comb. "Yeah. Sit down," you said gently. "I'll make you look hot so Jungwon doesn't think you crawled out of bed with someone."
"I did crawl out of bed with someone," he quipped back, dropping onto the edge of your bed as you moved behind him, towel still around his shoulders.
You smiled to yourself as you began combing through the strands, towel-drying with care. "Yeah, but no one needs to know she's me."
Sunoo didn't say anything back. His eyes were on his phone, scrolling through whatever filled his morning—probably messages from classmates, schedules, maybe even memes. You didn't ask. You just stood behind him, carefully guiding his hair into a clean, slicked-back style that you knew he preferred when he was headed out for his hospital duty.
The peace felt normal, but something about it pressed against your chest. Still, you stayed silent as he finally set his phone down on the table with a soft clatter and picked up his makeup pouch, moving with ease as he dabbed on light concealer and patted a cushion over his skin. When you finished, you lingered for a moment. Then, without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He groaned in that exaggerated, irritated way he always did when you got too clingy but he didn't push you away.
"I'm just happy," you murmured against his skin in a smile as your cheek rested against his. He didn't respond. Just rolled his eyes and reached for his lip balm, uncapping it with one hand. And even though he didn't say anything, you still held on for a second longer, memorizing how he felt beneath your arms.
Another week passed, and the days slipped by faster than you expected. Between classes, looming project deadlines, and juggling your part-time job, your schedule blurred but you never forgot to check in with Sunoo. You messaged him like always, updates about your day, stupid memes, or little notes like "Don't skip meals." His replies were dry, short, sometimes just an emoji or a thumbs up. But you clung to them anyway.
You were in your living room when Jay flopped down onto your couch, letting out a breath. Your electric guitar rested on your lap, fingers absentmindedly plucking at the strings, trying to memorize the fretwork. "Sunghoon's been asking about you again," Jay said, casually scrolling through his phone. "So, what do you wanna play for the university event this week? You're singing, so it's your call."
You adjusted the tuning pegs, focused on the strings. "Tell Sunghoon I'm not interested," you muttered without looking up. "What about Supermassive Black Hole?"
Jay raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's a hard pick. You really think you can handle both vocals and electric?"
You shrugged, chin tilted slightly as your fingers slid back into place on the neck of the guitar. "I've done harder."
Practice didn't go as smoothly as you wanted. Your mind wandered more than it should have, eyes flicking to your phone every other minute. Jay tried to stay patient, but the third time you missed your cue, he slammed his palm lightly against the back of the couch.
"Can you focus, please? You're the one who wanted this song," he said. "We barely even see you these days."
Kai, sitting behind the drum kit, tossed his sticks onto the floor with a sigh. "You keep zoning out. It's starting to get annoying."
You didn't even defend yourself. Because in that moment, your phone vibrated and your heart jumped. Sunoo was calling! You nearly knocked your guitar off your lap as you scrambled to answer, pressing the phone to your ear before the first ring ended. "Hello!" you said, voice too eager and too bright. It was the first time Sunoo had ever called you.
Kai made a face, motioning to Jay to take over. You turned away, trying to keep your voice low, your heart pounding.
On the other end, Sunoo didn't even greet you. His tone was flat, a little rushed. "I left my record book at your place. Can you get it for me?"
You blinked, straightening a little. "Oh—yeah, okay. Where are you now?"
"I'm on duty," he said, barely giving you time to respond. "At the hospital. Can you make it quick?"
There was no softness in his voice, no hint that he missed you or even cared that you answered. He just sounded tired, and you understand it since being in a healthcare is not a joke. You looked over your shoulder at your bandmates. Jay met your eyes but didn't say anything, just waved you off. "Yeah, okay. I'll head over now," you said quietly, gripping the phone tighter.
"Thanks," was all he said before the line went dead. You didn't waste time. Back in your room, you found his record book tucked between his internship folders and some folded clothes he had left the last time he stayed over. The edges were a little bent from being stuffed into your shelf, and you smoothed them gently with your palm before grabbing your helmet.
Jay's voice followed you from the couch as he sat up, confused. "Where the hell are you going?"
"Something important," you answered quickly, pulling your jacket on. "I'll be back later. Just need to drop this off."
Kai muttered something under his breath, likely a curse about your priorities, but you didn't stop to listen. You slipped out the door and rode your motorbike across town like muscle memory guided your body, even if your mind was still stuck on the way Sunoo sounded.
When you pulled in on the parking lot, the first thing you saw was him. He was leaning against a pale concrete wall near the entrance, half in shadow. Even from a distance, he looked worn down to the bone. His scrubs hung slightly loose on his frame, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were stark against the paleness of his skin. He wasn't even looking at his phone, just staring off, hands limp at his sides.
Your steps were careful as you approached, "Sunoo..." His head turned, eyes sluggish to find you. You stopped in front of him and took a breath, holding the record book out with one hand, the other brushing lightly against his forearm. "Are you okay, baby?" The nickname slipped out unconsciously, concern laced around the softness in your voice.
"I'm fine." He reached out and took the record book from your hand without looking you in the eye. "Just... duty being toxic."
You nodded, swallowing down the worry bubbling up your throat. "Have you eaten yet? You look—Sunoo, you look really out of it." You stepped closer, trying to meet his gaze. "Can I bring you something? Coffee? Bread? I'll wait for you until you're off."
His lips tightened, jaw locking like he was holding something back, but you continued. "What about we go to the—"
"God, can you just stop?" he snapped suddenly, voice louder than it should have been. You flinched. He immediately looked away, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. "I don't want any of that shit. I just needed the damn book."
You blinked, stunned for a second. Not because it hurt—though it did—but because it was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at you like that. Your fingers curled tightly around the edge of your jacket as you tried to steady your breathing. "I know," you said quietly, forcing your voice to stay even, "but you sounded upset. And I was worried."
Sunoo didn't answer right away. He just stood there, shoulders rising and falling as he breathed through whatever storm he was holding inside. "Look," he said, voice lower but still strained. "I just need to get through today. I don't have time for anything else right now."
You nodded slowly, though your chest tightened at the way he phrased it. Anything else. That included you. You took a small step back, out of understanding, even if it stung.
"I'll go," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... take care of yourself, okay?"
He didn't respond. Just turned and walked back toward the sliding doors of the hospital, the record book clutched in his hand.
You've been meaning to apologize to Sunoo ever since that day, but every time you thought of dialing his number or dropping a message, you paused. He was under so much pressure already, barely sleeping between hospital shifts and classes, and you didn't want to be another thing that made his chest feel heavy.
You sat alone at the campus cafeteria, your fingers working over the delicate rows of yarn as you crocheted slowly, the hook moving again and again. A small collection of handmade tulips lay across the table in a neat cluster—pinks, reds, a few white ones that hadn't taken shape yet. Your brows were furrowed, not from the difficulty of the pattern, but from the thoughts you couldn't seem to untangle from your mind.
"You've been zoning out a lot," Sunghoon's voice cut through the silence. He slid into the seat across from you, his tray untouched. "Jay said he's one tantrum away from kicking you out of the band."
"I'm not zoning out," you answered without looking up, looping the yarn again. "I've just been doing something more important."
Sunghoon leaned in, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes scanned the colorful flowers in front of you. "These commissions? I thought you stopped doing them."
You didn't respond, the sound of yarn slipping through your fingers filling the silence instead. He watched you for another moment before asking, "Are you seeing someone?"
Your hands faltered slightly, just for a second, then picked up again as if nothing had happened. "No," you said quietly, eyes fixed on the work. "It's for a friend."
Sunghoon gave a soft hum, like he didn't believe you but wasn't going to press. "You know I've liked you for a while, right? Since high school."
You finally looked up, just enough to meet his gaze for a brief second before dropping your eyes again. "Sunghoon, I don't have the energy for one of your talks right now."
"I'm not here to make a scene," he said, more gently this time. "I just... I know how you are when you start liking someone. You act like you're fine, like everything's under control, but you start giving too much of yourself without realizing it."
Your jaw tensed, fingers tightening slightly around the hook. "You let your guard down," he continued. "And you start doing all these little things—waiting around, making things for them, dropping everything just to show up. Even when they stop treating you the same way, you keep giving."
"Sunghoon, stop," you muttered.
"I'm not judging you," he said, watching the way your hands moved a little slower. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."
You didn't bother to look at him. The words weren't new. You shoved the last tulip into the paper bag and stood from your seat, brushing your hands on your jeans as if to shake the weight off. "It's none of your business," you said. "I do what I want to do." You left before he could answer.
Lately, everything felt like a blur. The hospital was suffocating, patients piling up, charts demanding constant attention, the head nurse always finding something to criticize. Sunoo hadn't slept in two days, and even when he did manage to collapse onto his mattress, his chest stayed tight. There wasn't room for anything else. Not for laughter, not for texting back, not even for eating. And eventually, not even for you. He didn't realize how much time had passed since he last answered your messages. He hadn't even opened them. He kept telling himself he would later, when his head wasn't pounding, when he could at least form a sentence that didn't sound like a sigh. But later kept moving farther away.
So when he opened his apartment door and saw you standing there at 9 PM, hands clutching a paper bag with that small, nervous look on your face—he froze. "S-sorry," you muttered, voice soft. "I will not disturb you, just rest. I-I just need to drop this, and wish it make you feel better."
He blinked. Then looked at the bag. Then at you again. He didn't think. He stepped forward and pulled you into his arms before you could even take a step back. The paper crinkled between you, but he didn't care. The second he buried his face into your neck, something in him cracked. A quiet sob escaped before he could hold it in, his hands shaking slightly against your back.
He couldn't remember the last time someone had brought him anything without asking for something in return. "I've never received any flowers," he mumbled. "No one's ever given me anything like this."
You didn't say anything, but your hand was there. The warmth of your touch made his chest ache in a different way. "I'm sorry for being an asshole," he whispered, breathing in your scent, a small comfort in the chaos of his days. "I didn't mean to push you away. I just—everything's been too much."
"I know," you murmured, your chin resting on his shoulder. "It's okay. You don't have to explain."
But he wanted to. You didn't deserve silence. You didn't deserve to be left hanging, wondering if he even cared. He just couldn't bring himself to say it all, but not now, not while his throat was tight and his eyes were stinging and your arms were the first place he felt human all week. "I should've answered. I just... didn't have the energy."
You didn't move away. You didn't scold him. You didn't ask for anything. You just stayed. He pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to look somewhat composed. "Do you want to stay? Just for a bit?"
You nodded without hesitation, and the two of you ended up in his room, laughing your ass out.
He let out another burst of laugh as he leaned over to look at your tablet. "What even is that supposed to be?"
"Wait, I drew you!" you blurted out, your finger swiping across the screen excitedly. You tapped on a picture and turned it to show him—the chibi version of him with devil horns, an exaggerated pout, and glitter under the eyes.
Sunoo squinted, then narrowed his eyes dramatically. "You little shit," he muttered, before slapping your shoulder.
You shifted without thinking, climbing into his lap, your back settling against his chest as you held the tablet up between you. His arms wrapped around your waist loosely, his chin resting over your shoulder
"Wait, you drew this one too?" Sunoo's voice pulled you from the moment. He pointed at a little sticker design on your tablet—a black cat holding a cigarette between its tiny fingers. "I bought this! From the Art Museum's student booth a few months ago. I stuck it on my old clipboard."
You turned your head slightly to meet his stare. "Are you serious? That was my booth. That's literally my design!"
Sunoo's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "What the hell? Why weren't you guarding your own booth?! You're such a bad artist!"
You scoffed, turning to half-face him, "Excuse me, I had a nicotine addiction to maintain. I took a break."
He groaned. "Turns out it was you sneaking off to light up under a 'No Smoking' sign."
"You bought my sticker and called me a bitch. How dare you insult me and support me at the same time?"
"I didn't know it was you!" he defended, laughing again. "But honestly, you deserved it. I hate people who smoke where they're not supposed to."
You twisted slightly in his lap, now facing him more directly. "So do you still hate me?" you asked, teasing, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your fingers played with the hem of his hoodie.
Sunoo didn't look away. He rolled his eyes like he always did. His voice was soft, almost playful. "Yes. Obviously. You're still annoying."
You pouted at his answer, dragging out a whine. His smile lingered, and even though his words were stubborn, his hands had tightened just slightly around your waist. "I'm not joking," he added, resting his forehead against yours. "You're so, so, sooo annoying."
The night ended up your thighs trembling around his head, your hands tangled in his hair, your voice broken from the way his mouth worked between your legs. He made you come three times with his tongue alone, not stopping until you pushed at his shoulders with tear-brimmed eyes and slurred, begging words. Then he let you ride him, your back turned to him, your head lolled to the side as his hands gripped your hips.
The next morning, the weight in your chest had lifted. You didn't feel guilty for smiling. Even when Jay clapped his hands together loudly the moment you walked into the studio and said, "You're in a good mood, thank God," you just grinned wider and grabbed his electric guitar, pretending to tune it like nothing had happened.
"You want a hit?" Kai asked, waving his vape your way.
You shook your head without even thinking. "I already quit smoking," you said casually, even though that choice had been harder than you liked to admit.
You and Sunoo didn't put labels on what was happening—not yet—but things fell into place anyway. There was a rhythm to it. You spent weekends at his apartment, usually coming over late Friday, falling asleep on his couch after watching movies and ordering junk food. Saturday mornings meant waking up tangled together, cooking breakfast with your hair a mess and his arms still lazy around your waist, and Sunday nights usually ended with you riding him slowly before passing out from exhaustion. Mondays, he walked you to your motorbike before his duty started again.
One Sunday afternoon, sprawled on his bed while you were half-scrolling through TikTok and half-dozing on his lap, he suddenly shoved his phone in your face. "I think this type of style suits you more," he said, showing you some random Pinterest board filled with soft, layered outfits—more structured, a little feminine, clean silhouettes with warm tones. "You need to upgrade your wardrobe."
You squinted at the screen, unimpressed. "Hmm. I think you're just projecting your type in girls on me," you teased, nudging his thigh with your elbow.
Sunoo rolled his eyes, clearly expecting that answer. "No. I just think it looks presentable. And it would look good on you."
You looked down at yourself—baggy ripped jeans, an oversized acubi-style shirt, sneakers worn down from all your bike rides. Not exactly the most polished look, but it was comfortable. You shrugged with a small grin. "Okay, I'll try," you said. "Anyway, can we visit that new café that opened last week? I saw it on Instagram and they have a bunch of Bon Jovi albums on display."
Sunoo blinked. "Bon Jovi?"
"Yeah, like actual vinyls. The post said there's a listening booth too." You leaned closer, eyes brightening. "And the interior looks so nice. Real vintage vibe. I figured you'd like it."
He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Hmm... okay, maybe next week?"
You nodded, trying to keep it casual, but the smile that broke out on your face gave you away. Excitement bloomed in your chest like it was something new. It wasn't just another plan. It wasn't just a random meet-up. This one felt different. You kept thinking about it all week. Every small moment your mind wandered, it wandered to that café. To how you'd sit across from him, to the lighting, to the smell of the place, maybe to the way he'd laugh when you'd try to act cool about your favorite album being on display. You weren't even sure if it counted as a real date, but you were choosing to believe it did. That belief made your stomach flutter.
By Saturday, you had cleaned your room twice, even reorganized your crochet materials—something you only did when you were nervous. Your playlist was full of Bon Jovi songs now, looping endlessly while you stared at your closet.
That morning, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror, staring at your reflection longer than usual. Your piercings were gone—well, mostly. You'd taken out the ones on your face, letting the skin breathe, letting yourself look softer. The change made you feel exposed, a little too bare, but also like you were trying.
"Do you think I look presentable now without the piercings?" you asked, turning slightly in front of the mirror. The floral dress you wore was one of the few pieces in your closet that wasn't oversized, black or red. You smoothed the fabric down nervously, then glanced at Jay who was lounging nearby.
Jay lifted his eyes from his phone, a cigarette loosely held between his fingers. His face twisted slightly like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or roll his eyes. "What's with all this performative energy? You still look like an emo girl who got dragged into church."
You shot him a glare. "I'm being serious."
"So am I." He took a drag, blowing the smoke toward the window. "You look like yourself, just with fewer metal parts. That's not a bad thing, by the way. It's still you."
"You don't get it," you said quietly, adjusting the straps of the dress again. "I need to look like I have my shit together. I'm going somewhere... and I want to be seen a certain way."
Jay rolled his eyes, walked over, and stood behind you, he stubbed out his cigarette on the ceramic ashtray near the window and reached toward you, pushing your hair behind your shoulders without asking. He squinted as he examined your face. "You'll look better if you tie your hair up," he mumbled, the filter of his half-lit cigarette still stuck between his lips. "Ponytail or something. The dress opens your collarbone. It works."
You blinked at him, surprised by how serious he sounded, then reached up instinctively to gather your hair into your hand. You tilted your head, testing the look in the mirror. Something about it clicked. You could see it now—the way your eyes opened up more, how your features looked cleaner without the strands framing your face. A bit bare, sure. A little too soft maybe. "I think you're right," you said with a small smile, already grabbing a scrunchie from your pocket. "That actually helps."
Jay shrugged. "Whatever. You asked."
You turned to face him, grateful even if he looked bored out of his mind. "Thanks, Jay. Really."
"Wow, you look really good, girl."
The compliment came with a spark in Sunoo's eyes the moment you stepped inside the café, and it sent a flush creeping up your neck. His gaze lingered, tracing your figure with genuine awe that he didn't even try to hide. You hadn't brought your motorbike today—not in a dress like this—and walking into the café with heels clicking and your hair tied back suddenly felt worth it.
"Only good?" you teased, pouting as you twirled the hem of your floral dress playfully in front of him. With a soft push of your fingers, you tucked your hair behind your ear and tilted your head, smiling shyly as you searched his face for a better reaction. You wanted him to say beautiful, maybe even breathtaking, but even without the words, the look in his eyes told you everything.
Your heart had been thumping ever since you saw him seated by the window, casually checking his phone. Now, up close, it was worse. The sunlight streaming into the café highlighted the soft brown fall of his hair, the gentle curve of his cheekbones, the way his denim shirt hung open over a simple white tank top. He looked effortless—too effortless for someone who always drove you to such nervousness. And yet, despite that nervousness, you found yourself loosening.
The longer you stayed in his presence, the easier it was to talk, to laugh, to let go of the performance. There was something so calming about talking to him about things you loved, sharing songs you liked, memories from art class, favorite old movies, dumb fashion trends—simple things, but they became important because you were sharing them with him. Talking about your likes with someone you liked—it felt too rare to take for granted.
That's when it hit you. Maybe it was finally time to talk about what was happening between the two of you. The affection, the growing intimacy, the weekends together, the sleepovers that blurred the line between casual and committed—it had all been there. But neither of you had dared to define it. He had always been honest with you. In the four months you'd been tangled into each other's lives, he never lied about what he felt or where he stood. So maybe, it was time for you to take the risk again and ask.
As the two of you wandered near the wooden display cabinet filled with vintage Bon Jovi and Queen albums, your fingers reached for his and laced through gently. He let you. Your hands stayed linked, a quiet statement hanging between you, even while your mouth continued to talk about vinyl sleeves and weird 80s cover art. That peace only lasted seconds before a familiar voice cut through the space.
"Sunoo?"
Sunoo's body tensed before he turned around, his eyes wide in surprise. You perked up too, smiling with recognition, you gasped as you waved at the approaching figure. Jake, lively as ever, grinned brightly as he made his way to you.
But just as you were about to speak, Sunoo let go of your hand. The action was subtle, but it was sharp. His fingers pulled away quickly, and his body leaned ever so slightly to the side, creating distance between the two of you. You tried to ignore the way your smile faltered, tried to hold it together as Jake reached you both
"What are you doing here? Are you two bonding?" Jake asked with his usual exaggerated pout before leaning in to kiss your cheeks in greeting, then doing the same to Sunoo. "Without me?"
Your mouth opened, ready to answer, to explain but Sunoo spoke first. "No, we just ran into each other," he said too quickly, a small nervous laugh escaping his lips. "And we couldn't help but talk for a bit. It's been so long since we last saw each other, you know?"
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. And your heart sank. Jake, ever the extrovert, nodded along cheerfully, completely unaware. "Ahhh! That's so cute! I'm just glad you two are hanging out again. We seriously need to set up another sleepover, right?"
You forced a small chuckle, brushing your hand along the side of your skirt. "T-that's a great idea," you said, trying to match his enthusiasm. But your eyes flicked back to Sunoo. He was tapping his foot against the floor, fast and impatient, not meeting your gaze.
It was like something had shifted in an instant. And now you were standing in that silence again, not sure if the version of Sunoo who held your hand minutes ago was still there... or if he had just vanished with Jake's arrival.
Even after Jake finally waved goodbye and disappeared down the street, your mood stayed where it dropped. Sunoo stood next to you like nothing happened, releasing a sigh and forcing a new topic as if the tension wasn't heavy in the air. He spoke casually, talking about a song he'd heard recently, about trying a different drink next time, anything to ignore the silence growing between you. But you couldn't pretend like him. You couldn't look him in the eye or laugh at something meaningless when your chest felt like it was being squeezed in slow, deliberate pulses. You kept your gaze down, watching your feet move with every step, barely hearing a thing he was saying.
Sunoo started to notice. His tone shifted—less patient, more irritated. The lightness in his voice faded and was replaced with annoyance. He didn't like when you shut down, and now it was clear he was blaming you for the sudden weight between you.
By the time you reached the door of his apartment, you knew the conversation was inevitable. He stepped in first, then turned, and before you could even take your shoes off, his voice came tight and harsh.
"Are you seriously getting all moody just because I let go of your hand when Jake showed up?" His eyes narrowed, his words clipped. "We agreed to keep this between us, not to say anything to Jake. You knew that. Why are you acting like this now?"
You stayed by the doorway, not moving. "It's not just about that," you murmured, your voice already thin. You didn't want to argue. You didn't want to cry either, but your body was already betraying you, tightening up.
He scoffed. "Then what is it? Because I didn't hold your hand in front of him? That's it?"
"It's just..." you took a breath, and even that was hard to push out. You felt like the words were caught in your throat, slicing through. "You looked—ashamed."
Sunoo didn't pause. He didn't soften. "Of course I'm ashamed," he blurted, not even giving the sentence time to sit. "How the hell are we supposed to explain that we're what—fucking each other? What do you want me to say to him?"
You flinched at his word, you looked up slowly, heart pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears. "It's not that hard to admit, is it?" you said, your voice shaking as you took a step forward, eyes stinging. "People do that all the time. Fuck buddies aren't a secret anymore. It's normal. You think Jake would've been shocked?"
"That's not the point—"
"It is the point, Sunoo!" You cut him off, your voice rising despite the tremble in it. "We've been doing this for months. We spend every weekend together. We sleep in the same bed. We talk like we mean something to each other, so why is it so hard to tell him that we're — something?"
You didn't expect him to shout back, but he did. "Because I'm supposed to be gay! Do you get that? I'm not supposed to feel like this about you!" The words came out angry. "And you keep pushing it like it's that simple."
You stared at him, your face falling, your fists curling. "Who fucking cares if you're gay? I never made you not be." You took a step back, voice cracking. "Just say it. Just say you're ashamed to be seen with me."
Sunoo's face twisted, but he didn't back down. His chest was heaving now, like something in him had snapped too. "You're projecting your insecurity on me! You act like I owe you something just because you decided to catch feelings! I never promised you more than what this was. That was you. That was always you!"
Your breath caught in your throat, and you stumbled back, blinking fast as the first tear broke past your lashes. "You're the one who came back after that night," he went on, voice rising with frustration, like he couldn't stop himself anymore. "You kept showing up, acting like this was something serious, like this was going to turn into something. I just—" he stopped, looking away like he couldn't even look at you when he said it, "I just gave in. You were tempting, okay? You made it hard to say no."
All the blood in your body seemed to rush to your ears, and still, you couldn't hear anything but the sound of your heart breaking. Another tear slipped down your cheek, and your lips parted like you were going to respond—but nothing came out. Sunoo blinked, realizing too late what he had just said. The way he looked at you shifted instantly, as if he wanted to take it back, but the damage was already there. "...Wait," he whispered, reaching for you instinctively. "I didn't mean—"
But you just nodded, slowly, painfully, like someone waking up from a dream they didn't want to end. "I- I get it," you said quietly, stepping past him and walking out his door like your legs weren't shaking. You didn't even turn to look at him. "I'm sorry," you added, trying to keep your voice steady, though the sound cracked anyway. You wiped under your eyes, but the tears kept falling, soft and warm against your skin. "You were right. I was annoying. I was pushy. I caught feelings, I shouldn't have. I thought maybe... I don't know what I thought."
You paused to breathe, your throat tightening as you tried to keep the sob from escaping. "What could I even expect, right? You're still a man. Of course this meant n-nothing."
Sunoo's chest tightened so hard he couldn't breathe for a second. He wanted to stop you, to wrap his arms around you, to tell you it wasn't true—none of what you were saying. That he did care. That this wasn't nothing to him. That he didn't think you were annoying, or a mistake, or something to be ashamed of. But he couldn't get the words out. The fear clenched too tightly around his ribs.
"I'm sorry," you said again, a whisper this time. Another tear slipped free and this time you laughed, short and broken. "God, I sound pathetic. S-sorry, Sunoo. I'll go. I'll leave you alone. You won't have to worry about me again."
You turned, fast, footsteps uneven as you tried to get away before he could see the full collapse happening inside you.
Sunoo didn't stop you. And you broke. You didn't wait to cry. The tears came fast and violent, your chest aching as you stumbled down the street, wiping your face on the back of your hand like it would help. At the bus stop, you sat hunched on the bench, arms wrapped around yourself as if holding your own body could keep you from falling apart. On the bus, you curled near the window, staring out at the dark streets, your reflection barely visible through the glass. You didn't care who saw you. The ache inside you was louder than embarrassment.
By the time you made it to your apartment, your hands were trembling. You didn't even bother turning on the lights. You made your way straight to your room, tugging the dress zipper with shaking fingers. When it wouldn't budge, frustration bubbled up, too hot to contain. You gritted your teeth and yanked, but it wouldn't move, so you grabbed the fabric near your shoulder and ripped it down your back with a cry of frustration. The fabric tore, seams giving way under your rage.
You tossed it to the floor like it burned you. Chest heaving, you stormed over to your nightstand and grabbed the crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds. Your fingers trembled as you pulled one out, jamming it between your lips, and fumbled with the lighter until the flame caught. You inhaled sharply, letting the smoke burn down your throat as you collapsed into the chair near the window.
"Stupid," you muttered under your breath, blinking away more tears that wouldn't stop coming. "So fucking stupid."
You thought you were strong enough not to let this happen again. You thought you could handle it. But what did you expect? You were so obsessed with ruining him when you first met, so fixated on getting under his skin, that you didn't notice he was already getting under yours. You didn't even get the chance to ruined him—he got to you first.
• ───────────────── •
Sunoo had never experienced a heartbreak that ached like this. He had felt sad before—moments of longing, fleeting attachments—but those had always passed with time, fading within days, maybe a week at most. They never lingered, never left anything permanent behind. So why the hell had he been sulking for nearly a month now, barely able to focus, barely able to sleep, staring blankly at the tulip bouquet on his desk like it could somehow explain what went wrong?
He told himself he should be relieved. There were no more complications in his way, no emotional distractions to deal with. He was finally free to focus on his demanding internship, on his future, on everything he had planned for years. And yet every late-night shift, every quiet weekend, every exhausted morning waking up to silence felt impossibly hollow without you. You used to send him silly selfies while he studied, comfort him through voice notes when he ranted about how hard nursing was, remind him to eat when he was too tired to remember. Now, all he had was the buzzing of lights, the clinking of stainless steel, the silence of the hospital—and that goddamn tulip bouquet collecting dust in the corner.
His eyebags were darker, heavier, like they carried the weight of everything he never said to you. His thoughts were loud, looping over what he should've done differently, what he should've said the moment he saw your face fall.
Fuck. He missed you so much it made his whole body ache. Every fucking night he lay in bed, biting his fist to muffle the cries. Were you okay? Were you eating? Were you still crying? Were you still thinking about him? God, he hoped not. He didn't deserve your thoughts, your sadness, your softness—but deep inside, he still wished he lived rent-free in your head the way you haunted his.
He wanted to hold you again, to collapse into your arms after a hard shift, to hear your voice teasing him when he whined about school. He wanted to kiss your neck like he used to, trace the little freckles on your collarbone, let you thread his hair through your fingers while he laid on your lap. He wanted to watch you feed your cat, complain about his bad taste in coffee, laugh when you purposely messed up his eyeliner just to annoy him. He wanted the boring things with you. The quiet, gentle things he once brushed off like they were nothing. He regretted every time he took you for granted.
"Sunoo!" Jungwon's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. His friend clapped him on the back, grinning. "Congrats! Why do you look like someone just died? We're graduating! Where's the joy, girl?"
Sunoo forced a weak smile, shrugging his shoulders as he kept his gaze locked on the soccer field in front of them, watching the high schoolers running laps, laughing with no clue how cruel it was to grow up. "You've been M.I.A. lately," Jungwon continued, nudging him. "Not cool. You ghosted everyone. No more parties? No more hangouts? We should celebrate. It's not fun without you."
Sunoo exhaled quietly, shoulders sinking. "Jungwon," he said under his breath. "I think I got infected by men's emotional negligence," Sunoo muttered bitterly, eyes still locked on the field, watching a soccer ball bounce and roll across the grass
Jungwon blinked at him. Then snorted. Then burst out laughing so hard he doubled over, hitting Sunoo's back again. "What? What are you saying? You're not even dating anyone! You've been so secretive about your love life lately, I thought maybe you were going through a dry spell or something." He leaned back, grinning. "But don't worry—men are assholes. It's honestly safer to hurt them first before they get the chance to hurt you—"
"It's not a man," he said quietly.
And Jungwon stopped laughing. He stiffened beside him, eyes blinking wide. "Wait. What?"
Sunoo didn't look at him. He just kept watching the field, the blurry shape of a boy chasing a ball, the sun dipping lower behind the school buildings. "It's not a man," he repeated. "I wish it was. It would've been easier."
His lips curled bitterly as he looked down at his white sneakers, scuffed and dirtied from weeks of walking to class in silence. "I miss her. No shit. I miss her so fucking bad."
There was a small and self-deprecating laugh, tugging at the edge of his voice, but it cracked halfway through. "It's stupid, isn't it? It hurts more when you know it's your fault. I keep thinking about all the things I told myself I'd never become. I always talked about how men treat people like shit—how they use and walk away, how they never apologize for the damage they leave behind. How they shrink from softness because they're scared of what it says about them."
He rubbed at his chest with the heel of his palm like it might ease the tightness building there, but the pressure only grew heavier. "I always swore I'd never be like that. And then I went ahead and did it anyway. I made her feel that way, Jungwon. Like she was something to be ashamed of. Like she was just a mistake I wanted to keep hidden. Like the feelings she gave me were inconvenient." He let out a shaky breath, shoulders caving in slightly. "And the worst part? I never even told her how much I liked her. How much she meant to me."
Jungwon's mouth opened slightly, stunned into silence by the sight of Sunoo—the usually sharp-tongued, composed Sunoo—sitting beside him with tears slipping quietly down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," Sunoo whispered. "You can laugh at me now. Tease me. Say I got soft. Say I turned my back on my sexuality. Or that I lost my mind over a girl when I always said I wouldn't—"
"Girl," Jungwon interrupted, his tone softer than as he scooted closer and draped an arm across Sunoo's back. "Relax. Why the hell would I laugh at you for this? You're clearly hurting. I'd have to be heartless to find that funny."
Sunoo sniffled, wiping his face. Jungwon sighed, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You know, I think sometimes we get so wrapped up in the idea of who we're supposed to be, or what we're supposed to feel, that we forget we're just... human. You always said you didn't want to be like the guys who hurt others, right? Well, maybe you fucked up. Maybe you acted like one of them. But you realized it. You're sitting here crying because of it. That already makes you different from most."
Sunoo didn't speak, but his jaw trembled, and the tears didn't stop. Jungwon tilted his head, speaking more gently now. "Men can be assholes. A lot of them are. But being born with a dick doesn't mean you're destined to be one. What makes someone a real man is taking responsibility. Owning up to your shit. Making it right when you can."
He paused, then smiled faintly. "We might be one of the girls, sure. We squeal, we wear blush, we cry over small things, and we talk too much when we drink—but we also carry the weight of things like this. Of hurting people we care about."
Sunoo's breath hitched again, and this time when he wiped at his face, he was a little slower, a little calmer. "You know what you need to do," Jungwon said, nudging him gently. "If she meant something to you... you owe her more than silence. And you owe yourself more than sitting here pretending you're okay."
"Do you think it's too late?" he asked finally.
"I don't know," Jungwon admitted. "But people forgive stupid things when they see you're actually sorry. And you are. I see it. Maybe she will too."
"You're definitely insane," Jay said. "Because why the hell would you decide to do your nails when you know you have to play electric guitar tomorrow?"
You didn't even look up. Your fingers were too focused on the torn fabric in your lap, guiding the needle carefully through the jagged tear. You tugged gently at the thread, the tension sliding through the cloth as you murmured, "It's just minor chords."
Jay groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Minor chords and you're still skipping practice like you've got this down. God, you're making my head hurt."
"I said I'll show up," you replied flatly.
Jay scoffed in the background, but you ignored it. Let him roll his eyes. Let him sigh and throw another fit about perfection. It wasn't like he'd understand anyway. The nails weren't the problem. Jay and his perfectionist self always had something to complain about when people didn't bend to his rhythm. But you liked your nails. You liked how they shimmered when the light hit them. They made you feel decent—like maybe, just maybe, you were still capable of taking care of yourself.
Except you were too stupid to realize you'd chosen that exact shade of mint green. That soft, sweet color he once said reminded him of summer. The one he jokingly suggested would look cute on your nails if you ever ditched the blacks and reds you usually wore. The color had haunted you since then, just like everything else tied to him.
You stared down at your fingers, freshly painted and curled slightly as you guided the needle through the torn seam of the dress. You had sworn to never touch it again, but here you were, piecing it back together with trembling hands.
Heard from someone that Sunoo made it into the Latin honors list. Top of his class, just as you expected. And good for him. Really. You hoped he was sleeping well, smiling like he always did, charming everyone with that beautiful, soft voice and those ridiculously perfect eyes.
You hoped he forgot you — Because it wasn't fair that you were still waking up thinking about him.
"Fuck," you hissed, jerking your hand back as the needle pricked the pad of your finger. Blood welled up, a small drop blooming at the surface. It smeared faintly against the fabric—right over the seam you'd been trying to fix. "Ugh, shit," you muttered, staring at the new stain forming on the pale material.
Perfect! Just perfect. You sucked on your finger for a second, breathing hard through your nose, trying to hold everything back. "You could've just bought a new dress, you know." Jay said, looking at your face.
"I didn't want a new one," you said quietly, still looking at the ruined thread. "I wanted to fix it."
If someone asked you what exactly you were feeling right now, you wouldn't know how to answer. There wasn't a word that fit—nothing specific. You were functioning just fine. You got out of bed. You drank your coffee. You worked. You smiled when people talked to you, even laughed when the joke was decent enough. So, you were fine, right?
But then why did everything feel so dull? Why did the silence in your room stretch too long, and why did the nights feel colder, even when the fan wasn't turned on?
Maybe it was because you quit your part-time job. Maybe it was because you'd thrown yourself into freelance commissions, desperate to stay busy, desperate to drown out the thoughts by making yourself useful. Drawing until your eyes hurt, until your hand cramped. It worked for a while—until even the deadlines stopped scaring you.
The truth was, you had too much space now. And all that extra room made it harder to ignore the feeling gnawing at the edges of your chest.
Jay had once said, "That's why it's hard for me to watch you fall in love. You're the kind of person who gives everything without realizing it. You show up without fail, but somehow still feel so far away."
You didn't understand what he meant back then. Thought he was being dramatic, maybe too sentimental. But now you did. You were always present, always dependable. But your heart? You'd locked it away for years, guarded and watchful, convinced no one would be careful enough to hold it.
And when you let your walls down. You gave in completely, all at once, as if you'd been waiting your whole life for a reason to. And he didn't stay... Now you sat alone again, trying to rebuild the barricade you'd once worn. You tried patching yourself up with work and distractions, thinking if you filled your days enough, the ache would fade. But some nights, it came back stronger. A ghost knocking on your ribs, reminding you of the softness you once allowed.
You regret letting him see you that clearly. Regret peeling yourself open, showing the tender parts you swore no one would ever get close to. You used to be so good at keeping people at a distance, but you ruined yourself when you made an exception.
"Putting my defenses up, 'cause I don't wanna fall in love."
Your voice rang out, echoing through the crowded room. You stood at the front of the stage, clutching the mic, and the lights hit your face just enough to make everything outside the spotlight blur into nothing.
"Never put my love out on the line..." The lyrics spilled from your lips. Your eyes drifted to the floor where your foot tapped in rhythm, then to the strings of your guitar as your fingers pressed down the chords. "Never said yes to the right guy. Never had trouble getting what I want..."
A faint smile tugged at your lips. "But when it comes to you, I'm never good enough..."
You looked up then, stealing a glance toward your bandmates. They were all focused on their instruments, lost in the music like they always were, eyes down or closed, rocking slightly with the beat. None of them looked at you. You were glad for it. You didn't want them to see the way your hands were trembling on the fretboard, or how your throat threatened to close the moment his face flickered in your mind. "When I don't care, I can play 'em like a Ken doll..."
You swallowed thickly and tried to stay in rhythm, tried to keep your tone playful like the song intended—but your mind was far from the lyrics now. It drifted elsewhere. To him.
"Won't wash my hair, then make 'em bounce like a basketball..." Your breath hitched, but you kept going. "But you make me wanna act like a girl..."
You closed your eyes then. "Paint my nails and wear high heels..." Your fingers slid along the guitar strings automatically. And then, without warning, his face appeared—soft eyes, dimpled smile, that maddeningly gentle voice. Sunoo.
"Yes, you—" You faltered. "—make me so nervous that I just can't hold your hand."
You pushed through the chorus, the words twisting in your throat. The beat thundered in your ears, drowning out the sound of your own thoughts. You didn't miss a note, but you felt every crack forming inside you. And when the song finally ended, the stage lights dimmed and the crowd's cheers erupted like static in your chest, you barely smiled.
You brushed your hair back, exhaling hard as you stepped off the stage. The adrenaline was already wearing off, leaving only the sweat sticking to your skin and the tightness in your throat. You grabbed the water bottle waiting for you and took a few long gulps, letting the cool liquid settle your nerves.
"I thought you hated pop songs."
You turned your head slightly, recognizing Sunghoon's voice before you saw his face. He was already beside you, grinning. You sighed, long and loud, then handed him the water without looking, forcing him to take it. "You're annoying," you muttered, adjusting your loose sando, tugging the strap back up your shoulder and trying to fix your tangled hair with one hand. "You know I didn't pick the setlist."
"But you sang the hell out of it."
"Don't push it," you warned.
Then his voice dropped again, quieter but curious. "You got a new tattoo?"
You stilled for a moment. Your hand went to your nape instinctively, brushing over the still-healing skin just below the red ink etched across your upper spine. You didn't answer, just gave a hum of acknowledgment before slipping your hand down your back. Without shame, you reached beneath your shirt and unhooked your bra, letting your chest finally breathe after hours under the stage lights.
Sunghoon didn't say anything for a moment, but you felt his gaze linger. "Are you free tonight?" he asked. "Thought maybe we could hang out. Talk or something. Just us?"
Another sigh escaped you, this one heavier than the last. You didn't try to hide the exhaustion in your voice this time. "Sunghoon..." you started, turning to finally face him properly. "You're a good friend. You've been sticking around for longer than most people would, and I get it. You think there's something here, maybe because I let you hang around or because I'm too tired to fight your flirting half the time."
He opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hand. "But I'm not interested," you said, carefully but clearly.
He blinked. The corners of his mouth twitched, like he didn't know whether to frown or fake a laugh, but then his lips settled into a small, almost understanding smile. "You're not interested in boys," he said, a little too quickly, trying to soften the blow for himself.
"No," you cut in, sharper this time. "I'm not interested in you."
Sunghoon looked down, then up, that crooked smile still hanging on his lips. "You know I won't stop, right?" he said, brushing off rejection with a joke.
You raised an eyebrow. "That's your choice," you replied plainly. "But don't expect me to change my mind."
"Okay," He nodded, his gaze dropped before you even finished your sentence, trailing down lazily across your chest.
Your fingers snapped in front of his face. "Seriously?" you said with irritation.
Sunghoon blinked, caught, his mouth twitching up. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled quickly. His eyes flicked back up to your face. "Is that a new piercing?"
You didn't respond right away. You crossed your arms instead, trying to hold onto your patience and bite back the exhaustion blooming across your shoulders. The days had been long, your emotions threadbare. "Ni-ki did it," you said finally, eyes narrowing as your annoyance deepened.
When your gig finally ended, you let out a long breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. You made your way toward the bar where the owner usually handed out the cut for the night, hoping it wouldn't take long because all you wanted was to go home and lie down. But before you could even reach the counter, you were nearly knocked off balance by someone throwing their arms around you.
"Oh my God! I haven't seen you in forever!" You tensed instinctively, blinking as you looked up—Jake. He pulled back slightly, still gripping your shoulders, eyes shining.
You forced a small smile. "Hi. How are you?" you asked politely, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. "I've been... busy. Really busy. You know how it gets."
Jake nodded eagerly, releasing you as he leaned against the edge of the bar. "Yeah, I get it. It's fine. Just figured I'd bump into you sooner or later. Hey—are you attending Sunoo's graduation this week?"
You froze. Your fingers twitched slightly as you curled them into the hem of your shirt, the smile on your face faltering before you managed to hold it steady again. "I—" you started, stumbling over your words. "You know we're not... that close anymore. So..." You trailed off with a shrug, trying not to look too affected even though your heart had suddenly picked up its pace.
Jake tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he was about to laugh. Not in a cruel way, but in that clueless, teasing way. You didn't give him the chance. You pushed the conversation forward before he could press further. "But how was he?" you asked quickly, pretending not to care too much even though the question burned on your tongue.
Jake leaned back and sighed dramatically. "I don't know! That bitch is ghosting everyone—just like you!" He chuckled, nudging your arm. "The only time I ever saw him was when he was at the university doing paperwork for his graduation. He's been MIA otherwise. You? Any dating updates?"
You gave another tired smile. "Not really my priorities lately," you replied, brushing your fingers over your wrist, suddenly aware of how cold your skin felt. "I'm glad he's graduating though. That's good for him."
There was a pause. Jake didn't seem to notice, already moving on with a laugh.
"What about you?" you asked before he could dig any deeper. "When's your graduation? I pity you guys. I still have two years."
Jake groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm stressing because my coat won't fit."
You laughed softly as Jake rambled beside you, jumping from topic to topic like someone trying to make up for lost time. He was always like this—talkative, friendly, too eager. You tried your best to follow along, nodding when appropriate, giving short answers even though your energy was already hanging by a thread. Every bone in your body felt heavy after the performance, your shoulders stiff from standing so long, your throat dry even after the water.
He launched into another round of questions, asking about your gigs, your commissions, and whether or not you'd finally taken time off. Then, inevitably, he brought up Park Sunghoon.
"People still think we're together? Fuck that shit." You let out a grunt.
"They just like to talk," Jake offered with a shrug, as if that made it any less irritating. "You know how it is."
You rolled your eyes and tucked the bills into your bag, already thinking about what cheap meal you could get on the way home. "Then they should talk about how I'm not interested in anyone right now. Spread that."
"Not even Shin Ryujin?" he said, clearly enjoying how far he could push the conversation. "I swear you used to have the biggest, fattest crush on her. I mean—she agreed to model for you! That's a move, right?"
You tilted your head slightly. "Or maybe she just liked my art."
Jake paused for a beat, as if waiting for you to say more, but you didn't. He smirked, already forming a thought to your answer. You just shrugged, like you didn't care anymore, you wish it did. None of them ever made you feel the way he did.
Let Jake think what he wanted to think. Let people gossip and spread whatever they wanted. You were too tired to keep defending your disinterest, too tired to explain that the only person you'd really wanted was Kim Sunoo. Fucking Kim Sunoo.
And ironically, the universe had its own cruel sense of humor.
Jake didn't expect to see Sunoo the very next day—standing in front of a flower shop. Without warning, Jake squealed and slapped him on the back so hard that Sunoo's entire frame jolted forward. His eyes flew wide, mouth parting in surprise as he turned to glare.
"Fuck you," Jake laughed, hitting him again before he could dodge. "Who's the lucky person, huh? Don't tell me you're finally confessing to someone?"
Sunoo winced, rubbing his stinging shoulder and trying not to groan. "Can you not hit so hard? Shit."
It had taken him three whole days just to muster up the courage. Three days of Jungwon talking sense into him, helping him run through scenarios and worst-case outcomes, of typing and deleting countless drafts of what he wanted to say. Three days of checking your schedule like a lovesick stalker, memorizing the time and place of your fashion show just to make sure he'd catch you when you weren't buried in fabrics or fixing last-minute outfits.
He didn't really know what he was doing. The idea of bringing flowers felt old-fashioned, maybe even stupid, but he clung to it because it gave him something to hold—something to fill his trembling hands with when he finally stood in front of you. Because if he admitted it to himself, he really fucking missed you.
Jake, as usual, wouldn't shut up. He rambled about school, his thesis, some fight in a group chat he got dragged into, asking random questions in between like Sunoo was giving him the attention he wanted. Sunoo tapped his foot impatiently, nodding absently, eyes flicking to his wristwatch. He knew your show was scheduled to start soon. Jungwon had confirmed it just last night. If he moved now, he could probably sneak into the venue and find you. He wasn't sure how it would go, but he knew he didn't want to delay it any longer.
But then, Jake said your name.
"She looked so good last night, by the way. I talked to her after her gig," he said, chewing on his gum, unaware of the way Sunoo's shoulders tensed. "And I think she's dating that model of hers."
Sunoo stopped tapping his foot. Slowly turned to face him. Jake kept going. "You know Park Sunghoon? He really, really likes her! But she's totally into this girl—Shin Ryujin. If Sunghoon finds out he got rejected again for a girl, he's gonna be pissed."
The bouquet almost slipped out of Sunoo's hands. "Wait, what?" he asked.
Jake blinked, startled by the shift in tone. "Well, I mean—not confirmed or anything. But it looked like it, right? I mean, come on! If you know Ryujin, she's hot! They had crazy chemistry onstage."
But Sunoo didn't hear the rest. His pulse pounded so loudly in his ears it drowned everything else. The bouquet in his hands felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, the crinkling paper suddenly unbearable beneath his tightening grip. He could feel that familiar burn in his chest. The weight pressing down on his lungs, stealing the air from him. It wasn't just surprise, or confusion. It was anger.
No. That can't be true. Jake said it wasn't confirmed. He said maybe. But even maybe was too much for Sunoo.
Because that wasn't just anyone. That was you. His you. Even if he hadn't been able to say it properly before, even if he spent weeks keeping his distance, fumbling over his feelings, even if he was too much of a coward to tell you when he should've—he never once stopped wanting you.
And the idea of someone else having you, touching you, making you smile the way he used to, hurt more than he thought it would. His stomach twisted with jealousy. His mind raced with every memory he had of you—your laugh, your stubbornness, the way you always acted like nothing touched you until he looked close enough to see it did. He hated the thought of anyone else getting that close. It didn't matter if it was a guy or a girl. No one else could understand you like he did. No one else deserved to.
"I need to go," Sunoo muttered, already turning on his heel.
Jake blinked again, stepping forward. "Wait, go where? Sunoo—hey!"
But Sunoo didn't answer. He didn't look back. He walked faster, feet moving, bouquet still clenched tightly in his hand.
All he could think about was the image of you standing beside someone else. Laughing for someone else. Looking at them with the kind of softness you used to show only to him. The thought alone made his blood boil. He wasn't just jealous. He was angry. How dare someone else think they could have you like that?
No. That's not how this ends. He wouldn't let it. Even if it was his fault for waiting this long, even if he messed everything up from the beginning—he wasn't going to let someone else win. He wasn't going to stand on the sidelines any longer. Not when he still had something to fight for.
You were his. You've always been his. And he was going to prove it.
Sunoo made his way toward the university, his stomach twisting with every step. Most of the Fashion Design majors were still holed up on campus despite the start of summer break, preparing for the big event. He didn't know fashion shows involved this many people, this much movement, or noise. Navigating through all of it felt like trying to breathe underwater. He should've asked Jungwon for more specifics.
The halls were lined with racks of clothes, students rushing in and out of rooms, arms full of fabrics, makeup brushes, clipboards, and coffee. Sunoo tried to ask where the waiting room was, but everyone was too preoccupied to answer. He turned corner after corner, scanning every face with increasing frustration—until his eyes landed on someone painfully familiar.
Standing outside the theater room, arms crossed and relaxed was Park Sunghoon. Just seeing him made Sunoo's eye twitch. His jaw clenched so tightly he thought it might crack.
"Sunoo, right?" Sunghoon greeted him, smiling as if they were old friends. Sunoo glanced down at the flowers in his hands. Suddenly, they looked ugly. The colors didn't look as soft anymore. The petals looked dull. He couldn't believe he ever fell for a face like that.
He forced a polite sweet smile, his lips twitching with the effort. "Sunghoon," he returned. "Where do fashion majors usually stay? I need to deliver this to someone." His tone stayed casual, but he had to bite down the irritation growing inside his chest.
Sunghoon beamed. "Oh! I was just heading to the backstage area too. Come with me."
Sunoo's jaw ached with how hard he was grinding his teeth behind another fake smile. Every muscle in his body screamed to walk the other way, but he needed to get to you. If that meant dealing with this guy, so be it. Still, it took everything in him not to roll his eyes or punch the smirk off Sunghoon's face. How dare he stand there so casually, acting like he belonged beside you?
"Is the eyelash glue irritating your eyes?" you asked Ryujin, checking the final touches of her makeup. Your fingers hovered near her temples, adjusting the corner of her lashes even though they looked fine. "And your heels? Are they stable?"
"They're fine, I promise. You don't have to worry," she said gently, offering a small smile.
You turned to Beomgyu, voice tighter this time. "The fabric on the lining—is it itchy? Are you uncomfortable at all?"
Beomgyu tilted his head at you like he was trying not to laugh. "You need to stop freaking out. I already told you I feel great in this."
Your chest was heavy with nerves, and your stomach churned, not just with anxiety but with the familiar, dull pain of your first-day period cramps that made everything ten times worse. The weight of responsibility was pressing on your shoulders. What if the seams tore? What if the models tripped? What if the fabric wrinkled wrong under the lights?
And before you could spiral further, a voice cut through your thoughts. One you recognized instantly.
"Sunghoon," you said wearily, not even trying to hide the exhaustion in your voice.
He stood there with a smile too bright for the atmosphere, holding out a bouquet of flowers to you. "Good luck later! I know you're going to get so many compliments for this."
You took the flowers without much thought, fingers curling around the stems as you exhaled through your nose, trying to keep yourself from snapping. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deeper breath. "Why are you here?" you muttered, already rubbing your temple. "This is our waiting room. You shouldn't be—"
"I came with Sunoo!" Sunghoon interrupted brightly. "Didn't know he was your friend too!"
And that stopped you. Your body tensed instantly. The flowers in your hand suddenly felt like they were cutting into your skin. You looked up, already feeling your throat tighten. And there he was.
Sunoo approached you slowly. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently took the flowers from your hand—the ones Sunghoon had just given—and replaced them with the bouquet he brought. Then, with a calm that felt almost too controlled, he handed the previous bouquet back to Sunghoon, whose brows furrowed in confusion.
Your fingers stayed frozen around the fresh flowers now in your hands. Sunoo stepped closer, voice dropping low as he met your eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Can we talk?"
Something in your chest pulled tight. You forced yourself to swallow the lump rising in your throat, jaw tensing as you tried to stay composed. You could already feel Ryujin and Beomgyu watching silently, even as Sunghoon stood there, confused and observant, his brows lifted like he could sense there was something here. "I'll be back," you muttered under your breath, barely glancing at them. Then, turning to Sunoo, you gestured with a subtle wave of your hand for him to follow.
You walked fast, ignoring how your heart was pounding too hard in your chest. The backstage halls were tight and filled with noise, but the moment you stepped into the music room and closed the door behind you, everything else faded out. The silence between you was loud. "What are you doing here, Sunoo?" you asked, turning to face him. You hated how soft your voice sounded. You hated that he still had that effect on you.
Sunoo didn't answer right away. He just looked at you, his lips parted, trying to decide how to speak, what words wouldn't end in a disaster. Then he said, carefully, "Is it true? That you're dating your model?"
You blinked. That's what this was about? You let out a harsh breath and rolled your eyes, pressing the heels of your palms into your forehead. "Seriously? That's why you're here?"
He flinched at the tone. "Is it true?" he repeated, almost like he was afraid to hear the answer. "You and your model. Are you—"
"Where the fuck did you even hear that?" you snapped, your patience finally cracking. "You think I'd seriously let rumors decide who I'm sleeping with now?"
Sunoo opened his mouth to speak, but you didn't let him. "Why are you even here, Sunoo?" you pushed. "To say sorry? To wave some flowers around and pretend like that's enough?"
He didn't answer. He just stood there, looking at you, his silence impossibly loud. You exhaled, your shoulders sinking with the weight you'd been carrying alone since he left. Your voice dropped out of emotional exhaustion. "I'm tired," you whispered, almost like admitting defeat. "I have a show to finish. I have deadlines. People are counting on me. And if all you came here for was a half-hearted apology, then don't bother—because I've stopped thinking about that night."
But your voice cracked on the last word, and you hated that he might've heard it. "I still think about that night." He said and that made your heart clench.
"You were right," he said quietly. "I came here to say sorry." He looked at you fully now. "And to tell you that I want to make you mine."
You blinked, stunned. "What?"
Sunoo stepped forward, his voice trembling even though he tried to sound certain. "I hurt you. I pushed you away. I made you cry and I said things I'll never stop regretting. I ran because I was scared, and I was selfish enough to believe I could come back when it was convenient for me."
And then, to your absolute disbelief, he lowered himself to the floor, dropping to his knees. His hands found yours, gently curling around your fingers, then pressing your palm to his face. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch. "Every time I close my eyes, it's you," he murmured. "Every time I wake up, I hope it's a day I get to see you again. It's always you. "
Even though his voices cracked, Sunoo pushed through it. "I hated seeing that Sunghoon guy give you flowers. I hated thinking about you with your model even if it's not true. Because I want to be the one. I want to be the person you choose, over and over again, even when I don't deserve it. Even when it's hard, and messy, and complicated."
"I didn't come here just to be forgiven," he continued, voice cracking now as his forehead nearly pressed against your hand. "I came because I want you. Because I love you. And because if there's even a part of you—any small part—that still wants me, then I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm worth that second chance." He looked up at you, eyes glistening, his knees still on the ground.
You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the tear slide down your cheek. The warmth of it startled you. No matter how much you tried to build walls around yourself, he had always been able to slip through. Even now.
He looked up at you from where he knelt, eyes glassy, red-rimmed. Your fingers trembled in his hands, but you didn't pull away. "You hurt me, Sunoo."
His expression broke completely, a quiet whimper escaping from his lips as he held your hands tighter, desperate. "I know," he choked out. "And I hate myself for that. I'd take it all back if I could. But I can't... so all I can do now is ask you to let me fix what I ruined."
The silence stretched again, before he whispered, almost breathlessly, "...Please?"
That single word cracked something inside you. You sniffled, blinking fast as more tears welled in your eyes, and without thinking, you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. You leaned in, heart pounding wildly, and kissed him. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It was tender—heartbreaking in its softness, and yet full of everything you'd been holding back. The pain, the longing, the anger, the love—it was all there, pressed into the seal of your lips against his.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of your eyes closed, breath mingling in the small space between you. "I never stopped wanting you," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the tears. "Even when I tried. Even when I told myself I should."
He shuddered at your words, his breath catching, fingers lifting to cup your cheeks. "I swear I'll spend every day proving I can be someone you deserve," he murmured.
You nodded faintly, your forehead still resting against his. Then, slowly, you leaned in again, brushing your lips against his—soft at first, searching, before you kissed him fully. This time, you didn't hold back. Your lips moved against his with purpose, and he responded just as eagerly, his head tilting to meet you, to match your rhythm.
When you deepened the kiss and your tongue slipped into his mouth, his breath hitched. He moaned softly, the sound catching in his throat as he melted further into you, hands tightening at your sides. "I missed you," he whispered breathlessly between kisses.
You smiled into his mouth, sniffling as your hands cupped his damp cheeks, wiping at the tears that kept trailing down. "Missed you too," you whispered, your voice breaking as you kissed him again, even longer this time. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
He kissed you like he was making up for lost time, like every second he spent away from you had left him starving. His hands slid gently under your arms before he lifted you and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. You could feel the way his breathing picked up as he moved, sitting down on the old couch in the corner of the room, never letting his lips stray too far from yours.
You settled on his lap, knees bracketing his hips, your mouths still moving together in sync. You could feel the way his body was reacting—how tightly he held you, how his hands gripped your back. "I love you," he whispered against your lips.
Your breath caught, your heart thudding as he pressed a trail of kisses down your neck, slow and open-mouthed. His hands, once tentative, slid to your chest, cupping you through your clothes before he gently kneaded one breast in his palm. The sensation made you shiver, your back arching into his touch instinctively as you sucked in a breath.
"Say it again," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut.
He leaned back just enough to look up at you, both hands still resting on your waist. "I love you. I'm not letting you go again."
You leaned forward to kiss him again, your lips brushing over his. His fingers slipped under your shirt, tugging it up carefully, revealing the curve of your breast and the soft lace of your bra. His breath hitched when he saw your nipple, the silver glint of the heart-shaped piercing catching the light. He paused, stunned, swallowing hard, the outline of his arousal now pressing clearly against his pants.
"W-wait," you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his face dipped lower. "It's not fully healed yet..."
Sunoo froze, his lips just grazing the swell of your breast. He pressed the gentlest kiss on your areola, lips lingering as his thumb toyed with the other nipple through your bra, tracing slow circles that made your hips twitch above him. Your body reacted, grinding slightly against the solid pressure beneath you. His breath grew ragged against your skin, hands sliding up your back, holding you tighter.
You rocked your hips against him with slow pressure, letting the friction build until the heat between your bodies felt like it might burn right through your skin. His hands moved restlessly, tugging at your waistband, already working to unbutton your pants.
But your hand caught his wrist, halting him. "N-No... we can't," you murmured, your voice ragged from panting. You glanced down at him beneath you—his brows were drawn together in frustration and confusion, his face flushed with heat, sweat starting to gather along his hairline, and his lips—red and kiss-swollen—were parted.
"I... I have my period."
He blinked, then tilted his head slightly like he couldn't understand why that would matter. His hand slid back down, cupping you through the fabric of your underwear, right over your pad. You gasped, the heat of his touch making your body tense with shame and anticipation. Your cheeks flared hot with embarrassment.
"I-It's not clean," you whispered, voice wavering. "It's messy..."
"And?" he muttered, his gaze never left your face. Without waiting for your approval, his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, carefully maneuvering around the pad as his fingers brushed against your pussy.
His finger slipped in, and your jaw dropped open, a soft cry catching in your throat. The feeling was slow, filling, a deliberate push deeper until he bottomed out and curled his finger inside you, testing your sensitivity. "You know," he began, "orgasms help relieve cramps. The body releases endorphins that ease pain. It's not gross... it's your body asking for what it needs."
You whimpered, unable to argue. Especially not when his finger began to move—slow at first, then building pace, retreating and sinking back in until your hips were grinding helplessly against his palm. Each stroke hit something deeper than just your body, pulling breathy moans from your throat.
"S-Sunoo—" you choked, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. His other hand slid up your shirt again, pushing the fabric away so he could lean in and press his mouth to your chest. His lips wrapped around the soft swell of your breast, and the sharp contrast of your piercing against his tongue made him groan. "I-It's gross."
"No, it's not." He whisper, biting your neck, tongue swirling at it, he mumbled against your skin before adding another finger, spreading you wider. "It's hot. You're hot."
Your only answer was a louder moan, your thighs trembling as you rode his fingers, your body clenching around him. The pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter, until everything snapped all at once. You came hard, body clenching around him as your head tilted back, breath stuttering and vision swimming.
Sunoo shifted you easily, guiding your body until you were bent over the couch, his grip firm and sure as he moved you exactly how he wanted. But then he stilled, breath catching when his eyes landed on your back. His palm slid over your spine, tracing the ink.
"Fuck," he hissed. You felt the way his fingers trembled slightly, how he cupped your hips and coaxed you into an arch, dragging his touch down the trail of black lines and crimson lilies that ran from your shoulder blades to the curve of your lower back. "You always know how to drive me crazy... and now you go and get this?"
You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sound as he pulled your pants lower, exposing the heat between your legs. He groaned behind you, dragging the tip of himself along your entrance, already soaked and messy, your blood mixing with everything else. It should've made you feel embarrassed but instead, it only made the tension between you burn hotter.
"Please," you breathed, turning your head just enough to look at him over your shoulder.
Sunoo didn't need to be told twice. He eased into you slowly, his body pressing close, chest flush against your back as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, anchoring you to him. His breath stuttered against your skin, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he moved deeper, his other hand gripping your waist so tightly.
Your eyes caught sight of his hand, streaked with red from earlier, and instead of disgust, all you felt was a strange kind of thrill that twisted low in your belly. You clenched around him involuntarily, another moan slipping from your lips.
He kissed your jaw, then your cheek, then finally your mouth again, hungrily this time, tongue sliding against yours as his hips found a faster rhythm. His hands trembled where they held you, but his movements were certain, desperate. "Ah—fuck—I love you," he gasped, his voice cracking open as the pace quickened. "I love you so much. So fucking much."
Your breath caught, heart slamming in your chest. "Sunoo—wait—" your voice was barely audible between moans, "you're not wearing—ah—no condom—!"
He stilled for a second, his breath rough in your ear. But instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer, murmuring, "I know."
Your pussy clenched around him on instinct, as if reacting to the rawness of it all, to the fact that he was really inside you like this. The feeling of his bare cock dragging against your soaked walls was overwhelming, hotter, slicker. Your eyes rolled back as a loud moan escaped your throat, your fingers tightening on whatever they could grab.
"F-fuck," he whimpered, as your walls fluttered around him. Sunoo sounded like he was unraveling in real time. His hands gripped your waist harder, his breath shaking as he slowly pushed back in, deeper this time. He whined against your skin, overwhelmed, almost breathless at how good it felt. "I missed you. Missed this—missed you so fucking much."
His voice cracked, raw emotion bleeding into every word. "Don't leave again, hmm? Please. I'll treat you better this time. I swear—I love you. Fuck, I love you. I'm so fucking in love with you."
He didn't give you time to answer. His fingers slid down between your thighs, finding your clit without hesitation, rubbing slow, dizzying circles that made your knees buckle. His cock hit your g-spot mercilessly and your voice broke into a scream, loud and unfiltered, but you didn't care—the music room was soundproof, and even if it wasn't, you wouldn't have stopped him.
"S-Sunoo—I'm gonna cum," you choked out, your voice hoarse, hips jerking uncontrollably from the way his fingers pressed harder into your clit. Your pussy clenched down around him, and the orgasm crashed into you so fast it nearly knocked you off your feet. Your whole body shook and your thighs quivered, but Sunoo held you tight through it, one hand gripping your waist as the other kept you grounded, kept fucking into you with more force, chasing his own high.
"God, I love you, my baby," he whined. His hips started stuttering, the sound of skin slapping echoing faintly against the padded walls, getting messier, needier. "C-can I cum inside you? Please—let me?"
You couldn't speak at first, just nodded frantically, your fingers digging into his arm where it hugged around your waist. "Yes," you breathed, still panting, "Yes, yes—Sunoo, please—cum in me. I love you."
He let out the loudest, rawest moan of the night, something close to a sob, his whole body tensing as he came hard. You could feel it flood inside you, the warmth of it thick and hot as he kept fucking you through it, like he couldn't stop, like he needed to push it deeper, make sure it stayed.
Even after he was spent, his hips kept rocking slowly into you. His cum leaked around his cock, dripping down your thighs, and still he stayed buried inside, forehead resting against your shoulder, breath warm on your skin.
Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just the sound of ragged breathing filling the space between kisses—gentle ones now. He kissed your neck, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. "I love you," he murmured, then kissed your temple, eyes shut, holding you.
You turned in his arms, legs shaky, body still pulsing from the aftershocks, and cupped his face with both hands, pulling him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. "I love you too," you whispered.
EPILOGUE
Sunoo made his way to the stage with a confidence he hadn't felt in a long time, holding up his medal and certificate for the photographer with a proud grin. Applause echoed through the auditorium, and for a moment, all the weight he had carried over the years—every sleepless night, every self-doubt, every quiet breakdown—seemed worth it. Sitting down on the chair at the side of the stage, his heart swelled with something deeper than relief. He wasn't just happy—he felt fulfilled. Things were finally going his way, and more than that, he had done it on his own terms.
"You look so good—God, I love your makeup!" Giselle said beside him, nudging him with her shoulder. He turned to her with that signature Sunoo smile, wide and sweet. "Your blush is perfect. It suits you so well," she added.
He smiled softly, cheeks glowing with more than just the highlighter dusted on them. "Thanks. My girlfriend did my makeup."
Giselle blinked, then gasped. "Wait—did I hear that right?"
Sunoo didn't respond, just chuckled to himself. When the program ended and the crowd was released into the open hall, he barely waited before slipping into the crowd, eyes scanning eagerly for one person. He weaved through clusters of families and graduates, ignoring the flashes of cameras, until his eyes finally landed on you. His whole face lit up instantly.
Without a second thought, he squealed and ran straight into your arms, wrapping you in a tight, all-consuming hug. You squealed too, and the sound made a few people turn their heads, curious. But Sunoo didn't care. You were in his arms, and that was all that mattered.
"Congratulations, my love!" you beamed, pinching both his cheeks before kissing his forehead.
He immediately slapped your hands away with a playful pout. "Stop! You're gonna mess up my makeup."
You laughed and leaned in. "I could always retouch it, dummy. I was the one who did it, remember?"
Sunoo squinted, finally taking a proper look at you now that he wasn't rushed or nervous. You had left before him earlier, after helping with his look, and now he was seeing you fully—your hair tied neatly in a bun, soft clean makeup that felt too tame for you, and a bright, modest outfit that covered every inch of your skin.
His gaze lingered. "You... took off your piercing?"
You nodded and gave a small shrug, your smile faltering. "Yeah. I figured... maybe you'd want me to look presentable today. Like, for your big day. It felt like the right thing to do."
He tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowing as he looked you over again. "Presentable?" he repeated. "I love the way you look with your piercings on, your tattoos showing, your red lipstick. That's you."
Your chest tightened, emotion catching in your throat so fast you couldn't even respond with words. Instead, you stepped forward and hugged him again, burying your face into his neck as your arms wound around his waist. "I love you," you whispered against his skin.
Sunoo's eyes widened slightly. Then slowly, he melted into your hug, wrapping his arms around you just as tightly. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and for a moment. "I love you more," he murmured softly. Then, pulling back a little to meet your eyes, his brows furrowed. "Wait—did I make you feel like I didn't want you to be yourself? Like I was forcing you to be someone else? I'm sorry."
You shook your head, tears beginning to pool despite the smile on your lips. "No... It wasn't you. I just... I didn't want to mess anything up today. I thought maybe if I toned myself down, it'd be easier."
Sunoo's eyes shone with emotion as he wiped your tears with his thumbs. "You could never mess anything up just by being yourself," he whispered. "Especially not with me. I want you loud, and messy, and bright. I want you with the piercings, with the tattoos, with whatever the hell makes you feel like you. That's the person I want beside me, every day. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I was changing you. Forgive me, hmm?"
You leaned into his touch, forehead resting against his. "Then I'll never tone myself down again."
"Good," he smiled, brushing a kiss to your nose. "Because we've got a lot more milestones coming. And I want all of them with the real you."
You laughed lightly, the tension in your chest finally melting as you cradled his face. "Our only problem now is how to tell Jake without him fainting."
That made Sunoo snort before leaning in again to kiss you properly, his smile still pressed to your lips. You could hear a few surprised gasps from the crowd nearby, but you didn't care—and clearly, neither did he.
"It's fine," he whispered playfully, nuzzling close again. "We'll just plan a sleepover. That way, when he faints, we'll already be somewhere private... and have all the time in the world to celebrate without interruptions."
You smirked, squeezing his hand as it found yours. "I have a gift for you later when we get home."
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he raised a brow. "Hmm... A blowjob?"
You gave his shoulder a soft shove, rolling your eyes with a laugh. "No, not that, idiot."
He broke into a laugh too, the sound warm and carefree, then reached for your waist and pulled you in close again. His hand rested securely there, thumb drawing small circles, grounding you both in that moment. "Thank you for loving me as I am," he whispered against your ear. "Even on the days I forget how to love myself."
You leaned in, letting your head fall against his shoulder, smiling as his lips pressed a kiss to your temple. "I love you in every version of you, Sunoo," you whispered, and you meant every word.
The two of you continued walking hand in hand through the crowd. And if someone had asked you what you were feeling at that exact moment you would've said that you were in love. You were content, completely at peace with who you were and who you were becoming. And more than anything, you were happy, so much more happier than ever. Because Sunoo was beside you.
It’s only natural, isn’t it? To look in the mirror and cry? It’s not that you hate yourself, it’s mostly just that the world wants you to.
Or the one where Jay is enamored and doesn’t mind reminding you that there’s nothing about you that will stop him from falling harder every day.
PATREON REQUEST
WORDCOUNT― 8.3k
PAIRING― park jongseong x afab chubby!reader
CONTENT― jay is very very in love, sex positivity, body positivity but also…see warnings. It’s also a little messy, they have an argument if you squint. He lifts you up and moves you around to prove a point.
WARNINGS― self hate, body dysmorphia, insecurity. There are descriptions of chub, both in a negative and positive light depending on who is thinking what.
NOTE― Reminder that I do not hold negative views of any body type, including hot sexy chubby babes [i actually very much like it]. The reader is intended to be insecure so there are bound to be negative things thought about her own body, i utilize my own insecurities quite a bit here and it makes me feel a bit vulnerable so… don’t be going off on me over it.
