#Enhypen Jake

[heeluvv]

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓 .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ idol! ot7 x 8th member! reader

genre ᝰ.ᐟ smut

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ gang bang, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (m), fingering, overstimulation, etc. (wc 6.149k)

natty's notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the performance had ended, the energy still crackling in the air, the echoes of screams and cheers fading into the background as the adrenaline slowly settled. yet, even as the minutes passed, as the crew bustled around in the post-show rush, you couldn’t ignore the lingering tension—the heat that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but felt.

it wasn’t just in the way their bodies glistened with sweat, the aftereffects of giving themselves entirely to the stage. it was in the way their eyes would flicker toward you, those lingering, burning stares that they thought went unnoticed. but you noticed.

the way their gazes would darken, pupils blown wide with something hungry, something dangerous. the way their lips would part ever so slightly, damp from where they had been running their tongues over them between songs. how their fingers, still tingling with the energy of the performance, would graze against you—innocent at first glance, but the weight of their touch lingered, intentional, teasing.

to anyone else, it could have been dismissed—just fleeting glances, nothing more than a momentary connection with the crowd, the remnants of an electric performance still buzzing through them.

but you knew better.

you knew them too well.

you saw the way their eyes stayed on you longer than necessary, the way their lips would press together before being caught between their teeth, suppressing something they weren’t willing to say out loud.

and even without words, you understood it.

the stage was their release, but you were their aftermath.

you step into the room with the rest of them, the adrenaline from the performance still thrumming beneath your skin, a lingering hum that refuses to settle. your fingers work to remove your mic, the others doing the same, yet something feels different.

their eyes never leave you.

it’s subtle—calculated even—but you feel it, the weight of their stares pressing into you from every angle. the air in the room is thick, charged with something unspoken, something that has your breath hitching even as you try to appear unaffected.

it’s no secret that you’ve all grown accustomed to being in the same space, sharing moments like this after every show, coming down from the high of performing together. so when sunghoon is the first to strip off his shirt, it’s not shocking—not really.

but fuck, the sight of him still knocks the breath from your lungs.

his body is glistening, sweat trailing down the defined ridges of his abs, catching under the dim lighting of the dressing room. his chest rises and falls with every breath, the residual heat from the stage still evident in the way his muscles flex, his mouth parting in short, heavy huffs. there’s something so effortless about it, about the way he runs a hand through his damp hair, the way his gaze flickers toward you for the briefest moment, unreadable—dangerous.

riki, on the other hand, settles himself on the couch in the far corner of the room, stretching out with an air of ease, but his eyes tell a different story. they’re locked on you, watching, waiting, as if he’s amused by the slow, aching tension filling the space.

you busy yourself at the vanity, reaching for a makeup wipe, pretending to be unfazed as you slowly drag it across your skin. each swipe is deliberate, stalling—buying time.

but it does little to distract from the way the atmosphere has shifted, the way the silence crackles with something more, something heavier.

and the longer it stretches, the harder it is to ignore.

jungwon moves behind you with an ease that feels both familiar and calculated, his hands sliding over your shoulders before pressing down gently, kneading into the tension coiled beneath your skin. the warmth of his palms seeps into you, his touch slow, methodical, as if he knows exactly how to unravel the stiffness lingering in your muscles.

“it was fun today, no?” his voice is casual, almost too casual, but there’s something in the way he says it—something in the way his fingers linger a second too long against your skin, in the way his eyes stay fixed on yours through the mirror.

you swallow, nodding absentmindedly, though you’re hyperaware of the way the others shift around the room.

jay leans back against the arm of the couch, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between you and jungwon, but it’s sunoo who answers first.

“yeah… i liked it.”

his voice is lower than usual, a deep timbre that sends a shiver down your spine. it’s subtle, but it’s felt—the weight of his words sinking deep into the already thick atmosphere, pressing down on you like an invisible force.

your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the movement small, barely noticeable, but the way jay’s eyes darken at the sight tells you otherwise.

and then, heeseung speaks.

“you looked good, baby…”

the nickname rolls off his tongue effortlessly, as if it’s second nature, as if it doesn’t send a jolt of electricity through you every time you hear it. they’re all used to it by now—the way they call you baby, the way it slips into conversation so easily, so fluidly. but it always does something to you. always leaves your breath hitching ever so slightly, your fingers tightening around the makeup wipe in your hand as warmth spreads through your chest, through your core.

jungwon notices, his smirk barely concealed as his thumbs press a little deeper into your shoulders, his touch no longer just soothing, but something more.

you try to keep your composure, try to steady your breath, but the way their eyes are on you—the way the energy in the room has shifted from post-show exhaustion to something heavier, something charged—makes it impossible to ignore the way your thighs press together, just a little tighter.

jake moves toward the door with quiet purpose, the soft click of the lock falling into place echoing through the dimly lit room. he leans against it casually, arms crossed over his chest, but there’s something knowing in his gaze, something dark and unreadable that makes your stomach tighten.

“so pretty…” he murmurs, almost to himself, but you hear it—feel it—in the way his voice drops just slightly, in the way his eyes rake over your figure as he pushes off the door and strides toward you.

he comes to a stop beside you, towering over where you sit at the vanity, his presence heavy, his warmth radiating off him as his fingers move to the hem of his shirt. with an easy tug, he lifts it over his head, discarding the fabric without a second thought, leaving his toned torso bare to your widening gaze.

you huff softly, forcing yourself to ignore the way your pulse picks up, the way heat crawls up your spine. “i look like this every other day, guys…” you reply, trying to sound unaffected, your voice steady even as you shift in your seat.

but when you turn in the chair to fully face them, your resolve wavers.

your gaze trails over their bodies, drinking in the sight in front of you—some of them already shirtless, skin still glistening from the remnants of sweat, muscles flexing with each slow movement. others are in the process of ridding themselves of the last barriers of clothing, leaving nothing to the imagination.

jay catches the way your eyes flicker downward, the way your lips part slightly, how your fingers subtly grip onto the vanity as if to steady yourself. he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, a slow smirk creeping onto his face.

“like what you see, baby?” his voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s an underlying challenge in his tone, a flicker of amusement as he watches you, completely aware of how easily you’re slipping into the tension surrounding you.

your thighs press together instinctively, the movement small, barely noticeable—but they notice.

riki lets out a quiet chuckle from his place on the couch, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “aw, so cute…” he teases, voice laced with amusement, his grin widening when you try—and fail—to fight back your reaction.

your breath hitches as you feel jungwon’s hands tighten ever so slightly on your shoulders, his fingers pressing down into your skin, a silent reminder of how completely surrounded you are—how trapped you are.

and judging by the looks on their faces, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you guys are taking so fucking long with this…” sunghoon mutters, his voice edged with impatience, thick with something darker. his footsteps are slow, purposeful, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air as he makes his way toward you.

before you can react, his hands are on you, large and warm as they cup your bare face, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, hooded with hunger, and just as quickly as he reached you, his lips crash down on yours, devouring you in a way that leaves no room for hesitation.

he kisses you deeply, as if he’s been starving for the taste of you, as if every second wasted was unbearable. his tongue slips past your parted lips, claiming you in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that leaves you breathless.

meanwhile, jake’s hands are already working their way downward, sliding under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing along the heat of your skin before slipping under your bra. his touch is teasing, deliberate, his fingers seeking out your nipple before giving it a sharp, experimental pinch.

a soft gasp slips past your lips, swallowed instantly by sunghoon’s greedy mouth, and the reaction only spurs them on.

jungwon leans in from behind, his breath warm against your skin as his lips press soft kisses along the side of your neck, a contrast to the rough hands exploring your body. his kisses start gentle, slow and teasing, but it isn’t long before his tongue flicks out, his teeth grazing over your pulse point, making you shudder.

the others remain on the couch, watching, waiting, their gazes heavy on you as the ones surrounding you continue their attacks, hands and mouths working in tandem to rid you of every last piece of clothing.

fabric is peeled away, fingers ghosting over newly exposed skin, your body being unwrapped layer by layer, every inch of you becoming theirs to claim.

