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liuhsng · 7 days ago

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✩ˎˊ˗ ride with caution ( lhs ! ) — part 3

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the xo, with you series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — heeseung x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ⤷ word count — 8.9k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ a/n — and just like that, heeseung’s part of the xo series is finally complete ! i’m already working on the next one, so don’t worry—there’s so much more to come. thank you endlessly for supporting this series, loves 💗

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), college au, biker!heeseung, english major!heeseung, fashion major!reader, college!enhypen, strangers to lovers, slow burn, mentions of txt’s soobin, nct dream’s jeno, stray kids’ seungmin, and ive’s wonyoung and yujin, foul language, sexual tension buildup, first time together, teasing, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), manhandling, marking (hickeys), body worship, grinding, dry humping, possessive!heeseung, soft dom!heeseung, size kink, creampie, overstimulation, slight dom/sub dynamic, aftercare, fluff, angst

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — lee heeseung has always been the kind of boy you were told to stay away from—reckless, with a trail of rumors that follow wherever he goes. they say he fights for fun, kisses without meaning, and never sticks around long enough to fall. you, on the other hand, have never had time for distractions. being one of decelis university’s most promising fashion majors, the spotlight’s already on you—you were supposed to avoid him. and you did. until a quiet offer of help changed everything. or, where the boy you never planned to look twice at ends up being the only one who sees right through you.

Heeseung was quick to throw a leg over his Ducati, hastily tying the helmet to the back of the seat with shaking fingers before storming toward the lobby entrance of your building.

His boots echoed sharply against the polished marble floors as he marched past the security desk.

The head guard looked up and blinked in recognition. “Mr. Lee—”

Heeseung gave a quick nod, barely slowing down. “25th floor. She’s expecting me.”

But the guard didn’t question it. Heeseung’s face was familiar by now—always picking you up, dropping you off, sometimes waiting outside with those flowers he never had the guts to hand over.

He pressed the elevator button once, hard, and nearly slumped with relief when the doors dinged open almost immediately.

He stepped inside, jaw clenched, and stabbed the button for the 25th floor with more force than necessary.

As the elevator began its silent ascent, Heeseung let out a breath and glanced down at himself. His white button-up was wrinkled from rushing, the top buttons crooked and misaligned.

He adjusted it hurriedly, pulling his leather jacket tighter around him, and winced when his knuckles brushed his swollen lip.

“Shit,” he muttered, hissing softly as pain bloomed again at the corner of his mouth.

His fingers swept through his hair next, trying to tame the windblown mess, but it was no use—he still looked wrecked.

The soft chime of the elevator arriving pulled him from his thoughts.

The doors slid open to the silent, pristine hallway of the 25th floor. The penthouse level. No neighbors. Just one door at the end—yours.

Heeseung stepped out slowly, his boots muffled against the plush carpet.

The hallway lights buzzed faintly above him, but the air was heavy. Still. Like even the world itself was holding its breath.

He stopped in front of your door.

The sketchpad was still tucked under his arm, corners now smudged with his fingerprints. The apology burning on his tongue felt useless, too late.

His hand hovered near the doorbell for a second, then dropped back to his side as he exhaled shakily.

Another second passed.

Then he rang it.

The sound echoed sharply in the hallway, then died out, leaving nothing but silence once more.

“…Come on,” he whispered, more to himself than anything, eyes locked on the door like it might open on its own.

Your muffled voice from inside—calm, distant—finally came through. “Come in.”

Heeseung let out a shaky sigh of relief, fingers trembling as he twisted the knob and slowly pushed the door open.

The lights were bright, flooding the space with an almost clinical clarity that made the tension in his chest worse.

The sight that greeted him wasn’t what he expected.

A flurry of fabrics cluttered the entrance—garment bags, silk rolls, sketchbooks sprawled across the floor. You weren’t even facing him.

You were hunched over your long stretch table, swatches spread around you, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, brows furrowed in focus.

You didn’t even look up.

“Just leave it there,” you said flatly, pinning a swatch to your mood board.

He looked down at the sketchbook in his hand—your sketchbook—and the ache in his chest burned.

Heeseung didn’t move toward the table at first. He stood there, helpless, unsure of how to exist in the same room as you anymore.

But then he took a step forward. Then another.

Until he was just a few feet beside you, watching your fingers clip swatches with trembling hands even though you tried to seem unaffected.

“(Y/N), let’s talk about this.”

“Talk about what, Lee?” you said quietly, tone razor sharp. “Last time I checked, there’s nothing going on between us.”

His brows furrowed at your words like they physically hurt him. “(Y/N)… don’t shut me out like this.”

Finally, finally, your eyes snapped up—and his stomach dropped.

Your eyes were red. Swollen. Lined with smudged mascara you clearly tried wiping off but missed.

You were still beautiful. But it was a kind of beauty he hated seeing.

“Shut you out?” you hissed, voice trembling. “Lee, you were out there kissing other girls. I think we’re done here.”

Heeseung stepped closer, panic bubbling. “Would you just let me explain—?”

“No, I won’t!” you cut him off, voice breaking mid-sentence.

Your hand curled into a fist at your side. “I won’t sit here and hear you lie again, Heeseung!”

His eyes glistened, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say. He just stared at you like you were slipping away right in front of him.

“(Y/N)… please—”

“Please, Heeseung,” you whispered, a choked sob threatening to spill over, “just go…”

He didn’t listen. He couldn’t.

He stepped forward and pulled you into him, arms wrapping tight around your waist, heart racing in his chest as you struggled and pushed against him.

“Stop—don’t—” you hiccupped, trying to shove him away. “Don’t make this harder.”

“I’m not going home without fixing this,” he said firmly, holding you close even as your fists pounded weakly against his chest.

You glared up at him, and god—he almost took a step back. Your eyes burned.

“Oh, now you want to fix it?” you spat bitterly. “After sneaking around and thinking I wouldn’t hear about the girls clinging to you like leeches? After knowing I liked you—”

“You think I wanted that?” Heeseung snapped, just a bit louder than he meant to, just enough to make you listen.

His hands moved up to gently hold your arms.

“When will you stop pushing me away, huh?” he whispered, voice rough and pained.

“Do you think I wasn’t hurting too? You think I didn’t feel anything when we were finally getting close and then—then you just vanished on me like I didn’t matter?”

You stared at him, mouth parting in disbelief, tears threatening to fall again.

“No,” you whispered harshly. “I’m just another one of your games. Why would you care?”

Heeseung took in a slow, shaky breath. Then, without breaking eye contact, he stepped in even closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“Choi (Y/N),” he whispered, voice breaking, “I’m hopelessly, pathetically devoted to you.”

You froze. His hands trembled where they held your arms, lips just inches from your forehead.

“You’re not like them,” he murmured, softer now.

“You never were. And I don’t know when it started, I don’t know how the hell it happened—but it’s you. It’s always been you.”

He shut his eyes, voice cracking.

“And I don’t want to lose you because I was too scared to admit it.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out—only a trembling breath.

And then your eyes filled again, hot tears slipping down your cheeks before you could blink them away.

This time, you didn’t fight it. You didn’t mask it with pride or sarcasm. You just cried.

And Heeseung moved in the second your shoulders started to shake, like he’d been waiting—hoping—for you to finally let go.

“Hey, hey, come here,” he whispered, wrapping both arms around you tightly, carefully, like he was scared you might shatter if he wasn’t gentle enough.

He guided you backward with soft steps until your knees hit the edge of the couch, helping you sit as he lowered himself with you.

Without thinking, you moved, curling into his lap, legs tucked beside his as you pressed your face into his neck, trying to hold in the sobs—but they just came harder.

“I’m sorry…” Heeseung whispered into your hair, stroking your back slowly, his voice cracking just a little.

“I’m so sorry, baby. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

You didn’t speak. You just gripped the fabric of his shirt tighter, as if it were the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart.

He let you cry.

No rushed apologies, no empty promises—just his arms around you, calming you.

You felt his fingers run along your spine, up into your hair, brushing it gently out of your face as your sobs began to quiet down.

After a few minutes, your breathing slowed.

Heeseung leaned back slightly, hands lifting to cradle your face. His thumbs wiped away the tears on your cheeks as he tilted your head up to look at him.

“Feel better?” he asked, voice soft and careful.

You sniffled, letting out a tired little laugh. “Barely.”

He smiled faintly, resting his forehead against yours. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be okay right now. You just have to be here with me.”

You nodded slowly, eyes fluttering shut as you inhaled shakily. “I just… I thought I lost you. Again.”

“You didn’t,” he whispered firmly. “You couldn’t. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

You opened your eyes again, staring at him with everything you were too afraid to say aloud.

“We’re okay… right?”

Heeseung leaned in just enough for your noses to brush. “We’re more than okay.”

You let out a soft, tearful laugh. “You promise?”

“I swear,” he said, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Even if it takes a thousand more moments like this—I’m not going anywhere.”

You barely had time to process the weight of his words before Heeseung tilted your chin gently with his fingers, his mouth trailing soft, teasing kisses down your temple, then across your cheekbone.

You laughed—light, breathless—squirming a little under the affection.

“Hee—” you murmured, the sound dissolving into a quiet giggle when he nuzzled against your cheek.

His lips hovered dangerously close to the corner of your mouth now, his thumb grazing your jaw as he paused—right there, just shy of crossing the line.

His eyes searched yours, full of heat but softened by something far deeper. His voice dropped into a whisper, low and laced with restraint.

“Can I kiss you?”

And even though your answer was just a small nod, shy and barely-there… it was all he needed.

His hand cupped your face like you were made of glass, and then—he kissed you.

Not rushed. Not ravenous.

Just full of everything he hadn’t said until now. Every look, every touch, every held-back thought.

But the second your fingers tugged at the front of his shirt—just a little, just enough—something in him cracked.

His lips moved firmer now, hungrier, like he was drinking from a well he didn’t know he’d been dying of thirst for.

You gasped against him, clutching onto his shirt, and he took that as permission to deepen the kiss—his hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

When you both finally parted, just to catch your breath, a thin string of saliva still connected your lips—glistening in the low light.

Heeseung didn’t even blink.

“Fuck,” he whispered, barely audible—more like a prayer than a curse—as he pulled you back in.

One hand cradled the back of your head, guiding you into another kiss that was deeper, slower, starving.

His other hand stayed firm on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you moan softly into his mouth.

That tiny sound—that quiet, desperate little noise—broke him.

You felt his grip tighten as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your body melt into his.

He groaned against your lips, breathing uneven, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

When you pulled away with a shaky pant, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, Heeseung stared at you like he’d never seen anything more perfect.

Then—without a single warning—he stood up in one smooth motion, arms hooking under your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly.

You squeaked, hands flying to his shoulders, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as your back hit the wall with a soft thud.

He didn’t give you a second to react.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, voice low and full of heat, his mouth brushing against yours with every word.

You swallowed hard, heart racing. “Hall… to the right.”

“Good,” he murmured, already moving—his grip firm on your ass, carrying you like you weighed nothing.

You buried your face in his neck as he strode through the hallway, kissing your skin in short, hungry bursts.

You could feel how hard he was already, pressing through his jeans, grinding against your core with every step he took.

The second he reached your bedroom door, he didn’t even wait to kick it open properly—just enough to squeeze you both in without letting you go.

He carried you straight to the bed and gently set you down, his lips never leaving yours, kissing you like he was memorizing the taste of your mouth.

His hands framed your face as he hovered above you, the ends of his silver chains swaying between you—grazing your chest, cold against your warm skin.

Your fingers threaded through his hair instinctively, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he groaned into your mouth at the contact.

Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you.

His lips were kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide with desire, chest rising and falling like he was barely keeping it together.

“Are you sure about this, (Y/N)?” he asked, voice hoarse, but steady—calm even in the middle of chaos.

You nodded eagerly, but he didn’t move.

“Words, baby,” he whispered, cupping your cheek. “I need words.”

“Yes,” you said softly, breath hitching as your eyes searched his. “Yes, Heeseung. I want this—I want you.”

He let out a deep sigh of relief, forehead pressing against yours for a brief second before he dove back in—kissing you harder now, deeper.

His hands slid down your sides, bunching up the hem of your cardigan before tugging it off your shoulders. He flung it somewhere across the room without care, too focused on you to give a damn.

Then his fingers moved to your button-up shirt—slow, precise, undoing each one.

When it hung open, he let his lips trail down from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck—pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses as his hands slowly pushed the fabric aside.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and reverent. “I don’t think you even know what you do to me.”

Your breathing stuttered when he sucked lightly on the base of your neck, leaving a mark before moving lower.

His kisses were slower now—hot, wet, and lingering—as he trailed them down to your collarbones, your sternum, the top of your breasts, still shielded by your bra.

But your shirt had already slipped from your shoulders, and he let it fall down your arms as he whispered,

“Lift up for me, baby.”

You arched your back, letting him pull it off completely, leaving you beneath him in your bra, lips parted, chest rising in anticipation.

He stared for a moment, completely still—eyes flicking over your flushed skin, the way your body responded to every brush of his fingers.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered again, voice low and rough, almost shaking with restraint.

You shook your head instantly, breathless. “Don’t stop, Heeseung… please.”

He sighed—half relief, half frustration—as he sat back just enough to shrug off his leather jacket, tossing it somewhere behind him.

“Such a fucking bother,” he muttered under his breath, his silver chains moving against his chest as he leaned forward again.

He lowered his head, lips brushing over your stomach now—kisses slow and open-mouthed, hot against your skin.

You gasped when he licked a trail up your abdomen, his hands smoothing along your sides as you writhed beneath him, arching into every touch.

He made his way back up to your chest, hands sliding behind your back where you lay half-upright on the bed, and with practiced ease—he unhooked your lace bra.

The straps slid down your shoulders like water, and the second the cups fell away, he sat back again, just for a second, just to look.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the swell of one breast. “You’re driving me insane, baby…”

Then he leaned back in, mouth warm and wet as he took one nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking gently before sucking harder—just enough to make your back arch off the bed with a desperate moan.

Your fingers flew back to his hair, gripping tight, and he groaned against your skin like the sound of you was addictive.

His other hand wasn’t idle—two fingers circling and teasing the other breast, pinching lightly, making you whimper and shift under him.

“Feels good?” he murmured between kisses, lips trailing from one to the other. “You like this, huh?”

You nodded, barely able to form words. “So good… please, don’t stop—”

“Yeah?” he grinned, a little cocky now, a little breathless himself. “Fuck, I love how you sound.”

He kissed down your sternum again, lips hot and slow, trailing a line between your breasts as his hand slid lower—just brushing the waistband of your skirt.

“You gonna let me keep going, pretty girl?” he asked, voice like velvet and sin as he pressed a kiss just above your navel. “Let me take care of you?”

You nodded quickly, lips parted, barely able to catch your breath. “Yes… please, Heeseung.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed like he was savoring the sound, hands already sliding down to the waistband of your skirt. “Good girl.”

With ease, he began easing the fabric down your hips, slow and deliberate—like he wanted to savor every second.

You lifted your hips obediently, letting him pull the skirt past your thighs, past your knees, until it joined the growing pile of your clothes on the floor.

But he didn’t go straight for your panties.

No—he paused, crouched between your legs, eyes locked on the sight of you laid out just for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, dragging his hands slowly up the backs of your thighs. “You look like a fucking dream.”

His lips met the skin of your inner thigh next, pressing teasing kisses there—hot and soft.

You whimpered, hands curling in the sheets as his mouth traveled higher, closer, but never quite where you needed him most.

Then he smirked against your thigh, fingers tugging gently at the top of your thigh-high socks, letting the band snap lightly against your skin.

“These are cute,” he murmured. “You wear these for me, baby?”

You whined at the teasing tone, thighs twitching slightly as he trailed his mouth over one, then the other. “Heeseung—please…”

He chuckled under his breath, low and breathy, completely unfazed by how desperate you sounded.

“Patience, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing just above the edge of your panties. “Wanna take my time with you.”

But even as he said that—he was already pushing your lace panties to the side, just far enough to see how soaked you were for him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes dark as he looked up at you. “You’re so wet already… did I do that?”

You nodded helplessly, thighs threatening to close before he gently pushed them apart again with firm hands.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured. “I wanna see all of you.”

And then—without warning—he dipped his head and pressed a kiss right on your folds through your panties, sucking lightly on the fabric, making you cry out.

“Heeseung—!” you gasped, hips jolting at the contact.

He smirked, clearly satisfied by your reaction, and with one last look up at you—he moved your panties aside again and gave you a long, slow lick from bottom to top.

Your head dropped back against the pillows, a broken moan leaving your lips.

Heeseung groaned against you. “Shit, you taste even better than I imagined.”

And then he was diving in—tongue moving with sinful precision, licking and sucking at your clit as he moaned into you like this was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

One hand held your thigh open, while the other slid under to support your lower back, pulling you closer to his mouth like he needed you deeper, closer, messier.

“You’re so responsive, baby,” he murmured between licks, “So fucking sweet…”

You couldn’t even form words—just gasps, moans, and his name over and over as his tongue lapped at your soaked heat, teasing your entrance before sucking your clit again just right.

Heeseung groaned against you, absolutely wrecked at how responsive you were. “That’s it,” he murmured against your core, voice thick.

“Just like that, baby… taste so fucking good.”

Then he pulled back just slightly, eyes blown wide with lust as he pressed soft kisses to your inner thigh, his breath hot and uneven.

“Gotta prep you, baby,” he cooed, voice like honey laced with filth. “Or you’re gonna be so sore when I fuck you. You’re tight, I can tell.”

You whimpered at the words, thighs trembling as his fingers traced over your folds.

“You ready?” he asked, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb while his other hand positioned at your entrance.

You nodded, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes… please.”

With a low groan, he slid two fingers inside—slow and steady, letting you adjust as your back arched off the bed with a sharp moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Heeseung groaned, watching the way your walls clenched around him. “You’re gripping me so tight already—fuck.”

He started moving them, curling just right as his mouth latched back onto your clit, sucking rhythmically, drawing sounds out of you that didn’t even sound real.

Your body was trembling, thighs shaking, one hand gripping the sheets while the other buried itself in his hair.

“That's it, let go for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with want, fingers pumping faster. “Be good and cum for me, pretty girl.”

And with one more curl of his fingers and a deep suck to your clit—you shattered.

Your moans spilled freely as your body tensed, then shook with release, pleasure crashing through you like a wave.

Heeseung didn’t stop.

He worked you through it gently, slowing down, letting your body ride the high as he whispered praises into your skin.

“Fuck, that’s my girl… so pretty when you fall apart.”

When you finally opened your eyes, blinking through the haze, you saw him licking your arousal from his fingers—tongue flicking lazily over each digit before diving back in to clean you up, lapping at your folds with slow, almost reverent strokes.

You gasped, oversensitive, and he gave your inner thigh a playful kiss. “Too much?” he murmured, grinning.

You shook your head weakly, still catching your breath. “N-No… just—holy shit.”

He chuckled softly, then sat up, finally pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. Your eyes followed every movement, and god—he was gorgeous.

Lean, toned, with subtle muscle definition, soft abs, and broad shoulders. His silver chains still hung low on his chest, swaying slightly as he moved.

His skin was flushed, glowing in the dim light, and his jeans were already halfway undone.

You stared openly, lips parted, and when your eyes dropped to the very obvious bulge in his boxers, you swallowed hard.

With a cocky smirk, he unbuckled his jeans fully, letting them fall to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Eyes up, baby,” he teased, palming himself through the thin fabric, eyes half-lidded.

You couldn’t help it. “Will that even fit?” you breathed, wide-eyed.

He laughed—low and breathy, cock twitching in his boxers. “It will, baby,” he said, tugging the waistband down, finally freeing himself. “I got you.”

You stared—thick, flushed, and already leaking. He stroked himself lazily as he leaned over you again, reaching to fix your position so you were laying flat, legs open and ready.

“Just breathe,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your lips. “I’ll go slow.”

He kissed you again—gentle—as he lined himself up with your entrance. The head of his cock nudged against your folds, spreading your slick, and you whimpered at the contact, instinctively trying to shift closer.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured with a grin, eyes hooded. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You pouted slightly, and he laughed softly at your expression—only to melt it away instantly with another kiss, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly.

“Don’t give me that look,” he whispered against your lips. “I’ll make it feel good, promise.”

He began to push in.

Your mouth parted in a silent gasp as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The stretch was intense, the kind that made your thighs tremble, and your eyes squeezed shut as a soft cry escaped you.

Heeseung immediately paused, eyes wide with concern.

“Hey, hey, baby,” he cooed, voice soft and soothing as he brushed your hair from your face. “You okay? You’re doing so good for me.”

You nodded quickly, blinking back the tears forming in your eyes, but one slipped free and rolled down your cheek.

He caught it with his thumb instantly, wiping it away as he kissed your temple, your cheek, your nose—everywhere.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I know it’s a lot… just breathe. You’re taking me so well. So perfect for me.”

His kisses were never-ending—peppering your face like he couldn’t stand to see you in even the slightest discomfort.

“Tell me when to move, yeah?” he said gently, his cock still buried halfway inside you, waiting on your cue.

You took a few shaky breaths, your fingers curling around his shoulders, grounding yourself in the warmth of his body.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, voice soft but steady. “You can move, Heeseung.”

He let out the most beautiful sound—somewhere between a groan and a sigh of relief—as he buried the rest of himself inside you, slow and deep.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, jaw clenched. “You feel—shit—you feel like you were made for me.”

He held himself still, forehead pressed against yours, as your walls fluttered around him—tight, warm, wet.

And then he moved.

Slow, deep strokes that dragged along your walls just right. His hips rolled into yours with purpose, and every thrust was accompanied by a soft moan from you and a low groan from him.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, kissing your jaw. “Taking me so fucking well, baby.”

Your fingers dug into his back, nails raking lightly as the pace built—just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Faster…” you gasped, voice airy, eyes half-lidded. “Please, Hee… faster.”

His control snapped.

He moaned—loud, desperate—and picked up the pace, hips slapping against yours in quicker, deeper thrusts. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning them open as he buried himself in you over and over.

“You want it faster, huh?” he panted. “Fuck, (Y/N),—you’re so tight, so perfect… I can’t get enough of you.”

You were a mess beneath him—hair spread across the sheets, eyes wet, mouth parted as you moaned his name again and again.

And he was everywhere—his mouth on your neck, your collarbones, your lips, his chains brushing your chest as he fucked you deeper, harder, chasing that perfect rhythm between pleasure and adoration.

“Can feel you squeezing me, baby,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You close already?”

You nodded frantically, eyes rolling back. “So close—Heeseung, please, don’t stop—”

That was all he needed to hear.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer until your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

His cock reached deeper, and your nails clawed into his back, dragging red lines down his spine that made him hiss in pleasure.

“Fuck—feels so good when you do that,” he breathed out, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your temple in between gasps.

You moaned loudly, arms curling around his neck, fingers tangling in the strands at his nape. “Heeseung—Hee, I’m gonna—I’m so close—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered against your ear, voice low and shaking,

“You’re doing so good, letting me fuck you like this—taking it so well. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

His words made you clench around him again, and he cursed, grabbing your waist tighter, keeping you in place as he fucked into you rougher, deeper, chasing your high.

“Where, baby?” he asked, barely holding himself back. “Where do you want it?”

“In—inside, please,” you cried out, nails biting into his shoulders. “Please, Heeseung—I need to feel you—”

That was it.

With a guttural moan, he drove into you one last time—and you shattered.

Your orgasm hit like a wave crashing over your whole body, back arching, breath breaking into sobs of pleasure as you tightened around him.

Heeseung followed right after, spilling inside with a hoarse moan of your name, his hips stilling as he emptied himself into you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours as you both trembled, catching your breath.

You whimpered at the overstimulation, thighs twitching around his waist—but he didn’t pull out just yet. Instead, he kissed you all over: your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your lips, whispering soft praises in between each one.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You smiled breathlessly, still high from the feeling of him, and pulled him into a deep kiss, moaning softly when his chain necklace dragged across your chest, cool and heavy.

“Your chains,” you giggled weakly, chest still rising and falling rapidly, “they’re cold…”

Heeseung grinned, pressing a kiss to your lips again. “Want me to take them off?”

“No,” you whispered, grinning back as you cupped his cheek. “Keep them on. You look good.”

He let out a soft, tired laugh, nuzzling into your palm. “God, I love you.”

You blinked up at him, lips parting in surprise.

He blinked down at you, still catching his breath—until you suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him down beside you.

“Ack—!” Heeseung yelped, barely catching himself as he landed with a bounce on the mattress. “Hey—!”

You giggled, crawling into his arms with zero shame, your bare chest pressing against his still-heaving one.

You leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft this time—his hands immediately responding, one cradling the back of your head while the other tenderly caressed your exposed waist.

He pulled away just slightly, enough to rest his forehead against yours. His voice was a whisper, breath still warm from your earlier climax.

“…You’re unbelievable.”

“I love you too, Lee Heeseung,” you whispered.

His smile bloomed instantly, so full of adoration it made your chest ache. He rubbed his nose against yours like a lovesick puppy, pulling you closer.

“I love you more, Choi (Y/N),” he murmured, so sure of it you almost melted all over again.

You sighed, head resting comfortably on his chest, your fingers lazily playing with the silver chains hanging from his neck.

Then, with a smirk tugging at your lips, you said, “You know… I know how to pay you back.”

Heeseung chuckled, voice teasing. “Mm? Is that so? What are you planning this time?”

You tilted your head, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. “Be my muse. For my final project.”

Heeseung blinked. Once. Twice. “…Wait—seriously?”

You nodded. “You’re already in my life, Hee. You’ve already inspired half of it without trying.”

“But…” He hesitated. “That’s a big deal, baby. That’s your grade. I—I don’t know if I’m what you’re looking for.”

You leaned in and kissed him again, gently, your fingers brushing back his damp hair. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He stared at you for a moment, lips parted in awe—then exhaled with a soft, dazed smile.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll be your muse, (Y/N).”

And with that, he pulled you in for another kiss—slow, deep, and sweet, just like the beginning of something new.

The echo of your laughter bounced off the quiet English department hallway as you clung to Heeseung’s side, one of his arms slung casually over your shoulders while the other held both of your bags like it was nothing.

“You didn’t,” you giggled at Sunoo, who trudged beside you, half-awake and clutching a bag of strawberry candy you bribed him with.

“I did!” he whined dramatically, dragging his feet. “I stayed up until four in the morning trying to finish that stupid quiz… I was seeing colors.”

“I told you to stop staying up so late watching your shows,” you chided, bumping your hip into his playfully.

Sunoo threw his head back. “Oh, come on! As if you don’t.”

You shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Guilty.”

Heeseung let out a warm laugh beside you, looking down at you like you hung the stars.

Sunoo turned on his heel with narrowed eyes, pointing accusingly. “You don’t get to laugh, Heeseung.”

Heeseung raised both brows innocently. “I know, see?” He jutted his chin slightly, and you followed the motion—catching the healing cut on his bottom lip.

The one Sunoo left a few days ago from punching him.

Sunoo puffed his chest proudly. “Damn right.”

Before you could roll your eyes at the both of them, Sunoo pointed down the hallway. “Wait, is that… isn’t that Jake and Jay?”

You and Heeseung turned your heads at the same time—just in time to see the two approaching.

Jake’s signature brown locks were the first to catch your eye as he waved, “Yo, Heeseung!”

Heeseung slipped his arm from your shoulders for a brief second to bump fists with Jake and give Jay a casual nod.

Jay stepped up next, holding out a hand with a charming grin. “Nice to finally meet you properly, (Y/N). I’m Jay.”

You shook his hand with a friendly smile. “Hi, Jay. Nice to meet you, too.”

“You actually met me during open mic night,” he added with a little teasing glint in his eyes.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ of realization. “Oh my god, yes! Of course—I remember now.”

Heeseung leaned into your side with a smirk, slipping his hand around your waist again. “Don’t steal my girl, Park.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Not cool, man.”

Jake laughed and elbowed Jay. “He’s just mad you’re already married to your data reports. Remember?”

Jay groaned, throwing his head back. “Don’t remind me.”

“We’re here to pick these two up,” Jake said, nodding at Heeseung and Sunoo.

Sunoo blinked. “For what?”

“Movie night at my place,” Jay chimed in. “We’re rewatching the entire Spider-Man franchise. That includes everything—Tobey to Tom. No exceptions.”

Jake looked at you, hopeful. “You wanna come with?”

Heeseung quickly stepped in, tugging you closer. “Sorry, can’t. I’m supposed to help (Y/N) with her final project today.”

You gave them an apologetic smile. “Guilty. I roped him in. Sorry, guys.”

Jake waved a hand, laughing. “Don’t worry, we get it. Heeseung’s in love. There’s a first time for everything.”

You raised a brow and turned to Sunoo with a teasing grin. “Didn’t he have a girlfriend before?”

Jay cut in before Sunoo could answer, groaning dramatically. “You mean that annoying girl from freshman year?”

Sunoo nodded, lips pressed in a thin line.

Jay scoffed. “She wasn’t even his girlfriend. He only said yes because she wouldn’t stop bothering him.”

Jake crossed his arms, nodding thoughtfully. “Then rumors started spreading, and boom—everyone just assumed they were dating.”

Heeseung stayed quiet, his gaze dropping momentarily.

You looked up at him. “That true?”

He glanced down at you, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand gently. “Didn’t matter back then.”

“But it does now?” you asked softly, tilting your head up.

He leaned closer, his voice low and just for you. “Only one girl I’ve ever wanted for real.”

Sunoo made a gagging noise. “I’m leaving. I refuse to be third-wheeled like this.”

Jay hooked an arm around Sunoo’s neck, dragging him down the hallway. “Come on, we’ve got a Spider-Verse to marathon.”

Jake followed after them, calling out over his shoulder, “Don’t stay up too late, lovebirds!”

You and Heeseung just laughed, fingers laced, as the three of them disappeared around the corner.

As the echo of their voices faded, Heeseung tilted his head to look at you, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So… where to now?”

You shrugged, swaying your connected hands. “Choi Atelier.”

He blinked. “Your mom’s company?”

You nodded, casually leading the way out of the building and toward the parking lot.

“Yeah. I mean, I have a whole studio space to myself there. I need the machines, the mannequins, the fabric swatches. And a steamer. My apartment setup’s cute but not enough for a final project.”

Heeseung let out an impressed hum. “Must be nice having an entire studio to yourself.”

“I mean…” you dragged the word out playfully. “Perks of being the daughter of Korea’s top designer.”

He nodded again, then glanced sideways. “Your mom’s aware you have a boyfriend, right?”

You sheepishly avoided his eyes as you walked. “Kind of.”

Heeseung immediately slowed his steps, brows furrowing. “What do you mean kind of?”

You made a face. “Well, she knows I’m into someone. I just didn’t exactly say who.”

“(Y/N),” he groaned, dragging out your name as he stopped in place, hands flailing a little.

“What are you doing to me?”

You laughed, tugging his arm to get him moving again.

“Relax! It’s going to be fine. You’re wearing Prada right now—she’ll take one look and know you’ve got taste.”

You both reached the parking lot, your Porsche Taycan and his Ducati Diavel parked right across from each other like they were on a date too.

Heeseung leaned against the passenger side of your car, arms crossed as he gave you a skeptical look.

“Taste or not, won’t she hate me for, I don’t know—suddenly being the boyfriend of her very single, very secretive daughter?”

You rolled your eyes, unlocking your car as you turned to face him. “You’re so dramatic.”

Leaning in, you reached for the collar of his open gray collared shirt—the white tee underneath peeking out just enough.

As you fixed the fold, he automatically bent down to meet your height, watching you with soft eyes.

Heeseung sighed at that, brows slightly furrowed. “Well… you did mention that she loves Taehyun.”

“True,” you said with a cheeky smile, poking his chest at the mention of his older brother. “But I think she’ll love you, too.”

He groaned again, resting his forehead against yours. “You know, I didn’t think I’d be this nervous over meeting your mom.”

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips. “It’s not her you should be worried about.”

He leaned back slightly, confused. “Wait—who then?”

“Soobin,” you answered simply, shooting him a look.

Heeseung blinked. “What? I thought he loved me?”

You smirked. “He does. Considers you one of his best friends, actually.”

“Exactly!” Heeseung exclaimed, pointing at himself.

You patted his cheek. “Yeah. Which is why he’s definitely not going to be thrilled that one of his best friends is in love with his little sister.”

His mouth dropped open. “I’m getting punched, aren’t I?”

You shrugged. “More or less.”

“Great.” He laughed under his breath and leaned down to give you a quick kiss—short but full of warmth.

When he pulled away, his lips curved into a teasing smile. “Cherry?”

“Always,” you replied with a grin, your lipstick slightly smudged now.

You opened your car door and shoved him lightly toward his bike. “Go. We’ve got no time to waste.”

He grinned as he walked backward, eyes on you. “See you at the atelier, Miss Choi.”

“Don’t be late, Mr. Lee,” you teased.

“Wouldn’t dare,” he called back, tossing a wink before straddling his Ducati, revving it up with a low purr that sent a thrill down your spine.

Heeseung scanned the space with wide, curious eyes—taking in every sleek sewing machine, rows of hanging fabrics, sketches pinned to corkboards, mannequins dressed in half-finished masterpieces.

It smelled faintly of linen, pencil lead, and you.

Heeseung was standing near the center of the room, hands in his pockets, still a little stunned.

You, on the other hand, stood a few feet away—snipping a piece of white fabric on the cutting table.

You looked up. “Hey, stand still.”

He turned just in time for you to approach him, the delicate piece of white fabric in your hands.

Carefully, you draped it over his shoulders, smoothing it down and stepping back just a little to look at him from a different angle.

He let out a small chuckle, raising a brow. “Is this supposed to be a blazer?”

“More or less,” you murmured, your lips quirking up as you started measuring from one shoulder to the other, hands brushing gently along his arms.

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you—soft, admiring, a little in awe as you moved around him with precision.

“White looks nice on you,” you commented, nodding toward the mannequin a few feet away.

Draped on it was the rough version of what you envisioned—structured, tailored, and undeniably stylish.

He tilted his head. “That actually looks… really good.”

“Of course it does,” you said, flashing him a proud smile. “I’m the one making it.”

He let out a laugh, the sound deep and warm as his hands found your waist, tugging you forward with ease.

You dropped the measuring tape onto the table behind you, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Is this part of the design process?” he teased, eyes twinkling.

You smiled, leaning closer, your nose brushing his. “It is now.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispered, letting his forehead rest gently against yours.

You hummed, brushing your fingers lightly through the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I do.”

Then, with a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek—soft and warm. “Now stay still,” you whispered against his skin before pulling away.

Heeseung’s gaze followed you, amused and utterly smitten as you walked a few steps to the side and picked up a roll of deep navy fabric from the shelf near your workstation.

You brought it back and held it up next to the white one still draped over his shoulders, your head tilting slightly as you squinted at the contrast.

You gave a slow, approving nod. “You’re going to look like a prince.”

Heeseung grinned, eyes crinkling, and before you could turn to grab your pins, he tugged you right back into him by the waist again.

“Heeseung!” you laughed, swatting at his chest lightly. “I’m not going to get anything done if you flirt with me every minute.”

He only smirked, resting his chin on top of your head as he pulled you closer. “Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re focused.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but let your head rest against his chest anyway, your arms resting loosely around his torso as the fabric between you crinkled softly.

You could feel his heartbeat—steady, warm.

“Ah, young love.”

You practically jumped out of your skin.

Heeseung’s grip loosened immediately.

There stood your mother in the doorway, a paper bag of takeout in hand, her expression far too amused for someone who just witnessed her daughter wrapped in a boy’s arms.

Next to her leaned Soobin, arms crossed and brow raised, biting back a smirk.

“H-Hey,” you stammered out, your voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

You stepped forward instinctively, planting yourself in front of Heeseung like your presence could shield what she’d just seen.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” your mom asked sweetly, feigning innocence—but her smile was all-knowing, the kind that made your cheeks burn.

“N-No, not at all,” you said quickly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “You just… surprised me, that’s all.”

“I just had to bring you two some food,” she said, holding up the paper bag.

“And Soobin wanted to check in. He wouldn’t stop pestering me the moment he saw Heeseung’s bike parked outside.”

“Snitched on me the second he could,” Heeseung muttered under his breath.

Your mom walked in, placing the food on your desk beside a stack of fabrics and unfinished drafts. She then turned toward the both of you, eyes sparkling.

“Good evening, Heeseung,” she greeted kindly.

Heeseung straightened with a sheepish smile, bowing politely. “Good evening, Mrs. Choi.”

She waved her hand and laughed, pulling him into a quick, unexpected hug that made his eyes widen in surprise. “Please, just call me Mom. You’ve been around long enough.”

“Mom, please,” you groaned, mortified, covering your face as Heeseung chuckled under his breath.

“You bastard.”

You looked over just in time to see Soobin stride forward, eyeing Heeseung up and down before suddenly pulling him into a rough headlock.

“Soobin!” Heeseung yelped as Soobin messed up his cherry-red hair, ruffling it with no mercy. “Soobin, let go!”

“What? You thought I wouldn’t do this just because Mom’s here?” Soobin grinned, keeping him locked in place.

“I just fixed my hair!” Heeseung tried fighting back, his hands trying to pry Soobin’s arm away from his neck, the two of them swaying dangerously close to the stack of fabric rolls you hadn’t cleaned up yet.

Your mom simply hummed in amusement, unfazed by the chaos behind her. She turned back to you and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “How’s school going, sweetheart?”

You exhaled shakily, trying to compose yourself.

“So-so. I just… really need to finalize this draft before next week,” you said, nodding toward the mannequin beside your desk.

She walked over with you, her fingers delicately running across the navy and white fabrics draped over it. “Going for a regal look?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I want it to feel princely.”

She studied the silhouette for a moment, then hummed. “Add silver linings to the sleeves and collar. It’ll elevate it.”

“I was actually going to do that,” you said, and she turned to you with a soft, proud smile.

“I did raise you well.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, wrapping your arms around her for a quick hug. “You did.”

Just then—a loud thud.

Both of you turned around sharply to see several fabric rolls toppling over like dominos.

Heeseung now had Soobin pinned against the wall, his arms locked in retaliation as Soobin tried to kick him off with absolutely no shame. “You started it!”

“I will turn this whole rack into a wrestling ring,” Heeseung warned dramatically, “don’t test me.”

“Boys,” your mother sighed fondly, rubbing her temples. “I brought dinner, not pay-per-view.”

You covered your face again, half-laughing, half-dying from embarrassment. “Can everyone please act normal for five minutes?”

Heeseung, disheveled and breathless, looked at you with a grin as he pointed to the navy fabric still clutched in your hand. “You sure I’m gonna look like a prince? ‘Cause I feel like a gladiator.”

You gave him a look, but your lips curved into a smile. “Shut up and let me work.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he teased, bowing dramatically as he ducked out of Soobin’s reach again.

You just sighed, but deep down, your heart felt incredibly full.

And as your mom quietly unpacked the food and Soobin grumbled while fixing his hair, you turned back to the mannequin, letting your fingers linger on the fabric.

You were sitting stiffly beside Yujin and Wonyoung in the wide, echoey lecture hall, your sketchbook closed on your lap, your grip tight on the pen you hadn't realized you were still holding.

Professor Kim stood at the front, flipping through a clipboard before glancing up at the class.

"What’s with the long faces?" he asked, half amused.

Your frown deepened, heartbeat pounding in your ears. Today was the announcement of the final grades. The moment everything you’d worked on for months came down to.

You could feel your entire future resting on that grade sheet.

You reached under the table and gripped Yujin’s hand tightly. She gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll be fine, yeah?” she whispered, flashing a small, nervous smile.

You gave a jerky nod, but your stomach wouldn’t stop twisting.

Professor Kim cleared his throat, tapping his pen against the podium. “Alright, safe to say… everybody passed.”

The room immediately filled with the sound of relief—sighs, giggles, soft cheers.

Your chest deflated.

But then—

“But—” Professor Kim continued.

You frowned. “But what…?” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“The professors of the fashion department,” he went on, “have come to a decision. One that wasn’t originally planned. Based on this year’s final outputs, a particular work stood out among all submissions. So much so, that we reached out to the organizers of Fashion Week.”

Your heart stopped.

“The best output will be given the opportunity to showcase their design during Fashion Week,” he said, pausing dramatically, “in a special pop-up exhibit where the whole student body can view it. On top of that, we’re inviting several big names in the fashion industry to attend the segment.”

A wave of silence crashed over the room.

You couldn’t breathe. You stared forward, eyes fixed on Professor Kim as your pulse thundered in your ears.

Then, he looked up and smiled.

“Congratulations, Choi (Y/N). Your work was chosen.”

You gasped. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth as Yujin immediately screamed beside you. “Oh my god! (Y/N)!”

Wonyoung was shaking your shoulder with wide, glittering eyes, while Yujin grabbed both your arms and shook you side to side like a rag doll. “You did it!”

Applause broke out across the room.

You stood slowly, bowing shakily in place as the class clapped and congratulated you, your eyes glossy with disbelief. “T-thank you so much for this opportunity,” you said breathlessly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I’ll do my best. I promise.”

Yujin leaned close, wrapping an arm around your waist, grinning proudly. “We knew you could do it, babe.”

Wonyoung nodded beside you, eyes twinkling. “You were born for this. The runway better be ready.”

You laughed tearfully, still trembling, still stunned—but your chest had never felt so light.

Professor Kim gave you a soft, proud smile from where he stood, his hands tucked behind his back.

“Well-deserved,” he said with a nod, his voice gentler now. “Congratulations again, (Y/N).”

You bowed once more from your seat, cheeks still damp, and whispered, “Thank you, sir.”

“Alright,” Professor Kim clapped his hands. “You’re all dismissed. Enjoy your break—you’ve earned it.”

Chairs scraped against the floor as the rest of the class erupted into chatter and celebration.

Yujin and Wonyoung squealed beside you, hugging you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe.

“I told you you’d kill it!” Yujin grinned, shaking you by the shoulders.

“You better not forget us when you’re famous,” Wonyoung teased, wiping under your eyes with a tissue as she sniffled, getting emotional too.

You let out a breathy laugh, hugging them both before you quickly grabbed your things and dashed out of the room, heart racing—not just from the news, but because you already knew who you needed to tell.

And right outside the room, leaning casually against a row of lockers like he had all the time in the world, was Heeseung.

Wearing that stupid leather jacket. Arms crossed. His helmet sitting on the bench beside him.

His head perked up the second he saw you. “So?” he said, smiling like he already knew the answer. “How’d it go?”

You didn’t even respond right away.

You just ran to him and jumped into his arms.

He caught you with ease, laughing into your shoulder as your legs wrapped around his waist, your bag almost slipping off in the process.

“I did it!” you nearly shouted against his neck. “I passed—I passed, Heeseung! And they chose me! I’m presenting my collection during Fashion Week!”

He froze for just a second. And then his arms tightened around you, holding you closer.

“Wait—what?” He pulled back slightly so he could see your face, eyes wide with joy. “You’re serious?”

You nodded frantically.

“Dead serious. They picked me. Professor Kim announced it just now. My designs are going to be shown during Fashion Week. In a pop-up corner! With actual designers and scouts there! I’m the one they chose!”

He laughed then, that full, breathless laugh of his that always made your heart skip. “That’s insane. That’s insane! Baby, that’s amazing!”

You were crying again, even as you grinned.

“I can’t believe it either,” you whispered, forehead pressed to his shoulder.

He pulled you in for another hug, rocking you side to side slightly. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you you’d get your spark back.”

You smiled against him, warmth curling in your chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “You did. And it was you. It was always you. You’re all I needed all along.”

Heeseung leaned back, brushing your hair from your face with his fingers, his grin impossibly soft now. “Stop that,” he murmured. “You’re talented as hell, with or without me.”

You gave him a teasing shrug. “Not without my muse I’m not.”

He chuckled, thumb grazing your cheekbone. “Alright then. Since I’m the muse, does that mean I get a reward?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Depends. What kind of reward?”

He held up his helmet. “How ‘bout a ride with me?”

You laughed, already grabbing it from his hands. “Only if you promise not to drop me.”

He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist as you two began walking down the hall. “Always.”

The hallways were emptying now, the golden glow of afternoon light spilling through the tall windows, painting the walls in soft warmth.

Your laughter echoed as you walked beside him, fingers laced with his, heart still pounding—but now from joy.

Maybe life wouldn’t always be perfect. Maybe you’d still doubt yourself every now and then. But with Heeseung beside you, you had everything you needed.

And for once, the future didn’t scare you.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified @ateez-atiny380 @chemiru @eleftheriance @deluluscenarios @simp4simlee @baedreamverse @lala-loopsydoll ⤷ series taglist — @seungsoftly @aloveminsalade @merakicafee @isagistar @heeknow @blooqz @k1ttyjwon @dearestdreamies @sourkiki @mixxie2203 @wonuzu @12e45 @fancypeacepersona @omlhyck @starfallia @koizekomi @hommyy-tommy @laylasbunbunny @aggarwaldrishti @bestboileeknow @meeghangryfun @liliawritesss @starfire21 @seokjinthescientist @iicehoon @stayupdates

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liuhsng · 8 days ago

Text

✩ˎˊ˗ ride with caution ( lhs ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the xo, with you series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — heeseung x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ⤷ word count — 14.5k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — college au, biker!heeseung, english major!heeseung, fashion major!reader, college!enhypen, strangers to lovers, slow burn, unresolved tension, emotional repression, mutual pining, rich!reader, soft!heeseung but only for you, reader is cold but not heartless, emotionally constipated!reader, comforting!heeseung, crying scene (reader), mentions of txt’s soobin, mentions of nct dream’s jeno, mentions of stray kids seungmin, mentions of ive’s wonyoung and yujin, subtle possessiveness, light jealousy, foul language, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst

You laugh, waving a hand at Sunoo as he sticks his head out of his classroom door, nearly tripping over a music stand in the process.

“Thanks again, (Y/N)! I owe you one at our next meeting!”

He grins wide, raising the paper bag filled with folded shirt samples you brought over for him from the fashion building.

You smile. “Don’t sweat it, Sunoo,” you say, nodding, watching as he slips back inside and the door shuts behind him with a soft thud.

And then—it’s quiet again.

A week. It’s been a whole week since that hallway moment with Heeseung.

A week of dodging glances, ignoring waves, walking faster every time you hear the low rumble of that damn Ducati somewhere behind you.

A week of pretending he doesn’t exist.

And you hate it.

You hate the twist in your chest every time you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye—smiling at someone else, talking to a classmate, laughing with Sunoo.

You hate how guilty you feel every time you brush past him like he’s invisible.

Like he never stood that close to you. Like his voice didn’t crack when he said “You looked beautiful today.”

You tug your phone out of your pocket as you walk out of the music building, nearly sighing out loud when the heat hits you like a wall.

The sun’s brutal, scorching through the awning like it has something to prove.

You turn toward the vending machines off to the side of the courtyard, muttering under your breath as you scan the little QR code taped onto the scratched surface of the panel.

You’re punching in the number for strawberry milk—when someone steps up beside you, using the machine next to yours.

You don’t look. You barely notice. Until they speak.

“Not banana milk?”

You freeze as your breath catches, fingers still hovering over the last button.

That voice. Smooth, familiar, warm.

You don’t want to look—you already know. But your body betrays you, head turning just slightly to the side.

Lee Heeseung.

Still with that dark cherry red hair, glinting under the sun despite the shadow of the roof above you. A plain white shirt clings to his frame, and his hand rests casually against the machine.

But it’s his smile—small, soft, and painfully knowing—that makes your stomach twist.

You blink as he tilts his head.

“Didn’t peg you for a strawberry kind of girl.”

You suck in a quiet breath and grab the milk bottle that drops into the tray of the vending machine, not saying a word.

He doesn’t move.

You sling your bag higher on your shoulder and take a step forward, ready to walk away.

But he speaks again.

“Are you always this avoidant to your friends?”

Your feet halt on instinct.

Slowly, you glance over your shoulder. Your brows pinch together.

“We’re not exactly friends, Lee.” The words leave your mouth colder than you mean them to.

He clicks his tongue and takes one step forward—closer, just enough that you feel the change in the air.

His hands slide into the pockets of his jeans, gaze steady on you. “Then what are we, (Y/N)?”

You hate that your heart stutters.

You can’t answer.

Not when your throat suddenly feels tight. Not when you know if you say anything—it’ll come out wrong. Too much. Too real.

So you turn your head forward again. And you keep walking.

You hear the sigh behind you before you’re even halfway down the sidewalk.

“…What are you doing to me?” The words are quiet. Barely a whisper.

Heeseung shakes his head with a bitter chuckle, eyes fixed on your retreating figure that grows smaller with each passing second.

You didn’t look back, not even once—and that did something to him.

He presses his lips together, sighs through his nose, and runs a hand through his dark cherry hair, letting his head tilt back for a second as if silently asking the sky for patience.

Then, without another word, he shoves his hands into his pockets and turns around.

The walk back to his building feels heavier than usual.

He passes a group of girls near the courtyard—some from his department, some not.

One of them calls out his name with a playful lilt, “Heeseung, you’re not even gonna say hi today?”

He doesn’t even flinch. His pace doesn’t slow, his expression doesn’t shift.

Not unless you’re the one talking to him.

When he finally reaches the entrance of his building, he slows to a stop, lingering by the glass doors.

His reflection stares back at him—eyes rimmed with something close to frustration and confusion.

He mutters to himself under his breath, “You’re driving me insane…”

And then he pushes open the door and disappears inside.

The night air was crisp against your skin, a soft wind brushing strands of your hair into your face as you walked alongside Yujin and a few of your classmates.

The faint scent of dew and fresh ink lingered as they taped up posters on the English Department bulletin board—bright, bold, and littered with neon stickers shouting upcoming events and reminders.

“Ugh, why do the seniors get to use all the rooms?” one girl complained, peeling tape with too much force.

“They’re graduating soon,” Yujin replied with a light laugh, smoothing out the edge of a poster. “That’ll be us in a few years.”

You chuckled softly at that, brushing your hands down your skirt. “I’ll go check out the meeting room we’re using—make sure everything’s clean.”

Yujin looked up. “Room 1103, right? Be careful, it’s getting late.”

“Text us if you see a ghost!” another joked.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “If I get possessed, I’m dragging one of you with me.”

As their laughter echoed faintly behind you, your steps slowed the closer you got to the hallway.

The building had grown quiet, heavy with that after-hours stillness, the kind that made every step sound louder, your thoughts even more so.

You inhaled slowly, trying to still the tug in your chest—the messy storm that hadn’t settled since the fallout.

The door creaked open with a soft push. You expected an empty room.

Only to see Heeseung standing alone, unplugging his laptop charger and organizing a stack of notebooks beside his bag.

The chairs were unaligned—evidence that others had been there before—but he was the only one left, lingering like a ghost caught between rooms.

His eyes flicked up at the sound of the door. You saw the way his shoulders stiffened.

“You can have the room now,” he said immediately, voice quiet but clear. “I was just wrapping up.”

You frowned, glancing at your watch. “You still have fifteen minutes.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll come back later. I don’t want to—” He hesitated, the words lodging in his throat. “I don’t want to get in your way.”

You blinked, surprised by how flat his tone was.

He closed his laptop with care, slid it into his bag, and slung it over one shoulder. His eyes barely met yours.

“Have a good night, (Y/N),” he murmured, stepping past you with a brush of air and cologne that made your chest tighten.

No smirk. No witty remark. No trace of the confident, cocky golden boy you were used to.

He was dimmed.

“Wait—” you started, but your voice got lost in the hush of the hallway. He didn’t turn back.

You stood there for a beat longer, staring at the spot he had just been, the way his shadow disappeared down the hallway like he couldn't escape fast enough.

“(Y/N)!” Yujin called as she appeared with the others behind you. “Was that Heeseung here?”

You turned around slowly, nodding. “Yeah. He was.”

“He’s so handsome in person,” one of them whispered, dreamy. “I swear his skin glows.”

You didn’t reply.

You should’ve brushed it off. Should’ve changed the topic or cracked a joke.

But instead, you found yourself still watching the door, something unsettled gnawing at the back of your mind.

Heeseung hadn’t looked at you like you were a problem to solve tonight.

He looked at you like he was the problem.

And for some reason, that bothered you more than it should’ve.

You stood frozen at the doorway for a second too long, hand still hovering by the door handle as the quiet clicked into your ears.

The wind outside whispered through the open windows at the end of the corridor, but all you could hear was the tail end of Heeseung’s footsteps echoing down the hall.

You shook your head sharply, forcing yourself to snap out of it as your chest squeezed a little too tightly.

You were the one who pushed him away. You told him to back off. You set the boundary.

So why did this feel worse?

Why did it hurt more now—watching him actually listen?

You stepped into the room with a sigh, the door shutting behind you with a soft click.

You glanced around at the slightly crooked chairs, the faint warmth of the lights above making the room feel lived-in, like a presence had just slipped away—and it had.

You blinked hard, shaking the thought away.

You don’t get to miss him. You told him to stop acting like everything was okay, so this is him trying.

But why did it feel like he was punishing both of you?

Meanwhile, down the hallway, Heeseung exhaled harshly through his nose, walking slower than usual as his shoulders slouched forward.

His bag felt heavier than it should’ve, and not because of the laptop.

He dragged a hand through his hair with a quiet groan, gripping the strands at the back of his neck before muttering under his breath—

“Heeseung, you fucking idiot.”

The words slipped out bitterly as he stomped down the final steps toward the parking lot.

The air was cold against his skin, but it didn’t cool the heat simmering behind his ribs.

“You could’ve said ‘hi’ properly, dumbass.”

He reached into his bag a little too roughly, pulling out his keys with an irritated grunt. They jangled loudly in the empty lot as he clenched them in his fist.

“Stupid loser,” he mumbled again, head tilted back in quiet frustration, “can’t even say shit to the girl he likes.”

He stared up at the inky black sky for a second, breathing in through his nose.

“But I told her I’d respect her space,” he said to himself in a low, tired voice. “I said I wouldn’t get in her way.”

A beat of silence.

“But just once—” he snapped, the words louder than he meant to say them, echoing off the lot’s walls.

His fist hit the side of his thigh in a flash of anger. “Just one fucking time, I could’ve—!”

He stopped himself with a long breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

“God,” he muttered, trying to compose himself, fingers loosening around his keys. “Get a grip.”

He turned slowly, shoes scraping against the concrete of the parking lot as he walked the short distance to where his motorcycle waited under the dim glow of a nearby streetlight.

He slung his bag onto the seat before leaning against the side of the bike, head tilting back as he stared up at the dark velvet sky once again.

The stars were faint, barely peeking past the gray clouds. And for a moment, just a single fleeting moment, he let his walls down.

“I like her,” he whispered into the wind. “Fuck, I like her.”

His eyes closed for a beat.

“And I told her I’d respect her space,” he said again, this time firmer, like he was reminding himself. “Even if it kills me. Even if she keeps looking at me like I don’t exist.”

The scowl returned—sharp, bitter, and carved deep into his face. He clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the seat so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“She’s not like them,” he murmured. “She’s not like any of them.”

His voice cracked toward the end, but he didn’t care. No one was around to hear him—just the moon, the sky, and the silence.

Heeseung looked down at his keys again, then glanced at the hallway windows above—where the meeting room was.

“…I hate this,” he muttered, voice low and tight.

He leaned back against the bike once more, head tilting toward the sky again, like maybe the stars would give him answers. Or mercy. Or both.

And with that, he slid his helmet on, revved the engine, and drove off into the night—not because he wanted to, but because he knew he didn’t belong near you anymore.

Not until you said he did.

It was seven in the evening when your footsteps hit the pavement, your scowl practically carved into your face as you stomped down the path leading to the main building.

The plastic cup in your hand crinkled as you gripped it tighter, the last dregs of your matcha latte swishing uselessly at the bottom.

“Today is so not my day,” you muttered under your breath, glancing down with a groan at the small green splatters staining your pristine white socks.

They peeked just above the glossy straps of your mary janes—an aesthetic you tried to maintain, now ruined by one clumsy barista and one shaky hand.

Sunoo, walking beside you with his tote bag swinging at his side, let out hum.

“Well, it can’t be that bad,” he said, lips curling into a teasing smile as he gestured toward the sad-looking matcha.

“You still got your little swamp juice.”

You shot him a withering glare. “I didn’t get to charge my car this morning,” you said flatly, your tone already edging toward a rant.

“So I had to crawl into campus on like—five percent battery. I forgot my stylus on my bedside drawer, which means I can't even finish the concept draft I was supposed to submit today, and then my professor had the audacity to look me in the eye and ask if I got any sleep.”

“Oh,” Sunoo winced.

You ignored him. “Spoiler alert: I didn’t. Because I was up all night trying to finish that stupid color theory assignment that I hate, and now my phone’s on four percent and my charger is in the goddamn car.”

Sunoo blinked. “Okay, now that’s rough.”

Yujin, walking on your other side with her hair clipped up and sleeves pushed back, offered a gentle pat on your shoulder.

“It’ll pass,” she said in that comforting tone she always used when you were one missed deadline away from combusting.

“When?” you grumbled, looking up at the sky like the clouds might offer an answer.

“When will it pass, because I swear the universe has been testing me since the second I opened my eyes this morning.”

Sunoo looped his arm with yours and gave it a light squeeze, his tone as chipper as ever. “Come on, everyone has their off days. Chin up, (Y/N).”

You turned your head to glare at him with a dramatic huff, “You’re one slip away from me using what’s left of this matcha as a weapon, Kim.”

He just laughed. “If you think that little puddle in your cup is threatening, you really are having a rough day.”

Yujin stifled a laugh, nudging your arm with a smile. “Hey, it’ll pass. It always does.”

You sighed, deflated, as you stood in front of the double doors of the main building—wide open and bustling with loitering students.

The kind of evening crowd you didn’t have the patience for today.

“Well, this is our stop,” Sunoo said, gently patting your hand before letting go of your arm.

“Hang in there,” Yujin added, flashing you a small smile as the two of them stepped inside.

You nodded silently, muttering another long breath as you turned on your heel and made your way to the lot.

Your footsteps echoed against the pavement as you approached the parking area, heart sinking the moment your eyes landed on your pristine white Porsche Taycan.

She looked flawless, as always—sleek, glinting under the artificial lights like a work of art. But the second you opened the door and climbed in, that mocking little red battery icon blinked to life on the screen.

‘Low Battery Level. Please charge immediately.’

You groaned. “I will literally cry.”

Just as you slammed the door shut again, the unmistakable roar of an engine came to life somewhere across the lot.

You turned with a slow blink, brows twitching in recognition.

Lee Heeseung was right next to a beautiful, black Ducati Diavel, sleek like obsidian and twice as dangerous.

Helmet dangling from one hand, other adjusting the collar of his white shirt that peeked out from under his leather jacket.

He was crouched by the bike, tightening something on the handlebar, his brows furrowed with focus until his eyes flickered up.

And landed on you.

He stood, slowly, running a hand through his hair before swinging the helmet up to hook it on the seat.

He hesitated, staring at the ground for a second, then started walking over—each step unhurried, almost cautious.

You turned your back to him the second you caught movement in the corner of your eye, yanking your car door open again and grabbing your phone—only for the screen to flicker to black just in time to show the dreaded one percent.

“Of course,” you muttered bitterly, pacing a few steps with your jaw clenched, only to freeze when you heard that voice. Familiar. Too familiar.

“Isn’t that…” Heeseung’s voice carried quietly, like he wasn’t even sure if he should speak. “(Y/N)?”

You didn’t answer. Pretended you didn’t hear. Pretended you weren’t already burning from the inside out.

Still, he crossed the distance—slower this time, a noticeable drag in his steps. When he spoke again, his voice was more serious, almost careful.

He closed the distance between you in a few steps, voice more serious this time. “Need some help?”

You didn’t even look at him. “No, thank you. Mind your own business, Lee.”

A short silence. Then a sigh—one you hated sounded real. Not smug. Not cocky. Just tired. “(Y/N)… look, I don’t offer help to just anyone.”

Your spine stiffened. Slowly, you turned, arms crossed tight against your chest. “Just anyone?”

He looked like he wasn’t sure what to say at first, hands twitching slightly at his sides before he raised them in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, eyes flicking to the side. “I know you’re a big deal. I think.”

You narrowed your eyes, ready to snap something back—only to hesitate when you saw how uncomfortable he looked. Not fidgety, not flirty. Just awkward.

Then, quieter—almost like he wasn’t sure if it was a mistake to keep talking—he added, “I’m not trying to be weird. You just… look like you need help. And I’m offering a ride.”

He nodded toward the Ducati behind him. “It’s fast. Reliable. Battery won’t die on you either.”

You looked at him for a moment—really looked at him. His eyes didn’t meet yours at first. He was chewing the inside of his cheek like he didn’t expect you to say yes anyway.

Your lips parted, something bitter on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes flicked to your dash again. Blinking red. One percent.

Of course this would happen tonight. Of all nights.

You turned back to him with a sigh, arms still crossed, weight shifting as your eyes locked with his—flat and unimpressed.

“I am not getting on that death trap, Lee.”

For a moment, you swore he looked nervous. Then he smiled. Small. That same smug little curve, like he couldn’t help it even now.

“Oh? You know my name now.”

You raised a brow, lips pursed as you muttered, “I guess.”

His smile twitched. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold it. He tilted his head, red bangs slipping into his eyes, catching the dim lights for a split second.

They caught the glow for a split second—and you hated that you noticed.

Hated that the first thought to cross your mind was he’d look good on camera. Like, stupid good. Maybe even model-level good.

‘He'd photograph well for your final.’

You quickly shook the thought away, hoping he hadn’t caught the way your eyes lingered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, and his voice wasn’t teasing like it used to be. It was quieter, rougher, with something unreadable beneath.

You froze.

It had been weeks since you talked—really talked.

You’d passed each other in hallways, heard his name in passing, even watched him once from across the quad before forcing yourself to look away.

But this felt like the kind of conversation you shouldn’t be having. Not after everything.

“Nothing,” you replied too fast, voice clipped as your arms tightened around your middle. “Still no.”

“Right,” he muttered, a short breath of a sound as he looked off toward the parking lot lights. “Well.”

He slung his helmet in one hand, shrugging stiffly as he took a few steps backward toward his bike.

“Suit yourself. Offer still stands. Have a good evening, Choi (Y/N).”

You didn’t respond, just offered him a polite, practiced smile—the kind that never reached your eyes—and watched as he turned around.

The leather jacket clung to him like it was made for his frame. That same ease in his walk. But it wasn’t as casual as it used to be. Not entirely.

There was a stiffness in the set of his shoulders, a pause in his gait, like maybe he’d wanted you to say something else.

You let out a quiet breath, turning back to your car.

Inside, the pristine leather seats and matte dashboard stared back at you, your phone sitting there like it had committed treason.

Dead phone. Mocking red battery warning blinking like it knew you were screwed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, thoughts racing.

You could call Soobin. Maybe.

Or grab a cab and wait in front of Decelis with a bunch of strangers breathing recycled air—strangers who probably touched their faces after touching handrails.

You were just about to mentally list the top five strains of public bacteria when you heard the rev of the Ducati’s engine, low and smooth.

You looked up before you could stop yourself.

Heeseung was straddling the bike now, helmet in one hand, expression unreadable under the streetlights. He looked almost tired.

Like he wasn’t expecting anything from you this time.

And maybe that was what made you move.

“Wait,” you called—reluctantly, because your pride still worked, even if your phone didn’t. “Lee!”

He paused mid-motion, turning his head slowly, brows raising like he wasn’t sure he heard right.

“Yes?” he said, voice careful.

You leaned back against your car, arms crossed like a shield. “Do you… Do you know where Choi Atelier is?”

He blinked. Then tilted his head just slightly. “My penthouse is sorta near there. Why?”

You frowned a little, hesitating. “Can I…”

He stood again, steps slow as he walked over, the helmet now tucked loosely under one arm.

The way he looked at you wasn’t mocking. Just quiet. Like he didn’t want to scare the moment off.

“Yeah?” he asked gently.

You huffed again, cheeks heating. Why was this so difficult?

“Can I—uh…” You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “Can you please give me a ride?”

“To where?” he asked, the smallest smile threatening to form.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, flustered but trying to play it off. “To Choi Atelier.”

His grin twitched—just barely. And not cocky, not really. More like he was relieved you hadn’t run.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he said softly.

You didn’t answer. Just pouted a little, and he huffed out a quiet laugh, jerking his head toward the bike.

“Come on. Grab your things.”

You shut your car door with a quiet click, slipping your tote bag strap over your shoulder—the one with the adjustable leather strap, thank god—and crossed the lot toward where his bike waited, polished and gleaming under the overhead lamps.

The silence of the evening made everything feel heavier. Like this moment had been waiting for you.

Heeseung was already there, leaning against the bike with his arms crossed, helmet tucked under one elbow.

His eyes flicked up when he saw you approaching, and for a second—just a second—his usual cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.

He straightened up, grabbing the spare helmet strapped to the side and holding it out to you. “Don’t worry. That one hasn’t been used yet.”

You paused, taking it slowly from his hands, your fingers barely brushing his.

He tried for a smile. “Figured you wouldn’t want anyone’s leftover shampoo.”

You eyed the helmet warily before lifting it closer and taking a discreet sniff.

He blinked, caught off guard. “…Are you smelling it?”

You looked at him. “Is this… Prada Luna Rossa?”

That made him grin, a bit of his usual charm slipping through. “Yeah. I, uh… spritz a little on it sometimes—keeps it fresh.”

You nodded, clutching the helmet a little tighter. “Good taste.”

He laughed, the sound more cautious than usual, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to enjoy your presence again. “Thanks.”

You slipped the helmet on, tugging the chin strap until he reached out without asking, fingers brushing your jaw as he adjusted it and locked it into place.

Your cheeks burned.

He put on his own helmet and got on first, settling into the seat before glancing over his shoulder. “Get on.”

You slipped the helmet on, fingers fumbling with the chin strap, when he stepped closer without saying anything.

His hand lifted slowly, brushing your jaw as he adjusted it and clicked it into place.

The touch was light—careful—and yet it still made your heart thump in your chest.

“Sorry,” he said softly, meeting your eyes for a brief second. “Force of habit.”

You only nodded, your voice caught somewhere between your throat and your pride.

He put on his own helmet and climbed on first. There was a beat of silence before he looked over his shoulder at you, more serious now.

“You good?”

You hesitated, then stepped forward and got on behind him. You tried not to press against him, tried to keep just enough space so it didn’t feel intimate—but the moment you settled in, it was already too late.

The heat of his back seeped into your chest, the scent of him—his cologne, the faint leather, something warm and familiar—wrapped around you like a trap.

“Can I?” he asked, holding his hand out gently toward your arms, waiting this time.

Your breath hitched as you nodded.

He guided your hands around his waist, slower than necessary, locking them in place with a quiet, “Standard protocol. Just don’t want you flying off if I brake.”

“Right,” you mumbled, trying not to sound as shaky as you felt. “Safety.”

The bike rumbled to life beneath you, the low purr vibrating through your bones.

You watched the city blur ahead of you, unsure if you were more afraid of the speed or the way your heart was catching up to old feelings.

“Go slow,” you murmured near his shoulder. “Please.”

This time, his chuckle had a little more warmth. “I got you.”

You didn’t respond right away. The night air was cool, brushing against your skin as you rode, city lights flickering past in streaks of gold and white.

His scent—clean, warm, familiar—wrapped around you like a memory you didn’t know you missed.

Even through the helmet, his scent lingered faintly.

Clean, warm, like the fabric of his hoodie on a rainy day. Like something you shouldn't find comforting, but did anyway.

Your hands flexed where they were resting on either side of his jacket, still stiff despite his words. You hesitated, then slowly—like you were afraid he'd notice—you inched closer.

Your helmet bumped gently against the back of his.

It made a soft clink, just plastic-on-plastic, but it was enough.

Heeseung glanced at you through the side mirror and even though you couldn’t see it, he was smiling—gentle, almost unsure.

Your arms wrapped tighter around his waist, not too hard, but enough to tell him you were there, with him, that maybe you trusted him a little more now.

He eased off the gas just slightly, not enough to lose momentum, but just enough to make it last longer. The ride. The quiet. You.

“You okay?” he asked, voice slightly distorted through his helmet, but still so undeniably him.

You nodded against his back, voice small. “…Yeah, thanks,”

Heeseung hummed softly. “Anytime.”

For a while, there was only the hum of the engine and the soft sound of your breathing behind him.

But his heart was beating so fast, he was sure you could feel it.

And when you gave the tiniest squeeze around his middle—not enough to say anything, but just enough to be felt—Heeseung’s lips parted in surprise.

He swallowed hard, smile twitching wider.

Heeseung slowed the Ducati to a stop, parking just a few walks away from the company’s main glass doors, the ones still aglow under the harsh fluorescents even at this hour.

The rumble of the engine cut out, and the sudden silence felt heavier than the night air.

You didn’t move at first, eyes adjusting from the steady blur of city lights to the warm glow of the pavement beneath you.

He got off the bike first, stepping smoothly to the side before turning to help you down.

“Here,” he said quietly, holding out his arm.

You hesitated, then clutched it—fingers curling into the leather of his sleeve as he steadied you.

It was a short drop, but you weren’t used to the height, or the way your legs still trembled slightly from the ride.

Your heels finally touched solid ground, and your hold loosened. You blinked, heart still racing—not from fear, but from him.

He held your helmet patiently as you pulled it off, handing it over without meeting his eyes.

“Thanks…” you mumbled, voice embarrassingly small as you looked down at the pavement.

Your fingers played with the hem of your top, almost hiding the way your cheeks flushed—pink from the mix of streetlights, company lights, and something far warmer.

Heeseung removed his helmet, letting his hair fall forward slightly, ruffling it with one hand as he leaned against the bike with a soft exhale.

“Hm?” he tilted his head. “Sorry—I didn’t catch that.”

You glanced up, startled. “I said… thank you.”

He leaned in a little more, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What was that again?”

You squinted at him, cheeks burning hotter now. “I said thank you,” you huffed, louder this time.

Heeseung chuckled, a low, teasing sound that made your chest tighten. “There it is,” he grinned, holding your gaze. “You’re welcome.”

“I owe you one,” you added quickly, clearing your throat. “A favor or something.”

He shook his head, his smile gentler now. “No need.”

“Still,” you insisted, fiddling with the gold rings on your fingers. “I owe you at least that much.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If you insist… But honestly, I can’t win against you when you’re being all—” he motioned vaguely, “—this.”

You gave a breathy laugh, but it faded quickly as the weight of everything between you two crept back in. Your fingers stilled on your rings, and you looked down again.

“…I’m sorry.”

That made him blink. His brows drew together slightly. “What?”

You swallowed and looked up, eyes softer than they’d been all night. “I’m sorry,” you repeated. “For pushing you away. For… being an asshole.”

Heeseung’s shoulders dropped slightly, like he hadn’t expected that at all.

“You shouldn’t apologize,” he said after a beat. “I get it. You have your reasons.”

You gave him a tight smile. “Doesn’t mean I was right.”

“No, but…” he trailed off, staring at you like he wanted to say something more, then shook his head lightly. “Still. You’re here now.”

You both stood there for a second too long—caught in that stretch of silence where neither of you wanted to be the one to walk away.

Your lips parted, a soft smile tugging at the corner, eyes fixed on him like you wanted to say something—finally, maybe, just something real.

But a voice shattered the stillness.

“Choi (Y/N), you’re late.”

You barely blinked before muttering under your breath, “I know…”

Turning on your heel, your heart sank slightly—though you didn’t know why—only to be greeted by Soobin walking briskly toward you with his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised so high it might’ve reached his hairline.

His dark glasses were perched low on his nose, his navy blazer wrinkled in some areas like he’d been anxiously pulling at it, the hem of his crisp white shirt untucked slightly over his jeans. His usually perfect hair was just a little mussed.

“You do realize I’ve been waiting in the lobby for fifteen minutes, right?” he began, voice sharp but laced with genuine concern.

“We were supposed to run through the new heels and boots collection for next week and I’m sitting there thinking—great, she’s been kidnapped by some rival company. Or worse, she got bored and took a flight to Milan.”

You looked down, cheeks flushed, especially when he pointed a finger accusingly toward the Ducati.

“And what do I see? You’re out here, riding with some weird guy on a—”

“I’m not that weird,” Heeseung cut in with a snort, clearly amused as he leaned back against his bike, arms crossed casually.

Soobin blinked at the interruption, frowning as he peered past you—then froze.

His jaw slackened for half a second, gaze snapping between you and the man behind you, trying to process.

“Wait. What the fuck—Lee Heeseung?” Soobin burst out, voice pitching slightly in disbelief.

Heeseung raised a brow, an amused grin blooming on his face as he pushed off the bike and extended a hand toward your brother. “Hey, man. Long time no see.”

Soobin didn’t hesitate. His frown melted into wide-eyed shock as he stepped forward, grabbing Heeseung’s hand and pulling him into a half-hug, half-handshake combo, slapping his back like they were frat brothers reunited at a wedding.

“What the hell?” Soobin laughed, eyes wide with disbelief. “You look different. Older, cockier, and your hair’s longer. But same cocky bastard, huh?”

“You’re one to talk,” Heeseung teased, chuckling as he ruffled Soobin’s already disheveled hair with the ease of someone who’s done it before. “Still dramatic as hell, I see.”

“You two know each other?” you asked slowly, blinking.

Soobin laughed, hands shoved into his pockets as he tilted his head toward Heeseung. “We were in the same basketball team back in Decelis.”

You raised a brow. “Wait, really?”

“Yup,” Soobin nodded. “He’s also the younger brother of one of my closest friends.”

You tilted your head. “Who?”

“Taehyun,” he said casually.

Your lips parted. “Oh—Taehyun?” You glanced at Heeseung, confusion pinching your brows. “But… your last name is Lee?”

Heeseung offered a soft shrug, gaze flicking from you to the ground. “We have different fathers,” he explained.

“Hence the different last names. But we get along just fine.”

You gave a small nod, still processing, when Soobin checked the time on his watch and gently nudged Heeseung’s arm. “It’s getting late, man. You should head home.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung agreed with a nod, stepping back. “I should.” He turned to you one last time, eyes lingering for just a second longer. “See you next time, (Y/N).”

You gave him a soft nod in return, lips quirking up ever so slightly. “See you.”

Heeseung’s lips curved into a small smile as he slipped on his helmet, mounted his bike, and with a smooth purr of the engine, sped off into the street, red taillights fading into the night.

The second he disappeared, you felt Soobin nudge your side with a knowing smirk. “So… Heeseung, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, heat crawling up your neck. “Don’t start.”

But your brother was already teasing, shoes clicking beside yours as you both made your way to the entrance.

You pulled your company ID card from your bag, scanning it at the security gate as Soobin did the same with the one hanging from his neck.

“We’re just friends,” you added quickly, testing the word like it was foreign on your tongue.

“That’s how Mom and Dad met, you know,” Soobin said, too casually.

“Shut up, Soobin. Please.” You groaned as the elevator doors opened.

He only grinned as you both stepped inside. The moment the doors closed behind you, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and said, “Hey, I don’t mind you having a boyfriend—as long as it’s Heeseung.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Choi Soobin.”

He laughed. “What? I’m still gonna punch him if he dates you. It’s like… an unwritten rule. When one of your closest friends dates your sibling? You have to hit him once. It’s the law.”

You scoffed, leaning back against the cold elevator wall. “You’re unbelievable.”

“He’s good though,” Soobin continued thoughtfully. “You gotta admit—he’s handsome. Cute when he wants to be. Kinda looks like a deer.”

You huffed. “Save your sales pitch.”

“Tall too,” he added with a grin. “Our bloodline would be saved from your height.”

You let your head fall back with a groan, muttering, “Oh my god.”

But as your brother kept talking, the image of Heeseung’s doe eyes staring down at you in the parking lot flashed back in your mind—the quiet warmth of his voice, the smell of amber and lemons still clinging to your hair.

It was comforting and confusing. A mix that didn’t help the war going on in your chest.

You looked at your reflection in the mirrored elevator wall, your expression unreadable, thoughts screaming and tangled, while his scent remained.

It clung to your hair, to the fibers of your blouse, to your skin like it belonged there—amber and lemons, warm and sharp. Comforting in a way that only made things more confusing.

You pulled your Porsche into your usual parking spot, the gentle hum of the electric engine fading as you shifted into park. The dashboard blinked softly—99% battery.

You exhaled in relief, eyes flicking to the clock. 6:27 AM. A whole hour and a half early.

You grabbed your leather bag from the passenger seat and slung it over your shoulder before stepping out, heels clicking against the pavement in the soft morning silence.

The sky was still brushed in blue-grey, the campus barely awake.

Today was supposed to be light—project preparation, mostly—but the pressure that came with the final stretch always lingered heavy in the air.

As you locked your car with a soft beep, your eyes drifted to your right.

Heeseung was already pulling his Ducati into the lot like he owned the morning, sleek and easy, dressed in black again—his helmet making him look like he’d just stepped out of a magazine spread.

You watched as he parked, kicking the stand down and pulling off the helmet, hair a little messy underneath but still effortlessly perfect. With a small grunt, he shoved the helmet into his backpack, clearly not in the mood to carry it around.

You raised an amused brow, lips tugging into a smile as he glanced up—and caught you staring.

His whole expression lit up like it had been waiting for you.

“Hey,” he grinned, slinging his bag over one shoulder as he crossed the space between you. “You’re early.”

“So are you,” you replied with a soft chuckle, starting to walk as he fell in step beside you. “I thought you weren’t a morning person.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes squinting slightly as the early sun started to break through the clouds. A warm glow settled over his features, catching in the soft curve of his jawline and the delicate crinkle of his brow.

You hummed as you both stepped off the sidewalk, the low hum of morning traffic in the background.

“So… why are you here so early then?” he asked, turning to glance at you, his tone light.

You shrugged, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“I couldn’t sleep. Soobin kept bugging me about the launch last night. He was pacing around my room like a lunatic. I had to escape before I strangled him with one of his stupid silk ties.”

Heeseung chuckled, that familiar boyish grin forming as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, that sounds like Soobin,” he nodded, amused.

“He used to force us into basketball drills the day before big matches. Right before he graduated, he said—and I quote—‘I need to see you all suffer one last time.’”

You shook your head with a snort. “As if you guys don’t win every game.”

“Exactly.” He grinned wider now, nudging your arm lightly with his elbow. “Which is why he took it personally if we weren’t dying by the end of practice.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as your footsteps echoed out of the parking area, the quiet rhythm oddly calming.

Then, Heeseung’s voice broke through. “Are you busy?”

You turned to him, curious. “No, not really. Not until two anyway.”

He smiled, a soft, almost hopeful glint in his eyes. “Good.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

He looked ahead for a beat, then back at you. “Wanna eat breakfast? I know a café nearby. Quiet place. Kinda hidden, actually.”

You blinked, then smiled. “Yeah. I could eat.”

His grin returned, bright and genuine. “Come on then,” he said, gently touching your elbow as he motioned ahead.

“They’ve got the best croissants. But don’t tell Soobin. He’ll try to buy the whole place.”

You both laughed, the air between you lighter than it had been in days as you walked side by side, slowly disappearing down the street.

The line moved slowly, soft jazz playing in the background as the scent of roasted coffee beans and buttery pastries wrapped around the two of you like a blanket.

The café was charming—wooden interiors, a few warm-toned paintings on the walls, cozy lamps dangling above each booth.

Despite the early hour, a handful of students and professionals were already seated, heads down in books or laptops.

You squinted up at the chalkboard menu, lips pursed slightly. "Is their matcha any good?" you asked, tilting your head back slightly toward Heeseung, who stood comfortably close behind you.

He leaned down a bit, eyes scanning the options with you. “It is. Kinda earthy but sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

You nodded slowly, then glanced back at him again. “What about pastries? Any recommendations?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Their cakes are really good. The red velvet is my go-to.”

You let out a small laugh at that, and just then, the line moved, placing you both in front of the cashier.

“Good morning! What can I get you both?” the barista asked, chipper despite the hour.

You smiled politely, stepping forward. “I’ll have a matcha latte and… a slice of red velvet cake, please.”

Heeseung spoke right after you. “One java frappuccino and a croissant. Thanks.”

“Cash or card?”

You were already digging through your bag for your wallet when Heeseung casually pulled his out faster, sliding his card across the counter. “Card.”

You blinked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one paying you back?”

He just shrugged, offering you that easy smile of his. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

You huffed in mild defeat, watching him take his card back after the beep confirmed payment.

He nudged your arm lightly, motioning toward the cozy lounge area with a couple of tufted sofas by the window. The morning sun spilled in golden through the glass, warming the velvet cushions and casting soft shadows across the tiled floor.

You both sank into the cushions, the plush seats swallowing you in comfort as the hum of soft jazz played in the background.

A few minutes passed, peaceful and light. You were laughing quietly, shoulders brushing as Heeseung sat beside you, a croissant in one hand, your tablet balanced on his lap.

His brows were scrunched in concentration as he dragged the stylus across the screen, tongue poking slightly out of the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, done,” he said through a mouthful of flaky pastry, swallowing before turning the screen to show you. “Behold. My masterpiece.”

You snorted, trying—and failing—to contain your laughter as you looked at the lumpy, wobbly-looking snowman with stick arms and a barely-there hat.

“Oh my god, what is that?” you giggled, covering your mouth. “Is he… melting?”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped. “Hey! That’s art. You just don’t get it,” he said, pouting as he shoved another piece of croissant into his mouth.

You were still laughing when you gestured to the stylus. “Give me that. Let me fix your tragedy.”

He chuckled as he handed it over, watching curiously. You wrote, in clean, bold script under his snowman, “By Heeseung. Please be kind.”

You handed it back with a proud grin.

“That way people know exactly who to blame,” you teased.

Heeseung shook his head, smiling as he looked down at your handwriting. “Wow. Sabotage.”

“No,” you said with a small smile, sipping your matcha. “I’m just protecting your reputation.”

He nudged your knee lightly with his. “It’s fine. I’m not perfect anyway.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “Nobody is. Don’t worry,” you said gently.

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, something unreadable in his eyes before he blinked it away and looked back at the snowman, chuckling under his breath.

“Still better than Jungwon’s attempts. His looked like a mutated pear last time.”

You snorted. “Okay, that I need to see.”

“Next time,” he said, tapping the screen. “Next masterpiece.”

You raised a brow playfully, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Next time?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly as you leaned back into the sofa.

Heeseung shrugged, grinning. “What? I’m not that bad to hang out with, am I?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You aren’t. Don’t worry,” you replied, tone light as your gaze lingered on him just a moment longer than necessary.

There was a pause, a quiet moment of stillness between you—comfortable, almost unfamiliar in how easy it was.

You looked down at the tablet in your hand, your thumb brushing over the rough sketch still glowing on the screen before you looked back at him. “Are you always this easygoing?”

Heeseung blinked at the question, then leaned back, resting one arm over the sofa’s backrest behind you.

“Depends,” he said casually. “Most people call me cocky, so… sometimes I just act the part.”

You gave him a look, unsure whether to be amused or surprised. “Even during those stupid, unreasonable fights?”

Heeseung chuckled, eyes dropping to his half-finished croissant. “I don’t act on it unless they do first,” he admitted, brushing a few flaky crumbs off his pants.

“But yeah… my reputation’s that bad, huh?”

You shook your head, lips curling. “No, people actually praise you,” you said honestly. “It’s just… I get insider information from Sunoo sometimes.”

“As expected,” he said with a slight eye roll, but he was smiling. “He means well.”

“He does,” you agreed, nodding. “We’re both his friends. I guess he was just trying to warn me or something.”

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, expression softening. “I get that,” he murmured, tone sincere. “But I promise… I’m not that bad.”

Your chest tightened a little, warmth blooming where anxiety used to sit. You met his gaze, lips twitching into a faint smile. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I know. I see you.”

His brows raised a little at that, not expecting the quiet honesty in your voice.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, a small smile playing on his lips instead. Then he nudged your leg with his knee under the table.

“You’re kinda weird, you know that?” he said, tone fond.

You let out a laugh. “Takes one to know one.”

The tablet screen dimmed between you, but neither of you moved.

It had been a week since you’d last really seen Heeseung.

Sure, you two were still hanging out—still brushing shoulders during lunch, still exchanging playful remarks when the group gathered—but it wasn’t the same.

He always seemed rushed, always cutting conversations short with a soft, apologetic smile and a muttered, “Sorry, I have practice.”

At first, you believed him. But after the third time he left abruptly, curiosity got the best of you.

When you asked Sunoo what game or scrimmage Heeseung was so wrapped up in, he blinked at you and said, “He doesn’t have basketball practice this week.”

That’s when the ache started to bloom. Slow and dull at first, then sharper as the days passed.

You hadn’t expected it to hurt this much—the way he’d grown distant, the way you kept making excuses for him just to keep your heart from cracking wide open.

You told yourself it was nothing, that he was just busy, tired, distracted. But deep down, it felt like something had changed.

Now, it was six in the evening, and you were in Sunoo’s dorm instead, finding comfort in familiar company and steady hands.

The soft yellow light of his desk lamp glowed behind you, casting long shadows as you knelt in front of him, carefully fixing the stitching on the pants he needed for an upcoming performance.

The faint hum of a playlist played in the background as Sunoo stood on a small stool, arms slightly outstretched, posture tense like he was preparing for surgery rather than a simple hemming job.

He huffed dramatically as you tugged the thread through the last stitch.

“Please don’t poke me,” he muttered for what felt like the hundredth time.

You sighed, lips twitching. “Sunoo, you’ve been saying that for the past ten minutes.”

“Because you’ve been stitching for ten minutes,” he replied in a whisper-yell, eyes wide as he tried to stay still. “I’m one wrong move away from a needle wound.”

You snorted. “Oh please, if I wanted to stab you, I would've done it five minutes ago when you wouldn’t stop squirming.”

“I wasn’t squirming, I was adjusting for airflow!”

You gave him a look before finally tying off the thread and snipping it clean. “Done. Now move. Jump. Wiggle. Whatever. Just don’t fall off that stool.”

Immediately, he hopped down, practically bouncing in place as he checked the fit in the mirror. “It doesn’t feel scratchy! You’re amazing!” he gasped, turning this way and that.

You stood up with a stretch, placing your scissors on the table. “No need to cry, drama king.”

He whirled around and crushed you in a hug. “Thank you! I love you! This is perfect—I’m obsessed!”

You laughed, hugging him back and patting his back lightly. “Save the ‘I love you’s for your future girlfriend, yeah?”

He pulled away with a cheeky smile, “Sure.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re talented,” he grinned, grabbing the pants he had on earlier. “Changing before I spill soy sauce or something.”

As he disappeared into the bathroom, your eyes fell on your phone resting by the sewing kit. Still no new notifications. No texts. No calls.

You sighed, trying not to think about it. But the silence from Heeseung had never felt louder than it did in that moment.

The bathroom door clicked open, snapping you out of your spiral.

Sunoo stepped out, dramatically fluffing his blonde hair as he made his way toward the mirror, flashing you a grin.

“Come on, chop chop. I’ll give you five minutes to retouch.”

You blinked, brows furrowing as you tucked the needle neatly back into your mini sewing kit. “Retouch… for what?”

He threw open his closet, scanning through his clothes before grabbing a soft cream hoodie. “You seriously don’t know about the open mic night at the university field?”

You shrugged as you stood up, brushing loose threads off your lap. “I do… but I don’t really know anyone who’ll be performing, so…”

Sunoo turned to look at you with an expression that could only be described as scandalized. “Well, I do. So guess what? You’re coming with me.”

You gave him a half-laugh, already sensing where this was headed.

“Sunoo—”

“Nope.” He pointed at you like a parent catching their child trying to sneak candy before dinner. “I will not take a no for an answer.”

“I didn’t even finish the sentence—”

“Exactly!” he grinned, already pulling the hoodie over his head.

“That was your first mistake. Now go fix yourself. Lip gloss, blush—whatever magic you usually do to make yourself look disgustingly pretty. We leave in ten.”

You huffed in defeat, plopping down on his bed. “I hate how bossy you get when you’re excited.”

“And yet, here you are still listening to me,” he teased, tossing you your bag.

You rolled your eyes but smiled faintly, digging into your makeup pouch.

With a practiced swipe, you reapplied a layer of lip gloss, smacking your lips together as the familiar scent of vanilla hit your nose.

Behind you, Sunoo zipped up his hoodie and grabbed a bag from his desk. “By the way,” he added casually, peering at you through the mirror, “You do know someone who’s performing.”

You paused mid-application. “Who?”

He just smiled, all too pleased with himself. “You’ll see.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “If this is a setup—”

“Oh, hush. You’ll thank me later.”

With a final playful glare, you gave in, zipping up your bag and standing just as Sunoo tugged on his hoodie and held the door open for you with a proud little grin.

“After you, my lady.”

It was a little windy outside, the soft kind that made your hair flutter and your sleeves feel cozy as you and Sunoo made your way through the stream of students heading in the same direction.

The campus felt alive—bustling with people laughing, linking arms, carrying snacks and drinks from stalls lined up near the university field.

The field itself looked straight out of a Pinterest board.

Fairy lights were strung across poles and lampposts, creating a golden net that sparkled overhead.

Arches decorated with artificial flowers marked the entrances and exits, some even entwined with ribbons and hanging stars.

Students had laid out colorful picnic blankets along the sidelines, others brought tiny foldable stools, while the more eager ones stood in front of the stage that had a full sound setup, lights, and a curtain-draped backstage area.

You let out a low whistle as you took it all in. “This is good. Really good. For something that was apparently planned in a week?”

Sunoo snorted beside you, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I know, right? I thought Jungwon was kidding when he said his organization would handle everything.”

You furrowed your brows, the name sounding familiar. “Yang Jungwon, right?”

“Yup! The cat-looking one you’ve seen around. He’s head of the Athletics Org,” Sunoo explained as he tugged your arm to guide you away from the crowd and toward a roped-off path leading backstage.

“His officers helped carry the equipment and set up the whole thing.”

“Must be nice,” you muttered, eyes still scanning the delicate details—the flower petals littered on the stage steps, the little candles in jars flickering softly at the foot of the stage, the students still adjusting mic levels and plugging in guitars.

Sunoo glanced at you from the side, noting the faint look of wonder on your face. “It is,” he said quietly, almost like he was answering something more personal.

Then he perked up again. “Now come on, we’ve got front row access backstage. And I still owe you for those pants.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him, the wind brushing against your cheeks as a new song started playing from the speakers.

Behind the curtain, the buzz of activity was louder. People were talking, performers were warming up their voices, a few others checking their guitars and mics.

And right in the middle of it all stood a boy with a dimpled smile that immediately made you smile too.

“Hi. You must be Choi (Y/n)?” he greeted, voice polite and light.

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Jungwon, right?”

He nodded, offering his hand out briefly. “That’s me. Welcome to chaos central.”

Before you could say anything else, Sunoo leaned in between the two of you. “Where is he?” he asked, voice lower, but eyes scanning the area.

Jungwon tilted his head toward the edge of the makeshift backstage, just near the giant speaker set. “Just a bit off to the side—he’s right there.”

Sunoo nodded his thanks and then, without another word, he grabbed your wrist. “Come on,” he said brightly.

You blinked at him, brow raised. “Am I being murdered?”

Jungwon, who had overheard despite your whisper, laughed, the sound boyish and warm. “No, just go.”

You rolled your eyes but let Sunoo pull you along. “You two are so sketchy,” you muttered under your breath.

The long skirt you wore brushed against your ankles and made walking a bit annoying, especially when the wind threatened to lift it with every step.

Your heels clicked against the pavement, and you cursed silently for not wearing pants.

You rounded the corner where the speakers were set up, only to be met with the sight of Heeseung leaning against the edge of the frame.

One hand gripping a mic stand, the other stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie. He was muttering something to himself—repeating lines, probably lyrics—but you couldn’t quite catch the words over the hum of the speakers and crowd.

You paused, confusion bubbling in your chest.

Sunoo said he didn’t have practice. But… he was here?

And then his head snapped up, like he felt you coming before he even saw you.

His eyes landed on yours—and the second he recognized you, a slow smile bloomed on his face. One that curled at the corners like sunshine cracking through a storm.

He stepped forward immediately, like his feet moved before he could think.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, the mic stand now forgotten behind him. His hair was slightly tousled, and there was a soft flush on his cheeks—whether from nerves or the wind, you couldn’t tell.

You raised a brow at him before landing a sharp slap to his arm.

Heeseung flinched with a hiss, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

You stared him down. “You ghosted me for a week and all you can say is ‘hey’?”

He laughed under his breath, guilt tugging the corners of his lips. “I said I had practice, didn’t I?”

“Basketball practice, you idiot,” you muttered, grabbing the lapels of his long black coat and yanking him down so you could reach his messy hair.

You ran your fingers through it, smoothing out the parts the wind had wrecked, still grumbling under your breath. “Not open mic night.”

He let you fuss, his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes flickering between your focused face and the way your skirt fluttered slightly in the breeze.

“Well, I’m here now,” he said simply.

You flicked his forehead in response, making him wince.

“Unfortunately,” you added, looking him up and down with a judgmental squint.

He followed your gaze down to his outfit—cream slacks, white button-up tucked in neatly, and a long black coat that swayed lightly behind him.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused. “Is it that bad?”

“With that color combination? Yes.” You crossed your arms. “Cream pants, white shirt, black coat, and basketball shoes. Seriously, Heeseung?”

“Hey, you said my name,” he said with a teasing grin, leaning a little closer.

You flicked his forehead again, just because you could.

“Ow—! That hurt, (Y/N),” he mumbled, rubbing at the spot with a mock pout. “Aren’t you even happy to see me?”

You gave him a flat look. “Define happy.”

His frown deepened dramatically, the way it always did when he wanted to guilt-trip you—and unfortunately, it always worked.

You sighed, hands falling from his coat. “Okay… maybe a little happy.”

His face lit up, triumphant and boyish. “Knew it.”

You sighed, gaze flickering to his undone collar, and motioned for him to lean down again.

“Come here,” you muttered, and like a trained puppy, he dipped his head without complaint.

“What now?” he asked, bemused.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers deftly smoothing down the collar of his white button-up, fixing the silver chains around his neck so they lay just right.

“If you ever pull that disappearing act on me again,” you grumbled, tugging at the last chain to settle perfectly above his sternum, “I swear to god, Heeseung, I will kill you.”

He snorted, clearly amused. “You can’t. You still owe me, remember?”

“Mhm. I do.” Your tone was neutral, but your hands were already moving again, digging into the pocket of your cardigan until you fished out a small tube of lip balm.

Without warning, you uncapped it, stood on your toes, and pressed the balm gently to his lips.

His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch away. “Seriously?”

“They’re chapped,” you deadpanned, smoothing a layer over his bottom lip, then the top. “Don’t smile. You’re messing it up.”

“I’m sure they’re chapped,” he teased, voice lower now. “Not like I’ve been biting them all day waiting for you or anything.”

You rolled your eyes, about to retort, when someone cleared their throat. You both jerked your heads around to see Jungwon standing a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark varsity jacket, trying not to grin.

“Hate to break the little moment,” he said, voice light and teasing, “but you’re up in five. You might wanna warm up your voice.”

Heeseung gave him a playful salute. “Got it, boss.”

Jungwon nodded at you with a knowing smile. “You too, (Y/N). Front row’s saved for you.”

He disappeared back behind the curtain, and you turned back to Heeseung, catching the way his cherry-red hair swayed slightly from the wind that snuck through the side of the stage.

He was already slipping in his in-ears, fingers moving with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times. But his eyes stayed on you.

“You’re really serious about performing, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Surprise. I asked Sunoo to drag you here. Did it work?”

“Figures,” you muttered, unable to hold back your smile. “Manipulative jerk.”

“Flattered.”

You stared at him for a second longer, taking in the way he looked—tall and annoyingly handsome even under cheap backstage lighting, the soft shadows under his eyes, the way he bounced lightly on his feet out of sheer nerves or adrenaline, you couldn’t tell.

“You should go,” he said, nodding toward the side where Sunoo was already waving you over. “There’s a seat saved for you up front.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and said softly, “Good luck, Heeseung.”

His smile deepened, eyes warm at the way you said his name. Not ‘Lee,’ not ‘idiot,’ just Heeseung.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding once before turning on his heel.

You watched as a staff member approached him, clipboard in hand, likely calling him for final check-ins.

He adjusted the wire of his mic pack behind him, shoulders relaxing as he took a deep breath and walked toward the performance queue.

You shook your head fondly, a smile tugging at your lips as you turned around, making your way back through the small gathering crowd.

But your path halted the moment you approached the corner where Jungwon had once stood—because now, it was packed with several other guys you vaguely recognized from Sunoo’s Instagram stories.

Before you could ask, Sunoo, now off to the side and watching everything unfold with a knowing grin, caught your eye and gave you a subtle nod.

And then, a tall guy with bright eyes and golden retriever energy stepped up to you with a warm smile.

“Hi! You’re (Y/N), right?” he asked, voice light and welcoming.

“Yes,” you replied slowly, a little caught off guard by the sudden new face.

“Nice to meet you—I’m Jake,” he said, offering a small nod. “I’m supposed to show you your seat.”

You nodded, falling into step beside him as he led you away from the crowd and toward a more secluded viewing area.