ANOTHER NOTE ― SURPRISE? This fic is a request, but i wanted to give you guys something if anything. I do not typically write for a reader with any specific body type, but i feel fond of this one after completion, so take it as you may. this was a patreon request from someone i care for dearly, so rules didn't apply to them lol
smut tags ― big dick jay, LOVE MAKING, grinding/frottage, it’s very fluffy and loving but like…also rough, deep penetration, making out, eye contact, pinching/groping, pussy eating, titty kissing, cream pie, unprotected sex, caressing, sweet-talking rather than dirty-talking.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You still remember the first date and how Jay looked at you. Your brain fought hard to lie, to tell you that the joke would be over soon, that he hadn’t tried for months to work up the courage to ask you out.
He told you that himself, that it took a lot of courage to ask you, that he even felt anxious over the possibility that you wouldn’t like him back, and still your mind told you the opposite.
No matter how often he found reasons to sit with you in class, or how he would carry your heavy book bag alongside his own all the way to your parked car across campus just so he could tell you to drive home safely…
Still didn’t matter how he said in the softest voice, right next to you as you sat with him for the first time inside of his dorm room, “I think– since the moment I saw you, I had a crush. I never thought you’d actually hang out with me.” He said that before he even asked you on the first date. You thought it was a joke, some sick prank he was put up to.
Yet, still, he looked at you that night in a restaurant neither of you could afford, admitting that he saved up from his part time job for weeks just to bring you here. His eyes shined. Like he was proud to be there with you, almost telling you that it wasn’t a joke, that he truly meant everything he’s ever said to you.
And when he kissed you that night, just for a moment, you really believed that you were good enough.
Six months into your relationship, those negative thoughts faded slowly. All of the negativity, the things everyone always said about you were able to disappear when he held your hand or kissed your forehead. Jay truly seemed utterly enamoured with you, constantly wanting to see you, always wanting to touch, and be close to you. Essentially healing, one by one, every horrible thing ever pounded into your brain from family, friends, and strangers alike.
But…sometimes, like today, those negative thoughts come back and they’re louder than you remember them being before. He can only silence other voices, not your own. Twenty minutes ago you texted him.
You: can we raincheck?
Jaybie: what?
Jaybie: why?
You: I’m not really feeling it today
And for nineteen minutes, your phone has been blowing up.
You imagine Jay would tilt his head at you with a face of concern like he’s done so many times before if he were in front of you right now. You don’t need pity, it’s too embarrassing when he says all those nice things to you and you end up deflecting, making the whole situation worse.
You stare in the mirror, alleviated at the cancellation despite what he’s probably spamming your phone with. Encouragement, reassurances, whatever. Sometimes you just need to isolate and detach, to avoid the mirror, or being seen by anyone. Sometimes, maybe, you even just need to wallow in your own contempt for a bit before facing not just your boyfriend, but anyone at all.
And that sometimes, is right now as you curl up in that ratty t-shirt, flopping back on your bed and trusting that the phone vibrations will go silent after a while. You always feel so guilty when you do this, but it’s just a part of you, it’s what he signed up for.
You need time to get past this block in your head.
Unfortunately, Jay doesn’t.
Knock, knock, knock.
Great, just fucking great. You hadn’t expected him to come anyway, and he’s probably just going to give you that pitied look before dragging you out the door with him.
This type of thing has happened before, and he’s well aware by now to just leave it be, to try again another time, to just text and not facetime, to do this, to do that. Yet he’s on the other side of your door knocking and you’re just sitting here, wondering if you should face him. This isn’t one of those times where he can make it all better with a kiss to your forehead and words of reassurance.
What’s worse is that it used to work. But over time, as you grew comfortable in the relationship, the stray thoughts became louder. “It’s been three weeks now, and he hasn’t changed his mind?”
“Four weeks, two months, three months…”
Month six, and he’s on the other side of your door. He never comes over when you ask him not to. Maybe he’s here to tell you he’s done with all this, that you finally pushed him away for the last time.
Your makeup is slightly smeared from the silent tears, and you’ve already undressed and thrown back on that t-shirt. A t-shirt, mind you, that doesn’t hug nor imply any type of human body beneath. Arguably, it’s your most comfortable one because at least in this, looking like a cotton-blend garbage bag is better than witnessing your own being exist in peace, full of what’s needed, rejuvenated in ways you find yourself hating the most.
There’s nothing to see in you right now, so…you really, really don’t want Jay to be here right now. He wouldn’t find you attractive like this, he would get one look at you and walk away, right? You’re right, he’s here to break up with you for cancelling again.
Knock, knock, knock.
You huff, sniffling and stumbling to your feet, trying to wipe away the remnants of that insecurity that’s hitting you so hard today. And when you look at yourself again, somehow it seems worse than before. You don’t even look like you.
Knockknockknock, more frantic.
You hear the emotion in his knocks, making you hurry to the door, hesitating only for a moment before opening it to find him standing there. So handsome with his hair all neat and fixed like it always is. God, you’d be so heartbroken if he ever looked in the mirror the same way you do. For him to not see how handsome, gorgeous, utterly perfect he is in any given room. Any given light, situation, emotion. Always so handsome.
Always too good for you.
And he looks at you the same as before, tilting his head in the confusion you knew he would, he gives you a once over before inviting himself inside and closing the door, saying nothing, but gently guiding you with his big, warm hand.
You’re surprised, actually.
“No more of this.” He finally mumbles as he makes his way to your bedroom with you in hand, closing every door behind him. As if allowing you to be in the state you want to be in right now. Where no one can see you, where you don’t have to look at yourself and worry.
Truthfully, you want nothing more than to be behind two locked doors, curled up and away from the world for the day. What you don’t want is for Jay to be stuck here with you, witnessing you at your worst. If he wasn’t here to break up with you, surely he will be by the end of this.
“No more pushing me away.” He says this time in a fuller voice, somehow knowing to silence your inner voice as he starts kicking his shoes off and turning to face you. He ignores the uncharacteristic mess of your room and places both hands on your shoulders now. “What’s wrong?”
Oh no, the dreaded question that makes everything rush to surface, making you struggle to hold back tears. It’s harder when he’s looking at you, harder when he’s taking a hand and lifting your chin so you have to look back at him.
He already knows what’s wrong by the look in your eyes alone. Here he was thinking it could’ve been something else this time. Usually you’d text him back, asking for reassurance in your own little way. Timid, almost cute. Usually, you don’t cut him off like this, you let him text you and you respond back every single time.
When you left him on read, he knew that this time had to be different.
He truly does know he’s supposed to leave you alone, but it hurts him too when you get like this. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe he’s the one in the wrong here, but it kills him to know that someone he cares for so deeply has felt so horrible, is feeling so horrible, to the point that even he gets shut out. Over and over again, no matter what he does.
He’s humble even in his thinking though.
The truth from his perspective? He’s tired of it. He’s exhausted with you telling yourself all these things, throwing out every word of love and adoration he’s truly and meaningfully given to you. Always saying there’s something wrong with you, silent jabs at yourself while using him. “She’s pretty, why are you even with someone like me?” You said all those weeks ago, on a day he thought you really felt better about yourself. “It’s okay to look at other people, I get it.” You had said again, blatantly showing insecurity and writing him off because he glanced for just a moment at someone you deem more beautiful. “I can’t buy that, I wouldn’t be able to pull it off–”, “Oh, I’m not hungry.”, “Sorry, I look kind of gross today–”
It goes on and on.
It’s not all easy, pretty, or loving. Sure, you can look exhausted sometimes, so can he. He’s not always feeling the best either, but the difference is that he wants you to see him at his worst. You refuse to let him see you though. Even on your best days, you write yourself off. You write him off, deciding what he must feel about you despite his actions and words trying desperately to prove you wrong.
Looking at you standing in front of him right now is no different. You’re just as beautiful as you were the day he first saw you. Still entirely his type, not a hair out of place in his mind, even if he knows you’d disagree.
The mess of you is sometimes even better than when you’re trying because he knows you feel the same regardless. He prefers you in the state you hate the most, vulnerable, swollen eyes. There’s something about the rawness compared to when you’re plastering on that false smile.
Don’t get him wrong, he loves when you dress up too but it hurts him to know it’s not for yourself, not for him, it’s for everyone outside of this bubble. You fear being looked at, and looking at you just so happens to be one of his favorite things.
In any shape, any form.
Right now, that smeared charcoal makeup shows him that you tried to go out with him today, that you wanted to go. But goddamn, it makes your eyes look so pretty even messed up like this. Clumped lashes and what seems like a permanent frown on your face. Perhaps it’s guilt, or self-pity, he doesn’t know. The point is, even like this, you’d shine in any room you’re in and he’s so, so happy that you opened door for him.
Honestly? He expected you to not answer it just like you did with the texts and calls. He truly thought he’d be spending all night alone wondering if you are the one about to break up with him.
Yet, still. He can’t keep torturing himself loving someone who so aggressively pushes him away, who always believes the lies before his own tears or cracked voice trying to prove, and prove, and prove that you’ll always be enough for him. He could tell you right now how much he wants to kiss you, but he’s afraid you’ll push him away.
Rejection after rejection, all because you fear he will be the one doing it eventually.
“What’s wrong?” He asks again, expression hardening because he knows what it is and he’s desperate for you to just…believe him when he tries to make it better this time.
“I’m sorry, I just–” You try to say, looking down at the floor again despite his hand trying to keep your face angled up.
“Don’t want me to see you like this?” He interrupts, answering for you. “Don’t want me to take care of you when you’re feeling bad?”
You keep staring at the floor as he talks.
“Don’t want this, don’t want that. Do you want me?” He pauses, letting out a sigh because that’s not entirely what he meant to say, but he’s so, so frustrated right now. He can’t help it. There’s panic within him every time you get like this. It’s been six months, he wants to add another six more, but he can’t if you don’t fucking let him.
And fuck, fuck, you’re doing it again. Like so many times before, pushing and pushing away until they finally walk away. You’re shocked he lasted this long putting up with you. Another thing to add to the list, another name of someone who realizes the mistake in picking you.
“Of course I do!” Your voice cracks when the tears start again, taking a step back and away from him.
“Then look at me.” He says, more calm now. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go out today, but to ignore me after texting me? Not even answering when I call? I come over and you can’t even look at me.”
There’s a pause in his frustration here, seeing you cry in front of him like this. He never wants to be the reason you feel bad, even if you’re always his reason for the same negative feelings. He’s tired, but he’s not done being fucking tired. Not yet, at least.
“I won’t look back, if it helps.” He looks away from you now, but fills the gap of space you’ve created. “I just need you to understand that however it is you’re feeling right now, it doesn’t mean I feel the same.”
Your eyes trail to him, noting the way he keeps his eyes averted in the sake of you and it makes you feel…dumb. This whole insecurity thing, it’s something so many people feel and you can’t understand how they push through it on a day to day basis. Are you the only one who curls up inside, unable to allow yourself to be seen?
Are you the only one with a boyfriend who is telling you to see him, rather than only seeing yourself and whatever monster the mirror forces back at you? Where he promises to not look at you, as long as you let him stay? As long as you hear what he needs to say?
“Jay…” Your voice cracks when your hands reach for him. For some reason, him not looking at you makes you worse.
You didn’t want to be touched today, knowing he’d feel the dimples and weight under your skin. Yet here you are, reaching out, inching closer, hugging him as tightly as you can. And still, you feel his chin against you indicating that he’s keeping to his promise. He’s looking away.
“I don’t know why I get like this.” You comment against his chest, nuzzling into him and the tears that soak through his shirt. “Today is worse than usual.”
“You’re allowed to have bad days,” He says calmly, almost numbly. “but I need you to let me be here for them. I don’t know how to make you understand how shitty it makes me feel when you start acting like I wouldn’t want to see you.”
You breathe in as he speaks, letting his cologne calm your mind like it always does.
“I always want to see you.”
There’s something crawling in your brain when he says things like that. You don’t know what it is. It slithers in, makes you smile, makes you feel all warm. Like you can pull back from this hug and look him in the eye, or maybe even go to the grocery store without a thirty minute session of trying to look decent first. It’s confidence, something you only feel when he’s around.
“Why?” You question him still, even while believing him for a moment.
Seeking reassurance. At his expense, you will always seek it.
“Why?” He pulls back, finally looking at you again with a dumbfounded expression. Then, he chuckles. “Still? You still don’t know?”
His tone seems like he’s going to argue with you again, but before you can even look back at him with a nod, you feel him lift you entirely. Instinctively, you squirm to try and get away.
And when you can’t wiggle away, you try and listen to see if he struggles in the act. Just to shame yourself further. Just to deny his strength, and call yourself huge again.
“Stop, I’m too heavy!” You squeal out, almost laughing because it feels nice to be…well, picked up. “You’ll hurt yourself!”
He drops you on your bed without a huff, without dry-heaving, and crawls on top of you, easily sitting on your legs. Yes, Jay is tired of this. You’re just going to ignore the way he goes to the gym specifically so you don’t have to worry? He could have lifted you six months ago, maybe with a bit of a breath or huff, but he can do it just fine now, and you still think you’re too big?
You’ve never been too big. In fact, there’s a genuine fear that there will never be enough of you for him to love.
Goddamn. He’s exhausted with the way you see yourself, and the way you almost demand he sees your imperfections too– because he can’t. There’s nothing about you he doesn’t love. If he were to be out of breath right now, it’s not because you’re too heavy, it’s not because you are too much of anything.
It’s because you knock the breath out of him every time he sees you.
And he’s sick of you not understanding him. He’s tired of trying to understand what you feel about yourself. Because in all honesty? It’s bullshit, it’s stupid, none of that shit matters to him.
He can’t see what you see, regardless of how much you think he does. You can point it out, cry about it, and think whatever you want. He will never agree with you. Reassurance comes too naturally to him, except in his mind it’s not reassurance at all. It’s something he would say to you every minute of every day if you’d give him the space to actually love you, rather than fighting with him on why he should hate you.
“Too heavy? What?” He says as he hovers over you, dipping down to nuzzle his nose against your neck. “How weak do you think I am?”
You throw your arm over your face, your other hand reaching down to pull down the large t-shirt that had ridden up in your fall to the bed. Jay, on the other hand, keeps you pinned down as he nuzzles.
“Anything else?” He asks against your ear.
You pause, opening your eyes behind your arm and taking in a breath. Is he really doing this right now? Asking you to just…tell him?
“Anything else what?” You ask quietly, feeling the way he kisses all over your jaw and hairline, ignoring the heavy feeling of his legs sinking your lower half into the bed as he straddles you in place.
“Tell me why you didn’t want to see me.” He reiterates, kissing and kissing, not stopping, now slowly moving to push himself between your legs. “Tell me what else there is that you think will make me not want you. All the things you think I can’t or won’t do.”
“I–” You pause, swallowing hard before squeezing your eyes shut as your legs pry open around him. God, why is he pulling this out of you? Why is it harder to hate yourself when he’s not hating you too?
“I look like a mess, you deserve someone who–”
“No.” He instantly responds, knocking your arm away from your face and cupping your cheeks with both hands, forcing you to look at him as he presses his hips forward, letting you feel how attracted he is to you.
“Not a mess. My favorite.” He adds, moving his assault of kisses across your cheeks, nose, forehead, then to your lips. “I don’t even deserve you.”
A pause as he pulls back to look at you, assessing the damage.
“What else?”
“I feel like you should be ashamed to be seen with me.” You start, feeling even more stupid when it’s spoken out loud. “I can’t wear all those cute clothes you think I’d like, because nothing looks good on me– doesn’t that disappoint you?”
“Oh?” He smiles cheekily, and you truly will never understand how he could get, like, turned on by you when you feel like this. When you act like this. “Who says I prefer you in clothes anyway?” Then he narrows his eyes at you, pushing his hips forward again to remind you.
That little breath he takes in before speaking again doesn’t go unnoticed either. Like he’s holding back so much. Frustration, lust, love.
“And I want to be seen with you. Wanna show you off, let everyone know that I managed to get someone like you to be with me.”
You stare at him when he pulls back, now looking down at you and toying with the hem of your shirt. You could argue that he actually seems a bit…shy now, looking at you from under his lashes as he pretends to focus on what his hands are doing.
“Anything else?”
“How—?” You start again, trying to throw your arm back over your face, but he catches it, shooting forward again and this time, pinning your arms down against your pillows. “How are you looking at me right now and getting hard?”
“Because I think you’re sexy.” He smiles just inches from your face, trying to make you understand that he’s not lying. He needs you to see the shine in his eyes, the pure love he feels for you, not just the way he very clearly wants you. Not even words can truly explain it, and maybe that’s why he can’t pull you out of his hole of self hate– but fuck if he isn’t trying.
“Do you seriously think I’m not attracted to you?” Another push of his hips. He flexes his muscles around you as he does it, and lets out a little breathy sound. “Seriously?”
That question makes you feel stupid for thinking otherwise. If you look outside of yourself for once, you feel worse than you have today in weeks, yet he’s on top of you right now. He’s clearly turned on, kissing all over your face, making those little sounds as if he’s slowly losing it…
Strangely enough, all of the things he’s said to you throughout your relationship felt like a band-aid. Like he was saying stuff to get you to feel better, well aware that it wasn’t going to happen. Today though, right now, it feels like he’s stabbing these words into you, forcing you to look at them, begging you to listen and believe him.
He’s using his body alongside his words, which isn’t something that normally happens. Mostly because, well, you’ve never let him when the days get this bad. Has it always been like this, or is he just now realizing that a band-aid of sweet kisses can’t fix you? His kisses right now aren’t sweet or docile though, they’re meaningful, almost bruising.
Everything he’s doing feels more bruising than usual, like he’s trying to make you feel him rather than your own skin.
All you can do is look back at him when he pulls back again, noting how still, no one has ever looked at you the way Jay does. He’s never said a bad thing about you, never made you feel disgusting or hard to love. Even when he’s upset with you, he never excludes himself from the issue at hand. It’s never all about you unless it’s…good?
Oh. Wait.
“Maybe you just have bad taste in women.” You say casually, as if writing his feelings off again. You see his eyebrow raise at that, his smile faltering, but you huff.
Then, you smile. You really smile at him, and he…smiles back.
“You need to work on that.” He says, nodding to himself as if what you said just went through one ear and out the other. “My taste is you, and I think you should just accept that or else you’ll have to fight me off, or break up with me or something– because–”
Ah!
You half-groan-half-giggle, falling in love with how he can be so playful on such a bad day. So fast with it too, with the way he scoots back, and dips down and under your shirt before you can even fight him on it. You feel his warm cheek rub against your belly, his hands moving to your waist and holding you there before he moves upwards, blatantly lying against your left breast.
“I love everything about you.” He sighs as if he’s in his own little world now, landing a sideways kiss to the flesh of your chest. “I mean it– fucking everything. Drives me crazy.”
Your arms instinctively wrap around his hidden head, hugging it as you listen to him mumble praise against your skin.
“I love this.” He whispers, kissing your breast again before sliding himself up and kissing against your collar bone, letting out another little moan as he simultaneously grinds his lower half on you.
God, he’s essentially rendering the purpose of this shirt entirely useless to you now. You’re not hidden anymore, he won’t let you be.
“And this.” He continues.
“And this,” He moves down, kissing right between your breasts. “This, this, and this.” He mumbles, kissing down to your belly, nuzzling against your belly button before kissing that too.
“Know what else I love?” He finally asks, pulling himself from under your shirt and letting you get a good look at his blushed cheeks and ears, hair now a mess, slightly frizzy, but still so gorgeous.
You stare at his drowsy, half-closed eyes in awe, wondering over and over again how anyone could ever be good enough for him, somehow feeling entirely lucky that you’re who he picked.
“That you let me do this.” He says, gripping the chub on your hips and kneading it before moving to your belly and doing the same. “That you let me appreciate everything about you, even when you hate it.”
And truly, you can’t stand it. Yet, you do. The way his fingers dig into your flesh so warmly, with the purpose of loving, of feeling, rather than wanting to rip it off of your body like you so wish you could do…it’s…kind of igniting?
After so long of being called all sorts of names. Disgusting, fat, unworthy. Even more words of “You’d be so hot if you’d just–” and “Should you really be eating that?” and yet, he’s digging into their hatred with love and kissing every dimple, looking at you with hearts fluttering from his pupils.
“Could touch you forever,” He continues talking through those same heart eyes, as if more to himself than you. “Kiss and love on you, let you cry it out, then do it more.”
You look down at the way his fingers nearly bruise you, and still you don’t wiggle away, especially not when he blinks up at you over and over again, as if there’s so much to look at, and for the first time, it’s okay that there is.
“So, so, fucking pretty–” He mumbles as he watches you think too hard, nuzzling his nose against your hips now, inhaling the way you smell across your legs, down your thighs, right between your legs. So lovely too, having not had any pants on. Ah, perfect.
You’re perfect.
“Jay…” You warn him, your voice croaking at the tears threatening to fall. “I’m not sure if I like th–”
“Sh, cry it out then.” He pauses to look at you, scooting back and now placing both of his hands on your thighs, spreading them out even more. “I already told you. If you want to cry, cry. I’ll make it better.”
“Eventually, you’ll believe me.” He adds in a sultry whisper after a few silent seconds, eyes leaving yours and trailing down, mouth nearly watering at the sight of you like this.
For some reason, you don’t cry. Even when you feel him groping the parts of yourself that you can’t stand, when you feel it dimple and shake at his movements– all you can focus on is how pretty he looks against you. How happy he looks down there as he leans back in to kiss and nibble, as if it’s all he could ever want.
How could you stop him? How can you deny him something he seems to genuinely like enough to touch and kiss? Jay deserves everything in life, even if you’re not someone who can fill his cup and keep him happy. You can…be happy with him right now, at least, right?
Because it’s hard to not feel good when he does it. Being touched on a bad day is something you’ve always dreaded, yet it feels good. It feels better. Like he’s forcing you to let him see every single thing that’s bothering you, proving that sometimes it’s better to stop hiding. No more stressing that he will see you in the wrong lighting, the worst angle, that he somehow didn’t catch on that you aren’t the skinniest girl in the world. He’s seen it all now, and he’s not running. Only his view should matter, and he so desperately needs it to.
“Hm?” He hums from below, assaulting your thighs with kisses as you watch him retract one hand and grab himself between the legs. You can’t tell if he’s just adjusting, or if he’s kneading it, but you don’t really care.
He’s…too hot when he looks like this. God.
It’s like something is shifting. He’s different today than he was on all those other days with you. He was always so handsome, but you only saw him as a man who would grow tired and bored of you. A man who was just out of reach despite him clinging to you. You didn’t cling back, you didn’t want it to hurt when he pried you off of him.
But now? He’s somehow more handsome. More beautiful, more masculine, more of this, and more of that. He’s Jay amplified to the point that he nearly glows in the sunlight from your window. Sharp features leaving little shadows on his cheeks and neck as he does his boyfriendly duties. And maybe you’re just realizing that he genuinely picked you. This isn’t a duty if he doesn’t want it to be at all. Being with you…isn’t a job for him?
If he was tired, today would’ve been the day he left, wouldn’t it? Is it really just natural for him to be like this with you? He’s not leaving. He’s doing everything you never thought anyone would want to do, and he’s beautiful while doing it.
Maybe you are too? At least in his eyes. Maybe, it’s okay to believe him.
“What’re you looking at me for?” He smirks after a long moment and nuzzling all over you.
“You just–” You swallow thickly, feeling your heart thumping against every sensitive spot on your body. “You’re so handsome.”
“Mm,” He hums with a short nod before sinking his head down further, landing his lips over your panties before blinking up at you. “You think so?”
That need for confirmation from you brings floods of comfort, knowing that Jay has insecurities too and sets them aside if it means he gets to believe you and what you think of him. Like your opinion on himself matters more than his own.
“I do–” You sigh, feeling his lips ghost over you, his hands holding you so firmly, his eyes still blinking up at you. Fuck.
“Handsome enough to wrap your legs around me?” He questions cheekily, smirking against your clit before pressing his lips down in a harsh kiss against it, feeling the swell of it himself.
He knew you’d have to breathe before giving him the “no” and smiles when it’s exactly what happens.
“N-no-” You groan, body twitching at the slight pressure he offers over your panties.
“No?” He smirks again, pulling his lips back and looking at you. “I’m not handsome enough? You don’t want to do that to me?”
“No!” You retort in slight panic, never wanting Jay to feel bad about himself. “I do!”
He hums a pleasant sound in response, knowing it couldn’t hurt to shoot his shot, hoping that one day you really will stop being so afraid to smother him. He wants that. He wants to feel your thighs press against his ears as your legs pull his mouth ever closer to–
“Someday, though?” He whines over his fantasy, now using one hand to toy with your panties, slowly pulling them to the side.
You nod with a shiver, blinking down at him as he awaits the answer he wants to hear. It’s the way you know that’s what he wants too, the way you don’t doubt him in this moment.
He smiles at your nod before darting his eyes back down, seeing the swell of your clit and feeling like he’s making it through to you at this point. You’re wet, you’ve been wet, you’re letting him, you want it.
Even on a bad day, you want it.
So, he’s not going to sit here and fuck around. No more playing, teasing, or expecting you to say things out loud. He doesn’t want to push his luck, anyway. He goes straight into it too, barely kitten-licking against your clit as he holds your panties to the side, glancing up at you just to get a good look at his beautiful girlfriend before he closes his eyes entirely, and focuses.
He’ll be damned if he doesn’t have you screaming for him, asking for more. He’d be so fucking happy if you even just…thrusted up a bit, chasing his tongue, losing yourself even for a moment in the pleasure where you’re not overthinking what your body is doing.
Jay is dead set on that, actually. Licking hard and fast against your clit in all sorts of directions. Swirling it around, drooling warm saliva all over you, flicking, sucking, then moving lower to lick long, languid stripes up and down to clean you up. Repeat, repeat, repeat, until finally, you’re making sounds.
Cute little sounds that he knows probably embarrasses you even more, but he eats them up. He presses his tongue harder, grips your leg tighter, nearly rips the panties from you as a whole over how turned on he is by the sound and taste of you.
And then, he pulls back just for a moment to glance up.
“Fuck–” He whispers to himself out of breath, seeing the way you’re chewing on your bottom lip and gripping onto your shirt as if to pull it over your own stomach. You’re so hot, so, so fucking sexy to him. “My hair, grab it.”
It’s a ploy so he can busy your hands and, well, get your shirt back up. He wants to see you, all of you, and– well, he’s into the whole hair pulling thing.
Jay really, though, really loves the idea of you showing him exactly where you want it. Even now, after so long together, you’ve very rarely asked or indicated what you want.
He’s actually shocked that you do it. With a bit of guidance anyway, as he lifts slightly to grab your hand in his, placing it in his hair, and the other trapping your hand under his and pushing your shirt up as he moans all the while.
Then, he’s back at it, one hand pulling your panties out of the way, the other hand flat on your belly, and you’re lying here exposed, watching him ravish you as if no weight on your body could stop him. It’s arguable that he doesn’t care at all about the insecure aspect of yourself. He’ll ignore your self hate if he could, but you don’t let him. You make it so loud.
Jay is louder though, and he makes damn sure of it as he re-adjusts as he continues to lick and suck against you. He loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and really, really loves the way your fingers grip harder when he does that thing.
So he keeps doing it. Slurping your clit into his mouth before practically making out with it. Full open mouth on you, licking hard, with purpose, then moaning a little vibration to help push you further into that pleasure.
And oh, there it is. That grip in his hair tightens, he feels you slightly press his face harder and all he can manage is a small “mhm,” against you to encourage more. He’s losing you to the pleasure, which is the exact fucking goal here.
You deserve this, to feel good without worry.
He could do this all day if you’d let him too. Arguably, he almost thinks you would if it weren’t for the fact that he feels the grip in his hair loosen and your legs shaking around him.
He pulls back again to check on you, noting the darkened look in your eye. He thought you were about to ask him to stop, saying that it’s too much, but no. This is…better.
You, for some reason, felt something in your brain shift through all of this. He’s kind of being forceful. Making you let him see everything, wanting you to put in some work too, and you’re into it. Weirdly, you’re very into it right now that the words come out easy.
Well, kind of. You can’t really think straight right now.
“Jay–” Your voice shakes as you look down at him, the wet on his chin and lips shining in the light as he looks at you with concern. “Please.”
Then, a smile from him before he’s licking his lips and crawling up and over you.
“Aw,” He coos, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking directly into your eyes. “You want more now?”
You nod with glassy eyes, looking up at him like a docile pet, very animalistic both internally and externally. Like nothing exists outside of you aside from him, a very willing boyfriend to give you what you want.
He likes it. Loves it, really, with the way you’re being so vulnerable now. He’ll take care of you always.
“What do you want, baby?”
You blink up again. Suddenly feeling, not insecure, but shy. He doesn’t expect you to answer though, solidifying the understanding part of his personality in your mind. He, instead, grabs your hand and drags it down his own body, right to his cock.
“This?”
You moan in response, entirely accidental but, it still happened. His smile at that is something to die for too. Really, really handsome with his sharp features as he presses himself into your palm, urging you to squeeze.
“Really?” He puts emphasis on reassurance, confirmation. “You sure you’re feeling up for it?”
And god, you know if you were a normal person, and he had a normal girlfriend, he probably would have to ask for a confirmation after already being begged to do something, yet here he is.
“Please,” You smile in your shy bliss when you say it, feeling how hard he is and how wet he’s made you dripping between your legs.
He nods, leaning down for one more kiss before trailing your hand up to his zipper, allowing you to be the one to take it out. And you do, unzipping his pants and now using both hands to undo his button.
He watches you do it, utterly in love with the way your shirt stays above your collar bone, and your stomach folds as you lean up to do it for him. He stands up tall on his knees to let you, admiring the view from above before he feels your cold hands slide his pants down and grip him right where he needs it most.
You finally glance up at him now, noting the way he’s looking at you without a hint of disgust. God, you really like Jay. You really, really, might even love him. Which is scary, but weirdly welcomed right now. He’s in love with you, right? To be looking at you like this? To be so hard, leaking all over himself at the sight of you, the taste of you?
“Oh, you’re so pretty.” He sighs, watching your face, scanning your body, and then moving his eyes to where your hand holds his cock in place. “Lay back.”
You listen solely because of his softened voice. You lay yourself back against your pillows, suddenly feeling a bit better in your skin when his cock twitches at the view. Still half clothed, whatever, he uses his knees to pry your legs open again as he grips himself now.
“Baby–” He pauses for a moment, still gripping himself but only looking at your face now. “Can we– um,” He trails off now, looking away and feeling a bit shy himself now.
You tilt your head so fucking cutely at him that he nearly dies on the spot. God, fuck, how did he manage to be your boyfriend? You’re lying here like this for him, because of him. He’s slightly obsessed, and so badly he wishes you knew. Then, you let out the smallest “What is it?” and his brain malfunctions before he’s throwing himself forward on you, leaving one hand between you to aggressively shove your panties back to the side.
Lips just inches from you, he’s already bumping the head of his cock against your hole, trying to pry it inside without the conversation needed. And to be fair, he can’t really help it. You just look so pretty, you’re acting so cute, he’s so…so in love with you. He’d stop if you told him to.
He’d get on his knees and beg you for forgiveness. Yet, still, he has to ask before he goes any further. So, he tries to control it, leaving the head of his cock right there, as if your pussy isn’t begging for it–
“Please, can I just do it?” He groans, one arm shaking as he tries to hold himself up. “Please let me, just this once.”
It takes you a moment or two to comprehend what he’s asking and…oh. You…forgot? You didn’t even think about it. And the fact that he’s asking–
You nod shyly, well aware that you’ve taken your birth control religiously anyway.
“Oh, fuck–” Jay groans deeply into your ear as he drops back down, instantly sliding his full length into you, raw. The slide is overwhelming for him, surely it’s a lot for you too.
No matter how many times the two of you have had sex, it’s always different without a condom. And this is the first time he’s felt you like this. Both of you always responsible, always so fucking careful with each other.
You mimic his sounds at the thickness opening you up. It’s hard to adjust when he’s already so deep inside, and you can’t help but squeeze around him with pained little groan. He kisses you through it too, mumbling little words of “thank you, baby, fuck, mmf, you’re so–” before he slides out again.
All the way, he slides out all the way before pushing back in again without stopping. Wanting to feel all of it, wanting you to feel all of it too. And he still groans into your mouth, losing himself alongside you with how tightly you’re gripping him even through the wet seeping out of you.
It’s like he forgot how to use words in this moment, which is fine, given the situation. He’s never been good with words anyway, clearly. And hearing you moan with him, feeling you kiss him harder, your legs wrapping around him as if to shove him in deeper– it’s all he needs.
“Yeah,” He manages to whisper in a deep breath, still pulling out entirely before pushing back in. “Fuck– y-yeah, like this?” He pulls back and looks at you.
“Yeah–” You parrot him, pussy still quivering around him to the point it’s all he can feel right now, and it drives him to shorten his thrusts.
No longer pulling all the way out, but now just to where his tip is inside of you, then pushing in again, and again, and again.
You make little sounds each time he bottoms out, and he can feel the way your warm belly flutters under him. It’s so much, so perfect, everything he could ever want. He wants to see it, all of you, the entirety of you take him so well, loving him the way he’s always wanted, letting him love you back.
So, he pulls up now, leaning back and holding your thighs open as he stares down at where his cock, now more quickly, slams into you. The view of your body from this angle drives him to do it harder, harder, watching your whole body move with the act and goddamn– how could you not find yourself sexy?
“I’m already so fucking close,” he seethes to himself, eyes zoning in on your stomach. Because from here, he can see your face in his peripheral as well as his cock sliding in and out and it’s just, “perfect—god.”
You’ve already lost feeling in your toes at the pleasure as he talks away above you. You’ve only just adjusted to his size and you can’t even focus on covering your body because he seems so lost in a daze at it. Like he really is going to cum right now, regardless of how hard or fast he’s fucking you, regardless of if he had a condom or not. He’s…so focused on you.
You can feel your weight shifting with each thrust, but somehow it just feels better and better as you feel his hand unhook from your panties and shoot to your clit, rubbing it relentlessly. You stare up at his now pleading eyes.
“Need you to cum first–” He whines, flexing his body as if to hold off. “Please, baby, are you close?”
Well, you are now.
Maybe it’s something about him losing himself, or maybe it’s the way he’s rubbing circles around your clit threatening an orgasm whether you want it or not. You can barely answer before he feels it.
Your body tries to push him out at the tight squeeze of muscles, but he points his thrusts in you much harder, watching your face and focusing entirely on what you look like when he’s giving you what you need.
Usually, you hide your face, usually, you don’t let him sit up like this to really see you. Now? You’re not hiding your face. Even if both of you are still partially clothed, this is the most natural state he’s ever seen you and in, god, you squeeze so tight, you get so wet–
“Ah-” He groans in surprise as he stares at you and the way your eyes squeeze shut, with your mouth hung open through your orgasm. “Ahhh–” He bellows out as he feels his own release pumping into you so deeply.
He shoves his hips forward even more, almost shoving you entirely up the bed in one single thrust because, let’s be honest, weight is never an issue. He can and will shove you up this bed with his cock alone just to reach deeper.
You feel it, so deep inside of you that it almost hurts as you come down from your orgasm. But god, the way his hands grab at you, squeezing your flesh as he pumps ropes into you, practically drooling as he falls forward against your neck and continues his panting and groaning.
In all fairness, he’s never wanted to cum in a girl more. Raw or not, the fact that it’s you just, means something to him. You let him see, let him feel, finally, you let him, and it makes the orgasm last longer.
Makes it feel better.
So good that his ears pop and his entire body twitches on top of you as he finally comes down.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“I’m supposed to be doing this for you, you know?” Jay pouts as he lays spread eagle on your beg, feeling you drab against his skin with a warm towel.
“Hmm.” You mostly let his argument fly through one ear and out the other.
“Hey, are you listening?” He grabs your hand to stop the pampering before pulling you down on him.
You try to get off of him instantly on instinct, but he knew you would. He holds you tightly, not letting you move even an inch off of him before he can finally feel you relax.
“Really, why are you the one spoiling me right now?” He asks in a softer voice, much less whiny.
“Jay,” You whisper against him, hiding your face in his neck. “You literally stood up and got light headed–”
He hums in disapproval.
“Still, I wanted to be the one–”
“Sh,” You hush him with a lighter voice than what you had when he came over. “We can shower in a minute. You needed to rest after–”
“Pfft,” He blows his hair up and out of his face with a short breath. “I’m bothered that you weren’t the one getting light headed, why don’t you need rest?”
You pause, dumbfounded as you pull yourself from his grip and stare right at him.
“Jay. My legs are literally still shaking.”
And with a small sound of approval, your boyfriend looks proud, not just of what he did to you, but to be with you.
SYNOPSIS: With the annual Winter Gala just around the corner, it's a must for students to bring a plus one for the event. It's also the chance for heirs, influencers and future CEOS to make headlines and names for themselves. When a scandaulous rumor erupts, involving Riki's involvement (possibly him being involved with a rival school’s heiress), his image and the Dance Club's sponsorship, is at risk. The Student Council threatens to pull funding unless he clears his name. To save himself, Riki approached you with an outrageous deal: "Pretend to be my girlfriend. We hate one another, right? So this'll be easy." You agreed nonetheless, due to personal reasons. However, things didn't go as planned and you're starting to realise this might be a bad idea. Or was it?
CONTENT: rich kids x fake dating au, college au, dancer! 西村力 x fem! reader, enemies to lovers, reader has family and personal issues, angst, hurt with comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, misconceptions of one another, lots of plot, happy ending, lmk if i miss anything else. wc: 30.6k.
NOTE: i finally finished this... would like to give a special shoutout to @zerocoded and @jun2ki and to everyone in discord server for giving me endless support and some feedback during the progress of writing this fic. i have to say; this is my favorite fic to write and i really like how this turned out. comments and reblogs are appreciated and i hope you enjoy >< tip: i would suggest listening to take my half - beomgyu as this song help me to set the mood for their angst parts (not sorry)
Thud, thud.
The sound of your Mary Jane heels echoed down the polished, marbled corridor of the east wing, your clipboard tucked under your arm. Decelis Academy’s emblem shines proudly on your blazer. Being the president of the student council means a huge responsibility is thrown onto your shoulders, whether you liked it or not.
It also means you’re the face of the academy and you are not allowed to fail or make a mistake, no matter what. Both the principal and teachers put their faith in you. They knew you’re the only one who is capable of running the position and you didn’t want to let them down.
You rounded the corner toward the performance arts hallway, fully prepared to handle whatever minor dress code infractions you might find—untucked shirts, missing pins and loose tins. Nothing unusual. You could get this done even with your eyes closed. Even when you’re prepared like you’re about to head to war, you didn’t expect to see him.
Leaning casually against the opened studio doors with music coming from the studio, Nishimura Riki stood surrounded by a group of dancers. Laughter spilled from their mouths as if the world belonged to them. He stood out the most, due to his height and thanks to that, you were granted a clear view of his lips curled upward, eyes twinkling with amusement at something his friends had said.
“Are you seriously not wearing your uniform again?” You asked sharply, coming to a halt in front of him.
The conversation died instantly. The dancers glanced between the two of you with amused expressions. Riki, in his oversized, graphic black shirt, his tie nowhere to be seen and complete disregard for the rules. He simply looked down at you with that annoyingly lazy smirk. The very smirk that sends girls giggling and into a blushing mess.
Thankfully, you’re not like them.
“Why good morning to you too, President. Fancy weather we’re having today, right? Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
His words earned muffled giggles from the dancers. They zipped their lips when you shot them a cold glare. If looks could kill, some might have dropped dead on the spot. You scowled, taking a step closer. You hated how you had to tilt your head up, mentally cursing him for being so tall when you just reached his shoulders.
“Decelis’ dress code clearly states that full uniforms are required during school hours,” you continued, ignoring the way your fingers itched to slap that smirk off his face. “I’ll change into my uniform if I were you.”
He shrugged. “You can’t expect me to practice in my uniform, can you?”
“I know for sure that your practice starts after school hours and not before.”
Riki arched an eyebrow. “Woah, are you stalking me now? I feel honored, President.”
You exhaled sharply, feeling the familiar twinge of frustration. “You think rules don’t apply to you just because you can spin in the air and land on beat?”
Riki pushed off the wall, leaning down from his waist. “No,” he said, voice low enough for only you to hear, “I think rules are for people who aren’t interesting.”
Behind him, one of his friends let out a low whistle. Another laughed. You forced yourself not to roll your eyes.
“Oh please. You’re not interesting. You’re infuriating. There’s a difference.”
“And yet, you keep showing up to check on me,” he replied easily, reaching out to flick the edge of your clipboard with a finger. “Should I be flattered, or concerned?”
“I’m doing my job, Riki.”
“Sure,” he said, with mock innocence. “Must be exhausting, following me around like this.”
You clenched your jaw. “If you were actually capable of following simple instructions, I wouldn’t have to.”
The tension thickened. A few more students who were walking pass, slowed down just to watch the two of you go at one another’s throats like ferocious dogs. After all, everyone knew that you and Riki hated one another. And it’s not the mild kind of hate. Oh no, this is far more serious. Something that has grown out of control that no one dares to interfere. It’s the kind of hate that consists of eye rolls across the classroom, council-meetings getting interrupted and of course, the infamous “get-him-out-of-my-face” type of hate.
It had been like that since the first year.
You’re the daughter of a perfect, elite family. Riki’s the rich troublemaker who doesn’t seem to give a fuck about the world. He’s simply living his mind carelessly, doing reckless things that often made him gamble with the Grim Reaper, with his life on the line. You, on the other hand, preferred to stick to your schedule and plan. You prefer for things to go your way, for that means you’ll have the highest chance of success.
But, with Riki in your life, that’s easier said than done.
Riki let out a mock sigh, stepping back just a little. “Fine, President. I’ll change into my precious uniform. Wouldn’t want to ruin your little checklist.”
“Good,” you said. “For once, try being decent.”
He grinned. “Decent isn’t fun. You should try breaking a rule sometime.”
And with that, he walked past you, his shoulder brushing yours just enough to be intentional—leaving you fuming, flustered, and five minutes behind schedule.
Again.
~
Bam!
The door slamming against the wall of the council room echoed, startling the living lights of the members inside. All they needed is one look at you to know you had encountered your enemy before they returned to their respective tasks. Scowling, you stormed to your seat and slammed your clipboard and pen down on the desk, causing the things to jump slightly. You closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself as you try to think of anything. Anything that isn’t Nishimura Riki. When you’re calm enough, you plop down on your seat and begin looking through the paperwork that requires your attention.
“So what happened today? Did Mister troublemaker get under your skin again?” An amused voice disrupted your temporary peace.
You didn’t raise your head, focused on reading a report that contains an appeal for a sponsorship. “He wasn’t wearing his school uniform. He told me that he had to come in early for his dance practice. Honestly, does he take me for a fool?” You deadpanned, rubbing the space between your eyes.
The pair of girls standing on your left shared a glance before replying. “You know, maybe Riki’s right. You need to let loose a little.”
Hearing this, your head snapped up to your friends: Ningning and Minju. Ningning comes from an insanely wealthy family. Her father runs a business company while her mother is a fashion designer. Getting into Decelis Academy was smooth sailing for her, thanks to her parents’ background. Minju, on the other hand, is the daughter of a talented neurosurgeon and doctor. She had already planned the rest of her life—following her parents’ footsteps and to top it off, she’s extremely smart too.
“What? Are you even hearing yourselves now?” You let out a humorless chuckle, hands resting on the table, “you’re telling me you’re siding with him?”
Ningning pursed her lips. “No, this isn’t about taking sides. This is about us being worried for you, (Name). You’ve been pushing yourself really hard and everytime we ask you to hang out with us, you always decline it.”
Minju nodded in agreement, chiming in. “Yeah, we get that you have to work on the Winter Gala but that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone,” she paused, stepping closer to place a comforting hand above yours and gave you a warm smile, “we’re here for you. Let us help you, please?”
You sighed, intertwined your fingers with Minju’s and gave it a squeeze. “I’m really sorry, girls but there’s still so many things I need to do.”
Their faces fell. Your heart stung at their reactions but you composed yourself, not wanting to give in. Weakness. That’s what you were taught since young. It’s been ingrained into your mind the moment you were born. You were taught the importance of being a leader. To lead a group of people who will listen to your command, like you’re a sergeant, directing loyal soldiers to the battlefield, ready to risk their lives.
You flashed your friends with what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. When the whole thing’s over, we can hang out, yeah?”
Ningning parted her glossy lips, about to protest but Minju silenced her by elbowing her side. “Alright, but this time, you better not turn us down anymore. Or we’ll resort to kidnapping you,” she threatened and dragged Ningning away without waiting for your response.
Now that you were alone, you returned to your pending task, knowing you’ll be spending the next two to three hours in the student council room.
~
By the time you were done, your shoulders and limbs were stiff. You groaned in pain as you cracked them, standing to stretch yourself. The sun was starting to set, dusting the sky in a beautiful, mesmerizing shade of reddish-orange. You packed your things, locked up the room and headed to the main entrance, where your driver was waiting for you. However, you had to walk past the dance studios on your way out—which means there’s a chance of you bumping into Riki again.
As you got closer and closer, the music got louder. You knew you shouldn’t stop to peek inside as your parents are waiting for you at home. But curiosity got the better of you. You ended up stopping by the doors, able to look inside through the small gap. From where you stood, you were given a glimpse of Riki in the middle, leading the dancers as they observed their movements in the mirror before them. The music was a mix of hip-hop and rock. Something that suits Riki well.
What the? Why am I thinking of that?
You blinked, shaking your head to get rid of the thought. You were captivated by how Riki moved his limbs like water, smooth and fluid without missing a single beat. You knew he’s a talented dancer but you didn’t expect him to be this talented. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, Riki being oblivious to your presence until your phone rang, blowing your cover.
Ring, ring! Ring, ring!
“Shit,” you're cursed, frantically whipping your phone out to silence it.
But it was too late.
“Well well well, what do we have here? Miss President watching us through the door after school hours,” Riki’s annoyingly smug voice pierced through the silence as he walked out of the studio, standing directly in front of you like he’s blessing you with his mere presence.
You managed to decline the call but the damage was already done. Not wanting to show your pride was hurt, you stood your ground and tilted your chin to look him right in the eyes. “What do you want, Riki?”
The infamous troublemaker arched an eyebrow. “What do I want? How about you tell me why you were standing here? Shouldn’t you be heading home to your mansion and playing princess with your precious friends?” He sneered and if you listened closely, you could hear disdain in his voice.
“I was about to head home and I had to walk past the studio to reach the main entrance. Don’t let it get to your head,” you retorted, tightening your grip around the strap of your bag.
Riki stepped closer, giving you a faint whiff of his cologne—something woody mixed with vanilla. “Is that so? Run along then, President.”
You scowled, resisting the tempting urge to punch him in the face and stormed off, ignoring how his laughter echoed through the silent hallway. A black limousine was waiting for you when you reached the main entrance, with a man wearing a suit and a pair of sunglasses. He didn’t say anything, opening the backdoor for you with a respectful bow as you got in and closed the door, heading to the driver’s seat and drove off.
The ride back home was silent—the calm before the storm. Even if the moment was short, you were able to get your desired peace and quiet before you reached home.
The air felt suffocating the moment you stepped foot into the mansion. Both maids and butlers bowed when you entered but you paid them no mind. The head butler of the family: Ong Daesung, greeted you as you stopped before him. He bowed, one arm in front and the other neatly folded behind his back.
“Welcome back, Miss. Sir and Ma’am are waiting for you in the dining room. Please, follow me,” he said, not straightening himself until he was granted permission to do so.
You sighed, having foreseen this. “..Fine, lead the way then.”
“As you order, Miss.”
Daesung straightened himself and led you to the dining room. Your bag was handed to one of the maids, who brought it to your room at your request. The duration it takes from the main sector of the mansion to the dining room takes you about ten minutes, due to your home being built on a private plot of land. You have everything and anything a person could dream of. When Ningning and Minju first came over, they nearly fainted at how insanely rich your family is, despite coming from the same lineage as yours.
Knock knock.
“Sir, I’ve brought her as you requested,” Daesung announced after knocking on a pair of closed, pristine white doors.
“Good, let her in and leave us alone,” your father’s muffled voice was heard from the other end. Daesung opened the door, moving aside so you could enter and closed once you were in, his footsteps gradually fading away until you couldn’t hear him anymore.
It’s summer now. The sun glowed behind the tall glass windows, casting gold streaks across the marble floor, but inside—it felt like winter. The air was cold. Not in temperature but in presence. You could feel it instantly: the drop in warmth, the slightest shift in the air, like walking into a room where all the joy had been sucked out. Your fingers instinctively tightened around the hem of your blazer, as if it could shield you from what waited ahead.
At the head of the table sits your father, his posture impeccable. His tailored-made suit is pristine and void of a speck of dust, even in his own home. He didn’t look up at first. He didn’t have to. His very existence commanded control. And beside him sat your mother, dressed in nothing but luxury from head to toe. She’s quiet as always, eyes flickering to you but quickly back to her untouched plate of steak.
You took your seat slowly, wary to avoid dragging the chair too loudly. You didn’t want to break the thin, invisible thread that’s holding the room together.
“So,” your father finally said, tone sharp enough to slice through a frozen slab of butter. “You were late.”
No greeting. No ‘how was your day’. Just judgment, cold and clean. Straight to the point.
“I had student council duties,” you replied evenly, trying to steady your voice. Trying not to show any form of weaknesses. “There was a delay with the new event approvals.”
He hummed. But to you, it sounded more like disapproval dressed in faux politeness.
“Then tell me; why did you decline my phone call?” He continued and your heart dropped.
The air grew colder and for a moment, you swore it’s winter. Still, you held your ground. You didn’t cower, no matter how much your brain was telling you to run.
Run. Run away and never look back.
“I was in the ladies when you called. That’s why I decline it,” you replied, easily lying through your teeth.
Your father chose that moment to look up, unblinking eyes locked onto your face—like you’re a target he’s aiming to shoot. To kill. You didn’t dare to move. Not even breathing. He blinked and looked back down at his half-eaten steak, knife and fork held separately in both hands.
“..I see. I hope you aren’t involving yourself in unnecessary distractions. Your recent grades are not up to standards, especially your Economics. You could’ve gotten a ninety-eight, instead of a ninety.”
You swallowed dryly, curling your hands into fists with your nails digging into the skin of your palms. Beneath the table was considered your safe space in the dining room. Underneath it, you could fidget with your fingers, play with the hem of your skirt and tighten them into fists. Anything to distract or ground yourself. To hold back from showing emotions.
“I’m sorry, I’ll work harder,” you apologized, bowing until your face was hidden from his view.
“Sorry doesn’t mean anything. You’re not like the other students. You don’t have the luxury of mediocrity.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. You have done everything you could—getting the highest marks in your class and cohort, being the head of your year and your latest achievement will be being the President of the Student Council. But it was never enough. Not for him.
Because your father didn’t want a daughter. No, he wanted a successor. A perfect heir. He wants someone to continue his legacy, molding you into a capable CEO and tossing you into a future and a life you want no part of. You didn’t want to spend your life sitting by your desk, attending meetings after meetings and talking to potential business partners.
No, you’ve already had your life planned out. You want to stand in a courtroom, wearing the robes as you passionately defend your client while laying out the evidence you had collected. Your dream is to become a lawyer. You weren’t sure when or how it started but you just knew it.
After what felt like forever, dinner was over and you immediately retreated to the comfort and privacy of your room. Your safe haven. A place where you don’t feel suffocated with every movement of yours being watched like a hawk. Changing out of your uniform, you stepped into the joint bathroom to take a much-needed bath, forgoing the idea of showering as you want to soak in the lukewarm water—a temporary sweet escape from reality.
You got in once the bath bomb had completely dissolved, your body disappearing until only your shoulders, neck and face were visible. Your hair is now soaked, sticking to your drenched skin. Leaning back until your head’s resting against the tiled wall behind you, you stared ahead of you, gradually getting lost in your thoughts. To the public, you’re seen as the ideal student, the role model your juniors should be following and of course, the President of the Student Council. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you rested your chin on your arms, ignoring the way goosebumps formed on your skin.
You did everything you could—pushing yourself over the limit, pulling countless all-nighters and sometimes, forging to take your meals, just so you could get the perfect grades. But no matter how hard you tried, it wasn’t enough for your father. No, it will never be enough for him. His insanely high expectations for you will make anyone faint out of pure horror and disbelief. Sighing and now no longer in the mood to continue bathing, you got out and wrapped yourself in a towel, stepping out of the bathroom.
It took you a span of five minutes to get dressed in comfortable clothes before you sat by your desk, pulling out your study materials and slipping on your glasses.
“Guess it’s time to burn the midnight oil,” you muttered and plunged in without hesitation.
~
Riki didn’t bother announcing his return, carelessly kicking off his shoes and leaving them by the side. He didn’t even bother arranging them neatly. His bag slung off his left shoulder, nearly slipping off but he managed to readjust it in the nick of time.
Ahem.
They paused, looking forward to seeing their mother glaring down at them from where she stood—the top of the stairs that led to the second floor. She was dressed in a black tight dress that perfectly hugged her body, showing off the curves in the right places. Her hair was pinned in a tight bun, face still covered in make-up—a sign that she had just reached home from her photoshoot of the day.
“Ni-Ki, stop messing around. You’re an adult now,” she reprimanded.
Riki made a show of rolling his eyes, readjusting the strap of his bag and rocked back and forth on the spot.. “Sorry, mother. It won’t happen again.”
The older woman snorted at the evident sarcasm in his voice, climbing down the flight of stairs until she reached the first floor, now standing before him. “You’re the future for the Nishimura Family. When will you wake up and realise that?”
Riki scowled, face hardening. “I’ve told you plenty of times: I don’t want to be a model. I want to be a dancer. That’s my dream.”
“Well, your dream is ambitious! Just because you’re the leader of that silly little dance club doesn’t mean you’ll be a dancer,” she lets out an exasperated sigh, frustrated with her son’s stubbornness.
No matter how many times he had heard it, it still hurts. His heart ached. His jaw tightened and his fists clenched, shoulders borderline trembling as he silently seethed in rage. He was so close to snapping but he held himself back, not wanting to engage in a pointless argument. The woman pursed her lips in a thin line, eyes unable to hide the disappointment. After all, that’s what Nishimura Ni-Ki is to his family—a disappointment, a disgrace for not wanting to continue their legacy.
As always, Riki’s the first to withdraw from their countless arguments. He knew there’s no point in convincing her to change her mind. Once she has something set in stone, it’s futile trying to talk some sense to her.
He scoffed, walking around her to climb up the flight of stairs. “Forget it, you’ll never listen to me. Never.”
“Nishimura Ni-Ki, don’t walk away from me. We’re not done with this conversation,” she called out, furious.
“You’re not done but I am,” he retorted, not turning to face her and heading to his room, purposely slamming the door shut so it echoed throughout their home.
With a heavy sigh, he tossed his bag aside and face-planted into his bed. He pulled out his phone, rolling onto his back to scroll through the countless notifications he received. There were more than a hundred text messages from a group chat he and his friends were in along with some social media notifications as well. He ignores them all, closing his phone and staring at the ceiling.
Ring, ring! Ring, ring!
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled, annoyed with how he couldn’t get some peace and quiet to himself. One look glanced at the screen tells him it was one of his friends—Sim Jaeyun.
“Hello? If you’re gonna ask me to go to another party, I’ll block you,” he deadpanned.
“What? No, dude. I’m not calling you because of that. Check the gossip’s Twitter account now,” Jake replied.
“Why?” Riki asked, pushing himself up.
“Just check it. It’s better if you see it yourself.”
He frowned at the vague response but before he could say anything, Jake had hung up—much to his disbelief. Riki ended up checking Decelis’ Academy Twitter account, scrolling down and what he saw on the latest tweet made his heart drop.
“What the fuck!?”
~
It was another regular day in school, with you attending classes after classes and staying behind to work on the Winter Gala. Well, it was supposed to be a regular day but turns out life has some surprises in store for you. The biggest surprise comes in the form of a certain troublemaker barging into the Student Council room during lunchtime. You paused, looking up mid-chew and you’re unable to hold back the annoyed sigh that left your lips at the sight of him.
“Riki, what do you want now? Here to stir trouble?” You asked, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed with your half-eaten bowl of noodles placed in front of you.
“...I need your help,” he said, looking everywhere else but you. And that’s when you know something’s wrong.
Unlike his usual flamboyant, smug and charismatic self, the Riki in front of you is nervous. He shuffled his shoes on the spot, gnawing on his bottom lip and fiddling with the hem of his leather jacket. Your curiosity and interest was piqued, for you’ve never seen him like this before. Not even once. Not wanting to plunge in without gathering more clues, you decide to lay out the first bait, waiting to see if he’ll bite or flee.
“You look nervous. Did something happen?” You politely asked, unable to hide your faint curiosity and if he heard it, he didn’t do anything to acknowledge it.
Riki ran a hand through his blonde hair, approaching you until he was standing on the other side of your desk. Now that he’s closer, you could tell he was filled with nothing but nervousness. “Have you opened Twitter today?”
You blinked. “Not yet. Why?”
He didn’t verbally explain, choosing to pull out his phone and show it to you instead. You had to lean forward to get a look at the screen:
It was a tweet from @DecelisInsider, the academy’s anonymous but widely followed gossip account. At the top was a blurry photo of Riki and a female student who you recognized—Hana, taken outside the dance studio late at night. To make matters worse, there was the caption:
BREAKING: Looks like Decelis’ Golden Boy isn’t so golden after all. Sources say Nishimura Riki and Hana Bae (yes, that Hana) were caught in a ‘compromising’ situation after hours… More at 6. #DecelisScandal #DanceClubDisaster
Beneath the tweet, there were thousands of likes and dozens of retweets. You didn’t bother clicking on the quote tweets, knowing there are all kinds of reactions—people gossiping, dragging his name, speculating on what happened behind those closed doors and the list goes on.
You looked up at him slowly. “Is this real?”
Riki scoffed, visibly pissed. “Of course not. Someone took that picture at the worst fucking moment. It’s not what it looks like. We bumped into one another and that’s it.”
“You do know she has a huge crush on you, right? And what, now everyone thinks you’re… hooking up with her in the dance room?” You pointed out.
His jaw tightened. “Yeah. And now people are saying I bribed a staff member to unlock the studio for me after hours. They’re also talking about how I’m using Hana to get sponsorship favors.”
You grimaced at that. “Yikes, this isn’t looking too good for you.”
“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Thanks for pointing that out,” he snapped, only realizing what he said and forced his voice to soften, “I’ve already been told if this escalates further, the funders will pull out. Which means the dance club won’t be able to perform for the competition. And I can’t let that happen. Not because of this stupid, baseless rumor.”
You couldn’t help but flinch at the pure, raw anger in his voice that seemed to take over when he practically spat them out, like they’re venom to him. “Alright, then what do you plan to do? Surely you came here with a solution, right?”
Instead of looking smug, Riki looks way more nervous than he already was—a feat you weren’t sure that’s possible for someone like him. Someone who’s fearless and likes to put his life on the line.
“I need you to be my girlfriend. Fake girlfriend.”
Silence.
“What?” You gaped at him, dumbfounded. Your crossed arms loosened slightly.
Riki ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair, looking stressed and more importantly: uncertain. “Look, this is the only solution I can think of. And, you’re the perfect person for this. Please?”
At this point, he was getting desperate. You crossed your arms, eyes focused on him. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere. And what do you mean by me being the perfect person for this?”
Riki scratched the back of his neck. “It helps by getting her off my back and… you get to stop the rumors that you’re too cold to date anyone.
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
He winced. “People love to gossip about you and me. If we date, it’s a win-win situation. You get to prove that you're not some emotionless council robot, and I get to fix my image before the sponsors pull out.”
You stared at him, stunned. “So, let me get this straight. You’re asking me to be your fake girlfriend to clean up your mess and patch my reputation at the same time?”
Riki hesitated before nodding. “Basically… yes.”
The silence stretched.
Riki’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “You hate me, right? So, you’re not gonna fall for me. And I definitely won’t fall for you. That makes us perfect for this.”
You wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. You wanted to mock him, taunt him about how he had shoved his pride aside to beg you for help. But the longer you looked at him, the more you could see a boy, desperate for your help. He wasn’t the annoying, smug and loud Riki anymore.
You purse your lips. “...Fine, we’ll do this fake boyfriend girlfriend thing.”
Riki’s face lit up like a light bulb, flashing you a boyish grin. A grin that suits him shockingly well. Well enough to make your heart flutter. “Great! Looking forward to working with you, girlfriend.”
“You’re pissing me off.”
“Ouch, what a romantic person you are.”
News of your relationship spread like wildfire across the entire student body. As you expected, there were a mixture of reactions. Some were dumbfounded. Some were furious that their dream, ideal boyfriend was snatched away by you. Some, on the other hand, didn’t bat an eye and simply minded their business. You wished everyone could be like them but that was just a stupid, unrealistic dream.
Everywhere you went, there were whispers, unsubtle cameras aimed at your direction as they zoomed in on the most crucial part—you holding hands with Riki.
At first, you had slapped his hand away when he grabbed yours without warning, eliciting an amused snort from him. “Woah, relax. I’m not trying to hurt you or something. If we want to pull this off, we have to hold hands in front of everyone.”
“Over my dead body,” you retorted, quickening your pace as you walked through the main entrance, now entering the academy’s grounds. Much to your annoyance, Riki was able to catch up to you easily—one of the perks of being tall.
“C’mon, don’t be like that, babe,” he called out and the sudden usage of the petname made you halt.
“Babe?” You turned around, flashing him an incredulous look, acting as if he had spoken in a different language.
“Yes darling?” Riki beamed down at you, flashing you his signature charming, blinding smile. It’s the type of smile that could make any girl swoon and trip over their feet. Any girl except you.
“You’re so weird. Why did I even agree to this?” You sighed, rubbing the space between your eyes, reluctantly letting him hold your hand.
You ignore how his hand was larger and warmer than yours, the way his calloused fingertips felt against your knuckles. Now, the two of you entered the hallway that’s filled to the brim with students, who paused with whatever they were doing at the sight of you. Among the sea of faces, you were able to spot Ningning and Minju, who were as equally stunned as the others. Ningning’s eyes rapidly darted between you and Riki, mouthing the words to you from where she stood.
“Since when?” She asked.
You shrugged your shoulders, not giving her a solid answer and she scowled. “Tell us the details during lunch.”
You could only nod your head before you were dragged away by Riki. You ended up in the area where your classes are normally held but the same can’t be applied to him.
“Wait, Riki, why did you bring me here?” You asked, finally coming to a stop.
“Why? Is it wrong for me to walk my girlfriend to class now?” He replied with his own question, turning to face you with an eyebrow raised.
“You didn’t have to.”
He blinked. “But I want to.”
And fuck, the way your breath hitched and the way your heart flutter shouldn’t have happened. However, the sweet, little moment shattered at his next words.
“Besides, I’m doing this to keep the act up and—” He paused mid-sentence when he looked ahead of you.
You were about to turn around, wondering what had made him stop talking, only for him to do something that you didn’t expect. Grabbing your chin with his left hand, he wrapped his right arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. Your eyes widened, mindlessly letting him angle your chin to the right angle and then, he kissed you.
Your world turned upside down, the surroundings blurring out the moment you felt his soft lips pressed against yours. There weren't any actions involved but you weren’t sure if you could even survive that. The way his lips felt against yours was just right. Like he’s the final, missing piece to your puzzle. Riki’s eyes were closed while yours were wide open, hands awkwardly resting by your sides—unsure of what to do with them.
Eventually, he pulled away but he’s still close enough for your breaths to mingle. You couldn’t look away, captivated by the current moment. Riki glanced over your shoulder and straightened himself, playfully ruffling your hair—much to your annoyance.
“Wha—hey! What was that for?” You squawked, ducking your head to avoid his persistent hand.
“Sorry, Hana was there and I had to do something to make her go away,” he replied, unaware of how your heart sank at his words.
Right, of course. He only kissed me because of Hana.
You scolded yourself for being delusional to think there was another meaning for his action. “Right, well now that she’s gone. I’m heading in and you should head for your class, or you’ll be late.”
He nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Mm, see you later.” He casually waved you off, acting as if everything was normal. As if he didn’t just kiss you out of nowhere.
You entered the lecture room, taking your rightful seat while pulling out the required materials. Your cheeks turned red as you touched your lips—fingers hovering against it. You couldn’t stop thinking about how his lips felt against yours.
That… That was my first kiss!
~
While you’re having your first class of the day, Riki too was in the same situation as yours. He sat with his small group of friends at the back of the lecture room. Contrary to what other people may think, Riki does take his studies seriously, even if his dream is to become a dancer. Being a major in business management is a huge contrast to his entire personality. He was in the middle of jotting down notes when Jake nudged his elbow, causing his pen to skid across his notebook, leaving an awkward line behind.
“The fuck?” Riki hissed, glancing at the front to ensure the lecturer wasn’t looking at them.
“Is it true? You’re dating (Name)?” He whispered.
Riki rolled his eyes, facing the front. “Yes, it’s true. Now can you move away? Your bigass head’s blocking my view.”
“Ok, first of all: that’s rude and I’m your hyung. So treat me with some respect,” Jake started nagging at him, the same way with how a mother will nag at her child. Riki simply ignored him.
“Yah, are you even listening to me?”
Sighing, Riki turned to the older and roughly flicked his forehead. His action elicited a dramatic, loud groan that echoed amongst the four walls of the lecture room. The lecturer went silent at the sudden interruption, turning to face them with her eyes narrowed. The students swore they felt the temperature in the room dropped at that moment.
“Sim Jaeyun and Nishimura Ni-Ki, is my lecture boring?” She interrogated the two petrified students.
“N-No, Miss!” They replied in unison, stuttering over their words, gaining some muffled amused snickers from their classmates.
However, their lecturer was not amused. Her eyes hardened and became more narrowed, which wasn’t supposed to be humanely possible. “If I catch the two of you fooling around one more time, you’re out of my class, understood?”
They frantically nodded their heads at lightning speed. “Understood!”
Safe to say, the two of them were on their best behavior for the rest of the lesson. However, that doesn’t mean Riki’s off the hook. When it was lunchtime, Riki planned on heading to the other end of the academy—where your classes are normally held, only to be stopped by someone who is blocking his path. He didn’t even manage to get out of his seat while his friends were waiting by the front door, obviously eavesdropping on his conversation.
Riki sighed, already feeling a headache coming his way. “Hana, what do you want?”
She crossed her arms, lips coated in a bright shade of pink pursed in a thin line. Her manicured nails tapped away on her forearms. “Is it true?”
“What are you talking about?” He sighed for the second time.
Hana scowled, eyes flashing in anger and something else. Something unreadable. Maybe it was disappointment. Maybe it was frustration. Whatever it was, Riki wants nothing to do with her. But he came to a realization early on that no matter how hard he tried to push her away, Hana kept sticking to him. Like an annoying pest.
“Don’t play dumb, Riki! Is it true that you’re dating (Name)?” She raised her voice, her words bouncing off the four walls of the now fairly vacant lecture room.
“So what if it is? What are you gonna do about it?” He deadpanned, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the sight of her surprised face. Riki grabbed his bag, slung it over his left shoulder and walked around her, only to be stopped as she grabbed onto his wrist.
“Let go of me,” he snapped, roughly snatching his hand away from hers.
“I know it’s fake. The two you could barely tolerate breathing in the same air as one another. Do you really think you’re able to outplay me?” Hana smirked, the way he paused didn’t go unnoticed by her sharp eyes.
“I wonder what’ll happen if I tell the funding organization that the Golden Boy of the dance club tried laying his hands on an innocent, vulnerable girl. I can only imagine what’ll happen if they were to find out.”
Riki sees red. He spun around, stomping towards Hana and used his towering height to his full advantage as he loomed over her. “Listen here, you bitch. Just because you’re the daughter of the principal doesn’t mean you can go around causing trouble. I know you’re doing this because you want my attention. But guess what? You’ll never have it, no matter what.”
Hana cowered under his intense, piercing gaze. Her lips pathetically wobbled and she was about to speak but Riki had left the classroom, ignoring his friends who were waiting for him.
“Wha—hey! Where you going!?” Jake called out.
“To find my girlfriend!” Riki shouted, not turning around as he made a sharp turn on his left, teeth grinding down on one another.
~
The moment your class ended and you finished packing your things, Ningning and Minju were quick to jump on you as they bombard you with questions. They dragged you to the cafeteria, managing to find an empty table and forced you to sit.
“Alright, spill. Don’t leave anything out,” Minju demanded, with Ningning eagerly nodding along in agreement.
“What’s there to spill? Riki and I are dating now,” you answered, the words sounding foreign even to you.
“Yeah and pigs can fly,” Ningning retorted, leaning forward slightly like she’s interrogating you for a crime you have committed, “I know you, (Name). You literally hate that guy to the point you can’t stand being near him. And now, you expect me to clap for your relationship like there wasn’t centuries worth of beef between the two of you?”
You have to admit, hearing those words from someone else’s mouth does make your relationship sound even more fake and unbelievable. But, a deal’s a deal and you aren’t the type of person to back out from it, not when both parties have agreed on it. You certainly aren’t the type of person to throw Riki under the bus while pretending it wasn’t your problem either. Hence, you have no choice but to casually shrug your shoulders.
“We talked about it and it turns out it was all just a misunderstanding,” you replied, the words sounding more and more awkward coming from your mouth.
Ningning and Minju shared a confused glance before Minju spoke up. “Alright, blink twice if you’re held hostage by Riki.”
You didn’t blink.
They gasped. “Wait, so you’re not lying?”
“I didn’t say anything about lying,” you pointed out.
“Ugh, you’re right,” Ningning grumbled, lips curling down in a scowl, “well, congrats on your relationship then. He better treat you well or else—”
“Or else what? You gonna punch me in the face or something?” A familiar, amused voice interrupted your conversation.
Looking behind, you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend—fake boyfriend blessing the three of you with his presence. Riki didn’t sit beside you. Instead, he grabbed your bag and gently tugged you out of your seat, careful to not make you tripped. At this point, everyone in the cafeteria had their eyes on you.
“Where are we going?” You asked, stunned.
Riki leaned in, having to lower himself so he could whisper into your ear. To the public, some might assume he’s whispering sweet nothings to you. But that wasn’t the case. You had to ground yourself, goosebumps forming on your skin at how his warm breath grazes against your skin with every word.
“I need to talk to you. It’s about Hana.”
You jerked your head back, eyes widening slightly at the mention of her. Riki nodded, as if he could understand the questions you have in mind. He didn’t give you time to reply, already dragging you out of the cafeteria, leaving your stunned friends behind, watching as your retreating figures get smaller and smaller.
Riki ended up bringing you to the open-aired garden where there weren’t lots of students but it’s safe enough for the two of you to talk, without anyone eavesdropping. He stopped at an empty table with some trees acting as shelter and you sat down, crossing your arms. He immediately dropped the act, releasing his hand from yours as he sat opposite of you.
“She knows.”
“Knows about what?”