sunghoon pulls away from your lips only to seize your wrist, his grip firm yet guiding as he leads you toward the others. jake and jungwon are already seated, their bodies relaxed, but their eyes burn with anticipation, watching intently as sunghoon maneuvers you closer. the air is thick, heavy with something dangerous, something intoxicating, and the weight of their gazes alone has heat coiling low in your stomach.

positioning himself behind you, sunghoon’s hands move with slow, deliberate intent, his palms sliding over the curves of your body before settling on your breasts. his fingers knead into the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending small jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. but he doesn’t stop there—his hands continue their descent, trailing lower, his touch possessive as his fingers dip between your legs.

his lips brush against the shell of your ear, his voice low, commanding, laced with amusement as he murmurs, "spread your legs, baby. let them see how i’ll have you ruined from just my fingers."

the sheer filth of his words alone is enough to make you tremble, your breath hitching as you obediently part your thighs, your fingers tightening around his arms for support. the cool air against your exposed skin only amplifies your vulnerability, and you feel their eyes on you—watching, waiting, hungry.

lounging lazily against the couch, the others remain seated, but there’s nothing casual about their state. their bodies are tense, their chests rising and falling steadily, their dicks standing hard and proud, straining against the constraints of their boxers or resting bare against their stomachs. the view before them is too much—you, open and exposed, sunghoon’s hands already working to ruin you.

his fingers move deftly, flicking over your clit with practiced ease, the sharp sensation sending a full-body shudder through you. a soft gasp leaves your lips, involuntary, breathy, making the smirk on sunghoon’s face deepen.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, feeling the wetness pooling between your thighs as his fingers trail down your slick folds, spreading the mess you’ve already made. his cock twitches against your lower back, the simple feel of you enough to drive him insane.

without warning, he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing, testing, before pushing in just enough to make you squirm.

“so fucking wet already…” he grunts, his eyes flickering up to the others, his smirk widening. “guess she likes putting on a show.”

he sets a torturously slow pace, his fingers slipping in and out of you with an agonizing precision, every movement deliberate, teasing. your walls flutter around the intrusion, gripping him greedily despite the languid rhythm, and sunghoon notices—of course he notices.

his lips graze the side of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he presses his fingers deeper, curling them just right, just enough to have your back arching against him.

"already so tight… and i haven’t even done shit," he chuckles, his tone thick with amusement, but there’s a flicker of something darker laced within it—something hungry.

a soft, shaky gasp falls from your lips, your eyes flickering to the others, heat spreading through your body at the sight before you.

jake and sunoo sit sprawled out in front of you, their hands palming over the hard bulges straining against their boxers, their eyes trained on you like a feast laid out before them. the slow, lazy way they touch themselves, the low grunts escaping from their throats, makes your thighs instinctively try to squeeze together—only to be stopped by sunghoon’s firm grip keeping them spread apart.

your pussy clenches involuntarily, a whimper slipping out before you can stop it.

sunghoon notices.

he feels the way your walls tighten around his fingers, the way your body reacts to the sight of the others getting off to you.

“she loves that shit, guys…” his voice drops lower, his smirk evident in his tone. “keep doing it.”

his words send a ripple of confirmation through the room, and within seconds, the others take the command without hesitation.

jake groans softly as his hand wrapping around the thick length, stroking himself slowly. sunoo follows, his grip tight around himself as his chest rises and falls, his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes never leaving you.

the air feels thicker, heavier, the tension unbearable as every pair of eyes in the room devours you, watches the way sunghoon plays with you, makes you drip around his fingers.

"such a fucking slut for us, huh?" jay’s voice cuts through the room, deep and taunting, his hand lazily stroking himself at the same pace as the others. "love seeing us jerk off, don’t you?"

your breath stutters, your skin burning at his words, at the raw filth of the situation unraveling around you.

sunghoon hums, pleased, his fingers picking up speed, thrusting into you with more purpose, his pace shifting from slow and teasing to steady and precise.

"sunghoon…" you whine, the sound coming out desperate, breathless, your fingers digging into his forearms as your body trembles against him.

but sunghoon only grins, his lips brushing against your ear as he coos, "be patient, baby… we’re just getting started."

“go faster, sunghoon,” heeseung orders, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes locked onto the sight of sunghoon’s fingers plunging in and out of you, slick with your arousal.

sunghoon obeys without hesitation, his fingers picking up speed, disappearing into you only to reappear glistening before thrusting back inside with an obscene wet sound. the sudden increase in pace sends a sharp wave of pleasure rolling through your body, a choked whine tumbling past your lips as your thighs tremble from the overwhelming sensation.

as if on cue, the others match the rhythm sunghoon sets, their hands moving faster over their lengths, the room filling with the soft, breathy moans and hushed groans of pleasure.

"so pretty, b-baby…" jungwon murmurs, his voice breathless, shaky, his brows furrowed in pure pleasure as his thumb rubs over his slit, spreading the slick precum that dribbles down his length. every flick of his touch makes his chest rise and fall unevenly, soft, broken whimpers escaping him, his lips parted in silent desperation.

the sight alone is too much. your walls clamp down around sunghoon’s fingers, your body reacting instinctively to the overwhelming heat pressing in from all sides.

a low, satisfied grunt vibrates from sunghoon’s chest at the feeling of you tightening around him, his lips curving into a smirk as he leans in closer. his breath is hot against your ear, his voice dripping with something dark, something possessive.

"fuck, baby… can't wait to feel this pussy wrapped around my cock."

his tongue darts out, wet and warm, dragging along the shell of your ear before he lightly sucks on the sensitive skin just below it.

"gonna have you begging for us to stop…"

the promise sends a violent shudder down your spine, your hands gripping onto his arms as your body tenses, the pleasure climbing too fast, too high, and you know—you know—there’s no coming back from this.

you can’t control it anymore—the soft, broken whines spilling from your lips, the way your body trembles in sunghoon’s hold, the way your chest rises and falls in ragged breaths. every word he whispers into your ear sends another shudder through you, another rush of heat pooling between your thighs, another sharp pulse of pleasure making you clench down around his fingers.

but it isn’t just him that has you falling apart—it’s them.

your heavy-lidded gaze flickers toward the others, your eyes skimming over their flushed faces, their lips parted as soft groans and hushed grunts escape them. but then—your attention is drawn elsewhere.

sunoo.

he’s losing himself.

his head is tilted back against the couch, his chest heaving, his whiny, breathless moans filling the room louder than anyone else’s. his thighs tremble, his hand working his length at a pace faster than the rest, his fingers tightening around himself as his slick precum coats every movement. his desperation is palpable, written in every expression, every quiver in his voice, every sharp gasp as his hips stutter up into his own grip.

and fuck, it ruins you.

your legs twitch, your breathing faltering as your body reacts to the sight of him—so utterly wrecked, so close to the edge, completely lost in the pleasure he’s chasing.

as if he feels you staring, his head slowly tips back up, his hooded, glazed-over eyes locking onto yours, his lips parted as another whimper escapes.

his dick twitches in his hand, his rhythm faltering, his jaw clenching as he tries—tries so fucking hard—to hold himself back.

but the way you look at him—so wrecked, so needy, so completely lost in it—only pushes him further.

“o-oh s-shit—!” sunoo moans, voice breaking as his body trembles, his dick twitching violently in his grip. his breath catches, his chest rising and falling in sharp, erratic movements as his orgasm crashes over him.

thick ropes of cum spill from his slit, coating his hand completely, dripping down his fingers in a sticky, messy display. his thighs shake uncontrollably, muscles tensing and relaxing in waves as he rides out his high, his head tilting back once more, lips parted in a silent moan, his entire body wrecked with pleasure.

the sight alone destroys you.

a sharp, shaky gasp tears from your throat, your eyes widening as your own pleasure surges to an unbearable peak. a loud, whimpering moan escapes your lips, high-pitched, breathless, your legs trembling as your walls clamp down hard around sunghoon’s fingers.

he notices immediately.

his smirk deepens, his pace picking up as he slams his fingers into you harder, curling them just right, just enough to send another pulse of white-hot pleasure shooting through your core.