“You know,” Jake said casually, hands in his pockets as he glanced at you, “I honestly thought Heeseung was joking when he said he was going to perform tonight.”

You let out a small laugh. “Why? Is he a bad singer or something?”

Jake snorted. “No, the opposite actually. He’s insanely good. But Heeseung’s not the type to sign himself up for events like this. Even if he’s popular, he usually avoids this kind of spotlight.”

You nodded slowly, your steps slowing as you took in the soft music playing through the speakers. “Yeah… he seems like the type.”

Jake glanced at you with a knowing smile. “I see why you two get along so well.”

You tilted your head, curious. “How so?”

He looked away, as if thinking twice, then just chuckled and said, “Well… it’s not really my place to tell you the full story. But in simpler terms, Heeseung’s… closed off. Especially to people and admirers. He’s cocky, yeah. Confident, for sure. But deep down? He just needs someone to actually see him. Understand him, you know?”

His words hung in the air for a second, soft and careful, and you found yourself soaking them in.

Jake pointed ahead, drawing your attention to a pink picnic blanket laid out right near the front of the small stage. A woven basket sat in the middle, overflowing with snacks—snacks you recognized.

Your heart stuttered slightly.

“Well,” Jake said, smiling again. “This is your spot.”

You blinked, the gesture hitting harder than expected. “He did all this?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. He was pretty particular about it, actually.”

You smiled a little, touched. As you sat down on the blanket, fingers brushing the soft fabric, Jake stood a bit straighter.

“Thanks,” he said suddenly.

You looked up. “For what?”

“For making Heeseung smile again, (Y/N). It’s been a while since any of us saw him really happy.”

And with that, Jake gave you one last warm glance before turning and heading back toward the other guys by the side.

You sat in silence for a second, eyes dropping to the familiar snacks tucked into the basket—down to the banana milk you always kept in your bag, to the chewy candies Yujin would sneak to you in class.

You exhaled a quiet laugh, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Idiot,” you whispered, but your chest felt light. Warmer than it had in days.

As you leaned back, your palms pressing into the soft blanket, the lights around the field began to dim, casting shadows over the sea of students who were buzzing with energy.

A spotlight flickered to life at the center of the small raised stage up front.

A wave of cheers erupted the moment Heeseung stepped into the glow.

He blinked once, adjusting to the light, his figure momentarily silhouetted against the golden beam.

His hand reached for the mic stand, fingers curling around it like a lifeline, before he brought it to his lips and cleared his throat gently. “Good evening, Dece—”

“Lee Heeseung!” someone screamed from the back, cutting him off.

The crowd exploded in laughter and whistles.

Heeseung laughed too, his smile sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… hi. I’m Lee Heeseung,” he said with a chuckle, trying to play it cool.

That was all it took for the cheers to double in volume.

His friends hollered the loudest. Jake even launched himself at Sunoo in excitement, making the blonde stumble back with a scoff and an eye-roll, though he was clearly fighting a grin.

You couldn’t help it—you clapped along, your lips parting in a wide smile. You didn’t even try to hide it.

Heeseung stood still for a second, taking it all in before raising the mic again. “Well, I, uh… I’m not really used to performing like this,” he admitted, voice honest and tinged with nerves.

“Basketball, maybe. But singing? Not really.”

The crowd chuckled with him, and so did you, watching the way he scratched the back of his ear with that same nervous charm you’ve seen a hundred times before.

But this time, it felt different. Personal. Like this was something he wasn’t just doing for the school—but maybe for someone else.

You.

He smiled again, softer now, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you. And when they did, his shoulders seemed to ease. His fingers, which had been fidgeting, stilled.

“Well… here goes nothing,” he mumbled.

Heeseung raised the mic once more, his voice calm this time.

“This is ‘Off My Face’ by Justin Bieber,” he said. “Covered by yours truly.”

And right before he started, he looked at you again. You felt it—his gaze lingered, locked with yours.

You smiled up at him.

He smiled back.

And then he began to sing.

“One touch and you got me stoned…”

His voice melted through the mic like honey, raw and unfiltered, yet smooth enough to lull your heartbeat into a rhythm that only matched his tempo.

“Higher than I’ve ever known… you call the shots and I follow…”

Your lips parted slightly as the sound sank in—Jake wasn’t lying.

Heeseung wasn’t just good. He was beautiful.

His voice didn’t just carry the lyrics; it felt like he was living them. Like each word held meaning he couldn’t speak, so he sang it instead.

You didn’t realize how tightly your fingers clutched your knees until you had to relax them.

He was singing as if the song was a letter—and you were the recipient.

He stood confidently under the soft spotlight now, no longer squinting. His posture was relaxed, but the emotion behind every lyric was there.

When he reached the chorus, the crowd faded away.

“’Cause I’m off my face, in love with you…”

You could barely breathe. Your hand shot up to fan your cheeks instinctively despite the evening breeze, the air feeling far too warm suddenly.

Your chest clenched as he continued, his voice trembling just slightly—just enough to make it real.

“And I don’t know how you do it… but I’m forever ruined by you…”

Sunoo nudged Sunghoon gently in the side, unable to contain the spark of joy in his eyes.

Sunghoon, the usual stoic boy—always composed, unreadable—had the faintest smile playing on his lips as he watched his best friend perform under the lights.

“What was that for?” Sunghoon asked, glancing at him with mild confusion, though he didn’t swat his hand away like he usually would.

Sunoo just sighed, eyes a little glossy, heart full. “Nothing,” he whispered, then paused before adding in a softer voice, “I’m just… really happy for him. And for (Y/N).”

When he hit the bridge, his brows furrowed slightly. “Can’t sleep ‘cause I’m way too buzzed… too late, now you’re in my blood…”

You let out a soft breath, barely audible over the music. Something inside you twisted. Not painfully, but deeply.

His voice cracked the tiniest bit on the last “in love with you…” and it made your stomach flip.

That wasn’t part of the polished version Jake had probably heard. That was just Heeseung. Real. Undeniably honest.

As the final chord faded into the wind and the crowd erupted into cheers, your hands moved on their own—clapping before your brain could catch up, a stunned smile painted on your face.

Heeseung’s gaze locked with yours once more, the softest smile tugging on his lips as if to say, ‘That was for you.’

And you knew, in your bones, that it was.

Heeseung finished the last note with a soft strum of the guitar as the entire quad erupted into loud, thunderous applause—cheers so deafening it made even you flinch.

But Heeseung only smiled, looking breathless and relieved, bowing slightly with a sheepish hand raised in thanks.

“Thank you,” he said quickly into the mic, lips tugged into a grin so wide it made your heart ache a little.

As he stepped off the stage, the echo of his friends’ celebratory whoops rang out loud and proud—Jake’s distinct “That’s my bro!” was the loudest of them all.

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head fondly as you watched Heeseung get swallowed by the backstage curtain.

His hand playfully swatting at his friends who were clapping him on the back and ruffling his hair like overexcited puppies.

Just as the crowd began to settle and the host’s voice crackled through the mic—

“Our next performer will be up in ten minutes, so grab your snacks, sit tight, and stay warm!”—you let out a small exhale and leaned back against your arms.

As you unsealed a packet of gummy bears with a soft crinkle, those same blue and white basketball shoes stepped into view, worn-in and familiar, planted just inches away from your blanket.

You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

A laugh escaped your lips as you tilted your head back, eyes meeting the sight of Lee Heeseung, still glowing from the stage lights and smiling like an idiot—hair slightly tousled, cheeks a little pink, and eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

Before you could say anything, a small group of students passing by clapped him on the shoulder and offered quick congratulations.

“You killed it out there, Heeseung!”

“Bro, that was insane!”

He grinned and thanked them politely, bowing his head slightly in gratitude before returning his attention to you—eyes finding yours with ease, like he was always meant to.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

“Hi,” you replied, unable to stop your smile from growing.

He pointed at the edge of the blanket. “Can I sit?”

You rolled your eyes, scooting over without hesitation. “Acting like you didn’t set this whole thing up yourself, Heeseung.”

Heeseung chuckled as he sank down beside you, letting out a satisfied sigh as he stretched his legs. “Still nice to be polite, though.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed teasingly, tossing a blue gummy bear into your mouth. “Next thing you’ll ask is if you can breathe near me.”

He snorted. “Is that a no?”

You let out a laugh, nudging his knee with yours. “You did really well, Heeseung.”

His smile softened, a little shy, as he leaned in closer to your side and plucked a gummy bear from the open pack. “Just well?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Fine. You did amazing, alright? Happy now?”

He popped the gummy in his mouth and grinned. “Much.”

The corners of your lips curled up as you sighed, feeling lighter than you had in days. But before you could tease him again, a sudden gust of wind swept past, sending a shiver crawling up your spine.

Without hesitation, Heeseung slipped off his coat and gently draped it over your shoulders.

You looked up at him, a little startled, and met his gaze as he blinked down at you apologetically.

“Sorry… you looked cold,” he murmured.

You shook your head, clutching the coat tighter around yourself. “It’s okay. Thanks.”

There was a pause. The kind that felt comfortable rather than awkward—like the space between words when you’re reading a favorite book.

You glanced up at him again. “So… who convinced you to do it? The performance, I mean.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Sunoo and Ni-ki. They wouldn’t shut up about it. Said if I didn’t do it, they’d submit a dance number of me screaming as my entry.”

You snorted. “That sounds like something they’d do.”

“Oh, they were dead serious,” Heeseung said with mock horror. “Ni-ki even threatened to remix it.”

You laughed, leaning your head lightly on his shoulder. He tensed at first—just a flicker of surprise—but soon you felt him relax, his cheek gently resting against your head.

“This is nice,” he said quietly, voice just above a whisper.

You hummed. “Don’t get used to it, Lee.”

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “What happened to ‘Heeseung’?”

You laughed, tilting your head to the side with a teasing grin. “Whatever, Heeseung.”

It had been a few days since the open mic night—and safe to say, things had been good between you and Heeseung.

Shockingly good.

He’d made it a habit to follow your car on his Ducati, trailing you to your mother’s fashion firm each morning and making sure you got inside safely before speeding off to his own classes.

Sometimes, if you both finished late, he’d drive next to your car all the way back to your apartment—close enough to share glances at red lights.

If you weren’t rushing to get inside, you’d give him a smile and a quick kiss to his cheek, the corners of his lips twitching every single time like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

His hoodie sleeves were pushed up his forearms, revealing the veins in his hands, and his hair was slightly messy from removing his helmet earlier.

As you both turned a corner, you were mid-rant about your final collection. “I still haven’t gotten anything done. No sketches, no themes, no color palette—just absolutely nothing, Heeseung.”

Before he could reply, a cluster of rushing seniors turned the corner with the speed of a stampede.

Heeseung instinctively reached for your wrist, pulling you gently but firmly into his side, shielding you from getting knocked over.

You blinked, heart racing slightly—not from the students, but from him.

He looked down at you with a soft furrow in his brows. “Not even a sketch?”

You shook your head, lips forming a pout. “That’s it. I’m not making it to third year. My professors are gonna blacklist me from the industry. I’m going to live in a hole and—”

Heeseung let out a laugh, “You’re the top student in your department. I think you’ll be fine.”

“I’m being serious, Heeseung,” you huffed, folding your arms as you walked.

“And I’m being serious too,” he replied with a small smile. “You’ll get inspiration soon enough. I know it.”

“Easy for you to say. You just have to hit things and scream into a mic and the whole campus worships you.”

He snorted. “You say that like I don’t have six bruises from last week’s basketball practice.”

You reached out and poked his side. “You’re such a baby.”

“I am,” he said proudly, making you laugh.

As you approached your destination, Heeseung gently pulled you to a stop just outside the classroom door.

“This is your stop.” He held out your bag and the now-empty cup.

You took them with a quiet smile. “Thanks for walking me.”

“Anytime,” he said, voice softer now. “Anytime for you.”

You blinked at him. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, then he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your head, the gesture so natural it made your cheeks heat.

“Do you have practice later?” you asked, still smiling up at him.

He nodded, thumb brushing the strap of your bag before letting go. “Yeah. Do you wanna watch?”

You nodded. “I’ll bring snacks.”

“And I’ll buy you your banana milk. The overpriced vending kind, just for you.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Big spender.”

He grinned. “You know it.”

You lingered for a second longer, reluctant to let the moment go.

But when the bell echoed faintly from inside the room, you sighed and stepped back.

“Bye, Heeseung.”

“Bye, (Y/N).”

You entered the classroom with a small smile still on your face, unaware that Heeseung stood outside for a few more seconds, just staring at the closed door with a smitten look on his face.

It was late in the afternoon, the golden sun spilling through the tall windows of the hallway as you walked beside Sunoo toward the gym.

The chatter between you two was lighthearted, comforting even, as you held onto your sketchpad and swatches of fabric.

“I think gray would look good, no? Like a deeper tone—not too warm, but not silver either,” you mused, flipping through the fabric samples.

Sunoo made a face, scrunching his nose. “Depends on your model, honestly. It could either look stunning or completely wash them out.”

You let out a dramatic huff. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I haven’t got a clue who to use. I already asked Jungwon—thanks again for introducing me, by the way—but he’s busy.”

Sunoo gave you a sympathetic smile, gently bumping his shoulder against yours.

“As much as I love you, (Y/N), I’m busy too. I have rehearsals and two performances coming up, remember?”

You laughed, albeit a little tiredly. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a star, I get it.” You pushed open the gym doors with a playful roll of your eyes. “I’ll just—”

But the rest of your sentence never left your lips.

The laughter died in your throat the moment you stepped inside.

Your eyes landed on Heeseung.

He was standing near the bleachers, his back slightly hunched as he spoke to a girl you didn’t recognize.

In his hand was a pale pink envelope—a letter—and he looked down at it as she fiddled nervously with the hem of her skirt. Then, she stepped forward, slowly, like she was bracing herself for something.

And when she rose on her toes, arms twitching slightly, she leaned in.

Too close.

Your heart plummeted.

She was about to kiss him.

You didn’t wait to see if he kissed her back.

“Oh my God,” you whispered under your breath, the sketchpad slipping from your fingers and falling onto the polished wooden floor with a loud smack.

“(Y/N)?” Sunoo called out, voice full of confusion and concern.

But you were already taking a step back.

“I—I have to go,” you muttered, quickly turning on your heel before either of them could spot you.

Your heels clacked loudly against the gym floor, echoing through the wide space. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care if everyone looked. You didn’t care if Heeseung heard you leave.

You just needed to be far, far away.

Sunoo reached out, calling your name again—“(Y/N), wait!”—but the slam of the doors behind you drowned it out.

Your throat was tight. Your chest hurt. And despite your best efforts, your eyes burned.

Sunoo was quick to turn on his heel, storming into the gym with fire in his eyes and your sketchpad clutched tightly in his hand.

His eyes immediately landed on Heeseung—frozen, wide-eyed, lips parted in shock—as he shoved the girl back with both hands, her boldness clearly not welcomed.

“What the hell—” Heeseung’s voice cracked, his chest heaving. “Didn’t I already reject you weeks ago?”

The girl flinched at his words, pulling back slightly, but Sunoo didn’t stop to process any of it.

It clicked. That girl. That one. The same girl who’d cornered. Heeseung met in the fashion department building two weeks ago. The one who didn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.

Sunoo’s jaw clenched as he stormed forward, grabbing the girl’s arm—not too harsh, but firm enough to make her stumble a step away from Heeseung.

“I won’t hit you,” he said coldly, his voice low, “because you’re a girl. And because (Y/n) wouldn’t like me causing a scene. But you—”

His eyes flicked to Heeseung, who barely had a chance to react.

Sunoo’s fist connected hard with Heeseung’s jaw.

A sickening crack echoed across the gym.

Heeseung stumbled backward, hissing as he wiped the blood off his already busted lip, fresh red smearing against the corner of his hand. He didn’t even look angry.

“I deserved that,” he muttered hoarsely.

“Fuck yeah you did, you bastard,” Sunoo spat, glaring at him like he wanted to punch him again.

Across the gym, Jeno and Seungmin had started to run over, but Heeseung raised a hand, stopping them with a slight shake of his head.

“Did… did she see?” Heeseung asked, voice cracking. His gaze was locked on the gym doors like he could still chase after you.

“Yes,” Sunoo snapped. “She saw everything. She ran off crying, you asshole.”

The girl tried to interject, but Sunoo turned to her sharply. “If I were you,” he bit out, “I’d leave. Now.”

She didn’t even argue. She turned on her heel and practically bolted out of the gym.

Heeseung looked like he was about to follow, but before he could take a step, Sunoo’s fist collided with his cheek this time, knocking his head slightly to the side with a sharp hiss.

“You done?” Heeseung mumbled, tongue poking at the side of his lip.

Sunoo didn’t answer with words—just landed one final punch to his shoulder, making Heeseung stagger again.

“I am now,” Sunoo muttered, chest rising and falling. He looked down at the sketchpad still in his hand—yours—and his eyes narrowed.

“You better pray to every god out there she even lets you look at her again.”

Heeseung didn’t respond right away—just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his sweaty hair as guilt tightened in his chest like a vice.

His other hand lifted slowly, palm out toward Sunoo, eyes flicking to the sketchpad clenched tightly in his grasp.

Sunoo looked down at it, then back at Heeseung with a deep scowl.

“You better make up for this stunt,” he bit out, shoving the sketchpad into Heeseung’s chest with enough force to make him stumble a step back.

“I mean it, Heeseung. You’re my friend, but (Y/N)’s like a sister to me. You screw this up, and you’ll be losing a hell of a lot more than just her.”

Heeseung nodded once—sharply, sincerely—as he wiped his busted lip again, already stained with smeared blood. “I know,” he rasped out, voice low. “I know, Sunoo.”

There was a pause before he asked quietly, eyes flickering with hope and desperation, “Where do you think she’d go?”

Sunoo didn’t even hesitate. “Her apartment. If she’s speeding, she’s probably already there—or damn close. She drives fast when she’s upset.”

Heeseung nodded, tucking the sketchpad under his arm protectively like it was made of glass. “I’ll fix this,” he muttered. “No matter what it takes.”

Sunoo crossed his arms. “You better.”

Heeseung turned, eyes finding Jeno at the sidelines watching everything with tense uncertainty. “Finish practice,” he called, voice firm.

Jeno nodded, already gesturing for Seungmin to regroup the others. “We got it. Go.”

Without wasting another second, Heeseung broke into a sprint, bolting out of the gym with his heart in his throat and her name on repeat in his mind.

Sunoo watched him disappear through the doors, then muttered under his breath, “You better fix it, Lee Heeseung or don’t bother coming back.”

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

212 notes · View notes

liuhsng · 8 days ago

Note

im already so locked in on ride with caution!! part 1 was so good!

thank you so much, love ! that makes me so happy to hear, you have no idea how much this means to me mwa

thank you for reading, ily all always 🤍

#˙⋆✮ liuhsng talks

0 notes

liuhsng · 11 days ago

Text

✩ˎˊ˗ ride with caution ( lhs ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the xo, with you series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — heeseung x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ⤷ word count — 14.4k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warnings — college au, biker!heeseung, english major!heeseung, fashion major!reader, college!heeseung, college!reader, college!enhypen, strangers to lovers, slow burn, tension-filled interactions, mutual pining, rich!reader, casual jealousy, subtle possessiveness, emotional repression, foul language, kinda fuckboy!heeseung, soft!heeseung deep down, mentions of ive’s wonyoung and yujin, reader is cold but not heartless, fluff, angst

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the projector and the occasional shuffle of papers.

You stood tall at the front of the hall, posture straight as if you’d been sculpted for moments like this.

Your fingers smoothed the hem of your pleated skirt, tugging once at your cropped white blazer to ensure it sat perfectly on your shoulders.

The faint gold pin of your major’s crest glinted under the overhead lights as you adjusted it ever so slightly, a habit born of nerves you’d never admit to.

Behind you, your designs illuminated the screen—five mid-length coats, each distinct yet cohesive in their color palette and silhouettes.

“For this final piece,” you began, voice calm and steady, “I wanted to marry modern minimalism with delicate detailing. The bodice is structured with a cinched waist for shape, while the lace sleeves soften the silhouette.”

You paused, the faintest crease forming between your brows.

“However, during construction, I noticed an issue with the stitching at the lace sleeve ends—it wasn’t holding cleanly against the lining.”

A murmur ran through a few students in the audience, but you pressed on.

“To solve this, I reinforced the edges with an under-stitch and switched to a finer thread gauge for more flexibility, which allowed the lace to sit flush without compromising durability.”

You stepped back slightly, hands folding neatly in front of you as you gave a small nod. “That concludes my presentation. Thank you.”

For a beat, the room stayed quiet. Then applause swelled, echoing through the hall like a rolling wave.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile—not too wide, never smug—just enough to mask the tightness in your chest finally easing.

One of the panelists, Professor Kim, leaned forward with a warm expression. “As expected of Choi (Y/N). Our top student.”

A few soft laughs broke out across the room, and your smile grew a fraction.

“You have an exceptional eye,” He continued, “but more importantly, you have the presence of mind to identify and resolve issues independently. That’s a skill even seasoned designers struggle with.”

You inclined your head politely. “Thank you, professor.”

Behind you, the murmurs grew louder, sprinkled with approving comments from your peers.

As you made your way back to your seat, Yujin and Wonyoung were already grinning like proud parents.

“I told you,” Yujin whispered as you sat down, elbowing you lightly. “You were overthinking it. You killed it.”

You let out a small laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe.” Wonyoung smiled, eyes crinkling as she rested her chin in her hand. “You really said, ‘save the best for last,’ huh?”

You shook your head with a quiet chuckle, trying to ignore the faint heat rising in your cheeks.

“Good job, everyone,” Professor Kim’s voice cut through the fading applause, drawing the attention of the room back to the front.

“You all passed the midterm project. Well done.”

Cheers and relieved sighs erupted from the students, the tension breaking like a dam. Hands clapped, a few chairs scraped back with excitement, and Yujin even did a little fist pump beside you.

But then Professor Min spoke up, her tone calm yet edged with finality. “However—”

The cheers instantly died down, replaced by a chorus of groans and murmurs.

“There’s still the final project,” she continued, clasping her hands in front of her. “It accounts for forty percent of your grade.”

You straightened slightly in your seat, fighting the urge to sigh. Forty percent. Of course.

Professor Min’s expression softened just a little at the collective despair in the room.

“The materials and requirements have been uploaded to the portal. You’ll have until the end of the month to submit. I suggest you start early.”

With that, the panelists gathered their notes and began exiting the hall.

“Good luck, everyone,” Professor Kim added with a small smile. “You’ll need it.”

As the door clicked shut behind them, the buzz of conversation returned—quieter now, tinged with nervous energy.

You exhaled slowly, relief loosening the knot in your chest.

“Shall we?” Wonyoung asked, slinging her sleek tote bag over her shoulder. She tilted her head toward the door with her usual elegance, though the teasing glint in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah,” you murmured, gathering your tablet and sketchbook. Yujin hummed in agreement, already stuffing her charger into her bag as she grinned.

“You two seriously need to chill,” Yujin said playfully. “Midterms done. Let’s get celebratory coffee. My treat.”

But before you could reply, a familiar, cheerful voice called your name from the doorway.

“(Y/N)!”

You glanced up, surprise flickering across your face before a smile broke out.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and blonde hair catching the light, was none other than Kim Sunoo.

His grin was bright enough to rival the afternoon sun. “There you are! I thought I’d missed you.”

“Oh right!” you exclaimed, the realization hitting you as you snapped your fingers. “I completely forgot—I promised I’d help you with the costume samples for your performance.”

Wonyoung and Yujin exchanged knowing looks as they stood.

“It’s totally fine,” Wonyoung said smoothly, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “You can just meet us at our usual table later.”

“Yeah, go be a good Samaritan,” Yujin added with a wink, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “I’m not a good Samaritan.”

“Sure you’re not,” Wonyoung teased as the two of them strolled away down the hall.

Turning back to Sunoo, you noticed his slightly sheepish expression as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he said with a small laugh. “Were you busy?”

“Not at all,” you replied warmly, shaking your head. “Come on, let’s finish the samples in the cafeteria. What do you say?”

His entire face lit up at your suggestion. “Yes! Thank you. Seriously, I’m really glad you’re my friend, you know that?”

You let out a soft laugh, nudging his shoulder as the two of you began walking side by side.

“Nonsense. I’m glad you’re mine too,” you said genuinely. “I’m always happy to help you, Sunoo.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made it impossible not to smile back, and for a moment, the weight of final projects and deadlines felt just a little lighter.

As the two of you walked through the halls, the sound of your heels tapping against the floor mixed with Sunoo’s occasional hums.

It was warm outside the design building, but the faint hum of conversation and laughter spilling from the cafeteria ahead felt heavier—too packed, too loud for your liking.

When you finally stepped inside, you sighed softly, scanning the chaotic sea of students.

Every table was occupied—people hunched over assignments, groups laughing a little too loudly, trays clattering as someone almost tripped over a chair.

“Yeah…” Sunoo rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the tables with a hopeful glint in his eye.

“Well…” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! I see someone I know.”

You raised a brow, watching his hand lift as he pointed toward the far side of the cafeteria. “Is it okay with you if we join him?”

You sighed, adjusting the strap of your bag. “As long as this person doesn’t annoy me.”

Sunoo laughed brightly. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t really speak that much around strangers.”

That made you pause.

Strangers? You weren’t sure if that label comforted you or not.

But you nodded anyway, following Sunoo as he weaved between crowded tables until you reached a corner tucked away from most of the noise.

There, sitting with his head bent low over a laptop, was a boy with cherry red-dyed hair, one hand lazily scrolling through the touchpad as a small pile of chocolate milk cartons sat stacked beside his things.

“Hey! Heeseung!” Sunoo chirped, grinning as he reached the table.

The boy’s head lifted slowly, dark eyes meeting Sunoo’s before a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Sunoo.”

Sunoo offered him a fist bump, which Heeseung returned without looking away from his screen.

“Mind if we sit?” Sunoo asked brightly.

Heeseung leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking to you just for a second—long enough to make your stomach tighten.

Then he nodded lazily. “Go ahead.”

Sunoo grinned, turning to you as if urging you to sit before you changed your mind. You reluctantly slid into the seat across from Heeseung, setting your tablet down with practiced precision.

“Look at this.” Sunoo gestured to the pile of chocolate milk with an incredulous laugh. “What’s with the stockpile?”

Heeseung’s lips curved faintly. “Go crazy. Don’t even like chocolate milk that much.”

“Seriously?” Sunoo chuckled, grabbing one. He held another out toward you. “Want one, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head politely. “I prefer banana milk.”

At that, Heeseung’s eyes flicked up from his laptop, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“Exactly,” he murmured, voice low but smooth like he’d just won a silent argument.

Sunoo blinked between the two of you before laughing. “Oh right! Lee Heeseung, Choi (Y/N). Choi (Y/N), Lee Heeseung.”

Heeseung offered his hand across the table, his long fingers loose and easy like he wasn’t trying at all. “Nice to meet you.”

You glanced at his hand but didn’t take it. Instead, you gave a polite nod.

He hummed, retracting his hand without missing a beat. “No to physical touch. Got it.”

Sunoo chuckled awkwardly. “We’re gonna be working here for a while. Hope that’s okay.”

“Don’t mind me.” Heeseung shook his head, already looking back down at his laptop. “I’m busy.”

And he meant it. His fingers tapped lazily at the keyboard, the glow of the screen highlighting his sharp features.

Cherry red strands fell slightly into his eyes, and you hated how effortlessly striking he looked even when he wasn’t paying attention to anything but his work.

You tore your gaze away, opening your tablet with a soft sigh.

“Sunoo,” you murmured, sliding the design mock-up toward him, “we need to modify the cargo pants.”

Sunoo leaned closer, nodding eagerly. “Right! The ones for the backup dancers? What do you think—less pocket bulk?”

“Yes,” you replied, your eyes flicking briefly to Heeseung before focusing fully on Sunoo again. “And we need a lighter fabric. It’ll move better during the performance.”

Sunoo hummed, nodding eagerly as his fingers drummed against the table.

He reached over to grab another chocolate milk from the small pile beside Heeseung’s laptop, twisting the carton in his hands as his lips curled mischievously.

“You know…” Sunoo began, eyeing the absurd stash with a teasing grin, “why do you even have so many of these anyway?”

Heeseung, still hunched lazily over his laptop, spared him a glance. The faintest curve of amusement played on his lips as he opened his mouth to answer—but he didn’t get the chance.

A chorus of soft giggles floated toward your table, and you instinctively looked up.

Three girls from your Apparel Development class—each perfectly dolled up in their own statement pieces—were making their way over.

Their steps were hesitant yet excited, clutching cartons of chocolate milk in their manicured hands as they approached.

You watched silently as Heeseung leaned back slightly in his chair, his cherry red hair catching the warm cafeteria light.

He let out a quiet sigh, though his expression melted into a smooth, practiced smile.

“Yes?” His tone was light, teasing even, but not unkind.

One of the girls stepped forward nervously, placing three more cartons onto the growing pile beside him.

“We, um—thought you might want more,” she said, her voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

Heeseung chuckled, the sound low and effortless. “Thank you, ladies. I’ll be sure to drink them, yeah?”

They giggled again—one even tucking her hair behind her ear as she muttered a shy “bye, Heeseung.”

“Bye,” he replied with an easy grin, watching them walk away before turning back to his laptop like nothing had happened.

Sunoo nearly choked on his sip of chocolate milk, laughter spilling out as he wiped the corner of his mouth. “Oh my god. That’s why.”

Heeseung didn’t look up, fingers tapping away at his keys. “Hm?”

“The chocolate milk. You don’t even like it that much—you’re just hoarding offerings from your little fanclub.”

A faint smirk tugged at Heeseung’s lips, but he didn’t deny it. “What can I say? People like to give.”

Sunoo shook his head, grinning as he glanced at you. “Isn’t he ridiculous?”

But you weren’t smiling. You raised a brow, glancing between the newly stacked cartons and the cherry red-haired boy across from you.

The dots connected almost instantly in your head.

Of course.

Just another pretty face with the personality to match. Charming. Effortless. Probably used to people falling over themselves to get a sliver of his attention.

You shook your head lightly, muttering under your breath, “Figures.”

Heeseung’s eyes flicked up at you then—quick, sharp, like he’d caught the faint trace of judgment in your tone.

But you didn’t meet his gaze.

Instead, you tapped your tablet screen with a neatly manicured finger, saying to Sunoo, “We need to adjust the stitching pattern on the waistband too. It’s pulling oddly at the seams in the mock-up.”

Sunoo nodded, already distracted as he jotted notes. “Got it. You’re a lifesaver, (Y/N).”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung’s lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile—as he turned his attention back to his glowing screen.

“Interesting,” he murmured under his breath, so quiet it was nearly swallowed by the soft hum of the cafeteria.

His gaze trailed briefly—taking in the elegant way you held your stylus, the faint crease in your brow as you pointed out flaws in Sunoo’s design, and the way your gold wristwatch caught the light when you reached for your tablet.

You didn’t notice him watching, too focused on your work. Or maybe you did, and you were just very good at pretending you didn’t care.

Heeseung’s lips curved faintly again, this time in a softer way, like a private joke only he understood.

His fingers resumed their lazy tapping on the keyboard, but his eyes flicked up one last time—just for a second—as if filing the image of you away for later.

Then, with a low hum to himself, he muttered almost inaudibly, “This could be fun.”

The soft hum of chatter and clinking mugs filled the café, the faint aroma of espresso and warm pastries wrapping around you like a blanket.

It was the next morning, and though the sun had barely broken through the hazy clouds outside, Decelis students already filled the small coffee shop—hunched over laptops, sketchbooks, and steaming mugs.

You sat tucked into a corner booth, tablet balanced delicately against the pile of papers sprawled in front of you.

Wonyoung sat next to you, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she scrolled through fabric swatches on her phone.

“I’m telling you, chiffon could work,” Wonyoung mused, tilting her screen toward you. “It’s breezy, light, and drapes beautifully for movement.”

Sunoo leaned in from across you, popping the straw of his iced Americano between his lips.

“It’s good, but it needs a stronger base. Otherwise, it’ll just float awkwardly when they dance. Maybe a cotton blend? Something breathable.”

You hummed thoughtfully, tapping notes onto your screen.

“We could layer chiffon over a structured lining. That way, it keeps the form but still flows with the movement.”

Wonyoung’s eyes lit up. “Genius.”

The conversation continued like that—light, technical, and productive—until the quiet jingle of the café door’s bell rang.

Out of habit, your eyes flicked up, barely paying attention.

It was none other than Lee Heeseung.

Cherry red hair falling just slightly into his eyes, a simple gray sweatshirt hanging loose on his frame paired with ripped denim. Silver rings and a thin chain glinted faintly under the café’s warm lighting.

He carried nothing but his phone and earbuds, looking entirely too comfortable as his gaze scanned the room—until it landed on you.

For a second, your eyes met. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, the same kind that had gotten under your skin yesterday without him even trying.

You quickly broke the eye contact, lowering your head to your tablet as if the stack of fabric specs was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

Sunoo didn’t miss the way your shoulders stiffened. He turned slightly, following your line of sight just as Heeseung approached their booth.

“Hey, Sunoo,” Heeseung greeted casually, lifting his hand for a high five.

Sunoo grinned, reciprocating with an easy slap of palms. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Didn’t know you guys would be here either.” Heeseung’s voice was smooth and low, his eyes flicking briefly—almost lazily—to where you sat, before returning to Sunoo.

“Yeah,” Sunoo laughed, oblivious to the faint tightness in your jaw.

Heeseung hummed lightly, then gestured over his shoulder. “I’ll be right there.” He nodded toward an empty table at the back of the café.

“Great. Are you busy later?” Sunoo asked brightly.

Heeseung thought for a moment, tilting his head slightly as his fingers toyed with the silver chain at his neck. “Besides helping out at the tryouts? No, not really. Why?”

“Can I come and watch?” Sunoo asked, his grin widening.

“Sure. Anytime.” Heeseung’s smile was easy, effortless—as if he hadn’t just left a quiet ripple in the air around your booth.

He offered Sunoo a brief nod before walking away, slipping into the corner seat with the same quiet confidence that had annoyed you yesterday.

You didn’t look up until you were sure he wasn’t paying attention. Then your eyes finally flicked back to Sunoo.

“Tryouts?” you asked, arching a perfectly-shaped brow. “For what?”

Sunoo’s grin widened knowingly. “So you were listening.”

Wonyoung didn’t even try to hide her smirk as she sipped her lavender latte. “Didn’t know you were into bad boys, (Y/N).”

You scoffed, sitting straighter as your fingers swiped across your tablet screen. “Please. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Wonyoung’s grin only grew as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “I don’t know… I don’t think your brother would be thrilled about Lee Heeseung of all people.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the faint heat threatening to creep up your neck. “What’s with him, anyway? How do you even know him?”

Wonyoung’s voice lilted with playful mischief. “Everyone knows him, (Y/N.) He’s the captain of the basketball team. Smart. Ridiculously talented. And—”

Sunoo chimed in with a laugh. “—Decelis’ golden boy. Oh, and notorious playboy. Don’t forget that.”

Wonyoung giggled, nodding. “Seriously. He’s everywhere—sports, academics, even social events. You could ask anyone, and they’d have at least one story about Lee Heeseung.”

She tilted her head, her earrings swaying slightly as her lips curved in playful mischief. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard the rumors?”

You didn’t even look up from your tablet as your stylus glided against the screen with practiced precision. “I don’t listen to baseless rumors.”

Sunoo snorted softly from across the table, stirring his drink with his straw. “Oh, these aren’t baseless. Trust me, there’s a lot.”

You raised a brow, reluctantly glancing up at him. “Like?”

Sunoo held up his fingers, ticking them off one by one.

“He made another senior cry after they broke up—though technically she wasn’t even his girlfriend. He punched Jake in the face once for accidentally popping one of their basketballs.”

“That’s…” You blinked, surprised despite yourself. “A little extreme.”

“It’s true!” Sunoo laughed, shaking his head.

“And he’s really famous for… you know, not really rejecting girls outright but not accepting their confessions either. He doesn’t lead them on, but he also doesn’t stop them from trying.”

You let out a small sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair neatly behind your ear as your eyes flicked back down to your sketches.

“Why are you even friends with him? He’s like the total opposite of you, Sunoo.”

Sunoo smiled faintly, the kind of soft grin that said he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. “He’s a good friend. I’ve known him since high school.”

“Has he always been like that?” you asked, almost without thinking, fingers still idly tapping at your tablet screen.

“Kinda,” Sunoo admitted with a quiet laugh. “But he’s also the type who shows up when it matters. People don’t see that part of him.”

You hummed, not fully convinced as you flicked through the color palettes on your screen. “Sounds like a headache to me.”

Sunoo and Wonyoung exchanged a knowing glance, the corners of Wonyoung’s lips twitching as though she wanted to say more but decided against it.

After a moment, you glanced back up at Sunoo. “Tryouts—for what?”

“Basketball,” Sunoo replied simply, popping a piece of pastry into his mouth. “The team needs some fresh faces. I don’t know… diversity or whatever.”

You hummed again, resting your chin lightly on your hand as you returned your focus to your work. “Figures. Someone like him would need all eyes on him.”

Wonyoung smirked, sipping her latte. “Sounds like you do listen to rumors after all.”

You shot her a flat look, lips pressed into a thin line. “No. I just observe.”

And with that, you let their teasing voices fade into the background, your fingers resuming their steady rhythm on the tablet screen.

You drowned out the clinking mugs, the hum of Decelis students laughing at nearby tables, even the faint thrum of music from the café speakers.

The only thing you refused to acknowledge was the burning stare you swore you felt at the back of your head.

You didn’t look back—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

It was five in the afternoon when you found yourself being dragged—quite literally—across the campus courtyard by an overly eager Sunoo.

He clutched your bag like it was ransom, his blonde hair glowing under the late afternoon sun as he half-pleaded, half-whined.

“Please, (Y/N), come on. Jungwon and Ni-ki bailed, and I can’t watch alone or I’ll look like a weirdo.”

You sighed, tugging lightly on your bag. “Sunoo, you know I don’t do… whatever this is. Basketball? Gymnasium air? Questionable bleachers?”

“Questionable?” He gasped dramatically, hugging your bag tighter. “You wound me. Also, I’ll buy you dinner after.”

“I don’t need—”

“Or,” Sunoo cut in with a grin, “you can buy me dinner instead. Your choice.”

You paused, glaring faintly at the boy who you’d grown to treat like your own younger brother—thanks to your lack of one.

He was giving you the puppy eyes again, all wide and glinting in the light, knowing exactly how to push your walls down.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Sunoo’s entire face lit up as he looped his arm around yours with a triumphant grin. “You’re the best. Like, actually my favorite person alive.”

“Uh-huh. We’ll see if I’m still your favorite after I get mosquito bites,” you mumbled, letting him steer you toward the back gates of the main building.

The walk was quiet, the sound of your shoes tapping against the concrete blending with the faint buzz of cicadas.

Streetlights flickered to life one by one as Sunoo guided you toward the closed gymnasium near the music department’s building.

“Oh, come on. It isn’t that bad,” Sunoo chirped, practically bouncing on his heels.

You gave him a skeptical look, lips pressing into a thin line. “Mhmm. Getting eaten alive by mosquitoes isn’t bad at all.”

He laughed, a soft melodic sound, as you both approached the double doors.

He peeked through the small glass window before pushing one open and gesturing dramatically. “After you, milady.”

The first thing to hit you was the scent of disinfectant and polished wood.

Then came the faint squeak of sneakers against the glossy court floor and the rhythmic thuds of basketballs being dribbled in quick succession.

The gym was fuller than you’d expected—students scattered in groups, some running casual drills, others sitting along the sides chatting.

“Here, let’s sit,” Sunoo whispered, tugging you toward the far bleachers. You allowed him to guide you, your eyes scanning the room out of pure habit.

And then they zeroed in on him—01, Lee.

His back was to you, cherry red hair slightly tousled, the number on his jersey stretching across his broad shoulders as he stood talking to a group of guys you recognized from campus.

His gray sweatpants clung loose around his long legs, but there was nothing casual about the way he carried himself—confident, relaxed, like the court belonged to him.

You raised a brow as you settled on the bench beside Sunoo, crossing your legs neatly. “Captain, you say?”

Sunoo followed your gaze, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. That’s Heeseung.”

You hummed softly, leaning your elbow on your knee as you rested your chin against your palm. “Figures. He looks like the type who needs a whole room watching him.”

Sunoo snickered. “You say that like you’re not watching him right now.”

You shot him a pointed glare. “I’m observing.”

“Sure.” Sunoo grinned, leaning back on his palms.

“That’s what everyone says before they end up showing up to every game.”

You scoffed lightly, eyes flitting back to your tablet screen as you pulled it out of your bag. “Relax. I won’t even be here long.”

“Uh-huh.”

Before you could even unlock the screen, Sunoo snatched the device from your hands with alarming speed, holding it out of your reach as his eyes narrowed at you playfully.

“No work.” He gave you a pointed look, wagging a finger. “We’ll finish that later.”

“Sunoo—” You let out a sharp sigh, already knowing arguing was useless when he had that determined gleam in his eyes.

With a dramatic huff, you crossed your legs and folded your arms, leaning back against the cold bleacher seat.

“Fine. But if I get behind because of this, it’s on you.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Ms. Perfectionist.” Sunoo smirked, tucking your tablet into his tote bag for safekeeping.

You rolled your eyes, dragging your gaze reluctantly back to the court.

Heeseung’s voice echoed through the gym, bouncing off the walls with a quiet authority that demanded attention without trying.

“Alright, split into two groups,” he called out, his tone smooth yet commanding.

“One with me, one with Jeno. Let’s run a few trial games. Five minutes each—show us what you’ve got.”

You watched as he gestured toward the vice-captain—a sharp-eyed boy with black hair—tossing him a spare ball. He caught it easily, already motioning for half the group to join him.

Heeseung, meanwhile, walked leisurely toward the sideline, spinning his own ball absentmindedly in one hand.

The loose white sleeveless jersey showed just enough of his toned arms to make the girls a few seats away from you and Sunoo start whispering excitedly.

“Heeseung!” one of them called out with a nervous giggle.

He turned his head slightly, offering them an easy wave and the kind of lopsided grin that probably lived rent-free in their daydreams.

You huffed under your breath, ignoring their flustered whispers and giggles.

But then his gaze moved—and for the second time in two days, Lee Heeseung’s eyes found yours.

His lips quirked into a small smile, one eyebrow raised as if amused by the fact that you were even here. You held his gaze steadily, tilting your chin up ever so slightly—refusing to be the first one to look away.

Even seated on the bleachers, you stood out like a flame in a room of shadows.

The pastel blue blazer draped flawlessly over your frame—a tailored Chanel piece he recognized instantly—paired with a crisp white skirt that skimmed mid-thigh and delicate heels that clicked against the wood earlier when you walked in.

Your hair fell in soft waves, not a strand out of place, your expression calm and poised like you belonged anywhere but in a stuffy gymnasium.

Heeseung’s smile widened faintly before he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

He passed the ball in his hands to Jeno with a casual toss and clapped his hands together. “Alright! Let’s see what you can do.”

“Who’s that?” you murmured, nodding slightly at Jeno as he barked instructions at his group.

“Jeno. Vice-captain,” Sunoo answered easily, eyes still on the court. “Really solid player. Heeseung trusts him with running drills.”

You nodded, your attention unintentionally drifting back to Heeseung as he leaned casually against the scorer’s table, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Even from here, it was impossible not to notice how tall he was—how he seemed to take up space without even trying.

“He’s tall,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

Sunoo’s lips curled into a knowing grin. “Yeah. He’d make a good model, huh?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Only if he wasn’t such a notorious playboy.”

Sunoo grinned knowingly but didn’t comment, his attention shifting back to the court just as Heeseung stepped forward again.

The cherry red-haired captain barked out quick, decisive orders—his voice cutting through the gym’s chatter with practiced ease.

“Jeno, you’re on point. Seungmin, cover left. I’ll take it from here. Let’s go.”

The ball was in his hands again before the words even finished leaving his mouth.

His movements were clean, precise, almost lazy in their ease as he dribbled past two freshman defenders, pivoting with a sharp twist of his heel.

The sound of sneakers squeaking against polished wood filled the air as Heeseung stepped back—just outside the three-point line—and with one smooth motion, he sent the ball flying.

It arced high, almost tauntingly slow, before it sank cleanly through the hoop.

The gym erupted in cheers, a few players even clapping as Heeseung gave a small shrug like it was no big deal. His gaze, however, flicked toward the bleachers—directly at you.

For a brief moment, his eyes locked with yours.

And then his lips curved into that maddeningly faint smirk before he turned back to the game, calling out more instructions like he hadn’t just made the air between you sizzle.

“Show-off,” you muttered under your breath, straightening in your seat.

Unfortunately, the group of girls sitting nearby noticed the fleeting interaction. You caught them glancing at you from the corner of your eye, whispering behind manicured hands.

You raised a perfectly sculpted brow at them. “What are you looking at?”

One of them scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Spoiled brat.”

You tilted your head, lips curling into a cold smile. “Because I have the money to do as I please?”

The girl faltered slightly, and you rolled your eyes with a sharp laugh. “Relax. Lee Heeseung’s all yours. I promise I’m not interested.”

They looked away quickly after that, muttering under their breaths as you exhaled a slow sigh, focusing your gaze back on the court.

By the time the game wrapped up, the freshmen on the sidelines were red-faced and panting, while the regular players clapped a few of them on the back.

Heeseung had a towel draped around his neck and a bottle of water in one hand as he jogged over to where you and Sunoo sat.

“Well?” he asked, his voice light with amusement as his eyes flicked between you and Sunoo. “How’d I do?”

Sunoo grinned as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t the freshmen be the ones asking that?”

They both laughed, an easy, familiar sound that made you feel like an outsider for just a second.

Heeseung’s gaze then settled on you, his smile softening as he tilted his head. “And you? What’s the verdict?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment before biting the inside of your cheek. “I… don’t know anything about basketball.”

His grin widened into a chuckle, head tipping back slightly. “Not even one thing?”

You shook your head, expression calm and unimpressed. “No.”

“Guess I’ll have to teach you, then,” he teased, reaching for his towel to wipe his forehead.

You only raised a brow, saying nothing as Sunoo stood and reached for your bag.

“Is everybody in the team already?” Sunoo asked as he handed you your things.

Heeseung shrugged. “Most of them. Still deciding on a few spots.”

His eyes flicked back to you briefly—searching, almost curious—as you stood next to Sunoo, fixing the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“You two are still here?” Heeseung asked, his voice casual but his gaze lingering a beat longer on you. “It’s getting late.”

Sunoo smiled brightly, reaching to loop an arm through yours. “Yeah, I wanted to watch. Anyways, we’re heading out now. Bye, Heeseung.”

“Bye, Sunoo.” Heeseung’s eyes shifted to you, his tone softening slightly. “Bye, (Y/N).”

You gave him a small nod, offering no more than a polite smile as Sunoo gently tugged you toward the doors.

Heeseung watched you leave, his once playful expression slipping into something unreadable—neutral, contemplative.

As the gym doors closed behind you, he let out a quiet sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck before turning back to his teammates.

“Alright, let’s wrap it up.”

The only sound that filled the old-school charm of the library was the faint rustle of turning pages and soft whispers exchanged between tables.

You sat alone, the large mahogany desk in front of you covered with sketchbooks, swatches, and expensive pens your mother insisted you use.

Your eyes narrowed down at the blank figure on the page, the silhouette barely formed—no color, no lines, no personality. Nothing was coming to you.

Finals weren’t even near, but you never slacked.

Not when your mother was Korea’s most sought-after designer, nor when your older brother—Decelis alumni—was already making headlines with his own shoe firm by twenty-two.

You weren’t just expected to be great. You were expected to be better.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you let your thoughts swallow you whole.

Maybe you weren’t born to design. Maybe you were just the family’s pretty face—the one good at being polite, presentable, and perfect in public.

You sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, frustration starting to bubble in your chest when a soft knock on the wood of your desk made you jolt upright.

You blinked.

Silver rings. Long fingers. Knuckles lightly bruised like he’d just come from a game or a fight—maybe both.

You slowly looked up and met the warmliquid brown gaze of Lee Heeseung. Eyes shaped like a doe’s—soft but unreadable. Almost too pretty for someone with a reputation as cold as his.

Cherry red strands framed his face, a bit tousled like he didn’t bother fixing it after practice, and he wore the Decelis black varsity jacket unzipped, revealing a white shirt that clung to his torso.

His expression wasn’t cocky—just curious. And quiet. Like he was trying to figure you out.

You tilted your head slightly, lips parting as you let your gaze fall down and then back up.

“Yes, Lee?” you asked, voice smooth with a hint of challenge.

Heeseung just smiled, the corners of his lips tugging up with ease as he motioned to the empty chair across from you. “Can I sit here?”

You raised a brow at him but gave a small shrug, nodding. “Sure. Not like it’s reserved.”

“Thanks,” he said, still grinning as he slid into the wooden seat, the chair giving a quiet creak beneath him.

He set his laptop down with a soft thud, glancing up to find you already trying to focus again, fingers twirling a pencil between them, eyes narrowed at your untouched sketchpad.

“Where’s Sunoo?” he asked casually, like it was just a passing thought.

“He had something to do,” you replied, tone clipped but not exactly cold. You didn’t owe him more than that, and he didn’t seem to expect it either.

Heeseung chuckled at the lack of detail, nodding slightly as he opened his laptop. “So just you, then.”

“Just me,” you echoed, eyes still on the page, not even sparing him a glance.

There was a short silence between you, not heavy, but not exactly comfortable either. Then, you felt his eyes flicker to your side. “You major in fashion, right?”

You looked at him finally, one brow arching with a sarcastic twist. “What gave it away?”

To your surprise, he didn’t falter. He simply pointed at the maroon Prada bag neatly tucked beside your sketchbook. “Everything, honestly. But mostly that.”

You hummed, fingers tracing idle lines on the page, trying to sketch something—anything—that didn’t look like an uninspired blob. The pencil scratched lightly, but your mind was blank.

“You’re quiet,” Heeseung said suddenly, gaze still focused on his screen. “That means you’re thinking. Or stuck.”

You let out a small sigh. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I’m out of ideas,” you mumbled, flipping the page and starting fresh.

Heeseung nodded knowingly. “Writer’s block, designer’s block… same thing. When my brain gets stuck, I get up. Cafés and walks help a lot.”

You tilted your head, genuinely curious despite yourself. “Why’s that?”

He turned toward you slightly, resting his chin on his palm. “They give me something to look at. Different people, different conversations, smells, sounds—it’s like mini inspiration packets for free.”

You eyed him for a moment. “And you’re a…?”

“English major,” he answered with a small shrug, the glint in his eyes unmistakable.

Heeseung liked talking about this—liked the way his words could shape things, the way ideas came to life on the page.

You studied him for a second.

His laptop was already open to a document, full of scattered dialogue and poetic lines you couldn't read but looked lived-in, like he actually used his mind more than people assumed.

Heeseung caught your gaze and smirked. “What? Surprised I can read?”

You blinked, before nodding slowly, voice laced with dry humor. “You don’t exactly seem like the literary type.”

That made him chuckle under his breath, a soft, low sound that felt too genuine to be mocking. His shoulders relaxed a little as he leaned back, fingers tapping lazily at the edge of his laptop.

“Fair,” he replied, still smiling. “You’re not the first to say that.”

There was something oddly refreshing about the way he said it—no irritation, no defense. Just amusement.

You glanced at him again, catching the faintest glint in his eyes, as if he truly enjoyed talking about himself… not in a narcissistic way, but like it was rare for someone to ask without already assuming the answers.

And it was rare.

You didn’t know anything about Lee Heeseung—aside from the constant buzz of whispers and stolen glances he seemed to drag with him wherever he went.

But none of that existed here, not in this quiet corner of the library. Here, he was just some guy sitting across from you, trying to strike up a conversation.

Heeseung turned back to his laptop, the screen lighting up his face in soft white-blue hues as he said, “I’m sure you’ll find inspiration later.”

You frowned slightly. “How do you know that?”

“I just do,” he answered easily, not looking away from his screen, fingers now scrolling through something.

“It comes in waves. You’re just in the middle of a dry one.”

You hummed quietly, eyes drifting back to your sketchpad, still blank except for a few frustrated pencil lines.

The silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It was comfortable.

Across from you, Heeseung adjusted his seat, resting his ankle on his opposite knee, posture relaxed but still sharp around the edges—like a blade that’s learned how to rest without dulling.

You glanced at him again, then at the Prada bag he’d pointed out earlier, and finally at your own page.

Maybe he wasn’t that bad. Maybe—just maybe—Sunoo was right. There was something a little more layered beneath the sharp jaw, the smug grins, and the nonchalant aura.

Something softer. Something that didn’t mind sitting in silence with someone else.

You tapped your pencil lightly against the edge of your sketchpad, and for the first time in hours, an idea started to form.

Heeseung, without looking up, said quietly, “Told you so.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you always this cocky?”

“Only when I’m right,” he replied, finally glancing up at you, that smirk tugging at his lips again. “Which, by the way, is most of the time.”

The cafeteria was unusually quiet for midday, its usual crowd reduced to only a handful of scattered students.

The sunlight slanted lazily through the tall windows, casting golden patterns on the floor as the distant clinking of trays and soft hum of background music made for a comforting lull.

You were curled up on one of the corner benches, legs folded beneath you as your tablet rested on your lap, stylus gliding across the screen with practiced ease.

Next to you sat a growing army of empty banana milk cartons—two stacked, one half-full, and another freshly punctured by a straw you were sipping through absentmindedly.

It was peaceful. Just the way you liked it.

Until a low cough disrupted your focus.

You frowned, not even bothering to look up as your hand stilled mid-sketch. “There’s literally empty tables everywhere.”

“I know,” a familiar voice said, laced with amusement.

You glanced up, half-annoyed, only to meet the cherry red-haired male from the library—Lee Heeseung.

He was holding a tray, a banana milk sitting innocently on it.

You blinked. “What are you doing here?”

Heeseung smiled, not answering as he casually slid into the seat across from you. “Can I sit?”

You sighed. “You already are.”

He laughed at that, cracking the lid off his banana milk and poking a straw in.

You stared. “You do realize that stuff’s basically sugar water, right? You’ll be running to the bathroom in like—ten minutes.”

Heeseung raised a brow, amused. “So you do care.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating faintly. “I don’t. You’re just weird.”

His gaze drifted to the side of your tray, where the banana milk cartons were lined like little trophies. “Really? That’s rich coming from the person who drank four.”

“I haven’t eaten yet,” you huffed. “Leave me alone.”

You turned back to your tablet, trying to sink back into the rhythm you’d found earlier. But before you could draw another line, something soft slid across the table.

You paused. A neatly wrapped milk bread bun sat next to your tablet now, its plastic crinkling faintly under your wrist.

You turned your head slowly, eyes narrowing.

Heeseung was scrolling through his phone, earbuds in, gaze pointedly not meeting yours.

You blinked, lips parting slightly. “…What’s this?”

He didn’t answer, simply popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and leaned back in his seat.

You stared at the bread for a moment before mumbling under your breath, “…Thanks.”

Heeseung looked up at you, a faint smile ghosting his lips as he gave a small nod. “No problem.”

His voice was quiet, like he didn’t want to break whatever quiet bubble the two of you had found yourselves in.

He nudged the banana milk closer to him, took a slow sip, then leaned an elbow on the table, his eyes scanning your face with something curious.

“Where’s Sunoo?”

Your fingers paused over the bread wrapper. The question was innocent—lighthearted, even—but something about it made your chest tighten.

A smile crept onto your lips, small and automatic, the kind of smile that used to come so easily at the mention of your friend.

But this time, it faded just as fast.

You didn’t meet Heeseung’s eyes as you replied flatly, “He’s busy.”

You tugged the plastic open with a quiet crinkle, carefully peeling back the corners like it gave you something to focus on.

Heeseung let out a soft breath—maybe a laugh, maybe just amusement. “Of course.”

There was no malice in his voice, only a kind of warmth wrapped in sarcasm.

He glanced at you again, eyes soft as he asked, “So, it’s just you?”

The repeated question made your chest tighten for some reason you didn’t want to name. “Just me,” you murmured, tone even, like yesterday hadn’t happened at all.

Heeseung nodded, smile tugging lazily at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t press further. “Okay.”

He seemed almost used to your dry tone, like he didn’t expect anything more but still somehow found your cold honesty a little funny.

You didn’t respond.

Instead, you took a small bite of the milk bread, your eyes flicking back to the tablet in your lap as if hoping it would magically distract you from everything else.

If you had looked up just a second longer, you might’ve caught the fleeting smile playing on Heeseung’s lips—something real, something soft.

He stared at you for a beat longer, then shook his head with a barely-there smirk as he stabbed a fork into his food.

He didn’t speak again.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—but it was heavy.

Comfortable in a way that shouldn’t have made sense, not with someone you barely knew. But you weren’t scrambling to fill the quiet, and neither was he.

You continued nibbling on the bread slowly, the sketch on your tablet long forgotten. Your stylus sat limp in your hand as you simply… let yourself sit there, with him.

A minute later, Heeseung fixed one of his earbuds on his ear, properly slipping it in as he opened his playlist.

The screen glowed against his skin, and he tapped the play button once.

Music spilled from his other earbud faintly—mellow guitar strums and lo-fi drums—just loud enough that you could hear it if you really tried.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

You walked down the hallway with your usual expressionless stride, ignoring the not-so-quiet whispers echoing off the walls around you.

“She’s so full of herself.”

“No, she’s just a genius, didn’t you hear about her last collection?”

“I bet she thinks she’s better than everyone.”

Same voices. Different day.

You barely blinked as they passed by, used to the reputation that clung to you like the scent of luxury perfume.

You were either the fashion department’s ‘prodigy’ or the ‘cold, stuck-up brat’—there was no in-between. But it didn’t matter. You didn’t have time for their noise.

You adjusted the strap of your on your shoulder, fingers brushing the buttery leather as you continued walking toward the exit.

Sunoo had texted a few minutes ago, asking to meet at your favorite café just outside campus. A small escape—one you were honestly looking forward to.

But the second you turned the final hallway out of the fashion building, your steps slowed.

There, leaning casually against the wall by the exit, stood Heeseung.

Black joggers. Worn basketball shoes. His university jersey still on, hanging loosely over his figure. A white zip-up jacket draped open over it. His dark hair was damp at the edges, like he’d just come from practice.

His gaze was scanning the students spilling out of the building—bored, like he didn’t even know what he was looking for. Until his eyes landed on you.

And then, as if you were in some cliché drama, he lifted a hand and waved. At you.

You blinked.

Glanced behind you.

No one.

You raised a brow and sighed under your breath, the slightest drop of dread forming in your gut as you adjusted your bag and walked forward, your heels clicking with every step on the polished floor.

You met halfway, and as always, he was already grinning like he found your frown amusing.

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want, Lee?”

He pushed off the wall with lazy ease, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he fell in step beside you. “Are you always this harsh?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Are you always this annoying?”

He laughed—head tilting back slightly like he actually enjoyed the way you spoke to him. “Damn, you really don’t hold back, huh?”

You didn’t answer. Just kept walking. If you acknowledged the slight way your heart tripped at his laugh, you’d never forgive yourself.

He matched your pace effortlessly, his longer legs keeping up with your brisk stride as you both exited the building into the soft breeze outside.

“I’m actually here on behalf of Sunoo,” he said, finally explaining his presence.

You turned your head slightly, eyes narrowing. “What? Why?”

Heeseung shrugged a little too casually, “He told me he’d be running late. Some last-minute project he needed to finish up. Said he probably wouldn’t make it in time—so he sent me as his substitute.”

You blinked. “Substitute?”

“Mhm.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen with ease before turning it toward you. Sure enough, there it was—a message labeled ‘Sunoo’ with the text:

sunoo [4:53 P.M.]: i owe u big time heeseung pls just go w her to the cafe she’ll kill me if she waits alone

sunoo [4:53 P.M.]: I’ll try to come later!!

You stared at the screen, deadpan, then sighed, muttering, “Kim Sunoo, I swear to God.”

Heeseung chuckled beside you, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Oh come on, I’m not that bad. I thought we were getting close.”

You gave him a flat look, raising a single brow. “Is three days enough to determine a person’s personality?”

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, as if considering your question way too seriously. “Well… kind of,” he mused, “I mean, you wouldn’t stab me in public just because I’m here instead of Sunoo… right?”

You didn't respond immediately—just kept walking as you muttered, “Tempting.”

Heeseung laughed, the sound light and easy, like he wasn’t bothered at all by your dry jab. “So, where’s this mysterious café of yours?”

“Just one near the gate by the arts building,” you replied, voice even as you tucked your hands into the sleeves of your cardigan.

He nodded, gaze forward as he adjusted the strap of his backpack. “Huh. Never been. Lead the way then.

Silence soon wrapped around the both of you—not uncomfortable, but filled with something you couldn’t quite name. The air between you felt heavier the longer you walked side by side, heels tapping in sync against the stone path.

Still, he didn’t speak again, and somehow, that unnerved you more than his usual cocky remarks.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, observing the way his cherry-red hair caught the dying gold of the afternoon light.

He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t fidgeting, wasn’t trying to get under your skin. He just walked. Quiet. Calm. Collected.

And that was what unsettled you the most.

It was strange—seeing him like this. The same Heeseung who made it to the top of your ‘Most Annoying People Alive’ list without even trying, the one who always had a smirk ready and a comment lined up to rile you.

But now? He was unreadable. Still. Focused.

Was this how he always was when Sunoo wasn’t around to stir him up? Or was this his default?

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure why it bothered you so much. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—with a strange sort of quiet confidence that made you question your own.

Or maybe it was the way his presence didn’t demand attention, but somehow pulled yours in anyway.

He turned to you suddenly, catching your stare. “You okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Fine.”

Heeseung smiled faintly, a knowing sort of curve to his lips. “You were staring.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were definitely staring,” he teased, nudging your elbow with his.

You scoffed. “Your hair’s just blinding.”

Heeseung let out a breathy laugh, the sound bouncing lightly between the two of you.

“What, you don’t like dark red?” he teased, running a hand through his vibrant cherry-dyed hair with a smirk that made you roll your eyes.

You didn’t bother replying—just kept walking, eyes forward. But he caught the way the corners of your lips twitched ever so slightly.

Heeseung’s grin only widened at the lack of protest. “Okay then,” he hummed, clearly entertained by your silence.

The next thing you knew, the two of you were already inside the café.

A warm hum of espresso beans and jazz music swirled around the quiet corners of the glass-walled space. The table you chose—one of the corner booths nestled near the tall windows—was bathed in a soft afternoon glow.

Your matcha cold brew sat on the table in front of you, condensation sliding lazily down the cup. Heeseung’s java chip frappé, on the other hand, was already half-melted, neglected entirely as his focus stayed glued to you.

“I still don’t get how you manage to multitask so much,” he said, chin propped on his hand as he leaned slightly forward, eyes scanning your tablet while you spoke.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, letting out a short, amused breath. “I don’t know either. Now stop staring and focus,” you mumbled, turning the device toward him.

He blinked before shifting a little closer, his knee brushing against yours under the table. “Alright, alright,” he murmured with a small grin.

“Okay,” you started, eyes scanning your notes, “I made some modifications on the pants—fixed the trim to something more tapered, but I haven’t stitched it yet. I’m stuck on what thread to use so it doesn’t tear the fabric, especially since Sunoo moves so much onstage.”

Heeseung tapped his chin thoughtfully, his brows pulling in. “Have you tried bonded nylon? It’s tough. Won’t tear easily.”

You looked up slowly, brows raised. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

He smiled and shrugged. “I had a close friend who was a fashion major. He graduated last year.”

You nodded, clearly impressed. “You remember at least one thing he said, huh?”

“I remember the important stuff,” he said casually, eyes dropping to your tablet again.

“Tell Sunoo you’re done finalizing the fabric for the top, and you just need to settle on accessories. You said you were leaning toward gold last time, right?”

You blinked. “Yeah… I was.”

Heeseung looked proud of himself. “See? I listen. Not just a pretty face, y’know.”

A small smile escaped you before you could stop it. You quickly looked down to hide it, pretending to scroll through your files.

He caught it anyway.

“I told you,” he said, voice light, teasing. “I’m not that bad, (Y/N).”

You shook your head, lips quirking. “We’ll see.”

Heeseung let out a quiet chuckle, eyes flickering to the condensation dripping down his forgotten drink. “I still don’t get how you haven’t burned out.”

“I have,” you said honestly, tone softer now. “I just don’t show it.”

Heeseung smiled, not the teasing kind he usually wore, but something smaller—gentler.

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands falling right back into place as he leaned one elbow on the table, eyes not leaving yours.

“So it’s just you, huh?” he repeated, voice quieter.

You let out a breath of a laugh, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Just me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly like something about that amused or maybe even impressed him. The sound made you smile in return—an unintentional reaction that slipped through your usually guarded expression.

Then he leaned forward, squinting at your nearly empty cup and the crumbs on your plate. “So, are you hungry?”

You blinked, furrowing your brows. “I had a muffin earlier. And the matcha’s still half full, so… not really?”

He gave you a flat look, raising a brow. “Real food, (Y/N).”

You snorted. “I can’t. I still have another project to finish after this.”

“When’s that due?” he asked, already knowing what your answer would be.

You sighed, “Next week.”

He let out a laugh and leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he pointed out, “Exactly. Come on, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

“There’s no need, Lee, I can handle—”

“I told Sunoo I’d be with you.” He clicked his tongue and cut you off, tilting his head as if that settled the matter.

You stared at him. He stared back. His arms still crossed in defiance, making the letters of the Decelis University jersey stretch across his chest.

“That’s not a valid excuse,” you muttered.

“It’s a perfectly valid excuse,” he grinned. “Now get up. I’m not leaving you here to starve.”

“I’m not starving!”

“You had a muffin.”

You huffed and gave him a look, grabbing your tablet and neatly tucking it into your bag. “You’re so annoying.”

“I know,” he said, voice light, as he stood up beside you.

He waited, watching you pack the rest of your things. And when you finally zipped your bag and rose from your seat, he held the café door open with the cockiest little smirk like he’d just won a war.

“Cocky much?” you muttered as you stepped out, brushing past him.

He grinned, letting the door shut behind him as he fell in step beside you. “What? Can’t a gentleman walk a pretty girl back to campus?”

You rolled your eyes. “You? A gentleman?”

“I opened the door,” he said with faux offense. “Twice, might I add. That’s two gentleman points.”

You shook your head, letting out a small laugh as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk. The sky was soft now—pale blue melting into gold—and the warm breeze carried the faint scent of the bakery down the block.

Your shoulders brushed every now and then, but neither of you pulled away.

You furrowed your brows, eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead.

Whatever this thing was—this connection, this pull—you didn’t know what to call it.

He wasn’t just some passing face anymore. Not after how easily he made you laugh. Not after how naturally he took up space beside you like he belonged there.

And that scared you.

Heeseung glanced at you, catching the wrinkle in your brow. “You okay?”

You blinked, trying to play it off. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

You sat on the cold bleachers beside Sunoo, the hum of rubber soles squeaking against the polished wood floor echoing across the gym. It was early afternoon, and despite the crowd being modest, the cheers from a few enthusiastic bleacher rows away made your eye twitch.

You glanced down at your hand, inspecting your nails with a soft frown, lips pursed.

“Ugh,” you sighed under your breath, squinting. “Why is it that the gel always grows out at the worst possible time?”

Sunoo, beside you in his cream cardigan and blue jeans, let out a soft laugh. “You really can’t even pretend to be interested, can you?”

You raised a brow without looking at him, eyes flickering back to the court where the Decelis team moved in sharp formations. “Why are we here again?”

He turned to you, blonde hair bouncing a little with the movement, smiling brightly. “To show support for our friend.”

You snorted. “Your friend. Not mine.”

Sunoo blinked dramatically at you. “He took you out to dinner two nights ago.”

You rolled your eyes. “A night you bailed on me for, by the way.”

“I already apologized for that!” Sunoo defended with a soft whine, poking your shoulder. “Besides, that’s not the point. You went. You let him pay.”

“That was nothing,” you said, arms crossing over your chest. “He was just being friendly.”

Sunoo side-eyed you, trying and failing to hide a smug grin. “That’s what they all say.”

You groaned. “Oh my god, Sunoo—”

Before you could say more, the buzzer rang loudly through the gym, and the crowd stirred with energy as the timeout was called.

The players headed toward their benches, water bottles being passed around. You scanned the group lazily until your eyes landed on Heeseung.

Cherry red hair damp with sweat, jersey clinging to his tall frame, the number on his back glinting slightly under the lights. He wiped his face with the edge of his shirt, flashing a sliver of toned abs that made the girls a few rows down absolutely lose it.

You scowled, muttering under your breath, “They act like they’ve never seen abs before.”

Sunoo leaned over slightly, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Like you have?”

You turned your head slowly, one brow arching as your lips parted to retort—but he beat you to it.

“Yes, smartass, I know,” he drawled dramatically, flipping his blonde bangs out of his eyes. “You help your mom and brother with their modeling gigs.”

You gave a victorious little smile, proud and smug as you leaned back against the bleacher, eyes flicking lazily back toward the court—only to meet a pair of familiar brown ones already staring.

Heeseung was standing near the team’s bench, one hand on his waist, towel draped over his neck. He wasn’t even pretending not to look.

His lips curled into a knowing little smile as he caught your gaze, and you blinked in surprise before offering him the most nonchalant wave you could muster.

He dipped his head slightly, amused, then turned back to his teammates who were crowding around the coach. But not before you saw that stupid cocky grin again.

Sunoo hummed beside you like he was watching a soap opera unravel. “Yeah. Totally not friends.”

You didn’t even have to look to know he was smirking.

He continued, voice laced with mock sincerity, “Because, you know, friends totally look like they wanna suck each other’s faces off.”

Your head whipped toward him, scandal written all over your expression. “Kim Sunoo—!”

He just laughed, loudly and unashamed, clapping once at your reaction. “God, I love toying with you and your high-class grammar. You make it so easy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, swatting at his arm. “You’re so annoying.”

He grinned. “Admit it, you’d be bored without me.”

“Painfully.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, watching as the players began lining up again. You sighed, arms crossing over your chest as you slumped back into the metal bleachers.

“When’s this game going to be over?” you asked, voice bordering on a whine.

Sunoo glanced at his phone. “We don’t have classes until two.”

You groaned. “So, never.”

Sunoo snorted, nudging your shoulder with his. “Patience.”

The two of you slumped a little lower in your seats, your chin resting against your palm while your eyes drifted over the court. It had gotten a little more intense, more aggressive.

You watched as Heeseung weaved in between two defenders with ease, chest heaving, face damp with sweat, and you couldn’t lie—it was kind of attractive.

Just kind of.

Not that you were going to admit that out loud.

The game dragged on, minutes stretching as the buzzer rang again and again, signaling quarters, subs, and timeouts. You and Sunoo chatted aimlessly in between, and despite yourself, you kept glancing back at Heeseung.

He played like he had something to prove. His movements were clean, controlled—every pass, every shot, every quick dodge through players was done with ease and confidence.

And as much as you wanted to pretend it didn’t faze you, your heart skipped when he made that final three-pointer, right at the buzzer.

The sound echoed through the gym, followed by the shriek of the final buzzer.

Cheers erupted from his teammates. The teams called out a chorus of “Good game!” and “Thanks for the match!” as they lined up to slap hands.

People began trickling out of the bleachers, footsteps echoing in waves.

You and Sunoo stood, heading down the short steps as chatter filled the air, gym bags unzipping, laughter bouncing off the walls.

And then, right at the base of the stairs, Heeseung appeared.

Sweat still clung to his neck and jaw, his shirt damp against his toned chest. He grinned—wide, boyish, and proud—as he jogged up and stood in front of you both.

He tilted his head, cocky. “Well? How’d I do?”

You blinked. “I still don’t know a thing about basketball, Lee.”

He blinked, lips parting slightly like he was almost offended—until you added, “But I guess that last three-pointer was impressive.”

His eyes widened. “Wait. Wait, did you just—? Did you actually call it a three-pointer?”

He turned to Sunoo, dramatic. “Did you teach her that?”

Sunoo raised his hands smugly. “I did. Took me two weeks, but I finally got through her designer brain.”

You smiled, shaking your head as Heeseung chuckled.

“Well, thank you. Both of you—for coming.”

Sunoo shrugged. “It’s nothing. Not like we have classes until two.”

Heeseung nodded in understanding, grabbing the edge of the towel draped around his shoulders to wipe his forehead. “Still. Means a lot. Even if it’s just a practice game.”

Sunoo arched a brow. “For a practice game?”

The two boys exchanged a look.

Sunoo laughed first. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re annoying,” Heeseung muttered fondly, nudging Sunoo’s arm with his elbow.

Sunoo pointed toward the gym doors. “Well. Shall we?”

You gave a little nod and turned to follow Sunoo, your steps soft on the polished floor. But behind you, Heeseung’s voice called out.

“Good luck on your classes, (Y/N)!”

You glanced back. “Thanks, Lee.”

He smiled at you, sweat-slick hair falling slightly over his eyes.

But before you could respond again, Sunoo was already a few steps ahead, tapping his phone and humming some song under his breath.

You quickened your pace to match him, only to glance one last time over your shoulder.

Heeseung was no longer looking at you, now surrounded by a bunch of girls from some other department. They laughed at something he said, one of them reaching to push his shoulder playfully.

He didn’t look at them the same way he looked at you, but still—your brows furrowed.

You looked away and stepped outside with Sunoo, the gym doors closing behind you with a soft thud.

But you couldn't help it.

Your feet slowed slightly as your eyes flicked back over your shoulder, catching a glimpse through the tall glass panes on the door.

For a second—just a second—his eyes drifted back toward the door like he knew. Like he knew you’d turn around. And when they did, your gaze clashed with his across the glass. He didn’t say anything. Just smiled.

That stupid, lopsided, boyish smile that made your stomach do something annoying.

You quickly turned your head, heat rising to your cheeks, only to see Sunoo already watching you like a hawk, hands stuffed into the pockets of his cream hoodie, lips twitching with barely concealed smugness.

“I know that look,” he said in a sing-song tone, starting to walk again.

You glared at him, falling in step beside him. “No, you do not.”

He shrugged. “Come on. I mean, it's your first time liking someone, I don’t blame you.”

You nearly choked. “Sunoo—!”

“What?” he laughed, throwing his hands up playfully. “You don’t have to say it out loud for me to see it all over your face. You get this weird thing going on with your mouth when you’re trying not to smile.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t even know him fully. Sunoo, please. You’re making it sound like I’m… infatuated.”

He hummed. “Aren’t you?”

You smacked his arm lightly, earning another laugh from him as the two of you walked past the familiar brick path that led back to your department’s main building. But the truth lingered in your throat.

You didn’t know what you felt for Heeseung. And you really didn’t know why the sight of him laughing so easily with other girls made something sour coil in your chest.

It wasn’t like you were anything to him. Just a stranger from a different building who happened to have a loud friend and a schedule that aligned, somehow.

You exhaled quietly, pushing the doors open to the Fashion Department and stepping into the cool air-conditioned hallway.

The hallways of the main building were as chaotic as ever, buzzing with voices, shoes clicking against polished floors, and the occasional laughter echoing off the walls.

You walked through it all like you were floating—head held high, confidence cloaked around you like one of your mother’s luxury silk scarves. Your tote swung against your hip with every graceful step, your expression unreadable.

“She looks so intimidating, oh my God…”

“Wait, is that Choi (Y/N)?”

“Damn… she’s even prettier up close.”

You heard it all. You always did. But like usual, you didn’t flinch—let alone acknowledge it.

You were headed to the administration office, needing to track down one of the professors under the Fashion Merchandising elective to confirm your final consultation date for your Market Behavior in Modern Fashion project.

One of your designs had been shortlisted for a collab pitch, and there were requirements to meet.

You clutched the folder of reference papers closer to your chest, turning the corner toward the long hallway where the admin office sat, only to pause ever so slightly at what you saw.

Heeseung.

Walking right toward your direction with two boys at his side. You’d seen them around before—thanks to Sunoo.

The sharper-eyed one with the feline expression was Yang Jungwon, a student org vice president, while the one with the striking pale features and deep-set eyes could only be Park Sunghoon. No Sunoo in sight.

They were laughing at something. Shoulders bumping. Casual and easy in that boyish way. And then, as if gravity had its own plans, Heeseung’s eyes flicked up from whatever Jungwon was saying—and met yours.

It was brief.

A single moment.

But it lingered.

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t let it show.

You simply looked away and kept walking past them like nothing.

Heeseung's head tilted the slightest bit as his gaze followed you. His smile from earlier dimmed just slightly—his brows knitting together.

“Hey,” Jungwon nudged him with a chuckle, glancing between Heeseung and your retreating form. “What, another new girl?”

Heeseung frowned. “She’s not—she’s my friend. If you can even call it that.”

Sunghoon snorted. “Come on. Me and Jungwon aren’t blind. You do this whole… googly-eye thing when you’re interested.”

“What googly-eye thing?” Heeseung snapped, glaring mildly at Sunghoon as the other boy held in a laugh.

“That one,” Sunghoon pointed at his face dramatically. “Right there. You look like you’re trying not to smile every time you look at her.”

Jungwon grinned. “Exactly. Like, is she different? ‘Cause I think she might be different.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung groaned as he ran a hand through his hair, stealing another glance down the hall you just disappeared into.

“She’s not like that. I mean—she’s not one of them.”

“Them being…?”

“My admirers,” Heeseung said flatly, the word tasting sour. “They obsess over me. It’s weird.”

“Okay, Mr. Humble,” Jungwon said with a shrug. “So then, what’s she to you?”

Heeseung slowed his steps for just a second. Thought about the glare you gave him during your first encounter.

The annoyed roll of your eyes when he teased you. The quiet softness in your expression when you forgot to be guarded.

Heeseung exhaled, “…I don’t know,” he muttered.

Sunghoon raised a brow. “You sure?”

He didn’t respond.

He was still staring at the hallway you disappeared into, wondering why your silence this time left him with a strange, unshakable emptiness in his chest.

Meanwhile, just around the corner, your steps finally slowed.

You turned into the quieter hallway leading to the Administration Office, letting the sound of chatter and heels against tile fade behind you.

The second you were alone, you exhaled sharply.

You stopped in front of the frosted glass door, fingers tightening around the strap of your shoulder bag as your eyes dropped to the polished floor.

“Get a grip,” you muttered under your breath, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

“You’re here for the product catalog inquiry. Not to unravel over some guy who probably flirts with anything that breathes.”

You shook your head as if it would shake the thoughts away too. “He’s confusing. That’s all,” you whispered, steadying yourself with a deep breath.

“You don’t even know what this is. And you’re not about to let it get in the way.”

And with that, you reached for the door handle, pushing it open with a blank expression painted on your face—composed and unreadable, no matter what war brewed underneath.

The sun was merciless, beating down on your shoulders like it had something to prove.

You shifted the paper bag in your arms, muttering under your breath, “It’s so hot, I feel like I’m about to melt into the pavement.”

Your blouse clung uncomfortably to your back, and you sighed as you approached the wide pathway near the gym—one of the only shaded spots on the walk to the art building.

You stepped gratefully into the shadow cast by the structure, a small sigh of relief slipping past your lips as you used your free hand to fan yourself.

But your eyes shifted toward the open gym doors, curiosity betraying you.

The first thing that caught your attention was the dark cherry-red of his hair, glinting slightly under the gym lights. Then the white fabric of his jersey, the navy-blue ‘LEE’ stitched across the back in bold letters, slightly wrinkled as he moved.

Heeseung was tossing a basketball to one of his teammates, laughing with a kind of ease that felt both annoying and magnetic.

You didn’t mean to stare—but your feet stopped moving.

He turned, almost like he felt your gaze.

And the second his eyes found you, his entire expression lit up. Heeseung raised a hand in your direction, a wide smile forming on his face like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

But you blinked. Once. Twice.

And then you turned your head and walked away.

Didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. Didn’t acknowledge him at all.

The smile on his face faltered. His hand dropped slowly, confusion flickering across his features as he stood frozen for a moment, the echoes of bouncing basketballs and sneakers squeaking on hardwood suddenly too loud.

“What the hell…” he mumbled, brows drawing together.

“Yo, Heeseung! You good?” one of his teammates called out.

Heeseung didn’t answer. He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the sudden heaviness in his chest.

Things were going well. You laughed at his jokes, talked back without flinching, sat with him at cafés like you didn’t mind his presence.

But now, you looked at him like he was a stranger again. Like he didn’t exist. Like he wasn’t the same guy who once grinned when you called him a show-off.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. “You confuse me, Choi (Y/N),” he muttered under his breath, fingers curling into fists as he forced himself to look away.

He was many things. Top of his class. Basketball team captain. Future latin honors. The kind of student teachers raved about and underclassmen admired.

But with you? None of it seemed to matter.

Because you didn’t fall for the rumors or polished charm. You didn’t give a damn about titles. You saw through all of it—and that scared him. Excited him. Frustrated him.

And now you were cold again. Distant. Untouchable.

He looked down at his hands, fingers twitching like they wanted to crush something. Then he turned back toward the court with a scowl pulling at his lips.

“You still with us, captain?” one of his teammates called, dribbling toward him.

Heeseung forced a smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Peachy.”

He jogged back toward the rest of the team, sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floor as the sound of bouncing balls and barking coaches faded into background noise.

But his thoughts were louder. Clingier. Like your silence had clawed its way into his brain and was now echoing on repeat.

You wanted space.

Fine. He could give you that. Hell, he wasn’t the type to chase someone who clearly didn’t want to be chased. Not anymore.

As he stopped at the three-point line and waited for the pass, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slightly, like he could physically knock your face out of his thoughts.

He caught the ball with a heavy thud and muttered under his breath, “Get it together.”

Because yeah, maybe he had a reputation—a little rough around the edges, the guy who showed up with bruised knuckles and a cocky grin.

Maybe he pissed off teachers with his smart mouth and turned in papers two minutes before deadlines.

But even with all of that… he had respect.

He never forced himself into anyone’s space. Especially not yours.

So if you needed distance, then distance you’d get.

He drove the ball forward and sank it cleanly into the net. The gym echoed with the satisfying swish, and someone clapped him on the back.

“Damn, someone’s pissed,” one of the boys joked. “Girl trouble again?”

Heeseung scoffed, spinning the ball once in his hands before tossing it back toward center court. “Aren’t you late for your third rejection this week?”

Laughter broke out, but his smirk was tight.

Because no one knew.

No one knew just how bad it messed with him—

To finally feel like he was getting through to you, only for you to shut him out all over again.

The warm scent of garlic butter and fried chicken wafted through the air as you, Wonyoung, and Yujin strolled down the path to the main building cafeteria, heels clacking lightly against the pavement.

Your tote hung low on your shoulder, sketchpad sticking out awkwardly between fabric swatches, and your fingers were still smudged with yesterday’s dried graphite.

“Well, I think my proposal’s going really well,” you began optimistically, gaze flicking to the sky like you were asking the universe for some grace.

Wonyoung snorted, not even trying to hide her smile. “You mean your color palette and those three empty pages labeled ‘concept sketches’?”

“Okay, rude,” you muttered, letting your weight lean into her side as she tugged you by the arm into the forming lunch line.

“I still don’t have a muse. Or any real inspiration. I can’t even visualize the silhouette yet—this project’s gonna be the death of me. I’m never gonna make it to third year.”

“You’re such a big baby, (Y/N),” Wonyoung teased, gently bumping your hip. “You��ve literally pulled magic out of nothing before. You just like to panic first, design later.”

Yujin laughed, reaching forward to grab a tray. “We already think you’re getting the highest grade this semester. You’re gonna be fine.”

You sighed, your voice dropping into a more fragile tone. “I hope so.”

And as if the universe had been listening and decided to spite you—because of course—it chose that exact moment to test your nerves.

Heeseung stepped into the cafeteria.

Wearing all black. Looking irritatingly flawless. Laughing at something stupid Sunoo had just said.

Your body tensed instantly, lips pressing together as you stared at your tray a second too long.

You hadn’t seen him in almost a week—okay, avoided was the better word—but it didn’t stop the flicker of heat crawling up your neck.

You quickly looked away, but not fast enough.

Because he saw you.

Heeseung’s smile dropped the moment your eyes met.

You rolled your eyes and pointedly turned your head toward the drinks fridge, pretending to be deeply fascinated by orange juice.

Heeseung slowed his pace. Just barely. His brow furrowed.

Sunoo, still mid-laugh, blinked and followed his friend’s gaze. “Wait… was that (Y/N)?”

Heeseung kept walking but the crease between his brows stayed, jaw ticking slightly. “Yeah.”

Sunoo tilted his head, clearly confused. “She didn’t even say hi. Or look like she wanted to say hi. What was that about?”

Heeseung shrugged, his voice casual but tight. “No idea.”

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I said I don’t know, Sunoo,” Heeseung muttered, glancing over his shoulder at your turned back, the way Wonyoung had a protective hand on the small of your back while you muttered something under your breath.

“You really didn’t do anything?”

“I swear, I didn’t,” he said, almost too quickly. Then quieter, “It’s like she suddenly hates me.”

Sunoo blinked, lips pursing in thought. “Well… she did hate you at first.”

“What?” Heeseung furrowed his brows, pausing mid-step. “What do you mean?”

Sunoo gave him a sheepish little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay—don’t get mad—but I might’ve mentioned your… you know. Reputation.”

Heeseung stared at him, deadpan. “My what reputation, Sunoo?”

Sunoo held both his hands up like he was surrendering. “Just! Just that you had kind of a… colorful dating history. Nothing huge! I just hinted at it. Lightly. Casually.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t mention my ex, did you?”

Sunoo’s wince was answer enough.

“I hinted at her,” he muttered, shrinking under Heeseung’s glare. “Barely. Like, ‘He’s had some messy flings but he’s really sweet when he wants to be,’ type of thing.”

Heeseung groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Sunoo…”

“I’m sorry, okay?!” Sunoo whined. “I didn’t think she’d take it to heart! I thought she’d just keep teasing you like usual!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Heeseung muttered, trying to shake it off. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Sunoo didn’t let up. “It is a big deal. You’re not fooling around this time, are you? You’re not toying with her.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything. He just stared at the floor, jaw tight.

Sunoo let out a soft sigh and continued, voice gentler this time. “Usually… all your admirers do the chasing. And never you. But with (Y/N)?” He smiled faintly. “I think it’s a good thing that she’s not one of them.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, staring at the back of your head across the cafeteria as you laughed at something Wonyoung said—so far away, so different now.

“I know,” he mumbled. “That’s what makes it worse.”

The hallways of the fashion department building were quiet—eerily so, save for the faint ticking of the old wall clock and the distant hum of a sewing machine from one of the advanced design rooms.

Most students were glued inside their classrooms, immersed in last-minute cramming or sketching, which left the corridors empty and still.

You grunted softly under your breath, adjusting the obnoxiously heavy stack of fabric folders in your arms.

“Stupid Soobin,” you muttered, struggling to keep the folders balanced as you reached the corner near the stairwell.

“What kind of big brother dumps ten pounds of swatches on me and says, ‘Here, maybe you’ll get inspired’?”

You scoffed, still remembering how smug he looked when he handed it to you this morning. Just because you swung by his company for coffee didn’t mean he could load you like a pack mule.

With a soft huff, you rounded the turn toward the stairwell—only to freeze mid-step.

There, standing by the window near the first landing, was him.

Heeseung.

Clad in his usual all-black hoodie and pants, his signature basketball sneakers tapping lightly against the tile as he leaned on the railing, clearly waiting for someone.

Your breath hitched, eyes wide as you instinctively stepped back into the shadow of the wall, hugging the folders close.

What the hell is he doing here? He had no business in the fashion department.

You were just about to turn around and walk the other way when—

“So,” Heeseung suddenly said, his deep voice echoing slightly in the empty stairwell. “You wanted to meet me here?”

You froze.

Your brows furrowed.

“Yeah,” a female voice replied, nervous and a little too soft. “I—I hope it’s okay. I just… I didn’t know how else to say this.”

Your curiosity got the better of you. You leaned just enough to peek around the corner, eyes narrowing slightly.

It was some girl—probably a junior, based on the ID badge clipped to her chest. She was twisting the hem of her sleeve, cheeks flushed pink.

“I just think you’re… really talented,” she said shyly. “And hot. And like, you’re probably way out of my league, but I couldn’t not say something, you know?”

You blinked.

Heeseung sighed, the sound laced with a tired kind of patience. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice girl. And I appreciate the guts it took to say that, really. But…”

“But?” the girl asked softly.

“I’m already interested in someone else,” he said, voice steady.

Your heart stopped.

The girl sounded crushed. “Oh. Um, who?”

Heeseung hesitated. Then, without an ounce of embarrassment, he said—“Choi Y/n.”

Your stomach dropped.

The folders in your arms nearly slipped from your grip as you jerked in shock, barely managing to catch them before they hit the floor. The rustle was loud—loud enough to echo.

Heeseung’s head snapped up toward the sound. He squinted but saw nothing.

You pressed your back hard against the cold wall, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“She’s such a cold bitch, though,” the girl whispered sharply, and your eyes narrowed instinctively. “She never even talks to people. Why would you like someone like that?”

Heeseung didn’t even flinch.

“Look,” he said calmly. “(Y/N) doesn’t waste her time. She has standards. And yeah, maybe she’s not handing out smiles and small talk like candy, but she’s honest. And she doesn’t pretend to be someone she’s not just to be liked.”

You stood frozen, lips slightly parted, stunned speechless.

Heeseung was still speaking, but the pounding in your head made it impossible to catch the rest. You didn’t want to. Your legs were already moving.

He didn’t mean it. There was no way.

He was just trying to get out of that confession with minimal damage. That’s all.

It had to be.

Your heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor as you turned and walked away, folders pressed tight against your chest. You didn’t dare look back.

And yet, down the stairs, Heeseung’s voice trailed off when he caught the sound of footsteps fading in the hallway above.

His brows furrowed.

He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the upper steps and corridor, but all he saw was the empty hallway.

A breath escaped his lips, laced with something that felt a lot like disappointment.

Down in front of him, the girl shifted awkwardly. She hadn’t moved since his confession.

“…I’m sure you’ll find someone else, yeah?” Heeseung said, his tone gentler now. “Someone who’s gonna feel the same.”

She gave a small nod, clearly dejected, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks,” before turning on her heel and walking away.

But Heeseung didn’t watch her leave.

Instead, he glanced back up again.

His jaw clenched as he slipped his hands into his hoodie pocket, the weight of your name still heavy on his tongue.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

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liuhsng · 14 days ago

Note

im a lil confused with ur age... ur 19 but ur first work was in 2021 and it contains smut, but in 2021 u wouldve been a minor. did u forget to change ur age status or were u actually writing smut as a minor ?

not hating or trying to be rude, im just a lil confused on this. 😓

hi love ! thank you for asking so politely 🤍

my first actual smut work was only written last year (2024) when i turned 19 around mid-february ! the works i posted back in 2021 didn’t contain smut at all; i only went back this year to edit and revise some of them to add more depth (and yes, some smut where i felt it fit better with the story).

plus, i disappeared for 4 years and took a break from writing during that time. if you check my works, you’ll see i jumped from 2021 to 2024—i only came back when i was already at the right age to write mature content.

if you check the author’s notes on those updated fics, i included the dates when i edited them—which was around march to april 2025. so basically my first real smut writing started after i turned 19, i swear on my life, i wasn’t writing smut when i was underaged guys 😭

also, i’m actually 20 now (05 liner) ! that’s an error on my part because i forgot to update my pinned post 😭 will fix that soon.

hope this clears things up ! 🫶

#˙⋆✮ liuhsng talks #˙⋆✮ asks

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liuhsng · 16 days ago

Text

───〃⋆⭒˚.⋆ XO, WITH YOU MASTERLIST

⤷ nsfw content ahead, minors do not interact

seven boys. seven different love stories. seven moments when love decides to bloom. from the warmth of a surprise hug to the sweet confusion of stolen glances, these seven stories trace the exhilarating rush of falling in love—messy, uncertain, and utterly irresistible. this is where love finds you.

⤷ series taglist — open ! ⤷ permanent taglist — open ! ⤷ warnings — this series contains mature themes, smut (some), toxic dynamics, fluff and angst

⤷ a/n — this is my second series and it’s still ongoing! some parts are already under editing and proofreading, so please be patient with updates and revisions. i’m taking my time to make each love story feel just right <3 thank you for being here 🫶

✩ˎˊ˗ ride with caution ( lhs ! )

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

⤷ pairing — heeseung x fem!reader

⤷ summary — lee heeseung has always been the kind of boy you were told to stay away from—reckless, with a trail of rumors that follow wherever he goes. they say he fights for fun, kisses without meaning, and never sticks around long enough to fall. you, on the other hand, have never had time for distractions. being one of decelis university’s most promising fashion majors, the spotlight’s already on you—you were supposed to avoid him. and you did. until a quiet offer of help changed everything. or, where the boy you never planned to look twice at ends up being the only one who sees right through you.

✩ˎˊ˗ sugar in the soil ( pjs ! )

⤷ coming soon

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ summary — your fascination with flowers was a quiet love you turned into your future. majoring in biology at decelis university, you often found yourself needing rare blooms, fresh clippings, or just the scent of something calming after long hours in the lab. that’s why the little flower shop down the street became your second home. the staff knew your name. mrs. park always had tea ready. until one afternoon, the usual calm was replaced with someone entirely unexpected—park jongseong, of all people. golden boy. heir to a business empire. the last person you'd expect to be arranging sunflowers behind the counter like he belonged there. or, where your love for flowers leads you to someone who's far more than just his reputation.

✩ˎˊ˗ under the same stars ( sjy ! )

⤷ coming soon

⤷ pairing — jake x fem!reader

⤷ summary — you’ve never been the type to chase the noise. deciding early on that parties, people, and popularity were things better left outside your apartment door, you built a quiet life in the middle of the chaos that was decelis university. but across thin walls and late nights, you start to notice the boy whose music seeps through your walls, whose laughter echoes from the next balcony over, whose shadow you’ve memorized under moonlight—sim jaeyun, the university’s golden physics major with a reputation that stretches far beyond the quiet hallway you share. you never wanted to be involved. but he smiles at you like you placed the stars he’s been trying to understand his whole life. or, where a shared silence between two strangers becomes something that feels a lot like home.

✩ˎˊ˗ breaking the ice ( psh ! )

⤷ coming soon

⤷ pairing — sunghoon x fem!reader

⤷ summary — everyone said you were made for this—communication arts at decelis university, a packed schedule of volunteer work, campus events, and friend groups that always had a place for you at the table. you were loud when it counted, soft when needed, and you got along with just about everyone. except him. park sunghoon has been in the same circle, same rooms, same moments for years. and yet—he’s never said more than a handful of words to you. a mystery you didn’t ask for but somehow can’t stop chasing. and now you’re set on finding out what it is about you that makes him look away every time. or, where the boy who never speaks finally does—just not in the way you expect.

✩ˎˊ˗ the moon in his sky ( ksn ! )

⤷ coming soon

⤷ pairing — sunoo x fem!reader

⤷ summary — you’ve always loved performing. as a music major at decelis university, stages felt like home, and the spotlight never burned—it glowed. you lived for the thrill of it all: the crowd, the rush, the applause. but there was someone who loved it even more. kim sunoo, your classmate. always smiling, always glowing. everyone adored him—how could they not? he was warmth in every hallway, laughter in every shared glance. you never got close. just simple greetings and soft goodbyes. until the day you found him in your favorite coffee shop, eyes red, smile nowhere in sight. or, where even the brightest sun needs a moon to light the dark—and maybe, unknowingly, that’s exactly who you were becoming.

✩ˎˊ˗ where we begin ( yjw ! )

⤷ coming soon

⤷ pairing — jungwon x fem!reader

⤷ summary — yang jungwon has always been the type of guy people admired from afar—disciplined, composed, and respected, both as the president of the taekwondo club and the head of the athletics organization. you, on the other hand, weren’t in it for the love of sports. you just needed the credentials, and maybe a clean-looking resume. you didn’t talk. didn’t look his way. didn’t think he even knew your name. or, where a position you didn’t even want leads to a boy you didn’t expect. and somehow, he ends up needing you just as much as you need him.

✩ˎˊ˗ everything in between ( nk ! )

⤷ coming soon

⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader

⤷ summary — being park jongseong’s cousin came with expectations—polished, poised, and impossible to beat. as a business major in decelis university, you had your goals lined up like stepping stones, top of your class, heir to your family’s legacy, admired by most. except one. nishimura riki has never once said more than a word to you. quiet glances across lecture halls. awkward nods at parties. conversations that always seem to pause the second you enter the room. he’s close with everyone else—your cousin, your friends—but with you? it’s like he forgets how to speak. or, where the boy who’s never said much to you might’ve just liked you all along—and it only takes one unexpected moment for everything to unravel.