“Knows about us, dumbass,” he retorted, ignoring the offended glare you threw at him.
“How? Did you tell her” You questioned him.
Riki shots you an incredulous look, throwing his hands up. “Really? Do you think that low of me? Just because I flirt around doesn’t mean I have a loose mouth.”
Your face burned in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Whatever,” he dismissed your response with a mere flick of his hand, “if you’re wondering, she approached me after class. She said about how she knew our relationship’s fake and how if this continues…” His voice trailed off, his eyes darkening in anger.
“And if this continues?” You repeat his words.
“...She’ll contact the funders and tell them to pull out,” he finished.
Silence.
Your arms dropped, surprise flickered across your face. “Does she even have the powers to do that?”
Riki scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. “She’s the precious, spoiled daughter of the principal here. Of course she can do that. She can do anything and her daddy won’t even bat an eye.”
You cringed at the word ‘daddy’ but didn’t say much. “Well, this is quite serious. We need to do something, to prove that we’re really dating.”
“Didn’t know you like me that much.”
“No, you moron. I’m doing this to save my reputation," you snapped but he merely chuckled.
“Alright, President. What do you have in mind?”
~
As expected, the posts you and Riki uploaded on social media took the Internet by storm. It blew up within the first thirty minutes after it was posted. Heck, even the gossip account had posted something as well:
Your posts blew up to the point that even your family had seen it. To say your father was furious would be an understatement. He didn’t bother announcing his arrival to campus, appearing without warning after school hours. The man headed to the one and only place where you spend most of your time at—the student council room.
BAM!
He barged into the room without knocking, slamming the doors open so hard it smacked against the wall, trembling as it swung forward from the harsh force. You visibly flinched, startled as you were in the middle of working on the Winter Gala. Raising your head, your face turned as white as a ghost at the sight of your father. His jaw tightened, shoulders trembling from poorly restrained anger and for a moment, you swore you saw steam coming out from his ears.
You couldn’t move, muscles going limp at the sight of him standing in the same room as you. You’ve never expected him to be here—in the student council room after school hours. As far as you remembered, this was the first time he had stepped into the academy’s grounds. But it wasn’t for the right reasons.
“Father, I—” You spoke up, rising from your seat but he cut you off.
“Silence. You’ve been fooling around with a boy behind my back?” He said in a slow, unusually steady tone and continued, “I sent you here to succeed, to lead, to represent our name with dignity. Not to fool around with some random, incompetent boy,” he snapped, voice dangerously low.
Your heart dropped. He knew. Or at least, he thought he did. Your father doesn’t know the truth and the lie. That your relationship was nothing but a mere facade. A performance with the two of you being the lead cast and the cohort being the performers. You didn’t want to tell him, which was why you had no choice but to remain silent. But your silence holds a meaning behind it. The meaning that it’s nothing but the solid truth.
“Is this how you repay me for everything I’ve done for you?” He seethed, stepping closer. And closer. Every step he takes means you’re closer to the awaiting arms of death. Of his anger.
“Sarcifies, opportunities—everything handed to you on a silver platter, and you threw it away for some lovey-dovey romance with a delinquent dancer?”
Your hands curled into fists, shoulders trembling like fallen leaves. Your nails dug into the soft flesh of your palms, hard enough to leave indents behind. You wanted to say something. Anything. That it wasn’t what it looked like. That this wasn’t real. Nothing about this is real. And most importantly, that you are still the perfect child he wanted you to be.
But something in your throat locked up. You couldn’t even breathe properly, let alone utter a single word. It’s times like these where you get reminded of the sheer power your father has, just from his presence alone. You have witnessed it firsthand, when you had paid him a visit at his office. The way he commanded the room filled with higher-ups, who had more power than him, was enough to send shivers down your spine. And it wasn’t in a good way.
And then, you saw it.
His hand lifted. It was just an inch or maybe two. You weren’t sure.
But it’s enough to make your instincts spike in fear. But he didn’t manage to take another step closer.
“Hey.”
Riki’s voice cut through the thick tension like a sharpened blade. He strode into the council room without hesitation, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. It was replaced with a serious look—a look you rarely see in him. He grabbed your father’s wrist—firmly, but without aggression—and boldly locked eyes with him. You could see your father struggling to free himself but it was futile. Riki’s strength easily overwhelms him and he merely tightens his grip around his wrist, tight enough to earn a pained hiss from your father.
“I don’t care who you think you are,” he said, voice laced with steel, “but you don’t get to touch her. Not on my watch.”
Your father froze, his gaze snapping to Riki in disbelief.
“She’s doing everything she can to make you proud. She’s working harder than anyone in this goddamn school, to earn your acknowledgement and attention. So, if you have a problem with her not being a machine, then the problem’s on you. Not her.”
You stared at Riki, taken aback with what he said. No one has talked back to your father before. Not like this. Not your mother and not even you. The room was filled with tense silence. It was so quiet that for a moment, you feared they might be able to hear your heartbeat.
“Tch.”
Your father yanked his arm out of Riki’s grip, his face red with fury with veins protruding from his forehead. But he said nothing. He merely turned, straightened his jacket and walked out, not sparing you a second glance. The moment he was gone, your knees wobbled. Your strength has left your body. You collapsed to the chair behind you, hands trembling violently as you gripped the edge of the desk like it was your final lifeline.
Riki didn’t say anything. His eyes remained fixated on you, observing you.
And just like that, the final dam broke.
Your chest heaved as a choked sob escaped your throat, and once it started, you couldn’t stop it. The tears came hard and fast, blurring everything in front of you as you buried your face in your hands.
“I-I hate him,” you gasped out between sobs. “I hate how he looks at me like I’m never enough… like I’m always one step away from being a disappointment.”
Riki knelt beside you slowly, careful, like approaching a wounded animal.
“He doesn’t see how hard I try,” you cried. “He never does. I’m breaking myself to fit into this mold he made for me and it’s still not enough. Nothing is ever enough.”
Your voice cracked at the end, bottom lip quivering with warm, fat and salty tears rolling down your cheeks. Your breathing grew shallow and uneven, as you struggled to breathe. And then, you felt it—Riki’s warm, large hand covering yours.
You looked up at him with your red, swollen and teary eyes. He didn’t flinch at the sight nor did he pull away from you. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“But, this isn’t…me. I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m being we—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he interrupted you, voice laced with firmness, “showing emotions doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human and humans feel things. They laugh when they find something funny. They cry when they are upset. It’s these emotions that make humans… well, humans.”
He paused, looking at you with gentleness. The sight was enough to make your breath hitch. You’ve never seen him like this before. Relaxed and at peace. Something you’ve never thought the reckless and impulsive Riki will be.
“That’s why I told you that you need to break a rule here and there.”
His words managed to crack a weak smile and a watery choke from you. “I don’t think that applies here but sure,” you croaked out, wiping your tears away as you sniffled, the sound seemingly loud in the quiet council room.
Riki chuckled, withdrawing his hand from yours and stood up, straightening himself. You weren’t sure why but your hand twitched, tempted to grab his hand but you stopped, not wanting to make a fool of yourself. “Well, I guess that’s that then. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about what happened.”
Your shoulders sagged with relief. “Thanks, Riki. You know, maybe I’ve misjudged you.”
“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow expectantly.
Your face flushed red when you realized what you had said. “I-I mean, you’re not a bad person! I’ve always assumed you’re someone who…”
“Go on.”
At this rate, it’s pointless trying to back out and you rush through the remaining words at breakneck speed, speaking without pausing or breathing. “I’ve always assumed you’re someone who doesn’t care about the rules, living your own life while being true to yourself. And I’m jealous of you.”
Riki stares at you, shocked to hear that. You swore you saw something flickered in his eyes but it was gone when he blinked. And he was back to himself, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You? Jealous of me? I doubt so, President. I mean, you’re…you and I’m just me. There’s nothing to be jealous of, really.”
If you strained your ears, you’ll be able to hear the faint self-loath in his words. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something but you paused. What could you possibly say in these kinds of situations, to make the other party feel better? You aren’t someone who’s great at comforting people with words in the first place. You’ve learnt the way of bottling up your feelings rather than talking to someone about it. Sure, it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism but you’ve lived long enough with it.
Riki took your silence as a response, nodded slowly and turned to walk out of the council room. He paused by the doorframe, looking over his shoulder to your face, with his bangs shielding his eyes. “By the way, I think you look kinda cute after crying.”
Just like that, he disappeared from your sight, leaving a flustered and embarrassed you behind.
~
“And…time’s up! Alright everyone, that’s all for today!” The dance club’s instructor announced, clapping her hands.
The moment they heard that, everyone collapsed to the floor, all sweaty with their clothes sticking to their skin. Some were quick to pack their things, scrambling out of the studio, thrilled to head home. Riki groaned, plopping down onto the wooden floor, leaning against the wall behind him with his long legs stretched out before him. He downed the remaining content in his water bottle in one go, clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction when it did nothing to quench his thirst.
The dancer tilted his head back, gently resting it against the wall so he could stare at the ceiling, letting the lights blind his vision. It’s been three days since he saw you cry in front of him. No matter what he does, his mind keeps wandering back to you. It’s like you’ve been ingrained in his memory and there’s nothing he could do about it. Whenever he closes his eyes, he’s always greeted with the same scene.
You speaking through your tears as you break down. Your entire body trembling like a fallen leaf. But what struck him the most was the look in your eyes. It was fear. Pure fear and he knows that look very well, for he had gone through the same thing. It’s the type of fear that one will have whenever they are told they will never be good enough. It’s the type of fear that one will have in a suffocating household—a household that only cares about success, fame and nothing else. Nothing more and nothing less.
“Dude, what’s gotten into you?” One of the dancers asked, shaking him out of his train of thoughts.
Riki blinked. “Huh?”
“You’ve been acting weird lately. Like you’re always lost in your own thoughts,” one of the dancers pointed out, the others nodding in agreement, “wait, don’t tell me you got a crush on a girl?”
“Idiot, he’s dating (Name). He’s not like you,” another dancer retorted, playfully smacking the back of his head with his hand.
Riki rolled his eyes, raising his left leg so he could rest his arm on his left knee. His right leg remained laying on the floor. “He’s wrong about one thing: I’ll never be like you guys, who thinks cheating on your partner is fun. It’s not. It only makes you the worst of the worst.”
The two guys shared a look while the others who were still in the studio, did a poor job of concealing the fact that they are listening in. “Woah, dude, chill. We were just joking around—”
Riki rose to his full height, hovering over them who were seated on the floor. “Joking around? That’s not something you should be making fun of. It’s wrong and you’re not being considerate of your partner’s feelings!”
They’ve never seen him like this, too used to him being sarcastic, chill and sometimes, too laid-back. But this? This was different. It’s like Riki had become a whole different person.
“Do you even realize what that kind of behavior does to someone?” Riki’s voice rose, shaky now, like it was fighting against the storm inside him. “Do you know what it feels like to give someone everything, only to find out it was a joke to them? That they never cared about you at all?”
Silence.
At this rate, everyone left in the studio were watching them. Some had stopped packing. Some had stopped stretching. But most importantly, everyone had stopped talking. Their eyes were on him, watching him like he’s the lead performer of the stage.
He stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard as if he was trying to force the words out.
“You think it’s cool to cheat? To lie? To mess around like it doesn’t mean anything?” he spat. “It does mean something. And the person you’re with? They’re not just some placeholder for your ego.”
One of the dancers felt guilty for his words. “Riki, I—”
He shook his head, bending to snatch his bag and belongings off the floor. “Forget it, I’m not doing this today.”
Riki left the studio, both heart and soul filled with nothing but a mess of feelings he couldn’t understand. Not yet, anyways.
When he reached home, only to see a familiar pair of shoes resting by the door, anger flowed through his veins. Thankfully, Makoto wasn’t home as she will be staying over at her friend’s home for a sleepover, leaving him alone to deal with his mother’s boyfriend. Riki wordlessly made his way to the kitchen, scoffing under his breath when he walked past them. His mother and her boyfriend—Sip Woojin, were in the living room with their backs facing him. This saves him the revolting sight of having to witness them sucking one another’s faces.
As he was hungry, he decided to make a quick, simple but fulfilling dinner—Kimichi Soup with rice. There were enough ingredients left in the refrigerator and he got to work, wearing his Airpods to both cancel out their voices and so he could focus on cooking. He was in the middle of dumping a generous portion of kimchi into the pot when someone tapped his shoulder, disrupting his concentration.
Riki looked over his shoulder, only to see it’s none other than Woojin standing behind him with a friendly smile on his face. The sight of it made him scowled, not bothering to hide his displeasure towards the older man. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Woah, calm down. I’m not here to cause trouble or anything,” the man lets out a hearty laugh, even having the audacity to rest his hand on Riki’s shoulder, who flinched at the touch.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarled like a ferocious cat, stepping back from Woojin, not wanting to stand anywhere close to him.
Woojin sighed, remaining where he was while Riki continued adding a mixture of ingredients into the soup: some sliced-up tofu, prawns and the list goes on. Being a dancer requires him to keep an eye out on his diet. He goes to the gym during the weekends to work out as well, giving him a slight fit body build.
“Look kid, I’m trying my best here but this isn’t going to work if you keep acting like this.”
Riki paused, turning off the stove once the soup came to a boil and he left the lid on. He fully turned to face the man, nothing but evident annoyance written all over his face. “What the fuck do you even want with me? I’m not interested to have you in my life. Just because you managed to charm my mother doesn’t mean your stupid little antics can work on me.”
He spat, venom seeping into his voice. Riki took a step closer, the atmosphere in the kitchen turning darker when his eyes hardened. “I hope you know that I’ll never accept you as a father. Over my dead body.”
Riki didn’t give him a chance to reply, grabbing a bowl and filling it with rice that he had dumped into the rice cooker previously. He didn’t want to have his dinner in the same space as his mother and Woojin. Hence, he grabbed a tray so he could carry it that holds the pot, rice and his utensils. Woojin was still standing there, an unreadable expression on his face. Riki scoffed, purposely roughly bumping his shoulder against his while he’s on the way out of the kitchen.
“Nishimura Ni-Ki, stop right there.”
Great, fuck my life.
He rolled his eyes, not turning around so his back was facing his approaching mother. He already knew she had the standard expression on her face—frustration and disappointment.
“What?” He lets out an exasperated sigh.
“Have your dinner in the dining room. Your father and I—”
Riki whirled around at breakneck speed. It’s a miracle he didn’t spill any of the Kimchi soup he made. “He’s not my fucking father.”
“Silence! Just go to the dining room and sit down. We have something important to tell you,” she snapped, voice firm, leaving no room for arguments.
Her son had no choice but to oblige, heading to the dining room where Woojin was already seated, pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed tea. Riki sat at the other end of the table, not wanting to be anywhere close to them. His mother strolled in and Riki felt sick to the core, watching as her face softened in adoration as she took her seat opposite of Riki. Woojin silently slides a cup towards her, to which she gratefully nodded her head and rested her hand above his.
Ahem.
“Can we just get this done and over with? I don’t have all day,” he interrupted, cutting their sweet moment short.
The two adults shared a glance and his mother spoke up, hands cupped around her teacup. “Riki, Woojin and I will be getting married at the end of the year, after your Winter Gala.”
His eyes widened. The pair of chopsticks held in his dominant hand slipped from his grasp, dropping to the marbled floor with a series of loud clattering sounds but he didn’t hear it. He stared at her, searching for her expression for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. Only the warm, tender gaze of a woman who looked like she truly believed this was something to celebrate.
Riki’s jaw tightened, his free hand curled into a fist underneath the table while Woojin calmly sipped his tea, like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in his life.
His mother opened her mouth, probably to repeat herself but he already stood up, chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“You’re marrying him?” He gestured toward Woojin with a flick of his hand, eyes burning. “Seriously? You’re just going to throw everything away for someone like him?”
“Riki—” she began, but he cut her off with a bitter laugh.
“No, don’t ‘Riki’ me right now. Do you even know what you’re doing?” His voice cracked slightly, equal parts rage and hurt. “You’re just pretending like none of it matters. Like Dad never mattered. Like this whole fucking family doesn’t matter.”
“Your father’s been gone for years,” she said softly, but he recoiled like her words were poison.
“And? You can’t just toss Dad aside and replace him with someone like…that!” Riki shouted at the top of his lungs, furiously pointing at Woojin, who was still silent as he observed the scene from the sidelines.
“Riki, he makes me happy and I want to be happy. Why can’t you understand that?” His mother sighed, exhausted with the constant arguments between her and her son.
“This isn’t about you wanting to be happy. This is about you being selfish. It’s clear you don’t and never have gave a fuck about me,” he snapped, heaving to catch his breath and he rose from his seat, snatching his tray off the table.
“I don’t care what you want to do from now on. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
He said, sparing them one final glance before storming out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway like thunder. He sat by his desk, devouring the meal he made in the span of fifteen minutes. The only evidence was a clean pot and bowl, with not a single grain of rice or a spoon worth of spoon left behind. Riki’s initial plan was to spend the rest of his night gaming away but he was no longer in the mood after his mother’s sudden wedding announcement. He didn’t want to stay at home.
Which was why he pulled out his phone and immediately called his friend.
“Hello?”
“Jake, let’s go to a club and get wasted.”
One moment Riki was in his room and the next moment, he’s in a club that’s filled to the brim with people. His small group of friends: Jake, Heeseung and Jay were delighted at the invite as it’s been a while since the four of them had hung out together. The four of them managed to snag a table so they could sit and drink to their heart’s content, without worrying about stumbling into random people. Among the four of them, Heeseung has the lowest alcohol tolerance. It only takes him two shot glasses for him to be drunk, giggling to himself here and there. Jay won’t be drinking, as he had to drive the other two home, opting for a can of soda instead.
“So, what happened?” Jay asked, unfazed even when Heeseung rested his head on his shoulders, his cheeks dusted in a light, adorable shade of pink.
“What?” Riki blinked but Jay shot him a knowing look, leaning back in his seat with his legs stretched out before him.
“The only time you join us for clubbing is when you’re feeling down. So what happened?”
“Not—”
“Don’t say it’s nothing. Because it surely isn’t nothing, not with how you’ve downed ten shot glasses back to back,” Jake chirped in, pointing at the empty shot glasses that were on the table.
Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. “...My mom’s getting married to her stupid boyfriend.”
Jake and Jay shared a bewildered look. Being the more sensible and responsible person of the two, Jay spoke up, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed in a thin line. “Shit, man. We’re sorry about that. What was your reaction?”
“I was against it. I told her she’s doing this for herself and not for the family. Not for me and not for Makoto,” he barked out a humorless laugh, “it was only one year since Dad passed away and she’s already found someone. Now she expects me to welcome Woojin with open arms? Hell no. He can fuck off for all I care.”
He downed another shot glass after he finished. Right now, Riki feels like he’s tethering between the border of drunk and tipsy. His mind feels fuzzy and his body feels lightheaded, despite how he’s seated and not moving about.
“Riki, I think that’s enough. Anymore shots and you’ll be drunk,” Jake warned him but Riki waved off his words.
“It’s fine, I can keep going.”
It didn’t help with the fact that Jake sees Riki as a younger brother, always willing to agree with him. Jay could only watch helplessly, rubbing the space between his eyes as his two friends kept going for multiple rounds after that, like there was no tomorrow.
~
Ring, ring! Ring, ring! Ring, ring!
You were in the middle of making notes when your phone started ringing. Not bothering to check the screen, you accepted the call and put it on speaker mode.
“Hello?”
“Hey uh, are you busy?”
You heard a hiccup after the question, making you pause to bring your phone closer to you. You don’t recognize the string of numbers reflected on the screen, making you furrow your eyebrows. “Who’s this?”
“Whaaa, you don’t recognize me? It’s uh, what’s my name again? Oh, right! It’s Riki, starting with the letter R!” His words are borderline slurring but you were able to comprehend him, if you focused hard enough.
That’s when you were able to hear the faint loud booming music in the background on the other line. “Riki, are you drunk?” You asked, despite already knowing the answer.
“Nooooo… maybe a little. Maybe a lot but don’t be mad.”
You closed your eyes, breathing in and out to swallow the rising anger. “Why are you at the club? Don’t you have classes tomorrow?”
“Do I? I’m not sure… but I just wanted to call you.”
“Why? And more importantly, how did you even get my number?”
You could hear a muffled giggle from him, able to visualise him swaying on unsteady feet in the club while trying to maintain the current conversation with you. You put your pen down, no longer in the mood to continue your task as you leaned back in your comfortable chair, idly spinning it side to side.
“Doesn’t matter. What matters more is I wanna—hic—hear your voice.”
Your heart stopped for a solid second at his words. But you shook your head to get rid of the thought. After all, he’s drunk and you’re certain he won’t remember a thing when he wakes up tomorrow, with a horrible hangover.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Riki, where’s your friends? Or did you go there alone?” You sighed, feeling stressed on his behalf. You don’t even know why you are feeling like this. Sure, you may be in a fake relationship with him but that doesn’t mean you have to care about him like this. Like you’re actually his girlfriend.
“I dunno.. think they’re probably somewhere else. What was I saying? Oh yea, my mom. She—hic—is getting married to some fucking douchebag at the end of the year.”
Your heart dropped, not expecting him to dump a huge bomb on you out of nowhere.
“She told me like it’s some happy thing. Like she wants me to be happy and proud of her,” he continued, words pouring out now, drunken and unfiltered, “like—hic—’oh, Riki. it’s after your Winter Gala’—like it’s not a big deal or something.”
You stayed silent, letting him pour his heart out while you listened attentively. This is the first time you’ve heard another side of Riki. Another side that no one, except you, knew and heard of.
“His name’s Woojin,” he bitterly laughed, no humor heard in it, “I fucking hate him. The way he—hic—treats me, like I’m some kind of auction item to be won over, makes me annoyed. Who the fuck does he think he is? He—hic—came waltzing into my life like nothing happened. Like Dad doesn’t still exist in the house—hic—and he thinks he can replace him.”
Your eyes widened slightly at the newly-gained piece of information. “Riki—”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just…” He lets out a long, heavy sigh and you can hear nothing but exhaustion in it, “I just wanna share it with someone. Someone who won’t judge me and accept me as who I am.”
Pursing your lips, you glanced at the clock resting on your table, to see it’s close to midnight. “...Riki, you should head home and get some rest. Trust me, all you need is a good night's sleep and you’ll be feeling better the next day.”
“Noooo, I wanna continue talking to you. Your voice’s soothing,” he whined, sounding like a child. For some reason, you can imagine him as a cute, little duck when he pouts.
Embarrassingly enough, your cheeks flushed red at his words. You were grateful that he wasn’t around to see it, or he would’ve teased you to the point of no return. Clearing your throat, you spoke to him in a calm, patient tone. Like how a mother speaks to her child.
“Riki, seriously, you need to rest.”
“Why does it sound like you’re pushing me away? Do you hate me?” He asks, his voice growing softer but it’s still audible enough for you to hear it. Audible enough for you to detect the sadness in his voice.
“No, Riki, I don’t hate you,” you replied, the word ‘hate’ sounding all foreign and awkward on your tongue.
“Hic—R-Really? You don’t?” He mumbled and your heart tightened in pain and pity. Pain because he doesn’t sound sure of your response. Pity because well, you pity him for what he had gone through during his childhood to develop some kind of distrust of the people around him.
“No, I really don’t,” you murmured, voice as light as a feather. Your ears registered some buzzing sounds followed by different voices before an unfamiliar voice spoke on the other end.
“Hello, (Name)? Sorry for interrupting your call but this is Jay. I’m a friend of Riki’s and just wanna let you know that I’m taking him home now—Stop pulling on my arm!” He briefly introduced himself, pulling the phone away from his ear to yell at someone.
You were unable to stifle the chuckle, nodding your head. “Alright, thanks for letting me know. Good luck trying to bring Riki home.”
“Ugh, don’t even remind me. And if you’re curious to know more about his background, you should ask him, face-to-face.”
You blinked, parting your lips but Jay had already hung up, leaving you to stare at the screen in curiosity as you pondered on the unspoken implications behind his words.
~
The following day, you arrived at Decelis Academy with one motive and only one. There were no classes for the rest of the week as the school holidays are coming. As expected, more than half of the student body had skipped school, choosing to fly to different countries instead. Your family didn’t have the time and luxury to spend the holidays together, due to your father being busy as always and you couldn’t rely on your mother either, who’s rarely at home. You didn’t want to know what she could be doing behind your back. It’s not like you care about her in the first place.
You head to the council room, dreading what you have to deal with, only for you to pause when you see Riki sitting at your desk, like he owns the place. He had his long legs resting on the table, with him leaning back to the point you actually hoped he fell. His eyes were fixated on his phone, giving you the chance to admire him while he’s distracted.
You start from the top, watching how some strands of his blonde hair hovered over his eyes. He has a variety of earrings displayed on his ears, ranging from the small-sized, metallic rings to a pair of pins on both helixes. Your eyes trailed down his face, noting how his features are unusually sharp, like both Gods and Goddess had taken their precious, sweet time into creating the most perfect human being in the world.
He wasn’t wearing the school uniform properly, as expected from him. His shirt was untucked, the hem haphazardly peeking out from the blazer. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, high enough to show off the veins on his forearms. The blazer was nowhere to be seen, which made you roll your eyes. His tie hangs loosely by his neck, the knot on the verge of slipping. Heck, there’s also a silver chain resting against his collarbones like it lives there.
Your eyes moved further down, lingering longer than usual on his long, slender fingers that were currently holding his phone in a gentle grip. His fingers were dressed in chunky rings, a mix of matte black and polished metal that glimmered underneath the sunlight that’s coming in from the windows on his right.
You’ve never stopped to think about his appearance, always too busy nagging at him, telling him to wear his blazer properly or bickering with him, like the typical married couple. But now, you’re alone in the room with him. Riki hasn’t shown any signs of being aware of your presence. It’s quiet, almost peaceful. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight before you. The sight of Riki being quiet, thumb moving up and down as he scrolled through whatever platform he was on.
And then it hits you—Nishimura Ni-Ki is insanely attractive.
“How long are you planning to keep staring at me?” His infuriating smug voice snapped you out of your state.
You blinked, cheeks warming up when you were caught red-handed. “Why are you here?”
“I was waiting for you, President,” he answered, removing his legs from the desk and plopping it onto the floor with a loud ‘thud’, “you’re coming to Japan with me for four days.”
Your eyes widened a notch, jaw dropping. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard, hoping your ears were playing tricks on you. But Riki wasn’t joking. He didn’t laugh or tease you. Instead, he waited for your reaction, having risen from his seat with hands shoved in the pockets of his pants.
“W-What?”
Riki shrugged his shoulders. “My dad wants to meet you. I’ve told him about you and he wants to see you.”
Your mouth opened and closed, rebalancing a fish out of water. “...When are we leaving?” That wasn’t the first question you had in mind but your lips moved like it has a mind of its own.
“In the next two days, I’ll start packing if I were you,” he said in a calm tone, as if he’s talking about the weather, blissfully unaware of your dilemma.
“Wait, how am I supposed to explain this to my father?” You asked, grabbing onto his forearm when Riki walked past you, ready to leave.
He stopped, looked down at you with an arched eyebrow. “That’s not my problem, princess. Use that smart brain of yours to figure something out.” He gently knocked your forehead, to which you slapped his hand away with a scowl.
Riki laughed, unfazed and bid you farewell as he stepped out of the council room, leaving you alone to come up with a solution.
The next few hours passed in a blink of an eye, with you diligently working away at your desk until it was time to go home. As always, your driver was already waiting for you by the main entrance. For the entire ride, you were quiet, staring out of the window, watching as everything passed you in a blur. You fidget with your fingers, biting down on your bottom lip while countless thoughts flew through your mind at breakneck speed. No matter what you think of, you end up reaching a dead end.
That was until you thought of something you’ve never done before. Something you didn’t even know it’s possible for someone like you to pull it off. When you reached home, you wasted no time in heading to his private office, entering without knocking. He paused in the midst of typing on his laptop, sparing a singular glance in direction and his eyes narrowed behind the pair of glasses he wore.
“(Name), didn’t I tell you to knock before coming in?” He asked, leaning back in his seat.
You swallowed, calming your nerves before speaking. “I’m sorry, father. But Ningning is inviting me and Minju to her house for a sleepover this Wednesday. Is it alright if I could go?”
Your father merely sighed, returning to his laptop and continued typing. “Go ahead. When will you be coming home?”
“In about four days or so,” you answered, praying he wasn’t able to hear how loud your heart was pounding against your chest.
“Alright, fine by me. But I expect you to work on your grades when you’re back. Is that understood? There should be no room for failure,” he raised his head, making direct contact with you.
You nodded, bowing and left his office. It was only when you returned to your room did your legs threaten to give way. After all, you’ve never expected to have the courage to lie to your father.
~
After spending the remaining two to three days packing and repacking until you’re satisfied and certain your luggage won’t exceed the limit, you were on the way to the airport, at one in the morning. Riki had already sent you the flight details and when you insisted on paying for your share, he threatened to leave you stranded in Japan, leaving you with no choice but to let him win this time. Your parents were already fast asleep when you set off, with your driver driving you to the airport. You didn’t bother informing them that you were leaving, not wanting to gain any unwanted attention and besides, you’re going to ‘Ninging’s house for a sleepover’.
Yeah, as if the sleepover consists of you flying out of the country.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you arrived at the airport. Your driver helped to unload your luggage, wishing you a safe flight before driving off. A strong, cold gust of wind kisses your cheeks when you enter the airport, the pair of glass automatic doors granting you entrance. You looked around, spotting Riki seated in one of the comfy couches with the hood of his hoodie drawn up, shielding his face from any curious eyes.
Riki looked up when you stopped before him, eyes darting between your face and luggage. “Why did you pack as if we’re going for two weeks?” He asked, rising to his full height. That’s when you realized he had packed extremely light—only bringing a black, Prada duffel bag that has everything he needs.
“I just like being prepared,” you retorted, about to follow him when Riki wordlessly reached out his hand towards you.
“What?” You frowned.
However, Riki didn’t say anything and extended his hand. You didn’t know why but you placed your hand on his. Riki owlishly blinked his eyes. “Uh, I’m asking you to give me your luggage so I can check it in for you. Why did you give me your hand?”
“O-Oh, right,” you stuttered, withdrawing your hand, acting as if he had some form of contagious virus while you handed him his luggage.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” he snickers, finding great amusement in your reaction.
“Shut up! It’s not my fault when you’re being vague,” you bit back.
“You could’ve asked but you didn’t. If you wanna hold hands, all you gotta do is ask,” he sends you his signature smug grin that makes your left eyebrow twitch. But you don’t feel as annoyed as before anymore. The reason remains unknown to you and you shoved it aside for now, not wanting to think about it.
“Piss off.”
“Ouch, didn’t know the President has such a crude mouth on her.”
Safe to say, the two of you started arguing, exchanging rapid blows of words between one another until you arrived at the check-in counter. The process was smooth sailing, as there was only one luggage and one duffel bag that the both of you had to check in. Once you were given your boarding passes, the both of you entered the Departature Transit Area, where you have about three hours left before your plane arrives.
At Riki’s suggestion, the two of you ate at a twenty-four hour ramen restaurant where he once again, offered to pay. You had already placed your order and were now waiting for your food to arrive. Apart from the two of you, there was only one other table occupied by a family of four. None of you said a word, that was until Riki broke the silence in the form of a question.
“So, what solution did your brain come up with?” He questioned, looking at you while absentmindedly fiddling with one of his many rings.
You squirmed in your seat, hands resting on your lap. “...I told my father I’ll be at Ningning’s house for a sleepover.”
He blinked, momentarily stunned as he stared at you. His fingers stilled against the cool metal of his ring, the soft clinking stopped altogether. For a beat, there was nothing.
Then, the corners of his lips twitched, and a low chuckle escaped from him, which evolved into a full blown laugh that made his shoulders shake. He leaned back, amusement dancing in his eyes with a grin stretching from ear to ear appeared on his handsome face.
“You?” He said between breaths, pointing at you with disbelief. “You lied to your father? Right in his face?” He laughed again, clearly entertained. “Damn, I didn’t think you had it in you. Not what I expected from Miss Goody-Two Shoes.”
“I’m not a Goody-Two Shoes,” you snapped, going silent when a waiter arrived with two big, steaming bowls of ramen. The fragrance from the clear broth is enough to make your stomach grumble and mouth water. You immediately dug into your food with Riki doing the same.
Both of you are engrossed in wolfing food down your throat until Riki continued the conversation after swallowing his mouthful of food. “You know, my friends and I talk about you a lot. They always say how you’re sucking up to the teachers and principal, about how you kept trying to show off your smartness and what not.”
You faltered. Sure, you knew there are some students who don’t like you but you didn’t take their hatred into heart. However, it’s a different story when it comes from hearing someone say it out loud and to make it worse, directly to your face too. You dryly swallowed, gradually losing the mood and appetite to continue eating. You cursed yourself when you felt the familiar, stinging sensation formed in your eyes, making your vision blurry.
But Riki wasn’t done.
“And then, the more I kept talking and hanging out with you, the more I realized you aren’t what people think you are,” his voice softened, a contrast to how he usually speaks which made you look at him, surprised.
“You may be viewed as the untouchable, fearless, smart and talented President of the Student Council but to me, you’re just a regular girl who wants to live her own life to the fullest. Who wants to seek approval from her father. Who wants to do her best in everything she does,” he paused for a moment, eyes never leaving your face and your breath hitched, not daring to say anything that could ruin the moment.
“And that’s something that made me realise; you’re just (Name). That’s all there is.”
You stared at him, unable to utter a single word. You didn’t expect Riki to speak with such…sincerity in his voice, like he was saying nothing but the truth itself. Maybe it was also the way he looked at you. His eyes, features and smile unconsciously softened, his half-eaten bowl of ramen long forgotten. The way he looks at you—like he’s reallylooking at you, does something to your heart, soul and mind. You feel lighter, like a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders and you’re able to breathe again.
“You…Why are you acting like this?” You muttered, unable to look him in the eyes as you busied yourself in finishing the remains of your ramen, “and finish your food, will you? We have a plane to catch.”
Riki sniggered, picking up his chopsticks and lightly nudged your foot with his underneath the table. “If my girlfriend insists.”
“Please, just shut up.”
Once you’re done with your meals, you walk around the airport to digest your food and pass time. There were many luxurious brands in the airport, with people of all ages walking around while waiting to board their designated planes. You entered a store, deciding to check out the items and you paused when you saw a bag that caught your interest. Your eyes nearly popped out from its sockets at the sight of the ridiculous price reflected on the price tag. Yes, you’re rich and all but you didn’t want to spend an insane amount of money on a bag. You were about to walk out when Riki stopped you, grabbing you by your arm.
You shot him a puzzled look but he ignored it, waving to get a nearby staff’s attention. “Excuse me? Could you help to wrap this up, please?” He asked, pointing at the bag—the very same bag you were staring at.
Eyes widening, you immediately gripped onto the sleeve of his hoodie. “Riki, you don’t have to—”
“Shush, I want to. Besides, it’s the least I could do as your boyfriend,” he gave you a playful wink and you swore you heard someone squeal in the background.
The staff finished wrapping the bag and Riki paid without hesitation. Just like that, you have gotten a brand new bag that costs way more than what a regular human being could probably afford. Soon, it was time for you to board the plane and you weren’t surprised to see he had booked Business Class for the two of you. Passengers taking Business Class were the first to board. You groaned when you realized you had to sit beside Riki, as you made yourself comfortable in your chair, already covering yourself with the blanket provided.
You were about to pull the divider up when Riki stopped you. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“I don’t want to see your face for the rest of the flight, so I’m temporarily blocking you,” you deadpanned, slapping his offending hand away from the divider.
Riki’s jaw dropped. “What? You can’t be seri—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence as you had already pulled the divider up, effectively blocking and shutting him out.
Finally, some peace and quiet.
~
The flight from Seoul to Tokyo wasn’t long but it’s long enough for you to get some sleep. Riki had already slipped on his headphones and knocked out the moment the plane took off. Both of you didn’t bother using the inflight entertainment, choosing to catch up on your much-needed sleep instead. Eventually, you arrived at Narita International Airport. You drowsily followed Riki, letting him take the lead as he guided you through the entire process from getting your passport checked to passing security.
When the whole ordeal was done, he led you to the pick-up area where a man waiting outside a black car was. Riki and the man exchanged words at a rapid speed, speaking in Japanese while you’re completely clueless. The only words you were able to make out from their conversation is Riki saying his full name to the man, who seemed to recognize him and helped to carry your luggage to the boot of his car.
Riki ushered you to get into the backseat, with him sitting beside you while the man got into the driver’s seat and drove off, the airport getting smaller and smaller until it was out of your sight.
“What were you talking about?” You asked, looking at the boy beside you.
Riki hummed, eyes focused on his phone as he texts someone. “Ah, he was asking if I’m Ni-Ki and I said yes. He’s my dad’s driver and we’ll be staying at his place.”
“We’ll be what!?” You shrieked, slapping a hand over your mouth when you had spoken too loud but thankfully, the man paid you no mind, focused on speeding down the expressway.
He smirked, tucking his phone back into the pocket. “Yup, we’re staying at his place. But don’t worry, you’ll get your own room.”
He paused.
“Unless you wanna sleep together—”
“Nishimura Ni-Ki!”
You spent the rest of the ride talking to Riki and it didn’t take you long to arrive at your destination. You knew Riki comes from a wealthy family but you didn’t expect him to be this rich. Rich to the point where the car had to drive through two separate security gates just to reach the main entrance. Rich to the point where his father’s mansion wasn’t just a large house, but an estate—built on a private plot of land so secluded it felt like a different world altogether.
The gravel beneath the tires shifted slowly as the car came to a stop, and your eyes widened at the magnificent sight before you. Towering trees lined the perfectly manicured driveway, providing some form of shade against the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. The mansion stood at the end of it, regal and imposing with wide stone steps, tall glass windows, and ivy crawling up one side. The way it looks is straight out of a painting.
You turned to Riki, who seemed completely unfazed, one hand lazily resting on the window frame as he scrolled through his phone with the other. “Do you used to live here?” you muttered, still processing the sheer scale of it all.
He glanced at you with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “No,” he replied casually. “My house’s back home in Korea. My father chose to move to Japan after he got a divorce with my mother.”
Right. The divorce. The mention of it made you remember the phone call he made when he was drunk. You had been meaning to ask him about it but could never find the perfect time or place to do so. You parted your lips, about to ask him a question but the car came to a stop and he had hopped out before you could even say a single word. You had no choice but to step out as well, thanking the driver in broken Japanese when he helped to unload your luggage while Riki tossed his duffle bag over his left shoulder.
“I feel underdressed,” you mumbled, eyes flicking to the marble lion statues flanking the front door.
Riki snorted softly. “You’ll be fine. He’s probably in his study, pretending to be busy so he doesn’t have to come out and say hi.”
You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse. You follow Riki as he enters the mansion, your footsteps echoing clearly against the four walls. Everything feels expensive to the point you forgot that you too, come from a wealthy family as well. You nearly bumped into him when he stopped without warning, causing you to ungracefully stumble over your feet.
“What the fuck is your problem?” You hissed under your breath, only for you to go silent when you saw an older man walking down the stairs like he owns the place. And he does. After all, that man is none other than Riki’s father.
If your father is an intimidating, fierce and strict man, then Riki’s father is the complete opposite of him. He is fully expressive, not afraid to show his emotions and greeted you with a warm, fatherly smile that made your heart clenched. He arrived at the foot of the stairs and talked to Riki, his son, in Japanese, the language sounding almost poetic coming from his lips. You stood there, looking away to give the father and son some privacy when they hugged. You swore you saw Riki’s eyes glistened with tears threatening to fall from them but you kept it to yourself.
His father then turned to you expectantly and Riki took the chance to introduce you to him. You didn’t know what Riki was saying and you could only hope he wasn’t talking shit about you, right in your face. You won’t be surprised though, if that’s the case. You bowed at a straight ninety-degrees with a polite smile on your face, accepting his offer for a handshake. What you didn’t expect however, was for him to speak in fluent Korean, as if he was born and raised there.
“Hello, you must be my son’s girlfriend, right? You’re really pretty and I’ve heard many things about you. Thank you for taking good care of my son. I’m sure he must be a handful to manage,” his father said.
You blinked, unable to hide your surprise and he let out a heartful, loud laugh that seemed to bounce off the maison you’re in. “I can tell you’re surprised that I can speak Korean. But not to worry, I get that a lot. I used to live in Korea with Ni-Ki before moving here.”
You could tell he’s being vague with his response, unaware that you knew he is now a single father but you didn’t point it out, not wanting to come off as rude. Instead, you smiled and nodded. “I see, I do hope Riki has told you good things about me.”
The culprit merely snorts. “Nah, I told him how you kept nagging at me to wear my blazer and obey the school rules.”
“You!” Your cheeks flushed red, mortified and embarrassed at how he easily exposed you but his father merely chuckled.
“I think you’re doing a great job, kiddo. But enough about that, I’m sure you’re tired from your flight. I’ll let Riki show you to your room and once you’ve settled down, you can join us for dinner tonight,” he said.
For the third time in a row, you nodded your head. “That’ll be great, thank you very much.”
His father’s features softened and he ruffled your hair. “You’re a good kid.” He didn’t give you time to ponder about the meaning behind his words and had walked off, heading somewhere else in the mansion, leaving the two of you alone.
Riki sighed, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag and jutted his head towards the direction of the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you to the guestroom.”
Just like before, he snatched your luggage away from your grip, being kind enough to carry it up the stairs while you waddled after him, holding nothing but your carry-on bag.
You reached the second floor and were brought to the first door you see. Riki pushed it open, moving aside to let you in first. You entered, slowly taking in your surroundings where you’ll be staying for the next four days.
It was beautiful—lavish, yes—but unexpectedly warm.
Soft golden light spilled from the chandelier above, catching on the muted gold accents that trimmed the cream-colored walls. The king-sized bed was made with crisp ivory sheets and a cashmere throw folded neatly at the foot, inviting rather than intimidating. Plush, oversized pillows rested against a velvet-upholstered headboard, and across from the bed, a sleek fireplace was quietly flickering, giving the room a gentle glow.
A small seating area sat near the wide window, where thick curtains framed a view of a private garden bathed in soft moonlight. The armchairs were cushioned just right, a stack of books placed on the side table as if someone had thoughtfully considered your comfort. You noticed a faint scent of jasmine in the air—subtle, not overbearing.
You turned slowly, taking it all in. “This is... the guest room?” you asked.
Riki leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with faint amusement. “Yeah. If it makes you feel better, the master bedroom’s ridiculous. This is the toned-down version.”
You gave him a look, but your lips tugged into a smile as you placed your bag down on the velvet bench at the foot of the bed. “This is anything but toned-down.”
“Stop acting as if you’re not rich either,” he retorted, entering your room so he could place your luggage against the wall, wary of not putting it anywhere that could hinder your path.
“Yeah, but I’m not as rich as you. Like all of this,” you paused, gesturing wildly with your hands at the room and everywhere else, “is crazy.”
“Even the fact that we’re fake dating?” He asks, arching an eyebrow.
You paused, surprised by the question. You didn’t expect Riki to ask such a…serious question, considering how you’ve agreed to do this for your personal reasons. Heck, the same could be applied for him. Riki was still looking at you, patiently and expectantly. Like he wants to know your answer.
You dryly swallowed. “Yes.. even that.”
You swore you saw something flickered in his eyes but it was gone when he blinked. Riki rested a hand on his check, faking a betrayed expression. “Wow, after everything I’ve done for you and this is what I get?”
“Shut up, you haven’t even taken me on a date yet,” you bit back, instantly regretting the words you said when Riki owlishly blinked.
“Then, let’s go.”
“W-What?” You spluttered, staring at him all wide-eyed.
“Let’s go on a date, right now.”
“Right now?” You repeated his words, sounding like a parrot.
Riki laughed. “Yes, right now. I can show you the beauty of Japan while we’re at it, as your personal and dedicated tour guide.”
“Sounds like my worst nightmare,” you deadpanned. “But, I don’t think I’m dressed well for it.”
Riki waved off your concern with a dismissive flick of his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s get going.”
You scowled, grabbed whatever your personal items along with whatever you needed, dumped them into a smaller and lighter bag that you had shoved into your carry-on and followed him out, ready to explore Tokyo.
~
When Riki mentioned he’s showing you the beauty of Tokyo, he was not joking. Your beloved boyfriend had taken it upon himself to bring you to all of the tourists' hot spots, forcing you to walk until you swore your kneecaps were about to be dislocated from your body. You’ve never walked this much in your life. In the span of five hours, Riki had shown you nearly six hot spots—something that should be impossible for someone like you, who was so used to having your driver driving you around that this was something new for you to experience. Strange enough, you weren’t complaining.
Maybe it’s because no adults are around to control you, to tell you what to do and not to do. Maybe it’s because you’re in a whole different country, spending time with someone you never expected. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because you’re with Riki.
Your eyes landed on him, taking in the mesmerizing sight before you. The sun was starting to set, dusting the sky in a beautiful shade of reddish-orange that made people want to stop what they were doing, admiring the scenery before them. Riki was recording something with a small, film camera he had brought for the trip. He wasn’t aware of how you’re simply staring at him in his own element.
A gentle gust of wind blew past, caressing your cheeks in a light, fleeting sensation that you would have missed, if you didn’t have to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind your left ear. Maybe it’s the way he kept checking the footage with a small smile of satisfaction, or how he looked at peace despite the chaos, standing in the middle of it all like he belonged in every frame he captured. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the way your heart slowed every time he laughed, low and genuine as he made jokes with you or teasing you to no end.
Sighing, you hugged your pathetic excuse of a jacket—a light blue, thin denim jack tighter around your body. You involuntarily shivered when a stronger gust of wind flew past you out of nowhere, causing your hair to stand and goosebumps to form. Riki was finally done, satisfied after many retakes and snorted at how you’re shivering, on the verge of freezing to death. He removed his expensive-looking jacket and placed it on your shoulders wordlessly. Your head snapped up to him, startled.
“Riki, wha—”
He shook his head. “Just wear it. I won’t want you to shiver to death and have my dad cut my head off.”
“I’m sure he’ll love to see that,” you dryly retorted, fingers now grasping onto the hem of his jacket to tug it as close as possible. Your face turned red when his signature cologne invaded your senses, making you feel safe, like you’re wrapped in his arms.
Riki rolled his eyes, reaching out to flick your forehead. “As if you can even kill me in the first place.”
“Ow!” You exclaimed, rubbing the now sore spot. “Try me, bitch.”
“Woah, did I just hear the President cursing at me? Today must be my lucky day,” he faked a dramatic gasp, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics.
“Yeah yeah. I guess there’s lots of things you don’t know about.”
“That can be easily fixed.”
You shot him a curious look, crossing your arms. “Oh? And pray tell me what do you have in mind, Mister troublemaker?”
Riki threw his head back, barking out a loud laugh that startled the people nearby but he ignored them. “That’s a horrible nickname but we can use this chance to get to know more about one another! Maybe about your dreams, passions or hobbies.”
This time, it’s your turn to raise an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “...Huh, I don’t see why not. But that doesn’t mean I still don’t hate you.”
“Bah, tomato and potato.”
“It’s actually tomayto, tomahto and potayto, potahto,” you corrected him.
“Ok Smartypants, I didn’t ask and I don’t care. So, let’s go to a sushi restaurant and have our dinner because I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking hungry,” he replied, grabbing your hand and begin dragging you down the street, ignoring your futile attempts of freeing yourself from his grip.
The sushi restaurant was quite small, only able to contain not more than twenty tables. There were a few people seated inside. Some were office workers. Some were friends while some were families or couples. Just like the two of you. The chefs greeted you when the two of you entered and Riki returned the greeting with equal enthusiasm, making you sit at the nearest vacant seats, so you could watch the chefs prepare the sushi in front of you. Thanks to Riki’s help and suggestions, you were able to place your order and watch them get to work.
You watched, captivated by how fluent, smooth and quick they were in molding the sticky, Japanese rice into small, rectangular shapes. They sliced a fat chunk of salmon into thin slices, the meat glimmered underneath the light as they gingerly placed it on top of the rice. They did the same for the other sushi you had ordered and soon enough, you had a plate filled with different kinds of sushi placed in front of you. Riki has also ordered a bowl of fresh Sashami for the two of you to share.
You grabbed a pair of chopsticks, picking up the first sushi—the one with shrimp meat placed on top, dipped it onto the small plate of soy sauce and placed it in your mouth. You could feel the freshness of the shrimp, tender and juicy. The soy sauce acts as an additional flavor. You swore you saw the white, pearly gates of heaven for a moment.
“So? How is it?” Riki asked, having observed your reaction the entire time, his own plate of sushi still left untouched.
“It’s really good. I know Japan’s sushi is amazing but this is beyond my expectations,” you commented, snatching two pieces of tissue paper to dab at the corner of your mouth.
“You have a little something here,” Riki said, pointing at the left corner of his mouth and you dabbed at it but he shook his head.
“No uh—just stay still for a second,’ he murmured.
“What are you do—!?” You asked, only for you to go as still as a statue when Riki leaned in.
You had to force your muscles to not move an inch, even when he rested one arm on the back of your chair. Even when he’s so close your breaths mingled in the remaining space between the two of you. Even when you could see the faint eye bags residing underneath his eyes. You nearly reached out to push his face away when his thumb rested on the left corner of your mouth, dangerously close to your lips to wipe the rice grains away.
Riki was calm and cool-headed the entire time. You, on the other hand, felt like you’re on the verge of combusting into flames. After what felt like decades, he moved away and you were finally able to breathe properly. Your heart was still beating rapidly, close to leaping out of your chest. Riki started eating his sushi while you continued, pretending nothing happened. Pretending how there wasn’t some sort of tension that had settled in, only waiting for the right time to develop into something stronger. Something that you won’t be able to avoid forever.
When you’re done with dinner, Riki brings you to a nearby Family Mart to grab some light snacks and drinks before bringing you to an open-air park. You were quite surprised to see there were still people around, despite how it’s already close to nine in the evening. Riki led you to one of the few empty stone tables and chairs for you to sit and chat. You sat down, bringing his jacket closer to your body, shivering when a wind blew past you.
“You shouldn’t have worn such thin clothes,” he commented, sitting opposite of you while laying out the snacks and drinks, like he was getting ready to serve them in a buffet.
“Shut up,” you bit back despite knowing he’s right, “in my defence, I didn’t know it’ll be cold when it’s night.”
Riki scoffed, resting his arms on the cool surface on the stone table, his signature infuriating smirk on his face. “Alright, just say you wanna wear my clothes, princess.”
Your face instantly heats up at his words. “Careful, you’ll get brain damage if you think too highly of yourself.”
He merely shrugged his shoulders, reaching for the nearest bag of chips and easily ripped the packaging open, sliding it towards you, giving you the first bite. You reached your hand into it, grabbing a generous portion of chips for yourself and used your left hand as a temporary bowl to hold the chips. None of you said a word, basking in the silence as people minded their business around you. Until, you couldn’t take it anymore and blurted it out loud.
“Do you still remember that you called me when you were drunk?” You asked, looking at him dead in the eyes.
Your question made him paused—hand hovering in midair with his mouth open. He stared at you for a few seconds, acting as if you had spoken in another language or you had grown another head. He awkwardly and loudly cleared his throat, eyes looking everywhere but you. His shoulders shrink in, almost as if he’s trying to make himself look smaller.
“I was hoping you had forgotten about it but I guess not,” he muttered, lips curling down in a pout. You had to resist the urge to audibly coo, finding him adorable and endearing, “I was drunk and I didn’t know why I dumped my background on you. I’m sorry about that.”
You blinked. “Why are you apologising?”
This time, it’s his turn to blink owlishly at you, bemused. “Uh, because I called you out of nowhere when I was drunk and trauma dumped on you without your consent?”
Finishing the remains of your chips, you rummaged through your bag to search for your packet of wet tissues. “Yeah well, you weren’t committing a crime or something. And besides, I think you’re kinda cute when you are drunk.”
You went still the moment realisation of what you just said hits you. Riki, on the other hand, cocked an eyebrow, something akin to amusement and something else glimmered in his eyes. He flashed you a knowing grin, stretching from ear to ear. Adjusting his position, Riki rested his chin on his intertwined fingers.
“Oh? You think I’m cute?” He purrs, voice lowering an octave, sending shivers down your spine. You swore you short-circulated right there and then too.
“...No, I think you’re annoying and ugly,” you managed to regain your voice but deep down, you knew you’re lying. It seems like Riki knew too, with how that smug grin stretched wider but thankfully, he didn’t comment on it and changed the topic of the conversation, the grin fading from his face.
“I think you’ve seen enough to connect the dots. My parents are divorced. My dad moved to Japan while my mom chose to stay in Korea. My mother’s a model, which I’m sure you’ve seen her faces plastered everywhere in Seoul,” he paused, running a hand through his blonde hair. At this point, he wasn’t looking at you anymore. It’s like he’s purposely avoiding your eyes. Like he doesn’t want your pity. Like he doesn’t want you to view him as weak.
“My father runs a business of his own. The moment I was born, something just…changed,” he said, pausing again. almost as if he’s afraid of what he wants to say. Seeing this, you reached your hand across the table to rest it over his, giving it a light and assuring squeeze.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” you murmured, letting him lace your fingers together, his thumb running along your knuckles. The contact sends your heart flying but you ignore it, due to the seriousness of the current moment.
Riki stubbornly shook his head. “No, I think it’s time I tell you this—all of me and how I became who I am now.”
You nodded, not moving your hand away from his, letting him use it to ground himself.
Riki took a deep breath, calming his nerves and resumed.
~
“Straighten your back. Walk with confidence, like you own the runway. Like you deserve to be walking on the runway.”
Those were the same few sentences that kept replaying and replaying, like a broken song in Riki’s mind the moment he mastered the ability to walk on his two feet. Unlike other children who get the luxury of running about in the playground while screaming at the top of their lungs, Riki was immediately sent for modelling lessons. His mother paid a hefty amount to hire a tutor, a strict, firm and ruthless woman who he doesn’t bother to remember her name.
Still, as much as he wished to disobey her instructions, he couldn’t. His tutor is hellbent on making him master the basics until he gets it right, so that they could finish the lesson in the wee hours in the morning, forcing him to skip dinner. Especially when he’s only ten years old—the age where he needs lots of nutrients, in order to have a healthy diet and body. She’s also known to constantly push him past his limits, forcing him to overexert himself. It’s a common sight for him to finish, on the verge of fainting due to the lack of food for many, many hours.
After what felt like decades, he had finally met her expectations and the lesson ended, much to his relief. Riki didn’t bother walking her to the door, heading to the kitchen immediately where the main chef had already made his dinner, setting it aside for him to eat when he was done. But in the Nishimura household, there’s no such thing as a peaceful dinner. His mother chose to make her appearance, just when Riki had taken his first bite.
“Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be taking your lessons?” She questioned him, nothing but disapproval written all over her face.
Riki stared at her in disbelief. “I just finished the lesson and now I’m eating dinner. You know, the dinner I’m supposed to have five hours ago.”
“Nishimura Ni-Ki, you will not talk to me that way. I’m your mother and you need to treat me with respect.”
Riki audibly scoffed, making a show of rolling his eyes. “Why should I when it’s clear you don’t treat me with respect. The bare minimum of a human being.”
His mother sees red, stepping forward, ready to give him a slap when his father quickly interferes. “Now, the two of you. That’s enough. Dear, please let him eat in peace and rest for the night. You’ve been too harsh on him recently.”
The woman swirled around, betrayed that her own husband wasn't taking her side. “You’re siding with him? How do you know he’s telling the truth? For all I know, he could be lying!”
His father sighed, exhausted with her behavior. “Dear, you and I both know Riki isn’t interested in becoming a model in the first place. Why are you forcing him into this? Don’t you think you’re being—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she hissed, rudely cutting him off.
While his parents were busy arguing, Riki took the chance to grab his tray of half-eaten food and made a mad dash to his room, where he could eat in peace. It’s normal for him and in the Nishimura household—for a young child like him, to eat in the comfort of his room while his parents’ voices only grew louder and louder. Harsh words were exchanged between them, showing no mercy to one another.
~
To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You didn’t know what you could possibly say to make him feel better. A part of you breaks when you catch a singular tear droplet rolling down his cheek. You acted without thinking—your free hand reaching out to wipe it away. You were about to pull your hand back, afraid you might have crossed the line when Riki stopped you. He grabbed your hand, pulling it back and pressed his cheek against the palm of your left hand, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into it.
Normally, you would either be attempting to push him away or making fun of him. Heck, you would even be in a blushing mess but right now, you’re filled with nothing but worried for him. You even moved to sit closer, as if you couldn’t bear to be this far apart from him, despite how you’re only seated across from him.
“Riki, I..” You paused, biting your lip, uncertain if the words you planned to say will bring him comfort or instead, more hurt.
He shook his head, sniffling and using his free hand to wipe the tears away. “It’s fine, you don’t have to say anything. Just.. just listen to what I have to say, please.”
You nodded, “of course, anything, Riki. I’ll listen.”
~
The first sign something shifted in the mansion was when his parents no longer slept in the same bedroom. Sure, they constantly fought and argued but in the end, they still slept in the same room. Riki, who was already fourteen at that time, only discovered the change when he came home from school, only to pause in the doorway when he saw a group of men carrying a new bed frame into their home. Seeing his father descending from the stairs, he approached him.
“Father, what’s the new bed for?” He asked, curious.
Sighing, the man ruffled Riki’s hair, much to his son’s displeasure. “Your mother and I will be sleeping in separate bedrooms from now on.”
“Oh, but why? Did something happen between the two of you?”
His question made the man pause, uncertainty flickered in his eyes before they vanished when he blinked. Instead, his father merely smiled in sadness.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
And Riki left it at that, still too young, naive and clueless to understand the implications behind his words.
The second sign comes in the form of his parents refusing to speak to one another. At this point, arguments between Riki and his mother became a daily basis. To his mother’s utter disappointment and anger, Riki had fallen in love with dancing. It started when he stumbled upon a video of a famous celebrity—Michael Jackson, when he was in school. He and his classmates were captivated, watching as the man moonwalked across the stage with nothing but confidence and skills that screams plenty of experience.
Because of that, Riki has been spending whatever free time he has to practice his dance in secret. The last thing he wants is for his mother to find out what he had been doing behind her back. No doubt she’ll be seething with rage. It was tiring—juggling his academic life, attending the stupid and useless modelling lessons and dancing. The only times when he was able to feel free was when he’s dancing.
He wasn’t sure how to put it into words but somehow, he’s able to feel connected to the music. It’s like his limbs have a mind of its own—body able to move in ways he can’t imagine the moment the beat drops. Everything was fine. He’s able to learn what he’s interested in, without anyone knowing. It’s like one of his guilty pleasures, in a sense.
However, his peaceful moment didn’t last long.
His life flipped upside down when he returned home from school, only to hear his father yelling at the top of his lungs. Invisible alarm bells went off in his mind. After all, his father isn’t the kind of person to yell or shout. Riki could only assume something serious had happened. Something so serious that his normally cool and composed father had lost his mind. He headed to the living room, where the direction of the voices came from and he hid behind the wall, concealing his presence while he eavesdrops on the conversation.
“How long have you been seeing him?” His father questioned, his breathing the only thing everyone can hear in the quiet living room.
“Tell me! How long have this been going on behind my fucking back!?” His father roared, voice booming like thunder.
Riki’s ears registered the sound of a brown, paper envelope being slammed down on the coffee table in the living room. His father stood over it, jaw tense and fists tightly clenched at his sides. The contents in the envelope spilled out, spreading across the table—revealing a set of glossy photos that shows something that could make the Internet go wild.
The photos show nothing but the truth. The truth that no one wanted to speak about: his mother, unmistakably her, laughing over coffee with a man who wasn’t her husband. Another photo showed them walking arm-in-arm through a quiet street, far too intimate for strangers.
“I gave you everything. And this is how you repay me? By spreading your legs for someone else the moment they gave you their attention?” His father snarled, spitting the words out like they are venom.
Even when Riki is hidden, he could clearly visualise his mother’s expression—her furrowing her eyebrows, arms crossed and shoulders slightly raised in defence. “You no longer look at me the same way as you used to anymore. This would happen and it’s only a matter of when.”
Riki feels sick to the core, sensing zero regret in his mother’s words. Instead, there was arrogance. Arrogant that her affair had been exposed and how she didn’t have to hide them anymore.
The sound of glass shattering pierced through the silence, loud enough to make him flinched—startled. Riki lets out a shaky exhale, even going the mile of covering his mouth with his hands, not wanting to be caught by his parents.
“I’m getting a divorce and you’re signing it,” his father demanded, sending nothing but death glare towards his now ex-wife. “From now on, I don’t fucking care what you’re planning to do.”
“Fine by me. It’ll do me some good if you’re out of my way,” the woman retorted, turning to leave but his father’s voice stopped her.
“One more thing: I won’t be staying in Seoul. I’ll move back to Japan, to stay with my parents.”
Hearing this, the woman looked over her shoulder—expression unreadable. “And what about Riki?”
“He stays here. He doesn’t deserve you as his mother but it’s better for him to live here, rather than with me.”
And just like that, his parents are officially divorced and his father has moved out, returning to Japan while leaving a small part of him behind with Riki.
~
When Riki finished with unshed tears glistening in his eyes, you were oblivious to the fact that you too, had started tearing up. It was only when he cupped your face with one hand, gently wiping the tear away with his thumb did you realize you had started crying. Riki forced out a watery, weak laugh. The sound so foreign to you and even him.
“You silly, why are you crying?” He croaked out.
You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers gripping onto his large hand and shook your head. “I—Gods, I’m so sorry for thinking you’re nothing but a cocky and annoying person. I shouldn’t have thought about you that way. I—I’m really sorry.”
You managed to choke out your words, voice barely more than a whisper. Like it’s meant for him and only him. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were carrying something that heavy. And I still mocked you. Treated you like a joke.”
His breath audibly hitched. He looked at you—really looked at you—and for a moment, he seemed like he might shatter completely. His usual bravado, the playful smirks and sharp remarks that built the wall around him, were gone, nowhere to be found. All that’s left was the boy who had stood behind that wall years ago, listening to his parents’ love and personal life shattering, right in front of his eyes. There was nothing he could do, except to accept it, no matter how much he wanted to refuse.
“I was never mad at you for nagging at me,” he said softly, his thumb still brushing your cheek and his other hand had now cupped your other cheek. “That stuff doesn’t really get to me. But... the thought of you looking at me like I’m nothing—just some arrogant guy with a dumb grin—that one hurt, a lot.”
A few tear droplets rolled down his cheeks and this time, he didn’t bother hiding it.
You moved closer, pressing your forehead against his, your hands tangled with his. “You’re wrong. You’re not nothing. You’re strong, Riki. The strongest person I’ve ever known.”
He let out a shaky breath. “Don’t say things when you don’t mean them.”
“I do,” you replied, more tears freely streaming down your face and he closed his eyes tightly, as if he’s afraid of seeing your face or hearing the pure sincerity in your voice, “I do mean it.”
He gently pulled back, looking at you with nothing but tenderness. Then, with the softest tremble seen in his lips, Riki leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was light. One blink and you would have missed it. But, it carried everything—the unspoken feelings he had been carrying since young. The very same feelings he had locked up and tossed it aside, building walls around it to protect himself and the people around him.
“Thank you, (Name). For crying, and for staying with me.”
~
After that, the atmosphere between you and Riki had shifted. You weren’t sure if it’s for the better or for the worse. Worse meaning for your heart. Riki’s acting differently now—more bold and daring. Bold enough to hold your hand like it’s normal. Like you’re a normal couple, when you’re the furthest thing from that. He likes to be close to you, following you everywhere like a young ducking following its mother. The sight is adorable, in his father’s eyes, who merely sent you a knowing smile, enough to make you blush and look away.
Unlike before when your conversations are mostly the two of you bickering, it’s now less hostile. You learnt more about Riki—like how he’s the only child in the family, how his role model is Michael Jackson and the list goes on. In return, you had told him things about yourself.
“You know, my father wants me to take over his company when he retires,” you said, staring at the clear blue sky with your arms behind your head.
You and Riki are hanging out in the spacious, open-aired backyard in his father’s mansion. The weather is cooling enough, leaving the two of you not in the mood to head out and explore Tokyo. Riki hums beside you, absentmindedly drinking from his can of cold soda. He wore sunglasses, shielding his eyes with his left leg propped on the lounge chair. Today was also your last day in Japan, which means you have to fly back tomorrow. Which also means you have to face reality again, no longer able to move at a slow and lazy pace.
“What do you want to do then?” He inquired, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.
“Me? I wanna be a lawyer,” you answered, turning to fully face him, resting your cheek on the palm of your left hand.
Riki scoffed, pushing his sunglasses up to reveal his eyes that gleamed in amusement. “You? Becoming a lawyer? Yeah, I can’t imagine that.”
“Hey!” You huffed, “would it kill you to be nice to me?”
“Yes, I’ll die on the spot the moment I’m nice to you,” he deadpanned, resting a hand on his chest for dramatic effect.
“You’re so annoying.”
“But you love me anyways.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense!”
On your last day, you decided to have dinner with Riki’s father, who was on cloud nine. He had asked the chef to prepare a whole feast, despite how there’s only three people he’s feeding. You and Riki were dumbfounded when you came down from the room, only to see the dinner table was filled with a wide variety of dishes—ranigng from main dishes like seafood, chicken, pork to appetizers like spring rolls, chicken wings and heck, there was even both rice and noodles.
“...Dad, I think this is too much,” Riki commented, taking his seat while you sat beside him, mouth watering at the fragrance of the food displayed before you.
“Nonsense, there’s no such thing as too much food,” his father waved off his son’s comments, happily gesturing for the both of you to eat. And who were you to say no?
Everyone dug in, the dining table filled with laughter and loud chattering. You felt at peace, blissfully unaware of the fact that Riki’s eyes either lingered on your face or he kept sneaking glances your way. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by his father, who hid his grin behind his glass of water.
“So, how did you two get together?” He innocently asked, causing you to choke on your food and Riki nearly spit out his drink.
You shared a quick, panicked glance and Riki spoke up, smoothly coming up with a story that sounds believable to anyone who hears it. “We’re classmates and were put together for a project. We spent more time together and thanks to that, I fell in love with her.”
His father whistled; impressed. You ducked your head, feeling shy at how you’re the centre of attention, cheeks dusted in a light shade of pink. “I see, and (Name), could you tell me what you like about my son?”
“M-Me?” You squeaked out, voice going an octave higher, head snapping up at the question directed to you.
The man nodded, looking at you with a warm smile. You could feel Riki’s eyes boring holes into the side of your face. You knew there’s no room for you to escape, leaving you no other choice but to reply to the question.
“For starters, he’s very annoying and rebellious. I always have to nag at him—telling him to wear his uniform properly, telling him to obey the school rules and the list goes on,” you started, earning an amused snort from his father. Riki playfully nudged your elbow, shooting you an offended look.
“But, if there’s one thing I admire about him, it’s about his strength. Mental strength, to be exact,” you continued, your voice now steadier as you glanced at Riki, who returned your gaze with amusement and probably something akin to affectionate in his eyes.
His father listened patiently, silently encouraging you to carry on with a nod of his head. You fiddled with your fingers. “He told me about his past, about how he was forced to do something that he disliked, about how he had no choice but to bow his head and about how he didn’t get to experience the childhood everyone else did. But through that, I see him in a different light now. I see him as someone strong, capable and independent.”
Riki stiffened just slightly beside you but you continued, oblivious.
“Sure, he acts like he’s untouchable but as you get closer to him and manage to slip through the walls he built around himself, you'll be able to see his true, genuine self. He takes care of the people he cherished in his life. He makes me feel lighter whenever I talk to him, be it our common bickering or simply just talking. But deep down, I know how he tends to hide when he’s hurting, just so he doesn’t be a burden to anyone. Just so no one else has to carry the weight with him.”
You paused, now looking at him, the truth gradually seeping into your words. It’s like you had tuned out your surroundings, now entirely focused on Riki and only Riki. You had forgotten about his father, who was listening to the whole thing silently.
“But deep down, I wish he won’t push me away and let me in instead. Let me be there for him. Let me be the one who’s able to shoulder the heavy weight he has been carrying, so he doesn’t have to be alone, not anymore. Because we come from the same boat and are going through the same things.”
Riki had his eyes on you the entire time you were speaking. Gone was the usual playful, smug way. His gaze was unreadable but intense. There’s a type of softness that made your breath catch, like your words had struck him deep, shaking him to the core. But, he didn’t say anything. He merely sat there, quiet but his eyes said everything he didn’t need to say.
Riki’s father loudly cleared his throat, startling the both of you—who visibly jumped from your respective seats. “I see,” he said, voice calm and warm, “that’s an excellent answer. As expected from the President.”
But you barely heard him. Because your heart was pounding painfully loud in your chest—and you were completely certain Riki had successfully deciphered the message behind your long answer.
The rest of dinner passed in a blink of an eye with you eating beyond your limits—something you thought was impossible for you. You kept glancing at Riki here and there but he has been pointedly avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere else but you. You weren’t sure why he’s acting like this—a huge contrast to how he normally was. But the change does nothing but adds worries and doubt to your heart. You had offered to help clear the table but was shooed away by his father, who assures you that he has personal staff who can do that instead, leaving you no choice but to oblige.
Riki was already making his way up to the second floor and you followed him, hoping you could stop him before he could return to his room.
“Riki,” you called out tentatively.
He ignores you, continuing walking down the long hallway of the second floor.
“Riki, what’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?” You asked, voice growing softer.
He ignores you again.
“Is it about earlier—”
“Don’t,” he cut in sharply and your heart dropped.
You’ve never heard his tone this cold before—icy, detached, like a switch had been flipped. Riki finally stopped, looking over his shoulder with his bangs shielding his eyes. But you were able to see them—emotionless and empty. Seeing it was enough to send shivers down your spine.
“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”
You blinked, voice caught in your throat. “What?”
“You’re getting too carried away,” he said flatly, “what you said earlier… It sounded real. Too real.”
You stepped closer—just a small step but the way Riki stepped back—wanting to maintain the distance was enough to make your blood run cold. “It was real, Riki. I meant every word.”
He shook his head, jaw clenched. “This isn’t part of the deal.”
“The deal?” You echoed, voice cracking at the end, “are you really bringing that up now?”
“Well, I have to,” he snapped, “you’ve already forgotten that this—” he gestured between the two of you “was never supposed to be real. This whole thing started because I need to get the funds and you get to fix your reputation. Don’t tell me you’ve cast them aside?”
You flinched. “No, I didn’t. I know the funds are important to you but what about me? What about my feelings?”