“fuck—gonna cum just from watching sunoo, baby?” he taunts, voice low, teasing, but laced with something darker, something dangerous.

your breath stutters, your nails digging into his arms as he leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“right after i’m done with you,” he murmurs, his fingers still fucking into you relentlessly, his tone sending another shiver down your spine, “i wanna see how well you take him in your mouth, hm?”

his teeth graze your earlobe, his voice thick with amusement, with command.

“he deserves it, doesn’t he?”

the words alone push you over the edge.

your entire body shudders, your vision going hazy as the pleasure bursts through you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

a sharp, broken moan rips from your lips, your back arching as your orgasm crashes into you, your walls tightening around sunghoon’s fingers, your slick gushing down onto his hand.

"ahh—sunghoon!"

your legs tremble violently, your head tipping back onto his shoulder, your body completely falling apart in his arms. but sunghoon?

he just grins, watching you crumble, knowing they're only just getting started.

watching the way sunghoon’s fingers are completely drenched, glistening with your release as your body trembles from the aftershocks, is what finally pushes the rest of them over the edge.

one by one, deep, ragged grunts and breathless moans fill the room, their bodies tensing, their hands working themselves through the final strokes as their cocks twitch violently. thick ropes of cum spill over their fingers, coating their skin, dripping down their lengths in a mess of heat and pleasure. their chests rise and fall in heavy, uneven breaths, their gazes still locked onto you, watching the way you shake in sunghoon’s lap, completely wrecked.

but you don’t stop.

once you finally manage to collect yourself, you shift forward, crawling toward riki, your movements slow, deliberate. his legs are spread lazily, his head tilted back slightly as he tries to recover from the intensity of his orgasm. but the moment you settle between his thighs, his heavy-lidded gaze flickers down to you, breath hitching as he watches your fingers swipe across his thigh, gathering up the warm, sticky mess he left behind.

your tongue darts out, licking your fingers clean, your lips wrapping around them as you moan softly, savoring the taste. riki watches you, completely entranced, his chest still rising and falling rapidly from how hard he just came.

his body shudders when you finally wrap your fingers around his length, feeling how sensitive he still is, your other hand reaching out to jay, who sits right next to him. both of them twitch at your touch, their overstimulated cocks throbbing in your grasp as you start to stroke them, setting a steady, teasing pace.

jay’s lips part in a sharp exhale, his head falling back slightly as his hips jerk up into your hand, already desperate for more friction.

riki, on the other hand, is more impatient.

"baby, put it in your mouth already, fuck..." his voice is strained, breathless, thick with need. his fingers thread into your hair, his grip just firm enough to make your core throb, his hips shifting beneath you as he chases the heat of your mouth.

but before you can react, before you can take either of them in, you feel it—someone pressing up behind you, their body heat melting against your back, their presence undeniable.

a quiet, breathy whimper escapes from them, the softest sound, barely above a whisper, but you know exactly who it is.

sunoo.

his cock drags along your soaked folds, teasing, testing, his whine growing needier at the feeling of how wet you still are for them.

his lips brush against the back of your shoulder, his voice a hushed plea, dripping with desperation as he rocks his hips forward, barely pressing into you.

"come on, baby… take them in that pretty mouth while i fuck you so good..."

sunoo pushes himself in with one slow, deep thrust, a loud, breathy whine escaping his lips as your walls clamp down around him. his cock stretches you so good, so full, the thickness of him pressing against every nerve, making you cry out in a sharp, gasping moan.

"uh—sunoo, fuck…!" the words barely leave your lips before your body reacts instinctively, the overwhelming pleasure making you tighten your grip around both riki and jay.

their reactions are immediate.

riki groans, his hips bucking slightly at the feeling of your fingers squeezing around him, his patience wearing dangerously thin. his grip tightens in your hair, firm but not painful, his fingers threading through the strands as he tugs your head down toward his aching cock.

"open up, baby." his voice is low, demanding, thick with frustration and need.

you obey without thinking, your lips parting to take him in, the weight of him heavy against your tongue as your mouth stretches around his length. the moment you wrap your lips around him, riki moans, deep and breathless, his hips jerking up almost immediately, forcing you to take him deeper.

"fuck—might even just fuck your mouth…" he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly as he thrusts up into you, the heat of your tongue sending jolts of pleasure straight through him.

meanwhile, jay is already teetering on the edge, his cock twitching in your grip from the overstimulation, every touch sending him spiraling. your thumb swipes over his sensitive tip, smearing the precum that beads there, and a shudder wracks through his body.

"fuck, yes—just like that, baby…" jay moans, his chest rising and falling heavily as his hands wrap around yours, guiding you to stroke him just the way he needs. his hips move in tandem with your hand, sharp jerks upward as his head tilts back, mouth parted in silent pleasure.

behind you, sunoo’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as his pace shifts—slow, teasing thrusts replaced by something desperate, unrelenting. his hips snap against yours, fucking into you fast, each deep stroke sending a sharp, blissful jolt straight to your core.

your tits bounce aggressively from the force of his thrusts, the movement catching the attention of the others, who have been watching—waiting—stroking themselves as they take in the filthy scene before them.

jake, heeseung, jungwon, and sunghoon move in closer, their cocks heavy in their hands, precum already dripping down their lengths. jake is the closest, his breath ragged, his rhythm fast, his grip tight around himself as he watches the way sunoo pounds into you, the way your lips are wrapped so perfectly around riki.

"fuck, baby…" jake groans, his voice thick, nearly breathless.

he’s close—they all are.

and with the way sunoo is fucking you, the way riki is fucking your mouth, and the way your hand is working over jay, it’s only a matter of time before they completely fall apart for you.

jungwon is the first to break.

his breath stutters, sharp and uneven, his body tensing as his release bursts out in thick, hot spurts, painting your lips and tongue with his cum. his head falls back, a choked moan slipping past his swollen lips as his body shakes, overstimulated and utterly wrecked. his fingers tighten in your hair, his hips jerking slightly as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his cum dripping down your chin, warm and sticky.

the taste of him floods your mouth, mixing with the heat already burning inside you, and you let out a deep, muffled moan around riki’s cock. the vibrations send a sharp jolt of pleasure up his spine, his thighs twitching as his fingers spasm against your scalp.

"oh fuck—" riki groans, his voice breaking, breathless and desperate.

his hips jerk up into your mouth, chasing the high that’s been building inside him, his pace turning erratic, almost frantic. every sharp thrust makes your throat tighten around him, makes his breath hitch higher, makes the tension coil impossibly tight in his core.

"i’m gonna cum—"

his words are almost slurred, lost in the haze of pleasure, and just as your pussy clenches hard around sunoo’s cock, the sensation is too much—for both of them.

sunoo loses it, his entire body trembling behind you as high-pitched, broken moans spill from his lips, sounding more like helpless sobs than anything else.

"oh shit, shit, shit—!"

his grip on your waist turns bruising, his fingers pressing deep into your skin as his thrusts turn messy, desperate, his cock twitching wildly inside you. the overwhelming tightness, the warmth of you squeezing around him, sends him crashing over the edge with a strangled cry.

at the same moment, riki's hips snap up one last time, his grip on your hair tightening, holding you in place as he spills deep into your mouth. thick ropes of cum flood your throat, hot and heavy, the salty taste coating your tongue as his thighs tremble beneath you.

sunoo moans loudly, burying himself deep as he fills you completely, his cum spilling into you in pulsing waves, the heat of it pooling inside, dripping down your thighs with every weak thrust he forces in after.

riki’s breath comes out in sharp, shallow pants, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his body slumps back against the couch, fingers still tangled in your hair as he watches you swallow every drop of him.

sunoo collapses against your back, forehead pressed against your shoulder, soft whimpers still slipping from his lips as his cock twitches inside your still-clenching walls, milking him for everything he has.

once you finally pull away from riki, a soft, breathless whimper escapes your lips, your throat already sore from the way he used your mouth. you tilt your head back slightly, swallowing down every drop of his release, savoring the way it coats your tongue before your attention flickers to jay.

his expression is utterly wrecked, his eyes dark and desperate as his fingers tangle in your hair, guiding you toward him with a low, strained groan. without hesitation, you part your lips, wrapping them around his aching cock, the warmth of your mouth making his entire body shudder as he lets out a sharp, "fuck—yes, baby, just like that."

his hips jerk forward instinctively, fucking into your mouth at a quick, desperate pace, the wet heat of your tongue dragging along his length pushing him dangerously close. your hands grip onto his thighs for support, feeling the way they tense beneath your touch, his body unraveling under you.

