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hhaechansmoless · 22 days ago

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LIGHTS OUT PT.1

pairing: f1driver!haechan x PRmanager!femreader

genre: fluff, angst, romance

description: Haechan, bold, aggressive and unrelenting, is back after a narrowly missed opportunity to become the world champion in 2024. This time, he's set his sight on making it all the way to the top. You, as his newly appointed PR representative, are assigned with the task of keeping up with a world of high stakes, unpredictable twists and well, him.

warnings: strong language, stressful situations, descriptions of car crashes and physical exhaustion, slowburn, honestly quite f1 heavy

w/c: part 1 - 17.8k part 2 - 15.8k

glossary

a/n: its here after so long cries. I loved writing this so much!! it's heavy on the f1 technicalities and races and stuff so I hope I've done justice to that. So excited for this season to start (not a red bull fan so in no way am I manifesting max 5th but !!! haechan <3). The number of tabs and informatory articles and vids I watched to make this as authentic and real as possible will haunt me but I would not have it any other way. This is for all my f1 + kpop fans, but to those who are only a part of one, hopefully you will fall in love with the other. The glossary, I think, will help a lot for those who don't watch f1 so I'd suggest keeping that tab open as you read this. I truly hope you guys love this as much as I do! comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3 (if you want to be notified for pt 2, i don't have a taglist yet so u can just write a comment/dm/ask!)

BAHRAIN, PRE-SEASON TESTING, DAY-1

February 26th

Well, that Mercedes is fast on the straights, Haechan thinks as he swoops into the slipstream. The heat is already getting to him. He’s sure he had asked for the evening time slot. Maybe he’ll talk with his engineer about this as soon as he gets out of this godforsaken car. To be fair, it isn’t godforsaken, not really. In fact he has an inkling that it’s far from that as he watches his delta on the screen blink green— faster than his last lap— but nowhere near the times posted by Mercedes and Ferrari.

“Am I good to overtake?” Haechan speaks into his radio.

“Let’s take it easy. No need to exert too much Haechan. Sector 1 and 2 look good, let’s shave a tenth off in sector 3 and we’ll box to check the metrics.”

Three laps later and fifteen minutes to lunch, the roar of the engine grows louder as the RB21 pulls off the main straight and into the pit lane. He comes to a stop and the mechanics swarm the car, taking off its wheels and pushing it into the garage. Haechan climbs out of the cockpit removing his navy blue helmet and balaclava, hair ruffled up. You think of walking over to him. You really need to introduce yourself and inform him about the media before he heads over to lunch, but for the moment you stay back, eyeing him.

He looks pissed and it’s definitely the sandbagging. That’ll be one question the journalists will definitely ask and Haechan cannot respond in the way you think he will now. Helmet still in hand he walks over to the pitwall to discuss with his engineers. You look around his side of the garage and everyone looks drained. It’s been a long day and Haechan has had quite a lot of feedback on the car, which is good, you suppose. But the team is tired and it’s obvious that they long for the break before the grind starts again with his teammate.

Haechan and his senior race engineer walk back into the garage and you overhear a part of their conversation as you pick up your work phone and your small notepad before trailing slightly behind them.

“At least Mercedes remembers how to build a car again,” His engineer tries to lighten him up, “Don’t worry, our simulations predict our raw times will be faster anyways.”

Haechan mutters something and finally sets his helmet down on a desk next to his car. You take this moment to walk up to him.

“Hello. It’s time to go to the media pen.” You smile slightly as he turns around to look at you for a second before nodding and following you out.

“The media will definitely ask about the comparatively slow pace. You should probably-”

“I mean, why would they even ask about pace during testing, really?” He interjects, and you realize the bite of irritation is still present.

“Look, they’re not looking for the truth, they’re just looking for attention grabbing headlines. You don’t have to give them this energy. Play it cool please, it really matters what you say in there.”

Now you think he’s annoyed with you as well, as he finally tilts his head to look at you, “So what do I say?”

“You’re supposed to look like you know something they don’t. Keep it simple, confident, and let them wonder. Say something like…” You glance at your notes and repeat your carefully crafted line: “‘Testing is about data, not lap times. We’re happy with the direction we’re heading in, the team is constantly making improvements, and the real test will be race day.’”

You come to a halt outside the pen and stare at him. For a moment he seems to want to push back, but to your good luck he sighs, “All right, I’ll play along this once. Get your mic ready Ms….” He trails off , already ahead of you, “Wait, who are you again?” Haechan looks over his shoulder and you shake your head.

You exhale, “Your new PR rep.” But he’s already gone and you scramble for your phone to record him as you push past others to make your way to the journalist he’s talking to.

God may the whole season not be this way.

AUSTRALIA, ALBERT PARK GRAND PRIX CIRCUIT

Thursday, Media day March 13th

It’s a pleasant day, Haechan thinks as he steps out of his motorhome. A little too early in the morning but pleasant nonetheless. Johnny, his personal trainer, closes the door behind him, shutting out the chilly air from the air conditioning inside.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Johnny whistles, swinging an arm around Haechan’s shoulders.

Haechan shrugs, “Same old, to the hospitality and then I think I have a meeting with the engineers before media duties start.”

Johnny watches as Haechan taps his ID against the scanner at the entrance, the soft beep barely audible over the sudden clicks of cameras. A few photographers are stationed near the barricades, lenses focused on the driver as he enters the paddock. He watches as Haechan subtly straightens his back, unconsciously adjusting the collar of his polo.

“Smile a little man,” Johnny teases, “Don’t want them thinking you already regret your choices.”

Haechan scoffs, shaking his head but it works as the corners of his lips lift up slightly. “Would be surprised if they haven’t already decided that, seeing our testing results.”

“Oh yeah, about that. I heard you’ve got a new P.R manager now. Seems like the team’s going about a different plan for this season eh?”

“Can’t say I like it very much,” He sighs, “And yeah, I met her during testing. Think I have a meeting with her team as well. God help me escape from the bullshit I’m about to say in the press con today.”

“She’s that bad?” Johnny raises his brows.

“No, I mean. The team strategies aren’t up to her, are they?” Haechan breathes out as they make their way to the Red Bull hospitality centre. Climbing up the stairs, he notices the Mercedes hospitality beside theirs, Kim Doyoung standing outside conversing with his manager. He catches Haechan’s gaze and waves making Haechan walk over to him. Johnny waits outside, pulling out his phone to make sure Haechan’s practice sessions are scheduled timely for the weekend.

Haechan jogs back over in a minute or two. Johnny holds the door open when the younger speaks again, “It’s just that, I know the car is quicker than we expected and a lot better than last year but at the same time, I haven’t driven at my full potential yet and it’s giving me a hard time seeing where I stand.”

Johnny can’t do anything but nod in sympathy.

“And honestly? Doyoung seems quite confident. He’s more laid-back than usual, you know? Was joking around with me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen their team like that.”

“Well,” Johnny laughs, softly pushing him into his meeting room, “Good for him, he hasn’t had a car worthy of his potential for a good few seasons, has he?”

Haechan hums, slightly unconvinced and cautious before he shakes himself out of it, “Where will you be until I get out?” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he turns around to face Johnny.

“I don’t know. I was thinking of making new friends. Maybe that new PR lady of yours if she’s around.”

—

“Now, coming to you Haechan. Last season was quite a close one, I mean, you managed to keep the fight up till the last 4 races. At a point I’m sure we all thought we’d see a new world champion in 2024. How do you suppose this season will turn out? Do you think that you have a car that can challenge for the drivers championship again? Where do you think the improvements have been made compared to last year?”

“Well, improvements have been made everywhere… That’s the aim, is it not? Last year, towards the end it got a bit hard. We had issues with the floor and made a few strategic mistakes. But I think over the winter break, the team’s been working really hard and we’re confident that we can put up the fight this season too.”

“You have a new teammate this season, Lee Jeno. How will the team dynamics work out between you two? Do you think that, apart from other teams, your teammate could be your biggest opponent?”

“Yeah, Jeno’s done a great job at VCARB so it’s nice to see him here now. I mean, we’re both here to push the team forward. At the end of the day, we both want the same thing. If he’s my biggest opponent then that just means we’re doing something right.” Haechan laughs.

As the moderator moves on, Haechan zones out, fingers unconsciously tracing the outline of the two bulls on the can in his hand. He’s pulled back in when he's mentioned in one of Mark's questions.

“Towards mid season last year it was almost a three way championship fight. It was quite exciting to see Haechan and you pit against each other. After all, we've been seeing the two of you compete with each other in all the junior series too. How did it feel to reach that high rung with a friend?”

“We spoke about it during that time, actually.” Mark grins, “We've basically grown up competing with each other but to do it in F1 really felt like we were close to making it. I look forward to it this year too.”

“We should bet on it!” Haechan winks at Mark making the other drivers and the reporters chuckle, “It's about time one of us gets used to losing, you don't think?”

Walking out of the press room, Haechan is slightly surprised when you appear right beside him.

“How'd I do?”

“Not bad,” you answer absentmindedly, scrolling through your notes, “The question about Jeno, you handled very well. The one about Mark, though? I think it's a very easy opportunity for these journalists to twist your words.”

“I was just joking, he knows that.”

You hum, “He does, but really, these people are out for drama and you just gave them a nice headline.”

Haechan scoffs, “They should thank me then, don't you think? First media day of the year and it's probably the most interesting thing they've heard.”

He turns towards you when you laugh. “See! you do think that I'm funny.”

“I met your trainer this morning, by the way. Don't know why he suddenly came up to me. But you have some blind fold challenge to do for the F1 youtube channel and he's told me to tell you to be careful. Do not bump into anything, please. And try to be yourself there, I guess.”

“Woah, I've never had a PR person tell me that before. You're kind of nice, ____.”

“And you remember my name. We’re both making progress, I suppose.” You've come outside now and there are significantly more photographers than there were when you first came.

Haechan, slightly ahead of you, stops and turns around, walking backwards. “Hey! That was once and you didn't even introduce yourself to me.”

“Didn't have the time,” You shrug, “All the best. The challenge is being filmed near Alpine’s hospitality. You're doing it with Lee Chan. I have to head back to the hospitality for a second but I'll be there by the time you're done.”

—

Sunday, Race Day March 16th

The red bull garage looks quite empty without the cars and the mechanics. The pit walls are a bit too high for you to see from the garage but you’re sure they must be setting the car up on track. This isn’t your first gig in the PR industry, but it’s your first time in this sport and you can’t help but observe the remaining strategists and engineers in awe as they move around with calculated aim. There’s still about 15 minutes until the race begins but the air crackles with excitement and expectations.

You hear clattering behind you and panic for a second. You did make sure to stand in a corner where you wouldn’t be in the way of anyone’s job. But upon turning, you notice that it’s Haechan who accidentally drops his phone.

You still as he catches your eye. What are you supposed to do at moments like this? You don’t have any important information to tell him, but you feel like you’re meant to be saying something. Would he want you to speak to him at such a crucial time? You stride over anyways.

Haechan slides his headphones off when he sees you approaching.

“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be outside for the national anthem soon?” You quip.

He checks the time on his lockscreen and grimaces, “Well, yeah, shit. Don’t want to get fined on the first race, do I?”

You purse your lips before nodding. He takes his headphones off and thrusts them in your hands. You stare back at him, confused.

“Give them to Johnny when he gets here, please. My phone too. He’ll be here in a few minutes, I suppose. I need to go.” He points at the garage door. You nod again, slowly, and he does too before inching towards the pitlane.

“Hey!” You yell as he’s almost out the door, making him turn around, “Win this thing, yeah? I’d rather hear questions about that than listen to another round of ‘holding back’ narratives.” You think you might pray for him, although you doubt he needs it.

Haechan simply winks.

—

When the helmet goes on and the overalls zip up, Haechan becomes an entirely different person. The transformation is almost immediate — he’s focused, determined. On the screen inside the garage, you’re a little stunned at how his eyes, the only visible part of him, are incredibly hard and intense. His gloved hand pushes the visor down and he steps into his car. The crew around him is finalizing the last of their car checks and as they move away and back into the pitlane, the crowd almost quietens for a moment.

“Radio check.” Haechan hears through his earpiece and the final step is complete. Like clockwork, he feels his mind clearing up, revising last minute strategy. He fires up his engine, hears the muffled roar of the others around him.

“Loud and clear,” He responds. The green lights come on near the starting line.

“Formation lap begins.”

The next two minutes go by in a flash, and before he knows it, Haechan lines up to the second grid position. To his right and slightly ahead at P1 is Choi Seungcheol’s Ferrari. Behind and next to him are the Mercs of Joshua Hong and Kim Doyoung. He knows that Seungcheol is already being considered for the season’s favourite before it even starts. With the insane qualifying lap that he put up yesterday to the driver’s championship wins from the last four seasons, it’s obvious that he’s the one Haechan should be aiming for.

The grid falls silent as the last car positions itself. Haechan’s hands tighten around his steering wheel. The first red light flicks on.

One…two…three…four…five.

He's always thought that the following two seconds before the start are the most cruel and crucial. The final preparation.

“And it's lights out for the first time in 2025, here at Albert Park circuit! Seungcheol successfully manages to keep his lead, heading into the first turn there, and OH! Haechan comes close but it is not quite enough as he slips back into 2nd position.” The commentator begins.

In the garage, the team, you notice, has already set up the tires for both drivers. The mechanics have set up chairs and are beginning to settle down, helmets on and ready for the show. You inch a little closer to the screen, eyes flying to the pitwall once to look at Haechan's race engineer already beginning to talk and check in with him.

You don't know the specifics of what goes on behind the scenes, honestly. So you can only imagine what goes on at the pitwall.

Lap 15 comes around in no time and you hear the other cars pitting to change their tyres. Looking at the screen, you realize the Ferrari and Haechan are still out, within a second of each other but a good 5 seconds ahead of Doyoung’s Mercedes and Jeno’s red bull. The mechanics have been watching the fight between Doyoung and Jeno for third place, but they get up now and rush over to where the tyres have been kept, pulling them out and preparing themselves for a pitstop, Haechan’s, you assume.

By lap 37, everything seems to be going fine for you. There hasn’t been anything notable and you’re glad for it. Haechan and Seungcheol, known for being aggressive drivers, are surprisingly keeping in clean, which means less awkward questions for Haechan to deal with. It’s only the beginning of the season, you think. People won’t question him too much if he doesn’t win. Right now, you know there isn’t much that can happen to prevent him from getting on the podium.

By lap 37, things are not going fine for Haechan. He was supposed to get ahead of the Ferrari in the first ten laps, but God, Seungcheol is making it hard. Three times now, he’s tried to overtake him on turn 13 but every single time he comes up short.

“How are the tires feeling, Haechan?” His engineer asks.

“Fine, I think I can go for a few more laps.” He’s approaching turn 13 again, “What’s the gap ahead?”

“0.96s, DRS has been enabled.”

Haechan decides against using DRS and instead goes off the race line, making the Ferrari move outwards to block him. He fakes out, hoping to catch the inside of the turn, but it’s tight and Seungcheol is quicker in blocking him again.

For a split second, Haechan feels the rear end of the car shifting and he instantly steers in the opposite direction to bring it back under control.

As they approach the pit entry, a marshal holds out a lap board. 20 more laps to go. With the way the Ferrari is going, Haechan figures he should probably pit before for the undercut . But just as he thinks that, he sees Seungcheol swerving into the pitlane. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Seungcheol's in the pits, when do you think you’ll come in?” His engineer’s voice cuts him off.

“What tyres is he on?”

“He’s going on a pair of mediums. It might be close at the exit, watch out.” Haechan looks into his rear view mirror and sees the Ferrari exiting the pitlane. Haechan leads the race now, but Seunghcheol is right on his tail, not more than a second behind.

Haechan adjusts his grip on the steering wheel as he nears turn 3. Don’t want to lose the position as soon as we get it, do we Haechan?

“Taking the inside line is a bit of a risk, Ferrari 0.7 behind you.”

Turn 4 is close. Too close. If he gives Seungcheol the outside line now, it’s over. All he’s left with now, is coming up with a good defence.

The RB21 is really quick in the corners, the audience realises as he accelerates even while approaching a turn, trying to maximise the gap before the heavy braking. Haechan slams the brakes at the last moment possible. The Ferrari is close now, almost at par with his rear wheels. For a moment, it feels like he’s got him now, but Haechan gets on the throttle early, trusting the Red Bull’s grip to carry him through. Inside line, now.

He asks for the gap again. It’s too small, far too small for his comfort but it isn’t like he’s left with any choices. On turn 4, again the Ferrari gains on him.

You think it's a sight to see, honestly. Two cars, almost parallel to each other, who’ll come out as the winner? You hope they don’t touch, that nothing bad happens.

Haechan thinks that he’s- Fuck there’s no time for thinking really, PUSH. His legs are starting to hurt from all the accelerating and braking but he grunts through jaw clenched tight beneath his helmet. He doesn’t have time to think about fatigue, about the burn creeping up his calves. Seungcheol is right there, matching him move for move, waiting for the slightest opening.

Turn 5 is fast. Barely a turn at all if you’re brave enough. Haechan keeps his foot planted, resisting the instinct to lift, trusting the downforce to hold him steady. The car twitches slightly under him, tires screaming against the asphalt, but he holds firm.

Seungcheol does the same.

Shit.

“Gap?”

“0.4. He’s still in DRS range.”

Of course he is.

The DRS detection line is approaching fast. If Seungcheol stays within a second, he’ll have a straight-line speed advantage down the next stretch. Haechan makes a split-second decision—move slightly off the racing line, force the Ferrari into dirty air, disrupt his momentum.

It works. Seungcheol hesitates for just a fraction of a second, and that’s all Haechan needs.

He launches out of Turn 6, flat-out now, heart hammering as he glances at his mirrors. The Ferrari is still there, still menacingly close, but Haechan has bought himself a few more meters of breathing room.

“Choi has a 5 second time penalty for speeding in the pitlane. Well done, gap is 0.8.”

Haechan almost sighs in relief. A five second penalty is great — if he manages to keep him behind the entire time — that is.

“Where is Jeno?” He asks, maybe there could be a Red Bull 1-2 for the first race of the season, after all.

“Jeno is 3.4 behind you.” Holy shit, it could actually happen.

The next 6 laps are uneventful, but Haechan’s thinking hard now. He’s just lapped a Sauber and there’s going to be more cars in front now, less clean air.

“Who has the fastest lap?”

“It’s Choi, he did a 1.24.”

“I’m coming in now, put me on softs.”

This time you turn your head away from the screen and stretch your neck to see outside. You can’t see him, not with the twenty something mechanics surrounding his car, but the pit stop is quick, so quick. One moment he’s here, the next he’s not. The screen shows you he’s on the softs. There are ten more laps to go. It’s looking great.

“Choi is in the pits to serve his penalty.”

Haechan’s a bit confused when he hears this. Why risk losing more positions. But he doesn’t have the time to worry about Ferrari’s strategies when the damn Aston Martin in front of him isn’t giving way. He looks to the side to see the blue flags flashing, so really-

“What the fuck is he doing?” Haechan complains over the radio, voice sharp with frustration. The Aston Martin should’ve moved by now, but it’s still hugging the racing line, forcing him to adjust his approach into turn 5.

“Blue flags are out. He needs to move,” his race engineer reassures him, but Haechan can hear the slight edge in his voice too.

“I know he needs to move—”

The Aston finally veers slightly right, but not enough. Haechan has to lift off the throttle to avoid contact, losing precious tenths in the process.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters as he sweeps past, but the damage is done.

“Gap to Choi?”

“4.2. You lost a few tenths there.”

He exhales sharply. It could be worse.

Nine laps to go. His tires feel good, grippier. The car is responding well, but he needs to make up time.

He flicks the mode switch on his steering wheel. A little more power.

“Going for the fastest lap,” he announces, fingers tightening over the wheel.

He barely hears his engineer’s response as he throws the car into turn 9, carrying more speed than before. The speedometer climbs—290, 295, 300 km/h—before he slams the brakes hard into turn 11, trusting the downforce to do its job.

Less than a minute from then, you see Haechan’s name on the screen flash purple. Fastest lap 1.23.056

The next two laps go by in a blur, his focus razor-sharp. Each turn, each braking zone - perfect. His engineer is giving him updates, but he barely registers them.

Then—

“Yellow flag, turn 6. Stay sharp.”

Haechan’s heartbeat spikes.

“What happened?”

“Looks like a Williams spun out. Shouldn’t be a safety car.”

He presses his lips together. Good. A safety car would ruin everything.

Five laps to go.

His eyes flick to the steering wheel display. His lap time delta is in the green. He can get the fastest lap again.

“Mode push?”

“Not required. You already have the fastest lap.”

He ignores his engineer.

Into turn 9, he keeps his foot flat on the throttle. The RB21 flies. He brakes late into turn 11, the car dancing on the edge of grip, but it sticks. His heart pounds as he floors it again.

Purple sector two.

With three more laps to go, he’s stopped seeing the Ferrari in his mirror, instead, now it’s the other Red Bull.

“Gap to Jeno?” He’s a little excited now. It’s been a while since he’s had to compete with a teammate.

“1.4. Keep it clean, please.”

So Jeno’s out of DRS. Haechan isn’t too worried. His tyres still feel great and Jeno’s tyres won’t be doing too good as he’s back on the hards. But just to be safe, just to get that gap, he goes a little faster.

Back in the garage, the Red Bull team are at the edge of their seats. The first race of the season and both their drivers are on the podium. You think everyone’s hoping they don’t crash into each other, mess up on the last few laps.

On track, Haechan hears his engineer through his earpiece, interrupting a few seconds of silence, “Fastest sector 1. You’re doing good. Gap to Jeno is 3.2.

He doesn’t respond. There’s no room for distractions now. Just focus.

He can see the line in the distance. The finish line.

“Two laps left. You’re 3.0 ahead of Jeno.”

The pressure’s mounting, but Haechan blocks it out. There’s no way he’s letting the lead slip now. He can almost feel the podium beneath his feet, the thrill of a victory, the rush that’s been missing since last season.

“Careful with the rear. Stay focused.” His engineer’s voice is calm, but it’s clear he’s watching closely. The car’s rear is loose, and Haechan can feel it through his grip, but he steadies himself, resisting the urge to back off.

The final lap.

Haechan’s heartbeat echoes in his ears as he sees the final lap board waved. He’s so close now. He can almost taste the champagne.

Haechan is cruising through, and you can’t see his car on screen anymore. You suppose they’ll show him again when he nears the finish line but right now, Seunghcheol isn’t far from Jeno. And with his older tyres, Jeno seems to be struggling. You aren’t really concerned. If this lap goes well, which it definitely will, your job for tonight might just be over. There won’t be questions that are too awkward, maybe other than the slightly rude remark Haechan made behind the Aston. But it was the Aston’s fault, so he won’t be on the receiving end of criticism.

You’re snapped from your momentary distraction when you see the mechanics cheering, jumping off their stairs and running to the pit wall. You smile, slowly moving a bit closer. They’re holding onto the grills as Haechan zooms past the chequered flag.

Must be great to watch both their driver’s finish well, You think as you back off. You’re going to need your ID pass for the media pen and you’ve left it in the hospitality. You think you might have to brush up some of the lines you’ve written down too. You won’t have much time before the post-race conference.

Haechan can hear the roar of the crowd as he crosses the finish line. He eases off the throttle, the adrenaline still coursing through him as he begins his cool-down lap. He lets out a little laugh, hearing the congratulations through the radio. First race, first win of the season. It feels great.

Behind him, he sees Jeno’s car and slows down a little more to let him catch up. Through the radio he can hear the cheers erupting in the garage. He looks to his right and shoots a thumbs up to Jeno, who returns the gesture.

The pit crew awaits. The podium awaits. He’s back.

JAPAN, SUZUKA INTERNATIONAL RACING COURSE

Tuesday April 1st

Tucked away on a quiet street, the ramen shop is smaller than you expected. You hesitate at the entrance, glancing at your phone to double-check the address before stepping inside. The air is thick with the scent of broth and garlic, warmth settling over you as you take in the cramped space.

The restaurant, if you could call it one, is so small that it only houses about four two-seater tables. The person at the counter asks you if you'd be alright with sharing a table with someone and you agree. She leads you to a man in a bucket hat and a leather jacket, head bent as he scrolls on his phone and when she asks him if he'd be alright with it, he looks up. And God, are you surprised?

“Haechan?”

He stares at you for a moment, mouth hanging open before he nods at the waitress and gestures to you to sit down. You're still a bit confused as you shrug off your coat and drape it across the back of your chair. You tell the waitress your order before finally turning to Haechan who smiles politely, albeit a little flustered.

You exhale loudly, “Well, it is a bit awkward outside of work, isn't it?”

Haechan agrees and laughs softly, “How come you're here though?”

“I had a friend recommend it to me. She's been here before a few times and said she really liked it,” You scrunch your nose, “What about you? It doesn't really seem like the place where you'd bump into an F1 driver, eh?”

“Me too. I mean, a friend recommended it to me the first time I visited Suzuka and I've been coming here ever since.”

You hum in response, letting your gaze wander around the tiny shop. Every table is occupied, pairs of diners hunched over steaming bowls, the quiet murmur of conversation blending with the occasional clatter of chopsticks against ceramic. The air is thick with the rich, savory scent of garlic and simmering broth, making your stomach stir in anticipation. Across from the open kitchen, two small windows are propped ajar, letting in a crisp evening breeze that carries the faint sounds of the street outside.

Haechan watches you take it all in. It feels a little weird to not have you talking to him all the time about his schedule or about what he has to say about certain things. It's also weird to see you not on a call, talking to the media or press. He's never observed you, really, and it's only now that he realizes you might be around his age.

His order comes first and you ‘ooh’ at the way steam rises off the soup in the bowl. Haechan turns to take off his jacket. His left hand is out and as he struggles a little to get the right one out, he meets your eyes and you both look away, slightly embarrassed.

“Forgive me for being a spoilsport, but are you really allowed to be eating ramen?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

Haechan is in the middle of taking his third bite as he stoops, holding his chopsticks mid-air, “I'm…not.” He tilts his head before eating.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know, I think… in order to do your job, which includes protecting my reputation, you should probably not spill about this encounter to Johnny.”

You scoff, shaking your head at him, making him smile before going back to his bowl.

“Did you first come here when you debuted?” You ask after a minute or two of silence.

Haechan nods, “The first time I came, my friend actually brought me here because I was feeling quite depressed after the race,” He chuckles to himself.

“I remember,” you say, “You crashed on the last lap, didn't you? It would've been the first podium of your career if you hadn't.”

You can see the astonishment in his eyes as you continue, “If you ask me, it was an insane thing to do, almost get on the podium while driving an alpha tauri.”

“How do you remember that?”

“Well- I don't exactly remember it, but I had to look you up thoroughly before I started my job, you know?” You joke.

“Hmm,” He plays along, “What else do you know about me, miss PR?”

You lean in a little, like you're about to tell him a secret, “Reports say you have a dog back at home that does not like you. At all.”

Haechan blinks, caught off guard, “Hold on- What?”

You nod solemnly, slumping back into your chair, “Apparently, he ignores you when you come home and only listens to your mum. And uses you for treats. That’s a real betrayal if you ask me. I’ll get the article down as soon as I can. We can’t have you looking like someone who dogs hate,” You think out loud to yourself, suppressing a grin, “No, that would be real bad media attention.”

Haechan groans, setting his chopsticks down, “I can’t believe that made it onto your research.”

“What can I say? I’m quite thorough with my work.”

He shakes his head, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “For the record, he does like me. He just… has a weird way of showing it.”

“Sure,” You shrug, eyes drifting towards the bowl the waitress sets down in front of you. “Ohh, that looks so good.”

The two of you settle into silence as Haechan focuses on finishing his bowl while you only begin digging into yours. It’s different from when he sees you in the paddock. Usually, you’re always behind him or beside him, holding out your phone to record what he says or always note taking and calling the media. You’re the epitome of a professional, so he thinks that right now, you’re different too. Much more relaxed and less uptight about everything. He’s gotten a bit used to seeing you all polished, always in control, moving from one task to another but here, you’re just.. you?

The thought lingers for a second before he pushes it away. He glances at you and almost laughs at the way you’re trying to push your bangs away while holding your chopsticks. You look up and mumble a small ‘what?’.

“Are you always like this?”

“Hey!” You sound a little offended, “I can have a lot of fun outside of work, how would you know?”

“Well, I can imagine.” Haechan laughs, “Off work, professionalism out the door, am I right?”

“Yes, yes, you are. I don’t really care who you are right now,” You sigh before noticing that he’s done with his food, “Aren’t you going to leave?”

Haechan hesitates, “Nah, it’s getting late. I’ll leave with you. Aren’t we headed to the same place anyways?”

You nod slowly, “Don’t you have anywhere else to go? I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I come here every year. After a point there’s not going to be much to see. Unless of course, you have plans to go somewhere.”

“Not that I know of,” You purse your lips, “By the way, I heard you landed here yesterday. How come you’re so early?”

“I flew to Seoul from China and stayed there for a week, but my family are going on vacation this week so I thought, why not come visit one of my friends here, who’d want to see me instead of lazing around at home like the pathetic, uninvited, firstborn son that I am.” He dramatically sighs.

You breathe out a laugh, “You’d probably like to have a home grand prix, wouldn’t you?”

“Obviously,” Haechan rests his elbows on the table, looking out of the window, “If you win, that is. Otherwise it's honestly a shit load of pressure. There’s always going to be the stress of underperforming in front of your home crowd. But the support would be nice. It’s great in Austria too, you know, as Red Bull’s home race but that’s what makes it so important. Doing well in front of a home crowd is like the best feeling in the world.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing his words as you continue eating. “I get that,” you say. “The crowd’s energy level is just different, I suppose.”

Haechan leans back in his chair, looking relaxed now that the weight of the conversation has lightened. “Exactly. It’s like they’re all there for you. Even when everything’s falling apart on the track, their support is like fuel. You could be in the middle of a mess and they’ll still cheer for you like you’re winning.”

You smile at the way he says it, not expecting him to be so genuine about it. “Must feel nice to have that.”

He shrugs but there’s a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I guess. It’s also a lot to live up to.”

Haechan is in the middle of telling you about his first race in Monaco when the waitress who was serving you walks up to you two.

Sheepishly, she asks, “Excuse me, I hope you guys enjoyed your meal, but we’ve got a bit of a line outside. If you’re done, would you mind giving up your seats? I’m so sorry!”

You and Haechan look at each other in embarrassed surprise, and quickly get up, gathering your coats and belongings. You thank the girl (who meekly apologizes again) and hurry out of the shop.

Outside, in a slightly chilly street, Haechan emerges from behind you and stares at you for a second before bursting into laughter. You, still in your flustered state, take a few moments before joining him.

“I’ve never,” He manages in between, “been asked to get out of a restaurant, that too, so politely!”

“I don’t think she recognized you, actually,” You grin, “If she had, then you’d force me to work a bit overtime. Imagine me having to call up journalists and tell them, ‘No guys, Haechan is a very considerate person, it happens to the best of us. He was incredibly sorry.’”

He shudders before tilting his head in the direction of his hotel. “Let’s go?”

“Mister millionaire, I need to go in the other direction.”

Haechan’s lips form an ‘o’ before he nods, “Well, see you on Thursday then!”

You sigh, “You bet. Please show up early, you have a lot of things to do.”

AUSTRIA, RED BULL RING

Thursday, Media day June 26th

Haechan doesn’t really mind these games. In fact, he prefers them to the ones that he does with Jeno. No offence to him really, but he thinks Jeno’s a bit unfunny. When he says bye to you before entering the filming room, he’s more than happy to see the VCARB guys. Vernon’s humor is quite deadpan, which Haechan can’t say he understands most of the time, but he has a hilarious laugh, like a flock of geese and Haechan laughs more because of that. And Chenle. Haechan cannot get started with this guy. He once trained Chenle when he was still in F2 and in that one week, he’d found another slightly louder version of himself, albeit a little less sarcastic and more innocent.

Haechan is however surprised to see the reserve drivers and the F1 academy drivers. Had you forgotten to mention it, or was he not paying attention? Well, shit. He thinks. He was going to give it his all, get into his competitive spirit but now he’s got to put up his experienced senior face. He greets them before sitting down with Chenle. They wait for the camera team to set up the room before they’re divided into teams.

Chenle and Haechan are put in the same team, but Jeno complains, saying that they’d both be too strong together. So with a dramatic sigh, Haechan lets him go, taking Vernon with him. As the admin sets up the question placards, Haechan looks back at his team and is satisfied. He’s got Vernon, who might(?) be good at games. Sion, their reserve driver is on his team and another driver from the F1 Academy. She looks smart, Haechan thinks as he turns back around.

“Alright, guys,” the challenge host says, pulling the group’s attention back to the screen. “For the first game, we’ll be testing your knowledge of your fellow drivers. We’ve got a series of close-up images of drivers’ eyes. Your task is simple: guess which driver each pair of eyes belongs to. Are you ready?”

The group cheers out in response. The first photo flashes on the screen.

Haechan has his hand near the buzzer already, but he hesitates. The other team hits theirs.

“Jisung?” Chenle’s a bit unsure too.

“1 point to team 2,” The host nods, surprising everyone.

“How did you guess that?” Jeno stares, making the younger one shrug, “I don’t know, the thin eyebrows?”

The next one comes up and Haechan instantly answers, “That’s Mark. Like. For. Sure.”

buzz. “Kim Doyoung.”

The rounds continue with some lighthearted bickering. Jeno's team gets a couple of points here and there, but Haechan’s team remains in the lead. The last challenge turns out to be ‘Guess who said this.’ Haechan’s a bit stumped, he doesn’t know these too well and he doesn’t think the younger drivers do either. Vernon nods confidently, though, so maybe they could win this thing.

“Okay,” The host sighs, “Starting off easy.”

“I’m going to touch Doyoung’s rear wing.”

Sion hits the buzzer before Haechan can, surprising him. “That was Haechan, right?”

Haechan nods, impressed as the host increases their points.

“The engine feels good, much slower than before. Amazing.” It brings a laugh out of everyone before the F1A driver from Jeno’s team answers, “Alonso.”

“Okay, last question guys,” The host announces, “Assuming team 1 can finish this off, that is.”

“Is there even a point for that?”

“I’ve heard this before,” Haechan hears Chenle mumble from the other side. He looks at his team, shrugging to say that he does not know the answer sadly.

Vernon seems to be lost in thought, “This one’s old, it was either Hamilton or Seungcheol. Shit, I can’t remember which one though.” The room is weirdly silent and Vernon seems to notice, lowering his voice, “It was after a disappointing race… probably a p10 or p11 finish. Doesn’t it seem like something Seungcheol would say?”

“You would know,” Haechan encourages, “Go for it.”

Vernon presses the buzzer. The host waits.

“It’s Choi Seungcheol, isn’t it?”

“Are you asking me?” The host jokes.

Vernon shakes his head, “No. It’s Seungcheol.”

“And you are right!” The host smiles, making Haechan’s team erupt into cheers.

After wrapping up the shoot, the entire Red Bull family gathers outside the hospitality to take a group photo. Haechan remembers this weekend has the F2 and F1A races too and wishes the junior drivers good luck before heading back into the hospitality.

Haechan doesn't think you'll be in any of the meeting rooms, nor does he think you've headed back to the hotel. You're usually there next to him after all his schedules end, so he's perplexed to find you absent. He doesn't need to look for you, really, because his media activities for the day are over which means you've got no business with him for today. He should head over to the garage, see what the engineers are doing, poke around there, but instead he finds himself walking into the cafeteria.

Haechan is relieved to see you there, getting back to your seat with a cup of espresso in your hand while the other holds onto your phone as you speak. He's sure you'll end up spilling your coffee and jogs towards you, taking the cup from your hands.

You look at him quizzically before returning to your conversation, “Yes, I understand it's your job but you need to understand, this is my job too. Your headline was just purely misleading. I mean, all he said was that the other driver was being slow and hindering everyone else. Really, there's nothing going on that is as malicious as you make it seem!” You pull the chair harshly before sitting down.

Haechan just stands there with your coffee still in hand, not sure what to do.

“Yes, yes. I'm not asking you to take it down, just edit it a little better. You can't twist words like that, you know? Even if it is your job, Sir.” You grit out before smiling like the journalist can see you, “Yes, we appreciate it. Thank you and have a great day.”

You think about slamming your phone down. But there are others in the cafeteria, so you control yourself. Reminding yourself to unclench your jaw, you look around for your coffee before you see Haechan standing next to you, staring like a kid that's been yelled at.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” You sigh before taking the cup from him, “Aren't you supposed to be back at the motorhome? I'm done, so you can escape from me for at least the remaining half of the day.” You try to joke, but he looks at you like a kicked puppy.

“Hey, I'm sorry for… whatever conversation you just had. I'll try to control what I say, I guess.”

“No it's—” Your frustration that was slithering away creeps back again, “Why would you apologize? You're allowed to say such simple stuff without being used for clout and stupid headlines.”

He stays silent, and you wonder if you came off too harshly. So you try to talk a little more, make him feel a bit more comfortable, and show him that you are not mad. Where did all your professionalism go? We're still at work.

“Honestly, a lot of sports blogs do this. Most of the time it's not an issue. But this guy, this is the fourth time I'm calling him to take it down. He's so stubborn about it and the worst part is his columns have absolutely no ounce of any truth in them.”

Haechan sighs, “Thank you.”

You shrug, eyeing him, “It's just my job. How did your challenge go?”

He perks up at the mention of the games, “My team won,” Haechan grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Really, Haechan, why are you still here?” You shake your head, but you're smiling a little, so Haechan considers it a win too.

He’s thinking of a valid answer to give you, because in reality he doesn't know either, when he sees Johnny walking in. “I was just waiting for Johnny. We have a training session. What are you going to do, since I'm done for the day?” He abruptly stands up.

You get up along with him, downing the remnants of your espresso, “I have other stuff to do. I need to go over that interview that you gave in the morning before it's sent over for publishing and I need to look up a few journalists that may show up tomorrow or on race day and…” You wonder why you're telling him all this, “I have a lot of things to do, Haechan. Have fun at training, I'll see you tomorrow after the practice sessions.”

—

Friday, post FP2 June 27th

The walk to the media pen is quieter than usual. Haechan’s strides are long and fast, and there’s a stiffness to him that you can’t ignore. His hands are tucked into his pockets and his gaze flicks down to the ground every now and then.

He hasn’t said much since stepping out of the car. You were silent as he listened to the debrief, as he nodded along, as he left without saying much, and you are silent now too as the two of you walk up to a sky sports interviewer.

Jeno is already up first, finishing off his interview. He sounds relaxed and confident.

"Yeah, I think the car felt great today. We found a good rhythm early on, and I’m happy with where we’re at, heading into tomorrow. Obviously, there's still a lot of work to do, but the team’s done an amazing job."

Haechan exhales sharply, looking away as you gesture for him to step forward.

“Remember, it’s just Friday. Just practice.” You murmur to him. He gives you the slightest nod before facing the reporter. The first question comes immediately.

“Haechan, you were second fastest in today’s practice, but it looked like you were struggling a little more than your teammate. What happened?”

He takes a beat to answer, “Yeah, I think- well, obviously, Jeno’s had a great session and it’s looking good for the team this weekend. For me, I think there’s a lot more pace left on the table, hopefully we’ll look at the data and try to put it all together for tomorrow.”

“The McLarens seemed to be struggling with their pace in both practice sessions today. Do you think your situation might be similar?”

Again, a pause. “I wouldn’t say it’s a huge concern. The tyre degradation did seem a little unpredictable today, so I was having to manage more than I would’ve liked to. It’s not ideal, but there’s time to fix it before qualifying and the race itself.”

“Last question, Haechan. Do you think with Jeno topping both sessions today, does this shift the dynamic inside the team at all? Is there an added pressure that you feel, heading into this home grand prix.”

The question lingers in the air for a second longer than it should have. Haechan’s expression doesn’t change much, but you see it — the brief twitch in his eyebrow.

“I mean, from the team perspective, it’s great for us. It’s the home race for the team and both of us are hopefully going to be up front. Obviously, both of us want to be ahead of each other. Today just wasn’t quite there for me, but we’ll see where we are tomorrow.”

He chooses his words carefully, in a way that doesn’t feel like himself. A part of yourself is proud, this was a good response, answering without really answering. But he’s clearly upset.

The interviewer thanks him, wrapping it up before Jaehyun steps up behind him. As Haechan steps back from the mic, you fall into step behind him. You have to go back to the hospitality to gather your things before you can head to your hotel, but it doesn’t feel right to leave Haechan right now. You have a feeling he has something to say.

When you’re out of the media pen, you realize it’s starting to drizzle. That can’t be too good, you suppose. A rainless weekend would be more ideal, more safer. Hopefully this weather won’t continue into tomorrow and the day after. But it’s not just the chilly weather that makes the air heavier.

“Good answers,” You say, trying to look at his downturned face.

He doesn’t reply immediately, glancing at his hands, flexing them before tucking them into his pockets again. When he does reply, Haechan’s voice comes out quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

“If I told you something, would you keep it to yourself? Not give it over or use it to— I don’t know— make me seem more humane or something when people write articles that I don’t seem to care about anything.”

You’re taken aback. It hurts you a little, but what he says is valid. Has someone done that to him before?

“I would,” You nod, “Keep it to myself, I mean.”

He kicks at the pavement, “Jeno was really quick today and it’s bothering me more than Ferrari’s pace.” That much is obvious, but it settles down on his chest in a way that he can’t shake off.

You hum in acknowledgement. This is what’s sitting with him. Not being second itself, but the gap. The fact that for the first time this season, it’s someone in the same car, who is ahead of him. You think of that night in Suzuka. All this at their team’s home race too. Of course he’s bothered.

“Tomorrow’s another day.” You remind him.

“Yes, but-”

“And if tomorrow also isn’t your day, then you have the race itself.”

He exhales, unlocking his phone to study the FP2 times once more before locking it. “How are you getting back to your hotel, by the way?”

“I think the shuttle might have already left, so maybe a taxi. I still have to go back to the hospitality.”

“The rain’s going to get heavier,” He sighs, “You might not be able to catch one.”

“I’ll wait it out,” You shrug, “You’re not heading to your motorhome?”

“I was, but if you’re waiting it out, might as well do the same.”

You glance at him, unsure, “You don’t have to.” But you find yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind if he does. Guess he does grow on you.

“I know.” His response is simple. He doesn’t meet your eyes and for a moment looks up at the darkening skies above, the wind is picking up, carrying the smell of damp asphalt. Haechan feels nauseous. What if the conditions are the same? You’re already struggling with the pace, Haechan. What if you fuck it up in the one race that matters the most to everyone?

The two of you are a little wet by the time you walk into the hospitality cafeteria. The paddock is quieter now, with most of the day's work being over. A few mechanics remain in the garage, chatting in low voices as they finish up for the day. Inside, the warmth is immediate and you almost sigh out of relief. The hum of the coffee machine and the gentle clattering of dishes as the kitchen staff clean up make the whole place seem too peaceful for a race weekend. You wipe away the drops of water on your team jacket at the entrance before turning to look at Haechan. He doesn’t seem to know what to do when he’s not running from meeting to garage to training to meeting at all times.

“You can go ask a staff for something to eat, if you want. You must be hungry, no?”

He shakes his head, “I think I’ll just have a coffee.”

You shrug, “Help yourself, I need to go up to grab my things.”

Haechan doesn’t move right away, staring at the coffee machine for a long moment as if unsure what to do. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls his hands from his pockets and walks over to the counter. He’s not really looking at anything—and you’re hit with the realization that he might be trying to not be alone with his thoughts right now.

“I won’t be long,” you add, feeling the need to fill the quiet.

Haechan doesn’t look up, but you see the tension in his shoulders dissipate a little as he nods. “Take your time.”

—

Sunday, Race Day June 29th

If Haechan was irritated by the P3 qualifying last night, he’s beyond upset now. But there’s no time and he really needs to get out of his misery and get his head back in the game before the race begins, which is any moment now. He breathes out heavily, trying to calm himself down as the first red light turns on. It could’ve been worse. It’s only two people that you need to overtake. Use the corner.

At lights out, Haechan’s whole body tenses. His car surges forward, but his reaction time isn’t quicker than Jeno and Doyoung so he remains in third place. His focus sharpens as he begins to climb the gears. He’s pushing for the next position and turn 1 is his easiest chance. Even if the gap between Doyoung and him widens after the turn, he can close it on the straight.

Haechan is usually quite aware of his surroundings. Usually while going into turns his eyes are always flitting between his two mirrors. But today, he looks ahead. He knows Jaehyun is there, tucked right behind him, but what he doesn’t expect is for Jaehyun to turn so late.

The hit comes hard. A sudden, violent shove to the rear end of his car, that sends a shock through his entire body.

Haechan’s heart races as his hands instinctively grip the wheel tighter, trying to regain control, but the car is sliding, spinning off track. His vision blurs.

As Haechan and Jaehyun’s car spin, the former going off the track, the Red Bull garage erupts in shock. Jaehyun’s Ferrari straightens out and rejoins the race, but Haechan remains there. It feels like forever to you as you ball up your fists. Come on, move!

The engineers are already analyzing the damage, but you know what’s coming next—the media frenzy. Your mind kicks into overdrive, fingers hovering over your notes. If he’s out of the race, you need to prep statements. If he’s still in it, you need to track every lap.

A voice crackles through the team radio.

“Haechan, are you alright?”

A beat. Then, a burst of static, an exhale.

“I’m fine.”

Haechan swerves his car into the right direction and re-enters the track. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The mechanics shout out their encouragement.

He’s still in it, at least. You know what’s next for you— a new narrative to prepare.

As for Haechan, he has one hell of a comeback to make.

“What position am I in?” Haechan asks, even though he knows the answer. He sees the Williams in front of him but he needs to hear it.

“P20. There’s no damage to the car. Please push.”

P20. Dead last.

The words make his jaw clench. Haechan flicks his engine mode and slams his foot on the throttle. Ahead, the Williams is too slow, too cautious. He’s past it before the lap is even done.

P19.

Next, the Haas. He catches it on the straight, ducks behind into its slipstream and overtakes it at the next turn.

P18.

In sector 2, he reaches the VCARBs, caught in their own battle. Haechan takes advantage of their hesitation into turn 3 and dives down the inside. It’s risky and close but he does it, two cars in one move.

P16.

Every move is by instinct now. An Alpine, another Sauber and Haas. One by one he picks them off.

He outbrakes the second Williams into turn 3.

P12.

You look up from your laptop, hastily recording all his overtakes. He’s got the fastest lap now, and it’s his fourth time doing it. You’re worried, definitely, but awe masks it momentarily as you watch Haechan set purple sectors everywhere. Within five laps he’s made it to 12th place. It’s not in the points, yes. But he’s capable and you know it. It’s only a matter of time before he nears the top and time— he has a lot of it.

P10 comes a little easily too. Na Jaemin, seemingly struggling with his engine in the Aston gives Haechan the way and Park Jisung in the first McLaren, who is way off his game this season— seeing how he’s outside of the points— is not the hardest person to overtake.

A much needed pit stop by lap 47 halts his progress and leaves Haechan stuck in at P10. Ahead of him, the second Alpine pits handing him the P9. On the straight, he comes into DRS range and overtakes Lee Chan’s Aston Martin.

By lap 58, Haechan is up into P7. This is where it starts to get hard.

The gap ahead to Seungcheol in P6 is a little over 4 seconds. It’s nothing impossible, but Haechan can feel the pressure build up now. There’s been a rhythm to his driving up until now. He’s been pushing and edging and taking advantage of every silly mistake someone makes. But Seungcheol, even in his current form, is no slouch and neither is his car. The Ferrari holds its place through the corners and the last thing Haechan wants is to waste time.

He closes in quickly, making it a matter of when and not if he can overtake Seungcheol. When they come into the straight at the beginning of lap 59, Haechan is right behind the Ferrari, DRS open and ready to pounce. He pulls out and presses the throttle hard, determined to make it out in front before the first turn. Seungcheol, surprisingly, doesn't put up much of a fight.

“Haechan, that is P6. Incredible work, mate. Car ahead is Jaehyun.”

You’re back in the hospitality by now. Haechan’s name has been climbing up the list consistently and his speed is incredible. But you can’t afford to celebrate yet. It’s a home race and one car is still not on the podium. Red Bull expects more than just a decent result. They want to win this and you know the sponsors are watching every move. Your phone buzzes—a quick reminder that the press conference is scheduled in thirty five minutes. Regardless of how the race turns out, he needs to be ready to answer questions.

Coming into lap 71, the last lap, Haechan is beyond frustrated. Jaehyun has been holding steady for the entire race, but so has he. It’s been a long fight, and he is not giving it up to settle behind the person who fucked it up for him, really.

The gap between them is small and with only a few corners left, Haechan watches Jaehyun’s line like a hawk. The Ferrari takes a defensive stance, but on turn 9, Jaehyun takes a slightly wider exit than normal, and it’s the crack Haechan’s been waiting for. He dives down the inside, braking late but with precision, getting alongside Jaehyun through the turn. Jaehyun can’t fight back.

Haechan forces him wide into the last turn.

P5.

—

Post Race, Driver’s room.

You walk down the hallway towards Haechan’s room. The paddock buzzes with the press and most of the mechanics and engineers are out celebrating Jeno’s win in front of the garage. You and Haechan are going to be late for the media if he hasn’t freshened up by now.

“Haechan, I’m coming in,” You inform, knocking twice. He doesn’t answer.

The door is open anyways, so you push it, tucking your phone into your pocket before you truly realize the sight in front of you.

Haechan’s freshened up, alright. He’s showered and is in his normal clothes, towel hanging from his neck as he looks out of the window.

“Are you,” you pause, “coming to the media pen like this?”

You regret even asking, because you think you know his answer, and God, no. No no no, don’t say it. Please come to the pen.

“I’m not going today, sorry Miss PR.” Haechan shrugs, his voice low, flat and lacking the charm he usually has.

Your stomach drops, “Haechan… Haechan, you know you have to. It's part of the job.”

He doesn’t turn to look at you, doesn’t speak. His clothes look comfortable but you can see his tensed arms and spine despite them. He wears his disappointment like a heavy cloak, heaving him down.

"Look, I get it. I know you're upset," you say, your voice softer now, "but this is about more than just you. It's about the team, the sponsors, everything. I need you to come with me. We’ll get through it, and then you can walk away. I promise."

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you’re taken over by the insane urge to slap yourself. Not what we wanted to say!

You enter the room fully, the door clicking softly behind you.

“If it gets you into trouble, I’ll talk to them later. I can’t do this right now.” Haechan’s voice wavers slightly.

You hesitate, but only for a moment.

"Why are you always trying to hold it together?" you ask, crossing the room towards him. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Haechan. You don’t have to just swallow it down and keep going like nothing’s wrong."

He scoffs, “That’s very ironic of you to say. You’re literally my PR manager. Isn’t it your job to make me look like the perfect person all the time?” He bites back, harsher than you expect.

You stop in your tracks, taken aback. He’s never lashed out at you like that before and all you can do is just stand there and let his words hang in the air between you two.

“Okay,” You slump back, walking over to the couch and sitting down. “Fine. I’ll tell them you’re not coming.”

Haechan finally looks at you, a little surprised. You think he was expecting you to fight back more. You expected yourself to fight back more.

“But Haechan, my job isn’t to make you look perfect. It’s to help you handle all the shit that comes with your job without you having to worry too much about people attacking you for reasons that don’t even matter most of the time.”

He seems to realize the weight of your words as he comes to sit beside you.

“Today did not go the way you wanted it to, and I may never understand what is on your mind or what you go through every time.” You exhale, “But if you want me to listen, I will.”

Haechan sits quietly beside you, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee, eyes focused on the floor. The faint sound of the paddock celebrations filters through the walls, but it feels distant and irrelevant.

After what feels like an eternity, Haechan speaks. "I just... I don’t know anymore," he admits, his gaze drifting toward the window. "It feels like I’m fighting so damn hard, and for what? A P5? I was supposed to do better. I feel like I’ve let everyone down... And Jaehyun’s starting to catch up with me in the driver standings. He’s close, you know? Really close. And now my teammate’s done better than me at our home race and it wouldn’t have been too much of a problem if I was on that damn podium too.”

“I don’t think you’ve let anybody down. Today’s race doesn’t discount everything else that you have won for the team this season. It may be hard for you to believe right now, but trust me. What matters is that you move on from this. Everyone has their lows. It’s just one race, Haechan.”

“But it’s… it’s the team’s home race.” He exhales.

“Fuck the home race, then.” You shake your head, “Everyone believes in you, Haechan. Your mechanics, your engineers, Johnny, me. This is just one race out of 24. You can do this.”

Haechan looks at you then, his expression still clouded with frustration but you can tell your words got through.

"Thanks," he murmurs, and it’s almost a whisper, but you catch it.

You nod, offering a small smile. It’s not out of relief or pity, but understanding.

“I’ll take care of the media stuff,” you say, rising to your feet. “I’ll smooth things over. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Haechan doesn’t respond right away, but as you reach the door, you hear him speak again, quieter this time.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

You tilt your head slightly, watching him. “You think that’s the worst I’ve dealt with?”

Haechan lets out a small, tired laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Probably not.”

You smile, finally turning to leave. “Didn’t think so.”

“I mean it though. I shouldn’t have proj—”

You raise a finger making him stop, “It’s okay, I know. Get some rest, Haechan.”

UNITED KINGDOM, SILVERSTONE CIRCUIT

Tuesday July 2nd

Lee Haechan (RB) : Hey… Are you in the UK rn? This may be wayyy out of line but Johnny kind of dared me to go to this baking workshop thing like LONG ago and um he agreed to come with me. But he’s got some sort of emergency, so he’s in the states rn and um so he can’t make it… So I was wondering if you wanted to LOL! [18:26]

You: well, it would be a waste of money if you didn’t go, wouldn’t it? [20:25]

Lee Haechan (RB) : Whew almost thought you wouldn’t reply Does that mean you’ll come? [20:26]

—

Wednesday

“Hey, you’re right on time.” Haechan greets as you walk over to the pergola he’s under, “The instructor just left to get the ingredients, but this place is huge so she might take like 10 to come back.”

“Huge it is,” You agree, putting your purse down and sitting beside him.

The pergola you two sit under is just one of the many you saw on your way here. Tucked into its own corner, its beams entwined with vines and fairy lights that haven’t flickered on yet. The garden (it’s bigger, but you don’t know the appropriate term for it) seems to be divided by tall, clean-trimmed hedges, giving the entire place a maze-like look. Surprisingly, it’s a sunny day and this is the perfect place to be out. A gentle breeze ruffles the leaves overhead.

From behind the hedge to your right, bursts of laughter and chatter spill over, from a larger group, you assume. You hear the clinking of utensils against mixing bowls and turn to Haechan.

He’s already looking at you, leant back, arms stretched over the bench’s backrest. For a moment, he holds your gaze before looking away, eyes sweeping over the surroundings. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

You hum, “Makes me wonder why Johnny would dare you to come here. Do you know what we’re going to be making?”

Haechan eyes you a little sheepishly, “Well, to be honest, you were a little bit late and I had to choose for us.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, but this was like almost an hour away.”

“I did offer to pick you up,” He mumbles.

“Yeah,” You nod, “But you’re probably staying at the headquarters which is literally on the other side of the city. Didn’t want to make you drive too much.”

“You’re kind of… too nice to me.” Haechan grins, getting up as the instructor comes back, “It’s great! My friends usually don’t pass up on a chance to make me suffer.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Well aren’t you glad I’m here then.”

“Oh,” He starts, but you interject him.

“Thank you for coming, I know. You’ve said it about four times already.”

“Well, I feel a little bad.”

“Don’t be, I’m sure I’ll have fun too. I’ll let you know, I might be nice to you now but I’m a little mean when it comes to tasting.” You grin.

The instructor sets the menu in front of you and your grin only widens. “I love strawberries, apple pie and churros. You didn’t make bad choices after all.”

Haechan laughs softly before handing you your apron, “Thank god.”

The instructor gives you two the basic rundown and gives you a small pager to page her over if required before leaving you two to it. As she starts walking away, Haechan starts flipping through the cookbook, opening up to the first recipe.

“I think we should make the churros in the end. Should we start with the pie first? It’ll take time to bake.”

You nod, wrapping the apron’s waistband around you, “Have you ever made apple filling before?”

“No, but I’m good at like bread and pasta and stuff so I think I’ll be fine with the dough? Unless you want to-”

“We make a great team, because I’m bad at that stuff,” You throw a thumbs up at him, moving over to the other side of the table where the apple basket is.

Haechan laughs as he picks out all the ingredients he needs, “Should we make a little extra of everything so that we can take some home?”

You pause, “Sure, but do you think the two of us would be able to down an entire pie?”

He shrugs, “If we don’t then it’s just more to take home. We could make an extra one and like half it? The tins aren’t too big. Hey, it says you need 4-5 apples for one pie so maybe take like 10?”

You thank him and start sectioning and measuring your spices before you get to the apple skinning when Haechan walks over to your side. You hum, wondering if he has any questions.

“You’d take way too much time to skin 10 apples on your own. The dough won’t take me too long.” Haechan quips, reaching in front of you for the peeler.

Halfway through peeling the apples, a thought passes through your mind when Haechan brings up Johnny. In shock, you drop your peeler onto the table before turning to look at him.

“Haechan,” You gasp, “Are you allowed to eat all this?”

Before he can answer, you’re already pacing up and down, the back of your wrist pressing against your forehead. If you’d remembered earlier, you could’ve convinced him to not go. Holy shit, you pause. You could be the reason Haechan’s weight is off this weekend.

Haechan lets you worry for a moment before piping up, “It’s only Wednesday. Johnny knows and he’ll be back before tomorrow evening so that we can have a workout session that’s a little more intense.” He tosses the cut apples into the pot.

“Still, should we cut down on something?” You stress, pushing him over to his dough making station.

“Nooo,” Haechan drags out, “It’s alright.”

“What if you don’t fit into your race suit?” You challenge as you slowly walk back to your pot that you’ve put all your apple slices in. The spices are already in there and all you have to do is turn the flame on.

Haechan sighs as he flicks the remnants of flour on his fingers at you, making you flinch, “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, come on.”

You still for a second, hoping the heat you feel creeping up your neck isn’t as obvious as it feels. Trying to play it off, you roll your eyes, “Whatever you say, I guess.”

Haechan doesn’t look up from his bowl but you can tell his smile widens. You shake your head, turning back to your apples that are beginning to cook slowly.

—

The pies rise steadily in the oven, the smell of cinnamon and apples clouding the air. You’re not sure if it’s because of the light inside. Leaning forward on your knees, you stare into the oven. The actual baking process is the worst according to you, but maybe you’re just a little impatient. You hear Haechan cluttering around with utensils before he stands next to you, shoulder brushing yours as he copies you.

“You know, I think we did a pretty good job. I tasted the cookie dough and it’s great too.” Haechan muses beside you, wiping his hands on a towel, “Well, I did. You just cut and measured stuff.”

You gasp, standing up straight to look at him, “Excuse me? Who prepared the filling?”

“What are you going to do with just filling? You need dough and honestly I think you’d be really bad at that.” Haechan scoffs but you see the playfulness in his eyes.

“You can’t have a pie without filling, and I made the strawberry compote too, come on!”

“You could!” Haechan defends, “It would just be a really thin, weird shaped cookie.”

You don’t know how to answer that and so you sigh in defeat. He’s moved on to scooping the strawberry shortcake cookie dough into the pan and you force your eyes to drift from the way his bangs fall into his eyes. It’s not like you’ve never noticed before, but there’s something about seeing Haechan at ease, lips pressed together in focus, brows knitted as he carefully shapes each cookie. It’s different from when he’s in his element on track. That determination and focus that he has are so different from now. Haechan’s sleeves are rolled up just enough to show his forearms and you have to mentally slap yourself from thinking about how they flexed while he kneaded the dough.

You’ve always known it, but he’s quite good looking, if you admit. The thought makes your heart stutter, and you blink rapidly, shaking yourself out of it. You’re here to bake, not… whatever this is.

“By the way,” You clear your throat, “did we use all the strawberries? I wanted to taste one.”

Haechan pauses, “Yep.” He pops the ‘p’. You hear the timer ring for the pies. “Guess you were too busy.”

“Seriously?” You mutter, a little dejected, “It’s fine. I’ll get the pies.”

“Oh, hey, take the mittens. Wait, I’ll bring them.” You hear Haechan call out as you open the oven handle. He appears by your side, holding out your mittens.

“Here,” He says, voice closer than you expect. You turn to thank him, and just as the words are about to leave your mouth, he swiftly plops something past your lips.

Your eyes widen in shock, taste buds suddenly flooded with flavour— sweet, a little tart and unmistakably strawberry.

Haechan grins, eyes swimming with amusement as you process what just happened. “Found it,” he says with a casualness that makes you want to throw the mittens at him.

You finish chewing, the initial surprise fading into a mix of exasperation and something else that makes your chest feel strangely tight. “You—”

“I knew you wanted one,” He shrugs, a self satisfied smirk plastered on his lips.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “You’re just so…”

“Not my fault you’re easy to surprise.”

You huff, shaking your head as you finally grab the mittens. “You’re lucky these pies smell too good for me to be mad at you right now.”

His laughter follows you as you open the oven, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you for a moment longer. And you definitely don’t miss the way your heart stumbles again, just a little, before you shake it off and focus on not dropping the pies.

—

Saturday, Qualifying July 3rd

“How’s the car feeling?” Johnny asks as he sets down Haechan’s plate in front of him.

“It’s fine,” Haechan grimaces at his food, making Johnny sigh, “Better than last week. So much better. The team made some updates.”

“Don’t make that face.” Johnny rolls his eyes, “I let you off for eating all those damn sweets. You reap what you sow.”

He expects Haechan to bite back, but all he gets in return is an absent minded hum. He looks up from his phone to see Haechan looking around the cafeteria and sighs inwardly.

“Who are you looking for?” Johnny questions, making Haechan snap his head back to him before poking at the quinoa on his plate.

“No one,” Haechan mumbles.

Johnny raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press him and goes back to his phone. The cafeteria buzzes with the usual lunchtime chatter. The mechanics and engineers too, seem to have come up for their lunch break before qualifying. Johnny looks up at Haechan for a second when he seems to realize that the driver usually eats lunch in his room, in order to focus and calm his mind.

Before he can question it, Haechan pipes up, “How’s your sister and her baby, by the way?”

“She’s fine. And my nephew? Oh god, he is so cute. Wait let me show you a photo,” Johnny gushes as he scrolls through his photos, “Thanks for letting me go, actually. I mean, I did you a favour too. Didn’t you take your PR girl with you?” He looks up to see Haechan distracted, eyes flicking around the room again.

“Ah,” Johnny sighs, shaking his head, “So that’s what’s on your mind?”

Haechan glances at him before stuffing a forkful of grilled chicken in his mouth, “What? Show me the photos.”

Johnny slides his phone over, still staring at him. “It makes sense really,” He says to himself, “You took her out when I cancelled. You don’t want to eat in your room anymore, you keep looking around for her.”

Haechan freezes, his fork already halfway to his mouth. He sets it down, trying to play the cool game, but Johnny knows Haechan and frankly with the way he’s scratching his neck right now while fervently scrolling through his photos, he already has his answer.

“Your nephew’s really cute.” Haechan says, a little too loudly, “I’d love to meet him one day.”