Riki ran a hand through his hair, exhaling in frustration. “Those aren’t important. Not in this—a fake relationship.”
Your eyes burned, fists clenched at your sides. “So, you’re saying all of this was never real in the first place?”
He nodded, and finally looked at you. “Yes, you’re right.”
You sniffled, not bothering to wipe the tears away, letting them freely roll down your cheeks. Through your blurred vision, you could see him falter for the slightest moment, regret hitting him. But it was too late. He had already made his choice known to you.
“I see. Very well then,” you nodded, turning to retreat to your room and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
Your body slid down the door, until you’re on the floor. Your mind was blank, eyes staring at a random spot on the floor beneath you. Riki’s words kept replaying in your mind, over and over again. Your bottom lip wobbled, fresh tears stinging the corners of your eyes. Unable to hold back anymore, you buried your face in your hands—unsure if you want to muffle your cries or hide your face, even though there’s no one else in the room. No one else other than you, who’s drowning alone.
A strangled sob slipped out as the weight of everything crashed into you at once without warning. The way he looked at you earlier with a softness he tried so hard to hide. The way you dared to believe—just for a single moment, that what you had with him might be more than pretend. That it might be real. That maybe, just maybe, he cared for you too.
But then, he pushed you away.
Tears streamed down your face, hot and bitter with your sobs muffled by your palms. Your shoulders shook as you tried to stifle the cries, as if keeping quiet would make it hurt less.
It didn’t.
You cried until your chest ached, your breath hitched, your eyes turning red, swollen and puffy and the sleeves of your shirt were thoroughly soaked with your tears. Because Riki had reminded you that whatever existed between the two of you was built on nothing but a lie. The worse part was that you had started to believe it was real, letting yourself get attached and falling into a hole with no way out.
~
The day for you to return to Korea has arrived. Riki and you had packed your things and were by the main entrance, with his father’s driver waiting. He had dumped his duffel bag in the boot of the car, about to hop in but was stopped by his father, who gestured for him to follow him, heading somewhere near but not too far from the car. Riki spared you a glance before following his father, until they are far enough where you won’t be able to hear them.
“Riki, I know the two of you aren’t really dating,” his father spoke up, and his son visibly flinched, not expecting the truth.
“Father, I—”
The man shook his head. “You don’t have to explain the reasons behind it. I heard the two of you yesterday night and that wasn’t nice of you, Ni-Ki. You shouldn’t have said such things to (Name), not when she had been nothing but sweet and understanding to you.”
Riki pursed his lips, shoving his hands in his pockets as he kicked a small stone to the side. It’s times like these when he feels like he’s ten again, when he got reprimanded by his father for breaking a vase and tried to hide it, without telling him. Even when Riki had gone through a major growth spurt, he felt small under his father’s firm, unwavering gaze.
“I know, but I’m doing this to protect her. I don’t want to see her getting hurt because of me,” he protested but deep down, he knew he wasn’t telling the truth.
His father sighed, reaching out to rest his warm, large hand on his son’s left shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Ni-Ki, it’s time you let someone in. You heard her yesterday. She’s willing to help you and be with you all the way. That’s love right there and trust me, you should act fast or someone else will snatch her away.”
Riki nodded, exchanging a hug with his father before returning to the car—where you had already gotten in and was passing time by scrolling through your phone. The two of you bid his father farewell as the driver pulls off. The mansion grew smaller and smaller until it was out of your sight. He fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, finding the silence in the car awkward and tense, like he wasn’t used to it.
“(Name), I—”
“Sorry, I’m quite tired so I’ll be taking a short nap. Wake me up when we reach the airport,” you answered, not looking at him as you fished out your headphones, slipping it on without waiting for his response and promptly closed your eyes.
Riki sighed, not wanting to argue with you as it was still early in the morning. He does the same—wearing his headphones and chooses to look out the window instead, watching as everything moves past him in a blur. It took you about an hour or so to arrive at the airport and your flight is scheduled in four hours time, meaning you have about three hours left to check-in and grab a bite.
Safe to say, the two of you were acting like a couple that had broken up, which couldn’t be far from the truth. But then again: you weren’t an actual couple and none of you had felt like you had broken up, right? You were constantly on your phone—either scrolling through social media or texting someone. Riki could only pray that someone wasn’t a dude.
When it’s time to board the plane, you had done the same as before—pulling the divider down the moment you sat down. Unlike before when you did it on purpose and mischief, this felt more personal with a clear message sent to him. The message of wanting him to leave you alone. And that stung the most. It stings more than hearing his parents getting a divorce.
~
Five to six hours later, you had returned home. It was close to midnight and thankfully, your parents were nowhere to be found. It turns out they were away for a business trip and will only return in one month's time. This prove to be good news for you—giving you the much-needed alone space for you, without having your father's watchful eyes everywhere. It allows you to breathe without having to constantly looked behind your back for once.
You didn't bother unpacking your luggage, leaving it aside and went to take a much-needed shower, promptly coming out twenty minutes later, feeling refreshed. You had changed into a set of more comfortable and breathable clothes, now seated by your desk with your legs tucked in. You were in the midst of drying your hair when you saw your phone lighting up, followed by Ningning's profile picture. Sighing, you accepted the call and put it on speaker mode.
"Hello?"
"Hey girl, wanna join me and Minju tonight for some drinks?" She greeted you.
Normally, you would decline, stating how you need to either study or focus on your student council-related works but today was different. Your mind kept drifting back to Riki, to how he was before he firmly drew a line between the two of you. You needed a distraction and it was just nice that Ningning haf offered one to you, on a golden plate.
"Sure, count me in," you answered, hopping off your seat to head to your closet.
"Oh really!? You're actually joining us? Who are you and what have you done to (Name)?" Ningning exclaimed, making you snort and roll your eyes.
"Haha, very funny. Come pick me up in thirty minutes," you said, ending the call without waiting for her response.
You ended up choosing a sleeveless black dress that reached your thighs, topping it off with a thin bold red jacket. You applied some light makeup, followed by spraying perfume on yourself until your room smells like it. You grabbed your personal belongings—phone, wallet, identity card and a few other things to dump it into the black, Prada bag—the very same bag that Riki had oh so generously bought for you. Satisfied with your appearance, you slipped on your heels and left your home. You were just in time as Ningning pulled up to the main entrance.
She whistled when you got into the backseat. "Damn, someone's dressed to impress tonight."
Minju clicked her tongue, whacking the other's shoulder. "You idiot, she's dating Riki. Don't put it like that."
Ningning's eyes widened in realisation as she drove off. "Oh, right. Sorry babe, but does your boyfriend know you're coming with us to the club?"
The mention of the word 'boyfriend' is enough to make your heart tighten. Until now, your friends were oblivious to the whole fisaco you and Riki are involved in. You decided there was no better time than to tell them the truth.
"Uh, Riki's actually not my boyfriend," you confessed.
"What!?" Your friends exclaimed and Ningning nearly slammed her foot down on the brakes.
"It's a long story and I'm not sure if you guys are interested—" You continued but Minju interrupted you.
"(Name), it's alright. Tell us what happen. Remember? We're here for you," she said and Ningning nodded her head in encouragement.
You nearly teared up—feeling touched with how kind your friends are. "Well, it started like this…"
~
Riki returned to a still, unoccupied and silent home, much to his relief. He wasn't sure where his mother was nor does he care about her whereabouts. He dumped his duffel bag on the floor in his bedroom, hopping into the shower, coming out in ten minutes with a towel wrapped around his neck and water dripping from his hair. Riki had changed out of his clothes, now dressed in a black tank top and a pair of grey Chrome Hearts sweatpants. He wasn't hungry as he had ate in the plane and decides to do his laundry.
He threw the worn, dirtied clothes into the washing machine, followed by adding some detergent and set the timer. Riki went to sprawl on the couch in the living room, while waiting for his clothes to be done washing. He scrolled through Instagram, clicking on his friends' stories, getting a glimpse into their current lives and what they were doing.
And then, his screen swapped to your profile picture with his ringtong playing.
Riki froze.
He stared at the screen in disbelief, like his eyes were playing tricks on him. He didn't expect you to call him, not after what he had done. For a moment, he assumed you had misclicked and wasn't supposed to call him. But the longer he stares at your name, the more tempted he was to answer it. But he shouldn't. Not like he has the rights to do so anymore.
Fuck it.
Making up his mind, he accepted the call. "Hello? (Name)?"
"Hello? R-Riki? Hic—is that you?" You answered, words already slurring and barely understandable.
"Wha-? Are you drunk?" He asks, stunned as he didn't expect you to be the drinking type.
You let out a giggle and Riki desperately wished he was there, protecting you and warding off any potential creeps who thinks they have a shot with you. He could imagine the way your lips curled up, your pretty smile lighting up your face and how your eyes glowed like happiness.
"N-No—hic—I don't get—hic—drunk! I'm not—hic—like you," you defended yourself.
Sighing, Riki pushed himself up and leans back into the couch. "(Name), you're stressing me out. Did you went there alone? Where's your friends, hm?"
"D-Dunno—hic, think they're somewhere.. elsewhere—hic. You know, I'm still—hic—sad," you admitted.
"..What are you sad about?" He asks, even though he already knew the answer.
A sniffle.
"It's 'cause —hic—you dummy. Why do you—hic—have to be so—hic—mean to me? You treated me like I'm invisible—hic—out of nowhere, after I—hic—confessed. Do you—hic—really hate me that much? To the point where—hic—you don't even wanna—hic—talk to me?" You asked through your series of sniffles and hiccups.
Riki felt like he got punched right in the guts, his breath leaving his lungs. His blood turned cold. He has never heard you like this before—broken and vulnerable. He tightened his grip around his phone. His heart was screaming, yelling at him to rush to your side and to embrace you with his arms. But he couldn't. Not when he's the one who caused the two of you to fall astray. Not when he's doing this to protect you.
It's like his lips moved before his mind could process it. "No, I don't hate you. In fact, I could never hate you, (Name)."
You went silent on the other line. The only thing he could hear was your sniffles and how he wish he could be there to wipe the tears away. "R-Really?" You muttered, sounding like a child seeking for their mother's approval.
Riki nodded, although you couldn't see him. "Yes, really. Do you trust me?"
"..Yea, I do. I trust you, Ni-Ki."
The sudden usage of his actual name made his heart skipped a beat but he shoves it aside. "Alright, could you find your friends?" Give them a call or something," he paused, looking at the clock before him, "it's getting late."
"Alright, will I be able to talk to you in school?" You asked, hope evident in your voice.
"…Yeah, you will."
"Promise?" You whispered, only audible for him to pick up.
Riki fainly smiled. "Yea, promise."
But deep down, he had already broken it.
~
The next day, you dragged yourself to school looking like a zombie. Your unkempt state gathered many students' attention, their eyes following you as they whispered amongst themselves. You can't blame them, as you've never looked this messy before. Your blazer wasn't buttoned properly. Your tie was hanging loosely around your neck. Your hair was tied in a messy, high ponytail with multiple strands poking out from every direction. You had even wore sunglasses to hide your bloodshot, swollen eyes. You arrived at your first lecture of the day and Ningning was the first among the three of you to arrive, already saving your spots.
"Damn, you look like shit," Ningning said, arching an eyebrow as you plopped down in your seat on her right.
You pushed your sunglasses down, letting her see your eyes and she wheezed. "Thanks, genius. Remind me to never drink with you guys again."
At that moment, Minju had arrived, sliding a takeaway cup of hot coffee and a brown paper bag towards you as she sat on your right. "To be fair, we tried to stop you but you kept drinking like there's no tomorrow. So you only have yourself to blame."
You groaned, knowing she was right as you accepted them and nibbled on the sandwich Minju had bought from the cafe situated across campus. There were still some time left before the lecturer arrives, giving you enough time to finish your breakfast. You were almost done when you saw something that nearly made you choked on your half-eaten sandwich. Hearing that, your friends turned towards the door and the three of you wore matching dumbfounded, stupefied expressions—eyes widening to the point it might popped out from its sockets.
There he is—Nishimura Ni-Ki entering the lecture room, dressed like he's about to walk the runway. He wore two layers of clothes. The inner layer is a simple, white tank top while the outer layer is a thick, black hoodie that has a zip in the middle. He pairs it off with a pair of saggy-looking jeans that looks like it's about to drop if not for the belt snugly wrapped around his waist. But that's not what caught your attention. Oh no, it's the fact that Hana is walking right beside him, an arrogant smirk on her face. Your eyes trailed down and oh.
They are holding hands.
Plop.
Your sandwich fell into the paper bag with a pathetic plop sound, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You couldn't look away from the two, watching how Riki seems to be listening to Hana's words, nodding along here and there.
"What the fuck?" Ningning gaped, watching as the two took their seats on the left, rows ahead of yours.
You weren't spared, watching as Hana rested her head on his shoulder and even play with his fingers that were decorated in silver. The sight is enough to make bile rise in your throat. You pushed your sunglasses up when you felt the painfully familiar stinging sensation burning your eyes. Your nails dug into your palms, unable to believe what you were looking at. The lecturer came in and begin the lesson but you couldn't listened, occasionally looking in Riki and Hana's directions.
Your grip tightened around your pen when Riki tucked a few stray strands of hair behind Hana's right ear, leaving her in a giggling, flustered mess. You dryly swallowed, resisting the urge to vomit right there and then. Seeing this, your friends rested their hands on both sides of your shoulders and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. You didn't jot down any notes, unable to focus to a single word that your lecturer had said. When the lecture was over, most of the students started packing up and scrambled out from the room, impatient to leave. You, on the other hand, remained seated with your sunglasses removed. You didn't made any move to pack your things, eyes fixtated on Riki and Hana, watching how they were about to leave.
You weren't sure why but your legs moved before your mind could process it. One moment you were at your seat. The next moment, you were standing before them with your fists tightly clenched by your sides. Hana's smile dropped from her face when she saw you and it was instantly replaced with a scowl, eyes filled with disdain. She crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side with a cocky glint in her eyes. Her manicured nails glimmered underneath the lights.
"Yes? Can I help you?" She asked, voice dripping with nothing but annoyance.
You let out a shaky exhale, eyes flickering to Riki, who was looking at you like a complete stranger. Like he doesn't know you anymore.
"Uh, I was hoping if I could talk to Riki for a second, in private?" You asked in an unusually soft, timid voice—a huge contrast to how you carry yourself.
Hana audibly scoffed, about to say something when Riki stood up, hands shoved in his pockets. "Sure, follow me."
"What? Riki, are you su—"
"Hana, shut up. It'll only take a while," he interrupted, sending her a glare that made her sealed her lips shut. You followed Riki until you're standing outside the room and thankfully, the hallway is already empty as students were now attending their next lessons.
"So? What do you wanna say?" He asks, tapping his left foot on the ground, "I don't have all day."
Your breath caught at his words and tone. "..Why are you acting like this?"
"Like what?"
Like you're pretending we're just strangers. Like we were back to square one.
You didn't dare to say those words out loud. Instead, you brought up the call you made when you were drunk. "You promised me, Riki. You promised me that I'll be able to talk to you when we're in school," you choked out, voice borderline cracking.
If you were more observant, you would've noticed the way his shoulders tensed at the mention of the call. You would've noticed the way his jaw tightened, like he wants to say something but he had to hold himself back.
You continued.
"I thought we'll be able to fix things, only for you to come into class, together with Hana. Do you know how I felt when I saw you?" You paused, desperately clutching onto your shirt—right over where your heart lays.
"It felt like I was stabbed right here," you whispered, fingers curled tightly around the fabric. "Like someone ripped into me, grabbed my heart and… crushed it in front of me."
Your voice trembled, thick with the weight of unshed tears. "I sat there, trying not to break down, trying to pretend I don't care—but I was drowning, Riki. And the worst part? You didn't even look at me."
His head dipped slightly, but he said nothing. You pressed on, needing him to hear, needing him to feel it. You need him to know the irreversible damage he had done to you, or else you won't be able to move on.
Riki sighed out of frustration. "I've told you, didn't I? There's nothing real about us. In fact, there was never an us in the first place."
SLAP!
Silence.
Riki ended up facing the right, his cheek turning red with the pain lingering behind. He slowly raised his hand, fingers hovering over his reddened cheek—right over where you had slapped him. He couldn't say anything, too stunned to formulate a response.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Hana's shrill voice pierced through the hallway, shattering the atmosphere that had engulfed around the two of you.
You were roughly shoved aside by her, who was by Riki's side. Your fingers twitched at the sight of her cupping his face as she checked his injury. Ningning and Minju had join the scene as well, protectively standing on both sides, silently daring Hana to try something. She faltered, knowing she will lose and chose to storm off while dragging Riki away with her.
The two returned to the room, coming out a few seconds later with their bags and disappeared after making a turn on their left. Once they were out of your sight, your legs gave way and you collapsed to the floor. Your friends were quick to catch you, preventing you from getting any bruises.
You couldn't take it anymore, tears freely flowing down like a waterfall as you sobbed while being held in Ningning's arms. You couldn't register the sounds you made—like you're an animal being choked to death. Minju tried to comfort you by whispering into your ear but you were too far gone to understand her.
"I hate this," you whimpered, burying your face in the crook of her neck, "I hate falling in love."
Ningning sighed, patting your back lovingly like how a mother does to her child, "Oh (Name)…"
The three of you remained there—in the hallway as you cried to your heart's content.
~
Ever since that day, you had stopped talking to Riki, giving him the same treatment as well. You threw yourself into your duties—working on the upcoming Winter Gala that's happening in three weeks' time. You had just finished working on the announcement letter that will be pasted on the noticeboard and is now rereading it to ensure you didn't missed anything.
To all students,
As per the yearly tradition of Decelis Academy, the Winter Gala will be happening in three week's time, on 11th August 2025, from 7pm to 12am. Please dressed in approriate, formal clothes for the Gala. For this year, the required dress code is blue and white. as long as it is in proper attire.
There are some rules everyone have to follow:
It is a MUST to bring a plus one for the event. Failure to do so will prevent entrance into the event.
Please be on your best behavior during the event, as there will be people from different industries joining as well. Please remember you will be representing Decelis Academy.
Last but not least: have fun.
You let out a soft, humorless chuckle to yourself when you realized you had already broke the first rule. You don't have a plus one for the Gala and you were sure your father will be furious if he finds out you didn't attend. But, at this point, you were mentally exhausted—spending the past two weeks or so getting everything ready for the Gala.
Shaking your head to get rid of any unnecessary thoughts, you printed out the letter and headed to pin it on the noticeboard. The students who were nearby stopped whatever they were doing, moving closer to get a clearer look at the letter. Some started whispering amongst themselves, excited as they discussed about what to wear and who to bring for the Gala.
You stood at the back, watching with a faint, fond smile on your face. You turned, ready to return to the council room when you stopped, seeing Riki stepping out from the studio. He's all sweaty, his skin practically glowing underneath the light. You gulped as he ran a hand through his fluffy, blonde platinum hair. The white, oversized graphics shirt he wore clung to his body, showing off his broad shoulders and slender build.
You forced yourself to look away when you saw Hana approaching him, handing him something. Your heart tightened when Riki wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close and laughed when she squawked, complaining about how sweaty he is. Seeing them together made the familiar painful feeling returned. Not wanting to be in the same space any longer, you turned and retreated to the council room. What you didn't know is how Riki glanced at your retreating figure, until you were gone.
~
The day of the Gala arrived and the large indoor hall that's mostly used for talks had transformed into a ballroom that looks something straight out of a royal fantasy novel.
Chandeliers hung from the high vaulted ceiling, each crystal shard catching the light and scattering it across the room in different colors. The walls were draped in layers of sheer white and midnight blue silk, cascading down like waterfalls of moonlight, embroidered with silver thread that shimmered with every breath of wind.
There's a long, frost-kissed carpet that stretches from the entrance to the heart of the hall, bordened by glowing lanterns shaped like delicate winter blossoms. The floor sparkled as if it's dusted with crushed diamons, catching every step with subtle brilliance. Tables dressed in velvet navy linens circled the edges of the room, each set with fine china and glowing centerpieces of enchanted ice roses that pulsed gently with pale blue light.
There was even a live orchestra occupying the stage, playing differnet variations of winter ballads to fit the theme and atmosphere of the Gala. Girls and women entered, dressed in nothing but luxury from head to toe in different shades of blue with some white here and there. Boys and men are dressed in either dark blue or black suits. Soon, the hall was packed and filled with the sound of people chatting while laughing.
Riki entered, impecabbly dressed in a dark blue suit. His hair was neatly pushed back, revealing his forehead and his ears was decoated with a pair of small, silver hoop earrings. Unlike before, he only wore a maximum of four Chrome Hearts rings—two on both index and thumbs. Beside him and holding onto his arm is none other than Hana.
She was dressed like she's the centre of attention—wearing a light, pastel blue strapless dress that flows down at the end. Hana had also wore makeup that enhances her features, making her look like a Goddness. Riki snapped out of his trance when Hana gave a light tug on his arm.
"I'm gonna go and talk to some of the people there, will you be alright?" She asked, pointing to a group of women who Riki recognized as the leaders of a fashion company.
"Sure, go ahead," he nodded, giving her a small smile and she patted his arm before walking away, leaving him alone.
Riki grabbed a glass of white wine from a passing staff, moving to a corner to watch his surroundings. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone—his fellow classmates and the grownups. It's not like he was interested in doing business or wanting to do anything with the corporate world, unlike the students.
Unlike you.
He paused, straightening himself and looks around, trying to spot you among the sea of people. Riki checked his watch, frowning when he realized thirty minutes had passed but there was no sign of you. But he does see some familiar faces—Ningning and Minju with their respective dates for the Gala.
But you were nowhere to be seen.
Riki pushed himself off the wall and walked towards them. Minju saw his approaching figure and nudged Ningning, leaning in to whisper into her ear. The two turned as he stopped before him, faint anger flickered across their faces.
"What do you want? Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend or something?" Ningning snapped, venom evident in her tone.
Riki didn't flinched, ignoring the hositilty directed at him. "She's busy. Where's the President? Shouldn't she be out here?"
This time, it's Minju turn to speak up and she stepped forward. "What's it to you? Haven't you done enough? You led her on, making her think everything you had was real, only to cut her off!"
Ningning had to hold Minju back when she was close to throwing hands, reminding her about how they are in a public setting, where everyone can see what they were doing. Minju resorted to scowling at the taller.
Still, Riki didn't flinched. "I just want to know where (Name) is, please."
Minju sighed. "She's not here. She's staying at home."
Riki's shoulders sagged, eyes widening momentarily at her response. "What? What do you mean she's not here?"
Minju scoffed, crossing her arms. "You have a brain for a reason, so use it. Do you not remember the rules stated in the letter?"
Riki paused, thinking back to the letter he saw on the noticeboard. "Wait, don't tell me…"
Ningning nodded, confirming his thoughts. "Yeah, those without a plus one aren't allowed to enter."
"Shit," he cursed, running a hand through his neatly-styled hair, messing it up, "it's my fault."
"Damn right it is, now let me ask you something, Nishimura Ni-Ki and you better answer this truthfully," Ningning said.
"What is (Name) to you?" She asked.
Riki blinked. He didn't know how to transform his thoughts into words, causing him to hesitate for a moment. He let out a slow breath, eyes dropping to the floor—as if the answer can be found there.
"She's…" He started, quiet, "she's the one person who sees through everything. The one person I can't fool."
He looked up again, and both girls were able to see determination in his eyes and most importantly—honesty.
"I tried pushing her away. I thought it'd be easier. I was doing this to protect her, to protect her from getting hurt. But that was a pathetic excuse when I'm doing this because I was afraid."
He lets out a breathless laugh, laced with defeat and guilt. "And that's when I realised I too, had fallen for her. That I'm too far gone to pretend I don't feel something anymore. I'm in love with her and to me, she's not just someone. She's not the President. She's just (Name), my everything."
The two girls weren't expecting him to be honest, stunned. They exchanged a quick glance that speak volumes. Ningning pursed her lips, reaching into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, handing it to Riki. His eyes darted between the paper and Ningning's face, eyebrows furrowed.
"What's this?" He asked, accepting it, unfolding the paper, only to see an address messily scribbled on it.
"It's her address. If you really meant what you say, go to her and tell her the truth. Tell her everything," Ningning said softly, giving him a small, encouraging smile.
Riki gulped, clutching the paper tightly in his grip like it's his lifeline. "..I will, thank you, really."
Minju shook her head, waving off his words. "Don't thank us just yet. Invite us to your wedding and we'll accept your words."
Riki laughed and dipped, not bothering to say anything to Hana. Right now, Hana is not important. You are his top priority.
~
I'm sure everyone's having fun at the Gala now.
You sighed for the unknownth time, idily spinning your pen with your right index and middle fingers. Your hair was tied in a messy bun with some strands of hair framing your face. You were dressed comfortably—a faded graphics oversized shirt and a pair of shorts that's peeking out from the hem of your shirt. You could have been at the Gala, dressed in a beautiful dress while mingling with the crowd and talking to some of the famous lawyers there to secure your future.
But no, you weren't. Instead, you were at home, seated by your desk and studying. To be more specifically, attempt to study.
Groaning when the words weren't making anymore sense to you, you took that as a sign to take a break. You headed to the kitchen barefooted, feeling the smooth, marbled floor beneath you as you poured yourself a glass of water.
Knock knock.
You paused, looking at the closed door, thinking you had misheard it or something. You shrugged if off and was about to return to your room when you heard it again.
Knock knock. Knock knock! Knock knock!
"Damn, calm down," you grumbled, heading to the door and opened it without checking via the peephole.
CRASH!
The glass slipped from your hand, shattering into tiny pieces when it's none other than Riki. He's annoyingly handsome tonight. The way the suit clung to him like it's his skin took your breath away. Riki flinched when you dropped the glass, stopping you when you bent down, ready to pick the glass pieces up.
"Don't, I'll do it," he stopped you, hands gently grabbing your wrist—the mere contact sends your heart skipping.
"…What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Gala?" You whispered, looking down at the floor, unable to look at him. You couldn't.
Shouldn't you be with Hana?
You didn't have to say those words, not when Riki perfectly understood it without you saying it out loud. Riki sighed, thumb drawing invisible circles on your wrists. "Can I come in first, please? I'll clean the mess then explain everything to you."
You should tell him to leave. Tll him to go back to the Gala but you couldn't. Not when your heart was yearning for him. "..Fine, come in," you murmured, moving aside so he could enter your home. You gently closed the door behind him, leading him to the kitchen where the broom and dustpan is.
None of you said anything. You watched, sitting on the couch with your arms crossed as Riki sweeps the glass shards up into the dustpan and dumped it into the dustbin. When he's done, he returned and sat on the other couch at your request for him to sit.
"So? What do you have to say?" You asked, your voice coming out colder than you intended, making him flinched.
Riki fiddled with his fingers, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his upper thighs. "I didn't have a choice. Hana threatened me to either date her or she'll ask the funders to pull out and not sponsor the dance club."
You rolled your eyes, arms crossed as you leaned back in your seat. "What a great start, Riki. And what? You agreed? So, you're doing all of this for your dance club?"
Riki snorts, despite the seriousness of the current situation. "Harsh, but I deserve that. Look, at that point, I don't fucking care about the dance club anymore. Whether the funders want to continue or not, I don't care. I care more about you! And Hana… she knew that," he paused, eyes darting towards your stunned face before to the floor.
"That's why she threatened me by using you," he continued, anger seeping into his voice as he clenched his fists. "I don't know how but she managed to get a hold of your call when you were drunk. She had a whole recording of it too. She told me if I don't be her fake boyfriend, hold hands with her in front of everyone and all that shit, she'll release the recording to everyone on the day of the Gala. She wants to get rid of you, no matter what."
You let out a shaky exhale, disbelief written all over your face. "So is that why you started acting cold out of a sudden? Was it when Hana had texted you? Telling you about all of…that?"
"I thought I was protecting you!" Riki snapped, losing his composure. "I thought that if you hated me, you wouldn't be dragged into her stupid mindgames. I didn't want to lose you, but I couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. I was afraid."
Frustrated tears welled in your eyes and you stood up from where you sat. "Which is why you chose to hurt me yourself?"
Riki flinched again, as if your words had struck deep within him. His shoulders sagged with defeat. "I didn't know what else to do. But, every time I see you in class, saw the way you looked at me like I'm some kind of stranger… it killed me. And I thought maybe that's what I deserved."
His voice cracked and you caught it—a singular tear droplet rolling down his right cheek. "But I never stopped caring, not even for a second. And I'm sorry. I'm so—" He moved towards you, now standing directly before you.
"I'm sorry for everything."
Silence pressed between the two of you—thick, painful and heavy. And then, Riki reached out with hesitation, hands hovering in midair—uncertain if he could even touch you before he dropped his hands.
"I just wanted to protect you—even if it means you'll hate me forever."
You stared at him, silently crying, breaking down in front of him. You should say something. Scream at him, telling him about how hurt you felt by him. But instead, your hands shot out, grabbed him by the collar, tugged him down and crashed your lips against his.
Riki went still for a second, mind lagging and it hits him. But then he melted into you, hands flying up to cradle your face with a desperation that speaks volume. The kiss was messy, trembling and filled with unspoken, pentup feelings. Every apology. Every missed chance. Every silent night and torture both of you went through because of one another.
He kissed you like he had been starving for it. Like he had been thinking about it. Like it's the only thing that keeps him alive. When you finally pulled away, just barely, pressing your forehead against his, your breaths mingled in the same shared air space.
"You're a fucking idiot, I hope you know that," you murmured, lips grazing against his with every word you spoke.
Riki breathlessly chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Yeah, but I'm your idiot now."
"I won't say that."
"Hey!" He whined, making you giggle as you pull him in for another kiss. And another. And another. Until the two of you ended up in your bedroom, bodies melted into one.
~
The white curtains shielding you from the sunlight scatters about as a gentle gust of wind enters the room. You woke up to the sound of birds chirping happily outside, causing you to stirr in your half-awake and half-asleep state. You reached forward, attempting to grab your phone, only to be tugged backwards until you landed against a firm, bare chest.
"Where you going?" Riki mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing against your hickey-covered neck. You involuntarily shivered in his grasp when he purposely rested his hand on your stomach, ready to move lower.
"I was trying to grab my phone to check the time," you softly replied, turning in his hold to fully face him. You smiled when you saw he's already awake and you leaned in, pressing a soft, loving kiss against his lips, chuckling when he chased after your lips.
"Hey, that wasn't a kiss," he huffed.
"Morning breath," you reminded him but he rolled his eyes.
"Whatever," he scoffed, flipping you onto your back with him hovering over you.
"Riki, do—!" You tried to stop him but the moment he kissed you, you went pliant against him.
Your lips moved in a slow, languid pace, like you have all the time in the world. You gasped when Riki traced his hand along the silhouette of your body, like he couldn't get enough. Although the way he had you squirming, crying underneath him yesterday for hours says otherwise.
"Shit, you're so fucking irresitable," he cursed, pulling your right leg up to wrap it around his waist.
You whined at his words, breath hitching as his hand moves closer and closer to where you need him—
Ring, ring! Ring, ring!
Riki groaned at the interruption and you shoved him away, not caring as he tumbled back to the bed with a startled squawk. You checked your phone, to see it was a message from Ningning.
"Fuck, we need to get dressed. Ningning's reaching in thirty minutes," you cursed, pulling the sheets off your body but Riki was faster. He pulled you towards him, until you landed against his chest.
"Riki, I swear! Let go!" You exclaimed, bursting out into a fit of giggles when he ruthlessly tickled your sides.
"Nah, don't wanna," he laughed, planting kisses all over your face, elicting more giggles from you.
"P-Please—pft! M-Mercy!" You choked out, feeling your stomach hurting and thankfully, Riki finally freed you.
"…Do you ever regret moving here?" He asked in a softer tone, resting his chin on your shoulder while intertwining your fingers together.
After graduation, you and Riki agreed to move to another country—Australia, to start a new life. A new life without having to worry about anything. Your father nearly fainted when you told him the news and needless to say, it ended up in an intense arugment. He had attempted to make you stay, by threatening you that if you were to step out of the door, you won't be able to come home anymore.
Safe to say, you stepped out without hesitation. Riki simply packed his things and left without telling his mother. He did informed his father, however, who wasn't surprised and encouraged his son to visit him once in a while and to bring you along.
You managed to land an internship at one of the lawyer firms in Australia—which is one of your biggest dreams. Riki had gone all out, throwing you a celebration dinner to celebrate the occassion. Riki, on the other hand, was scouted by one of an agency for his dancing skills and is now currently conducting dancing lessons. Although, he still hopes to open a dance studio of his own someday.
You looked at him over your shoulder and shook your head. "Of course not. Why would I have any regrets when I'm with you?"
"Such a sap."
"Thanks, I learn from the best."
Both of you laughed, leaning in to close the remaining distance to share a kiss, savoring the moment. And just like that, the past faded behind you, and the future stretched wide open—yours to write, together.
SYNOPSIS ⸝⸝⸝ from the day you were able to understand the things around you, you were relentlessly told about the long lineage of your family's history. being blood tied to a saintess—hand picked by the gods. you learned everything there was to learn. from the great start of the saintess and the dragon's alliance, to their inevitable downfall. you learned all of it. soon earning your parents strict instructions to never socialize with the dragon of your generation. yet now here you were standing at an altar, face to face with him—jay. all for the emperor's will of wishing you to bear jay's child.
WORD COUNT ∿ 42k
PAIRING ∿ dragonborn!jay x noble lady!fem reader
GENRE/WARNINGS ∿ marriage of convenience, love at first sight, pregnancy trope, runaway trope, angst, violence, mentions of blood, slight slow burn (jay wants the damn cookie), sexual tension, smut MDNI; oral (f. receiving), masturbation (m & f), slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation - if i forgot any sorry
EVIE'S NOTE ˚. ᵎᵎ one whole month later and we’re finally here !!! FIRST this was HEAVILY inspired by the manhwa "It Was Just a Contractual Marriage". SECOND, this is my first ever long fic and its insane to me that i was truly able to cook up over 40k+ words (i am so sorry OMG). it did take a bit for the release of "the dragon and the lady" but i really hope the wait was well worth it. i also want to thank @heejamas @yeonmuse and @hoonieyun for being my proofreaders in this long process of a fic (and @heesmiles for proofing my smut :3). their support means so much to me and truly kept me inspired the whole time. time to sleep like a (barely) normal person again :3. i really hope you all enjoy this fic (aka my newborn child). MWAH <3
Your whole life, you were taught the upbringing of your family’s history. You lived by it. Learned from it. The family history had all started from a woman. Yet she wasn’t just someone ordinary. She was deemed a saintess. The Saintess—handpicked by the gods. Chosen to help, aid, and lead. As she went on spreading her wisdom and solace to the people. The saintess soon met an unfamiliar being—a dragon.
The mystical being was unlike anything she had seen before. Eyes colored like gold that quietly held the lowering sun in its eyes, scales that glistened like obsidian whether in the sun or moonlight. Then when the dragon morphed into a human, it was shown to have midnight hair that swept across the floor, with a build that of an adult man, all while still having those piercing golden eyes. The Saintess soon became intrigued by this being. Her only wish was to form a friendship—a connection. The Dragon happily accepted her offer, hoping to learn more about the humans that shared the world with him.
But soon The Saintess would be betrayed by The Dragon. It was said he hurt the people around The Saintess, going as far as burning down the things important to her. From then on The Dragon was sworn to never be forgiven so long as The Saintess willed it. As The Saintess’ kin expanded, so did The Dragon’s. As the children of The Saintess grew older and bore children of their own, the blessing bestowed by the gods withered away. With it, they were now regular humans that walked along the earth.
While learning your family’s history, you were strictly told to never converse with the dragon, look at him, or ever be near him. You didn’t understand why your parents stressed on it. Maybe it was the fact you were the first girl born to the family in decades. Even then it was a consistent reminder at every social gathering. Even so, you never once saw the infamous dragon.
That was until the year of your debutante.
There he stood, in the middle of the ballroom—glued to the Emperor’s side. Plastered in iron armor from shoulder to toe, accompanied with a black cape which dragged across the floor. As you studied him you took note of the intricate sword securely sheathed at his side. Just like the story, the dragon had midnight hair. But his eyes were a different color—from a distance they looked to be silver, but you knew it held more than that. Even if you couldn’t talk about the dragon, you knew of him.
Said to be both the Emperor’s war dog, as well as his adoptive brother. You heard many things that were whispered amongst the maids at home.
“I heard he won a whole war without even needing an army to back him up!” One maid stated.
“Well I heard he’s killed over thousands and thousands of men! On and off the battlefield!” Another maid chimed in.
You didn’t remember much of what the maids gossiped over or chatted about in truth. But every time you heard the fleeting giggles and whispers of his name, you were quick to eavesdrop. Not caring if what was said about him was negative or positive. You truly wanted to learn more about him. Part of you felt connected to him. Perhaps it was the way you grew up listening about the family history. Or maybe it was the insistent discipline from your father and mother to stay away from him. Despite all of that you grew curious of him.
Soon your ears perked at the mere exchange of his name echoing amongst the chatter. Head turning slightly to catch a peripheral view of him. Even underneath all the heavy armor you knew his build was strong, his height clearly showed for that, since he was many inches taller than the Emperor.
Your body gently jolted at the firm hand suddenly placed on your shoulder. “Y/N sweetheart I was calling out for you.” It was your father. “The Emperor wishes to congratulate you on your coming of age.” lips turning into a soft smile.
“Sorry Father. I was lost in thought for a mere moment.” Flashing an apologetic smile.
“It’s okay sweetheart, let’s not keep His Majesty waiting.”
Placing your hand on his forearm, you both made your way to the two special guests. You could feel your father tense up as you neared the Emperor and dragon. It was your first time being face to face with the man you were forbidden to see. Of course your overly protective father would be stressed in this scenario.
“If it isn’t the lady of the hour!”
As you approached the Emperor, a smile spread across your lips. Your steps stopped, fingers grabbing the outer layer of your intricately designed dress, curtseying before greeting him. “Greetings to the empire’s sun.” As you rose back up, your fingers still held onto the silk fabric—waiting for the Emperor to dismiss you.
“I can’t believe you’re already seventeen Y/N. I remember you being only five years old, as if it was just yesterday! You have truly grown into a beautiful young lady!” As the Emperor spoke proudly your body eased—knowing you were able to speak rather comfortably with him.
“Your Majesty, thank you for the sweet words.” Your soft smile unwavering. “I’m very thankful for your help in setting up my debutante. I am truly lucky having His Majesty lend a helping hand.”
As your father, The Emperor, and you conversed a little more, The Emperor’s words were cut short. “My. Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced you to my dear brother.” His hand gestured the dragon forth.
Your head tilted up. Finally face to face with the man you heard so much about since the moment you first heard of his name. You were finally looking at Jay. It would have been a lie if you denied not knowing his name. Of course you knew it. Your parents may have forbid any mention in front of them and you, but that didn’t stop the hushed talks within the manor. From the first day you heard his name, you made sure to memorize it—him—like a memoir.
“Y/N I would love for you to meet my brother Jay. I’m sure you’ve heard many things about him?”
A gentle laugh left your lips, readying yourself to lie in front of your father and Emperor. “No, not that I am aware of. My apologies for that.” Hand placed on your chest, you slightly bowed— feigning forgiveness.
“It’s alright. Your lineage is indeed connected to The Saintess, so of course your father wouldn’t let you hear things about Jay.” The Emperor laughed. Chuckling at how serious your parents took The Saintess’ will.
“I’m so sorry Your Majesty. I pray that this act of parental care did not offend you.” Your father’s voice came off troubled, bowing in submission—fretting that he committed a horrible sin.
“Raise your head my dear friend. I am not offended in the slightest. Your deep adoration for your daughter is admirable. Don’t stress too much over it. Instead, may these two greet one another?” The Emperor placed his hand on your father’s shoulder, making sure to reassure his rising anxiety.
A light sigh left your father’s lips, happy to know the family wasn’t going to face the emperor’s wrath. Your father’s hand was firm on your upper back, gently ushering you to talk to Jay. Even if he seemed confident, deep down you knew how much he hated the idea of this. Taking the push, you warmly spoke. “It’s nice to formally meet you, Your Grace.” Curtseying once more.
You felt nervous for some reason. Was it from finally meeting Jay in person, or could it have been the mana of his dragon powers—feeling like a lingering ghost against your skin. Your head craned up, waiting for his reply back. All you got was a gentle nod of his head, paired with a disinterested look.
“Come on now Jay, give the young lady a response. Don’t just nod your head.”
The addition of The Emperor’s words made you probe the interaction more. Was Jay unsatisfied with you? Was there something you did to displease him? Your soft smile faltered at the growing questions bubbling in your mind.
“My apologies lady Y/N. It’s nice to meet you as well.” Jay lowered his head, bowing politely all while extending a hand to you.
You felt hesitant to take it, already worried your presence alone was unsatisfactory. Yet once your hand was in his, it was almost as if a missing puzzle piece fell into its correct spot. The touch of armor on your skin was cold—soothing in a way. It felt as if your hand in his was right in the world. Your eyes flickered up to Jay’s face, finally taking the moment to study every feature on him.
The first thing you noticed was the tinge of blue tucked into the depths of his eyes. Ever so lightly replicating the deep blue sea engulfed by sea foam. A gentle laugh verberated in your chest. Finding it amusing you were right about him—even if it was just his eyes.
Jay’s head tilted slightly—unnoticed to the people around him. He found your hushed laugh sweet, wishing to hear more of it. Then his thoughts paused. Fist tightening as he remembered his place in the world. Even if he was curious about you, at the end of the day you were The Saintess’ kin. No amount of persuading within himself would make him pursue more than just watching you from where he stood.
Noticing your hand still placed awkwardly in his. Jay leaned down, leaving a gentle peck of his lips against the back of your petite hand. Your face flushed at the sudden contact. It was indeed customary for men to kiss the hand of the woman they greeted. But you truly didn’t think Jay would do so.
Suddenly your father cleared his throat—pretty loudly. The unexpected sound made you draw your hand away from Jay’s. Once your hand was away from his you turned to look at your father. While you looked away, Jay stared at the cold armor encasing his hand. He may not have felt the warmth of your hand directly. But that didn’t mean he missed the heavy weight of your hand in his.
Looking at your father, you noticed the expression he gave. Almost as if he was signaling for you to finish up your interaction with Jay. Not wanting to stress out your father anymore than you already had, you turned back to Jay.
Finger tips grabbing the sides of your dress you bowed down. “It was very nice meeting you, Your Grace. But I believe my father wishes for me to head back with him.” Once finishing your sentence did you stand back up to face Jay.
“It was nice meeting you as well My Lady. Congratulations on your debut.”
The corner of your lips lightly raised at his words. Giving one last curtsey, you turned to head back with your father. As you left, Jay’s eyes didn't look away from you—unsure of when he would truly see you face to face again.
“I see you had an enjoyable time talking to the girl.” The Emperor spoke—mocking evident in his tone.
Jay’s head turned to glare at the man, displeased with how he referred to you. “Now. Don’t give me that look. You truly didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the clear enjoyment on your stoic face?” This time letting out a scoff. Jay turned away from The Emperor, unwilling to give him the reaction he wanted.
As The Emperor walked in front of Jay he spoke one last time. “But fret not my dear brother. You’ll see her again soon enough.” As Jay listened to his brother, his eyes landed back onto you. Watching you from the other side of the ballroom, brows furrowing as his words sank in. Jay knew something terrible was being planned.
With the ending of your debutante, years went by. Throughout the years you attended many more social gatherings. Within those gatherings you began to instinctively look for Jay. Eyes darting around looking for that familiar shade of black hair. But to your avail, there was no luck. Jay never showed up to any other social gathering since your debut.
You soon found out he was sent to fight in a war after your debut, finally understanding his new lack of absence in society. Once hearing about the new information you stopped looking for him at the parties. Instead all you would do was pray for his safety. Every night as your hands were clasped together, you stood outside at your balcony asking the gods to look after his safety.
You didn’t know why you did it. All you knew was if your parents found you praying for Jay’s safety, they surely would’ve died from shock. Even if your parents kept up the pretense of hating and disliking Jay due to his dragon origins. That didn’t stop you from wanting to care about his well being. You continued this new formed habit for the next year, before you would receive news that would truly change the path of your life.
Once Jay arrived back from war he was immediately told to have an audience with his brother. As much as he wished to ignore it and him, The Emperor was very insistent on wanting to speak to Jay. Making his way through the castle halls—followed by the echoing sound of heavy armor rattling with every step—Jay tugged the suffocating helmet from his head. Forehead still drenched in sweat from the long horseback ride to the kingdom. Now at the door of the audience chamber, Jay took one look at himself. He was still covered in blood. An annoyed sigh left his lips knowing his brother was going to surely lecture him about his appearance.
Pushing through the heavy double doors himself, Jay made his way to stand before his brother. “Greetings to the Empire’s sun.” Jay’s voice was calm, yet held irritation behind it. Jay stood tall, hands behind his back—preparing himself for the conversation. As Jay prepared himself, The Emperor sat at the head of the room. Slouching slightly in his throne chair, eyes not leaving Jay for a single moment.
“My dear dear brother you’re finally back from the war. What has it been? Around five years or so?” The Emperor mocked. “You couldn’t have cleaned off the blood before you got here?” He complained while plugging his nose.
“Well brother. You insisted I meet you right away to talk.” Jay retorted.
The Emperor sighed out. “Well it doesn’t matter. The thing I want to talk about with you is brief anyways.”
Jay’s fists curled tighter into his armored hands, a habit he created to not outwardly show his emotions. “And what was it you wish to tell me?”
The Emperor sat himself up on his throne. Preparing himself for the reaction his so-called dear brother would give him. “Well. I am arranging for you to marry that girl related to The Saintess.” A wicked smile now splayed across his face, truly amused with the twisted emotions coming across Jay’s face.
“Well in truth, the main reason for your arrangement is that I want you to have a child with her.”
Jay’s eyes widened, not with acceptance and joy, but that of unwillingness. Why would his brother do such a thing? His brother knew fully well of the circumstances within your family. There was no way imaginable they would agree to this arrangement. Your parents marrying their pure innocent daughter over to a monster like him? Then on top of that, having a child with you. It was ridiculous.
“I refuse.” As Jay answered, his voice came off more hoarse, more demanding and firm. This would be the first time in his life that Jay would refuse something his brother had commanded.
An amused laugh left The Emperor’s lips. “See I knew you’d say that. That’s why I’m gonna tell you something very important. So important that you truly won’t be able to refuse this arrangement.”
This time Jay let out a chuckle, believing his brother’s words to be one big bluff. “Then tell me. What type of information do you have that would ever make me say yes to this ridiculous plan of yours?”
“It pertains to your mother Jay.”
“What are you even saying? My mother died when she gave birth to me! You are my brother by title, so how dare you mention her like this!” Jay’s voice rose the more he spoke. Feeling his temper rise at the situation.
“To be truthful now. Your mother has been alive this whole time.” Jay’s face changed within the second. Brows furrowing at the thought of his mother—in which he never met since birth—being alive this whole time. “You see, after she gave birth to you some magicians of mine were able to keep her stable. So at the very moment she’s in this limbo of life and death. Essentially her death is controlled by me if we’re gonna be honest.”
There it was again, that sly smile, The Emperor knew he truly had Jay in the palm of his hand yet again. While he gloated in satisfaction, Jay still stood there—bewilderment twisting into his facial features. “This. It can’t be true…”
“Why are you doing this, why her? Why need another monstrous child?!” Jay’s voice grew louder, all while his mind became engulfed with chaos.
A scoff echoed through the room. “That ridiculous family has finally birthed a daughter after only birthing sons for a whole decade. And while you are here alive and well why not take advantage of this chance? A child mixed with the blood of a Saintess and a Dragon born, don’t you think that would be exceptional for me?”
Jay stood there, not wanting to believe a single word. He always knew The Emperor was not as kind and gentle as he showed off, but this. This was nothing more than pure evil. “I know, I know. The sudden news is hard to accept. But if you ever want to meet your mother you know what needs to happen. How about you think on it. Okay?”
Jay thought about his brother’s words, the situation he was now being ushered into. Even if the dragon wasn’t raised by his mother, he always felt some sort of affectionate attachment to her. Hoping those emotions alone would soothe his misery of what he is. As Jay turned his body, The Emperor spoke one final time.
“You know what will happen if you refuse Jay. So truly think wisely about this choice.”
With those final words, Jay trudged his way out of the audience chamber. Pushing open the doors more meekly as the exchangement of words sank in. The walk to his room was one big blur, mind disoriented and filled with pros and cons on the marriage arrangement.
Once inside Jay closed the doors behind him. As he stood there armor clad hands pressed against the wooden door, he couldn't help but feel defeated. Soon his hand curled into a fist, then with one swift motion Jay landed a punch onto the door. The contact of armor echoing throughout the room.
“This can’t.” Jay sighed out. Truly not knowing what to do now.
If there was one thing Jay knew for certain, was that you would die.
While the children of The Saintess were blessed with her holy power. The Dragon’s kin were foretold to be cursed. From the moment they are born into the world they emerge from their mother’s stomach. Essentially killing the mother not even seconds after birth. Of course the newborn doesn’t wish to kill its only true source of nurture and love. But that was the price to pay for being the kin of The Dragon.
Yet his mother was somehow saved—even if it meant her being trapped in a limbo for the rest of her life—but that revelation wouldn’t teeter Jay from the truth.
You were still weak and fragile. How could you possibly carry a dragon born in your body, especially for nine months? From the moment he first laid his eyes upon you he felt his whole world light up in a way he never knew could be possible. Even if five years had gone by he still remembered your face, the way you softly laughed that night, and even the comforting weight of your smaller hand in his.
Jay felt an emotion for you he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It couldn’t have been love, for someone like him didn’t deserve to feel that luxurious emotion. Instead Jay deemed this new found feeling as obsession. Yes that’s what it was, the reason why you were on his mind those 5 years he spent fighting in the war. He couldn’t forget the way your hair framed your alluring face, or the way your gentle doe-like eyes started into him.
Jay was just enamored with the sole idea of you. But now with the new arrangement, this unwarranted obsession would in truth be harder to control. And deep down Jay wasn’t sure if he could accept that.
While Jay struggled with his new found information you were just as conflicted as well. That evening of hearing the news, your mother came into your room—panic evident in her voice. “My darling you must get dressed and come with me to your father’s office.”
You sat in the seating area, book in hand. Your head shot up at the sudden disturbance of your mother. “Mother, what are you talking about?” Placing the now closed book in your lap.
“Just get dressed and we can talk about it when we’re with your father.” Your mother was surely hiding something. Yet your confused demeanor didn’t let you think too much on the matter.
Before you could ask for your maid—Serim—to come in, your mother beat you to it. Serim was someone entrusted to you for the past couple of years. She was around your age, just a couple years older than you. Her hair was a light brunette color, accompanied with hazel eyes to match. Pulling yourself up from the cushioned chair. You proceeded to stand in front of the full body tri fold mirror. Arms out at your side, waiting for Serim to help undress you.
Serim was quick with her work, she always had been. Efficient with styling your hair to match your attire. And Serim had achieved that once again. There you stood, hair done up in a half up-half down, paired with a casual cream colored dress with long sleeves.
“There you are, My Lady. All done!” Serim stood to the side, allowing you to bask in your reflection. Even if Serim helped you with countless beautiful looks, she was still always happy with her finished work.
You turned to smile at her, showing your utmost loyal appreciation for her. “Thank you Serim. You always know how to help and dress me up.”
“Oh please My Lady, you’re too kind!”
Before you and Serim could go on more with your shared compliments, your mother was quick to stop you. “As much as I would love to sit and listen. Y/N, I really need you to come with me to your father’s office.”
You quickly became quiet. “Oh, yes mother. My apologies.”
Your mother didn’t reply back—her attention focused more on meeting with your father. The walk to his office was quiet, yet oddly rushed. What was so important your mother showed clear stress towards the matter?
“Mother is everything alright?” Questioning her, maybe even hoping she’d be willing to speak early on the matter. Instead you were ignored, her mind truly being only focused on the three of you speaking together.
Finally making it to the office, the servants at the door pushed open the large doors to let you both inside. Now inside, it was only the three of you. You stood there beginning to feel awkward, your father sat at his desk—hands clamped together while his brows knitted into a tense expression. For your mother, she immediately made her way to the seating area, slouching into the couch—which was very unladylike of her.
After seeing this you knew there was something terribly wrong. “Mother. Father. What is it that is plaguing your mind so terribly at the moment?” Your voice broke the chilling silence.
“Y/N.” A deep sigh left your father’s lips. “My sweetheart, please sit down.”
You still stood there confused, taking a few seconds before making your way to sit down. Pulling out the seat in front of your father, you gracefully sat yourself to face him. “Father, please. What is going on? You and Mother are worrying me.”
“Y/N, I. We.” Your father breathed in heavily, finding the words within himself—yet he still struggled to speak.
After what felt like many minutes—which in truth was merely one minute—your father spoke. “We received a letter from the royal palace. More so, from The Emperor himself.” His words faded off. Your head tilted in confusion.
“What could truly be the problem? Our family has backed up the royal family for many centuries. What could His Majesty have said in his letter that has shaken you up like this?”
Soon you could hear the faint hicks and sobs from your mother, head frantically turning. Did the family do something to make His Majesty upset? What could there have been for your mother to now start crying. She was the type of lady to never show her inner emotions outwardly—unless she was by herself or with Father alone. Turning back to look at your father, his face looked paler than a few seconds ago. “Please! What is going on with the both of you? I’m starting to get scared.”
“My love! Just tell her already. I can’t let this go on for any longer!” Choked sobs left your mother this time around.
You could hear your father gulp, before he spoke. “The Emperor. His Majesty has arranged you to marry His Grace. Duke of Seathal, Jay Velpark.”
You sat there stunned. If there was one thing The Emperor knew about our family it would be the legend of The Saintess. Not only did His Majesty know of it, but so did everyone in the empire. So why would he pair you both together?
“Surely, you can deny this request? His Majesty knows about our story, The Saintess’ legend. Why would he even entertain that idea?” A wretched laugh leaving your lips.
“We can’t deny his request.”
“What do you mean? He may be the emperor, but his word is not always law…” Truthfully you didn’t hate the idea of being betrothed to Jay, in a way it excited you. Getting this rare opportunity to see him for the rest of your life was surely uncalled for. But as you watched your parents wallow in their own despair, you began to feel guilty. How dare you find excitement in His Majesty’s arrangement, while your parents were suffering in front of you.
“His Majesty. He stamped it with the Imperial seal.” Your father’s head lowering deeper into his hands.
“No, that. He wouldn’t?” Everything now dawned on you. The reason why your parents looked so defeated and heartbroken. The Imperial seal was a stamp strictly used for important orders that couldn't be denied. The stamp was an insured demand to agree—denying the seal would lead to immediate execution.
You always thought The Emperor was kind and caring. Yet he stamped the Imperial seal on this request. No. His demand, knowing fully well your parents wouldn’t deny it. You sat there perplexed, unknowing on what to do or even say at this point. All you could do was accept it, for putting up a fight would just be utterly meaningless.
“Your wedding is going to be held next month. During this time you will immediately go into etiquette training-”
“Wait Father. I’ve already learned most of my etiquette growing up. What else is there for me to know?”
“Y/N. You are to be marrying the Duke, that would soon make you a Duchess. You would need to learn both more etiquette and proper training to govern His Grace’s land.”
In truth, you had forgotten Jay was a Duke. Growing up viewing him as The Dragon’s kin, it had slipped past your mind that he was given the title of Duke. As well as a land of his own to govern and care for. Seathal was said to be a territory of land constantly veiled in snow. A land shrouded in winter almost all year long.
Long ago before the tale of The Saintess and Dragon, Jay’s territory was said to be a land full of lush greenery. Filled to the brim with fields full of flowers—ranging from all kinds one could think of. Next to the capital of that land was a sea port, reasons for how Seathal got its name. The port was widely known for its exotic trades and abundance of goods from all around the world.
But when The Dragon parted ways with The Saintess, he made Seathal his new home. Very soon encasing the town in an eternal winter. Yet for some odd reason, every year around the time of The Saintess’ birthday, Seathal became a bit warmer, more liveable. Subtle flowers blooming in various places, accompanied with fruits and crops sporadically growing across the town. This strange phenomenon only lasts for four months.
The townspeople viewed The Saintess highly for this, deeming the strange break in the season to be an act of pity. They were grateful for her blessing, but that didn’t mean they hated The Dragon as well.
Another key factor about Seathal was its frequent monster attacks. Due to The Dragon marking that place as his new found territory. Monster attacks lessened—they still happened—but the people were protected regardless. As much as some people wanted to hate The Dragon and his kin, they couldn’t deny the sole reason they still stood was due to that mystical being.
Anchoring yourself back to the conversation you looked at your father—truly bewildered. This was a lot of responsibility being thrown at you. Being just a young noble lady belonging to a fairly normal household, you were soon to become a Duchess—essentially overnight. Your life would be flipped, unaware if this was gonna be for better or for worse.
“I know this is all very shocking to you my dear. You can head back up to your room if you’d wish to do so.” All your father could do was look at you somberly. Tears daring to leave his eyes. Your father always held himself up strongly—the same as your mother—so for him to almost cry. You could barely begin to understand how much this was affecting the both of them.
“I’ll be heading off to my room then.” Your voice came off weak and dejected, the changing future now settling within you.
As you stood up from the seat you were engulfed in a hug—it was your mother. Faint sobbing leaving her lips as her embrace tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You hugged her back just as tight. You didn’t know what to feel, part of you was satisfied with this outcome of a marriage partner. But on the other end, you hated seeing your parents feel defeated. They felt like they were betraying The Saintess, you knew that, but there was truly nothing else that could be done now.
Soon you were relieved from your mother’s hug, shaky hands cupping your face, truly taking in the moment of everything. Bidding your mother and father a good night you headed to your room, feet dragging as you walked along the carpeted halls. Making it to your room, you were greeted with a cheerful Serim. Yet once she saw the look on your face did her own smile drastically change as well.
After undressing and settling in bed did you muster up the courage to tell Serim everything. From being arranged to marry Jay to the arrangement being a royal decree, you told her everything. Serim was silent. Then she spoke.
“My Lady, I will go with you to Seathal.”
You shot up from the bed, shocked at her words. “Serim please, I didn’t tell you this so you felt obliged to come with me. I only wanted to tell you cause I thought you should-” Your words were cut off.
“My Lady, I wish to go with you so that I can still serve you by your side. Not that I feel obligated or am told to do so. This is something I truly wish to do.” There it was, that gentle smile Serim always held.
That was one of the things you found comfort in over the years you spent with her. You could feel your eyes water up, truly feeling grateful to have Serim in your life. “Thank you so much Serim. Truly, your loyalty means everything to me. Not as a noble lady, but as someone that views you as my friend.” Your arms opened up to hug her, face burying into her chest in an attempt to cover up your soon tear stained face.
Her embrace was just as strong, if not tighter than your own. “My. My Lady!” Serim sobbed out, her words cut short, truly feeling that she was unable to explain her deep sincerity towards you. Soon enough your room was engulfed in shared cries and sobs.
Pulling away from Serim you rubbed your tear stained face feeling a little bit better about things. You looked ahead to see her face drenched in tears and a runny nose, you let out a little laugh. “Here, take this and start heading off to bed.” Opening the drawer in your bedside, you retrieved a handkerchief. Taking Serim’s hand you placed the cloth in hers.
“Thank you so much My Lady, it means a lot.” Gratefully taking the handkerchief she began to wipe away her tears and snot.
“I will head off to bed then. Sleep well, My Lady. I’m always here if you need someone to talk to. Please remember that. I may be your maid first, but your well being is more important to me than you know.” Standing up and stuffing the cloth in her dress.
“Thank you again Serim, you sleep well as well.” You gave a smile in return. You watched as Serim bowed before turning to leave.
Once the doors to your bedroom had closed a deep sigh left your chest. Tilting your head back slightly you stared at the ceiling above you. Thinking things over in your head, you turned to get up from your bed. Standing up from the mattress, you head over to the edge of the bed to grab your robe. Tightly wrapping it around yourself you made your way to the balcony.
Pushing open the balcony doors you were immediately met with the chill air of the night. Closing your eyes to bask in it, you made your way to the railing. Placing your hands on the marble rails you stared off into the starry night above. The color instantly reminding you of him, the night sky always did. It was funny how the color of the night sky above reflected the same color of Jay’s hair, maybe that was one of the reasons why you began to miss him over the past five years.
As you stood there for a couple minutes you soon clasped your hands together. Head lowering a little, you were preparing to pray. But this time it wasn’t a prayer for Jay’s safety. No. This was a prayer for your family, for Serim. For you. You prayed to the gods that no matter what happens, that from here on out things would surely be okay.
The next month went by in a flash. During the first week you were introduced to your new etiquette classes, as well as being measured for your wedding dress. In the second week you were taught all there is to know about Seathal and its laws. The third week felt less busy, only focusing once more on your etiquette. Then came the last week of the month, probably the most struggling week you had in a very long time.
The beginning of the final week started off with finishing preparations for your wedding dress. Then you were sent to the palace, staying there in the meantime—since that was where the wedding would take place.
It took you a couple nights to become adjusted, not doing well in the new room. You never had a single problem sleeping anywhere before. But for some odd reason, when it came to the palace, you couldn’t sleep a wink. Serim was there with you the whole way, finding out remedies to help you sleep. Even going as far as to bother the royal doctor to cook up something for you. It was truly a miracle you managed to sleep soundly the night before your wedding without needing anything to help.
That night as you fell asleep, you stared at the wedding dress. Beautifully propped up across the room—the faint moonlight shining down on the ivory fabric. You truly couldn’t believe it. The wedding with Jay was tomorrow. Your heart raced in your chest—a mild feeling of anxiety eating away at you. A sigh left your lips as you tossed and turned in the bed, before closing your eyes for the night.
That morning was extremely hectic, maids and servants were constantly running about. All desperate to get you prepared in time for the ceremony. Everyone was very adamant that you were to sit back and relax. You could barely even relax to begin with, for it was the day of your wedding. You thought of many things to help soothe your growing anxiety, humming a lullaby your mother sang to you, remembering fond times you spent with your father, or the social gatherings you attend with your friends. But all of it didn’t help, if anything it made you feel worse.
Later that evening you were finally done. Your wedding dress was a gorgeous ivory color, faintly resembling the color of a white lily. Your hair was in an intricate half braid, paired with a small crown and matching ivory veil. You couldn’t believe it was truly you in the mirror, you had looked so different with a wedding dress on. In a way you felt nostalgic.
Soon Serim called for you—she would help escort you to the wedding hall. Once joining arms with her, you made your way down the castle halls. Bouquet now in hand, breathing in and out deep breaths.
“Are you nervous?” Your head turned to look at Serim, head tilted at you in curiosity.
You let out a slight laugh. “Honestly, I don't know how to feel Serim. Do I feel happy for the fact I’ll now be a wife. Or do I feel upset for my parents who didn’t ever want something like this to happen?” You turned away from Serim, still confused on the swirling emotions in your chest. It felt as if water and oil were swishing around, unable to mix and blend well together. Only causing a great deal of discomfort instead.
“Well My Lady, if I could add. What do you feel most when you think of marrying His Grace?” Serim had stopped her steps, simultaneously bringing you to a halt as well. You turned over to her, taking her question into true consideration.
“I. I feel excited about it. For as long as I remember there was a connection I felt with His Grace. Maybe it was because of our connected story, or maybe it was something less than that. All I know is that I don’t feel opposed to this. I’m ready for this new chapter in my life!”
“Then lead by that My Lady, your parents only feel this way cause they deeply and truly care for you, but don’t let those emotions hinder you from how you want to feel.” As Serim finished her words a solemn smile formed. Her other hand placed on top of your interlinked arm—reassuring you in any way she could.
“Serim, here I am thanking you a second time. When I myself have done nothing in return for you.”
“Don’t thank me My Lady, your happiness and smile is what is truly important to me. Keep doing that and I am more than satisfied.”
You wanted to trample Serim into a hug at that very moment, but knew it was unjust—especially regarding where you were headed. You kept a mental reminder to do so on this action later. You gave Serim’s hand one last tight squeeze, paired with a thankful smile before making your way to the hall.
Making your way to the wedding hall doors, you were greeted by your father. This time around he had a more bittersweet expression. Proud to see his daughter finally marry, but saddened for who his daughter would be married too. But instead of making it about himself, he truly smiled all to make you feel better.
“Oh my sweetheart, you look beautiful.” He spoke fondly, reaching out a hand for you.
Letting go of Serim you took his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” You gave him a quick hug, feeling bittersweet as well. You both turned to face the door, ready for the servants to open the doors.
Before the doors opened your father spoke up softly. “Just know Y/N, no matter what happens. Your mother and I will always love you and will always be here for you.”
You smiled to yourself, head raising as you answered him. “Thank you father.”
With that the doors finally opened. Taking the signal you both proceeded down the aisle. It was a minor wedding, not too grand for many people to come. But also not too underwhelming, for you were marrying The Duke. At the end of the aisle stood Jay. Dressed in an ivory suit to match your dress, it was the first time you had seen him without the iron armor. But it was especially the first time you saw him after the last five years.
You could tell he aged somewhat over the years, fighting in a war for that long would surely age anyone. But the moment he turned to look at you—even if it was slightly briefly—was as if you saw him for the first time again all those years ago. Those silver eyes which held a deep blue at its center, along with his midnight hair you’d spend years comparing the night sky too. A piece of you then found solace in this marriage, even if this was a marriage of convenience for The Emperor. Despite knowing that you truly agreed within yourself to find the positives in this shared life together.
Finally making it down the aisle with your father, he left a quick peck on your cheek. Quickly noting this would be the last time you’d receive affection from your father in a long time. You gave your father a happy smile—one full of warmth and longing.
There you stood, once again face to face with Jay after all these years. You kept your head low, feeling shy now that you were under his gaze. On the other hand Jay was almost losing his mind. He had only ever dreamed of something like this during the five years he was away. Seeing you in a wedding gown, none the less right in front of him. Jay could feel this thread of control breaking, yet seeing you all innocent eyed. He just couldn’t think if you like that.
When he looked at you he couldn’t think of going through with that ridiculous plan. That jerk brother of his was not going to win no matter what. Even if it meant going through the whole marriage not bedding you, Jay would commit to it. As long as it meant The Emperor wouldn’t get his way in the end.
“Today we bring forth a union between two people. One born under The Holy Saintess. While the other under The Mighty Dragon.” The priest soon began his speech, occasionally looking up from the altar—refrring to you both.
As the priest spoke, your eyes slowly looked up at Jay. Despite your eyes being casted by the sheer veil, you were able to see Jay’s eyes stare back into yours. The stare you held with him felt intimate. Almost as if he was staring at more than the outside, it felt like his eyes were looking in. Looking through your soul.
“As a representative of the Gods above, I approve this marriage of oath between you. Do you, Jay Velpark, take Y/N Marowen to be your wedded wife by oath?”
Jay was quick with his response, his tone cold yet held a faint warmth of affection. “I do.”
“And do you, Y/N Marowen, take Jay Velpark to be your wedded husband by oath?”
Your voice came off strong yet slightly hesitant. “I do.”
“Now you may finalize your vows with a kiss. Please confirm by the Gods that your oath is true.”
After exchanging rings you looked up at Jay, eyes studying him as you waited patiently for him. Jay slightly raised his hand—proceeding his way to kiss you—but in doing so, he saw The Emperor out of the corner of his eye. Seeing him wear a satisfied smile on his face. The memories leading up to this moment flooded by him in a flash, his jaw clenched slightly, still upset at the main cause of it all.
But when he looked down at you, all of that faded from his mind. Jay truly wished the union between you both happened in a normal sense. Maybe in another timeline of life, he would’ve let himself be in love with you. He wished he was in love with you. Yet he knew he wasn’t deserving of it.
Getting pulled from his thoughts Jay felt small hands place against his chest. His eyes focused to see you leaning in slowly for the kiss. “They were all waiting I’m so-” Your whisper was cut short, feeling a large hand snake at your waist—tugging you forward.
“We should do this properly at least.” His other hand found its way to your face, cupping your cheek gently as he leaned in.
Jay’s lips on yours felt electric, as if you were missing this touch of physical affection your whole life. The hand that cupped your cheek slowly moved to hold your chin as his lips began to feverishly melt into you. Your hand that was placed at his chest was now clutching his suit in desperation. Your fingers ached at the feeling of Jay’s tongue lick past your lips. This feeling caused a strange sensation to sparkle in you.
Jay began to immerse himself too much into the kiss, truly enjoying the way you clutched his suit—a hopeless tactic to help anchor yourself. Jay knew he needed to end the kiss, but your lips were like a siren’s song beckoning for him. Once his tongue swiped past your lips, he knew he was now in too deep.
The motion that made Jay stop the kiss was the light feeling of your hand tapping at his chest. Not wishing to give you any discomfort, Jay complied and parted ways. You shyly looked away—frantically catching your breath. Jay turned over to see the small crowd flustered at the scene. Your parents held a shocked expression, while The Emperor found his actions comical. He knew Jay was always infatuated with you. And this moment truly proved his point.
“I hereby declare the two of you husband and wife. With that we conclude this ceremony.” Declared the priest.
Jay softly sucked his teeth at the dawning realization. He had lost himself into the kiss, into you. But as he looked down at you, seeing your flushed face as you caught your breath. He wanted to kiss you all over again. Without realizing his next movements, Jay pulled you to his side, hand placed possessively at your hip. You looked up at him confused, but he remained unphased—leading you out of the wedding hall.
Once outside the doors Jay left your side, in all honesty you hated it. In the short amount of time you were already used to his larger hand settling on your waist. Serim headed towards you both, greeting Jay first and then running to your side. You felt like you wanted to say something to him, feeling like you wanted to commemorate your marriage with him. But before you could say anything Jay made his way down the hall—leaving you and Serim alone.
For many normal weddings in the Decelis Kingdom it was customary for the bride to move in with the groom right away. But due to the circumstances of Jay being a Duke as well as a member of the royal family, you both had to stay a night in the palace before heading off to Seathal. Once entering your guest room you were immediately changed out of your wedding dress.
“Serim what else do I have planned for the evening? I thought after the wedding it would be me getting ready to head to Seathal?” You stared at Serim, confusion clear on your face. Intricately watching as she stripped the wedding gown off of your body.
“Well my lady, usually after the first wedding night you must consummate your marriage.” Her tone was a bit flustered as she spoke, after all. She was implying that you would need to bed Jay tonight.
“Wait, that's tonight?!” You stared down at Serim—as she continued her work.
“Uh. Yes My Lady it is.”
Serim finished helping you with your dress—leaving you bare. Turning away she walked over to the wardrobe to grab a specific piece of clothing. “I thought that would happen once I’m with him in Seathal?”