"hmph—s-shit, oh my god…" his voice breaks into a breathy moan as his pace stutters, his cock twitching between your lips before he bursts, spilling hot and thick straight down your throat.

jay’s head tilts back, his chest heaving as he groans through the aftershocks, his fingers tugging your hair just slightly before he finally releases you, watching with hooded eyes as you swallow his cum without hesitation.

but before you can fully process anything, you feel yourself being pushed forward, sunoo’s warmth disappearing from behind you as heeseung takes his place. his presence is overwhelming, demanding, his hands already exploring your body with purpose.

his fingers dip between your legs without warning, collecting the mess sunoo left inside you, scooping up the warm, sticky cum only to push it back in, watching the way it slides from your entrance and drips down toward your clit.

"gonna have you filled up to the fucking brim, baby…"

his voice is thick, dripping with something dark, something dangerous, and that’s the only warning you get before heeseung slams into you in one deep, brutal thrust.

your breath leaves you in a sharp, choked gasp, your body already too wrecked to react properly, every muscle trembling as you try to ground yourself. but before you can even adjust, before you can fully feel the way he stretches you open, there’s movement in front of you.

the others shift, their bodies repositioning, and as your vision clears, you find yourself once again face to face with more of them—three this time.

sunghoon, jungwon, and jake.

jake and sunghoon flank your sides while jungwon sits directly in the middle, all three of them watching you with dark, expectant eyes, their cocks heavy, glistening, waiting.

and they don’t need to tell you what to do.

as if instinctively, their hands find your hair, guiding your head downward, parting your lips with ease as they take turns fucking into your mouth.

your eyes flutter shut, the overwhelming sensation sending another pulse of pleasure straight to your core. the feeling of heeseung slamming into you from behind while the three in front of you use your mouth sends your mind spiraling, every part of your body consumed by them, by this.

"so fucking perfect for me, oh my god…" sunghoon moans, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches the way your lips wrap around him so perfectly.

his cock nudges against the back of your throat, making you gag around him, the sensation only fueling him on, his hips snapping forward with more force, more desperation.

"you were fucking made for this, baby."

sunghoon doesn’t last much longer, his breath turning ragged, his grip on your head tightening as his thrusts grow erratic. his cock twitches violently, every muscle in his body going taut as his release bursts forward, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. his head tilts back, a deep, guttural groan leaving his lips as the last spurts of his orgasm paint your tongue.

you try to swallow, try to keep up, but some of it escapes, trailing down your chin in slow, sticky rivulets.

before you can fully recover, before you can even take a proper breath, jungwon’s fingers are threading through your hair, gripping tight as he pulls you onto him, guiding you down until your lips stretch wide around him.

"fuck—take it, baby," he growls, his voice thick, filled with something dark.

your nose presses flush against his abdomen, his cock buried deep in your throat as he groans, his body tensing beneath your touch. you feel the way his hips jerk forward ever so slightly, the way his cock pulses hard, and then—he cums.

thick, hot ropes of it shoot straight down your throat, mixing with sunghoon’s, the sheer amount of it making your eyes squeeze shut as you struggle to take it all. you swallow as best as you can, throat tightening around him, but it’s too much—your body betrays you, choking slightly as you try to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.

"fuck, baby—shit…" jungwon grunts, his head tilting down to watch the way your eyes water, the way your throat works around him.

the sight pushes them further.

his grip tightens, forcing your head up, making you choke, your body convulsing slightly as you gasp for air, spit and cum dripping from your lips in messy, glistening strings.

but your breathy, broken whimpers are drowned out by another sharp, desperate moan—jake.

he barely manages to get out a warning before his hips jerk forward, his cock twitching violently as he spills onto your already-wrecked face, hot, sticky ropes of cum painting your cheeks, your lips, dripping down onto your collarbone.

*"fucking—shit!" jake groans, his voice wrecked, his hands tightening into fists as his body shudders from the force of his release.

your chest heaves, your fingers gripping desperately onto sunghoon and jungwon’s thighs as the mess coats your skin, your body trembling under their hands.

"ugh—s’much…" you whimper, voice barely above a breath, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of everything—by the way your body is covered, by the way the heat of it clings to your skin.

but heeseung doesn’t slow.

his thrusts are still deep, still relentless, his fingers digging into your hips as he uses you with no restraint. your walls flutter, clenching down hard around him, every sharp movement making you gasp, making your moans break between desperate, choked sobs of pleasure.

heeseung groans, his breath hot against your skin as his pace stutters—and then, all at once, he snaps, burying himself deep as his body convulses behind you.

his release pours into you, filling you completely, spilling out in thick dribbles as his hips twitch through the aftershocks.

your vision blurs, your mind going blank as your own orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking, trembling as wave after wave of blinding pleasure consumes you.

the only sounds that fill the room are heavy, ragged breaths, the thick, lingering scent of sex hanging in the air like a fog.

your body slumps forward, completely spent, the warmth of their bodies surrounding you, trapping you in the aftermath of everything that just happened.

and even through the haze, through the exhaustion threatening to pull you under, you know—they’re not done with you yet.

natty's notes ᝰ.ᐟ had so many request for enha x reader/ 8th member reader, so i hope you all enjoyed it !!

[hsnlv]

enhypen!hyung line reaction to…

your stupid tiktok joke?

warnings/others: fluff?, suggestive joke (ifffff you squint actually lmfaoo)

a/n: i dont how to put out a layout for this one but i hope you enjoy it regardless :0 reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! 💗here’s my masterlist!💗

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ lee heeseung ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

“im bored. we should kiss.”

you glare at heeseung as he lounges on your bed, completely absorbed in his phone. your boyfriend—the one who came over claiming he missed you sooo much—is now here, ignoring you like you’re just part of the furniture.

“hee…” you whine, shifting closer to him, trying to steal even a sliver of his attention. but apparently, whatever’s on his screen is far more fascinating than you, because all you get in return is a halfhearted, unbothered “hm.”

oh, that’s it.

a lightbulb flickers in your mind as you remember something, and before you can stop yourself, you clear your throat dramatically and mumble, “baby, i’m bored. we should kiss.”

cue instant chaos.

heeseung, mid-sip of his water, suddenly chokes—his eyes widening as he coughs, frantically trying not to die. “w-what was that, bun?” he sputters, still recovering.

you blink at him innocently, gasping as if you’re shocked beyond belief. “gasp! who said that?!” you clutch your chest like you just heard the most scandalous thing in the world. “that’s crazy! so bold! so shameless!”

heeseung squints at you, lips twitching in amusement. “oh? so it wasn’t you?”

you shake your head furiously, eyes wide. “nope! absolutely not! it was probably the wind… or maybe a ghost!” you gasp again, pointing at him dramatically. “oh no! what if our house is haunted by a really romantic ghost?!”

heeseung finally breaks, a giggle escaping him as he tosses his phone aside and pulls you into his arms. “a romantic ghost, huh? well, i guess i better listen to its request.”

and before you can come up with another ridiculous excuse, he’s already leaning in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. park jongseong ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

“the matter baby? whats the matter baby?”

it’s movie night, and you and jay are curled up on the couch, but there’s just one problem.

jay is glued to his phone.

not paying attention to the movie. not paying attention to you. just scrolling.

you squint at him. this is blatant disrespect.

so, naturally, you decide to fix it.

“jay,” you say sweetly, shifting closer.

“hm?” he replies, still not looking up.

you fight back a smirk. “would you rather eat a baby goat or the matter baby?”

“the matter baby?” he asks, completely oblivious.

“what’s the matter, baby?”

his thumb freezes.

his entire body goes rigid.

you watch as his brain malfunctions in real-time.

his eyes narrow, his jaw slightly dropping as realization smacks him in the face. “did you just—”

“nothing, sugar! how about you?” you cut him off, smiling innocently.

he stares. blinks once. twice.

and then, with zero warning, he lunges at you.

“YOU DID NOT JUST GET ME WITH THAT STUPID JOKE.”

you shriek, scrambling to escape, but jay is faster, stronger, and fueled by vengeance.

he tackles you onto the couch, trapping you beneath him as he straddles you.