Johnny leans back in his chair, arms crossed and grins a little wider than what Haechan would’ve liked to see. “Anyways, where is she? Seems like you two have gotten close.”

“Well, she’s around me a lot and it’s been like what—five months—already. Of course we’d be friends,” Haechan rolls his eyes. He meant for it to come out very coolly, but he ends up sounding a bit defensive. “And I don’t know where she is. I don’t need to see her until after quali.”

“Mhm,” Johnny teases, “You don’t need to see her, but you want to. I get it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Haechan hisses, getting up from his seat, “You’re distracting me. I’m going to go back to my room. Throw out my plate for me, will you?”

“Are you sure I’m what’s distracting you?” Johnny calls out behind him, earning a few looks. He laughs while looking around, “Oh it’s nothing, he’s just a little worried about qualifying.”

—

Post qualifying

“Haechan, congratulations on pole position,” The reporter chirps, “If you could step up to the mic, please.”

“Thank you,” Haechan gives a small smile, waiting for the questions.

“The Red Bulls seemed very strong today and yesterday, you know, over the practice sessions and qualifying. Jeno qualified with a P3. Anything new about the car? Has anything changed since Austria?”

“Yeah, well, the team had already been working hard on bringing an update to the car so it’s been feeling good this weekend. Hopefully we can use it to give the team a 1-2 finish again.”

“You’ve been on the podium multiple times here in Silverstone, but you’ve never won before. What’s different this time and what do you think about your chances for tomorrow?”

“Silverstone has been slightly challenging for me in the past, but every year is different, right? The team has made some great progress with the car. I think personally, I feel more in tune than I did last weekend. This is our best shot yet. Of course it’ll be a tough battle, but I think we’ll be able to make the most out of it tomorrow.” Haechan nods, “Also, they do predict a little rain here, every year. Always makes it more exciting.”

The reporter laughs along with him, “Of course. Now my last question. You weren’t here last weekend, so I didn’t get to ask you.”

You can see Haechan stiffening up. You did talk to him about the possibility of reporters or journalists asking about Austria. Hopefully he remembers.

“In Austria, you had that incident with Jaehyun on lap one. With the title fight heating up between you two, how do you feel about something like that happening at such a critical point in the season? Does it change the way you approach racing with him, or was it just a racing incident?”

No matter how Haechan answers this, you know it’s going to stir up drama. It’s about time anyways, with the championship fight set up between the drivers and the teams. You lightly tug Haechan’s hand, hoping it’s out of frame or even just subtle enough. He notices.

“It was unfortunate. I had a lot to unpack after that race,” Haechan begins, “It was frustrating, especially since we both know how much is at stake. I mean, it’s tough out here… I think we’ve both had a fair share of things not going our way. But yeah, it’s a championship fight and I’m not here to back down. Keeping it clean is ideal of course, but I don’t mind some hard racing. It is a part of the game after all. We’ll see how the rest of the season plays out.”

“You did well,” You mutter to him as the two of you leave the media pen after a few more interviews.

“Oh thanks, I learnt from the best.” Haechan chuckles. You smile.

“No, I mean. Even in quali and everything.” You look up at him.

His lips are stretched in an easy smile and he looks more collected and composed today. You haven’t seen this type of confidence ooze off him in a while, so today, it makes you glad.

“I feel good too, honestly.” Haechan admits, “I think I got too into my head last time and it just never works out like that. I’ve done this so many times and just because there’s a championship win looming over my head does not mean I crumble under the pressure of it all.” He dramatically sighs.

“Well,” You quip, “Don’t be too confident. After all that you’ve said today, you’d make it really hard for you and me to answer if you didn’t win tomorrow.”

Haechan stops in his tracks, turning to you, “Are you telling me to win?”

“Would I tell you to lose?” You question, squinting at him.

“No, but are you telling me to win for you? So that you don’t have to deal with those articles?” He has a smirk on his face that one half of you, the more sane half wants to punch off.

“I didn’t say that. But if you happened to win, everyone would be pleased.” You shrug nonchalantly.

Haechan laughs, “Everyone includes you.”

“It does.” You sigh before fastening your pace and walking ahead of him. You don’t understand why he’s doing this, but it sucks. It sucks and you don’t think it's professional and- Shit your face is probably red right now.

“Hey! Hey, I’ll win it.” Haechan grins as he catches up to you, “For the team, and the championship, of course.”

You nod sternly, “Yes, exactly.”

“And,” He begins as you reach the entrance to where the motorhomes are parked, “For you. Thanks for walking me back!” He runs off before you can pretend to get mad at him. You roll your eyes, fanning your face as you walk away.

Around the same time, the next day, you walk away from the celebrations for a second, feeling your phone ping in your pocket. Perfect timing, really, because you’d rather not get champagne all over you.

Someone’s sent you an article. You click on the link.

Haechan dominates Silverstone for maiden win, Vows: ‘I’m not here to back down’. Ferrari falls short again as title hopes begin to falter.

You shake your head, turning towards the crowd formed in the centre of the garage as they attempt to douse the man of the hour in champagne. You watch as Haechan shrieks, trying to dodge his head mechanic who has another, completely filled bottle in his hands. His overalls are already soaked, and his hair sticks to his forehead as a result of Jeno pouring champagne over his head on the podium.

For a second, Haechan’s eyes search around until they land on you. When they do, his eyes widen ever so slightly and he beams. Teeth out, cheeks full and eyes almost closing.

You can’t help but smile back. Your heart skips a beat, multiple beats, you think. You hope no one notices the way your cheeks are burning up right now. You hope he doesn’t notice it. Looking away, you tuck your phone back in. You need to head back up, gather your things and head back home. You’d promised your family you’d visit and conveniently you have almost a week and a half off before you travel again.

To your (unknown) dismay, Haechan does notice.

ITALY, AUTODROMO NAZIONALE MONZA

Saturday, Qualifying September 6th

Rumours around the paddock don’t start baselessly, so when you overhear news from Jaehyun’s PR manager, a senior of yours from college, it shocks you. Choi Seungcheol, Il Prescelto, the chosen one, Ferrari’s lion… talks of leaving?

Haechan is even more astonished when you accidentally let it slip in front of him.

“That’s…” He tilts his chin, thinking hard, “That’s not possible, is it? I mean, he’s been with them for so long. He’s got them those four drivers championships. There’s no way he��d leave.”

“I don’t know Haechan,” You sigh, dragging a hand across your face, “I wasn’t even supposed to tell you this. Listen, this is the last-”

“Last thing I need to worry about, I know.” He shakes his head as he slips on his racing shoes.

The two of you are in his dressing room, about fifteen minutes before qualifying starts. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be here, but you find yourself pacing nervously while he adjusts his gear.

“I don’t even know why I’m saying this,” You bite your lip, trying to find the right words, “It’s just- She told me that there’s been a lot going on in their team, between the drivers, something, I don’t know.”

Haechan nods as he stands up and walks over to you, moving you out of the way by your waist to grab his helmet. Your brain short circuits for a moment before you wrangle it back into control. You’re trying to tell him something. Stop it. You can’t help the way your stomach somersaults at the smell of his cologne.

“Haechan,” Your voice is stern and it makes him stop, hand on his helmet on the shelf. It’s not an ideal position, at all. You can imagine what it would look like if someone walked into the room right now, one hand on the shelf, the other unconsciously on your waist. Haechan is too close to you. You clear your throat, swallowing as he moves away muttering an apology. There’s an air of disappointment and confusion surrounding you two and you know it. There are things unsaid and undone, but now is not the time.

“I think you’ve noticed already from the practice sessions but they’re fighting within themselves.” You sigh, hoping the shakiness in your voice isn’t too obvious.

“Yeah, the team told me in the briefing session. I thought it was just some silly teammate banter, though.”

“Hopefully it is. But just stay safe out there, okay?”

Haechan's heart warms at the concern in your voice.

“Always, I know. It's alright.”

“I'll see you after quali then. All the best,” You muster a small smile. You don't think he could go faster than your heart is beating right now, to be fair, but you hope he does.

Haechan hasn't told you this yet, but as he gets into his car in the garage, he thinks you already know his intentions. He needs to out qualify both the Ferraris today. Especially Jaehyun. Haechan is not one to leave favours unpaid and the only way he can return Jaehyun’s is by ruining his home race too. The fabled Italian grand prix, with the thousands of tifosi here. He’s not going to mess up Jaehyun’s race like the latter did in Austria, no. He’s better than that and besides, he needs a clean race, if not for himself, if not for the team, then for you. No, Haechan’s going to make sure he ruins it by winning.

His engineer gives him the green light to fire up the engine and leave the garage. As he swerves out into the pitlane, he almost scoffs into his radio. In front of him both the Ferraris leave their garage, blazing red and engines roaring.

If there is an issue between the two of them—like you said there might be— then as long as they don’t crash into him, maybe it’ll work out in his favour after all.

His engineer's voice crackles through the radio, “Haechan, all clear ahead. There’s not much traffic at the moment so let’s make this lap count.”

“Copy,” Haechan replies.

He accelerates into the first chicane, overtaking the Ferraris who still seem to be warming up. He’s always found the breaking zone at turn one a little tricky, but he powers through it into the second part of the chicane.

Exiting sector 1 into turn 4, Haechan hears on his radio, “That’s a purple sector 1. Keep going.”

The Red Bull flies through the straight in sector two, his speedometer reading a speed of 310 km/hr as the Parabolica, the temple of speed, looms ahead. It’s the final corner before the stretch to the finish line, the trickiest of them all.

His rear wheels fight for grip as he brakes late into the corner, dropping down a gear. Haechan keeps his foot steady, accelerating just as the car begins to straighten. The Parabolica is deceptive—too early on the throttle, and the back end kicks out. Too late, and he loses time.

“Purple sector 2.” His engineer informs him.

Haechan exhales as he approaches the finish line, keeping the car steady. The final moments of the lap feel like they take forever, but he thinks he’s hit all the marks. He crosses the line and steps off the throttle, slowing down due to an increase in the number of cars at the entrance.

“So?” He asks into the radio.

“Haechan, that is provisional pole for you. Well done mate, all purple sectors.”

Haechan grins, “Alright, heading back to the pits.”

He stays in until the end of Q3. It’s slightly surprising that no one has out-qualified him yet, but who is he to complain? Haechan sits on one of the seats at the pitwall, watching the others qualify. He doesn’t exactly feel threatened by any of their lap times but with 10 minutes remaining, Seungcheol sets a lap time that is only a second off of his. He gets back to the garage after seeing that, zipping his overalls and putting his helmet and balaclava back on, Haechan settles into his seat. The mechanics are on standby but Seungcheol comes back into the pits and the session ends with no one outdoing him. There’s a sense of confidence in Haechan as he climbs out of his seat again, taking off his helmet to high five some of his mechanics.

Pole in Monza. He’s ahead of both the Ferraris in their home ground. It’s a huge advantage for both championships. All he needs to do now is convert that pole into a win.

—

Sunday, Race Day September 7th

The best thing about home races, Haechan muses, is the home crowd.

But they're not cheering for him, no. It's more of an encouragement for Seungcheol to go quicker. Outrun the bull that's coming for you. But Seungcheol is on the straight with old tires and Haechan is right on his tail with fresh hards on.

The overtaking opportunity shows itself easily. There's not much one can do on a straight with a car that has DRS enabled behind him.

Haechan can hear the disappointment in the crowd as he overtakes the Ferrari, the groans loud enough to penetrate through his helmet and the engine’s loud rumbling. He smirks, taking the lead of the race again. There’s nothing like disappointing the Tifosi.

Exiting the first chicane, in his mirrors, he sees both Ferrari’s close to each other. Almost too close. They’re fighting, red against red, sparks flying as they push their cars to the limit. There’s no teamwork in sight, no sense of strategy—only two drivers who refuse to yield.

Haechan knows that kind of desperation. The kind that you need when you’re trying to prove yourself to someone. It just seems like the wrong moment for this, though, with the constructors easily on the line.

Haechan’s engineer cuts through on the radio, “Ferraris fighting for P2 behind you. Keep your head down and focus.”

“Copy.” He replies, eyes flicking back his mirrors once again. Both of them are driving recklessly and he does not want to be around to get stuck in debris if they do end up crashing into each other.

In the garage, you watch Jaehyun lock up on screen as he dives into a turn, lunging for the overtake. Seungcheol defends hard, leaving barely any room. They almost touch again but come out the other side unscathed. The shot widens and you see Haechan already a good few seconds ahead of them. Relief courses through you as he keeps his pace steady, pulling away from the chaos behind him.

At the exit to turn 2, Jaehyun dives outside but Seungcheol moves to defend a split second too late. Jaehyun’s rear wheel hits the curb hard and sends his car into the air. You feel time slow down before gravity overtakes again and Jaehyun’s Ferrari crashes down on top of his teammate. Jaehyun’s rear wheel runs up against the cockpit of Seungcheol’s car as they drive off track and the commentary box goes wild, their voices frantic.

“Oh my word! Massive crash between the Ferraris! Are both the Scuderia cars OUT of their home race?” Even with earplugs on, you can hear the roar of the fans in the grandstands as the shock settles in.

The slow-motion replay shows Jaehyun’s car hanging in the air for a split second before slamming down on Seungcheol’s halo.

“Look at that! The halo is doing its job there, saving Seungcheol. But what a terrifying impact!”

The replay shifts to the aftermath—the two Ferraris tangled together, sliding helplessly into the gravel, debris scattered across the track.

“And it’s confirmed,” The commentator begins, “Both Ferraris are out of the race at Monza! Can you believe it? In front of the thousands of Tifosi here, it has been a nightmare of a weekend for Ferrari.”

“Is everyone alright?” Haechan asks his engineer. He’s seen the impact of the accident behind him. It couldn’t have been great.

“Uh yes, both drivers are safe. Red flag, Haechan. Please slow down and come back to the pits. They’ve ordered a restart.”

Once he's back in the garage, the tension is thick. The pit crew is busy, checking the car over one last time. Haechan leans back against the wall, the weight of what just happened pressing down on him. Two Ferraris out in a spectacular crash—he can't help but feel a mix of relief and unease. They were close to each other. It could've been him, too, if things had gone differently.

But his engineer walks up, data flashing on the screen in front of him and it grounds Haechan. The race isn’t over yet and he cannot afford to lose focus. With the restart, although he’ll still have the advantage, it could be an opportunity for anybody else. Especially Jeno, who’s now been promoted to P2 after both the Ferrari’s crash out.

“There’s no need for you and Jeno to battle it out,” He hears his strategist say. “Since Ferrari is out, it won’t affect your driver’s standing much, so focus on the constructors. You should try to win, of course, but keep it clean, please.”

Haechan nods. The restart is coming soon. He needs to get back into the car.

As he walks back to the desk near his car to pick up his helmet, he sees your figure, bent over your laptop, typing away. You're scanning through the data, probably double-checking something, or maybe working on a report for the team. He notices the way your brow furrows in concentration, how you’re so focused on your work. It's a stark contrast to the chaos of the garage around you, but it’s also strangely calming.

The weight of his helmet pulls him back into the present. He’s got a job to finish.

Just as he climbs back into his seat, he looks at you again, almost instinctively with no thought behind it. But for a brief moment you catch his gaze and give him a small nod, encouragement maybe. You can’t see his face, but he throws a small smile anyways. He’s alright and he’s safe, just like he promised.

Back on track, the restart is smooth. Haechan reacts quickly, gets off the start line nicely and has nothing but clean air ahead. There’s nothing that could go wrong now, and with that sentiment, he completes the last three laps remaining.

As he crosses the finish line, Jeno’s red bull right behind him, the silence from the crowd is deafening. Their disappointment is palpable, but Haechan frankly does not care. There is nothing like hearing a crowd go silent at their home ground and he’s proud to be the reason for it.

When he makes his way onto the podium a few minutes later, the boos echo in his ear. It’s nothing new, after all, this is what a non-Ferrari winner is subjected to here. It makes him smile a little. Haechan knows the score. They’re mad, but Red Bull and him are winning. So he waves at the crowd, keeping his composure. He’s not the favourite, but well, sucks for them.

—

Post Race

When Haechan steps out of the shower, the cool air of the room hits him, and he reaches for a towel, drying his face and neck before rubbing it over his hair. His damp curls fall in waves, still slightly messy from the helmet. There’s a lingering exhaustion in his bones, but he knows you’ll be here any second now to take him to the drivers press conference and he can’t be late to that.

He slips on the team’s jersey just as you knock on the door. “It’s open.” He answers loudly.

“Hey winner,” you say, stepping in just a little. “We’re running out of time. Are you ready?”

“Almost,” Haechan mumbles as he rubs his hair with his towel, “My hair just won't dry and I can't find another towel.”

You bite your lip as you look around. Ideally, there should be a hair dryer here but you can't see one in plain sight. “If you don't have a hair dryer then do you want me to go ask Jeno if he has one?”

“No, wait. I think I remember seeing one in the closet. Shit, I was just in a rush and didn't think about it.” Haechan shuffles around before pulling it out of his closet.

You watch him for a minute but as he fumbles around with it, you're starting to get a little impatient. The conference has probably already begun and while it's not uncommon for a driver to arrive a little late, you'd prefer the two of you to not be completely off time.

“Haechan, can you just sit down?” You sigh, taking the dryer from his hand and gently shoving him down.

Haechan, through his slight panic, registers that you're standing above him, between his legs, one hand gently pulling and ruffling his hair as you attempt to dry it as quickly as possible.

He thinks it's impossible how every once of exhaustion leaves his body, instead being replaced by the awareness of how close you are to him right now. It could be the heat from the hair dryer, or the air blowing onto his face but he knows the real reason why he feels frazzled is you.

Haechan's breaths come out slightly laboured. He's had a thousand moments where his heart beats at the speed of his car, but it's always been for a split second. When he loses control of his front or rear tyres, when he spins out, when he drifts a little too much, when another car gets too close to him. They end quickly though and he brings himself back into control.

But you. God, you stick him in this never ending cycle of losing his damn cool when you do things like these. And yeah, he tries to play it cool by coming off bold. But you catch him off guard multiple times. Haechan wonders if he's reading this situation right.

“They might ask you about Ferrari.” You interrupt his thoughts.

See! He thinks to himself. You do things like drying his fucking hair for him which he believes is completely unprofessional and not at all in your job description. He isn't complaining, no, never. But then you follow it up by suddenly becoming professional and it confuses the hell out of him. But Haechan can't say anything because he's a coward when it comes to actually telling you how he feels, so he nods and looks up at you as you turn off the dryer.

“Just be careful to not sound too cocky. You've earned a good advantage, but there's going to be a lot of Italian press and media and they won't really like it.” You stare him down and Haechan can only swallow and nod as he gets up to leave.

He thinks you'll follow him as he leaves but to his surprise, you stop him. You hate being late and he knows that. So he turns back to look at you quizzically.

You pause for a second not knowing how to do this before you decide to fuck it all and lean forward to give Haechan an awkward hug.

He freezes as your arms encircle his shoulder. Your mango and hibiscus perfume that he’s asked you about before has an addictive scent, filling his senses and sending his mind into overdrive.

“Good job today,” You mutter, “On winning, on staying safe, everything. I'm sure it'll all work out.”

Haechan is still speechless as you leave him, your face burning as you rush to leave the room.

He stares at you as you speed walk through the corridor, before stopping and motioning for him to come too. How the hell is he supposed to answer questions about the goddamn car after you pull something like that and make sure you're stuck in his head instead of the things he's supposed to say?

He takes a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down. It’s just a hug. A pat on the shoulder. Completely normal, right?

…Right?

#haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #lee haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #kstrucknet #f1 au #nct oneshot #nct long fic #nct x reader #haechan fluff #haechan oneshot #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck oneshot #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #tracks by calli 💿

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ireneispunk · 11 months ago

Text

Teach Me

Aemond Targaryen x female reader smut (Rhaenyra & Harwin Laenor Velaryon's daughter)

After your family gathers in King's Landing for Maelor's name day celebrations, tensions build between in more ways than expected. A lesson in High Valryian from your uncle Aemond causes a mutual infatuation to bubble over.

w.c: 9,398 (i know)

c.w: SMUT 18+ , targcest (uncle & niece), NO use of Y/N, oral (m & f receiving), afab reader, foreplay, unprotected p in v sex, the slowest of slowburns to ever exist, mild aemond angst, but also kinda soft aemond(?), fluff to finish ofc, small implied age gap, reader is briefly mentioned to have Srong features, pet names (in high valyrian), use of High Valyrian all translations in text as it is spoken (E.G "Rytsa Skorkydoso glaesā?" (Hi how are you?)) (i didn't translate these everytime bc i used them a lot so: mandianna = niece (child of your older sister), iāpa = uncle), pls let me know if i've missed any

a.n: so this came from a post i did the other day, and @sinistersnakey9419 gave me the idea for this fic and it had me giggling and kicking my feet fr. also, this took me like a week to write because i kept adding more plot teehee.

dividers: @saradika ♡

It was a week into your families stay at King’s Landing. The Red Keep was a familiar place, but it was no Dragonstone. Your Grandsire, King Viserys, had made it his wish of his for his family to be together to celebrate Maelor’s name day which was to be a multiple day affair. And he meant all of his family, regardless of the fabricated tensions that divided you. As Rhaenyra’s second eldest and only surviving daughter, you felt an unspoken pressure to help maintain the peace between the brothers of the family. One side couldn’t help but torment whilst the other was quick to defend his family by any means. You missed being back on Dragonstone, but this was an exciting place to be. Days were filled with activities befitting of a young lady, and you enjoyed spending time with your Aunt Helaena – both of you appreciated a sisterly figure from within each other. There was one presence you couldn’t quite understand. Aemond. Your uncle had watched you closely since you first arrived, it had been a time since you had both seen each other. He had grown into a very tall and incredibly handsome man; he was more pleasing to the eye than he should be. His large frame and equanimous demeanour loomed over you, even from the other side of a room. His gaze stuck upon you like a hound tracking game. You couldn’t help but assume, like most other members of his side of the family, he held nothing but judgemental distain for you and your brown-haired brothers.

The mornings were always the same, Viserys had wished for you all to break your fast together daily. That had started to dwindle until the King had heard of it and demanded you eat together regardless of his presence. It was going about as well as it had the past week, Aegon’s head in a cup, Alicent on edge at every second.

“The maesters have been helping us with our Valyrian.” Spouted Lucerys, he was sweet, too sweet and sensed a smog of tension over the room. Rhaenyra smiled, appreciating your brother’s attempt.

“Let us hear it then.” Daemon announced leaning back in his seat.

“Rēbagon se gerpa kostilus.” (Pass the fruit please). Lucerys seemed impressed with his statement, Daemon seems confused for a moment before leaning forward and sliding the dish of grapes over towards Luke. A short scoff was heard from across the table, Aemond sat casually, smirk laden on his lips.

“Something the matter, Uncle?” Jacaerys spoke through slight gritted teeth. Aemond raised a hand in a defensive motion, smile still playing at his lips.

“What my brother wants to say,” Aegon peeled his face up from the tablecloth and took a swig of whatever was in his cup at this hour, “Is that your ‘High Valyrian’ sounded more like Old Ghiscari.” Lucerys smile faded as he looked to your mother for reassurance. You sighed, looking down at you half-finished plate as yet another verbal disagreement erupted between the men in your life. You rose to your feet with more haste than you anticipated causing your chair to wobble and crash onto the stone floor behind you. The room fell silent, and you felt everyone’s eyes burning into your skin.

Your gaze remained vacant, lingering on the table, “May I please be excused.” You were embarrassed: of your outburst, your family’s inability to get along, your uncles’ comments. Mostly due to the fact they were right, Lucerys’ nor Jacaerys High Valyrian was perfect, and it just added to the rumours that spread about your family. Your mother had barely spoke an ‘of course’ before you took your leave, nails digging crescents into your palms.

Leaves rustled beneath your feet as you paced the grass of the Godswood, it was always a small sanctuary of peace for it’s quiet and empty nature. You closed your eyes and let the sun beam down on your face, if you imagined hard enough you could feel the cold breeze from your balcony at Dragonstone. A harsh snapping of a twig pulled you from your thoughts, your head shooting up towards the direction of the disturbance. Aemond stood a few paces away from you, palm raised in a surrendering motion. You released a breath you had been holding onto, bringing your hands together to fiddle with the clasp of your bracelet. “I did not mean to startle you, Mandianna,” He took a stride closer towards you, hands clasped behind his back. “You caused quite a scene. For a princess.” Your eyes stayed fixated on the ground beneath the two of you. This was the first time you had ever been alone with Aemond, and he was being agreeable? It was hard to deny how beautiful he was, even just from the stolen glances towards him. You knew about sex, parts of what it entailed. From a few detailed paintings to the small snippets you overheard from the younger handmaidens. You hadn’t spent an awful lot of time thinking about it apart from when conversations of finding you a match came around. That was until this week, something about being around Aemond meant fighting away thoughts of him a regular occurrence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you picked up your chin to meet Aemond’s stare. It was softer, and more inquisitive than his usual piercing gaze. Your stomach dropped as thoughts of him bending you over and fucking you right here in the Godswood clouded your mind, how his hands would feel over your body, his tongue across your neck and between your thighs, how it would feel him sliding – “Keli jiōraton aōha ēngos byka genes?” (Cat got your tongue little mouse?). You felt heat rising towards cheeks and across your chest as you tried to mask your raised heart rate. You were pretty sure Aemond couldn’t read your thoughts, but the small smile that played at his lips made you feel otherwise. Something about your close proximity, the way you could make out each detail of his face, and his intoxicating smell had muzzled you. Lips parted to respond but nothing came out. You felt helpless in the best way possible. “A Velaryon princess who can’t hold a High Valyrian conversation, you disappoint me Mandianna.” Aemond turned on his heel, briskly walking towards the wood’s exit.

Maybe it was the need to please, the burning between your thighs, or the fact he was no longer facing you, but the words escaped your lips before you could even process what you had said, “Teach me.” The small wave of confidence dwindled when he turned his head back to face you.

“Teach you?”

“Teach me what you think I should know, Iāpa.” You didn’t know how he would respond, nor did you know how you wished for him to respond. Aemond raised a brow and smiled to himself, your small use of High Valyrian and how your statement could be interpreted in many different made him intrigued to see where this would lead.

“Tomorrow evening, after supper. Meet me in the library’s reading room.” Without needing a response, he once again made his way out of the wood, leaving you flustered and equally excited, yet dread filled.

As supper slowly began to drew to a close, your excitement manifested in a small bobbing of your leg. Actual conversation rang out between small groups on the table, Lucerys and Helaena had included you in there’s but all you could focus on was keeping your thoughts clear. Everything about Aemond drew you further in his lips softly against his cup, the way his index and middle finger tapped along to the quiet music that had been played, but most of all the way he would catch you watching with a satisfied smile. You partially walked back to your chambers, before feigning forgetting a ring behind at the table, and insisting to your mother and Daemon that it couldn’t wait until morning. Part of you wondered if you shouldn’t have lied, there was a simple explanation: getting lessons in High Valyrian from your uncle Aemond. Except this would not go over well with your immediate family. For you could hold a conversation in High Valyrian, it was Aemond you couldn’t speak to specifically. You were actually quite proficient in High Valyrian, not as much as you’d hoped to be but a whole lot better than your brothers. Whether it was common tongue or Valyrian Aemond rendered you speechless, and now you were willingly walking into a situation where he had complete control. You knew for certain how much you longed for him, but other than glances you couldn’t figure out what he truly felt. Part of you wanted to be under him at every moment possible but if he didn’t feel the same, if his glances were all a trick, you’d be ruined.

After stepping through the library, you took one final breath before opening the heavy oak door to the reading room. It pushed open with a small creak to reveal Aemond sat at the desk, tattered book in hand. “I thought you might’ve gotten cold feet,” he closed the book and softly placed it on the table, “Come take a seat.” He arose, pulling the wooden chair beside him out from the table, allowing you to sit down. You nodded your head slightly before taking a seat, smoothing out any creases in your dress. Taking a moment to examine the reading room in the dark, you noticed the two brass cups and a wine jug, along with numerous High Valyrian scriptures and books with plain parchment and a fresh quill. Aemond himself was wearing his usual attire, except his black coat had been unbuckled a few straps, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed, eyeing the wine. Everything seemed real of a sudden. You weren’t used to drinking wine, especially alone at night. Sensing your nervousness, Aemond picked up a cup and placed it in front of you, “Just because it is my drink of choice for the evening,” he poured a small amount into his own cup, “Doesn’t mean I expect you to partake, Mandianna.” You paused for a moment before shaking your head ‘no’ and sliding your cup away. “Very well, read this out for me, I want to hear what you can do already.” He relished in how you squirmed when he was close to you. You looked down at the papers in front of you, ‘Aegon the Conqueror, The High Valyrian Scriptures’. You knew all about Aegon the Dragon, but the words escaped you as Aemond stood behind you, left hand atop your chair, right hand holding up his weight on the table. You felt a few strands of his long hair tickle your shoulder, the closeness of him made you feel as if you could burst. “Go on then, read it.” He said, almost a whisper. His lips were so close yet still too far, you could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke but not the softness of his lips on your skin. This is the type of torture that scribes should mention.

“Aegon I Targaryen iksin se ēlī āeksio hen sīkuda Dārȳti se-“ (Aegon I Targaryen was the first Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and-). You paused as Aemond moved from behind you to stand beside the table.

“I didn’t say stop.” His firm tone excited you more than you wanted it to.

“se dārys va se Dēmalion Āegenko.” (and king on the Iron Throne). You continued, looking up to Aemond for approval. He nodded before gathering up the papers from in front of you and holding them in his hands. Puzzled, you turned to face him “But-“

“Too easy, you know how the story goes, tell it to me in High Valyrian.” Aemond looked pleased with himself as he sat back into his own chair that now faced yours.

You looked down at the floor for a moment, before continuing “Ziry kithsair bȳre hen sīkuda Dārȳti se-ziry se-“ (He conquered six of the seven kingdoms and-he a-nd-). Yet again, your words escaped your lips as Aemond’s gaze wandered over your body, free to visually devour your form now you were not in the company of others.

He inhaled sharply and rose to his feet, “Valyrio Eglie iksis iā kostōba udrir, se ēdruta sagon spoken hae mēre. Aōha udra issi nākostōbā, ao ȳdragon tolī rāpa. Eman daor drīve geptot naejot dohaeragon ao byka genes.” (High Valyrian is a powerful language and must be spoken as one. Your words are weak, you speak too softly. I cannot help you little mouse.) His words came at you fast and rather harshly, you hated the effect he had on you, and you hated how he judged you for it. You searched his face for something more, surely all of this was not over, the yearning looks, the candlelight, the wine, did it not mean something more? As your mind raced you looked towards the floor and wished it would envelop you. Aemond sighed, and placed the scriptures that you had read from under your chin and used them to lift you face up towards his. Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him standing over you. “You don’t understand do you Mandianna,” He chuckled softly, tilting you head to his will. “Nyke would qogralbar ao ēva ao could gaomagon daorun yn ilagon isse ñuha baer mirre tubis byka genes.” (I would fuck you until you could do nothing but lay in my bed all day little mouse.) He dropped the scriptures onto the table, taking his leave with such haste that you felt he air pass by through your hair. Once his footsteps dissipated you felt as your jaw went slack. The wetness grew between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together, attempting to relieve some of the mounding pressure.

Your heart thudded in your chest like a drum, you swiftly shut the door to your chambers and tried to steady your shaky breathing. After shedding yourself of your dress you made your way to the vanity and undid your hairstyle of the day. As your fingers worked between your hair you imagined Aemond’s large hands making their way through it, your fingers delicately glided across the crook of your neck before resting upon the warmth of your chest. If Aemond wanted to play games then you would gladly oblige, except this time you knew he wanted to play.

Your reading was interrupted by the ever-persistent King’s Landing ladies in waiting, you’d usually grumble except it was the first day of Maelor’s name day celebrations and you were taught the importance of good first impressions. Today would be important as Lords and Ladies of every great house would be there and you were yet to find a betrothed who was approved by the heir to the iron throne, your brothers, and Daemon, who once sent a young lord away teary eyed with embarrassment. You smiled to yourself as the ladies working on you bickered between what way to style your hair for the occasion. “What about something mostly up, with a few small braids, and the red gem hairpins? I think that’ll match the dress I picked out for tonight.” They glanced between each other, smiled, and got to work on your dark hair. Part of you was filled with excitement, it had been a while since you had an excuse to dress up, and it was even more thrilling at the thought of catching Aemond’s attention over all the other Ladies present. As the late afternoon rolled around you were finally considered presentable to the guests in the great hall. You eyed your reflection, your hair lifted to expose your neck and clavicle, dark fabric fitted to your shape with delicate blood red beading sewn into the neckline and down the sleeves finished with your gold jewellery pieces. Just as the ladies were about to leave you had an idea, “Wait! Do you have any of the rose perfume oil?” You spoke with a smile. A few knowing glances were shared between the two eldest ladies as a younger one brought over the small crystal bottle before dabbing a small amount on each wrist and on either side of your neck.

The rest of your family waited beside the towering doors of the great hall, “Finally, I thought we’d all starve.” Joffrey spouted with a huff earning a short laugh from Lucerys, a half shove from Jacaerys and a raised brow from Daemon. Your mother waved them off and placed her hands either side of your upper arms, “What a beautiful young woman you have become, my sweet child.” Rhaenyra looked upon you with great admiration as always. You smiled and squeezed her hand as you all stood together as the doors were slowly pulled open. You could feel your heart beating in your ears as the chittering in the room slowly dissipated and all heads turned to face you all. You bore a brave face following after your parent’s movements down the steps and towards the King’s table. After greeting the king, you were all seated, the family had grown rather exponentially since Rhaenyra’s wedding to your father Laenor which you had heard many stories about. You sat towards the outer curve to one side of the table, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Aemond, already watching you. So not to give him the pleasure of your gaze, you made conversations with your family next to you.

A short clearing of a throat pulled you from your conversation with Jacaerys, “I am Jorick Lannister, your graces,” He bowed his head towards you, “I was wondering if I may have the honour to ask the Princess to a dance?” He flashed his best smile at you.

You looked expectantly to your mother and Daemon, “If you wish to, then go dance.” Rhaenyra grinned, she gently touched her own elbow against Daemon’s, and he muttered something about there ‘being worse choices in the room’. You stood up from your seat, perhaps a bit too eagerly and walked around to the side of the table where the Lannister stood. He extended his hand, palm up towards you and lead you down the few steps to the crowd of dancers. You stood a pace apart and looked at the man in front of you, he was certainly handsome, dark blonde hair that waved towards the nape of his neck, gentle grey eyes. As you looked into them something caught your eye behind them. Aemond was alert, not sat in his usual laid-back posture with his cup resting in his hand on the arm of his chair. He was sat forward, stiff as a statue and boring daggers into the back of your dance partner. You swallowed as you saw the grip he had around his cup; it was solid metal but from the look on his face alone it could crumble. The music swelled as Jorick took your hand in his and placed his other upon your waist.

As you both moved across the floor, he leaned in to speak to you “How are you enjoying the capital princess.” Jorick spoke above the music.

“There’s a certain beauty to it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Dragonstone.” You spoke with truth.

Jorick chuckled, “Ah yes, it is the perfect home for a dragon. I do believe you would grow to like Catserly Rock your grace. It’s no island but the coastline is just as harsh, I miss the sound of it when I try to sleep somewhere new.”

You heartily laughed at his statement as he twirled you in a circle. “I have said that ever since we got here! But no one else seems to understand it.” While he laughed and agreed in return.

Meanwhile at the King’s table, Aemond’s jealousy bubbled harshly. Already did he have a hard time resisting taking you into his arms and treating you as you deserved, but watching another man, a Lannister at that, hold you the way he wanted to, enraged him. He counted the guards in the room to simmer his anger, but then imagined fighting them off as he cut down every person between you and him and taking you into an embrace. He was completely and utterly enamoured with you, ever since he watched you climb off of your dragon from a tower of the Red Keep. Gone had the child he knew as a babe himself and was now replaced with a woman who plagued his thoughts. Your darker hair that framed your face, eyes that crinkled when you laughed and held so much emotion, the way you smile brought him an unmanageable amount of joy. He couldn’t hate you, no matter if he tried. At this moment, he wished for it to be simple. That he wasn’t your mother’s brother, that he was just a Lord of some other house, dancing with you and holding you close. A world in which he could have you, touch you, without bearing the reprehensible disappointment of his mother or the feeling of his heart being crushed right in front of him. He had once and for all had enough after the 6th eager meek had hovered around you after each song had finished to ask for your hand. Aemond rose to his feet and made his way to you on the floor with large strides dipping in between the guests. Queen Alicent watched him with worry, he wasn’t known to dance or partake in many festivities like these.

You parted ways with your last dance partner and smiled as you were approached by yet another Lord, “My princess, I am Erich Baratheon and I would love the honour of-“ He started before being cut off by the sudden appearance of Aemond: he’d brushed past the suitor on his was to you, not harsh in any sense but it definitely took you both off guard.

The broad Baratheon was dwarfed by not only the Targaryen’s height, but his mere presence also. “Perhaps is it my turn for a dance, Mandianna.” The request seemed so lewd and intimate coming from him, despite it being what would otherwise be an innocent dance between family.

“I was just asking the Princess for a dance. Perhaps you may dance with her after?” The Baratheon mustered his bravest voice, a touch deeper than it had been a moment ago. Aemond’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he turned his head round and down with a rather dramatic tilt to amplify the inches between the pair. From this angle you could fully admire his jawline and neck. You imagined kissing across his sharp jawline, travelling down to his throat. At this moment you were so overcome with lust you imagine grazing your teeth against it and biting gently just to release some tension. After a very short stare off on the Baratheon’s end, “Perhaps not, uh- goodnight, Princess.” He had turned to walk away before even finishing his sentence, leaving you and Aemond face to face on the floor.

“That wasn’t very proper of you, uncle.” You spoke above a whisper, struggling to hold back a small laugh.

“Luckily it’s not so expected of me.” His face bore a small smile. An actual smile instead of a sly all-knowing smirk.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer either.”

“Well, someone had to put a stop to the herd of sheep begging to stomp on your feet all evening.” You couldn’t help but chuckle in agreement. Some of the Lords had been nice, decent dancers, with something to say. Others spent their time ogling your exposed skin or asking about your inheritance. You could not deny as conversations lulled between some of them, you imagined you were in the arms of Aemond instead. As the music began to swell, he offered you his hand which you gladly accepted whilst his other hand tentatively made its way to your upper waist. As he led the dance, he never looked away from you, it felt as if you were slowly melting into him. Able to ignore the few judgemental looks and quiet whispers from the people around you and just focussing on the man in front of you.

Back at the King’s table, your interaction had not gone unnoticed. Alicent’s worry had faded, she knew you had always been a sweet girl. She looked over to Rhaenyra who had already been watching her to gage a reaction and the two exchanged a small smile each. “Mother, are sister and Uncle Aemond going to get married?” Joffrey asked in matter-of-fact way, causing Rhaenyra to cough on the wine that she had sipped whilst Daemon chuckled and ruffled his dark curls.

You’d made a mental note to thank the gods for the current song choice, a slower one. Your hands flush together as the two of you rotated and eyes never leaving each other’s. As the end of the song drew close Aemond’s body moved behind you, left hand upon your waist and right taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. The latter part was not a usual for this particular dance. Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel the strength of his torso behind you. “You know uncle, I have been wanting more lessons in High Valyrian, I think a few more and we could really make some progress.” It wasn’t 100% a lie, Aemond definitely could teach you some High Valyrian, but it was mostly an excuse to be in private with him again.

“Really? Because you did so well last time?” You could practically feel the smirk on his face from behind you. “I know you can ask a lot nicer than that Mandianna.” You shuddered softly at the sensation of his voice so quiet, whispering into your ear. The music pace picked up as you glided across the floor, heart beating within your ears. As the instruments came to a halt, you felt a sense of weightlessness as Aemond dipped you and held you there, so low to the ground you felt the ends of your hair touch against it. You eyed him, brows raised and chest rising and falling, feeling fully in his hands.

“Kostilus, Aemond.” (Please, Aemond) The words left your lips in a soft way that travelled straight down his spine. You could not identify the emotion that swept his face as he swiftly brought you to your feet and ripped his hands from yours. His eyes shut briefly, his hands flexing into tight fist, you were not sure what had happened. As you reached out for his hand he stepped back and kept his eyes to the ground before making his way to the exit of the great hall. You called out to him softly, but he soon disappeared in between the crowds.

Confused and a little hurt, you made your way back to your seat and looked at the remainder of your meal that had surely gone cold. You felt your mother’s hand rest upon yours, and you looked to her and smiled weakly. “Where did your uncle go sweet girl?” She spoke softly and quietly, as to avoid bringing your brothers into it.

“He mentioned that he had to go for something.” Your lie wouldn’t have fooled a stranger, let alone your own mother, but she did not pry. She gave your hand a small squeeze and gave you the mother’s look of ‘I’m here if you need me’.

Aemond briskly made his way down the corridors of the Red Keep. His hands met the roughened wooden doors to a balcony as he pushed them open and felt the chill of the night air cover him. It was not enough as he felt is blood burn hot, coursing through his veins and the sight of you in his arms. Your hair cascading down past you, exposing your neck, the way your breasts filled out your corset and raised with your breathing. That damned perfume you wore and how it mixed with your scent had been a drug to him this night. Your eyes that stared up at him like a doe and looked at him like he was a god. He couldn’t help but remember your soft plump lips, the way they parted slightly when he looked your way, how you bit your lip whilst saddling your dragon and worst of all: how deliciously his name sounded coming out of them. He had not yet heard you say his name, but it being paired with such a submissive plead made it all the more torturous. He slowly breathed through his nose; head tilted back resting on the bricks. Aemond was too infatuated with you to ever hate your effect on him. His frustrations only grew greater the more he knew you. He was at a grand dinner, filled with every food and treat he could ever imagine, yet all he wished to taste was between your legs. He decided then and there on that balcony that his affections for you must go. ‘It should not be so painful’ He thought to himself, after all, you only had a few short days left in the capital.

The following day started even earlier, with the second day of the celebrations taking place in the gardens. You yawned into the palm of your hand and watched as the front side pieces of your hair were brought back and weaved into a delicate braid. “You mustn’t stay up so late princess!” The handmaiden fretted as she pulled out the dress you had chosen yesterday. You eyed it, before glancing towards the window to see the sun breaking out through the clouds, giving you an idea.

“It looks like it could really warm up in the garden under the sun, I was thinking of wearing this dress instead.” You lifted the dark berry coloured dress up in front of your handmaidens.

“I think you may get cold your grace.” One of the younger handmaidens spoke eyeing the dress, after a harsh glare from the eldest maiden she continued, “But you will look perfect no matter what!” She clarified with a nervous chuckle. You smiled at her in reassurance and allowed the cluster of ladies to dress you. Once they had finished arguing over minor details you stood back to look at your reflection. This was a dress you had never worn before, meant for particularly warm weather. It was an off the shoulder cut, that capped your upper arms with a tie. The dark coloured material was thinner than your regular dresses and the skirt flowed with any movement you made. After trying to sound as nonchalant as possible you once again asked for the rose perfume oil. After a few dots were dabbed on your wrists and neck, you thanked your ladies and placed the delicate bottle on the vanity. Once they had filed out you reapplied a few extra drops to your skin before dropping a small amount onto your fingertips and ran it through the ends of your hair. You looked beautiful, and hoped this would gain Aemond’s affections once more.

The garden party was a success from the get-go. Conversations bubbled, drinks were poured, and the food spread was something to marvel at. You were walking through the flowerbeds, arms linked with Baela, both of your laughs travelling from reminiscing on moments from your shared childhoods. “I heard you and Aemond caused quite the stir last night.” Baela giggled, nudging her elbow into yours.

“Word does travel fast in the capital,” You laughed. “And it was not a shared commotion, he was the one who left in a rush after we danced!” You reasoned with her; slight frustration apparent in your tone.

“And what a dance it appears to have been, they’d be able to smell you from Pentos.” You frowned slightly, wondering if you had overdone it today. She turned to face you, placing her hand over yours. “I jest of course, anyone would be lucky to catch your eye.” Baela’s smile was genuine and reassured your worries. You looked around the crowds of people once more, eyes fleeting from face to face. “He’s still not arrived yet.” Your eyes met hers once again as you both burst into loud laughter.

After much convincing from Alicent and a more silent encouragement from approach from Helaena, Aemond was finally making an appearance at the garden party. He thought to himself ‘What could a child so young possibly want with such celebrations?’ He justified his annoyance for his affections for you by dismissing the whole day, but being Maelor’s uncle he was expected to be there at some point. He was mere seconds into his arrival at the party before he overheard a distinct sound that made his heart sting. The familiar song of your laughter rang out from across the gardens. Every fibre of his being urged him to look for you, just to turn his head and see your face once more. Against all odds he kept his eyes trained on the floor and made his way to a quieter corner of the event in an attempt to go against his instincts and hide from you. He stood with his cup, fingers tracing across the details, a few feet away from the largely untouched array of desserts.

You grew frustrated as you looked around once more for your uncle’s presence. “Drink this, it’ll relax your nerves.” Baela handed you a cup with a dark red liquid in the bottom of it. “I know, wine isn’t for you, but this one is sweet! I think you’ll like it.” You nodded and took a sip, there was a slight burn as you swallowed it, but the fruity taste overtook it, and you nodded in agreement with her. As Baela and Jacaerys began talking intently you decided to have a look the foods on offer. You took another sip of your wine, the sweetness made you crave the sugared fruits the cooks always put out after dinner. After glancing over each table filled with every animal you could think of, cooked in every way. Your eyes made contact with a cake that was almost the size of you. Peering round the corner of the tent your eyes spotted something even more tempting. Aemond stood to himself, brows furrowed and finger lightly tapping against his cup in slight sync with the distant music that played.

“Uncle! I thought you were not going to make an appearance.” You tried to hide your excitement as you stepped into the tent and faced him. He seemed taken aback by the sudden presence of someone. His gaze shot up from the floor and lingered on your body, fleeting from your face to the way your dress fitted your figure. Just as he thought he’d mustered the strength to speak a light breeze rustled through the gardens and cascaded through your hair. ‘That damned floral perfume’ he thought to himself as he tried to hold his composure. After taking in her appearance once more, he noticed something unusual.

“I didn’t think you to be a wine drinker.” He spoke to you, his jaw clenched stiff.

You giggled slightly, “Me neither! But this one is Dornish, it’s a lot sweeter.” You took a step closer to him and held up your cup to him. “Would you like to taste?” You looked up at him through your lashes.

‘Yes’, He thought. “No.” He answered bluntly, “Thank you, no thank you.” His Adams apple bobbed in his throat as he answered, and you tilted your head slightly.

“Well, there’s plenty if you change your mind.” You smiled at him and turned towards the desserts table, various cakes, fruit pies, candied treats, decorated the large table.

You placed your cup and traced your finger across the end of the table eyeing the selection, you spotted your favourite sugared fruits. “I love these!” You exclaimed as you made your way over to the selection: cherries, berries of all kinds, plums, and peaches. You selected one of the peach slices and looked towards Aemond to find him watching intently. You popped the slice in your mouth and closed your eyes and exhaled a small ‘mmm’. You eyed the remaining sugar on your thumb and index finger. You looked into Aemond’s eye and popped the tip of your finger into your mouth and sucked the crystals off and releasing your finger with a pop. He muttered a short ‘gods’ to himself as he watched you round the table, another piece of fruit in hand. You faced him and held out the small piece of fruit. “You should taste it for yourself Aemond.” Something changed on his face, he looked down at you and slapped the fruit out of your hand and grabbed you by your wrist and led you out of the tent into the empty corridor nearby. “Uncle, Uncle!” You protested quietly once you were led far enough away to not be heard by guests.

“Let go,” you demanded, pushing his hand away. You eyed him as he turned away from you, breathing steadily, hands balled into fits. “Why have you dragged me out here?” You exclaimed in a hushed tone.

“Why have I?” He turned to face you, “Why have I?” He roared, stepping a pace towards you. Stepping backwards you felt the stone walls hit your shoulders. “It is you, you who has poisoned my thoughts ever since you got here, you who has made even existing in the same room as you arduous yet being away from you nearly impossible. You danced with every fool this side of The Narrow Sea and even then, you could not keep your eyes on them and not me. Calling me by my name. Now today-“, He furrowed his brows, remembering the sight of you in that tent. “Gods.” He whispered, running a hand over his face. “Do you really wish to torture me so?” He looked up at you, fragments of defeat washing over his face.

You pushed yourself away from the wall, taking a step towards him leaving an impossibly small gap between the two of you. “Nyke pendagon bisa iksin skoros ao jeldan hen nyke, Iāpa.” (I thought this was what you wanted from me, uncle.) His jaw remained tense, as slight confusion washed over him. You rose to the tips of your toes to whisper to him, “Hen aōha byka genes.” (From your little mouse.)

Without hesitation you felt his large hand cup the side of your face, his other snaking around your waist, the force of it pinning you towards the wall. His fingers brushed down your face, resting beneath your chin. His thumb tentatively ran across your bottom lip. Aemond leaned down to the side of your face, “Tell me to stop, tell me to stop and I will walk away.” His breath fanned over you; lips grazing against your neck. It took all of your efforts to not crumble beneath him.

“Ȳdra daor keligon.” (Don’t stop.) Your breath was shaky as Aemond brought his face to yours. You placed a hand against his chest and leaned up to kiss him before a rumble of distant laughter reminded you both of your current location.

He grabbed your hand from upon his chest and led you down the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your slippers tapping twice as fast on the floor to keep up with his long strides. As you both climbed the spiral staircase towards the chambers, voices rang out on the floor in front of you. Aemond brought you both to a halt, keeping his back against the wall and pulled your back towards him to avoid detection. “Why did we st-“ You started before feeling his large hand covering your mouth. He whispered a small shush into your ear. A heat spread across you face feeling a large bulge in his trousers, just above your ass. Once the footsteps had completely disappeared, he climbed the rest of the stairs, hand still firmly gripping yours. His spare hand pushed open the heavy door with such urgency, crashed against the wall beside it. He pulled you into his chambers, almost pulling you off your feet before only breaking eye contact to close and lock the door behind him.

He stepped towards you, unbuckling his jacket from the top. “Tell me to stop.” He once again commanded.

“No.” You spoke so quietly you weren’t even sure it had left your lips, but Aemond had definitely heard it. He pulled you close, keeping your bodies flush and brought a hand to your hair, pulling you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips graze yours slightly before delving into a deep kiss. You struggled to keep up with his desperate pace at first, feeling overwhelmed a gasp left your lips in an attempt to catch your breath. Aemond pulled away ever so slightly before planting a small kiss to the side of your mouth and kissing across your jaw.

“Turn around,” He whispered. You did as he instructed and turned your back to him. His hands gathered your hair and looped it over your shoulder. His hands traced down your back to the satin ties of your dress, before undoing the bow. You felt as his pulled your dress down your arms, down your torso and heard it drop to the floor in a light whoosh. You felt exposed, this was your first time in just your undergarments around anyone other than your handmaidens, and a man at that. His hands moved to the lacings of your corset, undoing each loop as his eyes consumed every inch of new flesh he saw. He tossed your corset to the side and pulled the rest of your undergarments off, and your arms instinctively crossed your chest. Grabbing a hold of your hand, he pulled you around to face him once more. A low groan escaped his lips at the sight of you before bringing your face to his in a deep kiss. His body led you to the foot of his bed, your back hitting one of the towering bedposts.

You let out a small gasp as his lips left yours and latched onto your neck. His hand came to your jaw and tilted your head back to look up at him. “Ivestragon nyke skoros jaelā.” (Tell me what you want.) His voice sent a heat that spread across your body.

“I want you to-“ You started before he cut you off, fingers gripping your hair slightly.

“Daor.” (No.) He eyed you, thumb tracing your jawline.

You realised what he was requesting. Your brain sped through thousands of scenarios you could’ve imagined before settling on one. “Obūljagon.” (Kneel.) You spoke with all the confidence you could gather. His typical smirk returned to his lips as he scanned your face. He was not sure what he had expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. A welcomed surprise, he sank to his knees in front of you. You watched as his lips peppered small kisses across your hips, running his hands up your thighs. He parted your legs and lifted your leg up and over his shoulder by the back of your knee. You gripped the footboard of the bed to steady yourself. An almost growl left his lips at the sight of your pussy mere inches away from his face. A sharp gasp left your lips at the feeling of his large fingers spreading your wetness from your core to your clit.

He brought one of his fingers to his lips and sucked the tip of it, watching your face intently. “Mmm, all this for me?” He grumbled rubbing the inside of your thigh at a painfully slow pace.

“Yes- Kessa, syt ao.” (Yes, for you.) You felt your pussy clenching, aching to be touched. His fingers moved to your pussy, teasing your folds before starting to slowly rub circles across your clit. You let out a moan, desperate for more. A smirk painted his lips, watching you in this state. Surrounded by the plush of your thighs, your small moans filling his ears, watching your nails dig into the footboard just to cope with the sensation. His middle and third finger slid down from your clit to the entrance of your pussy.

Your eyes opened and mouth parted to question the lack of contact before you felt his two fingers slide inside of you. You let out a loud moan at the foreign sensation. He worked his fingers in and out of you at slow pace, admiring as he watched them disappear into you, stretching you out and covering them in your slick. He left small kisses on your inner thigh, keeping his eye on your face. “More,” You pleaded in between moans. Aemond considered teasing you further, before giving into your request. His sped up his fingers pumping inside of you, increasing the tightening in your lower stomach. He admired your face screwed up in pleasure for one more moment before latching his lips upon your clit. A loud ‘fuck’ left your lips, and even you were partially surprised by the vulgarity of your language before all you could think about was Aemond’s tongue. He alternated between furiously licking and sucking your clit as his fingers pumped at a rapid pace inside of you. Your other hand moved up the bed post, gripping it for dear life as the man beneath you pleasured you. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his tongue as your moans grew louder and more frequent. A moan that left Aemond’s lips vibrated across your clit pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name and felt your pussy clench around his quick fingers. He continued to thrust them inside of you and delivered a few final licks to your clit, only stopping when your legs began to quiver. He slowly removed his fingers from your pussy and planted a final kiss on your clit, earning a shiver from you. He wiped the wetness from his chin with his cotton shirt before moving your leg off from his shoulder and rose to his feet and held his hand upon your waist sensing your wobbliness. He raised his fingers towards you admiring the wetness that coated them. He brought them up to your lips and you opened your mouth, feeling them run over your tongue towards the back of your throat. You sucked them clean, watching his expression from beneath your eyelashes.

Despite how hungrily he had attended to you, he looked at you like he was starved. “Better than any of the sugared fruits down there.” He gestured towards the window, and you blushed at his remark. Never had you been filled with such desire; you had just reached your peak on Aemond’s tongue, yet you needed more. His hand collected yours, as he led you over to his bed. His lips once again found yours as he pushed you towards the edge of the bed. The backs of your knees hit the bed and you plopped down. His lips left yours and you looked up at him expectantly. His fingers gripped the ends of his shirt before lifting it off of his head and tossing it with the rest of the discarded clothes. You eyed the definition of his chest, down his stomach and his arms that landed either side of your head, pushing you down onto the bed until your head hit the pillows. His lips latched onto your neck and eagerly kissed down your chest between the valley of your breasts.

“You do not know how much I have dreamt of this,” His large hand travelled up your side to cup your breast, his hand playing with the plumpness of it before his thumb ran over your nipple. “Moaning my name, naked in my bed, all needy for me.” His tongue traced the perimeter of your nipple before taking it into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue and earning another moan from you. Those moans that could sustain him for the rest of his life he was pretty sure.

“I also dreamt of you.” You spoke meekly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. He raised his head from your breast, brow raised.

“And what did you think about little mouse.” His smirk radiated off of him. You dreamt of him. The tightness in his trousers had become almost unbearable, but he needed to hear your sweet voice talking about him.

“I was touching you, a-and you were enjoying it.” You spoke, interrupted by a moan or two from his touch stimulating your nipples. He hummed a small ‘mmm’ in response before he moving off you and laying beside you, back propped up against the headboard. You turned to your side and looked and him inquisitively, his hand rubbed slowly over the bulge in his trousers and your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape. He patted the bed next to his hips and you knelt facing him, unsure of what to expect. His hands reached for the tie of his trousers before you reached out and placed a hand over his. “Wait!” He looked at you with a hint of concern before you continued, “Can I try? And you tell me what you like along the way?” His jaw stiffened for a moment before he moved his hand to tangle in your hair and bring your lips to his.

You pulled your lips away from kiss and moved to kiss his neck. You started tenderly, mirroring how he had kissed yours as your hand slid down his chest towards his trousers. His breathing became more uneven as your hands touched him. Your hand fumbled with the tie of his trousers, struggling to undo it before you removed your lips from his collarbone to concentrate on the tie. He watched as your brows furrowed together, he felt as if he could finish at the sight of you. Beautiful and naked, trying so desperately to get into his pants. You finally undid the tie and looked up to Aemond with a sheepish smile, “I am not used to trousers it seems.” You giggled, and it seemed by reflex he planted a kiss on your lips.

“Dōna.” (Sweet) Your cheeks burned with his affection.

Your fingers looped over the hem of his trousers, and you pulled them down along with his undergarments as he lifted his hips slightly. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him, his cock was large and red at the tip. You froze for a second – the paintings and stories had not prepared you as well as you’d thought. You watched as his hand came to his cock and pumped it slowly a few times. His free hand reached for yours and replaced it with his own, “Just like this.” You followed the movements he had previously made, concentrating on trying to make him feel good. A small hiss brought your gaze back to his face to see his eye squeezed shut and hands gripping the sheets beneath him. You slowly increased your movements, enjoying the feeling of his cock in your hands, as you noticed a bead of precum spill his tip. Working on instinct you leant your head down and licked your tongue in a broad stroke across the tip of his cock, tasting him in your mouth. His eye immediately snapped open, “Don’t-“ He groaned.

“Sorry I-, I thought it would feel good like it did for me when you…” You trailed off searching his face. He panted, bringing your face to his. He placed his hand over yours and continued pumping his cock indicating for you to continue. He rested your forehead against his and inhaled deeply.

“It does feel good, great even, much too good.” You watched him confused, if it felt so good, why couldn’t you do it? “The difference between you and I, men and women, you may finish as many times as you please.” His voice travelled over you like honey, his free hand sliding down your stomach and rubbed his two middle fingers over your clit. “I may only once, for now, and I intend to do it in your sweet pussy.” His fingers ran small circles over your clit causing a flurry of moans to leave your lips. Your hand continued to run up and down the length of his cock, but it was hard to think straight when Aemond touched you.

“Can I feel your cock inside of me too?” Your question was genuine, if not laden with lust. It was all Aemond needed to hear before his hand reached your hip pushing you onto your back. He kissed you, hungrier than ever, barely giving you chance to keep up.

“Mirros syt ao.” (Anything for you.) He said in between kisses. He spread your legs apart, eyeing your soaking cunt, and stroked himself a couple of times before leaning over you, elbow resting beside your head. You felt as he ran his cock up and down from your clit to your core, a low groan leaving his lips. “Remember to breathe deeply, Dōna.” (Sweet). You nodded, unsure of what to expect. Aemond’s weight shifted, and you gasped as his cock slowly slid into you. Your brows furrowed as the slight discomfort slid away and was replaced with a new pleasure. His cock bottomed out, and you reached your hand to his cheek, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. He slowly started thrusting, the pace was painfully slow, but he was determined to make you feel good. As his pace picked up, his cock continuously hit a spot in your pussy that his fingers did not, causing a rather loud moan to escape your lips. “Mazemā ziry sīr sȳrī.” (You take it so well.) His praise caused a familiar tightening to start to form in your stomach.

“I love the way you feel.” Your moans filled his ears, fuelling him to go faster. His hand free hand snaked between your bodies and found your clit once more. His thrusts pounded into you, as his fingers diligently worked at your sensitive clit. The headboard begun to crack against the wall with each movement, not that either of you noticed. The quiet but delicious moans that left Aemond’s mouth were enough to ride towards your peak, the coil in your stomach tightening as you gripped your nails into his back. “Fuck! Aemond!” You exclaimed. His large cock filling you up and his fingers playing with your clit caused your orgasm to wash over you, feeling yourself tighten around his cock. His thrusts became quick and erratic as you rode out your high and his groans growing louder and more animalistic as he finished inside of you.

He panted, dropping to his elbow, and planting a small kiss upon your cheek, before pulling out of you slowly. You groaned at the loss of the fullness, missing the feeling of him already. Aemond lay beside you, pulling you by your hips to have your back against his chest. As both of your breathing slowly returned to normal you felt a small shiver run across your body, now aware of the breeze through the window. Aemond’s hand came up and ran up and down the length of your arm and pulled you close. “Is it possible to remain here all day.” You sighed, cuddling the blankets in front of you.

Aemond chuckled, “It is not our name day.” He planted a small kiss upon your shoulder. “But I do think people may notice both of our absences.” He spoke softly, with a small amount of his serious tone peeking through. You groaned, liking the feeling of being in Aemond’s arm, in his bed.

“Aemond?” You questioned, turning slightly to face him. He hummed a ‘hmm?’ in response, opening his eye. “Kessa gaomā bona run lēda aōha ēngos arlī gō īlon return naejot se rūklun?” (Will you do that thing with your tongue again before we return to the party?). A playful smirk returned to his face as he shifted above you on the bed.

“Va moriot” (Always).

2K notes · View notes

mimimimiaa · 20 days ago

Text

tune in to you ──── 한태산

pairing: music composer! taesan x radio rj! reader genre: opposites attract (extroverted sunshine character reader and socially awkward taesan), pining, secret identity, slowburn, fluff, workplace romance (kind of?) synopsis: taesan went by his days quietly, producing and composing tracks for television shows and films in the comfort of his studio at his broadcasting company. but one day, when he tunes into the radio show you hosted a few floors above his own, the opportunity to call in as an anonymous listener presents itself to him, and his curiosity towards you, along with his want for something more in life, all bubble over into a decision which he’ll probably regret later. word count: 10.1 k warnings: mentions of food, kind of loser taesan, reader is mentioned to be shorter than taesan

With bated breath, the young girl hides behind the kitchen counter, hand pressed tightly against her lips, praying to whichever god who could help her in this dire moment of life and death. However, her prayers seem to be disrupted by the shuffling footsteps behind her, followed by what could only be described as maniacal laughter. Each second seemed to drag on as all she could do was curl up her small frame into the marble kitchen island, hoping that the man who’d been after her for hours would not notice her trembling body and futile attempts to silence her ragged breath.

‘Come out little lamb, let’s play!’

The voice, shrill and wicked, rings through the large kitchen. It’s like her heartbeat has turned into an unsteady tune of snares. As his footsteps grow louder and louder, it’s like an orchestra of sounds has made themselves home in her head, buzzing in her ears. First comes the percussion, slow and steady, setting the beat, followed by, in all their grandeur, the strings, building up the tension as the laughter seems to move eerily closer to the shivering girl. Finally joined by the brass and woodwind, the music keeps blaring around the two figures, or maybe it was the rush of blood in her ears causing her to imagine things. The music crescendos. And then. Silence.

‘Peekaboo, little lamb!’

As the drum set builds up in intensity, his deranged laughter is the last thing she hears before the knife twisted into her abdomen slowly takes away the last of her shallow breaths.