Serim spoke—facing the wardrobe while rummaging about. “Well yes, but since he is a part of the royal family and you are both staying here for one night. You would need to do that duty tonight.”
You stood there stunned, it wasn’t like you were unaware of sex. You knew all about it—almost all about it. From listening to the maids yet again or hearing it from your fellow aristocrat friends. You began to have an idea on what sex was. You weren’t as innocent as meets the eye, but you were indeed still pure. So of course part of you would begin to create nerves on the thought that you were to lose that purity. But at the end of the day, this was now a part of your duty for being a newly married woman.
Serim soon finished up her searching in the wardrobe. Snapping out of your thoughts, you focused on her, wondering what it is she finally found. Noticing the curiosity on your face she pulled the item of clothes in front of her.
In one hand was a somewhat modest set of lingerie, while in the other a faintly sheer robe. You pointed between the both, too surprised to speak. “Surely, I’m not meant…” All Serim could do was lightly nod her head. You let off a soft pout, before accepting the fate of things.
Once dressed Serim helped escort you to Jay’s room. Thank goodness his room wasn’t too far—just around five doors down— it was enough to manage getting there in the get up you were in. Serim knocked on the heavy door, the sound echoing in the silent hall. “Your Grace, Lady Y/N is here.”
There was a silent pause—feeling as if minutes went by—then a response. “She can come in.”
Serim gave you a silent pep talk before pushing the door open for you. The room was poorly lit, curtains covering up the lowering fiery sun. Yet the faint glow of the fireplace allowed some light in the room. Due to the poor lighting it helped ease you, grateful that Jay wouldn’t be able to see the attire you’re in.
Your eyes scanned the room, soon noticing him near the fireplace. He sat in a single couch stationed in front of the fire, a semi empty wine glass in hand. Jay must have been drinking. As you walked over to him you noticed a circle table perched at his side—half finished wine bottle opened.
“Your Grace?” As you made your way towards him your hand faintly reached out to touch his shoulder, thinking that he didn't hear you walk over to him.
Before your hand could meet his shoulder, a strong grip engulfed your wrist. You looked down to see Jay’s hand tighten—his grasp was firm yet still gentle. The sound of the couch’s chair legs screeching against the floor startled you. Unconsciously you took a step back—frightened by the sudden noise—yet your body was yanked forward.
You were now at arms length away from Jay, eyes roaming your body as he studied your attire. “I. Uh.” You were hesitant to speak, cheeks flusteredly heating up.
Jay saw the way your cheeks reddened like budding roses, finding the flustered look amusing. Yet when he saw the outfit you were in. His thread of reasoning was starting to fray again. He couldn't give into his desire to have you, not when he made that promise merely today. Yet as he remained silent you still spoke.
“I was sent here to consummate our marriage, Your Grace.” Jay’s jaw clenched. Imagining the mere idea of you beneath him, gasping for air all with the addition of your sinless eyes covered in tears. He wanted to see it all, do it all.
Jay was quick to dig his nails into his palm, reminding himself of what he told himself. Uncurling his fist, Jay raised his hand to reach for you. His hand began to roam amongst the collar of your robe—slightly pulling it back—eyeing the bare skin that laid beneath it. “You don’t have to refer to me as Your Grace. Just Jay will suffice now.”
The cold feeling of his fingertips left a chill to run down your spine. You didn’t envision Jay as the kind to act overtly affectionately, thinking he would go for it right away. His touch truly was gentle. As his fingertips danced along the fabric—occasionally grazing your skin—you could feel he wanted more. “I’m not sure if I can do that yet. Your Grace.”
Jay exhaled, finding your reluctance to refer to his real name endearing. Yet in all honesty, referring to his formal title was surely the least of his worries. While you both stood there exchanging the few little words you both had, Jay’s hand moved its way up to your neck. Making sure to not harm you, his touch was tentative to you.
His hand slowly made its way to your chin, thumb tucking underneath as he tilted your head up. “In due time I know you can say my name. But I'm sorry Y/N, I don’t think we can consummate our marriage now.” Jay watched as your eyes shifted into a look of confusion.
He already knew the questions forming in your head. Before you could ask why he answered. “Your body is far too fragile. Remember Y/N I’m a dragon born, you're a human.”
“Yes, I understand that but.” You swallowed back, finding your words. “They’ll check to see if we shared a bed.”
Admittedly, Jay overlooked that the royal servants would be coming to check in the morning. They wouldn’t take anything for an excuse, especially with his brother breathing down their neck. The servants were sure to conduct a thorough check on the consummation. “We’ll just make them think we did.”
Your head tilted at his words, confused at his implication. Jay noticed your changed expression. Hands leaving your body, he turned away making his way over to the bed. Your eyes watched his every move as he made his way. As Jay sat down on the edge of the mattress, his hand reached out for you.
Like a moth drawn to a flame you aimlessly began to walk to him. You could feel his eyes focus on you, attentive to every step you took. Once again your hand was placed in his. A soft smile formed at the corner of his lips, looking up at you he saw the shy expression you held. If he wanted this plan to be believable Jay needed to know where your heart lied.
“Do you trust me?” Was all he asked.
You were hesitant for a second unsure of how to answer him. Of course you trusted him, but part of you still felt uncertainty. Yet trust was the first thing you needed to give one another. If this would be the first step in creating that, you had to take that step.
Looking into his eyes you nodded your head—implicating a yes. Soon his other hand guided you to sit on his lap. You couldn’t help but immediately tense up at the sudden closeness. “Just relax, I’m not gonna do anything crazy.” His words were low as he whispered in your ear.
The feeling of goosebumps scattered about on your body, finding his warm breath on your ear ticklish. Your hand reached up to your ear, all while instinctively backing up from him. Still his hold was firm, allowing you to be pressed closely to him. Your eyes scanned his face, darting back and forth trying to figure out what he was gonna do. His hand reached up pushing your hair behind your neck. “The only way for them to not question anything is if there’s visible evidence.”
You finally understood what Jay was getting at, if there were visible marks left on your body, there was no way they would question the night. Then you remembered your purity. “But. Your Grace, I’m still a…” Your voice paused—finding the courage to speak. “A virgin... How can we fake that?” Concern laced in your voice.
You saw the way his facial features morphed—thinking of a way to prove your assured loss of purity. “I have an idea. You may not like it though.” His voice was sultry, eyes locked onto your neck as he focused in.
Without any more shared words your neck became occupied. Jay nuzzled into the crook of your neck—simultaneously taking in your scent. The feeling sent an unfamiliar warmth into your hands. That same warmth you felt when he kissed you earlier.
Unable to contain the feeling your hands found its way to his shoulders—firmly holding on hoping to steady yourself. The feeling of something soft—yet warm—soon cascaded across your neck. Was Jay kissing along your neck?
Your shaky hand let go of his shoulder, soon to be tangled in his dark hair. Jay looked at you from the corner of his eyes, admiring the scrunch in your brows. Feeling satisfaction that his actions were eliciting these reactions out of you. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the warm tickling sensation eliciting something within you, causing you to hold back.
Jay continued on with his actions, leaving soft kisses along your neck, all the way up to your ear. He enjoyed the way you would instinctively back up from him, relishing in the way you reacted to these new shared moments with him.
Not wasting another second Jay began to inflict on his plan. The soft kisses he littered along your neck soon became harsher—yet the sensation didn’t hurt. In between kisses it felt as if he was sucking on your neck, occasionally leaving the feeling of his teeth against your skin.
You would soon be greeted with the feeling of gentle nibbles every time Jay laid harsher kisses along your neck. As Jay continued onward he felt the way your body tensed as a muffled moan was encased in your mouth. He wished to hear your voice yearn for him, want him, need him, tell him to do more. But Jay knew he would be playing a dangerous game if he pressed on more.
Finally, Jay’s lips left the nape of your neck. Your fingers left his hair once he pulled away—Jay already missed the absence of your fingers intertwined in his hair. As he pulled back his thoughts were interrupted, quickly admiring the marks that cascaded along your neck. Solely concentrated on the red spots complimented by faint pink ones. A satisfied smile creeped into the corner of his lips, yet this wouldn’t be enough.
“Just one more moment.”
Jay eyed the deep v cut beneath your robe—another clean canvas to work on. Knowing deep down that some marks should at least be there as well. Soon Jay dipped his head down once more. Hand now placed at your lower back, allowing him to lean you back. A soft yelp escaped from you, the sudden movement scaring you.
Your hands clutched at his loose shirt, fearing that Jay would possibly drop you. “I won’t drop you. Nor will I ever hurt you.” His words whispered against your skin. Something in you fluttered, you couldn’t tell if it was the way your stomach flipped at his words, or your heart beating loudly. You were sure Jay would hear it. Hear the rapid beating of your heart reacting to him.
A quiet whimper slipped past your lips, shocked by the warm sensation of Jay’s lips meeting with your chest. You prayed Jay didn’t hear you, for it felt indecent, especially when it was all an act. Yet despite your prayers he did hear it, he picked up on the way your breath hitched, the rapid beating of your heart, he had heard it all.
Hearing your gentle whimper only urged Jay to continue. Lips feverishly kissing across your skin once more, paired with slight nibbles with his teeth. As he proceeded more into the action he couldn’t help but dip you lower. Your eyes squeezed tight at the feeling, fingers clutching tighter onto his shirt.
The feeling of his lips against your skin soon vanished. Yet you were still lowered back, you felt the way his hand softly tightened against you. Slowly opening one eye you saw the way Jay looked at you.
Eyes seemingly half lidded, full of something, something unspeakable yet also mutual between you both. Before you could say anything, you were now sitting on the plush bed. Your head craned up, noticing that Jay now loomed over you. His movement so quick you didn’t even take a second to process what happened.
Your head slightly tilted to the side, questioning what he planned to do next. Yet as you sat there wondering about him, Jay’s eyes once more roamed your figure. You sat before him covered in love marks he had given you. He felt himself wanting to tear off the band-aid which held him back. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
He was satisfied enough knowing he was able to give you the marks that seemingly accompanied your skin. Yet also knowing you were within arms reach for as long as he would live, meant that much more for him.
“Your Grace?” That gentle voice of yours called out to him. Jay was quick to ground himself back, his bold silver eyes now looking into yours somewhat longingly.
“Sorry. I was momentarily thinking.”
You nodded your head in understanding, while doing so, Jay took this moment to walk away from you. Your eyes followed him, glued to his back watching his every move. As he walked back to the side table—out of your visibility—picked up something. Once grabbing what he needed Jay headed back to you. You still sat there patiently waiting for him, wondering what he was thinking of doing now.
Finally stopping in front of you, his hand came up from his side. You watched closely, questioning what was guarded in his hand. As Jay showed the palm of his hand, a gleam of steel flickered for a brief minute. Then as your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, you noticed what was truly held in his hand.
A dagger.
You quickly noticed the intricate design carved in, the grip of the blade spiraling into one, while the cross-guard encased a red gemstone you had never seen before. A gemstone so deep in color, it faintly reminded you of blood.
“What is that to be used for Your Grace?” You couldn’t help but ask him with concern laced within your tone. One brow lifting up as you watched attentively.
Jay now grasped the dagger correctly. To then hover it over the other side of his hand—palm facing up. “For this.” The next scene of events shocked you—your face drained of its color. Your brows instinctively raised in shock, throat running dry as you watched the crimson droplets hit the floor. The color truly matching the gemstone mended into the blade.
“Your Grace! What?! Are you crazy!” Any tone of formality diminished watching Jay clutch his cut up palm—allowing more blood to ooze in his fist. You rushed to stand up—slightly tripping over the fabric of your robe—from where you sat, panic evident in your body language.
All Jay could do was look at you confused whilst you stirred in panic. The cut indeed hurt for him, but it wasn’t as severe as the wounds he collected on the battlefield. In a sense this only felt like a measly paper cut.
Nevertheless, watching you scramble over yourself in a desperate attempt to aid him, made him feel happy in a way. He knew finding satisfaction in this was wrong, yet watching you run up to him holding onto his arms tightly. It made him feel seemingly important.
“Your Grace! You’re bleeding. I. We.” Your voice was shaky, unable to know what to do in the situation. What you knew you needed most was a handkerchief. Before you could turn away your body was stopped.
Looking down you saw Jay’s hand holding onto yours—dagger now completely out of view. You craned your head back up to try and read his face, yet you couldn’t. “It’s okay Y/N.” As Jay reassured you, he soon led you back to the bed.
All you could do now was watch him in confusion, wondering why he was headed back to the bed while he had a cut on his hand. Then as you pieced your questions together you realized his intentions. Jay was to use his blood to make it seem like you lost your purity.
Once in front of the bed, Jay was quick to ruffle up the sheets, making it seem as if within the night you were both intent on exploring one another. In hindsight the rearrangement came off believable, but once Jay dropped his blood on the bed sheet. There was no way the maids would think twice about what happened tonight.
Taking your focus away from the bed, you turned to look at Jay. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Hand tightening in his grasp.
“I knew you’d be opposed to me being hurt. Instead you would’ve offered yourself.” His words spoke as if he knew you like the front and back of a book. Yet he wasn’t wrong. You wouldn’t have allowed him to hurt himself if it meant hurting himself instead.
“Yes but-”
“I meant it when I said I’d never hurt you. I am sorry for swaying your trust.This was the only way I thought of doing so.” Jay couldn’t help but turn his head away—feeling ashamed of himself.
“Your Grace…” Stepping forward to him, you reached your hand out to him. Softly cupping his cheek, while doing so you turned his head to look at you.
Jay saw the expression you wore, sullen brows written on your face, held together with a slight frown. Even though you looked at him as if you were upset, he knew it was only because you cared for him. Only less than twenty four hours into the marriage. Yet you held a gentle abundance of admiration for him. Jay disliked it. Feeling that he didn’t deserve such emotions catered to him. Even now as he felt that way, he couldn’t help but melt into your touch. Quickly finding solace in your warm touch—despite it feeling so fleeting.
As you studied Jay, your expression softened, accompanied with a sigh. “It’s okay, Your Grace. Just next time. Please tell me, we are now husband and wife after all.” Giving him a soft smile, hoping to ease him.
“Ah. Let me get you something for-”
“It’s fine. The wound will heal on its own.” Jay was quick to cut you off, ready to take care of it himself.
You ignored his words, whilst holding tight onto his hand. “It won’t be fine. I can help you.” As you spoke your words came off unsure. Not unsure if you could help, but unsure of your holy powers.
Jay was now raising an eyebrow at you, curious at what your words entailed. Before he could say anything a shining light emerged from his hand. The glow was tiny, yet held so much radiance behind it. Jay had never seen anything like it before.
Your eyebrows scrunched together reaching for the little bit of holy power you could muster. This was the first time you had ever used your powers on a person, let alone try to use it again. You first discovered these hidden abilities a couple years back—tending to a baby bird that fell from its nest.
The pure shock while holding the helpless bird helped manifest a flow of holy powers. You never told your parents about what happened, not even Serim. You viewed it as a blessing bestowed by the gods for being The Saintess’ kin, nothing more. Now here you were, healing your dragonborne husband with an ability you thought would never manifest again.
You could feel sweat bead at your forehead, body beginning aching in heat as you pushed yourself harder. You felt yourself soon struggling, yet you took notice of the deep cut slowly closing up. A light smile formed in the corner of your lips at the progress, but as you continued more your body began to grow weaker.
Jay immediately noticed the light emitting in his hand flicker, then the way you swayed to the side. He was quick to hold you, arm wrapped around your waist earnestly steadying you. “You did well. The wound is closed.”
“Oh. That’s good…” Your words slightly slurred. Soon losing consciousness.
As your body went limp, Jay held you against him tightly, ensuring you wouldn’t fall to the floor. With one swift movement Jay scooped you into his arms—holding you in a bridal carry. Not wasting another moment Jay made sure to settle you down on the couch. Making sure to be gentle with you while lowering you down.
Jay watched your sleeping body, taking a moment to look down at his hand. In truth Jay had lied about the cut, there was still a tear, yet it wasn’t as serious as before. It was red but not worse enough to form a scar later on.
He couldn’t help but plop down on the floor, back pressed against the leather couch. Hands reaching into his midnight hair, mind racing about. It was one thing for you to be related to The Saintess. But now knowing you had powers—even if it was slghtly—was truly another problem.
One thing Jay knew for certain was that his brother would not find out about your powers. If he did, there was no telling what his next move would be. Jay let out a frustrated sigh, leaning his head back while doing so. The feeling of your hair swept past him took a hold of his attention while he leaned back. He couldn’t help but take a lock of your hair. Fidgeting about, he couldn’t help but twirl your hair between his fingers.
Eyeing the way your soft hair passed through his fingers with ease, he proceeded on with his actions. Without another thought he brought your lock of hair to his lips, placing a gentle kiss onto it. Yet in that moment he truly wished it was your lips on his instead.
The morning was the same as the day before, chaotic and eventful. You had woken up in the same room as last night, settled into Jay's bed as if you’ve slept there your whole life. You quickly shot up, taking in your surroundings. Memories from last night flooded into your mind. Remembering what you and Jay had done, you quickly peered down at your chest. Where mulitple red marks sprawled all over your chest.
Your face deepened into a red hue, embarrassment creeping up your neck and cheeks. At the time you didn’t think Jay had done much, yes it was a few kisses along your neck and chest. But now looking, it seemed as if you were covered in bug bites.
Quickly closing your sheer robe, you stood up from the bed. You began to head towards the doors—being sure to ignore the mirror on the vanity on your way out. Once making it out of the room you were immediately greeted with Serim.
“My Lady, you woke up so early. I’m assuming your long night made you restless?” Serim held a concerned yet also sly grin—a teasing tone hinted in her voice.
All you could do was look away from her, hoping to hide your reddening cheeks from her sight. But to your dismay Serim noticed right away—deciding anyway to keep quiet for your sake. The walk to your guest room was silent, Serim held a happy smile whilst you kept yourself lowered.
Once entering the room you were immediately stripped from your night attire. Now dressed into a casual styled silk dress—allowing for more comfort on the way to Seathal—the color was a soft yellow paired with light blue and seafoam green accents.
As you finished packing up the rest of your things you began to feel excited for the trip to Seathal. Of course you’d miss your parents, but the new journey ahead excited you more. If there was anything, Jay would certainly allow you to write letters to your parents.
Before entering the travel carriage you looked out at the scenery before you. Trees and hills all covered in that luscious green would soon be replaced by the constant cold winter. You knew you wouldn’t hate Seathal, but you were sure about missing the sun beam down on you. As well as the strolls you had through your family’s garden. Those small things would be something you would most likely long for in the future.
“Are you ready to go?” A familiar voice called out to you, you swiftly turned your head to see Jay stand before you. Covered in the armor he always seemed to be wearing. He couldn’t help but reach out for your hair, his armored hand brushing through your hair gently.
You blushed slightly, finding the way he combed his fingers through your hair to feel endearing. “Oh yes! I’m ready to head out now!” A nervous laugh left your lips as your eyes focused onto Jay.
A soft chuckle was heard from Jay as he continued to play with your hair. He noticed the way your dress did a great job of hiding the marks he left. A smug smile etched into his lips when he noticed the faint mark under your ear. Feeling satisfied with himself Jay stretched out his hand to you. “Allow me to help you inside.”
You scrambled about reaching for his hand as you watched him open the carriage door for you. Jay’s grip was firm and comforting as he hoisted you up the step. Seconds later Serim came over, carrying necessities for your comfort.
You were quick to look through the items she acquired for you. A smile found its way onto Jay’s lips as he watched you both. “I will be heading off soon. Before I leave, let me introduce you to one of my closest knights.” As Jay finished, a man about your age ushered out from behind.
He was about the same height as your husband—a little bit shorter in all honesty—hair the color of freshly ripe strawberries, along with piercing black eyes. The knight was quick to bow before you. “This is Heeseung. He’s someone I trust greatly, but that doesn’t mean you don’t come to me if he has done something wrong.” Jay placed his hand firmly on Heeseung’s shoulder, a reassured reminder to take care of you.
Slightly curtseying you responded. “Hello Sir Heeseung, it’s nice to meet you. Ah let me introduce my personal maid to you, since you both will be working close to me.” As you finished speaking you pulled Serim forward. Serim came off a bit awkward which felt very unlike her. Your head tilted to the side, wondering to yourself why that is.
Even if it wasn't noticeable you saw something, a faint dust of pink brushing against her cheeks. Was Serim into Heeseung? Serim stuttered on her words as she greeted herself to Heeseung, you turned to the knight hoping to see his reaction. A faint yet obvious smile now on Heeseung’s face.
You knew later on this would be something to inevitably tease Serim on. Looking over to Jay you gave him a gentle smile—seemingly thanking him. Before Jay left to mount onto his horse his hand raised up to you. The cold feeling of iron sent chills down your arm, yet it was soon becoming something you acquainted yourself with. Not realizing it, you leaned into his touch. Even if it was the feeling of freezing iron, you felt his warmth behind it.
“I’ll come check on you when we travel for a couple hours.” As he spoke you looked up at him, taking in his words earnestly. Within the last twenty four hours, Jay became infatuated with the way you looked at him.
Eyes that held focus solely on him, he knew one day in the future this infatuation for your gaze would become a problem for him. Not that he would find it tiring, but more so of never wanting your gaze to leave him.
Once his cold touch left your cheek, it soon made you miss his touch. Before leaving you, Jay made sure to flash you a smile. You stood there in between Serim and Heeseung, somewhat beginning to miss your husband.
The carriage ride was comforting. The view of the morning fog setting a calm vibe for the voyage ahead. At every three hour mark you were allowed to get out and stretch your legs. You had never traveled such a long distance, knowing that Jay put in place these minor breaks to help you. In truth it was very helpful. Yet at the same time you found yourself eyeing Jay as he traversed on horseback. Part of you wanted to ride with him, but deemed it to be unnecessary once the thought entered your head.
While you had felt that way, you ended up riding along with Jay soon enough. He was quite perceptive of you truthfully. Jay saw the way you looked out the window, eyes somewhat longing to partake with him—it seemed. Jay made the final decision for you to join him at the next resting point. With that one goal it became a success for him. At first you were reluctant. But in the end you gave way to him.
Now here you were, seated in front of Jay. It wasn’t the first time you rode a horse, but it was indeed the first time you rode with someone else. It was struggling to get used to it at first. Strong arms caged at your side—tightly gripping onto the reigns—whilst your back was pressed into his chest. You felt yourself tense at the mere closeness.
The ride was silent, the sound of the galloping steps mixed with the carriage and cargo wagon joining in. By now the morning fog had long dispersed, leaving traces of dewdrops along the grass and tree leaves. For a while you said nothing, taking in the scenery as natural as possible. Soon that silence would break.
The familiar sensation of cold iron nearly shocked you off the horse. A small yelp left your mouth, joined in with shaky hands finding their way to the back of your neck. “Sorry. Did I startle you?” Jay spoke up, his tone came off apologetic—fearing he had truly frightened you.
“I wouldn’t say scare... More so surprised me.” You gave off a gentle sigh as you spoke, reassuring that it was of no big deal.
“I just noticed, the marks I left are now almost gone.” Jay couldn’t help but rest his hand along the back of your neck. Your hair now pushed to the side, his thumb faintly rubbed against the disappearing bite marks. A chill ran down your body yet again—unaccustomed to the cold touch of his armor.
“For as long as I remember my wounds or any type of marks to my skin end up fading within the day.” Twirling your hair between your fingers, recalling childhood memories.
“Is it because of The Saintess’ holy powers?”
“Could be. My parents believe so. But we weren’t really sure.”
Jay’s brows contorted to a dissatisfied look. Unsure of whether he favored the idea that the marks he left on you healed so quickly. There wasn’t a need to be unhappy with it, yet he couldn’t help but feel irritated somehow.
The next hour was filled with small chit chat. Minor conversational pieces shared between you both, an eager need to get to know more about each other. You learned about Jay and The Emperor being brothers in name, while Jay learned about how serious your family took its own history. The conversation felt idle in a sense, but it allowed for you both to view a part of each other you didn’t get to know beforehand.
At the next resting point, Jay urged for you to ride back in the carriage. It would soon near nightfall, which would prevent the amount of stops within the trip. You didn’t want to leave Jay’s side, but you also didn’t want to be a pain in his side. Complying with his needs you found your way back to the carriage.
Before leaving Jay was affectionate with you once more. Armored hand stroking your cheek as he took in your appearance. He acted as if he wouldn’t see you for a long time, when in reality it would only be a few hours. Jay had a sense of reasoning that he’d miss you in that short amount of time, when in reality he knew he shouldn’t.
As you trudged back to the carriage you looked back to sneak a glimpse of Jay, sending him a warm smile. Once entering the carriage you were met with Serim fast asleep. Realizing this you made sure to keep your actions quiet. It had surely been a long day of traveling—especially for Serim. Settling back into your seat, you began to feel yourself doze off as well. Before you could realize it, just like Serim you were quickly asleep.
The gentle whisper of a voice slowly pulled you from your slumber. You recognized that low and firm, yet also kind and tender voice. Your body stirred slightly, unwilling to wake up. Yet as you did so, the voice still softly wished for you to awaken.
Obliging to the voice you slowly blinked the sleep away. As your eyes focused on the surroundings, you focused on the person in front of you. It was Jay. A soft smile was on his face as he watched you. Arms wrapped at your side to help you out of the carriage. Once pulling you out, Jay carried you on his forearm, his grip strong against your legs as he held you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder while the soft breeze of the winter wind chilled you.
As you snuggled up to Jay, Serim came over carrying a fur coat. Gently draping the coat over you Jay made sure to tuck the coat in tight—making sure it wouldn’t fall off your body. Jay leaned down to your ear, words hushed as he spoke.
“We’ve made it to Seathal.”
You turned your head to the side slightly—opening one eye—vaguely seeing the view before you. Feeling another gust of wind brush past you, you finally leaned off of Jay. Head now fully turned away from him, your eyes widened to the pure white landscape in front of you. It was unlike anything you had seen before. Distant hills covered in sheets of snow, alongside trees that reflected the snowcapped hills. In the middle of it all was a castle off in the distance, the tips of the roofings snow covered as well.
Jay watched the way your eyes twinkled, taking in the view before you. He knew that your breath was truly taken away by it all. “You know once you’re all settled in we can go for a walk sometime this week. I’m sure it’ll snow for the next couple of days.”
Your face turned to him, a beaming smile plastered amongst your lips. “It snows?! I’ve never seen snow before.” You looked at him excitedly, truly unable to anticipate the upcoming days ahead of you.
While entering the city, you joined Jay on his horse once more. As you trotted through the city streets you watched as the streets were full of vendors. Both selling warm food to even selling merchandise that only came from Seathal.
You noticed the way the people enjoyed the cold weather, showing how acclimated they became to it. Many of the people showed happy smiles while they waved to Jay. Warm congratulations on his awaited return back to Seathal.
The people threw flowers as the traveling party made its way through the street. Occasionally some people would hand flowers to you, all while greeting you with a warm smile. You didn’t expect such a warm welcome from the Seathal people. Their actions truly made you feel at home already.
Finally making it through the castle gates, the traveling party came to a halt. Jay mounted off the horse first, turning to you as his arms were raised out to your sides—readying to carry you down. You happily took his gesture, hands securely placed on his shoulders whilst being lifted off the horse.
Before you could walk to Serim and Heeseung, Jay’s hand interlaced into yours. “You must be tired from the long journey. Let me show you where your new room will be.”
You looked up at Jay, feeling unsure to leave without telling Serim at least. As you turned to look her way once more, Serim was now looking back at you. Taking in the sight of your hands laced together, she nodded to you—assuring you it was okay.
As Jay led you along his strides were small, making sure you were able to keep up with him. While walking along Jay walked through the backyard, making his way through the maze of a garden. You couldn’t help but look around at the surroundings. Taking in the intricate design of the garden, paired with the old castle exterior.
“This pathway isn’t the usual way to the bedroom. But I thought it would be better to show you this route. It’s a nice walk when you wish for some alone time, or to go out on your own within the castle grounds.”
Jay explained himself as he walked on, pointing out the different structures within the castle along the way. Once making it inside, he led you through a secluded corridor which led into a grand spiral staircase. The walk up looked long, but due to its seclusion it seemed to be something nice to do once alone.
As you both made your way up the stairs you noticed open windows placed along the cobble stone walls. It felt like tiny entrance ways into a world beyond the staircase. You couldn’t help but stop at every window—hand long gone from Jay’s grasp—taking a peek at the angles of the now setting sun. Golden rays shining into your eyes every time you peered outside. Jay noticed the way the setting sun’s rays reflected into your eyes, allowing them to change into a color he’d never seen. Jay couldn’t help finding himself becoming smitten with you as time went on.
Finally making it to the top, you both emerged from a painting. The art work was that of what seemed to be Seathal in its spring season. You stood there for a bit, feeling as if you were there within the warm weather. “This is Seathal during The Saintess’ spring season. That’s usually what the people here call it.” Jay noticed the way your eyes were glued onto the painting, feeling the need to tell you more about it.
“I had heard in passing that within one part of the year, Seathal does turn into spring. Despite its usual long winters. I hear it's quite beautiful. Truthfully I can’t wait to witness it.” You turned to Jay, excitement written on your face. Thoughts of Seathal in its spring season exciting you. He couldn’t help but return a smile to you, feeling the same way. He hoped this innocence of enjoyment could last for as long as possible. Hopefully before his brother would demand what he expected most from the marriage. Jay truly wished things would be alright for as long he willed it.
Making your way past the painting you ended up in a hallway. Only two large double doors leading to a room were at the end of the hall. You immediately assumed it to be your shared bedroom. Jay proceeded on as he opened the bedroom doors.
As the doors opened you were immediately met with the familiar scent of cedar mixed with hints of vanilla. The very same scent that clung to Jay last night. You felt eerily at ease once taking in his scent, certainly unaware of how much comfort he truly gave you.
In the middle of the room was a bed, big enough for the both of you to share. As you looked at the bed you thought about how Jay slept alone in something as big as this. It must have felt lonely at times. Continuing on you saw a fireplace, somewhat replicating the room from last night. A lounge couch and an armchair placed near it. Allowing comfort as one stares into the fiery flames in its place.
Deeper inside the room was a desk, positioned to seem forgettable. It must have been where Jay would complete more work even outside of his office. You envisioned quiet nights filled with sitting at the fireplace while he worked at his desk. The thought allowed a smile to appear on your face.
Jay stood near you, beginning the process of removing his armor. “Sorry it's not much. I should’ve had it more decorated to your taste, since we will be sharing this room now.” He spoke while laying the pieces of armor along the larger table within the room.
“No, no. It's okay, I like it as is. It feels very welcoming, believe it or not.”
Jay loosened up, not expecting you to find the gloomy room to feel welcoming of all things. Noticing the change in his posture you couldn't help but laugh. “Besides, the room feels very much like you. Nothing too grand or more of it.” Finishing your sentence did you realize how your words came off.
“I’m sorry that didn’t sound offensive did it? What I’m trying to say is-” Before being able to ramble on, Jay cut off your words. Hand firmly rested on your shoulder—a means of putting you at ease.
Jay let out a low laugh, finding the statement funny. “It’s okay Y/N. I understand what you mean, truthfully Jungwon says the same thing.”
Your head tilted at the new name. Jungwon wasn’t someone you had ever heard of before. “Who’s Jungwon?” Mind already forgetting about the previous conversation.
“Oh Jungwon? He’s my second hand around here. More so my personal aide to say. You’ll meet him tomorrow I’m sure. Besides, you can have a more proper tour of the castle as well.”
As you listened to Jay speak you failed to hold back the forming yawn. Hand placed over your mouth, eyes faintly squinted as a soft breath left your lips. Blinking away the stray tears in your eyes did you realize your lack of manners. “Your Grace, I’m so sorry for my lack of manners!”
“Don’t worry, we did spend all day traveling to Seathal, when usually it takes around two days.” Jay made sure to reassure you, hand finding its way to your lower back. Once his hand rested on you, he began to lead you to the bed.
“You should rest now. Tomorrow will be another longer day.”
Sitting on the mattress you began to remember your lack of belongings. “But! I don’t have any of my stuff. What am I supposed to sleep in?” Your eyes looked into his, worried about what would need to be done.
All Jay did was stand there and think. Head tilting to the side as he watched your distressed expression. Then he came up with something. “You can sleep in one of my shirts.”
Now you were the one to reflect his reaction, this time holding a flabbergasted look. “Wear your shirt? I simply couldn’t, that would be far too improper.” Your words began to shake at the mere image conjuring in your mind.
“It’s alright Y/N, we’re husband and wife. It shouldn't be as improper as you deem it to be.”
You thought about his words, Jay was indeed right. You both were husband and wife, so wearing his shirt for one night surely can’t be as insane as you deemed it as. “If this is the only option I have. Then I can’t ignore your offer.”
Giving Jay the go ahead, he made his way over to the other action of the room, there stood a large wardrobe. As Jay opened it up, you saw a decent array of clothes, all in muted colors that fit well with Jay. Rummaging all the way to one side of the wardrobe, he was able to pull out a plain white under shirt. It seemed like the kind that paired well under a doublet, long sleeved with a slight fabric ruffle. With a heavy thud of the doors, Jay came back over to you.
“Here you go.” His hand stretched out to you waiting for you to take the clothing.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m gonna change out of my dress. May you please?” You didn’t finish your sentence, hoping Jay would catch on to what it is you implied for him. Taking the hint right away Jay turned away from you quicker than you expected—soon being back to back with each other.
In the beginning process of stripping your dress off was somewhat easy. But as you came across the intricate corset string, you began to struggle. You anxiously bit your lip, unsure of whether to truly figure it out on your own, or to ask Jay for help.
It’s not that you didn’t want the help, it was more so the way you stood only in your undergarments. Shoulders barren against the gentle cold of the room, whilst you only had the corset and skirt on. You were quick to remember Jay’s words. You were both now married, not to mention, he definitely saw more of your body last night then what you panicked over at this moment.
Biting the bullet you called out for him. “Jay?” Your voice seemed small—as if it floated off with the breeze of the fleeting wind—he didn’t even notice you calling for him.
“You called for me?”
“Yes. I. I’m having a bit of trouble…” You spoke shyly, trying your best to fight back any emotion of embarrassment you mustered. “You can turn around as well.”
Obliging to your consent Jay turned to face you. Instead of seeing your face—which he very well knew was red by now—he came into sight with your bare shoulders. Your hair swept against your seemingly bareback, the only thing allowing that to not be fully bare was your lingerie. Jay felt like he was in a trance, irrevocably entranced by your bare skin. Pieces of you his hands and mouth hadn’t yet roamed over.
Jay snapped out of his thoughts at hearing your faint voice, cursing at himself for being distracted by something as inconsequential as your bare skin. “What’s the matter?” Jay made sure to force his voice to sound tender, hoping it would hide any ounce of yearning he had for you.
You barely noticed Jay’s internal struggle over you—solely focused on wanting to be freed from the corset. “I can’t untie the string. It seems to be stuck.” You continued to fiddle about with the string—hoping to undo it at that very moment.
“I see.” Jay’s eyes trailed from your shoulder to your lower back. A smile spread across his face, watching as you fiddled with the tied up string. “Here I got it.” His slender fingers brushed past yours—letting you know he had it handled.
Drawing your fingers back you immediately clasped them, fidgeting amongst yourself as you waited for Jay to untie the corset. His faint breathing felt ticklish against your back, it sent a slight chill down your arms. Jay now focused on the task at hand, he barely noticed your reactions.
After—what felt like—multiple minutes later Jay stepped slightly aback. Finally finished with the troubling corset. “There.” As his gaze refixed itself back on your back did he now notice the redness on your shoulders. A clear sign that you were flustered during the interaction.
Jay didn’t dare to have you look at him, afraid of what sultry emotion would take over him. Instead he grasped onto that thinning thread as best as he could, truly reminding himself of what was best for you both. You let out a sigh of relief at the loosening of the corset. Both embarrassed yet also satisfied that you would be able to shed it off. “I’m turning back around now, so continue on with changing.”
You muttered out a thank you to him, proceeding back to stripping away your outside attire. As you took off the dress skirt, a soft thud echoed within the room. Jay’s jaw clenched faintly at the sound, truly wishing he could take in your form beneath the clothing. But he knew that was too risky to ask for. He made sure to stand tall, doing his due diligence to hide the urges he felt for you.
Once your clothes were finally off your body you picked up his shirt. Getting a thorough look trying to figure out how to put it on. Finally figuring it out you slipped on the fabric effortlessly. The material was smooth, unlike silk it was more dense, surely a shirt that would be very comfortable to sleep in.
Finishing putting the shirt on, you turned to face Jay’s back. Before calling out for him, you noticed his ear had a red tinge to it. Was he flustered by you? You giggled at the thought, finding Jay to be more adorable than he himself let off.
“I’m all set.” Your hand reached for his sleeve, signaling him to turn around and face you.
Turning around Jay took the moment to get a good look at you. Your smaller frame standing before him, clad in his clothes, while your bare legs peeked from below the shirt's fabric. Jay bit the inside of his cheek—feeling something in him rise—he couldn’t help keeping his eyes on you, truly like a moth to a flame.
“Is something the matter, Your Grace?” Slightly tugging again on his sleeve you’d hope to pull him out of whatever trance he was in.
“I. No. I’m sorry Y/N. I just remembered I need to grab something for the room. I’m sure you’re gonna need another blanket, since it tends to get cold within the night.”
Jay’s tone was effortlessly straight, quick to get his words across as if something truly troubled him. You looked at him confused, wondering what had him so heavily bothered. Jay now had your hand in his, guiding you into the bed. Watching as you slipped into the bed, he helped to get you situated. Making sure the pillows were fluffed enough, or that the comforter for the bed would be enough in the meantime.
After an array of yes and no answers you were finally let go from Jay’s worries. Watching as you lay there tucked in comfortably Jay couldn’t help but raise a hand to your head. Stroking your hair both lovingly and caringly. You couldn’t help close your eyes to the heavy feeling of his hand on your head.
Yet when he drew his hand back a frown formed into your lips. Jay saw the change in your expression, he couldn’t help but adore it regardless of everything. “I’ll be back soon.” With that Jay began to make his way out the door.
Before he tucked himself through the doors your quiet voice rang within the room. “Good night You Grace. I’m just saying it, in case I’m asleep by the time you’re back.”
Jay chuckled softly in return. “Good night Y/N.” The loud thud of the door followed behind as he left the room. As you lay there you close your eyes, hoping to open your eyes right away as you feel the morning sun beaming through the curtains. Wishing to explore your new home with Jay.
While you were being taken away by sleep, Jay only had one thing on his mind, or more so someone. You. All he could think about was the way you stood there before him wearing his attire, that of a helpless deer caught in headlights. The way your eyes looked at him innocently, while all he could think about was wishing to take you right then and there.
Making his way through the hidden door, even proceeding down the staircase, his thoughts wouldn’t stop. Soon enough there was a feeling of heat licking at his core. Stopping dead in his tracks, he peered down. The only thing in that secluded staircase looking back at him was the growing bulge in his pants.
Jay clicked his tongue in annoyance. The one thing he desperately had to avoid while he was to be around you was his growing lust. His lust wasn’t like an average human. Deep down it all derived from his dragon nature, something he desperately tried to soothe whenever he could. Earlier on in life he found a way to maintain it, that solution being blood lust.
But here he was, giving into a carnal desire he hoped wouldn’t happen. Combing a hand through his hair a frustrated sigh left his lips. Not believing what he was about to do in this very moment. Leaning against the cobblestone wall, Jay proceeded to make his way to the button of his pants.
Not wasting a single moment, Jay effortlessly set one portion of the restraint on his growing bulge free. The unbuttoned pants relieving the unwanted tightness, Jay couldn’t help letting out a sigh of relief.
For what followed would be more excruciating for Jay. While his pants weren’t in the way, his briefs were still an issue to be dealt with. Jay bit his lip at the sight of his red tip peaking out from the edge of his briefs—a showcase to how much he was holding back.
Peeling the briefs down, he was finally able to free his aching cock. An agitated—yet satisfied—moan soon echoed throughout the staircase as he palmed himself. Jay’s brows knitted in annoyance as he began to stroke himself, wondering as to why it didn’t feel as good as he forethought. Then an image of you popped into his head, hips bucking softly at the mere thought of you.
“Fuck.” Jay cursed under his breath. Now conjuring an image of you in front of him, on your knees assisting him in the relief he needed. His head tilted against the wall, brows furrowed while he imagined your soft voice ringing in his ears whispering sweet nothings to him.
He could see it as clear as day, your soft eyes looking up at him. Earnestly wishing to help him out no matter the cost. As he began to imagine you before him, the grasp on his cock tightened softly. Soon Jay was earnestly thrusting into his hand, doing his best to drag out the day dream he had of you.
With a few more mixed thrusts and strokes, paired with his shallow breaths—bouncing around him—he could feel himself reaching that high. Then he envisioned the way he would cum in front of you. Parts of his ejaculation finding its way onto your face whilst you knelt before him. Jay undoubtedly saw it all in his head, eyes squinting shut as he lost himself to the mere thought of you.
With one more desperate stroke Jay stilled himself for a second, allowing his body to relax while he came into his hand. He stood there, staring above—the spiraling stairs looming way above him—asking himself what he had truly done. Tilting his head down, Jay looked at the hand that held his cock, staring coldly at the cum glazed on his palm. He couldn’t help but feel irritated with himself for giving into this human desire.
Fishing a stray handkerchief out of his pocket, Jay diligently wiped the cum from his hand—proceeding to crumple it up in his pocket. Once his hands were wiped clean he began to tidy himself up, pulling his briefs back into place to then button his pants. Finishing up Jay continued to make his way back down the stairs—finding you a blanket like he originally intended when he left.
That morning you were awoken to the sound of drawn curtains, joined in by the morning sun’s rays sticking onto your face. You tossed to the other side, wishing to hide away from the brightness past your closed eyelids.
“My Lady, you must wake up. His Grace is waiting for you in the dining room for breakfast.” The voice was none other than Serim. You turned over to your original spot, one eye peeking open as you focused your vision onto her. Then her words truly rang in your head.
“I’m up! I’m up!” You shouted jumping out of the bed. Hair strewn about as you stood before Serim.
Serim giggled at your fast reflexes while ushering over to you. “I see that now. Come on, I have to get you situated.” She quickly led you to a corner of a room you didn’t see last night. It had a vanity as well as a mirror and rack for clothes—which at the moment seemed to be for your attire.
Serim sat you down at the vanity—brush in hand—beginning her daily process of preparing you for the day. Styling up your hair as well as doing your make up, Serim had done it all so swiftly as well in a timely manner. This time she styled your hair in a low half up, while your make up was clean—just a few touch ups for the face.
Finishing at the vanity, you were led to the mirror and clothing rack. You questioned how all your clothes got here, but knew it was most likely during your slumber. Serim busied herself looking for a dress, handpicking through every one deciding whether it was the right mood or not.
At last Serim landed on a dress, the color would be perfect on you. Making her way back to you she showed the dress to you. You nodded your head at the pick, knowing whatever Serim picked would look good no matter what.
Once Serim helped with getting you into the dress she stepped away—allowing you to look at yourself. The color was a beautiful muted rose, the hue blending in well with your hair color. The bodice had an intriguing design, cut outs that hung low off your shoulders all adorned with small pearls and jewels. The sleeves were long—meeting all the way to your hands—yet had ribbon sewed through at the wrists for cute detailing. At your waist was an intricate embroidery—the designs intertwining with one another—making your gaze down to the skirt, a subtle bow was below your waist ending into a long sash. The skirt was long, trailing down closely at your sides to slowly bloom out like a flower in spring. The dress was truly perfect.
“This is beautiful Serim. Thank you!” You flashed her a smile, feeling the pure act of generosity from your friend.
“Now let's hurry to join His Grace, I’m positive he’ll find the dress astonishing on you.”
Nodding your head, Serim leads you towards the door with a small pep in her step. Exiting the door a voice startled you. “Good morning, Your Grace.” Your head rapidly turned not only to the unfamiliar voice, but to the name as well.
Standing next to the door was Heeseung. “Heeseung you nearly shocked me to death.” Hand clasped at your chest hoping to ease your racing heart.
“Your Grace, I am so sorry for the scare. Is there anything I can do?” Heeseung looked between you and Serim, unsure of what to do.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. But why are you referring to me as Your Grace?” Fixing your posture—while faintly straightening out your dress—you looked forward to Heeseung.
“Well you are the mistress of the castle now. It is only right that I address you as Your Grace.” Heeseung stood firm as he spoke to you—yet slowly began to stress at the situation, fearing he may have spoken out of line.
Indeed Heeseung was right, you were the mistress of the house. Still it was something you needed to become used to within time of being here. “My apologies Heeseung, you are correct. My mind just had a lapse of awareness so I apologize for the worry I caused for you.” You made sure to smile at him, hoping it would sooth his worries.
Heeseung replied with a simple bow, signaling he understood fully well of your intentions. As the three of you stood about, Serim let out a quick cough—signaling for Heeseung’s attention. Right on queue, Heeseung's face beamed with realization. “Let me lead you to the dining room, Your Grace.” Heeseung gestured his way in front of you, waiting for you to acknowledge that. You lightly curtsied to him which then allowed Heeseung to lead the way, Serim followed in suit behind you.
The walk to the dining room was different compared to the route Jay had led you through last night. You walked through halls adorned in a variety of arts and decorations. Yet one painting in particular stood out to you. In the center of the hall was a portrait of someone. The subject of the painting had midnight hair, as well as silver eyes—with that tinge of blue—you recognized immediately.
It was a portrait of Jay, but he seemed to look years younger, more so of the age when you met for the first time. Your head tilted slightly as you stared at the painting. Perfectly enamored by the details etched into the canvas, one thing you did notice was the inaccuracy of his eyes. The portrait depicted them as only silver, missing out on that deep shade of blue that simmered in his eyes.
“His Majesty had this painted a bit before His Grace left for the battlefield.” Heeseung over to you—breaking your concentration.
You turned to see the knight looking fondly at the young version of Jay. “I see. I wondered as to why his younger self seemed so familiar.” Turning back to the painting you took one more good look at it. Slowly beginning to think to yourself, how someone of his age served in a war for five years.
“Shall we proceed on Your Grace?”
Being shaken out of your thoughts you looked over at Heeseung once more. “Yes, sorry. I must have been lost in thought.” Heeseung simply gave you a nod, finishing your walk to the dining room.
Soon you all made it to the dining room. Once entering through the doors you were truly taken away by how large the room was. A long table decorated with silverware and dishware at every chair, while at the head of the table sat Jay. Next to him was someone you had yet to meet. The younger man had blonde hair—slicked back in a style that showed his forehead. He wore a simple outfit, unlike Jay, who was always dressed for his status.
You now assumed the man next to Jay had to be Jungwon, they did look to be relatively close to one another. Making your way down the trail of the table, you were escorted to sit on the left side of Jay. Serim quick on her feet, pulled out your chair, allowing you to make yourself comfortable. Leaving your side, she made her way to stand next to Heeseung at the door.
Settling into your seat there was already food prepared at your seat. On the main plate was an array of some sausages, eggs, bread and some assortment of vegetables. Besides the food on your plate, the table held cheeses, fruits, more bread, and savory pastries. It truly seemed like an unaverage feast. Too busy studying the spread of food your head turned at the slight pick up of Jay’s voice.
“Good morning.” Jay spoke aloud as his eyes stared into you, watching your every movement since the moment you came through the door.
“Yes good morning to you too!” Your tone was more chipper as you replied back.
Jay smiled softly at you, enjoying your happiness so early in the morning. “How did you sleep?” Swiftly asking about your wellbeing.
“I slept really well! I’m sorry that I was asleep before you came back.” A pout formed onto your lips while your words trailed off.
A gentle laugh left Jay as he adored your reaction. “Don’t worry Y/N. When I came back from fetching you the blanket I ended up going to my office afterwards to do some work. I’m just mostly glad you slept well.”
Your cheeks heated softly, feeling how gentle and caring he was—even if it was just relayed by words. “Thank you so much again, Your Grace.” Looking down at the food you began to pick at it, hoping to hide your rosy cheeks.
Jay rested a hand under his chin as he studied you once more, truly enamored by everything about you. “Must you continue to call me Your Grace Y/N?”
You froze momentarily, almost as if you had something stuck within your throat. “Well. I’m just still nervous, forgive me for not being able to speak your name so freely.” You slightly cowered at the thought to say his name. After all you were nothing more than a noble lady mere days ago, so how could you straight address Jay by his name.
Jay exhaled at your answer, but it wasn’t a sigh filled with annoyance at your words. More so wishing you would be able to refer to his name sooner than later. “Don’t worry, take your time. I just felt like teasing you was all.” You nodded your head in understanding, but more so was embarrassed that all he was doing was simply teasing you.
The rest of the morning was quiet, but not in an awkward silence, the lack of noise was comforting in a sense. The sound of silverware meeting the ceramic plates every so often. The food was nothing more than fantastic, an array of flavors that all perfectly paired into one. As you continued on with your meal Jay had broken the silence. “Once we’re done. Do you want to explore the castle a bit more?”
You shot your face up from your food, eyes twinkling with excitement at his question. “Yes, yes, yes! I would really enjoy that!” So overtly excited you didn’t notice your voice raised a bit. Realization dawned on you at hearing Jungwon lightly laugh besides Jay. “Sorry, was I too loud?” Emitting the reaction of lowered dog ears.
Jay still kept his smile as he watched you. “No it’s okay. Jungwon only laughed cause I’m sure he finds you cute.”
Upon hearing his name, Jungwon almost choked at the exposure of his intentions. “See.” Jay called out as he pointed towards Jungwon. “Take your time, once we’re done we’ll head to certain parts of the castle.”
Once finishing the food Jay was the one to escort you out of your chair. He made sure to ask if everything was to your taste and much more. Of course you had nothing to complain about, everything was perfect as is.
Leaving the dining room—along with Jungwon, Serim, and Heeseung—you made your way to the library first. Making it inside you were amazed at how large the room was. Ceilings tall enough that the books on the top shelf needed a ladder to gain access too. Jay was sure to let you know that anything within the library was all yours to read and look through. You knew this would be a place you’d frequent for many hours of alone time within the future.
Next was making your way to the gallery hall. There you saw even more portraits, some filled with the scenery of Seathal or that of the previous Dukes who ruled over the territory. It was all so splendid and enjoyable to look at. There were even pieces imported from overseas that occupied the hall. Vases, decorative weapons, statues, art, and many more things you had never seen before in your life. Everything felt like a brand new experience to you.
After the gallery hall you made it to the main garden. A big marble pavilion sat in the middle of it all. You looked at it in awe—at that moment wishing it wasn't winter—thrilled to have tea and eat snacks with Serim, Heeseung, and even Jay. Making it past the pavilion you were shown the flowers that bloomed among the bushes, an assortment of roses, tulips, lilies, and any flower you had become acquainted with while growing up. Despite the cold frigid weather, the flowers flourished well—becoming accustomed to its environment. Jay was sure to ask you what your favorite flower was, implying he would grow an abundance of them outside your shared bedroom. You couldn’t help but melt at the thought of it. Your marriage with Jay may have been forced in a sense, but he was sure to be kind and loving with you. You couldn’t but find that curiosity you felt towards him blossom into something more. Something deeper.
As the sun rested below the horizon, you ended the day in Jay’s office—dinner already having been eaten just a couple hours beforehand. Just like his bedroom, it was simple and decorated to his taste. A desk in front of the two main windows, paired with bookcases aligning the walls. In one portion of the room was a sitting area—mostly used by guests or occasional naps from Jay—two single chairs joined with a lounge couch. In the middle of the couches was a table—used for tea time and simple snacks.
You sat along the lounge couch, tea in hand as you watched Jay surround himself with unfinished work. Before Jungwon had left for the evening, he exclaimed the work was from after Jay came back from the war. That had explained why there were piles of paperwork surrounding him at his desk.
Jay had urged that you didn’t need to keep him company, exclaiming he had done this for many years alone. You were quick to dismiss his words, making sure to tell him he wasn’t alone now, that he didn’t have to keep doing this stuff alone any longer. Jay didn’t say much at your words, head burrowed into the paper work. But underneath it all, you spotted the tips of his ears burning red. You giggled to yourself, once more adoring his vulnerable side.
Once you had finished the tea and snacks you dismissed both Serim and Heeseung for the night. Reinforcing that you wished to stay with Jay until he was finished with his work. Serim was reluctant but agreed with what you wanted. You watched your maid and knight leave the room, on the way out seeing Heeseung urge Serim to let him help her with the stuff. You smiled to yourself as you saw them leave through the doors, admiring how close they got over the last two days.
“They seem to be pretty close.” Jay pointed out—nose still deep into his work.
You laughed at his observation, hand resting on your cheek as you remembered their interactions over the past two days. “I’m sure they’re both interested in one another. Heeseung has shown he cares about Serim just as much as he cares for me. Truly a knight worthy of his title.”
Jay let off an approving laugh, finding your words to be very much true. Finishing up the paper in hand, Jay finally set his quill pen down. “I’m finished for the night. Shall we head to the bedroom?” Jay now looked at you, eyes awaiting for your reply.
“Yes, I’m ready to head in for the night.”
Standing up from his desk, Jay made his way over to you—hand now stretched out for you to take. Taking your hand in his you couldn’t help but notice how cold his hands felt at first. But as you continued to have your hand interlocked with his, the chill turned into a warmth you began to enjoy.
Making your way to the room Jay had mentioned something to you. “In around two weeks time I have to go on a patrol around the territory. And no you’re not allowed to come with me Y/N.” A frown made its way onto your face upon hearing his words. You wished to see every part of Seathal, even if that meant in and out of the city walls.
“I know you’re not happy about it. But it's for your own safety. The border is infested with monsters that I need to take care of. I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m sorry.”
Hearing Jay speak words of worry and even an apology made your brows knit into concern. Jay had truly cared deeply about you and was showcasing that no matter what. “I understand. Maybe one day when it’s all cleaned and safe enough you can take me there?”
Jay nodded along with your suggestion. “I hope that can happen soon enough. But while I’m gone I’ll have Jungwon show you the ways of running things while I’m away.”
“I’ll be sure to learn thoughts from him while you’re away.”
Jay chuckled softly at your commitment. “Good girl.”
Your face immediately flushed at his words, feeling nervous now at the sudden praise he had given you. You turned your head to the side, hoping Jay wouldn’t notice you blushing at his words. Unlike your own worries, Jay was too busy thinking about how to bring up his next set of words.
“Also, I’m sure you’re still worried about consummating our marriage. Your body is still too weak. I’ll inform the chef to make you foods that will strengthen your health and I’m sure you’ll do a lot of exploring within the next couple of months as well, so your stamina won’t be weak as well.” Jay soon began to ramble on—hoping his words didn’t come off offensive.
You quickly noticed his rambling, being sure to soothe his thoughts right away. “Thank you Jay. Your care for me knows no bounds and I truly appreciate all of it.”
Jay forced a genuine smile at your words. Guilt slowly eating away at him. Yes he did it because he cared deeply for you, but at that same time he knew he would have to fulfill his brother’s demands soon. He just wished that fulfillment would happen in a timeframe where you wouldn’t be so physically weak. Deep down he hoped to stall for as long as he could—keeping safe the one thing he began to deeply care for.
Life within Seathal would begin to feel natural—overall normal. Mornings you would get dressed and readied by Serim. Followed by morning meals with Jay—who was always accompanied by Jungwon. In the afternoon you would either read in the library, learn from Jungwon, or take short walks throughout the cold day.
Oftentimes it would snow throughout those days. Spending most of those moments sitting beneath the pavilion—blanket huddled around you for warmth—watching the snow fall from the sky. Jay would always join you outside, worried you would become too cold within a couple hours.
By the evening you would always spend time in Jay’s office. Teacup in hand while you watched your husband busy himself with the endless piles of paperwork. Other days you would walk through the castle by yourself, feeling the thrill of excitement as you came across new rooms and areas. Jay always managed to find you when it was time for bed—no matter where you were located.
Soon the days would turn into weeks, then finally came the day Jay was leaving for his patrol around the border. Part of you was saddened at Jay being away for merely four days. Jay could sense that, doing his best, he doted on and comforted you—as a hope to not miss him while he was gone.
You watched as Jay vanished off into the distance, accompanied by the troop of knights in his stead. You had asked Heeseung why he wasn't going along with them. Heeseung had told you he did join the patrols, but this time was instructed to stay by your side while Jay was gone.
As a result, the days while Jay was away weren’t as dull. Beforehand you were always accompanied by Serim and Heeseung, yet this time they made it their main job to entertain you as much as they could. Due to that mutual agreement between the both of them, they began to grow closer in time as well. Having witnessed moments of shared whispering or giggling amongst them—their interactions soon became that of more than friends.
The day Jay came back in all honestly felt relieving. In those past days while he was gone, it felt as if you were separated for far more than four days. In his absence you began to miss his presence more than you thought you would. Jay was quick to notice your growing clingyness after he came back.
As a means to make you feel better he had one of the gardeners plant your favorite flowers in front of the bedroom like he promised. By the end of the day there were blue hyacinths planted in the garden from outside the bedroom.
“Whenever I’m gone you can always think of me when you look upon those flowers. I found out that blue hyacinths mean loyalty.” His hand played with your hair as he watched you leave your focus on the flowers below. Once hearing what the significant color had meant you couldn’t help to tip toe up to him. Lips meeting with his cheek, even if it was momentarily. “Thank you Your Grace. I love them, truely.” You had begun to fall deeply in love with Jay.
Jay stood there shocked at your forwardness, wishing his lips could be met with yours. But it was the first time you had ever made a move of your own. Not wanting to push you away he held back, instead choosing to savor the affectionate moment between you both.
As the days turned into weeks, the weeks slowly turned into months. Around the one month mark, Jay began to be more affectionate with you. Occasional kisses along your neck to even gentle touches of intimacy. He was sure to always be gentle and abide by your consent, keeping the promise of his words to never hurt you. As these shared moments between you both increased, you began to wish more from him. Simple kisses, hands grazing along your backside, to fleeting touches between you both. You began to crave for more from him. Yet anytime you brought up your consummation, he was always quick to dismiss it. Earnestly wishing for your health to grow stronger before you could tie that official knot.
Without even realizing it, five months had gone by, that meant five months living in Seathal. Yet still within those long months Jay needed to go on his patrols. In the beginning you desperately started to miss him, but as it became more frequent you were now looking forward to his return than waiting around like a lost puppy.
On the days he was away you learned everything there was to your Duchess title. Taking care of work within the city, arranging things in the castle, and many more of your duties. In between those days of learning you’d pick up some hobbies—learning to embroider, piano lessons, and even art lessons. Your favorite part from picking up these hobbies was being able to gift Jay things as well as showing him your progress in your lessons.
Yet while you had normal days without Jay, the same couldn’t be said for him.
Jay took on more expeditions to the border than normal, everyone knew it and so did he. In pretense it seemed as if it was him diligently doing his job as the Duke of the land, but in reality it was a means to escape from you. Not because he disliked you or hated you. It was due to his growing lust for you. Jay thought that if he continued to clear the borders from the monsters—killing as much as he could to satiate his bloodlust—then surely his unwarranted lust would die down. But it was all useless.
During those nights as he lay awake unable to sleep he’d create an image of you—same as he did all those nights ago in the staircase. He was able to replicate a version of you so well, it was as if you were a ghost haunting him within his sleep. In the midst of things he’d ask himself if you should’ve come along with him. You did desperately wish to see the edge of Seathal with your own eyes, but deep down Jay didn’t want you to witness what he was out of your sight.
His jaw clenched harshly as he lay on the embellished cot. Hands stuck to his face desperately trying to rub the image of you away. But to his dismay you were still there. Giving up with himself, his hand reached out for you, thumb sliding against your lip as he yearned to feel your flesh on his.
The hand that grazed against your lip soon trailed down to your chin. Fingers holding your head up to face him. In the end Jay knew it wasn’t you, the eyes he envisioned was that of sultry want—boring themselves into his very being. If it was the real you, you would have struggled to hold eye contact with him, he knew that for certain.
Every ounce of him wanted to taste more than what was on the surface. He wanted more from you, more of you. But there was no use in his selfish desires if you were to be used in a plan bigger than what he was. He could never allow himself to excuse his desires if it meant putting you in harm's way. Swatting the ghost of you away, he sat up in the cot. Hands once again finding its way onto his face—fingers gripping into his hair with frustration. “This truly is… Hell.”
The next day Jay had returned back to the castle. It was around late afternoon when he came back with his troop. Yet as he was arriving he saw a carriage from the capital, specifically The Emperor’s personal carriage. Jay’s grip on the reins tightened as he thought of his brother being anywhere near you.
Dismissing the knights behind him, he galloped his way to the castle entrance. There were maids already stationed to greet him. Hopping off of his horse, the servants lead the companion back to the stables. At the front door entrance stood Jungwon. Jay’s jaw clenched slightly knowing he’d have to go find his brother. “Where is he.” Tone as cold as the winter wind around them.
“He’s in your office, Your Grace.” Jungwon bowed as he spoke, feeling as if he was stepping on eggshells.
Without another word Jay made his way to his office. His metal armor echoed around him while his footsteps hit the floor harshly. Jay wasn’t sure what he would do if his brother laid a finger on you. Killing him wasn’t an option, but if what he feared most was true. It would be his only resort of satisfaction. Barging through the doors his eyes immediately landed on the figure lounged on the large couch. Legs propped up on the table and arms stretched out on the back cushions.
“What are you doing here?”
The Emperor peered his head over to Jay, that sly smile plastered on his face. “Now brother. That’s no way to welcome your brother. I came all the way here to visit you. Have some hospitality now.”
Jay’s hands curled into a fist as he listened to his brother. “You came here to visit me? That’s a lie and you know it.” Jay let off a laugh at his brother’s blatant lie.
“Fine you caught me. But I mean. I did come here for both you and your wife.”
Jay’s eyes flashed at the mention of you rolling off his tongue. The Emperor caught this, laughing at how his brother reacted to the mere remark of your name. Jay’s brows knitted at his brother’s laugh, finding it annoying how he saw amusement in all of this.
“I assure you I didn’t do anything to the girl. I greeted her. Had a little chat and made my way here to wait for you, was all.” A smile crept up onto The Emperor’s face.
“What do you want from us.” Jay was quick to get to the point—wanting his brother out of his sight as soon as he could.
“Well. I heard from a little birdie, that your wife isn’t pregnant yet. Matter of fact. You both haven’t even consummated your marriage.”
Jay’s body froze, anxiety bubbling up at his words. The evidence Jay laid out was believable for the likes of the royal palace’s maids, yet The Emperor knew it was all a facade. That wasn’t the only problem. Now he knew you weren’t pregnant. It had been five months since your arrival here, by now you should at the very least be showing that much was true. Jay stumbled back as things dawned on him. Hand to his head as he tried his best to gather his thoughts together.
“You really didn’t think I’d plant someone from the palace did you?” The Emperor snickered at his brother's ignorance.
Standing up he made his way over to Jay, hand resting on his shoulder. “Since I adore you like my own flesh and blood young brother. I’m giving you one last time to heed my orders.” The Emperor looked up at Jay. Analyzing the emotion of panic wash over his face—something he had never seen in the twenty three years he raised Jay.
Letting out a sigh The Emperor spoke once more. “If not. I will kill your mother.” The Emperor’s hand left Jay’s shoulder, satisfied with what it was he came to do.
Before The Emperor left through the doors his words rang through the office once more. “Remember my words wisely Jay.” With that his brother was gone from the office.
Jay stood there. Heart racing as everything swirled around him. Jay was running out of time, no, he had no more time left. Jay was so irrevocably in love with you that he would let The Emperor kill his own mother. But on the other hand, it was his mother. The person he assumed was dead his whole life due to his birth. He would do anything in the world if it meant seeing his mother, or even speaking with her once. Yet now he had to choose between you both. Something he never wished to think about the moment the truth was revealed.
Chest tightening, Jay began to strip off the heavy armor. Sweat beading at his forehead in a desperate attempt to calm himself as best as he could. The hard armor hit the floor, the echoing of the clanking metal engulfing the room. Once free, he made his way to the doors of the office. Jay sauntered his way into the hall. Hand placed along the wall to help balance himself along as he went to look for you. His eyes closed shut as he focused, using his mana to search through the castle. Then he found your presence. Walking up the secluded staircase, watching the setting sun as you made your way to the room. Jay was now on his way, desperately wishing to be with you as soon as he could.
You had always wondered how Jay was able to find you in the castle when no one else could. You were unaware of the fact that Jay’s mana is what made finding you so easy. Ever since that first night you spent together Jay had been sneaking traces of his mana all over you—marking you his in some twisted way.
As Jay finally made it to the staircase he was quick to raise his head up, eyes searching above in a desperate attempt to find you. Then his eyes finally found you, standing there peering out the window, the setting sun shining into your eyes just like it had all those months ago.
His movements were quicker than he thought, making his way to you faster than he ever did. Jay could feel his fingers tingle in anticipation. Not because he was finally allowing himself to have you. But to hold you and cherish you. Jay could feel himself get swallowed up by guilt. The only thing that could truly cure that dreaded feeling chewing away at him was you.
As you made your way up the steps you didn’t hear the sound of Jay’s presence sneaking up on you. The feeling of hands grabbing at your body shocked you. You couldn’t help letting out a shriek—body frozen as you panicked on what to do.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The sound of Jay’s voice calmed all that anxiety away. His hands snaked around your waist—holding you flush against him—face soon nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The feeling of his breath exhaling onto you left chills down your spine. Something about him felt off, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
“Is everything okay?” His hold on you tightened at your voice. Feeling like a slow reminder of what was to come for the both of you.
Jay didn’t answer you. You sighed out, hand reaching to his hair—patting him reassuringly. “Can I look at you at least?”
His response was still the same, only this time as he rubbed his face into your neck he began to leave a trail of kisses. The feeling was ticklish, simultaneously making the heat of your core flutter as his lips grazed against your flushed skin.
“Jay…”
You merely muttered his name, not even the empty staircase had picked up on it. Yet Jay did. His movements stopped as he heard his name fall off your lips. Your brows knitted as he halted himself—wishing that he wouldn’t stop. Before you could question him once more, you were spun around—back now pressed firmly against the cobblestone walls. Jay’s arms were soon met at your sides—keeping you caged where you stood.
Jay lowered his head next to your ear, once again finding his way to your neck. This time instead of leaving a trail of kisses all he did was take in your smell. Hoping that this was reality and not a twisted dream—maybe part of him did wish it was, but the other half of him prayed it wasn’t.
“Your Grace?” Your words were hushed as you spoke. Not wanting to break the moment between you both.
Jay raised his head from where it was. Now he was looking at you—those silver eyes you remembered in such intricate detail piercing into your very being. As Jay stared at you his eyes wandered down to your lips then back to your eyes, taking in every single aspect of you.
Raising his hand to you, Jay grazed his thumb over your bottom lip—just as he did with the hallucination of you. But this time you were really standing in front of him, not a lust filled imagery of you. As he brushed his thumb, his eyes wandered back to your lips. Staring at the way your plump lips felt underneath his touch.
“Say it again.”
You looked at him confused, wondering what it was he was referring to. “My name. Say it again.” Hearing his words your face reddened, now aware that he heard you call out his name in a fevered state.
Your eyes looked away from him, hesitance written all over your face. Jay saw the way you reacted, knowing you only felt this way due to the gap in your status. “Please Y/N. Today I wish to finally consummate our marriage. I want to hear you call me by my real name.”
Hearing his words you slowly met your eyes with his, seeing a pleading look deep in them. You were finally tying that knot with him. So surely it was only right that you did so. “Jay.” This time you said his name more confidently. There was still some reluctance behind your tone, but he was able to hear you say his name.
A smile formed on his face upon hearing his name, unknowing to how overjoyed that made him. In an instant his lips were on yours—light and delicate not wanting to overdo it. Leaving a kiss to your lips, Jay began to trail his way down, kissing briefly along your jaw and down your neck.
As he submerged himself into his actions, one of his hands now found its way to the side of your thigh. The sensation of him languidly rubbing up your thigh startled you. His kisses paused, chin resting against your chest as he looked up at you, that same smile still peering up at you.
“I don’t think you understand how crazy you drive me.”
Before anything else could be said, Jay continued on. Hands roaming amongst your waist as he began to kiss along your torso. Even if his lips against your skin were separated by the fabric of your dress, you could feel everything. You gasped out at the sensation, your body tingling from head to toe.
“Wait. Jay…” Your whimpers fell onto deaf ears as he proceeded on.
Kneeling before you, Jay was now focused on one thing. Making sure you would feel the pleasuring sensation of his desire for you. “Lift up your dress Y/N.”
You wanted to ask questions. Ask him why he wanted you to do so, but as you felt his fingers tap at your ankles you slowly realized why. Crumpling the fabric of your dress between your fingers, you slowly raised your skirt. Jay’s jaw clenched as he watched the fabric rise. Watching as your bare legs came into his viewpoint.
Without warning Jay had placed his hand underneath your thigh—propping it over his shoulder. The feeling of him lifting your leg off the ground caused you to yelp, whilst slightly losing your balance in the process. Quickly aiding you, Jay rested the palm of his other hand against your back.
The feeling of warm lips against your inner thigh made you tremble. Your fingers clutched the dress skirt tighter as his lips made way up your thigh. His grip tightening while he held you close against him. His warm breath swept past your clothed heat, a soft moan leaving your mouth at the ticklish feeling. The sensation was all too new to you, yet, it didn’t scare you. Jay didn’t scare you. But when something wet swept at your cunt your moans only grew louder. A new feeling forming in your stomach at the pleasuring sensation.
As Jay kneeled in between your legs his thread of reasoning was slowly beginning to snap. Your cunt was mere inches away from him, and when he heard your soft whimpers above him he was unsure of how much more he could take. In a heated daze, Jay inched his tongue toward your heat—despite the fabric of your lingerie being in the way. The slight taste of you on his tongue made him shudder, fingertips tingling in a way he never felt before—the thread he desperately grasped at fraying in the process.
But when he heard a moan unlike any other come out from you, that thread snapped. The hand that held you safely against your back made its way to your hip. Grip strong yet soft as he angled your body up—allowing him a better view of your cunt. “Fuck...” was all he could say as he saw the way you began to soak through your panties. The wet spot in the fabric growing in the mere seconds he stared.
Jay wanted to have you right then and there. He wanted to savor the feeling of your heat wrapped around him as he took you. But the thought faded as he remembered your weakened body. It was impossible for you to take him now, especially without doing anything to ease you onto his size.
Hooking a finger under the gusset, Jay drew the cloth back—now allowing a full view of your glistening cunt. He couldn’t help but bite his lip at the sight, you were finally within his grasp, and Jay was going to have all of you. Leaning his head further in, Jay swept his tongue at your folds—licking up the sweet taste of your juices. Your body arched back at the warm—yet also wet—feeling on your cunt. Legs beginning to shake as Jay lapped at your core.