“oh my god, you’re so mad right now!” you giggle, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re literally being held hostage.

“mad? no,” he smirks. “i just think you deserve punishment.”

“jay, no—”

too late.

his hands dive straight for your sides, and suddenly, you’re screaming with laughter, kicking and flailing as he mercilessly tickles you.

“say you’re sorry!” he demands, grinning.

“never!” you gasp between giggles, tears forming in your eyes.

“fine.” he leans down, lowering his voice. “i was gonna stop, but since you’re so stubborn…”

“JAY—”

the next few minutes are pure chaos, filled with screaming, thrashing, and a ridiculous amount of laughing.

somehow, you both end up in a tangled heap, breathless and giggling, his phone long forgotten on the floor.

mission: accomplished.

૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა sim jaeyun ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

“shh, dont talk too loud. it’s not good for the baby.”

jake has been nagging you non-stop for the past ten minutes, pacing around the room like a worried mother. and all because you forgot to lock the door when he left for groceries.

“baby, this is a serious matter,” he huffs, hands on his hips. “what— what if someone broke in and killed you or something? we do not want that—”

you groan, dramatically flopping onto the bed. yes, okay, he has a point. but in your defense, you were way too lazy to get up, and it’s not like he was gone for that long anyway.

and then, a lightbulb flickers in your head.

“hey, jake,” you cut him off mid-rant, voice suddenly soft and serious.

he stops, blinking at you. “what?”

you grab his hand gently and whisper, “shh, don’t talk too loud… it’s not good for the baby.”

jake freezes. you watch as about a thousand thoughts seem to hit him at once. “baby? what baby?”

“me,” you pout, clutching his hand tighter. “i’m the baby.”

his entire demeanor changes in a second. his sharp gaze softens, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to melt. “oh my god,” he mutters, running a hand over his face.

you double down, widening your eyes at him like some sort of helpless, delicate creature. “you were yelling,” you whisper dramatically. “scaring the baby…”

jake snorts, shaking his head as he finally cracks, wrapping his arms around you and squishing you into his chest. “you are so insufferable,” he mutters, laughing into your hair. “but ugh, fine. my poor baby.”

you grin, smug at your victory.

except—

“but,” jake suddenly pulls back, holding your face between his hands, his soft tone turning into a firm one again. “my big baby still needs to lock the door when i leave, okay?”

you groan. “ugh, jake—”

“nope,” he shakes his head, pecking your forehead to shut you up. “no arguments, baby. i will nag you forever if i have to.”

“forever?” you blink.

“forever.”

…you don’t know whether to be fond or terrified.

˚⊱🎀⊰˚park sunghoon ˚⊱🎀⊰˚

“i dont know whats gotten into me but i wish it was you.”

you lazily trace random patterns on sunghoon’s chest, humming softly as he absentmindedly plays with your hair.

“you’re awfully quiet today, hm?” he murmurs, his fingers still threading through your strands. he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head, as if trying to snap you out of your daze.

perfect. he fell right into your trap.

you smirk against his chest before quickly wiping it away, putting on your most innocent, vulnerable expression. you clear your throat dramatically.

“i don’t know what’s gotten into me lately, hoonie…” you mumble, voice just the right mix of soft and mysterious.

his phone is instantly forgotten. his whole body tenses as he tilts his head down at you, his eyes now filled with concern.

“hm?” he hums, his fingers pausing in your hair.

“but…” you sigh dramatically, tightening your grip on his shirt. “i wish it was you.”

silence.

you feel his chest rise and fall, but he doesn’t say a single word. you slowly peek up at him, and oh, wow.

his brain is completely fried.

his lips part slightly, his eyebrows furrowed, and his usually sharp gaze looks… empty.

“wait.” he blinks once. then twice. “what—”

before he can even process the joke, he suddenly moves.

with a swift motion, he pushes you down onto the bed, hovering over you with a deadpan expression.

“you think you’re funny, huh?” his voice is low, but there’s a hint of amusement laced in it.

you burst into giggles, squirming under him. “i know i’m funny!”

he narrows his eyes before suddenly attacking your sides with tickles.

“hoon— hoon, stop—” you shriek, flailing under him as he mercilessly tickles you, a smirk finally tugging at his lips.

“oh no, baby,” he teases, tilting his head. “you brought this on yourself.”

“i take it back! i take it back!” you cry out, but he only laughs, enjoying the way you’re practically gasping for air between your giggles.

when he finally stops, he hovers above you, his face just inches away.

“next time, i’ll really get into you,” he murmurs with a smirk, before pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

…yeah, joke’s on you.

©️ all rights reserved | hsnlv | 2025

[hoonstqr]

RANDOM BOYFRiEND TEXTS - L.HS

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader warnings: mdni! crack, mentions of reader being on her period, highly suggestive, if i missed smth lmk! stqr's notes: i tried to make these funny ; u ; but i lowk suck at texting lol. reblog to support!! i'm also working on a surprise for yall but finals ughhh :(

[jjungwons]

[ki2rins]

⟢ neighbour! thoughts - sjy

pairings: neighbour! jake x !reader || fluff! || warnings: just pure love and adoration from jakey <3

⟢ neighbour! jake who gives you a warm smile when he first moved to the apartment next to yours.

⟢ neighbour! jake who collects your parcels from the mailman when youre not around, using it as an excuse to talk to you.

⟢ neighbour! jake who starts to drive you to work, saying its on the way, but lies in order to spend time with you.

⟢ neighbour! jake who takes things slow with you. from gentle pats on the back to intimate hugs when youre more comfortable with him.

⟢ neighbour! jake who wants to know you better. he’ll invite you on friendly dates and bring layla along to excite you.

⟢ neighbour! jake who subconsciously remembers your schedule at the back of his head.

⟢ neighbour! jake who compliments you with his whole heart, starting from your soft and genuine smile to your easy-going personality.

⟢ neighbour! jake who starts picking up your slang because hes just so concentrated on everything you do.

⟢ neighbour! jake who stars sending you "good morning!" and "goodnight!" messages because he wants to be the first and last to greet you everyday.

⟢ neighbour! jake who strives to show you the best side of him, for you to know hes the best for you.

[arxiwon]

Falling Through the Cracks | sjy

Pairing: Jake Sim x Reader Genre: Angst, Tragedy, Heavy Heartbreak Warnings: Emotional cheating, miscommunication, regret, angst with no comfort, terminal illness, major character death Synopsis: You and Jake were supposed to have forever. But forever was never promised.

The first time you met Jake Sim, he was the boy with the brightest smile and the loudest laugh. He was warm—like the summer sun, like the lingering scent of coffee in the morning, like the feeling of home.

And you loved him for it.

Jake had always been yours, and you had always been his. At least, that’s what you thought.

But love is cruel when it isn’t enough.

It started small—missed calls, late replies, moments where he wasn’t really there even when he was sitting right beside you. At first, you brushed it off. Jake was busy with work, tired from practice, exhausted from always giving so much of himself to everyone.

You told yourself you understood.

Until you saw it.

The way he smiled at her.

It was the same way he used to smile at you.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were his anymore.

“Jake, tell me the truth.”

Your voice wavered as you stood in front of him, your fingers curled into your sleeves to keep them from shaking. Jake was sitting on the couch, his head tilted back against the cushions, but his whole body tensed at your words.

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You let out a broken laugh. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Silence.

It stretched between you, an unspoken truth neither of you wanted to say out loud.

Jake swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me,” you pleaded, your heart cracking with every second that passed.

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Your stomach twisted. It felt like the floor was crumbling beneath you, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“So it did happen.”

He didn’t answer.

And that silence told you everything.

Jake never physically cheated on you.

But love isn’t just about the body.

It’s about the heart.

And Jake had given a piece of his heart to someone else.

You knew he still loved you. You could see it in the way he hesitated before leaving, in the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right anymore.

But love alone wasn’t enough.

So you left.

And Jake let you.

A year passed.

You tried to move on. You really did. But there was always something missing—like a phantom limb, like a whisper in the wind, like the ghost of a love that should have lasted a lifetime.