527 notes · View notes

liuhsng · 16 days ago

Text

───〃⋆⭒˚.⋆ MAIN MASTERLIST

⤷ nsfw content ahead, minors do not interact

✩ˎˊ˗ ENHYPEN

✩ˎˊ˗ SEVENTEEN (coming soon)

#˙⋆✮ liuhsng #˙⋆✮ masterlist #enhypen x reader #seventeen x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #sunghoon x reader #jake x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen hard hours #seventeen hard hours #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #enhypen #seventeen

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liuhsng · 18 days ago

Text

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ honey on ice ( psh ! )

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — sunghoon x fem!reader

⤷ word count — 18.4k ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), non idol au, dilf!sunghoon, single dad!sunghoon, ice skater!sunghoon, college!reader, nanny!reader, size kink, praise kink, slight dumbification (reader gets v babygirl-coded), manhandling, light nipple play, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, creampie, aftercare, soft dom!sunghoon, slight breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — you were supposed to save his daughter from loneliness—not him. park sunghoon has it all: medals, money, and a schedule too packed for bedtime stories. when his little girl starts closing off, he hires you—a broke college student with a bright laugh and quiet charm—as her nanny. you’re warm, young, and everything his cold, controlled world isn’t. or where saving him was never in the job description—but you did it anyway.

It was late into the night, the soft hum of the television filling the massive living room of Park Sunghoon’s estate. The faint glow of the screen cast light across the leather couches where Sunghoon sat slouched with a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

Chips and half-empty takeout boxes were sprawled across the coffee table—evidence of three hours spent yelling at football players they’d never meet.

Heeseung was nearest the remote, lazily clicking through channels until Sunghoon let out a deep sigh that made all three heads turn.

“I swear…” Sunghoon muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m trying to be a better father to Sooyun.”

Heeseung’s thumb paused on the remote as he shot him a knowing look. With a sigh, he lowered the volume. “Alright, here we go. Let’s all listen to Sunghoon complain about his miserable life again.”

“Fuck you,” Sunghoon said flatly, though his glare lacked any real heat.

Jay, sprawled casually on the loveseat across from them, smirked over his beer. “That’s mean. Let him vent. He’s sensitive.”

Jake, curled up in an armchair with one leg over the other, groaned dramatically.

“What now, Sunghoon? Did Sooyun draw a frowny face in her diary again? Or did she call you Mr. Park instead of dad?”

Sunghoon threw a chip at him—it missed. “I’m serious, assholes. Am I a shitty dad?”

Without hesitation, Heeseung and Jake chorused in unison: “Absolutely.”

Jay snorted into his drink, the sound muffled by the rim of the bottle.

“Goddamn it,” Sunghoon groaned, running both hands down his face as he leaned forward, elbows on knees.

“I’m trying my best for Sooyun. I give her whatever she wants. Toys, trips, dresses, a whole fucking pony if she asked—but it’s never enough. She’s always…” He trailed off, staring at his beer bottle like it held the answers.

“Sad,” Heeseung finished softly, voice surprisingly lacking its usual bite.

Sunghoon nodded, the crease between his brows deepening.

Jake leaned back with a sigh, swirling his beer lazily.

“Well, I mean… you’re always busy. Being a figure skating coach isn’t exactly a 9-to-5, dude. But let’s be honest—you’re out there looking after other people’s kids. Spoiled little heirs and heiresses whose rich parents don’t know how to raise them… sound familiar?”

The words hit harder than Sunghoon expected. He set his beer down on the table with a soft thud, staring blankly at the floor.

“Don’t turn into them,” Jay added quietly, picking up where Jake left off.

His eyes flicked briefly to Sunghoon before returning to the TV. “You’re not like those parents… yet.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unsaid things. Sunghoon’s fingers tapped absently against his knee. “Okay, so what the hell do I do then?”

They all went quiet.

Then, Heeseung suddenly snapped his fingers with a grin. “I think I have a solution.”

“Oh boy,” Jake muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

“Shut up, this is genius.” Heeseung leaned forward like he was about to pitch the next big startup.

“Hire someone. A nanny. You know—someone young, fun, patient. Someone who can actually be there when you’re not.”

“A nanny?” Sunghoon echoed, eyebrows furrowed. “What am I, sixty?”

Jay chuckled under his breath. “You’re a single dad, Sunghoon. And your kid’s lonely. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

“Think about it,” Heeseung pressed, eyes gleaming now. “She gets someone to hang out with who’s not cold, distant, and dead inside like you—”

“Again. Fuck you.”

“—and you get peace of mind knowing she’s not sulking around this big empty house.”

Sunghoon rubbed his temple. “You make it sound so simple.”

Heeseung only grinned, leaning back into the couch as he took another lazy sip of his beer. “That’s because it is.”

Sunghoon shot him a flat look, his head lolling to the side against the leather. “What do you mean?”

“I know someone,” Heeseung started, his grin widening.

“Well—not me. My brother.” He paused, and the others immediately perked up.

Jake arched a brow. “This sounds suspicious already.”

Ignoring him, Heeseung continued, gesturing vaguely with his bottle. “He and his wife hire this college student. At least every month. Whenever they have to fly out of the country for business trips, she comes over to watch their kids.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed as he sat up straighter, resting his forearms on his thighs. “And I’m supposed to just trust some random college student with my daughter?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, waving him off. “She’s not random. I’ve met her. She seems… sweet.”

Jay let out a low laugh from across the room, swirling his beer lazily. “Coming from you, that doesn’t say much.”

Heeseung’s grin dropped as he squinted at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jake, already biting back a laugh, didn’t even try to hide it this time. “It means you think every girl’s cute, Heeseung. A waitress smiles at you and you’re ready to wife her up.”

“Bullshit,” Heeseung scoffed, flipping Jake off.

“But seriously, she really is sweet. Like… good with kids, not annoying, and actually smart. She’s studying education or psychology or something. My brother’s wife raves about her.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet for a moment, fingers drumming against his knee. The idea was absurd. Entrust his daughter to some college kid he didn’t even know?

But then again, Sooyun’s sad little eyes flashed in his mind. The way she barely smiled anymore, how her room felt quieter lately even when she was home.

He let out a long breath. “I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to marry her, Sunghoon. Just meet her.” Heeseung tilted his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Talk to her, see if she’s a fit. If not, then fine. But at least try.”

Jay smirked, voice low and teasing. “Or maybe you’ll like her, and she’ll be Sooyun’s nanny and your emotional support system.”

“Fuck off.”

The room erupted with laughter. Jay nearly choked on his beer, Jake slapping his thigh as he doubled over, and Heeseung grinning like he’d just won some unspoken game.

Sunghoon leaned back against the leather couch with a groan, tipping his head up to stare at the ornate chandelier above.

“Send me her number,” he muttered, his voice low but reluctant. “I’ll look into it.”

Heeseung’s grin grew impossibly wider as he reached for his phone. “Look at you, Mr. Progress. Daddy of the Year.”

“Shut up,” Sunghoon grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t fuck her on the first meeting, yeah?” Heeseung teased, typing something into his phone with a smirk.

The throw pillow flew across the room before he could even blink, smacking Heeseung square in the chest. He let out a surprised laugh as the pillow hit the floor.

“I’m not like you,” Sunghoon shot back, narrowing his eyes.

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees with an amused grin. “He’s right though. Heeseung would have her up against the counter by dinner.”

“Hey!” Heeseung protested, pointing a chip at Jake. “I have self-control. Sometimes.”

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, grabbing his beer again and swirling it in his hand. “I’m not hiring a nanny to flirt with her. This is for Sooyun. That’s it.”

“Sure,” Jay hummed, clearly unconvinced. “That’s what they all say.”

“Fuck all of you,” Sunghoon muttered, but there was no bite to his voice. He took a long sip, already dreading whatever setup Heeseung was planning.

Heeseung’s phone buzzed, and he waved it at Sunghoon with a shit-eating grin. “I already texted Heedo. Her name’s (Y/N). I’ll send you her number later. Don’t be an ass when you call her.”

“I won’t.” Sunghoon sighed again, staring at his phone on the coffee table like it had just become another thing to deal with.

Jake raised his beer in mock salute. “To Sooyun’s new nanny—and to Sunghoon hopefully getting laid for the first time in years.”

The throw pillow found its next victim.

The sound of animated singing drifted from the living room speakers as you gently tucked the two boys under their blanket, their small faces already soft with sleep.

The Disney movie credits rolled in the background, the room glowing with the warm light of the TV.

“Sweet dreams, Hamin. You too, Hyunmin,” you whispered, brushing Hyunmin’s hair back from his forehead.

“Night night,” Hamin mumbled sleepily, already clutching his stuffed lion tighter.

You smiled, your heart warming at the sight before you straightened up, quietly gathering the plastic plates and juice boxes abandoned on the coffee table.

You were halfway to the kitchen when a low voice called out from the hallway.

“(Y/N), can I talk to you for a second?”

Startled, you looked up to see Heedo, the boys’ father, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Oh—sure,” you said, balancing the plates in your hands. “Just give me a moment.”

You carried the plates into the kitchen, setting them down carefully on the table.

But your eyes widened slightly when you noticed someone else sitting there—a tall man in a fitted black coat, sleeves pushed up just enough to show a luxury watch, his posture relaxed as he leaned back in the chair.

He gave you a lazy grin, one that was equal parts charming and mischievous. “Hey.”

You blinked at him, then at Heedo, and back. “Am I in trouble?” you asked cautiously, though there was a teasing lilt to your voice.

Both men chuckled.

“No, no trouble,” Heedo said, shaking his head. “Actually… Heeseung wanted to talk to you. So I’ll leave you two to it.”

You tilted your head slightly, brows furrowed in mild confusion, but nodded. “Uh… okay.”

Heedo excused himself with a smile, leaving you standing in the kitchen doorway with this stranger—well, not a total stranger. You’d heard of ‘Uncle Heeseung’ from the boys before.

Heeseung pushed off the chair slightly, arms crossing over his chest as he looked at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “(Y/N), right?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes, Mr. Lee.”

He barked out a short laugh. “Oh, no. Heeseung’s fine. Makes me feel old otherwise.”

You smiled politely, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay… Heeseung.”

“Better.” He gave a small nod of approval. “So. (Y/N). You regularly babysit Hamin and Hyunmin, right?”

“When they need me, yeah,” you replied, crossing your arms loosely. “Why?”

Heeseung leaned casually against the counter, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

“A friend of mine needs help with his daughter. And, well, I’ve seen how you are with my nephews. You’re good. And they adore you.”

You tilted your head slightly, an eyebrow raising. “Why are you the one telling me this and not your friend? Does he not have a mouth?”

That earned you a full laugh this time. “Feisty.” Heeseung’s grin widened as he shook his head. “I like that.”

Your brow furrowed a little more. “Not sure if that’s a compliment or if I should be worried.”

Heeseung chuckled, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on the counter. “Relax. I’m just the one who knows you, so it felt easier to ask. You interested?”

You hesitated, glancing back toward the living room where Hamin and Hyunmin were snuggled under their blanket.

“What about Hamin and Hyunmin?”

Heeseung waved it off with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll cover them. This won’t interfere.”

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your initial wariness. “Sure, I guess. I’ll help.”

“Atta girl.” Heeseung’s grin softened slightly. He reached for his phone, already scrolling through his contacts.

“I’ll give you his number. His name’s Park Sunghoon. Don’t let the cold exterior fool you—he’s not as scary as he looks.”

You raised a brow again, smirking a little. “Now should I be nervous?”

“Only if you’re afraid of handsome, broody single dads.” Heeseung winked.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Noted.”

Reaching into your back pocket, you pulled out your phone and unlocked it, the screen glowing faintly in the warm kitchen light.

“Here,” you said, holding it out to Heeseung.

He took it without hesitation, his fingers flying over the screen as he quickly typed in a number.

You noticed the faint smirk tugging at his lips as he worked—like he knew something you didn’t.

“There,” Heeseung said finally, handing your phone back. “I’ll notify him soon. Probably tomorrow morning. Expect a call or a text.”

You nodded slowly, clutching your phone to your chest. “Alright…”

Heeseung’s grin softened as he pushed off the counter. “You’ll do great, (Y/N). Trust me.”

“Do I have a choice?” you asked under your breath, but he only chuckled.

“Not really.” He gave you one last wink before strolling out of the kitchen, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Left alone, you stood there for a moment staring at the empty doorway, your fingers tightening around your phone.

You glanced down at the screen where the new contact—stared back at you in neat numbers.

“What have I gotten myself into?” you muttered under your breath.

With a small sigh, you gathered the plastic plates again and carried them to the sink, the faint sound of water running as you began rinsing them off. Your mind was already racing.

“Please don’t let him be weird,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head as you set the plates aside to dry.

The sleek black car rolled to a stop outside the massive building, its chrome letters gleaming under the pale winter sunlight: ‘PARK ICE & CO.’

Heeseung snorted under his breath as he slammed the car door shut. “Yeah, okay, flex harder, Sunghoon.”

His eyes flicked to the row of luxury cars parked nearby—Porsches, Teslas, even a matte black G-Wagon.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, Heeseung strolled toward the glass doors. The guard at the entrance straightened at the sight of him.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee.”

Heeseung nodded back with a lazy grin. “Morning.”

The first thing that hit him as the doors slid open was the sharp bite of cold air. It smelled faintly of ice, rubber, and hot chocolate—probably from the snack counter at the far end of the lobby.

But the next thing was louder: the sound of children laughing, skates scraping against ice, and a few harried babysitters watching nervously from benches lined along the rink.

Heeseung’s lips curled in amusement as he muttered to himself, “Rich people.”

His eyes scanned the rink until they found him.

Park Sunghoon.

The man stood out effortlessly—tall, lean, dressed in sleek black athletic wear as he moved fluidly across the ice. His voice was calm but firm as he instructed the group of young skaters clustered around him.

“Careful when stopping. Don’t let your weight pitch forward. You’ll hurt yourself if you tumble.”

Heeseung leaned casually against the glass, his arm brushing the cold surface as he watched Sunghoon smile at one of the smaller kids who nodded earnestly.

There had to be at least eighteen kids on the ice, their colorful jackets like moving confetti against the pristine rink.

“Coach Park,” Heeseung called out, his voice carrying easily over the ambient noise.

Sunghoon looked up instantly, his expression still calm, though his brow arched slightly. The smile didn’t leave his face—at least not yet.

Heeseung smirked, tapping the glass lightly. “Got a minute?”

Sunghoon turned to his assistant, murmuring something Heeseung couldn’t hear as he nodded and stepped forward to take over.

With a graceful push, he skated toward the edge of the rink, stopping neatly in front of Heeseung.

Leaning on the barrier, Sunghoon tilted his head, his dark hair slightly damp from the cold air. “What are you doing here?”

“I got you a babysitter,” Heeseung replied simply, his grin infuriatingly bright.

Sunghoon raised a brow, unlatching the small side door beside Heeseung. As he stepped off the ice, he crouched to remove the guards from his skates, his fingers quick and precise.

“What bribe did you offer Heedo to loan you his regular babysitter?” Sunghoon asked, standing tall again as he handed the guards to Heeseung.

Heeseung caught them with ease, shrugging. “I didn’t. I talked to (Y/N) myself.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, the fabric of his jacket stretching slightly over his shoulders. “She said yes?”

“Yeah. Told her you needed one.”

“She agreed just like that?”

Heeseung leaned back against the glass, his grin widening. “Told you she’s a sweet girl.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “What now?”

“I sent you her number a few minutes ago. That should do it.”

Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Are you sure about her?”

Heeseung laughed, the sound echoing faintly in the cold rink air. “Come on, Coach Park. What do you take me for?”

“A fuckboy with no morals,” Sunghoon said flatly, one corner of his mouth twitching.

“Wow,” Heeseung sighed, dramatically clutching his chest. “The disrespect. I’m banning you from my company building with the amount of insults you throw at me daily.”

“Good,” Sunghoon muttered as he pulled the zipper of his jacket up slightly, already moving back toward the rink door.

“Don’t scare her, Sunghoon!” Heeseung called after him.

“You’re not even sure if I’ll reach out to her.” Sunghoon shot back over his shoulder, crouching briefly to pull off the last skate guard.

He tossed it lightly to Heeseung, who caught it with a grin.

“Seriously. That guy,” Heeseung muttered to himself with a shake of his head, watching as Sunghoon stepped smoothly back onto the ice and glided away like he hadn’t just been volunteered for a life change.

Sunghoon didn’t know how long he’d been spacing out after that. He barely remembered finishing the class.

Didn’t register the polite goodbyes from the kids or their parents.

Couldn’t even recall the moment he stopped by a restaurant to grab takeout—though the faint smell of soup lingering in the car told him he had.

He didn’t remember the drive home either, his luxury sports car eating up the darkened streets until the familiar towering gates of his estate came into view.

With a sigh, he pressed his thumb to the scanner by the driver’s side, the gates sliding open with a soft mechanical hum.

The tires crunched against the gravel driveway as he pulled in, the headlights briefly illuminating the grand facade of the Park residence before fading as he killed the engine.

Leaning back against the leather seat, Sunghoon let out a long breath, staring at nothing.

His fingers drummed absentmindedly against the steering wheel before he finally grabbed his things from the passenger seat—the brown paper bag of food and his sleek leather satchel—and pushed the door open.

The warm light from the house spilled out onto the driveway.

The first thing he heard wasn’t silence.

It was chaos.

“No, sushi tomorrow!” Jake’s voice echoed from inside.

“Pizza. You literally ate sushi yesterday, you weirdo,” Jay countered, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked to the living room as he stepped in, taking in the sight of his two friends half-sprawled on the couch, bickering like teenagers.

But his gaze softened when it landed on the small figure curled up in the corner.

Sooyun.

She was lying across the couch in her pink pajamas, her tiny arms hugging a stuffed bunny to her chest, her lashes fluttering slightly as she teetered on the edge of sleep.

Quietly, Sunghoon set down his things and walked over. He pulled the soft blanket from the arm of the couch and draped it over her small frame before kneeling down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Shut up,” he said without looking up, his voice quiet but firm.

Jake jumped slightly at the sound, his head whipping around. “Shit, you’re like a ninja—”

Jay chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, man.”

Sooyun stirred at the voices, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists as she blinked up at her father. “Hi, Daddy,” she whispered sleepily.

Sunghoon’s lips curved into a rare, soft smile. “Hey, baby.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead.

She reached out, her voice small. “Pick me up?”

“Of course.”

He scooped her up with practiced ease, cradling her against his chest as she buried her face into his shoulder. She still smelled faintly of baby powder and strawberry shampoo.

“Did you have fun with Uncle Jay and Jake?” he asked as he turned to face his friends, who were now watching with matching sheepish smiles.

Sooyun nodded, her voice muffled against his jacket. “They took me to eat nuggets after school.”

Sunghoon’s eyes softened again. He looked back at Jay and Jake, his expression unreadable at first before he sighed. “Seriously. You two… thank you.”

Jay waved him off with a small grin. “It’s nothing. I got off work early anyway.”

“Yeah, and it was my day off,” Jake added with a shrug.

Sunghoon arched a brow at them. “You two own your own companies.”

That earned him twin laughs. Jay ran a hand through his hair. “Exactly why we can sneak out whenever we want.”

“Yeah,” Jake said with a grin. “Plus, we love taking care of Sooyun, don’t we, baby?”

Sooyun peeked up from Sunghoon’s shoulder and beamed at them, her dimpled smile making Jake laugh and reach out to ruffle her hair gently.

“Seriously, thank you,” Sunghoon said again, his voice quieter this time, almost reluctant like the words didn’t come easy.

Jay picked up his jacket. “The stuff we bought for Sooyun’s in her room, by the way.”

“They got me stuffies!” Sooyun said excitedly, her tiny hands tugging at Sunghoon’s collar. “And they’re all pink, Daddy!”

Sunghoon couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. “You spoil her, don’t you?”

Sooyun nodded solemnly. “They do. And I love them.”

Jake and Jay exchanged grins like proud uncles as Jake said, “We better get going before she starts crying for us to stay.”

Jay laughed softly, adjusting his coat. “Night, Hoon. Bye, Sooyun.”

“Bye, Uncles,” Sooyun said with a sleepy wave, her voice small.

Sunghoon nodded at them, watching as they slipped out of the door, the house falling quiet again save for the soft hum of the heating system.

Carrying Sooyun upstairs, Sunghoon nudged open the door to her room with his foot. The pink night light glowed faintly, casting her room in a soft, comforting hue.

He gently laid her down on her bed, tucking her in with practiced care as she clutched one of her new stuffed animals.

“Night night, Daddy,” she murmured, her lashes already lowering.

“Night night, baby,” he whispered back, brushing her hair from her forehead. He turned on her night light fully before flicking off the main switch.

As he closed her door quietly behind him, he let himself linger for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. His mind drifted—not to work, not to the rink, but to a name flashing on his phone earlier.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and padded down the hall, his socks silent against the polished wood floors.

When he reached the double doors of his office, he pushed them open, the faint scent of leather and cedar greeting him.

The room was dark until he flicked on the lights, soft recessed bulbs illuminating the sleek space. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls gave him a view of the city lights blinking in the distance, but he barely looked.

He dropped his satchel onto the desk and sank into his leather chair, leaning back as his eyes flicked to the night outside.

One hand rubbed at the back of his neck while the other reached for his phone.

He unlocked it lazily, scrolling to Heeseung’s message.

heeseung [8:10 A.M.]: here. it’s (y/n)’s number. don’t be a dick.

Sunghoon snorted under his breath, his thumb hovering over the contact details.

“Don’t be a dick,” he muttered, repeating his friend’s words with a scoff. “Easier said than done, Heeseung.”

He glanced at the time on his phone screen—11:07 PM. A low hum left his throat as he drummed his fingers against the desk.

Too late? Maybe. But part of him wanted to just get this over with.

He tapped the number. The keyboard popped up.

His thumb hesitated above the letters.

“What am I even supposed to say…” he murmured to himself, frowning. “This isn’t a job interview.”

With a quiet sigh, he started typing anyway.

He stared at the message for a moment, his finger hovering over Send. It looked so… blunt. Cold. But what else was he supposed to say?

“Whatever,” he muttered. “She’s not here to be my friend.”

And with that, he hit send.

The message went through instantly, the little gray bubble staring back at him mockingly.

He leaned back in his chair, tossing his phone onto the desk like it had burned him. His eyes flicked back to the city lights outside, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“She’s probably asleep,” he said under his breath. “Or she’s going to think I’m some uptight asshole.”

Which—he realized grimly—wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate.

Across the city, you were in a completely different world.

You were sprawled out on your bed in soft pink silk sleepwear, the delicate fabric catching the warm glow of your desk lamp.

Your laptop was perched precariously on a pile of open textbooks and highlighted notes, pastel highlighters scattered around like candy.

A cooling eye mask clung under your tired eyes as you skimmed through another line of your chemistry review, highlighter in hand.

Your laptop screen was split in half: one side showing your study materials, the other side a video call where Sunoo and Jungwon were in the middle of their third heated argument over tomorrow’s exam.

“I’m telling you, it’s sodium hydroxide, not sodium carbonate!” Jungwon said, his voice rising slightly.

“Jungwon, no. You’re gonna fail if you keep thinking like that,” Sunoo countered, holding up a pen like it was a gavel.

You muted yourself, suppressing a laugh as you highlighted another sentence in aggressive pink.

Then your phone buzzed. A soft chime against your stack of books.

You glanced at it absently, thinking it was just a random group chat notification, but your brow arched when you saw the screen.

Unknown [11:11 P.M.]: Is this (Y/N)?

You froze for half a second, your highlighter hovering midair. Setting it down, you reached for the phone, unlocking it quickly.

you [11:11 P.M.]: yes. who’s this?

The typing dots appeared almost immediately, and you tilted your head slightly. Whoever it was, they weren’t wasting time.

Unknown [11:11 P.M.]: This is Park Sunghoon. You’re the babysitter Lee Heeseung recommended, correct?

You sat up straighter now, legs crossing under you as your brain caught up to the name. Park Sunghoon. The mental image of Heeseung’s lazy grin from earlier flashed through your mind.

You swallowed down the surprise and typed back quickly, keeping your tone polite.

you [11:12 P.M.]: oh! good evening, mr. park. yes, that’s me.

The typing dots appeared again—fast.

Unknown [11:12 P.M.]: Are you available tomorrow at 12 noon? I’d like to discuss the details and have you meet my daughter.

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, your eyes flicking back to the still-muted Sunoo and Jungwon, now arguing about molarity.

you [11:12 P.M.]: yes, i’m free tomorrow at noon!

Unknown [11:12 P.M.]: Good. Thank you. Have a good evening.

You blinked at the abruptness of it, lips twitching into the faintest smile. Typical rich guy energy. Still, you decided to add a little warmth.

you [11:13 P.M.]: you too, mr. park. good night!

The message sat there for a few seconds before the read receipt popped up. No reply.

You stared at your phone, laughed, then set it down beside your stack of notes.

Unmuting yourself, you leaned back against your pillows just in time for Sunoo to pause mid-rant and squint at you.

“Wait. Who was that? Why’d you mute?” he asked suspiciously.

Jungwon perked up too, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, you never mute. Was it your little situationship?”

You snorted, shaking your head as you swiped your highlighter across yet another sentence in your textbook. “You know I don’t do all that romance stuff. Situationships, flings, love letters—pass.”

Sunoo hummed, spinning his pen between his fingers before pointing it straight at the camera.

“I really hope you get married someday. Just so you’ll finally stop looking down at love like it’s a bad group project.”

You laughed, the sound soft and unbothered as you leaned back on your pillows. “Give me, what, ten years? Maybe then I’ll find a man who fits into my very selective standards.”

Jungwon snickered. “As if that’ll magically happen. Ten years from now, you’re gonna be rich, successful, and still babysitting other people’s kids for fun.”

“Sounds like a vibe, honestly,” you teased, clicking your pen closed with a little flourish.

But Sunoo wasn’t letting up. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. “But really. Who was that? You muted us and suddenly went all polite-girl mode. ‘Yes, sir. Good night, sir.’ Suspicious.”

You scrunched your nose, tucking your phone half under a notebook as if that’d hide the glow of the screen.

“Relax. It’s just a new babysitting job.”

Jungwon raised a brow. “What about those two boys you’re always babysitting? Hamin and Hyunmin?”

You set down your highlighter and stretched your arms above your head.

“Well, their uncle said he’s got it covered for now. Long story short? The uncle basically referred me to his friend who needed someone for his daughter.”

Sunoo tilted his head like a curious cat. “So… the one you were chatting with just now was the dad?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, picking up your pen again like you weren’t phased.

“Is he your type?” Sunoo asked bluntly, wiggling his brows.

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head with a grin. “I doubt it. He gives off serious businessman who doesn’t smile often vibes. Probably allergic to pink too.”

Sunoo clasped a hand over his mouth, scandalized. “Not the pink allergy! (Y/N), don’t do him like that.”

Jungwon smirked knowingly, leaning back in his chair. “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face into your hands. “Oh my god. You two are exhausting.”

“Not as exhausting as you pretending you’re not curious,” Sunoo singsonged.

You peeked at your phone screen, still faintly glowing with Park Sunghoon’s message.

A small smile tugged at your lips—one you quickly hid behind your highlighter as you said, “Focus on chemistry, you love-struck losers. I’m trying to pass.”

It was just past eleven-thirty when you slid your laptop shut and grabbed your tote, brushing off Jungwon and Sunoo’s twin pouty faces on the call.

“You’re ditching us for lunch?” Sunoo gasped, hand to his chest like you’d betrayed him personally.

“I have a meeting, geez.” You slipped on your shoes with a little huff. “I’ll make it up to you. Pinky swear.”

“Better be with free food,” Jungwon muttered. “And dessert.”

“Noted.” You flashed them a cheeky grin before ending the call.

Now you were tucked in the back of a taxi, your fingers tracing over your phone screen as the driver wove through the upscale neighborhood.

Every house looked like it belonged on a movie set—towering gates, marble fountains, neatly manicured hedges.

Your lips moved as you muttered the house numbers under your breath, watching them blur past the window. “52… 54… 56…”

The taxi slowed, and your eyes caught on a massive black-gated manor. You pointed. “Ah—I think we’re here.”

“Big place,” the driver remarked with a whistle as he pulled up.

You laughed softly, offering a polite smile as you handed over your payment. “Yeah… Thanks for the ride.”

As you stepped out, smoothing down the hem of your white skirt and adjusting the bow on your pink blouse, your eyes immediately landed on a familiar figure.

Heeseung.

Leaning against a sleek black car, sunglasses perched on his head, his posture was as casual as if he owned the place.

You raised a brow, clutching your tote tighter but choosing not to comment right away.

“Why are you here?” you asked as you approached, tilting your head in curiosity.

Heeseung’s lips curved into a grin. “I told Sunghoon I’d be picking you up.”

Your brows furrowed. “Picking me up? I literally took a cab.”

He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Didn’t want you to show up nervous. Thought you’d be more comfortable seeing my pretty face before dealing with my grumpy friend.”

You raised a brow, unimpressed, “Very funny, Mr. Lee.”

“Also,” Heeseung added, tapping his finger against his chin like he was pondering something, “figured you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a car alone with a total stranger. So… congratulations. You get a less intimidating escort.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” you said, tugging gently at the ribbon tied neatly in your hair.

He laughed at your bluntness. “Fair enough. You look cute, by the way. Very…” His eyes flicked over your outfit—soft pink silk blouse, delicate lace-trim skirt, and a little pearl bow clip in your hair. “…non-threatening.”

You let out a little laugh, shaking your head as you adjusted the strap of your tote. “I’m not here to impress, Mr. Lee. I’m here for the job.”

“Sure, sure,” Heeseung teased, his lips quirking into a knowing grin as he nodded toward the towering gates.

“Come on. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

You took a deep breath, clutching your bag a little tighter as you followed him.

The imposing black gates loomed taller with every step, the quiet hum of the fingerprint scanner filling the silence as Heeseung pressed his thumb to it.

With a sharp beep, the gates swung open.

The air seemed cooler here. You weren’t sure if it was the sheer size of the estate or the eerie calm that hung over it like a fog.

“Relax,” Heeseung said casually, glancing at you over his shoulder as you trailed behind him.

You let out another slow breath, nodding silently as you adjusted your skirt nervously.

The front door opened into a sleek, glassy expanse of a home—white marble floors, minimalist décor, sunlight spilling in from ceiling-high windows.

The faint smell of cologne and something sweeter—vanilla, maybe?—lingered in the air.

Heeseung led you past a spiraling staircase and into an open-plan kitchen-living room where someone was already sitting at the island counter, sipping from a mug.

“Hey, Sunghoon,” Heeseung called, clearing his throat lightly. “We’re here.”

The man turned.

You nearly froze.

He was tall—maybe just a shade shorter than Heeseung—but somehow his presence filled the room. Broad shoulders, perfectly tailored black dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms.

His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, framing a face so sharp it could’ve been carved out of stone. His expression was unreadable, except for the slight furrow of his brows as his gaze flicked to you.

You swallowed hard, instinctively stepping a little closer behind Heeseung like his broad frame could shield you from the weight of Sunghoon’s stare.

Sunghoon stood and walked over, his strides purposeful and smooth.

“Did you seriously force her to get in your car?” he asked, voice calm but edged with faint disapproval, one brow arching.

Heeseung only shrugged, utterly unfazed. “Relax. (Y/N) came here by herself. I just happened to be by the gate.”

Sunghoon’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer—like he was sizing you up, calculating something.

Heeseung chuckled, giving your arm a playful nudge. “Relax. He won’t bite. Yet.”

You let out a nervous laugh, clutching your tote a little tighter as Heeseung stepped aside, leaving you standing there fully visible for the first time.

And Sunghoon—oh, Sunghoon—his sharp gaze faltered just slightly.

He’d expected someone more serious. The kind of college student who wore a pressed blouse and stiff slacks to interviews.

But you—standing there in your soft pink silk blouse, lace-trim skirt, and delicate bows—were not at all what he imagined.

You looked so bright. So warm. So young.

‘This is who Heeseung vouched for?’ he thought, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features before his usual stoicism slipped back into place.

“Mr. Park,” you said softly, offering a polite little nod, your voice sweet but steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

Heeseung cleared his throat loudly, a grin playing on his lips. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve got a board meeting at twelve.”

“Of course you do,” Sunghoon said dryly without breaking his gaze from you.

Heeseung patted your shoulder gently. “You’ll do fine. He’s not as scary as he looks.”

You gave him a small, appreciative smile, even as your fingers curled tighter around the handle of your tote.

“See you around, (Y/N),” Heeseung teased, giving a little wave as he strode out, leaving you alone in the vast, quiet space with the man you were supposed to work for.

The silence that followed felt heavier.

You squirmed slightly, clutching your tote in front of you like a shield as Park Sunghoon’s gaze settled on you—slowly, almost painfully, dragging from the top of your pearl hair clip to the tips of your white Mary Jane heels. His expression gave nothing away.

He cleared his throat, his voice smooth but cool. “Let’s take this to the living room.”

You nodded quickly, trailing just a step behind as he walked toward the sunken living space.

His tall frame moved with precision, like everything about him had been rehearsed a thousand times over—posture perfect, steps silent even against the marble floors.

He gestured wordlessly to one of the black leather couches. “Please. Sit.”

You obeyed instantly, perching on the edge of the couch with your knees together and hands resting carefully on your skirt.

Sunghoon’s brow lifted ever so slightly at how quick you were to follow, but he said nothing as he settled across from you, one arm draping loosely over the back of his seat.

The silence stretched.

The faint ticking of a modern clock filled the room as your eyes flickered nervously around—the towering bookshelves, the marble coffee table, the floor-to-ceiling windows that let sunlight spill across the pristine floors.

Everything felt expensive. Too expensive for you to even breathe on.

“(Y/N), right?” Sunghoon’s deep voice broke the quiet.

You nodded. “Yes, Mr. Park.”

A deep, rich laugh rumbled from his chest. It was warm and low, catching you off guard as your fingers curled in your lap.

“Just Sunghoon,” he corrected, his lips tugging faintly at the corners.

You hesitated, testing it softly on your lips. “Okay… Sunghoon.”

Something flickered in his dark eyes—amusement, maybe—but it was gone just as fast.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” you answered quickly, your voice even but soft.

He nodded once. “College student?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your major?”

“Psychology.”

“Psychology,” he repeated, his tone unreadable as his eyes locked onto yours. “Interesting choice. Why?”

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, then glanced back up at him with a small smile. “I like understanding people. And I guess I’ve always been the type to listen to others… it felt like the right path.”

He hummed, leaning back slightly. “Why do you babysit?”

You blinked at the abruptness of the question but answered honestly. “I love kids. There’s… something innocent about them. They’re so easy to make happy. You just have to listen, really listen.”

You smiled faintly at the thought. “I want some of my own someday.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softened for just a fraction of a second before his usual stoic expression returned. He nodded slowly. “I see.”

You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore how the weight of his stare made your heart thump harder in your chest.

“Do you have much experience?” he asked.

“Yes. I babysit my neighbor’s kids regularly. And Mr. Lee’s nephews sometimes. They’re…” You let out a small laugh. “A handful. But fun.”

“Mm.” Sunghoon’s fingers drummed lightly against his knee, his gaze still fixed on you. “And you’re sure you can handle Sooyun?”

You met his gaze for the first time, your voice steady despite your nerves. “I can. I don’t scare easy, Mr—Sunghoon.”

That faint smirk tugged at his lips again, and for a fleeting second, he looked almost impressed.

You didn’t drop your gaze—not yet. But he could see it. The slight quiver in your fingers where they rested atop your tote. The tiny shift of your knees like you were resisting the urge to fidget.

“(Y/N),” Sunghoon said suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.

You blinked. “Yes?”

“You’re hired.”

You froze. “…Just like that?”

A laugh escaped him—low, rich, and warm enough to catch you completely off guard. “You seem like a nice girl,” he said easily, one corner of his mouth curling upward.

“Smart. Calm. Polite. And…” his eyes flicked over your delicate blouse and tidy posture, “…you don’t look like the type to break things.”

Your lips parted slightly as your cheeks warmed under his stare. “O-oh. Thank you?”

He leaned back against the leather couch, his long fingers drumming idly on the armrest as his dark eyes stayed fixed on you. “Are you available every day?”

“Yes,” you replied, finding your voice again. “Most of my classes are online. I barely have to go back to campus except for the occasional exam or meeting.”

He nodded at this, satisfied. “Good. I’m always needed back at Park Ice & Co., my rink, and…” He trailed off slightly, his jaw tightening for a moment. “…as much as I want to spend more time with Sooyun—”

“You’re busy,” you finished gently, a small, understanding smile tugging at your lips. “Right?”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for the first time since you stepped foot in the house, his expression softened—not much, but enough to make your heart stutter.

“…Right,” he echoed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You didn’t think someone like Park Sunghoon—stoic, intimidating, poised—was even capable of that kind of smile. But there it was, fleeting and quiet, and it made your chest warm.

Just as you were about to ask another question, the soft sound of small footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase.

Sunghoon’s head turned instantly.

Peeking out from behind one of the carved pillars was a little girl—wide-eyed and hesitant, clutching a stuffed bunny almost as big as her head. Her pink pajamas were slightly wrinkled, and her short black hair was tousled like she’d just woken up from a nap.

“Sooyun,” Sunghoon called softly, his tone warmer than you’d heard all morning. “Come here. Don’t be shy.”

The little girl hesitated for a moment, then padded carefully across the marble floor.

She stopped just short of the couch before instinctively curling into Sunghoon’s chest, her tiny fingers fisting in his shirt as she buried her face against him.

Your heart melted at the sight.

For someone so sharp and poised, Park Sunghoon held her with a gentleness that didn’t seem possible.

One large hand cradled her head protectively, and his voice dropped to a low murmur as he brushed her hair back. “Hey, baby. Did you just wake up?”

She nodded shyly against him, peeking one wide brown eye up at you.

“This is (Y/N),” Sunghoon said, glancing down at her with a small smile that somehow made him look ten years younger. “She’s going to be spending time with you when Daddy’s working.”

You gave a soft smile, crouching slightly so you were eye level with her. “Hi, Sooyun. It’s nice to meet you.”

She blinked at you, then tucked her face back into Sunghoon’s shirt.

“Sorry,” he said with a quiet laugh. “She’s not usually this shy. She’ll warm up to you.”

You tilted your head, still smiling as you straightened up. “That’s okay. I’ll give her time.”

Sooyun peeked at you again from the safety of her father’s arms, her big brown eyes curious but cautious.

You met her gaze with a soft smile, your voice gentle. “Hi, baby.”

She blinked, her tiny fingers still clutching Sunghoon’s shirt. But then—hesitantly—her lips curved into a shy little smile.

“There she is,” you whispered like it was a secret, smiling even brighter.

Sooyun slowly uncurls herself from Sunghoon’s lap, her small hands gripping the edge of the leather couch for balance as she leaned forward slightly. “Do you… like pink?”

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded eagerly. “Mhm! It’s my favorite color.”

Her little face brightened. “Mine too!”

“Really?” you said, your grin widening. “It’s the best color, isn’t it? So cute and soft.”

She nodded enthusiastically, head bobbing.

But then she glanced up at her father like she was silently asking for permission. Sunghoon, still sitting back with an arm draped lazily over the couch’s armrest, gave her a single nod.

That seemed to be enough.

Sooyun carefully slid off the couch, clutching her stuffed bunny to her chest as she padded over to where you sat. She stopped just in front of you, tilting her head like she was examining you.

“You’re really pretty,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet but sincere.

Your heart melted instantly. You beamed at her, resting a hand over your chest. “You too, baby. You’re so, so pretty.”

That got her to smile—finally a genuine, little-kid grin that made her cheeks puff up adorably.

You patted the empty spot beside you on the couch as she made a small attempt to climb up, her tiny arms trying to pull herself up but failing with a soft huff.

“Do you need help, Sooyun?” you asked, giggling softly at her effort.

“Yes, please,” she mumbled.

“Okay, up you go.” You carefully slipped an arm around her small frame and helped her onto the couch. She settled beside you shyly, clutching her bunny tightly.

“What’s your name?” she asked after a pause, her big eyes curious.

“(Y/N),” you replied with a warm smile.

Sooyun turned to her father then, her little voice full of excitement. “Daddy… can I call her Aunt (Y/N)?”

You froze slightly, eyes darting toward Sunghoon in surprise. He raised a brow at you but didn’t seem as shocked as you. Instead, his lips twitched faintly like he was holding back a laugh.

“Only if she’s okay with it,” Sunghoon said, his voice low and smooth.

Sooyun immediately looked up at you expectantly, her small hands clutching her bunny tighter. “Can I?” she whispered.

You let out a soft laugh at her earnestness, reaching out to gently boop her nose. “Of course, darling. I’d love that.”

Sooyun beamed so brightly it nearly blinded you, her little legs swinging where they didn’t quite reach the floor. “Yay! Aunt (Y/N)!”

Sunghoon watched the interaction quietly, his dark eyes thoughtful. He wasn’t used to this—not to Sooyun smiling so fast, or to a stranger matching her energy so naturally.

Sooyun kicked her little legs slightly and tilted her head at you, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Who’s your favorite Disney princess?”

You gasped softly, placing a finger on your chin in mock thought. “Hmm… probably Belle. Because she loves books, and she’s really kind. What about you?”

Sooyun’s eyes widened. She gasped so dramatically it made you giggle. “Mine too! I love Belle!”

“Really?” you smiled, eyes softening as you reached to fix the little flyaways of her ponytail. “Do you love books too, Sooyun?”

She nodded eagerly, hugging her stuffed bunny tighter. “I love picture books. We read lots of them at school.”

“That’s wonderful!” you said brightly. “If you don’t mind me asking… how old are you, sweetheart?”

Sooyun puffed out her cheeks proudly and raised six tiny fingers. “Six!”

“Six?!” you gasped playfully, clapping your hands together. “No way! You’re such a big girl already. Good job, baby.”

Sooyun beamed, leaning closer into your side.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was still standing there silently, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the easy warmth between you and his daughter.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Well… I guess there’s no need for introductions,” he said smoothly. His deep voice startled you slightly, and you immediately straightened your posture, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as your cheeks warmed.

“Oh—right. Sorry,” you murmured softly.

“Don’t be,” he replied, his tone softer this time. “Let’s go over a few things.”

You nodded quickly, and he gestured toward the kitchen. “Shall we?”

You stood, but not before Sooyun tugged gently at your sleeve, her big eyes staring up at you. “Can you carry me?” she whispered softly.

You melted on the spot, smiling as you scooped her up into your arms with ease. “Of course, baby. Come here.”

That earned you another shy grin as she tucked her little face against your shoulder, her tiny arms wrapping around your neck.

Sunghoon glanced at the scene, his brow raised slightly—not a word leaving his lips as his gaze lingered on the way Sooyun clung to you so effortlessly.

He said nothing as you followed him to the sleek, modern kitchen, Sooyun nestled comfortably in your arms. The space smelled faintly of coffee and citrus cleaner, the marble counters spotless.

He opened the massive stainless steel fridge with a quiet hum. “It’s usually stocked full like this since I don’t really cook… but I assume you do?”

“I do,” you said with a small smile, scanning the fridge briefly. It was neatly organized, full of fresh produce, bottled water, and neatly labeled containers. “It’s no problem at all.”

“Good,” he replied. “As for her routine—Sooyun eats almost everything except broccoli. She hates it, so don’t even try.”

You laughed lightly. “Noted. No broccoli. Anything else?”

“School ends at 12:00 PM. Her driver will bring her home unless I say otherwise. Bath time’s usually around 7:00 PM, bedtime at 8:00. She likes a story before bed.”

You nodded attentively, trying to commit each detail to memory.

“Good. That’s pretty much everything,” Sunghoon said, closing the fridge and leading you back to the living room.

He stopped near the couch, his dark eyes settling on you again. “I was going to ask if you preferred starting next week… but it looks like she already likes you.”

Sooyun, now leaning against your chest with her small hands clutching your sleeve, nodded eagerly. “I do!”

You laughed, smoothing her bangs with a fond look. “I wouldn’t mind starting early for this cutie.”

Sunghoon’s lips twitched—just barely—but it looked like the beginnings of a smile.

He stepped closer, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of Sooyun’s head. “Be good for (Y/N), baby.”

“I will!” she chirped. “We’re gonna have a blast, Daddy!”

Sunghoon straightened, meeting your eyes one last time. “Thank you.”

You nodded with a polite smile. “It’s no problem.”

He grabbed his coat from the armrest. “I won’t be too late. Call if anything comes up.”

“Of course,” you said softly.

“Good.” With that, Sunghoon strode toward the door, his presence somehow leaving the room a little colder once he stepped out.

It was already dark when the sound of laughter reached Sunghoon the moment he stepped into the manor. His brow furrowed slightly, a hand loosening his tie as he set his keys down by the door.

He followed the cheerful noise to the kitchen, and there you were—perched comfortably by the marble island, Sooyun sitting cross-legged on the counter in her little pink pajamas.

She giggled as you held up a tiny fork with roasted broccoli, your expression exaggeratedly sweet.

“Here comes the broccoli train—choo choo!” you teased.

Sooyun squealed before taking the bite with a grin. “Mmm! Cheesy broccoli is my favorite now!”

Sunghoon cleared his throat lightly from the doorway. “I’m here.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning slightly to face him. “O-Oh! Good evening, Mr. Park—”

“Sunghoon,” he corrected smoothly as he strode closer, his voice warm but lined with exhaustion.

“Right… Sunghoon.” You gave him a sheepish smile.

“Hi, Daddy!” Sooyun beamed, kicking her little feet happily as she waved at him.

His gaze softened immediately as he stepped forward, loosening his jacket and leaning over to press a kiss to her temple. “Hi, princess. What’s all this?”

“Broccoli!” Sooyun declared proudly, lifting another piece from the plate.

“Broccoli?” Sunghoon blinked, his surprise clear. “You hate broccoli.”

“She likes them roasted with cheese,” you admitted with a small laugh, holding up the pan on the counter. “We did a little experiment. Turns out it’s all about the presentation.”

His eyes flicked to the pan, then back to you, something unreadable flashing in his gaze. “Huh. Impressive.”

You flushed faintly under his lingering stare, busying yourself with wiping your hands on a dish towel. “We also watched Disney movies and had spaghetti for lunch. There’s still some in the fridge if you’re hungry, Sunghoon.”

He raised a brow at the way you caught yourself but said nothing, only nodding faintly. “I’ll grab some later.”

“Daddy! Aunt (Y/N) makes the best spaghetti ever!” Sooyun chirped, her words making your heart skip.

Sunghoon’s brow quirked again. His lips curved—just barely. “I see.”

“Anyway, she’s already had her bath,” you added, eager to shift the focus. “Isn’t that right, missy?”

Sooyun lifted her little palm, and you leaned in to meet it with a high five. “All clean and ready for bed.”

“Good job.” Sunghoon’s voice was quiet as he watched the exchange, his dark eyes unreadable as they lingered on you holding his daughter like you’d been doing it for years.

You gave him a small, polite smile as you gently set Sooyun down on the counter. “Thank you. Um… it’s getting late. I think I should get going now.”

Sunghoon, still leaning against the counter, straightened slightly. “Do you have someone picking you up?”

You shook your head, trying not to sound sheepish. “No, but it’s okay. I’ll just call a cab or book a ride—”

“No.” His interruption was firm, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll drive you home.”

You blinked at him, wide-eyed. “Oh, no, really. I wouldn’t want to bother you—”

“It’s no bother,” he said simply, already moving to scoop up Sooyun who was rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Stay here. I’ll tuck her in first.”

Before you could protest again, he was already heading for the stairs, his tall figure disappearing up the hallway.

You stood there frozen for a moment, clutching your bag to your chest as the faint sound of his footsteps upstairs mixed with Sooyun’s sleepy murmurs.

He was back almost as quickly as he left, his sleeves now rolled up slightly and his hair a little tousled from leaning over his daughter’s bed. His dark eyes flicked to you. “Ready?”

You nodded slowly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “Uh… yeah.”

“Good.” His voice was unreadable as he strode past you, motioning toward the front door.

You followed him out to the driveway where his sleek black sports car gleamed under the soft glow of the porch lights. He walked ahead, reaching the passenger side first, and without hesitation, pulled open the door for you.

“Oh—” you stammered, startled by the gesture. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He didn’t say anything, only gave a faint nod, waiting patiently until you slipped into the seat. The leather smelled faintly of cedar and something else distinctly him—cool and clean.

By the time he rounded to the driver’s side and slid into his seat, you were nervously fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

He buckled his seatbelt with a smooth click and glanced at you briefly.

“Seatbelt,” he reminded gently, his tone softer now.

“R-Right.” You scrambled to pull it across your chest, cheeks warming as his eyes lingered for just a second longer than necessary before turning back to the road.

The car purred to life, the faint hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence.

“Is your address saved on your phone?” Sunghoon asked as he shifted gears, his hand resting casually on the wheel.

“Oh—yes! I’ll send it to you.” You quickly fumbled with your phone, trying not to let your fingers shake as you sent him your location.

“Got it.” He said, his eyes fixed ahead as he eased the car smoothly out of the driveway.

The car fell into a comfortable silence. The soft hum of the engine filled the space as you leaned your cheek on your propped-up hand, watching the world blur past through the window.

The streetlights painted fleeting golden streaks across your reflection in the glass.

The quiet didn’t last long.

“Thank you.”

You blinked, turning your head slightly to look at him. His face was calm, but his hands tightened around the steering wheel as he pulled to a stop at a red light.

“For what?” you asked softly.

“For taking the job.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head. “Sooyun’s a really sweet girl. You did a good job raising her, Mr. Park.”

He huffed out a laugh, low and dry. “If you mean my friends, then yeah.”

Your brows furrowed as you tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, his eyes still fixed on the traffic lights as they shifted to yellow, then green. “Look—I’m not the sentimental type. So don’t expect me to burst into tears in gratitude.”

You chuckled lightly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on your skirt. “I’m not going to force anything out of you, Mr. Park.”

His jaw ticked as he clicked his tongue. “Sunghoon. Drop the ‘Mister.’ Makes me feel old.”

“Okay… Sunghoon.” You tested the name again carefully on your tongue, earning the faintest upward curve of his lips.

For a moment, you thought that was it. But then he spoke again, voice quieter now—almost like he wasn’t used to saying the words out loud.

“I’m… not the best father to my own daughter,” he admitted, his knuckles going a shade lighter as his grip on the wheel tightened.

“I’m always gone. Meetings, the rink, work—it feels endless sometimes. Without Heeseung and some of my other friends stepping in when I can’t, I’m pretty sure Sooyun would’ve started resenting me by now.”

You watched him carefully, your chest tightening at the rare vulnerability slipping through his normally calm exterior.

“She doesn’t resent you,” you said softly. “She adores you. Anyone can see it.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Sooyun’s mom was never there either. Not even for the first year of her life.”

Your breath caught, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak at his own pace.

“We weren’t even together. It was… a one-night stand. She wanted nothing to do with Sooyun. And suddenly, there I was—with a week-old baby on my doorstep and no idea what the hell to do.”

His voice dipped lower, and you swore there was the faintest crack in it. “I didn’t think I’d ever figure it out.”

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, then said gently, “But you did. She’s happy, she’s healthy, and she’s kind. That didn’t happen by accident, Sunghoon.”

He didn’t reply immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, streetlights flashing across his sharp profile. After a moment, he let out a small hum—low and unreadable.

“I guess,” he murmured finally, his voice quieter than before.

You only smiled faintly, choosing not to press further as the car turned down another familiar street.

The silence settled again—not uncomfortable, but heavy, like there were still words lingering in the air that neither of you was ready to say.

The sleek black car slowed to a stop in front of your apartment building, the dim glow of the porch light casting a soft haze over the steps leading up.

“Oh—we’re here,” you said softly, unbuckling your seatbelt.

As you reached for the door handle, you hesitated, turning back to him with a polite smile. “Thank you for the ride, Sunghoon.”

His eyes met yours briefly in the darkness of the car, and for a moment it almost felt like time stretched. Then he gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

“Get inside safe,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm.

You blinked at the unexpected softness before nodding. “I will. Good night.”

“Night.”

You stepped out into the cool night air, the faint sound of your shoes against the pavement filling the quiet. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you climbed the small set of stairs to your apartment door.

Sunghoon stayed parked, headlights dimmed, one hand on the wheel as he watched in his peripheral vision.

Only when he saw the door click shut behind you and the faint glow of your apartment lights flicker on did he finally let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Hmph…” he muttered to himself as he shifted the car into gear. The engine purred as he eased back into the road, fingers drumming once against the steering wheel.

“(Y/N), huh…” His voice was low, almost like he was testing the sound of your name on his tongue.

His lips twitched—maybe a smirk, maybe just a flicker of amusement—as he shook his head faintly to himself.

Sunghoon was used to the quiet. He liked it, even. It was the kind of silence that came from living in a house too big for just two people, where the only sounds were Sooyun’s occasional giggles or the faint hum of the fridge at night.

But these past three weeks? The quiet was gone.

And the strangest part? He didn’t mind.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he padded barefoot down the stairs, still in his plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He hadn’t even bothered to fix his bedhead—messy strands of soft black hair falling over his forehead—but he didn’t care.

The smell of pancakes hit him first. Sweet and warm, like brown sugar and childhood mornings. Then came the sound of soft laughter—your laugh.

His brow furrowed slightly, but there was no real annoyance in it as he stepped closer to the kitchen. He stopped at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, and let himself watch for just a second.

You were standing at the counter, a pastel pink apron tied around your waist, sleeves rolled up as you held out a plate. Sooyun was carefully passing you strawberries from a little bowl, her tiny fingers sticky with juice.

“Thank you, baby,” you said with a bright smile, taking them and placing them neatly on a stack of golden pancakes.

Sooyun grinned, grabbing the next bowl—blueberries this time—and held them up to you like it was the most important job in the world.

“You’re such a good helper,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Sunghoon’s lips twitched—fighting off the smile threatening to tug at his mouth.

“Isn’t it a little early for you two to be this happy?”

Your head whipped around at his voice, eyes widening slightly before softening into a sheepish smile. There he was, leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket, his dark eyes slightly lidded with sleep.

“Sorry,” you said with a small laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He tilted his head faintly, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Sooyun,” he drawled, his voice low and rough from sleep, “what time does your school start again?”

The little girl froze for half a second before glancing up at you like she was waiting for you to answer for her.

You crouched slightly to her level, smiling reassuringly. “It starts at seven, right, baby?”

Sooyun nodded quickly.

You straightened, giving Sunghoon a calm, practiced smile. “It’s only six twenty. We’ve got plenty of time, don’t we?”

Sooyun nodded again, her twin pigtails bouncing. “Plenty of time, Daddy.”

He let out a small huff of air—something between amusement and resignation—as he pushed off the doorframe and strode toward his daughter.

“Come here, princess.”

Sooyun’s face lit up as she waddled over to him, and he scooped her up effortlessly, settling her on his lap as he took a seat at the dining table. Her little arms curled instinctively around his neck.

“You’ve been busy this morning,” he said to her, brushing a crumb off her cheek.

“We made pancakes!” she declared proudly. “With strawberries and blueberries. Aunt (Y/N) said they’re healthy.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you managed a smile. “Hope that’s okay… she insisted.”

Sunghoon shook his head faintly, his lips pressing together—not in disapproval, but something unreadable. “I don’t,” he said simply.

You blinked, unsure how to take that, but before you could respond, Sooyun spoke up.

“Daddy, can you try the one with blueberries? Aunt (Y/N) made it so pretty!”

You used her distraction as a chance to lower your gaze, placing her plate gently in front of her before sliding Sunghoon’s across the table.

He murmured a quiet thank you, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes, retreating slightly as you settled into the chair opposite him.

The three of you ate in near silence, the only sounds being Sooyun’s happy humming between bites and the faint clink of cutlery against plates.

Sunghoon sipped his coffee slowly, his dark eyes occasionally flicking toward you.

There was something different about you this morning, he noted. Something he couldn’t name.

You hadn’t been like this in the first week. Back then, you’d been polite but warm, exchanging small smiles and laughing with Sooyun easily. But over the past few days, there was a change.

You avoided his gaze now. You stepped away—barely noticeable, but enough for him to catch—whenever he got too close while reaching for Sooyun’s juice cup or helping her off the chair.

He wasn’t the type to care what people thought of him. Not with colleagues. Not with strangers.

So why did it irritate him now?

Why did it feel like you saw something in him—something dangerous or unworthy—and decided to keep your distance?

Was it the late-night confession in the car? The slip about Sooyun’s mother? He had let himself say too much, maybe.

He ran a thumb absentmindedly along the rim of his coffee cup, his jaw tightening as you rose from your seat to help Sooyun, who was now waddling toward the living room holding her little backpack.

“Aunt (Y/N),” Sooyun called sweetly.

You smiled and excused yourself softly, your chair scraping gently against the floor as you followed her out.

Sunghoon was left staring at the empty plates and the faint pink stain of strawberry syrup on his daughter’s now-vacant seat.

His fingers drummed against the table as he stared at nothing, mind racing.

Was he imagining it? Or had you already decided what kind of man he was and placed him in some unspoken box labeled keep distance?

He was still scowling at his coffee when Sooyun’s tiny voice floated back in.

“Bye, Daddy!”

He stood automatically, stepping out toward the foyer just as you were helping Sooyun into her little shoes by the door. The driver stood waiting patiently outside.

Sunghoon crouched slightly and pressed a kiss to Sooyun’s forehead, his voice softening in a way that still caught you off guard. “Be good, princess.”

She nodded eagerly. “I will! Bye, Daddy!”

“Bye, Aunt (Y/N)!” she added, beaming up at you.

You smiled, gently fixing the loose ends of her pigtails. “Bye, baby. Have fun at school.”

Together, the two of you watched as the car pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Silence settled like a heavy blanket in the grand entryway.

You cleared your throat softly and glanced at him. “Don’t you have work today?”

His eyes didn’t leave the window. “It’s my day off.”

“Oh.” You nodded slowly, unsure what else to say. “That’s… nice.”

You hesitated for a moment before turning toward the kitchen. “I’ll just… clean up breakfast.”

Sunghoon didn’t reply. He only watched your retreating figure as you disappeared back into the kitchen, the faint sound of running water and clinking dishes soon filling the quiet house.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

It had been another week.

Another week of you driving him absolutely insane.

At first, Sunghoon thought he could handle it—your soft laugh echoing through the house, your sweet scent lingering in every room you passed, your habit of brushing past him with a polite “excuse me” and never meeting his eyes for longer than two seconds.

But now? He was convinced you were doing it on purpose.

You avoided him like it was a sport—disappearing into Sooyun’s room, using her bath time or snack time as an excuse to flee any space where he happened to exist

And whenever you weren’t tending to his daughter, you were cleaning, reorganizing cabinets, folding laundry that didn’t even need folding.

It was late in the afternoon when he finally snapped out of yet another endless meeting, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes and sighing.

His glasses slid back on lazily as he stood, his shirt wrinkled slightly from hours of sitting. He pushed the sleeves of his black button-up to his forearms, exposing lean, veined arms as he rolled his shoulders.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

His bare feet made almost no sound against the polished stairs as he descended. He didn’t know why he went looking for you—not really. Maybe to scold you for avoiding him.

Maybe to—God help him—beg for a single conversation that didn’t involve Sooyun. Or maybe because he was weak, and he missed seeing you.

He didn’t expect the sight that greeted him in the kitchen.

You stood at the counter, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing across from you. Steam curled lazily from the kettle as you poured hot water into your mug, a little sigh leaving your lips as you stirred in honey.

The short silk skirt you wore rode high up your thighs, brushing dangerously against the tops of your socks—white knee-highs that looked so soft his fingers ached to tug them down slowly.

The oversized white sweater hung delicately off one shoulder, baring the smooth curve of your neck and collarbone to his hungry eyes.

Your hair was out of its usual bow, falling down your back in loose waves that made his hand twitch at his side. He wanted to thread his fingers through it, to pull it gently and watch your head tilt back—

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

You jumped slightly at the sound of a deep voice cutting through your little bubble. When you turned, your eyes went wide.

“Mr. Park,” you said softly, the mug clinking against the counter as you set it down too fast. “I—sorry, I didn’t hear you come down.”

Sunghoon said nothing at first, just dragged the fridge door open and grabbed a bottle of water like he hadn’t just caught you wearing something straight out of his fantasies.

“Rough day?” he asked casually, his voice husky from hours of talking in meetings. He twisted the cap off and tilted his head back, gulping down a long sip.

His Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow, and for some reason, you couldn’t look away.

You shifted your weight nervously. “You could… say that.”

He let the fridge door swing shut and leaned a hip against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. The way his muscles flexed under the rolled sleeves of his shirt made your breath hitch.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your head snapped up. “I—I haven’t.”

“You have.” His dark eyes didn’t waver. “Every time I come into a room, you find a reason to leave. Is it something I did?”

You swallowed thickly. “No. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” His voice was quiet but dangerously low, the kind of tone that made heat bloom in your chest and rush down your spine.

You gripped your mug a little tighter, knuckles turning white. “I—”

“Do I make you uncomfortable, (Y/N)?” Sunghoon’s gaze sharpened, studying every twitch of your expression like he was dissecting you piece by piece.

You shook your head quickly. “N-No. Of course not. You don’t—”

You were already trying to excuse yourself, your voice tight, “I—I should check on Sooyun, I think she—”

He clicked his tongue, low and sharp, cutting you off mid-sentence. “She’s still at school.”

You froze.

“B-but—”

He stepped closer. Another step and the air felt heavier, thick with something you couldn’t name.

“You’ve been cleaning her stuff since morning,” he said, voice dropping lower, smooth as velvet but laced with something far more dangerous. “Folding, dusting, scrubbing… avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Another step.

Your back bumped into the counter, his shadow falling over you as his hands braced the countertop on either side of your hips, effectively caging you in.

You refused to meet his eyes, staring down at the mug like it might save you. But your breath came quicker, chest rising and falling beneath the loose sweater you wore.

“What’s your excuse this time, sweetheart?” His words came out like a low growl, soft but suffocating.

Your throat worked as you swallowed hard. “I… I don’t want to overstep.”

That made him laugh—a short, breathy sound that was more incredulous than amused.

“Overstep?” He tilted his head, his lips curling into something wicked. “I think we’re already past that, don’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. Your pulse was hammering in your ears, drowning out rational thought.

His long fingers reached for your chin, tipping it up gently but firmly until your eyes finally met his. The sharpness in his gaze nearly made your knees buckle—dark, hungry, and unbearably intense.

“Tell me, (Y/N)… are you here to be Sooyun’s babysitter…” he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as his lips ghosted near your ear, “…or are you here to seduce me?”

Your eyes went wide. “I’m not—”

“Are you sure about that?” His voice was pure sin now, low and teasing as one of his hands dropped.

Fingers traced lightly along your thigh, stopping just where the hem of your skirt met your knee socks. He outlined the edge with the pad of his thumb, the touch feather-light but enough to make your stomach flip violently.

“You go outside looking like this every day?” His words were laced with mock reproach, his dark eyes sweeping over you again. “That little skirt, those socks…”

You nodded mutely, unable to find your voice.

“Do you know,” he murmured, his thumb brushing up slightly over your thigh now, “the amount of boys you’ve probably got hooked on you without even realizing?”

You shook your head, lips parting slightly as you struggled to catch a steady breath.

“Such a naive little girl.” The words dripped from his tongue, almost like a scolding. His fingers pressed just a little firmer at the top of your thigh, enough to send your head spinning.

“Mr. Park…” you whispered, voice trembling, unsure if it was a plea for him to stop or a warning that you couldn’t handle what he was doing to you.

His smirk deepened as his other hand cupped your jaw fully, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?” he murmured, his voice dropping lower—silky, lethal, and so intimate it made your knees threaten to give out.

You met his eyes finally, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Mr. Park… I’m not sure if this is a good idea…”

He clicked his tongue, the sound sharp and condescending as he leaned in closer, lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, (Y/N)… have you ever had a boy treat you right before?” His breath was hot against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You hesitated, your hands tightening on the counter’s edge as you shook your head. “I-I’ve never… I’ve never had the time to.”

He chuckled darkly at that, a sound so low it vibrated in your chest. “Good.”

Before you could even process his answer, he surged forward. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you flush against his chest, while his other hand slid up to cradle your cheek.

You gasped at the sudden closeness, your mug nearly tipping over behind you. His scent—clean soap, faint cologne, and something distinctly male—flooded your senses.

“Mr. Park—”

Your words were swallowed whole as his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant.

It was hungry.

His lips moved over yours with a bruising intensity, demanding and firm, like he’d been holding back for far too long.

Your gasp slipped between the kiss, and he groaned deep in his throat, the sound vibrating against your mouth as his teeth nipped your lower lip, pulling just enough to make you whimper.

“Mr. Park—” you tried to say again, but it came out broken, caught between a gasp and his relentless mouth.

He pulled back just barely, his nose brushing yours as his eyes—dark and blown wide—held you captive.

“I told you to stop calling me that, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

His hand left your cheek for only a second. You barely caught the flash of movement before his glasses clattered carelessly onto the counter beside you.

“Say my name.”

“Sunghoon—”

That was all he needed. His lips crashed into yours again, harder this time, his thumb tilting your chin just right so he could deepen the kiss. His other arm kept you caged against him, his hand splayed wide across your lower back like he was staking a claim.

You let out a small whimper as his tongue teased at your lower lip before slipping past, coaxing you to respond.

And when you finally did—tentatively at first, then with growing desperation—he groaned, low and sinful, like you’d just undone him completely.

“You have no idea,” he murmured hotly between kisses, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Your head tilted back instinctively, a soft gasp escaping as his teeth grazed your skin.

Then, his voice—lower, rougher than you’d ever heard—broke through your daze.

“Jump.”

You blinked. “W-what?”

His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. “I said jump.”

This time you didn’t think—you just obeyed, a startled sound leaving your lips as your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Good girl,” he muttered against your neck, his voice vibrating against your skin as he effortlessly hoisted you higher, your skirt riding up dangerously.

You could feel his strength in the way he carried you like you weighed nothing, his arms flexing beneath your thighs as his mouth never left you—kissing, nipping, leaving trails of heat down your throat.

“Sunghoon—” you gasped, hands clutching at his shoulders.

He didn’t answer. His only response was a low growl, his lips capturing yours in another searing kiss that stole every ounce of air from your lungs.

Somehow, he navigated through the hall with you clinging to him, barely breaking stride as he reached his bedroom.

The door swung open with a sharp shove, and before you could even glance around, it slammed shut behind him with a loud thud—his foot kicking it closed as he strode in.

You barely had time to catch your breath before you were laid down on the bed, his hands sliding from your thighs to your hips as he set you down with maddening care.

But the second your back hit the sheets, he was on you again.

Sunghoon braced himself above you, one hand cupping your jaw as his lips crashed back onto yours. The kiss was desperate now, his teeth tugging on your lower lip as if punishing you for every second you’d made him wait.

“You drive me insane, you know that?” he rasped between kisses, his breath hot and ragged.

Your fingers threaded into his hair instinctively, tugging gently, and the groan it pulled from him was nothing short of sinful.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispered harshly against your skin, his mouth trailing to your neck, “how hard it’s been—watching you walk around my house, in those little skirts, acting so damn sweet—”

“Sung—Sunghoon…” your voice broke into a moan as his teeth scraped lightly at your pulse point, his tongue soothing the sting a second later.

“Thought you were here to make my daughter happy…” he muttered against your neck, his voice low and full of something dark.

His hands slid up your thighs slowly, teasing the sensitive skin as your skirt bunched higher.

“…and you just had to drag me into it too, huh?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers curved around the swell of your ass, squeezing firmly. The sound you made—embarrassed, breathless—drew a low groan from his chest as his lips trailed down your neck.

“You’ve been playing with fire, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hands still gripping you possessively. “Walking around like this… looking at me like you’re innocent.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Arms up,” he interrupted sharply, his voice like velvet-wrapped steel.

Your eyes widened, but something in his gaze left no room for argument. You obeyed, raising your arms shakily.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise making your stomach flutter as his fingers hooked into the hem of your sweater.

In one fluid motion, he tugged it off, tossing it somewhere behind him without ever breaking eye contact. You felt the cool air kiss your skin, leaving goosebumps as you sat there in your lace bra.

Sunghoon stilled for a moment, his dark eyes sweeping hungrily over you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice husky. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your cheeks burned under his gaze, but before you could speak, his hands reached behind you, fingers expertly unclasping your bra.

“Sunghoon—”

The garment fell away, and instinct took over. Your hands flew to your chest to cover yourself, but he caught your wrists gently but firmly, pinning them to the bed above your head.

“Don’t.” His tone was soft but commanding, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Don’t hide from me.”

You froze, your lips parting as he leaned down again.

“Let me see you,” he whispered, his eyes burning into yours.

His mouth descended, lips wrapping around one of your nipples while his hand moved to play with the other, fingers teasing and rolling gently. The sudden rush of heat shot through you so fast it made your back arch off the mattress.

“A-ah—Sunghoon—”

“You sound so pretty when you say my name like that,” he murmured against your skin, switching sides to give the same attention to your other breast.

You instinctively tried to close your legs, flustered by how exposed you felt, but his knee slid between them, pushing them apart effortlessly.

“Don’t do that either,” he muttered against your chest, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep them from closing.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his kisses began trailing lower.

Slow, torturous kisses down your stomach, his warm breath fanning over every new inch of exposed skin as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your skirt.

“Sunghoon—”

“Shhh.” His voice was low, thick with hunger. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

With one smooth motion, he tugged your skirt down your legs, tossing it aside to leave you in nothing but your panties.

He paused for a moment, his dark gaze locked between your thighs like he was already imagining how you’d taste.

“Fuck…” he murmured under his breath, almost to himself. “You’re so pretty for me like this.”

You whimpered, instinctively trying to press your thighs together again, but his hands slid between them, pushing you wide open.

“Don’t hide from me,” he said again, firmer this time. “I want to see all of you.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them aside just enough to bare you completely to his gaze. The cool air against your slick heat made you shiver.

“Already so wet,” he muttered darkly, his thumb grazing lightly over your folds. “You’ve been acting all shy, and this is what I find? Such a liar.”

“Sunghoon—please—”

“Please what, sweetheart?” His lips curved into a smirk as he kissed the inside of your thigh, teeth grazing gently. “Please stop? Or please keep going?”

Your back arched slightly, hands gripping the sheets as a whine slipped out.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

Then, without warning, he dove in.

His tongue parted your folds in one slow, deliberate lick from base to clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“God—”

“Shit, you taste so fucking sweet,” he growled against you before latching onto your clit, his tongue flicking in slow, teasing circles that had your hips jerking.

“Sunghoon—ah—” Your voice cracked as his hands gripped your thighs, forcing them wider and holding you down like he wasn’t about to let you squirm away.

“Stay still,” he ordered roughly between licks. “Let me enjoy this.”

You felt his fingers join in, two of them sliding into your soaked heat with maddening ease as his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit. The stretch made you cry out, your nails digging into the sheets.

“You’re tight,” he groaned, pumping his fingers slowly before curling them just right. “Bet you’d feel even better wrapped around my cock.”

Your walls clenched at his words, and he chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your most sensitive spot.

“Oh? You like the sound of that, sweetheart?” His tongue pressed flat against your clit before sucking gently, sending white-hot sparks shooting through your body. “You want me to fill you up, huh? Stretch this pretty little pussy until you can’t think?”

“S-Sunghoon—please—”

“Please what?” He smirked against your core, his pace unrelenting as your thighs trembled in his hold. “Use your words, baby.”

“I—I don’t—fuck—”

You couldn’t even finish the thought before your body locked up, heat flooding through you in a sharp wave as your climax crashed over you.

Your thighs trembled around Sunghoon’s head, but his strong hands kept you spread wide as his tongue continued its relentless assault.

“Shhh… there you go,” he murmured against your clit, his voice low and wrecked. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me. God, you taste so fucking perfect.”

Your back arched off the mattress, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as the pleasure spiraled, making you whimper his name over and over.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were slick, his dark eyes glittering with pure hunger.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss you. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan into his mouth, your body still shivering from the aftershocks.

As his mouth claimed yours, you barely noticed his hands working at the buttons of his black shirt, tugging it off his shoulders and tossing it to the floor.

He moved with purpose now—quickly unzipping his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers.

When he straightened back up, your eyes widened, lips parting in shock.

“Is… is that going to fit?” you stammered, staring at his length, thick and heavy in his hand as he stroked himself slowly, precum already glistening at the tip.

A low, deep laugh rumbled from his chest as he leaned forward, his thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip.

“It will, sweetheart. I got you,” he said softly, his tone dripping with reassurance. “We’ll take it slow, yeah? Let me take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, your thighs instinctively trying to press together again. But Sunghoon was already settling between them, his broad frame dwarfing yours as he lined himself up.

“Relax for me,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. “You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect.”

The blunt head of his cock rubbed through your folds, gathering your slick as he teased your entrance. The sensation made you whine, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Shhh… it’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. “Just a little stretch, yeah? I’ll go slow.”

Then he began to press in, inch by inch. The stretch burned slightly, your walls clenching instinctively around him as you let out a hiss.

“God—Sunghoon—”

“I know, I know.” His hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he stilled, letting you adjust. “You’re doing so good for me. So tight—fuck, I can feel every bit of you.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he kissed the corner of your mouth, his other hand stroking your thigh gently.

“Breathe, sweetheart. You’ve got me. I’m right here.”

When he finally bottomed out, buried fully inside you, he paused. His eyes softened at the sight of yours—glossy and overwhelmed, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He cooed, thumb brushing your temple. “Take your time. Don’t rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded shakily, your hands gripping his shoulders as you whispered, breathless, “You… you can move.”

His eyes softened, his thumb stroking your cheek before his lips ghosted over yours. “You sure, sweetheart?”

“Yes…” you exhaled, your hips shifting slightly beneath him. “Please.”

That one word made something in him snap.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple as he slowly began to rock his hips.

The stretch burned at first, but then his thick length dragged against that perfect spot inside you, making your lips part in a moan.

“Fuck—you feel so good,” Sunghoon groaned, his voice husky and low as his pace stayed slow, deliberate. “So warm, so tight. Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin soon filled the room, mingling with your breathy whines and his deep, guttural groans. Each thrust sent shocks of pleasure spiraling through you, your nails digging into his back as you struggled to hold on.

“Sunghoon—” you gasped, arching into him as his hips rolled deeper, the head of his cock brushing places that made your toes curl.

“Yeah, baby?” he panted, his lips pressing kisses down your neck between words. “Talk to me. Tell me how it feels.”

“So—so full—”

“That’s right,” he growled, his pace picking up slightly as your walls fluttered around him. “Taking every inch of me like such a good little girl.”

You raked your nails down his back at a particularly deep thrust, and he hissed, his hips stuttering for a moment.

“Shit—do that again,” he gritted out. “Mark me up. Don’t hold back, sweetheart.”

Your hands clawed at his shoulders, leaving angry red streaks in their wake, and Sunghoon’s groan turned into something feral.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispered harshly, his pace now rougher, faster. “So fucking perfect for me. You hear that? Mine.”

“Y-yes—yours—”

“That’s it,” he praised, his thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip as his hips snapped harder. “Cum for me again, baby. Wanna feel you soak my cock.”

The knot in your stomach unraveled fast, your walls clenching tightly around him as you cried out his name.

“Sunghoon!”

“Fuck—there it is—goddamn,” he groaned, hips jerking as he buried himself deep one last time. His release spilled hot inside you, his breath ragged against your ear as his body trembled with the force of his climax.

He stayed like that for a moment, chest pressed to yours, both of you panting in the quiet room now thick with heat and the faint scent of sweat and sex.

“You did so good for me,” he murmured finally, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowly pulled out.

You whimpered at the loss, and Sunghoon hushed you gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I got you.”

Sliding off the bed, he disappeared into the bathroom, returning seconds later with warm towels. He cleaned you up carefully, his touch tender as his thumb brushed soothing circles on your thigh.

“Sunghoon…” you murmured, dazed and still trembling slightly.

“Shhh. Rest, baby.” He wiped himself down quickly before climbing back into bed with you, his fingers brushing stray hairs from your face.

You looked so perfect there—bare, flushed, glowing in the soft golden sunlight slipping in through the slightly open curtains.

He felt his chest tighten at the sight.

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly, almost to himself, as his thumb traced your bottom lip.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, still hazy but soft. “Sooyun’s… almost done with school.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

“Do you want to pick her up together?” he asked softly, his voice warm and calm now.

You nodded, and he chuckled lightly, his fingers still stroking your cheek.

“Alright, sweetheart. But first…” He pulled you into his chest, tucking you against him as the sunlight bathed you both. “Let me hold you like this for a little longer.”

The sleek black car slowed as Sunghoon turned into the school’s parking lot, his hand casually resting on the gear shift. He parked smoothly, cutting the engine with a quiet sigh.

Without a word, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out. The afternoon sunlight caught in his hair, highlighting the strands of brown as he strode around the front of the car.

You fumbled with your seatbelt, but before you could even reach for the handle, the passenger door swung open.

“Come on,” Sunghoon said softly, his hand outstretched.

You blinked up at him, your heart fluttering at how natural this all felt. Sliding your hand into his, you let him help you out.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile.

His lips tugged upwards—barely noticeable, but it was there—as his thumb brushed against yours briefly before he let go to shut the door.

As he fell into step beside you, his presence steady and grounding, he gently placed his palm on your lower back, guiding you toward the parents’ waiting area.

But before either of you could even speak, the sound of quick, tiny footsteps broke through the hum of other parents chatting.

“Daddy! Aunt (Y/N)!”

You looked down just in time to see Sooyun barreling toward you both, her little backpack bouncing wildly with each step.

“Hi, baby!” you greeted, crouching slightly with a wide smile.

“Hi!” she beamed up at you, her little face glowing with excitement before turning her attention to her father.

“Daddy, carry me!”

Sunghoon’s expression softened instantly as he bent down, scooping her up in one arm with practiced ease.

“Gotcha, princess,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hairline.

Sooyun giggled, clutching her tiny arms around his neck as you straightened. Without thinking, Sunghoon’s free hand found yours again, fingers intertwining effortlessly as he started walking back toward the parking lot.

It felt natural. Like this was always meant to be. The three of you—together.

As you reached the car, Sunghoon set Sooyun down gently, ruffling her hair as she tugged her backpack straps back into place.

She looked up at you suddenly, her big eyes blinking.

“Can I sit with you at the front, Aunt (Y/N)?” she asked sweetly, her voice hopeful.

You glanced at Sunghoon, unsure if he’d be okay with that, but he gave you a single nod—subtle, approving.

Your heart warmed as you crouched again, holding your arms out. “Of course, baby. Come on, I’ll carry you.”

Sooyun squealed happily as she ran into your arms, and you lifted her with a soft laugh, adjusting her on your hip as Sunghoon opened the passenger door for you both.

“Let’s get you buckled up, yeah?” you said softly, kissing the crown of her head as she leaned against you contentedly.

Sunghoon’s eyes lingered on the two of you for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable but warm.

And then, as if nothing had shifted—when in truth, everything had—he turned back toward the car, opening the door for you both.

The drive back was quiet, Sooyun’s little head resting against your shoulder as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair.

Every so often, Sunghoon’s gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of you two together, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips each time.

Now, hours later, the three of you were curled up in the living room. A thick knit blanket was draped over you and Sooyun, who had snuggled firmly into your side with her small hand clutching your sweater.

‘The Little Mermaid’ played softly on the TV, the bluish glow of the screen painting the room in gentle hues.

Sunghoon was stretched out on the other side of the couch, his long legs crossed at the ankle, a mug of tea cooling on the coffee table in front of him.

His hair was slightly messy now, his black sweatshirt hanging loose on his frame.

As Ursula sang her climactic reprise, Sunghoon leaned forward slightly, his brows furrowed as he whispered,

“How did Eric not notice that it wasn’t Ariel? I mean, her whole voice was gone, but come on…”

You stifled a laugh, pressing your lips together.

Sooyun, however, wasn’t as amused. She sat up slightly, her little brows knitted together as she shushed him fiercely. “Shhh! Watch, Daddy!”

Sunghoon raised his hands in mock defeat, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Okay, okay—my bad, princess. I’ll be quiet.”

You let out a soft laugh at the exchange, shaking your head as you said teasingly, “That’s not very nice, Sooyun. Poor Daddy.”

Sooyun’s stern expression faltered, her lips twitching as she sheepishly muttered, “Sorry, Daddy…”

“That’s better,” Sunghoon chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her bangs.

You smiled as you gently brushed her fringe away from her eyes, tucking it back as she settled in against your side once more, her attention glued to the screen.

From his spot, Sunghoon watched the way you handled her—so gentle, so natural. It pulled at something deep in his chest, a warmth he wasn’t prepared for.

“She really, really likes you,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the movie.

Your gaze flickered to him, the TV’s glow catching the sharp lines of his jaw, the softness in his eyes. You gave him a quiet smile, your voice equally tender.

“It’s a good thing I took up this job then, yeah?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low and warm as his eyes crinkled. “Yeah… yeah, it really is.”

There was a pause, something settling between the two of you like a secret too precious to name. Then he leaned his head against yours, his dark hair brushing your temple as his hand rested loosely across his stomach.

Sooyun yawned suddenly, the little sound pulling both your gazes down to her. Her eyes fluttered sleepily, her grip on your sweater loosening as she shifted closer to your side.

“She’s out,” you whispered with a small laugh, your heart melting at the sight of her soft, peaceful face.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. “And she looks perfect.”

You blinked back the warmth pooling in your eyes, brushing a stray lock of hair from Sooyun’s forehead as you whispered, “Should I tuck her into bed?”

Sunghoon’s gaze shifted from his daughter to you, something unreadable flickering across his face before he stood, stretching slightly.

“I’ll come with you,” he said quietly, reaching for the remote to pause the movie.

Carefully, you adjusted your hold on Sooyun, her little arms still loosely wrapped around your neck as she slept soundly against your shoulder. Standing slowly, you tried your best not to jostle her.

Sunghoon’s hand instinctively went to your lower back, steadying you as you moved, his touch warm even through the fabric of your sweater.

Together, you walked up the staircase, the soft creak of each step the only sound between you.

When you reached her room, Sunghoon pushed the door open gently, the faint glow of the hallway spilling across the pale pink walls.

You stepped inside carefully, the scent of her vanilla-scented nightlight already filling the space.

The little girl’s room was as dreamy as her personality—tiny stuffed animals arranged neatly on a shelf, her small bed framed by a sheer canopy.

Sunghoon moved ahead of you, switching on her pink bunny-shaped nightlight so the room was bathed in a soft, comforting glow.

You lowered Sooyun onto her bed as delicately as possible, tucking her under the pastel comforter. She shifted slightly, a little sigh escaping her lips, but didn’t wake.

You were smoothing the blanket over her small frame when her voice, sleepy and soft, broke the stillness of the room:

“Night night, Daddy… night night, Mommy…”

Your breath hitched.

You froze, your wide eyes darting to Sunghoon. He was standing at the foot of the bed, his hands resting loosely in his pockets. His lips parted slightly at the sound of her words, but then… a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The look he gave you made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. It was warm. Gentle. Almost longing.

He didn’t correct her. Didn’t laugh. Instead, he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against Sooyun’s forehead.

“Night night, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and tender.

You swallowed hard, willing the lump in your throat to ease as tears pricked your eyes. Slowly, you brushed your fingers through Sooyun’s hair, your voice coming out shakier than you wanted.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl,” you whispered with a soft smile, even as you blinked rapidly to keep the tears from spilling.

Sooyun moved again, already drifting deeper into sleep, her small hand clutching the edge of her blanket.

You lingered for a moment, staring down at her peaceful face before forcing yourself to step back. Sunghoon was waiting by the door, his dark eyes still fixed on you.

When you met his gaze, there was a softness there that made it almost impossible to breathe.

Sunghoon’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

Without a word, his hand slid gently around your waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through your sweater.

You sat comfortably on the bleachers, one hand resting on the curve of your very pregnant belly while the other balanced a thermos of warm tea on your thigh.

Your eyes followed Sunghoon as he glided effortlessly across the ice, giving calm instructions to a group of young skaters. His voice carried even from where you sat—firm yet gentle.

But your attention drifted just a little as two very familiar figures hovered by the rink’s edge.

Sooyun—now fifteen and nearly the spitting image of her father—skated gracefully, her hand clasped protectively around the chubby fingers of her little brother, Sangwon.

At five years old, he was a carbon copy of Sunghoon: jet-black hair, doe eyes, and even that little furrow of concentration as he tried to balance himself on the ice.

“Careful, Sangwon,” Sooyun murmured, adjusting her grip as his tiny skates wobbled dangerously.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, the warmth spreading in your chest as you slowly stood, your free hand bracing the small of your back.

The weight of your belly made you move carefully, but there was a soft contentment in it now. You strolled toward the low door by the rink’s edge, calling out in a gentle tone,

“Be careful, you two. Don’t pull each other down.”

Sooyun looked up, her face brightening at the sight of you. She carefully guided Sangwon toward you, her long hair bouncing as she skated.

“Mom, don’t strain yourself,” she said quickly, eyeing your belly with exaggerated concern.

You laughed softly, smoothing a hand over the dress that hugged your rounded figure. “I’m not disabled, Sooyun. Relax.”

She pouted as she helped Sangwon step clumsily through the little door. His tiny arms immediately wrapped around your legs.

“Hi, Mommy!” he chirped up at you, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

You ruffled his hair, leaning down slightly with a grin. “Hi, baby. Were you skating like a big boy?”

Before Sangwon could answer, a familiar voice drawled behind you. “Careful there, pregnant lady. One fall and Sunghoon’s gonna kill all of us.”

You turned sharply, rolling your eyes at the sight of Heeseung strolling toward you in his oversized coat, hands shoved into his pockets, a smirk plastered across his face.

“Shut up, Heeseung,” you shot back playfully, though you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out.

“Uncle Heeseung!” Sangwon and Sooyun beamed in unison, their faces lighting up as two more figures appeared from behind him.

“Hi, Aunt (Y/N)!” chirped Hanmin and Hyunmin—Heeseung’s twin nephews who were the same age as Sooyun.

“Hanmin, Hyunmin,” you greeted them warmly with a smile, waving as the pair grinned back.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sooyun warned, narrowing her eyes at the twins as they exchanged mischievous looks. But it was too late.

With a yelp, Sooyun found herself being tugged back toward the ice by the two boys.

“What are you two doing?!” she shrieked, her skates scraping against the rubber mat as they dragged her through the little door.

“They’re gonna get it,” you murmured with a grin, watching the chaotic trio vanish back onto the rink.

“That’s what happens when they team up,” Heeseung said with a smirk, leaning casually against the small doorframe.

A sudden presence made you glance to your left—Sunghoon, holding his gloves in one hand, his brow slightly raised as he watched the three teens scuffle on the ice. “What’s going on with those three?”

You shook your head with a soft laugh, waving it off. “Let the kids be kids, yeah?”

“Yeah,” came another voice from behind, deeper and teasing.

All three of you turned as Jake sauntered in, scarf loose around his neck, and eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Uncle Jake!” Sangwon squealed, breaking into a run across the floor. Jake didn’t miss a beat, scooping the boy up with a practiced ease.

“My favorite nephew,” Jake declared dramatically, pressing a loud kiss to Sangwon’s cheek, making him giggle.

“Hey, what about us?” Hanmin called out from the rink.

“Second and third favorite nephews,” Jake called back, earning a chorus of groans from the twins as Sooyun cackled at them.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked briefly to you, and his lips curled into the faintest of smiles—the kind he reserved only for these quiet, domestic moments.

“You shouldn’t be standing too long,” he murmured, stepping a little closer as his hand brushed lightly against your elbow.

You looked up, cheeks warming as you let him guide you back to the bleachers. “I’m fine. Don’t fuss.”

Sunghoon only huffed, his jaw tight as he stepped off the ice and onto the rubber mat. His hand didn’t leave yours as he carefully eased you down onto the bleacher seat.

“You’re not fine. You’re eight months pregnant and acting like you’re still twenty-one with no responsibilities.”

You groaned, throwing your head back slightly as you adjusted your dress over your belly. “You’re so dramatic. I wasn’t even standing for that long.”

Before Sunghoon could retort, Jay approached with his hands shoved in his pockets, his brows raised in amusement at the sight of his brooding friend fussing over you.

Behind him, Heeseung and Jake exchanged knowing smirks.

“Careful there, Sunghoon,” Heeseung called out, his voice laced with teasing. “Don’t anger the pregnant lady. She might swing first.”

Jake barked out a laugh, clapping Heeseung on the back. “Or worse, she’ll make you sleep on the couch.”

Sunghoon shot them both a sharp glare that could slice through glass.

“Do you two want an angry punch to your faces instead?” His voice was calm, too calm, the kind of calm that carried a quiet warning.

Jake raised both his hands in mock surrender, laughter still rumbling in his chest. “Relax. If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have met (Y/N) in the first place. You’re welcome for literally changing your life.”

Heeseung leaned casually against the railing, grinning. “Yeah, you should be thanking us. Maybe even buying us dinner for setting the wheels in motion.”

Still gripping your hand, Sunghoon glanced down.

His thumb brushed against the massive diamond engagement ring glittering on your finger—the one perfectly paired with the equally dazzling wedding band. His lips curved faintly, just enough to make you catch it.

“Yeah…” he muttered, his voice soft but laced with that usual edge. “I should thank you assholes. You changed my life.”

You looked at him then, meeting his gaze as your own cheeks warmed under the intensity of it. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckles.

You smiled, tilting your head. “What?”

Sunghoon shook his head slightly, but there was the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nothing,” he murmured.

Then, louder, he turned to the men still loitering near the rink door. “Do you guys want to eat dinner at our place?”

Heeseung’s grin was immediate, bright and wolfish. “Sure, I’ll call Heedo and let him know he’s babysitting tonight.”

He was already pulling out his phone, scrolling like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

Jake smirked, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Free food and I get to harass Sunghoon in his own house? Count me in.”

You chuckled softly, watching the easy banter as Sunghoon straightened up and called out, “Sooyun—come on, let’s go!”

From across the rink, Sooyun’s yelp echoed as Hanmin and Hyunmin grinned devilishly, tugging her between them like she was some kind of prize.

“Let go of me, you little brats!” she scolded, though her laughter betrayed how unbothered she really was.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your hand resting protectively over your belly as the trio skated off the ice toward you. Sooyun’s hair was slightly messy, her cheeks flushed pink from both embarrassment and exertion.

“Keep your nephews away from my daughter, Heeseung,” Sunghoon warned, his voice low but edged with amusement as he watched the scene unfold.

Heeseung didn’t even flinch. In fact, his grin grew wider as he pocketed his phone. “Why? At least you’ll know she’ll have good-looking kids when she marries one of them.”

You nearly choked on your own laugh as Sunghoon’s brows shot up. He turned slowly to Heeseung, his hand tightening slightly around yours.

“Heeseung,” he said flatly, “do you want me to throw you into the rink? Because I will.”

Jake burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, I’m staying for this drama.”

Sooyun finally managed to break free from the twins’ grasp, rushing to your side as Sangwon hugged her legs.

And as Sunghoon’s eyes found yours across the commotion, that quiet, tender smile of his made your heart swell—it felt like home.

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified @ateez-atiny380 @chemiru @eleftheriance

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liuhsng · 19 days ago

Note

do u watch any 2000s romance anime, ex kamisama kiss, fruit basket etc I LOVE THEMMMM

yes love ! i absolutely LOVE 2000 animes—i have watched those two that you mentioned, classics like that have my whole heart fr (kamisama kiss has a special place in my heart) 💗

#˙⋆✮ liuhsng talks #˙⋆✮ asks

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liuhsng · 20 days ago

Text

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 5

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 13.4k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — can’t believe this is the final part of this mini-series, i hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. thank you for falling in love with these two right alongside me—i’m so grateful for all the love and support you’ve given this little story. enjoy, my loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, fake dating to lovers trope, friends to lovers trope, established relationship, soft domestic undertones, protective!jay, possessive!jay, oral sex (f receiving), face riding, fingering (f receiving), grinding, cockwarming (kinda), marking (hickeys), light hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, manhandling, body worship, creampie, slight breeding kink, overstimulation, slight dom!jay, aftercare, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — park jongseong was never easily impressed—not with his taste, not with his upbringing. but the moment the lights dimmed and you took the stage, he knew he was in trouble. what started as playful glances and soft praises spiraled quickly into something heavier—something that lingered on his hands every time they touched your skin. with the weight of college week behind you, and the warmth of each other in quiet, stolen nights, the line between restraint and surrender blurs. because now, in the glow of moonlight and tangled sheets, there’s no holding back.

Jay wasn’t someone who was easily impressed. Not because he was cold or hard to please, but because he’d been raised in a world where taste was everything—where excellence wasn’t celebrated, it was expected.

He knew art. He knew music. And he knew beauty when he saw it.

But nothing—nothing—prepared him for you.

The lights dimmed. The chatter from the crowd faded to an anticipatory hush. Even the usual chaos of the backstage quieted as the opening notes of the orchestra swelled across the field.

Jay’s breath caught as he watched you step into position, all clad in delicate white, feathers catching the stage lights like fireflies in the dark.

You looked ethereal. Untouchable. And when you began to move, each twist and turn so precise yet impossibly soft, Jay felt something lodge in his throat.

“What the fuck…” he muttered under his breath, almost inaudibly.

From their side-stage vantage point, the rest of the band could see too. But where Ni-ki and Jungwon leaned against the wall still snickering over setlist notes, Jay couldn’t even blink.

His fingers tightened around the strap of his guitar case as he leaned slightly forward, completely entranced.

“You’re drooling.”

The pat on his back snapped him out of his trance.

Jay jerked his head to see Jake grinning at him, all teeth and mischief, the faint sound of your pointe shoes tapping across the stage still ringing in Jay’s ears.

“I am not,” Jay said flatly, though his voice was a little too tight to sound convincing.

Jake chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Right. Totally not.”

Before Jay could retort, Sunghoon slung an arm casually over his shoulder, his gaze flicking back toward the stage.

“Shut up and watch,” Sunghoon murmured.

Jay raised a brow at him. “You do not know shit about ballet.”

Sungoon tilted his head with an unimpressed look. “And you do?”

“I kind of do,” Jay admitted smoothly, his eyes never leaving you as you leapt across the stage with effortless grace. “I know the story though.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Of Swan Lake?”

“Mm,” Jay hummed in affirmation, his jaw tightening as Sion’s hands brushed your waist in a lift.

He didn’t miss the way your expression never faltered, perfect and serene even as his blood boiled just a little.

“Odette, Siegfried, Rothbart… the tragic curse. The ending changes depending on which version they’re doing.”

Sunghoon looked at him, mildly surprised. “Huh. Look at you. A man of culture.”

Jay gave a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes—not when you were spinning like your life depended on it, feathers swirling in your wake.

Jake’s grin widened as he leaned closer. “Bro, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. Not even when you got your Les Paul signed.”

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering just loud enough for them to hear:

“She’s better than any fucking Les Paul.”

“Pfft—” Jake muttered under his breath, giving Jay’s shoulder a shove with a shit-eating grin.

But before Jay could snap back, Heeseung’s voice cut through their quiet corner of the stage.

“Hey! You three, huddle up. Now.”

Jay groaned low in his throat, reluctant to pull his eyes away from you mid-spin as the soft spotlight followed your every move.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, tugging slightly at his in-ears.

“Don’t be dramatic, Romeo,” Sunghoon teased, nudging Jay toward the group.

Reluctantly, Jay followed, dragging his feet until he stood in the loose circle Heeseung had formed with Jungwon and Ni-ki.

Jungwon—already in leader mode—was ticking names off the setlist on his phone. “Karma, One in a Billion, Blessed-Cursed, Attention Please, Mixed Up, Moonstruck…”

“And,” he added with a knowing glance at Jay, “the one that Jay begged us to add.”

Jay rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

He reached up to adjust his in-ears, his voice dropping into a defensive grumble. “I did not beg. I suggested it.”

Sunoo, leaning lazily against a road case nearby, chimed in with a grin. “You suggested it with puppy eyes and a full speech about why it fits the mood.”

Jay leveled a flat look at him. “Sunoo. I’ve known you what—six years? Since senior year? And you still think I’m the type to do puppy eyes?”

Sunoo only smiled sweetly, resting his chin on his hand. “Not usually. But for (Y/N)? I can see it.”

Jay huffed out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head as Jungwon finished reviewing.

“You guys ready?” Heeseung asked, eyes scanning the group.

The collective muttering of “Yeah” and “Let’s go” followed, though Jay’s response came a beat late—his gaze still flickering back toward the stage.

“Alright. You’re dismissed,” Jungwon said. “But be back twenty minutes before showtime.”

Ni-ki clapped his hands together. “Perfect. I’m going to get water before I combust.”

But as the others peeled off, Jay, Jake, Sunoo, and Jungwon all instinctively gravitated back toward the side-stage view, their eyes once again glued to your performance.

That’s when Yunjin approached, holding a clipboard in one hand as she scanned the area. Her eyes landed on the four boys standing like silent sentinels.

“You guys want chairs? You look like statues.”

They nodded almost in unison, Sunoo grinning brightly at her.

“Thanks,” Jungwon added, and Yunjin smirked before flagging down a tech team member. She gave him quick instructions, and soon enough, four folding chairs were placed just off the wings.