Heaving a sigh of satisfaction, Dongmin takes off his headphones to let them rest on his shoulders, leaning back into his swivel chair as he stretched out his arms after a long day’s work. The deadline for the third episode of the drama series was quickly approaching, so he saved his draft and sent it to his superior to examine before it slipped his mind again.

Heaving a deep breath, he let his eyes scan the small studio that had become a second home to him in the past few years.

Being a music production engineer had never been Dongmin’s dream. He’d always loved music and sound in general, sure, but when he meant being part of the music industry, he meant singing, writing his own songs, and most of all performing, and being able to convey his emotions to thousands in the form of heartbreak songs and serenades.

But when his Soundcloud musician dreams slowly came crashing down, he never expected to end up cooped up in a little studio, barely knowing when day turns to night, composing the backtracks to movies and television shows that graced the screens of thousands nationwide.

But that’s not to say that Dongmin hated his job though, despite his scepticism when his long-time mentor and advisor Jiho recommended the post as his junior at the broadcasting company. In the past few years, Taesan had developed an innate appreciation towards the sounds and music accompanying each scene of any show, movie or broadcast; setting the mood and portraying emotions far better than words could.

Sometimes, it almost felt akin to magic; the way music was able to transform one scene from an adorable romantic scene between two inseparable lovers to one of chilling fright and unspeakable terrors, or even intangible and unbearable sorrows. In his own way, the job made him fulfil his dreams of touching the hearts of thousands, though not quite the way he expected.

But in the sanctuary of his little studio, surrounded by instruments and production tools, he had to admit that sometimes when the brain fog got to him, and his fingers seemed trapped on a single key of his synth, unable to think of the next, the days seemed to stretch infinitely and felt unbearably mundane. But that never became a problem for too long as the few friends he had made in his time at KOZ Broadcasting Corporation always found a way to make his days better. Speaking of them, they should be crashing into the room right about…

‘HYUNG!! YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I COVERED ON THE FIELD TODAY!’

As the journalism intern came tumbling into the room panting, catching his breath, Dongmin swivelled around in his chair, eyebrow perked up in mild curiosity at the younger who had already made himself home on the small sofa in the room, rambling about some poultry farmer who ended up accidentally releasing a hundred chickens into a highway, and about how he had to actively dodge a few to score an interview with the already frazzled man.

‘Oi Han Dongmin! I’m starving, can we please escape this cave of yours?’

Another booming voice that Dongmin had grown to recognise barged in, still in a smart suit after his evening news reading duties. Myung Jaehyun, an anchor, known and loved throughout the company for his never-depleting energy, sauntered in, kicking the journalist off the couch, causing a string of grumbles from the younger. As he watched the two go on with their usual antics, Dongmin shook his head with a sigh, although he couldn’t deny feeling grateful towards them for making his rather solitary way of life a bit more colourful.

After some more small talk about each of their days, filled with exchanges of complaints and stories, the three finally left the studio, making their way up to the top floor of the company, as they did every day, to join the queue of workers to get dinner at the cafeteria. As it was just another boring Wednesday, with most being too tired or too busy to go out for their meals, the cafeteria was packed, which left the boys hunting for a table after escaping the sluggishly long dinner queue.

As they finally found a table and cosied into their seats, another familiar face almost apologetically approached them with his own tray of food, asking if the extra seat at the table was vacant. Kim Donghyun, Dongmin had learnt with time; a camera operator at Jaehyun’s newsroom, and due to the crowded days at the cafeteria, a good acquaintance to the three seated at the table.

Basking in the bluster of the cafeteria and of the four similar-in-age friends munching away at their dinners, Dongmin allowed his mind to wander freely. His mind became preoccupied with the many deadlines that crept up on him; the ones for the new variety show didn’t seem to bother him much but the horror film set to release later that year seemed to be a bit more challenging. In the chaos of his thoughts he didn’t hear his name being called out the first time, and only with a snap of Jaehyun’s fingers did he float back into the present.

‘So Dongmin-ah, what’s going on with you? Your whole life still revolving around that studio, huh?’

The composer shrugged, not quite understanding why his friends seemed to have a problem with his rather quiet way of life. Sure, he never met anyone else other than his fellow production engineers and his few friends, and yeah, his studio was the only place he ever seemed to be at, but he never quite minded that. Not really. Or so he told himself.

‘Come on hyung, you got to get out and about more! Meet new people and stuff!’

The loud journalist exclaimed between rushed shovels of food down his throat. The quiet cameraman to his left nodded approvingly, ‘Maybe you should even meet someone new, spice things up a bit. How much longer will you cocoon your whole life into that studio?’

At Donghyun’s words, Dongmin looked up at him pointedly, only to be met by three pairs of curious yet teasing eyes. ‘Yeah Taesan, all these love songs and still no lover? That’s just sad.’ Jaehyun asks with a giggle, addressing him by his producer name.

Dongmin lets out a heavy sigh knowing that the three weren’t going to let go of this too easily. As they went on throwing tips at him on how to find someone he’d like and escape this ‘miserable life’ of his, he held on to that question;

How much longer would he live alone, in solitude, like this?

He wasn’t going to lie and say that the thought hadn’t caressed his mind before; the idea of being in a relationship, of not having to spend his days and nights alone save for the few minutes his tied-up friends would spare for him.

The days when the silence of the studio felt oddly hollow, and the pulsing cursor against his unfinished lyrics seemed to taunt him, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the what-ifs. But his friends were right, with the way he lived, knowing nothing but the comfort of the four walls of his studio, nothing would ever change. And he was never the outgoing type anyways.

He let this thought engulf him, tuning out the rest of the conversation and chatter around him, even as they all bid farewell to each other before heading back to the usual hustle of their lives, even as he trudged his way back up to the all-too-familiar room, and back to his seat in front of his screens. He dropped his head down to his hands, spinning about slowly in his chair. His friends had always made fun of his almost soulless way of life, yet Dongmin never seemed to pay any heed. So what was so different now?

Maybe his head was just muddled. Yeah, that must be it. He just needed to clear it up.

Reaching his arm across his work desk, past the stack of messily arranged papers, Dongmin reached for the radio that his father had gifted him when he first got the job, though he never really got to use it with his packed schedule. As he mindlessly turned the knobs of the device, fluttering through the different frequencies, his eyebrows bunched in confusion as he was certain he was doing something wrong as the studio was filled with the constant screech of the static.

That was until he heard it.

As the static dampened, making way for a much clearer sound, his ears perked up. It was melodic, he thought, the way your voice cut through the air, enunciating each word with a contagious sort of energy yet calming enough to allow him to grasp onto the tether of your voice among the myriad of thoughts that raced in his head. Your voice seemed to silence the static in his brain.

You weren’t a stranger to him though; being in the same company as him, hosting the late-night radio show a few floors above his own. Dongmin had often seen you clock into work just as he’d step out of his studio, surrounded by your colleagues, a radiant sort of joy engulfing your being, and everything and everyone you fluttered by.

It always felt ironic to him; how you were a late-night show host. For to Dongmin, you were like the Sun itself, basking everything in your light that felt akin to the rays of morning sunlight. It intrigued him more than anything else: how you always seemed to have a bubbliness to you that never ran out. How your lips always seemed to be curled up in a smile that could pull the world out of the darkest of times. How sometimes he was the one who felt exhausted just watching you bounce about the company walls, greeting every face you met on your way to the radio station with an almost infectious sort of felicity.

But that’s all he’d ever done. Watching you. For you confused him, maybe even scared him. For if you were the Sun, he was the Moon, with no light to give out of his own. He could count his friends with one hand, and there you were, chattering away with anyone and everyone you met, as if you’d known them your whole life.

But it would be a lie to say that your starkly different ways of life hadn’t piqued Dongmin’s interest just a tiny bit, but he knew all he’d ever do was silently admire your zeal from the sidelines.

You were the Sun after all, and the universe revolved around you, and he was only the moon, to watch you in all your brilliance.

As you concluded the final song in your setlist, lulling Dongmin out of the slight daze he had fallen into, voice still laced with the same radiance he had grown to look forward to, you introduced the start of the next section of your programme, ‘Tune In To You’ a section where listeners could call in to talk about their worries or ask questions to the RJ. Reciting the number of your radio station, you urged your listeners to call in, with your ever-so-compelling voice.

Almost too compelling.

Before he could think otherwise, his fingers reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone and dialling in the numbers you melodically repeated. As his fingers hovered over the blaring green call button, he hesitated. What was he doing right now? But almost as if he were in a trance, he shook off the voices in his head screaming at him to stop and went for it. He started the call. Well… it’s not like you’d actually pick up anywa-

‘Hello! This is Midnight Talkies! Thanks for calling in, could I please have your name, dear listener?’

Oh God.

As your voice echoed throughout the room, Dongmin froze. He didn’t think you’d pick up. And now he had no clue on what to do. As he began to aggressively curse himself in his head, your voice rang through the air again, laced with a twinge of concern this time.

‘Um Sir? Madam? Could you please introduce yourself for us?’

Taesan snapped back to the issue at hand, and before his head could process his actions, his lips began moving. ‘You can call me uh… Giant Mountain’

OH GOD.

Behind the mic at the radio station, you stifled a giggle as the name caught you off guard, looking up at the sound technicians on the other side of the recording booth who also seemed to have a difficult time remaining stoic at the weird name.

‘Right… Mr Mountain’ you say as Dongmin can feel himself cringe as he hears the name out of your lips this time, making him realise all the more how stupid using the nickname was.

‘So what do you have for us? Any questions or confessions for us today?’

Taesan stills. He has no idea what to say. Everything he’s done in the past few minutes was completely on a whim and now he’s bearing the consequences of it all. Yet, even in this moment of chaos, your voice grounds him. And the first thing he can think of flits by his lips.

‘Uh… That song you just played? Wonderwall? I really like it.’ He says, almost dumbly.

As he braces himself for your obvious confusion and judgement for his out-of-the-blue statement, you do it again.

You manage to surprise him yet again.

‘Oh my god! You like Oasis? I love them too! I adore the chill vibe they have with their classics, I had even personally asked for this song to be in tonight’s setlist!’

Dongmin blinks in astonishment. He did not expect you to agree with him, let alone like the band he had spent years obsessing over. Having endured hours of bullying from both Woonhak and Jaehyun for his mild obsession with the English band, he couldn’t stop his heart from somersaulting at your agreement.

And before he could stop it, the music nerd in him took over, talking about the intricacies of the baseline and how the emotional tone of the lead singer’s voice made people feel calm yet still held that rich depth of rock music, you subtle hums of agreement only urging him to go on.

As he rambled on, behind the mic, you couldn’t help but be intrigued at the passion of the man on the other end of the line. He certainly sounded like he knew what he was saying and the way his voice resonated with excitement over being able to talk about something he’s so passionate about was endearing. This Giant Mountain guy, whoever he was, was kind of… adorable. And you couldn’t help but let out a giggle at that thought.

Dongmin paused. As he heard your soft laughs from across the line, it was like his heart stilled. If he could bottle up that sound and get drunk off of it every day, he knew he’d be a goner in no time.

And before he knew it, the two of you were animatedly discussing your favourite bands and as he hears you talk about your favourite Radiohead album, Dongmin thinks you couldn’t be more perfect than he already thought you were. But as the allocated time for your call comes to an end, with your exuberant voice, you wish him good night, moving on to the final ment before you sign off and pass it on to the next host.

As the call ends, and the silence fills his studio again, Dongmin can’t help but miss the sound of your voice bouncing around the walls. The silence feels heavier than usual as his actions finally sink in and it all hits him at once; embarrassment, shock and even… elation?

Though this might have been the dumbest thing he’s done in years, Dongmin knows one thing for sure, this won’t be the last time he calls in to you. If he’d get to hear your voice once more and talk to you the way he did tonight, just once more, maybe the embarrassment of being known as Giant Mountain didn’t matter all that much anymore.

Back at the radio station as you stepped out of the recording booth, you were met with the teasing smiles and laughs of your colleagues as the last call of the night had everyone intrigued. Despite your usually bubbly personality, it was rare for you to be so into a conversation the way you had been with… Mountain man. And your colleagues also seemed to catch on. Yet as you brushed away all their remarks with a sing-songy goodbye, you couldn’t stop the small smile playing on your face as you thought of the nervous yet interesting persona you had met today. Even if it was only just a voice.

Dongmin was sure the universe had a personal vendetta against him.

Only a day had gone by since that fateful night of questionable decisions that he could not take back. Not that he regretted it all that much, honestly. With the way he moved with a slight perk in his steps or how even the broken coffee machine in the break room couldn’t dampen his exuberance, it was safe to say that his little late-night talk with you had made the usually indifferent man giddy with joy.

Nothing could take him down from this high horse.

Or he thought.

‘So I’m sure you’ve heard of our company’s radio show Midnight Talkies? They’re renewing for a new season in a few months so we’ve been tasked with creating a new jingle for them: something catchy but still bringing in the chill late-night atmosphere. And since Sungho and Minji both have three other projects to work on, I’m sure you’ll be fine with this? It’s not anything too difficult anyway’

As he slowly trudged out of Jiho’s office. He wished for nothing more than the ground beneath him to open into a gaping hole and swallow him whole. He usually loved working for something commercial like jingles and such, but with last night’s events, which at the thought of still left the back of his neck flaming with slight embarrassment, your show was probably the last thing he wanted to work on.

And things didn’t get any better when your superior suggested having you, the host, come over to review some ideas on how to make a catchy tune that would convey your show’s essence.

Too soon.

But you wouldn’t catch on, would you? After all, he was just another voice you met on your show. Even though it was everything to him, he knew that the short interaction between the two of you was entirely trivial to you.

As you walked your way down to the sound department’s floor, a few flights of stairs down from your own, your eyes scanned the open area as large pieces of equipment were scattered around, making way for a hallway of rooms with their doors shut tight, barely any indication of life within them.

Those had to be the studios.

As you walked past each door, hoping to somehow miraculously end up in front of the right one, your steps came to a halt at the door in the far corner, adorned with a wooden sign.

TS.

This had to be the one right?

Hesitantly, you brought your knuckles up to the door. One knock. And… nothing.

Once again your hand meet the door, three knocks, this time. Still, only silence greets you.

Maybe he wasn’t in.

Just as you were about to turn on your heels and leave, you hear the lock click open, and soft amber light seeps through the crack, only obscured by the shadow of a rather tall man with messy tousled hair sitting haphazardly over his forehead.

‘Come in.’

As you bashfully walk into the small studio, your eyes scan your surroundings with gnawing curiosity, trying not to meet the intense stare of the much taller man in front of you. Along with many sound equipment you wouldn’t even try to name, were instruments arranged neatly against the wall, a few guitars, a keyboard, and some percussion for his more intense work. As your eyes trailed up to the walls littered with band posters and album covers, a true testament to the owner’s passion for music, your eyes couldn’t help but catch a rather familiar sight.

‘Ooh (What’s the story) Morning Glory? I love that album!’

At your mention of the Oasis album, Dongmin’s eyes which were deliberately watching your every move shot up to meet your own, widening slightly. As your eyes locked with his, almost as if you were trying to extract his deepest darkest secrets, he knew it was all over. You’d figured his rather dumb secret out and you probably thought he was the biggest weirdo known to mankind.

But instead, he was only met with a quiet laugh from you, almost contemplative. ‘You know I could have sworn Oasis wasn’t that popular here, but lately, I keep hearing about them. I’m not complaining though, they need more recognition’

With a smile on your face, you settle down on the sofa, coercing him to take a seat too. Dongmin lets his gaze follow you once again, as you bounce one knee up and down, waiting for him to break the silence that was slowly clouding over the cramped room. He heaved a sigh, mainly of relief as he settled back down into his chair. He needed to get a hold of himself if he wanted any chance of his secret still only being his to keep.

‘Okay, so what kind of vibe do we want to go for?’

You’d been in his studio for hours already. Or maybe only minutes had passed. Dongmin could not tell.

As he played you one sample after another of jingles and random sets of beats for you to gauge what met your fancy, you’d constantly quip up with what you liked and what you didn’t about each one, which helped Dongmin narrow stuff out. He admired the way you clearly knew what you wanted, despite your lack of knowledge about the technicalities of it all. He liked that about you.

Sometimes you’d laugh at a funny tune or even pop a joke or two which eased the initial tense silence between you two into something much more comfortable. Even Dongmin, who was infamous for his reservedness, couldn’t help but join in with small remarks and soft giggles here and there, as your energy and good spirits almost felt like it was infectious.

Yet, as you had been the object of his keen watchfulness for years, after having grown used to eyeing you from afar for all this while, having you seated less than an arm’s length away from him, actively conversing and interacting with him was rather unnerving. Every time you’d casually compliment him for a well-made tune or jingle he’d feel his heart clench just a bit, warmth blooming within its walls, spreading to every part of his being, even if he tried to curb it.

But despite the rush of his nerves and the tingliness about his fingertips as they moved around the mixboard, as your gaze seemed to burn into his back while his own was glued onto his work, he had grown fond of the serene air that hung between the two of you, almost as if this was how it was always supposed to be.

Until a small buzz chirped from your phone, breaking the tranquil, and with it indicating that it was time for you to leave. Dongmin was probably imagining it, but he could have sworn that you looked like you hated to leave the cosy studio just as much as he wanted you to stay. Trying not to let his despondency be too obvious, he wished you a quiet goodbye, wishing you luck with the night’s radio broadcast.

But your next words seemed to raise his spirits a bit, ‘It was so fun working with you today Taesan, you wouldn’t be free the same time tomorrow, would you? I’ll research some lyrics to add in with the catchphrase so that it sounds good too!’

Agreeing with a bit too much enthusiasm, Dongmin watched as a soft smile graced your face, as you waved him goodbye, closing the door to his studio gently. Before he could stop it, a similar smile mirrored on his face, as his eyes stayed fixed on the same spot that you, with all your radiance, had just left. That was until a familiar news anchor came crashing in through the same door, quick enough to notice the unfamiliar expression on his dear friend’s face.

‘Please, you should have seen that derpy grin on his face, I’m telling you, Hak, he so loves her!’

As the two friends, who he usually loved to death, giggled teasingly as Jaehyun continued to exaggerate what happened after you had left the studio, Dongmin sighed exasperatedly as they seemed to pay no heed to his convincing that it was nothing more than him finding you an interesting person to be around.

But despite all their teasing over his supposed fat crush on you, he almost found himself agreeing to their words as the thought of you and your time in his studio only made his heart flutter, your voice plaguing every corner of his brain like a record player that simply couldn’t be silenced. And he wanted to hear it one more time that night.

He knew it was a risky game, yet he didn’t seem to mind anymore as a faux sense of confidence surged through him. After hurriedly wishing his confused friends goodbye, he found himself rushing back into the studio, back into the certain comfort of the four walls he could call his own, once again accompanied by the radio, this time with the knobs tuned perfectly so that the moment Dongmin’s fingers flicked it on, the studio was once again filled with the warm crackle of your voice.

You were still putting on some familiar hits which soothed Dongmin’s slowly creeping nerves as he laid his head on his crossed arms, allowing himself to unwind after the eventful day. As the final song by The Carpenters came to a slow stop, you announced, once again in that same voice that hadn’t lost its vigour throughout the day, the start of the daily programme that Dongmin had been waiting for all day.

Almost like clockwork, he found himself dialling in the numbers, and waiting as the phone rang, this time much more hopeful to hear your voice on the other side.

‘Hello! This is Midnight Talkies! You’re live listener! Would you mind introducing yourself for us?’

Despite his nerves, a small smile dangled on Dongmin’s face at the sound of your voice, a surge of boldness filling him along with it.

‘Hello lovely, remember me from yesterday?’

As the smooth voice played through your earphones, your eyes widened in surprise, not having expected to hear the same voice that had been the object of your curiosity the past night, to call so soon.

‘Of course, Mr Giant Mountain, how ever could I have forgotten about you? So tell me, anything on your playlist that you’re dying to hear on here?’

‘Well, could you play And I Love Her by The Beatles? The song has been stuck in my mind all day, and I figured that I had to share it with my favourite RJ’

‘Oh I must say I’m flattered, Mr Mountain’, you say with a light laugh.

‘Is there any reason this song’s stuck in your head or do you just happen to be a hopeless romantic with good taste?’

‘Ha, I guess a mix of both? I think it has to do with its mood, you know? The soft guitar with the gentle vocals is just so melancholic, you know? It just makes sense, just like talking to you, Miss RJ’

Your eyes once again flashed upwards towards your coworkers standing outside the booth, stifling their giggles at the bold man on the other side of the phone. With a slight rouge painting your cheeks, you reply, ‘Mr Mountain, you certainly seem to be one for compliments, hm? So do tell, what do you find yourself doing when you’re not listening to me ramble or play music on the radio?

‘Hmm, mostly thinking about how to sound as cool as you do on air? Spoiler alert: It’s going abysmally.’

This time you were certain that the blush on your face had undoubtedly darkened as you respond with a slight laugh. ‘Well, I’d say it’s going pretty well Mr Mountain, you’ve got that whole “mysterious caller” thing going for you, it’s kinda cool’

‘Mysterious, huh? I’ll take it, especially if you think it’s cool, pretty. But don’t get too curious, Ms RJ, I met just lose all reins and ruin the facade’

‘Oh, now you’ve got me on my toes. Well, how about this, next time you call back, you tell me a little something about yourself, Deal?’

‘Hmm, deal, but only if you’d play something by The Smiths next time, we got to keep this retro romance theme going, no?’ Dongmin says, intrigued by your curiosity towards uncovering his little persona.

‘Ooh, we’re doing themes now, huh? Alright then, Mr Mountain, just for you, And I Love Her is up next, thanks for calling in – and don’t be a stranger, yeah?’

With a lingering smile, ‘Wouldn’t dream of it, talk soon and goodnight Miss RJ’

Dongmin had fallen into a comfortable rhythm the following few weeks. Despite both of your busy schedules, your face at his door was something that had become quite frequent in his days, the two of you making significant progress in moulding the short jingle to be exactly what you had envisioned for your show. Dongmin had started to look forward to your visits, as his initial awkwardness around you had melted away into something much softer, your presence, a gentle light in his dull life.

Sometimes the two of you would even bump into each other outside the dingy studio, sometimes in the cafe near the company, where Dongmin had graciously bought you a cup of coffee despite your reluctance, that you gratefully sipped on as the two of you busked in the comfortable silence that had been a staple during your times together.

Another was when Dongmin had been waiting quietly by the elevator, his figure lost among the many others waiting, some tapping their feet in impatience, others caught up in their conversations, as he simply observed his surroundings, an earphone bud dangling from one ear.

That was when a bright voice shot from across the concierge, one that he recognised far too well.

‘Taesan!!’

Your bubbly figure bounded up to him as you waved hello at the quiet man clad in all-black, whose eyebrows had perked up in surprise. Yet, as he finally got over your genial greeting, a smile graced his face as he politely greeted you back, the two of you falling into small talk, the people around you all melting away as a soft bubble seemed to envelop the two ever-so-different souls, as you were sucked into a world of your own.

In your absence, it was almost as if Dongmin had begun waiting for you to pop out behind some wall or door; hoping to run into you some way or the other. But he never had to wait too long as every night, his calls with you had become part of his routine, and you too couldn’t deny that it was something that you had looked forward to.

Every night, your mystery man would call in, making you perk up in unconcealable excitement as you fall into your usual conversation, sometimes about music or sometimes about your days, where he’d reveal certain bits and pieces about himself that never were too specific to give out his identity but made you feel like you had started to get to know him more. And along with the bubbling curiosity about your frequent caller, you also would be surprised by the man’s blatant flirting with you.

It started small, but with time, it slowly built up into less-subtle compliments and double entendres that had you, the ever-professional RJ melting into a mess, a constant blush decorating you as you went on about your daily calls with this mystery man who you had grown unbearably inquisitive about.

Your colleagues at the radio station had also caught onto your flustered behaviour with this one specific listener and you had become the victim of their relentless teasing. But despite furiously refusing all their joking remarks, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest every time your mystery man became the topic of your conversations.

However, it wasn’t just your coworkers who had become fans of your undeniable chemistry with the voice you looked forward to every night. Many listeners of your radio had also written into the station, flooding in messages about the two of you.

With you growing bolder with your Mr Mountain, often you play into the flirtatious tension you have with the man, requesting one of your favourite love songs by the Cure, dedicating it to a special someone,

‘This one’s for the voice that keeps me company here even on the darkest of nights’

Needless to say, this puts your listeners in a frenzy, blowing up the station’s social media page with questions and comments about the two of your will-they-won’t-they type of chemistry.

And despite considering the whole interaction as an entertaining and elaborate joke, you couldn’t help but boil over in desperation to find out who this enigma was, subtly trying to pry for details every call, but despite his laidback persona, Giant Mountain was ever-so evasive, preferring to keep the mystery and curiosity alive.

Some days, you’d clock into work to be pleasantly surprised by little gifts sent by the same mystery man. Once it was a vinyl record of your favourite album, and another day it was your favourite coffee order, that you simply couldn’t wrap your head around how he had figured out. But everything was always signed by a short but sweet note:

‘With Love, G.Mountain’

One thing was for sure, you were going to figure out who this man, who seemed to know a lot more about you than you did him, was. You tried to tell yourself that it was just your natural curiosity taking over, but you knew that the real reason was something else. Something else, given the circumstances, felt a lot harder to justify.

Dongmin was certain that you would never figure him out.

It had been just over two months since you had started working with him on the programme’s jingle, and today would mark the final session for touch-ups. The two of you had grown a lot closer during this short time, spilling little bits and pieces about yourselves during the conversations that flowed like water between you. Yet, despite all the redundancies between him and his vocal persona, you never seemed to catch on to him.

However, he could not help but be grateful for your obliviousness. His strongly built walls had started to crumble slowly in your presence, and Dongmin himself discovered a side to him that he did not know existed—a much brighter and talkative version, one only you seemed to bring out on air.

He couldn’t understand where the sudden boldness he found himself exuding came from, but he didn’t hate it; it felt like having two personas he could alternate between when it came to you. But now that your time together working on the jingle would be coming to an end, he could not stop the sinking feeling from settling down into his heart at the thought of not being able to see you as often as he did now.

Dongmin’s friends had also noticed his peculiar affection towards you and the way that he seemed to melt in your presence or bashfully talk about his time working with you in the studio. They’d begun teasing and throwing jokes about his ‘loverboy era’, but mainly, urging him to make a move before the chance got away.

But it all seemed too difficult for Dongmin. As ‘Giant Mountain’, he was simply a voice, a persona with no face or human responsibilities, and the flirtatious personality came with no repercussions. Yet as Taesan, a well-renowned producer and someone you would keep seeing around in your time at the company, making a move felt far more burdensome.

As the afternoon sun just started to subside, a much calmer warmth being cast over the city, Dongmin heard the three familiar knocks that had his heart stutter for a beat, and his ears perked up like an excited puppy. As he craned his head back, your figure met him, your face lit up in a shy yet gleeful smile as you waved hello, making your way to your designated spot on the couch.

‘So I took the little notes you had into consideration, and I have what I think is the final version of the intro… You ready to hear it?’

Dongmin asked, a curious smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. Your eyes sparkled in excitement as you quickly nodded. Taesan scrolled to the play button on his screen and clicked it. Then, he leaned back in his chair, slightly swivelling around so that he was angled towards you.

As the light melody started to pour through the speakers, filling every corner, the upbeat yet chill tune had you nodding along to every beat as you absentmindedly closed your eyes, vibing along to the music.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes were observing every movement of yours, analysing how you reacted to the piece he had spent hours trying to compose and perfect. And seeing you completely immersed in it, enjoying every second was the only reward Dongmin could have asked for.

As the jingle wrapped up with a whisper of the station name, your eyes fluttered towards Dongmin’s expectant ones, as he patiently waited for your final verdict.

‘Taesan… It’s perfect, it’s everything I wanted!’

You exclaimed, your eyes crinkling into a smile, as Dongmin’s face mirrored the same expression as yours, as relief and joy washed over him at your approval.

‘Well, I’m going to send this over to my head, and well…this is it then, huh?’ He asks as a much more solemn mood settling into the studio.

As the realisation that you wouldn’t be seeing the quiet producer around as much, sunk in, something shifted in you. Despite his composed and oftentimes cold exterior, you had grown quite fond of Taesan, with the way he’d joke around or tease you for your obliviousness when it came to music, or the way he’d listen with utmost attentiveness when you’d wind up rambling about one thing or the other, and even chirp in with remarks or soft giggles.

It felt like you had access to a softer side of the talented producer that not many others had the opportunity to witness. And you liked that. And you couldn’t help but feel sorry that the short time you had with Taesan had already come to an end.

As the two of you worked with packed schedules, you could only promise to treat the composer to a meal since you had to leave to prepare for your show with the programme’s producer. However, before you departed, you fished out a packet of Ferrero Rocher from your bag—your favourite, as you mentioned while handing it to the stunned man—as you hurried out of the studio that you were certain you would miss.

Wrapping up the script overview, you walked into your recording studio, putting on the snug pair of earphones as you waited for everything to be set and rolling. As the large ‘ON AIR’ sign blared a bright red, you fell into a comfortable pace that you did every night, expertly greeting your dedicated listeners with the lively voice that many around the country had grown to love and adore.

Soon, you’d reached the segment that you had admittedly been anticipating the most, as you often found yourself doing these late nights, and as the sound of someone joining the broadcast played, you sat up straighter, only for the silky smooth voice on the other end to be one you recognised immediately.

As you finished up the initial greetings that the both of you had gotten used to, Giant Mountain started the conversation with the usual sort of flirtations that had your eyes rolling in mock disbelief but always left a smile lingering.

‘Hey Miss RJ, I must say I’ve missed your voice’, he starts with a playful tone.

‘Mr Mountain, my favourite caller, I was wondering if you’d remember to call in today, but you never fail to do so, hm? So tell me, what’s on your mind today?’

‘Woah, forget about you? How ever could I do that? Your voice is practically the soundtrack to my nights, I’d say it’s hauntingly good, but I wouldn’t want to scare you away now, would I?’

‘Hauntingly good, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment… But do say, if I’m the soundtrack, does that make you the lead vocalist or the backing vocals to accompany my melody?’

‘Hmm, maybe I’m the fan who admires from afar, knowing every lyric by heart? Oh! Talking about the heart, I fear I have a question for you, Miss RJ’

‘Uh-oh, that sounds serious. What’s up, Giant Mountain?’

‘Not serious, just… thoughtful. Valentine’s Day is coming up real soon, and I was wondering what our lovely RJ has planned for the special day’

You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question. Valentine’s was a day you never had much to look forward to as you had spent much of your youth trying to get somewhere as an individual, and despite your incredibly outgoing nature, you never quite found someone to spend the cheesy, yet romantic day with.

‘Hmm… Nothing much, Mr Mountain, having my wonderful listeners by my side along with some sweet music is more than enough company for the day’

‘Well, that sounds nice… But what about something to spice it up, maybe you’d like a surprise?’

As you often found yourself doing during these calls with your Mr Mountain, you glanced at the staff working at the controls, exchanging a surprised expression for their amused ones.

‘A surprise? I don’t think I caught on to what you mean… How will you surprise me while on call, Mr Mountain? I mean we haven’t ever met and I can’t imagine a surprise in any other way?’

‘Getting curious now, aren’t we Miss RJ, well, don’t worry too much about it. And while we’re on the topic of surprises, you wouldn’t mind playing “No Surprises” by Radiohead in today’s setlist now, would you? And for a clue of sorts, let’s just say… I’m a lot closer than you think I might be, so maybe you really shouldn’t be too surprised.’

‘Well, it’s hard not to be curious with you, Mr Mountain, you’re the only one who keeps me on my toes, and I really don’t know what I’ll do with that last cryptic part, Mr Mountain, I fear it’ll keep me up for nights. But while I immerse in that thought, here’s ‘No Surprises’ by Radiohead, and I hope to hear from you soon, Mr Mountain.’

You weren’t entirely wrong about his words keeping you up for nights.

From his words, it felt like Giant Mountain was hinting at you knowing him, in real life. The more you thought about it, you couldn’t help but feel something familiar about the husky voice which accompanied you for so many nights.

In the way he talked, and the way he let out breathy laughs at a joke, or even the steadiness that wound about every word he uttered, there was something about the man that you recognised but could not pinpoint what.

As the days to Valentine’s Day ticked by quickly, you grew more inquisitive about Giant Mountain’s words and well, the man himself

But with the way the man evaded each one with his usual laid-back nonchalance, you found yourself being driven to the edge of your patience and curiosity.

Soon, the day you had surprisingly found yourself waiting for had finally arrived: The day to celebrate love.

Though you were put on edge the entire day, a part of you was slightly hopeful that the mystery man who you admittedly had grown a soft spot for would do something like he’d said he would, although you knew that it was greatly unlikely and just something he ended up saying in the spur of the moment.

And you were proven right, as the day went about just as it always did; with you clocking into work and being greeted with the day’s work, today being a bit heavier than the rest due to the special occasion. As you let yourself be consumed by your work, Giant Mountain and his words were soon pushed to the back of your mind, their blaring presence in your head being replaced by more pressing matters.

Soon, night had fallen and it had already become time for your daily show to begin. Despite the usual cheerful and lighthearted greetings you exchanged with everyone at the station, you couldn’t help but feel a certain heaviness loom in your heart. Although you knew it was stupid, you had ended up being hopeful, looking forward to a stranger’s words despite never having met them, or knowing anything about them at all.

It made you think, did you end up attached to the man behind the ridiculous pseudonym?

With his often shy demeanour, that would be quickly contradicted by his smooth words that had your heart fluttering, leaving you flushed despite your poor attempt at trying to resist it, did you really end up wanting more from this unlikely relationship with… what you only knew as a voice?

You knew it was a dangerous path to thread, and honestly an unlikely one too. The chances you’ll ever get to know more about this Giant Mountain man were not too high, and the more you thought about it, you were probably just a medium to keep him entertained; his flirtatious attitude just a fleeting game, a way to pass the time in the vast, lonely expanse of the night.

As you finished your final preparations before going on air, you couldn’t stop the thought from blaring about your head: Did he ever, even once, care about you in the way you had inevitably found yourself caring about him?

You couldn’t allow yourself to dwell on this thought for too long as the ‘ON AIR’ lights flickered a blaring red, your voice now being broadcasted around the country. Refocusing your thoughts back into your work, you greeted your dedicated and loyal listeners once again with your signature lively voice.

The night went by smoothly, with the setlist leaning towards the romance genre, starring many iconic love songs that your listeners had called in before dedicating to their loved ones. Though you swooned at the romantic gestures, you couldn’t help but not feel yourself despite the obvious abundance of love wafting through the air.

As the songs came to an end, the segment you most looked forward to came by, as slowly your hopes crept up higher, curiosity once again filling you as you wondered, maybe your Mr Mountain would find a way to surprise you during your daily call?

And so with raised expectations, you repeated the number to the station for the last time, waiting to be connected to your listeners, most importantly your favourite listener. Tonight, you had the time to entertain a few more listeners, so you started your calls with a sweet boyfriend who wanted to dedicate a speech to the love of his life on live radio.

Person by person, you found yourself spending the night talking to more people, listening to their unique takes on love and being loved, and while you found the common topic of the night to be endearing, you found yourself wishing that you were talking to a certain someone else instead.

But as your producer signalled the end of the final call-in of the night behind the controls of the recording booth, with no sign of Giant Mountain’s usual presence on your programme, a deep forlorness settled into the pit of your stomach.

Had it finally happened? Had he finally grown tired of spending the nights talking on your show? Did he finally grow tired of you?

As you pushed away the thoughts that now took full reign in your mind, you managed to wrap up the night’s broadcast with a cheerful tone that contrasted the inner turmoil you found yourself embroiled in.

Owing to the special occasion, the show had gone on for a bit longer than usual, and maybe it was the exhaustion of it all, or perhaps just the weight of disappointment that weighed down on you, but you couldn’t wait to get back to the solitude of your home and sleep away the weariness of the day.

As you wished your coworkers a drained goodnight, many had seemed to notice your apparent dejectedness, with Yunah even pulling you aside to ask if your usual bubbliness was replaced by this brooding energy due to the absence of Giant Mountain’s calls that usually had the whole studio giggling and teasing you.

But you quickly brushed her off saying that you barely even noticed the lack of his call, and that it didn’t matter that much to you anyways, to which you were greeted with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. Quickly after, you packed up your things, waving everyone with a final goodbye. Despite your adoration towards your colleagues, tonight, you couldn’t have been more relieved to be left alone to your thoughts, as you slouched despondently against the insides of the company elevator.

Trudging your way past the entrance of the broadcasting station, your body a heavy weight to lug about, you take in your surroundings. The air is crisp, and the streets are quiet. You gladly welcome the serene peace the night offered, contrasting the muddled chaos in your head.

As you adjusted the strap of your bag, your eyes land on a lone figure in the desolate night, leaning against his car as he fidgeted with the ends of his sweater absentmindedly.

‘Taesan? What are you doing here?’

You were a bit confused. After wrapping up your show, it had already stretched past midnight and you were certain that the composer standing in front of you was supposed to have clocked out hours ago.

That was when you noticed the small yet gorgeous bouquet of flowers clutched tightly in his hand.

‘Oh! Were you waiting for someone?’ You asked, your curiosity piqued. It wasn’t surprising that the good-looking music composer also had a date for Valentine’s, although for some reason, the fact felt like another jab to the gut on this already upsetting day.

With a small nervous smile, Taesan finally looked up at you, eyes meeting yours.

‘Well yeah… I was waiting for you.’

Wait, what?

‘I told I’d surprise you didn’t I? Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss RJ’

Suddenly, it felt like the world had stopped. As you slowly start processing Taesan's words, you think you’re having an epiphany; with all the jumbled puzzle pieces that had been floating about in your head, clicking together in place, surprise and shock taking over you.

Giant Mountain… Taesan… Oh, it all made perfect sense now. And the near identical music taste from the days you had spent admiring the composer’s record collection in his studio? Now that it was all presented in front of you, you couldn’t believe how you’d missed to piece it all together when it was so conspicuously in front of you.

Your Mr Mountain had been right next to you this whole time, disguised in the form of a shy yet skillful composer you had grown a soft spot for in your time working together.

‘Wait Taesan… You’re Giant Mountain?’ You asked incredulously at the tall man in front of you, whose grin had grown wider at the sight of your obvious surprise at the revelation.

‘Guilty as charged. Though in my defence, I didn’t know we’d have to work together when I made the first call… if I had known I probably wouldn’t have done it, the whole thing was so risky anyways’, he replied sheepishly, his words trailing off as his gaze focused down to the ground.

‘Well, Giant Mountain, I’m glad the work offer came after you called in, I wouldn’t want to have imagined my nights without your company anyways’, you replied with a small laugh, causing Taesan to snap his vision from where he was so focused at kicking around the dirt around his feet, up to your eyes, surprise evident behind the shiny orbs.

‘But Mr Composer, all those calls… the flirting, the song requests… that was you the whole time? I will admit, you’ve got a lot more hiding behind the quiet studio-man persona you’ve let on, you know?’

Shuffling his feet, Taesan replied quietly, his usual unreadable stoicism replaced by an adorable shyness, ‘Well, I’d seen you around the company a lot, and I thought you were interesting… I figured if I couldn’t get your attention in person, I’d try my luck on air. And honestly, hearing your mesmerising voice every night after, it was impossible not to call in’

You felt a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. ‘You’re full of surprises, you know that, Taesan? Honestly, I still can’t believe I didn’t recognise your voice despite hearing it every day’

‘Well, I was trying to be mysterious. But I think the jig is up now. So…’ Taesan holds up the flowers in his hands, ‘These are for you. Consider it my way of saying thanks for putting up with the days in the studio and my late-night calls. And… if you’d like, you can call me Dongmin, Taesan is really just a stage name of sorts’

Taking the flowers from him, your hands briefly brushing in the process, you couldn’t stop the flush from blooming in your cheeks. ‘They’re beautiful. Thank you… Dongmin. But you know, you didn’t have to go through all this just to talk to me. You could’ve just… asked me out.’

Dongmin thought he could die happily when he heard his name slip past your lips. The same name he had spent his whole life hating sounded like the prettiest sound in the world. But shaking off the surprise, a sly grin spread across his face.

‘Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I wanted to make sure you knew how much I enjoy listening to you. Not just your voice, but the way you connect with people. It’s pretty incredible.’

You let the smile you were fighting off the whole time fully bloom at his words, your whole being warm and flushed despite the slight chill of the February night.

‘You know, you’re not too bad yourself. I don’t know many music composers, but I’d like to think that most wouldn’t go out of their way to dedicate ‘Fell in Love With a Girl’ to me during a nationwide broadcast’

Dongmin had shed himself of his initial nervousness by that point, his face adorned by a soft, genuine smile which you found utterly adorable. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear that. But does this mean you’ll let me take you out to coffee or dinner sometime? Even our cafeteria’s dinner is fine if you’re busy… anything is fine really… anything you want’

As he stuttered over his last words, you giggled at the taller man in front of you.

‘Of course, Dongmin, I’ll hold you to that. But only if you promise to keep calling in. I kind of like having my own personal mystery caller.’

‘Deal, but next time, you’ll know it’s me. No more hiding behind the radio persona.’

You let out a small chuckle at his words, ‘That’s great. Because Dongmin, I think I might just like the real-life version of Giant Mountain so much better.’

Taesan’s eyes radiated a soft warmth as you said the last few words, but suddenly, he straightened his posture, clearing his throat, as he moved to stand right in front of you.

‘Well, in that case, how about we start this Valentine’s Day over? Hi, I’m Dongmin. I work in music production, I’m terrible at talking to strangers, and I may or may not have been secretly crushing on you for months.’

Giggling at his antics, you took a step forward towards him, ‘Hey, Dongmin. I’m the host of a late night radio show here at KOZ. I talk way too much on the radio, I love cheesy love songs, and… I think I might have a crush on you too.’

His eyes scanning you with an adoring stare, Dongmin holds out his hand to you, a tender smile dancing about his boyish features, ‘Well, my dearest Miss RJ, it’s far too late for dinner, but could I perhaps interest you in some midnight ice cream?’

Reciprocating the warm smile, you take his hand. ‘Of course, Mr Mountain, ice cream sounds perfect.’

2 years ago

You leaned against the railing of your floor, cup of coffee untouched in your hands, as your eyes stayed focused on one of the corridors a few floors beneath your own, that the radio station overlooked.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen the familiar hallways of the music and sound production department, yet something, or rather someone, had seemed to have caught your eye.

But as you felt a presence loom behind you, your gaze quickly shifted to your coworker and close friend. Yunah shoved your shoulder teasingly, ‘Careful now, stare at him any harder and you might just burn a hole into his back’

You rolled your eyes dismissively at her words, though your eyes seemed to betray you, as they quickly flickered down to catch a glimpse of the quiet man who leaned peacefully against a pillar, headphones comfilly sitting on his head as he mindlessly bobbed his head to the music.

Despite his inconspicuous dark clothes and reserved behaviour, all your attention seemed to be drawn to the newcomer at the music production department; the calmness that danced about his face, his emotions unreadable.

But in the chaos of the bustling broadcasting company, the stillness of the stranger’s presence seemed to almost comfort you, and had spurred your interest.

You turned to your friend who had been studying your every past movement. ‘What did you say his name was?’

A knowing smile taking over her features, Yunah replies, ‘Taesan, I heard. He’s a new composer working for the entertainment department, you know, for the movies and shows KOZ is producing. I heard from Jongseob that he used to be his senior at school.’

‘Taesan...’ you let the name linger on your tongue. It was a pretty name.

Yunah nudges you once more, eyebrows wiggling up and down teasingly, ‘What? You have a thing for Mr Composer over there?’

As you watched the quiet man walk away, back into the shadows of the hallway, you softly denied with a hum, ‘No, he just seems rather... interesting’

a/n: omg first post?? honestly i've read some life-changingly good bnd fics on here to the point where i was dragged out of my writing slump, so woo? anyways, i hope you like this one, this one is dedicated to all the taesan songs i have saved from soundcloud hehe ^^

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reiding-writing · 30 days ago

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hey, I loveee your work and writing style and all that like you're so skilled is crazy. I wanted to ask if you could write a cold reader story where her and Reid are like kind of in that shooting training place iykwim and like there's some tension and like him cornering her against a wall or something like just Spencers not so innocent side showing iykwim.

it'd be great ty I appreciate your work smmm !! (feel free to ignore this ofc)

TRAINING WHEELS — SPENCER REID!

spencer finds himself with a little more confidence than usual knowing that you reciprocated his affections.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 2.5k | fluff? | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — ik how excited people are for the romantic era but i have the full intention of slowburning this slowburn

The basement shooting range is cold, sterile, the kind of place that swallows sound and replaces it with something heavier—anticipation, focus, silence that hums with potential.

The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, metallic and sharp, settling deep in your lungs. Overhead fluorescents flicker just enough to be noticeable, washing the concrete walls in harsh white light. It’s familiar, clinical, almost comforting in its emptiness.

You exhale slowly as you step into position, rolling your shoulders back, trying to shake the weight of the day from your muscles. This was supposed to be simple—just practice, just you and a loaded magazine, just the controlled rhythm of loading, aiming, firing. Precision and repetition, something steady to focus on.

But you’re not alone.

Spencer stands beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, watching.

He’s not trying to be obvious about it, but you know him too well to miss the way his gaze lingers. He doesn’t have any real reason to be here—no evaluation to oversee, no personal training to run through. And yet, when you’d mentioned heading down to the range, he’d fallen into step beside you without hesitation.

No excuses, no pretence, just quiet presence.

You don’t acknowledge him right away, keeping your attention on the weapon in your hands. The cold metal feels solid beneath your fingertips as you load each round into the magazine, letting the rhythmic motion ground you.

But no matter how much you try to focus, you can still feel him there—still hyper-aware of the way he shifts his weight, the way his eyes track your movements.

There’s something between you two, something fragile and undefined, hanging in the air like the recoil after a shot.

It’s in the way your conversations linger just a little too long, in the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you a file, in the way he hesitates before saying goodnight, like he’s considering staying just a moment more.

In the stolen moments.

The ones where he isn’t just Spencer Reid, the genius profiler, but something softer.

The kisses that shouldn’t have happened but did—hesitant at first, then something deeper, something neither of you have dared to name. The quiet nights spent in his company, sitting too close, talking about things that matter and things that don’t, always circling something unspoken but never treading too far.

You’d talked about it once—what this was, what it could be. You weren’t together. Not officially. Not yet.

Slow, he’d said.

You’d agreed.

But slow feels suffocating when he’s this close, standing in your periphery, his presence something solid and steady, something you could lean into if you let yourself.

Still, neither of you say anything.

You pull back the slide, chambering a round, and lift the gun. The silence between you is thick, charged.

You take aim, exhale, and fire.

And through it all, Spencer doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

Just watches.

He leans casually against the partition, his posture effortlessly relaxed, though you know the wheels in his head are always turning.

He rattles off statistics about shot groupings, stance efficiency, how your grip could be tighter, your posture more aligned. His voice is soft, a steady flow of words meant to improve, to refine, to make you better.

You’ve heard it all before. He’s nothing if not thorough—methodical in the way he assesses every detail, every angle.

You’re barely listening, focused on lining up your next shot. The sight is steady, your finger curled around the trigger. You don’t flinch when you squeeze it. The shot rings out, a solid thud against the target.

But you can’t ignore him.

He’s there, a constant presence just over your shoulder, his attention glued to every subtle shift you make. You’re grateful, in a way. It’s nice that, even after your new agreement—whatever that means—he hasn’t changed.

He’s still Spencer. The same Spencer, with his incessant need to be helpful, his quiet enthusiasm for numbers, his comfort in being the knowledgeable one.

You appreciate that, more than you’re willing to admit. There’s a relief in the normalcy of it all, in the way he doesn’t treat you any differently. No awkward pauses, no overthinking. Just him, doing what he does best, and you, pretending you don’t feel that small shift every time his gaze lingers a little too long.

Another shot.

You exhale, steadying the gun. But you can feel him watching. You can feel the weight of his attention like a second presence in the room. It’s hard to ignore.

The next shot is off-center, just a little too far to the left.

Spencer clicks his tongue in calculated disapproval. The sound is sharp, knowing. “You're compensating too much with your shoulder,”

You don’t flinch.

Instead, you lower the gun, turning slightly to meet his gaze. “I know,” you mutter, but there’s no bite in your tone. You’re not irritated—not yet. Just... aware of the way his eyes study every move you make. “It’s a bad habit.”

He tilts his head, considering. His eyes never leave yours. “It’s fixable,” he says, almost too calmly. There’s a slight emphasis on fixable, as though it’s not just your aim he’s speaking to, but something deeper, something only you would pick up on.

His gaze drops, and you watch him take a few steps toward you, his sneakers quiet on the polished concrete. When he’s close enough, you can feel the heat radiating off him, the closeness stirring something in your chest.

He reaches for you, not quite touching yet, but the air between you crackles with the promise of contact. “Here,” he murmurs, and before you can protest, his hand gently brushes against your waist, adjusting your stance ever so slightly.

You hold your breath, trying to ignore the way his touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. The moment stretches, both of you suspended in that quiet space between professionalism and something more—something that neither of you is ready to acknowledge, not yet.

The silence is thick, but not uncomfortable.

His hands stay put a little too long, his fingers lingering just a beat beyond what could be considered necessary. His touch is warm and steady against your waist, the weight of his body still aligned with yours, his presence all-encompassing in the silence of the shooting range. The moment stretches on, the space between you both charged, a tension building slowly that you’re reluctant to acknowledge but unable to escape.

You can feel the solidness of him behind you, the heat radiating from his chest where his body presses lightly against your back, sending a wave of warmth spreading through your own frame.

He’s close—so close—and yet it’s not just his proximity that has your pulse quickening. It’s something else. Something you can’t quite put a name to, but you’re well aware of it: the delicate line you’re both walking between professional and personal, between the easygoing nature of your friendship and the unspoken weight of what might be lingering underneath.

The silence stretches taut between you, each second a thread winding tighter, pulling you both toward something you’re both hesitant to name.

Neither of you speaks, and yet the space hums with anticipation, the quiet broken only by the occasional sound of your breathing, shallow and steady.

You can’t stay still forever.

With a soft shift of your body, you tilt your head slightly, trying to break the tension, trying to regain a bit of control.

"If I shoot with you behind me like this, the recoil will make me elbow you in the face." Your voice comes out lightly, almost dismissive, as though you’re playing the moment off as nothing. But your body betrays you, the words coming out with an undertone you didn’t intend—something a little too breathless, a little too aware of the proximity between you.

You expect him to step back, to release you, to make some kind of excuse to create a little space between you, to dissipate the heat that’s building between you both. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Spencer hums softly, the sound low and knowing, almost unbothered, but it’s that unbothered attitude that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t retreat an inch. Instead, he stays where he is, his hands pressing just a bit firmer against your body, his chest still a whisper away from your back.

"I’ll take my chances," he says, his voice smooth, a slight smile tugging at his lips—though whether it’s in amusement or something else, you can’t quite tell.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The words hang in the air between you like a challenge, a dare, one that neither of you seems willing to take on directly.

You feel him there, unyielding, still in his place, like he’s waiting for you to make the next move. His hands are light, but they’re persistent. They remain there, subtly guiding your posture, like he’s not even thinking about it. It’s natural for him—this quiet way of fixing things, always adjusting, always helping, always getting a little too close without ever stepping over the line.

And yet, in that moment, the line feels blurred, sliding further away with every breath you take.

You don’t press the issue. You could. You should—but something stops you. It’s not fear, not exactly. But there’s a strange kind of uncertainty, an electric current between you that you’re not quite sure how to handle.

He’s still holding you, his body not moving an inch, and you could move away, could break the touch, break the tension—but you don’t.

Instead, you remain frozen in place, barely breathing, the weight of his body a constant, unspoken reminder of the space between what this is and what it could be.

You’re aware of every detail—how the warmth of his breath brushes against the back of your neck, how his hands don’t leave, how they hold you just a little too long, just a little too firmly, and it’s enough to send your heart racing, but you’re not sure if it’s from excitement or something else. Maybe both.

The room is still. Time moves slower, every second stretching, every minute feeling like an eternity. The sound of gunfire is distant, as though it’s happening in another reality, another world. Here, in this quiet space, it’s just the two of you—too close, but not close enough.

You exhale, steadying your grip on the gun. Your finger hovers just above the trigger, the barrel aligned perfectly with the target ahead. But his proximity—his presence at your back—is an unspoken challenge.

It’s not just the warmth of him, the quiet pressure of his body against yours. It’s the weight of the moment, the tension crackling in the air between you.

He’s always been gentle, careful. He’s the kind of person who checks his words before he speaks, who hesitates when he’s unsure. But this? This is different.

There’s something in the way he’s so still behind you, the way his hands linger a moment too long, the way his breath feels too close, as though it might be the only thing keeping you grounded in the chaos of it all.

You tilt your head slightly, testing the waters. Your voice comes out softer than you intend, a hint of amusement lacing the words, but there’s an edge to them too, a challenge that you can’t quite hide. "Are you going to move?"

A beat of silence passes—just long enough for you to feel the weight of his gaze on your profile, his chest still barely touching your back. You don’t move, don’t shift away, and neither does he.

Then, his voice, low and knowing, rolls over your ear. "Do you want me to?"

It’s the simplest question, but it hangs in the air like a dare, like an invitation to either pull away or give in. And you don’t answer. You can’t—not yet. Instead, you focus, breathing in slow and steady, and pull the trigger.

The shot rings out, loud and sharp in the stillness of the range. But Spencer doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t move an inch. He stands there, unmoved, his focus unwavering.

When you finally lower the gun, your breath a little more ragged than usual, his smirk is almost imperceptible, but you see it—just a hint of something smug playing at the corners of his lips.

“Better,” he says, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction. There’s something oddly triumphant in the way he speaks, like he’s been waiting for you to finally break, to give in to the moment.

You unload your weapon, the click of the magazine echoing in the space between you. And just as you’re about to reholster the gun, Spencer steps back—just enough to give you space, but not enough to fully erase the tension still simmering between you two.

But before he moves completely away, he brushes past you, just barely—his fingers ghosting over your wrist in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s light, fleeting, but the contact lingers, like a promise he hasn’t quite made yet.

“Can we—catch some dinner? Before you head home?” he murmurs, the words soft, almost shy.

For a moment, everything seems to slow down. The confident, unshakable Spencer Reid from moments ago has vanished, replaced by the quiet, nervous man you’ve come to know—a Spencer who’s unsure, who hesitates when it matters most. His question hangs in the air, and the weight of it feels somehow heavier than any case file or statistical analysis.

You don’t answer immediately, taking a breath, letting the silence stretch just a little longer. But you know what you’re going to say. Of course you know.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, your voice quieter than before, but there’s no mistaking the warmth that slips into your tone. “Dinner sounds good,”

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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rinnstars · 6 months ago

Text

all sides of you!

the five love languages rin shows to you

itoshi rin x reader: fluff, hcs/drabble, not proofread, likes n reblogs are appreciated <3

words of affirmation

- at the beginning, i think hes a lot more averse to saying romantic stuff so its more of in a long term/after months of dating

- mainly leaves sticky notes/passes notes during class/at home with what he wants to say ar rhe beginning

- after a while tho, he’ll try to at least praise you/compliment you irl then slowly tell you he loves you (altho rarely at the beginning)

- has a bunch of scribbled notes he never passed to you all filled with confessions/ things he wants to say that he eventually says at the back of his closet in a box (because he thinks its sentimental)

- a lot better at expressing his feelings and can say them without freaking out internally or stuttering before giving up and calling you a mean nickname to neutralise the compliment

- believes in a speak not tell but he knows communication is key so he’ll try his best so bear with him

- slowburn moment for this but its 100% worth it when he comes home from competition and all he can say is repeatedly whisper i love u into your ear as he pulls you closer into his embrace

physical touch

- again, at first hes a bit touch averse / awkward with hugs/kisses but after a while of dating..

- 100% super clingy esp after coming back from competition/bllk : his hands have to be somewhere on your skin, doesnt matter where hes not picky

- has to sleep with you, hugging you like youre his plushie (drools a little too btw)

- links pinky when you guys walk together doeznt matter where “you’ll get lost” excuse except his entire face goes pink at the touch of your hands

- really likes kissing your neck, he thinks its rlly cute when he can hear you & esp if it leaves a mark :p

- has piggy-backed you before even when youre not lying about your shoes hurting or being tired to be carried by him

- enjoys being babied ngl like he loves it sm when you pepper his face with kisses while he just lies there or when you comb his hair with your fingers: he feels like hes in heaven esp after stressful days

quality time

- tries to see you everyday : either through school/going to yours/his house, dates, or even facetime call

- calls you every night when hes overseas btw and during breaks he’ll try to text you back n reply to your messages

- the type to make up excuses just to hang out with you like “oh i need to get new shoes, come with me” even though he has 2038839 different pairs and then have to huy another one because he cant be caught (you can tell)

- wld go on “study” dates where he just stares at you 3/4 of rhe time and actually doesnt finish any of his “assignments”

- has gone on hangouts where both of you just chill in silence n rlly likes it because theres no pressure to do anything and its kind of calming/relaxing esp after having to deal with teammates n whatnot during work

- wld watch you play games/do anything while he sits beside you, just enjoying your company even if he craves a little more but thats alright by him

acts of service

- lowkey such an act of service guy like even pre-relationship even if he makes excuses for him bc hes trying to be #idgaf

- the type to rush to your home with meds/food/everything if you text him youre sick after missing school

- i feel like. he just kind of enjoys the peacefulness of like cleaning and would do it whenever hes stressed (ignoring the loud music he listens to)

- would bring your necessities sometimes, and ends up at some point lending a hairtie to reo (he has a pack of hair ties bought for you at all times)

- anytime he goes out to get food/on the way home, he’ll always get a portion of what youd like just in case, and doeznt mind just eating it as leftover if you dont want it

- has a notepad on his phone on your favourite orders (drinks, meals, desserts etc)

- if youre forgetful, he’ll text you to remind you : whether that be to attend events/eat lunch at proper times/buy something

- would go back to the store if he didn’t buy what you wanted/if you wanted something else without any hesitation as long as it makes you smile even if he doesn’t admit it

- would learn how to take pictures for you on his own accord : you didn’t even realise until one day you pass him your digicam and suddenly he was an expert photographer compared to just months ago when. you started dating where his hand was blocking the camera

giving gifts

- has a matching necklace with you at all times and its his lucky charm and he’ll 100% kiss it before a game / when he wins the game

- shared wishlist on online stores except he stalks through yours and buys them for you randomly to surprise you

- if you have something spoiled/doesnt work as well, doesnt matter if its a home appliance/jeans that don’t fit etc, he’ll buy one for you without any hesitation when he goes out/on his phone

- gets you trinkets/keychains/stuff that reminds him of you including any sanrio/anime/designs you like / even your favourite food ie. chocolates/candies/chips from different countries he goes to for matches

- would notice if you wore his gifts or not and try to buy more things that you like more ie. if you like silver accessories more, he’ll buy more of those

- even during school days, he would 100% blow his money on arcades if you like to play claw machine/those rhythms games and watch you play and sometimes if you don’t get it, he’ll try to get them after his football training for you and pass it to you as nonchalantly as you can the next day

- always buys matching things: that bracelet he bought you? yup he has an exact pair in his drawers, feels its more meaningful and intimate

- if you ever ask for anything, just know he’s willing to give you that and the whole world and even the whole galaxy

#itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin fluff #rin.<3 #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff

534 notes · View notes

rubyuji · 2 months ago

Text

She got the Ruby ๋࣭ ⭑🎸⊹ ࣪ ˖

“No way. I never knew how much I needed this kind of chaos until you showed up.” ᝰ.ᐟ

Genre: Slowburn, Fluff

AU: University AU

Pairing: Music Major!Woozi x Afab!Reader

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Jihoon had never been one for romance or dating—no one had ever truly caught his eye. But everything changed when he saw you bathed in the glow of red light at Soonyoung’s party, your ruby lips captivating him and making his heart race like never before. Why could you, a stranger, leave him so utterly spellbound?

Note: User rubyuji finally publishing a fic about her bias?! LMAO to be completely honest, this fic had been in my google docs for so long that I'm surprised it made it out despite the writer's block. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! Don't forget to like + reblog as form of support!

W.C: 8.3k

Dating was never an option for someone in Jihoon’s league. His packed schedule aside, he barely left the house most of the time. Whenever his friends—emphasis on tried—attempted to introduce him to someone, the feedback was always the same: he was either too busy or seemed completely uninterested.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, though. Jihoon had never quite found his footing in the dating world. Either the idea simply hadn’t appealed to him, or the person his friends introduced was too different for him to find common ground.

“Oh, come on! We’ve introduced you to, like, six people already, and you didn’t like any of them! You’re hopeless, Jihoon,” Soonyoung whined, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside his friend.

Jihoon barely spared him a glance, rolling his eyes as his fingers continued to move across the keyboard.

Soonyoung was a great friend—Jihoon couldn’t deny that. Even if he didn’t always show it, he cared about the guy a lot. But sometimes, Soonyoung could be a handful. His intentions were always good, sure, but Jihoon wasn’t ready to dive into the complicated world of relationships or love. Not now, not when all he could focus on was graduating, as if his entire life depended on it.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but being in a relationship is the least of my worries right now,” Jihoon sighed, closing his laptop with a faint click.

As if on cue, his other friend, Wonwoo, emerged from Jihoon’s room, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed after a long nap.

“You barely leave the house and hole up here like a damn hermit. You should take some time to relax once in a while, you know?” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe.

Jihoon rubbed his temples, his brows knitting together in mild frustration. He knew his friends meant well, but their constant prodding was starting to feel like a broken record.

Soonyoung suddenly gasped, drawing curious looks from the other two men. “How about this? We’re heading to my frat tonight—I’ve got a party planned. Maybe Jihoon could find someone to mingle with. It wouldn’t hurt, right? And if you end up hating it or don’t meet anyone, you can leave. No pressure.”

Jihoon’s mouth fell open like a fish out of water at Soonyoung’s suggestion.

He didn’t mind parties per se, but Soonyoung’s events were... something else. Case in point: Soonyoung had once woken up on the frat’s lawn after one of his infamous ragers and called Jihoon to help clean up the trashed house. But that was a story for another day.

Still, Jihoon found himself considering the idea. He hadn’t left his apartment in nearly a week, and after working nonstop, a change of scenery might not be the worst thing in the world.

Jihoon wasn’t a prude—far from it. He simply preferred to conserve his energy and steer clear of activities that drained him too much.

It was just part of his nature, and honestly, one of the reasons he couldn’t see himself dating someone too outgoing or high-energy. Still, this party might be an opportunity to step outside his usual bubble and meet someone new—someone who wasn’t just a direct connection to his friends.

“I’ll go this once, I guess. But if it’s a bust, I’m leaving immediately, like we agreed,” Jihoon sighed, his tone resigned.

From the kitchen, he heard the unmistakable sound of Wonwoo spitting out his water in shock, while Soonyoung erupted into cheers, dancing around the room like he’d just won the lottery.

Jihoon rolled his eyes but knew he couldn’t show up looking like a mess. If he was going to meet someone, he might as well make himself look presentable.

On the other hand, you weren’t exactly a fan of the party scene either. So why were you at Junhui’s frat, holding a red Solo cup, half-listening to Mingyu and Seokmin discuss some new workout Mingyu had discovered?