Then, one day, Jake called you.

His voice was hoarse, weaker than you remembered.

“…Can we talk?”

You hesitated. But in the end, you went.

And that’s when you learned the truth.

Jake was sick.

Terminally.

The doctors had given him months.

Your world shattered in an instant.

The love you had tried so hard to bury came rushing back, suffocating you with its weight. Because it didn’t matter how much he had hurt you, how much time you had spent resenting him for breaking your heart—none of that mattered anymore.

Because you were about to lose him.

Forever.

Jake never asked you to stay.

But you did anyway.

Not as his lover, not as his second chance, but as the person who had loved him first and would love him last.

You were there through it all. The doctor visits, the sleepless nights, the pain that left him breathless and exhausted. You held his hand when he was too weak to stand. You ran your fingers through his hair when the weight of it all became too much.

And Jake… he never stopped looking at you like you were his entire world.

Because you were.

And maybe, in another life, he would’ve realized it sooner.

The last time Jake Sim smiled at you, it was different.

It wasn’t the brightest smile in the room. It wasn’t the loudest laugh.

It was soft. Tired. A whisper of what once was.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Tears streamed down your face as you held his hand against your chest. “Don’t.”

He exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching against yours. “If I had more time… I would’ve spent every second proving to you that it was always you. It was only you.”

You bit your lip, choking on a sob. “I know.”

Jake smiled again—just for you.

And then he closed his eyes.

And this time, he didn’t open them again.

You loved Jake Sim with every part of you.

But love wasn’t enough to keep him.

And as you sat there, holding his lifeless hand, you realized—

Jake had always been yours.

And you had always been his.

But forever was never promised.

[shuenkio]

Lover Demon — 제이크

Paring: Jake!Demon X M!reader

Synopsis: Summon the wrong type of demon consequences with something you never thought would ever happen.

Genre: Smut without plot. Cw: curse, smau.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

Witchcraft is a quiet, curious thing—something that seems to catch only your eye. In a world so full of technology and science, there’s little space left for whispered stories, magic, or the old myths that once felt so real. Those tales have grown faint over time, gently brushed aside by facts and reason, leaving behind a world that’s slowly forgotten how to dream.

Yet you can’t help but gather books on witchcraft—magic, power, rituals, spells, summoning—anything that catches your curiosity, even if most of them are likely just clever tricks for profit. But that doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to quiet your mind, to feel that familiar comfort in studying, in learning about the things that draw you in, no matter how unreal they might seem to others.

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving the sky to rest as a radiant full moon took its place, flooding the earth with silver light. It was the perfect night—the kind you’d been waiting for. Months of study led to this moment, the chance to perform a ritual, to summon a demon that haunted your thoughts. Wishes you’d longed for danced on the edge of possibility. Whether the books were lies or truth didn’t matter. It was worth the risk.

Behind your grandparents’ backyard, surrounded by trees that whispered in the night breeze, lay the perfect place for this ritual. Hidden from prying eyes and safe from interruption, it was the ideal spot to summon the demon that had lingered in your thoughts. Under the full moon’s watchful gaze, the air felt heavy with possibility.

“Finally, I’ve been SUMMONED—” the demon stretched, his body cracking with a sound that echoed through the small, broken-down house. He sighed, clearly relieved to be back in the human world. His glowing eyes scanned the room before landing on you. He blinked, his expression shifting from smug to surprised. “Wait... you’re a guy?” he asked, pointing at you with one sharp claw.

You stood there, clutching the book to your chest, heart pounding as you stared at the towering figure. His horns nearly brushed the ceiling, and his presence filled the room with an aura that made it hard to breathe. You swallowed hard but forced yourself to stand tall. Clearing your throat, you tried to keep your voice steady. “What’s wrong with being a boy?” You scoffed, turning your nose up just a little. “You know damn well you can’t do anything to me since I’m the one who summoned you.” You tried to sound confident, hoping he couldn’t see how your hands were trembling just a bit.

The demon looked at you for a long moment before rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine. So what do you want? Must be something big if you went through all that trouble.” He crossed his arms, his muscles flexing under his dark skin. “Just so you know, my name’s Jake, and I’m the Demon of Love.” He paused, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I know it doesn’t sound all that terrifying, but it’s not what you think. I’m no damn cupid.”

You stared at him, your mind blanking for a moment. Demon of... Love? Your stomach sank as the realization hit you. You’d summoned the wrong demon.

“Uh... hey, so... I think I made a mistake summoning you,” you started, your voice wavering as you tried to keep your composure. “I was... actually looking for a wish demon, not... um... a love demon.” You could feel your face heating up with embarrassment. “So... can you, like... go back by yourself? Or do I have to, uh, do another ritual or something?”

Jake’s glowing red eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable as he stared at you. For a moment, you were convinced he was either furious or just incredibly disappointed, but then he let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Of course. Should’ve known. A rookie,” he muttered, his voice echoing with that eerie double-tone that made your skin crawl.

He crossed his arms, his massive form leaning against the crumbling wall. “You humans never read the fine print, do you?” His eyes roamed over you, lingering just long enough to make you uncomfortable. “Alright, since you’re... kind of handsome and clearly clueless, I’ll tell you the truth. There’s only one way to send me back.”

You waited, holding your breath.

“Mating,” Jake said lazily, as if he were discussing the weather. “Since you’re my summoner, we’d have to... you know, perform a ritual of love. It’s my rule.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak. “W-What?” you finally managed, voice cracking in disbelief. “You’re kidding... right?”

Jake just smirked, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Hey, don’t blame me. You summoned the Demon of Love. What did you expect?”

////

Right on the spot, your body was naked where your clothes had been torn into pieces by the love demon. The moment you couldn't even take time to react, that was when it changes to the state that you're in right now, completely butt out and length kiss the cold air. However that's just the beginning, The love demon— shape shift himself into the human version of his, in order to intimate the rule he just spit, for a better saying was to FUCK Jake to send him back.

A flash red light flickering, before Jake stands proud in front of you with his exposed flesh. His build masculine body makes you question whether this is a reward or a punishment? Not to mention in detail was that— even though Jake was a demon, he understood the human need... A bit all too well for how lustful they are in bed, and he isn't any better from humans, Jake likes it more than they ever would.

The 12 inches cock hanging between his legs, the balls are covered in a heavy skin stretching like a cauliflower. Jake's tense thighs only to fuel your desire to just kneel right there before him and begging for his to fuck your brain out of you.

Yet you made no move. In a blink of an eyes you find yourself on the red comfortable mistress to the unknown, the dark absorbed any surrounded which all you see is blank plain ancient walls around.

Jake wastes no time before Lough into your smaller frame which caused you to yelp in a surprise manner. As your back hits the cold bed before his hip enters your closet personal space. Your groin of course. The demon itself tends to know a lot of people's daily life and stuff, nevertheless he doesn't know how to kiss, to intimate more sexual love making, to bond more yet all he knows was to mate and fuck, that's all he's good at.

"If you dare to PUSH me off right now darling, I'll be forever stuck here with you for a century, and boy—I do not care if you have a manhood to make children, i fuck whoever summon ME!" Cool sweat dripping down on your forehead, with a shriek were heard inside the chamber once Jake's enormous largely cock entered the tightness of yours.

For once in his whole life— Jake could finally find pleasure for the first time in humans, resulting in him throwing his head back, goosebumps running down in his vein as his both reds glow eyes disappear into white. The pleasure of his cock burying the inside of your hole alone already turning Jake into a wild animal.

"Holy Demon— mhmm why is it SAUR GOOD I fucking love it, need to BREED with my fucking FERTILIZER SEED ARG" The demon shriek to the undeniable lust he felt in this moment, his growling alluring through your ear drum.

"Unghh... fuck! So goddamn tight...!"

Your eyes turn white of the intense pleasure, my ass hole is too taunt better than a vice, make him fold into two even though he was pounding me just like demon possessed. It was too much for us yet it was too overstimulated for Jake, to hold on to the point he needed something to hold on.

The taller frame grunts and pants harshly, sweat beading on his brow as he struggles to maintain his relentless pace, your incredibly tight hole clenching and fluttering around his pistoning cock like a silken vise. "Shit... M/n... your fucking ass... it's too goddamn tight!"