Yunjin stayed for a moment, standing beside Sunoo as her eyes followed your graceful form on stage.

“(Y/N)’s great, right?” she said conversationally.

Jay’s answer came out without a pause, his voice low and almost reverent. “She’s amazing.”

Yunjin turned to him, laughing softly as she caught the way his jaw was tight and his fingers drummed absently against his thigh.

“Is this your first time watching her?”

Jay gave a short nod, eyes never leaving you for even a second. “First full performance.”

“You should’ve seen her at rehearsals. Sion could barely keep up with her,” Yunjin teased, her voice lilting.

At the mention of your partner, Jay’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. I saw enough.”

Jake stifled a laugh, leaning forward in his chair to nudge Jay with his elbow. “You’re so gone for her it’s insane.”

“Shut up,” Jay said calmly, but his ears were turning pink as he readjusted his chain with one hand.

It was a small, nervous habit, one he wasn’t even aware of as his eyes followed your every move on stage.

You had no idea, but from the moment the music swelled and your white feathers caught the lights, Jay hadn’t blinked more than twice.

Even when you exited to the side for a brief water break, your hands shaking slightly as Sakura and Eunchae fluttered around you—reapplying glitter, adjusting your headpiece, offering tissues—Jay didn’t look away.

From where he sat near the wings, his fingers drumming idly against his thigh, he watched as you gulped down water, your chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

You were so focused, so locked into your element, it almost startled him.

He always knew you as this little shy and bubbly ballerina who laughed too much and hid behind her hands whenever he teased you.

But this—this was different. There was a fire in your eyes now. A sharpness to your posture.

It was mesmerizing.

“This is wild,” Sunoo whispered beside him, half in awe. But Jay didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable save for the faintest glint of pride.

When the final act came, Jay’s entire body leaned forward in his chair, forearms resting on his knees as you and Sion performed the last sequence—your arms sweeping wide, feet gliding across the stage with such power and elegance it felt like the air itself held still.

The lights dimmed. The music faded. The curtain fell.

The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and applause so loud it shook the walls. But Jay was already on his feet, his hands coming together in sharp claps—louder, faster, more intense than anyone else backstage.

You spotted him almost instantly. Your eyes, wide and sparkling with adrenaline, locked onto his across the dim backstage.

And without thinking, without hesitation, you ran.

Jay barely had time to brace himself before you crashed into him, arms looping tight around his neck as your laughter bubbled out against his shoulder.

He let out a surprised laugh too, his strong arms winding tight around your waist as he instinctively lifted you off the ground, spinning you side to side like you weighed nothing.

The sudden movement drew a few gasps and laughs from the staff nearby.

Flash after flash erupted as photographers from the school’s media team—there to document both performances—snapped away at the sweet reunion.

“God—” Jay’s laugh rumbled low in his chest as he set you back down gently, brushing a stray feather off your shoulder.

“They’re never gonna let me live this down.”

“Did you enjoy it?” you asked breathlessly, your fingers still clutching the back of his shirt as your heart tried to calm itself.

Jay’s hands stayed securely at your waist, thumbs rubbing soft circles there. He looked down at you like you’d hung the stars yourself, a smirk curling on his lips.

“You were incredible.”

The words made your chest tighten pleasantly.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jay was already cupping your face tenderly, his calloused thumbs brushing along your cheeks.

“I know art when I see it,” he murmured, his voice low, “And you, Jeong (Y/N), were a fucking masterpiece.”

Your lips curved into a shy, glittery smile as your eyes searched his. “You’re funny,” you whispered, but your cheeks were warm.

“And yet, I’m right.” He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as the cameras flashed again from a few feet away.

“Can I get some tissues?” Jay asked suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. One of the costume team girls—arms already full of fabric—grinned and tossed him a box.

“Thanks,” he said, catching it easily with one hand.

He tugged out a few sheets and began dabbing gently at your dewy skin, careful not to smudge your makeup too much.

“You’re gonna ruin her look for pictures,” Eunchae teased as she came up beside you, offering a cold water bottle.

“She doesn’t need a ‘look.’ She’s stunning,” Jay shot back without missing a beat, though his tone was playful.

Eunchae rolled her eyes with a grin. “You’re whipped.”

You took the bottle with a grateful nod, mumbling a soft “thank you” just before Sunoo popped up behind Jay like a mischievous sprite.

“You did so well! I’m so proud of you, (Y/N)!” Sunoo gushed, clasping his hands dramatically.

You laughed, the warmth in your chest growing as you said, “Thank you, Sunoo.”

Then Jungwon, ever the composed leader, gave your shoulder a firm pat as he passed by. “Nice job out there. You killed it.”

“Thanks, Jungwon,” you replied, still flushed from all the praise.

But Jungwon didn’t linger. He turned to the remaining three of his bandmates, clapping his hands together like a coach corralling a distracted team.

“Alright. We still have half an hour before we’re on. Get ready, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake muttered, though his eyes were still flicking between you and Jay with an amused smile.

Jay, however, wasn’t letting go of you just yet. His hands stayed planted firmly at your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

“God, you’re so clingy,” you teased softly, but there was no real bite to it.

“Clingy? You just danced an hour straight, and I haven’t seen you properly for two hours.” He smirked faintly, lowering his head so his lips brushed your ear. “Let me have my moment, pretty.”

Before you could retort, a voice called out brightly—“Jeong (Y/N), my baby! Good job out there!”

You both turned to see Yunjin approaching, her camera slung over her shoulder as she waved. Behind her, Chaewon trailed along, tugging her own headpiece to the side with a slight huff.

“I don’t know how you did that, but you did.” Chaewon’s eyes flitted over your feathered skirt and the faint shimmer of sweat at your temples.

“And you didn’t even trip once. Witchcraft.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Thanks, guys. What’s up?”

“We’re taking pictures,” Yunjin said cheerily, nodding toward the group of dancers already gathering at the side.

She flicked her gaze to Jay then, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Can we also steal you two for a few shots after that?”

Jay raised a brow but nodded coolly, his fingers still resting at your waist.

“Good,” Yunjin said with a little clap of her hands. Then she reached out, gently tugging you away from Jay. “Come on, ballerina. Your fan club’s waiting.”

Jay’s hands slipped reluctantly from your waist as Yunjin whisked you toward the group.

His lips tugged into a fond smile as he watched you laugh with the other dancers, the feathers of your costume catching in the lights like you were still mid-performance.

When Yunjin finally waved Jay over, his long strides were almost too eager to reach you.

His hand went straight back to your waist the second he was close enough, pulling you lightly against his side as if the short separation had been unbearable.

You tilted your head up at him with a grin. “You’re a little too good at this boyfriend thing, Park.”

“Gotta play the part, don’t I?” he murmured, his tone warm but his eyes soft in a way only you got to see.

“Alright, you two, hold still,” Yunjin instructed, snapping a few photos as you leaned your head against Jay’s shoulder.

One of his hands rested lazily on your waist while the other toyed with the ends of your hair, and the way he looked down at you—like you were the only thing in the room—made Yunjin’s camera click faster.

“Perfect. Go get changed now. I know that skirt’s heavy as hell,” Yunjin said finally, lowering her camera with a satisfied grin.

You let out a little huff as Eunchae approached with your change of clothes folded neatly in her arms.

“Here,” she said, pressing the outfit into your hands. “You were so amazing. I love you.”

You ruffled her hair fondly. “Love you too. Thanks, Eunchae.”

As the girls walked away, Jay’s eyes immediately found yours again, his hand slipping back to your lower back instinctively.

“Help me?” you asked with a sheepish smile, clutching the outfit to your chest.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Say less.” His response was a little too eager as he adjusted his chain and held his hand out for you to take.

“God, you’re so dramatic,” you teased as he carefully helped you down the stairs at the side of the stage, his hand never once leaving yours.

“I’m not dramatic,” he countered with a faint smirk. “I’m attentive. Huge difference.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back playfully as he held the curtain open for you.

“Yeah.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to that low drawl that made your stomach flutter.

“And if helping you out of this outfit is part of being a good boyfriend, I’m very good at my job.”

You scoffed softly, but the corner of your lips quirked up. “You make it sound like it’s all business.”

“It’s not.” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’m just saying I take my responsibilities seriously.”

By the time you both reached the bathrooms near the field, your steps had slowed, your arms clutching your spare clothes to your chest.

Jay pushed open the door for you with his shoulder, his other hand steady at your elbow. The faint sound of the crowd still cheering outside echoed through the walls as he guided you inside.

“Go on, I’ll wait,” he said gently, handing you your clothes.

He leaned against the counter by the sinks, his tall frame cutting a lazy figure as his fingers brushed through his dark hair.

His chain glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights as he fiddled with it absently, watching himself in the mirror.

You stepped into one of the stalls, shutting the door behind you but not locking it. A sigh escaped you as you stared at the tiny cubicle, suddenly realizing how heavy the costume had been.

The zipper at your back tugged when you reached for it, but the angle made it impossible to get all the way down.

You pressed your lips together in frustration before cracking the door open slightly.

“Jay?”

He straightened from his lean, his sharp gaze flicking to the stall door. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

You poked your head out just enough for him to see your pout. “Help me unzip the back, please.”

A soft laugh rumbled from his chest as he pushed off the counter and strode toward you. “Could’ve just said you wanted my hands on you again, pretty.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat rising in your cheeks as you turned around inside the stall, leaving the door slightly ajar.

He stepped in, closing it behind him with a quiet click.

The space suddenly felt too small, the air heavy with tension as his fingers brushed the zipper at your nape.

“Hold still,” Jay murmured.

Slowly, he dragged the zipper down, his knuckles grazing your spine as the cool air hit your skin. Goosebumps prickled at your arms as he helped you peel off the heavy costume, setting it carefully aside.

“How the hell did you walk in this thing?” he asked, holding up the stiff, feathered skirt with a faint shake of his head.

You gave a soft laugh, stepping out of the skirt as you reached for your blouse. “Practice, Jay. Years of it.”

His lips quirked into a knowing grin as he handed you the blouse, his eyes carefully avoiding the mirror in front of you both. “You make it look easy.”

You groaned faintly as you tugged your pants up, trying not to stumble in the cramped space. Jay’s hands came to steady your hips without a second thought.

“Relax,” he murmured near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you.”

When you finally straightened, Jay’s fingers moved to the delicate headpiece still perched on your hair.

One by one, he removed the pins, working gently until your hair spilled free in loose waves down your back. You let out a soft sound of contentment, closing your eyes.

“That’s so much better,” you breathed.

He hummed, his dark eyes lingering on the way your hair framed your face. “Looks better down anyway.”

You turned then, your arms brushing his chest as you carefully hung the delicate white costume on the hook. But the moment your eyes met his, something in his gaze shifted.

Before you could step back, his hands found your waist again, pulling you flush to him with practiced ease.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” he teased, his smirk lazy but his grip firm.

“Couldn’t,” you admitted softly, your fingers curling lightly around the chain at his neck.

Wordlessly, you leaned up and captured his lips in a slow, heated kiss.

His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between your bodies.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, your thumb brushed over his jaw as your lips curved into a teasing smile.

“You left your hair soft. Good.”

Jay’s dark eyes gleamed with amusement, his breathing heavy as his thumb stroked lazily over your hip. “What, my girlfriend’s watching me?”

His lips curved into that smug smile you secretly adored. “I know you like it that way.”

You hummed softly in agreement, tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe I do.”

His grin widened, but before he could retort, you leaned back up, your lips finding his again.

This time, it was more urgent—messier. Whimpers escaped you between kisses, and Jay swallowed down his own groans as his hand traveled lower, giving your ass a firm squeeze that made you whine into his mouth.

“Jay—” you murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to press a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He tilted his head without hesitation, giving you more access as his hands flexed on your hips.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” he groaned lowly, his voice thick with need as you nipped lightly at the edge of his jaw before trailing lower.

Your lips grazed over his collar, then down to the black and red patterned trim of his shirt.

“Red looks good on you,” you mumbled against his skin, your voice muffled but sultry as your fingers brushed against the undone buttons.

That earned you a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you made your way back up to meet his lips again.

The kiss was slower this time—deeper, like he wanted to memorize the taste of you.

When you finally pulled away, Jay’s eyes flicked down, a hoarse laugh leaving him as he caught sight of his shirt.

The crisp white fabric was now littered with faint red lip marks and smudges, a vivid reminder of where your mouth had been.

He ran a thumb over one of the stains near his collarbone and looked back up at you with that lazy, dangerous smirk. “That’s one way to brand me, pretty.”

You bit your lip to hide your grin, fingers brushing lightly over one of the marks on his chest. “Looks better on you than I thought.”

By the time you and Jay made it back to the chaotic backstage, the adrenaline was still humming in your veins.

You were quick to scan the room for Sakura, spotting her by the racks of costumes as she carefully packed away feathered headpieces and satin skirts.

“I’ll help you get this put away,” you said, clutching the heavy costume to your chest as you rushed over.

She turned at the sound of your voice and smiled knowingly, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Hmm… took your sweet time, didn’t you?” she teased, taking the outfit from your hands.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks still warm as you muttered, “Don’t start.”

But the grin tugging at the corner of your lips betrayed you as Sakura giggled and motioned for you to go.

“Go, go. Your rockstar’s about to take the stage. I’ll handle this.”

Meanwhile, Jay had made his way back to where his band was gathered. The moment he stepped into their line of sight, the snickers and whistles started.

Jungwon was the first to speak up, spinning his drumsticks between his fingers with a teasing grin.

“Is that (Y/N)’s way of keeping other people away from you?” he asked, nodding pointedly at the faint lipstick smudges still visible near Jay’s jaw.

Jay shot him a glare but didn’t bother wiping at the marks, only running a hand through his hair with a smug little smirk.

Heeseung, leaning lazily against an amp, pushed his newly dyed red hair out of his eyes as he smirked.

“Come on, dude. Your belt chain’s all loose,” he drawled, nudging Jay’s side with his elbow.

Jay glanced down at the unhooked accessory hanging crookedly from his belt loop and chuckled under his breath.

“Shit,” he muttered, quickly fixing it as the others kept poking fun.

Jake walked over, handing Jay his guitar with a shake of his head. “Well, you look like a wreck.”

“Wreck in love,” Sunoo added under his breath, earning himself a sharp look from Jay.

Ni-ki, ever the wild card, shrugged as he adjusted his earpiece. “It looks cool, though. Kinda rockstar of you.”

You, oblivious to their playful ribbing, had just finished saying goodbye to Sakura and hurried over to Jay’s side.

The band quieted for a split second when they saw you, some of them hiding grins as they watched Jay’s eyes soften at your approach.

“Good luck, guys,” you said warmly, offering them a smile that made even Jungwon pause for a beat before flashing you one in return.

But your gaze was locked on Jay. You reached up to press a light kiss to his cheek, your thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw where your lipstick still faintly stained his skin.

“Go kill it out there, rockstar,” you whispered teasingly.

Jay grinned, his free hand finding your waist for a fleeting second. “Only if my pretty girl’s watching.”

You shook your head with a fond laugh, stepping away just as Kazuha and Eunchae waved at you from near the stairs leading to the audience area.

“Go be a menace,” Kazuha teased when you reached them, shooting a glance at Jay as she looped her arm through yours.

“I don’t even have to try,” you replied with a smirk, glancing over your shoulder one last time.

Jay was watching you leave, his guitar slung over his shoulder, fingers idly strumming a few chords as he tried to play off the fond look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, you, Kazuha, and Eunchae wove your way through the packed field. Students were shoulder to shoulder now, the summer air thick with heat and the buzz of anticipation.

You grumbled quietly as someone brushed past you too close.

“There are so many people,” you muttered, fanning yourself with your hand as you tried not to get swallowed by the sea of students.

“Power through, (Y/N),” Kazuha teased with a grin, giving your hand a light tug.

It wasn’t long before you spotted Chaewon and Yunjin standing near the stage barricade, already in prime position.

Yunjin had her walkie-talkie in one hand, speaking low and calm into it, her other hand resting casually on the barrier. Chaewon waved as you approached.

“Oh my God, it’s so hot out here,” you groaned dramatically, leaning against Chaewon’s shoulder as she laughed.

“Here,” she said, fishing a small electric fan out of her bag and pressing it into your hand. “You’ll survive.”

“Bless you,” you murmured with a grateful smile, switching it on and feeling the breeze hit your face.

Yunjin looked up from her walkie-talkie, smirking slightly.

“Three more minutes and they’re on,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Kazuha raised a brow. “I thought no business after our performance,” she teased, eyeing the walkie-talkie.

Eunchae nodded in agreement, clutching her phone in one hand. “Yeah, weren’t you the one saying ‘We’re off the clock, let’s relax’?”

Yunjin’s smirk widened. “Oh please, I’m here as a friend. Sakura’s the one stuck backstage cleaning up feathers. Someone has to keep the chaos in check.”

You laughed, switching the fan to Chaewon for a moment. “Sakura’s probably cursing us out in her head, but she’ll be here later. She’s the head of the costume department, after all. Can’t exactly leave till her kingdom’s in order.”

As you spoke, the bright stage lights flared and the field erupted into louder cheers. The hosts stepped out onto stage, mics in hand, their voices booming through the speakers.

“Alright!” one of them said, earning a chorus of screams and applause. “You’ve seen incredible performances all day, but we know what you’re all really waiting for.”

The other host laughed, leaning dramatically toward the crowd. “We heard the whispers… ‘Who could it be? Which band’s closing tonight?’”

Students yelled guesses over the barricades—some calling out random bands, others already chanting one name in unison.

“So let’s not drag this out any longer. Please welcome to the stage—”

The lights cut for a brief second. A collective hush spread over the crowd, broken only by faint laughter from the hosts. Then—

“ENHYPEN!”

Shrieks tore through the air as spotlights blazed back to life. You felt the vibration in your chest from the screams alone as students jumped, phones shooting up instantly to record.

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head as Chaewon and Eunchae joined in the cheers. Even Kazuha clapped along lightly, the corner of her mouth twitching up in amusement.

“Showtime,” Yunjin muttered under her breath, her eyes flicking toward the stage with an amused smile.

Jay and his band walking out one by one. Jungwon took his spot behind the drum kit, Sunoo waving brightly at the crowd while Jake and Heeseung adjusted their guitars.

Jay’s fingers flexed around the neck of his guitar as the stage lights cut brighter, outlining his figure in a warm, golden hue. His chain caught the light again, glinting against the sharp lines of his collarbone.

He tilted his chin slightly, scanning the crowd—not with nervousness, but with that same unbothered confidence that made him seem untouchable.

Until, of course, his eyes caught yours.

For just a moment, amidst the deafening cheers and pounding bass from the speakers, he smirked and sent a wink your way.

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks as Chaewon immediately caught it and let out an amused snort.

“God, he’s so obvious,” Kazuha teased under her breath, nudging you as she clutched her phone, already recording.

You waved her off, trying desperately to focus on the music and not on the fact that Jay Park Jongseong, your rockstar boyfriend, was doing a phenomenal job of distracting you—even from across the field.

Jungwon clicked his drumsticks together. “One, two—”

“Connect! Hello, we are ENHYPEN!” the band called out in unison as the opening riffs of ‘Karma’ ripped through the night air.

The field exploded.

Students jumped and screamed, waving their arms in the air as Jay’s fingers danced expertly along the guitar strings. His movements were fluid, precise—like the music was an extension of him.

Through the transitions between songs, Jay still managed to sneak glances at you. Sometimes a smirk, other times another teasing wink that had Yunjin laughing into her hands beside you.

“Oh, he’s shameless,” Chaewon whispered in your ear, shaking you lightly by the shoulders as you tried—tried—to ignore the playful jeers of students nearby who noticed where Jay’s attention kept falling.

You hid your face in Chaewon’s shoulder briefly, though you couldn’t stop the stupidly wide smile tugging at your lips.

As the moon fully emerged behind the stage, washing the field in a silvery glow, Heeseung stepped forward, adjusting his mic stand with a grin.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” he called out.

The crowd responded with deafening screams that made even you flinch slightly. Heeseung laughed softly, his dimples deepening.

“Well,” he continued, “our set was supposed to end with Moonstruck, but one of our members said we needed a surprise song.”

Laughter rippled through the audience. Jake chuckled into his mic, adding, “Can we call that one member out?” His eyes flicked toward Jay with playful mischief.

Jay’s low laugh echoed across the field as he stepped forward. His voice, smooth and teasing, filled every corner of the venue.

“Having a good evening so far, Decelis?”

The cheers roared louder.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, your chest warm.

Jay sighed lightly into the mic, shifting his guitar slightly as he spoke again. “For anyone who doesn’t know me—I’m Jay.” He paused as another cheer went up.

“And well… I suggested this next one. I figured since we’re lucky enough to have such a big stage tonight, we should use it to show off a little.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Even the other members chuckled behind him.

“This song’s pretty sentimental,” Jay continued, his tone softening. “So if you’re here with your date or even your friends, don’t forget to hug them, yeah?”

Jungwon leaned into his mic, his eyes bright. “This is Every Breath You Take by The Police. We hope you enjoy our cover.”

As the iconic opening chords filled the air, the crowd screamed even louder, phones shooting up in waves of glowing screens.

Jay’s fingers moved effortlessly across the strings as he stepped forward again. “And… I’m dedicating this song to my girlfriend.”

A hush fell for a split second, almost like the field collectively held its breath. Then—another eruption of cheers, louder than before.

Jay’s eyes found yours immediately. He tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking in that knowing smirk. “She performed right before us… yeah, she was the White Swan in Swan Lake.”

Your hands flew to your mouth as your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Tears pricked your eyes despite your attempt to blink them back.

Chaewon squealed beside you, shaking you side to side.

“Jeong (Y/N),” Jay said softly, his voice almost lost under the collective screams but somehow cutting right through to you.

“This is for you.”

Your knees nearly buckled as Kazuha steadied you with a laugh. “Girl, breathe!”

But you couldn’t help it—there he was.

Your boyfriend. Standing tall on stage, his guitar slung perfectly over his shoulder, his fingers poised as if he was born for this exact moment.

The soft opening chords of ‘Every Breath You Take’ echoed over the field, the crowd instantly recognizing it and screaming.

But Jay’s voice—low, smooth, and dripping with unspoken emotion—cut through all of it.

“Every breath you take, every move you make…”

Your breath hitched as your hands shot up to cover your mouth. You couldn’t stop smiling, even as the tears threatened to spill over.

The sound of his voice was so raw, so sincere, that it sent shivers down your spine. He sang as if the words were meant for no one else.

Every now and then, his sharp eyes flicked in your direction—lingering longer than necessary, even as Jake’s harmonies floated softly behind him and Heeseung’s fingers moved effortlessly over the guitar.

You exhaled shakily, biting down on your lip to suppress the sob that threatened to escape. Your heart was pounding so hard you swore it was keeping time with Jungwon’s drums.

Chaewon leaned in, her voice teasing despite the watery smile on her face. “He’s eating this stage alive—and you too.”

You let out a breathy laugh, blinking away tears as you whispered, “I know…”

Jay’s voice grew stronger as the band hit the chorus, his hand gripping the mic stand tightly. “Oh, can’t you see. You belong to me…”

The LED screen behind them caught his profile—sharp jaw, loose strands of hair falling into his eyes, his silver chain glinting under the lights.

He looked every bit the rockstar, but the way he sang those words made it feel like the crowd didn’t even exist.

It was just you and him.

And as the song neared its end, Jay glanced at you again. His lips curled into the faintest, fondest smile.

“I’ll be watching you…”

He held your gaze even as his head tilted slightly toward the camera, his smirk reflecting larger-than-life on the LED screen behind them.

The crowd erupted into screams and applause, chants of “Enhypen!” filling the field as the music faded. Jungwon leaned forward, sweat glistening on his forehead, and spoke into his mic with a bright grin.

“We are ENHYPEN! Happy College Week, everyone!”

Jake raised his hands with a grin as the crowd screamed even louder. “You guys were amazing tonight—thank you for all the energy!”

Sunoo added with a playful wink, “Make sure to tag us in all your videos!”

Jay, however, still had his eyes on you.

His smirk softened into something quieter, warmer, as he adjusted his guitar strap and took a step back with the rest of the band, letting the crowd’s cheers wash over them.

Even as the hosts came back out to thank everyone and officially close the concert, Jay’s eyes didn’t leave yours—not for a second.

When he and the rest of the band finally stepped down from the stage and made their way across the field, the only thing separating you was the metal barrier.

The second Jay reached it, he didn’t hesitate. His hand gripped the cold railing as he leaned over just enough to loop an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

Without a word, he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft yet grounding, like he needed the reassurance that you were really there, waiting for him.

You smiled against his mouth before pulling back slightly, eyes twinkling under the field lights. “Good job, rockstar.”

Jay’s lips curled into a grin that made your knees weak. “Thank you, pretty.”

Before you could respond, the crowd around you started cheering—not just for the band but for the very obvious display of affection. You flushed as Kazuha giggled beside you and Chaewon clapped her hands dramatically.

Jay only smirked, unfazed, as if kissing you in front of half the student body was the most natural thing in the world

His thumb brushed your cheekbone affectionately before he finally let go, stepping back with the others as security ushered them toward the backstage area.

“See you in a bit,” he mouthed with a wink, his fingers briefly tapping against the barrier before he disappeared behind the curtain with his guitar slung back over his shoulder.

The moment he was out of sight, Kazuha nudged you hard. “Do you have any idea how many people just saw that?”

Chaewon snorted, fanning herself dramatically. “I felt single as hell watching that. Where’s my own boyfriend?”

You just laughed breathlessly, still feeling the press of his lips on yours. “Shut up. Both of you.”

But you couldn’t hide the stupid smile on your face no matter how hard you tried.

The air in Jay’s apartment was warm with laughter, the smell of sizzling meat and garlic filling every corner.

You nearly doubled over laughing as Sunoo dramatically slammed his shot glass down beside you, eyes watering from the burn of soju.

“Another!” he demanded, waving his hands wildly at Ni-ki, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a platter of meat ready to go.

“If I’m going down tonight, I’m going down happy!”

“Down where?!” Ni-ki barked out a laugh, nearly dropping a slice of pork belly. “You’re literally at Jay’s apartment. Calm down.”

You giggled, shaking your head as you poured another shot for Sunoo and one for yourself. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m enabling this.”

“Because you love me,” Sunoo said sweetly, leaning his head on your shoulder for a second before sitting back up. “Now bottoms up, swan. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Next top you, Jay shot Sunoo a withering glare while gripping the tongs a little too tightly. “Stop calling her that, Kim Sunoo.”

“Oh, what? Swan? I mean, she is our White Swan. The crowd practically bowed to her last night.” Sunoo grinned cheekily and lifted his glass, clinking it against yours before you both downed the soju in one gulp.

“Unbelievable,” Jay muttered under his breath, turning back to flip the meat on the grill.

His chain dangled against his chest as he moved, sleeves rolled up and jaw tight—not just from cooking but from watching you and Sunoo down your second shot together.

Sitting across Jay, Sunghoon leaned back on his palms with a smirk. “You’re gonna set off the fire alarm if you keep grilling like that.”

Jay shot him a look. “Do you want to eat or not?”

“Not if it’s charred like my will to live,” Sunghoon teased, ducking when Jay flicked a piece of lettuce at him.

“Lettuce,” Jungwon’s voice cut through their bickering, his arm extended as he motioned for the plate on the table.

“Dude, pass the lettuce. You’ve been hogging it for like ten minutes.”

“Yeah, give it to him,” Heeseung added from where he was stirring the noodles on the stove. “You can’t have samgyeopsal without lettuce. Basic rules, bro.”

Jay sighed dramatically, grabbing the plate and sliding it toward Jungwon with a muttered, “Happy now?”

“Very.” Jungwon grinned and immediately started assembling his wrap.

Across the table, Jake was busy stuffing his face with a hefty spoonful of rice and pork belly, but his eyes darted toward Ni-ki, who was lounging next to him with his long legs stretched out and his hair slightly mussed from leaning back earlier.

“What?” Ni-ki said suspiciously, noticing Jake’s pointed stare.

Jake chewed slowly, swallowing with an audible gulp before shrugging. “I was just thinking…”

“Don’t think,” Ni-ki warned flatly, narrowing his eyes.

Jake chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, now that the performance is over and you’re in a… relatively good mood—”

“Define good mood,” Sunghoon muttered from the side, snickering into his cup.

“—I feel like I should, uh… confess something,” Jake finished, eyes flicking nervously between Ni-ki and the meat sizzling on the grill like it might save him.

Ni-ki raised a brow, suspicion mounting. “Jake.”

Jake let out a small laugh. “Okay, okay, listen. I may have been the one who… accidentally broke your bass strings last month.”

The room fell silent for a split second.

Ni-ki froze, his head turning toward Jake so slowly it was almost cinematic. Then his hand shot out for the empty shot glass in front of him, fingers curling around it with murderous intent.

“You what?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jungwon practically leapt out of his seat, grabbing Ni-ki’s wrist before the glass could go flying at Jake’s head.

“Slow down, Ni-ki! No violence at the dinner table.”

“Let me go, Jungwon,” Ni-ki said through gritted teeth, his usually calm demeanor completely gone as he glared daggers at Jake.

“I just wanna talk. With my hands.”

Jay chuckled lowly from the grill, not even bothering to look up. “This is gonna be good.”

“No, it’s not,” Jungwon said sternly, holding Ni-ki’s arm in place. “Riki, what do we say when we’re angry?”

Ni-ki turned his head toward Jungwon with the fakest, most annoyed smile you’d ever seen. “Fuck you?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, but a snort still escaped, earning you a playful nudge from Sunoo beside you.

“Riki. No.” Jungwon sighed like a tired parent and shook his head.

Jake, meanwhile, raised his hands defensively. “Come on, I already bought you new strings! Really nice ones too! Isn’t that enough? Let bygones be bygones?”

Ni-ki sighed loudly, clearly debating murder in his head before finally letting his arm drop. “Shut the fuck up. You broke it anyway.”

Jake grinned sheepishly. “But I fixed it! I’m a good friend, right?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Sunoo grinned, popping a piece of pork into his mouth like he was watching a K-drama unfold live.

Jay finally spoke up, voice dripping with amusement as he flipped another slice of pork belly. “Riki, save your energy. You’ll need it later when Jake inevitably screws up again.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jake muttered dryly, earning another round of laughter from around the table.

You shook your head fondly at the chaos as Jay’s hand slid casually onto your thigh under the table, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against the fabric of your pants.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered lowly, “I present to you… my kids.”

You bit back a laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his amused gaze.

“Come on,” you murmured, picking up the soju bottle to refill his shot glass. “I love them. They’re so cute—we’re like a little crazy family.”

Jay let out a low chuckle, his hand squeezing your thigh gently as he teased, “Crazy’s the right word.”

But before he could retort further, Heeseung suddenly shot up from his seat, sending his chair screeching across the floor as he pointed at Sunghoon. “You think you’re funny?!”

Sunghoon was already halfway to the living room, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Oh, come on—it was a joke!”

Jay groaned, pulling back slightly as he raised his voice over the laughter. “Don’t break my TV, assholes!”

Heeseung didn’t even glance back as he bolted after Sunghoon, yelling, “If it breaks, ask your rich ass to buy ten more!”

“Shut up!” Jay barked, but there was no real bite to it. He sighed deeply like a tired father, grabbing the tongs to pull the perfectly grilled meat off the hot plate.

He stacked the pork belly neatly onto a plate and handed it down the table toward Jungwon, muttering, “Here. At least some of us are civilized.”

Jungwon chuckled, taking the plate and passing it along. “Thanks.”

You hid your smile behind your glass as you took another sip, Jay’s hand still warm on your leg as he gave it another affectionate squeeze.

“You know…” he said softly, his lips quirking, “for someone who ‘loves’ this chaos, you look just as exhausted as me.”

You grinned, resting your hand over his on your thigh. “Exhausted? No. Entertained? Absolutely.”

Jay chuckled low, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as his eyes softened.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, clinking shot glasses, and the occasional loud thud of someone tripping over the edge of the carpet.

Before you knew it, the only ones left were Heeseung and Jake—everyone else having already stumbled out earlier with noisy goodbyes and promises to ‘do this again.’

You and Jay stood side by side on the door, watching the last two of his bandmates hastily and messily putting on their shoes by the door.

Heeseung was trying to help Jake, but Jake kept swatting at his hands in drunken defiance.

Out of nowhere, Jake suddenly straightened up—or as much as his swaying body would allow—and said with a goofy grin, “You know, I’m so glad you get one big-ass penthouse for an apartment.”

Jay raised a brow, clearly amused as he leaned on the door frame, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because—” Jake dragged out the word dramatically, still fumbling with his laces.

“Because I can scream and nobody will give a fuck! You’ve got the whole floor to yourself, man. Look—”

Before anyone could stop him, Jake cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a loud, drawn-out scream:

“Lee Heeseung is an idiot!”

Heeseung, who was crouched down to tie Jake’s other sneaker, smacked him hard on the back of the head with a laugh.

“You’re the idiot!”

He stood up and yanked Jake by the arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you start howling at the moon or something.”

Jay’s shoulders shook with laughter, hands stuffed in his sweatpants pockets. “Thanks for coming over, guys. You sure I don’t need to walk you back to your dorms?”

Heeseung shook his head firmly, steadying Jake as the younger boy leaned heavily on him. “Nah, I’m sober enough. And this idiot only lives one floor down anyway.”

“‘M not an idiot,” Jake mumbled half-heartedly as he waved sloppily at you both.

“Sure you’re not,” Heeseung teased, giving Jay a nod of thanks. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Anytime,” Jay replied with a small smile.

You waved at them too, biting back a laugh. “Get home safe, okay?”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the apartment in sudden, comforting silence.

Jay turned the deadbolt with a soft sigh before glancing back at you, a little grin tugging at his lips as his eyes lingered on where you were curled up on his couch.

“So…” he said, his voice dropping slightly, warm and teasing. “Where were we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes fondly as you leaned away from the door and padded toward the kitchen. “We were about to clean the dishes, Jay.”

Jay’s face immediately twisted into an exaggerated pout as he trailed after you like a sulky kid.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, grabbing a couple of plates off the counter and holding them up like they were some kind of betrayal.

You snorted, already turning on the tap and squirting soap onto the sponge.

“What? You performed, what—six, seven songs? You mean to tell me you’re not tired after screaming your lungs out?”

“I wasn’t screaming,” he muttered defensively, setting the plates gently in the sink. “I was performing. It’s different.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, scrubbing a plate as the warm water splashed against your fingers.

“You literally downed two bottles of soju all by yourself, rockstar. And now you’re telling me you still have energy?”

Jay shrugged, grabbing a clean kitchen towel and leaning his hip lazily against the counter. He waited for you to pass him a wet plate, his lips curving into that signature smirk of his.

“What can I say? My girlfriend keeps on seducing me. Kinda hard to feel tired when you’re around.”

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you rinsed off the plate and handed it over to him. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

He took the plate, slowly drying it, eyes never leaving you. “No, seriously,” he said, tone softer now, teasing edge fading.

“You’ve been running around my head all night, (Y/N). I swear I don’t know how you expect me to think about anything else.”

Your brows shot up in amused surprise, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “Smooth, Park Jongseong. Real smooth.”

Jay grinned and leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. “Not smooth. Honest.”

“Honest, huh?” You finished scrubbing the next dish, trying to focus on the bubbles and not the way his cologne lingered in the air between you.

“Well, Mr. Honest, if you want kisses, you’re gonna have to finish drying all these plates first.”

“Oh, is that my reward?” he asked, voice dropping to a playful murmur as his fingers brushed against yours while taking the next plate. “I think I can work with that.”

You hummed softly, lips twitching with amusement, but didn’t reply as you handed him the last plate.

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds filling the kitchen being the gentle clink of dishes and the faint hum of the air conditioner.

When the sink was finally empty and the counters wiped clean, you dried your hands and glanced over your shoulder at Jay. “Done. See? Wasn’t so bad.”

“Mm. Speak for yourself.” He smirked lazily, tossing the towel over his shoulder as he straightened up.

You rolled your eyes fondly and made your way toward his bedroom, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you.

Sure enough, Jay trailed behind you like a shadow, hands stuffed casually in his sweatpants pockets.

Once inside, you headed straight for his closet as he flopped down onto the edge of his bed, grabbing the AC remote from the nightstand.

A soft beep echoed in the room as cool air began to sweep through the space.

“Bottom drawer, pretty,” he said without missing a beat, his voice teasing but warm.

You raised a brow, glancing back at him. “The white ones?”

“Oh, those?” Jay’s eyes flicked toward the closet before returning to you. “They’re hanging in there next to my gray suit. You know, the one you love so much.”

“Thanks,” you said with a soft laugh, stepping over to grab the pajamas. You could feel his eyes on you as you collected the delicate fabric and headed toward the bathroom.

Jay hummed low in his throat as he watched you go, leaning back slightly on his palms. “Don’t take too long. You know I hate sleeping without my pillow.”

“Your pillow?” you called back with a skeptical laugh, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smirking lazily. “The one with a heartbeat and legs. My favorite kind.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click.

Jay let out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face as the faint sound of water running met his ears. If there was one thing that kept his mind off his… current frustrations, it was gaming.

So, he stood and began shrugging out of his pants and shirt, tossing them effortlessly into the laundry basket by the corner of the room.

Clad only in boxers now, he reached for a fitted black tank top and pulled it over his head, the fabric stretching snug across his shoulders and chest.

As his computer hummed to life, Jay slid into his chair, his long fingers already tapping across his keyboard as the LED lights glowed faintly around him. He cracked his knuckles, smirking faintly to himself.

“If I can’t have her just yet…” he muttered under his breath with a soft scoff, opening up his favorite FPS game, “…I’ll settle for killing some virtual assholes.”

The bathroom door creaked open, a soft wave of steam curling out into the cool air of Jay’s bedroom.

You stepped out in your white silk pajamas—slightly damp from the heat of your shower—skin still dewy, hair loose and tousled from the towel you’d used.

The sight before you made your lips twitch in amusement.

Jay was hunched slightly forward in his chair, his jaw set in focus as his fingers flew across his keyboard.

The flashing colors of his monitor lit up his sharp features, and you caught the faint sound of him mumbling instructions to his teammates through his mic.

You padded over quietly, hanging your towel on the back of an unused chair near his desk.

“Someone’s serious tonight,” you murmured with a teasing hum, but he didn’t catch it over the sound of gunfire in his headset.

He did, however, notice when your hand landed softly on his broad shoulder. His eyes flicked up at you for half a second, and a small grin tugged at his lips before he quickly refocused on his screen.

With a flick of his wrist, he muted his mic and murmured, “Hey, pretty.”

“Mm,” you hummed back softly, trailing your fingers down his arm before moving to perch yourself onto his lap.

You straddled him effortlessly, settling with your knees on either side of his thighs and your head resting against his chest.

Jay let out a low chuckle, his free hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “What do you need, pretty? Or are you just here to test my self-control?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled innocently, though the way you shifted slightly to reach for your phone on the desk said otherwise.

He groaned softly, the sound more amused than frustrated as his arms tightened instinctively around you to steady you. “Baby, seriously—stay still. You’re gonna get me killed.”

You nodded absentmindedly, scrolling through your phone as if you hadn’t just settled across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jay gritted his teeth as you moved again, adjusting your position slightly. The silk of your shorts brushed against his boxers in a way that had his muscles tensing.

“(Y/N)…” he warned in a low, strained voice, eyes still glued to the screen as his fingers moved deftly on the keyboard. “I’m not kidding—stop squirming, or this match is gonna be the least of my problems.”

You only hummed again, a small smirk playing on your lips as you tilted your head on his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just getting comfy.”

Jay let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried to focus. “Yeah? You’re real comfy, huh?”

His hand smoothed down your back before gripping your hip firmly, holding you still. “Stay. Still. Pretty.”

But you only gave a nonchalant shrug, scrolling idly on your phone like you weren’t straddling him, like his cock wasn’t already pressing insistently against the thin fabric of your lace panties under your silk shorts.

You shifted slightly, feigning innocence, but the way his jaw tightened didn’t escape your notice.

Jay’s lazy smirk stretched wider. “Okay,” he said softly, almost to himself, letting go of his mouse.

You froze slightly, feeling the change in his posture. “Jay—”

But before you could finish, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging them to the side with a practiced ease.

You gasped, squirming instinctively, but his hand on your hip held you down firm.

“Shhh,” he hushed you, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he used his other hand to tug his own boxers down just enough to free himself.

Your eyes darted down, and you felt your thighs tense at the sight of him—angry red, tip leaking, and hard as steel.

“Jay…” you whimpered again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Keep scrolling, baby,” he said with a low chuckle, his tone cruelly sweet. “I’m still playing.”

You were about to protest when he muted his mic and pressed the swollen head of his cock against your folds, rubbing it slowly along your slick slit.

The contrast between the heat of him and the cool air made you shiver.

“Fuck, you’re wet already? All from just sitting here?” His voice dripped amusement, but his eyes flicked to your face with hunger.

“Jay—please—”

“Shhh.” He unmuted his mic with a little click and spoke casually, “Sorry, my girlfriend needed something.” His tone was maddeningly calm, as if he wasn’t seconds away from losing himself.

Then he muted again, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck as he leaned in, catching your lips in a filthy, desperate kiss. His tongue swept in, tasting you as your whimpers got swallowed whole.

But just as quickly, he pulled away, lips slick and swollen as his eyes went back to the screen. “Stop moving, (Y/N),” he murmured, his thumb brushing your lower lip as you panted softly.

“You’re gonna make me fuck up my KDA.”

You whimpered again, hips twitching despite his warning, and his hand shot down to squeeze your ass roughly. “Baby, don’t test me,” he growled, low enough only for you to hear.

Your phone nearly slipped from your hands when Jay rubbed his cockhead over your clit again—so slow, so deliberate—that a high-pitched whine escaped your throat before you could stop it.

“Jay…” you breathed out, trying to shift your hips for even a bit more friction. But before you could grind down, his teeth found your earlobe, biting down gently but enough to make you gasp.

“I said…” his voice was a husky murmur, low and commanding against your ear, “sit. still. Pretty.”

You whimpered, nails digging lightly into his shoulders as you forced yourself to stay still despite the burning ache between your legs.

The sound of his game in your periphery only added to the haze—clicks of his mouse, the occasional muffled laugh from his teammates over the headset.

Minutes passed. Torturously slow minutes where he did nothing more than glide his cock along your folds, the slick sounds between you making your thighs clench.

Every so often, he’d press just enough to breach your entrance before pulling away with a deep chuckle that vibrated through his chest.

And then—finally—flashes of green lit up the dimly glowing room as the word ‘VICTORY’ filled his screen. Jay’s lazy grin widened, and he dropped his headset onto the desk with a clatter.

“Now…” he drawled, tilting his head as his dark eyes devoured you. “How should I claim my reward?”

“Please—” you started, but your words were swallowed as you crashed your lips to his, desperate and breathless.

He hummed into the kiss, standing up easily with his hands gripping under your thighs.

You let out a surprised squeak as he carried you effortlessly across the room and laid you down on his bed. His hands were quick but deliberate, peeling your silky white pajama top off your shoulders.

The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver as he tugged his own black tank top over his head and tossed it aside.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your neck before pressing open-mouthed kisses down the delicate column of your throat.

You arched into him instinctively, whimpering as his lips traced lower, sucking a dark mark just above your breast before his tongue flicked over a hardened nipple.

“J-Jay—” you gasped, your back arching as his mouth closed around it, sucking gently while his fingers rolled and pinched the other.

“Mmhm,” he hummed around you, his voice sending vibrations through your chest. “You taste so sweet everywhere, pretty.”

Your hands tangled in his dark hair, tugging when the teasing became too much.

But he didn’t give you time to catch your breath—his lips and tongue kissed a blazing trail down your stomach, over the curve of your hips, until his fingers hooked into your shorts and panties.

“Off,” he said simply, his voice gravelly as he slid the last barrier down your legs.

You barely had time to exhale before his broad hands pushed your thighs apart, his dark gaze flicking up to yours for a split second.

“Jay—wait—” you tried, but the words melted into a moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your heat.

He didn’t bother with any teasing now—his tongue delved in greedily, licking and sucking your folds as though he’d been starved for this. One of his hands gripped your thigh to keep you spread open, while the other slid under to grab your ass, tugging you closer to his mouth.

“F-fuck, Jay—ahh—” you cried out, your hips lifting off the bed.

He groaned lowly against you, the sound sending delicious vibrations straight through your core as his tongue swirled around your clit before diving back down.

He pulled away suddenly, his lips slick and glistening, leaving you throbbing and whining in protest. “Jay—why’d you—”

But before you could finish, he leaned back against the pillows, his dark, hooded eyes locking with yours as he patted his chest.

“Ride my face,” he said simply, his voice low and commanding, yet laced with heat.

You froze, blinking at him, your thighs trembling slightly. “W-what?”

“Ride my face, pretty,” he repeated, his hands gripping your hips as if to guide you already. “I want you to use me. Don’t make me say it a third time.”

Your face flushed as your mouth opened and closed like you wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. “Jay—can you even… breathe if I—? I mean, I don’t want to hurt you—”

He clicked his tongue, a dark, amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Baby, if I die, I die happy. Now…” his grip tightened on your thighs as he tugged you forward, forcing you to shuffle up until you were hovering over his face.

“Be a good girl and sit down.”

“Jay—” you stammered, still hovering nervously as your knees dug into the mattress.

“Sit,” he ordered firmly, his voice dropping an octave. Then, without waiting for your compliance, he pulled your hips down, and his mouth met your pussy in one eager, wet drag of his tongue.

“Oh—fuck!” you cried out, your hands flying to grab at his hair while the other braced on the headboard behind him.

Jay groaned against you, the sound vibrating straight through your core as his nose nudged perfectly against your clit. “That’s it, pretty. Move for me. Take what you need.”

“J-Jay…” your voice broke into a moan as your hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against his mouth.

His tongue slipped between your folds with practiced ease, licking and sucking like he was starved for you.

One of his hands slid up your spine, urging you to relax, while the other kept your hips steady over his face.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured against you between licks. “Use me—make a mess all over me.”

You whimpered, your thighs trembling as you began to roll your hips cautiously, the pleasure quickly making you dizzy. “Oh my god—Jay—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled lowly, the sound muffled but hot against your skin. “You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking sweet—god, you taste like heaven.”

Your fingers tangled tighter in his dark hair as your movements became more frantic, the wet sounds of his tongue working between your legs filling the dimly lit room.

Jay’s satisfied hums and groans against you only pushed you closer to the edge.

“You’re—ahhh—gonna kill me,” you panted out, your thighs threatening to give out as he sucked harshly on your clit.

“And you’ll die coming on my tongue,” he teased with a dark chuckle, his words sending shivers down your spine. “Let go for me, pretty. I want all of it.”

His words still echoed in your head—filthy, addictive—as he finally pulled you down from his face and sat up, gripping your thighs to guide you into his lap.

You straddled him shakily, your legs weak from the high he’d just given you, and his hands found their way to your hips, steadying you like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice low and warm as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t greedy—just him savoring you, his tongue brushing yours languidly.

His fingers traced circles on your back as he shifted, pressing soft kisses to your jaw, your neck, and down to your shoulder.

You let out a soft gasp when he sucked harshly at the junction of your neck, no doubt leaving hickeys that would bloom beautifully by morning.

Your hands curled in his hair as you arched into him, chasing every warm press of his mouth.

“Jay…” you breathed, the sound barely above a whisper as your nails lightly raked down his shoulders.

“Mm?” he hummed against your skin before pulling back slightly, his gaze dark and hooded.

He leaned forward, placing one last kiss on the column of your throat before gently laying you down on your back.

The cool sheets beneath you were a stark contrast to his searing body heat as he tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free—red and dripping, achingly hard.

Your breath hitched as he settled between your legs, his hand guiding himself to your soaked folds.

He rubbed the head of his cock over your entrance teasingly, gathering your slick before glancing up at you with a soft yet unreadable expression.

“Please…” you whimpered, hips shifting in desperate little rolls. “Jay, please.”

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was low, serious now as his thumb brushed comforting circles against your thigh. “You want this, pretty? You want me?”

Your hands shot up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down until your foreheads touched. “I’m sure. I’m so sure,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

His lips curled into a faint smile, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured against you.

“Because I’m sure about you too, pretty. Always have been.”

Then, with painstaking slowness, he began to push into you, the thick head stretching you open.

You inhaled sharply, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your walls fluttered helplessly around him.

“Jay…” you whimpered, voice breaking as you held on tighter to his shoulders.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he whispered, kissing away a tear as it slipped down your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking good.”

When he finally bottomed out, you gasped, your fingers digging into his biceps as you adjusted to his size.

“So big…” you whispered breathlessly, your walls clenching around him involuntarily.

He let out a strained groan, his head dropping to press kisses across your cheeks and down to your jaw. “Fuck—you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin. “Taking me so well, like you were made for me.”

He stayed still for a moment, giving you time to breathe as he whispered soft reassurances—“you’re okay, I’ve got you, so tight around me, my perfect girl”—until you finally nodded, eyes glassy but determined.

“You… you can move,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

His eyes softened as he leaned down, capturing your lips in another tender kiss. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured. “I’ll stop in a heartbeat, pretty.”

“Don’t stop,” you whispered against his mouth. “Please.”

His lips quirked into a dangerous little smirk at your plea, his breath warm against your lips as he murmured, “Don’t worry, pretty. I won’t.”

He started slow, each roll of his hips—deep, measured thrusts that had you gasping and clinging to his shoulders. The sound of your slick and the faint creak of the bed filled the air, mingling with your shaky breaths.

His forehead pressed to yours, his nose brushing yours as his lips ghosted over your mouth with every thrust.

But halfway through, your broken whimpers turned into a desperate little whine. “Jay… harder, please.”

His dark eyes snapped open, a flicker of heat and surprise flashing through them.

“Oh?” he hummed, tilting his head as his lips curled into a lazy grin. “Is my sweet little ballerina asking me to ruin her?”

“Please,” you whispered again, hips rolling up helplessly to meet his.

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” he muttered, his voice low and rough now.

Before you could respond, his hand shot up to grab both of your wrists, pinning them firmly above your head against the sheets. “Keep them there for me, pretty.”

His other hand gripped your thigh, pushing one leg up so your knee nearly touched your chest. The new angle had you crying out before he even moved, and when he finally did—snapping his hips forward with a sharp, powerful thrust—you saw stars.

“Jay—oh my god,” you gasped, arching into him as his pace grew relentless, each slam of his hips sending the headboard lightly knocking against the wall.

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes dark and locked on your face. “Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me. Let me hear you.”

You bit your lip to stifle a scream, only for his hand to leave your thigh and grab your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “None of that, baby. Be good and let me hear how much you love this.”

“J-Jay—” You were trembling beneath him, his pace punishing now as his cock hit that sweet, devastating spot deep inside you over and over.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. “Feels like you’re made for me. This pussy—fuck—it’s mine.”

“Yours—yours,” you cried out, your walls fluttering wildly around him as your high built faster than you could keep up with.

“That’s right,” he growled, his lips crashing to yours in a messy, desperate kiss as his hips continued to pound into you mercilessly. “Say my name when you come, pretty. I wanna hear it.”

“Jay—oh fuck—Jay!” you sobbed as the dam finally broke, your orgasm tearing through you so violently that your legs shook and your back arched off the bed.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own high. “So good for me. Taking me so well.”

His thrusts turned sloppy as he buried his face in your neck, groaning against your skin. “Gonna fill you up, pretty. Fuck—take it. Take all of it.”

And with a final, deep thrust, he spilled into you, his warmth filling you as his body shuddered violently against yours.

He barely gave you a moment to catch your breath before his lips found yours again—hungry, messy, swallowing your soft whimpers as his hands cupped your flushed face.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, his voice strained and low. “You feel too good to stop.”

You let out a weak whine as he pulled out slowly, your walls clenching around nothing. “J-Jay…”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his palms running down your trembling thighs as he gently flipped you over onto your stomach.

You gasped at the cool sheets against your heated skin, but before you could even protest at the loss, his lips were already pressing open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder blades and down your spine.

“Don’t whine,” he teased, his voice dripping with heat as he nipped at the sensitive skin of your back. “You can take it. You’re my pretty little masterpiece, remember?”

Your breath hitched as his hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling them up so your ass arched perfectly for him.

His cock, still thick and leaking, brushed against your slick folds, and you choked on a moan. “Jay—”

He chuckled darkly, leaning over until his chest pressed against your back, his mouth brushing your ear. “I’m not done with you yet, pretty. Gonna fill you again. And again.”

You whimpered at his words, your fingers clutching the sheets. “Please… Jay, please.”

“Please what?” he asked, his tone lazy but his hips already aligning.

His hand found yours on the mattress, fingers intertwining tightly. “Say it for me, baby.”

“Please fuck me,” you whispered shakily, your voice nearly breaking.

“Good girl.” His praise was low and guttural as he slowly pushed back in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out again, your walls clamping down around him desperately.

You cried out, arching your back instinctively as he stilled for a moment, his free hand smoothing over your waist before sliding up to your breasts, palming one roughly.

“God, you’re perfect,” he growled, starting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each snap of his hips. “Listen to you—so wet, so fucking tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“God, you’re perfect,” he growled, starting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each snap of his hips.

“Listen to you—so wet, so fucking tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Yes—fuck—yes,” you sobbed, your voice muffled against the pillow as your hand gripped his tighter.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he started thrusting harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the room.

“This pussy’s mine. Say it.”

“It’s—yours,” you cried out, tears welling up in your eyes again from the overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured darkly, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as his pace became punishing, each thrust hitting deep and perfectly as your moans turned into desperate, high-pitched whines.

“So fucking pretty when you cry for me.”

“Don’t hold back,” he ordered, his free hand sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit. “I wanna feel you fall apart again. Let go for me, pretty.”

You sobbed his name as your orgasm crashed over you violently, your entire body shaking as your walls clamped down on him, milking him mercilessly.

“Fuck—” Jay groaned through gritted teeth as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you again with a deep, guttural sound.

“Goddamn it, baby. You’re gonna kill me.”

He stayed there for a moment—both of you panting hard, skin slick with sweat, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

You felt his thumb stroke soothing circles on the back of your hand where your fingers were still intertwined.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered again, softer this time, almost like he was scolding himself as he kissed the side of your neck tenderly. “You’re too perfect for your own good.”

You let out a soft laugh, still dazed, your legs trembling beneath him. “You… talk too much.”

Jay chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Yeah? You didn’t seem to mind earlier when you were crying my name.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled weakly, burying your face into the pillow.

He grinned and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before slowly, carefully pulling out. You whimpered at the loss, your body flinching slightly from the sensitivity.

“Sorry, pretty,” he murmured, his voice full of guilt as he brushed his fingers down your spine.

“I know. I know you’re sore.” He grabbed a warm towel he’d left folded earlier and gently cleaned between your thighs, murmuring little apologies every time you hissed or squirmed from how tender you felt.

“Jay…” you whispered softly, almost embarrassed.

“I know, baby. But if I don’t clean you up, you’ll whine later about how uncomfortable you are,” he teased, though his tone stayed gentle, careful not to make you feel shy.

“Let me take care of you, hmm? You were so good for me.”

You sighed, letting him work as he discarded the towel and helped you sit up slowly.

He kissed your shoulder as he reached for his dresser, pulling out one of his oversized shirts and a pair of soft pajama pants.

“Arms up,” he said sweetly, and you obeyed with a tired smile.

He slipped the shirt over your head and helped guide your legs into the pants before tugging them gently into place.

“There,” he said, kissing your forehead as he stood to pull on his own pajama pants and a plain black T-shirt.

“My pretty girl’s all dressed and comfy.”

You leaned into him as he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to the bed again. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I’d spoil you every damn day if you’d let me.” He grinned down at you, laying you gently against the cool sheets. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

You raised a brow at him. “Where are you going?”

“Secret,” he declared dramatically as he slipped out of the room.

A few minutes later, he returned with a tray balanced carefully in his hands—an open pack of banana milk, a box of chocolates, and a small plate stacked with biscuits.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “You raided the kitchen for me?”

“For us,” he corrected smoothly, setting the tray down on the nightstand. “We worked hard tonight. We deserve sugar.”

He slipped back into bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly as his arm automatically wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

You melted against him with a quiet sigh, your fingers playing lazily with the hem of his shirt as the soft hum of the city outside his windows filled the comfortable silence.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, your voice low, almost as if confessing a secret.

Jay tilted his head, eyes flicking down to you. “About what?”

“Everything,” you murmured. “That I met you, that we had to share the studio, that somebody posted that dating rumor…”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your cheek as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“I know,” he said gently. “I’m glad too. Because if it wasn’t for our practice room being under maintenance…” he trailed off, squeezing you a little tighter, “I wouldn’t have met you either.”

The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—it was full, warm, like the kind of silence you only shared with someone who felt like home.

Jay grabbed the remote, turning on the TV, letting random movie trailers play in the background.

His thumb rubbed absent circles on your hip over his shirt you were wearing.

Then he looked down at you again, his dark eyes soft and unguarded in a way that still made your heart flip no matter how many times you saw it.

“I love you.”

You blinked up at him, lips tugging into a soft smile as you reached up to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I love you too.”

He exhaled, almost like he’d been holding that breath the whole night, and his hand slid from your hip to cradle the back of your head, keeping you close.

“Good,” he murmured against your hair. “Then I guess I don’t have to find an excuse to keep you here every night.”

You laughed softly, tucking your face into his chest as the TV flickered quietly in the room. “Jay…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He hummed, satisfied, kissing your forehead one last time as the exhaustion finally caught up with you both.

“Good. Because you’re already my forever.”

The words hung in the air, soft and sacred, like a promise whispered into the quiet night.

The moonlight streamed lazily through the half-drawn curtains, casting a pale, silvery glow over the room.

It danced across the satin sheets tangled around your bodies, catching on the soft curve of Jay’s jaw as he held you close.

His thumb brushed faintly against your arm, tracing absentminded shapes on your skin as if memorizing the feel of you.

You moved slightly, burrowing deeper into his chest, your breathing steadying to match his.

Outside, the city buzzed faintly in the distance, but here—in the warmth of his bed—it felt like you and Jay existed in your own little universe.

“Sleep, pretty. I’ve got you.”

And with the moon’s glow spilling over your entwined bodies, fingers laced together beneath the sheets, and your heartbeats syncing—you let yourself believe him.

Because in that moment, wrapped up in Jay’s arms, it didn’t feel like forever was a promise.

It felt like it was already here.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified @ateez-atiny380 @chemiru ⤷ piece taglist — @strawjayrries @dearestdreamies @chuuyaobsessed

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liuhsng · 21 days ago

Text

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 4

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 17.4k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — part four is finally here ! i’m so sorry for the wait but i swear it’s worth it, i promise. i hope you guys haven’t been waiting too long—thank you for being patient with me ! enjoy, my loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, fake dating trope, friends to lovers, established relationship, soft domestic undertones, protective!jay, possessive!jay, mutual pining even after getting together, oral sex (f & m receiving), fingering (f receiving), desperate!jay, praise kink, manhandling (gentle but possessive), body worship, grinding, spanking, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — now that you and jay are official, the air between you feels heavier—charged. stolen touches linger too long, kisses deepen too fast, and every look he gives you feels like it’s daring you to close the space completely. with college week fast approaching, balancing everything gets harder, but the intimacy between you two only flames—late nights turn into tangled limbs and breathless laughter, both of you teetering on that thin, burning line between wanting and taking. because once you cross it, there’s no going back.

The café was alive with chatter and clinking cutlery, a refreshing contrast to the tense, quiet air of libraries and dorm rooms during finals week.

You sat at a corner table with Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki, laughing lightly as the three younger boys animatedly argued over who should pick the playlist for the car ride later.

“Alright, what do you guys want? I’ll go order,” you said, already standing, your fingers itching to pull out your phone to note down their orders.

But Jungwon immediately shook his head, his little dimples peeking out as he grinned. “We’ll wait in line with you.”

“Yeah, at least let us. We’re the ones who dragged you out for lunch,” Ni-ki added, already slipping out of his seat like it wasn’t up for discussion.

You let out an amused sigh. “You guys are unbelievable.”

“Come on,” Sunoo said with a teasing huff, gently nudging you forward. “At least let us do this much, (Y/N). Consider it penance for forcing you to leave your Netflix cave.”

You laughed softly, trailing behind them in line. “Okay, okay. I won’t fight you on it.”

The line moved slowly, the delicious smell of pastries wafting through the air, and you felt Sunoo’s curious gaze from beside you. He tilted his head slightly.

“So…” he started casually, though his tone betrayed his nosiness. “What’s up?”

You gave him a knowing glance. “You finally get to hang out with me, and that’s all you’re going to say?”

Sunoo pouted dramatically, tugging on your sleeve. “Oh, come on. You know what I mean! There’s something in that brain of yours. Spill.”

You sighed, biting back a small smile as Jungwon and Ni-ki edged closer up the line. “Fine. I met Jay’s parents last Saturday… and he met mine on Sunday.”

Sunoo froze mid-step like you just dropped the juiciest tea of the semester.

His eyes widened, and then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “What?” he whispered-shouted, smacking your arm lightly.

Your lips twitched. “You heard me.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened before his whole face lit up. “Really? No way!”

Jungwon, who’d been eyeing the dessert display at the front, glanced back at Sunoo’s outburst. “What’s ‘no way?’”

“She met Jay’s family,” Sunoo announced, practically bouncing on his heels.

Jungwon’s lips curled into a soft smile as he stepped closer in the moving line. “Good for the both of you. It’s getting serious, huh?”

You nodded sheepishly, feeling the warmth rise in your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Ni-ki, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the menu board above the counter, hummed thoughtfully. “One platter for fettuccine alfredo and ravioli… and garlic bread. How’s that sound?” He finally turned to glance at all of you.

You, Sunoo, and Jungwon nodded in unison, and Ni-ki simply said, “Perfect,” as the line shuffled forward.

Then Ni-ki chimed in casually, like he wasn’t about to drop a bomb. “It’s good that you met Mrs. Park. I miss her cooking.”

Sunoo immediately agreed, clutching his chest dramatically. “Seriously! We barely get to hang out at Jay’s anymore. It’s just not the same when the chefs cook instead of her. The love isn’t there!”

You laughed, remembering the warmth of Mrs. Park’s kitchen. “You can actually taste the difference. I love Mrs. Park’s cooking a lot.”

Jungwon raised his brows and glanced back at you again as the group stepped closer to the cashier. “Did she call you her daughter-in-law yet?”

You blinked in surprise, laughing. “Wait, how’d you know?”

He shrugged coolly, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Just a hunch. She called us Jay’s groomsmen once… you know, when the time comes.”

“She actually did,” Ni-ki confirmed nonchalantly, still scrolling on his phone now that he’d memorized the menu. “She said I’d look best in a black suit.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress the laugh that threatened to slip. “You guys are insane. She really said that?”

“Yup,” Jungwon said with a grin. “And she even said Sunoo would cry the most at the wedding.”

“Hey—” Sunoo whirled on Jungwon, face already flushed as he pouted.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, your shoulders shaking slightly. The three of you shuffled to the side to wait as Ni-ki stepped forward to place the order.

Your eyes flicked to the glass display, catching sight of the chocolate cake that sat perfectly in one corner.

You reached out to lightly poke Ni-ki’s arm. He tilted his head down at you, his blonde hair falling just slightly over his brows.

“Order one ravioli and one slice of chocolate cake for takeout too, yeah?” you murmured.

He blinked, then nodded casually, adding it to the order.

Just as Ni-ki reached for his wallet, you pulled out your card with practiced speed and handed it to the cashier before he could even react.

“Really?” he scoffed, eyes narrowing at you.

You only shrugged with a teasing smile. “Come on. Let me treat my little brothers.”

“I’m going to transfer you the money,” Ni-ki warned flatly.

You shook your head, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Nope. Jay never lets me pay for anything. This is my payback… for him and for you guys.”

Ni-ki sighed dramatically, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “Fine. But don’t think this is over.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased, taking back your card from the cashier as Sunoo laughed beside you.

You all made your way back to the booth. Sunoo slid in beside you again while Ni-ki took the spot across from you, staring out the glass window with his chin propped on his hand.

His hair caught the soft sunlight filtering through, making him look oddly serene—until his voice broke the quiet.

“I’m glad it’s not fake anymore.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “Ni-ki.”

Sunoo made a noise of agreement beside you, nodding slowly. “Me too.”

You felt your face heat instantly. “Sunoo—”

Jungwon, seated at the end of the booth, furrowed his brows in confusion, his sharp eyes darting between them. “Wait. Not fake anymore?”

Ni-ki froze, realizing his mistake too late. He turned to you, a guilty smile tugging at his lips. “Oops.”

“Oops?!” you whisper-yelled, clutching your glass of water like it was a lifeline.

Your wide-eyed glare shot between Sunoo and Ni-ki, heat rising in your cheeks as you tried to process how fast this conversation was spiraling out of your control.

Ni-ki had the audacity to look unbothered, leaning back in his seat as he swirled his water like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. Sunoo, on the other hand, bit back a laugh, pressing his lips together as his shoulders shook.

You turned sharply to Ni-ki, your voice a harsh whisper. “How did you even find out?”

Ni-ki gave a nonchalant shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Oh, Zuha told me.”

Your brows furrowed, suspicion growing. “Zuha told you?”

“Well… I might’ve forced it out of her.” He took a calm sip of his drink, completely unaffected by your scandalized expression.

“Forced?” you repeated, leaning forward in disbelief.

He shrugged again, unfazed. “It seemed like she was hiding something. So… I hid her laptop and told her I’d throw it in the pool if she didn’t spill.”

“Ni-ki!” you gasped, covering your mouth in horror.

Sunoo couldn’t help the laugh that escaped this time, shaking his head. “You really hate your cousin, don’t you?”

Ni-ki glanced at him, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “That’s how it runs in the family.”

Your jaw dropped slightly at the casual confession, but you didn’t even get the chance to scold him before Sunoo chimed in.

“And you?” you asked, spinning to face him like he was next in line for questioning. “How’d you figure it out?”

Sunoo gave you an almost offended look, as if the answer was obvious. “I had a hunch! You two were walking on eggshells around each other for weeks. It wasn’t hard to see something was… off.”

You groaned, pressing your hands to your face. “I can’t believe this. I thought we were being careful.”

Jungwon, who had been silently observing all this with a curious tilt of his head, finally spoke up, his voice calm but edged with intrigue. “So you two were faking it at first?”

You slowly lowered your hands, meeting his sharp gaze. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It was… to shut everyone up, I guess.” You trailed off, not wanting to admit out loud how exhausting the rumors had been before all this.

Jungwon hummed thoughtfully, his lips quirking slightly. “But it’s real now, right?”

Your eyes flickered between the three younger boys—your ‘little brothers’ who seemed far too invested in your love life—and you gave a small, almost shy nod. “Yeah… it’s real now.”

Jungwon let out a small sigh of relief, leaning back in his seat. “Good. I like Jay for you. He’s good.”

Sunoo grinned wide, practically bouncing in his seat. “Plus, Jungwon would’ve found out eventually anyway. Even if Ni-ki didn’t slip. He’s too smart for his own good.”

Jungwon’s lips curved into a small, pleased smile at Sunoo’s compliment, but the moment was short-lived.

Ni-ki, ever the menace, leaned back casually in his chair, sipping on his water before smirking. “Yeah, too smart. That’s why he fell on his ass trying to put on his socks earlier.”

Your laugh burst out before you could even stop it, nearly choking on your drink as Sunoo gasped.

“Ni-ki!” Sunoo scolded, reaching across the table and smacking the younger boy on the arm.

“Ow—hey!” Ni-ki winced, rubbing his arm with a frown. “What? It was funny!”

“You’re the worst,” Sunoo muttered, shaking his head as he tried to suppress his own laugh.

Jungwon, however, didn’t even look embarrassed. He just let out a soft laugh, his hand brushing his bangs out of his face.

Before you could add to the teasing, a waiter appeared at the table, carrying a tray stacked with platters of pasta, garlic bread, and desserts.

He carefully placed them down one by one, giving a polite nod as Sunoo flashed him his signature sunshine smile and said, “Thank you so much!”

You began passing out plates, handing one to Ni-ki, but your phone suddenly vibrated on the table. Glancing down, you saw Jay’s name pop up with a little camera icon. A video call.

“Speak of the devil,” you muttered, swiping to answer as you handed Ni-ki his plate.

The screen filled with Jay’s face, framed by the soft sunlight filtering into Decelis’s music building.

He was walking through a hallway, his guitar case slung across his back and his other hand adjusting the rings on his fingers. “Where are you?” he asked immediately, his voice warm with curiosity.

You shifted the camera slightly, pointing it at the three boys across from you. “Eating out with Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki.”

At the mention of their names, all three heads shot up. Sunoo and Jungwon grinned and waved enthusiastically while Ni-ki gave Jay a small salute with his fork.

Jay’s expression softened as he waved back. “Hi, guys.”

You laughed, turning the camera back to yourself. “He says hi.”

Jay nodded, his steps slowing as he glanced down at something offscreen. “I’m done buying guitar strings with Heeseung. We’re heading back now.”

“Okay,” you said, spearing a piece of ravioli with your fork. “We’ll be back before two. I bought you food, by the way.”

His lips curled into that familiar, heart-melting smile that made your stomach do somersaults. “Thanks, pretty. You’re the best.”

You grinned back. “No problem.”

“Alright, I’ll let you guys eat. Bye, I love you.”

Your heart gave the tiniest flip as you murmured back, “I love you too,” before the screen went black, signaling the end of the call.

The silence that followed was deafening. You didn’t even have to look up to know the three sets of eyes trained on you.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze—and sure enough, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki were staring at you with identical sly grins plastered on their faces.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck.

Sunoo wiggled his eyebrows. “I love you too,” he teased in a singsong voice.

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a small whine. “Why are you guys like this?”

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, the familiar scent of coffee, guitar polish, and faint lavender wafting out to greet you.

“Go on,” you said with a smile, gesturing for Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki to step in first.

The sight that met you made your heart swell.

The band was mid-practice—Heeseung hunched over his mic, lost in the melody; Sunghoon plucking at his bass with that concentrated frown he wore when he was in the zone; and Jay’s guitar resting against a stand as he leaned back on the stool with his phone in hand.

Your own circle of friends weren’t any quieter. Yunjin’s voice hissed sharply across the room, her brows knitted as she pointed at Chaewon. “I’m telling you, it’s two spins, not three!”

Chaewon, ever the firecracker, stuck her tongue out with zero remorse. “You’re not even part of the dance team, Yunjin! Stay in your lane.”

Yunjin scoffed, flipping her hair dramatically. “Excuse you, I’ve watched you guys practice more than I sleep. I practically am honorary dance captain.”

Eunchae and Kazuha were sprawled on the floor nearby, sharing a single pair of AirPods as they watched a movie on Sakura’s laptop.

Kazuha’s head lolled slightly, clearly dozing off, while Sakura sat cross-legged beside them, scrolling through fabric swatches on her tablet.

You smiled warmly, stepping inside as you called out, “We’re back!”

Jay’s head snapped up immediately, and before you could even blink, his guitar was abandoned on the stand. He strode over in long, eager steps, his grin boyish as he scooped you into his arms.

You let out a surprised laugh, hugging him back. “I was only gone for an hour!”

“That’s too long,” he murmured into your hair, holding you just a little tighter before pulling back to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

Rolling your eyes fondly, you held up the bag of takeout. “Here. You’ve been rehearsing all day, you need to eat.”

“Thanks, pretty.” His fingers brushed against yours as he took the bag, his smile softening as he gazed at you like you’d hung the stars.

Across the room, Sunghoon made an exaggerated gagging sound. “Ugh. Couples.”

Jay shot him a smirk over his shoulder, one hand still resting on your waist. “Shut up. You’re just jealous.”

Before you could even retort, Yunjin appeared like a whirlwind, tugging at your arm.

“(Y/N), thank God. Save me from arguing with her.” She shoved you gently toward Chaewon, who looked more than ready to restart round two of their debate.

“Tell Chaewon that the first part only has two turns. Two. Not three. She’s making it harder for herself.”

You sighed with a small laugh, placing a reassuring hand on Chaewon’s shoulder. “Yeah, Chae. It’s only two.”

Chaewon huffed, crossing her arms before reluctantly spinning in place as she muttered, “Fine. But if I trip, it’s on you two.”

You chuckled and turned back to Yunjin. “Are the costumes ready?”

“Yup!” she said brightly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “They’re arriving tomorrow afternoon. The tailor sent photos and they look amazing.”

“That’s a relief.” You smiled, glancing over your shoulder to see Jay watching you fondly, already unpacking his food.

You padded over to where Jay sat cross-legged on the floor, his guitar momentarily abandoned beside him. He looked up as you settled beside him, his features softening as you leaned gently into his shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured, tilting his head toward you. “What’s up?”

You let out a long sigh, your gaze trailing to the ceiling as you mumbled, “Nothing. Just… everything’s happening so fast.”

He studied your profile for a moment, his hand paused mid-reach for the fork in his takeout container.

“Us… or the day?” he asked carefully, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity.

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. “The day, babe. Definitely the day.”

Jay smirked faintly, finally bringing a spoonful of pasta to his lips.

He chewed thoughtfully, swallowing before speaking again. “I barely have the time to take you out on a date anymore. Everything’s so busy.”

“I know, right?” you said with a small laugh, fingers absentmindedly brushing against the frayed edge of your jeans. “I’m getting pulled into dance practice every single day. It’s exhausting.”

He hummed low in agreement, his free hand turning palm-up for you to see. “My hands are getting more calloused by every practice too,” he noted, flexing his fingers and running a thumb across his calluses.

You took his hand gently, running your thumb across the rough patches with a little smile.

“It shows your hard work,” you said earnestly. “Don’t worry, Jay. You still look good.”

His lips curved into a tender grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you, pretty.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, letting out another soft sigh. “I really hate College Week.”

He chuckled at your bluntness. “Can’t say I share the same sentiment.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes.

“Because I finally get to watch you perform,” he admitted with a quiet sincerity that made your chest flutter.

You laughed shyly, looking away as your cheeks warmed. “Minus that part.”

Jay shook his head, still smiling. “Nope. Even with that, I really love College Week.”

You groaned dramatically, your head falling back against his shoulder. “I wish I loved it too.”

He reached out to grab another bite of pasta, speaking around a small laugh. “You don’t enjoy the booth decorating at least?”

You shook your head with a sigh. “I’m always in charge of tying the ribbons. It’s so tiring.”

Jay barked out a laugh at that, setting his food down for a moment as he turned more toward you. “That’s because they know you’re obsessed with ribbons. You probably tie them better than anyone else.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Are you mocking me right now?”

“Never.” His grin widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as you laughed and shook your head at him.

But before you could fire back a teasing remark, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You frowned slightly, pulling it out to check the notification. Your eyes scanned the message quickly, and you let out a soft sigh as you straightened up.

Jay immediately noticed the shift, his expression softening as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Nothing bad. We just need to practice out on the field stage.”

He nodded knowingly and stood with you, grabbing your bag from where it rested on the floor. “Got it.”

You walked toward Heeseung, who was tuning his guitar again. “Hey, Hee, can I borrow your mic real quick?”

Heeseung raised a brow, lips quirking. “What for? Gonna serenade us?”

You cradled the mic with both hands like it was a precious relic. “Maybe later. Right now, I have to wake the dead.”

He chuckled, handing it over with a smirk. “Go crazy, then.”

You turned on your heel, facing Kazuha and Eunchae who were dozing off in the corner, headphones still loosely hanging from their ears. You held the mic up to your lips dramatically.

“Wake up!” you shouted, your voice echoing across the studio like a siren.

Kazuha and Eunchae flinched so hard they nearly toppled over, both glaring at you with wide, sleep-deprived eyes. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Eunchae yelled, clutching her chest.

You laughed, clutching your stomach as you doubled over. “Sorry, but we have practice out in the field stage! Come on, coach’s orders!”

Sakura groaned from her seat, rubbing her temples. “Even the volunteers too?”

You nodded as you handed the mic back to Heeseung, who was trying not to laugh. “Yep. We need help with the set design. Apparently, the banners keep falling.”

“Great,” Kazuha muttered, dragging her legs off the couch.

“You’re welcome,” Heeseung teased as he put the mic back on its stand.

Jay came over, holding your bag out for you. His eyes searched your face with that quiet warmth you loved so much. “Have fun, okay? And be careful.”

You smiled, taking your bag from his hands. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”

Before you turned, you rose on your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just long enough to make his ears turn faintly red. “See you later, Jay.”

“See you, pretty.” He watched you go, his hands shoved into his pockets, the corners of his lips twitching up when you threw him one last smile over your shoulder.

As soon as you and your group disappeared down the hall, Jake elbowed Jay lightly. “Come on, lover boy. We still need to run through the surprise song.”

Jay tore his eyes away from the door where you’d disappeared, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone teasing but soft.

“Remember the lyrics this time,” Sunghoon called out from across the room, tuning his bass.

Jay rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he slung his guitar back over his shoulder. “I remember the lyrics. Come on, let’s go.”

Jake chuckled under his breath. “Bet you don’t. She’s got you so distracted it’s embarrassing.”

Jay didn’t deny it. He just strummed his guitar lightly, mumbling under his breath as his fingers slid over the strings.

“Yeah… she does.”

The Tuesday sun was merciless, its rays beating down on your back as you let out another dramatic huff, wiping at the sweat trickling down your temple with the back of your hand.

You were standing precariously on a wobbling stool, arms raised as you adjusted and smoothed out another long pastel ribbon onto the ballet class booth’s wooden frame.

“Why is it so hot today?” you muttered under your breath, grumbling as you reached for another strip of double-sided tape from your apron pocket.

“Kazuha!” you called, squinting down at her where she was crouched on the ground surrounded by colorful cardstock and markers. “Do you have a pair of scissors?”

She didn’t even look up, simply holding a pair up in the air like she expected you to come get them yourself. “Here. Don’t cut your finger off. We need those hands for the showcase.”

You let out a breathy laugh, hopping down from the stool and grabbing the scissors.

“Thanks.” You perched back up, cutting the little ends of each ribbon into neat V-shapes, utterly focused on making them look perfect.

Kazuha finally glanced up at you, amusement flickering in her eyes as she shook her head with a fond smile. “You are the most ballet student I’ve ever met. Like, textbook ballet student energy.”

You let out a laugh as you handed her back the scissors and dramatically stuck your tongue out. “Come on, Zuha. This booth represents me. Us. It has to be the cutest one here!”

You gestured with both arms toward the long row of colorful booths lined up along the edge of the field, their banners fluttering in the breeze.

The smell of wood glue, paint, and freshly cut flowers mixed in the air as students bustled about decorating their own spaces.

Kazuha chuckled, going back to cutting out photobooth props in the shape of pointe shoes and roses. “You’re impossible. It already is the cutest booth.”

You hummed in agreement, stepping off the stool and brushing off your skirt. Your eyes briefly flicked to the large stage set up in the middle of the field, a curious frown tugging at your lips.

“What’s up with the stage setup today anyway? I thought everyone was supposed to be working on booths?”

Kazuha didn’t even bother looking up. “Who knows. I heard there’s a bunch of people in their department who can cover for them. Some special practice or something.”

You were about to ask her more when—

A sudden burst of loud music ripped through the air. The opening instrumental of ‘Karma’ blared from the speakers, and you instinctively grinned, spinning on your heel.

The sight on the stage made your chest warm. There they were—all dressed casually in dark colors that still somehow managed to make them look intimidatingly cool.

Jay stood to the left, tuning his guitar as the students lining the field broke out into excited cheers.

Heeseung leaned into his mic, testing it with a smooth, “One, two—Enhypen soundcheck.”

The cheer that erupted nearly blew the roofs off the booths.

Jungwon let out a breathy laugh as he twirled his drumsticks in his hands, leaning slightly forward into his mic. “Please don’t expect anything impressive, okay? We’re just practicing!”

The students responded with playful boos, some shouting things like:

“We don’t believe you!”

“Just perform now!”

Heeseung laughed, a rich sound that carried across the field. “Come on, guys. We’ll perform for real in a few days! Don’t drain your energy yet.”

Jay glanced toward the booths, and despite the distance and the crowd of students, his eyes found you almost immediately. He recognized you right away—how could he not?

Your usual colorful wear of pastel skirts and crisp white tops made you stand out like a soft beacon amidst the bustling field.

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as your hand shot up in the air, waving high.

He smirked, his fingers strumming a teasing riff on his guitar. “Pretty girl in the ballet booth—you’re distracting me.”

The students screamed at the comment, some laughing while others gasped at the boldness.

Kazuha nudged your arm, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Oh my god, (Y/N). He so called you out.”

You covered your face with your hands for a moment, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m going to die of secondhand embarrassment.”

You waved one more time toward the stage, and Jay mirrored the gesture with a quick grin before turning his attention back to his guitar.

Heeseung’s voice came through the speakers, counting down with an easy confidence. “Alright—three, two, one—let’s go!”

The opening chords of ‘Karma’ rang out, met with loud cheers and clapping from some of the students gathered around the field.

You turned to Kazuha with a small huff, brushing off the faint heat on your cheeks. “Come on. We’ve watched them sing that a hundred times already. Let’s finish this booth before Coach sees us slacking.”

Kazuha laughed, twirling the pair of scissors in her hand. “You’re the only one who calls setting up a booth ‘slacking,’ you know that?”

Ignoring her tease, you cupped your hands and called out to two juniors who were helping out nearby. “Hey! Can you two come over here for a sec?”

The girls jogged over, stopping in front of you with bright, eager faces. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

You handed them the now-empty supply boxes stacked at your feet. “Can you guys please run to the props and materials department and ask them for more ribbons and glitter? We’re running low.”

“Sure! We’ll be quick,” one of them chirped, as they grabbed the boxes and headed off toward the university building.

You let out a soft sigh, placing your hands on your hips as you glanced at the booth’s nearly finished sign.

The sound of drums and guitar riffs still filled the air, but you forced yourself to tune it out, humming softly to yourself to keep your focus.

Sakura strolled over, her laptop bag slung carelessly over one shoulder as she eyed the work in progress. “Kazuha, do you have a minute? I wanted to talk about the fabrics for the headpieces for Friday’s performance.”

Kazuha perked up, setting down the scissors. “Oh, right. I was meaning to ask if we’re going with the chiffon or if Coach decided on satin instead.”

You glanced at both of them, smiling faintly as they fell into a hushed discussion. “If you ask me, chiffon’s easier to tie, but satin has that elegant finish,” you murmured absentmindedly, reaching for the next ribbon to cut.

Sakura nodded thoughtfully. “Exactly. But satin’s harder to keep in place during spins…”

Kazuha sighed. “I’ll take whatever doesn’t make our heads itch halfway through.”

You chuckled softly under your breath, settling back into your rhythm as the band’s music thumped faintly in the background, your hands moving almost automatically as you tied yet another ribbon to the booth’s banner.

“Could someone grab me more tape?” you called over your shoulder as you smoothed the ribbon into place.

Two juniors hurried off to fetch it while another pair approached you with hesitant smiles.

“(Y/N), sorry to bother you—do you know where we can ask about the concert ticketing? Some students have been asking, and they thought maybe you’d know since you’re staff for the event.”

You exhaled a laugh, rubbing your temple lightly. “Ah, right… yeah. Tell them to check with the central booth near the field entrance—they’ve got the updated lists and prices.”

“Got it! Thanks,” they chirped before scurrying off.

Being both a performer and part of the staff felt like juggling a thousand tiny tasks at once.

You were so focused on getting the stubborn tablecloth to stay put on the booth’s table—kneeling slightly to smooth the edges and trying to tape them down—that you didn’t notice how the loud chatter and music around you had started to die down.

A hush fell over the people nearby, fading into muffled whispers.

It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, a familiar scent of cedarwood and citrus filling your nose, that you startled with a tiny squeak. “What—”

You twisted your head slightly, only to see Jay standing there, his face alight with a warm, amused smile. His navy jacket framed his shoulders perfectly, the contrast sharp against his black shirt and pants.

“Hi,” he murmured softly, his chin nearly resting on your shoulder.

Your initial surprise melted instantly into a smile of your own. “Hi,” you said back, your voice softer than you intended.

He released you gently, taking a step back, and only then did you notice the eyes around you—classmates, juniors, even random students—watching with sly smiles and poorly concealed curiosity.

Some were whispering to each other, a few even giggling.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, used to it by now. Instead, you turned your full attention to Jay, playfully clicking your tongue as you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Aren’t you hot in this?” you teased, tugging the fabric lightly.

Jay tilted his head, his grin widening. “What? I’m not allowed to look good for my girlfriend while she runs around making everything look cute?”

You gave him a mock glare, but the heat creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “Jay,” you said his name like a warning, but it only made him laugh.

“You’re seriously incredible, you know that?” he said, eyes softening as he glanced at the perfectly decorated booth behind you. “Pretty and hardworking.”

“Flattery won’t get you a ribbon on your guitar,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

“Oh, c’mon,” he chuckled, reaching out to fix a stray hair near your cheek. “It should get me at least a kiss, though.”

You let out a soft laugh, sighing dramatically as if defeated by his puppy-dog eyes. “Fine,” you muttered, standing on your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

The grin that spread across Jay’s face was pure victory—smug yet boyishly charming.

“Knew it,” he murmured, his fingers grazing yours teasingly before he straightened up, still trailing after you as you gathered loose scraps of paper from the booth’s corner.

“Do you need help with anything?” he asked, hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket as he fell into step beside you.

You raised a brow at him, tilting your head slightly. “Don’t you have your own booth to handle?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure the others can manage without me for an hour. Jungwon’s got it under control. I’m free labor now—strictly for you.”

Shaking your head with a reluctant smile, you muttered, “I don’t know how Jungwon deals with you every day.”

“Oh, come on, pretty,” Jay said with a playful grin, leaning closer. “You deal with me all the time.”

You pouted, fighting back a laugh. “Unfortunately.”

Jay placed a hand over his chest in mock offense, gasping. “Wow. Cold.”

You rolled your eyes and thought for a second before sighing. “Well, actually… I do need help grabbing the banner papers from the storage room near the back building. They’re too heavy for me to carry alone.”

At that, Kazuha and Sakura both perked up from where they were cutting out more booth decor, their gazes snapping toward you.

Just as Chaewon walked up, brushing dust off her hands, she tilted her head curiously. “Wait, the back building? What do you need there?”

“(Y/N)’s getting the banners,” Kazuha answered before you could, her lips twitching as she shot you a mischievous look.

Chaewon blinked, frowning slightly. “Isn’t it… kind of creepy there? No one goes there anymore. Plus, aren’t most of the cameras broken?”

Sakura added with a little shiver, “And it’s so quiet… I heard people say they feel like they’re being watched.”

You gave them both a sharp glare, crossing your arms. “Please. That’s exactly why I’m taking this musclehead with me.”

Jay’s brows shot up, a hand touching his chest. “Oh, I’m the muscle now?” he said, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh.

“Stop acting like you don’t sleep in the gym, Jay,” you shot back, already walking off toward the pathway leading to the back building.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks as Jay let out a laugh, quickly jogging to catch up with you.

“Go get your girlfriend, lover boy!” Kazuha called after him with a grin.

“Yeah, good luck, Jay!” Sakura added, her voice teasing.

Chaewon smirked, hands on her hips. “Try not to get scared first, musclehead.”

Jay glanced over his shoulder at them, shaking his head with a soft laugh as he caught up to your side. “Don’t listen to them, pretty. If anything’s scary, it’s me leaving you alone for even a second.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands dramatically. “God, how am I supposed to survive you and your mouth?”

“You don’t,” Jay said smoothly, smirking as he matched your pace. “You just let me carry the heavy boxes and keep looking cute while doing it.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, though the corner of your lips twitched as his warm hands slipped around your waist, gently steering you further down the path.

“Stupid coach… and her stupid banners,” you muttered under your breath, glaring half-heartedly at the pavement as you walked.

Jay chuckled lowly behind you, his breath tickling the side of your ear. “Come on, pretty. It can’t be that bad spending extra time with me.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed dramatically, tilting your head to glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I just… I should be resting right now. I’m running on coffee and two hours of sleep, Jay.”

He hummed, reaching up with one hand to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear with surprising tenderness.

“Think of it this way, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft yet coaxing. “After this… I’ll treat you to a late lunch. Anywhere you want. Deal?”

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you couldn’t help the small hum that escaped your lips as you considered it.

“That… actually sounds good,” you admitted, your steps slowing just a little as you leaned into his hold.

“Of course it does,” he said, lips twitching into that boyish grin you’d grown so used to. “I’m full of good ideas, pretty.”

“Debatable,” you muttered with a soft laugh, and he squeezed your side playfully.

Soon, the familiar buzz of chatter and music from the booths faded into silence as you reached the edge of the back building. The air was noticeably cooler here, the shadows of the tall trees casting long streaks across the cracked pavement.

Jay glanced around and whistled lowly. “Kinda creepy, isn’t it? No wonder your friends were so dramatic.”

You sighed, slipping your fingers into his and tugging his hand away from your waist. “Come on, Park. Let’s just get this over with.”

He smirked, letting you drag him along, his longer strides easily keeping pace with yours. “Lead the way, boss. I’m just the muscle, remember?”

“You said it, not me,” you shot back with a grin, your fingers squeezing his hand just a little tighter as you approached the storage room doors at the far end of the hall.

Jay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low teasing tone. “You sure you’re not holding my hand because you’re scared, pretty?”

You turned your head just enough to glare at him playfully. “Shut up, Jay.”

His laugh echoed softly against the walls, warm and unbothered as his thumb brushed against your knuckles. “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

His laugh faded into a soft hum as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Your joined hands swung lightly between you as your footsteps echoed down the well-lit hallway.

It wasn’t suffocating like you expected—the quiet felt almost soothing with Jay beside you.

You turned the corner and gestured toward a plain door with a faded sign that read ‘Storage Room 3.’ “Well… here it is,” you murmured, reaching for the handle.

Jay followed you in as you pushed the door open. The faint scent of cardboard and paper hit you immediately, and you flipped on the light, revealing rows of neatly stacked boxes on industrial shelves.

“We need to at least carry three full boxes of paper,” you said, stepping inside and glancing around for any sign of them.

Jay only shrugged, already tugging his jacket sleeves up his forearms. “Easy. Come on, what do they look like?”

You hesitated, a small flush creeping up your neck. “…They’re in pink boxes.”

That earned you a laugh, his deep voice echoing against the bare walls of the storage room. He let go of your hand to clap once, grinning. “Pink? Seriously? Alright, let’s find your magical ballet pink boxes then.”

You scowled playfully, crossing your arms. “Don’t make fun of them. It’s cute.”

“Sure it is, pretty,” he teased, stepping toward the left side of the room. “You take the right, I’ll take this side. Whoever finds them first wins bragging rights.”

“Bragging rights? What are we, five?” you muttered under your breath, earning another quiet laugh from him as you carefully began reading the labels on the boxes.

Despite how stocked up the storage room was, it was surprisingly clean—no cobwebs or dust layering the boxes. Your fingers trailed lightly over one labeled Event Streamers, then Props, but no pink in sight.

Jay, meanwhile, crouched down to inspect the lower shelves, his brows furrowed in focus as he read each label aloud. “Towels… extension cords… plastic utensils—wow, they really throw everything in here.”

You grinned faintly, peeking at him from the corner of your eye as you scanned another row. “Sounds like you’re losing, Jay.”

Jay’s laugh rumbled warmly across the small room, his head shaking as he crouched down by another row. “Don’t get too cocky, pretty. I’m just warming up.”

You smirked to yourself, fingers skimming over more boxes before your eyes lit up. “Found them!” you exclaimed, pointing upward at a shelf just above your head.

Jay straightened immediately, his brows raising as he strolled over with that trademark grin tugging at his lips. “Have you now?” he teased, coming to stand beside you.

You nodded confidently, turning to him with a triumphant smile and sticking your tongue out at him in mock victory. “Told you I’d win, Park.”

He hummed lowly, amusement flashing in his eyes as he glanced up at the neatly stacked pink boxes on the shelf. His smirk widened, lazy and dangerous, as he leaned a shoulder against the metal rack and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well then…” His voice dipped, rich and teasing. “Get them, baby.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as you turned to him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

One of his brows arched as he pushed off the shelf, stepping closer—his movements slow. Your breath hitched as you instinctively took a step back, only to feel the cool metal of the shelving press against your spine.

Jay tilted his head, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he nodded toward the boxes. “Go on, pretty. Get them.”

Your cheeks flared with heat, fingers curling nervously at your sides. “I… I can’t,” you admitted softly, your gaze dropping to the floor to avoid the weight of his stare.

“Can’t you?” he murmured, the corner of his lips quirking as if your flustered reaction was his favorite show.

You shook your head, staring intently at a scuff mark on the floor.

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue, his boots echoing slightly as he took another step closer.

“Too bad.” His voice was low, mocking in its sweetness. “Guess I won then.”

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly.

“That’s not fair,” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction with how close he was now—his scent wrapping around you, the warmth of his body practically searing into your skin.

“Isn’t it?” Jay hummed, tilting his head. His dark eyes bore into yours, sharp and playful all at once. He leaned down, close enough for his breath to brush against the shell of your ear.

Your back pressed harder against the cold shelves as your lungs forgot how to function.

“What?” His voice was barely above a whisper, smooth as silk.

“You found them…” His lips curled into a smirk you could feel even without looking. “…but I’m the one taking them.”

“That’s not fair,” you repeated, weaker this time as your fingers clutched the edge of the shelf behind you.

Jay chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Life’s not fair, pretty girl.” His hand came up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear—knuckles ghosting over your heated cheek.

You felt your knees threaten to buckle as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk as wicked as ever.

“Now… are you gonna stand there all flushed,” he teased, gaze flicking down to your parted lips for a split second, “or are you gonna let me claim my prize?”

Your throat felt dry, heart pounding in your chest so loud you were sure he could hear it. The heat of his stare alone made your knees wobble.

He tilted his head slightly, a low hum vibrating in his chest as his hand came to rest on the shelf beside your head, effectively caging you in.

His presence felt overwhelming—like the air had thickened with every inch he closed between you.

“Hmm?” he prodded, voice dropping a pitch lower, rougher.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, cheeks flushed, lips quivering like you wanted to speak but couldn’t form words.

His smirk deepened at your silence. “I need words, pretty girl.” His breath fanned across your lips as he leaned even closer, his nose nearly brushing yours. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Y-yes…” you finally managed to mumble, barely above a whisper.

But that was all he needed. That one shaky word snapped something in him.

“Good girl.”

In the next second, his lips were on yours—hot, hungry, demanding. His hand slid to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper as he pulled you closer.

The other hand cupped the back of your head gently, keeping you from bumping against the unforgiving metal shelves.

Your hands fisted into his shirt desperately, knuckles white from the way you clung to him as though he might disappear.

He groaned low against your mouth, the sound vibrating through your chest. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, coaxing a soft gasp from you.

And when you did, he took full advantage—his tongue pushing past your parted lips, tangling with yours in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and want.

Your back arched against the cold shelving as his body pressed flush to yours, his warmth consuming every inch of you. His knee came up, sliding between your legs to part them ever so slightly, stopping you from closing them again.

“Mmph—Jay,” you whimpered into his mouth, trying to press your thighs together out of instinct, only for his leg to hold you open firmly.

“Uh-uh,” he murmured against your lips, his free hand ghosting down your side before gripping your hip tightly. “Keep them open for me, sweetheart.”

Your head felt light, the scent of him and the taste of his mouth making it impossible to think. He kissed you harder, rougher, his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth like he owned it.

Your nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

“Jay—” you breathed out between kisses, your voice breaking from the intensity.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, his forehead pressing to yours as his thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered, voice husky, eyes locked on the way your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath.

You barely noticed his hand sliding lower until you felt his fingertips toy with the hem of your skirt, brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Your breath hitched as he trailed upward, fingers slipping beneath the fabric.

“Jay—” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat

His lips curved into a knowing smirk as his cold fingers made contact with your warm skin, making you flinch and bite down a gasp.

“Shh… you’re fine,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw, then another to the delicate skin of your neck.

His hand roamed higher under your skirt, his palm hot now as it smoothed up the curve of your thigh. You tried to press your legs together, but his knee was still lodged firmly between them, holding you open for him.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he growled softly against your ear. His free hand slid around your waist, fingers brushing teasingly against the waistband of your shorts.

He tugged lightly, his knuckles grazing lower before pulling back just enough to tilt his head at you.

“You still with me, pretty?” he asked, voice low and sinful, his thumb tracing slow circles over your hipbone.

You nodded shakily, breath stuttering out of your lungs. “Y-yeah…”

“Good girl,” he praised, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

Then he lowered himself slightly, lips trailing down to your collarbone, peppering kisses over the thin fabric of your shirt before he nipped at your waist. You felt your hands tangle helplessly in his hair, fingers curling tightly as his breath ghosted over your stomach.

“Jay…” His name slipped out in a whisper, so soft you weren’t sure he heard it.

But he did.

His hand dipped lower, fingers slipping past the waistband of your shorts and brushing over the lacy fabric of your underwear. He froze there for a moment, thumb grazing the delicate edge.