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Mingyu huffed, snapping you out of your daze with an exasperated look.

You smirked, taking a sip from your cup. “Mingyu, you’re the biggest gym rat I know—besides Chan and Seungcheol. And Seok, don’t think you’re safe either. I’m not even surprised you found another workout to torture us with next week at the gym.”

Mingyu groaned dramatically while Seokmin burst out laughing at your comment. Shaking your head, you got up from your spot on the couch.

“Alright, I’m gonna go look for Saerom,” you announced, giving them a playful wave before weaving through the party crowd.

“If you see Minghao, let him know I’m looking for him,” Mingyu called after you. You gave a casual two-finger salute in response before heading to the kitchen, relishing the sudden drop in noise and the smaller crowd.

Saerom was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with Jihyo. When they spotted you, both waved you over.

“Hey, have you guys seen Minghao anywhere?” you asked as you joined them.

Jihyo shrugged, and Saerom shook her head. “Mingyu’s looking for him, right? Well, no sign of him yet,” Saerom replied.

“Figures,” you chuckled. “Also, can you believe the party’s host is MIA? Imagine Soonyoung being late to one of his own ragers for once. That’s wild.”

Saerom laughed as she refilled your cup, the three of you slipping easily back into lighthearted conversation.

Before your friends can give out another remark, you guys hear Soonyoung’s boisterous laughter coming from the living room. “Looks like I spoke too soon?” You pout in faux disappointment.

“Hey, isn’t that Lee Jihoon? Isn’t he in your class, Rom?” Jihyo pointed out, her finger directed toward the familiar face standing beside Seungcheol. Your brows raised in surprise.

As far as you know, Jihoon, along with Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Mingyu, lived off-campus. So seeing him here was unusual—he was practically an anomaly in these parties, appearing only on rare occasions.

“That’s crazy, he’s actually at a party right now,” Saerom giggled. “We should go over to Soonyoung and see what’s up.”

You found yourself following your friends without much thought, a sudden interest in Jihoon sparking inside you.

He looks insanely good in that black button-up, and those forearms— The thought immediately made you snap back to reality, shaking your head slightly as you tried to regain focus.

“Y/N! Saerom, Jihyo! Looks like you made it too,” Soonyoung laughed, his voice bright as he spotted the three of you. Your friends rolled their eyes playfully, clearly used to Soonyoung’s usual antics.

“Yeah, we know she’s your favorite,” Jihyo teased, raising an eyebrow. “But seriously, how did you manage to convince THE Lee Jihoon to come to one of your wild frat parties?”

Soonyoung shrugged casually, glancing over at Jihoon, who was deep in conversation with Wonwoo and Junhui across the room.

“I don’t know. We talked about the party a while ago when we were at his place. I mentioned it, and he’s been holed up in his apartment all week, so I thought maybe he could use a break,” Soonyoung explained, reaching for a random Solo cup Jeonghan handed him, the latter seamlessly inserting himself into the conversation.

“We also kinda wanted him to meet someone, but... that’s out of the question for now.” Soonyoung almost sighed as he said this, clearly not expecting much.

Your friends laughed at his comment, their attention drifting back to the conversation, leaving you free to let your gaze wander. It landed on Jihoon, just as it had moments ago.

You couldn’t deny it—Jihoon was undeniably attractive, and he was definitely your type. But you had no idea how to approach him, especially since you’d barely exchanged a word with the guy.

“Interested in Jihoon, huh? Can’t blame you. Soonyoung, Cheol, and practically everyone else has been on his case about getting a girlfriend—or at least starting to date someone,” Chan suddenly appeared beside you, causing you to jump in surprise. You hit his shoulder playfully, and he chuckled.

“I’ve barely spoken to him,” you sighed dramatically. “The only other time I’ve seen him was at Mingyu’s birthday, and the most we exchanged was him passing me a plate and me saying ‘thank you.’ I highly doubt he remembers that, considering he barely even looked at me.”

Chan laughed again, but this time he grabbed your arm and started pulling you toward the dance floor as the music grew louder and the crowd tipsier.

“Fine, take a moment to think about it. But for now, let’s dance! Give it your all—you didn’t take all of Soonyoung’s and my classes for nothing, right?” Chan yelled over the music, his grin wide.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Chan spun you into a playful dance battle, challenging you to keep up. Just then, the lights suddenly flickered off, and Junhui’s makeshift spotlights sprang to life, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors.

While you and Chan lost yourselves to the beat, Jihoon made his way over to where Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Minghao were lounging, the latter two likely too lazy to join the chaos on the dance floor. He plopped down onto the beanbag next to Jeonghan, who glanced at him with mild curiosity.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. What made you change your mind?” Jeonghan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jihoon shrugged casually, taking a sip from his Solo cup filled with Coke Zero. He wasn’t much of a drinker, so he had opted out of anything stronger.

“Soonyoung and Seungcheol insisted I needed to get out of the apartment and let loose a bit. I’d been holed up there all week, just going back and forth between home, university, and the gym, so I figured I’d give it a shot,” Jihoon explained, his gaze drifting to the dance floor.

His eyes found Mingyu in the middle of the dance circle before flitting over to you.

As you danced alongside Chan, Jihoon’s eyes lingered on you, captivated by your movements. Seokmin and Seungkwan were in the middle of their own dance battle nearby, but Jihoon couldn’t tear his focus away from you.

You looked... familiar. He was sure you had been at Mingyu’s birthday party, and he had seen you with Soonyoung around campus, but he never really paid much attention until now.

It was almost as if everything slowed down for Jihoon at that moment. He took in every detail—how you looked so effortlessly good while dancing, how the red light seemed to make you glow. Red was his favorite color, and seeing the hue reflected in the lipstick on your lips only made things worse as he tried to hide how drawn to you he felt.

“Dude, why are you so thirsty?” Soonyoung’s voice snapped Jihoon out of his daze, and he immediately felt heat rush to his face. Wonwoo laughed, clearly noticing Jihoon’s flushed ears, while Minghao tried to suppress a smile.

Jihoon was finally making progress in his love life, and his friends couldn’t be more proud of him for stepping out of his shell.

“Finally, someone’s caught your attention,” Soonyoung teased, his grin widening. “Do you want me to bring Y/N over?”

Soonyoung’s plan was falling into place perfectly. The fact that Jihoon was showing interest in you—of all people—was just ideal.

You were everything Jihoon needed. Well, almost. You weren’t big on the party scene and preferred staying in, though you did go out more often than him if invited by the right people (the ‘right people’ being Mingyu).

You had a personality that could easily draw people in, and on top of that, you were the full package: pretty, smart, and kind. But being as perfect as you were also meant that you had no shortage of admirers.

“You know, Y/N’s great. She’s practically Seungcheol’s other half,” Jeonghan said, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

Everyone around them was practically buzzing with excitement, seeing Jihoon finally step out of his comfort zone. Honestly, Jihoon felt a strange surge of courage; for once, he was ready to take a risk.

“I mean, if she’s that amazing, why not? But how do I even approach her?” Jihoon asked, glancing over again. This time, he saw you dancing with Mingyu, your smile outshining every light in the room.

“Y/N’s laid-back. She can talk to anyone if you just let her be herself,” Wonwoo chimed in. “She’s a bit of a yapper, but in the best way possible—everyone feels comfortable around her.”

Jihoon didn’t get a chance to respond because, just then, you and Mingyu started making your way toward their group, which set off an eruption of teasing from all sides.

You waved at the guys before gently ushering Mingyu off to have fun with the others, then settled on the couch beside Wonwoo. It just so happened to be the seat directly across from Jihoon.

“Y/N! You’re not really into the party scene. What made you come?” Soonyoung called out loudly. You shot him a questioning glance and laughed.

He knew you enjoyed a party every now and then, but then your eyes caught sight of Jihoon sitting next to him, and suddenly, you understood.

“You know I enjoy the occasional party, Soonyoung. Today’s no different—I just wanted to let loose a bit,” you replied, leaning forward on the couch to grab an empty red cup from the table. You filled it with whatever concoction was in the bowl nearby.

“Is this spiked, by the way? Don’t wanna end up drugged or anything,” you joked, raising an eyebrow. Wonwoo shook his head to signal that it was safe and that you trusted his judgment.

“Oh, and Y/N,” Jeonghan chimed in, “Jihoon here actually wanted to talk to you. Why don’t you two take a moment?”

A smile tugged at your lips as you realized this was your chance. Chan’s words echoed in your mind—a lot of people sought after you, but no one had ever really stood out—until now.

Jihoon caught your attention in a way that felt different, and with a little liquid courage in your system, you felt ready to take that first step. You were grateful for the alcohol, knowing that without it, you might’ve been a complete mess by now.

“Well, we’ll leave you two alone then,” Jeonghan smirked, causing you to flush. You noticed Jihoon looked just as flustered as your friends began to leave the room one by one.

An awkward silence settled between you, and you decided to make the first move, choosing to go with the flow.

After all, what did you have to lose—other than your dignity if Jihoon didn’t respond?

“I take it you’re not the most sociable type? Or a huge partygoer?” you chuckled awkwardly.

Jihoon chuckled too, nodding as he noticed your flustered demeanor. Just moments ago, you had seemed so confident, but now seeing you shy around him gave him a strange sense of comfort.

He wasn’t used to many women approaching him, especially since he had no experience in the dating scene. Soonyoung and Seungcheol had quite literally thrown him into the deep end.

Jihoon scratched the back of his neck nervously, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since the awkward silence.

"I guess you could say that," he said, his voice soft but a bit unsure.

"I’m more of a quiet type, not really into the whole party scene. But Soonyoung and Seungcheol… they’ve been pushing me to get out more. I’m not used to this kind of thing."

He gave you a small, sheepish smile, as if trying to lighten the moment. There was a warmth in his expression, a vulnerability that surprised you. It made you feel like you weren’t the only one navigating uncharted waters.

You couldn’t help but smile back, your own nervousness easing a little. "I get it. I’m not really a party person either," you replied with a chuckle.

"I like the idea of letting loose, but it always seems a bit overwhelming. I’m more of the 'quiet drink in the corner' type myself."

Jihoon laughed softly at that, the tension between you both melting away just a little bit more. It was strange, but in that moment, you both seemed to find common ground in your shared discomfort.

There was something about the way Jihoon looked at you now, something less guarded, as if he was starting to feel more comfortable.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," he said, his tone a little more relaxed.

"I’d rather be at home, with my laptop and music. At least there, I don’t have to deal with—" He paused for a moment, glancing around the chaotic party. "All this."

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Exactly. There’s something peaceful about just being at home, away from all the noise. But hey, at least we’re both getting out, right?"

"True," Jihoon said with a smile that made your heart flutter. "I guess we’re both stepping out of our comfort zones."

You looked around for a moment, the buzz of the party now seeming a little more tolerable. "I wouldn’t say I’m exactly ‘stepping out’—more like ‘dragged out’," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Jihoon chuckled at that, and you noticed how his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than usual.

The playful banter seemed to ease the nerves you were both feeling. It was refreshing to talk to someone who understood that sometimes, a quiet escape was more appealing than all the loud distractions in the world.

As if to prove his point, Jihoon glanced toward the dance floor, where his friends were causing even more chaos, and let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

"I swear, they get louder every time. I feel like I might go deaf just by being around them."

You laughed at that, and before you knew it, you were both talking more comfortably, sharing little details about yourselves. You were beginning to realize that maybe, just maybe, this night wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.

"By the way," Jihoon said after a beat, suddenly looking a little hesitant again.

"I hope I’m not being too forward, but… if you’re not busy later, maybe we could grab a drink or something? I mean, I know this place is kind of… well, loud, but it could be nice to talk more, you know?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, and you tried to hide your surprise with a smile. "Yeah," you replied, a little more confidently than you felt. "I’d like that."

The moment hung between you two, and for the first time that night, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of quiet connection.

The next day, you found yourself sitting with Mingyu and Seungkwan at a quiet café, the bright morning sun filtering through the windows.

You had been eager to tell Mingyu about your interaction with Jihoon the night before, especially after how much your friends had teased you about it.

Seungkwan, ever the curious one, was also there, sipping his coffee with a raised eyebrow, clearly interested in hearing what had happened.

"So," Mingyu started, leaning forward with a grin.

"How was last night? Did you end up talking to Jihoon like you said you would?" He shot you a knowing look, clearly trying not to make it too obvious that he was playing matchmaker in his own way.

You chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish at the memory.

"Yeah, we actually did talk. I mean, it wasn’t anything super exciting or dramatic, but we had a decent conversation. He's... surprisingly easy to talk to, you know?"

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I thought Jihoon was like the silent, brooding type. What did you guys even talk about?"

You shrugged, a smile playing at your lips as you recalled the night.

"We mostly talked about how neither of us are really into the party scene. We ended up bonding over how much we’d rather stay home than deal with all the noise. It was actually kind of nice, just... quiet, you know?" You caught Mingyu’s knowing smirk and rolled your eyes.

"Stop it. I’m just saying we connected a little more than I expected."

Mingyu and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, and Seungkwan raised his cup in a mock toast. "Well, looks like you’re in the clear then. It’s not every day someone gets Jihoon out of his shell."

"Right?" You laughed, trying not to let your excitement show too much. "I didn’t expect it either. But I guess he’s not as intimidating as I thought."

Just as Seungkwan was about to say something else, your phone buzzed on the table. You grabbed it, expecting a random message, but when you saw the name on the screen, your heart skipped a beat.

It was Jihoon.

Hey, it’s Jihoon. I got your number from Cheol. Would you be free to hang out after your classes are done today?

You couldn’t help but smile as you read the message. Your friends were watching you closely, no doubt noticing the shift in your demeanor.

"You okay there, Y/n?" Mingyu asked, a teasing grin on his face. "Something got you smiling like that?"

You bit your lip, quickly typing out a reply, trying not to let your excitement show too much. Sure, I’d like that. I finish class around 4. How about then?

As you hit send, you glanced up at your friends. Seungkwan was grinning widely, clearly having caught onto what was happening. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with mischief. "Looks like someone’s got a date on their hands."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

"We’re just hanging out," you said, trying to play it cool. "But yeah, I guess we’ll see how it goes."

Mingyu raised his cup again, his grin widening. "You know, I always knew Jihoon had it in him. I’m just glad someone finally got him to make a move. Let’s see where this goes."

You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought. Jihoon had actually asked you to hang out. After everything that had happened last night, this felt like the beginning of something new—and you were more than curious to see where it would lead.

The afternoon passed in a blur, and as soon as your last class ended, you hurriedly made your way back to your apartment to get ready for your date with Jihoon. You were a bit nervous but also excited—this was a new experience for both of you, and the idea of spending time together in a more intimate setting had you feeling hopeful.

As you walked into your apartment, you were greeted by the sound of music blaring from the living room. Yerin, your roommate, was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

“Whoa, slow down there!” Yerin called out with a teasing grin as she looked up from her phone. “A date tonight? Are you rushing to see him or something?” She raised an eyebrow and put down her phone, clearly enjoying the playful jab.

You froze for a second, a flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not rushing! I just... want to look good, okay?” You quickly grabbed your clothes for the evening from your closet, trying to brush off Yerin’s teasing.

Yerin sat up on the couch and leaned forward with a sly smile.

“Uh-huh, sure. You know, I was starting to wonder if Jihoon was actually real or if he was just a figment of your imagination. But now it looks like you’re actually getting ready for him.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Shut up, Yerin. I’m just trying to make sure everything goes well tonight.”

Yerin laughed, crossing her arms. “I’ll be here, waiting to hear all the details when you get back! I’m expecting the full scoop.”

You quickly finished getting ready, making sure to choose a stylish but comfortable outfit. You knew Jihoon wasn’t exactly the flashy type, so you opted for something that felt both casual and a little special.

Once you were done, you grabbed your bag and walked out of your room. As you stepped out into the living room, Yerin was still lounging on the couch, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“I’m serious, I want the full report later,” she called as you made your way to the door. “Have fun, and don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way back!”

You chuckled, throwing her a playful wave before stepping out the door.

When you arrived at the restaurant, Jihoon was already waiting for you outside. He looked a little nervous but also endearingly handsome, standing there in a smart button-up and dark jeans. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and his expression softened into a smile.

“Hey,” Jihoon greeted, stepping forward. “I hope this place is okay. I figured it might be more... private for our first time hanging out like this.”

You smiled back, feeling a surge of affection for how thoughtful he was. “It looks perfect. Very cozy, just what I needed after a long day.” You gently bumped your shoulder against his as you greeted him.

Jihoon seemed to hesitate for a moment, then reached into his bag and pulled out a small bouquet of red roses. Your heart skipped a beat as he offered them to you, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“I... I thought these might brighten your day.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the gesture. Jihoon wasn’t the most outwardly romantic person, but the red roses made it clear how much he was putting himself into this. “Jihoon, these are beautiful. Thank you,” you said, your voice softer than usual.

“Of course,” Jihoon mumbled, his ears tinged with pink. “I wanted to make tonight a little special.”

You took the flowers, your heartwarming at the gesture. "You definitely did."

Jihoon led you into the restaurant, a sleek, modern spot known for its great ambiance and exquisite food. As you stepped inside, the dim lighting, soft music, and cozy atmosphere made it feel like the perfect setting for a first date. You quickly spotted the table he had reserved, a secluded spot with a view of the rest of the restaurant.

You sat down, and for a moment, there was a brief, awkward silence.

"So," you started, trying to ease the tension, "you’ve clearly got some taste. This place is nice."

Jihoon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I actually googled a few places... and picked one that looked like it wouldn't make me look too much like a rookie. Not that I’m exactly experienced in this stuff," he admitted with a sheepish smile.

You couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. "Don’t worry, Jihoon. I’m definitely not an expert either. We’re both figuring this out, right?"

Jihoon nodded, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and nervousness.

"Yeah, we’re in this together."

The waiter approached, and after a brief moment of looking over the menu, you and Jihoon placed your orders. As the waiter left, Jihoon met your gaze again, his expression softening.

"So," he said, leaning in a little, his tone quieter now, "what’s been keeping you busy lately? Besides... school, obviously."

You laughed softly, feeling more comfortable now that the initial awkwardness had passed. "Honestly? Between classes and spending time with friends, I’ve just been trying to make some time for myself. It’s been a lot of balancing everything, you know?"

Jihoon nodded, his eyes reflecting a deeper understanding.

"Yeah, I get that. I’ve been stuck in my routine lately, just going to class, the gym, and back home. It feels like the same thing every day, so I figured... maybe it was time to break out of that a little."

You smiled, a soft laugh escaping you. "Well, you definitely made the right decision tonight. It’s nice to step out of the routine every once in a while."

Jihoon smiled back, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual. "Yeah. And I’m glad it’s with you."

The words hung in the air between you, but instead of making things feel heavy, they only added to the warmth between you both. Just then, the waiter arrived with your drinks, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics as the evening progressed.

As the weeks passed, Jihoon and you began to fall into a comfortable routine.

After each of your classes, you’d find yourself grabbing a quick bite to eat at the diner near campus, or sometimes just walking home together, talking about everything from random observations to deeper conversations about life.

It had started off a bit awkward, but now, it felt effortless, like you had both found something meaningful in the mundane moments.

Jihoon was starting to appreciate the routine. It wasn’t something that had ever appealed to him before—he’d always been the kind to keep to himself, going through the motions of class, gym, and home without seeking much beyond that. But with you, he found himself looking forward to these little moments.

He loved hearing about your day, even the small things you thought were unimportant. Your laughter became a highlight of his afternoon, and as silly as it might’ve sounded, he loved walking beside you, his hand brushing against yours as you talked.

One particular day, after a long class, Jihoon met you outside the building, your usual spot. His eyes softened when he saw you, and despite the crowds, he only had eyes for you. You were wearing a loose sweater and jeans, your hair tucked into a messy bun, looking effortlessly cute.

“Hey, ready to go?” Jihoon asked, offering you a small smile. You nodded, pulling your bag over your shoulder.

“Yeah, just finished my last lecture. Let’s get food, I’m starving.”

“Same here,” Jihoon replied, glancing down at his phone. “How about that diner? I’m craving their fries today.”

You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder as the two of you started walking. “You and your fries. But sure, that works for me.”

The walk to the diner was filled with comfortable conversation, the two of you easily slipping into familiar banter.

As you entered the diner, you found your usual booth by the window and sat down, already chatting about how your day had gone. Jihoon, for the first time in a while, felt completely at ease.

Then as you two dug into your food, Jihoon noticed something he hadn’t before—how he found himself looking forward to this part of his day.

He was actually looking forward to seeing you, to sharing these moments. And it wasn’t just about the food or the walk anymore; it was about spending time with you.

Later that week, Soonyoung, who had been hanging out with Jihoon more recently, couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in his friend’s behavior.

Jihoon, who used to brush off talks about relationships or showing any kind of emotion, had been smiling more, his mood noticeably lighter. Soonyoung wasn’t exactly one to shy away from calling things as they were, and it didn’t take long for him to notice what was happening.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Soonyoung asked one day, leaning against the doorframe of Jihoon’s room, a teasing smile on his face.

Jihoon, who had been lounging on his bed with his laptop open, looked up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re different,” Soonyoung said, crossing his arms. “You’re actually smiling. You’re not as... grumpy anymore. Did you get a new pet or something?”

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no new pet. Just... you know. Life’s good.”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk forming. “Uh-huh. So, it’s ‘life’s good,’ huh? Is this about Y/n?”

Jihoon froze for a second, his eyes widening. He wasn’t exactly trying to keep things a secret, but Soonyoung was quick to catch on. “What?” Jihoon tried to brush it off, but it was no use.

“I knew it,” Soonyoung said, grinning. “You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”

Jihoon let out a frustrated sigh, but a soft smile tugged at his lips. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been hanging out a lot lately. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Oh, please,” Soonyoung laughed, throwing himself onto Jihoon’s bed.

“I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re crushing on someone. You’ve been acting differently, Jihoon. You actually care about your schedule now. You used to skip meals like it was nothing, but now I see you going to class early, and I even saw you texting Y/n before your last lecture yesterday.”

Jihoon felt his cheeks heat up. “Okay, okay, you got me. But it’s not a big deal.”

Soonyoung sat up, his grin never fading. “You’re so obvious, man. You’re just making it worse by trying to act like it’s nothing. Just admit it: you like her.”

Jihoon sighed but couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face.

“Fine, I like her. Happy now?”

Soonyoung let out a dramatic gasp. “I knew it! Jihoon’s got a crush! You two are so cute. But seriously, don’t mess it up.”

Jihoon ran a hand through his hair, the smile still on his face. “I’m trying not to. It’s just... I’ve never really done this before, you know?”

Soonyoung patted Jihoon’s back. “It’s all good. Just take it easy. You’re doing fine. Just keep being yourself.”

As the conversation ended, Jihoon found himself thinking about how much he had changed over the past few weeks.

He wasn’t just going through the motions anymore; he was actually living, enjoying these moments with you. And he couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—there was something more to explore between the two of you.

It was a Friday night, and you were at your apartment with Yerin and Jennie, sprawled across your couch with snacks, blankets, and plenty of gossip.

The three of you had been best friends for what felt like forever, and sleepovers were a tradition. You’d all gathered to catch up, share some laughs, and spill some tea—this time, about your not-so-secret crush.

Yerin was curled up with her phone, scrolling through TikTok, while Jennie, ever the gossip queen, was snuggled under a blanket beside you, eagerly waiting for you to spill the details.

“So,” Jennie said, raising an eyebrow and giving you a mischievous smile. “How’s Jihoon? Been seeing each other a lot lately?”

You paused for a moment, unsure if you were ready to admit just how much you liked him yet. But you knew your best friends well, and there was no point in holding back.

They’d seen you go through a million crushes, and they weren’t about to let you keep this one under wraps for long.

“I mean…” you began, glancing at Yerin for support, “It’s been nice, really nice. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately—like, almost every day after class.”

Jennie’s eyes immediately widened. “Wait, what? Every day? Are you telling me that you two have become, like, regulars at that diner near campus?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” you chuckled. “We get dinner there after classes, talk about anything and everything. It’s kind of become our thing.”

Yerin, who had been half-paying attention, looked up from her phone at the mention of Jihoon. “Wait a second, hold on. I thought Jihoon was this… grumpy, antisocial guy. You know, the one who never really goes out?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” you said with a small laugh. “But honestly? I think he’s just been waiting for the right person. And I guess… maybe I’m that person.”

Jennie grinned widely, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Oh my god, I knew it! I saw the way you two were around each other last time, and I was like, ‘Something’s going on here.’ You two just click.”

Yerin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, how does he feel about you? You’ve been spending all this time with him. Have you two… talked about anything serious yet?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the fluttering in your chest as you thought about Jihoon.

“We haven’t really defined anything yet. I think we’re both just taking things slow. But honestly, I feel like there’s a connection there, something real.”

Yerin smiled knowingly, setting her phone down. “I can tell you like him, Y/n. And I’m glad he’s making you happy. Just make sure to take it slow and enjoy the ride. You don’t have to rush into anything.”

Jennie, ever the romantic, added, “Yeah, but also, when are you two going to make it official? I’m dying to hear how this all goes down.”

You laughed, brushing your hair out of your face. “I don’t know if we’re at that point yet. We’re still just figuring things out.”

“Right, right,” Jennie teased. “But I know how you are, Y/n. You’re gonna make him fall for you, and it’s going to be cute. You two are a total power couple in the making.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you appreciated their support. “I’m just trying to enjoy these moments with him right now. But… I don’t know. I think I’m starting to like him more than I expected.”

Yerin leaned back, resting her head on the pillow, clearly satisfied with the conversation.

“You’re allowed to like him, Y/n. Honestly, I think Jihoon’s a good match for you. He’s different from the guys you usually go for. He seems like he genuinely cares.”

Jennie gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m already calling dibs on being your maid of honor whenever you two get married.”

Yerin snorted, throwing a pillow at Jennie. “Are you trying to jinx it already? Slow down, lovebird.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest as your best friends teased you. It felt good to talk about Jihoon, to let someone else in on what you were feeling. It was different from all the other crushes you’d had, and you knew that it was only the beginning of something special.

But for now, you were content to take it one step at a time, with your friends by your side and Jihoon slowly making his way into your heart.

After a long and stressful week of finals, you were finally free. The relief that flooded over you was immense, and the anticipation of meeting Jihoon made it even sweeter.

You had both been texting throughout the week, but with finals consuming all of your time, you hadn't been able to meet up. Tonight, though, was different.

Jihoon had messaged you earlier, asking if you wanted to meet up once you were done with everything. You could already feel the excitement building in your chest.

As you walked out of the library, the crisp night air greeted you, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. Jihoon’s message appeared on the screen:

Jihoon: "Hey, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You deserve a break after finals. I’ll meet you at that place we like near campus, yeah?"

You smiled at the message and quickly typed back:

You: "Sounds perfect. I’ll be there in 15 minutes."

You quickly made your way to the restaurant, the weight of finals lifting off your shoulders with each step.

When you arrived, you spotted Jihoon waiting for you outside, his usual shy smile lighting up his face as soon as he saw you. He looked great, as always, but there was something about him tonight—something more confident, like he had been looking forward to this just as much as you had.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice already filled with warmth.

“Hey, Y/n. How was the last exam?” Jihoon asked, his voice a little more relaxed than usual, but still filled with genuine interest.

“It was tough, but I’m just happy it’s over. I could finally breathe,” you said with a smile.

Jihoon chuckled softly, pushing open the door to the restaurant and letting you go in first. The place was cozy, with dim lighting and soft jazz music playing in the background.

You’d been here a few times before, and it always felt like the perfect spot to relax and enjoy good food.

“So, what’s the plan now that finals are done?” Jihoon asked as you both sat down. He’d already taken the liberty of ordering a drink for you, something you’d mentioned you liked in passing weeks ago. It was a small gesture, but one that made your heart flutter.

“Honestly, I just want to take it easy and catch up with you,” you said, your voice gentle. “I’ve missed this.”

Jihoon smiled, and you could tell he felt the same. “Same here. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

After you both ordered your meals, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It was easy with Jihoon, like you didn’t have to worry about the awkward pauses or overthinking what you said. It just felt natural.

You talked about how your finals had gone, the stress, and everything in between. Jihoon, despite his quiet nature, opened up more than usual, and you could tell the weight of the past week had lifted from his shoulders as well.

As the evening went on, Jihoon casually leaned back in his chair and seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost as if gathering his thoughts. You didn’t mind the pause, enjoying the quiet comfort of just being in each other’s company.

“I know we’ve been through a lot recently with exams and everything, but… I’ve been thinking about something,” Jihoon began, his voice soft.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”

Jihoon took a deep breath, and you could see the hint of nervousness in his expression. “I’ve really enjoyed these past few weeks with you, Y/n. More than I expected, honestly. I know we’re both busy, but I want to see you more. Not just as a friend… but as something more.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. “Jihoon…”

He smiled shyly. “I’m not good with words, but… I really like you. A lot. I want to be with you. Would you be my girlfriend?”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the realization hitting you hard. You had felt the same way, but hearing him say it out loud made everything feel more real.

A smile spread across your face as you reached out, taking his hand across the table. “Yes, Jihoon. I’d love to.”

The relief on his face was instant, and you could see the happiness in his eyes. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

And in that moment, with the lights of the restaurant casting a soft glow around you, everything felt right. It was the perfect end to a stressful week—and the beginning of something even more beautiful.

After dinner, Jihoon suggested that you both head to his place. He had mentioned before that he had a small studio where he worked on his music, and tonight, it seemed like the perfect time to finally show you what he’d been working on.

“You know, I was thinking of taking you to my studio,” Jihoon said as you walked side by side toward his apartment building. “I’ve been working on something… and I think it’s time I share it with you.”

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Something? What is it?”

Jihoon just smiled, his gaze a little more secretive. “You’ll see.”

Once you arrived at his place, Jihoon led you up to the small studio in the corner of the building. The space was cozy, but you could immediately tell it was filled with character.

There were posters of old-school musicians on the walls, a few vintage records stacked neatly in one corner, and the warm light from a desk lamp illuminated a red guitar leaning against a chair.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Jihoon said, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll just grab my guitar.”

You sat down, looking around the room, the quiet hum of anticipation settling in your chest. Jihoon moved around the room, picking up the guitar and tuning it for a moment before sitting down beside you.

His fingers brushed the strings, testing them one last time, before he looked at you, his expression soft and sincere.

“I wrote this song a while ago,” Jihoon began, his voice low, almost as if he were gathering courage. “And honestly, I didn’t know if I would ever share it with anyone. But when I started to really think about it, I realized… you’re the inspiration for it. I wanted to play it for you.”

You watched him, your heart already fluttering. “Jihoon…”

With a soft breath, he started playing, the chords flowing from the guitar as if they had been meant for this moment. The melody was gentle at first, and as he sang the lyrics, his voice blended effortlessly with the soothing tune.

It was clear that every word was carefully chosen, every note filled with emotion. And as the song progressed, you could feel the weight of his words hitting deep.

The lyrics were simple but beautiful, each line a reflection of how Jihoon saw you—his "ruby"—his muse, his heart’s desire.

As the last note faded, Jihoon set the guitar down beside him and looked at you, his eyes slightly unsure. “I… I know it’s a lot, but I wanted you to hear it. Because you’re the one who inspired it.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in everything—the song, his vulnerability, and the realization that Jihoon had really opened up to you in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. It took you a second to gather your thoughts, but when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, filled with sincerity.

“That was beautiful, Jihoon,” you whispered, your heart swelling. “I can’t believe you wrote that for me.”

Jihoon’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know how to tell you. But now, I guess there’s no hiding it anymore.”

You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand. “I’m really glad you did.”

There was a brief silence, but this time it was comfortable, filled with the weight of the connection you shared. Jihoon looked at you, his eyes full of warmth and something deeper. It was clear to you now—he had fallen for you, and he had done it in the most beautiful way possible.

After a few beats, Jihoon spoke again, his voice quiet but steady.

“You know,” he began, his tone playful but filled with sincerity, “you really have a way of turning my entire routine upside down.”

You raised an eyebrow, still feeling the warmth of the music and his words. “Oh really? What do you mean by that?”

Jihoon chuckled softly, the sound low and comfortable.

“I mean, my life was pretty predictable before you came around. Gym, classes, music, rinse and repeat. But now, it’s like—” he trailed off for a second, gathering his thoughts, “—I actually look forward to getting out of bed in the morning, you know? To seeing you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him. “Oh, so I’m just some distraction now, huh? Are you telling me I’ve become the highlight of your boring routine?”

Jihoon’s eyes softened, a smile curling at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping just a little. “If that makes me sound like I’m complaining, then yes. You’re the perfect distraction. The best one I never knew I needed.”

You let out a small laugh, not able to hide how happy that made you feel. “I don’t know if I should feel flattered or worried.”

“You should definitely feel flattered,” Jihoon teased, tapping the back of his hand against your knee. “But seriously, I’m really glad you’re in my life now. It’s like... you’ve made everything a little more exciting.”

You met his gaze, the playful air between you both still hanging, but something deeper flickered in his eyes now—something genuine, something real.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not just some distraction then,” you said, shifting slightly to face him fully. “And here I thought you were going to tell me I was ruining your carefully planned life.”

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I never knew how much I needed this kind of chaos until you showed up.”

There was a brief pause, and then Jihoon leaned in a little closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, it’s nice having someone who actually doesn’t mind the mess I call my life.”

“Well, good thing I’m here then,” you replied with a wink. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jihoon smiled, a mix of playfulness and tenderness in his expression. “Good. Because I kind of like this version of my life now. With you in it.”

With that, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and as he did, you both shared a quiet moment, the atmosphere charged with the kind of ease that came only with truly being yourselves around each other.

The hum of his guitar, still resting by his side, seemed to match the rhythm of the moment. And as Jihoon leaned back into his seat, he added with a cheeky grin, “Also, just so you know… if you ever need a song to get stuck in your head, you’ve got the perfect one now.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, I think that’s gonna be stuck in my head for a while. Especially when it’s your fault.”

Jihoon’s grin widened. “You’re welcome,” he teased.

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peterm4rker · 7 months ago

Text

¿DÓNDE ESTÁ LA BIBLIOTECA? ── a zhong chenle smau

In which SMU’s star basketball player zhong chenle is threatened to be benched for the season because of his failing spanish grade, marking the end of his life as he knows it.

In which SMU’s resident spanish tutor y/n l/n is suddenly being harassed by a random dance major, begging her to tutor his best friend before he spirals further into depression (or finishes the third tub of cookie dough ice cream he did not buy.)

ᯓ pairing ;; basketballcaptain!chenle x spanishtutor!reader

ᯓ genres ;; social media au, written parts, college au, slowburn, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers.

ᯓ featuring ;; ph1, aespa, bnd, riize, other nct units.

ᯓ warnings ;; profanity, sexual jokes and innuendos, death jokes, alcohol use, maybe weed consumption, let me know if theres more!

ᯓ status ;; completed!

ᯓ playlist ;; here

ᯓ taglist ;; closed!

ᯓ blue's corner ;; so, i can't say im not absolutely terrified to post this, but im also sooo excited to share it! i think the lack of chenle content in this app is criminal, so i wanted to put my own little grain of salt to change that. i do want to say that this is totally self indulgent since i'm a native spanish speaker and because of that i ask you to be patient with me if you notice a lot of spelling mistakes or a sentence doenst really make sense, but i appreciate if you'd let me know if that happens!

ᯓ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

YANGYANG HATE CLUB || markhyuk fanclub😍😍|| pro ballers

zero. I DO NOT??

one. 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚

two. LOW BLOW

three. oh !

four. ha... haha... ha

five. matate

six. what the fuck was that (written)

seven. debby downer

eight. what does my asthma have anything to do with this

nine. sorry pookie🙏

ten. chat am i cooked?

elven. WHOS THAT GIRLLL

twelve. oh?

thirteen. i think i fucked up

fourteen. missing ludovica hours

fifteen. critical thinking skills

sisxteen. where the fuck did alberto come from? (half written)

seventeen. cry about it

eighteen. not the despair slide...

nineteen. are you jelly?

twenty. seek help

twenty one. i need to leave (written)

twenty two. word

twenty three. good kitten

twenty four. are you shitting me? (written)

twenty five. oh hey

twenty six. VOLDEMORT DOESNT LIKE YOU

twenty seven. girl…

twenty eight. were you silent or silenced

twenty nine. PRETTY IS BACK

thirty. the og friend group combiners

thirty one. lowkey......

thirty two. hola linda, (written)

thirty three. this psycho

thirty four. just for me

EXTRAS

who is jisung reading fanfiction about?

#chenle #zhong chenle #chenle smau #nct dream #nct dream smau #kpop #kpop smau #nct #nct smau #chenle texts #chenle x reader #wayv #chenle social media au #nct dream social media au #nct social media au #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ peterm4rkerswrld #🕸🕷✮⋆˙ ¿dónde está la biblioteca?#🕸🕷✮⋆˙ chenle

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asxgard · 4 days ago

Text

Companionship | pt. 2

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have some late night phone calls. He struggles to open up.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: wow! Y’all are really so nice omg, I really appreciate all of you who took the time to like, comment or reblog. I also appreciate all you silent readers too! I’m genuinely surprised with how much traffic part 1 got, so thank you all so much! Contemplating adding this to my AO3 account from the perspective of a f!oc, but still undecided (I prefer to keep my reader works strictly for tumblr, idk why). This is definitely going to be multiple parts (my rough outline currently has ten chapters whoops).

I don’t know much about sugar babies aside from what I’ve read, so I took some liberties with my guesstimates.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap, slowburn, foul language, allusion to a panic attack, work stress, Robby trying to avoid his feelings/anxiety, my basic understanding of accounting, angst

not beta read

“You’re lucky. Someone only looking for companionship is a small pool of men. Not as lucrative as a traditional sugar baby, but if that’s more your speed, maybe reach out to some more.”

Your smile twisted, “I’m already uncomfortable with just one. Thinking about adding more makes me feel icky.”

Erin rolled her eyes, “Why? They know what they signed up for. If they wanted fidelity, then they should get a girlfriend.”

“I’m telling you, I could hook you up with a shift or two a week at the bar. I make great tips.” Marsi said, her eyes not flickering from her laptop.

You frowned. “I already gave him my number. My Google Voice number, but yeah.”

“That’s my girl!” Erin praised with a laugh.

You wondered if it was a mistake. He had not reached out since you had sent the number on the app, nearly four days prior. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. Anxiety filled your chest at the thought of having to go through the whole process again.

Or just drop it and take Marsi up on her offer.

—

Your night passed slowly, studying with your friends until dinner time, when they left. You kept your focus on the Excel spreadsheet in front of you, checking over your homework with careful eyes. Numbers were easy, they did not hold the complexities of human beings—

Your phone buzzed on the table, immediately pulling you away from your work.

You have any time to talk?

It was an unknown number. You watched as the three dots appeared immediately after, though it wasn’t hard to guess who it was.

This is Michael by the way.

So formal, you found yourself thinking with a small smile, quickly adding him to your contacts.

I have time.

It only took a few more moments before your phone started ringing. Anxiety thrummed through your system, heart beating like a drum against your ribcage. You took a long breath through your nose before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” He answered awkwardly.

“How are you?” You asked out of habit.

There were several moments of silence. “I want to say I’m okay.”

“But you’re not?”

“But I’m not.” Came his quiet reply.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Another measured silence. “No. Yes? I don’t know.”

You hummed. “I understand your hesitation, we don’t know each other. But isn’t that the whole point? I’m unconnected to your life and you basically have anonymity. I won’t pry, so we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

He was silent for a long time. You checked the call to make sure it hadn’t dropped. The seconds ticked away on the call, so he was still there. You waited.

“Just a…rough day.” He said, his tone sounding stressed. “I think I’d rather talk about your day right now.”

“My day?” You questioned, surprised.

He only hummed in response.

“Do you want the play-by-play or the cliff-notes?”

Michael exhaled a ghost of a laugh, “Give me all of it.”

You cleared your throat, “So my alarm went off at 5:20, no! 5:25, and then I got out of bed—”

He laughed, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I have early classes on Thursdays, so I was up earlier than I usually like to be…”

“Night owl?”

“Guilty.” You smiled. “But it was my forensic accounting class, which I’ve been enjoying, so I wasn’t too upset getting out of bed. Add in my morning coffee, and I was a pretty happy camper.” You paused, but he was quiet on the other end. “I had taxation today too, and despite the fact I love the numbers, learning tax law just isn’t my favorite thing.”

“Why do you like it? Accounting?”

“Oh, um,” you paused, deliberating. “I like turning unreadable stuff into a well-crafted report, turn a mess into an easy to read story of a company’s financial history. Plus, numbers are a lot less complicated than human beings.”

There was his quiet laugh again. “Yeah, I can see how that can be true.”

“As a doctor, I can imagine you would.” You were smiling.

“I’ve seen…a lot of complicated people.”

You waited a few moments, but he didn’t elaborate. People were the primary reason you had left the medical field early on in your college career — while you enjoyed being helpful, people could be too overwhelming.

“And my shift today was good, busy and boring, but easy enough.”

As you went on about your day as a payroll clerk (though vague about the company details), Michael was quiet. It was clear he needed the distraction from whatever his day had been. You explained your studying routine with your friends and your love of baking. You got the occasional hum of acknowledgment, but it was clear he just wanted to listen to you talk. You moved from topic-to-topic without complaint, pausing occasionally to make sure he did not want to comment, or change the subject.

It was late when you realized the time: 11:08.

“Michael? I’m sure I could keep going, but I’m not sure you want to hear my opinions on office politics.” Your tone was jesting.

Still no response. Furrowing your brows, you listened silently to the other end.

Small puffs of air, slow and steady, in and out. In. Out. He had fallen asleep.

Your first instinct was to be offended — no telling how long since he had drifted off or how long you had rambled to no one. But then you relaxed. He had clearly needed the distraction from what was going through his head when he first called, enough to quiet his brain. Or perhaps he was just that exhausted. Either way, you did not take it personally, you would have likely been up this late anyways.

You ended the call at two hours and seventeen minutes.

—

Are you available at 9?

You checked your phone when you moved into the living room, dinner cooking in the oven, finding a text from Michael. Per your agreement, you usually talked about once a week. He usually gave late notice, though it usually reflected how bad his day had gotten. Your last talk, however, had only been three days prior.

In addition to the one only days ago, you had talked two additional times since your first, typically at night, where you did most of the talking. You almost found your talks therapeutic; plus you were getting paid to just talk. Though, you wished he talked more — part of you felt like you were taking advantage of the situation and he was barely getting anything out of it.

He had already put money on the prepaid Visa card you had picked up after your first phone conversation. Michael thought the card would be more discreet and confidential than Venmo. The $400 dollars you had agreed on for the month had done wonders with relieving the pressure on making your rent payment.

Erin had encouraged you to set up an online wishlist as well, adding things periodically in case he wanted to buy something extra for you. “As a tip,” Erin had told you, a wide smirk on her face. That same day, Erin had coincidentally brought her new Valentino canvas bag that you were sure cost more than your rent payment. You held off on the wishlist, but you kept a few things in your notes app. Just in case.

You sent him a confirmation that you were fine with nine. He must work late hours. He had said he was a doctor, but you wondered in what specialty or where, but you had never broached the topic. You both valued your privacy when it came to your arrangement, not wanting to muddy the waters.

Surprisingly, he did not call at nine. He was usually pretty punctual when it came to a time he asked for. You waited patiently for several minutes before moving to start some hot water for tea, looking out the window at the rain. You figured to give him a bit of extra time before turning in.

At 9:24, your phone rang. Part of you nearly picked it up on the first ring, but you gave it a few moments before picking up. When you answered, he spoke first.

“Please just talk. About anything.” He sounded out of breath, talking quickly. His tone sounded more stressed than you had heard before.

“Are you alright?” Was your first instinct instead of doing as he asked, standing from your chair at the dining table, mug of tea forgotten.

“Fuck. No, I’m not. Please just talk to me. Your day. Your job. The fucking traffic this morning. Anything,” Your name was so quiet on his tongue, you nearly missed it.

It sounded like a plea.

You swallowed, pulse quickening, before running with it, “This asshole actually cut me off this morning, which considering his bumper stickers, wasn’t all that surprising. No blinker, nothing. I swear, sometimes the subway is less stressful, though I hate the morning crowds.”

Suddenly realizing talking about stressful things might not be the best way to calm him down, you pivoted, pacing across your apartment. Deciding quickly on something boring to most, you began to explain your most recent accounting assignment. How you came up with the financial analysis from the numbers your professor had given, to the tax implications of several of the (fake) business’s decisions. You explained it as best you could in layman's terms, trying not to make the math too complicated, before walking him through your report and your thoughts about how to help the business improve.

You paused long enough to hear his breathing, not quite as ragged but still loud and quick. “I don’t need you to respond, but think of five things you can see.”

Oh this was cliche, but you did not dwell on it.

After a few moments, “Okay, four things you can touch.” You paused, finding four things of your own to ensure he had time. “Now three things you can hear.”

“You.” He croaked, much quieter than he had been. “I can hear you.”

“That’s good. Now two more things.”

“…the rain. The cars outside.”

“Good,” you breathed out. “Two things you can smell?”

He didn’t answer, though his breathing had slowed tremendously from when you had first answered his call. It felt relieving, and you finally made your way to sit on the couch.

“Last is one thing you can taste.”

He let out a long deep breath, but kept whatever it had been to himself.

“Are you okay?” You asked again after a few moments.

“No.” He said. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

You nearly huffed, but the annoyance was fleeting. You smiled, “I can tell you more about accounting, but most people find it incredibly boring.”

“You seem to really enjoy accounting. Though, I can’t imagine being cooped up in an office all day.”

“Well I wasn’t quite cut out for psychiatry, and I’ve always enjoyed a good spreadsheet.”

“Psychiatry?” He sounded surprised. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“What does that mean?”

“You would’ve been good at it.”

Oh?

“Thank you.” You whispered. “Um, can I interest you in what my professor assigned today or how my manager nearly fucked up payroll this week?”

He cleared his throat, “I’ll take ‘how my manager nearly fucked up today’ for $200, Alex.”

Your lips quirked back up at the Jeopardy reference, trying to shake off the feeling his praise had given you. With a long sigh, you rubbed your fingers along your hairline.

“He messed up the new employee’s tax deductions by misclassifying his title. When he backtracked to fix it, he cleared out the entire category — thankfully I caught it when I was putting my own numbers in for the small team I oversee.” You told him, looking at your nails. “Led to quite a frustrating day.”

Despite the fact that it had led to quite a hectic start to your workday, adding several tasks that interrupted you workflow, you felt mildly pathetic knowing his day had clearly been so much worse. You tried not to compare, your days had just as much value as his, but it was still a creeping feeling in your gut.

You continued on after a beat of silence on his end. Fixing the problem hadn’t necessarily been the issue — it was redoing every employee's numbers that led to your annoyance. That, and the lack of accountability from your manager.

Time ticked on, Michael only adding in his thoughts here and there, mostly staying quiet.

He coughed awkwardly during a lull in your conversation, “Uh, thank you for tonight.”

Beginning to feel your exhaustion, you smiled tiredly. “No thanks necessary.”

“Goodnight,” there was your name again.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

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shadowkoo · 5 months ago

Text

disgraceful dreams

→ Summary: After two years of lustful pining and disgraceful dreams about someone far out of your reach, you decide the only way to move past your hopeless crush on Onyx Academy's star student is by taking part in the Lupercalia festival for the very first time.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader (feat. yeosang) | 16.4k words | 18+ ↠ genre: witch/warlock au, smut, virgin!reader, inspired by s2e3 of caos, slowburn

→ Full Fic Warnings: little bit of social class discrimination, cult-ish behavior (mentions of blood, Y/N uses a knife to cut her hand for binding/ritual purposes), being ‘hunted’ like prey, explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, praise kink, biting, nipple play, breast play, begging, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, partial agoraphilia & semi-public sex, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, deep dicking, size kink (wooyoung is HUNGGG), magical sex, fucking up against a tree, slight age gap (y/n is 20 and wooyoung is 25), slight corruption, choking, possessive!wooyoung, woo is ravenous for you (you’re welcome)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @pirateeznet @cromernet

@illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @cultofdionysusnet

→ Moodboard: view here!

→ Author Note: edited by the lovely aeris @beomcoups whom i appreciate so SO much for tackling this beast of a fic ILY! And also to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for reading this over for me!!! this doesn’t follow the exact lupercalia process, i’ve twisted it to work for my fic and based it around halloween instead of valenbarf day lol, if you'd prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here!! all likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated <3

‘This can’t be real.’

Jung Wooyoung casts a dark look upon you while taking in your ethereal, naked form before him. The flames of the common room’s fireplace dance in his eyes, reflecting his sinister and most impure thoughts. Thoughts of you, what he wants to do to you. With you.

‘I must be dreaming.’

He circles around you, hovering over your backside and letting his hands fall to your bare hips. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

“Mmm, can I touch you?” Wooyoung whispers as he leans in to kiss the dip between your shoulder and neck.

You nod, giving him permission to do whatever he pleases, and lean back against his broad chest.

His hands move from your side, one moving upward to cup your breast, the other heading down between your legs, gently tracing your silky skin until his fingers find their way home and sink into your sweet center.

The sensation awakens you from your sinful slumber, and you sigh, realizing it was only a dream—another delicious and depriving dream that left you wanting someone who would never consider you.

Groaning, you force yourself to roll out of bed and step toward your closet. Black Mass isn’t for another hour, but arriving early might help erase these recurring dreams from your memory.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hall as you exit the residential wing, making your way outside. It’s a beautiful gloomy day, the air is crisp and the sun is hidden by thick clouds that look as if they could open up at any moment and soak the woods with another harsh day of rain - something you wouldn’t mind.

The fog creeps through the forest, following your steps and trailing behind while you wait for your familiar to catch up. Besides your raven’s distant cry, it’s quiet. The hum of the earth’s magic is even more reserved than usual. It’s peacefully eerie.

“Ghoul Morning, Blair,” you say, extending your wrist out for her. She caws from above and slowly descends from the clouds, eagerly accepting your arm as the safe place to perch while you walk along the path to the Unholy Church.

Though she looks like a raven while masked, Blair wreaks havoc in her goblin form on anyone, and anything, that dares to disturb you. She’s one of the strongest familiars a witch could be cursed with, and you’ve been thankful for her services ever since you started training.

It’s your second year attending The Onyx Academy of Dark Casting, a magical finishing school that only the finest witches and warlocks between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five are given the unholiest privilege to attend.

Of these students, the Dark Stars of each class lead with their high values and spectacular spell casting. More often than not, they graduate with the highest dishonor and ascend to become High Priests and Priestesses of covens across the world.

Jung Wooyoung is a beloved Dark Star and stellar student, and it’s rumored that he’ll become the youngest Anti-Pope inducted into the Church of Night after his completion here at the academy.

Even with your unique gift, it’s not in the cards for a person of your status to ever equal his. Which you very well know and understand, despite the dark fantasies that haunt you most nights and your schoolgirl crush that hasn’t gone away since the very first day you met him.

Blair lets out a sharp caw, her wings cutting through the air as she ascends, perching gracefully on the steeple just as you arrive at the church. Her dark silhouette stands stark against the sky, watching over you like a silent sentinel.

The towering doors creak open as you approach them, welcoming you inside the dim space. You walk between the rows of pews, watching the candles that mark the aisle light up as you pass.

Once closer to the altar, you lift a hand and wave it across the front of the sanctuary. The room becomes brighter as the remaining unlit candles grow flames from your magic.

You have a way with the elements; you’re able to manipulate and control them as you wish without specific spells, conjuring them when you please. Your energy is unmatched compared to the other gifted students.

Yet, instead of improving your social status, being gifted has made you even more of an outcast. The professors are wary of your potential and what you could be capable of; the students keep their distance too, either jealous or frightened of your power.

Needless to say, you’re not Miss Popular, but that doesn’t bother you as much as it could. Only the luckiest of witches and warlocks are disgraced with gifts from the Dark Lord, and having chosen you out of everyone means something. And knowing the Dark Lord chose you is enough.

You settle into your usual pew, the familiar creak of the wooden bench under you blending into the background as your mind begins to churn. Thoughts swirl of today’s impending announcement during Father Blackmoor’s sermon cross your mind.

The excitement for Lupercalia is beginning to build. This ancient festival, celebrated by all magic wielders the week leading up to Halloween, is dedicated to the Goddess Peralia, who blesses covens with enhanced health, virility, and fertility in exchange for an indelicate offering. Participants must engage in a series of ritualistic events celebrating lust and sexuality, transforming the festival into a vibrant expression of desire and intimacy. Only then will she offer her unholiest blessing.

You sit there, not in prayer, but in a quiet storm of contemplation, unsure if you will sign up for the festival this year. Another downfall to being viewed as an outsider is that you have yet to experience, well, anything. Sure, you might have kissed a couple of warlocks in your intermediate years, you even had a boyfriend in prep school whom you were convinced you could have loved eventually, but your virtue has yet to be given away.

It’s common for witches and warlocks to lose their virginity during Lupercalia; typically when they are in prep school. In fact, it’s encouraged. Yet, by age twenty, you still haven't mustered the courage to join in the festivities.

This year might be different…

The sudden crash of books jolts you from your thoughts. You turn to see Yeosang, a fellow student, crouched beside a toppled stack of The Book of Blood, its pages splayed open.

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he scrambles to gather the scattered volumes. His cheeks flush slightly, and you can't help but smile softly.

He’s a sixth-year student, just like Wooyoung. Yet, where Wooyoung’s presence demands your attention with an almost suffocating charisma, Yeosang embodies a more reserved demeanor. He tends to stick to his tight-knit group of friends and immerses himself in his studies, radiating a quiet intensity that draws you in without overwhelming you.

You feel a wave of annoyance wash over you as soon you realize that even in the presence of another man, your thoughts keep drifting back to Wooyoung. It frustrates you to no end, pushing you to a spontaneous decision: this year will finally be the year you break free from this obsession. By participating in Lupercalia, you’re determined to finally move on from him once and for all.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “The Dark Lord has already provided me with the clarity I came here for.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, carefully restacking the last book. He glances to his left, likely considering the seat he usually occupies, before turning back to you. “Would you mind if I joined you?” he asks, a hopeful note in his voice as he gestures toward the space beside you.

“Not at all, please do,” you smile.

He settles beside you with an effortless grace, and the air around you immediately fills with the warm, intoxicating blend of amber and musk from his cologne. The scent is rich, almost magnetic, pulling your attention in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You fidget with your hands, trying to focus on anything but how good he smells, as your mind races to keep pace with your quickening heartbeat.

Maybe... you could partner with Yeosang for the festival. The thought lingers as you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s undeniably handsome—sharp features that give him a striking, confident look, but it’s his kindness that really stands out. There’s a warmth in the way he carries himself, a subtle softness behind those strong eyes that makes him more than just attractive. You wonder what it would be like to lose your virginity to someone like him, someone who seems both strong and thoughtful in all the right ways.

"Are you sure you are okay? You seem a little tense," he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern as his eyes search your face. You hesitate to answer, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks, and though you're trying to keep your composure, your breath has grown a little quicker, more shallow.

Thankfully, he’s kind enough not to mention it, but you catch the flicker of awareness in his gaze. His words are gentle, but there's an underlying curiosity there—like he's not just asking out of politeness but because he genuinely cares. You try to steady yourself, aware of the closeness between you, and suddenly the air feels heavier as if the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for your next move.

"I didn’t mean to pry if it’s personal," he quickly adds, his voice softening as he notices your hesitation. His words have a touch of urgency, and he backtracks, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. His shifts slightly, giving you space while still holding onto the moment, unsure whether to push further or retreat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" The words escape your lips before you even realize what you’ve said. For a moment, you freeze, caught off guard by your sudden vulnerability. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but there’s no turning back now.

Yeosang nods and softly says, “Of course.”

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” you admit guardedly.

“Oh, um. That’s, uh…” He’s visibly taken aback when he hears your confession, stumbling over his words. “Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, uh, that’s really something. I just, uh… I guess I never saw you as someone who hadn’t, you know, participated.” He draws out the last word, his tone heavy with the unspoken meaning.

You nod, trying to meet his eyes. “I know, it’s just… I never felt called to join in on the festivities in previous years. But lately, that feeling has… changed.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, I get it. So you’ll be signing up for the events this year?” He asks with a calm, collected voice, though he’s concerned that the quickened rhythm of his heartbeat betrays his calm facade.

Hearing your confession piques his interest. He’s always found you hauntingly beautiful and has enjoyed the casual conversations you’ve shared between classes and such, but today feels different.

He knew you didn’t actively participate last year, though he figured you were still doing something-someone-in private. Now that your secret is out, there's something undeniably more intriguing about you—an unexpected allure that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

“I think you should,” he blurts out, then quickly adds, “What I mean is, the festival’s about self-expression and the intimacy you share along the way. If you’re looking for a wild introduction to Lupercalia, there will be plenty of opportunists who share that venereal vision. But if you want something more comforting…choose someone who makes you feel safe and respected for your first time.” Yeosang trails off, his gaze lingering a little too long, the implication unmistakable. He clears his throat, trying not to give himself and his intentions away.

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you say while resting a hand above his knee, genuinely appreciating his insight.

Before the conversation can continue, the sound of footsteps echoes through the Church as fellow students file in, taking their seats. Black Mass is about to begin.

Wooyoung hadn’t intended to listen in on your conversation. He was too busy waiting for the other Dark Stars to arrive at the closed-off sanctuary to finish preparing for Black Mass. As usual, they didn’t show up early despite his suggestions. That’s a lie; he knew his words were less like suggestions and more like demands.

He was well aware they’d be late today, especially since most of the fifth and sixth years had spent the night at an intimate pre-Lupercalia party that stretched into dawn.

The only reason he peeked through the shadows was due to a loud crash, which he soon realized came from Yeosang, who appeared entranced by someone sitting near the front of the Church. That’s when he noticed it was you.

He’ll admit to having observed you over the past year—not out of personal interest, but because he’s intrigued by your unique gift and curious as to why the Dark Lord chose you of all people. Yes, you’re undeniably attractive as most witches are, but your ability to manipulate pure power without relying on spellwork is, to him, the most compelling quality you possess. If you had the right social standing, you would likely ascend to the role of High Priestess in a very fortunate coven.

From his hidden vantage point, he watches as his friend settles down beside you; that’s when the conversation begins.

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” he hears you share your secret. Now that is quite a confession.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a smirk as he observes your flushed face from a distance, the rosy hue contrasting with the cold room that surrounds you. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes as he takes in the way you shift nervously, completely unaware of his gaze.

Knowing that you haven’t been touched stirs a mix of amusement and curiosity within him. He wonders what thoughts are racing through your mind, feeling a strange sensation rush through him when you place your hand on his classmate’s thigh.

He saw no reason to hold back from participating. The moment he came of age, he dove in—and he’s done so every year since, always finding ways to revel in the experience to the fullest. As he reflects on past encounters, a pleased smile crosses his face as he silently counts the number of popped cherries he’s collected over the last several seasons, each a vivid memory weaved into his mind.

‘What’s one more…’

As more students trickle in and take their seats, the soft murmur of conversation fills the air. Wooyoung senses the moment is right and slips out of the shadows just as Father Blackmoor begins to walk down the aisle, weaving between the pews filled with eager faces. The flickering candlelight dances on the stone walls, casting a warm glow that contrasts with the coolness of the sanctuary.

He moves to stand on the left of Father Blackmoor, joining the other Dark Stars who are trying to stifle their yawns. The collective fatigue from the previous night’s festivities hangs in the air, but a shared excitement simmers beneath the surface. He exchanges brief glances with his fellow Stars, a silent acknowledgment of their late-night revelry and the anticipation of what today’s ceremony will bring.

“Fiends and Friends, today marks the beginning of our annual Lupercalia Festival,” Father Blackmoor announces, his voice resonating through the crammed Church. “As you all know, Lupercalia is upon us. I can feel the excitement buzzing in the air. The Festival of Wolves is a cherished tradition within our coven, and we take immense pride in honoring Goddess Peralia through a series of exhilarating rituals, all in hopes of receiving her unholiest blessings. With that in mind, let’s review the week’s events for those of you who are new to our practices.”

Father Blackmoor pauses to take an envelope from Wooyoung. “Tomorrow marks the start of the Assessment Period, which will be held in the Grand Hall. Witches who sign up today will be quizzed by prospective partners in hopes of finding their ideal match.”

“Courting begins on Tuesday. Those interested in a specific witch will reserve time slots to spend more time together. By the end of the night, the warlocks must submit the names of the witches they wish to be paired with. This will be followed by the Matching Ceremony on Wednesday, where the pairs will be revealed to the entire coven. On Thursday, we’ll have the Moon Ritual, during which the paired couples will venture into the darkwood to complete the rite. More specific details will be shared on the day, but they are expected to spend the night together beneath the moon in unholy abstinence.”

Some students snicker, knowing very well they won’t be abstaining from anything that night.

Father Blackmoor waits for the room to settle down before continuing, “Friday ushers in the Insatiable Hunt at dusk, where wolf-masked warlocks will chase after their red-cloaked witches through the woods, culminating in divine pleasure once they’ve been caught. We’ll conclude the week of festivities on Saturday with the Final Feast, where we will express our gratitude to Goddess Peralia for her many blessings this season.”

Wooyoung steps forward once more, this time carrying an ancient, leather-bound tome. The worn edges and faded lettering hint at its age and significance.

It’s the Book of Blood; which contains hundreds of Witches and Warlock's printed names, signed with their crimson ink, as a binding commitment to their word. It’s like a contract between yourself, the entire coven, and the Dark Lord himself.

With a practiced hand, he carefully cracks it open, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Witches that dare to participate, please step forward, say your intent, and sign your name in the Book of Blood.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you push yourself to your feet, joining the line of participants ahead of you. A mix of excitement and nerves swirl in your stomach, each step bringing you closer to the moment you've been both dreading and anticipating.

The weight of curious eyes fall on you as you move, but none more intense than Yeosang's. His gaze feels like a spotlight, cutting through the crowd around him.

With each passing second, your pulse quickens as the line inches forward at a deathly slow pace. Every breath feels shallow, as if the air is too thick for your lungs to handle. Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your belly, your feet move on their own, as if guided by some force beyond your control.

Before you even realize it, you’re standing before Wooyoung. His eyes pierce down onto you while he hands you a knife, “Do you hereby pledge your full participation and commitment to the forthcoming Lupercalia festival and all associated events?”

Taking a deep breath, you respond, “Yes, I pledge myself.”

You take the knife from him, feeling the cold steel as you press the sharp blade into your palm. With a swift motion, you slice a clean, precise line across your skin. Ruby-red blood wells up, pooling in your cupped hand. Without hesitation, Father Blackmoor raises his hand, his dark magic swirling in the air as he draws the blood from your palm. It twists and shapes into the form of a pen, glowing faintly with a sinister aura, ready to be used.

You reach up and grasp the hovering pen, its energy vibrating through your hand. As you sign your name in the book, a surge of adrenaline floods your veins, electrifying every nerve. The moment the ink dries, you feel an undeniable shift. Something deep within you has been awakened.

Wooyoung smirks, knowing the sensation very well. “There’s no backing out now,” he says to you, his gaze locking onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“So,” Jongho, a second-year student like yourself, pauses to clear his throat after pulling on his tie, “That was awful.”