Jay was earnest in his work, tongue licking along your folds before he’d gently suck at your clit. The overwhelming sensation of his lips wrapped onto your bud shook you, head tilting back as your body jolted with pleasure. The grasp on your skirt faltered as he proceeded on. As Jay continued his motions, the hand gripping at your thigh left its place. Too enraptured by the pleasure you were unaware of the absent feeling on your thigh. Instead that absence would be replaced with his finger prodding at your entrance.
Your breath hitched in your throat at the tight feeling of his finger inserting into you. Back arching—further—as you felt everything, body shuddering from his touch alone. Despite the slight pain it all melted away as Jay continued his ministrations on your clit.
As Jay inched his finger deeper—slightly curling it in the process—he felt something spongy. Curious as to what it was he pressed down on it, the pressure was soft. Yet that pressure alone caused you to moan louder. Jay smirked to himself, realizing he had found the spot that made you feel good.
Jay incessantly pressed at the spot. Applying gentle increments of pressure, as well as rubbing against it. As this went on your moans turned into a noisy mess, so much so you began to bite your lip in a hopeless attempt to quiet yourself.
To absorbed into pleasing you Jay inserted another finger inside. Your head began to spin, the pleasure far too much to think straight. As his two fingers slid in and out, paired with his tongue at your cunt, the tingling feeling in your stomach began to ache.
Jay could feel the way your entrance began to flutter around his fingers—signaling how close you were. He began to work more diligently, dragging out your inevitable orgasm. Your toes curled as you felt waves wash over you. Every time Jay pressed down on that spot it was as if the dam inside of you was breaking. Then with one final languid stroke you came undone on him. Jay steadied himself, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. Your body trembled and shivered above him—chest heaving as you gasped for air—eyes wide as you felt the euphoric feeling run through your body.
Jay retracted his face away from your heat, fingers slowly leaving your entrance as well. He looked down at his fingers, viewing the two fingers coated in your juices. Then he looked up at you, he saw your half lidded eyelids as you came down from that lust driven high. As Jay let your leg touch back to the floor, you couldn’t help but buckle down. Jay quickly held onto you, surprised by how much that alone did a toll on you. “I got you.” Was all he said before scooping you into his arms.
Motioning you to wrap your arms around him he held close onto you, leaving gentle kisses against your face as he comforted you. A mixture of praises were said to you as he made his way up the stairs. Making it into the room, Jay was worried he overworked you. Deciding by himself that he would take you another night instead. Settling you down on the bed, he began to leave your side—hoping to retrieve a wash cloth for you—but you stopped him. Gentle fingers clutching onto his hand desperately.
He looked at you confused. Then the next words he heard from you was a sentence he had least expected.
“Don’t go. Stay.” Was all you could weakly muster out.
Jay stood there, unsure of what to do. You seemed to be utterly weakened. So how could he push you further? “You need to rest.” Jay replied, looking away from you—unable to face you in the heat of things.
“Please. Jay. I need you.”
This time you sat up to look at him. Jay turned to look at you, wondering if what you had said was real. Then as he saw you sitting there, eyes full of something he never saw from you. The heat of his core began to ache. That look he saw in your eyes was lust. You wanted him at that very moment and Jay could see that as clear as day. Yet, he was still unsure of himself. But when you began to untie the top of your dress before him, all reasoning began to leave his mind.
He watched as the sleeves slipped down your shoulders, dropping past your chest pooling around your waist—revealing your exposed breasts. Jay licked at his bottom lip, before crashing onto yours. His hands cupped at your face, delving himself into the kiss—piecing himself to you like a puzzle piece. The hand placed at your cheek slid around to the back of your neck, angling yet pushing his fevered lips deeper into yours. Jay leaned himself onto the bed—your body following with his movements. His grip on your neck was still strong, whilst his other hand began to dance down your chest.
Rough fingers tauntingly grazing at your nipple, before kneading the bud between his index and thumb. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, startled by the sudden pressure on your breasts. As Jay continued to rub your nipple he soon let it go, instead this time cupping your boob in his hands.
His tongue swept past your bottom lip, urging for you to open up for him. You complied diligently, as his tongue slipped in, finding yours immediately. Soon Jay was swirling his tongue along with yours, in hopes to loosen the tension in you as much as he could—while he massaged your chest gently.
The kiss was heated and breathy, your arms desperately clutched around his neck as you followed along with his lead. At a certain point you needed to breathe, but Jay, so immersed into your plump lips, didn't notice you tapping at his chest—only when you bit his lip did he notice. Breaking the kiss right away, Jay began to observe your face—just a few inches from his—your lips now a red color as you breathed deeply underneath him. The last time he had seen such a sight was the day he kissed you at the altar. But now he would see more than just your lips red and sore for him.
Jay’s hand left your chest, reaching up to lower your back against the bed. His hand at your neck left its place, now gluing itself to your waist. Jay’s hands roamed your body as he took in the sight of you, gliding down every curve and crevice—worshipping you in the process.
The one thing left in his way was the rest of your dress. Immediately tugging the fabric down your legs. Your body was now bare—all except for your panties. Jay was quick to undress himself, fingers frantically rushing to unbutton his shirt.
As his shirt hit the floor, he made way to his pants—unbuttoning in such precision to earnestly remove them. Now he stood there in between your legs, gently grinding his bulge into your core. You bit your lip at the pressure against your cunt. Head turning to the side in a poor attempt to hide your reddening face. Jay was too engaged with what was happening below to realize you were also finding pleasure in everything.
Cursing under his breath his hips wouldn’t stop moving into you. So drunk on you he kept with his motions—which also helped in loosening you more. The moment he spotted his precum soak through his briefs he knew it was time.
Discarding your underwear, Jay got a better view of your wet cunt before him. He could see the way your entrance twitched in anticipation for him. You peeked at him from the corner of your eyes, waiting for Jay to remove his garments as well.
Then as he slid the cloth of his briefs down did you see his cock. The size was unlike something you ever imagined. The girth seemed far too big to fit inside of you, not to mention the faint ridges beneath his shaft. You swallowed back, throat drying at the mere sight of him in front of you. But out of everything, what caught your eyes the most was the tiny blue scales amongst his pelvis. Seemingly the most dragonlike thing about him—besides his eyes.
Jay nestled his cock onto your heat, rubbing himself up and down your folds. The rugged feeling of the ridges against your cunt elicited a moan from you. Despite your pooling desire you began to worry about his size.
“Jay… I don’t think. It won’t fit.” You whimpered out, hand stretching out to push his hips away from yours—yet only your fingertips grazed against his skin.
Suddenly Jay brought both your legs together, holding them straight against his chest—his dick tightly pressed in between your thighs. The pressure was agonizing whilst he imagined himself bottomed out inside of you. It was enough, but he still needed to prep you.
“Shhh.” Jay soothed you, interlocking his free hand with yours, as his hips still continued their slow thrusts.
Throwing an arm over your face you basked in the pleasure, head swirling as you began to see stars in your vision. Your hand tightened in his hold, legs trembling harshly every time he dragged his cock through your folds. Your moans only grew more as his hips began to slam into the back of your thighs. You could feel that knotted feeling in your stomach loosen again. Your heated moans slowly morphed into his name—the feeling of your orgasm looming over you as he continued. Noticing this Jay picked up his pace slightly, wishing to help you cum first.
With one final feverish rub of his cock against your clit the pooling heat inside of you was released. Feeling the way your legs viscously trembled in his grasp, Jay stopped his movements. Slowly rubbing himself into you—helping soothe your orgasm down. You both sat there for a moment. You savoring the ecstasy of it all while Jay watched you. Your arms tightly covered over your face as you laid there catching your breath. It was only the second time that you came, but you were already spent.
Soon your legs would be set into a different position—angled to be pressed at your sides. Jay sluggishly ran his cock against your cunt. Whimpers left your lips—a needy attempt to voice how sensitive you were—but Jay continued on.
Then as your eyes peered down you saw his cock, tip red and leaking of precum. That's when you realized he didn’t cum at all while he catered to you. Jay got you to cum twice and here he stood still holding it in. Your hands stretched out to your legs, helping to hold them flush against yourself—hoping Jay would also realize your want for him. Jay gulped at the sight. Laying there as you held your legs apart just for him, he was truly enamored with the sight of you.
As he rubbed himself into your core, he began to thumb at your clit. The gentle and slow circles chewed away at you as you began to feel yourself grow impatient. Yet while he thumbed your clit, it distracted you from the main course of things.
Jay settled the head of his cock at your entrance, you seemed wet enough to take him, and Jay prayed it would be enough to not hurt. As he slowly nudged his way into you, your breath hitched in your throat. This pressure was different from when Jay’s fingers were in you. You could feel the way his tip began to stretch you out. It hurt momentarily, yet the pleasure washing over your body made it durable.
The hand that thumbed at you outstretched onto your pelvis—still continuing his circles on you. His palm on your pelvis made you feel grounded as he inched his way into you. With every inch of his cock in you, your moans began to slip out. As he entered, Jay’s tip momentarily rubbed past that sensitive area. You gasped out at the feeling, back arching at the indescribable pleasure.
Soon Jay was merely half way into you, taking his time to adjust you to his size. He continued to rub your clit, noticing it helped loosen in you in the process. The whole time Jay watched you shake and shudder before him, yet as he looked down his eyes were glued on the way you swallowed him. Every inch disappearing into your tight cunt. With just a few more pushes he was able to nestle his pelvis onto your core. Staying still he needed you to become comfortable with the feeling of him inside. Softly rubbing his hips into you he leaned down to your ear.
“I’m gonna start moving now…”
Was all he said as his body caged you, arms rested at your side as he drew his hips back. Steady and slow before slamming back into you. Your hands left your thighs as you now blissfully hugged at his neck—nails digging into his back in desperation.
Every time Jay dragged his hips back the pace was the same—all while rubbing against that spongy spot—yet when he buried himself back inside, it felt needy and rushed. At a certain point in, the pacing of his thrusts picked up.
No longer was he slowly dragging himself out of you, he was now earnestly slamming his hips into yours. You were soon a mess underneath him, your moans turning into a mix of mewls and gasps. Tears began to brim at your eyes, the pain and pleasure becoming too unbearable for you to handle.
As Jay buried his head next to yours he turned to look at you. Mind wondering if your face was the exact same way he imagined it. And his imagination was correct, but when he saw the tears he couldn’t help but wanting to kiss them away. His lips met the wet corners of your eyes, hoping to comfort you through his erratic thrusts.
Jay could feel himself reaching his breaking point—his movements becoming a blend of rough and fast to lazy and stable. He was due to cum at any second, but began to doubt things once again—hips pausing for a second—truly asking himself if this is what he wanted to do.
But as he thought of you being able to carry his child and raise one with him, those doubts began to leave him. Now he was telling himself it would be fine, you had The Saintess’ blessing. So surely her holy powers would be able to help you when you would give birth. Agreeing with himself he picked up the pace of his hips one more time.
With one last final harsh thrust he steadied himself—cock nestled deep inside, twitching slightly against your walls. With that one thrust you were able to come for what hoped to be the last time. The feeling of him throbbing inside had you whimpering beneath him, paired with the feeling of a rush of warmth that filled you.
The two of you stayed in that position, savoring the feeling of each other—while you both caught your breaths. Jay left kisses along your face before pushing himself off of you—all while still being connected. You watched him, eyes half lidded. It wasn’t due to the fucked out daze you were in, but the fact you began to grow tired. Before you could say anything to Jay you were fast asleep. Noticing your tuckered out state, Jay was slightly beating himself up for being too rough with you.
Sliding out of you, Jay immediately noticed the way his cum dribbled out. In a frantic mess he left the bed searching around for something to wipe you up. Remembering his discarded shirt he grabbed it, beginning to wipe you down.
Once finished he searched in your section of the closest for night attire. Securing clean lingerie and a night dress he helped change you—not wishing to leave you in the bed naked. Finishing up, Jay tucked you underneath the covers, soon settling down on the edge of the bed next to you. He watched your sleeping form—chest rising up and down slowly—truley admiring how much he began to love you.
Jay still felt he didn’t deserve love. But you? You began to show him that he was allowed to take part in that emotion. His hand rested on your stomach, softly rubbing it as the things he did dawned on him. He just truly hoped and wished whatever happened from here on out would be okay. Not just for him, but for you.
The next morning you woke up severely sore. Your back ached as well as your legs—especially your thighs. Serim was with you the whole morning, nursing you and helping out as much as she could to comfort you. As she helped she did ask about what happened, deep down she knew you and Jay had a steamy night, but was worried regardless.
You told her what she had suspected, even telling her how it was your first night together. Serim was shocked at the truth since she believed your consummation happened the night of your wedding. Despite her surprise Serim wasn’t upset with you. She found it chivalrous that Jay wanted you to strengthen your body before he bedded you.
You laughed at her burst of admiration for him. While you both shared the conversation you went ahead to ask about Heeseung—wondering as to what was going on with the both of them. Serim blushed at your question, head shying away from you.
The room filled with giggles at not only her reaction but her speaking so highly of Heeseung—truly proving he was taking great care of her. Before the two of you could chat more, Jay came into the room. Serim straightened herself as she greeted him. Jay gave her a soft smile before politely excusing her. Serim said her goodbyes—secretly waving at you—before leaving the room. Jay turned to you, brows knitting as he saw your weakened state. “Sorry. I was too rough last night wasn’t I?”
His words caught you off guard. Your cheeks heated up as you processed what he said. “What?! Oh! No you weren’t!” Your words came off high pitched while answering him. Jay chuckled at your reaction—admiring how adorable he found you. Making his way over to you he placed a hand on your cheek, caressing your face gently. You melted in his touch like always. Cheek rubbing into his gentle hand.
“Also. I am sorry about cumming inside as well.”
You craned your head at his words. What did he mean? Then it dawned on you on what he was talking about. Your hands shot to your stomach, gently rubbing the surface. The thought of a child didn’t frighten you, if anything it made you excited. A reminder that you married Jay to live a happy life and create a family.
Jay saw the way you smiled, a bit of relief washing over him all at once. “Well it's not guaranteed you’ll be pregnant right away. A dragonborn’s sperm is potent but it's not easy to tell after one time. I mean if the idea of having a child with me is okay…”
Even if your body ached, and was sore all over you jumped up to hug him. Arms wrapping around his neck—tippy toes barely touching the floor—as you spoke happily about wishing to raise a child with him. Jay reciprocated the hug, arms tightly wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into your shoulder.
Jay didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve you to agree so willingly, especially when you seemed so happy. He hated how he couldn’t tell you the real truth of the matter. Yes he wished to create a family with you, but not in a reality where his brother was threatening his mother. He just hoped you’d be able to stay ignorant of the truth—fearing deep down that he could lose you.
Separating from the hug, you settled back into the bed. Straining your body too much from one hug. You could see worriedness on Jay’s face—slightly mixed with guilt. “Hey. Don’t be upset. Remember I’m a descendant of The Saintess. I’ll be better tomorrow morning I promise.”
Jay loosened up at your words, but still held a small amount of guilt. Giving you a soft smile he agreed with your words in the end. “If that's the case, take the rest of the day to get better. Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to one of the castle’s doctors. I trust her with my life so you should be fine.”
“Thank you so much Jay.”
His ears reddened at his name, happy that you were able to call him by his name instead of that stupid title. Any worries on his face now vanished—at the mere sound of his name. Jay reached a hand out to stroke the top of your head. You enjoyed it whenever Jay did so, finding yourself beginning to crave for his affection.
“I’ll get going now. I need to finish up some work unfortunately. I’ll have Serim serve you dinner in the room. Just rest for today.” Leaning down, Jay placed a peck to your forehead. With one more gentle look at you he left the room. You laid there, fingers rubbing at your forehead as you began to miss your husband.
The next day you indeed felt better, any trace of aching or soreness was long gone from your body. You woke up earlier than usual—way before breakfast was to be served—after getting dressed and ready you made your way to Jay’s office. Already wishing to see him first thing in the morning.
As you made your way into the office Jay was happy to see that you were right. In just one day your holy powers healed you back to perfect health. Getting up from his seat Jay walked over—meeting you halfway in the room—arms open as he wished to hug you.
You were quick to reciprocate the hug. Arms wrapping around his waist as you enjoyed the warmth of his chest. You both stood there for little over a minute, the only thing breaking you apart was the sound of Jungwon clearing his throat. Parting ways you both stood there sheepishly, not thinking how much your feelings for either were in sync.
“Yes. Well. I want to introduce you to the doctor today. I’ll introduce you both around lunch time?”
“That sounds great! I will see you at breakfast then!” You turned on your heel stiffly as you made way to the doors. Before leaving you turned around, giving Jay a small wave before heading off to the dining room.
“You both are utterly smitten with one another.” Jungwon chimed in as he continued to look through his work.
“Shut up.”
Later that afternoon like Jay had said, you met the castle doctor—Yunjin. She had a beautiful color of light auburn hair and dark chestnut eyes. The one feature on her that really stuck out to you was the mole on her nose. She was truly beautiful in your eyes.
Jay introduced you both to one another. Yunjin truly cared about her position as Jay’s entrusted doctor, and was all the more grateful she was chosen to look after your pregnancy check ups. During your first meeting she checked to see if you were possibly pregnant. Jay and her knew it was unlucky after the first night but needed to check just in case.
At the end of the check up you in fact weren’t pregnant—which only meant more heated moments between you and Jay. Once Yunjin finished up, you thanked her plenty of times. Yunjin couldn’t help but grow a soft spot for you off of your first meeting—genuinely understanding why Jay was quick to adore you. As you and Jay watched Yunjin leave, he snaked a hand at your lower back, tugging you close to him in the process. Leaning down to your ear he whispered something to you. “Shall we try again tonight?”
You couldn’t help but blush at his words. In return all you could do was shyly nod your head at him. Jay smiled to himself at your flustered actions, kissing against your neck and ear as he led you back to the room. That night was filled with passion and desire just like a couple days prior.
Soon a month would pass, and within that month The Saintess’ season would start. You watched as the winter snow melted into the lush green you saw in the paintings. The colors reminded you so much of home as well. Different flowers bloomed during this season, flowers that would stay healthy and strong.But being able to witness The Saintness season was the least of your busy life.
Cause within that time you slowly began to realize how carnal Jay was. Every other day without fail he bedded you. Whether it was in the morning, evening, or night, Jay was utterly entranced by you. Of course it was all for the sake of you getting pregnant, but there were many times where it felt as if he wanted to be with you because it was you—not for the sake of having his child. That realization alone made you putty in his hands. Giving into his every whim and desire whenever he saw it, and the same was for you as well.
Some days you would do it in the room, other days in the office—Jay was more hands on during those moments, enjoying the way you grew nervous of someone walking in. Even though he made sure to lock the office doors everytime—the secluded staircase was another area in the castle.
Despite mating like bunnies, you were yet to be pregnant. Jay’s behavior shifted a little bit at this. That's when you came to notice how smitten he was—clinging to you as if he was starving. He was eager about releasing in you, always making sure to keep you on him when you both finished. Even going as far as to bending you in such an erotic position, you were bound to end up pregnant.
And just like that you were. You had your daily check up with Yunjin in the late evening—which always ended in no good news. But this time was different. Yunjin seemed more chipper this time, eagerly waiting to tell you something. Once she told you the news, you jumped up to hug her, graciously happy that you were now with a child.
With no more time to spare you quickly left Yunjin’s room. Hurriedly making your way to Jay’s office. Serim and Heeseung didn’t accompany you on your unplanned visit, since you wished to share this information with Jay alone, as well as wishing him to be the first person to hear it.
You smiled from ear to ear, exhilaration filling up every inch of your body. You could see the doors to his office right at the end of the hall. Picking up your pace as you began to grow impatient. Finally making it to the door you were about to make your way in when you realized one of the doors was cracked ajar. Then your ears picked up on the shared words from inside.
As always it was Jungwon who accompanied Jay in the office. Yet they were both talking about The Emperor, then about you. You shouldn’t have eavesdropped—you know that—but you grew curious on why you were a topic of conversation.
“She needs to know the truth one day, Your Grace.” Jungwon’s usual warm voice was cold and blunt while he spoke.
Jay meekly answered. “Yes. But…”
“Your Grace. There is no but scenario…” Jungwon hissed.
“I know that you and Her Grace have been at it non stop in hopes for her to bear a child. But you need to tell her why you’re actually doing this.”
One of your brows raised at his words. What was Jungwon implying? Was there a bigger motive to all of this besides an arranged marriage. The marriage was indeed arranged, but you believed the both of you had shared feelings. Especially with how nice and affectionate he was with you. That wasn’t false was it?
Then the next things that came out of Jay’s mouth truly shattered your heart.
“Tell her what exactly? That I’m using her to gain a child for my brother?! She can’t know Jungwon and you know that…” Jay raised his voice at Jungwon. Eyes gleaming whilst snarling at his best friend.
But those words were enough to have you running down the hall. Tears stinging your eyes as they fell from your face. You couldn’t believe what Jay had said. Was your marriage really a set up for you to have his child? Your head spun as you tried piecing everything together.
All the times he kissed you, hugged you, touched you. Was it all just a façade? Then you remembered the way he made love with you, the dawning realization made you sick to your stomach.
You didn't know where to run too. You couldn’t go back to the room, or hide out in the staircase—he was sure to find you. As you kept running you unconsciously made your way to Serim’s room—tucked all the way in one of the corners of the castle wing.
Making it to Serim’s room you frantically banged on her door. “Serim. I need you.” Sobbing out as your bawled up hands began to numb.
Serim tore the door open, her face mixed with confusion and fear. Then as she saw your tear stained face her eyes shifted to immediate concern. “My Lady! What happened!? What's going on?” Her hands stretched out to—holding onto the sides of your arms fearing you would slink down.
“I. I don’t. I don't know what to do, Serim.” Your voice hitched as the sound of your wailing sobs cut in between your words. Your shaky hands rubbing at your eyes in a poor attempt to wipe the tears away..
Serim rubbed your arms as she led you into the room, settling you down on the bed kneeling in front of you. Her hands reached to yours, pulling them to the side as she aided in wiping your tears away. You sat there allowing Serim to do as she wished—stilling weeping before her.
After lots of gentle soothing and gentle words you calmed down. Your nose a stuffy mess as you stared at the palm of your hands. “What happened? I’ve never seen you like this…” Serim’s words were full of sorrow. Her chest tightening as she saw you—the strongest person she knew—crumbling before her.
Her question of concern brought more tears to your eyes. But instead of a stream of tears, they dribbled down, your eyes already tired from the sobbing session you had mere minutes ago. Then as you cleared your coarse throat you told her everything—the news of your pregnancy up to what you overheard from Jay.
Serim sat there shocked. Unsure of how to comfort you in this situation. “What are you going to do?” She was concerned. There was no way you would be able to be the same near Jay anymore. Not only did he break your trust. He shattered your heart into a million pieces, and Serim could hear those pieces hitting rock bottom.
“I want to leave here. I can’t be here anymore, Serim. I can’t face him.” Your face landed back into your hands as you cried, the situation of things sinking into you.
“What of the child?”
You paused, tears halting as you remembered the child growing inside of you. Of course you wouldn’t get rid of it, you were ready to love and care for the little one. “I’ll keep it. It may have been brought up in an artificial marriage. But that doesn’t mean the child has to suffer for it. Wherever I go and wherever I end up, I will care for it with all the love in the world. It’s what the baby deserves at the end of the day.”
Serim teared up at your words—happy that she had chosen to serve you for the rest of her life.
“Does that mean you wish to run away. Leave far from here and raise the little one all alone?” You thought about Serim’s question for a moment. But even then it only took a few mere seconds to agree—positive on the decision laid out for you.
Serim nodded her head—understanding what you wished for—as she conjured a plan. “A trip back to the family estate is nearly impossible. You would be found out within the first few hours. You also have no land or relatives out here, so staying undercover won’t work…” Then she thought some more, the image of a familiar red head struck her.
Heeseung could help. He knew the ins and outs of Seathal, Serim was sure he’d know of a place that was decently far away but also out of Jay’s eyesight. “I’ll ask Heeseung.”
You looked at her, eyes widening in shock. “Heeseung? Are you sure he’s gonna allow this? Jay entrusted his safety to me, there's no way he would possibly agree to this…”
“I am certain he will help out. I know he will…”
For the next couple of hours Serim would give you a set plan of escape. You told her about the secluded staircase, ensuring her that the both of you wouldn’t be seen by anyone else in the castle. You also made sure to have her relay this info to Heeseung, that was if he was genuinely going to agree to help.
You and Serim made an agreement to meet one another in the staircase at three a.m. That meant you only had seven hours to play pretend with Jay. You weakly made it back to the room, face clear from the stains and puffiness, yet your heart still ached. You could feel yourself being torn apart, you were unsure if you'd be able to last seven hours.
While you made it back to your bedroom, Serim was on a hunt for Heeseung—feeling distressed as she looked in every room she could think of. Then as Serim made her way to a more secluded hallway, Heeseung had miraculously come around the corner.
Serim ran up to him in a frenzy, hands grabbing at his arms before spewing an array of words at him. “Heeseung I need your help.”
Hearing Serim ask for his help the way she did had him alert. “What happened? Are you hurt? Is Her Grace hurt too?” Hands at her cheeks, turning her face side to side—checking for anything out of the ordinary.
“No, but. It does pertain to Her Grace. But she's not hurt or anything…” Serim’s words trailed off as she looked away from Heeseung.
“Please tell me what it is Serim. What's going on?”
Serim told him everything, relaying almost an exact copy of the words she heard from you. As she finished, Serim looked at Heeseung. Hoping that he at least thought about the situation.
“Serim. I.” His words were filled with uncertainty. You were right, he was torn between listening to his master or protecting you from harm like Jay had tasked him too.
“Please Heeseung. You have to help us. Her Grace. My Lady, she's suffering. I don't wish to see her like this. Please. I’m begging you Hee.”
Over the six months of you living in Seathal, Serim and Heeseung had an eye for one another the first day they met. And as time went on they began to develop mutual feelings for one another. You had known—more so it was a hunch, and the same could be implied for Jay—but didn’t say much, wishing to respect your friend’s privacy.
But as Heeseung heard his nickname fall from Serim’s lips, he knew this wasn’t servant to servant. But that of a lover asking for help from the one they love most.
Heeseung fought with himself, a war going off inside of him internally. But even if his master’s task was law, he loved Serim more than that. “I’ll help you.”
Serim’s eyes gleamed with hope, utterly grateful for the man to call her lover. Grasping at the collar of his uniform, she dragged him down to her height. Leaving a kiss against his lips—showing how much she appreciated the man in front of her. As Serim parted her lips from Heeseung he gave her a smile, truly showcasing how smitten he was with the girl.
“We have seven hours to kill. I’ll fill you in on everything before we get Her Grace.” Heeseung nodded along as the two of them walked out of the hallway.
You felt empty as you stood at the balcony windows. Your heart and soul felt like a hollow void while looking at the very flowers Jay had dedicated to you. Those same blue hyacinths that held a definition of unwavering loyalty. But what loyalty was there when he had lied to your face for six months? You scoffed at the flowers, finding yourself hating the thing you deemed as your favorite only five months ago.
The clicking sound of the door didn’t startle you, all it did was prepare you to act how you always did. The you that held an unlimited amount of love and adoration for your so called husband.
Hands wrapped around your waist, Jay pulled you closer to him, your body now flushed against his chest. Just like he always did when he held you from behind, Jay rested his forehead on your shoulder—taking in your scent before laying kisses along the back side of your neck.
“I missed you.” His words made your stomach churn, not in a fleeting way. It was far from that.
You rested your hands on his arms, rubbing them gently as you lied to him—for the first time during your marriage—all while faking a smile. “I missed you too.”
Jay looked at your face, eyes staring into yours, feeling as if something was amidst. “What’s wrong?”
Your body froze at his question, fearing he had caught you. But despite your panicked thoughts it seemed as if he was only concerned. “I’m just tired is all.”
“I can help you with that.” His words whispered into your ear, the feeling of his breath brushing past your ear sending chills down your spine.
You wanted to hate him with every bone in your body, yet your body craved for his touch. Your brain may have known what to feel, but your heart still yearned for the man you thought loved you.
Jay began to nibble the back of your neck, whilst leading you to the balcony window—caging you between him and the glass. You placed your hands on the window, helping to steady yourself as he continued on.
You wanted to push him off, scream at him, yell at him, hate him. But you had to keep up the act, just seven hours of playing pretend—was all you needed to not raise suspicion. Your moans choked in your throat as his hand dragged up your dress, ghosting along your legs before gripping the fabric back.
Your body was soon pressed fully against the window as Jay weighed down on you—hand propped at one side of you. The pressure and closeness had your legs feeling numb. You despised how much your body enjoyed it, how he knew all your sensitive spots. As if on queue he began to suck at that particular area under your ear.
You bit your lip, muffling the string of moans as best as you could.
“Don’t do that. You’re gonna hurt your lips.” Jay brought his fingers over to your lips, grazing them as he placed them in hopes you’d bite on his finger instead.
Taking his gesture you bit down on his finger. Jay winced slightly at how harsh it was, but looked past it. Jay soon rolled his hips into you, pressing his stiffness into the plush heat. It didn’t take long for him to discard his pants—and briefs—as well as your underwear. Jay rubbed his bare cock between your thighs before meeting the tip at your entrance. As always he was slow and sensual, always making sure you weren’t in pain—yet as you both did it for so long you grew accustomed to his size.
Your legs shook as Jay made his way inside—you may have grown used to him, but the feeling of him filling you always left you winded. Jay inched his way in, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock.
The hand that was at your lips left you as he dragged his fingers down the side of your body. His grip ended up on your hips, fingers now digging into the flesh of your skin. The stinging pain only heightened your pleasure eliciting more moans. Hearing your satisfied voice Jay picked up his pace.
The angle he had you in allowed him to drag along that sensitive spot nestled inside. The constant twang of pleasure made you dizzy, forgetting for a brief moment of your discontentment for him. Everything else was a blur. So lost in that dizzying haze you now found yourself in bed. Jay was sound asleep next to you. Arm wrapped over your waist holding you close to him. You peeled his arm off as you slipped out from the bed.
At the beginning of the marriage Jay was always a light sleeper. Either woke up at the smallest noise or just never slept. But as he shared a bed with you and slept next to you that habit of his went away. He would still wake up to some things, but if you were quiet enough things were fine.
As you stood from the bed you watched Jay's sleeping form. Your heart ached as you looked at him, the betrayal of him creeping back on you. Looking at the clock on the side table it read two a.m. There was one more hour until you needed to meet up with Serim.
You headed to the wardrobe, quickly changing as you fished around for clothes. Hoping to find ones that were light weight for the travel ahead. You found plain underdresses in your search—opaque enough that you could wear them as is. Pulling a couple clothing items from the closet you stuffed them into a small travel suitcase. Once everything fit you were positively ready to leave.
But before you decided to head out, your legs stopped you. Part of you wanted to leave without a word, vanish from his life as if you never existed. Yet part of you couldn’t do it. He may have lied to you about the marriage but you lived an amazing six months in Seathal nonetheless.
Walking over to the desk you pulled out a paper and ink quill. Flattening out the parchment you began to write. Etching your words onto the paper in hopes he would accept everything for what it was.
Finishing up, you folded the letter and set it next to the table on—Jay’s side—along with your half of the wedding ring. Your fingers brushed through his hair gently—taking one final look at the man before you. “May we never meet again.” Was all you whispered before slipping through the bedroom doors.
You hurriedly made your way down the hallway—still making sure to be quiet as you moved. Making your way through the painting door and down the long steps you made it to the exit. Outside stood Serim, dressed in casual clothes and a hooded cloak with her suitcase at tow. Hearing you peer out from the door Seirm gave you a gentle smile. Handing over an extra cloak while greeting you. “Did he suspect anything?” Serim asked while helping tie the cloak around you.
“No. He was the same as usual.” Your voice was soft as you tugged at the neckline of your dress—hididng the blatantly red hickies displayed on your neck.
Serim was quiet as she understood what your words had implied. Making sure you were settled, she placed her hand in yours as she led you to meet up with Heeseung.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to meet up with Heeseung, My Lady.”
“He really agreed to help?” You were hesitant for a moment. Unsure to truly place your trust in the knight who was under Jay.
“Yes My Lady. I trust him with my heart. I know he won’t hurt us.”
The rest of the walk was silent. The situation of everything slowly weighing down on you both. There was no confirmed guarantee that this plan would work—fearing deep down the three of you would be caught immediately. After a few more minutes you both made it to a secluded horse stable—it was near the edge of the castle which hugged the lush forest next to it. There in the night with the faint glow of an oil lamp shining against red hair was Heeseung.
He stood underneath the stable between two horses. On his left was a horse with a beautiful white coat, and on his right was a brown horse that had white specs in its coat. As you made your way closer you saw that Heeseung was dressed casually as well. He wasn’t thinking of leaving Jay to join you was he?
“Heeseung!” Serim piped happily as she ran over to hug him.
Heeseung happily held his arms open engulfing her in his arms, all while shushing her from being a bit loud. You followed in suit, eyes softening as you watched the pair in front of you. Finally breaking away from the moment Heeseung looked up at you to remember what he was originally here for. “Your Grace.” He said while straightening his posture and bowing.
You smiled at him before giving him a response. “Heeseung please, you don’t have to call me that anymore.You know I’m leaving that all behind.”
“But I simply couldn’t.” His brows knitted as he unwelcomed the thought to refer to you so casually.
“I will agree to not call you Your Grace. But allow me to address you as Your Lady instead.”
Heeseung wasn’t going to let this go no matter what, and for you, being addressed as Lady was easier to swallow so you allowed it. Solving that minor problem you asked Heeseung the bigger issue that weighed on your mind.
“Are you planning to leave Jay’s side?”
Heeseung grew quiet at your words. All he could do to answer was nod his head.
“Why?” All you could do was question him.
“His Grace instructed me to protect you. And if that means destroying his trust then so be it. In the end you would be safer far away from here.” Your face softened at his words. Heeseung had taken his duty so severely that he was willing to sacrifice his own life to uphold that. He was truly worthy of being with Serim.
Packing up the things on the horses, Heeseung had explained the scenario to you. There was a cabin that his family owned in the woods, it was a day out travel, since the cabin was located in a remote farmland. He proceeded to explain that you and Serim would stay in the cabin and he would find lodging in the small town.
This allowed him to bring over foods and items he brought in town while you continued to hide out in the cabin. The plan was perfect, it sounded like it would work. No, it was going to work. Making sure everything was all set, you set off for Heeseung’s cabin in the dead of night.
That night as the rising sun peaked through the green tree leaves of your travel you were going to leave everything behind. The Saintess’ season would be the last time you ever hoped to see Jay.
The next morning Jay woke up early—just as he always did—sunrise peering into the distance from the balcony window. His arms stretched around the bed feeling for you, thinking of wanting to sleep with you in his arms for the first time in a while. But as he felt the empty space next to him he froze.
Eyes widening at your missing presence. Climbing out of the bed Jay looked throughout the room, believing you were hiding or playing a joke on him. But his search ended in vain, you were nowhere to be found. Then he realized you were most likely within the castle, but before he could use his mana to find you he saw the folded paper in the corner of his eye.
Picking up the oddly placed letter he opened it—reading the contents right away. And written into that paper were your words of departure. Relaying how he was using you to help The Emperor for a child. Jay began to crumple the edges of the paper, eyes not believing what he was reading. But as he read on, his jaw clenched with anger.
At the every end of your letter you hoped to never see him again, and wished he wouldn’t look for you. Before he could conjure his mana, a faint twinkle of light caught his eye. Looking down, that's when he noticed it. Your wedding ring.
Jay crumpled up the letter in his hand—fuming while doing so—soon pocketing it away. If the scenario was different he would respect your wishes, but he couldn’t. Not when you barely knew the surface of the real truth. Storming out of his room Jay made a beeline to his office.
Finding a maid on the way he yelled at them to wake up Jungwon. He had never acted out like this to any of the servants, yet he couldn’t help it. He was so furious at himself for not even realizing the woman he loved planned to run away from him. Not when you reciprocated to his desires last night. It all felt impossible to him.
Pushing open the doors, Jay made his way to the desk. Frantically looking through the paperwork that littered on top. But what was he going to find? It wouldn’t be your whereabouts, there wouldn’t be any answers. There was nothing.
In a fit of rage he swept everything off the desk. Papers ended up everywhere, quills and ink splattering against the floor, along with the sound of items shattering. Slamming his hands on the table Jay took deep breaths as his mind began to question everything.
Where did he go wrong?
Not long after Jungwon came into the room—hair a mess and clearly disheveled. “What’s wrong. Why are you waking me up so early in the morning?” Irritation clear in his voice.
“She’s gone…”
“What? Who? Who’s gone?” Jungwon was utterly confused by what Jay was saying—now taking in the chaotic mess.
“Y/N! She’s gone!” His voice was raised as his hands clawed into the wood of the desk.
“What?” Jungwon still couldn’t grasp the scenario. Just yesterday things were perfectly normal. But now you were gone? Vanished into thin air like a ghost? It was impossible.
“She found out about what we were talking about Jungwon. She thinks I was using her. It’s what she wrote in the letter.” Jay drew the crumbled paper from his pocket, shaky hands outstretching to Jungwon.
He took the paper, crinkling it out as best as he could. As Jungwon read the words on the paper it clicked for him. You overheard their conversation, misunderstood Jay’s words and deemed everything to be a lie. Jungwon now saw why Jay was spiraling.
For the next couple of hours, Jay sat in the chair silently. Facing the large windows as he watched the sunny sky shine over the greenery. He wanted to respect your wishes, but knew deep down that was impossible. He needed to explain himself, tell you the real truth. Tell you how torn apart he was about everything.
But would you even want to hear his words?
The silence was interrupted by the soft knock on the door. Jay stayed silent still, choosing to ignore whoever was at the door. Jungwon instead took the initiative to open it. Once opening the door he was face to face with Yunjin. He quietly greeted her while asking what she was here for. “I wanted to come and congratulate His Grace on the news. I’m sure Her Grace already told him, but I wanted to send my congratulations as well.”
Jay’s ears perked at the mention of you. Cutting Jungwon off he asked what Yunjin was implying. “What do you mean congratulations?”
“Oh? Her Grace is pregnant. I assumed she came to tell you, she was very excited to have you be the first one to hear of it.” That’s when Jay’s world came crashing down again. You were pregnant… You were pregnant and you decided to run away from him.
His nails dug into the palm of his hand—slightly drawing blood—as he clenched his fist in anger. This new information changed everything. There was no telling what would happen to you.
Yes you were only a couple days pregnant. But the possibility of that child emerging was at random, it could arrive months or even weeks from now. Jay needed to find you, whether you would let him or not. He was going to do everything in his power to seek out your location.
“Jungwon. Gather an expedition together, we need to find Y/N no matter what.”
“Yes Your Grace.” Jungwon obliged to his words, not questioning him for one second.
“And, kill anyone that my brother planted from the palace. He can’t find out about this…” It was the last task Jay gave Jungwon before formulating a plan.
It was a couple days after arriving at the cabin—it was small and cherubic. It had everything a house needed, a small farm, watering well, and a shed. The inside was just as dainty. The kitchen area was open, a small dining table accompanied the middle—big enough for all three of you—a small sitting area by a fireplace, a room and bathroom on the first floor, and then an upstairs attic which was turned into a living space. Serim took the bed downstairs, strongly pushing that you deserved all the space to yourself on the second floor. You did your best to argue but ended up taking the room.
Heeseung would come over in the afternoon. A variety of fruits and food, as well as clothes were in his hand from the town at the edge of the forest. He also made sure to buy seeds for the farm in case something would happen to him.
The upcoming days were calm and quiet, you were certain this would be your life for a long time. But that dream ended when Heeseung made his way into the cabin in a frenzied rush.
“Heeseung what’s wrong?” Serim concernedly asked as she ran over to him.
Walking down the stairs you wondered what the commotion was about. “What’s going on?”
Heeseung looked at you as he heard your voice, brows knitted anxiously as sweat dripped from his forehead. “There’s wanted posters of you in the town. His Grace. He plans on finding you.”
You stood there, a sense of doom filling your senses. You couldn’t let him find you no matter what. Your chest tightened as your breathing halted. Then came the urge to puke. Covering your mouth you ran to the bathroom, immediately reaching for the toilet—preparing yourself to throw up.
Sticking your head into the toilet bowl you began to throw up that morning’s breakfast. Serim helped in holding your hair back as you sat there. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes, feeling both the pain and anxiety hit you.
“My Lady, everything should be alright.” Heeseung spoke up. “No one ever ventures out here. Besides there's only a poster for you, so as long as you stay hidden away here. His Grace will never find you.”
Heeseung’s words of reassurance calmed you down. He was right, if they only targeted you, you would be fine. As long as you hid out here, he would never find you.
After the scare Heeseung gave you, things were back to normal again. The only hiccup was your morning sickness, you could barely enjoy anything remotely solid without throwing it back up most days. Due to your pregnant state, your body felt weaker than it ever did. The hickies that were still left by Jay were a consistent reminder of that—desperately making sure they weren’t visible.
You were littered in little cuts and bruises from doing menial work around the house. Serim always got on you about overworking yourself—due to being pregnant. But you hated just standing around and doing nothing. They were here because of you. You wished to be of aid as best as you can, so what if you got a few cuts and bruises due to that.
Soon two weeks had gone by, your morning sickness was better but a small ache would swell up inside of you at times, especially in the middle of the night. Agitated and aching for some sort of relief—that was too impossible to relieve.
Your hand inched down your stomach, scorching fingers brushing past your pelvis. You knew it was your heat that tingled every night. It craved for Jay every night, you hated that it did.
But the minute your fingers slipped past your underwear you were biting your lip in anticipation. Your other hand lifted up the fabric as you eyed the way your juices clung to your fingers. A deep sigh left your lips at the sight, never noticing how wet you were until now.
Tucking up your night dress slightly you peeled the underwear off—the chill air brushing against your cunt. Your breath was shaky as you plunged your fingers in slowly. It was nothing like Jay’s cock, but you need some sort of relief.
You angled your hips in a desperate attempt to reach that sensitive spot in your heat. But your fingers just weren’t enough. You whined at the lack of length your fingers had, wishing to alleviate the itch inside of you.
Instead you began to rub your clit as you simultaneously fingered yourself. Positive that this wave of pleasure would be just enough, and it indeed was. You bit your lip as you muffled the soft moans daring to escape your lips.
As you curled your fingers into your walls, picking up the pace of the circles on your clit, you could feel that euphoric high rise to your head. Your body jolted lightly, but as you kept going—dragging out your orgasm—your back arched up, body twitching amongst the bed. Settling yourself and removing your hands from your heat, you stared up at the ceiling. Tears began to fall from your eyes. You hated Jay, you hated him so much. Yet you missed his touch, his comfort, his affection. You began to miss everything about him.
The next day Serim and Heeseung decided to go to town together. You were happy with the idea, feeling that they would get to have a moment to themselves as lovers. Serim was persistent to stay back. It took lots of persuading to make her go with Heeseung.
In the end you were left at the cabin all by yourself. You did a little bit around the house. Tended to the farm, did some cleaning, along with some simple—somewhat disastrous—cooking, you were satisfied with the things you accomplished. As you were sitting down and relaxing there was a sudden knock at the door.
The sound put you on edge. It wasn’t Serim or Heeseung, they had a key to the cabin, not to mention they would’ve just entered. Then the thought of Jay crossed your mind, your chest tightened once more—struggling to breathe as you thought of him.
He had found you, that's all you thought as you faltered away from the door. Your head began to spin, your chest tightening more.
“Miss Saintess. I know you're in there. Open up.”
It was a voice you never heard before. The unfamiliar voice helped pull you out of your anxiety. Slowly catching your breath you made your way to the door. “Who are you?” Was all you asked.
“Someone you know very well.”
Without another thought your legs led you to the door. It was as if the stranger’s presence was beckoning you to come over. Your hand wrapped around the handle—hesitating briefly—opeing the door wide.
There stood someone you had never seen before. A large middle aged man clad in what seemed to be a long black chiton—adorned with gold accessories—long black hair that swept across the grass. Then there were his eyes, golden like sunrays of a lowering sun. Part of you recognized this man, but at that same time you didn’t.
The visuals of the man reminded you of someone. You ran through your memories, trying to remember why he felt familiar. You could feel the connection on the tip of your tongue. Then it hit you.
The First Dragon.
“Wait you’re-”
Your words were cut off as he spoke—low and rhythmic. “Took you a while to recognize me.” The Dragon smirked while crossing his arms. Without another word he made his way inside, ignoring your calls for him to not enter.
“What are you doing here? No. Why are you here?” You became defensive, remembering the history of The Dragon and The Saintess. He had betrayed her, and hurt the people around The Saintess. So if he was here, then there was no good following behind.
“Be at ease Miss Saintess. I’m not here to hurt you.” The Dragon made his way to the lounge area, taking a seat for himself.
“If not that. Then what are you here for…” Your eyes glared at him—refusing to believe him for a second longer.
“That led me here.” He proceeded to point at you—more precisely your stomach.
Your eyes followed his finger to your stomach, hands covering yourself—protecting the growing child. “And why is that?”
The Dragon chuckled at your growing frown. Amused at your behavior. “I can sense that child’s mana out here. It piqued my curiosity was all. Especially since I don't feel his mana anywhere.”
“Who else are you referring to?”
“Of course my predecessor. Jay.”
You began to back up, inching slowly towards the door as inconspicuous as possible. Everything was becoming far too much for you to wrap your head around. He still didn’t answer why he was here. Was The Dragon here for you or your child, you couldn’t read him, which made it all the more harder.
Serim and Heeseung won’t be back til late evening. You could only hope to bolt out of the house and hide out in the woods. As your hand was reaching behind you for the door handle, The Dragon caught you off guard.
“I’m assuming he didn’t tell you?”
Your ears perked at his words. Eyebrow raising as you tried to figure out what he was referring to. “Tell me what?”
“That the child might kill you.”
Your heart sank. Body chilling as your skin crawled with unease. “What?”
“I see. So he didn’t tell you.” The Dragon’s words trailed off, almost thinking about what to do with you.
“What do you mean the child might kill me?”
A heavy sigh left his lips, preparing himself to explain everything to you. “My descendents didn’t have it nice. You who was born with the gift of holiness and healing is truly the pure opposite of my children. Born to kill the very being that helped nurture and shelter them. Truly unlucky my children are.”
His words struck you like lightning. That explained why Jay did bed you the first night wasn’t it? It all became confusing again, unable to piece your thoughts together.
“And now here we are. A child of The Saintess bearing one of my kin. How extraordinary is that?”
You stumbled slightly, steps staggering as you found your way to sit down. All you could think of was your impending doom of death. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you asked The Dragon a question.
“Will I die?”
“Hmm. Not sure. It’s the first time I’ve seen one of her descendents mix with mine. So at the moment it’s unlikely.” His hand rested at his chin, thinking about the matter. “That’s mostly why I’m here. Curious to see if this child will be different from the others.”
Your jaw clenched at his words. He made it seem like the child was some object of studying. “Do not refer to the child as some experiment.”
The Dragon was shocked by your words. Failing to realize how genuine you were about raising the child, despite knowing the information that was kept away from you. “I see. My apologies then.”
You still stared at The Dragon, showing clear signs of discontent all over your face.
“I apologized. Can you stop looking at me like you’re going to hurt me?”
You kept the frown on your face, not choosing to listen to a thing he had to say. “You should leave soon anyways. My maid and knight should be here shortly.” Gesturing The Dragon to get a move on.
“If you wish.” Getting up from the chair he made his way over to the door. “I’ll be back soon. Who else is going to monitor your condition.”
You stayed silent as you opened the door for him. The Dragon gave you a smile before disappearing into the foliage ahead. You shook your head, unable to believe what had happened.
It was never said The Dragon died, yet you didn’t think he would show up—out of the blue at that. Soon Serim and Heeseung came back, bringing items they had bought from town—an array of foods, materials for the cabin, and accessories for you. You kept quiet about your encounter with The Dragon, wishing to not worry them any more than they already were—even if they were hiding it.
As your days in the secluded woods were restful and happy, Jay was living through hell. The past two weeks he barely slept a wink. Dark circles formed under his eyes as he kept himself awake, working day and night to find you—but never getting far
He traveled to every border spanning from north, south, east, and west. But still couldn’t feel your presence anywhere. It really did feel as if you vanished into thin air. Jungwon urged Jay to try and get some rest, but he always persisted.
Keeping everything out of The Emperor’s sight didn’t help at all for the matter. His undercover work only stressed him more. Then as night would roll around, as he tried to get some sleep. He would have nightmares. Of you.
In those figments of terror he dreamed of finding you, yet when he did you only showed hatred towards him. Wishing nothing but the worst for him. Jay knew it was only a bad dream, even so it always felt so vivid. As if you were really standing there in front of him, cursing and hating him for what he did to you.
Usually an hour into the dream he’d wake up in a cold sweat—all with a mix of panic—hoping to never see those terrors ever again. Hoping to wipe the nightmare from his mind, Jay would either bury himself in work or work out in the training grounds until he was sore all over.
He hated everything about this. He yearned to see you. Tell you how sorry he is, how he didn’t mean to hurt you, how he would make things right, and especially how much he truly loved you. But as the days went on and the searches kept hitting walls, he could feel that hopeful future fading through his fingers.
He just wanted to make things right.
After meeting The Dragon, he was serious about making a visit many more times again. He always came around when Serim and Heeseung were out. You questioned why he did so but felt that it was for the best. It was less of something to explain and less of him possibly hurting the people around you.
Within those visits you began to realize The Dragon wasn’t as bad as you perceived him as. After that day of telling him to address the child for a living being he continued to do so. Making sure to see if you were okay and if the growing baby was as well.
It was all so odd to you. This being of who knows how many centuries old was taking care of you like a parent. Lecturing you to take care of yourself like Serim consistently did, making sure you never overexerted yourself, you were always safe even outside of his eyesight. The constant supervising had you confused.
“Why are you doing this?”
You were both sitting outside, under a tree in a beautiful clearing within the forest. You knitted together a flower crown while The Dragon basked in the nice weather.
“What do you mean?” Was all he asked. But you could tell he was feigning ignorance.
You scoffed at his tone, finding his deflection to be amusing. “I know you know what I’m talking about. Let’s not be like this.”
The air grew silent at your testament of an answer. The sound of the hushed howling breeze was the only thing that killed the dead silence.
With one deep exhale The Dragon spoke. “Why am I doing this?” He paused slightly, finding the words to tell you. “Because it’s the only way I can make up for my past.”
Your head tilted at his words, confused on what he had meant. What was there to make up? He betrayed The Saintess, that was a well known fact. So why did he show so much remorse for what he had done. “And what is it you’re trying to make up?”
“Hurting her.”
Your fingers stopped their weaving, head turning to him as you realized who he was referring to. “The Saintess?”
“Yes.”
The tone in his voice quickly changed. It sounded as if he was burdened by something more than hurting the woman he called a friend. There was sadness laced in his words.
“What actually happened?”
The Dragon closed his eyes. Memories of a time he spent with the woman he grew to love flooding into his mind. As he closed his eyes he recalled everything, relaying all his memories back to you.
Things were at peace, The Saintess and The Dragon who worked together to help the people around them. Aiding one another side by side in mutual cooperation. As their time together grew, so did their bond. And as time went on the two of them realized there was something more than a platonic feeling.
But The Saintess’ people couldn’t allow the mere idea of a creature like him staying with the woman they deemed a god. So instead they chose to sabotage The Dragon. Taunting him, knowing he would blow a fuse and show what kind of monster he was deep down.
In the end, her people got exactly what they wanted. The Dragon lashed out on the town, burning things in his path—cindering everything he touched. Once The Dragon came too, he realized how grave of a mistake he made. The Saintess would surely never forgive him, for he had hurt the one thing she cared about most in the world.
That’s when The Dragon fled to Seathal, subjugating the land into an eternal winter. Many years went by as The Dragon isolated himself, bitterness taking over. Not to The Saintess or her people, but for himself.
But when the day of The Saintess’ season blossomed, The Dragon felt her forgiveness. But he just couldn’t take it, until he made things right.
“And that's where you come in.”
Your eyesight began to blur, tears brimming as they fell down softly. Your whole life you were taught how evil and monstrous The Dragon was. Despite your childness of not wishing to let your family’s history rule your life. You didn’t expect this truth to emerge from the one being you never thought to hear from.
Instead he lived a life of guilt and solitude. Soon did you realize how lonely that life must have been.
“Why are you crying?” The Dragon sounded shocked as he reached to wipe the tears from your eyes.
“I didn’t know.” You hicked as the tears streamed down your face.
The Dragon sucked his teeth at your emotional state, not realizing this would be the outcome of his truth. “That’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to know. So stop crying.”
His protests on your tears only had you producing more. “That’s why you’re helping me. Especially since for the time ever I’m being tied down to one of your kin.” Now you were sobbing between words. Gasping for air as you bawled out to him.
“Yes, yes, yes. Now please stop crying.”
After a few minutes you were now calmed down, eyes puffy and red while you struggled to breathe through your nose. “Thank you for telling me.” Your words came off hoarse as you spoke to him.
“Yeah. Yeah.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. After that day you knew the emotional connection you had with The Dragon would be different. For better in a way you could rely on him for a long long time.
A month had now come and gone. Things were still no different within the first month, Serim and Heeseung still did their things around the house, The Dragon still visited on days they were away. You could feel yourself becoming comfortable with a life like this, even after you would give birth to your child.
But all of that would come crashing down very soon.
That early afternoon, like any other day Serim and Heeseung went out to town. Who better to get a visit from while they’re away? None other than The Dragon.
That afternoon you decided to make something he had never eaten before. You later found out there was a wide variety of things he had never eaten before in his life. In the end you chose cookies, something simple and didn’t need too much time to work on.
After spending a long hour cooking and prepping the cookie dough you were ready to bake them. But before you could even put the cut out shapes in the oven, The Dragon spoke out.
“He’s coming.”
Your fingers went numb at his words. Pan clattering to the floor as you realized who he was. “You’re not serious are you!?” You slowly began to panic. How did he find you so soon? There wasn’t enough time to pack and relocate, not to mention Serim and Heeseung were still out.
“I can sense his mana. He’s around 10 miles out. God, he’s releasing his mana like a wild animal.” The Dragon couldn’t help but cover up his nose—depsite there being no specific scent.
“What about Serim and Heeseung where are they?” You tugged onto his arm, panic soon finding you.
“They’re still in the town. But Jay will most likely run into them first by the time they’re finished. Unless they spot him as they’re leaving.”
You began to pace in circles, unsure of what to do. You had to wait for Serim and Heeseung, you couldn’t just leave them alone in a situation like this. Fleeing on your own was simply out of the question.
“Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”
“How can you say that! He’s using me for some ulterior motive. I can’t let him take me back.”
The Dragon studied you, trying his best to console the anxiety rising in you. “Do you trust me?”
His golden eyes stared into yours. Of course you trusted him, but you were more afraid of Jay than trusting his words. But there was nothing else you could do, so trusting him would be the only option for you. Thinking it over you nodded your head.
“When those two come back, just follow their lead. It’s too late for you to pack things and leave. He’ll find you as you're fleeing, so they’re going to think of something else instead.”
“But!”
“Everyhting will be fine. I promise you that.”
You didn’t want to agree with his plans but still ended up doing so. An hour had soon gone by and The Dragon soon dismissed himself, telling you that Serim and Heeseung were quickly making their way to the cabin.
Right on queue the two of them burst into the cabin, foreheads drenched in sweat as they frantically ran to you.
“My Lady, you need to hide!” Serim panicked as she held your hands tightly.
“We saw Jay and his expedition in the town, they finally made their way here. And I’m sure they’re gonna find information about this cabin.”
You tried your best to stay calm for the both of them but you grew more frightened as they went on.
“There’s no time to leave, so we must hide you.”
“There’s a wardrobe closest in the upstairs room! We can hide her behind the clothes!” Serim was quick on her as always. Soon she quickly led you up the stairs.
Opening up the wardrobe doors she helped you get settled in, making sure you were comfortable and settled into the wooden closet.
“My Lady. No matter what happens, stay here.” Her voice was laced with uncertainty, unsure of what would truly befall her and Heeseung. You watched as Serim closed the doors, submerging you into darkness.
The wardrobe was somewhat cramped, but you mustered through it for the sack of Jay not finding you. Hugging your knees tightly you prayed he wouldn’t even find this place to begin with. You prayed no one would sell out information on Serim or Heeseung. You just wished things would be alright in the end.
There was only a mere fifteen minutes of silence until the sound of things shattering were heard downstairs. It was all muffled in the wardrobe, but you knew the gods didn’t answer your prayers this time.
The drowned out sounds of yelling and pleading sent chills down your spine, frightened of what was happening to them downstairs. You could only hug yourself tighter as you remembered Serim’s words.
Then there was silence again. Your racing heart began to slow down. You let out a breath of relief thinking it was over, now waiting for Serim to come find you.
But the recognizable sound of shifting armor freezes you. Jay had found you. There was no running, no escaping, no one else to help. This was it, and you would now have to accept that.
The armored footsteps closed in on you until they stopped. He was just right outside the wardrobe’s doors. Hands over your mouth as you tried to hide any noise that could seep out to the outside.
But to your dismay, the doors swung right open.
The light of the room blinding you from the initial darkness. You continued to hug yourself—too sacred to even spare a look towards Jay.
Yet as you sat in that wardrobe body trembling with unease. Jay looked at you shocked, fear forming into his eyes as he watched your body—huddled up into a defensive ball—in front of him.
He had finally found you, however, you were trembling before him. Scared to face the man you once showed unlimited affection too.
“Y/N…”
The sound of his voice ringing through the room only caused more distress for you. Not wanting to show yourself to him even if he called out for you.
Jay was utterly heartbroken. Where did everything go wrong?
Unable to handle anymore of what he was seeing he pulled you out from the wardrobe. Everything flashed before you in a blur. One moment you were tucked away in the wardrobe and then the next you were in Jay’s arms.
Realizing this you began to hit and slap at his chest, wishing to be as far away from him as possible.
“I’m sorry!” Jay shouted as he held you tighter.
Your hands stopped in place, hearing the way his voice cracked as he called out to you. “Let go of me!” You began to fight out of his grasp.
“Please Y/N. It’s not what you think it is. Please just let me explain myself!”
There was desperation in his voice—earnestly wanting you to give me just a moment. You calmed down as you thought it over to yourself. Then you remembered The Dragon’s words, he said everything would be fine. Was this what he was referring to?
You stopped your attacks on him, hands resting on his chest as you waited for him. Noticing the way you stopped, Jay loosened his hold on you. Letting you go he guided you to the bed—instructing you to sit down.
Following his lead you sat down—eyes never daring to look at his. Kneeling in front of you, Jay wanted to settle his hand on yours, comfort you in any way he could. But as he saw your reluctance to meet his gaze, he knew there was no point.
“I’m not using you like you think I am…”
You still ignored him, not wishing to give him the satisfaction of a response to his words.
“The Emperor, my brother. He. He’s not as good as you think he is. He threatened something important to me. I want to tell you what that is, I won’t hide that from you. But I need you to understand why I did it…”
His frown only grew more at your silence. Taking a deep breath before telling you everything. What he shared with you was the same thing The Dragon did. How his birth into the world was nothing but an act of a hideous monster. But what really shocked you was something you didn’t expect.
“My mother. She’s alive Y/N. My brother says she’s in a state of limbo, teetering between life and death. What was I supposed to do? I had never met the woman who nurtured me with as much love as she did.” His voice began to crack as he continued on. “I tried. I tried so hard to stall everything, not wanting to bring that fate onto you. You didn’t deserve it, not when you are so full of love and pureness. I couldn’t allow myself to taint you.”
Jay stopped his words, gathering himself to finish off. “Then he found out. He found out we faked our marriage night. You were nowhere near pregnant. He knew about it, and once again threatened her. Out of anything in this world, using our child for his gain was all he wanted. And I hated myself that night for choosing my mother over you. I wanted to choose you no matter what, but... I’m sorry Y/N.”
Now Jay was crying, tears leaving his eyes as he poured his heart out to you. You couldn’t believe your ears. All this time he never wanted to follow along to what he was told to do. He tried his best to keep you safe from The Emperor, all while the life of his mother was on the line.
Your shaky hands reached out to cup his face, urging his teary eyes to look at you.
The sight of those silver eyes pooled with tears tugged at your heart. This whole time he had been suffering all alone. In hopes to protect the people he cared for as best as he could.
“Oh Jay.” Your thumb wiped a tear away at the corner of his eye—soothing his emotional state as best as you could.
“Oh Jay.”
Was all you could say as you continued to rub at his cheeks. After a minute or so he calmed down.
“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say on repeat. Muttering apologies as it still ate away at him.
“It’s okay. I’ve forgiven you Jay. I just. I was scared and didn’t know what to do so I ran. I’m the one who should apologize. Not you. I’m sorry.”
His eyes bore into yours, hand reaching up to your cheek to rub gentle circles before leaning in. His lips met onto yours, it was soft and gentle, no lustful desire behind it. Just a man who missed the woman he loves.
Separating from the kiss he placed pecks along your cheeks and lips, showcasing how much he had missed you within the past month. Then as you studied Jay’s face that’s when you noticed his dark circles.
“Jay! When was the last time you slept?”
He shied away from the question—brows lowering like a scolded puppy. All you did was pout at him, urging him to tell you the truth. “Last time I slept was when we shared a bed for the last time…”
Processing his words, did you realize that was almost a month ago. Standing up quickly you pulled Jay from up from the ground. “You need to sleep!” You ordered as you tried to push him onto the bed.
But his suit of armor stopped him in place—the piece weighing far too much for you. “Let me fix everything downstairs. You just wait here.”
Tilting your head at his words you recalled Serim and Heeseung still being within the house. Allowing him to walk downstairs you heard some commotion before he was soon back in front of you.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes. Your maid, Serim and Heeseung are okay. I sent the troop of knights with me outside. I wish to sleep now.” Jay began to strip his armor off as he made his way back to you and the bed.
Now clad in the normal clothes he wore under his armor. His hand immediately found your waist—satisfaction etching into his lips at how everything felt right again—before pulling you onto the bed with him.
It wasn’t as big as the bed in the Velpark castle, but Jay didn’t mind. As long as he was here with you in his arms any size of bed would do just fine. Once he had you in his arms, he was out like a light. Head resting against your chest as he draped his arms tightly over your waist.
You weren’t tired as of yet due to the time of day, but knew you’d be off to sleep in no time. Laying there you stroked his hair while humming a lullaby your mother had taught you as a child. Even though the song was for Jay you ended up drifting off to sleep as well.
In the middle of the late night Jay woke up—eyes peering up at you—slipping out from your grasp he sat on the edge of the bed, watching intently as you slept. As you rolled over he noticed red marks on your neck.
Pulling the collar back he recognized the marks right away, they were the things he last left on your body. Recalling your healing capabilities there was only one cause for this. The child growing inside of you.
His hand lowered down to your stomach—as it transformed into something monstrous, the enlarged hand turned his skin night blue, aligned with scales and sharp claws. Part of him hated the being inside of you for draining away your life force, but as he felt the gentle hum of the baby's mana, he no longer hated it.
“Take this instead of hurting your mother. She’s precious to me as well, so behave.” The hand that rested on your stomach glowed a light blue hue, wisps of mana entering into you—easing the growing child.
As his hand returned to normal, Jay tucked a stray hair away from your face. Capturing the beauty of your face so diligently.
“My love, I must take care of something very important. I wish I could stay to tell you when you awaken. But this is of the utmost importance for a better future. Forgive me for leaving you like this.” He cooed whilst leaving a kiss on your forehead.
Placing his armor back on, Jay made his way out the room and outside. Finding Jungwon’s tent he woke up his best friend. Still as sleep eyed as usual Jungwon was awake and ready to listen to Jay.
“I’m going to take a small group of soldiers and end all of this once and for all.”
“Your Grace. You don’t mean.”
“Yes. It’s about time I allow myself the ability of freedom without the cost of anyone’s life. You stay here with the rest of the nights and look after her. I’m entrusting everything to you Jungwon.”
Jungwon nodded his head as he bowed to him. What he set out to do was something that would have him gone for months, so long that by the time he arrived back you would most likely be giving birth. “I will protect her with my life.”
“Thank you.”
With that Jay had departed ways from the cabin. Off on a quest with no set notion of when he would be back.
That morning you woke up to an empty bed, confused about where Jay was, you went downstairs to look for him. But to your dismay he wasn’t there, only Jungwon. You asked him immediately where Jay was.
Jungwon was honest with you. He told you about the quest he needed to fulfill, not just for himself but you as well. Curious on what he was speaking of, he told you everything.
You thought of many possibilities, but the one you heard had you conflicted. Jay went to kill The Emperor, his own brother.
Even if the idea of it all startled you, you understood why he did it. If there was going to be a world where you could create a happy family with Jay and live with him for the rest of your life, this was the only way.
That night, just like you did all those years ago when Jay was sent off to war. You prayed for him. Prayed for his safety to return home safe to you this time around.
Soon the second month passed. You hoped for Jay to come back within the next month, but he still didn’t arrive. Then as the third month rolled around, so did the fourth. You were now showing—your stomach slightly round as the child grew.
The Saintess’ season came to an end. The colorful green leaves turned into an orange hue, indicating its morphing into the cold winter again. Only a week later would Seathal have its first snow fall since The Saintess season.
At the same time The Dragon stopped showing up, you knew it was due to Jungwon and the castle’s fellow knights being around all the time. Despite that, you still ended up missing him. You had long finished the flower crown you started three months ago, preserving it as best as you could to give to him.
Then as the fifth month came by, you began to discuss baby names. Huddled up by the fireplace, Serim loved doing this with you in her free time, so did Jungwon and Heeseung—enjoying coming up with random names that would suit a child resembling you and Jay. There were plenty of girl and boys names you both liked, but none of them called out to you.
Yunjin came to live with you all in the seventh month, seeing that you were nearing the months of giving birth. She was happy to see you healthy and well. She was also surprised to see how big your stomach had gotten—since the last time she saw you was half a year ago.
Not long after Yunjin was now joining in on helping with baby names. She was really versatile in the names she knew. Some being originated from different countries, or even created on her own. Her input of names helped broaden the variety greatly.
It was now eight months since you ran away from the Velpark castle, and seven months since Jay left. You could feel the baby kick about, part of you was curious on how normal the pregnancy felt—well whatever was deemed normal for pregnancies. There was no child of yours murdering you yet, or maybe it didn’t happen yet cause the child wasn’t ready.
As you sat outside thinking to yourself about these things while watching the snow fall you could see a blurred figure in the distance. Your heart raced as you hoped for who you wished it to be. And as the figure came closer into the clearing, your legs had a mind of its own.
Standing up you began to walk towards the figure, the piles of snow slowing you down, but that didn’t matter to you. He was home now, you were sure of it.
As the mysterious figure closed in, they jumped off the horse. Rushing your way in a desperate sprint to reach you. Through the white smudges of snow you saw him, Jay. Your pace quickened, already yearning to have him hold you within his arms.
The snow was far too packed high as you ran through you almost tripped, but was caught by the person you missed most during the long hard months.
“Jay!”
He hugged you tightly, head lowered to the top of your head as he took in all of you. Missing your warmth, the way you smelled, your voice. Everything that was you he missed so much. Now here he was finally back with you, where everything always felt right.
Your hands gripped onto the edge collar of his armor, tugging it down as you crashed your lips onto his. For all the months you waited and waited you began to worry, fearing he didn’t win his internal war. But here he was, his lips on yours showing he was alive and well.
Parting ways your foreheads met in unison, taking in each other's presence. “I missed you so much.” Jay whispered as he left a peck on your lips.
Soon there were voices calling for you, the two of you turned your heads to see all the commotion. There in the entrance way of the cabin stood Jungwon, Serim, Heeseung, and Yunjin. All welcoming Jay home whilst also wanting you both to come inside.
There was lots of catching up to do. You wanted to hear everything that happened, especially wishing to know more about his mother. But before anyone could ask questions, something had dripped between your legs.
Wondering what it was you looked down to see a puddle of water at the base of your feet. You stared at Serim then everyone else. In a surge of panic the cabin turned into chaos as everyone ushered you upstairs. Yunjin had informed you your water broke, meaning the baby was on the way.
Your body tensed at her words, growing afraid of what Jay and even The Dragon had discussed with you. As you were escorted to the bed, Yunjin demanded only Serim and Jay stayed up here. Serim helped settle you down, making sure to angle pillows for your comfort as you laid down.
Jay was right next to you as he held your hand tightly, his mind thinking the same as you. Wondering if this would be the end of a family he wished to have or the start of an endless love he was allowed to keep.
Hours went by as you sat on the bed, contractions hurting like no tomorrow. The pain was unbearable, back throbbing harshly as every contraction rippled through you. Unable to take the pain anymore you passed out.
As you opened your eyes you were greeted not with the ceiling of the room in the house, but of a clear blue sky with the accompaniment of white clouds. Sitting up you looked round at your surroundings, a grassy green hill that swayed along with the brush of the wind’s breeze.
Realizing you were underneath some sort of shade, you looked behind to see a large elm tree, its beautiful yellow leaves swaying in the wind.
“You’re awake.”
Your head turned to the unfamiliar voice. Standing—more so flaoting—before you was a beautiful lady. She wore white dress that flowed on its own—as if the wind didn't need to pick up the delicate fabric. Her hair was a bright golden color, resembling the leaves hanging from the tree, and her eyes were as blue as the sky above.
“Who are you?”
The woman giggled. Amused by your lack of knowledge. “You know who I am silly. I’m a part of you.”
Then it dawned on you. “The Saintess?”
“Correct!”
You watched as she floated about the ground, happy that you were able to recognize her off of her singular hint.
“Why am I here?”
Propping a finger to her chin she thought of how to explain the situation. “Well you’re currently giving birth. And that child inside of you was seeming a bit feisty. But I can’t have my precious daughter go through such pain, so I’m here to give you a piece of my holy power.”
You stared at her in confusion, trying to piece the words she said together. “You’re saying your holy power can save me?”
“Yes. More so, it’ll numb the little one's dragon mana, making it so you're birthing a normal baby.”
“But why me?!” So many questions rang in your head as things went on.
“Well, you helped out an important friend of mine. Besides I was always going to come get you my child. You are my favorite one out of that big family line of yours.” The Saintess made her way over to you, closing in the gap that separated you both.
“Now I’d love to chat more, but you have people waiting for you. And time doesn't really flow the same here versus out there.” She held both of your cheeks in her delicate palms before lowering your head down a bit.