“Lace, huh?” he teased, voice dripping with amusement. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

You let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sharp inhale when his fingers pressed lightly against the damp spot just above your folds.

“Oh? Fuck.” His smirk widened as he rubbed slow, teasing circles over the wet patch. “You’re wet already?”

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, muffling the whimper that escaped.

“Don’t hide from me,” Jay chided softly, his voice thick with heat as he pushed the fabric aside just enough for his fingers to graze your bare skin. “I wanna hear you.”

You shook your head, your other hand clutching at his shirt as though it was your lifeline.

“You’re adorable when you try to be quiet,” he murmured against your stomach, his lips brushing so low you felt them against the top of your shorts. “But let’s see how long that lasts…”

Before you could protest, his fingers hooked under the delicate fabric, pulling it aside with a quiet, deliberate motion. The cold air of the room hit your slick folds, making your entire body shudder.

“Goddamn…” Jay’s breath hitched slightly, his composure cracking for just a second as his fingers slid along your folds—slow, teasing strokes that left your knees weak. “You’re so wet I can feel it dripping.”

“J-Jay—” you gasped, your hand falling from your mouth as your head tipped back against the shelf.

“There’s your pretty voice,” he murmured approvingly, leaning in to press a heated kiss to your jaw before his lips traveled lower, nipping gently at the soft skin of your neck.

Then his fingers slipped lower—finally, finally parting your folds—and one long, skilled finger slid between them, brushing against your entrance.

You let out a strangled whimper, your hips bucking slightly.

“Oh, fuck… you’re so fucking soft.” His voice came out strained, huskier now as he pushed in slowly, his finger stretching you deliciously as your walls fluttered around him. “You’re gripping me so tight already, baby.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, clutching at his shirt as though it would help you. “Jay—oh my god—”

“Shh…” He pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips, his finger curling ever so slightly inside you before dragging out halfway, only to slide back in again. “Don’t get loud yet. What if someone walks in?”

Your breath hitched, but the thought barely registered as he added a second finger, the stretch making you gasp loudly this time.

“Ah—fuck—Jay—”

“There she is,” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear as his fingers began a slow rhythm. “So needy. So fucking wet.”

His thumb brushed up to circle your clit, making your hips jerk. “And all this for me?”

You nodded frantically, words failing you as he curled his fingers just right, grazing that spot deep inside that made your legs tremble.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, pretty girl,” Jay growled lowly, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck as his thumb pressed harder. “So fucking tight. So wet I can hear it.”

And sure enough, there it was—the obscene sound of your arousal each time his fingers thrust in and out, filling the tiny storage room with wet, lewd noises.

“Listen to that, baby.” He chuckled darkly, his pace quickening just enough to make you whimper. “Hear how messy you are for me? Fuck.”

Your head fell forward against his shoulder as his fingers worked you open faster, harder. One of your hands slid into his hair, tugging helplessly as the heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

“Jay—please—”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, his smirk evident even as his voice came out rougher now. His fingers didn’t let up, the pads curling against your sweet spot over and over.

“I—don’t stop—please—” you gasped out, barely able to form a sentence.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Jay’s teeth grazed your earlobe as his thumb circled your clit faster.

“I wanna feel you come all over my fingers, pretty girl. Think you can do that for me?”

Your answer was a strangled whimper, your walls fluttering wildly around his fingers as the coil in your stomach snapped.

“J-Jay—oh—fuck—” you gasped, your hips stuttering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

“That’s it… there you go, baby,” he murmured lowly, watching your flushed face contort in pleasure as you came undone on his hand.

The slick, wet sounds grew louder as his fingers continued to pump you through your high, slowing only when your thighs trembled violently.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, your legs gave out beneath you, but Jay was quick—his free hand shooting up to catch you around the waist.

��Woah, easy,” he murmured with a small chuckle, his arm steadying you as your shaky legs threatened to collapse completely.

He hoisted you upright, pressing you firmly against his chest. You panted against him, clinging to his shirt as your body trembled from the aftershocks.

Jay looked down at you with a grin that was equal parts smug and soft before lifting his slick-coated fingers to his mouth. He slid them between his lips, sucking them clean with a low hum.

“Fuck, you’re sweet,” he muttered, his eyes locked on yours as heat rushed to your cheeks. “Could get addicted to this.”

“Jay—” you breathed out, burying your face into his chest as your blush burned hotter.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Breathe for me, baby,” he whispered, his tone turning gentle as his thumb brushed over your jaw. “You did so fucking well.”

He carefully tucked a stray strand of hair sticking to your damp forehead behind your ear, his dark eyes softening as he studied you. “So pretty like this… all wrecked because of me.”

You let out a weak sigh, trying to regain feeling in your legs as he kept a steady arm around your waist.

“God…” you mumbled, voice still breathless. “You’re still carrying the boxes.”

That earned you a low laugh from him, his chest rumbling against your cheek as he tilted your chin up with his thumb.

“Really?” he smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I just made you cum so hard you can’t stand, and that’s all you can say to me?”

You pouted faintly, but your lips twitched into a small grin as you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Jay laughed again, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers trailed soothingly down your spine.

“You’re welcome, pretty girl,” Jay murmured against your lips, giving you one last tender kiss before pulling back with a soft smile.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your face still warm as he helped you steady yourself.

His large hand wrapped around yours, guiding you up with ease. “You okay now?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed in concern as his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

You nodded, your lips tugging into a shy smile. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

“Good.” He gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze before letting go and stepping toward the shelf.

Without hesitation, he bent down and grabbed the stack of three pink boxes like they weighed nothing at all, hoisting them into his arms with a casual grin.

Your jaw dropped slightly as you blinked at him in disbelief. “Jay—three boxes? At once?”

He only chuckled at your shock, his eyes glinting mischievously. “What? You thought I was all talk?”

You crossed your arms, still staring as he adjusted the boxes in his hold effortlessly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously strong,” he corrected smoothly, shooting you a wink. “Now, care to open the door for your musclehead boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh but walked ahead anyway, tugging the door open as he followed close behind.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you teased, holding it open just long enough for him to step out.

Jay smirked, walking past with ease and tossing you a smug glance over his shoulder. “This is the only time I’ll let you open the door by yourself, you know. Don’t get used to it, pretty.”

You scoffed playfully, falling into step beside him as the two of you made your way back to the booths. The quiet of the back building gave way to the familiar bustle of the field as laughter and chatter reached your ears again.

Jay set the stack of pink boxes down on the booth’s table with a soft thud, rolling his shoulders slightly from the weight but still wearing that satisfied grin.

Kazuha, who had been snipping at stray threads on one of the fabric pieces, paused mid-cut. Her brow arched high as her eyes flickered from Jay to you, and then back again.

You frowned, adjusting your skirt asKazuha’s grin grew even wider, mischief dancing in her eyes as she nudged Sakura, who had been kneeling nearby sorting through an array of headpiece fabrics.

Startled, Sakura looked up from her pile, her gaze immediately locking on you and Jay standing side by side. you stepped forward. “What?”

She didn’t even try to hide the knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“What’s wrong?” you asked cautiously, eyes darting between the two girls as your stomach twisted in suspicion.

Kazuha rested her chin on her palm, her expression impossibly smug. “Well,” she drawled, exchanging a look with Sakura. “Looks like you two had fun back there.”

Your brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly in confusion. “Huh? What are you—”

But then you caught it. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jay’s lips—more specifically, the faint shimmer of your glittery pink lip gloss smudged at the corner of his mouth.

Your breath hitched, heat rushing up to your cheeks as mortification settled in.

“Oh my God,” you whispered under your breath, feeling your entire face go hot.

Without thinking, you rushed over to him, grabbing his arm as he blinked down at you in surprise. “Hold still.”

You reached up, using the edge of your sleeve to gently wipe at the gloss on his skin, your movements quick and flustered.

Jay, of course, only laughed—deep and amused as his lips tugged into that teasing grin you both hated and loved.

“Sorry,” he said with a chuckle, not looking the least bit sorry as he let you fuss over him. “Didn’t realize I was wearing your makeup as a badge of honor.”

“Jay,” you hissed under your breath, still dabbing at his mouth as your ears burned hotter.

He tilted his head slightly toward your hand, smirk still firmly in place. “What? I didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm gently against his chest, pushing him back just enough to glare at him—though your flustered expression ruined any chance of it being effective.

Behind you, Kazuha’s laughter rang out while Sakura tried (and failed) to hide her giggles behind a piece of fabric.

“You two are so embarrassing,” Kazuha teased, reaching for her scissors again. “Seriously, get a room next time.”

You groaned, covering your face with both hands as Jay’s chuckle vibrated low in his chest.

You sat cross-legged on the studio floor, fingers deftly tying the little satin ribbons on the fabric pouches while Eunchae sat across from you, her brows furrowed in concentration as she carefully tucked the final satin headpiece inside one.

It was Wednesday late afternoon, the golden light from the high windows spilling across the polished floors. The soft scent of fabric glue still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the faint hum of a ballad playing from someone’s forgotten speaker.

“I still can’t believe you joined the costume department last minute,” you teased, reaching over to flick her forehead gently.

“Weren’t you so adamant about staying out of this?”

Eunchae pouted, hugging a finished pouch to her chest dramatically. “I didn’t want to be left out! You guys are always so busy with ballet and costumes and meetings… I felt like I was third-wheeling the entire friend group.”

You laughed, your hand reaching up to pat her head affectionately. “Our little baby,” you cooed, making her groan and shove lightly at your arm.

“Don’t say it like that. You’re acting like I’m ten,” she grumbled, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

You shook your head, setting the last pouch into the basket beside you. “Okay, little baby, we’re done.”

You pushed yourself off the floor and offered her a hand. “Come on, we should be heading home.”

Eunchae accepted your hand with a dramatic sigh, standing and brushing off her pants. “You mean I have to go home and help Yunjin with her meeting with the juniors.”

She shot you a knowing look as she grabbed the basket. “You, on the other hand, have a date.”

You laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you got up from the floor. “Come on, it’s not really a date. We’re just ordering takeout and watching whatever’s on Netflix.”

“Mmhm.” Eunchae’s grin widened as she followed you out of the studio, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floors.

The hallway outside buzzed with life, students pouring out of their classrooms with laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. It was loud, but comforting in a way—like the kind of background noise you’d grown so used to that it felt like home.

As the two of you made your way down the hall toward the lockers, Eunchae nudged your side with her elbow. “I’m too young to be an aunt, you know.”

You nearly dropped your phone at her words, whipping your head toward her with wide eyes as your hand smacked her arm lightly.

“Come on—you know I’d have to love someone enough for it to even get that far.”

“Oh, uh-huh.” She sang the words out teasingly, leaning closer with a mischievous little smirk. “That’s why your boyfriend’s all over you every chance he gets.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically as you turned the corner to your locker. “Eunchae—”

“Look behind you,” she interrupted with a whisper-shout.

You frowned but turned anyway—only for your breath to catch slightly at the sight of Jay casually walking toward you.

His bag was slung over one shoulder, his guitar case in the other hand, hair a little messy from practice and a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he spotted you. He raised a hand, waving.

You instinctively waved back, cheeks warming as Eunchae bit back a squeal beside you. “I’ll get going,” she said quickly, balancing the basket of headpieces on her hip.

“I gotta get this to Sakura anyway. Have fun on your not-date.” She winked, slipping past you before you could retort.

“Hong Eunchae—”

Too late. She was already halfway down the hall, and you were left stuffing loose papers from your bag into your locker with a sigh.

“Hi, pretty.”

You startled slightly at the voice so close before realizing someone was leaning lazily against the locker beside you.

Turning your head, you found Jay watching you with that boyish grin, his sharp features softened by the warm light spilling in from the windows.

“Hi,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself as you closed your locker with a metallic clink. “You’re early.”

He shrugged, shifting his weight and tilting his head at you. “You say that like you’re not my favorite part of the day.”

Your cheeks burned instantly as you looked away, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Smooth.”

“Always,” he teased, his voice low and warm. “You ready to go?”

You nodded, lips twitching into a small smile as you slid your hand into his outstretched one. His fingers curled around yours instantly, thumb brushing absentmindedly across your knuckles as if it was second nature to him now.

You were sprawled out on Jay’s bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. The faint sound of oil sizzling and the aroma of garlic and spices wafted down the short hall, making your stomach growl.

With a soft sigh, you set your phone aside and stretched your arms over your head, the thin straps of your silk tank top slipping slightly as the fabric clung to your skin.

You didn’t think much of it as you padded barefoot across his room, the hem of your matching lace-trimmed shorts brushing the tops of your thighs.

Trudging out into the living space, you were greeted with the warm glow of the kitchen light and Jay’s tall figure moving around with quiet efficiency.

His back was turned to you, the muscles in his shoulders flexing under his plain white shirt as he stirred something in a pan. His black shorts hung low on his hips, the scene so domestic it made your chest ache a little.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you moved past the couch and perched yourself on the counter next to the sink, your legs swinging lazily.

“You know…” you said casually, your voice cutting through the gentle clatter of pans.

Jay stiffened slightly before glancing over his shoulder, eyes finding yours—and the sight nearly knocked the air out of him.

You—sitting there with a lazy, knowing grin in that silky tank top that clung to every curve, and those lace-trimmed shorts riding high on your thighs—looked like every sinful thought he’d ever had come to life.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, his eyes dragging up and down your body before he quickly turned back to the stove, gripping the spatula tighter than necessary.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

You giggled softly, leaning back on your hands, head tilted in mock innocence. “What? I’m just sitting here.”

Jay shook his head, his jaw tight as he focused on the sizzling vegetables. “Yeah, sitting there like that.”

You smirked, eyes glinting mischievously as you pointed to the neat arrangement of vegetables and sauces on the far counter. “When I said I was craving Chinese…”

He glanced back again, only to find you swinging your legs lazily, the movement making the hem of your shorts ride up just a little more. He swore under his breath.

“…I thought you’d buy or order. Not this,” you teased, gesturing at the cutting board stacked with colorful peppers and neatly lined condiments.

Jay huffed a short laugh, trying to mask how his chest was tightening just looking at you. “What can I say? I like making things from scratch.”

You gave him a playful pout, legs still swinging. “Mm, so I can’t even be mad… it smells really good.”

“Good.” His voice was lower now, a little rougher. “Because I’m putting my whole heart into it.”

He flipped something in the pan and muttered under his breath, “Trying to distract me too…”

You grinned. “Distract you? Me? I’m innocent, Jay.”

He turned then, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, spatula still in hand. His eyes locked on you, sharp and unblinking.

“Innocent?” His brow arched. “Sitting on my counter looking like that? You call that innocent?”

Your smile widened. “What? I’m comfy. It’s your apartment, your rules, right?”

“Mm.” He pushed off the counter, taking slow steps toward you, and you felt your heart stutter. “My apartment. My rules.”

He stopped in front of you, his hands braced on the counter on either side of your thighs, caging you in.

“You really have no idea what you’re doing to me right now, do you?” Jay murmured, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence even as your lips twitched. “I’m just waiting for dinner…”

His gaze darkened as it flicked to your parted lips, lingering for a heartbeat too long before trailing lower—over the way the silk of your tank top clung to your chest, catching in the faint light of the kitchen.

You swore you saw his jaw flex for a moment before he exhaled sharply through his nose.

But his expression softened. A teasing smirk tugged at his lips as his dark eyes flicked back up to yours.

He leaned in slightly, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Get the plates, pretty,” he murmured, voice low but warm. “Dessert can wait.”

You raised a brow at him, trying—and failing—to hold back the grin tugging at your lips.

“You’re sure about that?” you asked lightly, your tone laced with just enough teasing to make his smirk widen.

“Mm. For now,” Jay replied smoothly, stepping back so you could slide down from the counter. “But don’t test me.”

You laughed softly under your breath, hopping down and padding over to the dishwasher.

As you pulled out two plates, you glanced over your shoulder at him, catching the way he was watching you out of the corner of his eye while stirring the sizzling noodles.

“Kitchen or living room?” you asked, stacking the plates carefully in your hands.

“Living room,” Jay answered without hesitation, a little grin forming on his lips. “I know we’re gonna end up watching something anyway.”

You smiled at that, the domesticity of it making your chest ache in a good way.

“You’re not wrong,” you murmured, carrying the plates over to the coffee table in the living room. You set them down neatly, grabbing glasses from the cabinet and a bottle of juice from the fridge on your way back.

Jay had arranged all the dishes neatly on the counter: a steaming bowl of stir-fried noodles, two smaller plates of dumplings and spring rolls, and a perfectly plated dish of sweet and sour chicken.

“Jay… did you make enough food to feed an entire building?” you teased, your lips curving up as you admired the spread.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I just… made everything,” he said casually, his shoulders lifting in a little shrug as he carried over the large bowl of noodles.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you arranged the glasses and juice on the table. “Overachiever.”

“Guilty.”

Jay sat down next to you on the couch, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the aroma of the food. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks, twirling them in his fingers for a moment before scooping up a small bite of noodles.

“Alright. Moment of truth,” he said, blowing lightly on the steaming food before holding it up toward your lips.

You blinked, startled for a second, then let out a small laugh as you leaned forward obediently.

“You’re feeding me now?” you teased, your lips parting.

“Damn right I am,” Jay replied with a grin. “Open up, pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but did as he said, taking the bite as he watched you expectantly. The moment the flavor hit your tongue, your eyes widened.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand as you chewed. “Jay, this is so good. Like—restaurant-level good.”

He let out a low chuckle, eyes softening as he watched you. “Yeah? You’re not just saying that to make me feel good?”

You shook your head eagerly. “No! I’m serious. This is amazing.”

“Good,” he said, his grin turning into a satisfied smirk as he grabbed another bite for himself. “Means I’m keeping my girlfriend well-fed.”

You gave him a playful side-eye but didn’t argue, too focused on savoring the rich flavors still lingering on your tongue.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you continued eating.

Here and there, you’d exchange small conversations—about the day, about how you kept catching your neighbor’s cat peeking through your window, and Jay teasing you about how many shows you’d started but never finished.

But eventually, the plates were forgotten. You found yourself half-lying across his lap, your head resting against the armrest of the couch while his warm hand idly traced shapes on your arm.

The other hand absentmindedly combed through your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers as ‘Bridgerton’ played on the TV.

“This is… interesting,” you mumbled, your voice soft and a little drowsy.

Jay hummed wordlessly in agreement, his eyes fixed on the screen.

He’d been surprisingly quiet for most of the episode—likely too distracted by you sprawled across him in that silk tank top and shorts, looking like the embodiment of temptation.

And then it happened.

The moans. The subtle rustling of clothes. The unmistakable sounds of a sex scene filling the room.

Jay moved slightly beneath you, clearing his throat as his gaze darted away from the screen. His fingers paused in your hair for a beat before resuming their slow motions, though you could feel the slight tension in them now.

You grinned, biting your bottom lip at the rare sight of your usually level-headed boyfriend so visibly affected.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” you teased lightly, purposefully moving on his lap so your body pressed against him in a way that had his breath hitching.

“(Y/N)…” he warned softly, his tone low but lacking bite.

You ignored it, your hand resting innocently on his thigh through his black shorts. But your fingers weren’t so innocent as they splayed slightly, caressing the firm muscle beneath.

Jay’s jaw clenched, a low groan escaping his throat. Still, he said nothing.

So you tried again. This time your fingers traced slow, teasing patterns higher up his thigh.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, almost strained as his dark eyes flicked down to meet yours.

You only hummed in response, a little smile playing on your lips. “Who said I wouldn’t finish?”

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose, the muscles in his arm tightening slightly where his hand rested on your shoulder.

Then you moved again, rolling so you were lying fully on your side, facing him as your fingers toyed with the waistband of his shorts.

“Can I have my dessert now, please?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head with wide, pleading eyes that you knew he couldn’t resist.

Jay swore under his breath, his free hand moving to grip the back of your head, gathering your hair into a loose makeshift ponytail as he exhaled a low chuckle.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that?” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Go ahead, baby. It’s all yours.”

Your grin widened as you tugged down his shorts, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Your palm pressed against the bulge straining through the thin fabric, feeling the heat and weight of him.

Jay’s head fell back slightly against the couch, a deep groan rumbling from his chest.

“No teasing,” he growled, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as his dark eyes bore into yours.

You only looked up at him with a smile that was far too sweet for the sinful things running through your mind.

“Hmm, no promises.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down slowly until he sprang free—thick, long, and flushed a deep shade of red at the tip.

Your breath caught for a moment as you bit your lip, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Jay was watching you closely, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling a little quicker now.

“Pretty…” his voice was low and strained, his thumb stroking the side of your face as he murmured, “Don’t make me lose my fucking mind.”

You only gave him an innocent look—one he didn’t believe for a second—before letting your tongue dart out to give the flushed tip of him a tentative kitten lick.

“Fuck—” Jay’s hand tightened slightly in your hair as his head tipped back against the couch. His thighs tensed under your palm, and you felt the muscle jump as you flicked your tongue against him again.

“Goddamn, (Y/N)…” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly as you trailed your tongue slowly around the sensitive head, tasting the bead of precum that had gathered there.

Your lips curved into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip before flattening your tongue and giving one long, deliberate lick from the base to the tip.

Jay let out a low groan, his hand guiding your head forward instinctively.

“You’re such a tease,” he growled, his voice wrecked as you wrapped your lips around him finally, taking him in inch by inch. “So fucking pretty with your mouth on me.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath.

“Shit—don’t do that or I’m gonna—” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale when your hand wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t reach, stroking him in time with the slow bob of your head.

You pulled off just enough to lick a stripe along the underside of his length before taking him back in, cheeks hollowing as you sucked a little harder this time.

Your other hand moved to rest on his thigh, feeling it tense and twitch under your touch.

“Fuck, baby… just like that,” Jay groaned, his thumb rubbing slow, messy circles against the side of your neck as his other hand stayed tangled in your hair.

You felt him hit the back of your throat, and you pushed just a little further until your gag reflex kicked in.

A choked sound escaped you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you pulled back slightly, saliva dripping messily down your chin.

“Fuck—” Jay’s eyes darkened further at the sight of you so wrecked already, lips red and swollen, eyes watery as you looked up at him.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

You spat softly into your palm, wrapping your slick hand around him again as your mouth returned to the flushed head. Your tongue swirled around it before sucking hard, making him groan deep in his chest.

“Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Jay muttered, his hand guiding your movements now as his hips shifted slightly in the couch cushions.

Your lips and hand worked together, twisting your wrist slightly as you stroked him while your mouth focused on his sensitive tip. Every now and then you’d take him as deep as you could, your throat tightening around him as he cursed lowly.

“F-fuck… just like that, baby. So good for me,” he groaned, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek from the stretch. “Taking me so well. Fucking hell.”

You pulled back with a wet pop, your lips glossy with spit as you panted softly.

“You taste so good,” you murmured, your voice hoarse, before licking a long stripe up his length again.

“Fuck—” Jay groaned low, his hand tightening slightly in your hair as his head tipped back. The hand that had been resting lazily on your arm shifted, dragging down slowly until his fingers hooked at the waistband of your silk shorts.

You felt the tug and froze for just a second, your breath catching around him as he muttered darkly, “These need to come off.”

The sound of fabric sliding down your thighs sent a shiver through you. Half your body was still draped across his lap, your legs bent awkwardly on the couch, but Jay didn’t seem to care.

His dark eyes flicked down, and he let out a low growl when he caught sight of your panties—already soaked through.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmured, his thumb pressing a tentative circle over your clothed core.

The sensation made you whimper, muffled around his length as your hips gave the tiniest jerk. The sound pulled a dangerous smirk from Jay as he arched a brow.

“Oh? That made you whine, pretty girl?” he teased, his voice strained but still laced with amusement. “You like having my cock in your mouth and my hands here?”

You let out a broken moan around him in response, your lips tightening instinctively as you sucked harder.

“Shit—” Jay cursed, his fingers moving now with more purpose as he rubbed slow, firm circles over the damp lace.

Then, without warning, he hooked the fabric to the side, fingers sliding against your slick folds.

“Goddamn…” he muttered under his breath, his thumb brushing your clit as two fingers plunged into you in one smooth motion.

Your body jolted at the sudden intrusion, a loud moan vibrating around his cock as your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Fuck, that sound,” Jay groaned, his free hand tugging your hair back slightly so he could watch your wrecked expression as you tried to keep taking him. “You’re dripping, baby. Making a fucking mess for me.”

His fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect spot with practiced precision. Your hips bucked against his hand, and he chuckled lowly.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough now. “Mouth full of me, pussy so tight and wet for my fingers. You’re such a fucking sight.”

You whimpered again, your thighs trembling as his pace quickened. The obscene wet sounds of his fingers plunging into you mixed with the slick, messy noises from your mouth working on his cock.

“Don’t stop,” Jay gritted out, his hand guiding your movements on him as his thumb pressed harder on your clit.

“Wanna feel you fall apart while you’re sucking me off. Think you can do that, pretty?”

You let out a choked whimper around his cock, your hips jerking as he pressed his thumb harder against your clit. The vibration of your moan made Jay’s head tip back with a guttural groan.

“Fuck—always so fucking sensitive for me,” he muttered, his pace in your core quickening.

The slick, wet sounds of his fingers plunging into you filled the room, mixing with the obscene slurp of your mouth working over his length.

Your thighs trembled as you tried to focus on keeping him in your mouth, but the coil in your stomach tightened unbearably. Jay noticed, his hand gripping your hair tighter as his dark eyes bore down on you.

“Don’t you dare pull away,” he growled, curling his fingers perfectly. “Wanna feel you fall apart right here, baby. Wanna feel your mouth go tight around me when you cum.”

A strangled moan vibrated around his cock as your walls fluttered wildly around his fingers, your body arching against the couch cushions.

You tried to stifle the sound, but it came out broken and needy, muffled by the weight of him on your tongue.

“Good girl,” Jay groaned, his thumb brushing soothingly over your clit even as your thighs shook from the aftershocks.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this. Falling apart for me while keeping me in your mouth. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You whined faintly around him, your lips still wrapped tight as your cheeks hollowed, determined to keep going.

Jay’s jaw clenched, his free hand leaving your hair as he pulled his fingers from your core, bringing them to his lips.

“Fuck—” he hissed as his tongue darted out, licking them clean with a low growl. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

Then, without warning, his now free hand came down in a sharp smack against your ass, making you yelp around his cock. The sudden sting had your hips jerking forward, and Jay groaned deep in his chest.

“Shit—don’t do that unless you’re ready to make me lose it,” he muttered, his breath coming faster now as his hand smoothed over where he spanked you, only to give another sharp slap that had you moaning again.

“I’m close, baby. So close,” he panted, his hand tightening in your hair again. “Just a little more… fuck—”

A deep groan tore from his throat as his hips gave a slight thrust. You felt the first hot spurts hit the back of your throat as he cursed lowly, his chest rising and falling fast.

“Shit, (Y/N)… so fucking good,” he growled as you swallowed around him, not pulling away until he twitched one last time against your tongue.

You let him go with a soft pop, pulling back slightly to look up at him, your lips swollen and glossy with spit. You stuck your tongue out with a little grin, showing him you’d swallowed every drop.

Jay’s dark eyes softened instantly, his chest still heaving as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. Then he leaned down, cupping your jaw as he pressed a tender kiss to your mouth.

Gone was the feral hunger—this kiss was slow, warm, his lips moving lazily against yours as if he couldn’t bear to break the connection.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured between kisses, his other hand smoothing over your hair.

“So good for me. You’ve got me completely fucking ruined, you know that?”

You giggled softly against his lips, still breathless, and he smiled as he pressed another kiss to your flushed cheek, then your nose, then your temple.

“The dishes can wait,” Jay said suddenly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “You’re all I’m thinking about right now.”

Before you could respond, he was already slipping his hands under your thighs, lifting you easily into his arms. You squeaked in surprise, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you bridal style toward his bedroom.

“Jay—” you began, but he silenced you with a soft peck to your lips.

“No arguments,” he murmured with a small smirk. “You’ve completely worn me out. Now I’m gonna hold you all night.”

It was already Wednesday evening before you realized how late it had gotten. The golden sun cast a warm glow over the grassy field, streaks of pink and orange bleeding into the sky as the sound of music still lingered faintly in the air.

Your practice skirt swished against your thighs as you caught your breath, sweat sticking your hair slightly to your temple.

You’d been in your element all afternoon—perfecting every twist, every sharp turn and graceful extension until it felt like muscle memory.

As the song faded out, Sion released your hand, his breathing a little heavier too, and gave you a bright grin.

“Good job, partner,” he said, offering you a casual fist bump.

You laughed softly, bumping your fist against his. “You too. No more near-disasters with that lift. We’re getting there.”

His grin widened, and he shook his head. “Hey, that one wasn’t my fault.”

Before you could tease him further, your coach’s voice echoed across the field as she stepped onto the small stage set up nearby. She grabbed the mic, drawing the attention of every dancer and techie still scattered around.

The grassy field was littered with colorful balloons and bits of confetti from the earlier events—a chaotic but oddly charming mess.

“Alright, everyone!” she called, her voice warm but commanding. “You all worked incredibly hard today. I’m so proud of every single one of you.”

You smiled as you bent to adjust the strap of your heel, standing straighter when your coach’s eyes briefly landed on you.

“And I want to take a moment to outwardly commend Jeong (Y/N), our White Swan,” she continued, her grin widening.

“You’ve been moving like you were born for the stage. Elegant, powerful—exactly what this choreography needs.”

There was a small round of applause and some whistles from the sidelines, including Sakura and Eunchae from the costume team waving their hands dramatically in your direction.

“Our star dancer!” Yunjin cheered loudly, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“That’s our (Y/N)!” Sakura called, earning laughs from the nearby technical department as they clapped and hollered too.

You shook your head, embarrassed but grinning as you raised your hand in mock salute.

“Thank you,” you called back with a laugh, cheeks warm as your teammates joined in the clapping.

“Alright, alright, let’s bring it down,” your coach chuckled. “Cool down and get some rest. Big day tomorrow—official performance. Costumes and tech, you’ve done enough for now. Go relax too.”

Sakura, Yunjin, and Eunchae let out exaggerated sighs of relief, fanning themselves with their clipboards as they made their way off the field.

You glanced at Chaewon, who was stretching her shoulders nearby, and gestured subtly for her to step up and lead the cooldown.

Her brows furrowed in mock annoyance, and she placed a hand on her hip. “Me? Again? You’re the coach’s favorite today, (Y/N). You do it.”

You raised your brows, biting back a grin. “Hey, I just nailed a whole routine. My legs are already jelly.”

Chaewon scoffed but took her place at the front anyway, clapping her hands to gather everyone. “Fine, fine. But you owe me, Jeong.”

You exhaled, the weight of hours of practice finally settling into your bones as the cooldown stretches began. Your muscles ached, but it was the good kind of ache—the one that told you you’d given everything today.

As the group dispersed, Kazuha and Chaewon approached with your belongings in their arms.

“Here,” Kazuha said with a warm smile, handing you your bag.

“Don’t forget your water,” Chaewon added, tossing you your bottle with a knowing look.

“Thanks, guys,” you murmured, slinging your bag over your shoulder as the three of you stepped off the stage and down onto the grassy field.

By the time you reached the sidewalk, all three of you were laughing about how Chaewon’s cooldown playlist somehow always snuck in random ballads no one asked for.

But the sound of laughter wasn’t just yours.

You froze slightly at the sight that greeted you. The band was there—all of them.

Jake and Sunghoon were tossing a football back and forth like overgrown kids, their movements occasionally too dramatic, causing the ball to fly dangerously close to other people.

Sunoo and Jungwon were in a full-on sprint, shrieking as Ni-ki chased them like some horror movie villain, his long legs easily closing the distance.

Heeseung was lying completely motionless on the grass, his arm draped over his eyes, probably dead to the world.

But your eyes were pulled magnetically to one figure—Jay.

He was leaning lazily against a lamppost, one ankle crossed over the other, hands in his pockets. But his posture was deceptive because his dark eyes—soft yet sharp—never once left your figure as you approached.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable.

You tilted your head, brows furrowing in confusion. Before you could say anything, Chaewon placed her hands firmly on your back and shoved you forward.

“Hey—!” You stumbled slightly, whipping around to glare at her, but she just grinned and shrugged.

“Kazuha and I need to help the tech team out,” Chaewon said sweetly, already pulling Kazuha away.

“Wait, what—?” you began, but she clicked her tongue like a mother scolding her child.

“You’ve already done enough, babes. You’re the main dancer for a reason. Now shoo—have fun with your man.”

You rolled your eyes, clutching your bag tighter as you turned back toward Jay.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, but now there was the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You tired?” he asked when you reached him, his voice low and warm in the cool evening air.

You shook your head, trying to calm the rapid thudding in your chest.

“Good,” he murmured, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced with yours naturally, and you followed him wordlessly as he led you away from the field, past the noise of the others, toward the empty bathrooms near the edge of the grassy area.

“Why are we here?” you asked suspiciously, brows raised as you glanced at him.

He didn’t answer—just gave you that maddeningly calm look as he pushed open the door and guided you inside.

“Jay—”

The next thing you knew, you were pressed against the cool metal of the locked stall door, your bag sliding off your shoulder as he set it neatly on the floor.

Your breath hitched. “Jay… what—”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers already tugging at the waistband of your tights.

“Jay!” you squeaked.

He clicked his tongue, looking up at you with dark, dangerous eyes. “Relax, pretty. I already got you new ones. And another pair for tomorrow’s performance.”

Your jaw fell slack. “You… what?”

“I had to ask Sakura what color to get,” he admitted with a smirk, fingers curling into the fabric of your tights. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Before you could even react, the sharp sound of fabric tearing filled the air. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance.

“Jay, you’re insane—”

“Mm,” he hummed in amusement, his thumbs hooking the ruined waistband of your tights to drag them down just enough. “You keep saying that like it’s news.”

And then he was pushing your underwear aside, the cool air against your slick heat making you shiver.

“Already wet?” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “Were you thinking about me the whole practice, pretty?”

“Jay—wait—”

But he didn’t wait. He dove in, his tongue flattening against your folds before dragging upward in a slow, sinful lick.

Your knees nearly buckled. A sharp squeak escaped you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as a helpless moan tried to break free.

Jay’s hands gripped your thighs firmly, holding you steady as his tongue circled your clit with maddening precision.

“You taste even sweeter after practice,” he muttered against you, his warm breath making you shudder. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

You let out a muffled whimper, your fingers tangling desperately in his hair as he continued devouring you like a man starved.

His strong hands gripped the undersides of your thighs, holding you up effortlessly against the cool metal door as his mouth worked you open.

His arms weren’t just for show—corded muscles flexed beneath his skin as he kept you steady, your legs threatening to give out from how relentlessly his tongue moved.

“Jay—ah, f-fuck—” you gasped against your palm, trying in vain to stay quiet.

He hummed low in his throat, the vibrations shooting straight through your core as his tongue flicked teasingly at your clit before dragging back down to lap at your folds again.

Sometimes he’d go maddeningly slow, flattening his tongue to savor you, only to suddenly swirl it fast around your sensitive nub, pulling a broken moan from your lips.

He pulled back just slightly, his lips slick and glistening as he looked up at you with dark, hooded eyes. “So fucking sweet, (Y/N). You gonna give it to me?”

You couldn’t even answer, your hips twitching against his mouth as he dipped back in. His tongue thrust past your folds with a groan that vibrated against you, and you fell apart.

Your hands fisted in his hair as a strangled sound escaped you, your back arching against the door. He didn’t stop—not until your body sagged weakly in his hold, trembling with the aftershocks.

“Good girl,” Jay murmured, licking his lips with a satisfied hum as he cleaned every trace of you from his mouth. “Fucking perfect.”

He stood smoothly, his hands steadying you as your legs threatened to buckle. You clung to his shirt, panting as your forehead pressed to his chest.

“Easy,” he said softly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he cupped your jaw and kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it made your knees weak all over again.

When he pulled back, his thumb brushed over your flushed cheek as his eyes softened slightly.

“I was jealous,” he said suddenly, voice low.

You blinked up at him, still trying to catch your breath. “Jealous?”

His jaw tensed a little as he nodded stiffly. “Of your partner.”

“…Sion?” you asked carefully.

“Yeah.” The way the name sounded on his tongue—clipped, almost sour—made you press your lips together to keep from smiling.

“You watched the performance?”

Jay gave a little shrug, eyes flicking to the side. “Only the end.”

You tilted your head at him, amusement flashing in your gaze despite the post-orgasm haze. “Just the end?”

His lips quirked in the faintest smirk, but his arms didn’t loosen around you. “Didn’t need to see the rest. I already know you’re the best one out there.”

Your heart fluttered at his words even as your eyes rolled. “Smooth, Park Jongseong.”

He only hummed in response, his lips curling into a faint smirk as he leaned in again, capturing your mouth in a slower, deeper kiss.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him like he couldn’t stand even a centimeter of space between you.

But with a small laugh, you placed your palms on his chest and pushed him back slightly.

Jay’s brows furrowed immediately, his lips parting in surprise like a kicked kitten. “What—why are you stopping me?”

“No sex until tomorrow,” you said firmly, though the twitch of amusement at the corner of your mouth betrayed how hard you were trying not to laugh at his expression. “Not even head.”

His frown deepened, his pretty brows drawing together as his hands fell to his sides dramatically. “What? Why?”

You gave him a pointed look, still slightly breathless from earlier. “Jay, I need my legs to work tomorrow. Do you want me limping through the entire performance?”

He blinked at you, processing your words for a second before he sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

“My girlfriend is a god of the stage. I respect that,” he muttered begrudgingly, his lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“But depriving me of my favorite pastime?” His dark eyes flicked back to yours, narrowed slightly in mock betrayal. “That’s insane.”

You burst out laughing, clutching his arm as your body shook. “Jay, you’re so dramatic.”

He clicked his tongue and bent down, his hands gentle as he helped you step out of your ripped tights and skirt, the remnants of fabric still clinging around your thighs.

His touch lingered longer than necessary, fingers brushing teasingly up the back of your knee, but he didn’t push.

“Guess I’ll suffer in silence then,” he grumbled, straightening back up and plucking your bag from where it lay carelessly on the floor.

He unzipped it and pulled out a pair of your loose pants, holding them out to you like some tragic prince. “Here, pretty. Can’t have my star performer catching a cold.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and took them from him, slipping them on as he watched silently, still looking mildly offended.

Once you were dressed, he stepped closer, brushing his thumb over your flushed cheek. “Tomorrow night, though…”

His voice dipped low, dangerous. “You’re not escaping me.”

You swallowed hard, fighting back the shiver that ran down your spine. “We’ll see.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you swore Sakura could feel it as her fingers carefully swept iridescent glitter across your eyelids.

Each brush sent tiny specks of shimmer catching the harsh backstage lights, making your reflection look ethereal in the mirror propped in front of you.

“You’re okay, (Y/N). Breathe,” Sakura murmured softly, almost like she was trying to steady herself too amidst the chaos that was the backstage.

You tried to smile at her reassurance, but it came out small, weak—like your lungs couldn’t fill fully.

Before you could say anything, Eunchae hurried up behind you, her small hands adjusting the satin headpiece that lined your hair, soft white feathers fanning delicately from it. She clipped a few more pins to secure it in place, her brows furrowed in focus.

“Hold still,” she whispered. “One wrong move and this thing will fly into the audience like a frisbee.”

Despite your nerves, you let out a quiet laugh, and Eunchae smiled in victory. “There. Perfect. You’re going to blow them away.”

Your lips twitched upward, grateful for her efforts, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers—loud, raucous, unrelenting—seeped in through the stage curtains. Your stomach twisted painfully.

Sakura noticed your frown immediately as she touched up the powder along your jawline, her warm brown eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“Hey,” she said gently, her thumb brushing a stray fleck of glitter off your cheekbone. “Don’t think. Just dance.”

You gave a tiny nod, inhaling slowly through your nose.

As Kazuha settled in, her eyes flicked toward you, catching the way your fingers twisted nervously in your lap. She smiled, soft and reassuring.

“You’ll do great,” she said simply, her voice carrying that calm strength she was known for. “You always do.”

You turned your head slightly toward her, eyes narrowing playfully despite the thundering in your chest. “My Duchess,” you teased, referring to her role in the performance.

Kazuha rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips quirking upward as the makeup artist began dusting shimmer across her collarbones. “Keep that up and I will bite you.”

That drew a real laugh out of you this time, enough to loosen the tension knotting your shoulders.

“Violent Duchess,” you murmured fondly.

“Terrified Swan,” she countered with a wink, her words laced with affection.

You let out a shaky breath, finally pushing yourself up from the chair as Sakura patted your shoulder.

“You’re good to go,” she said, tucking the last stray hair into place and stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now go out there and make them cry.”

You managed a small smile, smoothing your hands down the flowing white fabric of your costume. The feathers on your headpiece caught the warm glow of the vanity lights, dancing like embers with each nervous breath you took.

As you turned toward the side of the stage, your eyes caught movement near the instruments.

Enhypen was there, scattered in various states of pre-show focus—Sunghoon and Jake adjusting their earpieces, Jungwon testing a mic stand, and Ni-ki thumbing through some of the microphones like he was choosing weapons.

But your gaze inevitably locked onto Jay.

He was standing near the amps, his guitar leaning casually against the wall as he tugged slightly at the thick silver chain resting on his collarbones. He muttered something to Heeseung, probably asking for another guitar pick, and adjusted his in-ear monitors.

And for a moment, the noisy chaos around you faded into a hush.

His eyes swept over you in one long, slow drag—like he was drinking in the sight of you dressed in white satin and feathers, glowing under the dim backstage lights.

The corner of his lips parted slightly, his hands pausing mid-motion as though he’d completely forgotten what he was doing.

You didn’t even have time to react before he was moving toward you. His steps were purposeful, his gaze locked on yours until he finally reached you.

Without hesitation, his hands slid onto your waist, thumbs brushing feather-light against the delicate fabric.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice low and reverent. “You look so beautiful.”

Your cheeks warmed under his intense gaze. “Thank you,” you murmured softly.

His shirt—a crisp white button-up lined with bold black and red patterns—caught your attention. You reached up without thinking, unfastening one more button at the collar and smoothing the fabric down with your fingers.

“There,” you said with a satisfied nod. “Now you look handsome too.”

A grin tugged at his lips, boyish and soft as he tilted his head slightly. “Only handsome?”

You smirked faintly. “Devastatingly handsome, Park Jongseong.”

“Better.”

Before you could say more, he leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his lips ghosted dangerously close. But just as his mouth met yours—click.

You both startled slightly and turned your heads to see Eunchae standing there, holding up a camera with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry!” she said, laughing. “But you two were too cute. Can I send this to the team? They’re begging for a backstage update for the school page.”

Sakura stood a few feet away, arms crossed as she gave Jay a pointed look. “Don’t ruin my artwork, Park. I spent twenty minutes getting that glitter perfect.”

You broke into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand as Jay pressed his lips together, his ears faintly red. He looked at Sakura, then back at you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You’re scary when you’re protective of her, Sakura,” he murmured.

“Damn right,” she replied coolly.

Eunchae giggled again. “So… can I post it?”

Jay’s hand slid from your waist to lace with yours gently, and he squeezed. Then, leaning down slightly, he whispered in your ear, his breath warm and low:

“After your performance.”

You turned your head to meet his dark, soft gaze and nodded, the corner of your lips curving upward.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, pressing the lightest kiss to your temple before stepping back reluctantly. “Now go break their hearts, my swan.”

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

139 notes · View notes

liuhsng · 23 days ago

Text

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ sea, sex, and sun ( hjs & lsm ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ seventeen masterlist (coming soon !)

⤷ pairing — joshua x fem!reader x dk

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 13.1k ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — here’s part two and it’s pure filth (save for the little time skip near the end). i also altered the timeline a bit so everything lines up with the story ! enjoy loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, double penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), established relationship, idol au, idol!joshua, idol!dk, threesome, oral sex (f & m receiving), fingering, creampie, breeding kink, overstimulation (multiple rounds), manhandling, praise kink, light degradation (playful teasing), hair pulling, marking (hickeys & scratches), body worship, use of lube & sex toys (dildo), anal play, anal sex, squirting, spit sharing, aftercare,mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy reveal, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — it started with ten rounds—ten messy, unrelenting rounds that left you breathless, ruined, and so utterly theirs. joshua and dokyeom couldn’t get enough of you; their hands, their lips, their voices worshipped every inch of your body as if you were made for them to love. but when the heat faded and the reality set in, you were left spiraling with a faint second line staring back at you on a stick. you thought you could keep it to yourself for a little longer—but in a dorm full of seventeen and two boyfriends with sharp eyes, your secret doesn’t stay one for long.

You barely got a whine out about the shopping bags thudding carelessly to the floor before Joshua’s hands gripped your face, his thumb pressing your jaw open as his tongue immediately slid against yours.

The kiss was rough, impatient, and his teeth tugged at your bottom lip as if to shut down any protests.

“Shhh, angel. Don’t even start,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice husky and dark with desire.

Behind you, Dokyeom’s palms were already gripping your ass, kneading it shamelessly as he dragged your skirt down your legs in one swift motion, leaving you in the tiny pink lacy underwear that made both men groan earlier that night.

“You’re gonna ruin the bags—” you tried to scold breathlessly between kisses, only for Dokyeom to laugh lowly, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“If something broke in there, we’ll buy you five more, baby,” he growled against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just under your ear.

“So stop worrying about the damn bags and let us focus on you.”

Joshua pulled back just enough to give you a dark smirk, his thumb swiping across your wet, kiss-swollen lips. “You look so fucking perfect like this—panties already wet for us, yeah?”

You whined, shaking your head, but your body betrayed you as Dokyeom’s fingers ghosted over the lace of your bottoms, feeling the damp spot blooming there.

“Liar,” he teased, fingers slipping under the waistband as he snapped it lightly against your skin. “So wet and we haven’t even started yet.”

They guided you back to the bed, the mattress dipping as you landed with a small gasp.

Your hair spread around you like a halo, but there was nothing innocent about the way your chest rose and fell rapidly, anticipation thick in the air.

Dokyeom wasted no time, leaning down to grab the edge of your fitted tube top.

“D-Dokyeom—wait, that’s Chanel—” you started, but he only grinned wolfishly and tugged hard, the sound of fabric tearing filling the room.

“Oops,” he said with zero remorse, tossing the ruined top to the floor as his hands gripped your breasts through the flimsy bikini top. “I’ll buy you ten more, yeah? Just shut up and let us play.”

Before you could even retort, his mouth claimed yours in a heated, filthy kiss.

His tongue swept inside greedily, swallowing down your breathy whimpers as his hands tugged harshly at the strings of your bikini, threatening to undo them.

Meanwhile, Joshua was kneeling at the edge of the bed, his lips ghosting over your inner thighs. “This fucking underwear drove me insane all night,” he murmured against your skin, peppering kisses upward.

“Little tease. You knew what you were doing wearing this shit to dinner.”

“I didn’t—” you tried to defend yourself, only to let out a choked gasp when Joshua’s tongue darted out to lick over the damp fabric of your panties.

“Shhh. Save your excuses, baby. You’re about to be too busy moaning to talk anyway,” Joshua growled, tugging the soaked lace aside and dragging his tongue flat against your slit.

Dokyeom pulled back from your mouth just enough to watch your flushed, trembling expression as Joshua’s tongue fucked into you.

“Look at her. Already shaking,” he smirked, fingers teasingly circling one hardened nipple through the fabric before tugging the string loose entirely, baring your chest to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck, angel… you’re unreal,” Dokyeom whispered reverently before ducking down to suck one nipple into his mouth, his hand rolling and pinching the other.

Joshua groaned against your pussy, his tongue lapping at your clit with deliberate, firm strokes as two of his fingers pushed inside your tight heat, curling perfectly to hit that spot that made your hips jerk.

“Such a pretty little mess for us,” Joshua muttered, lips glistening as he looked up at you. “Come on, baby. Give us that first orgasm. I want to feel you cum on my tongue.”

Dokyeom’s free hand slid down your stomach, fingers joining Joshua’s at your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles as he whispered hotly against your breast,

“Cum, angel. Be good and let go for us. You can do that, can’t you?”

You nodded frantically, back arching off the bed as the coil in your stomach snapped hard, a loud cry leaving your lips as pleasure rolled through you in waves.

“That’s it. Fucking beautiful,” Joshua praised, lapping up every drop of your release as his fingers milked you through it.

Dokyeom kissed your jaw, his cock already hard and pressing against your thigh as he murmured, “That’s one. But we’re not done, baby. Not even close.”

Joshua pulled back with a low hum, his chin and lips glistening with your slick as he lazily swiped his tongue over his bottom lip.

The look he gave you from between your thighs was downright sinful, eyes dark, lips curved into a smug, knowing smirk.

“Delicious,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as Dokyeom stepped closer.

They didn’t even speak. The exchange was wordless, primal—Joshua gave Dokyeom space while shifting up onto his knees to hover over your chest.

Dokyeom, meanwhile, wasted no time. He gripped your thighs firmly, dragging you to the edge of the bed so your ass was hanging slightly off. He didn’t bother with teasing.

His mouth was on you instantly, tongue burying deep into your soaked heat with a groan that vibrated through your core.

“Fuck, angel. So sweet… even better straight from the source,” Dokyeom growled, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he ate you like a starved man.

Above you, Joshua was undoing his shorts with practiced ease, tugging them down and letting his cock spring free. Your eyes widened slightly, but he only chuckled darkly at your reaction.

“Don’t just stare, angel,” Joshua murmured, guiding the tip to your parted lips. “Open up. Be my good girl.”

You obeyed without hesitation, lips parting as his hand cradled the back of your head, thumb stroking your jaw as you took him in.

“That’s it… fuck, just like that,” Joshua groaned as the warmth of your mouth surrounded him, your tongue swirling around his tip before you started to bob your head slowly.

His hand tightened slightly in your hair, guiding your pace as his cock slid deeper.

“Messy little thing,” he smirked down at you, watching the way your lips stretched around him. “Don’t forget to use those pretty hands too.”

You reached up, fingers wrapping around the base of his length where your mouth couldn’t reach, stroking him in tandem with your sucks as his hips twitched slightly.

“God, baby… you feel so good,” Joshua praised, his voice rougher now as he rolled his hips forward carefully.

“So eager for it. You love having both of us ruin you, huh?”

Below, Dokyeom groaned against your pussy, his tongue working your clit relentlessly as two of his fingers slid into your dripping entrance, curling perfectly.

“She’s clenching already. Fuck, I can feel her getting close again,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to suck your sensitive nub into his mouth with a wet pop.

You whimpered around Joshua’s cock, your moans vibrating through him as he hissed sharply.

“Shit—keep that up and I won’t last long,” Joshua warned, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple as he watched you work.

His thumb wiped away a tear slipping down your cheek from how deep he’d gone. “You’re such a perfect little slut for us, angel. So fucking perfect.”

Dokyeom’s pace didn’t falter, his tongue lapping messily at your folds while his fingers thrust faster, harder, curling until you saw stars behind your eyelids.

“Cum for me, baby,” Dokyeom growled, his voice muffled against your heat. “I wanna feel you shake all over my tongue while you choke on Joshua’s cock.”

Joshua grinned darkly at that, hips pressing forward just slightly as he muttered, “Did you hear that? Be a good girl and do what hyung says. Show us how much you love being used like this.”

Your thighs quivered violently as pleasure tore through you, a muffled scream lost around Joshua’s length as you came hard.

Dokyeom didn’t let up, dragging out your orgasm with long, slow sucks to your clit as Joshua hissed above you.

“Fuck, look at her. So messy. So beautiful like this,” Joshua groaned, his hips stuttering slightly as you hollowed your cheeks around him.

But then, with a sharp inhale, he pulled out suddenly, leaving your lips glistening and parted as a needy whine escaped you.

“Shua…” you whimpered, trying to chase him with your mouth.

He chuckled darkly, wiping the corner of your lips with his thumb as he tilted your chin up. “Not yet, baby. You first. Always you first,” he cooed, kissing your swollen lips tenderly despite the heat in his gaze.

His kiss didn’t stay gentle for long. His tongue swept in possessively, stealing your breath as his hands tugged at the strings of your bikini top, sliding it off and tossing it carelessly across the room. The fabric landed somewhere near the growing pile of discarded clothes.

“Perfect,” Joshua muttered against your lips, hands cupping your bare breasts, thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples as he pulled back with a satisfied hum.

“But I think our girl needs to be fixed up a little, hm?”

Before you could respond, Joshua’s strong hands adjusted your position, laying you back properly on the plush bed.

He brushed your hair from your face and pressed one last kiss to your temple before moving away, his eyes gleaming with something dark and wicked.

Joshua sank down leisurely onto the loveseat just beside the bed, legs spread slightly as he watched you with predatory amusement. “You take her first, Seokmin. I have plans for her later.”

Dokyeom, kneeling between your legs now, shot Joshua a smirk over his shoulder before focusing all of his attention on you.

His hands slid up your thighs slowly, teasingly, until his thumbs brushed dangerously close to your soaked panties.

“You hear that, angel?” Dokyeom purred, leaning down to nose at your jaw as his fingers traced idle patterns over your inner thighs. “I get to play first. Lucky me.”

You squirmed beneath him, the heat of his body pressing into yours as he tugged your panties down.

“You’re so wet already… fuck. I haven’t even done anything yet,” he growled, dragging the tip of his cock through your slick folds, just barely nudging your entrance.

“Dokyeom—please,” you whimpered, hips bucking instinctively.

“Please what?” he teased, his tip sliding up to tap your clit, making you jolt.

“You want me to ruin this perfect little pussy? Stretch you out so good Joshua can watch?”

Joshua hummed lowly from the loveseat, one arm draped lazily over the armrest as he palmed himself through his boxers, eyes locked on you.

“Don’t tease her too much, Seokmin. I want her nice and wrecked by the time I get my turn.”

“Don’t worry,” Dokyeom replied with a dark chuckle, lining himself up properly this time. “I’ll make sure she’s dripping for you.”

And then, without warning, he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried deep inside you, making your back arch off the bed as a loud moan tore from your throat.

“Holy fuck,” Dokyeom groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder as he bottomed out. “So fucking tight. You’re perfect, angel. Always so perfect for us.”

Joshua’s voice came from the side, low and smooth like velvet. “That’s it, baby. Let him hear how good he’s making you feel. Be loud for us.”

Dokyeom started to move, pulling out halfway before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips, dragging a choked cry from your lips.

“God, listen to you,” he growled, setting a slow but hard pace.

“So greedy. You love this, huh? Love being spread open while your other boyfriend watches?”

Your hands fisted the sheets as you whimpered, nodding helplessly.

Joshua’s eyes gleamed at the sight, his hand sliding into his boxers now, stroking himself lazily as he watched Dokyeom fuck into you relentlessly.

The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, mixed with your choked moans and the wet, filthy noises of Dokyeom pounding into you harder, faster.

“F-Fuck, Dokyeom—” you sobbed, your hands gripping the sheets until Dokyeom caught them, lacing his fingers tightly with yours and pressing them into the mattress on either side of your head.

“Stay with me, angel,” he growled against your ear, his hips snapping violently into yours.

His breath was hot, teeth grazing your skin as he placed an open-mouthed kiss just beneath your ear, sucking until a deep purple mark bloomed there.

“Want you to cum for me again—fuck, you feel so good, baby. So perfect around me.”

Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, the coil in your stomach winding so tight it hurt.

“Dokyeom—oh my God—” you cried out, body arching as your third orgasm tore through you like fire.

“That’s it, angel. Let go for me. That’s my good girl.”

Dokyeom groaned low in his chest, his thrusts stuttering as your walls clenched down mercilessly on him. “Shit—fuck—baby I’m—” He spilled into you with a strangled moan, his hips still grinding against you as he fucked his cum deeper with slow, languid rolls.

“Fuck… look at the mess you’re making of me,” he whispered, watching your juices and his own mix, dripping out of your swollen pussy as he pulled out slowly.

Joshua stood then, finally shedding his white button-up and shorts, his toned chest on full display as he walked toward the bed like a predator.

His eyes flicked to Dokyeom, and the younger man only smirked, leaning down to kiss you deeply, his hand stroking your jaw.

“You did so good for me, angel,” Dokyeom murmured as he pulled back, settling on his knees on the bed beside you.

Joshua’s cock brushed against your inner thigh as he knelt between your legs, his hand stroking himself lazily while his eyes dragged over your wrecked, flushed body.

“God, look at you…” he purred, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds, teasing your sensitive clit just enough to make you whimper and squirm.

“So fucked out and pretty—dripping from him and still greedy for more.”

“J-Joshua,” you whined, hips bucking slightly as you tried to take him in, but he pulled back with a dark chuckle.

“Not yet, baby,” he tsked, his tip nudging your entrance only to pull away again. “You’re not ready until I say you’re ready. You want me that bad? Beg for it.”

Your lips trembled, glossy eyes looking up at him as your nails dug into the sheets. “Please, Joshua… I need you—need you so bad—”

“Look at her,” Dokyeom murmured from beside you, his thumb stroking your flushed cheek. “So pretty when she begs.”

Joshua smirked, his cock twitching at your desperate plea. “Say it again, angel. Look me in the eyes and tell me how much you need me.”

“Please, Joshua,” you whispered, voice cracking as you met his dark, hungry gaze. “I need you to fuck me… need you to ruin me.”

“Good girl.” Joshua leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he finally pushed in, filling you to the hilt in one smooth, deep thrust that made you cry out into his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled against your lips, his hand cradling the back of your head as he set a brutal pace right away, each thrust knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Shit—Joshua!” you gasped, nails clawing at his back as Dokyeom’s hand reached down to toy with your swollen clit.

The sound of your wetness echoed in the room, obscene and raw, while Dokyeom’s skilled fingers never relented on your clit.

Joshua only smirked down at you, sweat dripping from his temples as he leaned in close, peppering soft, almost mocking kisses over your jaw, your flushed cheeks, and the corner of your parted lips.

“You’re so fucking loud, angel,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed your tear-streaked face. “Let the whole resort hear how good your boyfriends fuck you, huh?”

“J-Joshua, please—” you cried out, thighs trembling violently as your body tried to escape the overwhelming stimulation. But you couldn’t.

His grip on your wrists was like iron, one large hand pinning them against the bed above your head while the other held your thigh in place.

“Stay fucking still,” he growled, lifting your leg onto his shoulder for a deeper angle.

The new position made his cock slam into your g-spot with every brutal thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your overstimulated body.

“Fuck, that’s it. You feel me right there, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes—oh my God—right there, Joshua! Right there!” you sobbed, stars exploding behind your eyes as Dokyeom’s mouth closed around one of your nipples, sucking and biting lightly as his fingers kept rubbing fast, tight circles on your clit.

“Messy little thing,” Dokyeom murmured against your breast, his free hand pinching your other nipple, drawing another high-pitched cry from your throat.

“You’re milking him so fucking good, angel. You gonna cum again for us?”

“I—can’t—oh fuck—” your voice cracked into a scream as Joshua’s thrusts became erratic, harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as your fourth orgasm ripped through you violently.

Your walls clamped down hard around him, squeezing every inch of his thick cock as your body arched under him.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my perfect fucking girl,” Joshua groaned, his head tipping back as his own orgasm hit.

His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep one final time, hot ropes of cum spilling inside you. “Take it—fuck—take all of it like the good girl you are.”

“F-Fuck, Joshua,” you whimpered weakly, twitching as the aftershocks of your orgasm sent sparks down your spine.

Joshua panted heavily above you, pressing a lingering kiss to your quivering lips before pulling back slightly to watch his cum slowly leak out of your swollen, fucked-out pussy.

“Shit… look at the mess we made,” he murmured with a cocky grin.

But before you could even recover, Dokyeom’s fingers were already gathering their mixed release, pushing it back into your fluttering entrance with a low growl—your thighs twitching but making no attempt to move away.

Your body was pliant now—wrecked, trembling, yet still greedy.

Joshua’s lips found yours in a slow, intoxicating kiss, his tongue sweeping languidly as if to soothe you from the storm you’d just endured.

But his kiss didn’t last long—because Dokyeom’s strong arms were already sliding around your waist, pulling you up onto his lap.

“Stay still for me, baby,” Dokyeom muttered against the shell of your ear, his deep voice laced with desire as he adjusted your hips.

You gasped when you felt the thick head of his cock sliding between your folds, rubbing against your overstimulated clit, gathering your slick and their cum as he teased your entrance.

“D-Do… Dokyeom—” you breathed out shakily, your hands clutching his thighs behind you as you arched back into him.

“You’re okay, angel,” he murmured with a smirk, peppering kisses along your jaw. “Just relax. Let me in. You’re so good for us—always so good.”

Joshua moved closer again, his cock already hard in his hand, the tip flushed an angry red as he slapped it lightly against your clit. The wet sound made your entire body jolt.

“Fuck—look how sensitive you are,” Joshua chuckled darkly, watching your hips twitch helplessly. “Still ready to take us both, huh? Such a messy little thing.”

“J-Joshua…” you whimpered, burying your face into Dokyeom’s neck as he began pushing into your soaked pussy inch by inch.

The stretch made your mouth fall open in a silent cry, your nails digging into Dokyeom’s thighs as his girth filled you to the brim.

“That’s it… good fucking girl,” Dokyeom groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he bottomed out with a low hiss.

“Taking me so well. Always so fucking perfect for us.”

Your breath came in shallow, shaky pants as Joshua’s hand cupped your chin, tilting your head to face him. “You want more, angel? You want me too?”

Your trembling hands reached out instinctively, making grabby motions towards him, and Joshua’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

“Needy little thing,” he teased, bending to press gentle kisses to your outstretched hands before leaning closer.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips as he began pressing his cock against your already stretched entrance.

“W-Wait—Joshua—” you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as the burn of the stretch returned, even more intense now as his thick length started to push past your tight walls.

“Shhh, baby… you’re okay,” Joshua soothed, kissing your flushed cheeks as he slowly, carefully eased himself in alongside Dokyeom.

“Breathe. You’re doing so good for us.”

The fullness was overwhelming, the stretch almost too much as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

But the pleasure that came with it—the sinful, addictive feeling of being completely filled by them both—had your walls fluttering uncontrollably around them.

“Holy fuck—she’s so tight,” Joshua hissed, his voice strained as he bottomed out, his forehead pressing to yours as his grip on your waist tightened.

“You’re squeezing us like a vice, angel,” Dokyeom groaned from behind you, his lips dragging lazy kisses along your shoulder.

“You’re incredible. So fucking perfect for us.”

You could barely think, barely breathe as they stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Their hands stroked your trembling thighs and waist, their lips trailing soft, grounding kisses to your skin.

“Tell us when, sweetheart,” Joshua whispered, his thumb stroking gently over your clit.

For a few seconds you could only gasp and whimper, your mind a hazy fog of sensation.

Then, with a shaky breath, you whispered, “Y-You can move…”

Before you could even take a steady breath, he moved. In one swift motion, Dokyeom shifted and laid flat on the bed, bringing you with him so you were straddling his hips now.

His cock still buried to the hilt inside your overstimulated cunt, and you gasped at the sudden change in angle, your hands splaying on his chest for balance.

His large hands cupped your ass, guiding you to rock against him lazily, his voice dropping into a growl. “You still want more, angel? Even after taking both of us so well?”

You nodded fervently, a whimper slipping past your kiss-swollen lips. “P-Please… more. I can take it.”

“Of course you can,” he chuckled darkly, thumbs spreading your cheeks slightly as he glanced over your shoulder.

“You hear that, Shua? She wants more.”

“Greedy little thing,” Joshua’s low voice came from behind you, thick with amusement and lust. You shivered as his hand smoothed over your lower back before gliding down to your ass.

He gave it a firm squeeze, then a sharp smack that echoed in the room and left a stinging heat blossoming across your skin.

“Shua—!” you yelped softly, hips jerking forward from the contact, which only made Dokyeom groan beneath you.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dokyeom hissed, his hands kneading your ass cheeks before helping you lift and drop yourself onto his cock again, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy filling the air.

“You feel that? How deep I am? How good we’re fucking you open?”

Behind you, Joshua’s thumb brushed teasing circles around your puckered rim. Not entering, just playing with the sensitive flesh as you trembled above Dokyeom.

“You’re clenching, baby,” Joshua teased, pressing just enough to make you moan but not enough to breach.

“You like me touching you here too, huh? Want me to play with your pretty ass while Kyeom ruins your pussy?”

Your head lolled forward against Dokyeom’s shoulder, and you let out a broken sob of pleasure. “Shua—p-please… don’t tease…”

But Joshua only smirked, landing another sharp slap on your ass, the sting deliciously sharp as he cooed mockingly, “Such a desperate girl. Always begging for more.”

Dokyeom’s hands slipped under your thighs, holding you steady as he began thrusting up into you, his cock slamming into that spongy spot inside with brutal precision.

“Look at you, angel. So full. So fucked out.”

Joshua leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “Open wider for me, pretty thing. Let me watch him split you open while I make this tight little hole nice and sensitive for later.”

His thumb pressed firmer against your rim, circling, teasing, making your entire body burn with overstimulation.

You whined helplessly, your nails digging into Dokyeom’s chest as your walls fluttered wildly around him. “I—I’m close—God, I’m so—”

“Hold it,” Dokyeom growled, pounding harder as his own release built quickly. “You’ll cum when we say.”

Joshua smacked your ass again, his handprint blooming bright red on your delicate skin as he chuckled lowly.

“And when you do? You’re gonna cream all over Kyeom’s cock while I stretch this ass out. You want that, baby? You want both your holes ruined tonight?”

“Yes—yes, please—fuck—” You sobbed, your thighs trembling violently as tears streamed down your flushed cheeks.

“That’s our girl.” Joshua’s tone softened slightly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade. “Take it. Take all of us. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

You gasped when Joshua shifted slightly behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he began to slowly ease his cock inside your already stretched, fluttering pussy alongside Dokyeom’s.

“J-Joshua—oh my God—” you mewled, nails digging crescent moons into Dokyeom’s chest as the stretch bordered on unbearable, your walls struggling to accommodate both of them.

“Shhh, angel,” Joshua cooed, his voice low and sinful in your ear.

“You’re doing so good for us. So tight—fuck—it’s like your pussy doesn’t even want to let us in.”

Dokyeom’s jaw clenched, a guttural groan escaping him as he tilted his head back slightly.

“Shit, baby… you’re squeezing us so hard. Feels like you’re milking us already.”

“More—please… I-I can take it,” you whispered, though your trembling thighs and wrecked moans betrayed just how close you already were to falling apart.

Joshua chuckled darkly, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he muttered, “You’re insane, you know that? Letting your boyfriends stretch your greedy little pussy like this.”

He glanced down at Dokyeom, smirking. “Grab the lube and the toy.”

“Mm?” Dokyeom slowed his thrusts just enough to make you whine in protest, your hips instinctively trying to rock back against them.

He chuckled at your needy sounds, reaching over to the nightstand and yanking open the drawer. “Patience, baby. You’ll thank us later.”

Your breath hitched when you saw what he pulled out—your favorite pink dildo, gleaming obscenely as Dokyeom popped open the bottle of lube and slicked it up.

The cold liquid hit your puckered rim as Joshua reached around to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Don’t tense, sweetheart. We’ll take care of you.”

You whimpered, burying your face into Dokyeom’s neck as his fingers rubbed the lube into your sensitive hole, circling slowly before gently slipping one finger inside.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice husky, as you squirmed against them. “So fucking good for us.”

Joshua, still buried deep with Dokyeom in your pussy, started rocking his hips again in tandem with the younger man.

“Relax, angel,” he murmured. “Let us open you up. We’re not stopping until this perfect body is full everywhere.”

You sobbed softly, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks at the overwhelming sensation. “S-So full—please—”

“Please what, baby?” Dokyeom teased, adding a second finger to stretch your tightness, making your hips jerk.

“Use your words.”

“Please—m-more,” you cried out, voice high and needy.

“Oh, you’ll get more,” Joshua growled, tossing the lube aside somewhere on the bed as he grabbed the pink dildo from Dokyeom’s slick fingers.

“We bought this just for nights like this, didn’t we?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimpered, clenching down around them as Joshua slowly pressed the tip of the toy against your rim.

“Relax, baby. Deep breaths for me,” Dokyeom soothed, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he and Joshua began to thrust into you slowly again, dragging their cocks along your walls in perfect rhythm.

Joshua smirked at your trembling form, pushing the dildo in just a little further as you let out a sharp moan.

“That’s it. Take it. God, you’re so fucking perfect like this—stuffed full of us and still begging for more.”

The room was a symphony of filthy sounds—skin slapping, wet squelches, and your desperate moans—as your body fought to keep up with the overstimulation.

Dokyeom leaned forward, lips brushing yours in a heated kiss as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit.

“Our perfect little toy. You’re shaking already, angel. You gonna cum again like this? Stuffed to the brim?”

Joshua’s teeth grazed your earlobe as he muttered, “Let go, baby. Cream all over our cocks. Make a mess for us.”

Your body gave out a strangled cry as your walls fluttered violently around them, slick gushing out in thick waves while your back arched.

You couldn’t even register the choked groans that left both of them as you shattered between their bodies.

“F-Fuck, there it is—good girl,” Dokyeom growled, his pace never slowing as Joshua’s thrusts grew rougher, his hips slamming into yours as the dildo bottomed out fully in your ass.

“Shit, angel,” Joshua hissed, watching the way your overstimulated body convulsed, juices dripping down over Dokyeom’s thighs and staining the sheets beneath you.

“You’re fucking squirting—look at that mess.”

Dokyeom reached up with one hand, tenderly wiping the tears streaking down your flushed cheeks as his cock pistoned into your sloppy pussy.

“Did it feel that good, sweetheart? Hm? Couldn’t help yourself?” he cooed, voice dripping with mock sympathy.

You could only whimper, nodding weakly as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him hiss. “S-So good… please… don’t stop—”

Joshua let out a low laugh behind you, his palm smacking your ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “Greedy little thing. You still want more after that?”

“Yes—p-please,” you managed between gasps, feeling Joshua’s cock twitch inside you as he smirked.

“You heard her, Kyeom,” Joshua teased, the tip of the toy pushing and pulling at your rim relentlessly. “Our girl’s asking for more.”

Dokyeom’s lips curled into a dark grin, his hands tightening on your hips as he growled, “Then let’s give her more.”

Their movements became brutal—hips slamming into you in perfect tandem as the toy was plunged in and out of your tight ass, forcing sob after sob from your lips.

Your nails raked down Dokyeom’s arms, leaving angry red trails as he hissed in pleasure.

“Close, angel?” he asked, voice tight as his thrusts grew sloppy.

“Y-Yeah—oh my God—please—”

Joshua’s hand gripped your waist tighter, dragging you back onto both of their cocks with every thrust. “Come on then, baby. Be a good girl and give us another one.”

The knot in your stomach snapped violently, your vision going white as you screamed through your sixth orgasm.

Before you could even catch your breath, another sharp burst of pleasure hit—your body shaking uncontrollably as a gush of liquid squirted out around them, soaking the sheets.

“Oh fuck—” Dokyeom groaned as he stilled, his cock twitching before he spilled inside you again, warmth flooding your already stuffed pussy.

Joshua chuckled darkly, slowing his thrusts as he watched the way you trembled in his hold. “She squirted again. Jesus Christ, angel… did that feel good?”

You could only let out a small whimper, your entire body limp in their arms.

“Too good,” Dokyeom cooed, brushing damp hair from your sweaty face as his soft lips pressed to your temple. “Our perfect, messy little girl.”

Joshua pulled out with a hiss, his cock glistening with your release as he dragged the dildo from your ass too, the slick sound making your cheeks burn.

“More, baby?” he asked softly, his fingers teasing over your overstimulated folds.

“Yes…” you mumbled hoarsely, your voice cracking from how wrecked you were.

That made both men laugh lowly, exchanging a look over your shoulder.

“You’re out of your mind,” Joshua teased, tossing the toy aside. “But fuck if I’m not gonna give it to you.”

Dokyeom’s hands were already gentle on your hips as he helped you down onto your side, his lips ghosting over your temple.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice warm and deep. “So fucking perfect for us.”

Joshua followed suit, sliding in behind you on the bed, his chest flush against your back as he propped himself up on an elbow.

His hand curled around your waist, possessive and firm as his low voice rumbled in your ear. “Are you sure you still want more, angel?”

Your answer came as a small, breathless nod, your body already twitching from the overstimulation.

Joshua tsked, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Words, baby. You know better.”

“Yes… please…” you whimpered weakly, voice cracking from how raw your throat felt after hours of crying out their names.

“Good fucking girl,” Dokyeom praised with a grin as he gripped his cock, aligning himself at your dripping entrance.

Joshua hummed approvingly behind you, guiding his own length to your tight hole as he whispered, “Then take us. Take all of it.”

The stretch burned deliciously as both men pushed into you—Dokyeom filling your pussy with practiced ease while Joshua’s cock breached your ass again, making you cry out into the sheets.

“Fuck—” you moaned helplessly, your fingers clutching at the covers as they bottomed out inside you.

“God, you’re so tight,” Joshua groaned, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate pace as his hand slid down your front, his fingers immediately rubbing slow circles into your swollen clit. “And still so greedy for us.”

Your body arched into his touch instinctively, a broken cry leaving your lips.

“You’re gonna take it, yeah? Let us ruin this perfect little body one more time?” Dokyeom whispered against your lips as he began to move, his thrusts deep and unrelenting.

You nodded, too far gone in the pleasure to form words.

“Say it, angel,” Joshua growled from behind, his free hand gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at Dokyeom. “Say you want it.”

“Want it—want you both—please, please—” you gasped out, your voice shaking as your body clenched around them.

“Good fucking girl,” Joshua purred darkly, tugging you closer against his chest as his pace quickened.

Dokyeom’s mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing your desperate moans as his hips slammed into yours, his cock dragging perfectly against your sweet spot.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, forcing you open wider for them as his lips trailed down to bite at your collarbone and chest, leaving angry red marks in his wake.

“Feel how we’re splitting you open, angel?” Joshua hissed against your neck, his fingers never stopping their cruel circles on your clit. “God, you’re perfect.”

The overstimulation was too much—your body quivering violently as you felt that familiar knot snap again.

“I—’m cumming—oh fuck—” you wailed as your walls clenched around them like a vice, your release gushing out in a wave as you milked them both mercilessly.

“Shit—” Dokyeom groaned loudly, his rhythm faltering as his hips stuttered before he emptied himself deep in your pussy, his hot seed mixing with the previous rounds.

Joshua wasn’t far behind, his teeth grazing your shoulder as his thrusts grew erratic.

“That’s it, angel—take it, fuck—” he grunted as he spilled into your ass, his fingers gripping your jaw even tighter as he forced your mouth back to his in a bruising kiss.

Your muffled moans vibrated against his lips, your body twitching as both men finally stilled inside you.

“Such a good girl,” Dokyeom praised again, pressing lazy kisses along your chest as his hands soothed over your trembling thighs. “You took us so well, sweetheart. So fucking perfect.”

Joshua chuckled lowly against your ear, his thumb brushing gently over your abused clit now. “Our perfect little toy. I don’t know how we’re ever gonna let you rest if you keep taking us like this.”

Joshua’s hand didn’t even leave your thigh as he shifted behind you, his cock still rock hard and slick from your release.

Dokyeom’s breath was hot on your lips as he groaned low, his length twitching inside your overstimulated pussy.

“Fuck—” Joshua growled, dragging his lips along the shell of your ear as he thrust shallowly, making you jolt and whimper.

“Still so fucking tight, angel. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

“P-Please…” you mewled weakly, your body trembling between them.

Dokyeom chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your ass as he pulled out halfway before slamming back in, forcing a cry out of you. “Hear that, Shua? Our pretty girl still wants more. Even after all that.”

“Greedy little thing,” Joshua teased, his palm sliding down to cup your throat gently as he pressed a kiss behind your ear.

“You gonna take us again, baby? Let us fuck you so full we’ll be dripping out of you for days?”

You couldn’t even form words—your overstimulated body twitching as they began moving in sync again, their cocks dragging along every sensitive nerve inside you.

“You’re gonna take it,” Dokyeom hissed against your lips, his pace picking up as his hands locked on your hips, dragging you back into his thrusts.

“Gonna stuff you so full of our cum, angel. Gonna fuck a baby into you right here.”

“Want that?” Joshua’s voice was low and dark now, his pace merciless as his hand dipped down to circle your clit again.

“Want us to make you a mommy? Carry our kids while we keep ruining you every fucking night?”

“Ah—fuck—yes!” you cried out, your nails digging into Dokyeom’s chest, leaving angry red scratches down his pecs. He groaned at the pain, hips snapping into you harder.

“That’s our girl,” Dokyeom praised with a growl, his teeth sinking into your jawline as his thrusts grew rougher, balls slapping against your soaked pussy.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” Joshua hissed, his cock pounding into your ass without mercy, his chest slick with sweat as it pressed to your back.

“So full, so tight. God, I can feel how much she’s leaking already, Kyeom.”

“Good,” Dokyeom gritted out, his pace unrelenting as he tilted your hips up higher. “She’s gonna make such a good mommy, yeah? Stuff her full. Let’s see how much she can take.”

You choked on a sob, your hands clawing at both of them as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you. “T-Too much—oh my God—”

“Too much?” Joshua mocked with a dark laugh, his fingers bruising into your hips. “No such thing, angel. You can take it. You will take it.”

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the room, both men panting heavily as they used your trembling body to chase their own highs.

A high-pitched cry ripped from your throat as your orgasm tore through you violently, your vision going white as your pussy clenched and gushed, squirting messily over Dokyeom’s cock.

“Fuck—” Dokyeom groaned loudly, his hips stuttering. “She’s squirting again—holy shit.”

Joshua hissed as you clenched impossibly tighter around him. “You’re milking us, baby—gonna make us cum so deep in this tight little body.”

“Please—please fill me up!” you sobbed, your voice hoarse as tears streamed down your flushed face.

“Shit—fuck—” Dokyeom’s groan turned guttural as he slammed in deep one last time, his cock twitching as he spilled hot inside your already ruined cunt.

Joshua wasn’t far behind, his pace erratic as his head dropped to your shoulder, teeth grazing the sweaty skin. “Take it—take all of us—you’re ours.”

He groaned sharply as he emptied himself into your ass, his release hot and thick as he gave a few shallow thrusts to prolong the high.

Both men stilled, their heavy breathing mixing with yours as your trembling body slumped between them.

Dokyeom’s large hands smoothed over your shaking thighs, murmuring softly, “Look at this messy little body… you’re perfect, angel. So, so perfect.”

Joshua’s forehead rested against the back of your shoulder, chest heaving with labored breaths as his hands continued stroking your trembling thighs soothingly.

“Holy fuck…” he murmured, kissing the damp skin of your nape. Then, with a deep exhale, his dark eyes flicked to Dokyeom.

“Switch with me.”

Dokyeom raised a brow, his grin lazy but knowing. “You sure?”

Joshua nodded, slowly pulling out of your wrecked ass, a string of mixed cum dripping down your thighs. “Yeah. One last round.”

You whimpered softly at the loss, your body twitching from the overstimulation, but neither man seemed ready to stop.

Dokyeom traded places with Joshua seamlessly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Think you can handle us, angel? Just one more…”

“Yes—yes, please,” you whispered shakily, your voice hoarse but desperate.

“Good girl,” Joshua cooed, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly before lining himself up with your slick, abused pussy. “Then take it for me, baby.”

The stretch was agonizing as Joshua slid back inside your cunt, still wet and raw from so many rounds, and you let out a choked cry.

“Shh…” he soothed, pressing kisses along your jaw. “It’s okay, angel. We’ve got you.”

Behind you, Dokyeom’s large hands gripped your hips as he positioned himself at your ass.

“So tight back here,” he growled lowly, pushing in slowly and groaning at the squeeze. “God, you’re made for us.”

You sobbed into the mattress, your body trembling violently as they began to move.

Joshua set a merciless pace in your pussy, his hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds echoing around the room.

“This perfect little cunt’s sucking me back in like she never wants me to leave,” he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder as his nails dug into your waist.

Dokyeom wasn’t any gentler, his thrusts in your ass deliberate and deep, making your back arch as his balls slapped against your sore skin.

“You feel us both, angel? We’re stretching you open so fucking good.”

You could barely breathe, your mind foggy and body spent, yet somehow pleasure still roared through your veins. “P-please—oh my God—please, let me—”

“Beg for it,” Joshua growled against your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. “Beg your boyfriends to ruin you one last time.”

“Please—need it—need you both to fill me up—please, I-I can’t—” Your words slurred together as tears streaked your cheeks, hands clawing at the sheets.

“Fuck,” Dokyeom groaned, his thrusts turning erratic as he reached around to pinch and roll your clit.

“Gonna stuff you full of our cum. Wanna see you dripping for hours, angel. Our perfect little mommy.”

“Yes—yes—want it!” you cried out, stars dancing in your vision as the coil in your stomach snapped violently. “Oh my God—”

You screamed as another orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing violently as your pussy and ass clamped down around them both, milking them relentlessly.

Joshua cursed loudly, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep into your womb. “Take it—fuck—take every drop, angel. So good for us. So fucking good.”

Dokyeom followed with a guttural groan, his grip on your hips bruising as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock twitching as he came hard into your ass. “Fucking hell—you’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

The room fell silent but for the sound of heavy breathing.

Both men stayed buried deep, riding out their highs as your limp body slumped between them, face pressed into Joshua’s chest.

“Shhh…” Joshua whispered, cupping your tear-streaked face and pressing tender kisses across your cheeks, nose, and lips.

“You’re okay, angel. You did so fucking good. So proud of you.”

Dokyeom’s fingers brushed your hair gently out of your face as he kissed your shoulder and neck repeatedly. “Our perfect girl,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate.

“We love you so much, baby. You took us so well.”

They eased out of you slowly, both groaning at the mess dripping from your abused holes. Your body felt boneless, pliant in Joshua’s arms as he adjusted you carefully against his chest.

The air still smelled faintly of sex—heavy and musky—but now there was only warmth, their voices soft as they murmured to each other.

“Give her a second,” Joshua whispered, brushing his lips against your damp temple.

His hands rubbed slow circles into your thighs while your cheek rested on his chest, heartbeat steady beneath your ear. “She needs to breathe.”

Dokyeom nodded, crouching at your side as he swept stray strands of hair away from your sticky face. “You still with us, angel?” His thumb stroked soothingly over your jaw.

You nodded weakly, eyes half-lidded as a small, tired giggle escaped your lips. “Mhm… still here. Just… melted.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from both men.

“God, you’re precious,” Joshua murmured, kissing your hairline. “Our pretty little mess.”

“Alright,” Dokyeom said gently as he stood, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s get her cleaned up, yeah?”

Joshua shifted slightly, arms tightening around you as he stood effortlessly. “Hold on tight, baby.”

The bath was massive—a rounded marble tub built for six, steam already rising as the heater hummed softly.

Joshua stepped in first, the water lapping at his calves as he carried you over to the built-in carved stone bench that circled the inside. He sat down carefully, cradling you on his lap as the warm water enveloped your body.

A blissful sigh left your lips as the heat seeped into your aching muscles. “Mm… feels so good.”

Joshua chuckled, pressing soft kisses along your damp forehead. “Better?”

“Much.”

Dokyeom climbed in next, setting down the bottles of your favorite bath products on the edge before kneeling in front of you in the water. “Alright, princess. Time for us to spoil you a little more.”

You giggled softly, head lolling back onto Joshua’s shoulder as you said, “Kyeom, it tickles.”

“Too bad,” Dokyeom teased with a grin, squeezing some body wash into his hands.

“You’re getting the full treatment.” He lathered his hands and started massaging your calves gently, thumbs pressing into the sore spots from being folded and held in so many positions. “Poor legs worked so hard for us earlier.”

Joshua hummed in agreement, kissing down the side of your neck. “She’s the strongest girl we know. Took both of us so perfectly, didn’t you, angel?”

You flushed at the praise, your fingers curling into Joshua’s forearm as you nodded shyly. “I… I tried.”

Dokyeom smiled warmly, moving his soapy hands up your thighs. “We couldn’t stop because you felt so good, and you kept asking for more like our greedy little girl.”

Joshua chuckled, nosing at your jaw. “Our greedy girl who we love more than anything.”

His hands came up to cup your breasts gently, thumbs brushing over your tender nipples as he cleaned you with the same care. “You were perfect. Still are.”

Your breath hitched, tears prickling again—this time from pure affection rather than overstimulation. “You two are… too much.”

“Never,” Joshua whispered, kissing your cheek. “You deserve everything.”

Dokyeom reached for the shampoo, pouring some into his hands as he said, “Tilt your head back for me, angel.”

He worked the suds into your scalp, massaging gently with his fingers. “Relax. Let us take care of our perfect girl.”

You let out a soft, content sigh, eyes fluttering shut as Joshua’s hands trailed lazily across your stomach, his lips still pressing featherlight kisses wherever he could reach.

Dokyeom’s voice was lower now, tender as he murmured, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful you are. Like this… all soft and trusting in our arms.”

Joshua chuckled quietly. “You’re not allowed to. She’s ours forever.”

“Forever,” Dokyeom echoed, rinsing your hair carefully.

“Forever,” you whispered back, smiling sleepily as the warm water and their touches lulled you into a state of bliss.

Joshua’s thumb stroked over your cheek lovingly as he whispered, “That’s our girl.”

You hummed contently in his lap, cheek pressed against his damp chest as Dokyeom’s hands worked the last of the conditioner through your hair.

As the steam curled lazily into the air, Joshua tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Think you’ll be pregnant now, angel?”

You blinked slowly, too relaxed to even tease back properly. “…Maybe,” you said honestly, fingers tracing aimless patterns on his chest.

Dokyeom leaned in from behind you, his lips brushing your damp shoulder as he murmured, “Do you want it, if you are?”

Your breath hitched, and you smiled softly, turning your head slightly toward him. “Yes. If it’s with you two… why would I hesitate?”

That made both men pause for a heartbeat—Joshua’s thumb stilling against your cheek, Dokyeom’s fingers halting in your hair.

Then they smiled. Wide, soft, unrestrained smiles that made your chest warm all over again.

Joshua pressed a long, tender kiss to your lips, murmuring against them, “You’re everything, you know that?”

When you pulled away breathlessly, Dokyeom was already there, stealing his own kiss from your lips as he whispered, “Ours. Forever.”

By the time they rinsed you off and stood, the water had begun to cool. Joshua stood first, carrying you out effortlessly despite your soft protests. “Josh—put me down, I can walk…”

“Not happening.” He wrapped you in the thickest, fluffiest robe he could find, securing the tie snugly. “We wrecked you enough tonight, baby. Let us handle this.”

Dokyeom chuckled as he stepped out too, toweling himself dry before helping Joshua wrap your hair up in another towel. “She’s so stubborn, huh?”

“Adorably stubborn,” Joshua agreed, kissing your temple before setting you down gently on the cool tiles for just a moment.

Once they’d dried off and tied their own robes, they each took one of your hands, guiding you toward the second bed in the massive suite.

Joshua grimaced slightly as he glanced at the first bed. The sheets were rumpled and stained, pillows tossed haphazardly.

“Remind me to call room service tomorrow before we go out to the beach,” he said under his breath to Dokyeom.

Dokyeom laughed, tugging you closer. “We need to tip them a lot. Like—double, triple.”

Joshua’s lips curved into a smirk. “Quadruple. We owe them for what we did to that poor mattress.”

You giggled tiredly, leaning into their hold as Joshua helped you onto the fresh bed, turning on the TV to some low, comforting background noise.

Dokyeom headed to the nightstand, pulling out your skincare bag and the hairdryer while Joshua helped you untangle your robe.

“Lay back, angel,” Joshua instructed, patting your thigh. “Kyeom’s got your hair, I’ve got your face.”

You sighed happily, sinking back into the pillows as Joshua began carefully applying your toner with a cotton pad. “Feels nice,” you murmured.

“Of course it does. Only the best for our girl,” Joshua said, concentrating as he tapped in your serum with his ring finger.

Meanwhile, Dokyeom plugged in the dryer and sat behind you, towel-drying your hair first before combing it out gently. “Close your eyes for a second, baby. Don’t want the air to sting.”

The soft whir of the dryer filled the room, and you found yourself drifting slightly, lulled by Joshua’s tender fingers on your cheeks and Dokyeom’s careful hands brushing through your hair.

“Perfect,” Joshua whispered when he finished, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Absolutely perfect,” Dokyeom agreed, kissing your damp hair before setting the dryer aside.

The room was warm, dimly lit by the soft glow of the TV screen and the fairy lights strung around the ceiling beams.

You barely had time to melt into the fresh sheets before both men made themselves comfortable on either side of you—Joshua pulling the blankets up over your body with practiced care, tucking them under your chin as Dokyeom scooted closer, his arm snaking around your waist.

Joshua clicked up the volume on the TV with the remote, settling back against the headboard. “You comfy, angel?” he asked softly, thumb stroking along your jawline.

You nodded, sighing into the soft pillows. “Mhm. But…” you pouted faintly, glancing between them. “I’m starved.”

That earned a low laugh from Dokyeom as his arms tightened around your waist. “Of course you are. After the workout we gave you? I’m surprised you’re not asking for a five-course meal.”

Joshua smirked, already reaching for the room phone on the nightstand and handing it to Dokyeom. “She’s earned it. Want pizza and chicken, baby?”

You perked up immediately, nodding quickly as you snuggled into Dokyeom’s broad chest. “Yes, please. Extra cheese on the pizza. And garlic parmesan wings.”

“Garlic parmesan,” Dokyeom echoed with a grin, kissing the top of your head before looking at Joshua. “Should we get fries too? She loves those.”

Joshua hummed thoughtfully, fingers idly playing with the loose strands of your hair. “Fries, onion rings… maybe mozzarella sticks? I feel like she’d murder us if we forgot dessert too.”

You laughed sleepily, eyes fluttering shut as their voices cocooned you in warmth. “I’m still awake, you know,” you mumbled. “And yes to dessert.”

Dokyeom chuckled, speaking into the phone when the concierge picked up.

“Hi, yes—can we order a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, two orders of garlic parmesan wings, mozzarella sticks, onion rings, fries, and…” he glanced down at you, whispering, “What dessert, angel?”

“Chocolate lava cake,” you mumbled against his chest without hesitation.

“Chocolate lava cake,” Dokyeom repeated with a smile. “And maybe some ice cream too? Perfect. Thank you.” He hung up, tossing the phone back to Joshua.

Joshua leaned down, brushing his lips over your forehead. “You’re gonna be so full you won’t be able to move.”

You opened one eye lazily. “Good. Then you two will have to carry me to the beach tomorrow.”

“Gladly,” Joshua said with a laugh, tucking the blanket tighter around your frame. “You deserve to be carried everywhere.”

Dokyeom nodded in agreement, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Our perfect girl shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“Except to eat,” Joshua teased. “That’s the one finger we’ll let you lift tonight.”

You giggled softly, shifting so you were nestled snugly between them—Dokyeom’s arms a warm cage around your waist, and Joshua’s hand finding your thigh under the blanket to rub slow, comforting strokes.

“Love you,” you murmured sleepily, the words almost slurred.

“Love you more, angel,” Joshua replied instantly, kissing your temple.

“Much more,” Dokyeom added, pressing his lips gently to your shoulder as you drifted into a light doze, waiting for your late-night feast.

The bathroom was far too quiet for your liking, save for the soft hum of the apartment’s air vent and the faint bass of music spilling in from the bedroom where Joshua and Dokyeom were debating over which shirts to wear.

You gripped the cool marble edge of the counter, knuckles white as you stared at your reflection.

Makeup flawless, hair perfectly styled, your white top tucked neatly into your jeans like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t seconds away from either relief or your entire world shifting.

Your eyes flicked to the small white stick lying innocently on the counter beside your phone.

Three weeks.

It had only been three weeks since that Maldives trip—since those nights where neither of them could keep their hands off you. Surely… surely it was too early, right?

You bit your lip, anxiety curling in your stomach. But the fatigue. The nausea. The way the scent of Dokyeom’s cologne made your stomach twist earlier, and how Joshua’s cooking had you running to the bathroom.

“God, no,” you muttered under your breath, forcing yourself to take a deep breath as your hands gripped the counter tighter.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the test yet. Your heart was pounding in your ears.

From outside the bathroom, Joshua’s warm voice floated in.

“Angel? You almost ready?”

You froze.

“Yeah,” you called back, voice tight. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to sound normal. “Just… fixing my lipstick!”

Dokyeom’s laugh joined in faintly. “You don’t need to fix anything. You always look perfect, baby.”

You pressed your palm to your forehead, feeling the heat creeping up your neck. Perfect. They called you that all the time. Perfect girlfriend. Perfect girl. Perfect for them.

But would they still think that if—

No. You shook your head. You couldn’t go there. Not yet.

You exhaled shakily, fingers hovering above the white stick. Maybe you should wait. Maybe—

The door handle rattled lightly, and your heart jumped.

“Baby?” Joshua again, softer this time. “We’re about to call the driver. You okay in there?”

You scrambled to answer, voice catching slightly. “Y-Yeah! Just… give me a second.”

There was a pause. Then Dokyeom’s gentle voice.

“Babe… you’re not upset about going, are you? We can skip it if you’re tired.”

Your throat tightened. No. You couldn’t let them know—not until you were sure. You forced a smile into your voice.

“No! I’m fine. Promise. Just… give me two minutes.”

“Okay,” Joshua murmured. “We’ll wait.”

The faint sound of footsteps retreating told you they were giving you space. For now.

You turned back to the counter.

The test was still there. Mocking you.

You swallowed hard and whispered to yourself, almost like a prayer:

“Please… not yet.”

But you knew deep down—whether it was instinct or just plain fear—that it might already be too late.

With the amount of times they’d come inside you these past few weeks, were you even surprised? Between Maldives, the villa, the countless rounds they swore they’d fill you to the brim—and did—you knew the possibility wasn’t far-fetched.

You three had talked about the future so many times before—soft murmurs in the dark of a shared bed, fingers tracing skin as they whispered about a bigger house, maybe one by the beach, maybe two kids if you wanted. It was dreamy and warm when it was just words.

Your chest tightened. Were you ready for this?

Ready to give up your job, your independence, your carefully built routines? Were they ready to be fathers—to trade in their wild schedules and sleepless nights for diapers and bottles?

You closed your eyes, willing your racing heart to calm, but your brain wouldn’t stop. What if you weren’t enough? What if this changed everything?

A sharp exhale left your lips as your eyes fluttered open again. The white stick sat mockingly on the counter, two faint lines staring back at you like a secret you weren’t ready to share.

One line was bold and clear. The other…so faint you almost convinced yourself it wasn’t there.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for it, gripping the plastic tightly like it might slip away. You stared hard, willing the second line to disappear, or maybe darken—anything to break the uncertainty gnawing at your insides.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, your voice breaking slightly.

The knock on the door startled you

“Angel?” Dokyeom’s voice was muffled but warm. “You okay in there? We’re gonna be late.”

You blinked back the tears threatening to spill, gripping the counter as you steadied your voice. “Y-Yeah! I’m… I’m almost done,” you managed, though it came out shakier than you intended.

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. With trembling hands, you reached for a box of tissues from the cabinet, carefully wrapping the pregnancy test in layer after layer until it was nothing but a nondescript white bundle.

Just for good measure, you dug into your tote bag, pulling out a spare chartreuse scarf you’d kept for emergencies, and wound it tightly around the tissue-wrapped stick.

Once it was secure, you tucked the bundle deep into your bag, pushing it beneath your wallet and compact mirror.

With a shaky breath, you pulled the leather strap over your shoulder, the weight of the bag suddenly feeling heavier than usual.

A quick glance at the mirror made you wince. Your eyes were slightly red, a telltale sign of the spiral you’d just endured.

You dabbed at them gently with your fingers, forcing a practiced smile until it felt almost natural.

When you finally opened the bathroom door, Joshua was right there—leaning casually against the frame, phone in hand, but his brows furrowed ever so slightly as his gaze swept over you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, his hand finding its way to your waist.

You nodded quickly, pasting on a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Just… fixed my makeup.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but before he could press further, Dokyeom got up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Babe, here—sit down,” he said gently, already crouching to grab your black heels from where they rested by the dresser.

“Oh—thank you,” you said softly, moving to sit as he guided you down.

Dokyeom knelt at your feet, slipping one heel on and then the other with such care it made your chest tighten.

He looked up with that sunshine grin of his, giving your ankle a small squeeze. “Perfect.”

Joshua chuckled as he crossed to your vanity, plucking your favorite perfume from the tray. He tilted his head, meeting your gaze in the mirror as he asked, “This one?”

You nodded wordlessly, and he stepped closer, moving your hair to the side with one hand before spritzing the soft floral scent along your neck.

His lips brushed your temple as he murmured, “There. All set, gorgeous.”

You swallowed hard, whispering a quiet, “Thank you.”

The two men straightened, each offering a hand as they guided you toward the door. Joshua’s fingers brushed against yours before he slipped his hand into your back pocket with an easy familiarity.

“The driver’s already by the gate,” Dokyeom said, glancing at his watch. “We’re cutting it close.”

Joshua laughed, leading the way. “Come on, let’s go before Hoshi whines about us being late again. I’m not dealing with another ‘you’re always late because you’re in love’ lecture tonight.”