You chuckle, relieved to see you're not the only one with frayed nerves. “Yeah, good luck with the rest of them.”

He smiles back before shuffling along to the next person.

It’s Assessment Day, and every witch who signed their name is being rigorously questioned by the participating warlocks. Friends who had gone through this in previous years warned you about what to expect, and they were right. It’s definitely a forced mingling period on steroids.

It’s only been an hour, and you’re already exhausted of the routine of answering questions filled with probing and uncomfortable inquiries that delve into personal preferences. Over and over again, you're forced to confront touchy subjects, as if each question is designed to peel away the layers of your desires, as if you know.

The process feels more like an interrogation than a mere assessment, testing not just your patience, but your lack of knowledge on the subject at hand—sex.

The situation would be far less awkward if you didn't have to sit directly across from someone to verbally review the list. After each question, it’s mandatory to respond in one of the following ways: Agree - you give consent to the matter being discussed with the current party; Acknowledge - it is a potential option, and you give partial consent or Decline - no consent is given.

You pick at your fingernails while you wait for the next warlock.

“Penny dreadful for your thoughts?” You glance up to see Yeosang sliding into the seat across from you, with a broad smile spread across his handsome face.

“Oh, hi!” you say, doing your best to not sound startled. “Just wondering when all of this will be over, you know?” you continue, waving your arms around.

“Yeah, this part of the process isn’t the most comfortable. But I understand why it’s necessary,” he comments while leaning forward on the table. “Have the others been respectful?”

“Oh, yes. Yeah, everyone has been nice. I’m learning how many students I’ve never spoken to before,” you reply lightheartedly.

"Shall we begin?" Yeosang asks with a playful glint in his eyes, nodding toward the paper resting between you on the table, waiting for your cue to dive in.

Just as he reaches to pick up the list of desires to discuss, his movement is halted by the sudden arrival of Wooyoung, whose presence instantly commands attention.

He strides up to your table with his usual confidence, a grin tugging at his lips. The conversation shifts before it even begins, as Wooyoung’s energy pulls both your attention toward him without saying a word.

Yeosang lowers the paper, his eyes flicking between you and Wooyoung, sensing the inevitable distraction.

“Father Blackmoor has requested your presence in the Anti-Sacristy,” Wooyoung announces, handing him a miniature scroll with a secret message.

Yeosang frowns while reading it over, “Please excuse me.”

"Of course, I hope everything's alright," you murmur, though your words go unheard as he's already on his feet, moving swiftly toward the door.

Watching Yeosang rush out, you suddenly realize Wooyoung is still standing there. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and he tilts his head, studying you with a curious intensity.

"Seems like you require a partner," he says with a smirk, sliding effortlessly into Yeosang’s chair without missing a beat.

You’re too stunned to respond and shift uncomfortably in your seat, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. He’s not offering to go through the questionnaire, is he?

Somehow, you forgot that you would, at some point, have to converse with Wooyoung today. It entirely slipped your mind up until this moment. And now he’s here without giving you time to prepare. You start to breathe a little heavier, and a slight sense of panic sets in.

“Why are you acting like that?” He says with a raised eyebrow, noticing your bouncing leg (a nervous habit of yours that annoyingly shows up at the worst possible moments.)

“I’m not sure what you mean?” Well, yes, you do but you won’t admit that. But your hyperventilating and antsy body might tell a different story.

“Yeah, right,” he rolls his eyes.

Your eyes lock on Wooyoung’s as he casually picks up the page. Without waiting for your reaction, he glances at the list and reads off the first item, his voice smooth and confident.

"How does each party feel about blood play; drawing blood by use of knives or other sharp weaponry, smearing blood, using blood as a lubricant, and/or tasting blood?" he reads off, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he waits for your response.

"I acknowledge," you reply with hesitation in your voice, uncertain whether you’re truly opposed to it, yet not entirely sure if you fully consent either. “And you?”

Wooyoung tilts his head again, “Do you really need to ask?”

"You and I both know there are specific rules to follow here," you say, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed, eyes fixed on him with a mixture of challenge and caution. And, if you’re being completely honest, there’s a hint of annoyance now too. The nervousness from earlier has vanished entirely.

“Fair enough,” "he replies with a nonchalant sigh, “I agree.”

It’s your turn to read off the next item. “Does each participating student consent to bringing in other parties to join and/or watch your sexual relations? And additionally, joining others.” You look up toward Wooyoung, already expecting him to agree to those terms.

“Decline,” he states firmly, his voice dropping an octave as he adds, “I don’t share.”

You try to mask your shock, but the expression slips through.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I also decline.”

He nods curtly, and you swear you hear him mutter "good" under his breath.

You breeze through the next set of questions surprisingly fast, both providing the appropriate answers as you work your way down the page.

At first, Wooyoung seemed a bit disinterested, but something caused his attitude to shift. Now, he’s more engaged, genuinely listening to your reasonings whenever you offer it.

“Last question, how many sexual partners have each participating party had?”

As he finishes speaking, you narrow your eyes at him, “That question isn’t on the list.” You’ve practically memorized them all by now. “You’re making that up.”

“So? Answer anyway,” he dares.

You glare at him, silently debating whether or not you should tell the truth. “Screw it,” you exhale, “None.”

Instead of the shock or teasing you expect, he simply blinks at you, as if he already knew what your answer would be.

But how…

When you wake the next morning, butterflies are already fluttering in your stomach. At this point, it’s hard to judge who will end up courting you, though you have a pretty good idea that Yeosang is interested. When he returned after visiting Father Blackmoor, you two had quite a connection while going through the assessment list.

You’ll find out for sure when you make it to the Dining Hall the courting schedule will be pinned on the announcement board for everyone to view.

You decide to grab a pastry and wait for the crowd around the schedule to thin out before checking how many dates you will have today. To keep things relatively fair, each witch is only allowed to have up to five courting suitors. A flicker of nerves sets in—what if no one reserved one of your time slots?

For the love of Lucifer, please let me have at least one warlock courting me.

You shove the last bite into your mouth and make your way to the board, eager to find out. Peeking around the remaining heads blocking your view, you spot that two of your time slots have already been reserved. Just as you’re trying to make out the names, someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Ghoul morning, Y/N,” Yeosang says with a smile, handing you a card. Your heartbeat picks up, recognizing the formality; courting warlocks are required to provide the witches with a card that essentially confirms their date.

“Hi, Yeosang!” You beam. Praise Satan.

He looks relieved when you accept his card. “I was hoping to see you this morning. Meet me at the Weeping Willow at three o’clock this afternoon. I have a special activity planned for us.”

You’re about to respond when you can feel his presence. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung standing closely behind. He towers over you, staring down Yeosang.

“Do you need something?” you ask, bringing his attention back to you while silently begging that he’s not here to send Yeosang away again, like yesterday.

“Yes,” he extends a hand, offering you a card. You stare at it in disbelief. He’s not here to steal Yeosang; he’s stealing you.

Wooyoung is your other suitor.

“I believe you’re meant to spend the morning with me.” Wooyoung’s eyes drift from yours and back to Yeosang’s, who tenses beside you. They seem to have a silent exchange of words.

“I see,” Yeosang says curtly, “Enjoy your time together.”

Before you have a chance to say anything Yeosang already disappears. Damn it.

“Come on, follow me,” Wooyoung demands while grabbing your wrist. He leads you down the dim, shadowy hallways of the school before picking up the pace as you leave the safety of the school, heading into the woods.

The thick trees close in around you, and the air feels heavier with each step. Fog swirls at your feet but mysteriously clears a path ahead of him like it knows exactly where he's going. You follow, feeling the cool, damp air cling to your skin. The deeper you go, the more unfamiliar the landscape becomes—you don’t recognize this part of the woods at all, and a strange sense of unease settles over you.

“Bloody heaven, where are you taking me?” you huff, doing your best to keep up with his long strides.

“You’ll see,” he grumbles, helping you up when you trip over an exposed tree root. “Can you stop tripping every five seconds? You’re slowing us down, and we’re on a time crunch.”

You glare at the back of his head as he speeds up. What a dick.

It’s not long before you arrive at the destination; it’s a stone table in the middle of the woods. You look around suspiciously. “Is this a ritual site? Are you planning on killing me for some weird sacrificial thing now that you know I’m a virgin, or…?”

Wooyoung bursts out laughing, “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, actually. This is a portal.”

“A portal? To where?” you ask, peering at the stone. It doesn’t look like any portal you’ve ever seen.

“Want to find out?” he offers a hand for you to take, and you grab it warily.

He places his other hand on the stone, and its magic instantly pulls you through the atmosphere, sending you spiraling toward an unknown destination.

When you land, your feet hit the damp cobblestone street with a soft thud. The air smells of rain and baked goods, and you take in the bustling scene around you—witches and warlocks are flowing in and out of quaint little shops that line both sides of the road, their chatter filling the air. The street is alive with energy, and everything looks both foreign and strangely charming.

Before you can fully absorb it all, Wooyoung tugs you along, his grip firm as your head swivels, trying to figure out exactly where you’ve been transported to. The unfamiliar cityscape seems like a dream, its details slipping through your grasp as you hurry to keep up.

Suddenly, you collide with his back, not realizing he has stopped. "Ouch," you mutter, rubbing your nose in surprise. You’re about to say more when something above catches your eye—the sign swinging in the breeze.

"Trahana’s Tomb!" you squeal, excitement bubbling up. For ages, you've wanted to visit this place, but something always got in the way. Now, here it is, right in front of you, and the thrill of finally arriving sends a rush through you.

Trahana is a renowned sorceress and writer known for her vast collection of grimoires, enchanted artifacts, and other rare occult items—many of which are now on display and for sale at her legendary store. You've been itching to get your hands on her coveted Book of Arcane Beasts, a tome filled with forbidden knowledge of magical creatures, their histories, and untold powers.

Wooyoung holds the door open for you, and without a second thought, you dash inside. Your eyes widen as you take in the towering shelves crammed with both ancient and new books. Every corner of the shop is overflowing with enchanted curiosities.

At the back of the shop, a narrow, spiraling staircase catches your eye. It likely leads to an upper level filled with even more treasures waiting to be explored. The thought of what might be hidden beyond tempts you, adding to the growing sense of wonder.

"Oh, my sweet, evil boy! How are you?"

You turn to see a tall, elegant woman pinching Wooyoung’s cheeks with an affectionate grin.

He swats her hands away, groaning, "Aunt Hana, you know I hate when you do that. I’m not five anymore."

She laughs, unbothered by his protest. "Oh, you'll always be the stubborn young warlock playing with the Acheron Configuration upstairs even when told it was off limits," she teases, her eyes twinkling with the memory. “Goddess knows how many hours you spent trying to crack that spell.”

She shifts her gaze to you, giving you a quick once-over before raising an eyebrow. "Don’t be rude, Wooyoung. Introduce me to your friend."

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, "Forgive me. This is Y/N, another student at Onyx Academy. Y/N, meet Trahana, the curator of this fine establishment and, unfortunately, my insufferable aunt."

Trahana smirks, ignoring his jab. "Charmed, I’m sure," she says, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she sizes you up.

"I need to get back to work, but it was a pleasure meeting you, darling," Trahana says with a warm smile, her voice dripping with a mix of elegance and mystery. She gives you one last appraising look before turning away, her long robes sweeping the floor as she glides effortlessly toward the front of the store. The air feels lighter without her presence, yet the sense of power she carries lingers, leaving you a little awestruck.

You gape at him once she’s out of earshot. "She’s your aunt?"

Wooyoung sighs, nodding with exaggerated patience. "Yes, I’m painfully aware."

"That’s so cool. So you spent a lot of time here growing up?" you ask, curious to learn more about him.

"Yeah," Wooyoung replies, glancing around the shop with a hint of nostalgia. "My parents traveled a lot for business when I was younger, so this place became like a second home. Now, I come back whenever I need a break from school. Plus, it’s a great place to study; there's something peaceful about the chaos here compared to the eerie silence of Onyx Academy’s library."

"That makes sense," you say, nodding as your fingers trail across the spines of the old books lining the tight aisle. The dust, the energy, and the soft hum of magic in the air make the shop feel alive, the perfect contrast to the academy’s cold, quiet halls. "I can see why you'd find this place comforting."

Wooyoung smiles, clearly more relaxed here than you've ever seen him. "It’s got a strange kind of charm, doesn’t it?" he says, his voice softer now as the two of you meander through the maze of shelves, discovering little pieces of history with every step.

He allows you to explore the shelves, letting you dive into the books that capture your interest. As you lean down to examine the aged pages, he watches as a loose strand of hair slips across your face, and you absently tuck it behind your ear.

"Can I show you something?" he asks, gently drawing you away from the book that’s captivated your attention.

You glance up at him, and to your surprise, he almost seems nervous. It’s a rare sight for someone who usually exudes such confidence. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, making you curious about what he wants to show you.

Nodding, you allow him to lead you toward another bookshelf two aisles away from where you were just standing. His gaze flicks across the titles, searching for something specific.

"Ah, here it is," he finally says, lifting his arm to reveal a book with a deep blue spine. You hear a soft click as he pulls it out slightly, followed by a faint unlocking sound. With a practiced motion, he shifts down to another shelf and pulls out a book with a green spine. To your astonishment, the entire bookcase creaks ominously before revealing a secret door.

"This whole day just keeps getting stranger by the minute. Is this another portal?" you ask, a mix of skepticism and humor in your voice.

Wooyoung grins playfully. "As entertaining as that would be, no. It’s not a portal. It’s my secret place."

You turn to look at him. "See, now that’s kind of worse. Now I really don’t want to go in." The idea of stepping into his hidden sanctuary feels more daunting than the prospect of another magical journey.

He gives you a look.

“Okay, fine. In I go,” you say, taking a step closer before reaching for the cold handle. As you turn it and push the door open, you peer into the darkness beyond, straining to gauge what lies within. And, if you have to be completely honest, wondering why it needs to be hidden away.

Wooyoung steps inside after you, snapping his fingers to conjure his magic. A bright orb of light flickers to life, glowing softly at first. As he guides it upward, it gradually brightens and rises to the center of the room, illuminating the hidden space with a warm, inviting glow. The walls are revealed and adorned with eclectic decorations and mysterious photographs, creating an enchanting and haunting atmosphere.

"What is this place?" you ask, your curiosity piqued as you step closer to a nearby table and spot a stack of photographs. You pick up the first few, admiring the artistic shots of a plant you recognize from your walks through the Darkwood—it's a Moonset Fern, captured in full bloom. You remember learning about it in Herbology 101 last year; it’s renowned for its ability to protect against ill-will spells.

Intrigued, you skim through the rest of the stack. Each photo showcases different plants, all with potent herbal properties, their images so carefully composed they almost seem to pulse with hidden power.

“So,” Wooyoung says nervously, “What do you think?”

“Of the photographs? I think they’re beautiful. You took these?” He nods. “I didn’t know you had an interest in photography. Or Herbology, for that matter.”

"It’s a secret interest. Obviously," Wooyoung says, gesturing around the room to emphasize his point. "Unfortunately, Father Blackmoor thinks it’s a complete waste of time. To him, this is the work of a lesser warlock." The distaste is evident in his voice, like the words themselves leave a bitter taste in his mouth. "He’d rather I focus on proving my potential to become the youngest Anti-Pope."

"Do you believe him?" you ask, watching his reaction closely.

"Am I even allowed to believe any different?" he replies, his tone a mix of resignation and defiance. He picks up a different stack of photos and flips through them, each holding a distant memory of a time he felt genuine joy.

"Part of me wishes I wasn’t destined for this life—that I had the power to shape my own future," Wooyoung admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotion. "But then the other half of me hates myself for even thinking like that, especially after everything my family has sacrificed to get me here." His gaze drops, the weight of expectation clearly pressing down on him, caught between desire and duty.

“No one in the history of The Church of Night has ever turned down a position of power once they've received the proper training and hold the necessary status,” he continues, his tone growing darker. "I can’t even imagine the consequences of rejecting something like that." The mere thought seems to weigh on him, defying centuries of tradition would unravel everything—not just for him, but for everyone tied to his legacy.

“That’s a frustrating position to be forced into. Though, I hate to admit I’m jealous.”

His head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours, confusion and a flicker of anger etched across his face.

"I’ve spent my whole life not knowing what my future will look like," you begin, your voice tight with emotion. “I have all this power, yet no one can explain why I have it or what I’m supposed to do with it. I don’t have even the slightest clue where I’ll end up in life, so yeah, from that standpoint, I am a bit jealous of your situation," you admit, a hint of envy creeping into your voice.

As you speak, the anger in his expression gradually fades, replaced by a quiet understanding. His features soften, and you can see him truly considering your words, letting them sink in.

"At least you have a clear path laid out for you, even if it’s not exactly what you want. I’m still stumbling around, trying to figure out what my purpose even is. But even then..." your tone softens slightly, "If I were you, I wouldn’t let my sense of duty smother the passion I feel for another study—even if it’s an uncommon path for someone in my position.”

You begin again, your voice steady with conviction, "The Dark Lord wouldn’t have put this path in front of you if there wasn’t something here worth discovering. I’d bet there’s a connection between each path, and maybe, just maybe, you’re meant to do something with both. Something no one else has thought of yet.”

Wooyoung hadn’t thought of that.

“That’s just my two cents,” you sigh, setting the photos down and walking over to the next table with hundreds more to look through.

One photo in the middle of the pile catches your eye, standing out in a way the others don’t. You can’t quite place the plant; it’s unfamiliar, yet stirs a sense of deep nostalgia. It’s a rich olive green, with spiny stems and sharply pointed leaves giving it a menacing look. But what truly captivates you is the ethereal purple aura surrounding it, shimmering faintly, like the plant itself is alive with ancient magic. Something about it feels important, though you can’t recall ever seeing it before.

"It’s a Ghost Violaceae," Wooyoung murmurs softly, leaning in close over your shoulder. His breath is warm against your ear as he speaks, his voice slightly raspy. "It’s commonly used in the art of seduction." His words hang in the air, as mysterious as the plant itself, and the subtle intensity in his tone makes the air between you suddenly feel different.

Wooyoung would do unspeakable things to know the thoughts swirling in your mind right now. He’s desperate to unravel what it is that made you blush so fiercely, what’s causing your heart to race and your breath to quicken.

You turn slightly, looking up at him with your lips parted. Wooyoung tilts his head, his eyes sparkling as he tries to decipher the emotions playing across your face. There's a flicker of curiosity in your gaze, his focus sharpening as he leans in just a fraction closer…

The sudden ringing of a timer blares through the silence, startling you both. Your head snaps toward the sound and you see a stopwatch floating in midair, its rhythmic ticking a clear reminder that your time is almost up. It’s time to return to Onyx Academy to prepare for your next session with Yeosang.

Beside you, Wooyoung tenses, the atmosphere immediately changing. The warmth in his eyes vanishes as quickly as it has surfaced, replaced by the cold, guarded demeanor he typically fronts. His walls shoot back up, and just like that, the brief vulnerability between you disappears.

Blair eyes you curiously, her black feathers ruffled while she senses the secret you’re holding back. She’s perched on a low branch, watching as you wait beneath the cascading limbs of the Weeping Willow. You’ve arrived early, not finding any solace in the silence of your room after returning to campus. Yeosang should be here any minute, but the unease from earlier lingers.

Wooyoung had barely spoken after the stopwatch appeared, his mood darkening as he grudgingly led you back to the portal. He rushed you through without a word, his steps heavy with frustration, and stormed off toward the church once back on school grounds without so much as a goodbye.

You’ve been trying to clear your mind, focusing your energy on the upcoming session with Yeosang, but the tension from Wooyoung still simmers under the surface. You take a deep breath, determined to push it aside and give Yeosang your full attention. He deserves it.

Blair lets out a sharp caw before taking off into the sky, disappearing into the distance as soon as she senses his presence. She knows to give you your privacy, leaving you alone just as he approaches.

“Oh, you’re here already,” Yeosang says, a bit surprised to see you already by the willows. He steps forward, his happy expression growing as he extends a bouquet of dried wine-colored roses, elegantly tied with a black ribbon.

“These are for you.”

Your breath catches at the sight of them. "These are gorgeous. Thank you—wow," you say, smiling while gently taking the bouquet from his hands. The gesture feels intimate, the deep red petals catching the light as you admire them, warmth blooming in your chest at the unexpected kindness.

“You’re welcome. Do you want to apparate them to your room?” Yeosang suggests.

“That’s a good idea, actually,” you reply, lifting the bouquet in front of you. With a soft hum, you recite the incantation, watching as the flowers shimmer and disappear, transporting them to your bedside table in an instant.

“There,” you smile, “Now they’ll be waiting for me when I get back.”

“We have a short walk to our destination. If you’ll follow me?” Yeosang guides you up a path behind the willow grove, the incline leading to a breathtaking view of the Darkwood below. The forest stretches endlessly, its shadowy canopy glittering with ancient magic.

"Do you mind waiting here?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of nerves flickering across his face. "I thought I'd have a little more time to set things up."

You smile softly. "I don’t mind at all."

Relieved, he excuses himself, disappearing back down the trail to retrieve whatever surprise he has planned. The minutes pass in peaceful quiet, the cool air brushing against your skin. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment, until a faint rustling behind you interrupts the calm energy. You glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing, and shrug it off—probably just the wind.

But then, movement at the edge of the tree line catches your eye, a shadowy figure slipping between the trees.

You step cautiously toward the movement, your heart beating a little faster with each quiet footstep. The air seems to thicken as you approach, a soft rustling continuing just beyond the nearest tree. You steady yourself, taking a slow breath before rounding the massive trunk.

Face to face with the culprit, you freeze—a pair of wide, curious eyes staring back at you. It's a small, ethereal creature, almost like a fox but with wisps of glowing mist trailing from its fur. Its translucent body shimmers faintly under the dappled light filtering through the trees.

You exhale in relief, it’s just another familiar. The creature’s gentle gaze is more inquisitive than threatening; and she tilts her head, trying to decide whether to flee or come closer, her silver eyes studying you with an almost childlike curiosity. The creature soon takes off, before you have a chance to ask who they belong to.

As you turn around, a startled cry escapes your lips—Wooyoung is standing just inches from you, his presence completely unexpected.

"What are you doing here?" you snap, your hand instinctively flying to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart.

"I'm not really here. Just astral projecting. And who’s to say I wasn’t here first?"

You cross your arms, glaring at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn’t here first," he concedes with a shrug, his smirk faltering under your withering stare.

"Yeosang is going to be back any second," you warn, narrowing your eyes. "Are you here to spy on us?"

"Pfff... no..." he says, though the lack of conviction in his voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Lame," you mutter, watching his poorly veiled attempt at denial fall apart. He shifts awkwardly under your gaze, clearly caught.

“I don’t like that you’re alone with him.”

“Why?”

“I told you already. I. Don’t. Share.”

“You can’t be serious,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Is this just some kind of game? Are you playing with me because you don’t want Yeosang to have me? What is it, Wooyoung? You haven’t given me a second thought until two days ago.”

“It’s not like that—" Wooyoung starts, but the sound of rustling interrupts him, cutting his sentence short. Both of you turn, startled, as Yeosang emerges from the trees. His eyes sweep the clearing, looking for you since you aren’t standing where he left you. When he spots you, he smiles and approaches, carrying a woven basket in one arm and a blanket in the other.

You glance back toward Wooyoung, but he’s already vanished. Typical, slipping away before finishing what he started. Maybe he’s glad for the escape before you can grill him any further.

“Looking for something?”

‘More like someone,’ you think to yourself. “Oh sorry, I thought I saw a familiar, but it ran off,” you explain, brushing off the awkward moment. “So, what’s all this?” You gesture to the basket, quickly shifting the conversation before Yeosang has a chance to ask anything.

He grins, glancing down at his hands, a bit shy. "I hope you like picnics. I thought we could enjoy some treats and maybe get to know each other better."

“That sounds lovely,” you reply warmly.

Yeosang carefully picks a spot, spreading the blanket and the two of you sit side by side, the breathtaking view of the Darkwood stretching out below. There’s something serene about the quiet between you, the moment brimming with peaceful anticipation.

He sets the basket in front of you, lifting the lid to reveal an array of colorful sweets, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun reflecting off the glass jars inside. You notice delicate pastries, chocolates, and sugared fruits arranged neatly.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a little of everything,” Yeosang says, his voice low but sincere.

Your heart warms at the gesture. "You’ve really outdone yourself,” you praise, picking up one of the pastries for yourself and offering another to him.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to bring up the scroll from yesterday. "I didn’t want to pry, but you left in such a rush yesterday. Was everything alright?" you ask before taking a bite.

Yeosang chuckles softly, as if amused by the memory. "Funny you should ask. Turns out, when I arrived at Father Blackmoor’s office, he had no idea what I was talking about. No urgent scroll was sent for me. But he thought it was good timing and wanted to discuss my plans for after I complete my time at the academy."

Your curiosity piques further. "And those plans are...?" you press, hoping he’ll open up.

Yeosang hesitates briefly, but then, with a slight smile, he reveals, "I’d like to teach, maybe. My father was a teacher, and he always said I had the same qualities. Plus, I love kids. I think teaching them the basics of magic—the very foundation of what they'll need for the rest of their lives—would be important work."

A soft breeze ruffles the edges of the blanket, and you can’t help but smile at his answer. "That sounds perfect for you. I can already picture you as a great mentor."

The rest of your evening with Yeosang flies by in a blur of conversation and quiet moments spent enjoying the view. Before you know it, he's walking you back to the dormitories. He hesitates as you both stop outside the door to the girls' dorms, clearly lingering on something unsaid.

"I just want you to know," he starts, shifting nervously, "that regardless of what happens tomorrow at the Matching Ceremony, I had a lovely time tonight. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Before you can respond, he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your cheek. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You barely manage to mumble a “goodnight” back, still caught in the trance from the warmth of his lips against your skin. As you make your way up to your room, your heart feels light, and you can’t help but smile even wider when you notice the flowers he gave you earlier—now arranged beautifully in a vase on your nightstand.

But something else catches your eye—a small, glimmering box sitting on your bed, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. You walk over to it and find a note attached in handwriting you immediately recognize.

Not a game to me – W

Your breath hitches as you find the book you had been eyeing earlier—the one Wooyoung had distracted you from in Trahana’s shop—alongside the newest edition of The Book of Arcane Beasts. Tucked neatly between the pages are a few of the photographs from his secret room; the ones you had admired without realizing he noticed.

Your heart races as you hold the items in your hands, the meaning of his gesture sinking in. It’s not just a game. Whatever this is with Wooyoung, it’s something real. And now, you're more conflicted than ever.

Yeosang steps closer to the flames that surge in the iron vessel before him, casting flickering shadows across his face while he waits. If you look closely, shapes begin to form within the flames, dancing and twisting as though something is being forged in the heat. A sudden flare of sparks erupts from the fire—it's ready.

With a steady hand, he pulls an envelope from the fire. The edges of the paper are still smoldering while he opens it with precision, watching as the magic ink slowly manifests on the paper, revealing a name.

You notice a brief, almost imperceptible frown cross his face, but it vanishes just as quickly. “Polly Petrify,” he announces smoothly, his voice steady, betraying nothing as he steps back into place.

Father Blackmoor gives a solemn nod, signaling his approval of the pairing.

The Church is packed for the Matching Ceremony, and a mix of excitement and nervous energy ripples through the crowd. The warlocks stand in front of the filled pews, their postures rigid and unreadable, while the witches occupy the first two rows of seats, eyes flickering with anticipation.

You sit among them, your heart sinking as Yeosang’s name is paired with another witch. The knot in your chest tightens, but before you have time to register how you truly feel, Wooyoung steps forward.

It’s his turn.

Time stretches unbearably as his fingers hover over the glowing envelope that emerges from the flames. He grasps it carefully, tearing it open before pulling out the slip of paper, the suspense in the room thickening with every second.

At least a dozen witches sit in eager anticipation, each one hopeful, their eyes flicking toward the altar, silently praying that their name will be the one called.

You watch his face intently, almost holding your breath.

The moment he reads the name, a subtle smile curls at the corner of his lips, making him look effortlessly gorgeous. His inky black hair falls in perfect disarray, and the deep blue sweater he’s wearing brings out a distinctive glimmer in his eyes—it’s definitely his color.

As he steps back in line to let the next warlock take their turn, you realize that you completely missed whose name he just called. You’ve been too busy gawking to notice. Leaning toward the witch beside you, you whisper, “Whose name did he say?”

She shoots you a scowl and snaps, “Yours.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your gaze whips back up front. Wooyoung catches your eye and quickly winks, the gesture playful yet it’s enough to send a wave of heat rushing through you. Your pulse races and every nerve in your body is suddenly aware of his presence. The world around you fades for a second, the reality of the situation sinking in—he chose you.

It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. Your chest tightens, and it’s taking every ounce of control not to claw at your neck in search of air. You can’t tell if your racing heart is a sign of excitement, fear, or a mixture of both.

The pairing results swirl through your mind as you try to process how you feel about Wooyoung having been paired with you. You know that the warlocks have some say in their pairing preference, but the decision is ultimately up to Father Blackmoor and The Dark Lord.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now—you have a performance to focus on. As the rest of the ceremony wraps up, the witches, including yourself, are expected to sing I Put A Spell On You.

You walk up to the front of the church with the other witches, your heart still hammering in your chest. You can feel Wooyoung’s gaze searing into you from across the room, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You know that if you do, you’ll stumble over the lyrics or worse, completely forget your part.

With every note of the song, you force yourself to remain composed. Your voice blends with the others, the melody haunting, filling the ancient church with an enchanting resonance. The weight of his stare lingers, but you resist the pull until the very end. Only when the final note fades and you’re walking back to your seat do you glance his way. His eyes are still on you, but there’s something different about his expression now—intense, unreadable.

Father Blackmoor steps forward as the ceremony winds down, his voice ringing through the dimly lit room. “Remember, paired witches and warlocks are strictly forbidden from seeing each other until tomorrow evening when you’ll all meet in the Darkwood for the Moon Ritual. Ghoul evening to you all.”

The church stirs with hushed whispers and rustling bodies as everyone begins to disperse. But you remain in place for a moment, your mind tangled in the events that have unfolded. Tomorrow promises even more mystery, and the thought of it sends another shiver down your spine.

You follow the large group down the path toward the heart of the academy’s campus, their excited chatter buzzing in the crisp evening air. But as they veer toward the dining hall, you quietly part ways, taking steps in the opposite direction toward a different building.

The heavy wooden doors creak as you push them open, and the familiar scent of ancient tomes and aged parchment envelops you.

The sanctum, the private library for advanced students like yourself, is nearly deserted tonight, making it the perfect place to find peace in the aftermath of the ceremony. The usual hum of magic is calming and the near-silence offers a much-needed space to clear your mind.

You make your way to the Demonology section, where the dim light and towering shelves create a cocoon of solitude. Finding an empty seat, you settle in, snapping your fingers to summon your books. In an instant, they materialize on the table before you, pages full of dark knowledge waiting to be absorbed.

Despite it being Lupercalia season, the academic grind doesn’t stop. Your upcoming exams loom over you like a dark cloud, and no amount of supernatural matchmaking will change that.

You run your fingers over the spines of your books, mentally preparing yourself to dive into study mode. The familiar words of your Demonology texts are grounding, a reminder of the discipline and focus you need to maintain.

The sanctum is quiet tonight, only the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional whispered incantation breaking the silence. You try to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wooyoung—his voice, his gaze, the gift he left in your room. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside. There will be time for all that later. For now, you need to concentrate.

Time passes and after finishing a few chapters, you glance at your watch, eyes widening in surprise. Three hours have flown by. Blair is going to be furious that you’re late to feed her. Scribbling down a final note, you snap your fingers, sending your books back to your room before heading out of the sanctum.

As you step outside, you collide with someone. "Oh, I’m so sorry!" you stammer, glancing up to apologize, only to be met with familiar eyes twinkling beneath tousled black hair.

Wooyoung.

“You’re forgiven,” he says smoothly.

"We’re not supposed to see each other," you remind him, taking a cautious step back.

He tilts his head, smirking too, just like he always does. "I know, but you skipped dinner, and there’s something I’ve been dying to do since yesterday."

"What? Stalk me some more?" you quip, feeling a rare surge of confidence.

His smirk spreads into a full smile, and to your delight, he chuckles—a sound you’ve secretly grown to love. Your heart pounds faster.

"You wish," he shoots back, his eyes gleaming as he steps closer. The intensity in his gaze feels almost magnetic, as if he's looking right through you, straight into your soul. His nostrils flare with a sharp exhale, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper as he takes yet another step closer.

He doesn't answer. Instead, with one smooth motion, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. His touch is firm, but there’s a softness to the way his fingers splay across your back. You feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitching in your throat.

“This is breaking the rules,” you whisper, trying to find an ounce of self-control to step out of his embrace.

His proximity overwhelms your senses—the warmth of his body, the way his breath tickles your skin, and the undeniable connection crackling between you two. He tilts his head slightly, the smirk on his lips fading into something more serious, more dangerous.

“I don’t break the rules, I just bend them,” he rasps, his voice low and teasing, right before he closes the space between you. The moment his lips brush against yours, you freeze, caught off guard by the softness, the tenderness as he coaxes you into responding. His mouth moves gently, skillfully, as if testing the waters, daring you to give in.

A frenzy stirs inside you, an electric current surging through your veins. Your hands instinctively move to frame his face, your fingers sliding along the sharp lines of his jaw before tangling in his soft, messy hair. The kiss deepens, the intensity building with every second as you press yourself closer to him, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

You can’t get enough; the taste of him, the way his breath mingles with yours, and the undeniable pull that has your body responding before your mind can catch up. His other hand slides under your shirt and up your spine, anchoring you to him as if he never wants to let go.

Wooyoung mumbles an incantation against your lips before tickling the corners with his tongue. You’re too distracted to recall what he said, especially when you feel it.

Heat begins to radiate from his fingers, searing into your skin. It flows through your body until it hits your sweet spot, pooling dangerously between your legs.

You gasp against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to dip his tongue inside, swallowing your moans as you let them slip out. Pressing your legs together, you try to find any sort of friction, aching for something to relieve the growing pressure.

A sinful sound vibrates from his chest when you bite down on his lower lip ever so gently. You have to admit, the thought of kissing him has crossed your mind more times than you can count. But now, standing here with the taste of him on your lips, you realize the reality is so much better than anything your imagination could have conjured.

He’s more intoxicating than any dream could ever be. Every touch sends a thrill through you that no fantasy could ever match. The way he knows exactly what you like leaves you yearning for more in a way that feels almost addictive.

Blair caws, cutting through the shadows of the night and announcing her arrival with impeccable timing. You both jolt, breaking apart as if the spell between you has been abruptly shattered.

“Ghoul evening, Blair,” Wooyoung mutters, his voice still thick with the lingering tension. He glances at the raven-like figure perched nearby, an amused glint flickering in his eyes. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” he adds, his tone teasing. He looks down at you, pleased with how dissolved your shirt looks, how pouty your wet lips are from your nefarious activities.

He takes a step back, quickly smoothing down his hair and adjusting his clothes, his fingers lingering at his collar as he regains his usual composure. You, on the other hand, are still catching your breath, feeling the flush in your cheeks and the electric hum of the moment that lingers in the space between you.

Give me a little privacy to say goodbye, and I’ll give you extra treats for your late dinner, you say telepathically to Blair. She tilts her head, considering the offer, before finally cawing in agreement and taking off into the night, clearly satisfied with the deal.

“I want you to try something tonight,” Wooyoung murmurs, his voice low and full of mischief. His eyes glint with something dark and thrilling, sending a shiver down your spine. “When you’re alone in bed and everyone else is asleep…”

Your heart races while he speaks.

“I want you to pretend that your hands are my own, and I want you to touch yourself where you felt my magic earlier.”

“E-excuse me?” you stammer, your heart racing as you try to find the right words.

He grins, leaning in just enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he teases, his voice like velvet. “I need you to warm yourself up for me, so you’re ready to learn more tomorrow night. Will you do that for me?”

You nod, a shiver running across your skin as his words linger in the air.

“Now, get out of here and go feed Blair before you wake up tomorrow missing your eyes,” he adds with a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “Fine, see you later.”

“Yes, you will,” he says with a wink, watching as you turn to leave, his gaze heavy on you the entire way.

His words linger in your mind for the rest of the night.

It's now the witching hour, and your roommates are fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the potion you slipped into their bedtime tea. They never noticed the subtle, earthy undertones masking the spell’s effects, leaving them in a deep slumber for the next several hours.

It had to be done, the last thing you need is for one of them to wake and catch you in the act, especially while you're carrying out Wooyoung’s special request.

Under the safety of your blankets, you move quietly, as if any sudden movement could betray your secret. One hand begins to massage your breasts through your thin tank top, the other sliding down toward your pink panties.

Taking a deep breath, you open your legs, allowing your fingers to slip beneath the dampening fabric. After spreading your juices around, you rub your clit before slowly dipping your first finger into your slick entrance. The sensation is unfamiliar—neither bad nor uncomfortable, just something you're not used to. The pain of the stretch lingers, leaving a strange warmth that you can't quite place.

You close your eyes and pretend that Wooyoung is there with you. Swiftly, you begin to curl your fingers, simultaneously bucking into your hand. You picture him hovering over you, but the image clouds over, shifting into a different scene that becomes sharper.

Wooyoung is also in bed, with his hand wrapped around his exposed, thick cock, lazily pumping it. There’s something unsettlingly vivid about this image, as if it’s not just a product of your imagination. It feels real—too real. Gasping, you realize that he’s in your head, projecting himself, revealing his presence in a way that makes your heart race.

Then, as if he can sense that you've finally caught on to his wicked scheme, a dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your body’s temperature spike. “Are you touching yourself, like I asked you to?”

You suck in a sharp breath and nod instinctively, even though you know he can’t physically see you. But somehow, you sense that he knows.

“I bet you are,” he hums, closing his eyes while running his thumb over his pink head. He tosses his head back as he strokes himself, “I bet that tight little virgin cunt of yours needs some good stretching before she’s ready for me.”

Feeling the heat rising to the tips of your ears, they’re red from the weight of his words, like they’re wrapping themselves around you, pulling you deeper into his influence. The knot in your lower belly grows as you match your little finger thrusts to the speed of his hand pumps.

“Add another finger, honey, I know you can,” Wooyoung groans, his hand moving a little faster. “Look at how my cock aches to be sunk inside your sweet folds.”

You do as he commands. You’re panting at this point; completely zeroed in on his throbbing length while you climb towards bliss. The silent room fills with a sinful pattern of squelches from each thrust into your lush heat, and a divine sensation washes over you.

“Goddess, I’m about to make a mess,” he whines, a sound that you’ll never be able to forget. He stills, letting out another beautiful noise while his seed shoots out across his abs, some even on his dark silk sheets.

“That’s just a preview,” he grins devilishly, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

"Many blessings," Father Blackmoor's voice rings out, reverberating through the towering trees of the Darkwood. "Tonight, we honor the Moon and her radiant beauty. Paired couples, please step forward to collect your basket."

You step forward cautiously, aware of Wooyoung’s presence close behind you. As your fingers brush the edge of the woven basket, Wooyoung’s arm reaches past you, his hand closing around it first. His body hovers briefly against yours, a faint smile curving his lips. Sucking in a sharp breath, you pull your hand back as your mind flashes back to last night, Wooyoung’s cock is still fresh in your mind.

"Each basket contains a ceremonial knife," Father Blackmoor continues, his tone solemn. "You will begin the rite by smearing your blood upon your partner's forehead. Then, you must drink the purification potion—the milky-colored vial—and consume the figs, symbolizing your unity. Under the moonlight, you will lie side by side until dawn, as a testament to your bond and in preparation for tomorrow’s Hunt."

His final words hang in the cool night air as the forest seems to hush in reverence for what’s to come. You glance up at Wooyoung, and his eyes are already on you, dark and unreadable, only reflecting the moonlight.

As the other couples start to spread out across the forest, Wooyoung’s hand finds yours, tugging you deeper into the woods. His steps are quiet, purposeful, as the towering trees close in around you both. Your attention snaps forward when you catch a glimpse of movement—there, not far ahead, the same fox-like creature you spotted by the willows. The realization dawns on you: it’s Wooyoung’s familiar.

The creature moves gracefully, leading the way through the underbrush, its magical fur shimmering under the pale moonlight. Wooyoung follows without hesitation, his gaze fixed on his familiar. You trail behind, curiosity building, as the creature guides you to a secluded clearing hidden deep in the Darkwood.

“Thank you, Vixen,” Wooyoung murmurs once you’ve arrived. The fox-like familiar halts briefly, then glimmers before fading into the air, leaving behind a trail of glowing embers that slowly dissipate into the night.

Your eyes scan the clearing, and you notice the scene in front of you—a circle of softly flickering candles arranged around a blanket spread across the forest floor. The air hums with quiet magic, thick with mystery and anticipation. Wooyoung turns to you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight, a mischievous yet unreadable expression crossing his face.

Wooyoung extends his hand to you, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you step onto the soft blanket. With a single snap of his fingers, your clothes transform—yours into a sheer white nightgown, his into simple black pants, with his chest left bare, the candlelight casting shadows over his defined muscles.

“Ready to begin?” he asks, voice low, eyes holding a flicker of something dangerous yet enticing.

You nod, your breath catching for a moment. Reaching into the basket set down beside him, your fingers curl around the cool metal of the ceremonial blade. Together, your voices join in a low, rhythmic chant, weaving through the night air. The ritual words hang heavy between you as you press the blade to your finger, feeling the sharp sting as blood wells up. Stepping closer, you bring your hand to his forehead, smearing an upside-down cross on his tanned skin, the blood vivid against his complexion.

Without a word, you hand the blade to Wooyoung, your fingers brushing his in the exchange. He mimics your actions, the cool sting of the knife barely registering as he pricks his finger, marking your forehead with the same crimson anti-cross. The flames around you leap higher, responding to the magic building in your chant.

The moonlight glistens against his skin, bathing him in an ethereal glow as he lifts the purification potion from the basket. He drinks deeply, eyes never leaving yours, and then hands the vial to you. You take it from him, your pulse quickening as you lift it to your lips, the magic binding you both growing stronger with each word, each action.

His eyes darken; trailing over your nearly naked body. They land on your peaked nipples, and he lets out a deep exhale while his eyes are glued in place.

“Um, figs,” Wooyoung clears his throat, momentarily dazed, shaking his head as if to regain focus. He grabs one from the basket, handing you the other. You sink your teeth into the fruit’s tender skin, its bright red flesh spilling a sweet, rich juice onto your lips. A single drop escapes and trails down your chin, and you catch Wooyoung watching, his gaze lingering longer than usual. But he doesn’t say a word. Not yet.

You quickly wipe away the juice, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck. “So… what now?” you ask, your voice more uncertain than you intended. You’ve both completed the ritual, but the tension between you is undeniable. Neither of you has acknowledged last night’s activities, though you’re certain it’ll come up eventually. It has to.

He shifts slightly, his eyes scanning your face, and for a moment, it seems like he’s about to bring it up. His lips twitch into a half-smile, “I’ve got an idea or two.”

You’re not sure how it happened—one moment you’re standing, the next you’re lying beneath him. Wooyoung hovers above you, his arms on either side of your head, eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. His body is close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and your pulse quickens as his breath brushes against your skin.

Without notice, his lips crash down onto yours. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, moaning when your hands twist in his hair.

He presses his hips down into yours, letting you feel how worked up he’s already become.

“We're technically not supposed to do anything tonight,” Wooyoung says, his voice low and teasing once he pulls back. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as he adds, “But a rule’s never stopped me before.”

You pull his head back down to yours, kissing him languishingly as he rolls his hips into yours again.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, this time pressing his length right up against your covered heat.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a devilish smile when you whine incoherently about wanting more.

“Answer me, honey. Do you want more?” He asks with a growl, but the intensity in his gaze makes it clear—he already knows the answer.

“Yes,” you beg, “More. Please!”

He grabs handfuls of the fabric at your sides, bunching it up around your waist before he descends below.

Your dewy center is covered in a heavy coating of your arousal. Spellbound by the sight, he instinctively brings his fingers to your heat, gathering some of your transparent essence and smearing it around your folds.

“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Wooyoung mutters.

Incapable of waiting any longer, he dives in tongue first, licking a beautiful line from your slit’s opening up to your needy nub of nerves. Another growl resounds from his chest as he devours your sex, his cock involuntarily twitching when he sinks two fingers back to your opening. Wooyoung strokes his saturated fingers through your slit before sinking them inside your soft flesh, feeling your inner walls clench around them.

He pulls them out and admires how your hole instinctively sucks his digits back in where they belong.

“Such a tight little cunt. It’ll be ruined by tomorrow night,” Wooyoung groans; despite his words, there’s nothing but appraisal in his voice. He looks up at your body, meeting your eyes. His flash with a dark dominance, lust with a dash of something else flicker in them.

His devilish words only excite you further, and more of your sticky arousal coats his hand. Each curl of his fingers brings you closer and closer to writhing pleasure.

His head dips back down, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks it between his teeth. Gasping, you buck your hips upward, needing more. So much more.

“I can’t wait to turn you into a nasty little whore. Would you like that?” he asks in between little licks.

“Y-yes” you mewl. “Wanna. Be your w-whore.”

He’s got you dancing along the edge of a very dangerous cliff, and you want nothing more than to jump off, face first, and dive into the waves of ecstasy that await.

He can tell that you’re close; your walls are beginning to tighten around him. Flattening his tongue against your sensitive nub, he applies the right amount of pressure you need to come all over his face.

When he sits up, his mouth is dribbling with your release; it’s a pretty sight to see.

“Not bad for a virgin,” he teases.

Your blissful smile turns coy, “Is it my turn to taste you? You’ll have to teach this virgin just how you like it.”

A deep, low growl vibrates in his chest and the corners of his jaw flex as he stands up, his silhouette outlined from the moonlight.

“On your knees then, slut.”

You twist your body until you’re sitting on your knees, your used cunt dripping onto the blanket below.

“Goddess, I’m so fucking hard for you,” Wooyoung grunts while pulling his pants down.

Freed from his pants, his cock springs out before bouncing momentarily, then stands erect in its full glory. You reflexively clench at the sight of him. It’s just as you remember it from last night.

Tightening his palm around his shaft, Wooyoung begins stroking himself before lining his tip up to your lips.

“Take just the head into your mouth,” he murmurs. “Just while you warm up to the feeling.”

You immediately wrap your mouth around him and a wave of precum leaks directly onto your tongue. Circling his thick tip, you get comfortable with the weight of him on your tongue, learning his taste.

“Such a good slut,” Wooyoung croons, causing your core to tremble from his praises.

One hand moves to hold your chin, angling your head to look up at him, “When you’re ready for more, take a deep breath and take in more of me.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you suckle on his head, letting more and more of him into your wet cave. You run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, the tickling sensation causing him to jerk inside you.

Wooyoung tugs on your hair, softly at first, and then his fist wraps around the handful in his grasp. His impressive length fills your mouth, his immense girth cracking your jaw open with each gentle thrust.

Words of encouragement spill from his lips, giving you the confidence to suck in the final inch of his member.

Involuntarily, you gag around his cock when his thick head hits the back of your throat. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, falling soon after.

Without warning, his length surges into your throat and Wooyoung lets out a stream of colorful expletives as his release hits him. His hips jerk once more, and he tosses his head back underneath the moonlight.

You shudder, feeling his thick cum stick to the walls of your throat.

“Goddess,” he hums, “Sorry about that.” Wooyoung slips out of your mouth, admiring as you use the back of your hand, you wipe your soddened mouth.

“It’s okay. Now I know what to expect.”

Wooyoung pulls you into his embrace, and you both settle into the quiet rhythm of the night, staring up at the stars as they shimmer in the sky. His warmth surrounds you, grounding you amidst the cool breeze.

He shifts slightly, turning on the blanket to meet your gaze. “I need to warn you about tomorrow,” he begins, his voice lower, more serious. “The potion we warlocks take before the ceremony… it makes our animalistic instincts take over. It’s going to be rough. That’s why I’ve been preparing you, so to speak.”

A knot twists in your stomach at his words. You hadn’t realized the full extent of what tomorrow held, but now it makes sense. That’s why they call it the Hunt, you think, You’re basically their prey. The pieces finally click into place. His honesty, though jarring, makes you feel strangely grateful that he’s letting you in on something you weren’t aware of.

“I trust you,” you whisper softly. “You haven’t hurt me so far, so I’m not worried about tomorrow.”

Wooyoung’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He silently prays to Goddess Peralia that he won’t bring you any harm during the Hunt. The uncertainty flickers in his eyes for just a moment before he pulls you closer, wrapping you in his warmth.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as you settle against his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear, and soon your breaths fall in sync, the sound of the wind rustling through the Darkwood easing you both into a peaceful silence.

As the stars twinkle above, the night’s calm surrounds you like a protective cocoon, lulling you into sleep. You drift into a deep, restful slumber, cocooned in his arms, feeling the peace before the inevitable storm of tomorrow.

“The Insatiable Hunt begins,” one of the warlocks grins darkly before tossing back the elixir, the liquid shimmering as it slides down his throat. Wooyoung raises his glass in silent agreement, his eyes flashing with excitement before he gulps it down, feeling the fiery potion race through his veins. The others follow suit, the room buzzing as they prepare for the night ahead.

They pull on their wolf masks, transforming from men into primal hunters, instincts sharpening with every heartbeat. The thrill of the chase hangs thick in the air as they line up, muscles tensed, waiting for the doors to open.

Wooyoung’s body hums with the effects of the potion, a burning heat spreading through his skin. His senses sharpen—your scent lingers, intoxicating and irresistible. His pupils dilate as your essence floods his nostrils, every fiber of his being urging him forward. The others grin beneath their masks, but his focus is single-minded: you.

The doors creak open with a loud thud, unleashing them into the night. With a guttural growl, Wooyoung sprints into the woods, his feet pounding the earth as he follows your trail, the scent drawing him deeper into the Darkwood. His heart races, blood pumping with one singular purpose: to find you. To claim his prize.

Wooyoung moves like a shadow, effortlessly twisting and turning through the woods, his heightened senses guiding him closer to your trail. Each subtle shift in the air tells him you're near. He slows as he approaches a dense thicket, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. He can feel you hiding, watching, waiting.

His cock strains when he catches a whiff of your scent, his hardened member straining against the tightness of his pants as it begs to bury itself deep inside of you.

His eyes narrow, hyper-focused on the faintest rustle of leaves. You dart from the bushes, sprinting through the underbrush, your breath quickening as you distance yourself from him. He follows silently, his steps deliberately soundless as he stalks you.

You duck behind a tree, pressing your back against its trunk, heart pounding in your chest. Straining to listen, you hear... nothing. No footsteps, no rustling—nothing. A chill creeps up your spine. Slowly, you peek around the tree, scanning the shadows. There’s no sign of him.

Relief barely has time to settle in before you turn back and scream.

He’s right there, inches away.

"Gotcha," Wooyoung growls, his voice low and menacing, his breath hot against your skin. With a wicked grin, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as he slams your back against the rough bark of the tree. The impact sends a jolt through your body, your heart racing even faster now. His grip tightens, but not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

His eyes glint through the wolf mask with a dangerous mix of hunger and satisfaction, the thrill of the Hunt evident in every line of his expression.

Wooyoung's grip tightens, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “I can’t wait to split you in half with my cock.”

Before you can react, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the rough bark of the tree. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his hands slide down your sides, firm and unyielding.

He blames his newfound animalistic behavior for how fast he rips away your crimson cloak and the layers beneath it, leaving the shredded fabric scattered across the mossy forest floor.

In one swift movement, Wooyoung uses a knee to spread your legs and sinks into your inviting opening without warning. Tears sting your eyes from the sudden intrusion, but the pain quickly turns into mind-shattering pleasure.

“Taking it so well, aren’t you, slut?” he purrs, voice low and dripping with praise. The raw, commanding edge in his tone sends shivers through you, your insides tightening around him in response.

You hum an incoherent response, unable to form words when his cockhead is pressed against the swell of your cervix.

After ripping his mask off, Wooyoung’s fingers press into your hips. He holds you steady as he moves, each thrust punctuated by dark whispers of just how perfectly he fits inside you.

Wooyoung’s grin brushes against your neck as he drags his tongue up the curve of your skin, leaving a lingering lick before pressing a kiss just below your ear. His hips pull back slowly, his length retreating from your slick folds until only the tip remains, teasing you.

Then, with a low growl, he thrusts forward, filling you entirely in one fluid motion, claiming every inch as he sinks deep inside.

The sudden motion causes you to moan uncontrollably, his girth continuing to stretch out your soft walls. Your soaked cunt splitting open around Wooyoung’s enormous girth only causes him to swell more, if that’s even possible.

“M-more, please!” you whimper.

Wooyoung clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness ooze out where your bodies meet with each quick thrust.

One of his hands squeezes your side, the other falls to your round ass, and his claw-like nails scratch across your skin before he pulls his hand back to spank you. Your vision blurs from the impact, and you push your hips out, asking for more.

“Again,” you whine, your head digging further into the tree’s bark.

You bite down on your lower lip, anticipation building as you brace yourself. A sharp crack echoes through the air as his hand comes down against you, harder this time and sending another sting that radiates through your skin.

A moan slips past your lips, the sharpness transforming into pleasure that courses through your body. His fingers trace the spot he’s just marked, his low chuckle rumbling against your ear.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice rich with approval, each word sending shivers through you. “Turn around. I want to look at you," he demands next, his voice gritting through his teeth.

You obey, slowly turning to face him, your heart racing under his intense gaze. His eyes roam over you, filled with a mix of hunger and admiration that makes you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Wooyoung cups your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips as he drinks you in. "Look at you," he whispers, almost to himself, his thumb slipping inside your mouth. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around it, meeting his gaze as you lightly suck, earning a dark smile from him.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his free hand tracing down your body, grazing every curve and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "And you're all mine tonight." His words trail off as his length pounds into you again.

He watches as your lips part, head tilting back in pure bliss, and takes his chance. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue slipping between your lips with a raw desire, claiming every inch he can reach. The kiss is deep and possessive, leaving you breathless as his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.

His tongue strokes against yours, tasting every gasp and moan you release, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel beneath him. You melt into his kiss, losing yourself in the heat, the way he consumes you with each movement.

When he pulls back, Wooyoung drags his lips against the shell of your ear to whisper, “Is this what you want? Your little virgin cunt destroyed?”

“Yes,” you moan, voice low and thick with desire. Then, locking eyes with him, you let a wicked smirk curve your lips, meeting his heated gaze with a look as dangerous as his own. "Ruin me," you breathe, each word dripping with a challenge that sends a spark down his spine.

A growl escapes his lips, and his grip on you tightens. He pushes you against the rough bark, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as his eyes darken with pure, animalistic hunger. “You want to be ruined?” he whispers, his voice a low rasp against your ear as he pulls your hips even closer. “Careful what you ask for.”

His thrusts come harder, relentless, each one leaving you trembling and gasping as he takes you to the edge, only to pull you back before you can fall. His hand slides up your throat, a possessive touch that’s somehow both gentle and commanding as his thumb grazes your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You’re mine," he growls, eyes blazing, his body pressed against yours with no space left between you. He savors every inch of you, watching your face intently as he ravages you with a merciless rhythm, his fingers digging into your waist. “And I’m not stopping until you’re completely undone.”

Your moans grow louder, filling the night air and mingling with the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving in unison. The sounds echo through the Darkwood, a primal symphony that seems to resonate with the forest around you, intensifying with each frenzied thrust.

Wooyoung feels your walls clench tightly around him, a signal that you’re close to unraveling. “Cum around my cock, honey,” he rasps, his voice laced with possessiveness. “I know you’re close.”

He quickens his pace, pounding into you with a newfound urgency, while his fingers find their way to that sensitive spot between your legs. The moment his thumb and forefinger pinch your aching nub, pleasure spirals through you like wildfire.

You scream his name, your body seizing up as waves of ecstasy crash over you, each pulse flooding your veins with tingling heat.

He watches you intently, captivated as your face twists in bliss, feeling you squeeze around him, almost pulling him over the edge.

A low growl escapes his lips, and with two final, frenzied thrusts, he buries himself as deeply as he can, his abs contracting as he spills himself inside you. His teeth graze your bare shoulder, biting down as he rides out his release, filling you with a heat that leaves you both breathless.

“Oh, praise Satan,” he gasps, letting out a shaky laugh as he presses his forehead against yours. The two of you catch your breath together, heartbeats slowing, tangled in the afterglow.

You collapse entirely into his arms, utterly spent and trembling, every muscle deliciously exhausted as you sink into the darkness of sleep that lingers at the edge of your consciousness. A grin tugs at your lips, satisfaction mingling with exhaustion as you surrender to it, the night’s events replaying like a forbidden lullaby.

Nothing in your dreams could ever compare to the raw, disgraceful, dangerously addictive reality you’ve just experienced. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you let go, falling into a slumber filled with echoes of his touch.

The room is loud with the sound of laughter, clinking goblets, and whispered gossip. Candles cast a warm glow over the grand hall as platters of food float between the seated bodies; you're barely listening though, too hyper-aware of Wooyoung sitting beside you.

You steal a glance at him from across the table. He’s watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. A secret smirk plays at the corner of his lips, one that makes your cheeks burn under the soft glow of the chandeliers. It’s almost unbearable, this tension simmering between you, each stolen look as dangerous as a spark near dry wood.

His fingertips graze yours under the table, sending a rush through you each time. You both know the game you’re playing—pushing boundaries, daring each other, waiting for one of you to make the next move.

Finally, he leans in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Let’s get out of here.”

"We can’t just leave," you mumble, finally meeting his burning gaze. There's a warning in your eyes, but he ignores it, his grin only growing.

You bite your lip, glancing around at the oblivious faces around you. "It’s the middle of the feast," you continue, though your resolve is already faltering. "People will notice."

"Let them," he says, the mischief in his tone unmistakable.

He stands and takes your hand, his grip both gentle and possessive as he leads you out, weaving through the tables with a confidence that dares anyone to question him.

Whispers and side glances follow, and you try to ignore the burning stares—hungry warlocks with dark eyes, envious witches with guarded whispers.

Everything has changed.

Wooyoung’s presence grounds you, his thumb brushing reassuring circles against your skin. And when he glances back at you, tilting his head in that familiar way with a smirk tugging at his lips, you realize that somehow—despite all the chaos of this past week—some things aren’t so different after all.

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starseungs · 11 months ago

Text

take a shot. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — it really shouldn't take a genius to figure out that you and your co-star didn't get along. you knew kim seungmin. you knew how life functioned despite the cameras. and you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

genre/s — drama, angst, fluff, a sprinkle of comedy, actors au, enemies to lovers, slowburn • 19.4k words

warning/s — y/n gets referred to with she/her pronouns, profanity, implied death taken lightly (humor purposes), miscommunication to too much communication, y/n easily gets into a bad headspace, inaccurate depictions of filming a movie, the angst is strong = the fluff is strong, other idols are mentioned as characters along with skz members, mentions of alcohol in a scene

note — my longest fic yet !! it also took me so long to finish this (like three weeks i believe) and there were some struggles that happened in the making of this, but it turned out to be my most favorite work ive done ever. thank you for the people who patiently waited for this since the teaser, and remember that reblogs & feedbacks are greatly appreciated 🫶 i hope you enjoy the read !!

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

00 : ZERO.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The car remained silent despite your words of confusion. You felt as though your world had come to an extreme halt, giving you a whiplash as the buzz of the road outside continued to pierce through your ears. There was nothing else to keep your mind away from the absolute bomb of news that was just given to you; your manager had turned it down before uttering the horrid sentence that brought your untimely demise.

The car may have kept on with its task of moving forward—but you were stuck frozen in place.

“You’re joking.”

Your world fell on seemingly deaf ears. The man up front, steering the wheel, rendered himself mute to your growing distress, finding the busy traffic of city life interesting enough to keep his eyes glued. But the urban chaos didn’t distract you one bit from brewing a storm of gunpowder inside your throat.

And just like that, a ghost of a click was heard.

“No—please tell me you’re joking,” you voiced out, tone betraying your attempts at keeping things respectful. It soon came to your attention that the effort was of no use, as your manager still chose to keep his peace. “Changbin!”

The car swiveled a bit off-lane for a second before returning to its correct course. Normally, such an abrupt action by a vehicle would concern you, as you would argue that you were still much too young to suffer at the hands of a road accident, but no such thoughts even made their way into your brain. Just like how time had stopped for you, there was no time for debating over survival either. One life-or-death situation was already enough for you.

You wanted answers, and you were going to get them.

Changbin exhaled audibly from the scare he just put both of you through. His hands shook with a slight tremor, and that was all it took for him to decide that pulling over to the nearest parking area was for the best.

“Don’t yell in the car like that!” You scoffed at his scolding, finding the whole situation ironic.

“Oh, so you can do it all the time, but I can’t?” You shot back. Changbin sighed tiredly, finally registering the extent of your agitation. "Plus, I have a perfectly good reason why I’m yelling!”

“Listen, Y/N, it’s really not that bad—”

“Yes, it is that bad!” The words spill out of your mouth in utter disbelief at his attempts at assurance. “I’m working with Kim Seungmin, of all people!”

“And that’s why it’d be fine!” Changbin argued, running a hand through his already tousled hair. You blinked at his reply, baffled by the sheer implication.

“—How?”

Changbin clicked his tongue at the question, finding it hard to digest just why you were so against working with the mentioned actor. With the mere sound of that actor’s name spat out of your mouth, one would think that he had somehow managed to offend your entire bloodline. But that kind of bitterness could only be achieved through a sour history, so you really couldn’t empathize with your manager’s mindset either.

Even you knew that this movie would be enormously successful from the director alone. Director Han Jisung’s influence and presence in the industry were not a laughing matter—in fact, you should already be trembling in anxiety just knowing that you snagged probably the biggest role you’d ever get in your whole career. He was only around the same age as you, but the winding list of his achievements was already one for the records. And yet, here you were rethinking your contract with him even before the project started.

Just because of who you were going to be acting alongside with.

“Seungmin is a nice person,” Changbin explained gently like he was coaxing a child, intentionally ignoring the way your face scrunched up at what he said. “I did my research, ok? Everyone only has high praises for him, both on and off-set. Isn’t that enough to be trusted?”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from digging a deeper hole to lie in. The answer was no—it wasn’t enough to be trusted. Now, at this point, someone would’ve had half a mind to ask why you were so sure about your vendetta against the man. If a person was so well loved in a world where cameras were pointed at them in every waking minute, then shouldn’t all the dirt be found by now, if there was any?

To that, your answer would be yet another no.

Because you knew Kim Seungmin. You knew how life functioned despite the cameras. And you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

“Turn the car around.”

Changbin’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at your demand. Surely, he had heard you now. You crossed your arms and leaned back to rest comfortably on the car seat, turning your head to face the window and glare at the world outside, continuing on with their lives like a well-followed routine.

“Y/N, this is a big opportunity—”

“I said, turn the car around. I’m not attending this cursed table reading.” You pinched the bridge of your nose to keep the incoming migraine at bay.

“You really think I’ll willingly step into a room with the devil’s incarnate? I’d rather get shot—”

01 : ONE.

“—sensing a great shot!”

Director Han Jisung nodded positively at your performance, satisfied with your initial portrayal of the female lead.