“Say hi to him for me.”
With her final words, she kissed your forehead. Then in a flash of light—closing your eyes—you could hear the faint crying. It was the sound of a baby, that’s what it was right? Straining to open your eyes, you were met with the cutest face you had ever seen.
Cheeks so chubby you could pinch them all day. The top of the baby’s head had a light dusting of hair that resembled yours. “Is this?”
Jay right at your side answered you. “Yes it is. This is our new baby girl.”
“She’s beautiful.” Your eyes watered at the sight of her. Round little face with rosy cheeks. This was your child, this was your little girl.
“Did you figure out a name for her while I was away?” Jay questioned as his finger reached out to rub your daughter’s tiny cheek.
“I had one in mind.”
The rest of the day was spent with you resting in bed, as well as many congratulations and wishes to see the new born child. Almost everyone in the house catered to your every need, making sure you were comfortable, well fed, Serim even took on watching the baby as you rested. Their generosity warmed your heart plenty.
As soon as night rolled around you felt perfectly fine, realizing that The Saintess didn’t lie about giving you a piece of her powers. While you were pregnant you felt as if you were growing weaker by the second, but now you were feeling as energized as ever.
Jay was tuckered out in the chair posted by the bed, worn out from helping everyone out and attending to your daughter. Crawling out of the bed you made your way down the stairs. You noticed everyone else sleeping in the seating area, all arranged in the most uncomfortable positions. One person was missing, which was Serim who you assumed was in the first floor room with your baby.
Laughing to yourself you picked up a discarded blanket and made your way to the door. Spotting the flower crown you made settled on the wall you took it with you. Opening up the door you walked out into the chilled winter night—making sure to close it behind you. Making your way to where the forest started you held the crown tight in your cold hands.
“I know you’re out there.” You spoke softly as you stared into the woods. Between the trees you saw two glimmering golden eyes. You smiled to yourself as you knew who it belonged too.
“Thank you. I won’t ever forget your kindness towards me. I made this for you a while back, but never got the chance to give it to you.” Showing off the flower crown you settled it down onto the snowy floor. “Also she says hi.”
Was the last thing you said as the door of the cabin opened. “Y/N, what are you doing out here?” Jay questioned tiredness laced in his voice. Rubbing the sleep away as he went up to you, hands placed at the side of your arms—rubbing up and down hoping to warm you up.
Your head turned to him slightly watching him walk over to you. Turning your head back to the woods you noticed the flower crown was gone from where you left it. You smiled to yourself as you thanked The Dragon one more time in your head.
“Stretching my legs.” You turned your body to look at him, admiring the sleepy look he had on—truly unfit for a dragonborn like him. “Lets head back inside.”
“Wait.” Jay halted you as he began to wake up. “I need to give you something.”
You watched as Jay fished through his pants, earnestly trying to find something. Jay’s brows quirked as he got ahold of what he was looking for. Pulling his hand from his pocket he gestured the closed fist to you. “I forgot to give you this when I left.”
Opening his hand, there in the center of his palm was your wedding ring. After all this time you had forgotten that you left it behind. There were times when you noticed how empty your ring finger felt, but chose to ignore it. Not wanting to be reminded of him. But as Jay stood there with your wedding ring in his you felt your heart swell with so many emotions.
“I know our meeting wasn’t natural and was arranged for a different motive. But Y/N, you’ve taught me that I, a dragonborn, am able to learn what love is in this world. My whole life I viewed myself as a monster. But you? You make me feel human.”
“Jay…”
You knew there were some shared emotions between you and him. But they were never discussed, especially with the fact of you both already being married. Standing here hearing him profess the feeling you made him feel, felt as if you were falling in love with him all over again.
“I love you Y/N, and I promise to take care of you and our daughter for the rest of my life.”
“I love you too Jay. It was always you, since the first day I learned of my families’ shared past. There was something that drew me to you. And I’m happy that I get to be with you as well for the rest of my life.”
Without another second to waste, Jay slid the ring back onto its rightful home. Finger finding its way under your chin—he raised your head—giving you a gentle kiss. He couldn’t but smile into the kiss, feeling happy about the future for once in his life.
Parting lips you both couldn’t help but giggle to one another as you made your way back inside of the cabin.
EPILOGUE:
It had been three years since everything. Soon after you gave birth to your daughter did you move back to the Velpark castle. Despite being gone for so long nothing really changed in particular. Nothing except for Jay’s position in High Society.
He was still deemed a Duke and owned the Seathal territory—which is ideally his birthright. But instead Jay was no longer The Emperor’s dog. Before killing his brother, Jay had found out many years ago—during the time of the war—The Emperor had a secret brother.
The brother in question was related to The Emperor by blood, but was only his half brother. Jay kept this as a secret for many years to use against The Emperor, which thankfully ended up working. After performing a coup d'etat in those seven months he was away, The Emperor’s half brother was reinstated as the new ruler of Decelis Kingdom. You found out later on that the new Emperor was named Sunghoon.
Sunghoon was grateful in the aid for his spot back on the throne and promised Jay a long life of luxury within Seathal and with his family. And the biggest thing that came out of it was something just as important to Jay than you and your daughter.
“Mama, mama! Are we going to see grandma now?” Your three year old daughter tugged at your dress, while she watched you get ready.
Gently laughing at her antics you proceeded to pick her up—settling her on your lap. “Yes my sweetheart we are. Are you all ready?”
“Yes I am!” She beamed as she faced you.
Her hair was styled in two little ponytails paired with two pink bows in her hair. She was dressed in the same pattern as you. Her dress of course, having more frills for a cute princess look. The maid tending to you, finished your hair and makeup motioning to you that she finished.
“Now. Let’s go find papa!” Sitting up from the cushioned seat you still held on tight to your daughter as you made your way out of the bedroom, heading down the hall to Jay’s office.
After returning back to the castle you were able to use your gifted holy powers to help save Jay’s mother. Seeing him hug the woman he never had a moment to grow with shattered but also mended your heart in a way you never knew was possible. It felt right seeing Jay feel human for once in his twenty three years of living.
Once he reestablished her from the palace, he gave his mother her own section of the castle where she would live out her life. It was nice having his mother around, she loved your daughter and she especially adored you.
With the addition of new people you also lost some of your close friends. Nothing bad happened to them per se, they just moved on and started a family. The friends in question were Serim and Heeseung. Not long after coming back to the castle Heeseung proposed to Serim.
Now that the two of them were married they were given the chance to leave the castle. Of course this saddened you, you would be separated from your best friend. But it wouldn’t all be for naught, since later that year the two of them would have their first kid. With that they would visit very often for playdates between your daughter and their child.
Finally making your way to the office you could hear faint chatter inside. Heading inside you saw Jay sitting at his desk doing some work, while his mother chatted along with Jungwon.
“Grandma!” Hearing your daughter’s excitement you quickly set her down, allowing her to run straight to her.
You smiled at the shared giggled between Jay’s mother, Jungwon and your daughter. You stood there watching them play around so happily and freely. Smitten with the scene before you, you didn’t hear Jay walk up behind you.
The feeling of his hand settling on the back of your neck startled you slightly. Jay couldn’t help but laugh recalling a memory at the beginning of your marriage. Proceeding on from your neck his fingers began to play with your hair—twilring the strands between his fingers.
“I’ve been thinking. It’s been three years since the little one. Thoughts on having another mini us run around?”
“Hmm. Let me ponder on it and I’ll let you know.”
Jay chuckled at your response, knowing deep down for the both of you there would be a possibility of a second child very soon.
perm taglist ( open! refer to this post ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @ijustwannareadstuff20 @enhanextdoor @zaycie @dylanobr1ens @miraeluv @ancnymcnzjy @lvvrikss @treasureteez @delirioastral @izzyy-stuff @sunghoon-cam @gabrielinhaa
SYNOPSIS ⦂ You've never fit in. That much was true. Always feeling like the odd one out in your friend group. But when you're told to your face, well everything becomes more clear. Suddenly, every sidelong glance, every pity laugh, every party invitation that felt like a mistake, makes a little more sense. But it still stings. Especially when it comes to Soobin; sweet, soft-spoken, out-of-your-league Soobin, who doesn’t even know you exist beyond the orbit of your prettier friends. Enter Heeseung: campus golden boy, effortlessly charming, dangerously smug. He’s the type of guy who knows exactly how attractive he is — and how to use it. When he overhears your predicament (okay, maybe you yell about it a little too loudly in the hallway), he makes you an offer: he’ll help you reinvent yourself, rewrite your story, and finally get Soobin’s attention. In exchange? You’ll tutor him through senior lit, a class he's on the verge of flunking. You agree, of course. What could possibly go wrong?
PAIRINGS: heeseung x fem!reader
WARNINGS: smut mdni, virginity loss, jealousy, alcohol use, mean girls, talk of toxic beauty standards, college setting, ft Dani (katseye), Sakura (le sserafim), Soobin (txt), jay, sunghoon, jake, beomgyu (txt), wonyoung (ive), angst, slight miscommunication + more i’m probably forgetting.
WORD COUNT: 28K
RAIN'S MIC IS ON ࿐ haiii this is based on the movie "the duff" i wanted to give this a fun and very like early 2000s rom-comy vibes!! I do want to note especially that i do not support the toxic mindset that makeup and no glasses and dressing slutty automatically makes you more visually appealing, i think that's a mindset we should be letting go of but for the sake of fiction, it will be playing a part in this. Just a reminder that everyone is beautiful no matter what you wear or what you look like. Wear makeup if you want, or don't. Glasses do not equal ugly and nerdy. Also in this, i shortened “DUFF” to “DUF” because even in fiction i don’t feel comfortable saying “fat” so in my version it just means “designated ugly friend” which is still eh, but again for the sake of fiction it will have to do, Please remember those standards are out dated. Love you all hope you have fun with this like i did (: thank you so much to my love @yeonmuse for helping make the banner, she’s so talented check her out guys.
You’re not sure why you came.
The music pulses like a second heartbeat as you linger in the doorway of the house, the bass reverberating through your ribcage. Inside, it’s packed wall-to-wall with bodies moving in a chaotic kind of harmony, shoulders brushing, drinks sloshing, laughter climbing over music like ivy. You follow the familiar trail of your best friends, Dani and Sakura, as they dive headfirst into the party’s epicenter. They're already laughing with someone, effortlessly folding themselves into a circle of golden-lit conversation. You’re left in the doorway like static caught on the edge of a signal, half-there, mostly invisible. You try to speak, to jump into the flow, but your voice is swallowed by the noise.
Dani’s turning her head too fast, Sakura’s already moving on to a new story. It’s not their fault. They love you. They try; they always do. But in places like this, where charisma is currency and the loudest person wins, you always come up short. You’re the comma in their sentence. The pause between moments.
Eventually, Dani hooks her arm through yours and grins. “Come on. Let’s get some air.” You let them lead you outside, where the music softens behind glass doors and the cool night air brushes against your skin. The wooden deck is lit by string lights and scented faintly of smoke and expensive cologne. And that’s when you see them; The it boys on campus, Leaning against the railing like some untouchable constellation: Heeseung, Beomgyu, Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake. Each one a caricature of cool in different flavors. Beomgyu’s laughing with his head thrown back. Jake is draped over the deck chair like he owns it. Sunghoon and Jay are mid-story. And then there’s Heeseung, casual arrogance wrapped in black denim and a hoodie pushed halfway up his forearms.
The moment the girls approach, everyone shifts to accommodate them, the circle expanding like ripples on water. You find yourself next to Heeseung, who throws you a brief glance that feels like an assessment. His gaze dips for a second to your glasses and lingers. You know that look. You’ve seen it before in classrooms and locker-lined hallways. The look that decides exactly who you are in the span of two seconds and four syllables: nerd. Unworthy of any and all social interaction beside incandescent teasing. How comical that was. “You guys,” Heeseung says, in that smooth, drawling voice that makes everything he says sound vaguely amused, “Mr. Yoon was on my ass today. Said if I bomb this next lit paper, he’s yanking my scholarship. Like, sorry I don’t care about symbolism in 18th-century poetry, man.”
Sakura perks up, turning to look at you. “Wait She’s amazing at lit! Like, scary good.”
“She tutors people all the time,” Dani adds, nudging you playfully. You blink, caught mid-sip of something lukewarm in a red cup, and find five pairs of curious eyes settling on you. Including his.
Heeseung’s lip quirks. “Oh, I’m sure she is.”
You narrow your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He gestures loosely toward your face, vaguely circling your glasses. “Nothing. Just, you’ve got that whole bookish prodigy vibe. You know. Brainiac chic.”
“Brainiac chic?” You raise an eyebrow. “That’s your insult? Do you even have a GPA?” His friends snicker. Jake lets out a low “oooh,” and Beomgyu slaps Heeseung on the back like he’s just taken a hit.
Heeseung, unfazed, smiles lazily. “Touché. Though, I’m not the one who just quoted my GPA like it’s a flex.” You can’t help the way your lip twitches. You shouldn’t enjoy this. You do. Heeseung is irritating. Arrogant. Infuriatingly pretty. But he’s listening. He’s bantering back. In this weird, warped little moment, you almost feel like you matter.
And then he walks up. Soobin. You spot him from the corner of your eye, tall and soft around the edges, dressed in an oversized hoodie that somehow still makes him look like a dream. His hair’s a little messy like he ran his hands through it too many times, and his smile; God, his smile, curls up slow when he sees your group. He says something to Jake, who waves him over, and then he’s standing in your circle, next to you, and your brain short-circuits. You try to say hi, but it comes out as a hiccuped squeak. Your voice cracks in three different places, and as if fate hadn’t humiliated you enough, you flinch backward and knock your elbow straight into the flimsy drink table behind you. The cup in your hand slips, spins midair, and splashes all over your shirt in one mortifying arc.
Soobin blinks. Heeseung stares. You feel the heat crawl up your neck like a flame eating paper. Someone offers you a napkin, Dani, maybe — but it doesn’t matter. You’re already backing away. “I—I’m gonna go,” you mumble. “I’ll see you guys later.” You turn before anyone can say anything else, your heartbeat thudding in your ears, the deck already blurry with shame. Behind you, the laughter starts again, soft, harmless, not mean, not really; but it doesn't matter. You’re already gone. And you have no idea how this mess is only just beginning.
The next morning arrives not like a promise, but like a punishment. The sun is too bright, the sky too smugly blue, like even the weather knows what happened last night. You drag yourself across campus wrapped in oversized layers, hoodie strings pulled tight around your face like armor. You haven't checked your phone since the party. Not because it hasn’t lit up — it has, but because you can’t bear to face the missed calls and texts blinking like tiny sirens across the screen. Dani: “hey, are you okay?” Sakura: “babe, call us pls.” A voicemail you didn’t dare open. It’s all waiting for you like unopened letters from a version of yourself that doesn’t exist anymore.
Because last night, you crumbled in front of Soobin. You keep replaying it like a cursed tape in your head: the way your voice cracked, the look of gentle confusion on his face, the splash of cheap punch soaking through your shirt like a scarlet stamp of shame. You can still feel the sting of it; hot, sticky, humiliating. You picture the exact moment his eyes met yours and how quickly you broke, like a window catching a stone at the wrong angle. You didn’t even say goodbye to Dani or Sakura. Just ran. Just let the night swallow you whole. And now, in the cruel light of day, everything feels worse.
Your footsteps echo a little too loudly on the concrete path through campus. You keep your head down, gaze locked on your shoes as the crowds blur around you in streaks of motion and color. But you feel them; eyes. Not direct. Not obvious. Just there. Flicking toward you. Lingering. Someone lets out a muffled laugh as you pass. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with you, but the way your stomach clenches betrays you. It’s a peculiar kind of spotlight, being noticed for all the wrong reasons. You’re used to being invisible, not mocked. You never asked for attention, never needed a stage. But now you’re walking through campus like a meme brought to life, like the punchline of a joke you didn’t know you were telling. You pass a group of students lounging on the lawn. One nudges the other. Another whispers something behind a hand. Laughter. It could be about anything. It could be nothing. But you flinch like it’s a slap to the face. So you keep walking, keep shrinking.
Your classroom isn’t far, but the distance feels endless. Like the stretch of hallway in a nightmare where your legs move but you never get anywhere. When you finally reach the door, your hands tremble as you pull it open, slipping inside with all the urgency of someone trying to outrun their own shadow. The air inside is still and cold, the hum of fluorescents a dull buzz in your ears. You’re too wrapped in your own spiral to notice where your feet take you. The room is already half full, students murmuring over open laptops, pens clicking like insects in early spring. You move on autopilot, slipping into the first empty seat you see near the back, hoping the distance from the front will buy you some much-needed invisibility.
But the moment you set your bag down and glance to your left, the universe decides to play its favorite game, humiliation, round two. Because there he is. Lee Heeseung. Slouched in his chair with all the grace of someone who’s never had to try too hard, hoodie sleeves pushed up again like it’s a personal brand, one knee bouncing lazily. His arm’s draped over the back of the chair, dangerously close to yours, and he’s already looking at you when you meet his eyes, eyebrow raised, lips curled in that signature smirk that could make a mirror blush. “Well, well,” he says, low and smug. “Couldn’t get enough of me, could you?” You blink, brain short-circuiting for half a second before the sarcasm kicks in like muscle memory.
“Oh, absolutely,” you say, your voice dry as dust. “I just had to sit next to the guy who thinks MLA formatting is a type of sandwich.” Heeseung whistles through his teeth, hand pressed to his heart like you wounded him. “Wow. Vicious. No wonder you’re single.”
Without missing a beat, you smile sweetly, and flip him off. And that’s what does it. Heeseung bursts out laughing. Not a scoff. Not a half-chuckle. A full-bodied, belly-deep laugh that shakes his shoulders and lights up his whole stupidly handsome face. It’s loud, too; sharp enough to draw a few curious glances from the rows in front of you. Someone turns around. Another student raises an eyebrow. But Heeseung just throws his head back and laughs, like you’re the funniest thing to ever happen to 9 a.m. lit. And somehow, against your will, a laugh bubbles out of you, too.
Just a snort at first, barely more than breath. But it grows, because you can’t help it, because it was kind of funny, because maybe you’re so bone-tired from crying that anything even slightly absurd feels like a lifeline. You laugh into your palm, trying to hide it, but that only makes Heeseung grin wider. “See?” he says, nudging your arm with his elbow. “I knew you liked me.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re delusional.”
“And yet,” he hums, “here you are.”You shake your head, biting back another smile—and for a second, just a second, you don’t care that people are still glancing at the two of you. You don’t care that your shirt from last night is crumpled in your laundry basket or that the video of you spilling punch may or may not be circling the group chat. You don’t care that your friends probably think you’re ghosting them. Because for this one moment, there’s no spotlight. No pressure.
The rest of the class unfolds in a quiet, uninterrupted hum. The professor drones on about motifs and metaphor, and your pen finally scratches to life again. Heeseung doesn’t speak after that, not really, but you can feel the lingering heat of his presence beside you, like a low flame that won’t go out. You catch yourself glancing his way more than once. He catches you every time.
Class ends in a quiet unraveling. You gather your things slowly, letting the rows of students trickle out ahead of you like a stream smoothing stone. Heeseung’s already up, stretching his arms over his head in that effortless way that shouldn't be allowed this early in the day. He tosses you a wink as he moves toward the door, and you pretend to roll your eyes, even as something traitorous inside you flutters like a curtain caught in wind. You follow the flow of students into the hallway, hoping to blend in. Hoping, maybe foolishly, that today might end on a quieter note.
But fate has sharp teeth.
A manicured hand taps your shoulder just as you pass beneath the atrium light, and when you turn, you’re met with a smile so sugar-slick and venom-laced it makes your spine stiffen on instinct. Jang Wonyoung. She’s standing in front of you like a statue carved from polished ambition, long legs, glossy hair, not a flaw in sight. Her clothes are designer without needing to scream it, her lip gloss a shade too pink to be innocent. She oozes confidence, curated and sharpened to a point. And you know who she is — everyone does. She’s not just the most popular girl on campus, she’s the one people orbit around. She’s the center of gravity in every room she enters. You’ve never spoken to her before.
“You’re friends with Dani and Sakura, right?” she says sweetly, voice as light as powdered sugar.
You blink, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah,” you answer, nodding a little too quickly, nerves flaring. “I am.” Her smile doesn’t change, but something behind her eyes hardens. Shifts. It’s like watching a rose bloom only to realize the thorns are still sharper than the petals. She tilts her head slightly, and for a moment, you almost wonder if this is some kind of polite small talk. But then she leans in just enough for her perfume to ghost past your cheek; something expensive and calculated, and her voice drops to a murmur, low and cruel.
“Don’t think for one second you have a chance with Heeseung.” She blinks, lashes fluttering like knives. “DUF.” You freeze. The letters don’t click at first. They hang there in the air between you, meaningless and jagged. You open your mouth, confusion spilling out in a quiet stammer. “Wait — what’s a DUF?”
Wonyoung’s smile stretches wider, and it’s not a smile at all now. It’s the curve of something about to cut. “DUF isn’t a name. It’s what you are,” she purrs. “Designated Ugly Friend.” You stare, the words crashing into you like sleet against glass. You don’t even flinch; not yet. You’re too stunned, too caught between disbelief and dawning horror to react. Your throat tightens. Her words burrow under your skin, cold and gleaming. “You’re always with Dani and Sakura,” she continues, still smiling like this is all just a casual observation, like she’s not peeling your dignity apart with her manicured fingers. “They’re hot. Like, objectively. You’re just… there. To make them look better. That’s your role. Know your place.”
You open your mouth again, breath hitching in protest. “My name is—” But she cuts you off, voice turning sharper, all pretense abandoned.
“DUF,” she repeats, slow and deliberate. “And Heeseung? He’s out of your league. So do everyone a favor, babe, and stay away from him.” She gives you one last look; final, dismissive, like you were never really worth seeing at all, and then she’s turning on her heel, walking away like she just dropped a bomb and is already bored of the smoke. And you — you just stand there. Your heartbeat thuds in your ears like a drum played out of rhythm. Your feet feel rooted to the tile, your hands limp at your sides, notebook barely clutched in your grip. It’s as if the world has narrowed to a single hallway, a single moment, and Wonyoung’s words are etched on the walls around you. DUF.
You’ve never heard it before. Not like that. Not named. But now that it’s been said, now that it’s out in the open, it echoes. It colors everything. It twists last night into a sick joke, replays every photo you’ve stood in between Dani and Sakura, every party where you stood off to the side. You see yourself through Wonyoung’s eyes, and the reflection stings. You don’t cry. Not yet. The tears are waiting, crouched behind your ribs, but you won’t let them win. Not in this hallway. Not here. You just swallow hard, lower your head, and walk, each step heavier than the last, as if you’re trying to carry the weight of someone else’s cruelty on your shoulders. And all the while, her words stay with you like a brand: Know your place.
You don’t remember how you got there. One moment you were frozen in that hallway, still tasting Wonyoung’s words on the back of your tongue like something spoiled and sour. The next, you’re seated at the farthest computer in the campus lab, shoulders hunched, the too-bright monitor casting a cold glow across your face. Around you, students move in hushed clicks and muted coughs, the clatter of keyboards filling the silence like light rain. No one looks your way. No one ever does. It’s what you wanted, right? To disappear? To be invisible? But not like this. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the keyboard, uncertain, like they already know what you’re about to unearth. You type DUF first, because that’s what she said. That’s what she called you. The letters feel clunky and unfamiliar, like a language you were never meant to understand. When nothing pops up, you frown, your pulse quickening.
And then, like the knife finally finding skin, it hits you. And the world splits open. The page fills with links, slang dictionaries, gossip forums, teen advice articles, old Reddit threads dissecting high school hierarchies like scientific taxonomy. You click the first video out of instinct, and a girl on the screen, barely older than you, leans into the camera with a sad smile and says, “The DUF is the Designated Ugly Friend. You’re the least attractive in your friend group, the approachable one, the funny one, the one guys talk to only to get to your prettier friends.” You freeze. Her voice continues, but it becomes background noise to the storm inside your chest. Your heartbeat hammers against your ribs like it wants to escape, and suddenly your body feels far too small for what you’re carrying.
Your fingers move on their own, clicking through link after link like each one might offer a different definition, something softer, something kind. But they don’t. They all echo the same gutting truth. The DUF is the one who fills the empty space. The background character in her own life. The girl who exists not for herself, but as contrast, to make her friends shine brighter by comparison. You feel it like a bruise blooming across your entire being. Memories rise unbidden, like film reels unspooling behind your eyes. The nights out where you stood at the edge of a circle, holding jackets and drinks while Dani and Sakura danced with boys who barely spared you a glance. The time a guy asked you for Sakura’s number while you were still in the middle of a sentence. The photos you’d be cropped out of, the stories you weren’t included in, the parties where you stood on the periphery like a shadow no one noticed.
You thought it was just how things were. You thought maybe you were just quieter. Shyer. Less hungry for attention. But now the pieces fit. Too well. And what guts you, what truly guts you, is the realization that maybe — just maybe — they knew. Dani and Sakura. Your best friends. Did they know what DUF meant? Had they heard it tossed around and just… never told you? Had they laughed about it with others, let it live in whispers while you smiled beside them, oblivious? Were you some inside joke dressed in loyalty? Did they ever look at you and feel sorry? Or worse, did they agree?
The nausea coils in your stomach like a slow-moving wave, threatening to rise. You press your palm to your chest, as if you can keep yourself from unraveling entirely. Your vision swims. The sterile blue of the lab feels too bright, too loud, too full of all the wrong kinds of silence. You’re still staring at the glowing screen, that same sentence blinking back at you like a taunt: “The DUFF is the one nobody notices until they need something.” Your throat tightens. You don’t want to be in this body. In this moment. In this story.
You slam the laptop shut without ceremony. The sharp clap of it draws a glance from a boy a few chairs down, but you don’t care. You’re already yanking your bag from the floor, stuffing your notebook inside with shaking hands. Your fingers are clumsy, rushed, like you’re trying to outrun a tidal wave that’s already crashing through you. You need air. You need to move. You need to not be here, not be seen. The walk out of the lab is a blur of cold tiles and humming machines. Your steps echo like betrayal. Like every footfall might draw more eyes, more whispers, more invisible hands pointing in your direction. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you taste salt.
Not the loud, sobbing kind of cry. No, this is something quieter. A leak in the dam. A silent surrender. The kind of crying that happens when the weight of the world doesn’t come crashing down in one dramatic moment; but seeps in, slow and steady, drop by drop, until you’re drowning. You step outside, wind slicing at your face, the sky too wide, too open. You feel small in a way you can’t describe. Not just physically, existentially. Like someone cracked your reflection and you’re left staring at the pieces wondering if any of it was ever real. And in the back of your mind, like a cruel echo still clinging to the walls of your skull, her voice repeats: Know your place, DUF.
The first thing you do after leaving the computer lab is search. You needed to see Dani and Sakura. You find them exactly where you knew they’d be. The C building’s hallway is packed, echoing with the end-of-period rush. Footsteps slap against the floors in every direction. Lockers clang open and shut, laughter weaves in and out of the noise like a skipping stone. The scent of dry erase markers, mint gum, and cheap coffee lingers in the air. But it all feels distant to you, muted, irrelevant. Like you’re underwater, moving through the crowd on instinct, not thought. And then, through the blur of motion and sound, you see them. Dani and Sakura.
The two girls you’ve called your best friends since freshman year. The ones who’ve seen you through breakups, panic attacks, late-night cramming sessions and slow, sleepy Sunday brunches. The ones who claimed to love you. They’re standing outside their chemistry lecture, laughing at something; Sakura’s head thrown back, Dani’s hip nudging hers. It’s such a familiar picture that for a split second, you hesitate. For a split second, your brain lies to you. Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Wonyoung was wrong. Maybe everything was just some cruel misunderstanding. But your heart knows better. You push through the crowd with the desperation of someone chasing the truth, and the second your voice cuts through the air, they turn to you, your hair wild from the wind, breath ragged from running, eyes rimmed with something between fury and heartbreak. “Did you guys know?”
The words tumble out too fast, ragged at the edges, raw like a wound. They both blink at you, confusion washing over their faces like clouds across sunlight. “Know what?” Sakura asks slowly, brow furrowing. Dani’s already stepping forward, hand brushing your arm gently, like she’s afraid you might shatter on contact. “What are you talking about?”
And then you say it; louder than you meant to, louder than you ever thought you’d say anything in public. “Did you know I’m your fucking DUF?” The hallway doesn’t go silent, but it feels like it does. Their faces freeze, and you see it instantly, the flicker of recognition in Sakura’s eyes, the tightness in Dani’s jaw. It’s not confusion now. It’s not disbelief. It’s guilt. Guilt. They look at each other. It’s barely a glance, half a heartbeat, but it’s all the confirmation you need. Something in your chest gives, a sickening drop that feels like the floor vanishing beneath your feet.
Your voice splinters when you speak again. “What? Are you just friends with me because you feel bad for me?” Your words hang in the air like smoke, heavy and choking. Dani’s eyes widen, her mouth opening like she’s about to say something, anything but you see the panic settle across her face. She wasn’t ready for this. They never expected you to find out. They never thought you’d ask.
“That’s not—” Sakura starts, then stops.
Dani shakes her head fast, her voice stumbling over itself. “That’s not true. Don’t say that.”
“Then why?” you ask, louder now, pain bubbling up from somewhere deep and long-buried. “Why did you always brush me off when I said I liked Soobin? Why did you laugh when I said I thought he might like me back? Why did you look at me like I was crazy?” They don't answer. Not really. They just look at you with wide eyes and silence thick between them.
“You didn’t think I was pretty enough,” you say, and your voice cracks right down the middle. Dani swallows. Her hands are wringing the strap of her backpack like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She steps closer again, gentler this time, quieter. “We don’t think you’re ugly,” she says, the words coming slowly, like they hurt her to say. “It’s just… you could try a little harder, you know? Like, you don’t really… put effort in.” The air leaves your lungs in a rush.
You feel it physically, like someone just knocked the wind out of you, punched a hole in your chest and left it gaping open for everyone to see. The people around you are still moving, still living their lives, but all you can hear is the echo of those words: try harder. As if your entire existence hasn’t been one long effort to be enough. And before you can respond, Sakura adds, “You’re just… not Soobin’s type, that’s all.” You blink. Your mind blanks. Your heart is already in pieces, but that line cracks the rest of you open.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you ask, your voice trembling, not with fear, but with something deeper, more dangerous. Rage wrapped in heartbreak. Sakura falters. She opens her mouth, but no answer comes out. Dani shifts uncomfortably beside her. Their faces are pale now, eyes darting around, noticing for the first time how many people are starting to look. How many are pretending not to listen. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to undo every moment of vulnerability you ever gave them. But more than anything, you want to run. Because staying here, standing in this hallway, heart bared like a wound while the people you loved carve you apart, hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt. You shake your head slowly, backing away from them as the tears begin to fall in earnest. “I thought you were my friends,” you whisper, and then louder, “I trusted you.” Dani reaches out again, but this time you pull back. You don’t want her comfort. You don’t want her pity. You don’t want to hear another word. So you turn. And you walk.
You don’t care that people are watching. You don’t care that your shoulders are shaking, that your tears are spilling freely now, or that your bag keeps slipping down your arm. You walk faster, pushing through the crowd until the voices blur behind you, until the memory of their faces fades into the roar of everything breaking apart. And as you go, the thought haunts you, echoing over and over in your skull: They knew. They knew. They knew. And they never told you.
The doors to the C building groan shut behind you, sealing away the voices, the stares, the wreckage. But the damage doesn’t stay inside. It clings to you, stitched into your skin like frostbite; cold, deep, and invisible to everyone else. The sting of betrayal coils inside your chest, twisting tighter with every step you take. Your breathing’s uneven. Not quite sobbing, but close. That awful in-between sound, caught in your throat like a scream that refuses to come out. The air outside is biting, too cold for early fall, but you hardly notice. It brushes your cheeks like ghost hands, cuts through your sweater, lifts the ends of your hair, nothing reaches you. Not really. You're numb in a way that feels permanent, like someone turned the volume of the world all the way down and you forgot how to turn it back up.
People pass by, some look, some don’t. A few recognize you, eyes flickering with half-curiosity, half-concern, but no one says anything. And thank god for that, because if anyone did, if even one person tried to ask if you were okay, you think you'd crumble. Right there on the sidewalk. Crumple like paper and never get back up again. The walk from the C building to your dorm stretches impossibly long. Every step is heavier than the last, as if the weight of Dani and Sakura’s words is dragging behind you, chained to your ankles. You replay it all, the glances, the hesitations, the way Dani looked away when you asked if they knew, the way Sakura's voice sounded too rehearsed, like she’d already decided what version of the truth you were allowed to hear.
“You could try harder.”
“You’re just not his type.”
Those words circle you like vultures. You can’t outrun them. You can’t out-walk what’s inside your chest. By the time you reach the dorm building, you’re shaking. Not from the cold, but from everything else. Rage. Shame. Heartbreak. All of it, bottled and clinking against your ribs like glass ready to shatter. Your key slips once in the door before you finally shove it in and turn, stumbling down the hall to your room like you’ve just escaped a storm only to find another waiting inside. You push the door open and don’t bother turning on the lights. You don’t take your shoes off. You don’t put your bag down. You don’t think. You just collapse.
Straight onto your bed, face-first, like gravity’s been waiting all day for you to break. The mattress groans under the weight of your body, the quiet rustle of blankets the only sound in the room. But even that silence feels loud. And then — finally — you scream. It’s muffled into your pillow, soaked into the cotton and foam, but it rips through you like it’s been building for years. A scream made of all the things you couldn’t say in that hallway. All the pain you swallowed down so no one would see you break. All the confusion, all the loneliness, all the self-doubt bubbling up into one long, raw, aching sound.
You scream because you thought they were your people.
You scream because you believed, deeply, that you were loved.
You scream because you didn’t know you were being pitied.
And when your voice finally gives out, when your throat goes raw and your breathing hitches in the dark, you don’t move. You just lie there, curled into yourself like something wounded, like you could shrink so small the world might forget you were ever here. Your pillow is damp now, tears soaking through it, hot and angry. You clutch it tighter like it might hold you together. For the first time in a long time, you feel completely and utterly alone. And the scariest part? You're not even sure who you can talk to anymore. Who’s left. Who actually sees you. Because the people you trusted the most already proved they never did.
The morning light is a pale, washed-out gray, soft and dull like an old photograph, like something that’s been wrung out of color and left to dry. You move through campus like a ghost, every step stiff and heavy, your limbs still echoing with the ache of yesterday’s unraveling. Sleep had barely kissed you the night before. It lingered at the edges of your consciousness but never quite arrived, chased away by looping memories, sharp-edged phrases, and the hollow ache in your chest where trust used to live. You’ve walked this path to Literature 204 a hundred times, maybe more. But today it feels different. The air around you feels thicker somehow, like it knows what happened, like the whole campus has been whispering about you while your back was turned. You keep your head low, hands shoved deep into the sleeves of your hoodie, as if retreating into yourself will make you smaller, less visible, less whatever-the-hell-you-are-now. The DUF. The outcast. The joke.
When you finally step into the lecture hall, it’s mostly empty, the way it always is ten minutes before class starts. The lights are half-dimmed, flickering in patches as if still waking up themselves. A few early birds have already staked their seats, nose-deep in books, airpods in, sipping lukewarm coffee out of dented thermoses. And then, of course, there’s him. Heeseung. You spot him near the front, standing beside Mr. Yoon’s desk. They’re speaking in hushed tones, but the words carry in this room where the ceilings are too high and silence feels sacred. You hadn’t meant to listen, you weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but your ears catch on the tension in their voices, the frustration curling at the edges of Heeseung’s sentences. You hear fragments. Tutor. Flunk. Drop out. Phrases that sound too final, too heavy for someone who always seemed so effortless.
You tell yourself not to care. You’ve got your own storm to navigate. You slide into your usual seat halfway up the rows, far enough to disappear, close enough to hear, and drop your bag beside you with a sigh. Your heart still feels raw, your stomach still tied in knots. You’re exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep can fix. And then you hear his footsteps. Heeseung doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t scan the room for alternatives. He just makes a beeline straight for you and drops into the seat beside yours like it’s his god-given right. His presence is large, like it always is, broad shoulders draped in a hoodie two sizes too big, the scent of citrus cologne and coffee trailing behind him like something you could trip on. Usually, there’s a quip on his lips, something smug and irritating and just a little too charming. But today he’s quiet. And so are you.
For a long moment, nothing passes between you but breath. The quiet around you folds in like a cocoon, the only sounds the low murmur of Mr. Yoon gathering his notes and the soft click of someone’s mechanical pencil two rows back. And then, Heeseung leans back with a sigh and says, “Quite the spectacle you had going for you yesterday.”
You groan before you can stop yourself, dragging a hand over your face like you could scrub the memory out of existence. Your eyes narrow as you turn to him, voice sharp with lingering humiliation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He’s already grinning, his mouth tilted up in that signature way that makes you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. “Relax,” he says, stretching his arms lazily over his head. “I just mean, you, Sakura, and Dani? Everyone’s talking about it. It was, like, the hallway soap opera of the year.”
Your cheeks burn. You can feel the blood rising in your face like fire licking at your skin. Of course people were talking. Of course the entire goddamn campus probably had a front-row seat to your implosion. “Great,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest, “exactly what I needed, public humiliation on top of personal betrayal.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like it isn’t your entire world unraveling. But then, out of nowhere, he asks, “How long have you had a thing for Soobin?”
Your heart skips. Not in a cute, rom-com way. In a fuck, how does he know that kind of way. You blink, caught off guard, mouth fumbling for a denial that won’t sound like a lie. “I don’t, what are you even talking about?” He just smirks, eyes glinting with quiet mischief. “Come on. I’m not an idiot. The way you looked at him at that party? Like he was your last meal. It was kinda cute.”
Your stomach turns, part mortification, part defensiveness. “Why do you even care?” Heeseung shrugs again, but this time there’s something more calculated behind his gaze. “Because I think I can help you.”
You raise a brow. “Help me?”
“You like Soobin. Soobin doesn’t even know your name. I know what guys like him want, hell, I am guys like him,” he says, voice dipped in arrogance that somehow still doesn’t feel entirely cruel. “I could get you there. Make him see you. Want you.” You let out a sharp laugh, humorless and jagged. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not really in the mood to turn myself into a Barbie doll just to impress a guy.”
“Suit yourself,” Heeseung says easily, turning back toward the front of the room like he couldn’t care less. “But when Soobin’s off making out with someone like Yunjin behind the gym, don’t come crying to me.” That line strikes like lightning, quick, bright, and unmistakably true. Because you have seen Soobin talking to Yunjin lately. Smiling. Laughing. He held the door open for her last week and you felt like your heart was trying to crawl out of your throat. And now the thought of him kissing her, or anyone, while you’re still sitting on the sidelines hoping for a miracle? It makes something sharp twist in your chest.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, arms crossed tighter now, and Heeseung must sense your hesitation because he glances sideways again. “I’m just saying,” he murmurs, this time softer. “You help me pass lit, I help you not be invisible. Easy.” It’s insane. It’s humiliating. It’s kind of insulting, if you think about it long enough. But it’s also… tempting. Because what other option do you have? Soobin doesn’t know you exist. Your friends, the ones who were supposed to build you up, have already torn you down. And Heeseung, for all his cockiness, sees you. Maybe not the way you want to be seen. But still.
Slowly, you turn your palm upward between you. He grins, all teeth and trouble, and slides his hand into yours. You shake. And just like that, the deal is struck.
The evening sun sinks past the dorm window like a sigh, casting the whole room in the soft gold of a day exhaling. You’re curled up on your bed in an oversized hoodie, legs crossed, a nearly-empty takeout container of bulgogi balanced dangerously on your thigh. The smell of garlic and soy sauce clings to the air like a second blanket, and you don’t care. You’ve earned this. You’ve survived this week, barely, and now you’re self-soothing with salty meat and zero regrets. Your phone buzzes once against the sheets beside you. You ignore it at first. Probably Dani or Sakura again. Their texts have been coming in slow waves all day; apologies, explanations, questions that aren’t really questions. You’ve left them on read, unread, ignored altogether. You’re not ready. You don’t know when you will be. But the phone buzzes again. And then again. Finally, with a huff, you set your chopsticks down and snatch the device up. It’s not a contact you recognize, just a random number. But the message?
[Unknown Number]
what are you doing tomorrow?
You blink. Narrow your eyes. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, halfway to typing who is this when another text lands:
[ heeseung ]
it’s heeseung
Duh.
And wow. Of course he wouldn’t lead with an introduction. Or an ounce of normal human decorum. You don’t even remember giving him your number; maybe it was one of those group projects last semester or maybe he’s just unsettlingly resourceful. Either way, you're already rolling your eyes. You type back, begrudgingly.
[ you ]
nothing. why?
There’s barely a pause before the dots start dancing again.
[ heeseung ]
i’m taking you shopping and then we’re going to a party, you’ll wear what we buy and pretend to be hot for once. You nearly drop your phone into your bulgogi. You stare at the screen for a second too long, as if the sheer arrogance of his words might combust it in your hands. Shopping? Party? Pretend to be hot?
[ you ]
what the hell does “pretend to be hot” mean???
[ heeseung ]
it means we’re working with what we got. you’ll be fine. trust the process.
You audibly groan and collapse backwards onto your pillow, phone pressed against your forehead as if it might somehow absorb the stress and return with divine wisdom. This was the deal, you remind yourself. You help him pass lit, he helps you with... what? Popularity? Style? Winning Soobin's attention through sorcery and strategic eyeliner?
[ you ]
i’m not “pretending” to be hot just to impress soobin. i have standards , and pride and a favorite hoodie that smells like detergent and self pity
[ heeseung ]
noted. wear something that’s easy to take off tomorrow.
[ you ]
HEY. phrasing.
[ heeseung ]
relax. for the fitting room, nerd. I’ll be at your dorm at 1. and yes, soobin’s going to be at the party ;)
You stare at that last line for a beat too long. Something flutters, just faintly, in your stomach, uninvited.
[ you ]
Fine. but if this party ends with me throwing up in a bush i’m holding you personally responsible.
[ heeseung ]
deal. i’ll even hold your hair back. I'm generous like that.
You throw your phone onto the bed, face-down, like it’s suddenly on fire. You don’t know why you agreed. Maybe it’s the part of you that still wants Soobin to notice. Maybe it’s pride, or maybe it’s just the sheer inevitability of Heeseung’s energy, like trying to argue with a hurricane wearing a smug smirk. Whatever the reason, you’re already mentally preparing for tomorrow. Shopping. With Heeseung. A party. With Soobin. A new outfit. A new you. A new mistake waiting to happen. You look down at your empty bulgogi container, sigh, and mutter to no one: “…this is gonna be a disaster.”
The knock on your door comes precisely at 1PM. Not a second early, not a second late. You open it with one shoe half-on, your hoodie sleeve caught in the zipper of your jacket, and your face still half-moisturized. Heeseung is standing there, leaned casually against the doorframe like a page out of a campus fashion catalogue, black jeans, leather jacket, sunglasses perched on his head like he’s just so effortlessly cool it hurts. His hair is slightly tousled, like he either woke up like this or spent an hour pretending he did. “Took you long enough,” he says, not bothering to hide his smirk.
You scowl and step out, slamming the door behind you. “I said ‘one second’ in the text.”
“Yeah, and I translated that from Girl to Human Time. So twenty minutes.” You roll your eyes, but you follow him anyway, because the deal has officially begun. Operation: Get Soobin to Notice You is in motion. Your dignity is already halfway out the window. Heeseung’s car is just what you expect, black, sleek, a little too clean, and filled with the faint scent of cologne, mint gum, and chaos. You barely get your seatbelt clicked in before he revs the engine and peels out of the dorm parking lot like he's in a race you didn’t know you entered.
“Oh my god, slow down!” you yelp, clutching the side handle like it might keep your soul tethered to your body.
“Relax,” he says, one hand lazily gripping the wheel, the other already reaching for the radio. “You’re acting like I don’t drive this road every day.”
“You drive it like you’re being chased, Heeseung.” He only grins in response, eyes still on the road, the picture of reckless confidence. “Maybe I like living on the edge.”
You’re about to fire back another sarcastic quip when the car fills, suddenly, gloriously, with the unmistakable sound of Taylor Swift. Specifically: Cruel Summer. And not the background kind of playing. The volume is up. Way up. Your eyes immediately dart to Heeseung, whose mouth is already moving, quietly at first, almost unconsciously, as he taps the steering wheel to the beat. “I’m drunk in the back of the car… and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar…” Your jaw drops slightly. Because he’s not just mouthing the words. He’s singing. And not in a “ha-ha this song is funny” way. In a felt that in his soul, this is on his heartbreak playlist, probably posted a breakup selfie to this in 2021 kind of way. You try. You really try to stifle the laugh bubbling in your throat. You press your lips together, you bite the inside of your cheek, you turn to the window in dramatic fashion. But it slips out anyway, a full, helpless giggle, light and sudden.
Heeseung cuts his eyes toward you, still softly singing, and raises a brow. “What’s so funny?”
You blink at him innocently. “You like Taylor Swift?” There’s a moment, a beautiful, brief, perfectly humiliating pause, where Heeseung seems to glitch. His mouth opens, then closes, then he looks back at the road like he’s searching for an exit from this conversation.
“I — well, I mean —” he clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “She’s… I mean, it’s just a good song, alright?”
Your laugh doubles, slipping out like sunlight through cracked blinds. “Cruel Summer, though?”
“She’s a lyrical genius,” he mutters, half-defensive, half-sincere. “That bridge? That’s literature.”
You raise your brows, lips twitching. “Quoting T-Swift now? Is this what my tutoring is doing to you?” Heeseung flips you off with absolutely no hesitation, but there’s no heat behind it. He’s laughing now too, eyes squinting as he turns into the mall parking lot with a slightly-too-aggressive swerve.
“Fuck off,” he grins. “You wish you had taste this good.” You hold up your hands in surrender, still giggling. “Okay, okay. I’m not judging.”
“You are judging,” he says, putting the car in park. “But I’ll allow it. Because you’re clearly not emotionally evolved enough to appreciate her catalog yet.”
“Oh my god. Shut up.”
“Nope. We’re listening to Lover next. You’ve brought this upon yourself.”
The mall greets you with its usual blend of too-loud pop music, screaming children, and the sweet, seductive scent of cinnamon pretzels. It’s packed with people, mothers pushing strollers, bored teenagers clinging to oversized shopping bags, couples holding hands like it’s an Olympic sport. You trail behind Heeseung, your feet already regretting your choice of shoes and your soul regretting this entire arrangement. “So what’s first?” you ask, trying not to bump into a mannequin dressed in denim overalls and heartbreak.
Heeseung doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps walking, purposeful, smug, like he’s on a mission from god. Then he abruptly turns left into a store that is suspiciously sleek and minimal. You blink. “Wait—this is…”
“An eyeglass store,” Heeseung finishes for you, already heading toward the back. “But more importantly, contact central.” You halt, crossing your arms. “Excuse me?”
“You’re getting contacts,” he says, matter-of-fact. “The glasses gotta go.”
You look genuinely scandalized. “Hey! I’ll have you know — I love my glasses.” He stops mid-step and slowly turns to face you, one brow arched so high it’s practically touching heaven. “Yes,” he says, voice dry. “Very librarian core. Sexy in a please return your books on time or I’ll gently scold you in a whisper kind of way.”
You roll your eyes so hard you practically see your ancestors. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are. Following me into Lens & Style like it’s the promised land.” You’re about to argue more, but the woman behind the counter greets you both with a professional smile, and suddenly you’re being ushered into a little fitting room with sterile lighting and a mirror that shows way too much. A few minutes later, you’re handed a trial pair of contacts and instructed, gently, but firmly, to put them in. It’s harder than it looks. “What do you mean I can’t blink? My entire personality is blinking under pressure!”
Outside the door, Heeseung snorts. “You’re being dramatic.”
“You’re being annoying,” you grumble, poking yourself in the eye again.
After a full five minutes of internal screaming, finger fumbling, and probably some divine intervention, you finally get them in. You blink a few times, adjusting. The world sharpens around the edges. For the first time in forever, you can actually see without the weight of frames perched on your nose. You step out slowly, unsure, blinking into the bright lights of the shop. Heeseung looks up from his phone, his gaze flicking to yours. And then — He freezes. His smirk falters for the briefest of seconds. You see it. You feel it.
“Huh,” he says, slower now. “They… actually look good.”
You raise a brow, tentative. “Yeah?” He shrugs, but there’s something unreadable in his expression now, something softer, quieter. “They make your eyes stand out more.” He pauses, then adds with zero fanfare: “You’ve got nice eyes.” It lands like a piano dropped from ten stories. Simple, direct, and impossible to ignore. You blink, stunned; not just by the words, but by the way he said them. Like it wasn’t a joke. Like he meant it. Before you can formulate an actual response, Heeseung clears his throat and looks away. “Alright, let’s go,” he says, already walking toward the exit. “You can thank me later when Soobin gets whiplash tonight.”
It takes you a beat to follow. Just one. But it’s enough to register that your cheeks are suddenly warm. That your stomach did a weird, traitorous flip. That you hate how a single compliment from Lee freaking Heeseung just turned your brain into a puddle. You push the thought aside and jog to catch up, voice light. “You know, for someone who thinks I look like a librarian, you sure stare a lot.”
He doesn’t look at you, but his mouth twitches into a grin. “You wish.” You do not dignify that with an answer. Mostly because your brain is still back at You’ve got nice eyes. And just like that, with one step out of the eyeglass store and into the fluorescent madness of the mall, the first layer of the old you is left behind.
You’ve barely had time to blink, or process the fact that you’re now navigating the mall with 20/20 vision and a slightly compromised emotional state, when Heeseung is dragging you again. His grip on your wrist is light, but determined, like he’s got an agenda and you’re just a reluctant passenger in the Heeseung Express. You stumble to keep up. “Where are we going now? I need emotional closure before the next attack on my personality.”
He doesn’t even turn around. “Hair.”
“Hair what?”
“Hair cut. Hair styling. Hair lesson. Hair magic. Come on, keep up.” You dig your heels into the tile floor and jerk your arm back. “Heeseung, wait — I did not agree to this. My hair is fine!”
He finally turns, a single amused brow arched in classic Heeseung fashion. “Fine,” he echoes flatly. “That’s the bar now? Fine?”
You cross your arms. “It’s my head.” He takes a step closer, voice dipping into that maddening blend of mockery and charm. He laughs — laughs, the audacity of him, and says, “Relax. It’s just a trim. Maybe some layers. She’s gonna show you how to actually style it too. You know, so it doesn’t look like you were electrocuted every morning before class.”
You gasp in betrayal. “I’m sorry?!”
“Respectfully,” he adds, as if that softens the blow, then gestures for you to follow. “Come on. She doesn’t bite.” You eye the interior of the salon like you’re being led to an altar, but against your better judgment, and possibly because you’re too tired to argue anymore, you follow him.
The girl waiting for you is already at her station, brushing her long, glossy black hair behind one ear. She’s tall, unfairly pretty, and wearing jeans that should be illegal. Her name tag reads “Yuri” in bubble-letter cursive. She sees Heeseung and her entire face lights up like a rom-com montage in reverse. “Heeseung!” she squeals, standing to give him a hug. It’s the kind of hug that lasts exactly one second too long to be casual. “You didn’t say you were coming in today!”
“I didn’t,” he says coolly, his hand barely grazing her back. “Brought a friend.”
You watch the interaction with narrowed eyes. It doesn’t take a genius, or even a whole brain cell, to figure out that these two have history. Whether it was a one-night stand, a few steamy study sessions, or something more dangerous like feelings, you’re not sure. But based on the way Yuri’s eyes immediately slide past you and lock on Heeseung like you’re the invisible girl in the background of her fantasy novel? Yeah. They’ve definitely seen each other naked.
“She’s gonna need a trim and a crash course in how not to commit hair crimes.” Heeseung says, throwing a smirk her way. You open your mouth to protest, again but suddenly Yuri’s hands are in your hair and you’re being guided toward a chair like it’s your fate and destiny. “Don’t worry,” she hums. “I’ll take care of her.”
“She’s fragile,” Heeseung calls after her with a smirk as he saunters toward the waiting bench. “Mentally and emotionally.”
“I will throw a brush at you!” you yell back as he flops onto the bench with his phone. Yuri laughs under her breath and begins to run her fingers through your hair. Her nails are long, her movements graceful, and despite your stubbornness, something about the way she works is oddly calming. For the next half hour, you sit there as she snips and styles and explains how to curl and blow out and not look like you just woke up five minutes ago.
“You’ve got good hair,” she says at one point, combing through a section with reverence. “You just don’t do anything with it.” You shrug in the mirror. “That’s kind of my thing.”
Yuri gets to work with practiced ease, fingers threading through your hair, sectioning, snipping. She hums to herself as she teaches you how to twist certain pieces, how to round-brush volume into your roots, how to flick the straightener just so to create an effortless bend. It’s overwhelming, but oddly empowering. Like you’re being handed the controls to your own spaceship. And somewhere beneath all the bitchy undertones, Yuri’s… actually pretty good at this. You glance toward the waiting bench. Heeseung is slouched with his legs sprawled out, scrolling on his phone like he’s not the reason this spiral of makeovers and feelings is happening at all. Every few minutes he glances up; quick, unassuming, but you catch him watching.
Finally, Yuri steps back. “Alright,” she says, tugging off the cape with a flourish. “Moment of truth.” You turn slowly toward the mirror. And okay, fine. You look… kind of amazing. Your hair isn’t drastically different, just sleeker. Softer around the edges. Effortlessly polished in that “I woke up like this but with money and a personal stylist” kind of way. It frames your face, brings out your eyes, makes you look like someone who chose to be seen instead of hiding behind glass and sarcasm. You stand, still a little dazed, and make your way over to Heeseung. He looks up just as you reach him, and something flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything right away.
But then — He grins. That slow, crooked, effortlessly smug grin. “She’s a miracle worker,” he says to Yuri, standing and pulling out his wallet. “Put it on my card.”
Yuri takes it with a wink. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks, Yuri. I’ll call you.” He says, with the offer a wink in her direction.
She swoons. “You better.”
Once you’re outside, you finally say it, because someone has to. “You’re not going to call her.”
“Nope,” he replies, the ‘p’ popping off his lips like punctuation.
You shake your head in disbelief. “You are such a menace.”
“I prefer charming rascal,” he says, holding the door open for you like a true gentleman-shaped disaster. “Besides, she’s into guys who ghost her. Keeps the fantasy alive.”
You groan. “You’re actually insane.” He only shrugs, hands in his pockets, strolling beside you with the ease of someone who has never questioned his place in the world.
The moment your feet hit the tile floor of the clothing store, you know this is going to be a disaster. The air is thick with overpriced perfume and the walls are lined with mannequins posed like they’re judging you. Bright lights buzz overhead, harsh and clinical, and the racks seem to stretch into infinity, each one more chaotic than the last. There are sequin jackets tangled with pastel blouses, jeans with more holes than fabric, and crop tops that look like they were designed for dolls, not human beings. You glance around, disoriented. “There is… absolutely nothing here I’d wear.”
Heeseung, of course, looks completely in his element. He’s already moving through the racks like a man on a mission, pulling shirts and skirts and things that glitter ominously. “That’s the point,” he says over his shoulder, tossing a fringed jacket onto the growing pile in his arms. “You’re not supposed to wear what you’d wear. We’re evolving.”
“Into what? A disco ball?”
“No,” he replies seriously, “into the kind of girl Soobin stares at across the room and forgets how to blink.” You roll your eyes and reach for a flannel shirt, your comfort zone. Heeseung is there in half a second, gently slapping your hand away. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
“But—”
He points toward the dressing room. “Try these first. And don’t come out until you’ve mentally committed to the bit.” You sigh, arms loaded with fabrics you didn’t even know existed. The dressing room is small and slightly claustrophobic, and the first outfit you try on feels like something a pop star would wear to confuse the paparazzi. You step out hesitantly, tugging at the edges of the bright green top that’s two sizes too tight. Heeseung blinks.
Then he bursts out laughing. “You look like a glow stick in crisis.”
You snort, your face burning. “Okay, rude.” The next outfit is worse: a ruffled floral monstrosity that looks like it belongs in an 1800s romance novel, if that novel had a comedic twist.
Heeseung cackles. “You’re one bonnet away from becoming Pride and Prejudice’s chaotic cousin.” You both descend into full-blown laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water. It's ridiculous, how quickly the walls fall between you when you're in this bubble of absurdity, trying on outfits and exchanging insults like secrets. He calls you a fashion war crime. You call him a menace with too much confidence. He claims he’s got the eye of a stylist. You tell him that eye is clearly blind. But somewhere along the way, the laughter shifts. It softens. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, he starts watching you differently.
You don’t notice it at first, not until you slip into the last dress. It’s simple. No sequins, no plunging neckline, no look-at-me theatrics. Just soft black silk that clings gently to your frame, the neckline a graceful square that highlights your collarbones, the hem brushing just above your knees. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, surprised. It’s not flashy. It’s not dramatic. But it feels like you, the version of you that’s always been hiding underneath. You take a breath, then step out of the dressing room.
Heeseung is on the bench, scrolling through his phone, completely unprepared. He glances up, probably ready with another quip, but the second he sees you, he stops. His phone lowers slowly in his hand. His mouth parts. And he just… stares. For the first time since this entire makeover madness began, Lee Heeseung is speechless. You shift awkwardly under his gaze, tugging at the hem of the dress. “Is it—do I look weird? Be honest.” He doesn’t answer.
You take a hesitant step forward, heart thudding. “Heeseung?”
He blinks, like you pulled him from a dream, and then, because he’s Heeseung, he smirks and shrugs. “That’ll do for tonight, I suppose.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, but the flush on your cheeks betrays you. “Wow. High praise. I’m overwhelmed.” He grins, leaning back and resting one arm behind his head. “Don’t let it get to your head. We’re going for hot, not heart attack-inducing.”
You disappear back into the dressing room before he can see the stupid smile tugging at your lips. Your heart feels like it’s doing somersaults, and not because of Soobin. You shake the thought from your head, firmly, stubbornly, and change back into your jeans and hoodie. A few minutes later, you’re at the register, watching the cashier ring up the pile of clothes that feel like pieces of someone new. Someone a little braver. A little shinier. A little less invisible. Heeseung stands beside you, smug and satisfied, like he just built you in a lab.
The cashier announces the total, and before you can even reach for your wallet, Heeseung slides his card across the counter. “On me.”
Your head snaps toward him. “Heeseung, what?”
He just winks. “Don’t worry. I’ll bill you in character development. The cashier bags the clothes, and you step back into the mall with your arms full of potential and your brain full of questions.
After the last store spits you out, bags in hand, Heeseung’s wallet lighter, your soul slightly transformed, Heeseung glances at the clock on his phone and says, “Okay. Next stop: food court. I need carbs before I collapse.”
You blink at him, momentarily stunned. “You eat pizza like the rest of us?”
He shoots you a look. “ I don’t just eat pizza. I inhale it. Come on.” Your stomach growls before your feet can move, and suddenly you realize that in all the chaos, makeup, mirrors, the emotionally unsettling event of someone finding you attractive, you forgot to eat. Now that he’s mentioned it, you’re starving. Practically feral. You follow him past vendors and kiosks, the scent of fried food and cinnamon sugar swirling through the air. The food court is loud and crowded, but there’s something strangely comforting about it, the normalcy of it, the fluorescent lights and orange booths, the chatter of families and teenagers and friends grabbing greasy comfort.
Heeseung gets in line beside you at the pizza place, his arms still casually swinging at his sides like this is just another day. “What’s your poison?”
You glance at the menu. “Uh… pepperoni. And a soda.” He nods and orders for you both, without asking, like he’s already memorized the way you talk, the things you like. You’re about to protest, but then he’s paying with that same black card he flashed earlier and nudging you toward a table like it’s no big deal. You settle into a booth across from him, the tray between you bearing two steaming slices and a pair of plastic cups filled to the brim with soda. The first bite is practically a religious experience, greasy, cheesy, absolutely glorious.
Heeseung watches you with mild amusement. “You eat like you’ve just returned from war.”
“I have,” you say, voice muffled around a bite. “Battlefield: retail.”
He snorts and takes a sip of his drink. Then, after a pause, his expression shifts. “So… have you ever actually spoken to Soobin?”
You freeze mid-bite, the cheese stretching between your lips and the slice. You blink. “Define spoken.”
He raises a brow. “Words. Sentences. Preferably involving two-way communication.”
You swallow and clear your throat. “I, uh, once held the computer lab door open for him.” He’s already laughing. You roll your eyes, cheeks flaming. “He said thank you!”
Heeseung grins, eyes crinkling. “Wow. A whole conversation. Do you guys have an anniversary for that?”
You smack his arm lightly across the table. “Shut up.”
He rubs the spot like you wounded him. “Abuse. I’m calling my lawyer.” You giggle despite yourself, hiding it behind your soda. There’s something so stupidly easy about sitting here with him. You forget you’re supposed to be awkward and invisible. You forget that you’re the DUF. You’re just… you. Which is why the next thing he says nearly gives you whiplash. “Alright,” he declares, brushing crumbs off his hands. “I dare you to flirt with that guy and get his number.”
You nearly choke on your drink. “Excuse me?” He gestures with a nod to a guy sitting alone across the food court, mid-twenties, dark hair, nose in his phone, clearly minding his own business.
“No way,” you say immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on. This is training. You want Soobin, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then get off the bench and into the game.”
You narrow your eyes. “Easy for you to say. You flirt like it’s breathing.”
He smirks. “Because it is.”
And then — he stands up. Before you can even form a sentence, Heeseung is already strolling toward a girl seated at a table nearby, casual and charming, like this is something he does between errands. You watch, jaw slack, as he leans in and says something that makes her smile, tilt her head, laugh. He gestures to his phone, and she takes it without hesitation, tapping her number in and handing it back with a wink. Heeseung returns, smug as a cat, holding his phone out to you like a trophy. “See?” he says, displaying the fresh new contact with flourish. “Easy peasy.”
You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “I hate you.”
He just shrugs. “Hate me from over there,” he says, pointing again at the guy with the phone. “Go on. Play dumb, but not that dumb. Guys love that shit.”
“I am dumb,” you hiss. “There is no playing.”
“Perfect. Just be your beautiful, awkward self.” Muttering every curse you know, you stand up and start toward the guy. It’s awful. You clear your throat. He doesn’t look up.
You fidget, then say, “Hi!”
He blinks, surprised. “Um. Hi.”
You force a smile. “I like your… phone.” He blinks again. You want to die. “I mean — I like your case! It’s… very rectangular. Classic. Minimalist.”
He looks mildly alarmed. “Thanks?” You attempt a laugh that comes out sounding like a cough. “Sooo, um, are you… single?”
His eyes dart nervously around. “I… I have a boyfriend.”
“OH!” you blurt. “Oh, my bad. I totally support that. I’m not… you know. Homophobic. Or anything.” You want to crawl into a vent and disappear. He offers a small, polite smile. “Have a good day.” And he’s gone, up and out, food tray abandoned. You turn slowly, walking back to the table where Heeseung is laughing so hard he’s red in the face, wheezing into his pizza slice like it’s keeping him alive.
You slump into the seat. “That was a hate crime.”
“That,” he says between snorts, “was the best thing I’ve ever seen. Ever.”
You glare at him. “I hope your soda spills on your lap.” Still grinning, he slides your tray toward you and raises his cup. “To improvement.” You clink your soda against his without smiling. But your heart’s laughing anyway.
When Heeseung pulls up to your dorm, it’s with a dramatic screech of tires and the kind of recklessly confident parking job that screams I’ve never paid a meter in my life. He leans over the center console, smirking at you as you gather your bags of shopping and your still-wobbly self-esteem from the floor of his car. “Alright,” he says, eyes scanning the bags. “You have everything you need to socially destroy the night.”
You roll your eyes. “Thanks, fairy godmother.”
He winks. “I’m hotter than a fairy godmother. And taller.” You snort, slamming the car door behind you and flipping him off over your shoulder. He cackles, the sound following you up the stairs of your dorm and into the echoing silence of your room. Once you’re inside, the weight of the next few hours settles in your stomach like a boulder. You place the shopping bags carefully on your bed, smoothing the edges of the tissue paper like they might calm your nerves. Heeseung said he’d be back at 9 p.m. sharp to pick you up, which gives you a little over three hours to get ready. Three hours to transform. Three hours to convince yourself that you’re not the DUF anymore.
You spend the first half-hour just staring at yourself in the mirror. No makeup, hair messy, hoodie baggy and beloved. You look… like you. Regular. Quiet. Familiar.
You text Heeseung:
“Okay so do I have to wear the mini skirt???”
His reply is instant. “Yes. And send pics. I’m the boss, remember?” You grumble, but slip into the skirt anyway and pair it with a halter top he claimed made your arms look “objectively illegal.” You take a mirror selfie, looking reluctant, and send it off. Within seconds, he replies: “Too ‘I work at a bar and hate my life.’”
You snort, throw the top across the room, and try again. Next outfit: jeans and a crop top. You pose. Click. Send “Cute. But it’s giving ‘we’re just friends.’” You flip him off through text “Try the dress. You know the one.”
You hesitate. That dress. The black silk one, the one that made his words stutter and his eyes flicker. The one that didn’t feel like you were trying to be anyone else, just a bolder version of yourself. You pull it out carefully, fingers gliding across the fabric like it might whisper back. Slowly, you slip it on. It fits like it did in the store. Soft, secure, like a secret. You stare at yourself in the mirror, and for a second… you see it. You see her. The girl who could walk into a party and turn heads. The girl who could maybe, just maybe, make Soobin notice. You send the picture.
Heeseung replies: “Jesus.” Then, seconds later: “That’s the one.”
No teasing. No jokes. Just those three words that knock your heart off-balance. You set your phone down, exhale slowly. Then, the routine begins. You do your makeup with trembling hands, lashes curled, liner precise, lips tinted a soft rose. Your hair falls the way Yuri taught you, soft waves that frame your face and catch the light. You spray perfume on your wrists, your collarbones, the backs of your knees. A whisper of vanilla and hope. You put on your jewelry, simple earrings, the necklace that sits perfectly in the hollow of your throat. You take one last look in the mirror. You don’t recognize her, but you like her.
Then, your phone rings. The name “Heeseung 💀” flashes on the screen. You answer, voice caught somewhere between a smile and a scream. “Hello?”
“Hey,” he says, casual and breezy like this isn’t the first time he’s hearing your voice dressed like this. “I’m outside.” Your stomach flips.
You grab your bag, give yourself one more desperate glance in the mirror, and whisper to your reflection, “Don’t trip. Don’t choke. Don’t die.” Then you’re out the door, the echo of your footsteps ringing down the hall, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.
The car is sleek and stupidly shiny, purring low like it knows it’s hot. You spot it the moment you step outside your dorm building, standing at the edge of the sidewalk like you’re on the brink of a red carpet. And standing against it, leaning like he was born to be the poster child for a Calvin Klein fragrance, is Heeseung. He looks up as you approach, and even in the dim lighting of campus streetlamps, his smile flickers into something that nearly knocks you over. He’s wearing all black, ripped jeans, a bomber jacket, his signature messy hair that probably took way too long to make look that effortless. You don’t want to say he looks good, because that feels too generous. He looks... unfair. Rude. And worse? He knows it. He gives you a once-over, slow and obvious. “Damn,” he says, like he’s complimenting you and mocking you in the same breath. “You clean up alright.”
You roll your eyes, clutching your purse a little tighter. “You’re not so bad yourself. For a menace.”
He smirks and pops open the passenger door for you with an exaggerated flourish. “M’lady.” You roll your eyes again, but your heart skips a beat anyway as you slide into the seat, the cool leather against your thighs making you realize just how very real this is. You’re on your way to the party. With Lee Heeseung. In a black silk dress and mascara that took you 45 minutes to get right. Breathe. The drive is short, just a few blocks away in one of those off-campus houses you’ve only ever seen through the haze of Instagram stories and hearsay. But your nerves are anything but short. They’ve curled into your stomach, wound tight around your ribs, pressed against the back of your throat. You grip the strap of your bag like it’s a lifeline.
You’ve been to parties before, sure. But never without Dani and Sakura. Without their protective, familiar presence to anchor you in the sea of bodies and music and beer breath. Without their shared eye-rolls and whispered commentary and midnight giggles on the walk home. And now… now you don’t even know if they’ll be there. Scratch that. You know they will. You just don’t want to see them. Not tonight. Not when you're dressed like this. Not when you're trying so hard to become someone new.
You barely realize the car’s stopped until Heeseung throws it into park. You’re frozen, staring out the window at the glittering string lights draped across the porch, the thump of bass already vibrating through the concrete. There are people everywhere, laughing, shouting, spilling out onto the lawn like they’ve never had a quiet thought in their lives. You’re going to puke. Heeseung glances over, and; because he’s Heeseung, he notices immediately. “You good?” he asks, casual but careful. “You look like you’re about to get drafted into war.”
You force a laugh, but it’s brittle. “I’m fine.”
“Liar.” You glance at him, cheeks hot. “Okay, I’m just… nervous.”
He nods like he gets it, and maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t. But his voice is soft when he says, “Hey. Look at me.” You do. “Everything’s gonna be cool,” he says, with a cocky grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You look insane, by the way. Like, criminal levels of hot. If Soobin doesn’t fold tonight, he’s legally blind.”
That earns a weak laugh from you, and he nudges your shoulder gently. “Just remember who got you here when you’re famous on campus by Monday.”
You snort. “You mean when they put me in GroupMe memes for tripping over my heels and knocking over a keg?”
Heeseung grins. “Even better. Instant legend status.” You breathe out, shaky but a little more stable now. “Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s do this.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He laughs, throwing open the door. “That’s the spirit.”
You step out onto the curb, your heels clicking against the pavement like you’re a contestant on America’s Next Nervous Breakdown. But still, you stand up straighter. Shoulders back. Head high. You smooth the hem of your dress and tell yourself this is what you came here for. To show them. To show yourself. Heeseung falls into step beside you, his hand brushing against yours, not quite touching, but close enough to anchor you. Together, you walk toward the house, the music growing louder with every step. Somewhere behind the front door, the party waits. Soobin waits. They might be waiting too. But for now; it’s just you. And Heeseung. And the version of you that’s ready to finally be seen.
The moment the front door swings open, you’re hit with a wall of noise and heat, thick and heady like you’ve just stepped into the center of a beating heart. The bass is thudding through the floorboards, lights pulsing with every drop of the music, and bodies are everywhere, moving, swaying, tangled up in each other, laughter and shouting and the occasional high-pitched squeal blending together like some chaotic symphony of college nightlife. It’s not your first party, not technically, but it’s your first this kind of party, this kind of entrance. Not as a background extra or the girl carrying everyone’s phones. No hoodie, no glasses, no fading into the wallpaper.