You forced a laugh, trying to match their energy, but your fingers tightened slightly around the scarf-wrapped test tucked securely in your bag.

You sat tucked comfortably between Jeonghan and Jihoon at the long table in the dorm, a plate of steaming tteokbokki in front of you as laughter bounced around the room.

Across from you, Joshua and Dokyeom looked entirely at ease—Dokyeom with his head thrown back laughing at one of Soonyoung’s antics, Joshua’s warm eyes crinkling as he leaned forward, chin resting in his palm like he was content just watching you.

“So impressive, really,” Soonyoung praised yet again, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh.

“You guys pulled off last-minute choreography like pros. Woozi-hyung and I should’ve known we could rely on Seventeen’s resident princes.”

Joshua chuckled modestly while Dokyeom rubbed the back of his neck, but before they could answer, Jeonghan—ever the instigator—made a face and drawled from beside you, “Okay, okay, Hoshi. Stop kissing ass. What do you want? You’re laying it on thick.”

The table erupted in laughter, Seungcheol practically choking on his water as Soonyoung clutched his chest in mock offense. “Can’t I praise my members without being accused of ulterior motives?!”

“No,” Jihoon deadpanned, spearing a piece of meat and earning a high-five from Mingyu across the table.

Soonyoung only grinned, undeterred. He waved vaguely toward the fridge. “Fine, fine—you caught me. But come on, there’s alcohol. We have to drink. It’s the last night. Let’s make it fun!”

“Hell yeah,” Chan said immediately, springing up from his seat like an overexcited puppy.

He darted to the fridge, grabbing two green bottles of soju while Seungcheol followed to fetch shot glasses from the kitchen cabinet.

You smiled, the warm atmosphere soothing some of your nerves.

But just as your laughter faded and you reached for your chopsticks again, Jeonghan’s eyes flicked to you, sharp even amidst the chaos. He leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear over the chatter.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

“You’re quiet,” he noted, his tone soft but firm. “You’re usually one of the loudest when we’re all together. What’s going on, (Y/N)?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, offering a small smile. Too quick.

Jeonghan didn’t buy it. His head tilted ever so slightly, his sharp gaze softening as he caught the faintest flicker of your fingers brushing your stomach under the table.

“Wait…” His eyes widened, the corner of his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin.

You gave him a warning look, a silent don’t you dare. But when his brows lifted in silent question, you exhaled shakily and gave the faintest nod.

His hand slipped under the table briefly, patting your thigh in a way no one else would notice.

Then he leaned back, smirking faintly as he whispered, “I better be the godfather.”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, which earned you a curious glance from Joshua across the table.

You shook your head as if to say nothing, and Joshua only smiled at you knowingly before turning his attention back to Soonyoung’s dramatic retelling of something that happened backstage.

Just then, Chan returned, setting down the bottles of soju with a triumphant grin. “Okay! Let’s go! (Y/N), you’re starting with me.”

He popped open a bottle with a satisfying crack and began pouring into the shot glass in front of you. You opened your mouth to protest, but Jeonghan’s elbow bumped yours subtly.

“Pass it to me,” he murmured, his smirk sly as his hand ghosted toward your glass.

Gratefully, you slid it over. “Thanks,” you whispered.

“Anytime,” he whispered back, already raising the glass to his lips as Chan turned to pour for Vernon.

You smiled faintly, trying to keep the tightness in your chest from showing as you stabbed another piece of tteokbokki from your plate. Jihoon’s chair scraped softly against the floor as he stood, brushing off his hands.

“I’ll grab the food—delivery just texted,” he said.

“Run!” Chan cheered, laughing as Jihoon rolled his eyes but jogged toward the door.

Within seconds, he was sprinting back, arms full of steaming boxes, his grin wide as the others clapped and cheered.

“Pizza and chicken!” Mingyu whooped, already reaching for plates.

The delicious aroma wafted over the table, and you smiled, trying to join in the excitement. Jeonghan snagged one of the boxes first, flipping it open and grabbing a drumstick. Without a second thought, he placed it neatly on your plate.

But the moment the scent hit you—greasy, rich, and overwhelmingly strong—your stomach twisted violently. Your nose scrunched, and you pushed the plate back slightly, shaking your head.

“I… I don’t like the smell,” you mumbled, voice softer than you intended.

Jeonghan’s eyes flicked to you knowingly, but he didn’t push. He just nodded, taking the plate back as he bit into his own chicken.

And then someone popped open a box of pizza right in front of you. The wave of tomato, cheese, and garlic made your stomach lurch so hard it felt like betrayal.

“Oh my god—excuse me.”

You shot up from your chair, hand clapped over your mouth as you rushed to the bathroom, the sound of laughter fading behind you.

Joshua was already halfway out of his seat before the others even registered. “I got it,” he said quickly to Dokyeom, who had looked up in concern.

He strode after you, his long legs closing the distance as he reached the bathroom just in time to hear you retching. His chest tightened.

“Baby?” His voice was careful as he knocked once before stepping in.

You were on your knees in front of the toilet, trembling slightly as the last remnants of your dinner left your body.

Without hesitation, Joshua crouched behind you, gathering your hair and sweeping it away from your face with gentle fingers.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured as he rubbed soothing circles into your back.

When you were finally done, he reached over and flushed the toilet, his other hand still resting on your shoulder. “You okay? Should I get Dokyeom?”

You shook your head quickly, grabbing a tissue to dab your lips. “No—no, I’m fine. Just… probably a stomach bug or something.”

Joshua’s brows furrowed. He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he helped you to your feet, keeping a steadying hand on your arm as he guided you back toward the table.

He detoured briefly to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of water and pressing it into your hand.

“Drink slowly,” he instructed softly.

“Thanks,” you whispered, forcing a grateful smile.

Sliding back into your seat beside Jeonghan, you felt his hand rest briefly on your arm as he murmured, “You good?”

“I don’t know how long I can hide this,” you whispered back, voice shaking slightly.

Before he could reply, Chan’s bright voice cut through the clamor.

“(Y/N)! Another shot with me?” He grinned, holding up a freshly poured glass.

You shook your head immediately, clutching the water bottle. “I’m good, Chan.”

“You sure? Come on, just one—”

“No.” Jeonghan’s voice sliced clean through the laughter. It wasn’t loud, but the firmness in his tone made everyone freeze.

All eyes turned toward him.

Chan blinked, startled. “Oh… uh—okay. Sorry.”

You gave the youngest an apologetic smile, your voice soft. “Sorry, Chan. I really can’t.”

Vernon, ever so laidback, tilted his head with a curious furrow of his brows. “You sure-sure? Like… completely sure?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan groaned beside you, rubbing his temple dramatically. “Can we not keep forcing the lady to drink? She’s not drinking. End of story.”

Your hand shot out gently to Jeonghan’s arm, giving it a light squeeze as you threw him a warning look.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered lowly, almost a plea.

Jeonghan’s brow arched as he muttered under his breath, “Sorry. But they’re all acting slow—”

You sighed deeply, biting your lip as you exchanged a loaded glance with him. His eyes flicked to yours, sharp and questioning.

You nodded once—barely—but enough. The silent conversation between you two went unnoticed to no one.

“Wait…” Mingyu frowned, brows knitting. “What’s happening? Why are you two looking at each other like that?”

“Yeah…” Jihoon leaned forward, suspicious. “What’s going on? Did we miss something?”

All eyes turned to you as you turned back to Chan, your fingers clutching the water bottle tighter. “As much as I want to, Chan… it’s bad for the baby.”

The words slipped out softly—but they hit the room like a bomb.

The dining room fell dead silent. Even the faint sound of a soda can popping open across the table abruptly stopped.

Chan’s hand flew to his mouth, his eyes widening comically. “Oh my god—I—I didn’t know! I’m sorry, noona—I’m so sorry!” He scrambled closer, giving you a careful side hug as though you might break.

Jeonghan let out a loud scoff, leaning back in his chair as his arms crossed. “That’s exactly what I was trying to say earlier, you slow alcoholic.”

“Wait. Wait—hold on.” Jihoon’s voice cracked slightly as he stared at you in disbelief. “Is this real? You’re not pranking us, right? Because this would be… a really messed up prank.”

You shook your head quickly, your eyes glossing with tears that threatened to spill as your fingers scrambled for your purse under the chair.

“I’m not.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling as you unwrapped the tissue and scarf around the stick. “I—I wasn’t sure at first but…”

The faint second line glared back at you as you turned to face Joshua and Dokyeom across the table.

Their faces were frozen—eyes wide, mouths slightly parted as they darted glances between you and the test in your shaking hands.

You felt your throat tighten as the first tear slipped down your cheek. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, neither man moved. The world seemed to narrow down to just the three of you as time stretched painfully.

Joshua blinked rapidly, his mouth opening as though to speak, but no words came out. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood slowly, his chest rising and falling harder now.

Dokyeom’s hands were still on the table, gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as his eyes searched yours for any hint of uncertainty. There was none.

“Oh my god…” Joshua finally managed, his voice breaking as his hand covered his mouth.

“You’re… you’re serious?” Dokyeom’s voice was low, almost reverent.

You nodded weakly, your tears now falling freely as you held out the test a little closer, your hands trembling.

“It’s real,” you whispered. “We’re… we’re going to have a baby.”

For half a second longer, they both just stared—then chairs scraped back violently as the two men rounded the table in unison.

Joshua was the first to reach you, dropping to his knees in front of your chair, his hands cupping your face as his thumbs brushed at your tears. “Oh, angel… my angel. You—you’re carrying our baby?”

You nodded again, breath hitching as his forehead pressed against your stomach.

Behind you, Dokyeom hadn’t moved from where he’d sunk down onto the floor, but now he slowly pushed himself up, his expression still caught between disbelief and pure awe.

He settled behind your chair, his large palms coming to rest on your shoulders. His thumbs rubbed slow, soothing circles into the tense muscles there, and you felt him lean down slightly, his voice low but trembling.

“I can’t… I can’t believe it,” he whispered, almost as if saying it aloud might shatter the fragile reality. “You’re really carrying our baby?”

You turned slightly, peeking up at him with watery eyes and a small, sheepish smile. “Looks like it.”

The rest of the table, who had been silently watching the scene unfold with slack jaws and wide eyes, started to stir as the shock finally gave way to soft smiles, teary grins, and little choked laughs.

Then you turned to them fully, blinking back tears as you said with a wobbly laugh, “You guys are going to be great uncles.”

A collective cheer erupted around the table—Mingyu and Dino’s voices the loudest as they both shot to their feet, clapping their hands together while Vernon started laughing in disbelief.

“No fucking way!” Seungcheol barked out a laugh, his hands flying to his hair. “This is insane—I’m gonna spoil that kid rotten.”

“Same,” Woozi said, but his smile was tiny and warm as his eyes flicked between you, Joshua, and Dokyeom.

But before the noise could grow louder, Vernon suddenly snatched up his phone with wide eyes. “Wait—wait, we’re calling Seungkwan. He has to hear this.”

Joshua chuckled weakly, still brushing a tender kiss to your head before standing properly, his hand coming to rest protectively at the nape of your neck. “Oh god. He’s going to scream.”

It only took three rings before Seungkwan’s familiar voice came through the speaker. “Vernon? What the hell—why are you calling? Did something happen?”

“Oh, something happened,” Vernon grinned, spinning his camera so it faced you. “Look.”

Blinking, Seungkwan squinted at the screen—then his eyes widened as you lifted the small test up with shaking hands.

For a second, there was only stunned silence. Then—

“What the hell?!” Seungkwan screamed so loud it made Dino flinch. “Oh my god—oh my god—are you serious?!”

“I’m serious!” you laughed, tears spilling again but this time from joy as you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth.

“I’m going to be an uncle?!” Seungkwan’s voice cracked with raw emotion as he let out a choked laugh. “I’m going to be the best uncle!”

The boys around the table laughed with you, clapping their hands and cheering again.

“You better start practicing changing diapers,” Wonwoo teased with a small smirk.

Dokyeom smiled down at you from behind, one of his hands slipping down to rest over your stomach as he whispered, “We’re really doing this… I can’t believe it’s real.”

“I can’t either,” you admitted softly, leaning your head back slightly to look up at him. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

Joshua, now standing next to you, reached out and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before bending down to press his lips to the crown of your head.

“We’re going to figure everything out, angel. You, me, Kyeom… and the baby.”

Jeonghan, still seated across the table with his elbow propped lazily, let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “God. Can’t believe you two idiots are actually going to be fathers.”

“Hey,” Joshua said with a playful glare as he stood straight, his hand still resting protectively on your shoulder. “We’ll have you know we’re going to be amazing at it.”

“Yeah,” Dokyeom grinned down at you as his other hand joined the first over your stomach. “You’re looking at two very, very devoted dads already.”

“Good,” Jeonghan said with a mischievous smirk. “Because I’m spoiling that kid the second they’re out.”

But then Jeonghan’s grin turned thoughtful as he leaned back lazily in his chair. “Wait—shouldn’t we be calling Hao and Jun about this too? They’ll kill us if we leave them out.”

Wonwoo, who hadn’t said much the entire time but had been quietly sipping from his glass with a faint smile, glanced up and deadpanned, “Those two are probably dead asleep. Let’s tell them tomorrow before they burn this dorm down over being the last to know.”

That earned a round of laughter, even from Joshua, whose thumb still stroked tenderly over the back of your hand as he stood beside your chair.

“Fair,” he murmured, glancing up at you with eyes so warm and full of love it made your throat tighten.

You gave a small nod, your other hand brushing away the last of your tears as you let out a soft laugh.

The room around you was still humming with warm energy—quiet murmurs of congratulations, playful teasing, and an unmistakable undercurrent of excitement at what was to come.

For a moment, you let yourself relax fully into it. Into the safety of Dokyeom’s steady hands on your shoulders, into Joshua’s gentle hold on your fingers, and into the soft, unspoken promise shared between every single person in the room: that this baby was already so, so loved.

Because with them—your two lovers, your family, your friends—you wouldn’t be doing this alone.

⤷ read part 1 here !

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified ⤷ piece taglist — @notanotherbigfangirl

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liuhsng · 24 days ago

Text

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ sea, sex, and sun ( hjs & lsm ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ seventeen masterlist (coming soon !)

⤷ pairing — joshua x fem!reader x dk

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 16.9k ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — wanted to try something new for a change—this is my first seventeen work so please be gentle ! hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it. enjoy, loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), idol au, idol!joshua, idol!dk, established relationship, threesome, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, creampie, breeding kink, manhandling, praise kink, light degradation (teasing), hair pulling, marking (hickeys), body worship, pool sex, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — being their girlfriend was supposed to feel like a dream—and it did. the soft moments, the luxury, the way joshua and dokyeom looked at you like you hung the stars. but no one warned you about how intense it could get. how their love came in whispers and wandering hands, in ruined sheets and breathless laughter. how one dinner under fairy lights could end with you gasping their names, their devotion spilling out in every kiss and every touch. it wasn’t just love—it was indulgence. and with them, you couldn’t help but want more. every single time.

The Maldives air was nothing like Seoul’s biting winter chill. Here, it was warm, fragrant with salt and faint coconut, a breeze so soft it felt like fingers trailing over your bare shoulders.

You sat in a secluded beachside restaurant near your villa, staring out at the vast stretch of ocean painted in soft shades of blue and white, sunlight dancing across the gentle waves.

The sky above was bright and cloudless, the breeze carrying the faint scent of salt and flowers as it tangled in your hair.

You adjusted the frills of your white halter top as it slipped from your shoulder, the thin straps tangling lazily around your arm.

A smile tugged at your lips as you let out a deep, content sigh. It was paradise. Peaceful. Almost too quiet compared to the chaos back in Korea.

The spell broke when a large, warm hand slid over your thigh, fingers splaying just above your knee. The heat seeped through the thin fabric of your long skirt, igniting goosebumps across your skin.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Joshua’s voice was low, smooth like honey but edged with curiosity as he leaned closer. His brown eyes, softer than the Maldives sun, searched your face.

You blinked at him, lips parting slightly as your stomach fluttered—not from the scenery, but from him.

And from the man sitting across the table watching quietly, his sharp eyes flicking between your flushed face and Joshua’s hand on your thigh.

“Just breathing it all in,” you admitted softly, your fingers brushing over Joshua’s wrist where his hand lingered dangerously close to the inside of your thigh.

“It’s so different here. Like my body hasn’t caught up yet.”

Joshua’s lips curled into a knowing smile as his thumb traced slow circles over your skin.

“It’s a good thing we got you to agree,” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

“It was hard, you know.” His words were laced with something heavier, enough to make heat pool low in your belly.

Before you could even respond, a tongue click cut through the lazy sound of waves crashing in the distance.

“Shua’s right, angel,” came Dokyeom’s smooth voice as he leaned back against the table, his toned arms folding across his chest.

The sunlight from the open-air patio kissed his skin, making him glow golden as his eyes locked on you with a playful glint.

“I had to literally pull you off your laptop for you to even listen about this vacation.”

You sighed, lips pushing out into a small pout as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

Your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the rolled-up sleeves of Joshua’s crisp white button-up, right where the fabric stretched around his upper arm.

The soft cotton felt warm under your touch, heated from his skin, while his hand remained resting firmly on your thigh, thumb stroking in lazy circles that made it harder to focus.

Joshua’s brow arched, his hand squeezing your thigh with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

The warm weight of his palm didn’t leave, only inched slightly higher under the flowy fabric of your skirt.

“And how many times,” Joshua began slowly, his tone still soft but now edged with a dangerous kind of sweetness, “have we told you to quit that job?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Dokyeom’s low chuckle made you snap your gaze back to him.

He shifted his weight against the wooden chair, arms still crossed as he added, “We know you love being independent, sweetheart.”

His eyes softened, but his words held firm resolve. “But all that job does is give you stress. Late nights, skipped meals, constant emails.”

Your brows knitted together, but before you could get a single word out, Joshua was already leaning in closer, his voice dipping, each syllable smooth and heavy like melted chocolate.

“Yes, baby,” he said, thumb stroking the sensitive skin just beneath your skirt. “We know you want your own source of income. And we’re proud of you for working so hard…”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, gaze dark and stormy. “But isn’t that our job?”

You blinked at him, your pout deepening as heat prickled across your face—not just from embarrassment but from the way both of them were looking at you.

Joshua tilted his head slightly, smirking as his fingers squeezed your thigh again. “We’re not looking down on you. Never that. But wouldn’t it be nicer if you just laid back and let us handle everything? We could give you a more comfortable life, angel.”

“And spoil you rotten while we’re at it,” Dokyeom added smoothly, his smile softening into something more tender now as his eyes scanned over your pout.

“You wouldn’t have to lift a finger unless it’s to call room service or… you know.” His smirk returned at the double meaning, and your cheeks burned even hotter.

Joshua turned his head toward the younger man, rolling his eyes playfully as his hand gave your thigh an almost possessive squeeze.

“You horny fuck,” he muttered, though there was amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you as Dokyeom let out a scoff, tilting his head back with a grin.

“Oh, shut up,” he shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “As if you haven’t been eyeing (Y/N) since before we even got off the plane.”

The playful accusation made your lips curl into a shy smile as you groaned and leaned your head against Joshua’s shoulder, seeking a place to hide your flushed face.

His crisp shirt smelled faintly of fresh linen and his cologne—warm, woodsy, and comforting. Your hands found their way on top of his lap, fingers tracing absent patterns over the fabric of his slacks.

Joshua’s arm wrapped around you instinctively, and he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, careful not to disturb the half-up, half-down hairdo you’d spent minutes complaining about earlier in the villa.

“You two are the same,” you mumbled against his shoulder, your voice slightly muffled. “Horny fucks.”

That made Joshua chuckle lowly, the sound vibrating against your cheek as his thumb resumed slow, teasing circles on your thigh.

Dokyeom, on the other hand, let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically as if wounded.

“Excuse me?” he said, eyebrows shooting up. “And whose fault is that, huh? Who’s been walking around in tiny skirts and little tops, tempting us every chance she gets?”

You tilted your head just enough to shoot him a sly, knowing smile, your lips curving in that way that always made both men weak.

Before Dokyeom could say anything more, a waiter approached your table, carefully placing down the plates and pitcher.

“Your lobster, pasta, salad, and fresh mango juice,” the man said politely, arranging the cutlery before stepping away with a slight bow.

“Thank you,” Joshua said with a charming smile, his hand momentarily leaving your thigh to adjust your napkin on your lap like the gentleman he was.

Just as Dokyeom reached across the table, his fork poised to spear into your pasta, you hissed, “Hands off the food.”

He froze dramatically mid-motion as you quickly grabbed your handbag from the chair beside you, pulling out your phone and sleek little digital camera.

“Let me take a picture first,” you said firmly, unlocking your phone and adjusting the angle.

Dokyeom dropped his fork with a groan, throwing his head back. “Women…” he muttered under his breath, his tone exaggerated like he was in pain.

Your brow shot up instantly as you lowered your phone to stare at him, one brow arched high.

“Repeat that?” you asked sweetly, though your voice held a dangerous edge.

Dokyeom straightened in his seat like a scolded child, his grin returning in full force. “Nothing,” he said quickly. Then with a softer tone, he added, “I love you, angel.”

Your lips twitched in amusement as Joshua chuckled beside you, his hand back on your thigh now, thumb tracing higher this time—just enough to make your stomach flip.

You hummed, trying to refocus as you angled your phone and snapped another quick photo of the lobster and pasta, the sunlight catching on the glossy sauce, and the pitcher of mango juice glistening with condensation.

“Okay,” you said finally, setting your phone and camera aside with a satisfied little nod. “Let’s eat.”

You turned your head slightly, catching Joshua watching you with that soft, knowing smile that never failed to make your chest warm.

“You too, Hong. Hands off,” you teased, gently tapping the back of his wrist where his hand still rested on your thigh.

He laughed, the sound low and warm, his hand reluctantly sliding away as he leaned in to press a light kiss to your cheek. The tender brush of his lips made you smile despite yourself.

“Okay, okay,” Joshua said, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he leaned back in his chair.

“I concede. For now.” His gaze lingered on you for a second longer, that subtle glint in his eyes promising he wasn’t letting you off that easily later.

“Send those to me later,” Dokyeom chimed in with a grin, nodding toward your phone.

He was already reaching for his utensils, clearly eager to dive into the meal.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you grabbed your own fork and knife.

“Men,” you muttered with a dramatic sigh, earning a soft chuckle from Joshua beside you.

Dokyeom only smiled wider, unbothered, and shrugged his broad shoulders. “What can I say? Guilty as charged, angel.”

Joshua smirked, resting his chin in his palm as he watched you cut into the pasta with practiced ease. “He’s not even pretending to be subtle anymore.”

“Like you are?” you shot back, raising a brow at him.

His grin widened, one hand reaching out briefly to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face. “Touché, baby.”

You smiled softly at him before finally twirling some of the pasta around your fork, bringing it to your lips.

The moment you took a bite, your eyes fluttered shut as the rich, buttery flavor of the lobster and perfectly al dente pasta exploded across your tongue.

“Mmm,” you let out a quiet moan of delight without even realizing it, completely lost in how heavenly it tasted.

Dokyeom, who had leaned over to steal a piece of lobster off one of the plates, froze mid-bite as his head snapped toward you. His brows arched high, a mischievous grin already threatening to form.

But before he could say anything, Joshua shot him a sharp glare across the table, his jaw tightening just slightly as if silently warning him ‘don’t you dare.’

Dokyeom tried—to hold back, but the smirk was already tugging at his lips.

He leaned back in his chair, still chewing as he drawled teasingly, “Baby, is it really that good?”

You blinked at him, cheeks warming as you nodded eagerly, swallowing your bite. “It really is,” you said, your voice bright and innocent despite the way his eyes stayed locked on you. “Here—try it.”

Twisting another small portion onto your fork, you reached it across the table toward Dokyeom.

He leaned in, lips parting slightly as he let you feed him. His eyes widened the second the taste hit his tongue, and he nodded approvingly.

“Okay,” Dokyeom said, his grin widening. “Now I get it. That’s insane. But—” his tone dipped lower, teasing, “I think it’s partly how cute you look feeding me.”

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh, turning back to your plate only to find Joshua watching you closely.

His expression was unreadable—his eyes dark, half-lidded as they tracked the way you swirled more pasta onto your fork. It made you pause for a beat, the air around you thickening.

Blinking up at him from under your lashes, you asked softly, “Want some, baby?”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he leaned back slightly, nodding once. “Yeah.” His voice was calm, almost too calm, as his eyes didn’t leave yours.

You swallowed lightly, reaching up to feed him the bite. Joshua held your gaze as his lips closed around the fork, and when he pulled back, he hummed in quiet approval.

“Yeah, it does taste good.”

Then he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered lowly so only you could hear, “But you taste better.”

Your breath hitched. Heat shot straight to your face, your hand faltering slightly as you set your fork down and tried to regain composure.

“Joshua Hong,” you muttered in a flustered tone, turning back to your plate as if focusing on the food would hide the way your face was burning.

Dokyeom, who had been mid-bite again, froze with his jaw dropped.

“Unbelievable,” he said flatly, staring at Joshua like he’d just witnessed a crime. “I—are you hearing yourself? At a restaurant?”

Joshua didn’t even flinch. Instead, he raised a brow coolly, leaning back slightly in his chair as his hand remained lazily draped on your thigh.

“You’re one to talk. You were about to say something way worse, weren’t you?”

Dokyeom’s lips parted like he was about to argue, but then he paused, his eyes darting to the side as if trying to think of a decent comeback.

Realization hit, and he only sighed, shrugging with a sheepish grin. “Okay… yeah, you’re right,” he admitted.

That made you burst out laughing, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your shoulders shook.

“Oh my God,” you giggled, looking between the two of them like you couldn’t believe you were stuck at a table with these men.

“Can you two please keep it in your pants for at least two minutes?”

They exchanged a knowing glance, a shared grin pulling at both of their lips before they turned back to their plates with soft chuckles.

“No promises,” Joshua murmured under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch.

You groaned quietly, dropping your gaze to your plate in a feeble attempt to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.

But your composure threatened to crack completely when Joshua’s hand on your thigh moved, his thumb brushing dangerously higher.

Your breath hitched. He, on the other hand, remained infuriatingly nonchalant—his free hand lazily poking at his own pasta as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

He twirled a bite of linguine around his fork, bringing it to his lips with an elegance that contrasted starkly with the way his fingers squeezed your thigh under the table.

“Joshua…” you whispered his name softly, half a warning, half a plea, but he didn’t so much as glance your way.

“Hm?” he hummed absently, chewing thoughtfully as his eyes flicked to the waiter walking past.

He raised a hand to call him over smoothly, his thumb brushing another teasing circle into your skin. “Excuse me?” he said politely when the waiter approached.

“Yes, sir?”

“We’ll have an order of shrimp, please,” Joshua said casually, his tone light and polite, like his hand wasn’t currently trying to make you squirm under the table.

You sighed in resignation, leaning slightly toward him as you fiddled with your napkin.

“Can you order crab cakes too?” you murmured, glancing up at him with a soft pout.

That finally earned you his attention. Joshua turned his head, his eyes crinkling with a tender smile as he brushed his thumb briefly over the back of your hand resting on the table.

“Of course, baby,” he said warmly, before looking back at the waiter. “And an order of crab cakes as well, please.”

“Right away, sir.” The waiter gave a small bow and disappeared, leaving you alone again with Joshua’s hand still high on your thigh.

You released a soft sigh, glaring at him playfully as you tried to focus on your meal. “You’re the worst.”

Joshua smirked, his eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he returned to his food.

“And yet…” His thumb traced one last circle over your thigh skin, his voice dipping low and velvety. “…you’re still leaning into me like you don’t want me to stop.”

The soft afternoon light filtered through the bathroom’s wide glass panels, painting everything in hues of gold and cream as the sound of waves crashing faintly echoed in the distance.

You stood in front of the mirror, now clad in a flimsy black two-piece swimsuit, though your long white skirt still hung low on your hips like a cover-up.

The delicate fabric swayed slightly with every movement, revealing glimpses of the matching bikini bottoms peeking out from beneath.

The top, however, was long discarded somewhere in the villa, leaving you in nothing but the skimpy swimwear and a golden flower clip holding your hair up in a messy yet elegant twist.

You were carefully curling your lashes, lips pursed in concentration.

Beside you, Joshua stood shirtless at the double sink, a white towel slung loosely around his neck as he shaved with calm precision.

His dark hair was damp from his earlier shower, stray droplets trailing down the toned planes of his chest and disappearing into the waistband of his black lounge shorts.

You leaned back from the mirror with a small sigh, fingers reaching up to gently tap at the slightly smudged edge of your eyeliner.

“Ugh,” you muttered under your breath, clicking your tongue in annoyance.

Turning away from the mirror, you reached for your makeup bag resting near the sink and started rummaging through it for your eyeliner and concealer.

Joshua glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as he wiped the remaining shaving cream from his jaw.

“You look like you’re about to murder someone,” he said casually, grabbing his facial wash and squeezing some into his palm.

You froze for a second before your head snapped in his direction, one perfectly arched brow raised in mock offense.

Holding up your eyeliner like a weapon, you pointed it straight at him, your lips curving into a dangerous little smirk. “Do you want to be the first victim?”

Joshua chuckled, rubbing the wash gently across his face in smooth, circular motions. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he shot you a look in the mirror.

“As much as I love you…” he drawled, rinsing his hands under the warm water. “No thanks.”

You rolled your eyes with a dramatic sigh, finally pulling out your concealer and setting it on the counter.

“Coward,” you teased, your voice light with amusement as you leaned closer to the mirror again.

Joshua’s laughter filled the room, soft and warm as he grabbed a fresh towel and patted his face dry. “Maybe,” he said, “But if you’re looking for a victim, I think Dokyeom’s volunteering as tribute.”

You snorted, shaking your head as a small laugh escaped your lips. “Oh really?” you said, turning slightly toward Joshua with your eyeliner in hand, ready to retort—

—but before you could get a word out, the bathroom door swung open with a faint creak, and in strolled Dokyeom, fresh from his own shower in the guest bathroom.

His damp hair was still tousled from the towel he’d half-heartedly run through it, stray drops of water trailing down his chest to where a white towel hung dangerously low on his hips.

“Tribute to what?” he asked casually, eyebrows quirking as his gaze flicked between the two of you.

A sly smile tugged at your lips as you turned fully toward him, one hand resting on the counter as your golden clip caught the light.

“Murder,” you replied sweetly, your voice laced with faux innocence.

Dokyeom let out a deep laugh that made your stomach flip, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “Murder, huh? Guess I walked in at the right time.”

Before you could stop him, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms loosely around your waist from behind, his bare chest pressing against your back.

You let out a small whine at the sudden coolness of his damp skin soaking into your bikini top and the waistband of your white skirt.

“Kyeom—” you pouted, squirming slightly in his hold. “You’re wet.”

His laughter rumbled against your shoulder as he held you for just a second longer before pulling back with a teasing grin. “Sorry, angel. Couldn’t resist.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you turned back to the mirror as he moved to stand beside Joshua, who had been watching with an amused expression.

Joshua handed over the can of shaving cream wordlessly, still toweling the last bit of moisture from his jaw.

“Where’s my razor?” Dokyeom asked, glancing at the counter as he spread the cream onto his palm.

Joshua nodded toward the sleek black one resting next to his own silver-handled razor. “Black one’s yours,” he said simply.

“Got it.” Dokyeom grinned, shaking his head slightly as he lathered his face. “Thanks.”

Joshua smiled faintly, turning his attention back to you for one last moment. He stepped closer, his hand finding the back of your head gently as he pressed a soft kiss to your crown, careful not to disturb your messy golden clip.

“Don’t take too long, baby,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “Pool’s waiting.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, your lashes lowering as you smiled at the soft gesture.

With that, Joshua stepped out of the bathroom, the faint rustle of fabric following as he moved toward the bedroom to change into his swim trunks.

You stayed at the counter, fingers brushing over your concealer tube again as Dokyeom hummed a low tune beside you, razor in hand as he studied himself in the mirror.

Dokyeom’s gaze flicked to you in the mirror, watching as you grabbed your blush brush and a highlighter palette, tapping it gently.

“Is that the swimsuit I got you?” he asked, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity as he rinsed the blade under the faucet.

You shook your head with a small smile, sweeping a soft coral blush across your cheeks. “Nope. It’s the one I bought in Madrid last year.”

He hummed knowingly, a grin tugging at his lips as he went back to his shaving. “Oh yeah… but the one I got you? Way sexier.”

You snorted, patting the glittering highlighter across your cheekbones until your skin caught the light like sunlit water.

“It’s in one of my suitcases,” you admitted, nodding at the thought. “But it’s broad daylight, Kyeom… so.”

Dokyeom clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, setting the razor down for a moment as he turned his head slightly to check his work in the mirror.

“Oh, come on, angel. You’re depriving us,” he teased, his tone light but his eyes catching yours in the reflection, just long enough to make your stomach flutter.

You rolled your eyes fondly, reaching for your lip gloss next. The clear formula shimmered faintly as you smoothed it over your lips, finishing with a gentle press of your lips together.

Then you grabbed your setting spray, spritzing a fine mist over your face with a satisfied little sigh.

When you finally turned to him, your golden clip catching the light like a crown, you cocked your head slightly and asked with a playful grin, “How do I look?”

Dokyeom paused mid-motion, his hands resting on the counter as his eyes swept over you—taking in the black bikini peeking out from under your loosely tied skirt, your skin glowing softly under the golden light, and the glimmer of highlighter on your cheeks.

“Give me a little twirl,” he said suddenly, smirking.

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes again but obliging with a playful spin, your skirt flaring slightly to reveal more of the matching bikini bottoms.

He let out a low whistle, shaking his head as his grin widened. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

You stepped closer to him, resting your hand lightly on his bare chest as you peered up at him with a teasing smile. “Every hour, yes. I’m very aware.”

Dokyeom laughed, the sound rich and warm as he leaned down to steal a kiss, his hands settling gently on your waist.

You smiled against his lips, your fingers splayed against his skin before you pulled back with a quiet laugh.

“Really, Kyeom?” you teased, giggling as you pointed to the faint sheen of gloss now smudged on his mouth.

He licked his lips with a grin, humming thoughtfully. “Is this… cherry?”

You nodded, still laughing softly as you patted his shoulder. “Yup. Now hurry up. Shua’s waiting in the pool, and I’m not in the mood to hear him yell our names across the villa.”

Dokyeom grinned boyishly, reaching for his towel to wipe off the last bit of water. “Fine, fine, angel. Go on ahead before he comes storming in here.”

You gave him a cheeky grin, running your fingers over the smooth counter one last time before walking out of the bathroom, your hips swaying slightly as the soft sound of your bare feet padded against the villa’s wooden floors.

You made your way to one of the plush beds. There, your phone and digital camera sat waiting atop a neatly folded towel.

You scooped them up carefully, your fingers brushing over the smooth metal of the camera as you adjusted your hold.

The glass doors leading to the private pool were already cracked open, letting in the warm scent of salt and frangipani.

A soft breeze swept through, lifting a stray strand of hair as you stepped outside, sunlight instantly kissing your bare shoulders.

Joshua was sitting at the edge of the pool, his toned back glistening faintly from the water. The soft sound of gentle waves lapping against the pool tiles mixed with the distant calls of seabirds.

“Hi, baby,” you called sweetly, your voice carrying across the open space.

Joshua turned slightly, a warm smile spreading across his face as you came up behind him.

“Hi there,” he murmured, his voice velvety as your fingers tangled into his damp hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

He leaned into your touch for a moment before standing gracefully, water dripping from his black swim trunks to create little puddles at his feet.

You tilted your head up at him, a small giggle slipping past your lips when you caught sight of his wet shorts clinging to his thighs.

Joshua’s hands found your hips easily, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he pulled you closer.

“Missed you already,” he teased, ducking down to press playful kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your nose, your jaw—his lips warm against your sun-kissed skin.

You laughed breathlessly, trying not to drop your camera as he finally captured your lips in a firm, lingering kiss. You melted into it instantly, returning his affection as his hands tightened slightly on your waist.

He hummed softly when he pulled away, the faint taste of cherry lip gloss still lingering on his tongue.

“Mmhm… cherry,” he murmured against your lips before stealing another quick kiss, and another, each one more intoxicating than the last.

“Joshua…” you whispered with a smile as you tilted your head back slightly, but he only smiled down at you before his lips began peppering a trail of kisses down your neck.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as one hand found its way back into his damp hair, your fingers tangling at the roots while the other clutched your camera and phone tightly against your chest.

“Baby,” you hissed quietly as his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot near your collarbone, his lips latching onto your skin with a teasing pull. “We’re outside…”

Joshua let out a low chuckle, his teeth grazing you lightly before pulling back just enough to meet your flustered gaze.

“So?” he asked smoothly, his tone laced with amusement. “We have a private villa for a reason.”

You huffed, trying to bite back your smile as you tapped his head lightly with your free hand.

“Shua, I need good pictures before you cover me in hickies,” you said pointedly, holding up the camera and phone in your other hand as proof.

He pulled back fully now, a playful pout tugging at his lips as his fingers brushed teasingly over the low waistband of your skirt.

“I never get to have any fun,” he muttered dramatically.

You smirked slyly, leaning up just enough to whisper, “If you’re lucky.”

That earned you a soft groan and an exaggerated eye roll from Joshua as he reluctantly released your hips. He gestured toward the sunny part of the deck with a resigned wave of his hand.

“Go on then, angel. Let me at least take those pictures before Dokyeom comes out here and steals the first shot.”

Grinning happily, you stepped into the light where the sun poured down, your skirt glowing faintly in the golden warmth as you adjusted your posture.

Joshua’s fingers wrapped around the camera, his long fingers deftly flipping it on as he peered through the lens.

“Stand still for me,” he instructed, his voice lower now, almost commanding as his thumb brushed over the shutter button. “That’s it, good girl.”

You posed easily, one hip cocked slightly as your fingers brushed against the loose fabric of your skirt. The golden clip in your hair caught the light, and Joshua hummed approvingly behind the camera, his eyes never leaving you.

Joshua snapped a few more photos, his finger effortlessly clicking the shutter as his smile lingered—soft, warm, completely captivated.

His eyes followed the way the golden light danced across your skin, the gentle sway of your skirt, the way the ocean breeze teased loose strands of hair around your face.

“I love you so much,” he muttered under his breath, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud as his thumb brushed over the camera’s dial to adjust the exposure.

You, still mid-pose with your weight shifted onto one leg, turned at the sound of his voice, a teasing smile curling on your lips.

“What was that, Mr. Hong?”

Joshua blinked, caught but not flustered, his grin growing sheepish. “Nothing, angel.”

You sauntered over, hand reaching out as your eyes sparkled with mischief. “Let me see.”

He lowered the camera obligingly, tilting the screen toward you as you scrolled through the images.

Each photo looked effortlessly perfect—the light hitting just right, your makeup glowing, your skirt moving like a whisper of fabric in the breeze.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, grinning in delight. “Shua, these are gorgeous.”

Your excitement made his chest swell, and before he could react, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a string of kisses across his cheek.

“I love you. Thank you,” you murmured softly, pulling back just enough to catch the way his eyes crinkled at the corners from laughing.

“I’ll take all the thank-yous you’ve got, baby,” Joshua teased, handing you back the camera with a fond smile.

You placed it gently on the bed inside before stepping back out onto the deck, catching sight of Joshua now holding your phone and snapping pictures of the ocean view—and occasionally of you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You laughed, shaking your head as you padded over. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Can’t help myself,” he said simply, slipping an arm around your waist as you moved in beside him.

He angled the phone slightly so you were in the frame, holding it out to capture the two of you.

“Smile for me, angel,” Joshua murmured near your ear as he pressed the shutter, taking several candid shots of you grinning up at him.

Just then, a familiar voice rang out from behind.

“Taking pictures without me? Really?” Dokyeom’s tone was half-indignant, half-playful as he stepped out of the villa.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, still slightly tousled from his shower, and his swim trunks sat low on his hips, a towel draped casually over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes fondly but raised your hand, beckoning him over. “Then stop pouting and come here, Kyeom.”

He strode over with a grin, slipping effortlessly into place beside Joshua. His arm wrapped around your hips, fingers resting just below Joshua’s hand on your waist, the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder like they owned the world—and you.

“Now this is a picture,” Joshua murmured, smirking slightly as he turned the phone to selfie mode.

You giggled as they both leaned in, their warmth on either side of you making your heart flutter. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Dokyeom teased, his thumb brushing lightly over your skirt’s waistband as he glanced at you with a grin.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a laugh, squeezing in between them as Joshua snapped the photo. “I really do.”

The sun was warm but not unbearable as you lounged on one of the cushioned poolside chairs, your legs stretched out comfortably and crossed at the ankles.

The long white skirt you’d worn earlier lay forgotten at the foot of the chair, discarded an hour ago in favor of letting the sun kiss your skin.

A piña colada sat sweating on the small wooden side table beside you, the faint scent of coconut and pineapple sweet in the air.

A pair of designer shades rested on your face, shielding your eyes from the sharp rays as you flipped through the pages of your book, completely absorbed—well, as much as you could be with the sound of bickering echoing from across the pool.

“I’m telling you, Kyeom, my freestyle leaves you in the dust every time,” Joshua said with a smirk, resting his elbows casually on the edge of the medium-sized circular pool.

His wet hair clung messily to his forehead, droplets of water glinting in the sunlight.

Dokyeom splashed water in his direction with a scoff. “Please. I could outswim you blindfolded. Remember Jeju? I lapped you twice.”

“That was shallow water!” Joshua countered, his grin widening.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you returned to your book, determined to tune them out.

It was pointless trying to break up their playful arguing—you knew they were only doing it to impress you anyway.

A low growl from your stomach, however, broke your concentration. You sighed, pushing your sunglasses down just slightly to glance over their frames at the two men.

“Do either of you want anything?” you asked, your tone casual but affectionate.

Joshua, still perched at the pool’s edge, turned his head to look at you with that infuriatingly knowing smirk.

“You,” he said smoothly, his wet fingers brushing slick hair back from his face.

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “Real food, baby.”

Dokyeom, now floating closer to your side of the pool, paddled toward the edge and braced his toned arms on the tiles as he looked up at you.

Water streamed down his chest as he grinned. “A burger,” he said quickly, then added after a beat, “and fries.”

You nodded with a small chuckle. “Anything to drink?”

“Coke,” he said, his grin widening as he watched you tilt your head and mentally note the order.

Your eyes flicked to Joshua, who had now joined Dokyeom at the edge of the pool, standing beside him with his hands resting lazily on the tiles. He tilted his head slightly at your questioning look.

“Chicken,” he replied simply, still smirking. “You know the kind I like.”

“Of course I do,” you said softly, closing your book and setting it aside on the lounge chair.

As you stood, your hips swayed slightly as you reached for the phone, still sitting on the end table. You felt both their gazes lingering on your back as you made your way toward the villa’s sliding glass doors.

Joshua’s smile turned downright mischievous as he watched you go, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the water. “Offer still stands, baby.”

You let out a laugh, waving a hand dismissively over your shoulder as you entered the cool interior of the villa. “Behave,” you called back playfully, already scrolling through the villa’s room service menu as you sat down on the edge of the plush bed.

Behind you, you could hear Dokyeom bumping his shoulder lightly against Joshua’s in the water. “You’re insufferable, dude.”

Joshua chuckled, watching the way the sunlight caught in your hair as you disappeared into the room. “And you’re telling me you weren’t thinking the same thing?”

Dokyeom didn’t reply, but the grin he tried to hide spoke volumes.

You shook your head with a little smile as you pressed the room service button, tucking your legs under you on the edge of the plush bed.

“Yes, hi. Can I place an order for villa twenty-three?” you asked softly, twirling the cord of the phone absentmindedly around your finger as the operator answered with practiced cheer.

“A burger with fries and a Coke… a chicken platter, and could you also add a chicken salad and a mango shake to that, please?” You hummed as they repeated the order back, your nails drumming lightly on the bedside table.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Oh—yes, of course, take your time,” you said with a polite little laugh when they explained the kitchen was busy and it would take at least half an hour for the food to be prepared.

“No problem at all. Thank you so much.”

Hanging up, you slipped your phone back onto the bed and padded barefoot across the cool wooden floor toward the sliding glass doors.

The sun was still high, spilling golden light over the private pool where your boyfriends continued their playful splashing and arguing.

“They said it’ll take at least thirty minutes,” you called out as you stepped outside, shielding your eyes briefly from the bright sunlight.

“Fine by me,” Joshua replied smoothly, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as he floated lazily on his back. “I’m not that hungry yet anyway.”

You didn’t catch the quick glance exchanged between him and Dokyeom, the silent conversation passing between them. You were too busy noticing the sound of pages flipping near your chair.

“Angel,” Dokyeom called out, his voice teasing as his fingers toyed with the edges of the pool tile. “What’s so interesting about this book, anyway?”

You raised a brow at him, crossing your arms playfully. “It’s really good. Unlike certain people in this pool who have no taste for romance or depth.”

Joshua tilted his head as he treaded water closer to you, that boyish grin never leaving his face. “Then why don’t you join us instead?”

You groaned dramatically, adjusting the golden flower clip holding your hair in its messy updo. “No. You’ll both end up wetting my hair, and you know how long it takes to dry.”

Dokyeom laughed, swimming to the pool’s edge near you. “Come on. We promise we’ll leave your hair alone.”

You gave him a skeptical look, only for Joshua to add with a mischievous little shrug, “And if it does, I’ll be styling it for you before dinner. Deal?”

You paused, lips twitching in amusement at his confidence.

With a sigh of resignation, you set your book and sunglasses down carefully on the lounge chair. “Fine. But only because I want that dinner hair promise in writing, Joshua Hong.”

Joshua smirked as you stepped carefully into the pool, the cool water lapping against your calves as you let out a soft shudder.

“Cold,” you muttered, hugging your arms slightly as you waded further in until the water reached just above your waist.

“It’s not so bad,” Joshua murmured reassuringly, his hands sliding gently to rest in front of your hips as he smiled down at you. His thumbs traced slow, lazy circles against your bare skin, the heat from his palms in contrast to the water.

Behind you, Dokyeom’s presence closed in as he pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips warm and feather-light.

“It’s not even that cold, angel. Relax,” he whispered, his voice low as his hands skimmed lightly over your waist, fingers dipping beneath the surface of the water.

You let out a shaky exhale, your eyes flicking to Joshua in front of you.

He was watching you closely, his dark lashes still wet, droplets trailing down his jawline as he tilted his head with a knowing smirk.

“You’ve just been out in the sun too much. Enjoy some water, (Y/N),” he teased, the use of your full name making your brows rise.

“(Y/N)?” you echoed with a little laugh, your tone light but your body betraying you as a shiver—not entirely from the water—ran down your spine.

Joshua’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours with maddening slowness. “Mmhm. Love hearing your name like that. Makes it sound like we’re about to ruin you.”

You didn’t get the chance to respond before his mouth claimed yours in a deep, slow kiss.

You sighed into it, your fingers tangling into his damp hair as his tongue traced over your bottom lip, coaxing a soft whimper out of you.

Behind you, Dokyeom’s hands splayed wider against your waist, thumbs rubbing languid circles against your heated skin as his mouth continued its assault on your neck.

He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath catch.

A quiet sound slipped out of you—part sigh, part restrained moan—muffled against Joshua’s lips.

“Don’t hold back,” Joshua murmured against your mouth as he pulled back slightly, his eyes hooded, voice low and almost commanding. “Relax, baby. There’s no one around.”

His gaze flicked toward the beach below the pool deck as if to prove his point.

Sure enough, it was empty—the private stretch of sand untouched, the turquoise waves lapping quietly against the shore.

The other villas were far enough away that you could barely see them through the lush palms surrounding yours.

“No one can hear you, no one can see you,” Joshua continued, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth as his fingers trailed lower under the water, brushing teasingly against the ties of your bikini bottoms.

You felt your pulse jump as he toyed with the delicate strings, tugging lightly—not enough to loosen them, but enough to make your body heat flare.

“You’re so tense,” Dokyeom whispered into your ear, his voice a delicious rasp as his hands slipped from your waist down to your hips, fingers digging gently into the soft flesh there.

“Let us take care of you, angel. Just let go.”

Your fingers tightened instinctively in Joshua’s hair as your other hand reached back, curling around Dokyeom’s wrist to steady yourself.

Joshua leaned in again, capturing your lips with a little more urgency this time. His tongue slid past your lips in a slow, deliberate stroke, making your knees feel weak despite the water’s support.

“You taste sweet,” Joshua murmured as he broke the kiss briefly, only to nip at your lower lip before diving back in.

Dokyeom’s hands were moving lower now, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your bikini bottoms under the water, his thumbs brushing over the curve of your ass as his teeth grazed that sensitive spot below your ear.

“You’re so warm,” Dokyeom murmured. “So perfect. Let us play a little before the food gets here, hmm?”

You exhaled shakily, your head tipping back slightly against his shoulder, feeling the wet heat of his chest pressing into your back.

Joshua’s dark eyes followed the movement, his lips quirking into a knowing smirk as he brushed a thumb tenderly across your parted lips.

“We have half an hour, baby,” Joshua murmured lowly, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Or you…” His words trailed off suggestively, and before you could even muster a response, you felt Dokyeom’s fingers tugging lazily at the side ties of your bikini bottoms beneath the water.

The gentle pull made the knot loosen slightly, not enough to undo it completely, but enough to make your stomach flip in anticipation.

Joshua’s hand slid higher, skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thigh beneath the water.

His thumb brushed featherlight over the delicate fabric of your bikini, grazing just close enough to make you gasp softly. He hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, his smirk deepening.

“Look at you…” Joshua said softly, his eyes locked on yours as his thumb began rubbing teasing circles over the thin barrier.

“We’re barely touching you and you’re already falling apart.”

You couldn’t even form words before his mouth was back on yours, claiming it in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier than before.

His tongue slid between your lips with practiced ease as you opened up for him, tasting faintly of piña colada and heat.

Your fingers dug into his wet hair, tugging him impossibly closer while your other hand clutched at Dokyeom’s arm behind you for balance.

Dokyeom’s hands didn’t stay idle either. They slid upwards with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of your ribs until his fingers found the delicate ribbon securing the back of your bikini top.

With one swift tug, it loosened, the fabric slackening just enough for his palms to slide beneath it, cupping your breasts.

A broken moan tore from your throat into Joshua’s mouth as Dokyeom’s thumbs brushed over your nipples, rolling and pinching them with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken.

Joshua pulled back slightly, his lips shiny and swollen from the kiss as his dark gaze raked over your flushed face.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, his hand still rubbing slow, torturous circles over your clothed core. “All flushed and trembling—just for us.”

Your hips jerked instinctively toward his hand, desperate for more friction, but he only chuckled darkly and pressed his palm firmer against you, the heat of it making your head spin.

“Needy already?” Joshua teased, leaning in to steal another kiss. “What happened to all that teasing earlier, hmm? Thought you could handle us, angel.”

Behind you, Dokyeom’s lips ghosted along your damp neck, teeth nipping lightly as he murmured against your skin. “She’s trying so hard to be good. Let’s help her out a little, yeah?”

His hands continued their slow ministrations, thumbs rolling your sensitive peaks while his fingers gently kneaded, the combination making you whimper against Joshua’s lips.

“Mm, I think she deserves it.” Joshua’s hand pressed a little firmer between your legs, his finger tracing along the soaked fabric of your bottoms.

“So wet already, baby. Is this all for us?”

You nodded breathlessly, words caught in your throat as your body shivered from the dual sensations.

“Good girl,” Dokyeom murmured approvingly against your ear, giving your nipples a firm pinch that made you arch against him with a small cry.

Dokyeom’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers as his tongue teased its way past your lips, tasting you like he’d been starving for it all day.

His large hands cupped your breasts firmly, thumbs brushing over your sensitive peaks before he rolled them between his fingers, making you arch into his chest with a muffled moan.

Joshua’s kisses trailed lower now, lips hot and wet as they explored the curve of your neck, down to your collarbones. His hand slid up your trembling stomach, fingers hooking under the loosened bikini top.

“Don’t need this anymore,” he murmured against your skin.

With one fluid motion, he tugged the flimsy fabric free and tossed it lazily to the edge of the pool, leaving your breasts bare and slick in the sunlight.

“Fuck, angel… look at you,” Joshua groaned, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of your hardened nipples, pebbled from the water and their touch.

Without hesitation, he leaned in, his warm mouth closing around one pert bud as his tongue swirled teasingly, sucking hard enough to make your head fall back against Dokyeom’s shoulder.

“Sh-Shua—ahh,” you gasped, your hands flying up to tangle in Joshua’s wet hair as your thighs tried to clench together under the water—only to be stopped by Dokyeom’s legs bracketing yours from behind.

Joshua hummed in satisfaction around your nipple, his other hand sliding down your stomach beneath the water.

His fingers toyed with the fabric of your bikini bottoms for only a moment before he tugged it aside with deliberate slowness.

The first brush of his fingers against your bare, sensitive clit made you jerk, a sharp cry muffled into Dokyeom’s kiss as his tongue claimed yours with just as much hunger.

“God, you’re soaked already,” Joshua growled, the pads of his fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit. “Is this from the water… or us?”

You whimpered into Dokyeom’s mouth, your answer swallowed by his greedy kiss as his hands continued to knead and roll your breasts.

“Both,” Dokyeom murmured, pulling back just enough to breathe against your lips, his forehead resting against yours as he watched Joshua’s fingers work between your legs. “She’s always this wet for us.”

Joshua chuckled darkly, nipping at your nipple before kissing his way back up your chest. “Lucky for us then.”

He pressed a kiss to your jaw before slipping two fingers lower, easing them between your folds.

The intrusion made your knees buckle in the water, and Dokyeom’s arms immediately wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you steady against his hardening length pressing into your lower back.

“You feel that, angel?” Dokyeom whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

“That’s how worked up I am just from watching you.” He rutted gently against your ass, the thick ridge of him leaving no room for denial as Joshua’s fingers began a slow, torturous rhythm inside you.

“F-fuck—” your voice cracked, your head falling back against Dokyeom’s shoulder as your walls clenched around Joshua’s fingers.

“God, you’re tight,” Joshua groaned, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers curled, pressing into that spot that made your thighs tremble violently.

“Let me hear you, baby. No one’s out here but us.”

“She’s trying so hard to be quiet,” Dokyeom murmured, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear.

“Don’t hold back, angel. Let Shua hear how good he’s making you feel while I—” He pinched one of your nipples firmly, making you cry out and grind instinctively into Joshua’s palm.

“While I rub this needy little pussy against my cock.” Dokyeom’s hips shifted, grinding his hardened length between the swell of your ass cheeks as the water lapped gently around you.

“Shit, she’s clenching so hard,” Joshua said with a low laugh, his pace quickening as his thumb pressed more insistently on your clit.

“Gonna cum for us, sweetheart? So soon?”

You could barely form words, your breaths coming out in broken gasps as the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter.

“P-please…” you managed, your nails digging into Dokyeom’s forearm behind you and Joshua’s shoulder in front of you.

“Please what?” Joshua teased, his dark eyes gleaming as his fingers fucked you faster, the slick sounds obscene under the water. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“Want to cum,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible. “Please—please let me cum.”

Dokyeom’s teeth grazed your earlobe as he hissed, “You hear that? She’s begging.”

Joshua smirked, his fingers curling just right as his thumb gave your clit one final firm circle. “Then give it to us, baby. Cum all over my fingers.”

A strangled moan broke past your lips, and your walls clamped down around his fingers as your orgasm tore through you.

“That’s it, baby,” Joshua murmured, watching you come undone with hungry eyes. “Clench for me—just like that. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Dokyeom’s lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder as he held you steady, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs.

“God, you’re gorgeous when you cum,” he whispered, his cock grinding lazily against your ass through his soaked shorts.

But your high was cut short too soon when Joshua pulled his fingers away, leaving you clenching around nothing.

A whine of protest fell from your lips, but Joshua only clicked his tongue, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to his.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart,” he teased, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You’re about to get exactly what you’re begging for.”

Before you could answer, his hands slid under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you from the pool. You yelped softly, arms flying to wrap around his neck as he carried you to one of the lounge chairs near the edge of the water.

The cool breeze kissed your damp, overheated skin as he set you down on the recliner, and you shivered at the sudden chill.

“Cold, angel?” Dokyeom’s voice came from behind you, dark and amused. He stepped up onto the deck, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as he tugged the tie of his swim shorts loose.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be warm enough soon.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dokyeom sank down behind you on the recliner, his strong arms looping around your waist as he pulled you flush against his broad chest.

His hands roamed your body possessively, fingers sliding under the ties of your bikini bottoms to tug them loose.

“Off,” he said simply, tossing the ruined fabric to the side once he had them untied.

The air hit your soaked folds and you squirmed, trying to close your legs, but Dokyeom’s large hands held your thighs apart. “Uh-uh, angel. Keep those pretty legs open for us.”

Joshua stepped forward then, the sound of his shorts hitting the deck making your eyes flick up.

Your breath hitched at the sight—his cock stood heavy and thick against his toned stomach, the tip flushed an angry red and already leaking precum.

“So greedy for us already,” Joshua chuckled darkly, wrapping a hand around his length and giving it a slow stroke as he watched your blown-out pupils dart between him and Dokyeom.

You whimpered softly as Dokyeom’s fingers brushed your clit, circling it lazily while his cock, hot and hard, pressed against your slick entrance from behind.

The thick head rubbed teasingly between your folds, catching on your sensitive clit just enough to make your hips buck.

“Fuck, look at her,” Dokyeom groaned, his voice low in your ear. “So wet and messy—she’s dripping all over me.”

“Mm, I can see.” Joshua stepped closer, towering over you as his hand came down to tap your cheek lightly. “Open, baby. Be a good girl for us.”

You parted your lips without hesitation, tongue flicking out instinctively as he chuckled low in his chest. “That’s it. God, you’re perfect.”

Dokyeom’s hands tightened on your thighs, spreading you wider as he shifted you higher on his lap, the blunt head of his cock pressing harder against your slick entrance. “Feel that, angel? You’re about to take every inch of me.”

“Wait until she feels both of us,” Joshua murmured with a smirk, guiding his thick length to your waiting mouth. “Her greedy little hole’s gonna stretch so good.”

You whimpered as Dokyeom started to push in slowly from behind, the thick head forcing its way past your tight entrance.

“Oh my—Kyeom…” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut as the stretch burned deliciously.

“That’s it, angel,” he groaned, his jaw tightening as he sank deeper inch by inch. “Take it. You can handle it. You’re doing so good.”

Joshua’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he said softly, though his tone held an edge of command. “Don’t get shy now.”

You obeyed, blinking up at him through teary lashes as he brushed the tip of his cock against your parted lips.

“Pretty mouth,” he praised, sliding his cockhead along your tongue, smearing precum across it before pressing just past your lips.

“Fuck, her mouth feels so good,” Joshua groaned, slipping in a little deeper. “Gonna let me fuck this sweet mouth while Kyeom fills you up, hmm?”

“Please,” you whined around his length, your voice muffled.

Dokyeom’s hips pressed flush against your ass finally, his entire length buried inside you as he cursed lowly. “Shit… so fucking tight. You’re squeezing me like a vice, angel.”

Before you could even catch your breath, Joshua’s large hand wrapped snugly around your throat, his thumb brushing against the rapid thrum of your pulse.

The gentle pressure made you moan around the thick length stretching your lips, sending vibrations straight down Joshua’s cock.

“God, listen to those pretty sounds,” Joshua hissed, his hips rocking forward slightly as you took him deeper into your mouth. “Such a perfect little toy for us.”

You hummed around him, the sound earning a deep groan from his chest. Determined to please him, your hands slid up to wrap around the base of his cock, stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.

Spit dribbled down your chin as you bobbed your head, his swollen tip kissing the back of your throat.

“Fuck, baby… that mouth was made for me,” Joshua growled, his hand tightening slightly on your neck before easing up.

Behind you, Dokyeom began to move—slow at first, then building a punishing rhythm as he pistoned his cock into your slick heat.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the villa’s walls, blending with your muffled whimpers around Joshua’s cock.

“Look at her,” Dokyeom panted, his voice rough with lust. “She’s fucking dripping—messing up my thighs. So greedy for it, aren’t you angel?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a muffled moan, your eyes squeezing shut as tears pricked at the corners.

The stretch of Dokyeom’s cock inside you was overwhelming, his hips snapping forward mercilessly while Joshua’s length filled your mouth.

Joshua clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, a wicked smile tugging at his lips as he used his free hand to swipe away a tear trailing down your cheek.

“Aww, baby. Crying already?” he cooed. “You’re doing so good for us… taking both your boys like the sweetest little whore.”

Your whole body shivered at his words, and you moaned around him, the sound making his cock twitch in your throat.

“That’s it—fuck, such a good girl,” Dokyeom grunted, his pace unrelenting as he pounded into you from behind. “So fucking tight. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

Joshua’s hand suddenly slid up, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked the golden flower clip out and tossed it carelessly onto the deck.

“Pretty little thing,” he murmured, gathering your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail as his hips thrust shallowly into your mouth. “Don’t hold back, baby. Cum for us.”

You let out a choked whimper as the coil in your stomach wound impossibly tight, your thighs trembling from the overwhelming pleasure.

Dokyeom’s cock dragged against your sensitive walls with each brutal snap of his hips, the wet sounds of your cunt echoing obscenely.

“Fuck, she’s squeezing me so good,” Dokyeom growled, his fingers digging harder into your hips. “You close, angel? Gonna let us feel you fall apart?”

Joshua chuckled darkly above you, his hand tugging on your hair to tilt your head back. “Cum all over Kyeom’s cock, sweetheart,” he ordered, his tone thick with lust. “And don’t you dare stop sucking.”

Your body shook violently as the orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave, legs trembling and toes curling as a raw cry left your swollen lips.

Dokyeom grunted behind you, his own hips stuttering erratically as his cock pulsed deep inside, hot ropes of cum spilling into your fluttering walls.

“F–fuck, angel… that’s it. Take it all,” Dokyeom groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as his thrusts slowed, his length still twitching inside your overstimulated pussy.

Joshua let out a strangled moan above you, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust deep into your mouth one last time.

His cock pulsed as thick spurts of cum coated your tongue, salty and warm as he held your head still. “Shit—just like that, baby. Swallow it all for me. Be a good girl.”

You whimpered softly, tears streaking your flushed cheeks as you obediently swallowed every drop.

Joshua’s thumb gently swiped at the corner of your lips as he pulled out slowly, watching your tongue peek out to show him your mouth was clean.

“Good fucking girl,” he cooed, his voice dropping to a warm murmur as he leaned down to kiss your spit-slick, puffy lips. “So perfect for us.”

Behind you, Dokyeom slowly pulled out with a low hiss, his cum dripping messily from between your thighs.

You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your walls clenching reflexively as another small shudder ran through your body.

Joshua chuckled softly, brushing the hair sticking to your damp temple. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. You did so good for us,” he murmured, pressing tender kisses to your forehead.

Dokyeom’s lips followed, leaving soft pecks on your shoulder and cheek as his arms rubbed soothingly up and down your sides.

“Breathe, angel. Nice and easy,” he whispered, his voice low and sweet, so different from the desperate groans he let out moments ago.

Joshua reached down lazily to pick up his discarded shorts, tugging them on as he stayed kneeling between your trembling legs.

He spotted a nearby robe draped over one of the loungers and snagged it, wrapping the soft fabric around your naked, trembling form. With ease, he scooped you up into his arms bridal-style.

“Come here, baby girl. Let’s get you comfy,” he murmured, holding you close as your legs automatically wrapped around his waist.

You let out a small, exhausted laugh, your cheek pressed to the firm expanse of his chest. “Food’s here,” you mumbled breathlessly, still riding the aftershocks of pleasure.

Joshua’s lips curved into a warm smile as he kissed the crown of your head, mindful of the loose strands from your golden flower clip that now rested on the deck. “Yeah, baby. Let’s get you energized.”

Dokyeom had pulled on his own shorts by now, bending to retrieve your discarded bikini pieces from the deck. As the doorbell rang, he shot you a grin over his shoulder.

“I’ll get it,” he said, voice still hoarse but playful, disappearing inside to answer the door.

You looked up at Joshua through your lashes with a tired but content smile, your fingers playing with the collar of his robe.

“I’m starving now…” you whispered, lips curving with mischief despite your flushed face.

Joshua chuckled, his nose brushing against yours affectionately. “Of course you are. You just burned enough calories for three meals, sweetheart.”

You giggled, clinging tighter to him as he carried you inside toward the bed. With a soft smile, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before straightening.

“I’ll grab something to clean you up,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across your cheek before disappearing into one of the villa’s bathrooms.

The sound of quiet wheels against the wooden floor pulled your gaze to the doorway where Dokyeom rolled in the room service trolley.

He grinned at you, eyes still dark with the afterglow of what just happened.

“Look at you,” he said warmly, pulling the trolley to a stop near the bed.

He grabbed the foldable wooden table leaning against the wall and with a few efficient movements, unfolded it and set it up right in front of you.

Plate by plate, he carefully arranged the food—burgers, fries, chicken salad, mango shake, crab cakes, and the chilled pitcher of mango juice.

“For our girl,” Dokyeom repeated softly, his grin widening as he pushed the trolley away and took a seat beside you on the bed.

He reached up, his fingers gently brushing your slightly messy hair to one side as he studied you. “We didn’t mess your hair up, huh? Still perfect.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound tired but happy. “Barely. I think the flower clip sacrificed itself for the cause, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he tucked a loose strand behind your ear. “Worth it.”

Before you could reply, Joshua reappeared from the bathroom carrying a wooden tray with neatly folded towels, a bowl of warm water, and a small bottle of gentle soap.

His expression softened even more when he saw you sitting there, your robe wrapped loosely around your body.

“Perfect timing,” he murmured, setting the tray down on the nightstand and taking a seat on your other side.

He dipped one towel into the bowl, wringing out the excess water before meeting your eyes. “Open up for me, sweetheart. I need to clean you up.”

You hesitated for a moment, clutching the robe tighter. “Do we have to? I’m still so sensitive…” you whispered with a small pout.

Joshua’s lips curved upward in a tender smile as he leaned forward, his free hand cupping your cheek.

“I know, baby. I’ll be gentle—I promise. I just don’t want you uncomfortable later, okay?”

You sighed softly but nodded, letting the robe fall open as he carefully spread it apart. The cool air hit your flushed, sticky skin, making you shiver slightly.

“There’s my good girl,” Joshua cooed, his voice low and soothing as he began dabbing the warm towel between your thighs. You whimpered faintly at the sensation, your hips twitching.

“Shh… it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your knee in slow, reassuring circles. “You were so perfect for us. Let me take care of you now.”

Dokyeom leaned closer, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “He’s right, angel. You did so well. Just relax for us now.”

Joshua worked delicately, wiping away the mess from your thighs and between your folds with practiced care.

“Almost done, baby,” he murmured as he grabbed a clean towel to dry you.

You bit your lip, watching him with slightly glassy eyes as he finally pulled the robe back over your body, tying it loosely around your waist.

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“All clean,” he whispered. “Now let’s get you fed.”

The late afternoon light poured into the villa, warm and golden as the sun began its slow descent over the ocean.

Hints of orange and pink streaked across the horizon, their glow slipping past the sheer curtains that swayed gently with the salty breeze.

You were perched on the edge of the vanity table, carefully outlining your lips with a dusty rose lip liner, the little furrow between your brows making Joshua chuckle from where he stood behind you.

“Don’t move too much, angel,” he teased lightly, his long fingers gently guiding a curl around the barrel of the curler.

The scent of your strawberry-scented lip balm and his cologne mixed in the air as ‘Heaven’s Cloud’ played lowly from your phone’s speaker.

“I’m not moving,” you murmured around the small smile forming as you capped the liner and reached for your lipstick, dabbing it delicately onto your lips.

Joshua tilted his head to watch, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Where’s your pink bow? The one I got you in Tokyo?”

You glanced down at your lap, reaching for the satin bow resting there. “Here.”

He took it from your hands, his thumb grazing your fingers briefly before stepping closer. “Perfect.”

He carefully clipped it to the middle section of your hair, letting it peek out from the soft waves he’d just finished curling.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured as he set the curler down on the counter.

“Thank you, baby,” you said sweetly, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes in the mirror.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours for a kiss—soft, lazy, tasting faintly of mango from the drink you’d shared earlier.

You laughed softly as you pulled back, giving him a playful look. “You guys really need to stop kissing me when I have lipstick on. You’re gonna stain every white shirt you own.”

Joshua only smirked, his dark eyes flashing mischievously. “Is that strawberry?” he asked, brushing his thumb gently across your bottom lip, smudging it slightly.

“It is.” You picked up your lip gloss with a huff. “I still need to put on gloss though, so don’t get too greedy.”

He chuckled, helping you down from the vanity chair with a hand at your waist. “Fine, I’ll behave—for now.”

You adjusted your outfit, running your palms down the soft mesh of your fitted skirt.

The short white base skirt hugged your hips perfectly, layered under the sheer fabric printed with tropical pink flowers. It paired seamlessly with your matching pink bikini top, covered modestly by a fitted white tube also adorned in the same floral pattern.

Gold jewelry kissed your skin—thin bangles, layered necklaces, and hoop earrings catching the fading light.

As Joshua admired you, you beckoned him closer with a finger. He stepped forward obligingly, his white button-up slightly open at the collar and matching white shorts perfectly pressed.

“Hold out your hand,” you instructed softly.

He raised a brow but complied, and you slipped a soft pink hair tie with a delicate bow onto his wrist. Then, you grabbed your nearby cosmetics bag, pulling out your favorite perfume and spritzing it lightly on the hair tie.

“Now you match me.” You smiled smugly, smoothing his shirt collar with your hands. “Just in case any girls out there start getting ideas.”

Joshua’s laughter rumbled low in his chest as he leaned down again, kissing your temple. “You’re cute when you’re possessive.”

“I’m serious, Shua,” you said, puffing your cheeks slightly as you fixed a strand of his hair sticking out. “Girls were taking pictures of you guys earlier in the villa waiting area.”

He only shrugged, slipping his arms lazily around your waist.

“So? You already marked me.” He lifted his wrist, letting the pink bow catch the light before brushing his nose against yours.

Before you could retort, the bathroom door creaked open. Dokyeom stepped out, his slightly damp hair pushed back with his fingers, the ends still glistening faintly.

He wore a plain white t-shirt tucked into white shorts, looking effortlessly clean yet devastatingly handsome.

Your eyes flicked briefly to the pink baseball cap sitting on the bed—it matched your outfit perfectly, and you had a sneaking suspicion he chose it on purpose.

“Occupational hazard, baby,” Dokyeom said lightly as he walked closer, clearly having caught the end of your little conversation.

“We’re idols. People take pictures—it comes with the territory.”

You let out a resigned sigh, fixing him with a half-pout. “I know… but still.”

He reached you in two easy strides, his hand sliding gently to your jaw as he leaned down to press a feather-light kiss to your cheek.

His fingers lingered there for a second longer than necessary as he added, voice low and teasing, “But everyone knows we’re smitten by you, angel. Don’t they?”

Your lips curled into a soft smile as you looked between your two boyfriends, their gazes warm and fond. “Hopelessly smitten,” you teased.

And then, with that dangerous glint in your eye, you turned back to the mirror to apply your lip gloss, dragging the wand slowly across your bottom lip as if you were trying to kill them with anticipation.

“Speaking of smitten—whose fault was it that our date got leaked three years ago because someone posted it on their public Instagram account?”

Dokyeom groaned dramatically, running a towel through his hair one last time before tossing it lazily onto the bed.

“Oh, come on, angel.” He grabbed the pink cap from the bed and adjusted it snugly on his still-damp hair.

“The fans loved you more than they loved us. I swear half of them only stayed for my updates because they were hoping for glimpses of you.”

Joshua chuckled, already scrolling on his phone as he leaned against the nightstand. “He’s not wrong.”

He turned the screen toward you, showing his lock screen wallpaper—an accidental mirror selfie he’d taken of you once when you were fixing your hair, sunlight painting you in gold.

“Remember the one time Carats noticed my wallpaper and started spamming ‘How did they pull (Y/N)?’ under my posts?”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you smirked, dropping the lip gloss into your handbag. “Mm, I think the real question is how I let two chaotic men trick me into this.”

Joshua snorted as he reached for your handbag, effortlessly slipping it over his shoulder alongside your small pink camera already strapped around his wrist.

He glanced at you knowingly. “Tricked? You’re wearing our matching bracelets like a proud little trophy wife, baby. Don’t even start.”

You raised your right hand, letting the thin, gold chain bracelet catch the fading sunlight as it glinted. “Of course. Yours,” you said, wiggling your fingers.

Dokyeom tilted his head as he adjusted the cap’s brim and stepped closer, his deep brown eyes glittering playfully. “And mine?”

You raised your left hand this time, flashing the identical bracelet. Dokyeom’s grin widened as he crouched down in front of you, effortlessly balancing on one knee. “Good girl.”

Your heart fluttered when his large, warm hands carefully strapped your white sandals in place. When he finished, he leaned in to press a sweet kiss against your knee before standing again.

“Thank you, Kyeom,” you murmured with a smile, brushing his jaw with your fingers as a reward.

“Anything for our girl.”

Joshua, already holding your hand with his fingers intertwined with yours, leaned in and murmured, “And Kyeom said they were all glad we weren’t bitchless anymore.”

You froze mid-step as they guided you toward the door, turning your head slowly to glare playfully at Dokyeom. “Did you just call me a bitch, Lee Seokmin?”

His eyes went wide, and he raised both hands in mock surrender as Joshua tried to hide his laugh behind his free hand. “No! No, angel. That’s literally what they said on Twitter—‘they’re not bitchless anymore’—I’m quoting, I swear!”

Joshua’s laughter finally escaped in a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flip. “Mm, he’s digging himself a hole, isn’t he?”

“You think?” you teased, shaking your head as you let them lead you out of the villa.

Dokyeom pouted, placing a big hand gently on your lower back as Joshua held your hand firmly in his. “You’re cruel, angel. So cruel to your poor boyfriends.”

You only laughed, shaking your head as Joshua easily guided the three of you out of the bustling lobby. The resort’s golden lights faded behind you as the warm evening breeze met your skin.

You caught snippets of whispers and lingering stares from other guests—no surprise, really.

The three of you walking together hand in hand like some untouchable, beautiful beings was bound to turn heads.

Joshua led confidently through the path to the private villa parking lot, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand in lazy circles.

The moment you stepped into the quiet area, your eyes immediately landed on the sleek black Porsche parked neatly near the entrance.

The one that had caused a small argument three days ago.

You sighed loudly, already feeling your blood pressure spike. “I still don’t get it—why did you two have to buy a car? We could’ve just rented one like normal people.”

Joshua let out a soft laugh, releasing your hand only to open the passenger door for you. “Normal people?” he teased, raising an elegant brow as he gestured for you to sit.

“Baby, we are far from normal.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue as you slid into the plush leather seat.

He leaned in, pulling the seatbelt over you and buckling it securely, his hands lingering a little longer than necessary. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

“There,” he murmured warmly. “Perfect.”

You caught sight of his teasing smirk in your peripheral vision as he moved around to climb into the backseat. He sprawled out lazily, his long legs stretched comfortably while Dokyeom settled into the driver’s seat.

As Dokyeom adjusted the seat and mirrors, Joshua reached for the car’s screen, connecting his phone to the Bluetooth with a soft chime. “We have the money to do so, baby,” he said casually, already scrolling through his playlist.

“Besides, we’ll just auction it off when we leave in a few weeks. Maybe sign it. Some Carat will lose their mind.”

You raised a brow at him through the rearview mirror as the car purred to life. “And when we come back?” you asked dryly, already knowing the answer.

Joshua, instead of answering immediately, raised his phone and snapped a photo of you, catching your expression before you could protest.

You turned to glare at him, but he only smiled down at his screen, clearly pleased.

“You look gorgeous, as always,” he said with a small grin. “And when we come back? We’ll just buy a new one. Simple.”

“Exactly,” Dokyeom agreed easily, one hand on the wheel as he eased the Porsche onto the quiet street.

“We’re not renting cars like college students on spring break. Come on, angel.”

You groaned into your palm. “Men. I swear…”

“You love these men,” Dokyeom teased, his voice full of laughter as he glanced at you for a split second.

You sighed, but there was no hiding the small smile tugging at your lips. “Unfortunately, I can’t argue with that.”

Joshua chuckled from the back, his voice dipping lower, almost smug. “That’s right, baby. You’re ours.”

You ignored the little flutter in your stomach as Dokyeom’s hand slipped from the gearshift to your bare thigh, his thumb stroking slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Take a right here,” you murmured, holding your phone up to show the GPS directions. “We’re actually pretty close. Only five minutes.”

Joshua tilted his head in amusement from the backseat. “Five minutes? That’s practically walking distance.”

You turned your head to glare at him. “Don’t even start. As if you’d walk double that.”

He smirked, resting his cheek against his palm lazily. “You’d ruin your shoes, baby. And you know that.”

Your lips formed a small pout as you looked down at your sandals. “…damn it. You’re right.”

Joshua’s laugh was low and warm, the kind that made your chest ache. “Of course I am.”

Dokyeom only squeezed your thigh gently, flashing you a grin. “We just want our girl comfortable. Let us spoil you a little, angel.”

You exhaled dramatically, trying to suppress the amused smile threatening to bloom. “A little? You two’s definition of ‘a little’ is a black Porsche on an island resort.”

“Exactly.” Joshua’s tone was smug as hell now. “So stop fighting it.”

You sighed dramatically, but the amused smile threatening your lips gave you away as you leaned back in the seat.

Outside the window, the bustling streets of Malé came into view—colorful shops, bright lights, and the golden-orange glow of the Maldivian sunset dancing off the water.

Dokyeom slowed the Porsche down, the car purring softly as he turned into a parking area already lined with luxury vehicles.

He parked neatly into an empty space, fingers drumming the wheel lazily as he cut the engine.

Before you even reached for the passenger door handle, Dokyeom was already out of his seat. “Don’t even try it, angel,” he called teasingly, jogging around the front of the car.

Joshua was right behind him, his long fingers plucking the familiar small white silk shawl from the backseat.

He shot you a knowing smirk through the open door. “What did I say about bringing a jacket?” he teased lightly.

“It ruins the outfit,” you recited flatly, hiding your grin as you allowed Dokyeom to open your door.

“Exactly,” Joshua chuckled.

Dokyeom extended his hand gallantly, and you placed yours in his, stepping gracefully out of the car in your dainty sandals.

The tropical air was warm, but you already felt a chill knowing how most stores loved to crank up their air conditioning.

Joshua seemed to read your mind as he draped the silk shawl over your shoulders, his hands brushing your skin tenderly as he adjusted it. “There. Our princess won’t be catching cold.”

“Thank you, baby,” you murmured, letting him press a soft kiss to your temple.

“Anything for you,” he replied with a wink.

With Dokyeom’s hand warm and steady on the small of your back and Joshua’s fingers intertwining with yours, the three of you made your way into the mall.

Heads turned, as usual, but your boyfriends paid no mind—Joshua casually scrolling through his phone with your pink camera still strapped to his wrist, Dokyeom’s protective stance practically radiating ‘she’s with us.’

“There’s Chanel.” Joshua nodded toward the store with a small smile.

Your eyes lit up instantly, and they both chuckled under their breath. “Of course she noticed,” Dokyeom teased fondly as they gently steered you inside.

A chic shopping assistant greeted the three of you instantly, her professional smile widening at the sight of your group.

“Welcome to Chanel! How can I assist you today?”

You returned her smile sweetly, but before you could say anything, Joshua chimed in smoothly. “Hi. We’re interested in seeing your newest collections for handbags and accessories. Whatever she likes, bring it out.”

Your eyes zeroed in on the pink Métiers d’Art bag displayed elegantly on a nearby shelf, and Joshua’s gaze flicked there instantly, his lips curling knowingly. “Knew she’d love the pink one,” he murmured to Dokyeom.

Dokyeom chuckled, lightly bumping Joshua’s shoulder. “Get the new ones too. She’ll need options.”

Joshua didn’t hesitate. He was already pulling his black card from his wallet with an effortless flick of his wrist, holding it between two fingers like it was nothing.

“Already one step ahead of you,” he said smugly. “Anything her eyes linger on for more than five seconds—we’re taking.”

You gave him an incredulous look, lips parting to protest, but he only shot you that charming smile that melted all your defenses.

“Hi, yes,” Joshua said smoothly to the assistant, “could we also see the pink sunglasses from the window display? And the pink silk scarves, if possible.”

“Of course, sir.” The assistant’s eyes darted from Joshua to Dokyeom and then back to you.

Her expression shifted as recognition sparked. She gasped softly. “Oh my gosh… That’s why you all looked so familiar!”

You laughed, unable to resist teasing as your fingers brushed over the shawl. “Mhm. They’ve got a popular girlfriend, yeah.”

The assistant’s cheeks flushed as she let out a nervous laugh. “Of course! You’re Miss (Y/N). I should’ve realized earlier. Everyone talks about how lucky they are.”

Joshua raised a brow at you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “What did I say about our fans loving you more than us?”

You shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant as your fingers trailed over a pink quilted wallet. “Can’t help it. I am adorable.”

Dokyeom leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered low enough only for you to hear. “Adorable is putting it lightly, angel. They’re obsessed. Just like us.”

His words still lingered hot against your ear as you pulled back slightly to grin at him. But before you could quip back, the sound of a shutter clicking caught your attention.

You turned your head just in time to catch Joshua lowering his phone slightly, his lips tugging upward in that soft, infuriatingly fond smile of his.

“Shua…” you warned, half amused, half flustered.

“Don’t mind me,” he said lightly, tapping his screen to snap another photo as you animatedly held up the new pink Métiers d’Art bag, practically glowing with excitement.

“You’re glowing. Let me live.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop talking, your attention turning back to Dokyeom as you traced the bag’s stitching with careful fingers.

“And the material—it’s lambskin, Kyeom. It’s so soft. It won’t crease easily either, so it’ll last forever.”

Dokyeom, who knew absolutely nothing about bag materials but was trying his best, nodded solemnly like you’d just explained nuclear physics.

“Right. Yeah. Lambskin. That’s… impressive, angel.”

Joshua chuckled quietly at Dokyeom’s attempt to keep up, his thumb swiping up on his screen. Without hesitation, he posted one of the photos to his public Instagram story.

He didn’t care. Not about the company. Not about what anyone had to say. What were they going to do? Fire him? Good luck.

As you continued chatting with the assistant—your voice sweet and animated as you said, “These look really cute! Especially this one. The shape is perfect for casual brunch dates”—Joshua handed his black card over to the assistant casually, his tone lazy but purposeful.

“That’s our future wife,” he said, loud enough for Dokyeom to hear but quiet enough to sound intimate.

There was a flicker of mischief in his eyes as he added, “Throwing a small tantrum every time she sees the new car.”

The assistant bit back a knowing smile as Joshua exhaled dramatically. “Let her get anything. Everything her eyes stay on for more than five seconds—swipe it. All of it.”

“Of course, sir.” The assistant accepted the card smoothly, already used to this level of devotion from rich boyfriends but still mildly flustered at how unapologetically smitten this one was.

Joshua hummed in satisfaction and moved to stand beside Dokyeom, who had his phone out filming you twirling a white Chanel handbag in your hands.

The camera caught you tilting your head, examining the leather closely before you beamed at the assistant and muttered something about the practicality of its size.

“Look at her,” Dokyeom murmured, not even trying to hide his grin as he stopped the video. “She’s gonna make the Chanel Instagram page if we’re not careful.”

“Let them try,” Joshua said, grinning as he leaned slightly against a glass display.

His eyes followed your every move, completely unbothered by the few shoppers glancing curiously in their direction.

Dokyeom tucked his phone into his pocket and glanced sidelong at Joshua. “You wanna stop by Prada after this?”

Joshua’s laugh was low and easy, like he’d been expecting that question. “Absolutely. I need new bags and clothes anyway.”

“Same,” Dokyeom agreed, his eyes drifting back to you just as you reached for a small pink silk scarf. “And (Y/N) needs new shoes.”

Joshua smirked, his gaze softening as he watched you carefully fold the scarf, laughing lightly at something the assistant said.

“She needs the world,” he murmured.

“Guess we’ll start with Chanel and work our way up.” Dokyeom’s grin matched his as the two watched you turned toward them, cheeks flushed from the assistant’s compliments.

You raised a perfectly arched brow at them, lips pursed as your eyes flicked between Joshua and Dokyeom—your silent way of saying ‘I’m still mad about the car.’

Joshua caught the look instantly and tilted his head, smirking like he’d just caught you pouting. “Oh no. Don’t give me that face, baby,” he said smoothly, adjusting the pink hair tie still snug around his wrist.

“We’ve been over this. You’re not winning this argument, and the Porsche isn’t going back.”

Dokyeom, standing with his arms folded across his chest, chuckled under his breath. “Exactly. You’ll forgive us the second we hand you that pink bag and matching sunnies.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, fighting the twitch of a smile threatening to break through. “I swear, the two of you—”

But before you could finish, they both waved their hands in sync as though dismissing your scolding entirely.

“Shhh. Go on, baby. Keep shopping,” Joshua said, his tone playful but commanding as he leaned lazily against the counter. “Your little tantrum isn’t about to stop us from spoiling you.”

Dokyeom grinned, tilting his head at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yeah, angel. Consider the car just our warm-up act. You’ve got two men and unlimited black cards at your disposal—use them.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, throwing your hands up. “You’re insane. Both of you.”

“Mm. And you love us for it,” Joshua teased, pulling his phone back out and subtly snapping another candid of you admiring the pink Métier d’Art bag.

“Damn right,” Dokyeom added with a wink, stepping closer as he glanced at the assistant bringing over more pieces for you to try.

“Now hurry up. Prada’s not going to clear their stock for us.”

You rolled your eyes but turned back to the assistant anyway, your fingers already skimming over the next gorgeous bag she set out. “Fine. But you’re carrying everything.”

“As if we weren’t already planning to,” Joshua shot back, his smile widening as he whispered something under his breath to Dokyeom.

Dokyeom chuckled, watching you practically glow as you admired the display. “She’s really milking this ‘mad at us’ act, huh?”

“Let her,” Joshua murmured, eyes soft as he caught another picture of you, his lock screen already set to a similar shot from earlier. “She deserves it.”

The rooftop was breathtaking—the faint sound of waves crashing below mixing with soft jazz playing over hidden speakers. Warm fairy lights strung above you cast a golden glow on the table, reflecting off the wine glasses and silver cutlery.

The air smelled faintly of salt and jasmine, and the gentle breeze made the flames of the table’s small candles dance.

Shopping bags from Chanel, Prada, and Dior sat in a neat pile under the table, your day’s spoils tucked safely away.

You sat comfortably, legs crossed in your short white skirt—the flowy mesh overlay you’d been wearing earlier now folded neatly in one of the Chanel paper bags piled under the table.

With nothing but the fitted skirt hugging your thighs and the pink bikini top peeking from beneath your cropped tube, you were the picture of effortless allure as you snapped a few selfies, the ocean glittering behind you.

Next to you, Joshua leaned back lazily, his eyes soft and admiring as his phone stayed poised, ready to capture you the second you looked his way.

“Okay, give me one with your hand under your chin,” Joshua instructed, angling his phone as he snapped shot after shot. “Perfect. God, you’re unreal.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, striking a few poses as requested.

Beside him, Dokyeom was already halfway through a piece of warm bread, absently breaking off a chunk and holding it out for Joshua, who leaned forward slightly to take it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Just as Joshua was snapping another photo of you, a blur appeared in the frame—Dokyeom, grinning like a menace as he popped his head in and pulled a ridiculous face.

Joshua huffed out a laugh mid-shot while you spun around to glare playfully.

“Yah, Lee Seokmin!” You gasped, trying not to laugh as you caught him sticking his tongue out.

“What?” he said innocently, already leaning back in his chair with that mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Your photos were missing something. I fixed them.”

You let out a laugh anyway, covering your mouth with your hand as Joshua scrolled through the photos with an amused shake of his head.

“Alright, alright,” Joshua sighed, his grin widening as he slid his phone and your pink camera toward Dokyeom. “Since you’re so eager to be involved, why don’t you take some of us?”

“Gladly,” Dokyeom said, licking crumbs from his fingers before taking both devices.

Joshua scooted closer to you on the bench-style seat, his arm sliding smoothly around your shoulders as he pulled you flush against his side.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s give him something worthy of Instagram.”

You smiled for the camera as Dokyeom counted down dramatically. “One… two… three… cheese!”

Joshua’s grip on your shoulder shifted lower, his hand trailing down your arm, then sneakily inching over your chest as his palm brushed against the thin fabric of your top.

Your eyes widened as you sucked in a breath, shooting him a glare mid-pose.

“Joshua Hong,” you hissed, your lips still forced into a smile for Dokyeom’s sake.

“What? I’m just holding my girl.” Joshua’s voice was innocent, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You slapped his chest lightly with your free hand, whispering sharply, “Behave. We’re here for dinner.”

But your traitorous mind wasn’t helping. God, why does he always do this?

His hand was still resting lazily on your thigh, fingers drumming lightly like he wasn’t seconds away from pushing them higher under your skirt. He knows exactly what he’s doing too, the smug bastard.

Before you could gather yourself, Dokyeom chuckled from across the table, setting both your pink camera and Joshua’s phone down on the linen. “That’s what she said,” he teased casually, his lips quirking.

Joshua’s laugh came low and dangerous, his hand sliding up to run through his perfectly styled hair as his eyes never left you.

The corners of his lips lifted into that familiar smirk—the one that always meant trouble.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, already feeling warmth pooling in your belly.

But Joshua’s hand squeezed your thigh, and your breath hitched before you could stop it. “Oh, come on, angel,” he murmured, his voice smooth as honey. “Let us have some fun for once.”

You shot him a glare that probably wasn’t as sharp as you hoped, not with your pulse thundering in your ears.

“You had your fun after lunch,” you hissed back, heat climbing your neck as memories of the villa pool flashed uninvited in your mind.

His smirk widened, his eyes flicking briefly to Dokyeom sitting across from you. Like clockwork, the younger mirrored it, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“You sure about that?” Dokyeom asked, his tone low and knowing.

Your head whipped toward him, your mouth parting in shock. “Dokyeom—”

But Joshua leaned in closer, his breath fanning hot across your ear as his lips brushed against your lobe. “We know you want more, greedy girl,” he whispered.

Your thighs clenched instinctively under the table, and you shoved at his chest—not nearly hard enough to move him.

“No, I don’t,” you muttered, but your voice came out too soft, too unconvincing.

Joshua’s brow shot up, his smirk downright sinful now as his hand squeezed your thigh again, this time closer to where you were already pulsing with need.

“Hmm. I don’t believe you,” he murmured.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Dokyeom pushing his chair back and circling the table casually. Your stomach knotted as he stopped beside you, dragging the chair until it was snugly placed on your other side.

“Strange,” Dokyeom said as he sat, one of his big hands settling on your opposite thigh, his thumb stroking over your warm skin.

“You’re being weirdly bratty today, angel.”

“Bratty?” you echoed incredulously, though your voice betrayed you again—higher, breathier than before.

Joshua hummed in amusement, leaning down to graze his teeth gently against your earlobe. Your stomach flipped violently at the sensation.

“You are. Cute… but bratty.” His hand inched even higher under your skirt, fingers dangerously close to your core.

You reached for his wrist, desperate to regain control. “I said behave,” you whispered again, but your voice trembled slightly.

Joshua’s warm chuckle sent shivers down your spine. “I am behaving, baby,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “I don’t know about you though.”

Dokyeom’s hand squeezed your other thigh lightly, his voice a teasing murmur near your shoulder. “Should we take her back to the villa early? Since she’s so… tense?”

Your entire body flushed as you twisted to glare at him. “I swear—”

But Joshua only hummed with mock concern, his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh now. “Relax, angel. Or people will notice how worked up you’re getting.”

You were just about to snap back when a waiter suddenly approached, smiling nervously as he balanced a tray. “Excuse me… is everything complete with your orders?”

Joshua’s hand didn’t budge from your thigh as he looked up, smile polite but sharp. “Yes, thank you.”

The waiter nodded, placing plates of food carefully on the table before setting down a chilled glass of champagne directly in front of you.

Both Joshua and Dokyeom stilled.

Their raised brows mirrored each other as Joshua’s voice dropped in temperature. “What’s this?”

The waiter shifted awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension radiating from the two men seated with you. “Ah—it’s, um—for the madam. Compliments of the gentleman at table four.” He gestured subtly with his chin.

Your eyes instinctively followed, catching sight of a local man seated a few tables down. He raised his glass with a bold, charming grin aimed squarely at you.

Joshua’s throat cleared, the sound low and dangerous. “Is that all?”

The poor waiter flinched slightly, nodding quickly before scurrying off.

Joshua’s jaw ticked as he locked eyes with the man, his expression unreadable—calm, yet cold.

He picked up the champagne glass delicately, swirling it for a moment as though testing the weight before, with an almost cruel sort of elegance, tipping it over and letting the liquid cascade to the floor with a soft splash.

He didn’t look away from the man once.

Dokyeom, equally silent but his smile tight, reached across and slid a fresh glass of wine in front of you. “Here. Drink this instead, angel.”

You blinked between them, heart thudding as Joshua leaned in slightly, his voice velvety but laced with steel. “You’re with us. You don’t need anyone else sending you shit.”

Dokyeom chuckled low, though his hand found your knee under the table, thumb rubbing soothing circles as he added, “I swear… can’t take you anywhere without people trying their luck.”

Your cheeks flamed—not from the champagne incident but from the heat of their attention as the air around your table thickened.

Joshua’s fingers brushed higher again, squeezing lightly as he murmured, “Now, be a good girl and thank your boyfriends for saving you from that creep.”

You swallowed, your voice coming out quieter than intended as you murmured, “Thank you… both of you.”

Dokyeom’s sharp gaze softened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest as he watched you reach for the wine glass he’d slid over earlier.

“You guys know I don’t even like champagne…” you mumbled with a little pout, swirling the red liquid before bringing it to your lips.

“You’re right.” Dokyeom’s voice was low, almost playful, but there was an edge in it. “Champagne’s too bitter for someone as sweet as you.”

Joshua hummed in agreement, his expression unreadable now as he took the serving spoon and began placing portions of food on your plate—grilled lobster, fresh greens, roasted vegetables—doing it with such quiet precision it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You deserve better than whatever cheap glass he thought he could win you with,” Joshua said smoothly, but his eyes had already drifted past you, catching sight of the man again.

The silence at the table grew heavy.

You shifted slightly in your chair, pulling your skirt lower on your thighs as the weight of Joshua’s palm lingered possessively.

His gaze didn’t waver—burning into the stranger across the room with an intensity that made your stomach knot.

The man, still attempting a smug smirk, faltered under Joshua’s cold stare. His shoulders stiffened, his eyes dropping as he quickly turned away to focus on his own meal, clearly rattled.

Only then did Joshua’s sharp glare break, his lips twitching with the faintest smirk as he finally looked back at you.

“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your breath hitched.

The word dripped with quiet venom, but it wasn’t just the coldness in his tone that had your stomach fluttering—it was the way his hand slid slightly higher on your bare thigh under the tablecloth, his thumb brushing lazy, teasing circles against the sensitive skin.

You gripped the stem of your wine glass a little tighter, taking another sip in a desperate attempt to calm the heat rising to your face.

Dokyeom’s hand joined again soon after, resting just above your knee on the other thigh, his fingers drumming softly before stroking upward. His touch was slower, gentler, but no less possessive.

“Relax, angel,” Dokyeom murmured, his tone casual enough to pass for normal conversation as he tore off another piece of bread. “You’re so tense.”

Your throat felt dry as your eyes darted between them, your voice barely above a whisper. “You two are unbelievable…”

Joshua chuckled lowly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Unbelievable?” His fingers traced idle patterns higher on your inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“No, baby. We’re just making sure you remember who you belong to.”

You swallowed hard, the flush on your cheeks deepening as you focused on the food in front of you, though the flavors had dulled under the weight of their attention.

“Such a good girl,” Dokyeom whispered, his fingers giving your thigh a light squeeze.

“You know we’d never let anyone else have you, right?”

You nodded mutely, and Joshua smirked, leaning just slightly closer, his breath tickling your ear as he murmured, “Good. Because after dinner, we’re going to remind you all over again.”

⤷ read part 2 here !

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified ⤷ piece taglist — @notanotherbigfangirl

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liuhsng · 26 days ago

Text

─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 3

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 20.3k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — hello my loves ! i apologize for the wait but part 3 is finally here ! there’s one last part coming (ik ik this accidentally turned into a mini-series LMAO) so pace yourselves, scream in the comments, and most importantly—stay hydrated 💌

⤷ warnings — college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, fake dating trope, meeting the parents (twice), soft domestic undertones, protective!jay, reader realizing feelings (oops), jay realizing harder (oops x2), mentions of nct’s jaehyun, forehead kisses, unspoken tension turning very spoken, emotional vulnerability, jay cries a little (he’s trying), mutual breakdown, confessions, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — what started as an arrangement is beginning to feel terrifyingly real. after spending the weekend meeting each other’s families—laughter, teasing, and surprisingly warm welcomes—you start to wonder if it’s all just part of the act. but in the quiet of jay’s car, with the city lights flickering around you and his hand warm on your thigh, the walls come down. truths slip out in broken whispers, confessions bloom like bruises, and for the first time, you both admit what’s been clawing at your chests: this isn’t fake anymore.