“If we keep going like this, then I’m expecting this project to be a big hit. The casting team really did their pay’s worth on this one,” the young director hummed. “Especially you, Actor Kim Seungmin. I don’t know how they managed to get through your company's walls, but I’m glad they did. You’re perfect for the role!”

You felt your eye twitch as the figure bearing the name appeared within your vision. His mouth curled up into an arrogant smirk, hastily covered up by a bashful smile. You cringed at his actions that only you seemed to see. Why was this prick acting all humble?

“Ah, I always wanted to act in one of your films, Director Han. This is more of an amazing opportunity for me than you, honestly.”

That smoothed honey voice wrapped itself around the room’s premise, charming everyone around like it was coming from an alluring siren. All except you.

Your mouth filled with a coating of spite as his next sentence echoed through your ears. His eyes locked you in as a target, a wordless challenge shooting straight at your own.

“Plus, seeing who my co-star is, I’m quite thrilled to see the end product,” Seungmin grinned with a manic glint.

Fuck. You should’ve turned that damned car around yourself. Maybe then you’d be enjoying a relaxing time in the tub, surrounded by bubbling suds of fragrant soap, instead of being a frontliner in this mental war your acting counterpart seemed to subject yourselves to. Now, you had to withstand the feeling of your body instantly going on auto-pilot after his words.

It was commendable, really—how Seungmin could take over a space of this size filled with various types of people so easily. He had major talent in that field, which greatly accentuated his acting power. Seungmin had a way with words, and while you would never be caught praising him out loud, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the bitter truth deep inside the darkest parts of your brain. It was almost obsessive, the way your mind zeroed in on his presence. Even as you let the busy table chatter away into a buzzing noise that barely made its way coherently through your ears, your eyes stayed glued to the figure in front of you, carefully studying his mannerisms as he enthusiastically interacted with everyone. You weren’t someone who Seungmin’s charms would work on—instead, you felt like prey, waiting to be pounced on any second now.

Before you knew it, the table reading came to a close. You could faintly remember standing and packing your things quietly, more focused on the sudden stinging feeling you felt coming from your eyes, already threatening to water. “This is ridiculous,” you huffed in frustration. Why did you feel the need to cry like a child at this very moment?

“With the way your script is being shoved in that tiny bag, yeah, I would say that too.”

“Leave me alone, Kim.”

You hear him chuckle, causing your grip on your leather bag’s opening to become tighter, feeling the metal zipper bite at your palm. “There’s a lot of Kims here, Y/N. Be careful now; they might mistake you for being rude to them,” he chirps. Fucking chirps. Like a small bird who deserves to be doted on. Except the man before you was neither small nor deserved to be doted on—Kim Seungmin would never be described in any of those words in your world.

“Right. Since they’re also talking to me right now,” you scoffed back. Thankfully, that seemed to keep the tears at bay for now. You refused to break down in front of the most infuriating man in your life.

“Still stuck up as ever,” he sighs. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his comment. You? Stuck up? If anything, that would be him! “This would be our first piece together after that charity drama our acting academy did way back a few years ago, so would it kill you to be civil?”

Ah. There it was. The infamous acting academy.

JYP Academy of Theatrics was admittedly one of the most successful acting academies in the country, known for producing many big name acts throughout its years of operation. Every aspiring actor has probably gone through the phase of wanting to be part of the academy’s carefully limited population of trainees—you included.

You remember the first time you brought up your plans on becoming an actress to your parents; their apprehensive faces telling you to try going to an acting academy first before giving up everything and running towards your dream blind. Young you didn’t realize the underlying implication that your parents were expecting you to be discouraged and give up on your thoughts of becoming an actress for good. Instead, you aimed high with the thoughts of their support, confidently applying for JYP Academy.

To your parents’ surprise, you passed both rounds of the screening, becoming a full-fledged acting academy trainee at one of the most prestigious places for it. It was also where you met the thorn in your life that was standing before you at the present.

“And frankly, I’m looking forward to this. So can we not ruin the mood on set?” He had the nerve to add. That was all you needed for your last string of restraint to snap.

“Why? So you could enjoy the power trip of watching me fumble around like a headless chicken after getting scolded a thousand times for my horrible acting skills?”

“What?”

You watched as Seungmin’s face morphed from exhaustion into a look of confusion at what you had just said. However, you knew better than to give him the benefit of the doubt—so you continued to shoot your bullets at him.

“I know you, Kim Seungmin,” you motioned towards him. “Don’t you dare think I’ve forgotten your days at the acting academy, especially that damned charity drama. But consider yourself lucky, since I won’t drag your ass down this time, Golden Boy. In fact, watch me shine on set even if it’s against your will or whatever is going on in that ego of yours, because I refuse to bow down to you. Things may have been different seven years ago, but I’ve grown since then. So if you want to prove to me that you have to, then know how to keep your mouth to yourself around me.”

After your little round of firing the pent-up rage inside of you, you snatched your bag from the table and stormed out of the room without another word. You had half the mind to worry if anyone had heard your little squabble with Seungmin, but you were already too far down the hall to go back and check, risking a blow to your conscience if ever you tried to go back. You only had the fact that you had managed to keep your voice surprisingly low throughout the whole exchange to console you.

With this, you continued your trek towards the parking lot to meet your manager once again—blissfully unaware of the state in which you left your co-star back in the room.

“What the fuck just happened?”

It took everything in Seungmin to not march after you and demand an explanation for what you had just said to him. In all honesty, Seungmin was baffled. Out of all the possible scenarios he had imagined to happen when meeting you, this was definitely not one of them. Sure, you two weren’t exactly the best of friends way back in your academy years, but he had at least considered you an acquaintance.

Even then, he didn’t remember your relationship being this bad. For all the times the both of you clashed heads, he couldn’t recall a single time serious bad blood was developed. The memory of you laughing joyfully as he messed up a line in your shared scene together on a monthly evaluation was still fresh in his memories—so just where did this hostility come from? If he were to base his conclusion off your words earlier, then it must have something to do with the charity drama, and that only made Seungmin more lost.

What you said earlier did hold some truth to them—you were scolded a lot by their advisor, slash project director, but in no way did you do badly in the production. Seungmin could testify to that. After all, he was witness to the amount of praise you got from fellow trainees as they watched you act out your scenes on camera, even though his younger counterpart was jealous of all the positive feedback. So now, he really couldn’t understand where your deep-rooted bitterness towards him came from. He even gave you some tips during the times you seemingly struggled with their advisor’s vision!

“Seungmin?”

He turned over to where his name was just called, seeing his manager approach him while bowing politely towards the small number of production staff left in the room. “Oh, did I take too long, Minho?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright. I knew you were going to catch up with a friend,” Minho looked around for a bit before continuing, “Speaking of which, did she go already?” Seungmin couldn’t stop himself from clicking his tongue at his manager’s words.

“It’s a long story.”

Well, two can play that game. If you truly knew him like you said you did, then you would know that Kim Seungmin isn’t one to give up when he sets his mind to something.

02 : TWO.

You wanted to give up right at this very moment.

Today was the first day of filming for the movie you were cast in as the female lead, yet here you were, one push away from having a mental breakdown. It was your first lead role—one that you had wished on countless stars to get ever since signing a contract with your current agency. Yet, now that you actually have it, you were left unsure of whether your acting could do proper justice to the character given to you. The confidence you flared towards Kim Seungmin a few days ago was nowhere to be found right now as anxious thoughts swirled through your head instead.

When you first read the script as one of your manager’s proposals for your next project, you instantly felt like the female lead’s role spoke to you the most. The plot itself was a masterpiece, clearly right up Director Han’s alley with its sentimental undertone and themes of self-discovery. It followed the male lead, returning back to his hometown for a high school reunion after just deciding to quit his job at a well-known corporation in the city. At the reunion, he meets the female lead, whom he remembers having the biggest crush on back in his teenage years—before he moved to the city for college.

In comparison, the female lead never left their homey countryside town. She attended the nearby community college and also settled her adult life in the same area. However, that didn’t mean that what she had achieved was all she wanted to do in life. Like everyone else, she too, had her own dreams. Unfortunately, she lacked confidence in herself to chase opportunities and got stuck right where her starting line was.

And in a way, she spoke to you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but perhaps you regret running your mouth like that at your co-star during the table read. It was a moment of weakness, you tried to tell yourself. Emotional you talked too big for what you could handle, so now you were left here to deal with the consequences of your actions.

But lies had their truths too.

It was true that you wanted to shine on set—outshining Kim Seungmin was just an added bonus to the thought. You’ve spent far too long in others’ shadows, never really feeling like you had the chance to show your fullest potential. That was something you fought for constantly, starting from your days at the academy up until the present, only to have no such luck. Maybe that was why you developed a habit of becoming pessimistic at the worst times, becoming your own enemy as you fall into a pit of self-sabotage, effectively going against everything you’ve ever wished for yourself. It was a cycle of keeping yourself confused with your own decisions, and it was a frustrating process.

You could only stare from the actors’ corner on the site as you watched the crew members run around making final arrangements for today’s shoot. Normally, you wouldn’t have seen this part of the process, as actors would often arrive later on when everything was nearly set, during their actual call time. You just intentionally went early, deciding that you weren’t going to get any more sleep even if you tried, seeing as most of the previous night was spent trying to make sure you had your lines all perfected. Sleep came rough yesterday, and you had no one else to blame but your own nerves.

At least the set looked great—today you were filming all the scenes needed for the high school reunion. The place was this quaint function hall in a small town about seven hours from the capital city, the same town you would be staying in to shoot for a little less than a week. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the new environment contributed more towards your slowly diminishing confidence, feeling yourself too far away from the strong presence of individualistic urban life. A defeated sigh was all you could do in attempt to ease yourself, even the slightest.

“I’m beginning to think this is going to become a pattern,” you hear a familiar toned voice comment. “Meeting you distressed, I mean.”

You spare the figure a half-hearted glance before rolling your eyes, forcing out an appropriate greeting. Or what was appropriate in your books, anyway.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Seungmin’s face displayed his feelings of amusement, which in turn made your frown deepen. “Not even a good afternoon? That’s harsh of you, Y/N,” he says in a tone made for mockery. “You really don’t like seeing my face, huh?”

“More like, I just don’t like you, period,” you grumbled in annoyance. “Also, why are you even here this early?”

Your surprise at his punctuality was real; you were not expecting to see him on set three hours early. But maybe you should have foreseen this behavior, seeing as the Seungmin you knew back then was also one to be on time during all lessons, activities, and practices. A part of you was then thankful for the question coming off as general because if you added any more comparisons, it would’ve seemed like you held on to too much information on him from the past.

“Just because I’m the main character doesn’t mean I should be fashionably late. Would it tick you off to know that I like being punctual with things?”

“Yeah,” was your immediate reply, not needing to think about it any further. “Since now, I have to time myself to arrive just before the call time.”

Seungmin lets out a deep sigh at your words. “You don’t want to spend any more time with me than necessary, got it.” He says, then lifting a finger up to tap against his ear. “But you know, you should really learn to keep your plans away from enemy ears.”

You tried your best not to show the inner war that just sparked inside of your head—you really shouldn’t have found that small gesture attractive, but the romantic side in you swooned so easily against your will. And for what? Kim Seungmin, of all people? You really should tone down all the enemies-to-lovers content you were consuming, because this was the last thing you wanted to happen. Real life just doesn’t play out like that.

Giving him some slack and perhaps a half-assed attempt at reverse psychology, you replied with a tired tone. “I’ll agree with you on that one, so you may walk away now, Kim.”

Except that Seungmin didn’t seem to catch the memo.

“Says the one who keeps talking,” he snarks at you. “For someone who told me to keep my mouth to myself around you, you’re the one who keeps the conversation flowing.”

You rolled your eyes for the second time since starting this conversation. At this point, you were convinced that Kim Seungmin was on a mission to dislocate it. “You just have to win everything, do you?”

“It’s my charm, I suppose.”

“And I disagree. The only charm you have is that mouth of yours you use to manipulate everyone around you.”

That seemed to snap something within Seungmin. “What the hell did I ever do to you?” He spits out furiously. “I would’ve already sued you for defamation if you acted like this around everyone else, so you should be thankful that I’m being tolerant of your attitude right now.”

“Thankful? Why would I be thankful?” Was your baffled response. “You know, I’m starting to believe that you don’t remember what you put me through all those years ago at all, and it’s only making me more upset that you seem to hold no remorse whatsoever.”

“If it’s that bad, then go ahead and tell me!” Seungmin hissed in an attempt to keep his voice down and not cause a scene. “I don’t have time for this roundabout game you have going on, and honestly, neither should you. We have a high-profile movie to film, and I would never let whatever this is ruin the hard work of a hundred people—so get your head out of your ass and either clench your teeth and save the working environment we have or be a dear and solve this issue with me right now.”

Now you were just barely containing your rage. It was at this point that you realized that Seungmin wasn’t faking anything; and that made it sting a lot more in your already scarred heart. Of course, someone like him wouldn’t understand why you were acting like this. Someone like him, born talented enough to be loved and praised by everyone, would never see the other side that you had to be dragged through—the side that existed all because of people like him, too.

“Fuck you, Kim Seungmin,” you croaked out through tears. “I knew someone like you would never understand.”

And you ran.

“What are—Y/N! Come back here!”

03 : THREE.

“Y/N, where in the world even are you? You need to come back to the actors’ tent right now!”

Changbin’s voice boomed through your phone’s speaker a lot louder than usual, causing you to jerk it away from your ear in pain. Well, you did deserve the scolding—after running off to God knows where in a relatively remote town you didn’t even know, you would be pissed as hell too if you were your manager. What kind of actress just leaves the set without a single thought like that?

“I swear, Y/N. Do not tell me you’re lost because I’m pretty sure I left you somewhere safe the last time I saw you,” you hear Changbin huff on the opposite end. “I can’t believe you told me that you were going to be fine on your own, and I actually trusted you. That’s it! I’m not letting you wander around the set anymore from this point onwards!”

You couldn’t help but find your manager’s rant funny, despite the clear threat being held above your head. “Really? I’m telling you that it’s almost call time, and you’re just laughing. Fine, go on your own soul-searching, or whatever it is you’re doing. I’m telling everyone you left your role to go play hooky—”

Oh, you could only wish. After your little squabble with Seungmin, playing hooky didn’t sound like a bad option. Sadly, you still had a conscience that weighed on you—even more hypersensitive to the people around it with your co-star’s earlier comment of ruining other people’s hard work. You hurriedly shook your head to get rid of the negative thoughts that were starting to plague your head once again, and instead focused on the group of trees that lined the path towards the entrance of the function hall.

“Changbin, I’m fine.”

“Damn right, you should be!” He screeches one last time before calming down. “But in all seriousness, you need to head over here now, or Director Han is going to chew me a new one. He knows my sister, and I don’t want to be berated for not doing my job properly by her of all people.”

You chuckled at the competitiveness in his voice. “Don’t worry, I just took a short walk for fresh air. You know how nervous I was earlier on the way to the set.” Changbin hummed in acknowledgement.

“And on the way to this town in general,” he teases. It didn’t last long, though, since he immediately followed up on your well-being with a soft tone. “Did the walk help? I can get you some hot tea too, if you want.”

“Look at you, finally being a proper manager,” you threw back at him, snickering as offended noises started to pour out of your phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take you up on that tea offer. Plus, I’m just around the corner now.”

Once you saw his figure coming into view, you hung up the call and opted to wave your right arm to catch his attention. Changbin broke out into a frantic sprint towards you the minute he saw you approaching.

“Oh, thank whatever deity there is. You need to head over to the tent right now and—” He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, holding you still at arms length to give you a look of confusion as he scanned your face. “Did you cry? Why are your eyes like that?”

Shoot. You had totally forgotten about that for a second. “Ah,” was all you could muster in a sheepish daze. “It was just to let the nerves out, you know? It’s nothing serious.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at your excuse, making you hold your breath unintentionally. It felt as though you were being picked apart, trying to find the truth that you desperately wanted to keep hidden. Eventually, the man before you decided to let it be, sending you off with an exhausted wave.

“Hm. Alright, and it’s already going away, so it must’ve just been a light session. Try to blink it out more so that it’s long gone once you step in front of the cameras.”

You silently breathed out a sigh of relief. “Will do. Thanks, Changbin.”

“Stop being a sap and head over to the tent already,” he chuckles before sending you a comforting smile. “Good luck. I’ll just be here.”

A grateful look found its way onto your face as you walked briskly towards the actors’ tent. You should really treat Changbin to dinner after all of this is over, you think to yourself, putting on your game face and entering the enclosed area with a newly steeled heart.

Now, Seungmin wasn’t the type to be overly concerned with others’ business. While he wouldn’t exactly call himself an extreme individualist, he still did have an appreciation for community. You wouldn’t catch him dead in the act of trying to mingle with someone else’s issues if it had nothing to do with him. However, all that seemed to somehow fly out the window whenever it had something to do with you.

To him, you were a person qualified enough to be considered intertwined with his own life. Sure, he hadn’t seen you in person for years, but that still would never be able to erase the fact that you knew him behind the cameras. Actually, even worse.

You knew the person he was before he even took up acting as a career.

Perhaps that was why he was so bothered by the way you were acting with him recently. He doesn’t even recall ever being that hostile to someone since his high school days, and that alone terrified him. It was like he regressed back to the days of his youth whenever he interacted with you—and that did more harm than good. The younger him was full of teen angst that he wanted to bury deep inside the confines of his past, but the animosity you seemed to harbor personally against him made him wonder if he was truly missing important information from that era of you both.

So when he saw you walk into the tent with fading redness evident in your eyes, just right after your small fight with him earlier, he instantly felt a punch in his gut. In all honesty, he wasn’t aiming to make you cry—it just so happened that the spur of the moment was so intense that he spat out things he barely meant. Sure, they still stemmed from the truth of how he felt since he did want to make amends with you, but even he wants to kick himself for the way he worded things so out of pocket. His reaction to the situation was so childish that it would be easier to think he finally went insane from the busy schedules he’s been doing than believe that what he did was a conscious decision. He was supposed to be the mature one at that moment, reaching out to fix the issue.

And yet here he was, feeling like a child in front of you.

He wanted to approach you, apologize for earlier, and maybe another one for whatever stupidity his old self did that was clearly bad enough for his mind to completely block out entirely. If you were reacting this much, it had to be at least somewhat of a traumatizing experience. Seungmin doesn’t think he ever got that bad back then, but everyone had different perspectives—and yes, young him had a tendency to be a prick. He still had friends, though, and no one ever called him in to discuss his behavior, so it wasn’t like he was a bully.

Either way, he felt the need to apologize—and maybe get an apology back, but his legs wouldn’t let him. A part of him knew that if he did approach you at the moment, you might run away again, and it was almost time for the briefing. Instead, he settled on looking at you across the pop-up room, hoping that his silent sentiment was delivered.

Which it was not. At all.

If anything, it added more pressure to whatever nerves you were holding back. Seungmin’s gaze was so piercing to the point that you didn’t even need to turn and look to know that he had his eyes locked on you. What does he want from you now? Oh, right—you two would be filming your scenes together in a matter of about an hour or two. Maybe this was Seungmin’s way of telling you to get your shit together while finally respecting your wishes to be left alone. Improvement is improvement, so you’d leave him alone to do his thing too.

“All right, is everyone here?” A lean man in his mid-twenties walked in, asking everyone inside. There was another person following him, yet seemingly younger. “It seems so. If someone you know is late, just fill them in with the details later.”

The first man lifted up a thick bind of paper, which you quickly recognized as the script. “I’m sure everyone has read their copy of this. My name is Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m the head scriptwriter for this film. Over here to my side is Yang Jeongin, my assistant. We’re here to give you a briefing on how this shoot will go for today since Director Han and Assistant Director Lee are busy with the filming crew as of the moment.”

So they were the ones behind the script. You felt your excitement levels increase as various questions about the story’s making filled your head—but you would save that for another day. Perhaps during the crew dinner after the movie’s filming was completed.

“Today, we’ll be filming one of the first scenes in the movie—the reunion. That’s why there’s a lot of you are here right now, despite the story only really having a few recurring characters. Still, whatever your role is, I hope you take this opportunity with pride. All of you here will be treated as actors for as long as you stand on this set, so have the dignity of one. Whether you have lines or not, what I expect from all of you is your best, and only your best,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang emphasized.

The briefing continued on with the necessary information for the reunion scene, with detailed clarifications and stage directions. If you weren’t locked in on all the information being fed to you, you would’ve had half the mind to acknowledge how strikingly handsome the man was upfront. A few others did, though, and you couldn’t really blame them. The guy could be an actor himself if he wanted to be.

“And I believe that’s all for now,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Hair and makeup will take care of you all for about an hour and a half. I see that some of you already came prepared, so go ahead and touch up yourself if you want to. Main characters, you have your own booths,” he glances towards the stations at the end of the tent.

“You’ll be called up when needed. Actor Kim Seungmin, please get ready first since we need you for the entrance shots. That is all. Good luck.”

Head Scriptwriter Hwang bows politely to all of you before exiting the tent with Assistant Yang. With that, the battlefield begins.

You couldn’t remember much of what was happening other than you being sat down in front of a well-lit mirror and letting yourself become a doll in the hands of the make-up artists. The one assigned to your hair did start a short conversation about your previous works, to which you could only thank her shyly for her support. While you weren’t the most popular actress out there, you were still relatively well-known, with notable works under your belt. Seven years of experience wasn’t something someone could just laugh at, after all.

On the other hand, your co-star was a famous A-lister who was most likely getting paid significantly more than you for his role in this film. You glanced a bit to your right, where Kim Seungmin was happily chatting with his hair and makeup assignees, his voice effortlessly traveling its way over to your spot.

Ever the social butterfly, that one.

“Are you excited?” The woman assigned to your hair, who you learned was named Eunha, asked. You looked at her, startled by the sudden topic change. “Sorry—it’s just that you kept looking over at Actor Kim that it came to mind. He is quite the looker, isn’t he?”

“Oh.”

How should you even respond to that? It wasn’t like you could just go around advertising your personal beef with the man when, as far as you knew, he had a clean record on his plate. That would just be a lawsuit waiting to happen. You’d have to settle for something vague instead. “I guess,” you cringe at the evident pain in your voice.

“I’ve heard from others in the industry that he’s a great guy. You’ll have a blast filming this movie with him. I know it’s a bit awkward right now, but I’m sure you’ll warm up to him soon. After all, you’re both the lead roles.”

You’ll surely have a blast, alright—straight to the ego.

This conversation just gave you the unfriendly reminder that you had to act all lovey-dovey with this man, and if anything, it was triggering some unpleasant memories. By memories, you meant the charity drama from your acting academy days.

Your experience with that project was interesting, to say the least.

It had all started with Seungmin winning the prize of being the drama’s male lead after getting the top spot on the year-end evaluation for the junior level. Along with his prize came the privilege to choose who he would be acting alongside, only to surprise everyone when he chose you, a trainee who barely got recognition and wasn’t even in the top ten of your level. At first, you felt honored. It was like you were finally getting acknowledged, and by the top performer, no less. So you worked hard to do your part properly, wanting to repay Seungmin for his act of kindness; only for that kindness to turn out to be a mockery of you.

The difference in skill between you two was just too wide. Your shortcomings showed far too much, and your mistakes ended up being emphasized to the point that your level advisor became endlessly frustrated with you. First, it was the scolding. The woman clearly did not appreciate you holding back the entire production, especially since it was for a cause, so she would point out every problem in your acting, which quickly took a turn after you showed barely any improvement. Eventually, your advisor started to berate you—going as far as constantly referring to you as the reason the drama would fail. When you tried to raise the concern with her that it was affecting you negatively, she only brushed you off with a comment about how you should know to take constructive criticism this early to succeed in the actual industry.

At eighteen years old, you could only clench your teeth and accept your fate.

Things only got worse when you overheard Seungmin talking to his friends near the vending machines after practice one day—the same day they were talking about you.

“Dude, why did you choose Y/N to be the female lead?” One of Seungmin’s friends, Yeonjun, groaned aloud. “She’s awful at it. What? Do you like her or something?”

Seungmin only shrugged. “Not really,” he said, uninterested. “I just kept seeing her name during level advancements but never saw her doing anything to stand out. If she got this far, then I should give her a chance, no?” Yeonjun pursed his lips at the answer.

“That’s just cruel, man. The witch has it out for her now.”

“Then she can just do better,” Seungmin chuckles, taking a sip from his soda before continuing. “Not my problem anymore. If I do my role well enough, maybe they’ll pay less attention to whatever she’s doing.”

Beomgyu, another friend of his, scoffed. “So, like—you’re basically using her to your advantage.” You watched Seungmin wave him off without a care.

“Stop making it sound so bad like that,” he hums at the thought. “Let’s just say I’m saving her the embarrassment. Like you said, it was my fault she’s getting thrown around like this anyway,” Seungmin continues before tossing his empty can of soda in the trash.

And wow, did you feel like one after hearing that.

Starting from that point onwards, you held a dislike for Kim Seungmin. It did, however, give you enough spite to use as a driving force to do well in the charity drama—eventually climbing up to senior level right beside Seungmin, where you two clashed for the higher ranks before graduating and starting your own careers.

Despite this, the memory of the junior project still stayed ingrained in you, never really managing to fade away like you wanted it to, causing you to struggle in your quest to succeed in the industry. The deprecating thoughts came at the worst times, making you revert back to that eighteen-year-old who kept her tears at bay as the director shouted at her for the nth time.

It was particularly the worst right now.

“Cut! Bad take!”

You snapped your head towards Director Han, who looked so frustrated that he started to resemble a certain someone from the ghosts of your memories. Kim Seungmin was in front of you, his tongue poking at his cheek after hearing the comment. Right, you were at the set—shooting a scene. And you had just failed to say your next line.

“Actress Y/N, you can’t just keep forgetting your lines like this!”

04 : FOUR.

You really can’t go on forgetting your lines like this.

“Y/N.” Changbin sighs heavily. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

It would have been amazing if the gods could hear your plea. Your wish was fairly simple, after all—to be buried six feet under at the moment. To hell with being a popular actress; you wanted nothing more than to disappear right now after that stunt you just pulled. On the first day of filming, no less.

Should you just go dig your own hole instead?

“It won’t happen again,” you softly replied, like a child getting scolded by their mother.

Your manager could only take a deep inhale at your words. “And I believe you, I really do,” he says. “But I can’t just let this go like this.”

Of course, he couldn’t. You would do the same thing in his shoes. Changbin was a manager for an actress—an actress who clearly can’t even manage herself. Your job’s core had a simple description, and that was to act out your lines. Lines that you had to memorize, internalize, and perform. What was the point of having seven years of experience under your belt if you couldn’t even do the basics of your occupation?

“You have to understand, Y/N. It wasn’t just once, or twice, or heck—not even thrice! You had a minimum of five retakes per couple of lines, and that’s already concerning enough for me to have to intervene. Director Han was really disappointed today, and it’s only the first filming. The only reason you’re still coming back on set tomorrow is because, at the end of the day, we managed to get good takes despite the issues. So pray tell, is something wrong?”

The humble inn’s room you were staying in became devoid of sound from your lack of response, making the cicadas outside seem a lot louder than they actually were. Your sitting figure made you look small in front of the man before you, who was pacing across the room in distressed strides. In all honesty, you had nothing to say back to Changbin. As much as you trusted him like your own older brother, explaining your oh-so-stellar performance earlier would entail having to reveal your past with Kim Seungmin, which was the last thing on the list of secrets you wanted to get out. Thus, there was only one solution to your dilemma.

“Can we replace Kim Seungmin?”

Changbin’s jaw slacked. “What—him again?” He laughed humorlessly, completely baffled at your request. “And replace, you say? Y/N, at the rate we’re going, you’re the one in danger of getting replaced!”

Okay, you should’ve expected that. But the sting from your manager’s comment wouldn’t hurt any less, even if you did.

You were well aware of all of your shortcomings as an actress. The seven years you gained in this industry clearly taught you a lot of important lessons, but those same seven years barely did anything to your ability, no matter the amount of effort you desperately poured into your career. It felt like a futile attempt at pouring into a cup that had a big hole at the bottom—knowing you could be filled to the brim with the necessary factors to succeed exponentially, yet still letting everything go down the drain.

Maybe this was the wake up call you needed to acknowledge that you’re the only one holding yourself back. And you had the slight inkling that you knew all along where this whole mess stemmed from.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, even?” Changbin ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, then fine. I’ll respect your wishes. But you can’t expect me to understand where you’re coming from if I know nothing. Deal with how overbearing I could be, or I don’t know, just keep that in mind.”

“I understand.” You meekly nodded. “Sorry, again. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

With your vague words, Changbin eventually came to the conclusion that you weren’t going to speak about the issue today. Walking towards you, he finally accepted your decision with a light pat on the head. “You don’t have to say that to me, Y/N. Maybe to the crew tomorrow. And Actor Kim Seungmin if you want. Just promise me a better performance tomorrow, and we’ll be good.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Alright.” Your manager rolled his shoulders back, releasing the tension that built up from his pacing. “I’ll go to my own room now. Get some good rest. You need it after what happened today,” he chuckles.

“Okay, good night.”

You plastered a small smile for him, only letting it drop completely after you heard the door shut. After that, it was just you and your mind, ready to play the most depressing thoughts all through the night to beat you down once again. However, you weren’t going to fall for that today. You had already promised a better performance on filming tomorrow.

And what better ways were there to achieve both than practice until the sun rises?

Well, that surely did it’s work for you because you walked into the set the next day looking like a few years had just shaved off your lifespan. But as long as you could still function well enough to participate in the shoot, then you would consider your little sacrifice worth it.

A certain someone would beg to disagree, though.

Seungmin has never felt more concerned in his life. Just what in the world did you do all night to come out of your room looking like a literal zombie? To make matters worse, no one was even batting an eye at your less-than-ideal state! He watched you get your makeup done from across the tent with a thoughtful expression.

“Is it just me, or did Y/N get no sleep whatsoever?”

Minho cringed at Seungmin’s blunt comment. “Oh, you noticed it too?” He purses his lip, feeling uneasy. “I feel bad for her, but after the mishap from yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed up all night trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. No sleep is better than no role in this industry, after all.”

Seungmin frowned at his manager’s words. That can’t be right. Sure, as actors, getting roles to play was their bread and butter—but no project was going to be worth more than their own well-being. If your condition was bad, then how were you expecting to have the proper mindset to act well? That should be simple logic.

He huffed. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Before he could even take a step forward, a strong force had already pulled him back. “Stop right there, Seungmin.” His manager gripped his shoulder in warning. “I know you mean well, but please do not do anything to agitate Actress Y/N any further.”

Seungmin turns back in disbelief. “What are you even talking about?”

“Aren’t you two close? I know how you joke around when you’re comfortable, and I’m just letting you know that this might not be the best time to do so.”

The actor narrowed his eyes at the implication being thrown his way. “You know, you’re making me out to be a major ass right now.” Minho shrugged.

“That’s because one wrong move, and you might as well be,” he sighs. “Look, all I’m saying is that what she probably needs right now is support. Someone who would give her motivation to get through the shoot today.”

Seungmin deadpanned at his manager’s sudden advice. He wasn’t expecting Minho, of all people, to lecture him about how to properly interact with others. “Exactly?” The younger of the two raises a brow. “What else do you think I was going to do?”

Minho looked hesitant for a second. “You and I both know that you’re not exactly the most—” he trails off, making random expressive movements with his hands instead. Seungmin scoffed.

“Spit it out.”

“—Motivating. You’re probably the least motivating person here.”

Seungmin visibly blanched at Minho’s admittance. Truth be told, he wasn’t expecting the older man to say anything particularly nice, but the actual reveal was just completely out of his radar.

Even when he was young, Seungmin never struggled with making friends. He’s always been well-liked by the people around him, which has made him fairly popular amongst his peers. With such a positive response from a lot of people regarding him as a person, Seungmin was clearly gifted in the art of making friends. So now, being told that he lacked the skill of uplifting others greatly confused him. If that were true, then shouldn’t he have had the opposite experience with socializing?

“I—” He stutters, caught off guard. “Do my social skills not prove to be enough for you?”

“Those are two completely separate things,” Minho barely managed to suppress a sneer. “Seungmin, you’re great at casual talk—that’s no surprise. But you also have the tendency to be dense. And that’s putting it lightly.”

“Oh.”

That would make sense. A part of him also admitted that his younger counterpart did struggle with connecting to others. Yes, he had a lot of friends, but that didn’t mean he saw all of them equally. As harsh as that may be, the old Seungmin had this unfathomable standard for people he could call friends, which he used as a strict criteria for judging others. He still kicks himself whenever he gets reminded of how big his high horse used to be, for no reason. Seungmin was more than willing to leave that time of his life at the back of his mind to collect dust. His life has been so much better without it, and he would do anything to maintain this satisfactory present he has carved for himself.

His manager chuckled. “Who knows, though? Maybe you could finally practice your empathy with this conversation. You’ve been around professional robots for far too long.”

“That sounds like an insult,” Seungmin says, expressing his doubt.

“I’m just saying it as it is.” Minho patted his back twice. “Now, I already warned you enough. If you still want to talk to Actress Y/N, then go ahead. Just know that whatever comes out of that mouth of yours is completely your responsibility, and I will not cover for you if you come out of this one with a broken friendship.”

Seungmin let the words sink in.

“There you go, all done!” Eunha exclaims, lightly pushing your hair forward to make the volume more noticeable. You gave her a thankful smile.

Eunha was someone you'd only known for two days, but she was already becoming your favorite person on set. The way she manages to lighten your mood every time made her worthy of being on the list of people you greatly appreciated, especially with how things were going for you recently. Today too, her positivity was very welcomed.

“Thank you,” you say while admiring her work. “It looks pretty today too.”

The hairstylist beamed. “Of course it should be,” she huffs in pride. “You need to be the prettiest one here on set. After all, you’re the female lead!”

You knew she didn’t mean it to be, but her words felt like little stabs to your heart. The prickly ache spread slowly, like poison that was meant to be discrete. You chuckled to offset the pain.

“Right.”

Female lead. The character you worked so hard for—only for you to also ruin the chance with your own hands. You couldn’t help but think of how ungrateful you were being, and for what? A personal grudge towards your co-star, who was being more professional about the situation than you ever tried to be? It was almost laughable how belatedly you realized that the situation was never going to be in your favor. You weren’t someone looking to be pitied, so why were you hypocritically trying to paint yourself as the distressed damsel?

Eunha sent you a troubled glance as she fixed the tools on the table. “Are you alright? I—” She sighed. “I didn’t want to point it out earlier, but I guess my concern got the best of me. The bags under your eyes looked deep earlier—Yerin did a great job covering them up, though! You don’t worry about how you’ll look on camera, but I’m just worried about your condition.”

You sheepishly scratched your arm at being pointed out. “Sorry for worrying you. I just forgot the time last night and fell asleep late. You could say I was too excited to shoot again today.”

“Well, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

You jumped in your chair, startled by Seungmin’s voice suddenly joining the space on your side of the tent. Eunha’s eyes gave you a silent apology before bowing to Seungmin and heading out of the tent, indicating that her task was finished. Your gaze fluttered toward your co-star, who was looking at you in a disapproving manner. It was then that you remembered his comment.

“And that was rude of you to disrupt a conversation that had nothing to do with you.”

Seungmin wasn’t fazed by your bite. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

“I asked a question first, Kim.” You crossed your arms at being ignored. “Also, I did sleep.”

"No, you didn’t,” he pressed on. You could feel your blood pressure rise at his insistence. “Even a twenty-minute nap could do wonders. You just look horrible.” You scoffed at the insult.

“Gee, thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened comically, and you almost laughed at the sight. Almost. He looked so guilty of what he had just said that you felt the urge to tease him as revenge.

“Wait, no—”

“An explanation isn’t necessary,” you hummed. “Even if that wasn’t a joke, I could really care less right now.”

Your reply made Seungmin flail his hands around like a madman. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean anything about it,” he coughs out before composing himself after realizing how silly he was acting. “Sorry.”

“Ok. Thank you for apologizing.”

“Sure,” he trailed off. Seungmin was now unsure of what to even do.

Oddly enough, your heart warmed at his reaction. A part of you was thanking yourself for finally becoming more rational, as you thought that maybe he wasn’t so bad. Sure, your past together was still rocky territory, but you had to remind yourself that time had also passed. Seven years at that. That detail took you back to the conversation you two had back at the table reading. You remember the way you hissed at him that you had changed—what made you assume that he couldn’t do it too? Everyone was allowed to become better versions of themselves, and Kim Seungmin wasn’t exempted from that. He was but another person living amongst others in this world, after all.

Changbin was right. Seungmin also deserved an apology.

“I guess I also owe you an apology,” you say softly. “About how I’ve been towards you the whole time—it was immature of me. I hope we can continue to work well until the end of this project, like you said yesterday.”

“Now, this is just odd.”

Seungmin was now utterly lost. He recalls approaching you despite Minho’s warnings, deciding that he had enough self-restraint to not screw it up—only to end up insulting you without meaning to. But that wasn’t the confusing part.

It was your reaction.

In Seungmin’s experience, you weren’t one to let something go like that. Even back when you both were in your senior level days at the academy, a simple jest from him would set you off into flames. The you he knew would immediately choose to chew him out, hoping that he would get burned by a rogue ember of your fury for even just attempting to speak such words. But the person in front of him right now did none of that. The you in the present simply took the accidental insult and even apologized for the ones you’ve spat out over the previous days. It was a whiplash, to say the least—just yesterday he was still fighting to keep you in a flowing conversation. So, what was this he was witnessing?

“Is it?” You snicker. “Just think of it like winning. You were right. This is a high-profile project, and I’m over here messing around. I’ve prepared a better performance for you all to see today, so be rest assured.” Seungmin still wasn’t assured.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright—”

“Main characters on set!”

Damn. So that’s how it feels for your conversation to get interrupted by someone unrelated to it. Seungmin internally acknowledged your annoyance earlier and kicked the memory of himself from a few minutes earlier.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “What was that?” Seungmin refused to admit that he found the action cute.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s have a good shoot.”

05 : FIVE.

Okay, you do not think this was turning out to be a good shoot.

You were already regretting pulling another all-nighter the day after you got absolutely no sleep. This meant that you were already nearing 48 hours of no sleep, to which you were surprised you were still even capable of functioning. You had never gone this long without sleep, and it was both thrilling and terrifying to you at the same time.

Honestly, you were already expecting to feel lethargic after the shoot yesterday, especially after staying up the entire night to master your parts and was planning to go to sleep early to make up for it. However, after getting nothing but praise from the directors and filming crew the whole day for your stellar performance that day, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your sacrificial act was exceptionally effective. A little too effective since your manager even said that your acting became much more alive than the takes you did the previous day, despite feeling the complete opposite internally.

Now, while you normally wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was peer pressured easily, it still felt really nice for your hard work to be acknowledged after the disappointing performance you had the day before. Which also led you to your current predicament—woefully repeating the same magical process that helped you gain your reputation back.

“You’re yawning an awful lot.” Seungmin raised a brow in question. “Don’t tell me that all the praise you got yesterday already got to your head, and you suddenly find all this boring.”

An irked look made its way onto your face, pinching hard on Seungmin’s arm. You watched in satisfaction as he yelped audibly at your damage, jerking away in reflex. “What the fuck, woman?”

“It’s what you get,” you say nonchalantly while shrugging. Seungmin scoffs at the response.

“Just because we have a truce now doesn’t mean you can abuse me whenever you like,” he snarls. “What happened to the Y/N who didn’t want me to talk to her unless, quote on quote, necessary?”

You cringe at the unwelcome reminder of your previous activities. “I apologized! Would you rather have me act like a total bitch again?”

“Well��no. That Y/N was a pain to deal with.”

“Then be grateful for what you have right now.”

Seungmin lets out an amused snort, crossing his arms and leaning backwards closer towards the living room’s walls, where you two were on standby. “Oh, believe me. I’m more than grateful.”

The set right now was in a cozy cottage house, designed to imitate what the female lead’s family home would look like. You had already moved past the beginnings of the main characters’ romance yesterday and were now heading into the development stage, where they spend more time together until they realize their feelings. A domestic scene in one character’s home was a popular trope—which was, of course, also included in the movie.

If today’s shoot goes well, then you only have one day left in the filming process before everyone packs up to head back to the city. Not for Seungmin, though. The male lead still had to film the first part of the movie where he quit his job at the company. You’d have to laugh at him about it on the last day.

First, you had to get through this shoot without fainting flat on your face.

It was a particularly hot day too, which made your drowsiness even worse. The rural countryside cottage didn’t have an air conditioner set up, so you had to make do with fans all over the place. But that barely did anything to cool you down, as the air around the place itself was humid. At least you weren’t shooting out in the sun today.

“Geez, my makeup might melt even before we start filming,” you groan. “That’s if my head doesn’t explode first.”

Seungmin chuckles. “Blame your character for being a sweater enthusiast. That outfit must be torture in this weather.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. The thick baby blue cardigan you were wearing felt like a punishment to wear at the moment. It was unfortunate that you felt really cute in this get-up because you wanted to trash on it so badly.

Actually, fuck it. Comfort matters more.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” you whine dramatically. “Every scene she’s had has her wearing some kind of version of a sweater. Does she not get hot at all?” You pull on your slightly weighted cardigan.

“I do think she’s plenty hot enough.” Seungmin smirks, glancing at you while waiting for your reaction.

You hummed in agreement. “She’s probably just tolerating it since it's her clothing style. I’ve had my fair share of those moments too.”

It wasn’t something you could see since you were more preoccupied with watching the staff prepare for filming, but Seungmin’s ears were slowly turning red. He took note of how his less than savory joke completely flew over your head, now leaving him to drown in the embarrassment of his original intentions.

Internally, he was already having a boxing match with himself. He thinks she’s plenty hot enough? What does that even mean? You were the only image he had of the female lead since you had her role! Seungmin wanted the ground to suddenly swallow him whole at the implication.

You, on the other hand, were fighting a completely different battle. The combination of the heat and your severe lack of sleep was becoming dangerous. You could already feel a growing pounding in your head, the world’s noise becoming more muffled by the second. It seemed like your vision wasn’t affected yet, though—and for that, you were relieved. That meant you could still stretch yourself out until the shoot was finished. You’d already done this once yesterday, so a second time wouldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong.

Seungmin’s voice as he carried out his lines in the scene seemed so far away to you already, and it had only been an hour since the cameras started rolling. Internally, you were already sounding the sirens. Something was definitely wrong—you don’t think Seungmin was supposed to sound like he was underwater.

Your co-star seemed to notice that you were out of it too, except he couldn’t exactly stop the scene as you were still conducting your parts as proficiently as you could. Director Han hasn’t called a cut yet, either. So, he settled on carefully watching you for signs. You also thought you could last until the scene was over—until you couldn’t.

The last thing you remember was a figure rushing over to you before your sight went pitch black.

“Y/N!”

“Cut!”

Seungmin felt his heart race as he dashed over to catch you from crashing to the ground. What was going on? You were completely fine a while ago. How did you end up fainting? Could it have been the heat? He didn’t think it was going to be that bad for you since he was dealing with it pretty well. The heat wasn’t exactly unbearable. So what was it?

“Actor Kim Seungmin,” D.O.P. Bang called out. “We should take her to the medic tent. Someone, call her manager.”

Seungmin had never agreed more to a suggestion in his life.

“Seungmin? What’s—” Minho’s face paled in shock at the sight of your limp figure. “Oh, shit. That’s why everyone is running around like headless chickens. Quick, let’s get her to the medics.”

Minho sped over to give the actor a helping hand on steadying you, only to be stopped. “We’re wasting so much time.” Seungmin clicks his tongue.

Everyone could only watch as Seungmin positioned his arms on your back and behind your knees, hastily pulling you up towards him in a bridal carry and speeding away to the medic’s tent. Minho’s jaw dropped at his talent’s actions before recovering from the shock and tailing him.

“Seungmin!”

“What?” Seungmin responds half-heartedly as he sets you down on the cushioned stretcher, stepping back as the medics do their job.

“You—” Minho squeaks out. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That!” He gestured towards you, still unconscious and being checked on by the medics on standby. “Did you just carry Actress Y/N?”

Seungmin ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “And what about it? Did I commit a crime or something? I was just helping!”

Minho was conflicted. In all the years he had been working as Seungmin’s manager, the actor had never shown this much attention towards his other co-workers, despite maintaining an approachable and friendly image. Of course, that wasn’t particularly a bad thing—especially in an industry where caution towards everyone around you was basic common sense to prevent yourself from going down a road that would lead to your demise. The view was great up where it was high, but the fall was just as immense.

What Minho did acknowledge was your past with Seungmin. Because of that, he was inclined to think more about your friendship with his talent and how that played into your dynamic. Yet, over the course of the two days you two had been filming, he hasn’t exactly seen the kind of relationship he was expecting. There were discrepancies in what he knew about you and Seungmin, as well as gaps in the bond his actor painted a picture of. In times like these, there were only a few reasonable explanations that Minho could think of, which made him uneasy.

Something big was coming in the future—one that he needed to prepare for as early as now.

Hurried footsteps could be heard nearing the tent as Seungmin and Minho diverted their lines of sight towards the entrance, just in time to see a fairly muscular figure come in all frantic. “How is she?”

Minho immediately recognized the man from a conversation he had in the personal staff area, recalling his introduction as your manager. The former bowed slightly in greeting. “Manager Seo Changbin.” Seungmin felt his blood boil after seeing your manager’s late entrance.

“Where even were you?” He asked coldly, intentionally making his tone sharp. “You know, for her manager, you sure are practically nowhere to be found during shoots.”

Changbin splutters at the accusation. “Y/N doesn’t like it when I stay to watch! She says it’s pressuring!”

“Sure. But it’s your job to be on standby in the event that she needs you. How come you weren’t?”

“I—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A new face entered the space, who Seungmin quickly made out to be Assistant Director Lee. The second-in-hand gave him a disapproving look. “Actor Kim Seungmin, please stop lashing out at Actress Y/N’s manager.”

Seungmin felt like he was seconds away from committing arson. “I’m not lashing out if it's a reasonable argument!”

He felt someone grab a hold of him, forcefully pushing him down to sit. It was only then that Seungmin seemed to finally be conscious of how emotionally he had been acting—accepting Minho’s foresight on his actions. Assistant Director Lee, on the other hand, did not appreciate his recklessness.

“That it is, but we’re going to need you to stay calm,” he states. “The situation is sensitive enough as it is.”

Seungmin felt like he had no choice but to agree. He couldn’t risk making an unreasonable scene in such a respected project set, and knowing you, a tension-filled tent wasn’t going to be your preferred area of rest. Glancing back at your unconscious figure still being tended to, he let out a sigh to release the extra pressure in his chest.

Just what was he doing right now?

Once Assistant Director Lee saw him calm down a significant amount, he clapped to disperse the heavy silence. “Great. Now, can someone inform us when she wakes up so we can restart the shoot?”

So much for calming down, because Seungmin’s temper flared up again in an instant. “Are you kidding me?” He growled. “No, we are not proceeding with filming today!”

“Actor Kim, we don’t have enough time—”

“I’ll pay for all the expenses for the extension and rescheduling of all the remaining shoots. Put all of it under my personal bank account.”

Minho’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets in shock. “Seungmin, what—”

“I said what I said,” Seungmin continued. “Now go do it. Both of us won’t step in front of the camera for the rest of the day.”

“You can’t just decide that for Actress Y/N,” Assistant Director Lee reasoned in disbelief.

Unluckily for him, Seungmin had already made up his mind—and when that happens, he isn’t one to give up on it.

“Then we’ll tell her it’s cancelled because I’m sure as hell won’t be filming today. You can’t make her act out the scenes prepared today without me.”

Assistant Director Lee was conflicted. Taking a day off so suddenly when they’d already had everything set up was going to be such a waste—and frankly, Director Han was already on edge about it. Granted, this wasn’t the first time he’d come across this situation, and certainly won’t be the last in his time in the industry. Now, an actor telling them that they’d pay for the cost of their demand? That one was new.

Kim Seungmin was notorious in the field for being a perfectionist, so he honestly came in here expecting him to agree with their plan. Maybe he should’ve considered the rumors he’d heard around the set that Actor Kim and you were closer than they initially thought. With that, Assistant Director Lee could only sigh. He’d just have to deal with Director Han’s displeasure.

Along with being a perfectionist, Kim Seungmin was also incredibly stubborn.

“I understand,” he concedes. “I’ll inform Director Han.”

Seungmin tried not to show his surprise on his face. He didn’t think he’d actually get this result so easily, but it was welcomed. “Thank you.”

“Let us know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Assistant Director Lee chuckled at Seungmin’s firm reply before announcing his leave. The atmosphere in the tent improved as he stepped out, but awkwardness still lingered in the air. Minho dropped down to slump on a plastic chair, leaving Changbin to stand stiffly near him.

“Y/N is totally gonna kill you, dude.” Minho groans, completely letting go of formalities in stress.

Seungmin had half the mind to be embarrassed by his choices. “And to think I’m doing this all for her sake,” he scoffs good-naturedly before turning to your manager. “Did something happen before the shoot? She couldn’t have passed out like this just because of the heat today.”

Changbin scratches at his neck. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

“—It’s exhaustion,” one of the medics spoke up. “Her body seems to be completely fatigued, as well as slightly dehydrated, but that must be the heat’s contribution. Has she not been getting enough rest?”

They watched as Changbin’s face morphed into shock, completely unsure of how that could’ve even happened. “But she said she was going to bed early yesterday!”

Your manager was slowly getting on Seungmin’s nerves. First, it was his constant absence from the set. Next, it was his blatant disregard for your well-being. The last time he checked, a manager was supposed to be aware of their talent’s condition as much as possible. Any less and it would be neglect.

He narrowed his eyes. “The picture you’re painting for me is not a good one, Manager Seo.”

“What are you implying right now, Actor Kim?” Changbin pounced back, Seungmin’s tone stirring negative emotions inside him.

Seungmin refused to back down. “You know damn well.”

“Kim Seungmin!”

“Watch your mouth—”

A rustling noise interrupted the three men’s small disagreement. “Ugh,” you groaned in pain. “What in the world?”

“Y/N!” Seungmin jumps up without a second thought to rush over. In the distance, Minho and Changbin’s eyes meet in mutual speculation.

“Seungmin, sorry, but please shut up.” You raise a hand to cradle your head. “My head is pounding.”

You could vaguely make up a medic handing Seungmin some pills and a bottle of water, saying something about how you were stable enough to just need rest and hydration. The next thing you knew was feeling a hand gently take your chin to create an opening and a pill being dropped inside, along with a water bottle pressing against your lips. You gulped it down in shock.

“The fuck—” You coughed. Another hand came up again to wipe some of the water you spilled around your mouth before you pushed it away. “Kim Seungmin!”

Your co-star rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “Would it kill you to stop being so fussy?”

“Not when you’re treating me like a child!”

Changbin clears his throat, effectively stopping your bickering. “Uh—I’m going to go get us lunch,” he meekly informs you two. “The medics also already went out to get food earlier, so I think we need to get our share before it’s all gone.”

Minho nods at Changbin’s words a bit too enthusiastically for your liking. “I’ll come with him. You two can talk while waiting.”

The two of you watch as your managers dash out of the tent like cartoon characters, raising a suspicious brow at their sudden change in behavior. Seungmin clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning back to you and flicking a finger at your forehead without warning. You squealed at the added pain as Seungmin’s suppressed laughter filled the room.

“You are such an asshole!” You shriek while bringing both hands to shield your forehead belatedly.

“And your hair looks like a nest,” he replies with a snicker.

You gave him a glare at his comment, rubbing the sore spot gently. “Shit,” you whined, feeling the ache from inside your head again. “I can’t believe I fainted. How long was I out? What about the shoot? Are we resuming after lunch?”

The questions you were asking him only served as Seungmin’s reminder of his actions earlier, causing his mouth to run dry. Truth be told, even he was unsure of how to tell you everything that happened while you were away in dreamland. He couldn’t just drop the ball at you that he made sure that the shoot had been cancelled just for you to have the rest of the day to rest up. At the same time, there was practically no other way to convince you that the cancellation wasn’t your fault unless he told you the truth.

But Seungmin had already caused you enough misunderstandings to last a decade—and he wasn’t about to add another one.

“You weren’t out for long,” he told you. “I’m actually surprised you even woke up right away. The shoot’s cancelled.”

He watched you pause to let the words sink in. What did he mean by the shoot’s been cancelled? Wouldn’t that be too costly? After all, you were literally renting a place far away from the city to shoot this movie. A shoot cancellation meant an extension, which also meant new arrangements needed to be made. You curled up into a ball, wanting to evaporate into the clouds at the heat of the sun. How much more were you going to screw up everyone’s experience with this project?

“Is it because of me?” You muttered.

Seungmin felt something inside him break at how small you made yourself seem. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, only to once again fail to prevent it. That one was on him, though—he didn’t manage to tell you right away that he was the one responsible for the shoot’s cancellation. He felt the need to chase away your negative headspace as fast as possible.

“Why do you always blame yourself first? I cancelled the shoot, so just get some more rest.” He sighs.

Your eyes snap upwards to meet his. He had got to joking. “What?” You ask, bewildered at the statement. “And they agreed? I can still continue!”

Seungmin immediately acts to lift your legs back up on the stretcher when he sees you trying to get up. He places a heavy hand on your calves to lock them in place before sending you an unamused stare. “Land a single foot out of this stretcher, and I’ll make sure the shoot gets moved to next week.”

“You can’t just do that!” Your mouth gaped open like a fish. “Do you even know how bad the cost is going to be to extend for that long?”

“I’m more than capable of shouldering the expenses.”

That single statement made your stomach drop. “You cannot be serious,” was your horrified reaction. “Seungmin, did you pay for the extension costs?”

The man before you only shrugged, like he hadn’t just dropped significant information. “What about it?” You blanched at his unconcerned attitude.

“What do you mean, what about it?” You asked, absolutely outraged. “I swear, you’ve always been like this! You think you could just play around with everything around you, since you can. Why can’t you take things seriously for once?”

It was Seungmin’s turn to look offended. “Now, when did I ever do that?”

“The charity drama!” You cry out. “Yeah, I knew all about your little plan back then. If you acted well enough, they wouldn’t pay attention to whatever mess I was making, was it? I even overheard you telling your friends you chose me to become the female lead just because you were curious about how I kept advancing levels when I barely met the standard—and there I was foolish enough to believe that you chose me for my skills!”

“I—” Seungmin stammers. “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you held back a sob, feeling emotional as you poured out your inner insecurities. “Why would you? Someone of your caliber could go around bending things to your will, and no one would bat an eye since they would justify it with your talent. I’m the complete opposite, Seungmin.”

Seungmin was quite alarmed, to say the least. These were your side of the story—the side that he never got to acknowledge. He could only watch you try to keep yourself together in front of him, clearly struggling as your emotions ran wild at the release of what seemed to be years of suppressed experiences. His body was screaming at him to move and comfort you in any way he knew how, but for the first time in his life, Seungmin was completely frozen in guilt.

“I’ve lived the life below people like you. We were the ones that were always stuck in the shadows, where stepping on us became the norm. People like us were the pieces in your games of chess who couldn’t even speak out in the fear of being thrown out.” You inhaled deeply before meeting his gaze. “It was a life you would never even begin to imagine experiencing at your ability, Seungmin.”

Your words were like spears thrown at Seungmin’s heart. They all rang true in his head. He would never understand what you went through because he was part of the problem. Seungmin thought back to his past, trying to recall where it all started.

He was a young child, only ten years old, when he discovered his passion for acting. His class decided to do a play for the school festival, and he got the role of the main character completely by chance through drawing lots. Young Seungmin didn’t think of it too much and agreed out of obligation. It wasn’t until practices started that he started to take an interest in it after receiving constant praise from his classmates and homeroom teacher. This fascination only bloomed more on the day of the festival, where he found out that performing for people could be this exhilarating.

From then on, Seungmin made it his lifelong dream to become an actor. Seeing his talent in the field, his parents supported him wholeheartedly, eventually leading to them suggesting he join an acting academy to improve. The praises didn’t stop even after he joined the academy—in fact, they only doubled in frequency, making Seungmin come to the conclusion that he must’ve been some sort of prodigy. Perhaps it was due to that mindset of his that he paraded around like the world was his. To his defense, none of the adults around him saw the wrong in his behavior and even went as far as encouraging it.

It was when he graduated from the academy and started his work as a professional actor that he got humbled by all the talent around him. Everyone seemed to be on his level or greater, which completely shattered his worldview. During those times in his rookie years, he learned the importance of hard work and how much it could really make a difference. There was one time that he thought to himself—maybe this was the reason he felt so attracted to you.

You were the first person he ever associated with the difference that hard work brought. Seungmin first noticed you on the first day of intermediate level. He had gotten to that level first and thus kept an eye out for notable candidates from the beginner level. The thing is, he had never even heard of you or any of your performances—so it was a complete surprise to see you climb up to intermediate level. From then on, he observed you from afar, never really approaching. To him, you seemed plain; someone who didn’t even exude star quality. So eventually, he forgot all about you again.

Until he saw your name on the same paper as his, indicating that both of you would be in the same batch that got promoted to junior level.

The charity drama was another project Seungmin gained an unexpected opportunity from. With the privilege given to him as the top ranker for the year-end evaluations, he chose you as his female lead. All Seungmin wanted was to see what kind of shine you had as an actor, and he was rewarded greatly with your stellar performance after days of painful practices. When you were once again bumped up to senior level right alongside him, he was ecstatic. You had changed since the charity drama, and your aura started to take up more space in their small practice room. Seungmin wanted to get closer to you, but the two of you would only end up clashing every time. He guesses that you and him were just complete opposites in everything, down to your work ethic. He still tried to interact with you in any way he knew how, though—which led to his friends teasing him about his little crush on you.

Now, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they were right.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your calves, letting his hands fall down on his sides before bowing deeply. “I’m sorry. There would be no excuse for my actions, and it’s even worse that I have no recollection of the details when I’ve obviously affected someone. I know an apology wouldn’t erase everything that has already happened, but it would be the start of my attempts to make sure it doesn’t happen again. At this point, all I can ask for is your forgiveness.”

You quickly reached out to grasp his arms, trying to pull him up from his act of remorse. “Get up—oh my god. It’s fine, Seungmin. Really. I’ve already forgiven you yesterday, honestly. My behavior also had some faults towards you, and it was unacceptable.”

“Knowing why now, I think it was more than reasonable.”

You let out a laugh at his words. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you teased. “Now, I think the other crew members also deserve an apology from us.” Seungmin’s face paled at the reminder. Just imagining Assistant Director Lee scolding him for his audacity earlier was sending him into early retirement.

“Yeah,” he coughs. “But can we not take back the shoot cancellation? It would be so awkward for me if we did, and you still need the rest.”

“Fine, you big baby.” You pinched his cheek after seeing his childish pout. Seungmin was quick to swat your hand away, despite the burning sensation he could feel heating up his ears. “So does this mean we’re friends?”

Even if he could feel a crack form in his heart from your innocent words, Seungmin refused to show it.

“Sure. Friends.”

06 : SIX.

Being friends with Seungmin was odd.

Granted, you already got a taste of what that felt like for the two days that flew by since you two decided on a truce. However, you didn’t really feel much of a change in your dynamic in those two days—not until things took a turn after your conversation in the medic tent.

After your little heart-to-heart session, Seungmin had begun acting strangely. And by strangely, you meant becoming a complete one-eighty from the Kim Seungmin you were used to. It was almost like he was replaced by a softer, more warm-hearted version of himself. In one talk, you were suddenly subject to his endless affection, albeit still exhibiting the Kim Seungmin flare that you were comfortable with. Overall, it was just weird to think that four days ago, the two of you were fighting like cats and dogs. Now, you watched him bounce up and down as he gave himself a pep talk to prepare for the kissing scene.

“Are you that nervous?”

Seungmin flinches at your question, seemingly not expecting your voice to enter his head while he was seconds away from a meltdown. Your co-star looks at you sheepishly. “Is that bad? This is driving me insane.”

That was another thing different about Seungmin after the medic tent incident. He acted a lot more endearingly in your eyes. You faintly recall a comment you made a few days ago about how Seungmin would never be akin to a small bird who deserved to be doted on. But seeing the Seungmin in front of you right now, you might just take back your words.

Kim Seungmin had a lot more layers than you thought—and you found yourself wanting to uncover them all.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first kiss on camera,” you snort. “Just go do it like you usually do. Act like how your character would act in the moment. You have my whole consent, anyway.”

Seungmin wanted to tell you how much you didn’t understand his dilemma right now. In all fairness, even he was somewhat unsure of what was happening to him the past few days. All he did know was that he was right in what he thought during the first day of filming—he really did feel like he was turning younger in front of you.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he slipped into that carefree attitude around you, especially after your conversation in the medic tent. He was doing so well up until then, so what happened? Seungmin couldn’t be more curious about his own actions. He did have an inkling of what it was, but he needed more proof to act on it. Seungmin couldn’t risk becoming more of an idiot in your eyes. You already had too much of that experience with him during your filming yesterday, which was the rescheduled shoot of the one he demanded to pause.

That also meant that this was the last day you two had on set together before everyone packed their bags and headed back to the city. After that, it would be just him again on set to film the movie’s first scenes of his character.

Seungmin wasn’t disappointed. He totally wasn’t.

“What are you going to do if I lose control and give into my character, huh?” He argues. You stopped reading your script to give him an unamused stare.

“Seriously?” You scoffed. “If you really must know, then I wouldn’t do anything. If that’s what the male lead feels, then the female lead just needs to reciprocate if they’re really in love with each other. As their actors, we need to deliver those same emotions.”

You didn’t get what was making Seungmin so on edge about the scene. Reviewing his past works, this certainly wouldn’t be his first on-screen kiss, nor was it his first romance project as the male lead. What made you so different from his other co-stars that was making him act like a rookie?

“If anything, I should be more nervous than you. This is actually my first kiss scene!”

“That’s just even worse!” Seungmin whines, burying his face in his hands. “This is gonna be terrible.”

It was then that you finally had an idea as to why Seungmin looked like he was having a mid-life crisis this early in his life.

You felt a grin creep up on your face and paste itself there. “Did you want this to be a good memory for me?”

Seungmin groans at your poking. “Stop teasing me! So what if I do? Did I commit a crime, huh?”

“The crime of stealing my heart, yes.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. “I try my best.”

Seungmin mutters something beneath his breath—something you couldn’t hear because of Director Han calling for the two of you. He watched as you skipped away, leaving him to follow in your footsteps. Seungmin smiled at the picture painted in front of him.

“I know.”

You stopped at your designated place in front of the camera, turning back to look at Seungmin beside you, who was already sweating bullets. Your hand unconsciously lifts up to wipe them off, which startles the both of you. Seungmin opens his mouth to say something but was cut off by Director Han’s loud voice.

“Alright!” He claps. “This is our last scene for the day before we call it a wrap! I’m sure you two already know what it is, so all I’ll say is don't think too much about this. Enjoy it, or whatever you want to do—as long as it looks natural. Sounds good?” The two of you nod at him.

“Okay, camera starts at three,” he says, motioning towards D.O.P. Bang. “Two, one. Action!”

You took the opportunity to appreciate the scenery around you as the camera started rolling. The scene was set on a hill with a breathtaking view of the rest of the town. Hues of orange and pink start to tint the surroundings as the sun sets in the background. It was nothing less than ethereal, and you almost envied the female lead for having this moment in her life.