Tonight, you’re a main character. And Heeseung is your entrance music. He walks in first, easy and smooth, like the world shifts to make room for him. His presence is magnetic, and it pulls eyes toward the doorway like gravity. The second you step through behind him, heels tapping softly, dress swishing around your thighs like smoke, there’s a ripple. You feel it. Heads turning. Conversations pausing. The hush of recognition so subtle you might miss it, if your nerves weren’t already on fire.
You try not to look around too much. You try to look confident. Poised. Detached, even. You tilt your chin up like you belong, even though your hands are clammy and your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics. You’re hyper-aware of everything: the way the strap of your dress slides against your shoulder, the way your perfume clings to the heat of your skin, the soft creak of your heels on the hardwood floor. You catch flashes of recognition from familiar faces, faces that used to glance right through you, now blinking, staring, mouths parted, whispering behind their solo cups. And you? You just keep walking. Heeseung’s friends spot him in the far corner of the room, near a low couch littered with bags of chips and someone’s half-eaten box of pizza. The greetings are instant, shoulder claps, finger guns, head nods and booming “Yo!”s that feel like something out of a movie. Sunghoon practically lunges forward, clapping Heeseung on the back like he’s just returned from war. Beomgyu pulls him into one of those half-hugs that somehow involve three back slaps and an awkward shoulder bump. Jay and Jake both pipe up at once about someone from class asking for him earlier, their voices fighting over the music. And for a second, you’re forgotten.
You stand a little off to the side, hands awkwardly clasped in front of you, smile hovering uncertainly on your lips. You’re not mad, they haven’t seen each other in a bit, and the reunion energy is real, but the awkward ache settles in your chest anyway, that old too-familiar feeling of being adjacent to the fun but not quite in it. Until Sunghoon finally turns toward you, and freezes. His eyebrows shoot up so far they practically disappear into his hairline. His eyes flick over you, slow and not particularly subtle, dragging from the hem of your dress to the curve of your collarbone to your lips like he’s trying to solve a riddle with his eyeballs. “Uh… who’s this?”
Beomgyu leans in, squinting in your direction like he’s staring directly into the sun. “Wait. Are you new? Like, transfer student new? Heeseung, bro, you didn’t say you were bringing someone.” Heeseung, who is somehow already sipping a drink he didn’t have two seconds ago, sighs and smacks Beomgyu lightly on the back of the head.
“She’s not new,” Heeseung says casually. “You guys know her.”
Jay looks genuinely confused. “We do?”
ake leans sideways to get a better look at you. “Hold on…” Heeseung glances at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, with perfect comedic timing and just enough pride to make your knees wobble, he says your name like it was obvious. To them, it was not and for some reason that twisted you up inside.
There is a silence. Then, chaos. “NO FREAKING WAY.” Sunghoon’s voice actually cracks. “Shut up. Shut UP.” Beomgyu’s mouth falls open. “You’re lying. This is not hoodie-and-sweatpants Y/N. This is, like — TikTok viral-level hot girl Y/N. You’re telling me it’s the same person?” You’re half-laughing, half-dying inside. You glance away, cheeks burning, unsure what to do with your hands or your face or your entire existence. This wasn’t supposed to feel like a scene from a teen makeover movie, but, well. Here you are.
“She’s always looked like this,” Heeseung says coolly, giving them a look that says don’t push it. “You just never paid attention.” The group stumbles over themselves with backpedaling compliments, Sunghoon muttering something about your eyes, Jake saying you look “like a star,” and Beomgyu still acting like he just saw a unicorn. You’re saved from having to respond by Heeseung, who, clearly reading your overwhelmed expression, tosses out casually, “You guys seen Soobin?”
Jay shakes his head. “Not yet. Might be outside?” Heeseung nods, and without another word, he reaches down and grabs your hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Either way, the contact is sudden and warm and firm, and you don’t even think, you just let him pull you through the crowd, dodging plastic cups and tangled limbs as he weaves toward the kitchen. Your hand stays in his the whole way. You don’t ask why. You don’t let yourself hope. When you reach the drink table, he finally lets go, only to pour you something in a red cup and hand it to you like a bartender with a mission.
“You alive?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.
You take the cup, roll your eyes, and murmur, “Barely.”
Heeseung clinks his cup against yours, grin widening. “You’re killing it.”
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, voice just loud enough to cut through the bass thumping behind you. It’s gentler than you expect, free of teasing or sarcasm.
You nod automatically. “Yeah, I’m—”
“Y/N?!” The sound of your name rips through the music like a siren. You freeze. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. You’d know those voices anywhere. They’re carved into your memory, every syllable, every cadence, familiar and aching in the way only ex-best friends can be. Still, you turn.
Dani and Sakura are standing there, half in disbelief, half in judgment. Their eyes rake down your body, from the sleek dress hugging your frame to the careful curls in your hair. Their mouths are parted like they can’t decide whether to gasp or laugh. Sakura tilts her head. “What… are you doing here?”
Dani crosses her arms. “And with him?”
You glance back at Heeseung for half a second, who hasn’t said a word yet, just watching them with a slight furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips. You force a breath out of your nose and turn back to the girls, your grip tightening around your drink. You let out a laugh. It’s sharp and hollow and lined with every quiet insult they’ve ever made sound like a joke. “What?” you say, voice laced in dry amusement. “Surprised someone like Heeseung would want to hang out with me?” They flinch, barely, but you catch it. Dani opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You don’t wait.
You take a step closer, letting your voice drop, cold and brittle like breaking glass. “Why do you guys even care? Huh? You didn’t seem to care when you were calling me the DUF behind my back.”
Sakura’s expression twists. “We never—”
“This isn’t you, Y/N,” Dani cuts in, voice brittle. “The dress. The makeup. Hanging out with Heeseung? This isn’t who you are.” Your jaw clenches. The words burn, not because they’re true, but because they’re not. Because they’re laced with that same tired condescension, the same kind of backhanded care that always kept you two steps behind, like they wanted you close but never quite caught up. But before you can speak, a sudden warmth settles across your shoulders. Heeseung. His arm slips over you with ease, casual but claiming, protective but not possessive. His fingers brush the edge of your shoulder, and his voice is laced with syrupy sarcasm.
“We’d love to stay and chit-chat,” he drawls, flashing the girls a lazy grin, “but we’ve got somewhere to be.” And just like that, he doesn’t give them another second. He tugs you away gently, steering you through the party with surprising precision, hand resting firmly on your upper back as he guides you toward the back of the house. You don’t look back. You don’t want to see their faces. You’re too stunned, too angry, too relieved. Your heart is racing and your pulse is pounding and your vision is a little too bright. He opens the back door, and the cooler night air hits you like a blessing. You step out onto the porch, the noise of the party muffled behind the closed door. Fairy lights are strung across the railing, casting a soft gold glow over the wooden planks and the few potted plants half-dead in their corners. It’s quieter here. Private.
You suck in a breath and finally speak. “Thank you.”
Heeseung leans against the porch railing, glancing sideways at you. “For what?”
You give him a look. “For that. For getting me out of there.”
He shrugs, eyes flicking away. “It’s no big deal.”
You watch him for a moment, heart still unsteady. “It is, though.” He finally meets your gaze again, and for a moment, the cocky smile slips away. His eyes are dark and unreadable, but his voice is soft when he says, “They don’t get to make you feel like that. No one does.” You feel something twist in your chest. Something warm. Something dangerous. For a second, the two of you just… stand there. The silence stretches out, thick and humming with unspoken things. Heeseung’s hand is still in his pocket, but his shoulder is just barely touching yours now. Not quite close enough to be a statement, but close enough to feel like a promise.
The quiet of the back porch doesn’t last long. It breaks like glass, sharp and immediate, at the sound of stilettos clacking against the wood. You feel the shift before you see it. A cool draft. A wrongness. And then, the syrupy sweet voice that makes your spine stiffen and your heart drop. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Wonyoung stood there, draped in a skin-tight red dress that clings like a threat, hair curled into perfect waves, and lips painted a venomous shade of cherry. She walks like the world’s her stage, and you’re just an extra lucky to be in the background. Her smile is the kind that cuts, sharp and gleaming, like she knows something you don’t. Your heart sinks because you remember. You remember her words last time: “Stay away from Heeseung.” You didn’t listen. Maybe you thought she wouldn’t notice. Maybe a part of you hoped she didn’t mean it. But she’s here now, and she’s looking at you like a hunter cornering something helpless. Heeseung straightens beside you, his entire body going taut like a wire pulled too tight. “What do you want, Wonyoung?” he says, voice clipped.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she saunters closer and, without warning, nudges you aside with the ease of someone who’s always taken up too much space. Her hand slides onto Heeseung’s shoulder like she owns it, like she’s done it a thousand times before. But Heeseung jerks away instantly, his jaw clenching as he shrugs her off like her touch burned. Still, Wonyoung smiles. “Hee… I miss you.” He doesn’t answer. Not at first. He just glances at you. And the look in his eyes, God, it’s something between apology and warning and please just trust me. But you don’t know how to read it, not really. Not when your stomach is twisting in knots and your voice is caught in your throat.
“Hey, Wonyoung…” you manage, your tone so high and squeaky you want to slap yourself. Wonyoung turns, slow as a villain in a teen drama, and actually groans, like your existence is somehow the inconvenience of the century. She eyes you up and down with obvious disdain before deadpanning, “What do you want?”
You blink, caught off guard. “Uh—I was just—” But she’s already looking away, like you don’t matter. Like you’re nothing more than a gnat buzzing in her ear. It’s humiliating. It’s infuriating. But you don’t say anything. You just shrink a little smaller.
She turns back to Heeseung, pressing forward again like she hasn’t just made you feel two inches tall. “We’re playing spin the bottle,” she says brightly, batting her lashes. “Wanna join?”
Heeseung lets out a dry laugh. “What are we, high schoolers?” His voice is full of disbelief. “Isn’t that a kids game?”
Wonyoung just shrugs, undeterred. “Still works.”
Before he can argue again, she latches her fingers around his wrist and tugs. You don’t know if it’s the surprise or the fact that he’s clearly outnumbered, but he lets her drag him halfway across the porch. You don’t even realize you’re following until you’re inside again, the noise swallowing you whole. The crowd’s shifted, coalescing into a rough circle on the living room floor. The center of attention now: an empty bottle spinning slowly on the wood, the air buzzing with half-drunken laughter and anticipation. You spot Dani and Sakura immediately. They’re sitting between Jake and Sunghoon, giggling, whispering, stealing glances at you. But there’s something different now. Not amusement. Not judgment. Pity. It glimmers on their faces like a sheen of sweat, and it makes something cold spark in your chest. You hate it. You’d rather be ignored than pitied. You tear your gaze away.
“Finally you’re here! Join us!” Wonyoung’s voice rings out, shrill and triumphant. Soobin. He was here, oh god. Your heart lurches at the sight of him. He’s dressed in a white tee and a leather jacket, hair falling perfectly across his forehead, the picture of cool detachment. He smiles slightly as he joins the circle, settling next to Beomgyu without much fanfare. He hasn’t even seen you yet. But suddenly the air in the room is thinner. The lights are harsher. Every breath feels like an effort. This is what you came for, isn’t it? The moment you’ve been chasing. The whole reason you let Heeseung drag you to the mall, to the salon, through an identity transformation that’s still barely settled on your shoulders. You should be thrilled. But instead, all you can feel is this strange, gnawing pressure. You glance at Heeseung, who’s already watching Soobin, something unreadable flickering across his features. Then his gaze shifts to you. There’s tension there. Tight. Heavy. Loaded. And it hits you: the game has started. And you’re no longer sure whose rules you’re playing by.
You watch as people had their turns with the bottle, watching as the glass spun round and round giving someone their fate for the night and finally after countless spins — it was your turn. The bottle spun with a nervous flick of your fingers, clinking softly against the scratched wood floor as it twirled, and you felt your stomach turn with it. Around you, drunken laughter swirled like smoke, the heat of the crowded living room pressing in from all sides. Someone let out a whistle, another person shouted encouragement, and Wonyoung was watching you with narrowed eyes, her arms crossed like she was waiting for you to fall flat on your face. But none of that mattered right now. None of it mattered because that damned bottle had chosen a direction, and it was pointing straight at Soobin. You could barely breathe.
Soobin tilted his head, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a soft, almost apologetic smile, the kind that made your lungs feel like they were filled with helium. His gaze was kind, nonjudgmental. Gentle, even. As if to say “It’s okay if you say no. I won’t be mad.” And God, did that make it worse. Because now the ball was in your court. Your palms were sweating. Your heart pounded so loudly you couldn’t hear the party anymore. Just the roar of blood in your ears. You’d dreamed of this. Fantasized about this exact moment for years. The idea of kissing Soobin had always seemed like something that belonged to a different version of you, a cooler, prettier, worthier version. And yet here you were. Inches from it. One lean forward and you'd touch lips. And still, panic dug into you like claws.
Your mind spiraled in frantic loops. What if I mess it up? What if I bump noses with him? What if my breath smells like the pizza from earlier? What if my lipstick smudges? What if I suck at it and he tells everyone? And more than anything; do I even want my first kiss to be like this? In front of Wonyoung, Dani, Sakura, and twenty semi-drunk strangers? But before you could finish the spiral, Heeseung’s hand gently curled around your wrist. His fingers were warm, grounding. You turned your head slightly, and he leaned in, his voice brushing against the shell of your ear, low and sincere. “You don’t have to do this,” he murmured. “We can leave. Right now.”
You paused. That offer, so casual, so safe, it nearly undid you. You looked at him, and for a brief second the noise of the party dropped away. Just Heeseung and his eyes, steady and unreadable. Ready to walk you out of this chaos with zero judgment. But then your gaze flicked across the circle and found Wonyoung, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but unmistakably sharp. You couldn’t back down. Not now. Not in front of her. “I’m fine,” you whispered, offering Heeseung the tiniest smile, even if it felt wobbly and weak. “I got this.” Reluctantly, he let your wrist go. And so, heart pounding like a drumline, you leaned in. Soobin did too.
Your faces were so close now you could feel the warmth of his breath, smell the faint citrus of his cologne. You were trying not to close your eyes too soon, but you didn’t know the rules. Were there rules? Were you supposed to count to three? Tilt your head? Your brain screamed at you to stop, to run, to — “COPS!” The word cracked through the house like a gunshot.
In an instant, the entire room exploded. Screams. Shouting. Feet slamming against hardwood. Red solo cups hitting the floor and rolling away. Someone knocked over a lamp, plunging half the room into shadow. The panic was immediate and real, like someone had hit a switch that turned this party into a stampede. You didn’t even get a second to blink before Heeseung was yanking you to your feet. “Come on!” he yelled, wrapping his fingers around yours and hauling you after him through the chaos.
You barely had time to register what was happening before you were stumbling through the living room, dodging people vaulting over furniture and crawling through open windows. The entire party had turned feral. Shouting echoed off the walls, red and blue lights flickered from the front yard, and someone shouted something about hiding in the attic. Heeseung didn’t slow. His hand tightened on yours as he dragged you through the kitchen, shouldering past people, and out the back door. The backyard was even more chaotic. Students were climbing fences, squeezing through hedges, and ducking behind trash cans. You stared at the wooden fence in front of you, at least six feet high, and made a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp.
“You want me to jump that?” you cried.
“Unless you want your mugshot posted in tomorrow’s student newsletter — yes!” With an ungraceful huff, you hiked up your dress and clambered over the fence, scraping your knee on the way down and landing hard in someone’s overgrown backyard. Heeseung followed right after, barely phased, landing beside you with an effortless thud.
“This way!” so you ran. Breath tearing out of your lungs, dress flapping around your legs, adrenaline pounding through your veins, you ran like your life depended on it. You didn’t stop until Heeseung’s car was in view, parked two blocks down. You practically dove into the passenger seat as he slid behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. He turned the key, the engine roared to life, and the tires screamed against the pavement as he peeled off into the street like a getaway driver in a movie.
You didn’t even speak for the first few seconds, just sat there panting, adrenaline still racing through your bloodstream, chest heaving as the lights and shouting faded behind you. Then, you looked at each other. And burst out laughing. Full, uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. The kind that curled your stomach and left tears in your eyes. You laughed until your lungs hurt. Heeseung clutched the steering wheel with one hand, his other wiping tears from his face. “I almost kissed Soobin,” you gasped out between wheezes.
“And then almost got arrested,” he choked out. “Honestly? 10/10 night.”
You threw your head back, still laughing. “That was insane.”
He grinned at you, cheeks flushed, hair a mess from the mad dash. “You’re kinda fun when you’re not busy hating me, you know that?”
You smiled, your heart slowing in your chest. Outside, the streets blurred past your window. Inside, something was starting to settle. Shift. Change. “I don’t hate you.” You whisper. You were supposed to kiss Soobin tonight. Instead… you ran away with Heeseung. The laughter between you and Heeseung had started to quiet, settling into the thick silence that sometimes follows a shared moment, like the tide pulling back after a crash of waves. It lingered in the air, warm and easy, the kind of laughter that left your chest aching in the best way. You wiped at the corners of your eyes, breath still uneven from giggling so hard, and turned to look at Heeseung.
He was already watching you. His eyes sparkled under the dim glow of the car’s interior lights, lips curled into a half-smile, like he was still amused by the chaos you both narrowly escaped. Then, he tilted his head, that boyish grin deepening. “You were really going to kiss Soobin just now,” he said, like he still couldn’t believe it. You tried to smile back, to laugh it off, but something in your chest twisted unexpectedly. The corners of your mouth dipped, your gaze fell to your lap, and your fingers began nervously toying with your fingers.
Heeseung noticed immediately. The smile on his face slipped, eyes narrowing just slightly—not in annoyance, but concern. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning just a bit closer. “What’s wrong? I thought this is what you wanted?” You swallowed. The words caught in your throat, all scrambled and fragile. You didn’t want to say it. You hadn’t said it out loud to anyone. It was too revealing, too… vulnerable. But something about Heeseung, the steadiness in his gaze, the quiet way he was looking at you now like you mattered, made you trust him in a way that startled you. So you said it.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” It came out softer than you intended. Barely above a whisper. But it landed between you with the weight of something unspoken for too long. Heeseung didn’t react right away. He didn’t laugh or make a teasing comment. Instead, he just looked at you. His eyes searched yours for something, you weren’t sure what, maybe the why of it, or maybe just the simple truth. But whatever it was, he found it, because after a moment, he nodded, his voice quiet and sincere. “I can teach you.”
You blinked. “What?”
He nodded again, slower this time. No smirk. No hint of mischief. Just quiet seriousness. “I can teach you,” he repeated, “so you’re not inexperienced when you finally get Soobin.” The words felt… strange. Like something cold and sharp and warm all at once. You weren’t sure what to say, your heart skipping beats like it couldn’t keep up. “You’d really do that?” you asked, voice barely audible.
Heeseung leaned back just enough to look at you fully. “Yeah,” he said. “If you want.” And you did. You didn’t know why. You didn’t know what it meant. But you wanted to. So you nodded. “Okay.” He leaned over the center console, his arm brushing against yours, and suddenly the space between you shrank to something small and intimate. You felt the electricity buzz in the air like static clinging to skin, your pulse racing louder than your thoughts.
You swallowed. “What if I’m bad at it?”
He smiled softly, not in a mocking way but like someone offering reassurance. “That’s why I’m teaching you,” he said. Then, his hand lifted, slow and steady, brushing your hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His touch was featherlight, the pad of his thumb just grazing your cheek. “You want to set the tone,” he murmured. “Don’t just dive right in.” You nodded, breath caught somewhere between your chest and lips, and then — He kissed you. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough or overwhelming. It was soft. Intentional. Like he was holding the moment between his hands and molding it into something gentle. His lips were warm, firm but cautious, and he kissed you like he was afraid to scare you off. Like you were something rare. Precious. Fragile.
Your eyes fluttered shut, your hand lifting without thinking to rest gently against his arm. You melted, leaned into him. The world slowed down. The roar in your head dulled to a soft hum. The nervous energy in your chest unwound, slowly replaced by a kind of comfort that made your skin hum. When he pulled away, it was only by inches. His forehead almost rested against yours. His breathing matched yours, shaky and a little uneven. His voice was barely a whisper. “Did you learn anything?”
You blinked at him, dazed, lips still tingling. “I —I think I need another lesson.” He grinned, something sparking behind his eyes, and then nodded. “I think so too.” The second kiss was different. Gone was the careful, tentative pace. This time, his mouth found yours with a hunger that startled you, like he’d been waiting for permission and now that he had it, he wasn’t going to waste a second. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. Your hands, unsure at first, found their way to his shoulders, gripping lightly as your lips moved against his. It was fire and silk and all-consuming. His mouth moved with confidence, coaxing you, guiding you, his kiss deeper now, filled with something unspoken. You kissed him back with everything you had, wanting, needing, trying to remember everything, to feel everything.
When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. The windows were fogged, your hearts thundering. He looked at you with wide eyes and a half-laugh in his voice. “Let’s get you back to the dorms before I forget this is supposed to be educational.” You blinked at him, flustered and floating somewhere between disbelief and bliss. You nodded, cheeks burning, and didn’t say a word.
The morning sun crept in through the slats of your blinds like a quiet promise, painting golden stripes across your sheets and the cluttered floor of your dorm. You stirred slowly, a little dazed, blinking against the light and the memory of last night that came flooding back all at once. Lee Heeseung kissed you. Correction: you kissed Lee Heeseung. Twice, you never thought you would see the day. Your cheeks burned as you sat up, the remnants of sleep falling off your body like petals, replaced with a rush of electricity that made you want to scream into your pillow. It wasn’t just that it was your first kiss, it was the way it happened. Soft. Gentle. Focused. Like he’d been waiting to kiss you and didn’t know it until the moment your lips touched. You padded across the dorm floor, slipping into your morning routine with a weird sort of buzz in your chest. Toothbrush. Face wash. Outfit. Breakfast bar you didn’t feel like eating. But everything felt brighter. Softer around the edges. You were still you, but something inside of you had shifted just a little to the left. Your phone buzzed.
[ heeseung ]
Studying tonight? Meet me at the campus cafe. 6pm sharp.
Your breath caught, and for the briefest second you just stared at the screen, heart kicking up a beat like it remembered the feeling of his mouth on yours.
[ You: ]
Is this a date or is Mr. Yoon threatening your scholarship again?
Three dots danced on your screen before his reply popped up:
[ heeseung ]
Can’t it be both? 😏
You let out a snort and shook your head, fingers tapping against the glass.
[ You ]
Fine. But I’m only coming for the lattes. And the pity.
[ Heeseung ]
You love me for my academic desperation.
The audacity of how quickly your fingers typed out “maybe I do” and how fast you deleted it made your heart skip. You settled on a safer:
[ You ]
6pm sharp. Don’t be late, loser.
He didn’t respond right away, and that was probably for the best. Your head was still spinning with thoughts you didn’t know what to do with. Because despite the fact that this whole arrangement started as a carefully crafted plan to get Soobin to notice you, Heeseung had crept under your skin in a way you hadn’t expected. You were supposed to tutor him, he was supposed to help you get a makeover and gain confidence. You were not supposed to like the way he looked at you. Or the way he laughed at your jokes, like they were the funniest thing he’d heard all day. Or the way he kissed you like kissing you was something he’d been waiting to do forever. And yet…You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts down as you threw your backpack over your shoulder. There wasn’t time to obsess. You had a class to get to and a very smug, stupidly attractive boy to study with tonight. Still, as you stepped out into the cool morning breeze, you caught yourself smiling. That soft, barely-there kind of smile that made your cheeks warm and your chest float.
The clock on the café wall ticked toward six with the dramatics of a heartbeat, each second heavier than the last. You stood outside the door for a moment longer than necessary, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. It was just a study session. Nothing more. Just like it had been every time you’d met with him to talk about literature, syntax, metaphor, only now, every word he spoke felt double-edged. Heeseung had kissed you. Twice. You had kissed him back. And now here you were, stepping into the soft glow of the campus café, with your heart tucked somewhere beneath your collarbone and trying desperately not to show itself. Heeseung was already there, lounging in the corner booth like it was made for him. One long leg stretched out in front of him, a cup of iced coffee sweating on the table beside a half-opened notebook. His face lit up when he saw you, that easy grin sliding onto his lips as if it belonged there. You hated how your stomach flipped.
“You’re late,” he teased, gesturing at the seat across from him.
You scoffed, sliding into the booth and unzipping your bag. “It’s 5:59. Maybe your watch is just as bad as your syntax.”
He let out a sharp laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Touché.” You started with the basics, flipping through your annotated copy of Frankenstein, pointing out literary devices with the kind of precision you were proud of. Heeseung listened. Really listened. His brow furrowed when he was concentrating, and his eyes flicked back and forth between you and the book like he was trying to stitch your words to the page in real time. He asked questions, good ones, and when he got something right, his grin was so smug you almost threw your pencil at him. But then, somewhere between explaining tragic irony and discussing the gothic atmosphere, his focus started to slip. You were mid-sentence when you felt it, his fingers poking at your side, soft and quick like a spark.
You jumped, letting out a startled laugh. “What the hell?”
Heeseung smirked, clearly proud of himself. “You were monologuing. I had to bring you back to earth.”
“You’re such a child.” You quip.
“A cute child,” he said, wiggling his brows. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly with your foot under the table, but there was no bite behind it. There never was anymore. Then, he leaned back in the booth, his voice lowering just enough to signal a shift. “I have an idea, by the way. About how you can actually talk to Soobin.”
You blinked, momentarily derailed. “You mean… like a conversation that doesn’t involve holding a door open and whispering thanks?”
He smirked. “Exactly like that.”
“Well? I’m listening.” Heeseung’s gaze flicked over your face before he continued. “Sunghoon’s hosting a get-together tomorrow night. It’s not a huge thing, more like a casual hangout. Pizza, soda, football on the TV, the works. Soobin’s gonna be there.”
You hesitated, twirling your pen between your fingers. “I mean, yeah, that sounds okay but…” You tilted your head. “Is it going to be weird if I’m the only girl there?” Heeseung paused. That pause said more than he probably meant it to. He scratched the back of his neck, like he was bracing himself.
You narrowed your eyes. “What? What is it?”
He sighed. “Sakura, Dani, and… Wonyoung are going to be there too.” Your heart dropped straight to your feet. You leaned back against the booth, head tilted toward the ceiling in a dramatic groan. “Of course they are.”
“I get it if you don’t want to come,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
But you shook your head, jaw tightening with something that tasted like defiance. “No. I’m going.”
Heeseung blinked. “Really?” his shock, palpable.
“Yeah,” you said, voice sharper than you meant it to be. “I’m not going to let them ruin this. I’m not going to let her ruin this.” You didn’t have to say her name. He knew. Still, you couldn’t help yourself from asking, quieter now. “Why is Wonyoung even going to something like that? I thought you two were… done.”
“We are,” he said. “But she’s still friends with the guys. She shows up to stuff. It’s… whatever.” It wasn’t whatever to you, but you nodded anyway. Because you knew if you let your thoughts go too far, you’d unravel right there over your half-drunk latte. Heeseung shifted again, this time leaning in closer. “Hey. If anything happens, if anyone says something, or makes you uncomfortable, I’ve got you. Okay?”
You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment the din of the café faded behind the weight of that promise. “Okay,” you said. And just like that, it was settled. Tomorrow night, you’d walk into a room where your ex-best friends and your accidental nemesis would be seated on one side, your crush would be on the other, and Heeseung would be somewhere in between. You had no idea what would happen. But you weren’t going to back down.
It was barely past six when you heard the knock on your dorm doo, three quick raps followed by a familiar “Let’s go, loser” muffled through the wood. You smoothed down your shirt, did a quick breath check (because you were just being cautious, not because you were thinking about kissing him again), and opened the door. Heeseung stood there, smug as ever, but there was something different in his eyes, an excitement that made him bounce a little on the balls of his feet. “You’re early,” you said, raising a brow.
“I’m prompt,” he corrected with a wink. “Besides, I couldn’t wait to show you this.”
He brought his hands out from behind his back, and there, held like a treasure map or some kind of sacred scroll, was a single sheet of paper. You blinked, confused, until your eyes scanned the header and the bold black print across the middle. Literature 206 – Midterm Grade: 85% Your gasp was dramatic, theatrical, the kind of sound that would’ve made someone down the hall poke their head out in concern if it hadn’t immediately been followed by your delighted squeal.
“Shut. Up!” you shouted, grabbing the paper from his hands and spinning to look at it closer. “Heeseung, you passed! You didn’t just pass; you did amazing!” He grinned like a fool, the kind of smile that made your chest feel too tight, and before you could even think about it, you launched yourself forward and hugged him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his arms instinctively caught you around the waist, the paper crushed between your bodies. He laughed, that soft, deep sound you were starting to crave more than you should. And when you pulled back, just barely, your faces were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
“Told you I was a genius,” he murmured. You rolled your eyes, still beaming. “No. I’m the genius. You’re just the pretty face riding my coattails.”
He shrugged, smug. “Well, now that I’m officially a scholar,” he plucked the paper from your hand, “it’s time to cash in on your prize.”
You tilted your head. “Prize?” He held the door open for you, gesturing dramatically. “Tonight, you talk to Soobin. It’s finally your moment, superstar.” Your smile faltered, just a hair. Because somewhere, buried beneath all your excited nerves and fresh lip gloss, there it was. That voice. Small. Soft. Inconvenient. What if I don’t want Soobin anymore? You blinked, shoved it down. Laughed, even, like it wasn’t true. But it was. Or at least…it was becoming true. Every second you spent with Heeseung, that voice got louder. The boy who was once just a cocky annoyance was now a constant in your thoughts. He made you laugh. Made you feel seen. Kissed you like you were the only girl in the universe.
But you didn’t say any of that. Instead, you slipped past him into the hallway and said, “Well, let’s not keep my prize waiting.” The drive to Sunghoon’s house was familiar now, the same twisty roads and flashing streetlights. Heeseung’s music was loud, upbeat, something with too much bass and a beat that rattled your bones, but you didn’t mind. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, occasionally tapping along to lyrics, and every so often he’d glance at you out of the corner of his eye and smirk like he knew something you didn’t.
Maybe he did. You watched the world blur outside the window, trying not to think too hard about anything. Not the party. Not Soobin. Not the fact that Heeseung’s cologne was now recognizable by scent alone, or the way your hands had fit so naturally around the nape of his neck just moments ago. When he pulled into Sunghoon’s driveway, the house was already glowing, warm lights, windows open, the soft buzz of voices filtering out to the street. You took a breath.
“Ready?” he asked, not moving to get out just yet. You turned to look at him, heart thudding somewhere between nervous and expectant. “Let’s do it,” you said.
You weren’t sure when your heart had started beating so hard, only that you could feel it in the soles of your feet and the tips of your ears. From the moment you stepped out of Heeseung’s car and followed him to Sunghoon’s front door, your nerves had been steadily building, like pressure in a shaken soda can. The lights inside were warm, the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses casual, but nothing about this night felt easy. You stepped through the threshold like you owned the place, chin high, spine straight, masking your spiraling thoughts with the practiced poise of someone who’d watched one too many confidence tutorials on YouTube. Heeseung’s hand hovered protectively at the small of your back, just barely touching, but grounding you all the same. That slight pressure said, I’m here, and for a moment, you could almost breathe.
The living room was full already. Jake sat cross-legged on the floor, waving a slice of pizza around mid-story, while Jay and Beomgyu were in the middle of a mock argument about what toppings were superior. Sunghoon looked up from where he was grabbing drinks and offered a casual grin. And then, your eyes caught them. Dani and Sakura, tucked on one side of the couch, their laughter too forced, their eyes on you too long. But, Wonyoung. She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Her gaze zeroed in on Heeseung’s hand still lingering on your back like it was a personal offense, her perfectly glossed lips curling into something sour. “What is she doing here?” she said finally, her voice louder than it needed to be, slicing through the room like a knife dressed in perfume. You froze, but Heeseung didn’t.
“She’s here because I want her here,” he said smoothly, not even looking at her. His tone was so offhand it made Wonyoung’s eye twitch. She scoffed, turning back to Jay with an exaggerated sigh, tossing her hair like she hadn’t just tried to publicly shame you. You swallowed hard. The room shifted again, the center of gravity pulling you straight toward the boy you hadn’t seen since the party. Soobin. He was seated on the couch, drink in hand, wearing a simple hoodie and jeans, his soft smile as warm as you remembered. He looked up when you approached, a flash of recognition lighting his expression.
“Hey — Y/N, right?” he asked, voice gentle.
You nodded, tucking hair behind your ear. “Yeah, that’s me.” He patted the cushion next to him, and you sat, acutely aware of the way Dani and Sakura were watching, and more intensely, the weight of Heeseung’s eyes on the side of your face. But for a moment, none of that mattered. You and Soobin fell into conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world. He asked about your classes, your major, if you were enjoying campus life. His smile never left his face, and yours slowly returned to yours. You laughed at something he said, something dorky and sweet about how he got locked out of his dorm last week, and your hand brushed his arm without thinking. And then your eyes darted up, Heeseung, across the room, sprawled in a chair like he wasn’t watching. But you could feel his attention. Like it was tethered to your pulse.
Before you could dwell too long, a sharp clink of a glass brought everyone’s attention back to the group. Wonyoung, placing her drink with a flourish, said, “We should definitely play Never Have I Ever.” Heeseung groaned immediately. “Are we really doing every high school game in the book this week?”
She shrugged, all innocent smile and lethal intentions. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” A chorus of agreement echoed around the room, and you knew, there was no getting out of this one. Someone dimmed the lights slightly as everyone started moving toward the center of the room, sitting in a loose circle with half-finished pizza slices and soda cans in hand. You sat between Soobin and Heeseung, though the space between you and the latter felt a little too electric, like if you moved even an inch, you might get burned. The game began light, as they always do.
The circle had started off innocent enough, plastic soda bottles sweating on the table, crusted pizza boxes pushed aside, the living room heavy with the low hum of music and the occasional pop of laughter. Someone asked something dumb about stealing candy from a gas station. Another person confessed to cheating on a test in tenth grade. It was stupid, harmless, the kind of thing you could brush off with a smirk and a sip of your drink. But there was something in Wonyoung’s gaze that made the back of your neck prickle before she even opened her mouth. She was perched on the edge of the couch like a queen on her throne, manicured fingers curled delicately around her cup, eyes glittering with something sharp and venomous. She turned her head slowly, deliberately, and locked her eyes on you with a smile that didn’t touch her lips.
“Never have I ever…” she began, the silence prickling around her, “been a loser virgin that no man wants to touch.” The room froze. The words landed like shrapnel, hot and slicing through whatever warmth had existed just moments before. Your chest constricted instantly, the oxygen leaving your lungs in one swift rush. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room shift to you, some wide with shock, others downcast, uncomfortable. You sat rigid, your cup trembling in your fingers, your pulse thudding like thunder in your ears. And then Wonyoung, as if to twist the knife, tilted her head and said, sweetly venomous, “Y/N, that means you have to put your hand up.” Your throat tightened so fast it hurt. You blinked quickly, trying to swallow it down, trying to pretend you hadn’t heard her right. But Heeseung stood up then, voice sharp and cold in a way you’d never heard from him before. “Knock it off, Wonyoung.”
She gave a lighthearted shrug, still smiling like this was all some twisted joke. “I mean…it’s just a game, Heeseung. No need to get snappy.”
Dani scoffed, disgust heavy in her voice. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Cut it out.”
But the damage had already been done. Your vision blurred as a tear slipped down your cheek without permission, hot with embarrassment, with shame, with the kind of humiliation that clings to your skin like ash. The silence was worse than the laughter could’ve been, everyone staring, no one speaking. Just the sound of your shaky breath and the trembling rattle of your heart in your chest. You couldn’t stay. You wouldn’t. Without a word, you stood up on wobbly legs, grabbing your bag with clumsy fingers and bolting for the front door. You didn’t hear who called your name, didn’t wait to see who stood or who stayed behind. You just ran, your face burning and your lungs struggling to catch up to your heartbreak. Outside, the air was cold and biting, but not cold enough to numb the pain in your chest. You didn’t get far before you felt a hand gently catch your wrist, not rough, not demanding. Just there. Just him.
“Hey; hey, look at me,” Heeseung said softly, turning you to face him. The night was quiet except for your breaths, short and uneven. He reached up, brushing your tear-streaked cheek with his thumb, the gesture so tender you nearly fell apart all over again. “Don’t listen to her,” he whispered. “She’s miserable and she wanted to take it out on someone. That’s all this is.”
“I’m fine,” you choked out, even though you weren’t.
“No, you’re not.” His voice cracked slightly, and he gave a soft shake of his head. “And I should’ve never brought you here. I knew she was going to be here. That’s on me.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” you whispered, your voice raw. “You’re not the one who humiliated me.” Still, his face was drawn with guilt, his brow furrowed. He opened the car door for you and you slid in, heart still pounding, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. He got in after you, but didn’t start the engine right away. The silence filled the cabin again, but this time it wasn’t awkward, it was heavy. Dense with something unspoken.
You stared at your lap, thinking of Wonyoung’s words again. Loser virgin. No man wants to touch you. It echoed in your head, bouncing around until it started to stick. Was she right? Was that why Soobin had never looked at you twice? Why you were always the girl just outside the circle? Before you could overthink it, before the voice of doubt could talk you down, you turned to Heeseung. “I want you to take my virginity.”
He blinked like he hadn’t heard you. “What?” You met his eyes this time, steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you to take my virginity.” The silence was immediate. Then sharp. His eyes widened, lips parting, trying to find something to say, some script, some defense. But nothing came. Just silence and the sound of your breath coming quicker than before. “I just…” you began, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “What Wonyoung said. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Soobin wouldn’t want someone like me. Someone who’s never—”
“That’s not true—”
“Please.” Your voice cracked then, raw and soft, but full of something else too. Desperation, maybe. Maybe hope. Heeseung looked at you then, really looked. And something shifted in his gaze, his expression folding into something more serious, more solemn. There wasn’t any cocky grin, no teasing smirk. Just… sincerity.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
You blinked. “Yeah?”
He nodded once. “Yeah.” Relief washed over you slowly, curling around the fear that had taken root in your belly. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, something like gratitude spilling from your chest.
“Tonight?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t hesitate. “Tonight.”
And then he turned the key in the ignition, the engine humming to life as the two of you slipped into the dark, quiet night, no longer running away, but heading toward something that neither of you could quite name yet. But you could feel it, in the beat of your heart, the warmth in your chest, and the hand that rested gently over yours on the console.
The streets outside were washed in amber, the streetlights spilling honey-colored light onto the hood of Heeseung’s car as he pulled up to the quiet curb outside a low-rise campus apartment building. You recognized it, vaguely, though you’d never had a reason to be this far from your dorm before. He eased the car into park, the soft click of the gear shift cutting through the otherwise silent cabin. For a moment, neither of you moved. You were both suspended in this fragile, private space, like the world outside had hit pause just to give you this breath of stillness. He turned to you, one hand still on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the console like he might take your hand but thinking better of it. His gaze flickered to your face, warm and searching, not demanding. Not expectant. Just careful. Just him.
“You sure about this?” he asked, voice low but steady. And you nodded. Without hesitation. Without the voice of Wonyoung echoing in your ears. Without thinking about Soobin or the plan or the stupid game that led you here. You nodded because it was Heeseung and somehow, in the softest, strangest way, you’d never been more certain about anything in your life.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure.” That was all it took. Heeseung stepped out of the car, jogged around to your side, and opened the door for you, offering a hand as you slid out. The air between you pulsed with unspoken tension, not the bad kind, not the kind that makes you want to flee, but the kind that hums beneath your skin like a quiet, rising tide. Neither of you spoke on the short walk to the building. You could feel the beat of your own pulse in your throat, your palms, your knees. Every footstep up the stairwell echoed like a question you were still answering with every breath. When he unlocked the door to the apartment, you stepped into a place that somehow felt like him , even if it wasn’t entirely his. The living room was tidy but lived-in: a half-empty water bottle on the counter, a sweatshirt slung over the back of the couch, a flickering neon sign in the shape of a guitar hanging above the TV. There was a faint scent of cologne and fabric softener in the air , something warm and clean and utterly disarming.
You glanced around, instinctively nervous. “Are you sure no one’s—?”
“I live with Jake,” Heeseung said, gently tugging you further inside. “But he’s out for the weekend. Swear.” Jake was obviously still at Sunghoon’s house. So, you nodded, cheeks warm as he guided you toward the hallway. Every step felt louder now, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You could feel the shift happening between you, something solemn, something sacred as he led you into his bedroom. The door clicked shut behind you. His room was dimly lit, the overhead light off, only the glow from a desk lamp in the corner casting soft shadows along the walls. Posters of concerts and bands you half-recognized were pinned above his bed. His guitar leaned against the corner, pick still nestled in the strings. The bed was made, barely and a hoodie lay crumpled on the chair by his desk. You turned to him again, breath caught somewhere in your chest. Heeseung was standing just a few feet away now, hands at his sides, gaze never leaving yours.
“Are you still sure?” he asked again, quiet and reverent. And again, you said yes. The word had barely left your mouth before he was stepping toward you, not fast, never fast , just sure, just gentle. His hand reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real. Then he was kissing you, slow and careful, lips warm and familiar now. The kiss wasn’t like the one in the car, not teasing, not frantic. This one was patient, intentional. Like he was asking permission with every soft press of his mouth, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your yes.
The rest happened slowly. Clothes were shed like old skins, your nerves still there, still fluttering like moths in your stomach, but softened by the way he touched you. Every brush of his fingers was careful, every motion deliberate. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t teasing. He just was warm and present, grounding you with the weight of his hands and the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred. He kissed your shoulder. Your collarbone. The hollow behind your ear. He held you like you were something breakable and beautiful. When it finally happened, he was looking into your eyes, his hand laced with yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles to calm you. It hurt at first, of course it did, but it wasn’t scary. Not with him. And eventually the pain faded into something else entirely, something you couldn’t name, only feel.
His hands caressed your body like you were made of porcelain. His breathing hard groans falling from his lips with the severance of a melody you’d never want to forget. “Fuck” He grunted, his hips meetings yours. His forehead sheen with sweat fell against your naked shoulder, lining the skin with searing hot kisses.
“You feel so good.” His grip on your hips tightened as he allowed himself to go faster, rougher. The sound of skin, mixing with your breathy moans and Heeseung groans were the only sound in the room.
“Harder.” You choked, letting your head fall against the pillow, your hair creating a halo on the satin pillow case. “Please, Heeseung, harder.” You were begging, pleading for me. It felt too good, better than anything you’ve ever experienced and you just couldn’t get enough.
Heeseung groaned, a low groan that rumbled deep within his belly all the way up his throat. “You want it harder?” He asks, His eyes locked onto yours as you send him a frantic nod.
“Yes!” Your voice was almost shrill. “Please.” Your hands found his back, racking your nails up and down the skin — certainly leaving red marks in their wake. Heeseung’s hips pushed harder, the force of his thirst sending your body jerking upwards.
“Oh my god.” You hissed. “Oh my fucking–” Your voice was cut off with his lips falling to yours, his mouth swallowing the sound of your pleasure. He broke away from the kiss with a low moan and a shaky breath. Your breath caught as you tilted your head back, overwhelmed and undone in the best way. Heeseung murmured quiet things into your skin, not jokes, not one-liners, just your name. Just reassurance. Just closeness. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t fireworks. It was better than that. It was real.
When it was over, he didn’t roll away or laugh or ask how it was. He just stayed there beside you, your bodies tangled beneath his sheets, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your hipbone. You rested your cheek on his shoulder, skin still tingling, your heart finally slowing. And for a long time, neither of you said a word. You didn’t need to. Soon, you got up — put your clothing back on and thank Heeseung for all he did that night. You went to your dorm with an even bigger smile on your face.
Morning sunlight seeps through the cracks in your dorm blinds, painting golden stripes across your duvet and the delicate curve of your shoulder. You stir slowly, not with the usual groggy resistance of a school day, but with something like ease, something light. Your limbs feel loose beneath your sheets, your chest warm, your lips tingling with memories. Last night plays on a soft reel behind your eyelids: Heeseung’s hands, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing worth seeing, the way his voice trembled when he asked if you were sure. You smile before your eyes are even open. It wasn’t just physical , it was something else entirely. Something safe. Something soft. You don’t know what it means yet, or what it should mean, but right now, that doesn’t matter. What matters is the way you feel in this moment. Like maybe, for once, you’re not the DUF. Maybe, for once, you’re the girl someone actually wanted.
You get dressed slowly, pulling on your favorite jeans and a simple top that fits you right, a new confidence buzzing just beneath your skin. Your fingers hover over your phone more than once, tempted to text him, something casual, something teasing, but you stop yourself. You’ll see him in Lit anyway. And God, you can’t even begin to guess what that’s going to be like now. The walk to class is a blur of humming thoughts and overplayed memories, your heart skipping each time you think about him. You wonder if he’ll say something. You wonder if you should. You wonder if this is the start of something... more.
When you arrive at the building, the usual crowd of students loiters by the lecture hall, but your eyes find him immediately. Heeseung is leaning against the wall near the door, black hoodie pulled over his head despite the early morning sun, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He’s looking down at his shoes, but as if sensing you, his head lifts, and there it is. That smile. Soft and crooked and just for you. “Look who finally made it,” you call as you approach, your tone light and teasing, the banter slipping into place like a well-worn jacket. “Didn’t think I’d see your face again after last night.”
Heeseung chuckles, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside you. “Please. You think you’d get rid of me that easy?”
You roll your eyes, a grin curling at your mouth. “You’re relentless.”
“Persistent,” he corrects with a grin of his own. “There’s a difference.” The air between you hums with something more than your usual back-and-forth, a soft awareness, a shared secret, the ghost of his hands still lingering on your waist. Heeseung’s eyes flick over your face for a moment longer than they usually would, like he’s trying to memorize something. Then, as you’re about to reach for the classroom door, he says your name, softly, tentatively. You pause, looking up at him. His expression has shifted, and it’s not teasing now. It’s serious. Vulnerable, almost. Like there’s a weight on his chest and he’s finally ready to let it tumble out.
“Hey, I—” Heeseung starts, but he doesn’t get far.
“HEESEUNG!” Beomgyu’s voice barrels down the hallway like a wrecking ball, all volume and chaos, and before either of you can react, an arm is slung around Heeseung’s shoulder. “Dude! Party tonight. Sunghoon’s place again. It’s gonna be chill this time, no cops, I swear. You’re coming, right? And you,” Beomgyu points to you with a grin, “you better come too. You’re the new fan favorite.” You let out a laugh, caught off guard, but Heeseung just gives Beomgyu a playful shove. “Yeah, alright. We’ll be there.”
“We?” Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, smirking as he wiggles his brows. “Noted.”
And just like that, Beomgyu is disappearing down the hallway, already off to deliver his invite to the next unsuspecting soul. You glance back at Heeseung, your brows furrowed just slightly. “What were you gonna say? Before Beomgyu... you know.”
Heeseung looks at you for a beat, quiet. And in that silence, something shifts again, but this time it doesn’t rise to the surface. Instead, he just shrugs, sliding his hands back into his pockets. “Nothing,” he says casually, a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Forgot what I was gonna say.”
You want to press, there’s something in the way he says it, the way his eyes flick away from yours for half a second too long, but you don’t. Not here, not now. So instead, you just nod, falling into step beside him as you both walk into the lecture hall. You’re still smiling. But this time, your heart is wrapped a little tighter in wonder.
The air tonight feels heavier, not unpleasant, just weightier, charged in a way that isn’t quite like the other parties. The crowd buzzes with the usual electricity, the low thump of bass vibrating through the floorboards, bodies weaving and pressing in rhythm to a beat no one truly hears. But you do. You feel it in your bones, in your blood, in the skin of your arms where goosebumps rise as you and Heeseung step through the doorway into Sunghoon’s house. He walks beside you, shoulder brushing yours, laughter spilling from his lips as he says something teasing about your outfit. It’s familiar, the way he leans in a little closer than necessary, the way he always seems to find something to comment on, from the way you wear your hair to how your drink tastes like battery acid. He’s still the same. But you’re not. Not exactly.
Because now you know what his breath sounds like when it trembles. You know how he looks when he’s above you, eyes full of questions and reverence like you were a poem he wasn’t sure he was allowed to read. You know what it’s like to be wanted, not by anyone, but by him. And that knowledge sits in your chest like a small fire, curling smoke and heat into your thoughts as you walk beside him. You make your way to the drink table where Beomgyu and Jay are pouring vodka into plastic cups with reckless enthusiasm, laughing at something Jake said. It’s all easy, the familiar chaos of a college party, but something inside you feels less swayed by the glitter of it now. Like you’ve seen what matters more, in the quiet hush of a dorm room when all the noise falls away and someone holds you like you're worth the wait.
You glance toward Heeseung, catching sight of him joining in a game of beer pong with Sunghoon. His laugh is loud, tilted back in his throat, his hair flopping into his eyes as he lines up a shot. He’s magnetic like this, full of life, a little too much, and always just enough. You don’t even notice the tap on your shoulder until you feel it. You turn around to see Soobin. Your stomach doesn’t flutter. Your pulse doesn’t spike. You don’t feel weak in the knees or dizzy in the way you once imagined you would. All you feel is... calm.
His smile is soft, almost sheepish, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “Hey,” he says, voice raised slightly over the music. “I wanted to say… I’m sorry. For what happened the other night. Wonyoung was out of line, and honestly? Everyone knew it.” You blink at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes dipping away as if afraid to meet yours fully.
“That… that does make me feel better,” you say after a pause, offering him a genuine smile. It’s small but sincere, the kind of smile you give someone when you’ve outgrown the pedestal they used to stand on. He brightens at that. “Good. You didn’t deserve that.” The conversation unfolds easily, light, harmless. He asks about class, about your professor’s weird rant last week, and you laugh with him, grateful that it’s not awkward or strange. For a few minutes, it’s like nothing ever changed. But every now and then, your gaze slides across the room, to where Heeseung is, to the way his hand gestures wildly in the air after making a perfect shot, the way his eyes scan the crowd and catch on you. You feel it each time, that invisible thread tugging between you both, fragile but undeniable.
Soobin leans closer, tipping his head toward you. “Hey, the music’s kind of loud down here. Do you wanna go upstairs to talk?” You hesitate, only for a moment. This is what you’d wanted, wasn’t it? Alone time with Soobin. This moment; the intimacy, the possibility of something real with him, it used to be the end goal. It was the prize at the finish line. You look back toward the beer pong table. Heeseung isn’t there anymore. You swallow, forcing a smile as you nod. “Sure. Upstairs sounds good.” Soobin leads the way, and you follow, but there’s a hollow tug in your chest, a low ache that whispers: something’s different now. Something’s shifted. And you can’t quite tell if you’re walking toward what you want… or away from it.
The upstairs hall is quieter, hushed like a cathedral built out of creaking floorboards and dim lighting. Soobin’s footsteps are steady ahead of you, confident, calm. You follow him down the hallway, the thump of bass from the party below now muffled by layers of drywall and closed doors. He opens one at the end, someone’s bedroom, likely Sunghoon’s spare guest room and steps inside without hesitation. You enter, arms crossing over your chest instinctively. The room is sparsely decorated: a bed, a desk, a dresser with a dusty mirror. A single lamp glows faintly in the corner, casting everything in warm amber light. The kind of soft hue that makes everything feel a little too intimate.
You sit down on the edge of the bed, hands fidgeting in your lap. Soobin stands near the dresser, one hand running through his hair like he’s searching for the right words, the right entry point into something he’s been building toward. You try not to think about how your heartbeat doesn’t pick up like it used to. How your stomach doesn’t flutter. How the moment you used to dream about, you and Soobin alone in a room, about to have that talk, feels just a little off-center now. He turns to you, expression unreadable. “Can I ask you something?” You nod.
He gives a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Do you… have a crush on me?”
The question hits you like cold water to the face. You blink. “What?”
“I mean,” he shrugs, “you’re here with me. Alone. Talking like this. And I’ve noticed you kind of… watching me sometimes. Not in a bad way, I just — I figured maybe you liked me.”
Your mouth opens, but no words come out right away. You weren’t expecting this — not so directly, not right now. But wasn’t this the whole plan? The makeover, the party, the studying with Heeseung, the kiss that didn’t happen, wasn’t this what you’d wanted from the beginning? So you say it. Quietly, like you’re repeating a line in a play. “Yes. I think I do.” Soobin smiles softly, like that was the answer he expected. He walks over, taking the spot next to you on the bed. There’s a small silence, not quite awkward but definitely unsure. Then, without another word, he leans in. And kisses you. It’s gentle. Thoughtful. His lips press to yours with an easy kind of care. But instead of feeling sparks or butterflies or that dizzy, swept-away sensation you thought would come, all you feel is stillness. Like kissing someone underwater. The moment suspended. Weightless. Hollow.
You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually, your hand moves to his chest and you pull away, slow and apologetic. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes avoiding his. Your heart pounds for all the wrong reasons. “I… I don’t think I feel what I thought I felt.”
Soobin tilts his head slightly, studying your face. “What do you mean?” You look down at your hands, twisting your fingers in your lap. “I thought I liked you. I really did. But it doesn’t feel… right. Not like I thought it would. Not like…” You trail off, not daring to finish the sentence. Soobin hums thoughtfully, like he’s already solved the puzzle.
“Ah,” he says, nodding once. “I get it.”
Your eyes lift, hopeful. “You do?”
A soft chuckle escapes him. “You like Heeseung.” It’s not a question. It’s a truth laid bare between you. You pause, breath catching in your throat. Then you nod. Slowly. “I think I’m in love with him.” There’s a moment of quiet. Not heavy. Not tense. Just the shared acknowledgment of something that’s been true for a while now, you just hadn’t let yourself name it.
To your surprise, Soobin smiles. Not bitter or wounded, just warm. Maybe even relieved. “I think you should tell him,” he says.
You swallow. “You think I should?” He nods, leaning back on his hands. “I think you’d regret it if you didn’t.”
Your heart flutters with something different this time, not nerves, not fear. Hope. You stand up, legs shaky beneath you, but your decision anchors you. As you move toward the door, Soobin calls out softly, just before your hand touches the knob. “He loves you back, you know.”
You turn your head, eyes wide. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he says, simple and sure. You nod once, lips parting just slightly. “I hope you’re right.” And then you step into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind you. The music is still thudding below. The party still rages. But you’ve never felt more clear. Never more certain of who, or what, you want. It’s not about proving anything anymore. Not about being experienced or wanted by anyone. It’s about him. And tonight, you’re going to tell him.
You step down the creaky stairs, the bass from the party still thumping like a distant pulse beneath your skin. Your breath catches, a subtle panic fluttering in your chest as you scan the crowded living room for Heeseung’s familiar face. Your eyes dart past groups of laughing friends, clusters of conversations, and neon lights that blur faces into hazy outlines. But he’s nowhere to be found. Heart pounding in your throat, you veer toward the kitchen, hoping for some sign, a whisper, a clue. There, leaning casually against the counter, is Jake. His usual smirk falters when he notices your searching gaze. “Hey,” you say, voice barely steady. “Have you seen Heeseung?”
Jake shrugs, tossing a grape into his mouth. “Last I saw, he was in the living room with a bunch of people. Why? You looking for him?” You nod and push past him, a fragile thread of hope knitting itself between your ribs. The living room comes into view, and your steps slow, the air thickening in your lungs like smoke. And then you see him. There, framed by a cluster of familiar faces, is Heeseung. But he isn’t alone. Wonyoung stands close beside him, her body pressed against his in a way that twists something cold and sharp through your heart. His arm snakes possessively around her waist, fingers resting lightly but surely on the curve of her hip. She leans in, lips ghosting across his neck and jaw, a soft, intoxicating murmur escaping her mouth as he whispers back.
The scene unfolds like a cruel play, one you wish you could close your eyes to, but you can’t look away. Your chest caves inward, a hollow ache blossoming beneath your ribs. Your stomach churns, bile rising bitterly as you struggle to breathe through the sudden swell of nausea and heartbreak. You try to wrench your gaze away, but the sight sears into your vision, branding itself onto your soul. You can’t watch. Turning on your heel, you stumble toward the door, desperate to escape the cruel tableau. The room blurs around you, faces, laughter, music, all fading behind the tight clamour of your ragged breaths and pounding heartbeat. Tears spill unbidden from your eyes, tracing warm, salty rivers down your cheeks. Each step away from the party feels heavier than the last, like you’re sinking deeper into a pool of your own shattered dreams.
You reach the night air, the cold biting at your skin but failing to soothe the ache inside. Pulling your phone from your pocket with trembling fingers, you summon an Uber. The glow of the screen feels alien in your hands, like a lifeline thrown across an endless chasm. Inside the car, the world outside dissolves into a blur of streetlights and shadows, but your tears keep falling, a steady cascade that no driver’s small talk or cityscape can interrupt. Your hands grip the seat, knuckles white, as the distance between you and the party grows with every passing mile. You are utterly broken. Stupid, you think bitterly. Stupid for believing, even for a moment, that someone like Lee Heeseung, with his easy charm and dazzling smile, could fall for someone like you. The DUF. The girl who blends into the background. The girl no one notices, the girl no one wants. You were chasing a dream painted in stardust and whispered promises, but it was always just that, a dream. And now, all that’s left is the ache of reality settling cold and hard in your chest.
The days bleed into each other like a slow, endless ache. You find yourself cocooned in your dorm, wrapped in the faded threads of your favorite hoodie, the one that swallows you whole and carries the scent of safety and solitude. The glasses sit perched on your nose, a barrier between the world and the girl who once believed she could be someone else. The weight of silence presses down, heavier than the thick blankets you pull up to your chin. Your phone lies discarded across the bed, buzzing and blinking with countless unanswered texts and missed calls from Heeseung, each one a fresh pang of regret and confusion you’re too scared to confront. You don’t know how to face him. How to face the truth that your heart still aches for the boy who chose someone else, who wrapped his arms around Wonyoung like you were a ghost in the room. You feel like you’ve been stripped bare, every hope unraveling thread by fragile thread. The girl who dreamed of being seen, of being wanted, it’s hard to find her beneath the rubble of broken promises and whispered lies.
Night falls again, the shadows gathering in the corners of your room as if to hold you close in your loneliness. The quiet hum of the city outside is distant and indifferent. You lie there, heart heavy, tears tracing silent rivers down your cheeks, when suddenly there’s a knock at your door. Sharp. Insistent. You don’t want to move, but something in the rhythm of that knock stirs you, a fragile hope tangled with dread. With aching limbs, you pull yourself from the bed, the cold floor a harsh reminder of the world beyond your blankets. You open the door slowly, and there he is, Heeseung. His presence fills the doorway, that familiar, impossible beauty that twists your heart in the best and worst ways. It makes your head spin, your breath catch in your throat.
His eyes search yours, deep pools filled with worry and something you can’t quite name. “Why haven’t you been answering?” he asks softly, voice low, as if afraid to break the fragile silence. “I saw you go upstairs with Soobin the night of the party…” Your throat tightens, the words choking you before you can even think. You take a shaky breath, then whisper, “The deal’s off. You don’t need to worry about making me ‘hot and popular’ anymore.”
His brow furrows, concern deepening. “What happened? Did Soobin hurt you?”
You shake your head, voice trembling but firm. “No. Just… go, Heeseung. Please.”
You reach out, beginning to close the door, but before it shuts, his foot slides gently into the frame, stopping it with quiet insistence. The space between you is charged, a fragile tension stretched thin. His voice is almost a plea. “What’s going on?” The walls you’ve built so carefully around your heart begin to crumble. You swallow hard, biting back the tears that burn your eyes, and say the words you’ve been holding in for too long. “I’m tired. Tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Tired of playing a role, like I can be that girl, the one everyone notices, the one guys actually want.”
Your voice falters, breaking with raw, aching honesty. “Guys don’t want me. Not really. Not like I am. This was an experiment... and it worked for you, but it didn’t work for me. So… can you just go?” The silence hangs between you like a thick fog. You hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, loud and ragged. This time, your hand moves with quiet finality, closing the door with a definitive click. The sound echoes in the sudden, crushing emptiness of your room. And then, the floodgates break.
You lean back against the door, knees buckling as the tears you held back spill free. The sobs come unbidden, shaking your body, hot and wrenching and real. Each tear a silent confession of heartbreak, loneliness, and the aching desire to be seen, not as a mask, but as the fragile, imperfect soul beneath. In this moment, the girl you tried so hard to hide is raw and vulnerable and fiercely alive. And though it hurts more than words can say, it’s the first step toward something real, toward healing, toward finding the strength to be exactly who you are.
The morning light feels colder somehow, less forgiving as you step out of your dorm room and into the brisk hum of campus life. Today, you wear your armor: a soft, oversized hoodie pulled low over your frame, the familiar weight of your glasses perched on your nose, and leggings that carry no pretense, no flash, no glamour, just you. The girl who sought to dazzle and command attention has quietly slipped away, replaced by someone quieter, more raw, but undeniably real. As you make your way across campus, the chatter and footsteps of other students blur into a dull roar, a soundtrack to your internal storm. The air is thick with the ghosts of last night’s heartache, the sting of broken trust still simmering just beneath your skin. You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’re okay. You’ve got this.
The lecture hall door creaks open, and you slip inside, hoping to be invisible, hoping to blend into the shadowy back rows where no one will notice your retreat from the world. But no one really goes unnoticed, especially not in a room charged with unspoken tensions. And then, just as your foot finds the seat furthest from the usual spot beside Heeseung, you hear it, a snide, low comment slicing through the hum of settling students Wonyoung’s voice, sharp and dripping with that familiar edge, echoes just enough for you to catch it. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s aimed right at you. But this time, something’s different. The bite of her words doesn’t sting. The heat of embarrassment doesn’t flush your cheeks. You simply keep walking, your stride steady and unyielding, heart quietly defiant beneath the soft fabric of your hoodie.
You settle into your seat at the very back, far away from the usual orbit of Heeseung’s presence. And yet, even from there, you feel the weight of his gaze, like a hawk circling above, watching, waiting. His eyes flicker toward you in stolen moments, cautious and curious, as if trying to read the new lines etched into your silence. But you refuse to meet his gaze. You bury yourself deeper into your solitude, the words of the lecture washing over you like distant thunder, barely registered by a mind that’s a million miles away. Minutes stretch on, the clock ticking with relentless indifference. You notice the way Heeseung’s fingers tap lightly against the notebook in his lap, his eyes darting toward you in quick, nervous glances. It’s as if he’s searching for a way back in, a crack in the armor you’ve so carefully constructed. But today, you are a fortress, quiet and impenetrable.
When the final bell rings, a sharp and liberating sound, you rise without hesitation, stuffing your books into your bag with brisk efficiency. Heeseung’s voice trails behind you, soft, hopeful, “Hey, wait—Y/n!” but you don’t stop. You don’t turn. The hall swallows your footsteps as you push through the doors, leaving the echoes of his call behind you.
The evening wrapped itself around your dorm room like a velvet shroud, the dim light casting soft shadows over your tangled sheets and the quiet ache that clung to your chest. You lay there, cocooned in your own solitude, the weight of recent nights pressing down like a relentless tide. The world felt heavy and distant, and the thought of moving, speaking, or facing anything at all felt like a mountain too steep to climb. Then, a sharp knock echoed through the silence, jolting you from your quiet reverie. “Please go away, Heeseung,” you mutter, voice thick with exhaustion and guarded pain, already bracing yourself for the storm you didn’t want to weather again.
But the voice that answered wasn’t his. Soft, hesitant, and tinged with something almost vulnerable, Dani’s words floated through the door: “It’s not Heeseung… please, just open up.” Your heart stutters, surprise and a flicker of warmth breaking through the cold shell you’d built. With a weary sigh, you push yourself up, the weight of days pressing down on your limbs, and unlock the door. There, standing in the dim hallway, were Dani and Sakura, faces soft, eyes sincere, their usual confident air replaced with something tender and remorseful. They step inside without hesitation, their presence gentle like a balm, the space between you shrinking as they settle beside your bed.
“We’re so sorry,” Dani begins, voice low and earnest. “For everything. For not being better friends, for not being there when you needed us.” Sakura nods, her eyes shimmering with an unspoken apology. “We love you, Y/n. We do. And we’re sorry for making you feel anything less than amazing.”
Their words settle over you like a gentle rain, the unexpected kindness dissolving some of the walls you didn’t even realize you’d built so high. They smile, shy but genuine, and Dani confesses, “Sometimes, we’re even jealous of you. You make everything seem so effortless, being smart, funny, just... you. We try so hard, but you just shine naturally.” A quiet laugh escapes you, the sound rusty but honest. You joke back, teasing them for their dramatic flattery, and in the warmth of shared laughter, the tension unravels. The three of you fold into a comforting embrace, a hug woven with forgiveness and the promise of mended bonds.
After the moment lingers, Sakura’s voice breaks through, gentle but curious. “So, what about Heeseung? What’s really going on?” Your chest tightens as you recount the complicated arrangement, the late-night talks, and then, the confession that trembles on your lips. “I lost my virginity to him,” you say quietly, the words both heavy and liberating. “And in all of that... I fell in love with him.”
Their faces flicker between surprise and understanding. Sakura’s eyes soften as she speaks, “The way he looks at you... he loves you too, Y/n.” You shake your head, doubt gnawing at you like a silent ache. “But Wonyoung—”
Dani cuts in gently, firm and unwavering. “He doesn’t care about her anymore. And he never looked at Wonyoung the way he looks at you.” For the first time in what feels like forever, you want to believe them. You nod slowly, the weight of hope settling lightly in your chest. They urge you to hear Heeseung out, to let him speak and show you what’s truly there. But before the conversation can spiral further, they shift the mood, inviting you to a get-together at Sunghoon’s happening just minutes away.
At first, you hesitate, the memory of Heeseung and Wonyoung still stinging fresh. “Heeseung and Wonyoung—” you begin. Sakura cuts you off with a firm shake of her head. “They won’t be there. We promise.” That promise, fragile and shimmering with possibility, nudges you forward. You breathe in, steadying your heart, and then you say yes. Together, the three of you leave your room, stepping out into the night with tentative smiles and the fragile threads of renewed friendship and maybe, just maybe, a second chance at love waiting to bloom.
When you pull up to Sunghoon’s house that night, you’re half-expecting the pit in your stomach to grow teeth and chew you alive. But instead, you’re met with the warm, familiar glow of porch lights, the echo of laughter spilling from inside, and the voices of boys you’ve somehow come to know like brothers. Sunghoon, Jake, Jay, and Beomgyu greet you at the door like you’re royalty, like nothing in the world is out of place. They offer you sodas and cheesy jokes, Beomgyu pulling you into a dramatic bow while Jake salutes like you're being welcomed home from war. And for a flicker of a second, you forget it all, the ache, the shame, the heartbreak. You laugh. You actually laugh. You let your shoulders drop. You exist again.
Sakura appears at your side like she’s always belonged there and gives you a little nudge. “Hey,” she says, smiling with all her teeth, “Can you go grab the extra cooler outside? It’s on the deck.”
You squint at her. “You have legs.”
“Yes,” she says sweetly, “but you have main character energy tonight. So scoot.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, pushing through the backdoor into the backyard. And that’s when it happens.
Twinkling fairy lights string above you like constellations pulled down from the sky, wrapped through the branches of Sunghoon’s backyard trees. They blink softly around the bonfire, flames low and lazy, casting shadows across the grass. And there, seated on a log bench near the fire, is Heeseung. His head is bowed, fingers locked together like he’s praying or maybe bracing himself from falling apart. The moment he hears your footsteps, his head jerks up. His eyes meet yours, wide and uncertain. Time hiccups. You stare. He stares. And then, slowly, shakily, he stands.
“I’ve been trying to figure out what I was going to say to you when I saw you again,” he says, voice low but trembling with everything he’s been holding in. “And now… now that you’re actually here, looking like that…”
You blink. “Looking like what? Like a girl who’s no longer hot?” He shakes his head so fast and so fiercely that a laugh escapes your throat without permission.
“No,” he says, stepping toward you. “Looking like you. Just — you. Glasses, hoodie, stubborn scowl and all. You're beautiful.” Your breath stutters. The world sways. You try to speak, to make a joke, to do anything, but your lips don’t work. He fills the silence. “You’re so beautiful,” he says again, his voice stronger now. “And I love you.” You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You’re too stunned. Too overwhelmed. So he continues, and thank God he does.
“When I saw you go upstairs with Soobin that night… I thought I was gonna be sick. I’ve never felt anything like that. Not anger. Not sadness. Jealousy. Like I was losing something that wasn’t even mine to lose.” Your chest aches. You take a step closer, barely breathing. “Wonyoung came up to me after that,” he says, voice rougher now. “Told me she heard you and Soobin hooking up. She tried to kiss me. Said I should get over it. But I didn’t care what she said. Even if you were with Soobin, I didn’t want her. I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.”
You want to cry. You want to melt. But mostly, you want to run to him.
“I was never going to get in the way of you and him if that’s what you really wanted,” Heeseung continues. “But then, when you told me outside your dorm that it wasn’t going to work out… I knew. I had to tell you how I felt.” His eyes lock on yours with full, unwavering honesty.
“I love you. Just the way you are. And I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you at Sunghoon’s party. When you insulted my G.P.A and spilled that drink all over yourself.” He laughs, almost breathless. “That’s when I knew I was doomed.”
A laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, wet and cracked but real. You take one step closer, then another, until the distance is gone. “I kissed Soobin,” you whisper, eyes locked on his. “Upstairs, that night. And it was... fine. But while it was happening, all I could think about was you. That stupid smile of yours, your dumb little jokes, the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand like you're in an action movie... I realized something.”
Heeseung holds his breath.
“I realized that I love you. Your charm, your goofiness, the way you never let me walk on the outside of the sidewalk. I love you, even the parts I think I hate, because it’s you. And I want you.” His mouth opens like he might say something witty, but he doesn't. He just crashes forward and kisses you, fierce, certain, heart-shaking. His hands come to your face, cradling you like you’re something sacred. It’s not gentle, not this time. It’s messy and passionate and breathless, like a whole novel written in one kiss. Like everything unspoken finally found its voice.
When you finally part, foreheads touching, breath mingling, he murmurs, “You’re it for me, Y/n.” You smile, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“And you’re the dumbest genius I’ve ever met,” you say softly, kissing him again.
Somewhere behind you, from the house, you hear Beomgyu shout, “ARE THEY FINALLY MAKING OUT?!” And then Jake yells, “SUNGHOON OWES ME FIFTY BUCKS!”
You both break apart laughing, and Heeseung groans. “God, they’re never gonna let us live this down.”
You grin, cheeks flushed. “Worth it.” Because it is. It always was.
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