He snarls through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The couch creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake leans forward, his chest pressing against your back as he tries to find some semblance of stability. His hot, ragged breaths fall against your neck and ear, his lips latching onto your skin to bite and suck. He's quickly losing himself in the tight, wet heat engulfing his cock, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate.

Suddenly, he hilts inside you, grinding his pelvis flush against your ass, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your taint. He stays there for a moment, just savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed in your clenching channel before he starts rolling his hips, stirring his thick cock around inside you.

His hand snakes around your body, grasping your own weeping erection, squeezing and stroking it in time with his relentless thrusts. "Unghh... fuck... I can feel every throb, every twitch of this greedy little cunt... like it's sucking me in fucking deeper...!" Whimpers sniff painted his face, he's absolutely destroying himself.

He changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, aiming straight for that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. With each snap of his hips, he grinds against that spot, determined to make you fall apart on his cock.

The pressure builds rapidly in his heavy, churning balls as he chases his pleasure, his strokes becoming shorter and sharper, his grip on your hips tightening. He's getting close... too fucking close. But he won't stop, not until he's pumped every last drop of his hot, thick seed deep into your guts.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The bed creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake collapses heavily against your back, his entire body shaking and twitching with the force of his intense orgasm. A guttural, almost feral roar tears from his throat as he empties his aching, overstimulated balls deep inside you, painting your inner walls white with thick ropes of his scalding cum.

His cock jerks and pulses wildly as it pumps what feels like an endless stream of jizz into your spasming hole, the sheer volume of it causing some to leak out around his shaft and drip down onto the couch. He grinds against you, making sure to push his load in as deep as it can go, marking your insides with his essence.

But the overwhelming sensations and the intense pleasure pushing him over the edge also have an unintended consequence. As he's lost in the throes of his release, feeling your body clench and milk his spurting cock, he loses control of another bodily function. A warm, unfamiliar sensation rushes through his shaft, and suddenly, he feels a strong, forceful stream of piss erupting from his cock, mixing with the thick cum already flooding your ass.

Panic rises in his chest as he realizes what's happening, but he's too far gone, too consumed by the all-encompassing pleasure radiating from his core. He can only let out choked, strangled groans as he continues to empty his overstimulated body into yours, the heat of his piss momentarily startling you, even as it washes away the excess cum.

After what feels like an eternity, his release finally starts to taper off, leaving him slumped against your back, both of you coated in sweat and the remnants of his spending. His softening cock, still buried deep inside your cream-filled hole, gives a few last weak pulses, a few last drops of piss and cum dribbling lazily into you.

The man remains in place, his entire body heavy and sated, his breathing slowly returning to a somewhat normal pace after the intense workout. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked skin, a rare moment of gentle intimacy. He's utterly spent, but a part of him is still marveling at the incredible tightness of your body, the way it took everything he had to give and then some.

"cum... It's coming...."

Jake could feels the hot spurts of your release splattering against his fingers and your stomach, mixed with the sweat and other fluids already covering both of your bodies. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face, his chest rumbling with a deep, approving groan. "Heh... that's it, M/n... come for me just like the needy little slut you are. I can feel you fucking soaking my hand with it...— I guess I won't fucking leave this human world you're now forever mine— My you"

The slave mark appears on your lower tummy.

A/n: Some part might be confused so I'll left into your imagination. This was inspired by bff of mine— from my famous friend @angelsfat3

Funtalk: Dare to get rail by demon Jake?

[juyeoz]

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋⠀FOR THE PLOT — AN 02z SMAU

037 ┆ in love or mentally ill

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NOTE — kind of a filler chapter but not at the same time

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© JUYEOZ

[whiterosesforher]

𓍼 ⋮ A LOVE TO LAST ( L.HS )

𝒾 : may I present to you dearest reader, ethan bridgerton, the gentle viscount, and your childhood best friend. 【 ˚⊱☁️⊰˚ 】

♯ 𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 | 𝓌 : 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢.

disclaimer ‣ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🩷 this is a fanfiction inspired by the backstory of violet and edmund originally from the bridgerton series book and show. most elements are purposely altered. ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

❤︎ ... lady whistledown ; dearest readers, i hope you do indulge in this meaningful love story. ۶ৎ / 𝓌𝒸 ┈ • ┈ 14.2k💗

( ‧˚꒰🦪꒱༘⋆ ) write to lady whistledown ✒️៹

You sit in the drawing room, the faint hum of your mother’s words. It is late in the afternoon, and sunlight pours in through the tall windows, casting golden streaks over the pale blue wallpaper.

Your hands rest on your lap, clasped tightly, though you feel restless. You’ve been here for an hour, enduring yet another lecture from your mother about duty and expectations.

You are now 17 and just had your debut into the marriage mart, yet you are considered unlucky for you don't have much of suitors, like a wallflower hanging around the edges of the ballroom without a dance partner.

You are the only child to a baron and baroness, it is not surprising for you that your mother is trying hard to secure you a beneficial match.

“Violet,” she begins, her voice sharp, “you must remember that you are not just any young woman. You are a Ledger. Your actions reflect upon this family.”

You nod, though your thoughts wander. The heavy air of the room makes you yearn for the garden outside, where the roses are blooming and the scent of fresh earth and sunshine feels far more welcoming than the constraints of these walls.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your mother’s voice snaps you back to the present.

“Of course, Mother,” you reply, offering a polite smile. It’s a practiced expression, one you wear often when her sharp words cut into you.

Her eyes narrow, but before she can continue, the door opens, and the tension in the room shifts. Your father steps in, his presence filling the space with warmth.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, his tone light, though he’s fully aware of what’s happening.

“Not at all,” you answer quickly, relief washing over you.

Your mother sighs, rising from her seat. “You spoil her, you know,” she tells your father as she moves toward the door. “She must learn what is expected of her if she is to find a suitable match.”

As soon as the door closes behind her, your father smiles at you, his shoulders relaxing. “Don’t let her bother you too much, beauty,” he says, crossing the room to sit beside you.

“I try not to,” you admit, leaning slightly toward him. "But it seems my every move is scrutinized."

You paused for a moment, deep in thought before continuing with a sincere tone as you look up at your father, “I want to marry someone I truly love, Daddy. Not out of duty.”

“That’s because your mother worries for you in her own way,” he says, though you can tell even he doesn’t fully believe it. “But Beauty, if a marriage from true love is what you want, then that you shall get. Hold on to that.”

His words stay with you as the days pass. Your mother continues her efforts to mold you into the perfect young lady with less laughter, fewer whims, more poise. But your father’s encouragement reminds you of what you truly want.

It’s in the evenings, during the rare moments of quiet, when you feel most at peace. You often escape to the garden, where the scent of heather lingers in the air. You close your eyes and imagine a future that feels far away, one that is filled with love, laughter, and freedom.

But reality always has a way of pulling you back. Balls and promenading to attract suitors becomes a routine, each one blurring into the next. The men of the ton always speak of their estates, their wealth, their ambitions, but none of them speak to your heart.

Until one evening, when a letter sent to your father arrives, mentioning the death of an old friend reported by his own son that is now a Viscount, a name mentioned in passing sparks curiosity, and it sounds oddly familiar to you. Ethan Bridgerton. “Oh heavens! Send our sincerest condolences to Ethan! A Viscount after his father, a family friend,” your mother says with approval, her lips curling into a satisfied smile.

“A Bridgerton is a fine match,” she tells you. "They are a family of impeccable standing and tremendous wealth.

But you barely listen, still thinking of how familiar that name is, maybe because he's a family friend. A strange sensation stirs within you, for a reason you can't figure out.

And then it hit you, the last name Bridgerton, a family that is a close old friend to yours, the boy who irritated you to the ends of the earth when you were 8. Oh how you clearly remember the day you first met that wretched young man. You hate him, but you do feel bad for him, for the death of his father who was close to you and your family.

The Ledgers' country estate was abuzz with excitement that morning. The Bridgertons were visiting. A long-standing family friendship it is but these visits are quite rare.