The studio was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint sound of Chaewon’s breathing as she pushed herself into a deeper forward fold.

You sat on the mat beside her, gently guiding her arms forward while Kazuha hovered nearby, stretching out her own legs. The three of you were the only ones left—everyone else had long since filed out with tired smiles and heavy bags.

Chae-won glanced up at you, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “I know I said I’d stop staying late, but…”

“You didn’t have a choice,” you finished for her with a teasing smile.

She laughed, reaching for her toes again with a determined little huff. “Exactly. Coach has been breathing down my neck about my turns, and honestly…”

She sighed dramatically. “I think she’s starting to dream about my pirouettes.”

Kazuha snorted at that, folding forward to touch her nose to her knee. “I’m surprised you’re even here this late. Usually you’re the first one to disappear.”

“Yeah, well,” Chaewon shot back playfully, “it’s either stay here or hear Coach’s lecture tomorrow. I choose life.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you moved into one last seated stretch with them. “One more and we’re done. Then you’re free to escape Coach’s wrath.”

As soon as you all eased out of the final stretch, Kazuha was already on her feet, tossing her water bottle into her bag. Chaewon wasn’t far behind, zipping up her hoodie as she made her way to the door.

“What’s with the rush?” you asked with a curious tilt of your head, watching them pack up so fast it felt like they were running from something.

“Kazuha decided to help me with my literature paper,” Chae-won replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “So now she’s stuck with me until it’s finished.”

Kazuha rolled her eyes fondly. “Stuck? Please. You’re the one who’s going to make me rewrite every sentence twice.”

“You love it.”

“Do not.”

You chuckled at their bickering, trailing after them as you walked them to the door. Kazuha turned back at the threshold, fixing you with a mischievous grin. “Oh, and say hi to my stinky cousin for me, will you?”

You blinked, caught off guard before realizing exactly who she meant. “Stinky cousin?” you echoed, laughing as you shook your head. “Will do.”

She winked and tugged Chae-won out into the hall. “Don’t stay too long, okay? You’re always the last one out.”

“Got it, mom,” you teased as you waved them off, closing the door gently behind them.

You let out a small sigh, turning back toward your things to sit back down—knock knock.

The sound made you freeze for a split second before a knowing smile curved on your lips. You didn’t even have to guess. Of course.

Pulling the door open again, you were met with Jay standing there like he owned the place—his black hoodie slightly oversized, matching joggers sitting low on his hips, a guitar slung over his shoulder like an afterthought.

His hair was a little mussed from the chilly air outside, and in his other hand, he held up a paper bag that smelled heavenly.

“Hi, pretty,” he said softly, voice warm and teasing, as if he hadn’t just shown up an hour early.

You hummed, trying to keep your face neutral even as your cheeks warmed at the nickname. “Hi, stranger.”

He scoffed with mock offense, stepping into the studio. “Wow. That’s how you greet the guy bringing you food?”

You laughed under your breath, closing the door behind him. “You’re only forgiven if that smells as good as I think it does.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You both made your way to the center of the studio where your things were piled up. Jay dropped his guitar case to the side before plopping down cross-legged on the floor, patting the space next to him with an easy grin. You settled in beside him, tucking your legs under you.

“What’s in the bag, Park?” you asked, eyeing it like you were trying to x-ray through the paper.

He smirked, pulling out two steaming bowls with practiced ease. “Curry. From that place near campus you’re obsessed with.”

Your eyes went wide, and you practically beamed at him. “Wait—my favorite curry? The one with the potato croquettes?”

He nodded, already opening one of the bowls and handing it to you along with utensils. “The one and only. Nothing but the best for my favorite girl.”

Your face heated as you took the bowl from him, trying to hide your flustered smile by looking down at the food. “Jay… You didn’t have to. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said casually, opening his own bowl and digging in like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Besides, I couldn’t just let my pretty girl starve after practice. That’d be bad boyfriend behavior.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the way your lips tugged upward. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“And yet here you are, eating curry with me in the middle of an empty studio.” He grinned at you, resting his elbow on his knee and his cheek in his hand as he watched you blow gently on your first spoonful. “So, who’s really ridiculous?”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Still you.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, pretty.” His grin was smug as ever, but the warmth in his tone betrayed the softness he always tried—and failed—to mask around you.

You blew on another spoonful, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at him. “So, how’s your Karma guitar solo coming along?”

Jay hummed low in his throat, finishing his own bite before answering. “Pretty good, actually. I just need to change a few notes here and there, smooth out some transitions, and it’ll be good to go for next week’s rehearsal.”

“After we eat,” he said, voice softening at your eager expression. “Don’t wanna get curry all over my strings.”

You nodded, a small smile playing at your lips as you scooped up another bite. “Deal.”

A beat passed before you leaned your chin onto your hand, eyes watching him as he ate with the kind of casual ease that made the air between you feel impossibly light.

“How was your day anyway?” you asked, curious.

He groaned dramatically, shoving another spoonful of curry into his mouth like the memory itself weighed him down. “Heeseung almost fell down the stairs, so… I guess that was funny?”

You froze, blinking before laughter bubbled out of you, the sound echoing lightly in the studio. “What?”

Jay gave you a crooked grin, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it. “Yeah. So—during lunch, he’s sitting there all smug and says he’s strong enough to carry Jungwon’s whole drum set down the stairs by himself. Like, the entire kit.”

Your laugh grew louder as you covered your mouth with your hand. “And? What happened?”

Jay chuckled too, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back slightly, enjoying the retelling. “Well, he actually tries it. Gets halfway down and then—boom.”

He clapped his hands together for emphasis. “He slips, lands flat on his ass, and half the drum set crashes down after him.”

You were nearly doubled over now, your bowl forgotten for a moment as tears prickled at the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. “Oh my god. Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Jay assured with a small smirk.

“His pride, though? Absolutely obliterated. Jungwon wouldn’t stop teasing him. And Ni-ki—oh god—Ni-ki got it on video. I’m pretty sure he’s already made it his lock screen.”

You laughed, barely managing to set your bowl down before you spilled curry everywhere. “I swear,” you wheezed, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, “you guys are a bunch of kids.”

Jay smirked, stabbing his spoon into his curry with mock offense. “You’re telling me. Babysitting them is practically a full-time job at this point.”

The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet as the two of you continued eating, the only sound being the soft clinking of spoons against bowls and the rain still pattering faintly outside.

Then, after a beat, Jay cleared his throat. “Also…”

You looked up at him mid-bite, his voice just a little too careful for comfort.

“I talked to my parents this morning.” His eyes flicked to yours for a second, gauging your reaction, then back down to his bowl.

He swirled his spoon idly in the remaining curry, almost like he was stalling. “And… I might’ve mentioned I have a girlfriend.”

You froze. “You what—” you choked as the last bite of curry went down the wrong pipe.

Jay’s eyes widened as he immediately reached for the iced tea he’d brought, uncapping it and shoving it toward you. “Whoa—hey, here. Don’t die on me now.”

You took the drink and downed it in desperate gulps, coughing a little as Jay patted your back with his free hand. “Breathe, pretty. Deep breaths.”

Once your coughing fit subsided, you turned to glare at him, setting the iced tea down a little too hard. “You what?”

Jay winced, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Okay—look. My mom’s been asking for months if I finally found someone. She caught me off guard, and I… I panicked.”

“You panicked?!” you whispered harshly, pressing a hand to your face. “Jay—”

“And I said I… kinda did,” he continued quickly, voice dropping low as if it would soften the blow. “Even if it’s… you know. Fake.”

Your hand slid down your face as you groaned. “Oh my god. Park Jongseong.”

“I know,” he muttered, staring at his food like it was about to scold him too.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of your heart. “Okay. And? Is that it? Please tell me that’s it.”

“…They, uh…” He paused, finally looking up to meet your incredulous stare. “They want to meet you before college week.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”

“They just… They’re curious,” he said weakly. “Saturday dinner. At my house.”

“It’s Wednesday, Jay!” you whisper-yelled, running both hands over your face this time. “That’s—what—three days away!”

“I know. I know.” He reached over, carefully prying one of your hands from your face to hold it in his. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was gonna bring it up earlier but…”

“But?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him.

He gave a small, nervous laugh. “You’re scary when you’re mad.”

You swatted at his arm, making him laugh for real this time. “Jay, this isn’t funny! Meeting your parents?!”

He squeezed your hand gently, the playful edge to his smile softening just slightly. “Hey, don’t freak out. You’re the best fake girlfriend I could ask for.”

You stared at him, your stomach flipping in a way that had nothing to do with the curry. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, but I’m also buying dessert after this to make it up to you.” He shot you a hopeful grin. “Deal?”

You sighed, letting your head thump against his shoulder as you muttered, “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Nah,” he said, grinning down at you. “You’ll be great. They’re gonna love you. I already do.”

You froze, feeling your chest tighten as his words sank in—but before you could process it, he was already moving, scooping up his empty bowl like nothing happened.

“Now hurry up and finish. You still have a Karma guitar solo to listen to.”

You let out a low grumble, shoveling in the last spoonfuls of curry while Jay, ever so annoyingly efficient, gathered the empty bowls and tossed them into the nearby trash bin like it was second nature.

“You could at least sound a little less cocky about it,” you muttered under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. I’m just naturally talented.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your knees up to your chest as Jay started moving around the studio.

He grabbed his guitar case with one hand and tugged the amplifier closer with the other, his movements so fluid and familiar it was almost like muscle memory.

Then came the microphone stand he’d left leaning against the wall earlier, his black hoodie shifting slightly as he adjusted it with practiced ease.

You watched him silently, your lips curving into a small smile without realizing it. There was something hypnotic about the way he set everything up—so meticulous yet relaxed, his fingers working effortlessly as if this whole process was a second skin.

When he was done, he tapped the mic lightly, listening for the faint echo bouncing across the studio walls. Satisfied, he turned to you with a playful smirk as you aimed your phone camera at him.

He leaned slightly toward the mic, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “This is Jay from Enhypen, Karma guitar solo take one.”

You giggled, biting your lip as you hit record. “Dramatic much?”

But just as his fingers brushed the strings, ready to start, the studio door creaked open.

The sound made both your heads turn as familiar figures strolled in—Jungwon, Ni-ki, Heeseung, and Sunghoon—all carrying their own instrument cases and backpacks.

They froze for a moment upon seeing the two of you, and you swore the tiniest knowing smirk tugged at Heeseung’s lips.

“Yo,” Jungwon said casually, raising a hand in greeting. “Don’t stop. Pretend we’re not here.”

Jay blinked, clearly caught off guard, but Heeseung stepped forward, setting his microphone case down against the wall. “Go on,” he said, nodding toward the setup. “We’ll just observe.”

Jake was already dropping onto the floor beside you with a grin, tugging out his phone like he was about to film too. “Free live performance? Don’t mind if I do.”

“Seriously?” Jay muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Seriously,” Sunghoon echoed as he settled into a chair near the corner.

With a sigh that turned into a quiet laugh, Jay turned back to his guitar. His fingers flexed briefly before resting on the strings, the low hum of the amp filling the space as he strummed experimentally.

The first few notes cut through the air—sharp, clean, and rich with depth. A heavy rock beat built underneath as his fingers danced across the fretboard, smooth yet electric, his body swaying slightly with the rhythm.

Each note was flawless, his precision making it look almost too easy as he transitioned from hard-hitting riffs to softer melodic runs.

You found yourself clutching your phone tighter, the camera still aimed at him as if you could capture the magic in its entirety.

But no recording could do this justice—the way Jay’s brows furrowed in concentration, how his lips parted slightly as his pick dragged across the strings in perfect timing, and the raw energy that seemed to radiate off him in waves.

“Holy shit,” Sunoo whispered under his breath, earning a quiet nudge from Ni-ki.

“Damn right,” Ni-ki said, grinning as he watched their lead guitarist command the room without so much as a single word.

By the time the last note faded, silence hung heavy in the studio.

It was Jungwon who broke it first, his jaw slack as he gawked at Jay. “What the hell, you finally perfected it.” His voice came out almost accusatory, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed.

Heeseung’s laugh echoed across the room as he leaned down to grab his microphone case from where it rested against the wall. “That was insane, man. You’ve been holding out on us, huh?”

Before Jay could respond, Sunoo suddenly appeared beside you, practically bouncing on his toes. “Wait—did you teach him or something?”

You blinked at him, startled, then shook your head quickly. “Me? Sunoo, I know nothing about instruments. I can barely play anything on the recorder.”

Ni-ki pushed himself up from the floor with a lazy grin, his phone already in hand as if he was ready to replay the whole thing.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. Jay’s been stressing over that solo for days. This is the first time I’ve seen him play it without swearing halfway through.”

You laughed softly, your eyes drifting back to Jay where he was still cradling his guitar.

Your chest felt oddly warm at Ni-ki’s words, but you pushed it down as you raised your hand, thumb pointed high in the air. “Nice job, rockstar.”

Jay caught your gesture and, despite the faint flush on his cheeks, gave you one of his easy smiles—the kind that made it hard to remember this was supposed to be fake.

“Hey, hey, don’t bask too long in the glory.” Sunghoon’s voice cut in as he shoved his guitar toward Jay’s face, the strap still dangling from his shoulder.

“Fix my E-string, Mr. Perfect Solo. It’s been buzzing like crazy.”

Jay rolled his eyes but took the guitar anyway, resting it on his thigh as his long fingers expertly twisted the tuning pegs. “You could fix this yourself if you didn’t manhandle your strings like a caveman.”

Sunghoon smirked, leaning lazily against the wall. “Why bother when I have you?”

“You guys are hopeless,” Heeseung muttered with a grin, adjusting the strap on his guitar case.

“Agreed.” Ni-ki chimed in with a laugh as he headed toward his bass.

“But hey, at least now our lead guitarist won’t look like he wants to kill someone mid-solo anymore.”

Jay handed Sunghoon’s guitar back after a quick tune-up, his eyes flicking to you for a heartbeat too long. “Done. Anything else? Need me to restring your whole kit too?”

“Tempting,” Sunghoon said with a grin.

Before you could stifle a laugh, Jungwon’s voice cut through the room, catching you completely off guard.

“You know, (Y/n),” he started casually, twirling his drumsticks between nimble fingers, “we might need you here every practice.”

You blinked at him, a little startled, pointing at yourself with a tilt of your head. “Me? Why?”

Jungwon smirked knowingly, leaning back on his stool as his drumsticks tapped against his thighs. “Because Jay does his best when you’re around. It’s like magic or something.”

Your mouth fell open slightly as warmth crept up your neck and settled across your cheeks. “Huh? That’s not—I didn’t—”

“Ahhh, I see it too,” Ni-ki cut in, lounging on one of the amps with his phone in hand.

He absentmindedly tossed his guitar pick in the air before hurling it—playfully, of course—at Jay. It hit his shoulder with a faint plink. “He was so grumpy all week, then you show up and bam, perfect solo.”

Jay’s glare shot toward Ni-ki like a sharp arrow, though it lacked any real bite. “Riki, I will punch you.”

Ni-ki just grinned wider, completely unfazed. “Try me.”

Meanwhile, Sunoo was busy setting up his keyboard on its stand next to Jake, who adjusted the wires without looking up. “It’s true, though,” Sunoo added with a singsong lilt, side-eyeing Jay.

“You’re suspiciously focused whenever your girlfriend visits.” He even made air quotes around the word girlfriend, the teasing tone impossible to miss.

You sank a little lower in your spot, desperately trying to ignore how hot your face felt. “Okay, okay—can we not gang up on me? Or him?” you muttered, flustered, though your lips twitched with the threat of a laugh.

But Jake, ever the quiet observer, finally looked up from helping Sunoo. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he said calmly, “They’re not wrong. You do look lighter when (Y/N)’s here.”

“Really, Jake?” Jay groaned, running a hand down his face. He adjusted the strap of his guitar and shot a look at Heeseung for backup, but the eldest only shrugged with a knowing grin.

“Don’t look at me. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?” you stammered, eyes darting to Jay, whose own ears were tinged red now.

“Cute,” Heeseung confirmed easily.

Jay pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘I hate all of you’.

Ni-ki, still grinning like a menace, leaned back and propped his feet up on the edge of a chair. “Admit it, hyung. She’s your good luck charm.”

You hid your face in your hands, trying not to combust as Jay’s exasperated sigh turned into a quiet laugh. “You guys are insufferable.”

But even as he said it, his eyes flicked to you—and there was no missing the faint curve of a smile that lingered there, soft and unguarded.

Thursday mornings weren’t supposed to feel this heavy. But there you were—face buried deep into one of Yunjin’s pillows, muffling the urge to scream as the girls lounged around her dorm.

Eunchae, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a half-eaten granola bar in hand, tilted her head at you like you were some strange, wounded animal. “Does anyone know what’s wrong with her?”

Kazuha let out a dramatic sigh from where she was sprawled at the foot of the bed, her long hair spilling over the edge. “Jay’s parents want to meet her.”

Sakura’s head snapped up from her phone so fast, “Your fake boyfriend’s parents?”

You groaned into the pillow again before finally lifting your head with a pitiful expression. “I don’t even know if it’s fake anymore.”

Just then, Yunjin emerged from the bathroom with a towel in hand, raising an eyebrow like she already knew the entire story. “Well, I mean—is he showing signs of actually liking you?”

Chaewon shot her a look from her spot on the vanity stool. “How the hell did you even hear us from in there?”

“Thin walls,” Yunjin replied easily, plopping herself on the bed beside you and Eunchae. “Also, your voices carry like crazy.”

You flopped onto your back, the pillow now squished to your chest, and let out a long, helpless groan. “I don’t know.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed slightly, her phone forgotten in her lap. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Pushing the pillow aside, you rubbed at your face like it could scrub away the confusion swirling in your chest. “It’s confusing. He’s confusing.”

“Oh?” Chaewon prompted, clearly intrigued now.

“One moment he’s acting all sweet—buying me food, drying my hair, kissing my head like—like it’s the most natural thing in the world.” You gestured vaguely, words tumbling out like they’d been dammed up for days.

“And the next, he’s getting all shy. Like I’ll catch him staring and he’ll look away so fast it makes me want to scream.”

Kazuha propped her chin on her palm, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Classic, human contradiction.”

Eunchae sat up straighter, tossing her granola wrapper onto Yunjin’s desk. “Okay, but can we go back to the part where you said his parents want to meet you?”

You groaned dramatically, flopping onto your back like the weight of the world had just crushed your chest. “Jay told his parents that he has a girlfriend.”

The word felt foreign—dangerously warm—on your tongue, and you let it hang in the air for a moment, testing how it sounded in your voice. Girlfriend. “And now they want to meet me, I suppose.”

You threw an arm over your eyes, wishing the universe could swallow you whole. “What am I even gonna do?” you mumbled, the words muffled by your sleeve.

Yunjin, ever the instigator, leaned back against your legs with a sly grin. “(Y/N), I need you to be brutally honest with me right now.”

You peeked at her through your arm, your brows furrowed suspiciously. “About…?”

“Do you like him?” she asked, her tone almost teasing but her eyes surprisingly sharp. “Like—actually like him.”

You sat up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as your lips parted, trying to form a reply.

“I—” You faltered, your brain scrambling for an answer that didn’t make your stomach churn. “…I don’t know.”

Yunjin let out a laugh that was more knowing than mocking, her voice ringing around the dorm. “No. No, you do know. Don’t even try to pull that with me. I know you, and I know when you’re lying to yourself.”

You let your head drop back onto the pillow with a frustrated groan, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Define like.”

Kazuha raised her brows, biting back a laugh as she chimed in. “Like as in… when you’re around him, does it feel a little too easy? Too comfortable? Like maybe you could get used to it?”

Sakura joined in, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “And do you ever catch yourself wondering what it’d be like if it wasn’t fake? Like, if it was actually real?”

You stayed silent for a moment too long, and Eunchae let out a loud gasp, smacking her hands together. “Oh my god. You do like him.”

“I—” You covered your face again, muffling a groan. “Maybe? I don’t know. He’s just—ugh—he’s confusing!”

There was a pause before Chaewon’s calm voice cut through the room. “Maybe he’s scared.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward her.

Chaewon, unfazed by the sudden attention, simply shrugged. “I mean, think about it. He’s probably just as confused as you are, (Y/N).”

You peeked through your fingers, brows furrowed as you sat up a little. “What do you mean?”

She met your gaze evenly, her expression steady in that unnerving Chaewon way. “Based on the things you’ve told us—neither of you really knows where the line is anymore, right? Between what’s fake and what’s not?”

Her words settled into the room like a quiet truth you weren’t ready to name.

You exhaled, rubbing your face as if that could clear the fog from your head. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” you muttered, voice lower now.

“What if he’s just… good at playing the part? I mean, he is Park Jongseong. He could sell the act without even trying.”

Sakura, who’d been unusually quiet, mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. “But you’re not playing anymore.”

You froze, eyes flicking to her. She was sitting cross-legged, idly twirling a strand of her hair as her sharp gaze locked on yours. “Not you, at least.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You could only stare at her from where you sat, your heart suddenly beating a little too fast.

“I don’t know, guys…” you said softly, barely above a whisper. “I really don’t know.”

Yunjin reached over and squeezed your ankle gently, her voice gentle but knowing. “Then maybe it’s time to stop asking what he feels—and figure out what you want.”

You swallowed hard, her words echoing like a drumbeat in your chest.

Sakura’s voice piped up then, deceptively casual as she scrolled through her phone. “Either way…” she began, her thumb swiping across the screen lazily, “it sounds like you two are tired of pretending.”

She glanced up at you briefly, a faint smile tugging at her lips before she returned her attention to her feed. “Just figure it out before one of you drives the other insane.”

The room quieted after that, all three of them watching you as if waiting for the epiphany to hit.

But before you could process anything—the sharp trill of your phone made you jump slightly.

You scrambled to grab it, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes landed on the caller ID.

Speak of the devil.

“Jay.” You muttered his name softly without meaning to.

You slid your thumb across the screen and pressed it to your ear, trying to sound composed. “Hello?”

“Hi, pretty girl,” came Jay’s familiar voice, warm and teasing. “Are you busy?”

All four girls perked up instantly, eyes zeroing in on you like hawks.

Sakura, seated closest to you, leaned in slightly and shook her head furiously, whispering under her breath, “Say no!”

You covered the mic slightly with your hand, glaring at her with wide eyes before clearing your throat. “Uh… no. I’m not busy.”

Jay let out a breath of relief on the other end, the sound making something in your chest twist. “Okay, good. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me today. You don’t have afternoon classes, right?”

Your brain short-circuited at the word date. All the air seemed to vanish from the room as you stammered, “Y-Yes.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like warm honey in your ear. “Is that a yes to the date or a yes to no afternoon classes?”

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you replied, “To both, Jay.”

There was a pause, and then his laugh—low and absolutely heart-melting—drifted through the line. “Okay then, take your time. I’m parked outside your dorm.”

Your jaw dropped slightly as you shot upright. “You’re what?”

“I’m outside,” he repeated, his tone impossibly casual. “No pressure though. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

The girls erupted into silent chaos around you.

Eunchae clutched a pillow to her face to hide her squeal, Kazuha smacked your knee lightly with her hand mouthing, “Go get ready!” while Yunjin looked entirely too smug.

You could hear the faint sound of music and a car engine in the background of the call as you forced out, “O-Okay. Give me… give me a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” Jay said, his voice dipping softer now. “I’ll be here, pretty girl.”

You hung up shakily and dropped your phone into your lap as the girls stared you down like a pack of wolves.

“You’re going,” Yunjin declared.

Before you could even open your mouth to protest, Sakura shot up from her spot, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re still sitting there?” she exclaimed, her tone part-scolding, part-amused.

“Girl, there is a hot guitarist outside waiting to take you on a date, and you’re—what—moping on Yunjin’s bed?”

Kazuha grabbed a pillow and smacked your thigh with it—not hard, but enough to make you yelp. “Up. Now.”

“Get your ass up.” Chaewon pointed at you, her tone sharp as her eyes narrowed. “We’re helping you get ready. No negotiations.”

“I—” You sputtered, still flat on your back, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. “Guys, I’m not ready for this—”

“Yes, you are.” Eunchae swooped in like a hawk, grabbing your wrists and tugging you upright with surprising strength for her size.

“Come on. We’re going to your dorm. We need access to your closet, your makeup—basically your whole life.”

“But—”

“No buts!” Yunjin chimed in, already picking up your phone and handing it to you. “Text him to give you fifteen minutes. Twenty if we’re feeling generous.”

Sakura leaned down and grabbed your bag, tossing it over her shoulder like it was hers. “We’re not letting you go out there looking like you’ve been crying into Yunjin’s pillow. No offense.”

You scowled as Eunchae successfully yanked you to your feet, nearly toppling over in the process. “You guys are insane,” you grumbled.

“Insanely supportive,” Kazuha corrected with a grin as she slipped her arm through yours. “Now move before I carry you down the hall.”

You tugged nervously at the edge of your frilly dress, the soft fabric slipping between your fingers as you walked down the dorm lobby.

Thank God Sakura picked out the short-sleeved one—it was humid enough that the thought of wearing long sleeves made you want to melt.

Still, your palms felt clammy for a completely different reason as you exhaled slowly and pushed open the glass doors.

The sight that greeted you nearly made you stop in your tracks.

Park Jongseong, leaning casually against a sleek black sports car. And not just any car—your eyes caught the gleam of a Ferrari logo on the hood before they drifted helplessly back to him.

He was dressed in a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark dress pants hugging his frame, and black leather shoes resting neatly against the pavement.

His hair—usually gelled back for band practice—was loose today, soft strands falling over his forehead in a way that made your chest tighten.

You nearly tripped on your own feet trying to snap yourself out of it.

He’s just Jay. Except ‘just Jay’ had apparently leveled up into a full-fledged heartthrob with a sports car.

The sound of your steps drew his attention. He turned slightly, eyes landing on you—and for a moment, he stilled. His gaze softened instantly, lips parting just barely as if the sight of you knocked the air out of his lungs.

There was a split second where it felt like the world narrowed down to just the two of you—his dark eyes drinking in the way your dress fluttered slightly with the breeze, your hair curled perfectly around your face, and your lips tugging nervously into a smile.

“Hi, pretty,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual, almost reverent.

You looked up at him, cheeks heating as you returned the smile. “Hey, handsome.”

That made him pause, a slow grin pulling at his lips as he straightened his posture. “Well, that’s new.”

You let out a breathy laugh, eyes glinting playfully. “What? You really do look handsome, Jay.”

He shook his head softly, a faint flush coloring his ears as he chuckled. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he muttered, moving closer until he was just in front of you.

His hand slid gently to the small of your back as if it was second nature, guiding you towards the car.

“Dangerous?” you teased, raising a brow.

“For my heart, yeah.” He opened the passenger door for you, meeting your gaze with a boyish smile that nearly undid you. “Now get in before I actually combust standing here.”

You laughed again, ducking your head as you climbed into the car, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. He slid into the driver’s seat with that same boyish grin still tugging at his lips.

You tilted your head, amused, watching as he settled in and glanced your way like you’d just caught him daydreaming.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, curious.

Jay shook his head, his grin widening just a little. “Nothing,” he murmured. “I’m just… really happy you’re here.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard for a moment. Before you could say anything, he leaned over slightly, reaching past your shoulder to grab the seatbelt.

The subtle brush of his arm near your face made your breath catch, and your eyes followed his movements as he gently tugged the strap across you and clicked it into place.

His fingers tapped twice against the buckle resting on your stomach, almost absentmindedly, before he pulled back and fastened his own.

Leaning into the seat, you let out a small huff, trying to mask the way your heart was thundering. “So…” you started, turning your head toward him. “Where are we going?”

His lips curved into a teasing smirk as he shifted the car into drive. “That’s a surprise,” he said smoothly. “But just so you know—I’m spoiling you today.”

Your brows furrowed, a playful glare shooting his way. “Jay…”

He only clicked his tongue, his grin never faltering. “I’m immune to that, (Y/N). Try harder.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, crossing your arms as he steered the car out of the lot and toward the field’s nearest exit.

The world outside blurred past in a hazy mix of greens and soft sunlight, but inside, it felt like the air was warmer somehow—thicker with a softness you weren’t ready to put a name to.

“You can connect your phone to the Bluetooth, pretty,” he said casually, his eyes still focused on the road.

You perked up, reaching for your tote. “What music do you want?”

“Anything you want,” he replied without hesitation. “I trust your music taste.”

Shaking your head with a fond smile, you unlocked your phone. The first thing you noticed on the car’s screen was the lack of devices saved—just his band’s names and his own. Your eyes flicked to him curiously.

“Don’t worry,” he said suddenly, catching your glance. “I’m loyal to you. Haven’t had any girl in this car besides my mom.”

A laugh bubbled out of you as you shot him a look. “Jay, I didn’t even say anything.”

He stopped at a red light, the car humming quietly beneath you as he turned his head toward you fully now, eyes soft. “Yeah, but I need to reassure you anyway.”

Your chest tightened a little at his sincerity, and you found yourself smiling as you murmured, “Yeah, but I know you, Jay—not all of you, but I know you.”

That seemed to make something flicker in his eyes. His lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile as he reached out, resting his hand on the edge of your seat. He hesitated, fingers curling slightly as he glanced at you.

“Can I?” he asked quietly, nodding slightly toward where his hand hovered near your thigh.

You swallowed, warmth blooming in your chest as you nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

His hand rested gently on your bare thigh, his thumb brushing the soft fabric of your dress as if testing your comfort. He gave it a light squeeze, the gesture careful yet grounding.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, yeah?” he murmured, voice soft.

You laughed, placing your hand over his instinctively, your thumb rubbing lightly over his knuckles. “With you? Never.”

His eyes softened even more at that, and as the light turned green and he began driving again, his thumb stayed tracing light circles on your skin, like he didn’t want to let go.

You laughed, shaking your head as Jay clicked his tongue disapprovingly the second your hand brushed the passenger door handle.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt with one swift motion. Before you could even process it, he was already out of the car, circling around to your side.

“Jay—” you started, still grinning as he pulled the door open smoothly.

“Out,” he said firmly but with a teasing smile, offering his hand. “And don’t even think about opening your own door again. You hear me?”

You placed your hand in his, letting him help you out of the car. “So dramatic,” you teased, your laughter spilling into the warm air.

He shut the door gently behind you, locking the car with a soft beep as his hand found yours again. Intertwining your fingers with his, he tugged you toward the sidewalk with a shake of his head.

“It’s not dramatic,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s just the bare minimum I should do for you.”

That made your chest tighten unexpectedly, your lips curving into a soft smile. “You say that like you’re trying to set the bar way too high for any other guy.”

“Good,” he replied without missing a beat. “That’s the plan.”

You let out another laugh as he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The late afternoon air felt cooler here, tinged with the faint scent of expensive perfumes wafting from the nearby boutiques.

You realized you two were no longer near campus—this was the high-end district of Seoul, filled with designer stores, sleek cafes, and towering luxury hotels.

“Where are we going?” you asked, tilting your head to glance at him as he guided you around a group of tourists.

“Secret,” Jay said, lips curling into that mischievous smirk that made your heart stutter.

You sighed dramatically, though you couldn’t hide your grin. “You love keeping me in suspense, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he hummed. “But I promise it’s worth it.”

As you walked, your small bag started slipping off your shoulder, but before you could adjust it, Jay had already noticed.

“Here—let me,” he said, reaching for it. You opened your mouth to protest, but he’d already slid the strap over his own shoulder like it was second nature.

You stared for a second before breaking into a laugh. “You look so cute carrying that, you know?”

Jay raised a brow but didn’t hand it back. “Cute? No. Cool. I’m redefining what cool looks like.”

You snorted, your fingers brushing against his as he adjusted the tote strap over his shoulder. “What happened to Decelis’ finest guitarist, huh? The one who makes girls swoon and guys jealous just by existing?”

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes flicking down at you with a kind of warmth that made your stomach flutter. “He fell in love with a ballerina—that’s what happened.”

Your laugh echoed down the sidewalk before you could stop it, earning a sheepish grin from Jay as he tugged you a little closer.

“Cheesy,” you teased lightly, but your voice betrayed the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“You love it,” he murmured, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as you crossed the last street.

Before you could respond, he stopped in front of a pristine glass storefront. You blinked, staring up at the familiar elegant lettering.

“Tiffany & Co…?” you asked slowly, brows furrowing as you looked from the glittering jewelry displays to him.

Jay didn’t even falter. He gave a polite nod to the doormen, who immediately held the door open for him like he was a regular. You hesitated, letting him pull you inside as the cool air of the luxury boutique wrapped around you.

“For your mom?” you asked again, tilting your head up at him.

“Yes,” Jay said simply. Then, his lips quirked as he added, “And for you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, tugging lightly on his hand. “No, Jay. Absolutely not. This is too much.”

His grin didn’t waver as he tugged you further inside, his fingers tightening around yours just enough to remind you he wasn’t letting go. “What did I say about spoiling you, hmm?”

“Jay—” you started again, but he only shot you a pointed look over his shoulder, the kind that had your protests dying in your throat.

“This isn’t a debate,” he said, voice calm but playful as he led you toward the necklace section. “You’re getting something. End of story.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a helpless smile as you let him drag you deeper into the store. An assistant approached with a polite bow, but Jay held up a hand.

“We’ll ask for assistance when we need it,” he said smoothly, his tone polite but firm. She nodded, stepping back a few feet to give you space but remaining close enough to help if needed.

You watched him in quiet awe as he leaned slightly over the glass display case, eyes scanning the delicate gold and silver chains laid out like art pieces.

There was something about the way he moved—calm, certain, like he belonged here—that sent a strange warmth through your chest.

“So…” Jay murmured, his voice thoughtful. “Which one do you think she’d appreciate?”

You blinked, realizing he was asking for your opinion. “Well, what does your mom prefer? Gold or silver?”

“Gold,” he said without hesitation, his gaze never leaving the display.

You hummed, your eyes moving slowly over the rows of necklaces.

You spotted a few that stood out and leaned closer, pointing gently. “The lock ones on the right—they’re elegant but simple. Or the double links near them. Both feel classic.”

Jay followed your finger, his lips twitching into a small smile as his eyes softened. “Yeah, I think you’re right. She’d like that.”

Without wasting another second, he raised a hand slightly and caught the attention of the assistant waiting nearby. “Could we see these four up close, please?” he asked smoothly, his tone respectful yet effortlessly confident.

“Of course, sir,” she said with a polite bow, immediately retrieving the keys from her waist and unlocking the glass case.

She delicately set the velvet trays on the counter, each one gleaming under the boutique’s soft lights.

Jay glanced at you and tilted his head toward the display. “Think you can hold these for me?”

You blinked, surprised at his request. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” His lips quirked, and there was something so boyish in his grin that it made your heart flutter. “I trust your judgment, pretty.”

The assistant smiled faintly but didn’t comment as she carefully lifted the necklaces, handing them to you one by one. You cradled the delicate chains in your hands, careful not to let them tangle as Jay studied each one.

He picked up the first of the four—the double-link gold necklace—letting the chain glint between his fingers. As he did, his other hand came to rest gently against your lower back.

“Do you think this one’s better?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost as if the question wasn’t entirely about the necklace.

You stepped closer instinctively, the space between you two shrinking as your eyes flicked between the necklace he held and the others resting against your palms.

The scent of his cologne was warm and familiar, wrapping around you like a second skin.

You tilted your head, brows furrowed slightly in thought. “Yeah… it does look better. It’s more delicate. Feels timeless, you know?”

His gaze flickered down at you for a brief second, and you swore there was something softer in his eyes before he turned back to the assistant.

“We’ll take this one,” he said decisively. Then, after a beat, he added, “And the bracelet version too—same style.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, already moving to fetch the matching bracelet.

Jay hummed, satisfied, and gently guided you away from the necklace section, his hand still resting on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch lingered as he led you toward one of the elegant displays near the window.

He stopped in front of one of the displays, eyes scanning the rows of delicate pieces arranged perfectly on velvet.

“Which do you prefer?” he asked casually, his voice low but laced with something more—an edge of curiosity. “Gold or silver?”

You let out a small sigh, knowing where this was going. “Gold,” you admitted quietly, trying not to meet his eyes.

He nodded as if he already expected the answer, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Good choice.”

Before you could say anything else, movement caught his eye. The assistant was walking toward you again, carrying another velvet tray carefully in both hands. Jay raised a brow and greeted her with a polite nod.

“Hi, yes,” he said smoothly, “can we also see the ribbon jewelry set in gold?”

Your head snapped up, brows furrowed as you turned to him. “Jay—” you started, ready to protest.

But he was quicker. His arm slid fully around your waist this time, pulling you flush to his side in a way that made your words catch in your throat. “Shh. Humor me, yeah?” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching as he shot you a teasing look.

You could feel your face heat, but before you could recover, the assistant placed the tray delicately on the glass counter in front of you.

“This set includes the necklace, earrings, and two matching bracelets,” she explained pleasantly. “The design is one of our more popular styles—timeless yet modern.”

Jay’s eyes flicked over the pieces briefly before he spoke again. “Can we also see the bracelets individually? I want to compare them side by side.”

“Of course, sir.” She gave him a professional smile and moved swiftly to arrange them, opening another tray to present the individual bracelets.

You glanced up at him with wide eyes, whispering harshly, “Jay, this is too much—”

But he only tightened his hold on you slightly, leaning down just enough so his words were meant for you alone. “Didn’t I tell you?” His voice was warm, almost coaxing. “You’re next after my mom.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You swore the pounding of your heart could be heard over the soft music playing in the store.

Jay’s hand rubbed soothingly up and down your lower back, his thumb tracing idle circles against the fabric of your dress. “Relax, pretty,” he murmured, voice so soft it made your breath catch. “I got you.”

You turned your face slightly toward him, your protest barely a whisper. “Jay, this is way too much. I can’t—”

But he wasn’t looking at you; his sharp eyes were fixed on the velvet tray, the glint of gold reflecting in them as if he were memorizing every curve and clasp of the pieces. With a quiet hum, he nodded as though making a final decision.

“We’ll take the whole set,” Jay said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Thank you.”

The assistant’s eyes lit up with professional delight as she gave a small bow. “Of course, sir. I’ll have them prepared for packaging right away. Would you like them gift-wrapped?”

“Two separate wraps,” Jay replied smoothly, his hand still anchored at your waist.

You blinked up at him, still trying to form words, your stomach doing an anxious flip at his casual declaration. “Park Jong—”

“Shh,” he hushed you gently, giving your side a little squeeze. “You’re not talking me out of this.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he said, his tone playful yet resolute. “Didn’t I say I’d spoil you today?”

You could only sigh in defeat, your shoulders dropping as he laced your fingers together again. He led you toward the cashier with an easy stride, handing over his black card like it was second nature.

The assistant, all smiles and bows, handed him the elegantly wrapped Tiffany bags with a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

Jay took them with one hand, the other still holding yours, and nodded politely. “Thank you.”

As the two of you stepped out of the store, the cool breeze brushing past, Jay glanced at you and chuckled softly. “Stop frowning. We’re just starting our date.”

You gave him a side-eye, your brow raised in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to keep wasting your money on me.”

He let out a short huff, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “It’s not wasting,” he corrected, his voice bordering on mock offense. “I’m spoiling you because I want to.”

“Jay—”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “No arguments. Now come on.”

Before you could say anything else, he was tugging you gently toward another store just a few doors down. It wasn’t until you looked up at the glass windows that your heart sank further.

“Dior? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” he said casually, pushing the door open and guiding you inside.

You barely had time to admire the pristine interior before Jay was leading you straight to the makeup section, his expression smug. “Here’s the deal,” he said, stopping in front of the counter filled with rows of lipsticks and foundations. “We are not leaving this store unless you walk out with at least three full paper bags of products.”

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as you turned to him with wide eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” He leaned slightly, so close you could smell the faint trace of his cologne. “Pretty girls deserve pretty things. And I don’t want to hear a word of protest.”

“I don’t even wear that much makeup!” you argued, heat rising to your cheeks.

Jay chuckled, the sound low and far too amused for your liking. “Don’t act like I haven’t seen your lip gloss collection,” he teased, reaching out to tap the tip of your nose with his finger.

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me? How do you—”

He shrugged nonchalantly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. “Plus, Kazuha told me—said you only buy those when you do well on your performances.”

He leaned against the pristine white counter, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on you like you were the only person in the room. “So consider this a little pregame before college week.”

“Jay—” you groaned, trying to bury your face in your hands, but he was faster. He gently pulled your hands away, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent your heart tumbling.

“What?” he said, tilting his head slightly, that soft smile still plastered on his face. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. Now, pick your favorites, or I swear I’ll empty out this entire store if I have to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying your best to look stern. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He raised a brow, already reaching for a display of blush compacts and handing you one. “Here, this one’s perfect for you. See how soft the color is? Matches how your cheeks look right now.”

You groaned again, fighting the smile threatening to break free. “I’m never going shopping with you again.”

The soft glow of golden chandeliers bathed the rooftop restaurant in warmth, the classical music weaving gently through the quiet hum of conversations around you.

The plates in front of you were long forgotten, your laughter spilling into the air as Jay recounted stories about his family.

“…and I swear, my mom has this weird habit of showing off my most embarrassing childhood photos to every single guest whenever I bring the guys over. Like, full-on photo albums—me with missing teeth, crooked bowl cuts, the works.”

You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand as you leaned just slightly closer to him. “You? Bowl cuts? No way.”

Jay’s lips curved into a sheepish grin, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Oh, it was tragic. Jungwon still brings it up whenever he wants to piss me off.”

Your eyes flickered across the booth, landing on the small mountain of shopping bags piled neatly on the seats across from you. Dior, Tiffany, Prada, Chanel—little luxury boxes tied with ribbons—it was enough to make your head spin. Jay noticed, following your gaze.

“There’s a lot more coming, you know,” he said softly, swirling the wine in his glass with practiced ease. “This isn’t going to be our last date. I promise.”

Your lips parted slightly at his words, but before you could speak, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

“Yeah?” you murmured, warmth blooming in your chest as you tilted your head to look at him.

“Yeah.” His smile softened, almost boyish, as his dark eyes lingered on yours. “You’re stuck with me now, pretty girl.”

A quiet laugh escaped your lips as you leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling his body relax against yours. You caught the faint scent of his cologne—woodsy and warm—comforting in the cool night air drifting in from the open balcony doors.

Jay pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his fingers lacing with yours. “This feels right, doesn’t it?” he murmured against your hair.

Your chest tightened at his words, but you found yourself nodding slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “It does.”

For a fleeting moment, Jay’s thumb brushed over your knuckles like he wanted to say more—like there was something heavy sitting in his chest that he couldn’t quite push out.

But before either of you could name whatever this was, you let out a quiet sigh and broke the moment.

“It’s getting late,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone light. “Should we head back?”

Jay blinked at you, lips parting as if to protest, but he caught himself. Instead, he gave you the smallest smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Let’s get you home, pretty girl.”

He slid out of the leather booth first, his movements fluid and effortless, then turned back to you with his hand outstretched. “Come on.”

You placed your hand in his, letting him help you up. His grip was warm—steady.

“Thanks,” you whispered, still avoiding his gaze, and he just hummed softly in response.

With surprising ease, Jay gathered the mountain of luxury paper bags in one arm, the soft crinkle of expensive packaging filling the air.

He somehow still managed to keep your small bag slung on his shoulder, his free hand gently finding its place at your lower back as he guided you toward the exit.

The receptionist bowed politely as you approached. “Have a lovely evening,” they said warmly, already reaching to press the elevator button for you both.

“Thank you,” Jay said with a polite nod, flashing them a brief, charming smile before glancing down at you. “Did you have fun?”

You nodded, lips curling faintly despite the whirlwind in your chest. “Yeah. More than I thought I would.”

“That’s good,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice low and laced with something unreadable.

You hummed softly as you both stepped inside the elevator, the golden lights reflecting off the polished walls. You leaned ever so slightly into him, and Jay—like it was second nature—wrapped an arm securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Still,” you murmured, tilting your head up to glance at him. “You went overboard.”

He smirked down at you, eyes crinkling in that boyish way that made your stomach flip. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Jay—”

The soft ding of the elevator cut you off as the doors slid open to reveal the lobby. He held you against him a second longer before gently guiding you forward, his hand never leaving your lower back.

The warm night air kissed your skin as you both stepped outside. Jay led you down the steps and toward his car parked in front of the restaurant—its sleek black frame glinting under the streetlights like something out of a movie.

He popped the trunk open, and your mouth fell open slightly at the sight. A pile of designer paper bags stared back at you like a monument to today’s extravagance.

You turned to him, eyes narrowing in playful disbelief. “Overboard,” you said flatly, crossing your arms.

Jay only chuckled, completely unbothered as he placed the last few shopping bags carefully into the trunk. “That’s called giving my girlfriend the love she deserves.”

“Girlfriend,” you echoed under your breath, testing the word again like it was foreign.

He shut the trunk with a soft thud and turned back to you, his grin widening at your expression. “Don’t give me that look. I warned you, didn’t I? Spoiling you is non-negotiable.”

You sighed dramatically as he guided you to the passenger seat, his hand warm and steady on your back. “Men. I swear.”

Jay’s laughter followed you as he opened the car door for you. “You say that now, but you didn’t seem to mind when I carried your bag earlier,” he teased.

You shot him a glare as you settled into the seat. “That’s different. That was chivalry, not… whatever this is.”

He leaned in slightly, smirking as he buckled your seatbelt for you. “This is me making sure my ballerina never forgets how much she means to me—even if it’s fake.”

Your breath caught for a second at the way his voice softened at the end. But before you could respond, he closed the door gently and rounded the car, slipping effortlessly into the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life, low and smooth, as Jay pulled the car out of the parking lot. The night had settled into a quiet calm, the streets of Seoul mostly empty now, save for the occasional taxi or late-night pedestrian.

Jay’s thumb rubbed lazy circles on your thigh, his other hand steady on the wheel as he drove.

You, on the other hand, toyed absentmindedly with the silver bracelets dangling off his wrist, watching the way they caught the dim lights from passing streetlamps.

He hummed along with the tune, the sound so low it almost blended with the music. As the car slowed to a red light, Jay turned his head slightly, his eyes soft and warm in the glow of the traffic signal.

“Do you wanna go on another one next week?” he asked, voice careful but hopeful.

Your lips curved into a small smile as you met his gaze. He looked so devastatingly gentle in that moment, the boyishness in his expression completely disarming. “I’d like that,” you replied softly.

A sound of approval rumbled from his chest, and he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before turning his attention back to the road as the light flicked green.

You bit back a grin, tracing little patterns over the back of his hand with your fingertips before speaking up again. “I forgot to tell you something.”

“Mmhm?” Jay glanced at you, brows raising slightly in curiosity.

“I was talking to my older brother yesterday on call,” you began, fiddling with the hem of your dress now. “And, well… he may or may not have spilled to my parents that I’m dating someone.”

Jay barked out a laugh, the sound echoing through the car as he shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, really now?” he teased, giving your thigh another squeeze that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“Don’t laugh!” you said with mock indignation, though your cheeks were already heating. “He didn’t even let me explain it’s fake—he just went on and on about how ‘finally, she has a boyfriend.’”

Jay grinned, eyes flicking to you briefly with a glint of amusement. “Well… maybe it’s not such a bad thing. At least now they’re expecting me too.”

You shot him a look. “Jay—”

“What?” he said innocently, though his smirk betrayed him. “I should thank your brother for making my life easier. Guess we’re both meeting the parents soon, huh?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as he laughed again, his fingers tapping affectionately against your thigh like he was enjoying every second of your flustered state.

“Relax, pretty. We’ll survive this,” Jay said warmly. “Besides, fake or not, I’ll make a good impression.”

“You better,” you replied with a teasing side glance, though your stomach flipped at how easily he said it—like meeting your parents wasn’t a terrifying milestone but just another thing on his to-do list.

Jay smirked, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he took a sharp turn into a shortcut you recognized. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting soft, fleeting shadows across his face.

“I’m pretty sure your brother and I would get along just fine,” he said confidently, eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Good luck with that. He hates every boy that so much as breathes in my direction.”

Jay chuckled at that, the sound low and amused as he neared the university gates. His car slowed to a crawl as he scanned his ID, the gate lifting lazily to let him through.

“First of all,” he began, his voice carrying that trademark confidence, “I’m not a boy. I’m a man. And second…” He glanced at you again, something softer now in his eyes. “You don’t have to overthink this, (Y/N). Trust me—I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You looked at him, studying the little details in his expression. The sharp line of his jaw, the slight curve of his lips, the uncharacteristic gentleness in his gaze. With a small sigh, you admitted, “I trust you. Enough, at least.”

Jay’s grin widened like you’d just handed him the win in some unspoken game. “Good. Because I won’t let you down.”

As he turned down the road that ran alongside the university’s field, his tone shifted—lighter, more teasing. “So, it’s this Sunday, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” you murmured, fiddling with the hem of your dress again.

Jay laughed, shaking his head as he cruised past the empty bleachers and toward your dorm building. “Cute. My parents this Saturday, then yours the next.”

You gave him an incredulous look, your brows knitting together. “You make it sound like we’re actually—”

“Dating?” he finished for you smoothly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a small, knowing smirk.

Your face heated instantly, and you quickly looked away, glaring out the window to hide it. “Shut up.”

But Jay only chuckled, pulling to a stop in front of your dorm and shifting the car into park. “Relax, pretty. One step at a time.”

You smiled at him softly, your heart still doing that ridiculous fluttering thing it always seemed to do around him. Jay unbuckled his seatbelt, pushing his door open and stepping out into the cool night air.

You followed him with your eyes as he rounded the sleek car with unhurried steps, the faint sound of his leather shoes against the pavement oddly comforting.

He opened your door with ease, offering his already outstretched hand. “Let’s go, pretty,” he said with that small grin that made your chest ache in the most confusing way.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased lightly, slipping your hand into his.

“Always,” he replied, helping you out of the car with a gentle tug.

He didn’t let go as he moved to the trunk, popping it open to reveal the small mountain of designer shopping bags. You were about to reach for your share when his hand darted out, his voice firm yet playful. “No.”

You blinked up at him. “Jay—”

“Nope,” he interrupted smoothly, gathering your bags with one arm and slinging them on his arm effortlessly. “What did I say about letting me spoil you? Hands off.”

“Meanie,” you muttered, trying to hide your fond smile as he came back to your side.

“And yet, here you are,” he said, intertwining his fingers with yours as though it was second nature. The warmth of his palm against yours made something in your stomach flip.

The two of you walked toward the dorm entrance, the sound of your shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor as you headed to the nearest elevator. Jay pressed the button, and to your surprise, the doors slid open immediately.

Inside, the ride was quiet—not the awkward kind, but the sort that felt calming. Comfortable.

Jay’s thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles, and you caught yourself sneaking a glance at him, only to find him already looking down at you with the faintest of smiles.

The elevator dinged, and you both stepped out, walking side by side down the familiar hallway until you reached your door. You stopped, turning to him with a small smile and nodding at the number plate.

“Well… this is my stop.”

Jay smiled back, his hand still securely holding yours like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. “Looks like it.”

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing inside. “Just drop the bags here. I’ll sort them out later.”

He obeyed, setting the bags neatly by the door before straightening to his full height again. Behind him, Doobu was sitting on your bed, tail flicking lazily. Jay’s face brightened at the sight.

“Hey there, little princess,” he greeted softly, earning a slow blink and a small meow from your cat. Jay chuckled. “I think she likes me more than your brother will.”

You laughed as you stepped closer to him. “Don’t push your luck.”

Jay turned back to you, his smile softening into something that made your breath catch for the hundredth time that day. “I really hope you had fun, (Y/N). And not just because you’re trying to spare my ego or something.”

You tilted your head at him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. “Jay,” you started, your voice warm, “I really did. Thank you. For all of this. You didn’t have to, but—you did. So… thank you.”

His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you gently closer. The scent of his cologne hit you all over again—clean, warm, undeniably Jay.

Before you could overthink it, you leaned up onto your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He stilled instantly, eyes blinking wide as if his brain short-circuited.

You grinned, barely holding back a giggle as you pressed another kiss to the same spot, lingering just a second longer this time.

Jay let out a sharp laugh, his ears faintly pink. “You little tease,” he murmured, his voice lower now, playful yet slightly dazed.

You laughed, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “Get used to it, Decelis’ finest guitarist.”

His grin widened at the nickname, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that sent shivers up your spine. “Oh, I already am.”

And just before he finally, reluctantly stepped back toward the door, he gave you one last look—soft, boyish, and so devastatingly warm. “Goodnight, pretty. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Jay,” you whispered, leaning against the doorframe as you watched him leave.

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, a pristine white cake box resting delicately on your lap. Your fingers absently toyed with the soft pink ribbon tied neatly around it, occasionally brushing against the glossy strawberries glistening on top of the cheesecake visible through the clear window.

With your other hand, you fiddled with the necklace resting against your collarbone—the same gold chain Jay had bought you two days ago. It felt heavier than usual today, like it carried the weight of your thoughts.

You sighed. Again.

Jay, who had been stealing glances at you from the driver’s seat, finally let out a quiet sigh of his own. Without saying a word, he reached over and gently pried your fingers from the pendant, intertwining your hand with his instead.

He lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles before letting your joined hands rest on his thigh.

“Relax, (Y/N),” he said, his tone warm but firm. “They’re going to love you. Yeah?”

You bit your lip and turned to him with a pout. “You say that like it’s a guarantee.”

“It is.” His voice didn’t waver, not even a little.

The car slowed as the light ahead turned red, and Jay smoothly brought it to a stop. You shifted slightly in your seat, twisting to face him fully. “Jay,” you murmured softly, “come closer for a second.”

He raised a brow but leaned in obediently, his warm brown eyes meeting yours in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun.

You reached up, brushing a stubborn strand of his dark hair away from his forehead, tucking it gently back into place. Your fingers brushed the rim of his glasses as you pushed them slightly up the bridge of his nose.

“There,” you said with a satisfied little smile. “Done.”

Jay’s lips quirked, but he didn’t lean back. “That was it? You called me over just to fix my hair and glasses?”

“And to tell you,” you added, pulling away slightly as you eyed him with mock seriousness, “that you really look like a human strawberry right now.”

For a moment, Jay blinked at you. Then, his laughter filled the car, warm and rich. “A strawberry? Really?”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, pointing at his outfit with your free hand. “When you said you wanted to match, I thought you were joking. But no—you actually showed up in a pink button-up.”

Jay glanced down at his shirt with an exaggerated frown. The sleeves were rolled up neatly to his elbows, two buttons undone at the top just enough to reveal the thin silver chain resting against his collarbone.

He shifted slightly in his seat, his black dress pants stretching as he adjusted. “And what’s wrong with that?” he teased. “I happen to pull off pink extremely well, thank you very much.”

You snorted. “I didn’t say it looked bad. Just… sweet. Soft. Strawberry-like.”

“Soft, huh?” He tilted his head at you, his grin morphing into something more boyish. Then, as if to flip the tables, he reached out suddenly, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear with gentle fingers.

“I think it’s cute,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a fleeting touch. “Matching with you like this? Feels right.”

The air between you seemed to still for a moment. Your breath caught as you took in the sight of him—his pink shirt, the faint scent of his cologne, and those warm, steady eyes.

Jay’s gaze softened even more as he caught it. Without saying a word, he brought your joined hands to his lips again, pressing another featherlight kiss to your knuckles before returning his hand to rest on your thigh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the car turned smoothly into a private driveway, making you pause as your surroundings shifted.

Your eyes widened at the sight ahead—fresh flower beds lining both sides of the pavement in neat rows, bursts of color blooming under the watchful hands of gardeners tending to them carefully.

The faint scent of roses and jasmine carried into the car through the slightly cracked window.

“Jay,” you whispered, in awe.

He only hummed, lips tugging into a knowing smile as he slowed to a stop in front of tall black gates. A security guard stationed in a small booth glanced up, instantly recognizing the sleek car.

As Jay drove further in, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the grand fountain in the center of the roundabout, water cascading down in elegant streams.

The driveway curved around it, leading to a cluster of parked luxury cars on one side and the towering white doors of the house ahead.

Your fingers unconsciously tightened around the ribbon on the cake box still resting in your lap.

“Relax, okay?” Jay’s voice cut through your daze, warm and steady as always. “Breathe. They’re going to love you.”

You turned your head to him, biting your lip nervously, but his reassuring smile was enough to make your shoulders ease—just a little.

The car rolled into the nearest empty space, and Jay shifted it into park before cutting the engine. Without giving you a chance to fumble with the door handle, he was already out, rounding the car in confident strides.

He opened your door smoothly, his hand reaching for the cake as his other wrapped snugly around your waist once you stepped out.

His thumb rubbed small circles against your side, calming you in the middle of your racing thoughts.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice low just for you. “Promise.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but your words got stuck in your throat as your eyes shot up at the sound of the white doors opening.

A tall, graceful woman stepped out, dressed in an elegant but simple dress that somehow made her presence even more commanding.

She smiled warmly the second her eyes landed on the two of you, and your stomach twisted in nervous knots.

Jay’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly as he straightened, calling out, “Hey, Mom.”

Her face lit up even more as she closed the distance, her heels clicking softly against the marble steps. She didn’t hesitate—her arms instantly wrapping around her only son in a tight hug.

“Jay,” she said with a soft laugh. “You never visit without making me wait at the door.”

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple as he adjusted the cake in his other hand. “Didn’t expect you to be outside already.”

Her gaze flicked past him to you, and before you could so much as bow or offer a nervous greeting, her warm smile widened.

“And this must be (Y/N),” she said brightly.

You straightened, clutching your hands nervously in front of you. “Hi, Mrs. Park. It’s so nice to—”

But your sentence was cut off by a soft gasp as she closed the distance and pulled you right into a hug.

You stiffened in surprise, eyes going wide, but her embrace was so gentle, so natural, that you found yourself slowly relaxing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured with a laugh, “no need for formalities. You’re practically family already.”

You blinked at her in stunned silence as she pulled back slightly, holding you at arm’s length to get a better look at you.

Jay, still holding the cake, chuckled under his breath as his mother’s hands gently brushed at your sleeves like she was fixing invisible wrinkles.

You blinked at her in stunned silence as she pulled back slightly, holding you at arm’s length like she was memorizing every little detail of you. Her warm smile never faltered, her eyes crinkling with quiet amusement.

“You’re even prettier in person,” she said sweetly before turning her gaze—now sharper, slightly teasing—to her son. “Good taste, Jay.”

Jay smirked like he’d been waiting for that compliment all day. “I told you so.”

Before you could recover from the heat flooding your cheeks, Mrs. Park looped her arm through yours without hesitation, as though you’d known her for years.

“Come in, sweetheart. Lunch is almost ready,” she said, gently tugging you forward. “Jay’s father is upstairs taking some calls, but he’ll be down in a bit.”

The grand double doors opened fully to reveal the inside of the Park residence.

Your breath caught slightly at the sight—marble floors, high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, and tasteful pieces of art hung neatly along the cream walls.

Jay followed behind with an easy stride, the cheesecake box now in the hands of a waiting maid who bowed politely before heading toward the kitchen.

He slipped past you two to settle onto one of the elegant cream sofas in the living room, his long legs crossing as he leaned back comfortably.

“Oh yeah, Mom,” Jay said, casually resting an arm along the back of the sofa. “Your gifts are still in the car. I’ll grab them later.”

His mother turned to him so fast you thought you might’ve imagined it, clicking her tongue with mock disapproval.

“Your pretty girlfriend is sitting right in front of you, and you’re thinking about gifts for me?”

Your lips parted in a quiet giggle at the sight of them—Jay rolling his eyes while Mrs. Park fixed him with a look that could cut glass if it wanted to.

“Don’t mind him,” she said, squeezing your arm before sitting beside you gracefully. “He can be a little stupid sometimes.”

You stifled another laugh, but it slipped out anyway as you said, “Yeah. He is.”

Jay’s head snapped toward the both of you, his eyes narrowing as his jaw dropped slightly in exaggerated offense. “Wow. I visit for the first time in months, and this is what I get? Betrayal from both of you?”

Mrs. Park waved him off like a fly, completely unfazed by her son’s theatrics. “Hush.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as she turned her full attention to you. Her voice softened a little, though her eyes still held that spark of curiosity only a mother could have.

“So tell me, (Y/N),” she started, folding her hands in her lap. “What year are you in? Same year as Jay?”

You nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am. We’re both in third second year.”

“And your major?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Dance,” you replied with a small smile. “I focus mostly on ballet.”

Her eyes lit up at that. “Ballet? How lovely! Do you enjoy it?”

“I do. It’s challenging but rewarding.”

She hummed approvingly, the corner of her lips twitching up. “I’ll have to see a performance someday. Jay never stops bragging about you, you know.”

Jay, who was lazily scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t listening, immediately sat up straighter. “Mom—”

But Mrs. Park wasn’t finished. Her tone was still gentle, but there was something playful—something probing—beneath her next question.

“Do you love my son?”

The room went quiet. Jay stiffened visibly, his head snapping toward you as he muttered in a panicked voice, “Mom—”

But you didn’t let him finish.

“Yes,” you said softly, meeting Mrs. Park’s eyes with surprising steadiness.

Jay froze beside you, lips parting slightly as his brows shot up.

Mrs. Park’s smile softened into something warm—warm and knowing—as she reached over to pat your hand affectionately. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

You were about to respond, but a deep, booming voice echoed from the hallway, startling you slightly.

“Is that who I think it is?”

All three of you turned your heads at once. Jay’s lips tugged into a knowing smile, already bracing himself as a tall, broad-shouldered man came into view.

He moved with the confidence of someone who owned the room without trying. His dark hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his crisp dress shirt neatly tucked into tailored slacks, yet his grin was boyish—almost identical to Jay’s.

“Dad,” Jay greeted casually as he stood, the older man pulling his son into a tight hug and giving him a few firm pats on the back.

“And this must be (Y/N),” Mr. Park said warmly, his gaze falling on you with such familiarity that it made your stomach flutter nervously.

You began to stand out of reflex, but he waved you down with a hearty laugh. “No, no need for that.”

Still flustered, you reached out a hand to shake instead. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

He chuckled, gripping your hand firmly yet gently. “Ah, so polite. I still can’t believe my future daughter-in-law is finally here.”

Your cheeks flamed instantly, heat crawling up your neck as you sputtered out a quiet, “Oh, um—”

“Dad, not you too,” Jay groaned, dragging a hand down his face as his father laughed even harder, the sound booming around the elegant living room.

“I’m just saying what your mother already confirmed,” Mr. Park teased, clapping Jay on the shoulder so hard it nearly made him stumble.

Your lips curved into a smile as you watched the two banter effortlessly. It was almost uncanny—Jay standing there with a scowl that didn’t reach his eyes, his father grinning knowingly at him.

They mirrored each other, from their sharp jawlines to the way their brows furrowed in mock annoyance.

“They’re like copies of each other, aren’t they?” a soft voice murmured beside you.

You turned your head to see Mrs. Park leaning closer, amusement dancing in her eyes as she whispered conspiratorially, “Uncanny, right?”

You nodded with a small laugh, whispering back, “Exactly alike.”

Mrs. Park straightened with a graceful sigh, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. She approached her husband, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Well, we’ll leave you two to talk. I should check on lunch.”

She glanced toward Jay with a knowing smile. “Jay, give (Y/N) a tour of the house, will you? Don’t let her get bored.”

“Yes, Mom,” Jay replied dutifully, though there was a faint blush creeping up his neck.

Mr. Park chuckled, his voice booming again as he teased, “And don’t keep her in one place too long. She might realize what she’s getting into.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, covering your mouth, as Jay scoffed and shot his dad a playful glare. “Ha. Ha. Real funny, Dad.”

Jay turned to you then, a faux pout tugging at his lips as he walked over.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and swayed you gently side to side. “And you,” he teased, narrowing his eyes fondly. “Don’t encourage him.”

You giggled, pressing your palms against his chest as he pulled back just enough to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you defended, still laughing.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Jay shook his head, the faintest grin tugging at his lips as he gave your hand a squeeze and started walking further into the house.

“You and your dad are so alike,” you said teasingly, eyeing their similarities—their confident stride, the way they carried their humor with ease.

Jay let out a playful groan. “Unfortunately.” He rubbed his thumb gently over your knuckles as if to distract himself from the jab, though his smile gave him away.

You giggled softly at his reaction, and the two of you continued down the long, sunlit hallway. Your eyes caught on the oversized childhood portraits lining the walls—each frame grand and polished, the photos inside capturing various milestones of Jay’s younger years.

One in particular made you slow your steps. It was a photo of him, probably no older than seven, sitting cross-legged on the grass with a toothy grin, holding what looked like a baby bird in his tiny palms. His cheeks were round, his hair a little too long and messy.

“You were so cute,” you said with a teasing lilt, pointing at the frame. “What happened?”

Jay stopped with you, his eyes landing on the photo, and a chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Well, he turned emo like you said,” he replied dryly, making you burst out laughing.

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully, and he grinned down at you as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

He tilted his head slightly so it rested gently against yours for a moment, the two of you walking in slow, comfortable strides.

“This house is so… big,” you murmured after a beat, your fingers still intertwined with his.

Jay hummed. “Too big sometimes,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t feel that way when I’m here with you.”

Your heart thudded at his words, and you chose to say nothing—just squeezing his hand gently as the hallway opened up to tall glass doors leading to the garden.

He pushed them open for you, the scent of roses and freshly cut grass greeting your senses. A soft breeze brushed past, carrying faint notes of lavender from one of the far beds.

You stepped inside and turned to take in the view—the rows of rose bushes, the way the sunlight dappled across the lawn, and the sound of birds chirping lazily in the distance.

“It’s so peaceful,” you whispered, resting your hands on the railing.

Jay stepped up behind you, his arms sliding around your waist naturally. You leaned back into him, sighing contentedly as he pressed his chin lightly to your shoulder.

“What’s in that pretty little mind of yours?” he murmured, his voice soft and low.

“Nothing,” you replied, tilting your head slightly so you could glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Your parents… they’re really nice people. It’s not as scary as I thought it’d be.”

You shifted slightly in his arms, turning enough to press a light kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw. He stilled for a moment, then exhaled, his hands tightening around your waist.

“I love the garden,” you said softly, facing forward again. “It’s so peaceful. Like, I could stay here all day.”

Jay rested his chin on the crown of your head, his fingers rubbing gentle circles against your stomach. “I used to run here a lot,” he admitted.

“Whenever I’d get sick of hearing my tutors drone on back in middle school, I’d sneak out here and just breathe.”

You chuckled quietly, craning your neck slightly to look up at him. “Very Jay of you,” you teased.

“Hey,” he said with a small huff of laughter, his lips curving upward as he looked down at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s very you to ditch lessons and go find flowers,” you replied with a grin, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

Jay leaned down a little, his nose brushing against your temple as he murmured, “Maybe I was waiting for someone to enjoy them with.”

Your breath caught slightly at his words, but before you could reply, a faint voice called out from the house—Mrs. Park letting you know lunch was ready.

The dining room was warm with the faint smell of garlic butter and roasted vegetables wafting through the air.

You and Mrs. Park were laughing, your hands lightly covering your mouth as Jay sat stiffly beside you, his ears tinged red as he stubbornly chewed on a carrot stick, eyes fixed anywhere but on yours.

You were mid-story, recalling with animated gestures how Jay had, for the fifth time in a row, flat-out refused to let you pay for lunch when you’d tried last weekend.

“I swear, I even sneakily handed my card to the waiter before the meal ended, and you know what he did?” you said dramatically, turning to Mrs. Park for effect. “Jay somehow still found out and slipped his in after.”

Mrs. Park gasped in mock offense, her hand flying to her chest. “No!”

“Yes!” you huffed, laughing lightly. “I mean, I understand he wants to be a good boyfriend, but please, let me pay sometimes! Just once.”

You turned to look at Jay beside you, your lips tugging into a teasing smile. “Right, Jay?”

Jay didn’t even lift his gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line as he reached across the table to take another carrot from the plate. His ears betrayed him though, glowing crimson.

Mrs. Park laughed warmly, shaking her head as she took a sip of her wine. “That’s his love language, dear. He’s been like that since he was young—refuses to let us pay for anything once he started earning on his own.”

You laughed too, resting your chin in your hand as you looked at Jay fondly. “He’s really stubborn,” you murmured with a smile, your eyes softening despite your teasing tone.

Jay, still silent, wordlessly reached for the pitcher of iced tea in front of him. Without even looking, he gently poured some into your glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he set it down carefully.

You blinked at the small gesture, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you,” you said softly, almost shyly this time.

Mrs. Park hid her smile behind her napkin, clearly amused by the silent little exchange.

“You know,” she said, leaning slightly toward you conspiratorially, “he may be stubborn, but he’s always been like this with the people he cares about. You should’ve seen him when I tried to pay for his guitar lessons. He wouldn’t speak to me for three days until I let him cover them himself.”

You giggled at the image, turning to Jay with playful disbelief. “Three days? Really?”

He groaned lowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom, you don’t have to tell everything.”

Mr. Park, who had been quietly observing the lively exchange with a soft, almost amused smile, finally set down his glass of water and leaned back slightly in his chair.

“We do have to tell everything,” he said with a knowing chuckle, his sharp eyes twinkling under the warm light.

“Did you know that before you came along, Jay had been telling us for months that he felt lonely? That something was missing?”

You turned your head to look at Jay, who had frozen mid-chew, his ears turning an even darker shade of crimson as he dropped his gaze to his plate.

“Dad…” Jay muttered in quiet protest, rubbing the back of his neck again. His voice was soft, but his lips quirked slightly like he was trying—failing—to hide his flustered smile.

But you didn’t laugh. Instead, your hand found its way to his arm, resting gently atop his sleeve.

Your thumb brushed softly against the fabric as you said with a quiet smile, “Well, I’m glad I could fill that void.”

Jay’s head snapped up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours with a softness that made your breath catch.

His lips parted slightly, and for a second, he looked like he wanted to say something—anything—but all he could do was smile at you, a real, warm smile that reached his eyes.

Mrs. Park, sitting across from the two of you, pressed her fingers to her lips with a little laugh. “Ah,” she murmured fondly, “young love. It’s been a while since we had this kind of sweetness in the house.”

Jay let out a soft laugh, his free hand moving under the table to gently squeeze yours in silent gratitude. “Mom…” he groaned again, though this time there was no real heat behind it.

Mr. Park only chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for another slice of bread. “Don’t ‘Mom’ her. She’s right. It’s refreshing to see you like this, son.”

You tilted your head slightly, your heart tugging at the sight of Jay’s sheepish expression. “Like what?” you asked curiously.

Mr. Park’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he answered smoothly, “Happy.”

The sun was dipping low on a calm Sunday evening, painting the horizon in soft shades of orange and pink as Jay’s sleek black car purred quietly along the streets.

You sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the ribbon tied neatly around a box of pastries resting on your lap.

Beside the box was a bouquet of fresh flowers—peonies and white lilies wrapped elegantly in soft brown paper—and a smaller Tiffany bag peeking out under the bouquet, all courtesy of Jay’s insistence.

“You didn’t have to get so much,” you mumbled, casting him a sideways glance as he turned the wheel smoothly, his sunglasses perched low on his nose despite the fading sun.

Jay smirked, his free hand resting lazily on the gearshift as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Correction: I wanted to. Your mom deserves the flowers and jewelry, your dad’s getting the wine, and your brother—well—” he chuckled lowly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “he’ll have to settle for pastries. I’ll win him over eventually.”

You groaned dramatically, leaning your head back against the seat. “Jay, seriously, my mom’s probably going to cry when she sees all of this. And my dad—he’s going to think you’re bribing him.”

“Good,” Jay replied without missing a beat. “Then the jewelry and wine are already doing their job.”

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you still let me spoil you.” His lips curved into that teasing, boyish grin that always seemed to melt your resolve.

You tried to stifle a smile but failed, glancing out the window instead as familiar streets began to appear. “Take a left on the next street,” you murmured, tracing your thumb over the cool glass of the wine bottle. “We’re almost there.”

Jay nodded, his jaw tightening slightly as he signaled left. He didn’t say anything at first, his hand slipping from the gearshift to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing faint circles against your skin.

You smiled faintly, placing your hand atop his and fiddling absentmindedly with the leather strap of his watch. “A little. But I know they’ll love you,” you murmured, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Then, with a sigh, you added, “I’m not sure about Jaehyun though.”

Jay chuckled lowly at that, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Your brother? I got it. I got this.” He smirked, his confidence oozing as he returned his attention to the road.

“Just… slow down,” you murmured as you caught sight of the familiar street. “The house is near the end—white gates, can’t miss it.”

Jay eased his foot off the gas slightly, his fingers flexing gently around the wheel as his eyes scanned ahead.

The pristine white and warm brown wood clashed beautifully together, surrounded by a modest but lush garden. The open white gates beckoned him forward, and he pulled into the driveway smoothly.

He parked beside a sleek black Volvo, eyes catching on the polished rims as he let out a low whistle. “Nice car. Who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s Jaehyun’s,” you replied nonchalantly, your hand gripping the pastry box tighter as nerves bubbled faintly in your chest.

Jay tilted his head with a teasing grin. “Not rich, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare, rolling your eyes. “Compared to you? No.”

He barked out a laugh as he shifted the car into park, shutting off the engine. “Touché, pretty girl. Touché.”

Before you could even reach for the door handle, Jay was already out of the car, moving around with purposeful strides. He pulled the door open smoothly, offering you his hand with that boyish smile that never failed to make your chest flutter.

You placed your hand in Jay’s, letting him help you out of the car with practiced ease. His grip was warm, steady, calming you as he reached for the flowers and bottle of wine with his free hand.

You gave him a small nod, exhaling softly as the two of you walked up the familiar pathway to the porch. The jasmine from your mother’s garden mingled with the faint sound of laughter and splashing water drifting from the backyard.

Your heart thumped wildly when you rang the doorbell. It wasn’t even two seconds before the door swung open, revealing your older brother standing there with an unreadable expression.

His dark eyes flicked from you to Jay, tilting his head slightly in that way he always did when he was sizing someone up.

Jay didn’t flinch. He stayed perfectly still beside you, his face neutral, his posture calm yet confident as he held the bouquet and wine in one hand.

You groaned under your breath. “Jaehyun, stop that. You’re being ridiculous.”

But Jaehyun didn’t budge. He crossed his arms slowly, his stance wide like he was about to interrogate Jay right there on the porch. “So. You’re Jay.”

“Yes,” Jay answered coolly, his voice level but polite.

Jaehyun hummed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilted his head. “What’s your favorite basketball team?”

Jay’s lips twitched faintly at the corner before he replied without hesitation, “Lakers.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Jaehyun let out a dramatic sigh, his arms falling back to his sides as he muttered, “Okay. I like you.”

You blinked at them, jaw dropping slightly. “That’s it? That’s the test? Are you serious right now?”

“Basketball says a lot about a man,” Jaehyun said matter-of-factly, reaching for the box of pastries you were holding out for him. “What’s this?”

“Jay bought these for everyone,” you said with a huff, still staring at the two of them like they’d just spoken in code.

Jaehyun peeked into the box, his eyes lighting up slightly. “Is that… a small cream cake?”

Jay nodded, a quiet laugh escaping him. “It is.”

Jaehyun finally—finally—smiled, a genuine one this time. “Yeah. I like you.”

Jay chuckled softly in return, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he stepped inside with you.

“Mom! Dad!” Jaehyun called over his shoulder as he started toward the kitchen. “(Y/N) and Jay are here!”

You stared between them, completely dumbfounded, before muttering under your breath, “Unbelievable. That’s all it took?”

Jay leaned slightly closer, his lips tugging up into that smug grin you knew all too well. “Told you I got this.”

Your mom and dad emerged from the hallway just as Jay’s smug grin softened into something warmer. Your mom’s face lit up at the sight of you both, her arms already outstretched as she hurried forward.

“There’s my baby girl!” she said, pulling you into a tight hug that smelled faintly of jasmine and home-cooked meals. You laughed, hugging her back as she swayed you slightly from side to side.

“Hi, Mom,” you murmured with a soft smile.

Then, to your surprise, she didn’t hesitate to wrap Jay into a warm embrace too. “And you must be Jay! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Jay’s eyes widened slightly, but he returned her hug politely, his lips tugging into a small, respectful smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Jeong.”

Your dad was right behind her, his face breaking into a grin as he hugged you briefly before extending his hand to Jay. “So this is the famous Jay, huh?”

Jay straightened, setting his shoulders as he shook your dad’s hand firmly. “Yes, sir. Thank you for having me.”

“You’re taller than I expected,” your dad chuckled, clapping Jay on the shoulder with a hearty pat. “Good grip too. I like that.”

“Dad,” you hissed, embarrassed, but Jay only let out a small laugh, his confidence never faltering.

You fumbled to hand your mom the Tiffany paper bag as you said, “Here, Mom. This is for you. And don’t let Jay fool you—I told him not to go overboard.”

Your mom blinked in surprise as Jay handed her the bouquet of peonies and lilies, his boyish grin returning.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t go overboard,” he said innocently, though you could see the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“And for you, sir,” Jay added, turning to your dad as he handed him the bottle of aged wine.

Your dad took it with a low whistle, turning the bottle in his hands and admiring the label. “A Cabernet Sauvignon? Aged this well?” He looked at Jay with an approving nod and a grin. “You have excellent taste. I approve.”

You laughed under your breath as Jay dipped his head slightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

“Jay…” your mom started gently, holding the Tiffany bag like it was far too delicate to touch. “You didn’t have to get us anything.”

But Jay shook his head, his hand resting lightly on your lower back as he stood just close enough to make you feel secure. “Nonsense, Mrs. Jeong. I’m here for your approval. It’s only right I make a good impression.”

Your mom’s eyes softened as she gave you a knowing look, her lips curving upward into a tender smile. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “He’s a keeper.”

Jay’s lips curved into a soft smile at your mom’s words, the kind that reached his eyes and made your chest feel impossibly warm.

Your mom clapped her hands together with a cheerful brightness. “I hope you two are hungry! Come on, let’s eat dinner.”

You moved to help her instinctively, brushing your hand along Jay’s arm as you passed. He gave you a small nod and an encouraging smile as if to say ‘go ahead’, and you smiled back before slipping into the kitchen with your mom.

Behind you, you could hear Jaehyun sling an arm around Jay’s shoulder with a casual familiarity that surprised even you.

“Come on, superstar,” he teased, steering Jay toward the dining table as your dad fell in step on Jay’s other side.

“So, Jay,” your dad said, his tone friendly but curious, “what’s your major?”

Jay’s voice was polite yet confident as he replied, “Business, sir. But I’m also in a band—we’ve been playing together for a while now. We compose our own songs too.”

Jaehyun perked up at that, his head tilting with interest. “Really? That’s actually pretty cool.”

Jay chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck modestly. “Thanks. It’s been a passion of mine since I was a kid.”

You, carrying a serving plate of grilled fish from the counter to the table, glanced over your shoulder with a little sigh. “Jaehyun’s somewhat in a band too,” you said teasingly. “It’s called NCT—when he actually has the time for it.”

Jaehyun grinned at your jab, his arm still lazily draped around Jay’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re pretty good. But yeah, it’s true, we don’t really get much time these days.”

Jay glanced at him, his curiosity piqued. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your day job then?”

“I’m an architect,” Jaehyun said proudly but without arrogance. “Got my license two years ago. Been designing residential spaces and some commercial buildings since.”

Jay nodded with genuine respect, his expression warm. “That’s impressive. Balancing music and architecture? I don’t know how you manage.”

Jaehyun chuckled, giving Jay’s shoulder a friendly squeeze before letting go as they reached the dining area. “It’s not easy, but you do what you love, right?”

Your dad, who had been quietly listening with a small smile, patted Jay’s back approvingly as they all began to settle at the table. “You’re alright, Jay. You’ve got good values. I like that.”

Jay ducked his head slightly in appreciation, a rare flicker of shyness crossing his features. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

You returned just in time to catch the exchange, setting down a bowl of steaming vegetables and shooting Jay a fond, knowing smile. “Already charming the men of the house, huh?” you teased.

Jay only met your gaze, his lips tugging into that boyish grin you loved, and replied smoothly, “Gotta earn my spot, don’t I?”

You laughed lightly at Jay’s comment, shaking your head as you turned toward the oven. “You’re ridiculous,” you said fondly, tugging the mitts over your hands before opening the door.

The warm, savory aroma of roasted chicken filled the kitchen as you carefully reached in to pull out the tray. But in your rush to place it on the counter, the edge of your hand brushed against the hot metal.

You hissed, instinctively jerking back as pain bloomed across your skin. “Ow—!”

The sound of chairs scraping back echoed in the dining room almost instantly. Before you could even process it, Jay was already at your side, his movements fluid but his expression tight with concern.

“Let me see,” he murmured, gently catching your hand in his. His thumb brushed carefully over the reddening mark at the side of your palm, and his brows furrowed.

You frowned at the sight, trying to shake it off. “It’s fine, Jay. Just a little—”

“Fine?” Jay clicked his tongue in soft disapproval, his voice low but tinged with worry. “You’ve got a performance on Wednesday, pretty, and you manage to injure yourself.”

You grumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed under his tender scrutiny, and leaned your forehead lightly against his shoulder. “It’s not that bad…”

“Mmhm,” Jay hummed skeptically as he guided you toward the sink. He turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature before gently placing your hand under the cool stream. “Humor me.”

Behind you, you could feel the eyes of your family watching—soft, curious, and maybe a little amused.

Jaehyun’s voice broke the silence, a teasing lilt to it as he murmured, “Well, she’s Jay’s problem now.”

Your mom smacked his arm lightly, but she was smiling. “Jaehyun.”

Jay didn’t even flinch at the comment, his focus entirely on you as he adjusted the angle of your hand beneath the water.

“Does that sting less?” he asked softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “A little.”

Jay’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his thumb rubbed soothing circles against your wrist as he said, “Next time, let me handle the oven. Or at least don’t rush. You’re already perfect—I don’t need you adding battle scars to prove it.”

That earned a small laugh from your dad as he observed the two of you from the table. “Protective, isn’t he?” he said warmly, sharing a glance with your mom.

Your mom’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I like him even more now.”

You looked up at Jay, seeing the way his jaw relaxed ever so slightly at your parents’ approval. “You’re making quite the impression,” you whispered teasingly.

Jay smirked faintly but didn’t let go of your hand. “Good. I plan on staying in their good graces and—yours.”

You rolled your eyes softly, though your lips betrayed you with a small smile.

He hummed as he patted your hand dry, turning off the faucet before interlacing your fingers with his. “We’ll put ointment on that when it fully dries, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, letting him guide you back toward the dining room.

Jay pulled out a chair for you like it was second nature, waiting until you were seated before taking the spot next to you. He rested his hand briefly on your knee under the table, as if to silently reassure you once more.

Your mom, already settled across from the two of you, clapped her hands together with a bright smile. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

By now, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the warm glow of the overhead lights and flickering candles on the table. The comforting scent of home-cooked food mingled with soft laughter that echoed off the walls.

Halfway through dinner, Jay leaned back slightly in his chair, his grin widening as he teased, “I still can’t believe you almost strangled your first cat to death because of… what was it? Cute aggression?”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as your brother barked out a laugh. “Jaehyun!” you hissed, glaring across the table.

He only shrugged innocently, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on, he needed to know if he wants to be Doobu’s dad. You scare me when it comes to cats sometimes.”

Jay tried—failed—not to laugh, his hand coming up to hide his smile as he muttered, “Noted. So, no kittens for a surprise gift then?”

“Jay!” you exclaimed, hiding your face in your hands as your family laughed.

Your dad, who had been quietly observing the playful banter, reached for the wine bottle, gesturing toward Jay’s glass. “Want a refill, son?”

Jay shook his head politely, his expression softening. “As much as I’d love to, sir, I’ll be driving us back later.”

Your dad gave a slow, approving nod, twirling the bottle in his hand with a thoughtful hum. Then, with a teasing grin, he glanced between you and Jay. “(Y/N), you better end up marrying him.”

Your entire body stiffened, heat rushing to your cheeks as you stammered, “Dad, please…”

Jaehyun cackled as your mom sighed dramatically, though you caught the gentle curve of her lips as she muttered, “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Jay, on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat. He reached for your hand under the table, squeezing it gently as he said with an almost shy smile, “Well, one day, I’d like that too.”

You whipped your head toward him, wide-eyed, but he only chuckled softly at your stunned expression, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your knuckles as if he hadn’t just said something that made your heart feel like it would burst.

“See?” your dad said proudly, leaning back in his chair. “I like this guy.”

Jaehyun raised his glass with a smirk. “Yeah, me too. He survived the Lakers question and the cat confession. He’s solid.”

Your mom only chuckled fondly, catching your flustered expression. “Sweetheart, you picked a good one.”

And there you were, sitting with the three most important people in your life, with Jay beside you fitting so effortlessly into the picture it was almost scary—in the best possible way.

The soft hum of music filled the car as the city lights streaked past outside your window. Your fingers tapped lightly against your leg in time with the melody before you let out a laugh, shaking your head slightly.

“I still can’t believe Jaehyun sounds like that,” you said, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Jay’s lips curved into a smile as his hand tightened slightly on the wheel. “What? He sounds good.”

“Exactly,” you huffed, turning your head toward him. “And all I got from the sibling lottery was dancing skills. Totally unfair.”

Jay chuckled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh gently, his rings cool against your skin. “You’re incredible at what you do. Don’t downplay yourself like that.”

You sighed softly, your hand finding his on your thigh, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the silver bands adorning his long fingers.

Your thumb brushed over one particularly sleek ring as you murmured, almost too quietly, “You two get along well… almost as if this were—” You cut yourself off with another sigh, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

Jay’s jaw tensed slightly, his gaze flickering from the slow-moving traffic ahead to your profile. His thumb rubbed gentle circles against your skin as he let out a quiet, bitter chuckle.

“Almost as if it were real,” he echoed, his voice low, carrying a weight that made your chest ache.

You still didn’t meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the window as the night blurred outside.

Jay’s grip on your thigh lingered for a moment longer before he let out another quiet sigh, a humorless smile tugging faintly at his lips as he nodded to himself, as if silently acknowledging something only he could hear.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the music. “Almost.”

You nodded faintly, your eyes fixed on the blur of headlights and taillights streaking past the window. You refused to look at him, afraid that even the slightest glance would undo the careful grip you had on yourself.

The sting behind your eyes grew sharper as you sucked in a shaky breath, pressing your lips together.

Jay’s thumb brushed against your thigh again as his voice cut gently through the silence. “You okay?”

You managed a small nod, though your body betrayed you—your shoulders tensed, and your hand had stilled over his, no longer tracing the cool metal of his rings.

You leaned back against the leather seat, head tilting slightly to rest against it.

“I always am,” you murmured, so quietly it was almost lost beneath the music.

Jay’s hand tightened over yours, his voice suddenly firmer, low but resolute. “Don’t lie to me, (Y/N).”

Your chest rose and fell with a shaky exhale. You stayed silent for a moment, gripping the fabric of your dress with your free hand as if it could ground you. Slowly—hesitantly—you turned your head toward him.

Your glossy eyes met his, the dim dashboard lights catching the faint shimmer of unshed tears. You forced a smile, one that wavered and cracked at the edges as you whispered, “I’m not.”

His brows furrowed deeply, the smirk and light teasing that so often played on his lips completely gone now, replaced by an expression so raw—so tender—it almost hurt to look at.

Jay’s hands reached up, cradling your face with a gentleness that made your chest tighten. His thumbs brushed the streaks of tears falling down your cheeks, and he swore softly under his breath.

“God…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Thank whoever’s listening for this traffic.”

You let out a weak, watery laugh through your tears, leaning into his touch as your hands reached up to press over his. “Jay?” you whispered, voice trembling.

“Yeah, pretty?” His reply was equally soft, but there was an edge there—a nervousness he couldn’t quite hide.

Your lips quivered as you looked up at him, eyes glassy and vulnerable. “Is this still fake?”

His fingers paused for a fraction of a second against your skin.

You felt his breath hitch, the faintest falter in his steady exterior as his eyes searched yours for any trace of doubt or hesitation.

“Are you still doing this just so people at Decelis would shut up… or are you playing with me?” The last part cracked—your voice breaking as the tears came faster now, falling freely onto his hands.

But Jay didn’t pull away. Not when you looked this fragile, this heartbreakingly honest. He only cupped your face tighter, his thumbs moving to catch every tear he could as his own chest rose and fell unevenly.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said gently. “Look at me.”

You did, though it felt like your heart might burst.

His gaze burned into yours—not with anger, not even with frustration, but with an intensity that made the air in the car feel thick.

“I proposed this whole idea because I wanted everyone to leave you and me alone. I thought—hell, I convinced myself—it was just a game. Just something to keep the rumors quiet, to protect you and… maybe me too.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing to yours. “But then you… you went and ruined everything, didn’t you? You went and made me care.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out as his hands trembled slightly against your skin.

“I don’t know if this is fake anymore, pretty girl,” he whispered, voice raw.

“Because every time you smile at me like I’m worth the trouble… every time you hold my hand like it’s second nature… every time I hear you laugh—God, I can’t tell where the pretending stops and where you begin.”

A choked sound escaped you as he tilted your chin gently, forcing you to meet the depths of his eyes.

“You’ve managed to show me what it feels like to be seen, (Y/N). To be wanted. To be loved in a way I didn’t even think I deserved.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but his hands remained steady on your face.

“This isn’t fake to me anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

He smiled then—not his cocky grin, not his teasing smirk, but something small and heartbreakingly sincere. “And if you’ll let me, I don’t ever want it to be.”

Your breath hitched. His words—soft, trembling, so devastatingly honest—landed heavy on your chest, cracking something wide open inside you.

For weeks you’d been holding it all in, biting your tongue, burying the way your heart had begun to ache every time he looked at you like this, and now the dam finally broke.

“Jay…” Your voice wavered, your fingers clutching his wrists where they cradled your face like he was terrified to let you go.

You shook your head slightly, blinking through the tears that blurred his face.

“I agreed to this because I wanted peace. I wanted to feel normal again. To stop being the girl everyone whispered about in the hallways—to stop being the one they pitied or picked apart.”

Your shoulders trembled as a sob pushed past your lips, raw and unrestrained. “But then you—you just had to come in and ruin that too.”

Jay flinched, but his hands didn’t falter, his thumbs still brushing away the tears even as more fell. “Ruin it?” he asked softly.

“You ruined it because you made me feel safe again,” you whispered brokenly.

“You made me feel like I wasn’t some spectacle, like I could just… exist. And then you went and made me laugh again, made me—God, you made me start hoping for more.”

Jay’s brow furrowed as you pressed your hands over his, your tears falling hot and fast against his skin.

“I told myself over and over this was fake. That when it ended, I’d go back to how things were. But Jay—” your voice cracked on his name, “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want this to end. I want you. I want this. All of it.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The only sound was the faint hum of the car engine, the low croon of the song playing through the speakers, and the frantic rush of both your breaths.

Then Jay let out a shaky laugh—one full of relief and disbelief—as his forehead pressed to yours. “(Y/N)…” he whispered, and it was both a prayer and a confession.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft—not at first. It was desperate, aching, like weeks of pent-up longing and unsaid words bursting all at once.

His lips pressed to yours with a fervor that made your tears spill over again, his hands slipping from your face to your jaw, tilting you closer as if he was terrified this moment wasn’t real.

You gasped softly against his mouth, and he took it as permission, one of his hands tangling in your hair as the other pulled you closer across the console, your seatbelt the only thing keeping you from melting fully into him.

You kissed him back like you were trying to memorize him—the warmth of his mouth, the taste of his lips, the way his thumb brushed your cheek so tenderly even as the kiss deepened.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads pressed together, both of you breathless, your tears still wet on your cheeks.

“This isn’t fake,” Jay murmured again, his voice low and wrecked. “Not to me. Not anymore.”

You let out a tearful laugh, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips. “Not to me either.”

For a moment longer, Jay just looked at you—like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he wasn’t ready to let go. His hands lingered on your face, thumbs stroking tenderly as his gaze traced every curve of your expression.

Then the sound of a car horn behind you broke the fragile stillness, and Jay exhaled shakily, giving you the smallest, sweetest smile before leaning in to press one last kiss to your forehead.

“Seatbelt, pretty. I don’t wanna be the reason you get hurt again.” His voice was low, still carrying the remnants of everything unspoken between you.

You nodded, a faint warmth curling in your chest as you slowly buckled yourself back in. Jay pulled his hands away with a reluctance you felt too, his fingers brushing against yours like he didn’t want to lose the contact completely.

The car started moving again, the hum of the engine blending with the soft music still playing.

But this time, it wasn’t awkward or suffocating—there was a lightness, a fragile sense of peace that settled over you like a blanket.

Jay’s hand found its way back to your thigh, his thumb rubbing lazy circles against your skin. He didn’t say anything, but the small squeeze he gave spoke volumes.

You glanced out the window at the city lights streaking past, a small smile tugging at your lips for the first time in what felt like forever.

For once, your heart didn’t feel heavy.

“You’re quiet,” Jay murmured after a while, his eyes still focused on the road but softening as they flicked briefly to you.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You shook your head, your fingers sliding over the rings on his hand again, tracing the cool metal absently. “Nothing bad,” you said honestly, a faint laugh in your voice. “For the first time in a long time, nothing feels bad.”

Jay smiled at that, and though he didn’t say it, his fingers tightened slightly over your thigh like he understood. Like he felt it too.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified ⤷ piece taglist — @strawjayrries @dearestdreamies @chuuyaobsessed

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liuhsng · 1 month ago

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─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ strings and satin ( pjs ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ⤷ word count — 21.3k ⤷ based on this request by 🍓 anon ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — finally part two is here !! i had so much fun writing this—soft moments, stolen glances, and all. i hope you guys feel the slow pull between them as much as i did. part three’s already brewing in my head, so pace yourselves loves, we’re only getting started 🤍

⤷ warnings — college au, guitarist!jay, ballerina!reader, college!jay, college!reader, college!enhypen, band!enhypen, slow burn, friends(?) to lovers trope, soft!jay, mutual pining, reader falls first (definitely), domestic undertones, accidental vulnerability, soft tension, unspoken feelings, skinship, fluff, angst

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — three days. that’s all it takes for the boundaries to shift. one moment it’s just an arrangement—shared hands for the crowd, borrowed smiles for the rumors. the next, it’s late nights spent in quiet kitchens, borrowed jackets that still smell like him, and a warmth that lingers long after the rain has stopped. it’s easy to forget where the act ends and the real thing begins. but then he whispers promises against your hair, and you start to wonder if maybe this isn’t just a game anymore. or, where pretending feels a little too real, and you’re no longer sure if you want him to stop.

Jay walked just close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every now and then, his hand occasionally reaching over to pet Doobu as she purred contently in your arms.

The soft sound of her breathing mixed with your quiet laughter.

“So Heeseung went live on Instagram once,” Jay said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And for some reason—don’t even ask—he picked up my guitar and started messing with it. He thought he was being funny.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, already grinning. “He didn’t.”

Jay nodded, lips twitching like he was trying to suppress a smile. “He did. And then people started tagging me in the comments. I saw it, tuned my guitar back properly.”

That broke you. A laugh bubbled out of your chest as you hugged Doobu closer.

“Oh my god—that’s like… in ballet terms, that’s as bad as when your pointe shoes get laced up wrong. Total violation of personal space.”

Jay raised a brow, amused. “I have no idea what that means, but… yeah. I’ll take your word for it.”

Still smiling, you tilted your head at him. “Do you want to know about ballet?”

“Actually, yeah. I’ve been wondering,” he admitted as you both turned the corner.

“Take a right here,” you said softly, shifting Doobu slightly in your arms so she wouldn’t slip.

Jay followed, his steps slow and unhurried. “So… why ballet?”

You hummed, thoughtful. “I guess… it was something I really liked. When I was younger, I found the performances so beautiful—my mom told me to try it, and I did. I ended up loving it. So… here I am.”

Jay nodded quietly, his dark eyes on you as a faint breeze ruffled his hoodie. Then he tilted his head, voice dropping into that teasing tone you were starting to recognize. “In Decelis too… You must be rich.”

You laughed, shaking your head quickly. “I’m not. I mean—I got in on a scholarship, so… yeah.”

“That just means you’re really good,” Jay said matter-of-factly, and for a moment, his tone carried no teasing—just simple, quiet admiration.

Your cheeks warmed, but you looked away, pointing at the building with large glass windows just ahead. “That’s my dorm. We’re here.”

Jay’s steps slowed as you approached the steps. He opened the door for you with a small smile. “After you.”

“Thank you.” You stepped inside, glancing at him as he lingered at the entrance. “Do you… want to come up? You don’t have to, but—”

Jay’s hand flexed slightly around the paper bags he still carried. “No, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t.” You shook your head, a small grin pulling at your lips. “Come on. Let’s go.”