“I’ve always wanted to take someone here,” Seungmin says, reciting his lines. “When I was younger, I told myself that I was going to bring my true love here and propose. It was unfortunate that I moved away—this was my favorite spot in the whole world.”

You let yourself completely immerse in the situation. “Propose, huh? I’m sure the lucky person would love it up here. It’s so serene, like it's taking away all your stress just by being here.”

Seungmin gently grabs your hand into his, making you turn to meet his eyes. You almost gasped out of character after seeing the immense amount of love swirling in his gaze. Love looked great on him, you pointed out in your head. One day, Seungmin was going to look at someone else with the same gaze—someone that he loved with all his heart. A tinge of hot green jealousy burned in your stomach at the thought.

Part of you yearned for someone to look at you even just a fourth of the way Seungmin portrayed the male lead’s longing for the female lead. But for now, you had a role to fulfill. You could just lock these feelings up for later.

“Do you?” He asks. Your breath hitches at his question. “I’m not proposing—well, not yet. But I brought you here for a similar reason.”

Seungmin reaches for your other hand, now holding both of them. “I love you so much. I know our time together hasn’t been the longest, but it seems like my heart has found its way back home. Honestly, I first thought that it was just because I was back in town, but eventually I realized that I felt at home with you too.” He caresses your knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe my heart knew where it belonged long before I did. I loved you back then, just like I love you now.”

You couldn’t help but genuinely tear up at Seungmin’s monologue. It was such a beautiful feeling to be loved, and you hoped that someday you could experience the same kind of love you acted with. “So, I’ll ask you this question,” Seungmin continued.

“Will you be mine?”

“Yes,” you sobbed out.

Seungmin lifts his hands to cup your crying face, bringing you closer to his own. The moment your lips connected felt so magical that you ended up leaning in more, savoring the moment with your fluttering heart. Seungmin reciprocates the act, kissing you with more emotion than he did just a second ago. His lips felt like smooth pillows, coaxing you to release all the tension you had left and rest—with him. Seungmin was being careful yet passionate at the same time, leaving you to drown in the sheer magnitude of the butterflies.

You couldn’t help but love every passing second that you were lost on his lips.

When you two pulled away due to the lack of air, he kept his forehead to yours, noses touching. The soft sound of both your laughter filled the surrounding area.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for today!” You hear everyone start cheering at Director Han’s words. Seungmin chuckles at them as he slowly steps back, missing the way your body followed after his warmth.

“Congratulations,” he says gently. You felt your heart skip a beat. “Your first on-screen kiss, done. How did I do?”

Oh, this was going to be dangerous for your heart.

07 : SEVEN.

There’s been an empty feeling in your heart since yesterday that you were trying to ignore.

It was currently the day after you returned to the city. You watched the bustling streets of urban life filter through the car’s tinted windows while Changbin continued to drive you back home after a busy day in the company. Something you had never expected to happen was getting attached to the small countryside town you filmed in enough to miss it like this.

You felt it when you stepped out of the car yesterday to head back to your apartment—the polished concrete floors of the parking building suddenly felt foreign to you. The abundance of luxury cars was evident in the space, reminding you that you were once again in the city. It felt almost cold and lonely with the way you couldn’t see the hills you got used to seeing all day long. But it would do, you think to yourself.

The city could also be warm if you wanted it to be.

“Oh? I think they’re filming the first scenes of the movie in a building around here,” Changbin pointed out from the driver’s seat. “Minho mentioned this street a day ago.”

You raised a brow at his words. “Since when did you and Seungmin’s manager get so close?”

“Ever since you and his talent did,” Changbin snickers.

Heat rose to your face at your manager’s teasing. It was no secret to anyone who witnessed the movie’s shoot that you and Seungmin got extremely close after the fainting incident. You were sure that his efforts to stop the filming from continuing that day was also the talk of the town with the crew members. After all, who would go so far as to pay for rescheduling costs for their co-star? Sure, you and Seungmin were friends, but the two of you were barely talking in the first few days of the project. Anyone in their right mind would find his actions out of the blue—just like you did too.

Maybe it was just Seungmin’s way of making up for all the things you both went through. At first, it made you mad at how he flaunted his blatant disregard for the people affected by his decisions. The image of younger Seungmin came to mind, triggering the part of you that still held a slight resentment for what he did before. However, you found yourself slowly changing your mind as you two apologized to the crew members for the sudden decision, promising them swift and quality scenes the next day. As Seungmin walked you back to your inn’s room, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of happiness bubble in your stomach at the thought of someone caring enough to do this for you.

You watched as the evident signs of a film crew appeared in the distance, right in front of an office building. The same tents you’ve come to familiarize yourself with stood strong, indicating that this was indeed filming the same movie you were working on. It was already early in the evening, so they should be wrapping up any time soon. Should you stop by and say hello?

“Do you want to stop by and visit? You don’t have any schedules left for the rest of the evening,” Changbin suggests, getting ready to park near the building if you give confirmation.

Maybe you could repay Seungmin for his support over the past few days by visiting him. You smile at the thought of catching him off-guard.

“Sure, why not?”

The summer air of June was starting to make itself present despite already cooling significantly due to the sun saying its goodbyes an hour or two ago. Bright lights scattered across the vast street, a mixture of car lights, building lights, and streetlights morphing into the familiar image of a city that everyone knew. You walked towards the set peacefully, effectively going under the radar with a black mask covering your face. It was just a few steps more until you reached the barricade, when a familiar voice called out your name.

“Y/N?” Eunha squinted her eyes to determine if it really was you, only for you to watch them widen in surprise when her conclusion was proven correct. “Oh, it is you!”

You waved as you got closer. “Hi, Eunha. I saw you guys while passing by and thought I’d give you a visit,” you say shyly. Eunha beamed at your explanation.

“That’s so sweet of you; you’re always welcomed here!” She gives you a hug, quickly separating to drag you over the barricade. “Come on, I’ll show you to the others.”

Witnessing the set as a visitor was interesting. Despite the multiple people that greeted you on the way, it still felt as if you were an outsider with a V.I.P. pass to tour the set. Normally, you would be somewhere near the center, where the main scene was going to be shot. So staying back and watching the other crew members do their own things on the outskirts of that area was a new experience. In a way, you felt giddy like a child on a field trip.

“Actress Y/N is here!”

Eunha’s ecstatic voice traveled throughout the main area of the set, catching the attention of the directors, who had a figure you knew all too well standing right beside them. His eyes snapped up from the monitor D.O.P. Bang was showing him, eyes searching around for yours. Once he caught sight of your face, his eyes lit up.

“Y/N?”

If anyone asks, you totally weren’t checking him out. The clean black office suit he was wearing was incredibly flattering on his features, along with the formal brush-up the hairstylists put his hair in. You had only seen him with his hair down for the past few days—with his character supposedly portraying the look of someone who was comfortably back home to rest. And while that Seungmin was also objectively handsome, the way his hair was framing his face right now was stirring something more inside of you. Swallowing the feeling away, you straightened yourself.

“Hi, Seungmin.” You laughed. “Missed me?”

Seungmin abandoned his post with the directors and sped towards you. “Why are you here? It’s getting late,” he says, worried. Seungmin lets his eyes wander behind you for a second before a frown finds its way to his face. “And where’s that damned manager of yours?” You sighed at his obvious complaint.

“When are you going to let down on Changbin?” You say, unamused. “I swear, he means well. I came from the company, so he’s guarding the car since it’s just on hazard.”

“Still—” Seungmin tries to argue, only to be cut off by you waving your finger like he had been a bad child.

“Stop that. We talked about your coddling.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Maybe I’d stop once you actually learn how to take care of yourself.”

A series of claps interrupted the conversation you two were having. “Okay, break it up, lovebirds,” Minho says while inserting himself between you two. “It’s so nice to see you again, Actress Y/N. But we have a crew celebration dinner to attend, so I’ll borrow Seungmin first over here.”

Your co-star resists his manager, staying firmly on spot to prove a point. “Wait, I’ll walk her back to her car first.” Minho gave him an odd look.

“What do you mean walk her back?” He questions. “She’s attending. You just need to get changed out of that suit.” It was your turn to look confused.

“Huh?”

That was how you suddenly found yourself sitting at a long barbecue restaurant table with the other female crew members, silently listening to their energetic conversations while downing as much meat as you could. You didn’t know if this was a curse or a blessing in disguise, but you would surely regret it if you didn’t make the most of what was handed to you. Free food is still free food, even if it was a sponteneous invitation from the directors.

“I’m so happy we finished filming!” The woman assigned to your makeup, Yerin, said aloud. “Now it's those computer bastards’ turn to slave away.”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for a portion of her hardships. “Once again, I apologize for all the trouble I caused you on set.” You slightly bowed while still sitting. “Hopefully, it will be better the next time we get to work together.” Yerin only waved off your apology.

“Oh, please—don’t be such a worrywart! Having you on set was a delight,” she squeals. “Plus, we had a blast seeing the development between you and Actor Kim Seungmin.” Eunha’s face quickly turned into one of horror.

“Yerin!”

You paled at her words. “I’m sorry, what?”

What did she mean by that? The inside of your mind turned into a battlefield at Yerin’s implication. Your eyes immediately turned to search for Changbin, feeling the need to inform him of a possible issue in the near future. In your experience in the industry, scandals always started like this. You didn’t want this to affect Seungmin’s career negatively, so it was always better to prepare early than late.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N,” Eunha frantically says, trying to get a hold of her co-worker. “She’s just drunk.”

Yerin pushed her hands away, albeit weakly. “Eunha, stop being such a party pooper,” she whines. “We all know they’re dating now. Oh, our crew has tight lips, though! We won’t sell you guys or something.” That didn’t ease the panic that had already formed in your stomach.

“We’re not dating.”

You could only watch as Yerin’s showed genuine shock at your revelation. “Wait, for real?” She gasps. “That’s too bad. You two look great together!”

“Yerin, seriously!”

“Sorry, I’ll just go get some fresh air.” You excused yourself as politely as you could before standing up to head out the front door.

The now-cooled air pricked at your skin, making you breathe a bit more easily than in the humid interior of the restaurant. You lowered yourself to the narrow road’s curbside, choosing to sit down and admire the quiet neighborhood’s lights. It felt a lot better out here than inside, making you feel guilty for not enjoying the celebration more than you should have as one of the main characters for the project.

If you had refused, it would’ve been a bad look. You didn’t have a schedule for the night to use as a reason, and lying to the people who gave you the opportunity to work on your biggest project yet was out of the question. At the same time, you think of what you would’ve been doing instead if you had said no to their dinner offer. Laying down in your apartment while eating takeout wasn’t such a bad scene. The sliding of the aged wooden door brought you out of your thoughts.

“See? Just what I said,” a monotonous voice pointed out. “No self-preservation skills whatsoever.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. “It’s just the outside of a family-owned barbecue establishment, Seungmin. There’s practically no one out here at this time.”

“Does that not make it worse?” He gave you a look of disapproval, crouching down slowly to join you on the curbside. “You have a knack for making people worry, do you?”

“Then stop worrying!” You snapped—his words reminding you of the situation you had just fled from to find peace.

Seungmin raised his hands in surrender. “Woah,” he exclaims. “Alright, something is clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

You could only turn away, feeling yourself unable to face him. It was an awkward subject to bring up, and you told yourself that Yerin had already promised that the crew was tight-lipped. Objectively, there was nothing more left for you to worry about. Subjectively, the implication bothered you. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows at your reaction.

“Hey,” he calls out softly. “Did someone say something to you back there? You know I can beat them up, right?”

You grimaced at his attempts to comfort you. “You’re so violent,” you frowned. “What if it was a woman?”

“Oh, then I’m out of that. Sorry.”

“So full of shit, that’s what you are.”

Seungmin chuckled. “And that I am,” he replies, amused. “But seriously, I’m all ears if you want.”

A bitter taste announced its presence on your tongue, your mind forming a whirlpool of thoughts once again. “Why? Since we’re friends?” You spat out.

The space around you turned silent with Seungmin’s lack of response. You fought the urge to give him a discrete glance, just to see the damage you created. It took a few more seconds of the evening breeze being the only one talking between you two before Seungmin eventually spoke up.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says in a low voice while running a hand through his hair to pull it back. His hairstyle from earlier was long gone, leaving you to wonder how he got rid of the hairspray so easily. “I actually don’t like that we’re friends.”

He watched as you deflated rapidly at his confession.

“Not in that way!” Seungmin splutters. “It’s just that I—ugh.” He brought up a palm to rub across his face.

Now, you were lost. The path of where the conversation was going became lost to you, making you stand in uncharted territory. Seungmin stayed silent for a few more seconds, trying to collect his thoughts. You let him have the time.

“You might curse at me for this or even put a distance between ourselves. But since this is our last day seeing each other on set until the movie’s release, I’ll take the chance now before I end up regretting I didn’t.”

“Seungmin, what—”

“The thought of staying just friends with you has been bothering me for a while now. It was like I was subjecting myself to my own personalized torture, where I couldn’t get away even if I tried. I’m still not sure what this entirely means for me—for us, but what I know is that platonic would never satisfy me at this rate.” He purses his lips, contemplating how to continue.

Eventually, Seungmin raised his head slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s odd. Admittedly, I’ve had my fair share of romantic relationships in the past, yet none of them could compare to what I was feeling now. At first, I thought it was just an obsession with you. Something that stemmed from my previous interest in you back at our senior level of academy—”

“You had a what?”

“I know,” he laughs humorlessly. “My friends used to tease me that I had a crush; that was why I was bothering you so much. Back then, I just brushed them off as jokes, telling them I only saw you as a rival. Well, look where that ended up.”

You were frozen in shock at his confession. “Seungmin,” you start. “I don’t know what to say.” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to. Just let me have this moment to pour everything out,” he says. “Y/N, to put it into words, I feel at ease when I’m with you. At the same time, it always felt as if I was constantly worried about when it would end. That I would be left on my own again once you had finished your business with me. I tried to reason with myself, to put an acceptable distance between us in the case that what I had wasn’t the best for you. But I couldn’t do it, Y/N. Every time your voice entered my ears, it was like becoming a child. Unable to control their emotions and doing things without a second thought just because it felt like the right thing to do at the moment.” Seungmin looks up to the sky.

“That kiss we had—I think it was the happiest I’ve been in a while. It might have been just a job to you, because you could say it really was, but for me, it was finally a chance to express everything I had been holding back for the past few days. All I want you to remember is that nothing from that act was faked,” he exhales. “I really don’t think this is something you feel for a friend, so—”

“Let’s see where this takes us.”

“—What?”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to top what you just told me, but I’ll try with my own words.” You teased him with a genuine smile. “Seungmin, I feel strikingly similar to what you feel about me. Just maybe not as intensely yet.”

You let yourself move at the need to cup his face as he continues to look at you in shock. “I’m sure you already know that I spent quite a long time hating your guts, so the fact that I even started to feel an attraction towards you was shocking, to say the least. I was never one to believe in fictional tropes, despite my lifelong yearning to experience a love like that even once. As an actor, I’ve made a career out of acting those scenes out for people to see. But also as an actor, I knew more than anyone else how much real life would never be able to compare to the scripts I’ve seen brought to life on set. They were methodological, a feeling so carefully put together to achieve its maximum potential—real life isn’t like that.” You inhale deeply.

“Things happen for no reason, like they don’t for no reason either. And in a way, I felt both with you.” Your hands lowered themselves towards his hands to hold them tightly. “Enemies-to-lovers? It was laughable at first, but as the days went on, everything just fell into place as if it always belonged there. You feel like a child in front of me? I feel like I’ve never felt warmth in my entire life until you came along. When I first got out of the car yesterday, it was only then that I described urban life as cold and lonely in my entire life. I thought that maybe it was because I got too attached to the homey feel of the countryside that everything I’ve ever known somehow became foreign in a few days. But maybe it was just because of you.”

You found yourself giggling at the dumbfounded look he still had on his face, mind slow to take in what was happening in front of him. “What I’m saying is that I would love to see where this takes us. Right now, you can’t expect me to fall in love all of a sudden, especially considering our past. Though if you try hard enough, perhaps that might be just around the corner. What do you say?” Seungmin finally broke free from his trance, eyes watering.

“I’ll show you hard work that you’ve never seen before in your life.”

“And I believe it.” You pinch his cheek before standing up. “Now, let’s go back inside? The party is still ongoing.”

Seungmin clumsily follows, calling out just in time before you opened the door. “Wait—I still don’t have your number.” You gave him an astounded stare.

“Seriously?” You breathe out. “We went through all that, and we still don’t have each other’s numbers?”

Seungmin voices out his offense. “Well, I’m sorry that I was missing all my shots!”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna take a shot now, loverboy?”

“For you, yes.”

taglist 🔖— thank you for waiting ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @feelikecinderella @abbiestearsricochet @heelovesmeknot @floating-moon-dust @yoontaethings @hwangism143 @jazziesssss @hwangflora @vixensss @yourlocalstayyxi @dollce-exe @bambispostsblog @authentic-65 @dandelions-143

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hwanchaesong · 10 months ago

Text

Folklore: A Trilogy (August)

Childhood friend!Jake X F!Reader

Synopsis: Ever since you left home to pursue the city life, you really did think that everything was over. Then you returned, and you still see him there. Will something rekindle and burn inside you once more?

word count: 24.6k

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, childhood friends, kind of slowburn, summer love/fling au, this fic is taylor swift inspired (maybe you'll also see other song references but who knows), mentions of bullying & childhood trauma, cursing, drinking, party/festival, country side & small town settings, fights, jealousy, built up sexual tension, implied situationship, lies lies lies, sop (with bf!sunghoon), cheating (zont zo this, stay loyal!), oral m&f rec, fingering, nipple play, dry humping, overstimulation, creampie, kitchen sex, bedroom sex lmao, multiple unprotected (wrap before you tap!) sex scenes, appearance of other idols, & reminder!! the idols' characters here do not mirror real life! not proof read! etc etc mdni

a/n: this is the first part of the Folklore: Trilogy, which focuses on Jake aka our August. also the longest fic that i have ever written for now 🥲 and yes, i changed the 'aesthetic' moodboard bc i am obsessed with this kind of layouts lately 👺

ps. likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated! let me know what you think y'all. thank you so much and enjoy! 🩷

🎧 playlist

You stretched your back, muscles cramping from seven hours of traveling, drawing in the conventional briny ocean breeze that passes through the air as you stepped onto the sandy sidewalk, opening the brown gates and the creaking metal alarmed the people inside the building of your arrival.

"Well, aren't you home earlier than expected?" your mother greets you, giving you a welcoming hug when you enter the house and you take notice of something delicious wafting around your nostrils.

"Yes, there wasn't much traffic on the way here," you returned her embrace after dropping your bags on the floor, "and I smell something good." you remarked, heading towards the kitchen to find your dad bustling in front of the stove and your little brother mixing something in a bowl.

"They're chefs now." your mother jokes, following you in the kitchen and making small talk when the men of the house told you two to sit back and relax, to let them do the work this time.

"Wow dad," you peeked over his shoulders and you almost drooled at the delicacy he's concocting, "your cooking skills have greatly improved."

"Me too!" the youngest of your family spoke, walking over to you and nudging you with his elbow, "Look, I made your favorite dessert."

You lovingly ruffled his hair and ignored his complaints, knowing that he secretly loves it, "You're doing great as well, Riki."

You assisted with setting the table, sitting down in your usual spot and helping yourself to a large portion of food, wolfing the grub with the utmost gratitude because seriously, dorm and university meals kind of suck.

While eating, your mother decided to bring up a topic that you dare say, plain horrendous and tedious, "Now that you're here, you should come with us to the town fiesta before your summer break ends."

You groaned, not liking the idea of spending your beloved summer around other people, only wanting to be a couch potato, to sleep, eat and play games all day long.

"Don't be like that!" your father chides, eating a spoonful of the tiramisu that Riki made before speaking, "Besides, your old friends will be there. Aren't you excited to see them?"

Old friends. Pft.

Can you even consider those people your friends when all they ever did during your elementary and highschool years was to approach you whenever they needed something?

You hated them, really, they are one of the many reasons why you were determined to depart from your hometown. You only come back here from time to time because of your family. The moment you set foot into the city, you've already cut those stupid, snarky bitches in your life.

"Come to think of it, Jake will be there." Riki added, then you paused.

Jake? The aussie boy whom you've spent most of your childhood with? The same Jake who gifted you the largest teddy bear that he won in a shooting range in a local carnival?

You cautiously peered at your brother, asking him a mindless question for good measure, "Jake with a government name of Sim Jaeyun?"

"Yep, good 'ol Jake. Do you know that I'm taller than him now?" he snickers, visualizing the older boy's rage if he hears that comment.

"He's still here?" you asked once more, because surely, you thought that he's gone by now. Back to Australia to pursue a career there, it's what he has informed you before going your separate ways for college.

"Of course, where else would he be?" Riki side-eyed you then realization flashed on his face, "I get it."

"You get what?"

"You missed him." he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly that it had you slapping his shoulder in an attempt to terminate his annoying ass down.

"I don't! I was asking because he told me that he w-"

"Excuses, excuses." he cuts you off, waving his hand around dismissively, "I'm so gonna tell him that you missed him so dearly."

"Really?" you crossed your arms over your chest, a challenging aura radiating off of you, "Go ahead then, guess I'll give the clothes I bought to Sunoo and Jungwon."

He whined, you gave him the cold-shoulder, he pulled your hair, you yelled at him and you nearly went nuts when he licked your spoon filled with the last tidbits of the chocolate goodness. (which he knows is your pet peeve.)

Before a fight breaks out, your parents ushered you both to your respective rooms, saying that they'll take care of the dishes. Rubbing their foreheads and saying something along the lines of 'sibling dynamics never change.'

While showering, you pondered over the invitation, maybe you should go. Check out what's new, totally not because of a certain someone... you think?

Jake was your closest companion back then, a kind person with a heart of gold. If anything, you'd call him your true friend. He made you laugh, shared his food with you, and did everything together; attached to the hip like you two were born from the same seed.

Not until he told you that he's moving back to Australia to attend a university that he's been dreaming of since he was young.

You remembered crying yourself to sleep that day, then you made the decision to study in the city because there is no way in hell you'll survive college life here without your one and only friend.

So it really was a surprise to you when Riki revealed that he's still here. Does that mean that moving out was nothing but a mistake on your part? Does that mean that you could've stayed here and lived a peaceful life instead of hustling in a swarming city?

You shook your head, 'Y/N, don't be silly.' If you didn't explore outside your small town, then you wouldn't have the chance to meet him.

A giddy smile crept up your lips at the thought of your boyfriend. One day, you'll bring him here and he'll definitely love the area, especially the lake when it's frozen so he could skate on it, then you'll be there beaming then-

You slapped your soapy cheeks with both hands, scolding yourself for daydreaming, 'Stop being a delulu! It's only been a few months since you started dating him!'

You quickly rinsed and dried your hair, changing into some of your comfortable childhood pajamas and letting yourself fall into dreamland.

---------------------------------------------------

"What the fu-" you must have resembled that one Morty meme when he woke up, because who on earth is making all the noise downstairs when it's... oh, it's 1 PM. Dang, you slept that long? Like a log even.

You went to the bathroom and freshened yourself up, and when you deemed yourself presentable enough, you headed down to check what the commotion was about.

You definitely heard Riki shouting, but there is someone else. A voice that is eerily familiar but is somehow foreign to your ears.

You steadily walked into the living room, ceasing when you detected a mop of long black hair sitting next to your brother's shorter one.

"Huh?" you unconsciously uttered, catching the attention of the boys who are currently playing Mario Kart.

"Y/N?"

The rotation of the earth seemed to slow down when you saw him again.

There he was, the old friend that saved you from a gloomy childhood.

"Jake?" you hesitantly called out, making him smile, nodding his head in your direction before standing up and lurching towards you for a bone crushing hug.

"Y/N!"

"Jake!"

You hugged each other for what felt like hours, disconnecting when Riki cleared his throat, standing up from his position on the couch and retreating in the kitchen, "Imma go and fetch us some snacks, call me when you're done being lovey-dovey."

You rolled your eyes at your sibling's sass, returning your attention to the sunny boy in front of you.

"How are you? You look great!" he beams, tightly holding your hand in his while he scans you from head to toe.

It kind of made you self conscious, wishing that you should've made an effort to dress better but hey! He's your sweet, lovely Jake, you’re assured that there's no ill intention behind his stare.

"I’m good, busy with college and all. How about you? You look fine as heck!" you answered him with all the sincerity that you could muster, especially at the last part of your statement.

He looks great, like really great. You’ll even say that he’s transformed into an actual disney prince.

You do hark back to him being one of the rare good looking bunch of kids , but boy, did you not expect puberty to hit him like a bullet train.

Given that Riki is taller than him (man did not lie), his visuals are insane. He retained his puppy-like eyes, prominent cheekbones that were the result of his baby fats disappearing, his tall nose and jawline that are now sharper than a knife, and his lips.. his godforsaken lips. It's fuller and thicker, and not to mention, his beige skin is glowing.

He's a totally different person from what you can remember, and the more you observe him, the more you discern how much of a man he became. Only did you realize that you were blanking out when his phone rang, and being the nosey person that you are, you couldn't help but peek at the caller.

'Yuna.'

Oh, so he has a girlfriend. Well, you should have expected that. A pretty boy like him would surely bag any girl that he wanted.

"Right, I'll be there in ten." he ended the call and turned to you with an apologetic smile, "Guess we'll continue this talk later."

"I don’t mind, no problem."

Perfect if you say so, it'll give you some extra time to relax and sink the newfound information in your brain, that your childhood friend grew up into a dashing, debonair man.

"Here, give me your number so we could easily communicate." he hands you his phone, allowing you to type and save your contact.

"You're leaving?" just then, Riki emerges from the kitchen, holding a tray of munchies and setting it on the coffee table.

"Yeah, sorry man, I need to do something."

Riki side-eyes his friend with a sarcastic hum. (you think that side-eyeing people is his new habit from the amount of times he did it within a short span of time.)

"Do something or do someone?" Riki haphazardly asked, making Jake glance at you nervously, an awkward chuckle erupting from him.

"It's not like that," he glances at the clock, clicking his tongue and bidding his goodbyes, "I gotta go now. Y/N, I'll text you later."

He waves at you both, bolting through the door and Riki lets out a sardonic laugh, "Look at that fuckboy, so ready to get his dick wet."

"Hey," you pinched Riki's cheek, earning yourself a pained drone from him, "watch it. Since when did you learn vulgar words like that."

He swats your hand away, "Since birth. Ouch! Stop it!" he protests when you start pinching him more, not appreciating his raw sass.

"But really, he's a fuckboy now?" you inquired, flopping on the couch and grabbing a cookie from the plate, chomping on it while you watch Riki pour some juice for you two.

"Why? Are you jealous?" he teased, doing that same taunting eyebrow wiggle that you hate so much.

"I will literally choke you." you threatened, making him raise his hands up in surrender.

"Simmer down." he sat next to you, exiting Mario Kart and opting to play some anime on Netflix, "I don't know if it's true or not, but word from others is that Jake's been screwing girls since last year."

"Is that so?" you nonchalantly replied, listening to your brother gossip but then you got lost in your own thoughts.

The rumors are bad, but you somehow can't bring yourself to believe it. In the short amount of time since you've left, maybe some things have really changed. You wouldn't know, you weren't here to witness it.

You shrugged and watched the anime playing on the tv, something about a reincarnated slime. This is a good distraction instead of waiting for Jake to text you.

---------------------------------------------------

You don't know what came over you when you heard your phone go off, the message notification sound making your heart skip a bit. You hurriedly got off your vanity and laid down on your bed, gripping the phone and opening the text.

'Hey Y/N! Jake here, this message is kinda late, so sorry, I got caught up with something.'

You smiled and saved his number, typing in a reply... which you didn't give much consideration to and now you are regretting your uninhibited decisions for sending that.

You (8:45 PM):

Got caught up by your girlfriend? Who was she again, Yuna?

Jake (8:46 PM):

You saw that?

Noo, it wasn't like that I swear. I helped her fix her brother’s computer. She is just a friend, nothing more, nothing less.

Again, you don't know what came over you as you rolled over your bed, staggering at the fact that he's explaining himself even though he’s not required to. And you guessed you took too long to reply when your phone buzzed, signaling that he's calling you.

You straightened your back, clicking the green button, "Hello," his voice sounded gruff over the speaker, "are you mad? Promise, she's not my girlfriend or anything. Please don't be mad."

Straight to the point, you see, and his chatterbox personality still comes out whenever he gets mousy about something.

"Jake, chill out." you giggled when you heard his relieved sigh from the other side, "I'm not mad at you, I just did something for a while." you lied, "Besides, why would I be angry if you got a girlfriend?"

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, "I mean, we did make a promise back then so.." he trails off, and the flashback about your salad days takes over.

"Promise me that I'll be the only girl in your life!" you cried, smacking little Jake on the head.

"Ack!" he yowled, his tiny hands flying to the stinging area of his skull.

You were being unreasonable, but the thought of losing Jake to that ugly girl in class 2-A made your younger self throw a tantrum. Wailing like a toddler while stomping around the empty playground.

"Y/N! I didn't do it on purpose! She touched me first!" Jake tried to explain, sprinting to you when you accidentally tripped on a rock, face planting on the dirt, "Are you okay?!"

You hurriedly sat up, not wanting to look weak despite your crying and looked at him, staring at his teary eyes, maybe you are being unfair to him.

You sniffled, wiping your tears away before mumbling, "Just promise me."

Jake sighs, dropping to his knees in front of you and holding his pinky finger out, linking it with yours forcefully but with care, "I promise you, in the name of all my ancestors, that you'll be the one and only girl in my life!" he exclaims, giving you a toothy smile that immediately soothes all your stupid concerns.

"Well, except for my mom and Layla... and maybe some relatives."

You bit your lower lip, heart rate speeding up, "You haven't forgotten about that? We're like, what? Eight?"

"I take my pinky promises seriously!" he declares, making you laugh heartily at his mindless yet captivating jest.

"So, wanna catch up? Let's hang out at the beach." he suddenly proposed, catching you off guard. You peeked at the clock, it's nearing 9 PM but oh well, you're old enough to do this, unlike before that you had to sneak out of the house just to meet up with him.

"Yeah sure. Just give me a few minutes." you agreed and he happily cheered, the call ended after that and you hurriedly stood from your bed; Fixing your hair in the mirror, making sure to spray a decent amount of perfume and tiptoeing out of your house, trudging the road for a seven to ten minutes stroll to the beach.

When you arrived, Jake was already there, fixing a blanket that you assumed he brought so the two of you can sit comfortably instead of getting sand on your buttocks.

"Hello, kind sir." you greeted him like a princess, bowing to him gracefully.

"Hello to you too, mademoiselle." he takes your hand as he mimics the bow that you did.

"You speak french now?" you razzed, resting on the blanket first and tapping the space beside you.

"I was trying to go along with whatever skit you're doing." he says, his tone sprinkled with some attitude but nonetheless still sat beside you.

The atmosphere was tranquil as you both stared at the clear night skies, letting the evening wind blow through your faces, bringing a sense of solace that you really missed.

Until your mouth itches and you break the congenial quietude, bringing up the topic that has been bothering you.

"Say Jake," you started, staring right ahead and disregarding his sparkling eyes that he directed at you when he heard your voice, "you told me that you're going back to Australia for college. It really was a surprise that you're still here. What happened?"

He averted his gaze when you went and returned his stare, "Nothing. Just.. something came up, so my parents told me to stay here instead."

You frowned, your guts telling you that he wasn't telling you the entire truth, but you ultimately decided to let it go for now. You don't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing him to open up to you, knowing that it's been a while since you two had hung out.

Heck, you think- no, you believe that he's closer to your brother now.

You let out a sigh, giving him a covert smile and patting his back, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Nah, it's fine." his mood shifted into a lighter one, seizing your hand on his shoulder and clasping it into his, "Aside from that, I'm glad that I didn't leave, because if I did," he squeezes your hand, his warmth seeping through your bones, "I wouldn't be able to see you again."

For the nth time that night, for whatever mysterious reason, you went and reciprocated his actions, squeezing his hand tighter, sitting next to him closer, and smiling blithely at him, "Welps, I'm here now." you whisper, and you swear you saw something twinkle in his irises.

"You are." he smiles back, releasing your hand and slinging an arm over your shoulders, "That is why we need to make the most of it, okay?"

You hummed, leaning on his side and snuggling under his hold.

You’ll later say that you missed him, that’s it. You missed your friend, the person who stuck by your side despite your annoying and messy ass.

There's nothing wrong with spending time with a person that you had regarded as your human diary, the person that you once held feelings for. That was all in the past, for now, you'll catapult your qualms away and enjoy the moment.

When it was getting colder, Jake offered to walk you home, laughing like some elementary schoolers while trudging to your house, talking about the dumbest shit you had done during your juvenile years.

It was nice, it was always nice being with him. A sense of warmth within you knowing that you're safe when you're with him.

The reminiscing went to a halt when you stood by your humble abode's gates, "Welps, I'll see you again soon." you stood awkwardly, like you wanted to say more, to do more, but you don't know what words or actions there are to say or do.

Finally, Jake took the initiative and stepped towards you, enveloping you in his arms and wishing you a good night before parting your own ways.

As you lay down on your mattress, drowsiness lulling you to sleep, you couldn't help but think about the light pressure on the crown of your head when Jake hugged you.

You chose to remain ignorant, along with the thunderous thumping of your heart in your chest.

---------------------------------------------------

"Oh my god! He's a hottie!" Sunoo exclaimed, gaping at the picture on your phone.

"Let me see!" Jungwon dropped the other side of the shirt that he's been vying for with Riki, making the younger stumble on the floor, the other dashing on Sunoo's spot on the couch.

Your brother groaned, rubbing his stinging buttocks that made contact with the cold wooden tiles, "That fucking hurt."

"Language, Riki." your scolding fell on deaf ears as he continued muttering curses under his breath, directing such vile words to his friends.

You, Riki, and his childhood friends’, Jungwon and Sunoo, are currently in the living room, busting out the souvenirs that you bought for them when the topic of your boyfriend was brought up. (courtesy by the pocketz.)

They were whining to you, begging you to show them a photo, to which you shyly presented your phone up, your lover's social media account opened and ready for them to rubberneck at. It was safe to say that they were awed by his visuals, except for your bratty younger brother.

"I'm much more handsome than him," he comments, draping his body all over the boy who's holding the gadget and looking at the image as well, "bet I'm taller than him too."

"Shut up. Is height your only way of hyping yourself?" Sunoo rolled his eyes, shoving Riki off of him and letting Jungwon grab the phone and have his turn of stalking your boyfriend's instagram account.

"Wow, Y/N, your man looks like he came out straight from a manhwa." Jungwon stated, "And no, sorry Riki, I love you but there is no way you're more handsome than this guy."

"Whatever." Riki gave it up, choosing to hide the shirt that he's keeping tabs on from the corner of the box that made Sunoo shriek, yelling that he already called dibs on the piece of fabric.

Jungwon returned your phone back to you, going over to his friends and joining the chaos.

You chewed on your lower lip, staring at your boyfriend's picture. He does look ethereal. Standing in a field, looking sideways to subtly flex his side profile, and to top it off, the mixture of bright orange-blue hues of the skies highlight his sharp, charming visuals even further.

Your dopey smile was difficult to fight off, suddenly missing him and wishing for him to appear out of nowhere so you could hug and kiss him.

"What's the commotion all about?"

A wild Jake appears, infiltrating your home with a grin and scanning the area before sauntering to the venue of the ruckus You quickly close your phone, tossing it on the table and giving the aussie a side hug when he flumps on the unoccupied space beside you.

"These boys are bickering over the clothes that I bought." you explained, answering his question as he scrutinized the three idiots who kept on fighting over a hoodie, ignoring his existence in the room. "Apparently, they love these kinds of styles."

"I bet they do. Look at them going crazy over a pink hoodie." Jake derides, kicking Jungwon on the butt and chastising them for not even sparing him a glance when he popped up in the room.

"Sorry, didn't see you there hyung." Jungwon nonchalantly says, the other two temporarily paused and muttered an uninterested 'hello' before going back to their serious business of sorting outfits.

"Wow, really these guys." Jake sighs in displeasure, a grimace on his face as he watches the youngsters, "How long have they been at it?"

"About.." you trailed off, peeking at the time, "two hours now. It's getting kinda boring."

Jake pondered for a while, after a minute or two he turned to you and fished out his car keys, dangling it in front of you with a smirk on his face and hazel orbs full of mischief, "Whaddya think of a ride around town?"

You blinked at his spontaneous behavior, shrugging and pretending to think about the suggestion even if you already had an answer, "Sure. I mean, there's nothing much to do here."

Jake cheered and made a dash towards his car, mumbling something about revving it up and you have to come quick. You shook your head endearingly at his excited demeanor, truly like a puppy.

You went to follow him but not before telling the boys who are, until now, arguing over the mundane things about your souvenirs, "Y'all, I'm going out for a while. Look out for the house while I'm gone, and don't destroy anything while mom and dad are not here too."

You stood there for a while, observing their squabble, then you chose to drop the formalities since they're too centered in their own world to even give you the time of their day.

"No, I'm telling you, this is my size!"

"You're too puny for this, c'mon man, be serious."

"I ain't the size of your dick."

"Wha-! Say that again you fuckhead!"

Truly a pandemonium, you purse your lips and rubbed your forehead, shooting your parents a text about your whereabouts and leaving the house altogether because some children just won't listen.

Something scintillated within you when you saw Jake patiently waiting outside, leaning on his car and playing with his phone.

You took your time to extensively admire him, finally seeing him in a holistic perspective.

Him, standing there with his leather jacket, clad in an all black outfit down to his shoes. His charcoal tresses flowing the same way as the wind and oh, how he glows under the glittering rays of the afternoon sunlight is blinding you.

He's flawless.

"Yoi!" you snapped out of it when he called for you, opening the passenger door and motioning for you to get on.

You hurriedly went in, suspiciously not making eye contact, making you miss the knowing look he sent you. Now, you tried to relax, sitting on the leather seat but my god... his scent is so strong inside, it invades all of your senses, making your hands clammy.

Jake went and sat in the driver's seat, laughing when he saw you struggle to put on the seatbelt. He bent over to your side to help you out, brushing against your hand in the process.

"Your hands are sweaty." he remarked, then raised an eyebrow, "Are you.." he peeked at you from under his long hair, batting his lashes at you, "Nervous?"

Well that did the trick. You were caught red-handed and you’re not quite sure on what to or not to do, stumbling over your words to try and explain yourself.

"Hey, hey, calm down."

You took a deep breath. He's close, too close as he's still hunched over to you. Faces mere centimeters from each other but you need to be brave, gazing into his mellow eyes and feeling yourself settle when his hands enveloped yours, "It's just me, okay?"

"Right." you giggled nervously, "But no, I wasn't nervous. I was only out of it. You know, 'cuz I'm tired." you tried to play it cool like you weren't losing your mind just a few seconds ago.

He, at long last, moved away from you, letting go of your hand and starting to drive away.

"Really now?" he asked, a sly smirk on his lips but it was wiped off and was replaced with a pout when you, shockingly, flipped him off. (he did not expect you to do that, earning you a whiny "Since when have you been so violent?" from him.)

In your defense, flipping someone off is not a sign of violence, but rather an off-handed way of showing affection.

---------------------------------------------------

The trip went smoothly, you weren't anxious like a shivering chihuahua anymore, allowing you to appreciate the beauty of your hometown.

There were a lot of recently developed things.

New buildings, new attractions, and you even saw a glimpse of the upcoming jubilee; the stalls and decorations are a total giveaway.

"Woah, I was gone for a bit and changes like these happened already." you remarked, surprised at the amount of transformation in your settlement.

"Like they say, change is inevitable." he replies and you couldn't agree more. "By the way, can we go somewhere as our last destination?"

The sun was starting to set, the time for you to go home was getting close because your parents made you promise to join them for supper. But it's okay, one more location with Jake won't hurt.

So you agreed, letting him drive while you close your lids, enjoying the salty breeze from the ocean and letting the current of air brush your hair and skin, relishing in the serenity that you barely experience in the city.

After a few minutes, the vehicle went to a halt, hearing Jake murmur a small 'We're here.' made you open your eyes, and you were greeted by the familiar view.

"Oh my god, Jake!" you grinned, running towards the small, dinky wooden house that stood in the middle of the wild grasses and flowers. A rush of happiness flowing in your veins at seeing your 'secret base.'

You gasped when you entered, Jake following closely behind, you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

"Yeah," he bashfully puts his hands inside the pockets of his ripped jeans, biting his lips whilst he inspects your expression, "I took care of our secret base all this time. Corny, I know, but I really wanted to keep this in good condition."

He rambles and you listen, walking around the expanse of the room and true to his words, the four corners of the house are basically spotless. Despite the rust forming around the edges of the metals and a portion of the wood being eaten by some kind of insect, everything is still the same.

"Are you kidding me Jake?" you spun on your heels and ran to him, pulling him into a bear hug and burying your face in his chest, "This is like, the best thing that ever happened to me ever since I came back here!" you exclaimed, staring up at him gleefully.

He lets out a relieved sigh, returning your amity with the same fervor, "I'm glad, I thought I was way overboard with this."

"Pft. No way!" cue you trying to do his Australian accent, breaking the hug and proceeding to jovially push him away, "But genuine question here, why did you go all the way and take the job of being the caretaker for this supposedly tree house." you jokingly quoted the word 'tree house' with your fingers, making Jake hoot in laughter at the hidden agenda of your sentence.

"We really did our best to make this a tree house, unfortunately, we were too dumb to figure out how to build a damn house. Good thing your father is a good carpenter." he chuckles, recalling the memory of how and why the miniature flat was built.

"No, but really, the thing was.. I, ah fuck-" he runs a hand through his silky strands of inky locks, his ears turning red and your heartstrings were pulled by his adorable mien.

What your younger brother told you suddenly echoed in your brain, "Jake's a fuckboy now."

Yeah, he might be, considering the amount of girls that kept on clinging to him while he toured you around the metropolis. You saw a glimpse of it, his flirty persona, but right now, you firmly believe that he's still the same Jake that you knew.

Jake Sim, the guy who befriended you when no one else was willing to because apparently, you were a freak during your girlhood. The same guy who always protected you, stopped you from making poor life decisions that you'd probably regret sooner or later.

The same guy who took you to prom during your senior year, the one who gaped like a fish when he saw you all dressed up, a large grin on his face while he complimented you throughout the night nonstop. The one who never left your side and danced with you during the said event, not glancing at any other women's direction and focusing on you and only you until he couldn't take it anymore and kissed you on your front door.

Jake Sim, your first friend, first kiss, and inescapably, first love.

"Tell me." you urged him, cupping his face and staring right through his worries, "You can always be honest with me."

Jake visibly gulped, his hands moving on its own and engulfing yours that are planted on his cheeks.

"I wanted to preserve the memories." he admits, his eyes softening at your astonishment, "This was the place where we started our family, with our daughter Layla."

You snickered, "Layla.. how is our daughter doing?" you asked, suddenly curious about the adorable dog's whereabouts.

"So now you remember her?" Jake rolled his eyes, but still answered you nonetheless, "She's doing fine actually, she missed you a lot."

"She did?"

"Yeah, she missed you." the volume of his voice dropped, almost purring, raspy and feathery, tickling your insides, "Even her father missed you, if we're going to be blunt here."

"And who is the father?" you inquired, not noticing that Jake guided your hands towards his shoulders, his own palms gliding down your hips and gradually tugging you close to his body.

"Me, I'm the father."

You were too engrossed at the melodrama-like scene that you're starring in, not having the ability to discern that your faces are inching towards each other every ticking second.

*ring ring*

Like a wake up call, thanks to your phone, the two of you jolted and immediately separated, breathing heavily and thinking 'What the hell just happened?'

You answered your phone, your mom is getting dramatic because it's late and she's hungry, telling you to go back home right at this instant.

"Let's go, I'll drive you back." Jake's voice was distant, seeing that he's already outside, waiting for you to exit the house.

The journey back to your residence was a complete 180 of the atmosphere from when you both left. It was taciturn and morose, so much that it made you want to walk back home instead.

When he parked right outside your gates and you were about to offer him goodnight and farewell, he promptly gripped your wrist, preventing you from escaping the auto, "I'm sorry, back there, I.. I didn't know what came over me."

"No, no, it's fine. It was an accident." you say, but then you heard him mutter something, but you couldn't quite hear it. So you asked him to repeat himself.

"I said," he took a deep breath, "I want our friendship to be just like before. If that's okay with you."

You smiled, flicking his forehead as a way of telling him that everything is okay, "I would love that, you doofus."

---------------------------------------------------

Jake watches you enter your home before going off on his own apartment but not before stopping in an vacant road and banging his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.

That was so shitty and uncool of him.

Almost kissing his friend— his friend that has a boyfriend.

He sighs, shutting his eyes and repeating a mantra in his brain, 'Don't do that ever again.'

He barely managed to save the night, a poor attempt at that, thankfully, you're nice enough to let things pass and accept his proposition of rekindling what's supposed to stay in the past.

This is fine. It's foolish of him to think that he's something more to you. So he'll accept the fact that you'll always see him as your friend.

Even if he wants to love you, even if loving you is a complete necessity for him. He'll bury all of those, hidden in his box of filtered feelings and emotions, because once he lets go of his restraints, he'll lose you.

Dear lord no, the mere thought of losing you makes his stomach churn in a not so nice way, evoking the bile to rise in his throat.

Again, he convinces himself that he doesn't need anything else but to have you in his life.

"Jake, keep your shit together." he opens a compartment, looking intently at a bracelet made out of shells tucked safely in a clear glass box.

Wanting you was, is, and will always be more than enough.

---------------------------------------------------

Undeniably, your parents nagged you for being late to the family dinner, but you paid no mind to them, opting to eat your food at the speed of light and locking yourself in the privacy of your room, throwing your body on the comforts of your bed.

Once inside, you felt like you could breathe again, all the substandard smoke inhaled from earlier finally out of your lungs. You were dizzy from everything that happened today, and you want nothing more but to combust at the mixed emotions that are brewing up.

You almost kissed Jake, for fucks sake. The thing was, you liked the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way h-

You gasped when your phone rang, guilt running through your whole system when the screen lit up with the words: 'Hoonie 🐧'

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself for a moment before grabbing your device and answering the video call with a giddy smile and shaky hands.

"There she is, my baby, the love of my life, my wife, m-"

"Hoonie!" you whined, cutting the voice off which made the person on the other line chuckle, his loving eyes glimmer when he saw you blush.

"What? Am I not allowed to shower my baby with love?"

You giggled, lying properly down the bed and lifting your arms up so your phone would be directly facing you, letting you admire the man that you proudly call yours.

"Of course you can. How's your practice over there?" you asked, wanting to know his life’s events.

"It's fun actually, I was really nervous at first but guess what, the coaches here in Canada are so nice and they taught me new techniques so I can improve further! And, the pancakes here are so fucking delicious." he's basically rapping, you think, but you still find yourself getting drowned by his voice, the way he excitedly tells you everything about his training camp in another country is endearing. Although, you frowned when he suddenly chips his rants off, a sad sigh escaping his lips.

"Why, what's wrong?" worry graced your expression, making him coo at how adorable you are.

"Nothing. I just wish you were here with me right now."

You watched him sit up from his own bed, leaning onto the wooden headboard and intently studying you, "I wish I could come home to you after practice, then we could cuddle and kiss.. and maybe eat some pancakes too."

You laughed at his unseriousness, really, he could say the most romantic words out there yet he'd still sprinkle it with his weird uncle humor. Well, that's one of the many reasons why you love him.

"You're crazy about those pancakes aren't you?" you watched him nod his head, his eyes crinkling as he probably feels pride swelling within him for making you laugh.

"I'm crazier about you though." he winked, a boyish grin on his lips and you couldn't help but kick your feet like a kindergarten student with a crush.

"Gosh! Now you're just making me miss you more!" you grumbled, lying sideways and hiding your maroon colored face in your pillows.

His melodic chuckles resound in your ears, and you peek at him when he softly, sweetly tells you that he misses you too, tons and lots.

"No but really, aside from dying on how much I want to hold you," you chuckle at his dramatic sentence, "one of the agendas here is because a little birdie told me that you don't want to go to your town fiesta."

You groaned, "I'm gonna tell mom that you called her a little birdie."

"Hey missy, no tattling allowed here." he clicked his tongue before continuing, "But no, it was Riki who told me. And, I think you should go because I heard that it's a special celebration in your town that only happens once a year. Besides, you can't let Riki run around there alone, what if he accidentally stabs himself with a spoon?"

This time, you groaned and whined, explaining to him the many reasons why you don't wanna go. It's hot, there's too many people, and Riki is old enough to handle himself. Really, like a child throwing a fit which made your boyfriend massage his temples, and as you were on your number five reason why you didn't wanna go, you halt when his voice dropped an octave on the other line.

"What if I give my princess a little something tonight if she decides to go?" he says, and something about his tone sends shivers down your spine, especially the way he called you 'princess.'

A pet name that he uses only for certain circumstances.

"What?" you asked dumbfounded, knowing the purpose behind his words but your brain is not fully processing the situation.

"You see, I can feel it when my princess is kind of frustrated.." something in his eyes darkened as he looked at you through the screen, one that shoots arrows down to your core, "because I am too, honestly haven't touched myself for days because it's never sufficient when it's not you."

You almost choked when he let out a deep moan, and you could see the muscles in his biceps moving and bulging. The sound of his sheets rustling is very much an obvious sign that he's starting to play with himself.

"Hoon- I.." you trailed off, rubbing your legs together to generate some relief, every second you hear a guttural groan from him the wetter you become.

Oh fuck, you two were just being lovey-dovey a while ago and now it's getting real nasty... and you're loving every single second of it.

"Yes princess?" he says huskily, looking at you with hooded eyes, waiting for you to speak up.

"Help me, please." you pathetically whimpered, snaking a hand down and inside your shorts and underwear, instantly feeling the sticky juices of your pussy.

"Sadly princess, I can only do that when you say yes to the proposal, yeah?" he replied, tone webbed with feigned sympathy as he smickered at your helplessness.

Your eyes slammed shut, legs twitching and your core in desperate need of release, "Fine!" you concede, taking a deep breath when you heard your boyfriend's triumphant chuckle over the line, "Can you please just-"

"Now, now," the man uttered, biting his lower lip to keep himself from tittering at your desperate demeanor, "listen to me well and do everything as I say, okay?"

You nodded your head as an affirmation, impatiently gathering your wetness that was pooling in your heat, lathering them all over your labia.

"That's my good princess, now can you touch your clit for me?" he instructs, his heavy breathing echoing in your brain as you do what he said. A light moan escaping your lips when your finger nudges your bundle of nerves.

"Circle them around, honey, write my name on that pussy." your lover on the other line shudders at the thought of spelling his name on your glistening part, he'll definitely do it himself the next time he sees you.

"Ah! H-hoonie, need more." you cried out, keeping your voice at minimum so the other occupants of the house won't hear what's going on inside your room. "Please, I need more." you continued whining, writing every syllable of his name on your clit, an unspoken proof of him owning you.

At this point, you're having a hard time maintaining the grip on your phone, forcing yourself to look into the camera, resigned pupils begging for your boyfriend to do something. And when he did say to plunge two fingers in, you immediately obeyed, curling it into your g-spot, imagining it was his deft digits that are pleasuring you, it had you writhing around your sheets, but it's not sufficient. Not adequate to send you to the edge.

You fucking need him. You need Park Sunghoon himself.

"I-I can't Sunghoon, this is not enough I-"

"No baby, you can and you will." he rasped, and you can barely hear him stroking himself rather harshly, surely he's also imagining your soft, small hands on his cock as he works himself into his orgasm. "Let go princess, cum all over your fingers and I'll make sure that a grand prize awaits you."

You gasped, reaching euphoria with his encouragement, along with his insanely attractive groans while releasing his load into his hand. You moaned his name wantonly until you're panting and the only thing that you could think of is him, and the said award that you'll get when you see him after the summer break.

Your phone slipped from your grasp, exhaustion seeping in and you don't wanna move anymore. You'll clean yourself up tomorrow, opting to listen to the praises that your boyfriend is giving you, finally sleeping with a satisfied smile when you hear the words that will forever make the zoo in your stomach crazy.

"I love you, my Y/N."

---------------------------------------------------

Giving in to your boyfriend made you lament, and as much as you want to hate him for compelling you agree to this stupid festival, you couldn't bring yourself to do it because apparently, your bouncy brat of a brother who entered your bedroom in the wee hours of the morning (10 am) and his joyful celebration of you coming to the stupid event was enough to make you think that yeah, accepting that proffer may be worth it.

Still, you weren't prepared for it. You only packed the essential clothes necessary for the entire summer break. And it did not include any extravagant, shiny dresses or outfits that are suitable for parties.

Thus, that is how you found yourself walking down the cemented pavement to go to the nearest clothing store after having your not so peaceful brunch. With your brother and his friends going off about how amazing the night party at the beach for the festival would be, you couldn't help but listen to them yap.

You yelped when a car stopped beside you, and you were so ready to dash off or scream if some masked man tried to kidnap you. The familiar black tint of the vehicle made you stop and rethink the overreaction that you're about to pull, then the window of the driver's seat rolled down, revealing none other than Jake himself.

"A pretty lady walking under the sun without an umbrella at like," he paused to look at the imaginary watch on his wrist, "one pm, that's uncanny."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, "The only uncanny thing here is that," you pointed at his face, squinting playfully "wearing sunglasses inside a car, what kind of idiot does that?"

"Hey! This is for fashion!" he yelled, offended at your snide remark, completely forgetting the character he's in. "Anyways, get in. Where are you even going?"

He gets out of his car, opening the passenger seat for you and signaling for you to enter. He stands there patiently, waiting for you to move even though he was clearly upset at your joke, evident by the pout on his lips. You couldn't help but smile, flowers blooming in your chest with how sweet he is.

You amicably walked in his direction, pinching in his cheeks, "You're spectacular in those sunglasses. Now let's go to some clothing store because I have to prepare shit."

While getting yourself comfortable inside his car, you saw him fight back a smile at your compliment, his pronounced cheekbones failing to hide his grin at the last moment.

The drive resumed without a hitch with you explaining the reason for your impromptu trip, and being extra, he just had to go to the mall because, and you quote, "The mall has more options, don't be such a grinch about it." end of quote.

Now, you're having regrets part two of today's adventure because how on earth are you supposed to act when two elderly couples have mistaken Jake as your boyfriend? And he was so casual about it! He could at least act a little flustered because you were always caught off guard!

What does that make you?!

"You don't have to be so shy about it." he pokes fun at you, dragging you around the mall after telling you that he knows a good store that sells really pretty clothes.

"I am by no means shy. I was just surprised that's all, and h-"

"Here we are!" he exclaims, cutting your sentence short when he pushes you inside the shop.

The bell rang, indicating your arrival and you could hear a faint 'Welcome' from the back, probably the only employee for the day, considering the small space of the clothing store.

The ambience inside is nice, the interior was giving Parisian vibes, but you couldn't admire the place for long when Jake shoved a bunch of clothes in your face.

"Here, try some of this on and let me see." he says with an eager smile, you just have to bring out the full potential of your neocortex and thalamus and you'll be able to see his wagging tail.

"You mean I have to model you these?" you raised an eyebrow, entering a dressing room and burrowing through the clothes, picking only the ones that caught your eye, shaking your head when you heard Jake shout about him being the fashion king of your town.

The first outfit was a simple plaid red skirt and black long sleeve top, to which Jake said that it looks like you're going to a painting class.. it was a no.

Second outfit was a drag, he says, black sleeveless overall that you paired with a white crop top. Certainly, you'll have to remove the entire fabric if you want to pee, which is a good point.

You are now slightly fuming, wanting this shit to end, not until you saw an appealing, off shoulder white dress with golden linings on it. The subtle floral pattern embedded adds to its beauty and you think, yeah, maybe this is the one.

You threw it on without much thought, exiting the fitting room and showing it to your friend who was checking the prices of some of the clothes, "What do you think?"

Jake turned around from where he was standing, and it seems that time has been possessed by a turtle. His eyes widened, raking in your appearance and etching it into his brain, never to consign into oblivion.

Now, Jake is a devoted Christian. He goes to church to pray, thanking God for all of the blessings he has received in his life. He heard the pastor describe heaven and angels, and as a child, he thought that he'll only see that in the afterlife. Never would he expect that he'll experience nirvana and see a spiritual being whilst alive, all in the shape of you.

He was so mesmerized by you that he didn't even realize you were talking, repeating your question from before. Then his small sphere broke when an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"I think you look great in it, ma'am."

"Oh! Uh-I, thank you..?" you trailed off, looking at the boy's name tag, "Yeonjun?"

"Yeps! That's me!" the black haired man chirps, "Well then, are you getting that? Which I think you should because it really suits you."

You put a hand over your chest, thanking the employee before excusing yourself so that you can return in your previous clothes and pay for the dress.

Meanwhile, Jake was stupefied. He didn't get a word in and he was about to shower you with compliments! He scowled at the tall boy standing in the corner, and when he felt the menacing glare of the aussie, he raised his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry man, had to speak to her because you were acting like a statue earlier." Yeonjun explains, but the smirk on his face didn't sit well with Jake.

"Where do I pay?" you appeared out of nowhere, the dress hanging on your arms, effectively breaking the tension between the two men.

"Right this way, ma'am." Yeonjun gladly guides you to the cashier area, giving you a flattering grin while he punches the price of the outfit. Before he could say another word, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards a sturdy body and a black card being dropped in front of the worker.

"I'll pay for it, no buts." Jake's authoritative behavior took you by surprise, thinking real hard on what made him act like this.

You discreetly looked at him, and my god were you blown away by how.. hot he looks when mad?

Wait a minute.. is he?

You heave when you're suddenly hauled out of the store, too busy in your own daydream to actually notice that he's done paying, gruffly grabbing the paper bag from the counter and storming out like an emotional old lady in a telenovela.

"Hold up, Jake!" you forcefully remove your hand on his own, sizing up his weird attitude before asking him what's up, and why the fuck is he upset out of the blue.

He faced the other direction, tuning in on him as he murmured under his breath, and you think you heard some curses like 'motherfucker' and 'cunt' and you had to compose yourself, or else you'll have no choice but to slap him silly for acting so tiresome in the middle of a jam-packed mall.

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips, a stance that mothers use when they're drained of their child's tantrum, "My fucking god, Jake, if you don't tell me what's wrong I'll leave you right here at this instant."

"That cashier sucks!" he bellowed, turning on his feet to face you with a frown, "He thinks he's a hotshot just because he's tall and he's muscular but argh!" he threw his hands up in the air, now sporting a petulant expression whilst crossing his arms over his chest.

"I get it." you giggled, raising an eyebrow at him that had him further frustrated, "You're jealous because he's handsome?"

"Yada yada," he rolls his eyes at your antics, not accepting such despicable reasons, "I'm a walking disney prince, he's no match for me."

"Alright, calm down Jakey." you laugh heartily, finding his baby girl stance absolutely precious, "Get that frown out of your face, you'll get wrinkles!" you went closer to him, brushing your hands all over his face to emphasize your point, not stopping until you saw a glimpse of a smile on his lips. And when you're content, you link arms with him, looking for the nearest ice cream shop, your treat, to cheer him up.

After ordering and settling down in Baskin Robbins, (the only ice cream shop in the mall), you excused yourself for a while. Going to a mini stall that you passed by a while ago to buy a certain necklace.

A silver necklace with the initials 'J' on it. You already made up your mind on purchasing it, a small gift for your friend. Staring at the jewelry now, you know that the adornment will shine on Jake the best.

You smile fondly, silver suits him, you think. Elegant and sophisticated, and the miniscule topaz stone in the letter that represents his name is the selling point for you, truly a necklace made for him.

After thanking the owner of the stall, you returned to the ice cream shop with a pep in your step, but your jolly attitude died down when you saw Jake with a girl at your table. And it appears that he’s enjoying the conversation with the pretty woman.

'Well, fuck that, I ain't going back there when he's having so much fun without me.'

Your seething aura seemed to reach Jake, shivers running down his spine and his eyes were immediately drawn to the side, orbs widening in alarm when he saw you glowering.

Jake thought that the scariest moment of his life was when he was walking Layla early in the morning, and his dog choked on a piece of bone that was lying around in the neighbourhood, but as of now, he begs to differ.

His fear was audible in all ways, the girl in front of him noticed, making her follow what he was so riveting on and shit, that made you rage even more because it's fucking Kim Chaewon.

The girl who made your childhood a living hell. Your personal bully, the same girl who destroyed the sandcastle you built on the beach at the tender age of 6, the one who took everything away from you, the main cause of your departure in your hometown.

You felt so betrayed, the one person you thought she couldn't snatch from you, right in front of your eyes, was stolen.

You tried not to be affected by the scene, but you couldn't help the tears that pricked into the corner of your eyes when Chaewon smirked at you, and you'll be damned if you let yourself cry in her presence.

You turned on your heels, walking away and ready to commute back home but not before shooting Jake a disappointed look, ignoring his panicked expression.

Jake felt dread, guilt dropping down on his stomach when he saw hurt in your eyes, what's worse is that he's the cause of it.

He stood up right away, ready to follow you and explain the situation. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was about to take off, then he felt a hand grapple his wrist, a coy countenance can be seen on the culprit.

"You're seriously going after her?" Chaewon inquired, a mocking laugh escaped her lips, "What are you even gonna say?"

Jake retrieved his hand in a ruthless manner, sneering at the girl, "That nothing is happening here, she got it all wrong."

"Nothing?" she leered, batting her eyelashes like some bratz doll, "So fucking with me while she's gone and avoiding me when she’s here were nothing?"

"Listen here Chaewon," Jake aggressively leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth with a venom laced tone, "you do not say a word to Y/N, or else." then he left, running in the same direction that you took, making the blonde girl scoff.

Chaewon grimaced at the two cups of unfinished ice cream, setting her elbows on top of the wooden table and stagily resting her chin on her laced fingers, her attention stockpiling at a certain paper bag that's sitting on the left side of the comfy booth.

Scheme and trouble are her capital when it comes to instigations, "Game on, Sim Jaeyun."

---------------------------------------------------

"Y/N! Wait up, please, let me explain!"

You were well aware of Jake's pleads which made you walk faster, unfortunately, races like this meant that the one who has the longer limbs wins, and that wasn't you.

Jake caught up to you in no time, forcefully pulling you into his arms and enveloping you into a tight embrace, not letting you go even if you fight and hit him, accepting all of the profanities that you throw at him, he deserves that much.

It feels like you're in some k-drama. Getting back hugged by your childhood friend in a place where people are nowhere to be found, the skies turning into shades of gray and black, and frankly, you're getting tired of struggling knowing that you already lost the fight since he's so much stronger than you.

When he felt you go limp in his hold, he slowly turned you around so that he could examine you properly, a miscalculation on his part because seeing you in such a defeated state made him want to bury himself six feet under the ground until he's sure that he's paid the damages he had caused you.

"Y/N, please just one chance," he cupped your face, peering at you with such beseech, "please hear me out."

When you didn't speak, he took that as a chance to elaborate his case.

"I know it's wrong of me to interact with her, but she suddenly sat down in front of me. She caught me off guard and I was about to tell her off."

You let out a scornful laugh, pushing him away from you, "So you're saying that she's about to leave?"

He nodded, hope skirting his features but you wiped it all off with your next sentence, "Then why do you need to be so friendly with her, huh?!"

"I don’t want to make a scene there, Y/N. I have t-"

You raised a hand to stop him from saying more, having heard enough of his bullshit for the day, "Cut the crap, Jake, just- give me some time to think about.. t-this." your voice cracked in the middle and the sound reverberated through Jake's heart.

Watching you turn your back away was the hardest shit that Jake has to endure, especially since you're only a hair's breadth from his grasp.

Jake runs his hands over his face, attempting to rub the moisture away.

He has to fix this- No, he will fucking fix this even if it means that he has to go from heaven to hell.

---------------------------------------------------

You went home with a heavy feeling in your chest, ignoring the questions from your family and skipping dinner, (which is a big deal because your mother cooked your favorite food) since you don't have the appetite to join them for a delicious meal. You're tired, and all you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep in the comforts of your mattress.

You dropped your body in the cotton sheets after washing up, dressing yourself in a simple tee and shorts.

It was eerily quiet, then the horrid memories that you clobbered in the back of your head started to swim back into the surface, your hands automatically went to your hair, gripping it hard as you choked back a sob.

A stuck gum in your precious, long hair that had caused you to cut it short, which made your classmates call you a tomboy.

Your artwork that was destroyed because this jealous girl just had to spray some black paint on it, causing you to lose a painting competition.

That one time when you had a crush on this guy named Soobin, but then he rejected you when you confessed because a certain someone made rumors about you wanting to have sex with him wherein reality, you only wanted to have a date with him.

Being called to the principal's office because you were accused of cheating during finals, which you never did but for some reason, 'evidence' of your wrongdoings appeared, and you lost the chance to become the class valedictorian.

The root of all these shitty things that you experienced: Kim Chaewon.

All the pent up humiliation and anger were released. The thought of Jake, the person who was supposed to be your shield from the disarray being involved with the person that you disliked, no, hate the most is killing you inside and out.

You sniffed, shutting your eyes and letting the tears flow freely as you clutched your pillow close to your chest. How you wished for your boyfriend to save you from this dark hole that swallowed you once more.

"Sunghoon, I need you here please."

---------------------------------------------------

You were rudely awakened by the repeated taps on the glass, a suspicious silhouette moving around the see-through curtain. You observed the shadow for a while until you decided to take action.

You sit up, quietly grabbing a lamp on the bedside table and cautiously tiptoeing towards the window, you slightly jumped when the intruder knocked again.

You took a deep breath, raising the lamp on your left hand and slowly pulling the curtains to the side. You yelped when you were met with Jake's face pressed onto the glass of the window, clad in an all black outfit and you had to physically stop yourself from laughing with how hysterical he looks.

"Jake?! What the fuck?!" you whisper-yelled, putting the lamp down on your dresser and quickly unlocking the window, ushering him to get in before someone sees him and calls the police.

"What are you doing here?! And in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea that people might see and talk about this?!"

"I have ice cream. You didn't get to eat yours today." he shoves a plastic bag in your face, not minding your words as he huffs and puffs, probably out of breath since he had to climb the tree behind your house and go over the roof so he could slink into your bedroom.

Yes, because life is not that easy and clichéd that a tree would be conveniently placed right in front of your window on the second floor of your home. Jake has to work for it.

"I don't want it." you uttered, trudging towards your door and opening it, beckoning your head downstairs, "Please leave, I'll be nice enough to escort you out."

You weren't looking at him, you don't have it in you to take him in because you're weak. You're not strong enough to stay mad at him, you know that one gaze into his starry eyes and you're gone, and you couldn't afford to do that.

Still, you should've checked at least once because hearing the plastic being dropped on some furniture and his incoming footsteps made you assume that he's done, that he's leaving, which was not the case.

A surprised gasp left you when Jake's hand grasped yours that was holding the knob, closing the door with a slight thud and he easily towers over you. An uncharacteristic intensity in his usually warm sepia orbs made your knees buckle, your heart rate speeding up when you realized that his masculine body had you trapped. Most importantly, his musky perfume makes you dizzy, clouding your ability to make sound judgment.

"I came here to see you, so no, I'll politely decline the offer of me leaving so soon." he murmurs, his hot breath cascading down your cheeks, and you got even more flustered when his free hand gripped your chin, leniently guiding your vision towards him.

"Please, Y/N, baby. Will you listen to what happened earlier?" he rasps, earnestly peeking into your own eyes as he searches for an answer that he desperately needed.

You'll condemn his perfume, his minty breath, his insanely attractive voice, and the sudden romantic ambience of the room. You'll inculpate anything at this point except your fragile self, because is it supposed to be your fault if Jake has the ability to render you defenseless against his overwhelming power over you?

A shaky sigh escapes you, nodding your head absentmindedly. The pet name surely had an effect on you, to which you could only describe as a grand circus playing around your whole nervous system.

"Jake.."

"There is nothing going on between me and that bitch, okay? I only care about you," he pulls your interconnected hands from the knob, bringing it to his lips and gently pecks your knuckles, "I'll drop anything just to be by your side, you know that right?"

"Please baby, I'm so sorry. I will never get in touch with her ever again. I'm so fucking sorry, I don't- I hate it when you cry, I hate it when you're sad. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me show you how much you mean to me."

You're not an impulsive person, as you'd like to believe, you tend to think first before doing something that you might regret in the future, but as of now, none of that matters.

For once in your life, you took the initiative, connecting your lips with Jake's, pouring all of your feelings in one emotional kiss. He wasted no time in returning it, turning his face sideways to deepen the liplock.

So this is what it felt like to kiss your plush, glossy lips. This is what it felt like to hold you in a way that is more than just some fucking friends.

This is what it feels like to have you. Intoxicating, addicting, and astronomically out of his wildest dreams.

Jake was brought back to reality when he felt you suck on his lower lip, opening his eyes in a haste and pulling away from you.

"I don't think we should d-" he starts, but you hush him by placing your index finger above his lips.

This is.. wrong. You are in a relationship, right? You two shouldn't be doing this.

"Jake," you whisper his name with such mirth, "show me how much I mean to you.. please."

That was the last thing Jake needed, throwing out whatever rationality remained in his brain in exchange for the yearning that he desired for so many years.

He groaned when you willingly opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his tongue in, licking every corner of your cavern. You let his wet appendage graze your teeth before moving your own to clash with his. Both are battling for dominance in this erratic exchange of saliva which he inarguably won, and you couldn't keep your moans at bay when he sucked on your tongue.

Pressing his lips into yours once more, a heated make-out ensues with him leading the way, wrapping his arms around your waist and compressing you between his body and the door, wanting to lessen the distance. He wanted more, he needed more, and he sure as hell will make the most out of this.

He'll act as a clueless villain if it means that he'll be able to steal the most precious gemstone that's already owned by someone.

But who fucking cares?

How could one say that it's wrong when everything feels so right? No one is qualified to dictate shit when the pieces of the decimated past are starting to recoup themselves, turning into a masterpiece called a forbidden tryst.

"Keep it down baby, don't want your parents to barge in here don't we?" he muttered against your lips, head moving to your clavicle and you instinctively craned your neck to the side, giving him the permission to paint you with the most colorful hues of blue and purple.

Jake breathes through his nose, inhaling your rousing vanilla and strawberry fragrance. This is what he's ever dreamed of. You, in his arms, marking you as his and only his.

One rainy day, he woke up only to realize that he wanted to be the man to make you happy. He wanted to cook meals with you, travel around the world, take candid photos of you and set it as his wallpaper. He wanted to be the person that you'll meet at the end of the church aisle.

The recollection of when it started was totally blurry.

Was it when you cried over that dimpled man back during 8th grade? Or was it when he saw you in your ball gown for prom? He has no idea, but he does know that he's prepared to give and let go of everything just for you.

Jake clutches on your waist even tighter, nuzzling his nose in the nook of your neck and leaving lightweight kisses up to your mastoid. He smiled when he heard you giggle, biting your ear lobe teasingly, "Still ticklish I see."

You poked his side in retaliation, making him jump and shriek a bit, "So are you."

"Why you little-!" Jake carried you like a sack of potatoes, dropping you on the cushions haphazardly yet you felt his palm on the back of your head, acting as an insulation so the impact won't hurt you.

"You'll be sorry for that." he says with a smirk, wedging himself in between your legs, and before you could reply, he kissed you deeply, proceeding to attack your neck with pecks and bites, sucking in the spot that had you gripping his hair.

His hand started to explore your body, tracing your shape and going inside your shirt, stopping right under your boobs. Jake lifted himself off, his eyes speaking for himself, silently asking for consent if it's alright to remove your clothes.

You nodded and started peeling off the shirt, the fabric getting comically stuck on your forehead (that's what you get for wearing clothes from your junior high days). You both laughed at the witless situation, and despite all that, you felt him help you out of the predicament but not without leaving a kiss on the exposed lower half of your face.

When the shirt is finally out of the way, you hastily remove your shorts as well, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties because yes, you did not put on a bra, finding it ridiculous to wear one inside your own house.

You suddenly felt conscious when you noticed that Jake was unmoving and you found yourself covering your upper body, a movement that made the boy snap out of his daze.

"No, baby don't cover up," he grins sweetly at you, gulping down his nerves, "sorry, you're gorgeous, I can't help but admire."

You bit your lower lip, glancing at him and tugging at his own clothes, "Then be fair, give me something to admire too." you shyly said, avoiding eye contact when you saw him grin.

Jake instantly shrugged every piece of his attire, baring his all to you, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets because what the hell?

Of course you knew he was well built, his fitted outfits leave nothing to the imagination at times, but fuck you to the moon and back, you did not expect him to be this muscular. He has abs! For goodness sake, you weren't prepared, and it shows since Jake has to boop you in the nose to get you out of your daydream.

"I know the view is amazing," he gently laid you down, positioning himself on top of you, "but tonight is all about you, darling."

He pulled you in for another solid minute of make-out session, this time though, he touches you with more vehemence. Snaking his hand on your chest, gripping your left boob and lowering his head down to give the other the rightful attention it deserves.

You moaned his name when he suckled on your nipple, tongue circling around the areola and occasionally biting to add more to the sensation. He used his fingers to twitch and pull on the other nipple, his other hand trailing over your stomach, down to the navel until it reached your heat. He experimentally dipped a finger, gathering your juices and groaning at how wet you are for him.

"Baby, you're dripping and I've only done the bare minimum." he mutters, releasing your nipple with a pop and staring down at you with desire written all over his features, "You really want me that bad?"

"Yes Jake," you answered without any hint of doubt, "I want you, please, do something." you begged, and who was he to say no to his beautiful baby.

"Your wish is my command, princess." he grinned, going into full action as he slid down, coming face to face with your core.

Princess.

There was only one person who called you that. It should hit you by now that this is taboo... but it's just one night.

After this, you'll move on and act like nothing happened. Isn't it?

You weren't able to delve deeper into your thoughts when you felt a finger inside your pussy, a warm mouth lapping at your wetness and sucking on your clit harshly. Your back arches when another digit goes inside you, going at a moderate yet wonderful pace every time it curls and hits a spot that has you curling your toes.

"Right there!" you moaned, getting closer to your orgasm, Jake sensing this made adjustments to his ministrations, basically going into feral mode. His deft fingers pumped in and out of you vigorously, his sucking, add to that the small nips in your bundle of nerves are getting too much for you to handle.

"Cum for me." he uttered, and the mini encouragement and vibration from his voice had you undone within a few seconds. Gushing into his face which he happily guzzled on, not stopping until you told him to stop, sensitive from the overstimulation.

He went up to your face and you could see the shiny slick on his lips, "That felt good?"

You smile, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue, "Very much, but what about you?"

"Baby, didn't I tell you that tonight's all about you?" he shakes his head, using his own limbs to spread your thighs open, allowing him to slot himself in the middle, goosebumps rising on your skin when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunt, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing him closer to your soaking cunt. "Take me, Jake."

You really have a way with words or maybe you have this effect on him like magic, whenever you talk, all he could think about is making you his.

Inch by inch, he inserted his big, fat cock inside you and you know, because you feel it. The way he stretches you out just the right way, the vein on the side of his dick pulses every time you clenched on him, and when he finally bottomed in, you both let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

Jake grits his teeth, putting the tip in and he thinks he's crazy because it's just the head but your pussy is sucking him all in and it almost made him cum.

He calmed himself down, if he's intending to pleasure you as much as he could, he's sure as hell to make himself last longer than usual.

He lets you adjust to his length, taking in a slow pace when you whisper for him to move. Gently rocking his hips into yours, making sure that he wasn't hurting you in any sort.

Then you begged for him to move faster, harder, truly, you're making this more difficult than it's supposed to be. He could hardly contain himself, but the more you egged him on, the more he let loose.

"Ah!" you cried out when Jake did a rather ruthless thrust, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously and it was getting him drunk off of you. He got a taste of you, and it'll be difficult to stop. He rammed into you mercilessly, the creaking of the bed was the least of your concerns now as you're more focused on the delightful feeling he's giving you, unconsciously scratching his back.

Jake hisses at the pain, but it motivated him to no end, knowing that you love what he's doing to you right now. Knowing that the reason you're acting like this is because he's doing you, as of the moment.

Your warm, wet walls hugged his cock so nicely that it made him believe that your pussy is made for him. Truly, every time he pushes in, you get tighter and it feels like paradise.

Nothing matters but the hushed moans of his name on your lips, he doesn't care about anything other than how good you feel.

You weren't in a good condition either, you're losing grasp of what's real, drooling mindlessly at the delight you're receiving. The man on top of you gives it his all, fucking you with all his strength as his length hits all the perfect spots inside you, making your eyes roll and see stars at the back of your brain.

Jake really tried to hold on, but your sudden release made your walls squeeze his cock, a low groan coming out of him as he cursed and complimented you on how well you're doing for him.

"Baby, I'm close." he warned you, sweat forming on his forehead and dripping down to your cheeks, and he finds it so hot when you dart your tongue out to lick the salty substance away.

"Inside, Jake. Please come inside me."

"Are you sure?" he slowed down a bit, peering into your eyes for confirmation.

Then you cupped his face, smiling at him lovingly, "Yes, I trust you."

That was all it took for him to release his seed inside you, thrusting shallowly to ride out his high until he collapsed on top of you, rolling over and slipping out of your walls when you halfheartedly complained about how heavy he is.

He finally did it.

Jake felt like a champion, one chance was enough for him and he's thanking all of the deities out there internally for giving him the opportunity to show you the love he's been meaning to shower you with.

He felt his body stiffen when you laid your head on his chest, telling him to stay, but what terrified him the most was when he listened to your request and naturally wrapped his arms around you.

Jake focused on you, combing your hair using his fingers as he watches you drift into dreamland.

You look ethereal like this, glowing under the dim light of the street lamps outside and how he wishes for you to continue being with him like this until you're grey and old.

He'll slip out of bed later, (couldn't risk getting caught by your family in the morning), and write you a note to make sure that you won't feel like shit when you wake up. For now, he'll relish in the blanket of your warmth and even breathing.

The boy sighs, his hand moving to your back, fingers lightly tracing his name over your smooth skin, 'J A K E '

---------------------------------------------------

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but then Jake finds himself in your window again the next night, and you let him in every single time. The moment he steps inside your room, no more pretending, straight to kisses and you getting railed into your mattress.

It was like a routine you both fell into, but as much as the guilt gnaws on your conscience, it was too good to let go. A drug you couldn't get enough of, you both have fallen into this wild goose chase but it's very much late to back out.

That's what happens behind closed doors when the moon shines, the strenuous task begins during the day.

Seriously, how are you guys supposed to act in front of your family and friends when there is 'something' going on.

It was exhilarating though. Sneaking knowing glances across the room, sometimes with a matching wink, the subtle thigh touching, following each other into a room without any people just to steal smooches.

It was all fun and games until someone had to make the situation even more arduous, courtesy of your brother whining about going to the beach without your parents aka friendly bonding.

It should be easy, acting like normal best friends and playing around in the water but noo, of course even a simple hang-out would turn into a battle of 'the first one to gape like a fish loses.'

By all accounts, it never crossed Jake's mind that you'd be daring enough to wear a swimsuit that shows a lot of skin, because you're usually a conservative little girl. So he was astonished when you exited the changing room, sporting the sexiest red two-piece, shaking his head in disbelief when you discreetly threw a smirk on his way.

He knew you were playing a game, displaying your ass for him, swaying your hips while walking towards the chosen spot for today's hang-out.

Jungwon whistled, Sunoo made a surprised pikachu face, and Riki paid little to no attention to you when you sat down on the blanket with them, under a big umbrella that you rented out shielding you from the scorching sun.

"Is this what the city air does? I dig it." Jungwon says, giggling when Riki hollered in disgust, side-eyeing you before making a comment about how he'll smack Jungwon in the head if he remotely said anything like that again.

Jungwon raised his hands up in defense, looking over Sunoo's direction for assistance, "I was complimenting her! Help me out here, man."

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, doing his infamous googly eyes at his friend, "You did sound like a pervert there but yes, I'll agree that Y/N looks great." he turned to you and gave you a thumbs up, to which you returned with finger guns.

Jake quietly nursed his bottle of cold beer, not participating in the conversation until the three stooges pointed it out.

"Yoi, one beer is all it takes for you to go mute?" Jungwon mused, Riki followed up with the teasing, saying that maybe Jake hasn't been getting laid, thus, the cranky disposition.

"Wha-! No, lemme tell you that I've been getting it so well nowadays." he defended himself, but not without giving you an inconspicuous glance.

"I don't wanna hear your sexcapades," Sunoo stood up, pointing at the ocean excitedly, "I think it's time to play, no?"

The other boys agreed except for you, telling them that you want to take a look of the scenery first before joining them in the water.

"You sure?" Jake asked, and you gave him the positive signal and he shrugged, "Suit yourself."

It was his turn to make you flustered.

Now, you have seen the guy naked, but it was during lights out, not in broad daylight, so the gulping that you did was unplanned. Staring at him while he removed his plain tee, bearing his toned muscles and abs for you to ogle at.

You glared at him when he threw a smug look in your direction, thanking the gods that the other younger boys were oblivious as fuck, mainly, their priority was the race to the water because the loser will buy them milkshakes later.

"What are you playing at Jake?" you questioned, standing up from your seat and doing your very best to look at him square in the eye, forcing yourself not to look down.

"Baby," he says, walking closer to you, licking his lips when he focuses on your cleavage, "you started this didn't you? Make sure to finish it then."

You weren't able to utter another word when he walked away and joined the others in the sea like nothing even happened, like he didn't make your heart race with exhilaration.

You huffed, turning on your heels to ambulate around the area, unaware of Jake's predatory gaze on you.

You watched the soles of your feet sink into the sand, leaving footprints behind, your brain contemplating the whole scenario that is sure to bring a storm into the fragile house made of cards. Starting from when you and Jake began this.. affair. Then your thoughts drifted to Sunghoon, you mowed at the unearthly concept, your conscience punching you in the face.

Your boyfriend is probably out there, tiring himself out during practice, doing his best to improve his skating skills so he could show off and make you proud when he wins all the gold medals for his competitions. While you're here, doing the unimaginable with a man that is supposed to be just a friend.

You paused, hugging yourself as some kind of comfort. Maybe you missed Sunghoon so much that you unconsciously went and found some kind of intimacy, any kind of affection that will satisfy you while you're away from your lover.

Will you really put the blame on that? Yes, it's pathetic but you have already crossed an unforbidden threshold, a thorny one that bleeds you dry but the more you drown in it, the more you get hooked.

You shook your head, trying to get a clear vision of how this is supposed to end, too lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice a pair that was trudging towards you, that is until their voices startled you out of your reverie.

"Uh yes? How may I help you?" you inquired cautiously, looking around just in case, and you felt stupid for not covering up because you can definitely feel their stares on your exposed skin.

"Relax pretty, we won't hurt you." the guy with a mullet spoke, smirking at you, the taller boy beside him nodded before adding a statement in.

"We noticed that you're alone, it's kind of dangerous here you know?"

"I'm a local, I know my way around here." you replied in a monotonous tone, letting them know that you're not interested in whatever they want to do with you.

"If you're a local," the mullet boy came closer to you, invading your personal space which made you frown and back up, "then how come that your face is not familiar?"

You took a deep breath, getting ready to shut them down when a towel was draped around you, a protective arm slinging on your shoulder and pulling you into a cast-iron body.

"Because she's keen on keeping her privacy, to avoid harrowing guys like you."

You'd recognize that voice anywhere, but you were surprised to hear such menacing articulation from him, very different from the usual sugary one that he always uses.

"Well hello to you too, Jake." the taller guy with brown hair greeted the aussie, a friendly smile on his face yet his passive-aggressive tone threw his calm demeanor away.

"Hello, EJ and Nicholas, didn't expect to see you here." Jake responds, matching the taunting attitude of the duo.

You clung to Jake, not minding the droplets of water if it means that you'll feel protected.

"Oh, is this your new bitch?" the one called Nicholas laughed, giving an amused applause and a low whistle, "You really have great taste, Sim."

You heard a low growl erupting from Jake's chest, his muscles tensing and you saw how he clenched his fist, getting ready to throw a punch if the need arises, "Don't you fucking disrespect my girl."

"Ah!" the ponyo look-alike named EJ mused, like a lightbulb went off in his brain, "Your girl? She's your girlfriend?"

"No way!" Nicholas sniggers, a surprise etched on his face, not believing what he was hearing, "A fuck boy like you settling down with a girl like her? That's some fucking news man."

One moment Jake was beside you, then he was gone, launching a full blown strike into Nicholas's face, and putting your scouts honor on the line, you’re sure heard something crack.

"Jake!" you cried out, fear creeping into you as you tried to simmer Jake down.

"A girl like her? A girl like her?! Fucking asshole, take that back!" Jake yells, about to attack the other man again but a divine intervention transpired, namely your brother and friends who came to the rescue.

They noticed that you two were gone for a while now, and thank god they decided to hunt for you both or something very bad might have happened.

"Oh my! Hey! Hyung, calm down!" Jungwon and Sunoo held Jake back while Riki got in between, helping Nicholas up, asking for forgiveness to deescalate the fight.

"Don't apologize to that asshole, he fucking disrespected your sister!" Jake shouts, breathing heavily through his nose, struggling to contain his anger.

Nicholas scoffs and wipes the blood from his busted lower lip, "I was stating a fact, that she is your bitch."

Silence ensues when Riki harshly shoves Nicholas, his friend EJ catching him before his ass makes contact with the sand. You've never seen your younger brother display an act of dominance before, rage brewing in his glare as he spoke in a threatening tone, "EJ, you're the sensible one here, get this fucker out of my face before I do something that we'll regret."

"This runt-" Nicholas was about to retort but he was dragged away by EJ, effectively stopping the brawl.

Jungwon and Sunoo sighed in relief, finally releasing Jake from their grip. Riki then went to you, softly patting you on the head as if he's saying that he's got you, that no one is allowed to mess with you except for him. Then he turned to Jake, "Thank you for defending her, hyung."

You all decided to go home after that incident, the mood totally ruined and you can hear the boys plot revenge as payback while you're changing, and you had to stop them right there.

As a compensation though, you and Riki invited them to stay for dinner, to which they happily agreed, not wanting to miss the opportunity of having free food.

When all of you stepped foot inside the reassuring space of your home, the sullen spirit from before was lifted up by some video games and snacks that your parents provided, letting you guys have fun while they prepare dinner.

You watched as Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki yell at the top of their lungs, accusing one another of cheating until one of them actually does it and everyone loses their minds. You laugh, then suddenly you were hyper aware of Jake's presence beside you on the sofa when his knee accidentally touched yours.

Your eyes discreetly slide over to his hunched form, the dim lights of the living room somehow highlights his sharp features even more, yet it made him look softer. You always had a habit of being obvious it seems since Jake turned to you with a questioning look on his face, silently asking you what's wrong.

You have to make up an excuse asap, and the lacerations on his knuckles provided the best one.

"I think we should treat that." you pointed at his hands, crummy reason but you'd stick to that rather than admit that you have been admiring him like a creep.

"Oh this? It's fine, it doesn't hurt that much." he looks at his knuckles, waving off your offer but you insist, telling him that it's the least that you can do after acting as your knight in shining armor in your damsel in distress. Thus, you find yourself alone with him in the bathroom, Jake sitting on the cover of the toilet while you rummage through the cabinet for the first aid kit.

"Found it, here." you ushered him to show his hand to you, placately tending to his wound, cooing at him like a mother hen whenever he hisses at the sting, making him chortle at the way you're acting. When it's all done, he thanked you, ready to leave but for some reason, you tugged him back to his position and placed your lips on his in a flash.

Jake was suddenly rigid, not really knowing how to react at first but he is nothing but a weak man when it comes to you, so he did what he does best, show you how much power you have over him, kissing you back as hard as he could. Then your next words made his head spin, like he's drunk off of you.

"I haven't thank you enough, Jake." you murmur against his lips, lowering your head to have your mouth reach the skin on his neck, sucking and biting it until you have left a visible mark. Your hands slithered over his clothed body, feeling his abs as you got on your knees for him, "Let me take care of you this time, hm?"

How can he even say no to you, he's going crazy right now. Your doe eyes begging to him, to let you pleasure him. Your silky voice calling him baby like he's the only boy you've ever called with that name. Your small hand on his crotch, palming him over his jeans. He couldn't say no to you.

"Go on then, I'm all yours." he rasps, relaxing his whole body and enjoying the show that you'll gladly perform for him.

You smiled and bit your lips, excitement coursing through your veins as you began to unbuckle his belt, lifting himself up to help you remove his pants and boxers so you could get to work.

His length sprung up a bit, having been freed from its constraints, still a bit soft but your mouth still waters from its sheer size. Your adventures with Jake always end up with him pleasuring you, never really giving you the chance to appreciate him like how you've always wanted.

You gently grabbed his manhood, your finger tracing the prominent vein on the side down to his balls, causing a sharp inhale from the man above you. You licked your lips, gazing at him from under your lashes, "What do you want me to do, Jake?"

God fucking shit.

Jake could cum just from your innocent teasing but he has to hold himself back, he must enjoy this, because he’s aware that this will be the best blow that he'll ever receive. He hasn’t experienced it, but he’s about to and if it’s you, he knows damn well that it will be out of this world.

He takes hold of your hair, gathering your strands and creating a ponytail, letting you kiss around his crotch and groin, then he stops you with a rather harsh tug on your scalp.

"Take me baby, use that pretty mouth of yours, and only your mouth." he instructs, giving emphasis to not using your hands which you immediately obligue, massaging his balls with your tongue until he tells you to stop.

Jake went and grabbed his dick, the tip leaking with precum and had half the mind to smear it all over your glossy lips, "Spit on it, then use your hands."

He doesn't need to elaborate more as you collect whatever moisture you can get inside your mouth, spitting on his member and lathering it all over his cock, moving your palm up and down, the slick making your movements smoother.

He can't wait anymore, not when you're allowing him to do things to you. No more restraints as he grabbed your chin, your mouth forming an 'o' shape and gave you this look, quietly informing you that he's done playing. You nodded, finally taking him in your mouth and you couldn't help the pride that swells within you when he suppresses his groans.

You coughed up a bit when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, some tears forming due to gag reflex, but Jake was unforgiving, whispering about how good you take him and that you should do more if you really wanted to thank him for everything that he's done for you.

You began to bob your head up and down, relaxing your jaw and hollowing your cheeks so you could take more of him, ignoring the pool of spit that formed on the corner of your mouth, letting it drip down your neck.

You started off slow, gradually increasing the pace. You used the tip of your tongue to zone in on the smaller and more sensitive areas of his member, pausing the bobbing of your head so you could pay attention to his angry, red head. Wrapping your lips around it and sucking, like a child with a lollipop, slowly.. slowly, enjoying his grunts and praises about how good you make him feel.

Jake felt his dick twitch when you used your hand, wrapping it around the base of his cock, adding pleasure to the parts that couldn't reach your mouth (because he's big af), and he felt himself losing control, a small apology leaving his mouth before he sets the rhythm himself. Holding your head steady as he stood up, his manhood not leaving your mouth and he started thrusting mercilessly. His dominant side always gets to you, and he knows because he's hearing those gagged moans as he used you like his personal fuck toy.

"I'm close baby." he warns, and he looks down, and fucking hell, the image has been burned into his brain. Messy, you're basically crying and drooling around his cock, your hands helplessly holding onto his thighs for support while you struggle to breathe through your nose.

Truly, the best view he's ever seen.

He staggers, not bothering to pull out of you, releasing his seed inside your mouth, not giving you a choice but to swallow all of it.

Jake exhales, satisfaction painted on his face while he slides out of your wet cavern, finally giving you the opportunity to catch your breath.

He knelt down in front of you, his forefinger smudged the strayed mixture of his cum and your saliva on your chin, swirling it around before inserting his digit inside your mouth, a smirk forming in his lips when you obediently sucked on it.

"That's my girl, now let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

---------------------------------------------------

"Bro, hey! Are you listening?"

Felix, one of Jake's friends from Australia snapped his fingers in front of the said man, breaking him out of his daze as he turned his attention from his phone to his friend.

"Pardon?" he asked, shiny eyes blinking while smiling innocently.

Felix rolled his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at the younger, "You've been fixated on your phone the whole day. Say, you're waiting for your girlfriend to text you, no?"

"I'm not!" he fights back, "And how many times do I have to say this, she's not my girlfriend!" he grumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Jake has always been a popular guy in this town, and obviously, after the incident at the beach, rumors fly through gossip faster than light.

"Jake and Y/N are together!"

That's what they all say, and as much as he loves the sound of you two dating, he's worried that the.. girls that he's been with might go crazy and attack you. He doesn't want you to get hurt, but all that he can do is deny everything. Heck, even Jungwon, Riki, and Sunoo helped in putting the baseless fire out.

"Doesn't look like it to me." Chan then interrupted the discussion, emerging from the kitchen with bottles of coke in his hand, setting it on the table and letting the other boys refresh themselves from the heat of the summer season.

"That's what I've been saying." the freckled boy agrees, finally having someone side with him.

Jake was about to retort again after gulping his sugary cola, but he stopped when he received a notification from you, saying that you need a ride and you're currently at the parking area behind the mall. He jumped from his seat, bamboozling his way out of his friends' apartment, bidding his friends a hasty goodbye.

Jake went back for a second, his head peeking from the door, "Oh and Felix."

Said man was startled, pointing at himself with a confused look on why his name was called all of a sudden.

"Yeah you, to answer your question earlier. No, I won't be going to the club or party or whatsoever. Hooroo!" and he was gone.

The two boys who were left in the living room looked at each other and shrugged, "Not his girlfriend, he said."

---------------------------------------------------

You were near having a panic attack, who would've thought that going to the mall to buy a new dress (because your last one was sadly lost and never found), would cause such chaos?

Tons of girls are either asking you about how you got together with Jake and how lucky you are or just plainly wanting to pull your hair out for stealing their prince charming... and you had enough of their bullshit.

You stood there in the parking lot, waiting for the very main cause of your dilemma to come and pick you up. Just then, a familiar stygian Kia entered the empty lot, stopping right in front of you then Jake himself appeared right out of the vehicle.

You wanted to scream at him for causing you so much trouble but a lump was caught in your throat when you saw his disheveled appearance, clearly rushing here to get to you but still managed to look exceptionally good.

How can one look like a painting da Vinci himself made even when his hair is all over the place and the collar of his denim top was not fixed at all?

Fear not, only he, Sim Jaeyun, can pull it off.

"Y/N! Are you okay?!" he dashed to you, holding you by your shoulders and examining you thoroughly if you were hurt. He swears, if he sees one tiny scratch on you, he'll haunt whoever caused the damage.

You almost cried at how sweet he is, but you opted to bury your face on the crook of his neck instead, surprising him but he returned the embrace nonetheless, entwining his fingers on the strands of your hair and setting his chin atop of your head. Apologizing for whatever happened to you, knowing that he was the root of all of these.

"No," you detached yourself, staring down at your white sneakers and how it complements Jake's brown leather shoes, "I guess I was shocked because I was literally being mobbed in there. Felt like a celebrity for a second." you tried to joke about the situation but Jake remained sympathetic.

"What are you even doing out here?"

"Well, I still need a dress for the festival.. which is tomorrow."

Jake facepalmed, laughing at his stupidity because how could he forget?

He held your hand in his, tugging you with him and ushering you inside his vehicle. When asked where he was taking you, all he replied to you was giddy "Secret!"

Soon, you arrived at his flat, and you were awed because it's been too long since you visited in here. Certainly, it still looks the same and the memories came rushing in like a wave.

Running around the house, chasing Jake with a spatula because he thought it was a great idea to scare you while you were in the bathroom, planting an oak tree in his small backyard, making him promise to take care of it even if he’s hoary and hunched.

You followed him to the steps, a delicate smile on your lips when you saw the rust on his door, surely a sign of the aged building. Upon entering, a familiar border collie ran up to you, sniffing you before wagging its tail in pure joy, making you squeal because she remembered you.

"Layla!" you hugged the little bundle of joy, rubbing her fur zealously, "You've grown so much! I missed you!"

Hearing your voice must have set off something from the dog as she threw herself over you, basically begging to be babied like how you did before. And you are willing! Except that she’s hogging you, her whole weight pushed on you which made it hard to breathe.

Jake, who was standing at the side, watching the wholesome interaction with glittering expression sensed your distress, "Layla! Come here!" he called the dog, using the treats that were stored as a way to entice the furry creature, which definitely worked.

"Sorry about that, she gets excited really easily." Jake went to you and helped you up when Layla was busy with her snacks, "Told you she really missed you." he adds, making you chuckle.

"I can see that. Well, what do you need to do that requires you to kidnap me here?" you asked, gazing at him curiously which made him nervous.

"Right." he scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish grin, "Would you mind if I go to my room for a bit?"

You puckered your lips in curiosity but didn't question him any further, telling him that it's fine and that you'll wait. When he got out of his room, he was holding a pink paper bag, shyly walking up to you and handing you the item.

"What is this?" you accepted the bag, fishing whatever it was residing in there, then your eyes shimmered in recognition, hastily pulling it out and an attire was presented to you.

An elegant, satin red dress. An outfit that looked exactly like the one that you were eyeing back when you were 15, the age where you wanted to act like a model or some actress, and the red dress in a catalogue made you feel like you could reach such dreams.

"Do you want to try it?" he asks and you nod your head, heading towards the bathroom, leaving Jake and his nerves for him to calm. But you wouldn't let him, how could he when you got out of the toilet wearing the shade of autumn that represents all of his thoughts and emotions for you.

You walked closer to him, merrily twirling around to show off, "What do you think?" you look at him expectantly, skittish for his reaction.

Jake gave you a once over, hands in his pockets as he raked in your appearance, from your head to toe, and he tried his best to come up with a coherent answer. "You are," he inhales, removing his hands from his pockets and throwing it up in the air and placing it on either of your shoulders, "ethereal."

His heart beats strangely fast, which is a natural occurrence whenever he's with you. It always happens whether he likes it or not, something that he has no control over. He fixes his gaze into your gorgeous eyes and he soaks in them.

Everyday he swims to the thoughts of you, diving deep into the complexity of his feelings and hoping that when he ascends, you'll finally be able to see him in a different light.

"Say Y/N, would you like me to chaperone you during the fiesta?" he queries, and you couldn't help but laugh at his old method of asking you to be his date for the party.

You gathered his hands on your shoulders and held them into yours, transferring your warmth into his own skin as opposed to the cool air that starts to surround the house due to the darkening of the skies outside and the whirring of the air-conditioner, "I would love to."

Then your phone sets off, what a way to ruin the moment but you were pulled back into reality when you saw the caller.

"I'll be right back." you gave the man a tight smile, trudging down the hallways and out to the backyard to give yourself some privacy, unbeknownst of Jake's footsteps that followed you due to your anxiousness, but he made his presence hidden, and his blood boiled when he realized who it was that you're talking to.

He heard snippets of the conversation, and as much as he knows that he's in the wrong, the jealousy rises up to his stomach unprovoked, choking him until he's out of air.

"Yes, Hoonie, I'm having the best time here."

Best time because he's with you, making you feel like you're the only woman in the world.

"I do, I'll send you a photo of the dress soon."

The dress that he personally bought.

"Alright, take care. Uh-huh, love you too, my figure skating prince."

Well, that's fucking it.

The green eyed monster got the best of him, rage seeping through his bones and.. and he thinks he needs a glass of water to settle down. He runs to the kitchen, reaching for his favorite mug and filling it with ice cold water, letting it run down his throat and he wishes he could just dump it down on his brain to cool off the fiery envy that swiftly creeps up on his whole being.

He jumped a bit when you called his name, startling him when you were there, standing by the kitchen door with concern gracing your features, "Are you okay? Is something wrong? You don't look too good."

A barrage of questions and he answered it all in his brain in fear of saying something that might potentially hurt you.

Is he okay? No.

Is something wrong? A lot. You. Him. This. Whatever the fuck this is.

He doesn't look good? That’s where you're wrong. He always looks good.

His internal battle and fuming facade had you worried, taking steps closer to him in an attempt to console him. He was fine a few minutes ago, now he’s acting like this?

The moment you stepped into his sanctuary, touching him on his biceps, all his walls broke down and he immediately pulled you closer to him, connecting your lips together in a hot, messy, searing kiss.

He held you by your waist and you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck, granting him the license to trap you between his sturdy body and the marbled counter.

On the other hand, when your boyfriend called you, taking in his soft voice, his longing words. Hearing him tell you how much he misses you and how everything will be easier only if he has you by his side.. and his never ending canadian pancake jokes, this time with maple syrup.

It reminds you that you are taken, but you let yourself fool around for too long and you're stricken with guilt. Sin written all over your heart and soul because Sunghoon's own heart was getting broken without him even knowing and Jake's will sooner or later be shattered as well.

You walked back inside the building, determined to put an end to this fallacy as soon as possible. You've let yourself fall into the rabbit hole, and you believe that you have been only missing your other half to the point where you willingly rekindled an old flame, thinking that this summer thing would be the answer to your loneliness.

But you proved yourself wrong yet again when you let yourself be submerged into Jake's honeyed touches and spicy kisses.

You couldn't simply say no to him, not when every crevice of your body has been explored by him, savored and shaped to perfection exactly to his liking.

You moaned his name when his hand massaged your boobs over the thin dress, his thumb adding slight pressure to where he's sure your nipples are located. His tongue never stopped invading your mouth, asserting dominance that you've never seen from him before.

He hoisted you up the counter, spreading your legs for him to slot his tiny waist in, and when the need for oxygen was needed, you both parted ways and the string of saliva between your lips made the tips of yours ears red.

Jake's heated gaze had you embarrassed, his left hand on your thigh started moving, deft fingers tracing faint lines on your skin and you barely made out the words.. 'M I N E.'

You were inclined to return his stare, and all you could do was to revive the long forgotten yearning that you had left a year ago, everything that has been existing inside his hazel orbs.

There were a lot of uncertainties. What if you didn't leave your small town to pursue a city life? What if you stayed here instead? Will the changes be different like how things were right now?

No lingering stares across the room, no skinships concealed by friendship, no more denying of what you two really are because.. fuck this all. Friends do not know the taste of each other, a simple platonic relationship doesn't give you a whole orchestra playing Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams like that one scene in Bridgerton.

No, friendship doesn't make you feel like you're in heaven but love does.

This was supposed to be a one time summer fling, when the leaves turn into the color of wine that you had been nursing late at night, a past time that you developed whenever you're troubled about what you're really going through with Jake; you shall leave it all behind.

You will, but for now, the necessity to bury yourself in Jake's iridescence is your utmost priority.

You pulled him in again for a kiss, this time with a plan.

"I don't think this will reach the bedroom." he murmurs, his hands all over your body as he tries to feel you more, palms finally back on your thighs to lift your dress up, revealing black laced panties that had him groaning and inevitably, harder down there.

You giggled, pecking his cheeks while you started to unbutton his denim shirt, tracing your fingers over his golden skin, "I don't mind, do whatever you want. Also, leave this on." you say, admiring his chiseled muscles under his top.

He curses under his breath, you really know how to rile him up. You know him too well, and he's down bad for that.

Jake has always been a good boy, and he doesn't need to be told twice. If you told him to do whatever, then he'll do just that. First, he plans to fuck you in that tiny little red dress.

His hand traveled to your panties, chuckling when he felt a wet spot in the middle, his middle and forefingers playing with it, "Damn baby, haven't done anything yet you're this wet?"

You whined at his teasing, moving your hips for more friction but Jake pulled away, causing you to protest which seemed to please him, given by his smug countenance. He clicked his tongue and raked in your appearance, in a complete disarray and he's glad that he can affect you this much.

"I need you to be patient, baby. Can you do it for me?" he mumbles, voice dropping a pitch lower and it makes you wetter because it's so damn hot, not like his predatory leering helps your condition. Although, as much as you wanted to test his leniency, you decided to listen to him this time around, sitting still and watching him do his thing.

Your obedience greatly pleased the man, leaning down to give you a peck on your top lip, lightly nibbling on it before pulling away.

His hands move on your arms for a second, moving up to your shoulders. His calloused palms, probably from doing sports and playing the violin, are clement against your smooth skin, goosebumps running along the path that was traced.

Jake seems to be in a trance, hyper fixated on your body as he glides the straps down, guiding your arms so he could remove them through the straps, causing the upper portion of the dress to get loose in the process.

The action reveals more of your supple chest for him to gawp and you let out a gasp when Jake buried his face on your cleavage, trailing smooches on your chest and when he can’t take it anymore, he straightens himself up and he completely removes the bodice of the dress.

He takes the initiative to bring your bodies closer together, spreading your thighs wider and bunching the dress on your waist, until his hard on can be felt on your clothed womanhood.

Jake then resumes his ministrations, hands going over your belly, outlining your rib cage and his fingers traces the shape of your breasts, the sensations are building up fast and the agitation is starting to get to you. You made that apparent when you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him closer to give him a silent signal of where you want him to touch you.

He only chuckles, dipping his head near your jawline to trail kisses over it, reaching your ears and whispering sly statements, “We’ll get there, princess. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride, okay?”

“But Jake..” you whined and he shuts you up with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss where his tongue dominates your mouth, he takes that as an opportunity to engulf your boobs into his large hands, tenderly kneading and squeezing, tracing your areola in the process to make you squirm.

You moan into his mouth when his fingers rub your erect nipples slowly, increasing in speed and pressure as seconds go by. Your moans getting louder when he adds some twisting and pulling, pleasurable but not enough to cause pain.

Jake can’t help the groan that escaped him due to your incessant grinding, directly stimulating both of your lower areas. Your damp panties have been clinging on your pussy, your juices soaking even his jeans, specifically the area of his raging boner.

Jake disconnects from the liplock, observing your tousled appearance and despite his wobbly vision, he can confidently say that you’re insanely otherworldly.

The vermillion tint on your cheeks, blown-out pupils and bruised lips. Truly, the epitome of the goddess of beauty, his one and only.

“Jake?” you questioned, in a hazy stupor with your labored breathing, “What happened?”

Jake shakes his head, leaning down to rub the tip of his nose on yours, giving you a butterfly in the stomach-inducing feelings, “Just that you’re gorgeous.”

He chuckles when you squeaked at his compliment, removing his hands from your boobs in lieu of grabbing your ass, further pressing you on his hardness before leaning down on your chest, his warm breath hitting your mounds that had you shuddering.

You clutched on his shoulders for support when he began sucking on your nipple and gyrating on your covered wetness. You felt him flatten his tongue on your boob, covering an ample surface, turning into the hardened edge of his wet appendage flicking the nub repeatedly.

A brave lioness is what you are, primed for battles and victory yet you are nothing but a lady in desperate need of release in Jake’s presence and skillful tongue.

Soon enough, when your clit has been prodded far too many times by the rough fabric of your undergarment and your erected buds have also reached their limit, your back arched in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you like waves.

Jake continued his movements, ceasing only when you whine in overstimulation.

“My baby did a good job.” Jake praises you, patting your head and smoothing the bird’s nest on top of it. A spent smile is painted on your face, slumping onto the tiled countertop to catch your breath, then your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets when you hear Jake say that you’re not done yet.

He merely raised an eyebrow, getting rid of his pants and personally manhandling you into a position of his liking but is also comfortable for you. He pushed your panties to the side, too impatient to remove it and lining the tip of his leaking cock in your entrance.

“I still haven’t cum yet, princess.” he mutters, holding your thighs apart as he plunges into you, inch by inch, “You’ll help me, right?”

You nod your head, hands going over to his chest and he immediately grapples it in his, groaning in pleasure when your gummy walls sucked him in, but he held the overwhelming urge to do it one go as he wanted to feel you in the most intimate way.

“That’s my good girl.” he moans, bottoming out of you. He stays motionless for a few minutes, giving you adequate time to adjust. Then he started moving, freeing your hands to grip the sides of your hips, his pace was tamed at first but he went feral when you beseech him for more.

His thrusts gradually escalate, fast-moving and solid, making you feel so full. Every drag of his member on your slick creates squelching sounds mixed with your mewls, it rings in your eardrums, and the result is you getting wetter.

You’re basically lathering his counter and skin with your juices but Jake couldn’t care less, frowning in concentration as he does his best to pleasure both of you.

“Don’t stop.” you mumble along with other incoherent sentences, his darkened eyes glimmered, ramming inside you with all his might, adjusting a bit so he’s able to hit your sweet spot, and when he finally hits it, his reward is your chants of his name.

“Don’t worry, babe.” he grunts, tilting to match your face to grace you a saccharine kiss, his pace unrelenting and merciless, not wasting any minute as he bullies into your wetness without any care in the world, “I don’t plan on stopping.” he mumbles against your lips.

The knot in your belly gets tighter each time his cock grazes your g-spot and you purposefully clenched around him, causing him to unconsciously dig his nails into the flesh of your thighs.

The euphoric feeling was too much for you to handle, closing your eyes and dumping your head on his shoulder.

Jake’s gasps and low grunts are echoing in your head, slightly opening your eyes when you feel a rather pleasant yet burning sensation, realizing that he’s rubbing your clit. Adding onto the stockpiling gratification.

You heard Jake curse, expressing how breath-taking and marvelous you are, in every aspect and facet. You tried peeking at him in spite of your incoming cloud nine, and in your drunken stupor of paradise, your enticement towards his sweaty neck invoked you to lean in and suck on his skin.

Jake moans in delight, a specially harsh thrust was given to you in the process, taking you by surprise as it strikes the perfect site that had you tingling and creaming all over his member.

You accidentally bite a bit too hard on his neck, marginally leaving teeth marks that’ll surely take at least a few days to heal.

Jake’s hips stuttered, groaning rather gutturally at your dripping, warm cavern’s involuntary clenching, seizing his cock and as much as he wishes for the intercourse to carry on for a little longer, he has also reached his limit.

He releases his seed inside, painting your walls white and warming your core. He keep his languid strokes to ride your highs, halting when the dopamine dies down.

The smell of sex drifts in the kitchen. Sweaty, hot, satisfaction and fulfillment surrounds the place. Both of your strained breathing reiterates the events that have transpired.

You made the first move, lifting your head from his shoulder and pushing his sweaty locks that got stuck on his forehead, smiling at him giddily, “That was amazing.”

He wheezes at your pronouncement, “I know. You are amazing.”

“Why is it always me?” you complain, not accepting his never ending praises towards you. Besides, it wasn’t you who’s doing all the work in your.. endeavors.

“Because,” he engulfs your hand in his, kissing your knuckles and fingers one by one, “that’s what you are. Amazing.”

You roll your eyes at his flattery, then the joy you’re feeling turns into sorrow when he pulls out of you, some of his cum oozing out of your hole. The emptiness nearly made you whine but you fight off the impulsive thoughts of doing so.

After cleaning up and making sure that you’re presentable for other people to see, Jake offered to take you home and you accepted. Throughout the ride, you two are singing at the top of your lungs, ranging from love songs to rock songs, tittering when the other’s voice cracks.

When you’re finally home, you are reluctant to separate with him, but he assured you that he’ll see you tomorrow. As he should because he is your date for the event.

Bidding goodbyes was a herculean task, managing to do it when your parents themselves went out of the house due to their anxiety at the car parked in front of the house for 10 minutes.

You steer away from your family’s curious questions, telling them that you are tired (the truth) and you crave some alone time to rejuvenate.

It is a very particular day, like you two have discovered something new that veered your social link to a blithe yet brooding one. The possible consequences of your poor decision-making was washed away by fatigue, thoughts of Jake and the excitement of tomorrow’s event lulling you to a dreamless yet deep sleep.

---------------------------------------------------

You watch the youngsters run and jump in thrill at the vibrant and bright atmosphere of the location for the town’s long awaited celebration, sighing through your nose but still laughing at their energetic vibes.

“Takoyaki!” Riki exclaims, nudging his friends and quite literally yowling at them when they disagree at his suggestion.

“I want some candied apples.” Jungwon points at a certain stall, Sunoo’s eyes following suit and the smile that he’s sporting is the biggest you have ever seen. (desserts do have that kind of effect, maybe that’s why they always have a room in the stomach.)

“Really? So early in the evening and you want sweets?” the tallest among the guys deadpans, turning to you for help, “Knock some sense into these idiots.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, nonchalantly waving Riki off, “Put on your big boy pants and deal with it.”

You ignore your brother’s bleating, facing Jake who is beside you the entire time and fretting over the fact that your mother and father left you to look after the boys to have their ‘alone time.’

“Jake?” you called for his attention when you noticed that he wasn’t responding to your hardcore yapping, only to find him immersed at you.

“Jake? Is something wrong?” the thumping in your chest accelerates as he peers at you with dreamy eyes, permeating with fondness and yearning. You are not entirely sure on how to react, standing there like a statue until the man in front of you scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.” he laughs bashfully, “You are simply glowing, a rare jewel. I can’t stop admiring you.” he admits and the blush on your cheeks darkened.

Your appearance is not something to be confident at, you look decent at best if you say so.

You wore the red dress that Jake gifted you, paired with rubber shoes of the same hue. Your hair is styled in a dutch braid, decorating your strands with various pins and ribbons for the aesthetic, and finally, a natural make-up for added radiance.

You literally see no reason for him to goggle at you, but then again, you can’t and don’t perceive yourself in Jake’s point of view. You’d be shocked if you learned how angelic you are in his world.

In Jake’s standpoint, the tinge of cerise complements your sublime beauty like no other. It brings out the tincture of your eyes, the carmine of your cheeks, the cherry of your lips and it greatly enhances your flushed complexion. A mermaid you resembled because of your hair, relatively constructing an illusion of enchantment.

That is why he cannot fully fathom why you’re denying his words, simply because Jake is confident about it. He frankly believes that there is no other like you— unparalleled and stellar.

“Be serious for once.” you say, thwacking his shoulders with a snigger.

Jake frowns, facing you and catching your hand in his, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shrilling voice, one that had you reeling in consternation and abhorrence.

“Well, well, well. The power couple has revealed themselves.”

Great, the night is young and it’s already ruined by none other than..

“Chaewon.” Jake utters her name with such revolt, shielding you from her as he protectively shifts you behind him, “What do you want?”

“You wound me.” she places a hand on her chest, faking a sad expression before she wheezes and narrows her overly eye-shadowed eyes in your direction, “Hello again, Y/N. Won’t you come and greet me as well?”

Your whole body trembles when you hear her call your name in a sweet, sickening manner with an underlying condescending tone. It wreaks havoc in your supposed to be zen state, the rain in your glossy orbs threatens to fall any minute the more the interaction is prolonged.

Jake senses your dilemma, and he knows that he has to do something, anything to not let this get out of control. He needs to wrap this up asap.

“Chaewon!” Jake roared, seething and perturbed, “Get out of here while I’m asking nicely.”

The girl hoots in laughter, obnoxiously even, holding onto her tummy, “You’re hilarious, Jake. Why are you acting like nothing happened between us?”

Time seemed to come to a pause at her revelation. Surely, that wasn’t what she said, right?

You must be mistaken because Jake? The boy that you trust the most, the only person who is aware of your trauma towards Chaewon’s wrongdoings.. something transpired between them?

Your head that is hanging low amidst the whole ordeal tilts to spare the girl a glance, which you shouldn’t have because you have now witnessed the most gut-wrenching sight: Chaewon wearing the white dress that was supposed to be yours.

She peeks and notices your gaze on her, whirling around to show-off with a haughty smirk, “Pretty isn’t it? I’m really happy that Jake gave this to me.”

“Jake gave that to you?” you whisper, and like a bat with supersonic hearing, she makes-out what you just said without any problem.

“Yeah!” Chaewon giggles, and she dropped the bomb that exploded all over your conviction and solidarity, “I mean.. From all the nights me and Jake have spent in his bed, I think it’s only natural for him to give me some gifts.”

Your eyes widened in anguish, meeting Jake’s with resentment. You don’t even need to explain yourself, your betrayed expression articulates all the emotions that are fermenting in your being, spoiling the gaiety and leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

You bitterly tugged your hand, grimly retiring in this shithole wordlessly. Jake’s pleas were blocked out as the ringing in your ears is too noisy, currently focusing on how excruciating it is to wear your rose tinted glasses.

Seeing in a bird's eye view, the earthquake of indulging in your desires, the red flags; rejecting the clues and signals in place of shooting stars and red roses.

There is nothing wrong with harboring intense, burning feelings for someone. There is nothing wrong about it except…

You choked back a sob as you stood still in the middle of some empty street, covering your mouth with your palm while you used your free arm to hug yourself, a coping mechanism to the either the cold breeze or the icy realization of your own breach of trust.

To the person that you are tied to. The lover whose heart is reserved for you but here you are, cracking his entirety unbeknownst to him.

Truth to be told, you are apprehensive about the entirety of your solstitial days. You are no doubt in the utopia of cloudy marshmallows and lustrous sequins, such vista is brought to you by your paramore, Jake.

Your affairs are not accepted by society, deemed illegal by the law and an unforgivable misdeed by the gods. Yet you couldn’t, for the hell of it, deny the fact that you are over the moon, spending time with your revived ardor that you thought had passed away.

Reflecting on your decisions brings you on a disparaging trip to guilt land, your sins are not reasonable, will never be decipherable but love has always been like that, isn’t it?

Working in mysterious ways, playing with fate and destiny, using cupid as its puppet and people’s heartstrings as marionettes until it cooks up its desired results.

But must it be so ferocious?

You are having a meltdown, drowning in these poisonous thoughts when a distant voice clears your smoggy psyche.

“Y/N!”

---------------------------------------------------

Jake fumbled. He fucked up. So bad.

He was motionless for a minute, wide eyed and panicking as the noise around the ongoing celebration helped him block the cringe-y voice of the girl, whose presence if he must say, is irking as hell.

He watches as your lovely figure walks further away, getting smaller the more distance you put between you, and it’s nauseating. The agony was fucking too much, not foreseeing the events.

He was meant to be with you the entire night. Eating delicious foods from the stalls, winning you a giant teddy bear, watching the grand fireworks whilst he kisses you under the radiance of the natural and artificial stars.

And whose fault is this?

Jake turns to the culprit, her innocent facade pissing him off to no end.

“What the fuck, Chaewon? Have you finally lost your marbles? Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?!” he yells, his emotional intelligence gone because the mere thought of losing you is not worth the effort of suppressing his anger.

“What?” she asks, crossing her arms in disdain, “I only came here to say hi and to show the dress.”

The scene appears to catch the attention of the bystanders around them, and multiple pairs of eyes scrutinize the pair, which is not good for the sake of it all.

Jake inhales, praying to anyone out there to give him the patience that he’s currently lacking, “How many times do I have to say that I’m not interested in you? We fucked once and I was drunk! That’s the end of the story!”

“So fucking around with Y/N is better? Have you forgotten that she has a boyfriend? You really want to spend your precious summer with a whore?” she rebuts, and what she labeled you was the last straw.

He ruthlessly gripped her arms, no caution nor forgiving, “Listen here, you do not call Y/N a whore ever again. She is so much better than you and,” Jake scoffs, eyeing her with disdain, “you do not even come close to her level. So, I would really fucking appreciate it if you zip your shitty mouth, or else I will make your life a living hell.”

Jake lets her go, clenching his fists and hiding it inside his pockets, glaring at the teary-eyed woman but he certainly does not fucking care. She can bawl her eyes out and spread gossip about him, but he won’t let any disrespect towards you pass.

He turns around, quickly changing plans as he thinks of ways on how to make things up with you, but before that, he took a shot of belittling the girl, “Now that I see it, that dress is ugly as hell. You can keep that, it's only beautiful if Y/N wears it.”

Jake then runs off, in a mission to find you.

---------------------------------------------------

“Y/N!”

It took you a minute to process what’s happening. One moment you are alone and the next second you’re engulfed in a warm hug. Must be a divine intervention or something, your knight in shining armor coming in at the right time to save you from the sorrows of your own faults.

You pushed him away rather forcefully, vigorously wiping the remnants of your tears away but Jake has seen it either way.

He cups your face, mellowly speaking, “Please don’t cry, baby-”

“Stop!” you cried out, placing your hands on his chest to put a tiny gap in the middle, a feeble attempt at refusing his support, “Stop calling me that if you don’t mean it. I-I.. Please, I want to be alone.”

You’re beginning to go into hysterics, sobbing uncontrollably now that you have been slapped by reality.

“I don’t want you to be alone, and,” Jake steeled himself, not accepting your rejection, “I mean it. You are my baby so please Y/N, let’s talk this out.”

You shake your head, struggling against his firm hold. The complexity of the whole situation embroiders dark threads in your snowy fabric, commencing the madness in you, and you’re so damn afraid if you’ll be able to surpass this test.

“Jake, I don’t want to- Please, stop, I can't do this anymore.”

You are too busy wallowing in despair that you failed to notice Jake’s terror stricken guise. All of his brain cells are working overtime to think of something, anything to dissuade your incoming rash verdict about your.. circumstances with him.

Jake slides his palms onto your shoulders, lowering his forehead down the crook of your neck, shutting his eyes and relaxing for a second.

It’s now or never.

“You can’t do this anymore while I've been here, doing it ever since.” he mumbles, decibels reaching your ears and it makes you confused.

You stay rooted in your spot, listening to his shallow breaths, “Doing what?”

“This Y/N.” he lifts his head up, meeting your weeping orbs as his lower lips tremble, wavering and hopeless mien, “I did not pursue Australia for the sole reason of staying here, because I thought that you’d continue college in this town.”

Wait. You are the reason?

“I wanted to be with you, then I learned that you applied to a university in the city and I was too late. I wasn’t able to go with you because I hesitated. And that was the biggest mistake that I will forever regret.”

Jake didn’t give you the time to butt in, he prattled on and on, explaining and disclosing every bit of information that you have to know.

Chaewon and him did have a history, but he was drunk and was in need of some sort of intimacy because all he did was miss you while you were gone. Yes, shitty excuse but that was the truth. He apologizes hundreds of times for that, verbalizing that he avoids her like the plague after their one time encounter, and that she’s the one who kept on persisting in a relationship with him.

He doesn’t want to do shit with her and he is willing to spend a lifetime making it up to you if it means that you’ll forgive him.

You mutter his name in hopes of cutting his reverie to tell him that it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be unfair to himself and that you also have made an awful blunder yourself. So, you tried again but then he blurted out the words that rewired your verdict.

“Y/N, I love you. I am so fucking in love with you. You inhabit my day, possess my nights and I-”

You finally placed your lips on his, shutting him up for good. You can’t contain your selfishness anymore, and you’re going to hell for it.

“Jake, I understand.” you whisper against his lips, “No more talking. Just kiss me.”

And he did. A passion filled kiss in the dimly lit middle of the road, and soon enough the two of you are giggling out of your wits, running towards his flat to savor each other beneath the raving moon and stars.

Ablaze sheets and shushed confessions of affection, lustful chants of pet and nicknames, hot and ponderous breathing. Lips molding, tongues dancing, limbs intertwining — love was made multiple times that night.

Jake felt his turbulent ambitions being nurtured into a calm sea.

When he holds your sweaty body close to his after the last of the many rounds of ardent copulation, he pecks the crown of your head, thinking that he’s got you.

Imagine the bewilderment and fretfulness that he undergoes when the next morning, he wakes up and you’re not by his side. The slot beside him is where you’re meant to be.

So, why are you not here?

He is like a thundercloud, fixing himself up and taking a dangerous, speedy trip towards your house only to gain the certitude that you have left.

“Yeah, she came back home during dawn, grabbing her suitcases and catching the earliest train back to the city. She didn’t say anything to us, just that she needs to go back as soon as possible.” Riki clarifies groggily, your brother rubbing his eyes sleepily, overlooking Jake’s fall from grace.

He thanks the younger and when the door is shut, he’s out.

He was in a sinking boat the whole fucking time, his white knuckle grip on the handles was useless as he’s the only one dying with it.

You, his gospel, are once more absent to guide him, and he is left alone to fend for himself.

Jake enters his car in a daze before laughing to himself, beyond miserable and breaking down. You can’t even be bothered to give him an acrid goodbye. Was he not worth the time? Was he not worth it?

He slams his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes going over the hidden compartment where the bracelet with your initials sits. Looks like he won’t be able to give you that, no?

“What do we do now, Sim Jaeyun?”

---------------------------------------------------

Your sudden disappearance deeply troubled Jake. His gut tells him not to contact you first, listening to his intuitions and twiddled on his thumbs.

He waited for a call, message, anything to let him know that you have not abandoned him, but not once did he receive one. A complete dissonance and in a flash, the pigments in his face that you have sprayed were drained.

He prayed for a sign to the deities because he’s tired of waiting, ‘Give me a reason to stop chasing after her.’

And what he asks, he gets.

One day, when he was rolling around in his bed, stalking your social media, he saw that you updated on instagram. He immediately opened the app, but he was crushed like an insect at what he saw.

It was a photo of you and your boyfriend. Seems like your ‘ice skating prince’ won a tournament, no trophies at hand since his prize is already in his arms— you.

Jake lies down on his back, his arms covering his eyes and he lets the salty tears that he’s been keeping at bay for the longest time freely stream down. He granted himself the license to cry this time, to have a moment of weakness as he grieves at the newly formed memorabilia of adulation and picturesque remembrance.

You should have at least given him some sort of magnanimity, a heads-up perhaps?

Yes, it was necessary so he could’ve commenced the digging of the graves. One for his dying gray heart and one for his wilted, parched crimson roses.

Jake is no stranger of the naked truth, that he was the other guy in the portrait. The snake and not the proprietor but even for a trifling moment, despite the bleak and slim chances, he believed that the silver lining exists.

He was so sure that the inkling sentiments, skinship, companionship throughout the summer would mean something to you.. If not, then why would you be so cruel to give it to him? Why would you be so heartless to let him think that he could win against someone that is unrivaled when it comes to a space in your heart and life?

He spilled his booked sentiments, you let him savor you, allowed him to follow you to the depths of nowhere only to pull back at the last minute, leaving him stranded at the end of the cliff.

So he did what must be done. He jumped in the deep, dark ocean of precariousness. Hoping that at the end of his expedition, a treasure would be waiting for him.

Jake did find fortune alright; rusted, grotesque, and counterfeit.

He was a deep-dyed, utter fool. Pathetic at its finest for falling for a person he could never, ever have.

Indeed, a complete defeat. What was the name of the victor again? Ah, right.

Park Sunghoon.

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@deobitifull @dreamiestay @shiningnono @anormieee

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