His eyes flicked to yours for a beat, and then he let out a quiet laugh. “Okay. Just for a bit.”

You led him to the elevator, your slippers making soft sounds against the tiled floor. He followed close behind, pressing the call button. Almost instantly, the elevator dinged and opened.

“Fifth floor, please,” you said as you stepped inside, shifting Doobu so she rested more comfortably in your arms.

Jay pressed the button, his knuckles brushing the panel lightly. The doors closed with a soft hum, the faint reflection of you both visible in the polished metal.

He looked at you briefly, lips quirking in the faintest smile as he spoke.

Jay leaned against the elevator wall as the soft hum of its ascent filled the quiet space.

His reflection in the polished metal flickered faintly as he spoke, voice low and teasing, “You know, if you ever wanna sneak off again, head to the quad. I’ll pick you up.”

You gasped dramatically, eyes going wide as you turned your head over your shoulder to look at him.

“Park Jongseong,” you said, mock scandal dripping from your tone. “That’s so low of you.”

Jay’s grin widened, the sound of his quiet laugh bouncing lightly off the elevator walls. “What? Your cat’s cute. I wouldn’t mind being her getaway driver.”

You huffed, clutching Doobu closer as she nuzzled contentedly against your hoodie. “I know she’s cute,” you admitted begrudgingly, “but she’s such a little troublemaker. I swear she does this on purpose.”

Jay’s hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing over the top of Doobu’s head, scratching gently behind her ears.

“Can’t blame her. She’s got a curious streak… kinda like her owner.”

Before you could retort, the elevator gave a soft ding and the doors slid open to reveal the fifth floor’s warmly lit hallway.

“Come on,” you murmured, stepping out as Jay followed closely behind, his hands now tucked casually into his hoodie pockets.

He glanced around as you led the way down the hall, his eyes flicking to the neatly numbered doors as if committing them all to memory. His gaze lingered for a fraction longer when you stopped at one of the nearer units—Room 507.

You shifted Doobu in your arms, the white furball now half-asleep again as you hesitated at your door.

Heat crept up your ears when you glanced back at Jay, who was watching you with a patient, expectant look.

“Um… could you—uh—hold her for a bit? I just need to unlock the door.”

Jay nodded without hesitation, stepping closer. “Yeah. Give her to me.”

Carefully, you handed Doobu over, your fingers brushing his hoodie sleeve in the process. “Thanks,” you murmured with a small, thankful smile as he adjusted his arms to cradle her gently.

“No problem,” Jay replied softly, his voice warm as Doobu immediately settled into his hold, eyes fluttering shut again.

He looked down at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “She’s so relaxed. You’d think I was her actual owner.”

You chuckled nervously, turning back to the door as you fished your keys from your hoodie pocket. The soft jingle echoed in the hallway as you found the right one, slipping it into the lock.

“Sorry for the mess,” you mumbled, cheeks heating as you twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

Jay tilted his head slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. “Somehow I doubt your ‘mess’ and my ‘mess’ are the same thing.”

You laughed softly as you pushed the door open, the warm scent of vanilla from your room spilling out faintly. “You’d be surprised,” you said, stepping in first to flick on the lights.

The room wasn’t even messy—just lived in. A soft cream throw blanket draped over your small couch, a few books stacked on the coffee table, ballet shoes peeking from under your bed, and a lingering coziness that smelled faintly of your shampoo.

Jay took one step in, Doobu curling lazily against his chest like she’d been with him all her life.

The room wasn’t even messy—just lived in. A soft cream throw blanket was draped lazily over your small couch, the cushions slightly sunken like it was your favorite reading spot.

A sleek TV sat propped up on a modest wooden stand, a small stack of DVDs and game controllers tucked neatly beside it.

Near the far corner, a vanity mirror framed in glowing bulbs sat atop a dresser cluttered with skincare bottles and a stray pair of earrings.

Fairy lights dangled loosely along the ceiling, their warm yellow glow casting soft shadows across the space. A kitchenette hugged one wall, clean and minimal, with a mug drying upside down on the counter.

A bookshelf stood proudly near your bed, filled with everything from classic literature to ballet history texts, a few dog-eared novels stacked horizontally where they no longer fit.

But it was the wall above your bed that caught Jay’s eye—an entire collage of polaroids and ribbon cutouts, little scraps of you.

Friends laughing in candid shots, blurry pictures of stage lights from performances, faded ribbons from past competitions pinned carefully like trophies. It was vibrant and soft all at once—like you.

Jay blinked, taking in the details quietly, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“Messy,” he said finally, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Sure. This looks like a Pinterest board threw up in here.”

You froze halfway through tugging off your hoodie, cheeks heating. “Shut up,” you hissed, ducking your head to hide your fluster. “It’s… cozy, okay? I like it this way.”

Jay smirked, bending slightly as Doobu let out a soft meow in his arms. “You’re really bad at taking compliments, you know that?”

Rolling your eyes, you took Doobu back into your arms, the little cat stretching her paws lazily before nuzzling into your hoodie again.

“I’m great at taking compliments,” you said, voice muffled as you buried your face briefly into Doobu’s fur. “I just… filter which ones I believe.”

Jay hummed like he wanted to say something more, but instead he leaned casually against the doorframe, hands sliding into the pockets of his cream trousers.

You cleared your throat, setting Doobu gently down on the bed. “Uh—you can… sit down, you know. Make yourself comfortable.”

Jay arched a brow, a teasing glint flickering in his eyes as he pushed off the frame slightly. “You’re telling me to sit down like I’m the guest of honor or something.”

You exhaled sharply, trying not to let your fluster show as you reached for his wrist. “I am telling you to sit. Here. Couch.”

He let you pull him with no resistance, his long fingers still half-tucked in his pockets as his amused smirk grew. “Okay, okay,” he murmured as you stopped him in front of the couch and all but shoved him down gently.

“There. Stay put.”

Jay chuckled as he sank into the cushions, legs spreading comfortably as his arm draped along the backrest.

“Bossy,” he teased lightly, tilting his head to watch you grab fresh clothes from the rack beside your vanity.

You shot him a look over your shoulder, your face already burning. “Don’t. Start.”

He only raised his hands in mock surrender, still wearing that faint grin as you disappeared into the bathroom with your clothes.

For a moment, silence settled in the room again, save for the faint tick of the clock and the low hum of the air conditioning. Jay let his eyes wander, his hands idly drumming against his thighs.

The first thing he noticed was the line of Dior lip glosses neatly arranged on your vanity. He leaned his head back slightly and hummed under his breath.

“Dior, huh? Someone’s got taste…” His gaze swept across the space again, taking in the soft pastel palette of your room, the fairy lights draped carelessly above, the plush throw pillows piled on the couch.

“Talk about contrast,” he murmured, a quiet laugh escaping him as he thought about his own room—dark walls, a clutter of guitar picks and stray lyric sheets, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air.

Yours felt lighter, softer. Like breathing fresh air after being cooped up too long.

The sound of the bathroom door clicking open snapped him from his thoughts. He straightened slightly as you stepped out, now dressed in light-washed jeans, a black shirt peeking from under a cream hoodie.

Your hair was quickly brushed and your skin glowed faintly in the soft light, a Dior gloss—cherry pink—already in your hand as you dabbed it on without much thought.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you said sheepishly, meeting his eyes with a small smile.

Jay shook his head as he rose to his feet. “You were quick. Don’t worry about it.” His tone was softer now, almost careful.

You grinned faintly, slipping your gloss back into the vanity drawer. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

As you scooped your keys from the table, you turned to Doobu still curled up on your bed. Pointing a stern finger at her, you said, “No more outside time for you, Doobu. I mean it.”

Jay let out a quiet laugh behind you, reaching for the door as you switched off the main light and let the fairy lights cast their warm glow over the room.

The soft twinkle reflected in his eyes as he glanced back briefly, committing the sight to memory.

You locked the door with a click, turning to him. “Where to?”

You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your laughter as Jay animatedly waved his hands around from across the small ramen shop table.

“No, no—listen,” he said, leaning forward with an exaggeratedly serious expression, his cap casting a faint shadow over his eyes.

“Jungwon was like—” He cleared his throat and pitched his voice higher, imitating the younger’s slightly frantic tone. “‘Come on, Jay. Come on, Jay. Don’t say anything! Stop talking, stop—stop—’”

You burst out laughing, nearly knocking your chopsticks off the table. “Oh my god, stop—you’re too good at that.”

Jay grinned, his eyes crinkling as he shrugged innocently.

“What? That’s exactly what he sounded like. I swear I thought he was going to faint when I said, ‘oh yeah, we’re working on—’” He clamped his hand over his mouth dramatically, earning another fit of laughter from you.

“You’re really one of the funniest people I’ve ever met,” you said between laughs, shaking your head in disbelief.

Jay leaned back in his chair, a smug little smile tugging at his lips. “That’s an achievement. I’ll take the trophy now.”

You rolled your eyes fondly as you reached for the menu. “Seriously, though… almost leaking your own song?”

“It wasn’t even on purpose!” he defended, throwing his hands up slightly. “I guess I was just… too excited for College Week.”

You raised a brow at him, lips twitching. “Oh? You guys have another song?”

He nodded, idly spinning his water glass between his fingers. “Yeah. This time it’s a song called Shout Out. It’s more sentimental than Karma.”

“That’s so fitting,” you teased, glancing down at the menu—only to stiffen slightly at the prices listed beside each dish.

Before you could even open your mouth, Jay’s voice cut in smoothly. “Hey. Don’t think too hard about it. Pick whatever you’re craving—I got it, yeah?”

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him, lips parting to protest, but he raised a hand like he’d already anticipated it.

“Nope. Don’t even start,” he said firmly, a playful edge in his tone. “Consider it my apology for dragging you and Doobu out so late.”

You let out a sigh but smiled anyway. “Fine. But you’re seriously too much sometimes, Jay.”

Jay smirked, resting his chin in his palm as his eyes softened slightly on you. “Maybe. But admit it, I’m fun company.”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered with a grin as you finally pointed at your choice on the menu. “Okay. I’ll get the miso ramen. And—uh—a side of gyoza?”

“Good choice,” Jay said with an approving nod before glancing at the menu himself. “I’ll get the tonkatsu. Extra spicy. And another side of gyoza. Can’t go wrong with those.”

As the waiter came to take your orders, you found yourself glancing around the small shop. The faint hum of soft jazz played overhead, the warm light above your table casting a gentle glow on Jay’s features as he absentmindedly fiddled with his chopsticks.

When the waiter left, Jay leaned back comfortably again. “So,” he said, that same soft smile still tugging at his lips.

“Tell me more about your performances,” Jay said as he leaned forward slightly, propping his elbow on the table. “You’re going to perform during College Week too, right?”

You nodded, fiddling absently with your chopsticks. “Yeah, I mean… we perform before you guys every year. Like a… opening act?”

Jay’s lips curved into a teasing smirk. “Oh—you’re the ones with the overly lullabying music?”

You gasped dramatically, swatting lightly at the air between you. “Excuse me?” you said with a laugh.

“I guess we are. But hey, someone’s gotta make the crowd feel all dreamy before you guys come in and break their eardrums.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

You twirled your straw in your glass. “Though—I mean, I guess this year’s different. We’re finally performing a pretty huge production piece. Something more memorable.”

Jay’s gaze stayed fixed on you, one elbow propped lazily on the table, his fingers idly tapping against his water glass.

“And I guess…” you continued, lips curving into a small smile, “I have a reason to stay later this time. Since you guys will be performing after us anyway.”

That made him pause, his brows raising slightly as he tilted his head at you. “Wait—you’ve never watched any of our performances?”

You blinked at him, chewing lightly on your bottom lip before tilting your head in return. “Is that… a bad thing?” you asked, voice teasing.

Jay shook his head almost immediately, a faint laugh slipping out. “No,” he said, his grin softening into something warmer. “Just the more reason for me to do better this year. Since you’ll be watching.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and you ducked your head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat creeping up your cheeks. But judging from the small, knowing smile tugging at his lips, he definitely noticed.

Still, he didn’t comment—just let the moment hang there gently between you, the quiet hum of the ramen shop filling the space.

The waiter arrived then, placing two steaming bowls of ramen on the table, the rich aroma of broth and spices instantly making your stomach growl.

“Tonkatsu for you, miso for you. Enjoy,” he said politely, setting down a plate of golden-brown gyoza as well.

“Thanks,” you and Jay said in near perfect unison, glancing at each other with faint smiles after.

Jay leaned back slightly, rubbing his palms together. “Alright—let’s eat.” His eyes flicked mischievously toward the gyoza. “But fair warning—if I finish first, I’m stealing those.”

You raised a brow, feigning offense as you adjusted your chopsticks. “In your dreams, Park Jongseong. Those are mine.”

He grinned, the corners of his lips tugging higher than you’d seen all week. “Yeah? Watch me.”

The two of you dug in, the clink of chopsticks and soft laughter between bites filling your little corner of the shop.

Neither of you noticed at first—not the subtle shift of heads from tables nearby, nor the quiet gasps as a few Decelis students did a double take.

“Is that—”

“Holy shit, it is.”

“Park Jongseong. With a girl? And he’s smiling?”

Phones slipped subtly out of pockets as some of the students tried to sneak photos without being obvious.

After all, it wasn’t every day you saw the stoic-faced guitarist of Decelis’ most popular band—the one who rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary—leaning forward over a bowl of miso ramen, laughing and teasing a girl like he’d known her forever.

One table, full of arts majors, whispered animatedly:

“Is that Jeong (Y/N)? She’s in our department, right?”

“She’s in ballet. I think… I’ve seen her with Kazuha.”

“No way… he likes her?”

Meanwhile, Jay remained completely oblivious—or maybe he just didn’t care. His long fingers twirled noodles effortlessly, his posture relaxed, head slightly tilted as he listened to you animatedly talk about pointe shoes.

At a corner table, three students sat hunched over their phones, the glow of their screens reflected in wide eyes.

“Holy shit, zoom in—is that really Park Jongseong?” one whispered, pinching the screen to enlarge a blurry photo of Jay’s profile.

“It is! Look at the cap and the hoodie—he literally wore that after practice last week,” another hissed back, their tone urgent like they were breaking major news.

“Isn’t this… kind of a good source of gossip?” the first said, eyes darting nervously between Jay and the girl across from him—you.

The third leaned in closer, whispering like they were plotting a heist. “I mean… you could post it on the school’s gossip page. Everyone follows it.”

“Won’t they know it’s us?” the second asked, glancing around anxiously as though Jay might suddenly sense their scheming.

“You can send anonymous posts, dumbass,” the third snorted quietly. “Half the juicy stuff on there’s from people like us.”

They all turned their heads slightly in unison, pretending to sip on their drinks while sneaking another glance at you two.

Jay was laughing softly, head tilted back slightly, and you were smiling so wide it made them freeze for a second.

“…Do you think they’re, like… dating?” one muttered, leaning so far forward their chair creaked.

“Who wouldn’t date him? Look at him.”

Another girl, barely glancing up from her screen, muttered under her breath, “Well… I already submitted it. God, I’m just hoping I don’t get hunted down for this.”

“I—” she lowered her voice even further, leaning in like they were plotting international espionage. “I sent the photo to the gossip page. Anonymous, obviously.” She gestured vaguely to her phone, its screen dimming before anyone else could see proof.

“You’re insane,” the second whispered sharply, eyes wide as they darted between Jay’s table and their friend. “What if it blows up? You know how people get when it’s Jay.”

The third girl bit her lip, bouncing her leg nervously under the table. “This could actually start a war. Like—Decelis girls are rabid for him.”

The first scoffed but kept her voice low. “Please. He’s the one laughing and smiling with her. No one’s gonna blame us.”

The morning air was crisp as you walked beside Kazuha, her long hair tied in a neat ponytail that swayed slightly with each step.

She was already deep in thought, hands gesturing as she discussed the adjustments needed for the ensemble positions in one of the key scenes of your upcoming performance.

“So for that transition after the lift,” she said, brows furrowing, “I think we need to change the diagonal line to a V formation. It’ll fill the stage better once the curtains fully open.”

You nodded, hugging your jacket tighter around you as the cool air bit at your cheeks. “Yeah, that makes sense. The current one feels… a little too cramped for the audience’s perspective.”

Yunjin, walking on your other side with a stack of papers tucked under her arm, glanced up from the rehearsal notes she was scanning. “The performance is in, like… a week and a half, right?”

Kazuha sighed softly but nodded. “Yes. And we still have a lot to go through.”

You groaned, shifting the weight of your dance bag on your shoulder. “Don’t remind me. I can’t even rest without getting yelled at by our coach every morning. I swear she’s got some kind of sixth sense.”

That earned a soft laugh from Yunjin as she flipped to another page. “She probably does. Remember last year? She found out about Chaewon’s sprained ankle before Chaewon even told us.”

Kazuha let out a small laugh too, shaking her head. “Scary but… effective.”

You three turned into the university’s main gates, the familiar sight of towering glass windows and pristine hallways greeting you.

Your steps echoed faintly against the polished floors, but it wasn’t the sound that caught your attention.

It was the stares.

They were subtle at first—lingering glances from groups of students leaning against lockers, hushed whispers trailing in your wake.

You straightened your posture instinctively, forcing your focus on Kazuha as she continued talking about stage placements.

“So, we might have to ask the tech team to adjust the spotlights too,” she said, not noticing the way your eyes briefly flicked to a group of students murmuring to each other by the bulletin board.

“Mm… yeah,” you said quickly, nodding as if to ground yourself in the conversation.

“And maybe we should suggest they do a dry run with us next practice? Just so we’re sure the lighting cues match the music.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Kazuha agreed, her lips quirking upward slightly as she adjusted her tote bag.

Yunjin hummed in agreement too, her eyes still scanning her notes. “I’ll bring it up to the coach later.”

You exhaled quietly, trying to shake off the feeling of eyes on your back. You forced yourself to keep pace with your friends, asking Kazuha another question.

“Do you know if the props department finalized the backdrop yet? Or are we still waiting on their approval?”

Kazuha tilted her head slightly as she thought. “They sent a draft last night. I’ll show it to you later—it’s actually pretty nice.”

“Perfect. Maybe we’ll finally stop tripping over the old backdrops this year,” Yunjin said dryly as she shifted her papers and reached for the door to your first class. She pushed it open, holding it just long enough for you and Kazuha to slip inside behind her.

You were thankful—at least you had this class together. If there was one silver lining to your packed schedule, it was that the three of you always had at least one class to survive as a unit.

But the moment your group stepped in, the atmoshphere in the room changed.

It was subtle at first, like a hush spreading through the front rows, but then a ripple of murmurs followed—soft giggles, whispers too quick to catch, a few phones held lower than usual like people didn’t want to be caught staring.

It felt like the room had somehow gone quiet and loud at the same time.

You furrowed your brows but kept walking, following Kazuha and Yunjin to your usual seats near the middle. Your steps felt heavier with every glance thrown your way—like everyone suddenly remembered you existed.

Yunjin, ever the bold one, plopped her bag down and raised a brow, glancing at one of your classmates sitting nearby. “Okay… what’s going on?”

The girl blinked at her, hesitated, then leaned in conspiratorially. “You didn’t hear?”

You’d barely set your bag down when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning, you found a small group of students peeking at you from behind their seats, wide-eyed and grinning.

“(Y/N)!” one of them whispered excitedly, like they were sharing a secret. “You never told us you were dating the guitarist of Enhypen!”

You blinked. “…I’m sorry—what?”

The group tittered among themselves, holding back laughter like they’d been dying to bring this up.

“You and Jay!” another chimed in, phone clutched tight as if they were ready to pull up evidence. “You were seen eating ramen together last night—like together together.”

Your brows shot up, and you shook your head so quickly it made your hair sway. “Wait, hold on. I’m not—”

“Then how come you two were on a date last night?” someone piped up from the front row, a smug tilt to their voice.

Your head whipped toward them, your brows furrowing even deeper. “Wait—what? How did you even know about that?”

Another voice chimed in, half whispering but loud enough for everyone to hear. “(Y/N)… there were pictures.”

Kazuha’s head snapped up from where she was unzipping her ballet tote, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What pictures?” she asked calmly, though her tone held an edge sharp enough to cut glass.

Before you could even react, a phone was suddenly shoved in your face. Your breath hitched as your eyes locked on the screen.

It was grainy, taken from across the ramen shop, but clear enough. You and Jay. Sitting across from each other.

Your hand covering your mouth mid-laugh while Jay leaned forward, his knuckles resting casually under his chin as he smiled at you.

The warm lights of the shop softened everything, making the scene look far too intimate—romantic even.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “What… where did you even—”

“An anonymous sender,” someone else piped up behind you, sounding far too entertained. “It got posted on the university gossip page this morning.”

Yunjin, standing beside you, let out a sharp laugh—not out of humor but disbelief—as she snatched the phone from the girl’s hand. “Are you serious right now?” she said, scrolling through the post with narrowed eyes.

“This is what Decelis students are doing with their lives? Playing paparazzi?”

Kazuha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable as her gaze swept over the room. “So let me get this straight—you’re all making up relationship rumors over one picture of them eating ramen?”

“It wasn’t just ramen!” a boy in the back said, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “There’s another picture! He even walked her back to her dorm. And—”

“Enough!” Yunjin snapped, slamming the phone down onto the nearest desk, making a few students jump. Her eyes darted back to you, voice softening slightly.

“(Y/N), don’t let this get to you. You know how fast this place eats up any ‘scandal.’”

You exhaled shakily, your face burning as you forced a small laugh. “It’s… fine. Let them think whatever they want. It’s not like it’s true anyway.”

Kazuha placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her voice calm and steady. “You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. They’re the ones crossing the line.”

You nodded slowly, biting down the retort building in your throat. What was even the point?

Anything you said now would only feed into their gossip. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line and lowered your gaze, forcing the words down.

“Yeah,” you murmured faintly, though your voice lacked conviction. “You’re right.”

Kazuha’s thumb rubbed small circles against your shoulder before she pulled her hand away, slipping into her seat beside you.

Yunjin, on the other side, gave your arm a reassuring pat as you sank into your chair, the weight of every pair of eyes still prickling at your skin.

“Just breathe, okay?” Yunjin whispered under her breath, leaning slightly toward you as she began to pull her own papers from her tote.

“This will blow over. It always does.”

You offered her a small, tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes before dropping your bag onto the desk with a soft thud.

Slowly, methodically, you began pulling out your notebook, your pen case, your planner—anything to keep your hands occupied as your brain tried to ignore the hiss of whispers that still laced the air around you.

“Didn’t think she was his type…”

“She’s probably just using him to get clout.”

“Or maybe he’s the one using her.”

The murmurs continued, hushed but cruel, as though you weren’t even there.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you uncapped your pen, the tip pressing too hard against the paper as you absently doodled a small flower in the corner of your notes.

“Hey,” Kazuha said softly, turning in her seat to face you. “Ignore them. They don’t know anything.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes still fixed on the messy little flower sketch blooming under your pen. “I’m trying.”

“I know,” she said simply, her voice a quiet anchor.

Yunjin leaned her elbow on the desk, glaring subtly at the students across the room who hadn’t stopped sneaking glances at your table.

“God, the audacity of people here. You laugh with one guy, and suddenly you’re Decelis’ hottest headline.”

“Yunjin—” you started, but she waved you off.

“No, seriously. Let’s see them try saying this crap when Jay himself walks in here. Bet they’d choke on their words,” she muttered, flipping through her papers a little too forcefully.

You forced a laugh at that, though your cheeks burned with unease. “He’s not going to walk in here. This isn’t even his class.”

But even as the words left your lips, a flicker of dread pooled in your stomach at the thought.

What if he heard the whispers and saw the looks and thought… you’d started them?

You shoved the thought down and focused on underlining the date on your planner with shaking hands.

You grumbled under your breath, fingers dragging harshly through your hair before you pressed both hands over your face, willing your nerves to settle.

Your lunch sat cold and forgotten in front of you, the kimchi barely touched except for the absentminded pokes you’d made with your chopsticks.

Eunchae, sitting across from you, watched quietly with knitted brows, her spoon clinking softly against her bowl.

“Hey…” she said hesitantly, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the cafeteria.

Before you could respond, a sharp, irritated voice cut through.

“What?”

Your head snapped up just in time to see Chaewon glaring daggers at a group of passing students. The group, caught in her icy stare, immediately looked away and scurried off like startled mice.

You blinked, startled at her sudden bite. “Chaewon…” you murmured. “You don’t have to scare everyone.”

She sighed, breaking her glare as her eyes softened on you. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

Kazuha, sitting beside her, nodded solemnly as she stabbed at her salad. “She’s right. If you don’t put them in their place, they’ll keep thinking they can talk about you like that.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh, staring back down at your tray. “I don’t want to make things worse…”

Before Kazuha could even open her mouth to argue, a shift in the room’s atmosphere made you freeze.

It was like someone had blanketed the entire cafeteria in a thick hush. Conversations faltered. Spoons hovered midair. Heads began to turn, whispers threading their way from table to table.

You frowned slightly, confused, until Yunjin tilted her chin subtly toward the entrance.

“Don’t freak out,” she murmured.

But then you saw them.

Seven boys—each effortlessly drawing attention without even trying. They strolled into the cafeteria with unbothered expressions, eyes straight ahead as if the stares and hushed gossip didn’t exist.

Your stomach flipped violently as your eyes caught on a familiar figure in a black bomber jacket and lightwash jeans.

Jay.

As the group cut through the rows of tables, Heeseung cracked a grin at something Jungwon muttered. Jake ruffled Ni-ki’s hair before Ni-ki swatted him away. Sunghoon trailed behind, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

But then Jay slowed.

Halfway through the cafeteria, he casually bid the others goodbye, gesturing toward an empty table near the windows. The others gave him nods, and he peeled off—heading straight for your table.

You could’ve sworn your soul left your body.

“Oh no,” you whispered, staring down at your untouched kimchi like it held the answers to life.

“This is it. He doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore. He’s going to say it’s better if we don’t talk.”

Yunjin moved closer to you, catching your panicked expression.

Her sharp eyes flicked to Jay as he approached with long, unhurried strides. “Hey. Breathe. It doesn’t look like he’s about to bite your head off.”

But you couldn’t move—not as he stopped right beside your table, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes soft but unreadable as he looked down at you.

“Hey,” Jay said, his voice warm. Softer than you expected. “Do you want to talk?”

Your head shot up, eyes wide in surprise as your lips parted soundlessly. “I—”

Your friends all exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from smug to encouraging.

Chaewon arched a brow at you meaningfully. Yunjin gave you a small nudge with her elbow. “Go on.”

Kazuha smiled faintly, folding her hands on the table. “We’ll keep your food safe.”

Your throat felt tight as you glanced between Jay and your friends. His gaze didn’t waver—not impatient, not demanding, just patient. Waiting.

Finally, you nodded once, small and tentative. “Y-Yeah… okay.”

He smiled, relief flashing across his features before he stepped aside slightly to give you space.

You pushed your chair back slowly, heart thundering as you stood. “Sorry,” you mumbled to your friends, though you weren’t sure what for.

“Don’t be,” Chaewon said with a teasing smirk. “Text us if we need to drag you back.”

“Or if we need to fight,” Yunjin added with a wink.

You shot them a flustered look before following Jay as he led the way out of the cafeteria, his pace unhurried. You could feel the weight of countless stares on your back as you went, whispers blooming like wildfire in your wake.

Then, out of nowhere, you felt it—a warm, reassuring hand settling lightly against the small of your back.

Your breath hitched. Your steps faltered for half a second.

Jay leaned down slightly, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of his breath by your ear as he murmured, voice low and steady, “Ignore them. They don’t deserve any of your attention.”

You stiffened for a moment, not out of discomfort but from the way your heart stuttered in your chest.

Slowly, you turned your head up to him, your voice barely above a whisper, tinted with curiosity. “Then, who does?”

Jay glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes softened as he tilted his head ever so slightly, his thumb brushing against the edge of your blouse.

“Me,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your cheeks flamed, heat crawling all the way to the tips of your ears.

But surprisingly, you didn’t move away. You let him guide you gently, his hand remaining in place only long enough to steer you past the stares and into quieter hallways.

The sound of your sneakers against the polished floor filled the silence as you both walked, the hum of vending machines and distant chatter fading with each step.

The tension in your chest eased little by little, though your mind refused to stop replaying the warmth of his hand on your back and the casual confidence of his words.

Finally, Jay stopped in front of a plain wooden door tucked into a quieter corner of the building. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking it with a faint click before glancing back at you.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now.

You stepped inside carefully, your eyes scanning the empty room.

The fluorescent lights flickered to life above, revealing chairs pushed neatly against the walls and two lone seats set in the middle—almost like a makeshift interview setup. A faint scent of fresh paper and disinfectant lingered in the air.

Jay followed you in, letting the door close with a muted thud behind him. “This room’s usually like this,” he said casually, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs.

“They use it for business proposal presentations… or council meetings when the big room’s full.”

He gestured toward one of the two chairs, his expression easygoing. “Sit. Please.”

You hesitated for a beat before moving forward and sinking into the seat, clutching your hands nervously in your lap.

Jay took the other chair across from you, leaning back slightly as he rested one ankle on his knee, fingers lacing loosely in his lap.

For a moment, the only sound between you was the faint buzz of the lights above. Then Jay exhaled softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his tone calm and careful, like he didn’t want to startle you.

You inhaled shakily, eyes falling to your lap where your fingers were fiddling nervously with the edge of your blouse. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Jay didn’t push. He stayed still, leaning slightly forward in his chair as if closing the gap between you would make the words come easier.

“Everything’s happening too fast,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “And it feels like my life, my choices—suddenly became everybody’s business.”

Your words cracked faintly at the end, and you swallowed hard, forcing back the tightness in your chest as you finally dared to look up at him. Your eyes were glassy, a sheen of tears catching the sterile light.

Jay’s brows furrowed slightly, his expression tender as he leaned in closer. He sighed softly.

“Is this how you usually feel?” you asked, voice small and unsure.

He gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out a neatly folded black handkerchief. Without a word, he held it out to you.

You blinked at it before murmuring a quiet, “Thanks,” and taking it hesitantly.

“Yes,” Jay said finally, his thumb brushing against his palm as if grounding himself.

“But that doesn’t mean I let it get to me. I don’t care about their noise when they don’t even know me.”

He hesitated for a breath before his hand reached across the small gap between you, gently closing over yours where it gripped the handkerchief too tightly.

His touch was warm and calming, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he spoke again.

“(Y/N), I know they’re spouting bullshit out there. Gossip is just… gossip. They don’t know anything about you. Or me.”

You sniffled, trying to lighten the thick air between you. “Says the famous one,” you teased weakly, your lips tugging up just slightly.

Jay let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and warm in the quiet room.

“Mmhm,” he hummed, his smile softening as he tugged the handkerchief gently from your hold.

Before you could react, he leaned in a little closer, his hand deft and surprisingly tender as he dabbed under your lashes, catching the tears that had managed to escape.

“Stop crying now,” he murmured, his voice gentle but laced with a hint of teasing. “I pulled you away to talk to you, not make you cry, you know.”

A small laugh bubbled out of you, watery and embarrassed, as you lowered your gaze. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Jay shook his head slightly, his dark eyes still fixed on you as he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

Then he leaned back slightly, his fingers brushing against his knee as he exhaled through his nose. “I have a proposal.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “A proposal?”

His lips quirked—not quite a smirk, but something softer, almost shy. “Yeah. How about we give them something real to talk about?”

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Jay’s gaze flicked to the side for a second, his fingers tapping against his thigh nervously. “Well… only if you’re comfortable with it. And I—I don’t want to force you into anything, okay? Like, if it’s too weird or—”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped as you reached forward, your fingers brushing his arm lightly. “Jay, calm down.”

He stuttered to a stop, his cheeks blooming a faint shade of red as his lips parted. “Sorry… I just—I mean…” His voice dipped lower as he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes for a moment.

“What if we fake date?”

Your brows shot up, surprise written all over your face. “Fake date?” you repeated, leaning back slightly in your seat, head tilting as you regarded him.

“How is that going to help?”

Jay sat up straighter, determination replacing some of his earlier hesitation. “It will. Think about it—if we own up to it, maybe people will stop talking. They’ll stop whispering and speculating because there won’t be anything left for them to ‘discover.’”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly. “All they’ve talked about this morning was me and you.”

Your lips parted in shock. “You’ve heard that too?”

He shrugged, his expression wry. “They weren’t exactly subtle.” His hand shifted, propping against the armrest of his chair as he leaned his chin into his palm, eyes fixed on you with quiet expectation.

“So… are you in?”

You glanced down at your hands for a moment, thoughts swirling. Part of you knew it was risky—dangerous even—letting people believe something that wasn’t true.

But at the same time, maybe it could help. If you and Jay played into the rumor, controlled the narrative, maybe the stares and whispers would die down faster.

And—your mind whispered traitorously—if it’s with Jay, would it really be so bad?

Your eyes flicked back to him slowly, his posture so relaxed yet his eyes holding just a flicker of nervousness. You nodded once, small but certain.

Jay’s brows lifted a fraction. “Wait—that’s a yes?”

A small laugh bubbled from your chest, easing some of the tension in the room. “It’s a yes.”

“Oh god,” Jay muttered, letting out a relieved laugh as he leaned back in his chair, covering his face with his hands for a second. “Great. Because this would’ve been really embarrassing otherwise.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Jay…” you said with a laugh, watching as he peeked at you through his fingers, still looking half-shy and half-relieved.

“What?” he said, dropping his hands and smiling sheepishly. “You don’t understand—if you’d said no, I’d have had to transfer schools or something.”

“Oh, come on,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a soft laugh. “You’d survive.”

Jay lowered his hands, the grin still tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “You do realize people see me as some emo guitarist with no heart, right?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him as your smile lingered. “I don’t.”

He blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in your tone. Then—just faintly—his lips curled into a small, quiet smile that didn’t quite reach his usual confident smirk.

It was softer. It was real.

Jay didn’t say anything else. Instead, he stood up smoothly, extending his hand toward you. “Come on.”

You blinked at his outstretched hand, then placed yours in his, letting him pull you up.

“What now?” you asked curiously, steadying yourself as he grabbed his black jacket draped over the back of his chair.

He stepped closer—close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his cologne—and carefully draped the jacket over your shoulders.

The fabric was warm and smelled faintly of cedar and clean laundry. His fingers lingered for a moment as he adjusted it, tugging the lapels gently until you were snug in the oversized material.

You blinked up at him, flustered. “Jay…?”

He met your gaze, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. “We do this naturally,” he said, voice low but steady.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you slid your arms properly through the jacket sleeves, the oversized fit practically swallowing you whole.

“There,” Jay said softly, satisfied as he took a small step back to admire his handiwork.

Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed your hand again, his long fingers curling loosely around yours. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You let out a surprised laugh as he tugged you gently toward the door. “Wait—where are we going?”

“What’s your next class?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at you with an easy grin.

“Performance training. Fourth floor,” you replied, trying to ignore the way your heart was thudding at the casual way he held your hand.

“Perfect,” he said simply. Jay pulled his keys from his pocket with his free hand, locking the room behind you with a soft click.

As the two of you stepped into the quiet hallway, his thumb brushed idly against the back of your hand, sending a small spark of warmth up your arm.

“You know,” he mused lightly as you walked, “people are going to lose their minds when they see us.”

You shot him a teasing glance, hugging his jacket closer to yourself. “And you’re okay with that?”

Jay looked down at you, his smile curling mischievously now. “Let them talk. Isn’t that the point?”

You could only laugh, shaking your head at his words, the sound soft but real. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, letting him tug you gently toward the nearest elevator.

“Unbelievably charming?” Jay teased without missing a beat, glancing back at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Unbelievably something,” you retorted, hugging his jacket a little tighter around your shoulders.

The elevator doors slid open with a chime, revealing an almost full car of students. The hum of conversations dulled instantly when you both stepped in, as if the air had been sucked out of the space.

You could feel the weight of their stares burning into your back, whispers beginning to bloom like wildfire again—but you and Jay? You didn’t so much as flinch.

If anything, Jay’s grip on your hand only tightened as he subtly moved his body closer to yours, his arm brushing yours in the cramped space.

“What room?” he asked you quietly, voice low enough that only you could hear over the faint hum of the elevator.

You tilted your head slightly toward him. “Room 408.”

He nodded, his thumb rubbing lazily over the back of your hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The small, absentminded gesture made your chest tighten for reasons you couldn’t quite place.

You caught sight of your reflection in the polished metal of the elevator walls—his black jacket still draped over your shoulders, your hands linked, his posture casual yet protective.

You wondered, briefly, if this was what it might look like if it weren’t fake.

The elevator chimed again, the doors sliding open on the fourth floor. Jay stepped out first but didn’t let go of your hand, tugging you gently along.

The whispers started again behind you as the doors closed, but you barely heard them this time.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

It was six in the evening and the studio was buzzing with muted conversations, the faint squeak of ballet shoes against polished wood, and the soft shuffle of fabric as dancers adjusted their skirts.

You nodded eagerly, brushing a stray hair from your face as your coach clapped her hands loudly.

“Alright, dancers—positions! Let’s clean the second half from the top,” she called, her voice stern yet warm. “And please—fingers! Hands are not claws. You’re not hunting prey.”

A few girls giggled softly at her remark, and you couldn’t help but smile too as you wiped the sheen of sweat forming on your forehead with the edge of your sleeve.

You were about to walk back to the center when your coach’s eyes caught yours. She raised her hand and beckoned you over.

“(Y/N), come here a second.”

You jogged toward her, the sound of your slippers padding lightly against the floor. “What’s the matter, coach?” you asked, catching your breath as you stopped in front of her.

She smiled kindly, her hands folded behind her back. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Actually, I wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind helping me out.”

Your brows furrowed slightly in curiosity. “Of course. What do you need?”

“Well…” She leaned in just a little, speaking low so only you could hear.

“After practice, would you and Yunjin mind getting everyone’s measurements for the final fittings? I need them sent over tonight so the costume department has time to adjust. I’d do it myself, but…” she gestured to the clipboard in her hand with a small sigh, “I’m staying back for a meeting after this.”

You nodded instantly. “Not at all, coach. I can handle it.”

“Perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. You’re a lifesaver.” She patted your shoulder briefly before straightening.

“Now get back into formation before I change my mind about calling you a sweetheart.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you jogged back toward your place.

The coach clapped her hands again, her eyes sweeping over the group like a hawk. “Alright—last run for today! I want grace, I want strength, I want artistry. And no, before you ask—falling out of a pirouette does not count as artistry.”

Groans rippled through the room, but you all fell back into your spots, shoulders lifting as you prepared.

Your chest rose and fell in rhythm as you lifted your arms, letting your body melt into the choreography. The music filled your lungs, your legs burning slightly as you held your arabesque a beat longer than usual.

“Good, good,” your coach’s voice echoed over the melody.

“(Y/N), mind your port de bras—don’t let it droop. Kazuha, sharper in the turns! And everyone—remember, this isn’t just steps. Tell me the story!”

The floor creaked faintly under your weight as you moved, sweat trailing down the back of your neck, but you didn’t falter.

Not when college week was so close. Not when this performance mattered so much.

As the music came to its tender close, you exhaled deeply, chest heaving as you dropped your arms gently.

Your coach clapped once. “Better. Much better. That’s the energy I want! Take five, then we’ll cool down.”

You bent slightly, hands on your knees as you caught your breath, already running through the routine in your mind again.

From across the studio, Yunjin—clipboard in hand, hair tied in a loose bun—flashed you a thumbs up.

Around you, the room hummed with life again as the dancers dispersed—some chatting in clusters, others flopping onto the floor in dramatic exhaustion.

“Kazuha, please,” you heard Chaewon wail from somewhere to your right. “I still have energy for at least another hour!”

“You’ve been dancing for four,” Kazuha said calmly, pressing her hand to Chawon’s shoulder like she was trying to ground a hyperactive child. “Sit down before you combust.”

You stifled a laugh and made your way over to Yunjin, clutching your water bottle like a lifeline. She was scribbling something on her clipboard, her brows furrowed in deep thought.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying not to startle her. “Coach asked me to rope you into measurement duty later.”

Yunjin looked up, eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh really? She knows I’m too much of a pushover to say no.”

You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “We can do it tomorrow if that’s okay with you. I mean, we’re both dead tired—”

But Yunjin shook her head before you could even finish. “No need.” She made another quick note on her clipboard and clicked her pen shut.

You blinked at her, confused. “No need? What do you mean?”

She tucked the pen behind her ear and gave you a breezy grin.

“I’ve already got it handled. I’ll coordinate with the other members of the costume department tonight. I’ll send out a group chat to set up measurement stations tomorrow. You don’t need to fuss over it.”

“Yunjin…” You let out a heavy sigh, guilt tugging at your chest. “I was supposed to help with that. Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t,” she said simply, waving you off as she slung the clipboard under her arm.

“You’re already carrying enough. Besides, I’m not in pointe shoes for four hours straight, so I have no excuse.”

You exhaled, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over you. “Thanks, Jin. Seriously. I owe you.”

“You can repay me by buying me milk tea later,” she teased with a wink. “Large size. Extra pearls.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Deal.”

“Alright, everyone!” Coach’s voice boomed across the studio, cutting through the chatter. “Circle up for cooldown. Don’t make me say it twice—your muscles will hate you tomorrow if you skip this.”

The dancers groaned collectively but began gathering in a loose circle, some dragging their feet dramatically. You joined the group, dropping down onto the polished wood floor with a tired huff.

Next to you, Kazuha stretched her arms overhead, giving you a knowing smile. “Survived another day.”

“Barely,” you murmured, already easing into a seated forward fold as Coach clapped her hands and started the cooldown routine.

It was comforting—the soft shuffle of tired dancers, the stretch of overworked muscles, and the low murmur of voices winding down after hours of practice.

But in the blink of an eye, the calm turned into a wave of movement.

One by one, your classmates started piling out of the studio, chattering about dinner plans and upcoming assignments, shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floor.

The sound of duffel bags zipping shut and water bottles being tossed into totes filled the air.

It wasn’t long before the room emptied, leaving you and Kazuha as usual—the last two standing. Or rather, sitting.

She remained cross-legged beside you, her expression relaxed as she scrolled through her phone, strands of hair sticking to her temples from sweat.

“Okay, okay. I need to use the restroom,” Kazuha finally said, pushing herself up with a small groan.

She grabbed her jacket off the floor and slung it over her shoulder. “You’ll be fine for five minutes, right?”

You glanced up at her with a tired grin. “Go. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kazuha paused near the doorway, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Do you want me to grab you anything on the way back? Food? Bubble tea?”

You narrowed your eyes at her teasing tone, already knowing where this was heading. “Don’t you dare start.”

But before you could even huff properly, she bolted out of the studio like a flash, laughing under her breath as her voice echoed down the hall. “Think about it! You might need comfort food after this!”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head with a small laugh as you leaned back on your palms. “Typical Zuha.”

The studio fell silent again, save for the faint creak of the air conditioning and the dull thud of your heartbeat finally steadying.

You glanced around—bags piled neatly by the mirrors, ballet shoes strewn on the benches, lights faintly reflecting off the polished wood floor.

Pushing yourself off the ground with a little groan, you grabbed your phone from your tote bag and connected it to the studio speakers.

With a few taps, a familiar melody filled the room, echoing warmly in the open space. You huffed, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face.

“Might as well be productive,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your shoulders as you stepped into position.

The soft piano introduction sent a wave of calm over you, your body falling naturally into the choreography.

Your satin skirt fluttered around your legs with every turn, the delicate fabric catching in the faint light.

Your movements grew fluid—each arabesque melting into a pirouette, each plié steady and precise. It was just you and the song, the rest of the world fading beyond the mirrored walls.

As the final notes played, you eased into your ending pose. A deep exhale escaped your lips, a sheen of sweat clinging to your skin. Straightening your posture, you let the quiet settle again.

But before you could fully catch your breath, three soft knocks sounded against the studio door.

You blinked, startled, and quickly dusted yourself off, running a hand over your slightly damp hair. Without bothering to peek through the glass panel, you strode over and pulled the door open.

Jay.

Guitar case slung casually over one shoulder, a plastic bag hanging from his other hand. He was still dressed in the same black shirt and jeans from earlier, his sleeves slightly rolled up.

“Hey,” he greeted simply, voice warm in the otherwise quiet hallway. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Jay? What… are you doing here?”

He tilted his head slightly, his usual stoic expression softening into a small grin. “My last class ended early, and band practice doesn’t start for another hour,” he said casually, stepping fully into the studio. “So, I thought… might as well be early.”

You moved aside instinctively, still gripping the door as you gestured for him to enter. “Oh. Right. Makes sense.”

As he stepped past you, you caught the faint smell of cologne mixed with something earthy and clean—like he’d walked straight from the evening breeze.

“And,” Jay added with a little more playfulness this time, setting his guitar case carefully against the wall and pulling a plastic bag from his wrist, “I’m trying to be a good boyfriend anyways.”

That made you pause mid-step, your breath catching faintly as your cheeks flushed.

You glanced at him, your lips twitching between a nervous smile and something incredulous. “Boyfriend, huh?”

He caught your gaze briefly, smirking faintly but saying nothing.

Instead, he grabbed two nearby chairs, scraping them gently across the polished wood floor. He turned them to face each other before sliding them up against the wall.

“Come sit,” he said simply, gesturing for you to take one of the chairs. “You look like you could use a break before your legs decide to give out.”

You let out a soft huff of a laugh, still flustered but oddly comforted. “Fine. But only because my legs actually might.”

You crossed the room and sat on the chair he set out, purposely scooting it a little away to put some space between you.

But Jay’s brows furrowed ever so slightly as he noticed, his hand reaching out without hesitation to grab the edge of your chair.

“Hey,” he muttered, pulling you closer until the legs of your chair lightly scraped against his. “None of that distance stuff. We’re supposed to be dating, remember?”

You sputtered, warmth creeping up your neck. “I—Jay!”

“What?” he asked innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Before you could argue further, he reached for the plastic bag resting at his feet and pulled out a small carton of banana milk and a neatly wrapped loaf of milk bread. He held them out to you casually.

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Wait—how’d you… how’d you know I like milk bread too?”

Jay didn’t miss a beat as he grabbed his own drink from the bag—an energy drink, the top already popped open.

“I asked Ni-ki,” he said matter-of-factly, taking a sip. “Who asked Kazuha.”

You stared at him incredulously, unable to stop the smile forming on your lips. “Kazuha already unblocked Ni-ki?”

Jay shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “I guess so. Or maybe Ni-ki just bribed her for information. You know how he is.”

As you were still processing that, Jay gently reached over again, plucking the banana milk from your hands.

He tore the straw from its wrapper with one swift move and punched it into the carton with ease before handing it back to you.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the carton back, cheeks warming even more at the simple gesture.

“Thanks,” you murmured, trying not to let your voice give too much away.

Jay leaned back in his chair, resting one ankle casually on his knee as he watched you take a sip. “You don’t have to thank me every time, you know.”

You glanced at him from over the rim of your carton, lips quirking. “Maybe I just feel like you’re spoiling me.”

He smirked faintly, his gaze flicking away briefly as if to hide the warmth creeping into his eyes. “Good. Get used to it.”

You let out a soft breath, leaning your head back against the cool studio wall. The fatigue settling into your limbs made it feel easier to just sink into the stillness for a moment.

Jay tilted his head, watching you with those calm, unreadable eyes before giving your arm a light nudge.

“Don’t lean on the wall,” he said, voice low but teasing. “Lean on me instead.”

You shot him a sideways glance, lips pressing into a thin line like you were considering fighting him on it, but the way he was already patting his shoulder expectantly made you sigh in defeat.

“You’re so persistent,” you muttered, shifting closer until your head came to rest on his shoulder.

The scent of his cologne—subtle yet expensive—immediately filled your senses. It wasn’t overpowering, but warm and grounding, the kind of scent that could become addicting if you weren’t careful.

You forced yourself to take another sip of your banana milk, hoping the sweetness would mask the strange flutter in your chest.

“Are you like this with every girl you date?” you asked quietly, almost testing, as your thumb rubbed over the carton’s edge.

Jay hummed, his head turning slightly so the side of his face brushed against your hair. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever dated.”

You let out a short huff of disbelief. “Stop lying, Park Jongseong.”

He chuckled at your reaction, his voice low and rich as it rumbled in his chest. “I’m not lying. You really are the first.”

The confession made your throat tighten for reasons you couldn’t quite name. You turned your gaze down to the milk bread still resting in your lap, picking at the edges of the plastic wrap nervously.

“Well, you’re mine too,” you admitted softly, a small smile tugging at your lips, “even if it’s fake.”

Jay chuckled quietly at that, but it wasn’t the amused sound you were used to—it was quieter, almost bitter around the edges. “Yeah,” he murmured, leaning his head gently against yours.

The weight of it sent a little shiver down your spine, and for a second neither of you moved, the faint thrum of the studio speakers humming in the background like a heartbeat.

Without thinking, you reached for his free hand, fingers brushing against his knuckles before intertwining with his. His larger hand folded instinctively around yours, warm and steady, as you pulled it onto your lap.

Jay didn’t say anything, but you caught the faintest upward curl of his lips reflected in the mirror across the studio.

He leaned in a little closer, gaze softening as he studied your mirrored forms—your loose hair slightly frizzed from practice, his dark shirt and jeans stark against your lighter tones.

His lips twitched, almost like he was amused at the contrast, but the smile he gave himself was small, private, and a little too fond for comfort.

“Kazuha’s taking too long,” you said after a moment, trying to shake off the quiet.

“Yeah?” Jay asked lazily, his thumb tracing a light circle over the back of your hand. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Said she needed to go to the bathroom,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “But knowing her, she’s probably halfway back from the convenience store.”

Jay let out a soft laugh, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Just like Ni-ki. I swear those two are more alike than they’d ever admit.”

“They really are,” you said with a small laugh of your own. “Chaos magnets.”

“Mmhm,” Jay agreed, the corners of his mouth quirking upward again.

He set down his half-finished energy drink on the floor beside him, leaning forward slightly as he fished his phone from his jeans pocket.

You blinked as he opened the camera app and tilted the screen toward the two of you, positioning it just right.

“Come on, pretty,” he coaxed, voice soft but playful as his thumb hovered over the shutter button.

You bit your lip, cheeks warming again as you leaned slightly closer to him for the photo.

Jay’s arm brushed yours as the phone clicked softly, capturing the two of you in the warm, lazy glow of the studio lights.

Before you could pull back, he flipped the camera one more time, holding it at a slightly higher angle.

You turned your head just as he snapped another picture, catching your profile in the frame, your loose hair falling effortlessly over your shoulder.

Jay studied the second photo, lips quirking upward faintly like he was proud of his candid capture. “Perfect,” he murmured to himself.

“Can I see?” you asked, craning your neck a little.

He angled the phone toward you, and you caught the sight of yourself leaning slightly against him, hair a little messy but soft, his hand still intertwined with yours in your lap.

“Not bad,” you teased lightly, sipping at your banana milk.

Jay let out a small chuckle, thumb hovering over the ‘post’ button as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Can I put this on my story?”

You froze for a heartbeat, eyes darting between him and the phone. But the image staring back at you didn’t feel awkward or fake—it felt oddly comfortable.

“Yeah,” you said softly, giving him a small nod.

His grin widened—barely, but enough for you to notice—as he quickly typed out a single little swan emoji followed before he hit ‘post.’

You blinked at the words, trying not to let your smile give too much away as you took another sip of your drink. “White swan?” you asked, amusement creeping into your tone.

Jay glanced down at you, his dark eyes glinting. “What? You don’t like it?”

You shook your head, cheeks warming as you ducked slightly. “No… it’s cute.”

The studio felt more like a playground than a rehearsal room.

You laughed so hard your stomach hurt as Jake bolted across the space, Sunghoon hot on his heels with a rolled-up sheet of paper like a sword.

“Sim Jaeyun!” Sunghoon yelled, his voice cracking slightly as he swung the paper at Jake’s retreating back.

Jake screeched dramatically, nearly tripping over a stray cable. “It was an accident, I swear!”

“Accident my ass!” Sunghoon shouted, finally whacking Jake on the shoulder with the makeshift sword. Jake yelped and flailed like a kid caught red-handed.

From his seat, Jay gave them a tired glance. “This is a music studio, not a playground,” he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Heeseung, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, couldn’t hide his grin. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

On the other side of the room, Kazuha was locked in a bickering match with Ni-ki over a knotted mess of amp wires.

“I told you to untangle these before rehearsal!” Kazuha snapped, tugging on one stubborn cable.

Ni-ki threw his hands up defensively. “Hey! Don’t blame me—Jay was the last one to use this amp!”

“Ni-ki, don’t you dare drag me into your mess,” Jay said lazily without even looking up.

Amid all this, Jay finally set his guitar aside and stood. He made his way to where you sat on the floor with your knees pulled up and your bag acting as a makeshift backrest.

Without a word, he dropped down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him, and then—to your surprise—he gently laid his head across your thighs with a dramatic sigh.

“They scare me sometimes,” he murmured, staring blankly up at the ceiling as if Jake and Sunghoon’s antics were some unsolvable cosmic riddle.

You bit back a laugh, reaching down instinctively to run your fingers through his dark hair.

“Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” you teased, your fingers combing gently through the soft strands.

Jay let out another exaggerated sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your touch. “Hell no. You don’t get used to idiots. You just survive them.”

You shook your head, laughing under your breath. “Survive them? You’re dramatic.”

“I’m honest,” he shot back, cracking one eye open to look at you. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re lucky you haven’t been around them for long. Me? I’ve seen things.”

You raised a brow, fingers still threading lazily through his hair. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Jake pouring an entire bottle of soda on his guitar case because he thought it was waterproof,” Jay deadpanned. “And Sunghoon trying to dry it with a blow dryer while the guitar was still inside.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of you at the mental image. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I was.”

You were about to tease him again when you realized—the room had gone eerily quiet.

The laughter, the yelling, even Kazuha’s dramatic scolding of Ni-ki—all of it had stopped.

Your fingers froze in Jay’s hair as you slowly looked up, only to find everyone staring.

Heeseung stood frozen mid-page flip, eyes wide. Jungwon had paused with his pencil half-raised like he’d forgotten what writing was. Kazuha and Ni-ki were no longer bickering about wires, now both gawking at you like you’d grown a second head.

Sunoo was the first to break the tense silence with his sharp voice cutting through: “Since when did you two get so close?”

Jay cracked open one eye, looking at Sunoo lazily as though this wasn’t the most incriminating position to be in—head in your lap, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

“…We’re dating.”

You could feel your soul leave your body.

“What?!” Ni-ki shouted so loud Kazuha flinched. “What the fuck—since when?!”

Kazuha blinked rapidly, voice rising in pitch. “I’m sorry—what?! Jay, repeat that!”

“Since when?!” Sunoo echoed again, clutching his chest like Jay had just personally betrayed him.

Jay sat up slightly but didn’t move far, propping his chin lazily in his hand as his smirk grew wider. “Do I need to print you all a timeline?”

Heeseung’s jaw dropped as Jungwon mumbled under his breath, “This has to be a prank. Jay doesn’t even like people.”

Kazuha’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “You—you’re dating—(Y/N)?”

Jay’s dark eyes slid to her as he tilted his head. “Problem?”

She sputtered. “No! I just—I didn’t—I didn’t know you knew how to date!”

“Rude,” Jay said dryly, but there was amusement tugging at his lips. He finally leaned fully away from you, though not before brushing his hand over yours casually.

You, meanwhile, wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Jay—” you hissed under your breath, cheeks burning.

“What?” he whispered back with the faintest smirk. “We’re fake dating, right? So why not sell it?”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you muttered, face still hot as you looked away from the group.

Jay only smirked, standing up and casually ruffling your hair as he passed. “Says you, pretty.”

You swatted at his hand, glare sharp, but it only made him chuckle lowly as he strode off—the picture of someone completely unbothered.

As your eyes lingered on his back, you felt someone sit beside you. Kazuha had dropped onto the floor next to you, her brows arched so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline.

“(Y/N),” she whispered sharply, leaning in close, her ponytail swinging. “You have three seconds—three—before I combust. Start talking.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line, waving your hands slightly. “Shh—it’s fake.”

Kazuha blinked. “…Fake?” Her voice was still hushed but dripping with disbelief.

“Yeah,” you whispered, shifting uncomfortably as you leaned your head back against the cool mirror behind you.

“We did it so… everybody would shut up. About all the gossip. About me. About him.”

Kazuha’s brows furrowed as she processed the words. Her gaze flicked between you and Jay across the room—where he was now slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder, laughing at something Jungwon said.

She moved a little closer, her tone softer now. “Well… as long as you two don’t regret it.”

You offered her a small, tired smile, fingers playing with the edge of your sleeve. “Yeah. I know. It’s not… it’s not like we’re planning for this to last forever.”

Kazuha sighed, her hand settling gently on your arm in a way that made the tightness in your chest loosen slightly.

“I just… don’t want you getting hurt, (Y/n). You’re too soft for this, and he’s—” She stopped herself with a quiet exhale. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you whispered back, looking at her with a faint smile. “And… I’m glad you care about me that way.”

Your gaze drifted back across the room—unwilling, yet magnetic.

Jay had his guitar fully strapped on now, his fingers effortlessly checking the tuning as his bandmates huddled around him.

Despite his focus on Jungwon’s animated explanation, he caught your eyes across the distance.

The faintest smile tugged at his lips. One so soft and unguarded it felt wrong for it to belong to the Park Jongseong people whispered about.

Then he turned back, nodding at something Jungwon said, his voice low but calm.

You swallowed down the weight blooming in your chest, unsure what to call it.

It had been three days since you agreed to fake date Park Jongseong.

Three days of shared meals.

Three days of him showing up at the studio earlier than necessary, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you practice with that lazy smile.

Three days of him walking you to your next class—hand in hand like it was second nature—his own classes long forgotten as he grinned at you like you were his syllabus.

And now, you were alone.

The warm air of the coffee shop clung to your oversized bomber jacket, the faint remnants of Jay’s cologne still lingering in the fabric like a quiet ghost.

Your fingers flew across your keyboard, the laptop screen glowing harshly against the dim, cozy lights of the café. Half-empty mugs littered the table—one of them yours, the other untouched, bought out of habit as if Jay were here too.

You let out a groan, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. “Ugh. Why is this so hard?” you mumbled under your breath, staring at the blinking cursor taunting you with the words ‘final paper due before college week’ at the top of your document.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the lack of Jay.

You sighed again, slumping into the wooden chair.

Dangerous. This was dangerous. Because Park Jongseong wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Like air you couldn’t stop breathing. Like the warmth in your chest when he’d casually brush the back of your hand with his thumb during a walk.

‘You’re getting attached,’ a voice in your head whispered—you knew it was true.

Your phone buzzed suddenly, sliding slightly on the table. You blinked, snatching it up as your heart did a stupid little leap at the name lighting up your screen.

jay 🐈‍⬛ [3:27 P.M.]: what are you doing right now, pretty?

You exhaled, typing back quickly.

you [3:27 P.M.]: drowning in a final paper. what about you?

It didn’t even take him thirty seconds to reply.

jay 🐈‍⬛ [3:27 P.M.]: i know, look outside.

Brows furrowing, you twisted in your seat, eyes scanning past the glass window. And there he was.

Park Jongseong, dressed casually in a black cardigan layered over a white shirt and jeans, a black messenger bag slung across his body. Black-framed glasses sat neatly on his nose, catching the warm café lights. A small grin played at his lips as he walked toward the entrance, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Your laugh bubbled out before you could stop it, your cheeks warming as he stepped into the cozy café light and headed straight for your booth. He moved with that same calm, unhurried stride that always made people turn their heads without him even trying.

As he reached you, Jay tipped his chin toward the empty space on the leather seat next to you, one brow raised playfully. “Is this seat taken?”

You shook your head with a grin, scooting over instinctively to give him space. “Nope. All yours.”

“Good,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement as his gaze flicked briefly to the faint remains of your croissant on the plate.

But instead of sitting down, he rested his hand casually on the booth’s backrest and asked, “What do you want?”

“Food,” he clarified with a small smile, nodding toward the menu displayed on the table. “What do you want? You’ve been here for hours—you’ve probably run off caffeine alone.”

“I already had coffee,” you admitted, gesturing to the half-empty cup beside your laptop, “and a matcha latte. Plus…” You pointed sheepishly to the empty plate. “A croissant. Even.”

Jay’s eyes followed your gesture, then drifted back to you, unimpressed. “That’s it?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a sheepish smile.

But he only shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Do you want those red velvet cookies you like? And another cup of matcha?”

Your lips twitched into a small, embarrassed grin as you nodded, unable to argue. “Maybe… yeah.”

“Thought so.” His voice softened with a quiet fondness as he glanced down at your nearly drained cup again.

“Oh,” you said quickly, remembering, “I actually got you coffee earlier, but…” You gestured toward the untouched cup in front of you, ice long since melted. “It’s, uh, a little sad now.”

Jay looked at it, then back at you, the corner of his lips twitching upward as he interrupted, “I’ll drink it. Don’t worry.”

You raised a brow. “You sure? It’s basically room temperature coffee-flavored water at this point.”

“I’ve survived worse.” His grin deepened as he reached for the cup and took a sip anyway, not even flinching. “See? Still good.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head in disbelief as you muttered, “You’re unbelievable.”

Jay set his messenger bag down gently beside you, only grabbing his wallet before straightening up again.

“I’ll get your order. Stay here. And don’t touch your laptop for five minutes, okay? Your brain needs a break.”

You watched him retreat toward the counter, his black cardigan catching in the warm café lights, and you couldn’t help the way your heart squeezed a little at how effortless he made it feel—this caring, this being around you.

It didn’t even take two minutes before he was back, balancing a small plate in one hand with a red velvet cookie neatly placed in the center and an iced matcha latte in the other.

He set them down gently on the table like they were precious cargo, the ice in the matcha clinking softly as he slid the plate closer to you.

“There,” Jay said with quiet satisfaction, sliding into the booth beside you. He pulled his messenger bag into his lap, unzipping it to fish out his own laptop. “Now you have no excuse not to take a break.”

You smiled at him gratefully, fingers curling around the cold cup. “Thank you, Jay.”

He arched a brow at you as he flipped open his laptop, the corners of his lips twitching into that familiar teasing grin. “So, how’s my pretty girl doing?”

You nearly choked on your sip of matcha, setting the cup down with a soft thunk. “You—” You groaned, burying your face into your hands as your cheeks burned. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes as he rested an elbow on the table, chin propped in his palm. “It’s the truth.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered through your hands, trying and failing to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Jay only chuckled, reaching out to gently tug your hands away from your face. “C’mere.”

You sighed in defeat and leaned against his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you as his arm automatically draped across your shoulders. His thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles against your upper arm.

“This paper’s going to be the end of me,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as you pressed your face lightly into the soft fabric of his cardigan.

Jay tilted his head slightly, glancing down at you with a soft huff of laughter. “No, it’s not. You’re too stubborn to let a paper win.”

You groaned again, closing your eyes as he gently shifted his hand to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. “I’m serious, Jay. I’ve rewritten this paragraph five times. I feel like my brain’s turned to mush.”

“You’re too cute when you’re frustrated,” Jay teased, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles on your shoulder as you buried your face in your hands.

You groaned louder this time. “Stop trying to charm me and help me instead,” you mumbled through your palms.

He laughed under his breath, warm and soft. “Alright, alright. I’ll help you. Come on—send me the document.”

You peeked at him from between your fingers, eyes narrowing playfully. “You? Help me? Jay, you hate English too. I know you do.”

Jay smirked, leaning slightly closer as his black-framed glasses slipped just a little down his nose. “Are you forgetting I grew up in the States?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard before a laugh escaped your lips. “Oh my God… yeah. I forgot about that.” You leaned your head back against his shoulder, eyes closing briefly.

“That’s actually so unfair. You’re good at everything, aren’t you?”

Jay chuckled, his hand moving from your shoulder to tap your chin so you’d look at him. “Not everything. But helping my pretty girlfriend survive her final paper? That I can do.”

You tilted your head at him, trying not to smile too hard as you asked, “Are you really sure about helping me? I don’t want to hear you complain halfway through.”

“Do you even have to ask?” he replied smoothly, already pulling out his laptop and sliding it closer. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he murmured, “Password?”

You sighed dramatically but couldn’t hide your smile as you pushed your laptop toward him. “Fine, Mr. Fluent. But if I still fail this paper, I’m blaming you.”

Jay laughed, eyes crinkling as he adjusted his glasses. “Deal. But trust me—you won’t. Now, let’s see what’s turning your brain to mush.”

The warmth of his presence next to you, his voice laced with soft amusement, made it dangerously easy to forget this was all supposed to be fake.

Before either of you noticed, time had slipped past. The soft hum of the coffee shop dimmed as people filtered out, chairs scraping lightly against the floor.

Your eyes wandered to the window, catching the faint blur of water streaking down the glass.

“It’s raining,” you murmured, voice soft with surprise.

Jay’s fingers paused on the keyboard, his black-framed glasses reflecting the dull glow of his screen as he looked at you. Then, he turned his head toward the window, sighing. “Well, we can’t do anything about it now.”

You frowned, hugging the bomber jacket closer as your thoughts drifted. “I need to feed Doobu.”

Jay’s gaze flicked back to you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You really are such a mom to that cat,” he teased lightly.

When your frown deepened, he chuckled and shut his laptop with a soft snap. “Good thing I’m prepared then.”

Your brows knitted as he leaned back in his chair and reached for his messenger bag. With an almost theatrical flourish, he pulled out a sleek black umbrella and gave it a little twirl in his hand.

“Really?” you asked, surprise breaking through your pout.

“Really,” he said, grin widening as he stood and offered you a hand. “Now pack up, pretty. We’re heading back before the rain gets any worse.”

You hesitated for a beat, staring at his outstretched hand and the casual way he said we’re heading back—like it was natural for him to be the one bringing you home.

With a soft huff, you started gathering your things, mumbling, “You act like I didn’t have a plan for getting back.”

Jay smirked knowingly. “Did that plan involve walking back alone in the rain with your laptop and a stack of papers?”

“…Maybe.”

He clicked his tongue, amusement glinting in his eyes.

As you zipped your bag and pushed it onto your shoulder, Jay was already standing, the black umbrella held loosely in one hand. His other hand was outstretched toward you, palm open, waiting.

You blinked at his hand for a moment before slipping your own into his, feeling the gentle but firm grip as his fingers curled around yours.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with a teasing undertone, dark eyes watching your face like he was memorizing it.

You gave a small nod, lips tugging upward despite the way your cheeks heated under his gaze. “Yeah. Let’s go before it gets any worse.”

The dorm lobby was alive with chatter—the low hum of voices, the occasional squeak of wet sneakers against polished floors, and the rhythmic drip of umbrellas shaking out rainwater.

You stood just inside the entrance, your bomber jacket clinging damply to your frame as Jay stepped back from the glass doors, his black cardigan wrung tightly in his hands.

He sighed, running a hand through his rain-dampened hair, water droplets falling to the floor with each movement. One foot still hovered near the door as if he’d been contemplating braving the downpour again, but he turned back to you instead.

“Here,” he murmured, slipping the soaked bomber jacket from your shoulders with a gentle tug. “No use keeping this on. You’ll catch a cold.”

You groaned softly at the clammy sensation of the fabric leaving your skin. “Ugh. I can already feel it in my bones.”

Jay chuckled under his breath, tucking the wet jacket over his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re so dramatic,” he teased, his dark eyes crinkling with amusement as he reached for your hand again. “Dry enough to head up?”

You nodded, though a small frown lingered on your lips. “I guess so.”

He caught the expression and tugged lightly at your hand, guiding you toward the elevators as laughter slipped past his lips. “Why’re you frowning like I just stole your cat?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, cheeks warming as you grumbled, “Because I feel gross, and it’s all your fault for saying we’d be fine with one umbrella.”

Jay grinned, unbothered by the small cluster of students watching from the lounge area—phones in their laps, murmurs passing quickly between them like wildfire.

It was still strange for them to see Park Jongseong—Decelis’ stoic, untouchable guitarist—smiling like this, soft and easy, his hand wrapped around yours as if he had no care for the whispers.

“Alright, I’ll take the blame,” he said warmly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze as the elevator dinged open. “But for the record, we were fine. I didn’t hear you complaining when you were stealing my body heat earlier.”

You huffed, attempting to mask your flustered smile as you stepped into the elevator. “That’s because I had no choice. You’re warm. Like… unnaturally warm.”

Jay followed you in, his grin growing wider as he leaned slightly against the elevator wall, still holding your hand as if letting go wasn’t an option. “Maybe I just run hot because of all the staring we’re getting.”

You shot him a look, realizing just how quiet the lobby had become behind you, the eyes still trailing as the elevator doors began to close.

“Let them stare,” Jay added, his tone softer now, eyes on you instead of anyone else. “They’ll get tired of it eventually.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, shaking your head as you muttered, “You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes fondly but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned against him, the soft fabric of his soaked cardigan brushing your cheek.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your frame, tugging you closer in a loose embrace despite being drenched himself. His warmth was faint but grounding, his palm rubbing slow circles on your shoulder in an effort to coax heat back into your chilled body.

Jay smirked faintly, eyes soft as he looked down. “Then we’ll be sick together. At least we’ll match.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. “That’s not something to be proud of.”

The elevator dinged softly as the doors slid open to the fifth floor, cool air greeting the both of you as you stepped out.

Jay’s hand remained at your lower back, fingers resting lightly as you walked side by side down the hallway.

It didn’t escape your notice how natural it felt—how his steps matched yours, how he didn’t even have to ask which door anymore.

You shuffled the keys in your hand, fiddling with them briefly before finally finding the right one. “I swear my hands have turned numb,” you mumbled, attempting to insert the key while Jay hovered just close enough to catch it if it slipped.

“You need gloves,” he said absentmindedly, watching you with a small crease in his brows. “I’ll bring you some next time.”

“Next time?” you teased lightly, pushing the door open.

He grinned, unbothered. “Yeah. What, you think I’m letting you walk around in this weather alone again?”

Before you could respond, a familiar meow cut through your thoughts. Doobu padded toward you, tail flicking as her paws made soft thuds against the floor.

You couldn’t help the grin that bloomed on your face. “Hi, girl,” you cooed, crouching slightly to hold your hands out. “Give us a moment, yeah?”

Jay chuckled softly behind you, closing the door after you both stepped inside. He immediately began toeing off his sneakers, placing them neatly by the door. You followed suit, tugging off your damp socks and placing them near your shoes.

“Doobu looks offended you came home late,” Jay teased, eyes flicking to your cat as she stood by the doorway, watching him like a sentinel.

“She’s just being dramatic,” you said, waving Doobu off playfully. “She missed me, didn’t you, baby?”

Doobu blinked slowly at you before turning her gaze—suspicious and unyielding—back to Jay.

To your surprise, Jay crouched down, resting on the balls of his feet as he extended a hand toward her.

“Hey there, princess,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and careful, like he was approaching royalty.

You watched with wide eyes as Doobu—your notoriously selective little cat—didn’t hesitate. She leaned her fluffy head into his hand, her tail flicking lazily as she allowed him to scratch under her chin.

Jay’s grin widened, eyes softening at the white fluffball now purring beneath his fingers. “See? I told you she loves me.”

You swallowed hard, your hands rubbing your arms absently as your chest tightened—not with unease, but something else you refused to name.

Clearing your throat lightly, you asked, “Jay…?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, not even looking up as his fingers continued their careful strokes through Doobu’s fur.

You shifted your weight nervously from one foot to the other, cheeks burning as you avoided his eyes. “Do you… uh…” You paused, gripping the hem of your shirt tightly. “Do you want to stay over?”

That caught his attention. Jay’s hand stilled in Doobu’s fur as his eyes flicked up to you. He didn’t speak immediately—just watched you with a look that was almost unreadable. Your gaze darted away, heat climbing all the way to your ears.

When he finally did speak, his lips twitched into an amused smile as he let out a soft laugh.

“No need. The rain’s gonna stop eventually.” He stood, brushing his palms on his jeans, still looking at you with that knowing glint in his eyes.

You raised a brow skeptically, stepping closer to the window just as a loud clap of thunder rattled the glass. Sheets of rain poured relentlessly outside, heavy and unyielding.

“Really, Jay?” you asked, your voice deadpan as you turned back to him with a single raised brow.

Jay ran a hand through his damp hair, laughing under his breath. “Okay, okay… maybe not. But hey—we’ll see, yeah?”

You sighed, fighting the way your lips wanted to curl upward. “Right.” Gesturing toward your vanity chair, you added, “Sit down, will you? You’re dripping all over my floor.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, plopping down in the chair with an exaggerated sigh as Doobu circled his feet like she’d adopted him already.

You knelt by your drawer, pulling out a folded set of your clothes and tossing them gently onto the bed for later. “Do you want to shower first or…?” You glanced back at him briefly, then looked away just as quickly.

“I’ll need to throw your clothes in the dryer if you’re planning to head out when—if—the rain stops.”

Jay leaned back in the chair, his black-framed glasses slightly fogged from the temperature change. His eyes glinted with amusement as he watched you shuffle through your drawer.

“Offering me your shower, your dryer… should I be worried you’re trying to make me stay longer?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, though your lips threatened to betray you with a smile. “Don’t make me take it back.”

He chuckled, stretching his arms above his head lazily. “Fine, fine. I’ll shower. Only because my clothes are sticking to me like a second skin.”

“Gross.” You wrinkled your nose teasingly, standing up with your hands on your hips.

Jay grinned as he began pulling off his damp cardigan. “You offered. Don’t act so surprised.”

You caught his smirk as you quickly turned your back to him, cheeks blazing. “Bathroom’s to the left. Towels are in the cabinet.”

“Got it.” He stood, ruffling your hair playfully as he passed you. “Thanks, pretty.”

You swatted at his hand half-heartedly, muttering, “Just go already.”

As the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut echoed in the room, you exhaled, shoulders sagging a little as if trying to shake off the heat blooming in your chest.

But of course, that didn’t help.

Trying to distract yourself, you knelt again by your drawers, fingers fumbling slightly as you rummaged for an oversized shirt and a pair of soft pajama pants—something Jay could wear while his clothes dried.

Your hands stilled for a moment as you stared at the folded fabric in your grasp.

Shaking your head, you pushed to your feet, clutching the clothes to your chest like a flimsy shield. You padded toward the bathroom door and raised a hand to knock, hesitating for half a second before rapping lightly on the wood.

“Jay?” you called softly, praying your voice didn’t betray the fluster simmering in your veins. “Are you… um, are you fully dressed, or…?”

There was a beat of silence, then the door creaked open just enough for his face to peek through.

Black hair damp and sticking slightly to his forehead, glasses fogged faintly at the edges from the bathroom’s heat—he was still fully clothed, a teasing grin tugged at his lips as his dark eyes flicked to the bundle of clothes in your arms.

“Planning to see me naked or what?” he drawled, leaning a little too casually against the doorframe.

Your mouth dropped open, heat crawling up your neck. “W-what?!”

Jay’s grin widened, clearly enjoying himself as he tilted his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you, pretty. I know I look good—”

“Shut up.” You grumbled, shoving the bundle of clothes against his chest hard enough that he had to catch them. “Here. Wear these before I regret offering you my dryer privileges.”

His laugh echoed warmly as you grabbed the door handle, avoiding his gaze entirely. “Relax, I’m kidding—”

The words were cut off when you shoved the door closed in his face, his amused chuckle lingering through the wood like a ghost haunting your sanity.

You slumped forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the door, the faint sound of running water starting again on the other side.

“What am I getting myself into?” you whispered to no one in particular, clutching the edge of your hoodie as if it could steady the wild thrum of your heart.

Doobu, perched on the corner of your bed, blinked at you like she knew. Like she always knew.

Every little thing felt dangerous now.

It wasn’t part of the deal. None of this was.

You were supposed to keep this clean. Keep it simple.

But how could you, when the lines between fake and real blurred every single time he looked at you with those soft, knowing eyes?

Doobu’s tail flicked lazily against the sheets, her gaze still fixed on you.

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered to her. “I know. I’m an idiot.”

Your shoulders shook as you tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh.

Jay’s reflection in the mirror only made it worse: his black-framed glasses slightly fogged from the heat of the room, fluffy, towel-dried hair falling haphazardly over his brows as he pouted behind you, hands working the blow dryer through your still-damp strands.

“Seriously, (Y/N),” he groaned, swaying slightly on his feet like it physically hurt him to say it, “pink Hello Kitty pajamas? With matching socks?”

You bit your lip hard, but the laugh still slipped out. “You look adorable, though.”

His eyes flicked up in the mirror, narrowing playfully at you. “Adorable? I’m a grown man, you know. The guitarist of a band. Not your—your sleepover buddy in Sanrio merch.”

“Mmhm.” You met his gaze in the glass, your grin widening as you teased, “You’re matching with me too, so you can’t even complain.”

Jay huffed, dramatic as ever, and reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. Then, with a resigned sigh, he placed his chin carefully on top of your head, his fingers still gently raking through your hair.

“Be glad they’re fluffy,” he muttered. “If they weren’t, I’d have thrown a fit.”

You giggled, patting the top of his head like he was a sulky cat. “You’re surviving, big guy. Promise.”

When he was satisfied your hair wasn’t damp anymore, he switched off the blow dryer and set it aside. You stood, stretching a little as he followed you wordlessly to the bed. Both of you sank down onto the edge, the springs giving a soft creak.

Outside, thunder rolled low and lazy, followed by a flash of light that seeped through the cracks of your curtains.

Jay sighed, tipping his head sideways until it rested on your shoulder, his voice quieter now. “At this rate,” he murmured, “I think I’ll have to sleep over.”

You tilted your head slightly, catching sight of his soft profile, his lashes brushing his glasses. “That’s what I’m saying,” you replied with a small smile.

His lips curved into a grin against your shoulder. “Do I get extra points for being a respectful fake boyfriend and asking first?”

You laughed, leaning your head lightly against his. “I think you’ve already earned them, Jongseong. You dried my hair in Hello Kitty pajamas.”

He chuckled, shoulders shaking faintly. “Touché.”

Another rumble of thunder echoed outside, but in the warmth of your room, with Jay pressed comfortably against your side, it didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Jay shifted, leaning back slightly so he could meet your eyes, his voice soft but teasing. “Do you want to eat?”

You blinked at him, eyebrows raising as you glanced at the window where rain still poured in heavy sheets. “Jay, no one’s going to deliver food in this weather.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I didn’t say anything about delivery. I’ll cook.”

You turned to fully face him now, your expression somewhere between incredulous and amused. “You can cook?”

He stood, stretching a little as your shirt fell loose around him, then looked down at you with that confident half-smile of his. “I can. I’m pretty good at it, actually. So, what do you want?”

You paused for a moment, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them. “Anything with soup. I want something warm.”

His grin widened as he gave a mock salute. “Soup it is. Your personal chef, at your service.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he made his way to the small kitchenette tucked into the corner of your dorm. He flicked on the light above the stove, already pushing his black-framed glasses up into his hair to keep them from fogging.

“Alright, chef Park Jongseong reporting for duty. What do we have to work with?”

You leaned back against the pillows, watching him open the fridge. “Literally everything.”

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder as he started checking the contents of your fridge and drawers. “You know, for someone who claims she doesn’t cook much, you’re stocked like a mini grocery store.”

You let out a small groan, pulling the comforter over your head like a turtle retreating into its shell. “That’s because Yunjin’s always dragging me to the supermarket with her. She acts like we’re shopping for a family of five.”

Jay laughed as he pulled out a few ingredients, setting them on the counter. “So basically, I should thank Yunjin for keeping you from starving?”

“Exactly.” You peeked out from under the blanket just in time to see him open a cabinet, finding pots and pans with a triumphant little hum.

He moved like he belonged there—like stepping into your small kitchen wasn’t foreign to him at all. In one smooth motion, Jay set the pot on the stove, grabbed vegetables from the fridge, and pulled oil and condiments from the shelves as if he’d memorized where everything was.

You didn’t even remember showing him.

It was amazing. Endearing, too, in a way that made your chest ache.

How did he manage to fit so seamlessly into your world? Into your space?

You hugged your knees tighter, eyes following the way his shirt shifted with every movement, the soft strands of his hair falling into his face until he brushed them back with a flick of his fingers.

With a small huff, you pushed the blanket off and stood up, padding softly across the room until you were behind him.

Jay was just tilting the bottle of oil over the pot when you slipped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his back.

He froze mid-pour, setting the oil bottle carefully down on the counter. His hands hovered for a moment before he let them fall over yours, thumbs brushing lightly against your knuckles.

“…What’s up?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, “Nothing.”

His head turned slightly, as if trying to catch your expression. “Doesn’t sound like nothing, pretty.”

You exhaled shakily. “Thank you… for everything.”

Jay let out a quiet chuckle, one hand leaving yours to rest over your forearm, squeezing it gently.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just—” He stopped himself when he felt you press a little closer, like you didn’t want to let go.

Slowly, he turned in your embrace, his hands coming up to cup your face. His thumbs brushed softly under your eyes, catching the faint glassiness there.

“Hey… why do you look like you’re about to cry?” he murmured, his brows knitting together as he searched your expression.

You shook your head quickly, eyes falling shut under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m not,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed the tightness in your chest.

Jay sighed, his hands gentle as ever as he tugged you closer. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he said quietly, leaning down until his lips brushed the crown of your head.

He pressed a lingering kiss there, the warmth of it sinking straight into your bones.

For a moment, neither of you moved—just standing there in the soft kitchen light, his forehead resting against your hair as his arms curled protectively around you.

“Stay here for a bit,” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the sound of the rain outside. “Let me take care of you.”

You stayed still for another moment, his warmth and the steady thrum of his heartbeat making it so tempting to stay there forever. But with a small sigh, you loosened your hold on him.

“Go on. Finish cooking, Jay,” you said softly, stepping back.

His brows furrowed as he caught your wrist, keeping you close. “Promise me you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low but firm.

You blinked up at him, meeting those searching brown eyes behind his glasses. For a heartbeat, it felt like he was seeing through every wall you’d ever built.

But you managed a small, reassuring smile, nodding as you said, “I’m okay, Jay. Really.”

His eyes scanned your face one more time, as if memorizing every detail, before he let out a quiet breath and nodded. “Alright,” he said gently, finally releasing your hand. “But you tell me if you’re not, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your smile growing just a little softer.

He lingered for half a second before turning back to the stove, picking up where he left off with his chopping and stirring. You, on the other hand, padded back to the bed, curling up against the pillows as you grabbed the remote.

“What do you want to watch?” you called out, flipping through the streaming apps idly.

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation, his focus on carefully stirring the pot.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so easy to please.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Not really. I just trust your taste, pretty.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you quickly turned back to the TV, muttering, “Fine. But don’t blame me if we end up watching some cheesy rom-com.”

“Cheesy rom-com with you sounds perfect,” he teased, and you groaned, burying your face in the pillow as you tried—and failed—not to smile.

In the kitchen, Jay hummed softly under his breath, the sound blending with the gentle clatter of utensils and the comforting scent of soup starting to fill your dorm.

Every now and then, he’d glance your way, his expression softening like he couldn’t believe you were really here—like this wasn’t just some arrangement.

Time slipped quietly between you both after that. The sound of the rain outside became background noise to the soft dialogue of the movie you’d picked—a mellow rom-com that played lazily on the screen.

You had gotten so lost in the plot, your legs curled up beneath you, blanket tucked over your lap, that you didn’t notice when Jay padded softly around the room behind you.

At some point, the faint clinking of dishes came from the kitchenette, followed by the low hiss of something being poured. But your eyes stayed glued to the screen as your fingers fidgeted absently with the edge of the blanket.

It wasn’t until the bed dipped gently beside you that you tore your gaze away, startled.

Jay sat down next to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he placed two plates down on the small table in front of you—each holding a hollowed-out round of bread filled generously with steaming vegetable chowder.

Your brows arched in surprise as you glanced from the plates back up to him. “Wait, what’s this?”

“Vegetable chowder,” he said simply, brushing his slightly damp hair from his forehead. “In bread bowls. Thought I’d go a little fancy for you.”

Before you could answer, he got up again, moving back to the kitchenette where he grabbed two glasses of water.

He returned and set them down neatly beside the plates, as though he’d done this a hundred times before.

You blinked at him, warmth blooming in your chest as you murmured, “You didn’t have to, Jay.”

He looked at you then, his eyes soft, almost teasing. “You say that like I don’t want to.”

Your lips twitched upward into a small smile as you reached for the plate he slid toward you. “Thank you,” you said softly, wrapping your fingers around the spoon resting on the side.

Jay’s eyes followed your movements as you scooped up a bit of the steaming chowder, bringing it to your lips carefully.

You blew on it a little before tasting it, the warm, savory flavor melting on your tongue.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise as you looked back at him. “Wait… this is actually really good.”

“Actually?” he repeated with a mock frown, though there was amusement dancing in his eyes. “That’s all I get?”

You laughed, the sound slipping out before you could even stop it, and quickly covered your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay, okay,” you said between little giggles. “It’s really well made. Creamy, perfectly seasoned, not too heavy—I love it.”

His grin softened into something warmer as he leaned an elbow on his knee, chin resting against his palm as he watched you take another bite. “Thank you,” he murmured.

You licked your lips, savoring another spoonful before looking up at him again, curiosity flickering across your face. “Seriously though… where did you learn to cook this good? You’re like—surprisingly domestic.”

Jay chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling pleasantly in his chest. He leaned back against the headboard, stretching one arm across the top as he thought.

“My mom, mostly. She loves to cook, so she made me help out the chefs a lot when I was younger. Said every man should know how to make at least one good meal.”

You grinned at the image of a tiny Jay peeling vegetables or stirring soup under his mom’s watchful eye. “That’s so cute. And the ‘chefs’ part?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… them too. I mean, my parents hired some of the best chefs back home. I picked up a lot just by hanging around the kitchen when I didn’t feel like doing homework.”

Your eyes went wide, and you pointed your spoon at him dramatically. “Wait—you have chefs? Oh my God. You really are rich rich.”

Jay let out a laugh that had his shoulders shaking, his head tilting back slightly. “I told you,” he said with a smirk, “I’m not rich. My parents are. Big difference.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a smile tugging at your lips as you took another bite. “Totally sounds like something a rich person would say.”

Dinner passed in a comfortable ease, the sound of rain still thrumming heavily against the window, but it felt less suffocating now—almost soothing.

You found yourself laughing too easily at Jay’s sarcastic remarks about the plot of the movie playing faintly in the background, and he seemed just as content throwing glances your way between bites.

By the time both your bowls sat empty on the small table, the two of you had migrated further up the bed.

Jay’s glasses had been discarded somewhere near the footboard, and you were now curled beside him, the both of you cocooned in the thick duvet as the movie rolled on.

“I still can’t believe he didn’t run after her in the first place,” Jay muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the screen where the male lead was pacing a dimly lit airport.

“Like, are you serious? She literally confessed, cried, and this guy just stood there like a log.”

You hummed, nodding faintly as you shifted closer to him. “I know, right? Classic. We love emotionally constipated male leads,” you mumbled, voice quieter now as you rested your head fully against his shoulder.

His arm tightened instinctively around your frame, hand brushing lightly up and down your upper arm as his focus returned to the screen.

Another scene played out—a heated fight, tears, a final desperate plea—and Jay made another comment, his voice soft and laced with mock exasperation. But when there was no reply, his brow furrowed slightly.

“(Y/N)?” he murmured, glancing down.

You didn’t answer.

Instead, he found you sound asleep against him, lips parted slightly, your lashes casting delicate shadows over your cheeks.

His expression softened in an instant. A quiet laugh left him—low, breathy, fond—as he carefully reached for the remote to lower the volume.

“Of course you’d knock out now,” he teased softly, though there was no bite to it.

Jay shifted carefully, sliding down until his head rested against the pillows. He pulled you with him, repositioning you so your cheek rested comfortably over his chest, his arms wrapping securely around you.

Your fingers, loose at first, instinctively curled into his shirt like they belonged there.

He smiled at the small gesture, his thumb brushing tenderly over your shoulder as he pressed his lips lightly to the crown of your head.

“Sleep, pretty girl,” he whispered into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Outside, the rain continued its steady rhythm against the glass, but in the warmth of your room, nestled in Jay’s arms, it felt a world away.

Light spilled into your room in faint golden streaks, slipping past the curtains and painting your walls in a quiet, sleepy glow.

The world outside was still a little dark, the rain from last night leaving droplets clinging to the window.

You moved slightly under the covers, the movement making you aware of the steady warmth pressed against your side.

Your brows furrowed for a second before the memories came flooding back—his laugh over dinner, the way his fingers brushed your hair dry, his arm pulling you closer as you both sank into the mattress.

It wasn’t a dream.

You sighed softly, instinctively shuffling closer to the heat, letting the fabric of his t-shirt brush against your cheek as you tucked your face against his chest.

He smelled faintly of your soap and something that was just… Jay. Comforting. Familiar.

If this was fake, your heart was clearly doing a terrible job at remembering it.

You tilted your head slightly, gaze catching on his sleeping face—his dark hair a little messy, strands sprawled across your pillow; his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks as he breathed steadily, lips parted just slightly.

He looked younger like this. Softer.

A smile tugged at your lips before you sighed again and started to moved away, only to freeze as his arms instinctively tightened around you, pulling you back flush against his chest.

“Jay,” you whispered under your breath, trying not to laugh as you wiggled slightly. “You’re literally—like—a human seatbelt right now.”

His hold didn’t loosen.

Groaning softly, you reached out blindly for your phone on the nightstand, your fingers barely grazing it before it almost slipped.

You let out a panicked squeak, fumbling as you caught it just in time. Relief washed over you as you lay back with a soft sigh, unlocking the screen to check the time.

6:07 AM. Just in time.

A low, sleepy groan sounded from above you, and you turned your head slightly to see Jay’s lashes flutter as he stirred. His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper.

“…what time is it?” he murmured, his brows drawing together slightly.

You glanced back at your phone before looking at him again, his dark eyes only half-open but focused on you now. “Six. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

He hummed low in his chest, voice still heavy with sleep. “Mm… six? Too early.”

“I know,” you whispered, a small laugh escaping as you tried to slide away again. “But I should get up—”

Before you could finish, his arm looped fully around your waist, tugging you back so quickly that you let out a surprised yelp.

“Jay!”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled into your hair, voice muffled and almost childlike. “You’re warm.”

You froze for a moment, your cheeks heating as you stared at the ceiling. “…You’re clingy.”

“Mmhm.”

But still, you let yourself relax back into his hold, your phone falling onto the mattress beside you.

“…You drool in your sleep,” you teased after a moment, just to distract yourself from how loud your heart was pounding.

His lips curved lazily against your hair. “Liar.”

You huffed out a laugh, fingers instinctively starting to trace light, absentminded circles over the fabric of his shirt—right along his stomach.

Jay flinched slightly at the ticklish touch but didn’t stop you, a soft chuckle rumbling low in his chest.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as his hand shifted to cradle the back of it gently.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, his dark eyes still heavy with sleep but impossibly warm as they softened on you. “Good morning,” he whispered.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Good morning,” you whispered back.

Jay let out a deep sigh, his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. “We have classes this morning, right?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with reluctance.

“Mm,” you hummed a yes, not trusting your voice to sound normal with how close his face was to yours.

He groaned dramatically, his head falling back onto the pillow. “This is way too early. Who invented morning classes? I just wanna talk.”

You laughed, patting his chest lightly. “This is normal for me. I take forever to get ready.”

His brows raised slightly, a playful grin tugging at his lips as his hand rubbed soothing circles on your arm. “You? Taking forever to get ready? No way.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, rolling your eyes with a laugh.

Before he could say something else, the mattress dipped, and both of your heads snapped to the side just in time to see Doobu hopping up onto the bed.

Her fluffy white paws padded across the blanket until she stopped right at Jay’s stomach.

Without hesitation, she circled twice then plopped herself down, curling up like she owned the spot.

You blinked at the sight, and Jay glanced down in surprise as the small weight settled on him. “Well… good morning to you too, Doobu,” he said with a soft laugh, lifting a hand to tentatively scratch behind her ears.

You reached over to pet her as well, smiling at your cat. “Hi, Doobu. You’re really getting comfortable there, huh?”

“She’s got good taste,” Jay teased, watching as Doobu purred loudly under your combined affection.

“Or maybe she just likes warm, grumpy guitarists,” you shot back, laughing when Jay gave you a mock-offended look.

“She doesn’t even know I play guitar.”

“She knows enough.”

Jay snorted, shifting slightly as he kept petting Doobu. “Great. My competition for your affection is your cat. I can’t win this one, can I?”

You leaned your chin back on his chest, grinning at him. “Not unless you can purr like her.”

He raised a brow. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you countered with a cheeky smile.

He chuckled, his fingers brushing over your jaw for a brief moment before settling back on Doobu. “Fair enough.”

Eventually, the two of you managed to drag yourselves out of bed—though not without Jay dramatically groaning about how ‘it’s illegal to get up this early.’

You rolled your eyes and tugged him toward the kitchenette where the two of you brushed your teeth side by side at the small sink.

Your reflections stared back at you from the faint sheen of the kitchen window, where rain streaked down lazily and blurred the view of the nearby field outside.

The ground was still soaked, puddles reflecting the gray morning sky.

Jay wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his black-framed glasses slightly fogged from the temperature shift.

“We both have rehearsals today, right?” he asked, his voice still scratchy from sleep.

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, spitting out toothpaste foam before grabbing your hand towel.

“There was a bunch of guitar cases when I peeked into the studio yesterday. Were those yours?”

Jay leaned his hip against the counter, grinning sheepishly as he folded his arms. “And the others too. We all kind of tried to ditch practice early yesterday, but I guess karma’s making us pay for it today.”

You laughed softly, handing him his folded clothes that had been hanging near the bed to dry. “Here. Better change before your precious guitars start a search party for you.”

He smirked, taking them from your hands. “Aye aye, captain. I’ll get dressed real quick.” He disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

While he changed, you rifled through your drawers and quickly pulled out your outfit—black jeans, a pink frilly blouse, and your favorite soft pink cardigan.

As soon as Jay emerged, now looking effortlessly put together in his black cardigan layered over his white shirt and jeans again, you darted into the bathroom to change and wash your face.

By the time you came out, he was standing by your vanity, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag.

You took his place at the seat, doing your skincare and swiping on some lip gloss as Jay picked up his phone to check something.

“You ready?” he asked after a moment, watching you toss your lip gloss back into your pouch.

“Almost. Can you refill Doobu’s bowl, please?” you said without looking up, focused on zipping your bag.

“Sure. Where’s her food?”

You pointed to the lower drawer by the fridge. “There.”

He crouched down easily, pulling it open and fishing out the bag of Doobu’s food. She must’ve heard the familiar sound because she immediately pranced over, tail held high and brushing against Jay’s shin.

“You’re so spoiled,” Jay murmured to the cat, shaking out the food into her bowl before straightening. “But I get it. You’re cute.”

“She’s training you already,” you teased, sliding your laptop into its sleeve.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, smirking as he put the bag back and shut the drawer. “Not hard. Your whole apartment’s kind of training me.”

“Training you?” you asked, amused as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Yeah.” He grabbed cardigan from the back of your chair and shook it out lightly before slipping it on.

“To… I don’t know. Make dinner, feed cats, be the kind of guy who carries an umbrella without forgetting it in every store.”

“Sounds like you’re saying I’m turning you domestic.”

“Sounds like you’re admitting you like having me here.”

You shot him a playful glare as you brushed past to put on your shoes. “Shut up and put your shoes on, Park.”

But you didn’t miss the soft grin tugging at his lips as he obeyed, crouching down beside you at the door.

You tried—tried so hard—not to let your eyes linger. Not to let your heart skip at the way he tied his sneakers with practiced ease, one hand braced casually on his knee.

But it was useless. Everything about him was slipping through the cracks you’d carefully built in your chest.

If this was fake, if all of this—his quiet laughter in your kitchen, his hands in your hair, his patient presence folded into your small world—was just part of the act—

Then what did it say about you that you wanted the real thing?

You shook the thought away quickly, standing as Jay followed suit. His shoulder brushed yours lightly, and for a second it felt… too normal. Too easy.

You grabbed your keys from the counter, sparing one last glance at Doobu still curled up on your bed. “Bye, Doobu. Be good while I’m gone, yeah?” you said softly.

Jay crouched slightly, pointing at her like he was scolding a child. “And stop stressing your mom out, okay?”

You laughed, fumbling with your lock as he straightened up, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured as the door clicked shut.

“Ridiculously charming,” he countered with a wink that had you rolling your eyes—but not without smiling.

Outside, the air was cool and damp, the faint smell of rain lingering as Jay stretched his hand out toward you expectantly.

“Come on,” he said with a small tilt of his head, fingers wiggling slightly like he was daring you not to take them. “We’ve got all morning before classes start.”

You stared for a beat too long before slipping your hand into his. His grasp was warm, familiar.

“You’re turning soft, Jay,” you teased, the words laced with something you couldn’t quite name.

His lips quirked as he squeezed your hand, a flash of mischief lighting his eyes. “Only for you.”

And maybe—just maybe—you let yourself believe him, if only for a moment.

⤷ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified ⤷ piece taglist — @strawjayrries @dearestdreamies

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