You stood at the edge of the garden, your small fingers deftly moving as you arranged the handpicked flowers into the vase. It is the learning task your governess made you do today. A peaceful breeze carried the scent of the nearby lavender bushes, and the muffled sounds of conversation from the drawing room floated out through the open windows.

“Violet, dear, come meet our guests!” Your mother’s cheerful call interrupted your concentration. You left your vase reluctantly and smoothed out your dress before making your way back toward the house.

Inside the grand entryway, the adults had already gathered. Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton stood near the fireplace, their warmth filling the room as they exchanged pleasantries with your parents. Beside them were their children, a crowd of faces, some shy, some openly curious.

“Lord and Lady Ledger, thank you for having us,” Viscountess Bridgerton said, her voice carrying a note of genuine affection. She gestured to the group of children around her. “And these, as you know, are our children. Billie, Ethan, George, and Hugo.”

Ethan. You noticed him immediately, a boy around your age, his dark hair slightly unruly and his grin mischievous, even as he gave a polite bow. His eyes darted around the room, restless and alive.

“Go on, children,” The Viscount Bridgerton urged. “Take some time to explore while we talk.”

With a collective cheer, the Bridgerton boys were off, their laughter echoing down the hallways as they raced through the house while the eldest sister remained. You hesitated, lingering near the adults, but your mother gave you a gentle nudge.

“Go on, Violet. You may also go play.”

Taking your mother’s advice, you returned to the garden, eager to enjoy the quiet once more instead of playing with them. Settling back into your spot beneath the shade of a willow tree, you resumed your flower arranging. The sunlight danced across your hands as you worked, content in the solitude.

That peace didn’t last.

As the sun climbed higher, you decided to fetch a drink from the house. Gathering your things, you made your way back toward the garden entrance. But as you stepped beneath the archway leading inside, a strange creaking sound caught your attention.

You barely had time to glance upward before it happened.

A cascade of white powder—soft and choking—poured down on you, coating your hair, your dress, and every inch of exposed skin. It took you a moment to realize what it was, well it was flour. You froze in shock, the vase you're hugging falling from your arms.

Laughter erupted above you. You craned your neck to see the source of the chaos, and there they were, the Bridgerton boys leaning over the balcony. Leading the charge was none other than Ethan, his grin wider than ever, his hands gripping the now empty bucket.

“Ethan Bridgerton!” you shouted, your little voice sharp enough to rival your mother’s scolding tone.

The laughter only grew louder. Ethan’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned on the railing. “I think you wear white rather well, Miss Ledger,” he teased, his tone mockingly polite.

Your cheeks burned with indignation, though it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or fury. “You are absolutely insufferable!” you declared, shaking the flour from your hair as best as you could.

Ethan cupped his hands around his mouth and called down, “We’ll call it even if you come up here and try it on one of us!”

The audacity of him! You picked up a small stone and was about to throw it upwards to him but your Governess caught you in time and stopped you, lecturing you softly.

You stormed back toward the house, stomping your small feet, determined to find your mother and father and report this appalling behavior while your Governess followed behind, calling out to you while you ignored her.

Your brow furrowed, lips tightening into an unbidden sneer at the remembrance of the memory. You could still hear cackling of the Bridgerton boys as you stood there, cheeks burning, fists clenched. How utterly insufferable he had been.

“Violet, are you quite finished daydreaming?” Your mother’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. She swept into the room with the grace of a swan, her brow slightly pinched in disapproval. “You’ll have no time for idle thoughts this afternoon. There’s far too much to do before tonight’s ball.”

Ah, another ball. You sat up straighter, smoothing your skirts as if that would erase the petulant expression that had betrayed your thoughts only moments before.

“Yes, Mother,” you replied demurely, though you felt a pang of irritation at the constant reminders of your duty.

Your mother was already issuing orders to the servants bustling through the house. One carried a trunk of shimmering gowns to your room; another balanced a tray of jewelled hairpins and satin gloves. “Come now, Violet, let us get you ready,” she urged, her tone brisk but expectant.

You followed her upstairs to your chambers, where your maid had begun laying out a pale blue gown adorned with delicate silver thread. The fabric shimmered like starlight as it caught the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. “This will suit you perfectly, miss,” your maid said, smoothing the gown with practiced hands.

The preparations began in earnest. First, the gown, layers upon layers of skirts, petticoats, and corsets. You stood patiently as your maid and another servant laced the stays tightly, drawing your waist into the fashionable silhouette of the time.

“Breathe, Violet,” your mother instructed coolly, though the tug of the laces made it nearly impossible. You did as you were told, though you swore under your breath as the final knot was secured.

Next came the hair. You sat still as your maid worked swiftly, brushing, curling, and pinning each strand into place. Your hair was swept high, adorned with small pearls and a few artful curls left to frame your face. The faint scent of rosewater clung to the air as she finished, a gentle spritz ensuring everything stayed in place for the night ahead.

When it came time to choose your accessories, your mother’s discerning eye moved over the options laid before you. “Not the sapphires,” she said, waving them away. “They’re too heavy for such a delicate gown. The diamonds will do.”

You allowed her to clasp the glittering necklace around your neck, the cool weight of it settling on your skin. A matching bracelet and pair of earrings followed, their brilliance almost blinding in the late afternoon light.

Finally, your gloves were pulled on—soft, white silk that reached just past your elbows. You flexed your fingers to test their fit, feeling a sense of finality as the preparations came to an end.

Your mother gave you a once-over, her critical gaze softening into approval. “You’ll be the most beautiful girl at the ball,” she said.

You caught your reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at you looked polished, elegant, every bit the young lady society demanded her to be. And yet, there was still a flicker of unease.

Tonight is another night of dipping your toes onto the marriage mart, waiting for offers of dances from gentlemen that could turn into suitors if luck is on your side.

The grand ballroom was a symphony of color and light, the hum of lively conversation mingling with the delicate strains of the orchestra. You arrived with your parents, your mother adjusting the hem of your gown as you walked through the crowded entrance.

The ton was out in full force tonight with their glistening jewels, perfectly coiffed hair, and practiced smiles everywhere you looked. Your father exchanged pleasantries with the hosts, and your mother ushered you forward with a whispered reminder “Stand tall and do not turn down any gentleman who approaches.”

You offered polite smiles and nods to those who greeted you, but inside, the familiar feeling of unease settled in your chest. Balls like these were meant to dazzle, to enchant, to connect young ladies like yourself with eligible gentlemen.

But for you, they had always been the same, just a long night of standing alone, sipping lemonade, and looking like as if you're guarding the table, while the rest of the ton danced.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself exactly where you had expected to be, standing by the refreshments table, watching the couples glide across the polished floor with sad envious gaze.

You held a glass of lemonade, its cold condensation dampening your gloved fingers, and sipped it quietly. Your dance card remained empty even after some time of being in the party.

The music swirled around you, a beautiful tune meant for twirling skirts and clasped hands, but to you, it only underscored your role as a wallflower.

You sighed, watching a young lady laugh brightly as her partner spun her in an elegant arc. It wasn’t exactly envy—no, more like a quiet resignation. You weren’t the kind of girl who turned heads or inspired dashing gentlemen to ask for a dance. You were the quiet one, the one who faded into the background.

The air inside the ballroom began to feel stifling, and you longed for a moment of reprieve. Deciding you’d had enough of being a wallflower, you maneuvered through the bustling crowd, clutching your lemonade as you made your way toward the terrace. The promise of fresh air was enough to spur you on.

But as you rounded a corner, your path abruptly collided with someone else’s. Your glass tipped in your hand, its contents spilling forward in a sticky cascade.

“Oh no!” you gasped, stepping back in shock. The man before you, dressed in an immaculate white suit, now bore a large, unmistakable stain across his chest.

He blinked down at himself, then at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Well,” he said lightly, “I suppose I’ve been baptized using a lemonade.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you immediately fumbled for your handkerchief. “I am so, so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t mean to—oh, let me—” You reached forward, your hands trembling as you dabbed uselessly at the fabric of his jacket.

“Please,” he said, his voice gentle as he caught your wrist. “It’s quite alright. No harm done.”

You stilled under his touch, your eyes finally lifting to meet his. Dark brown eyes stared back at you, warm and kind, with a spark of humor that made your heart skip. His face was striking, with sharp features softened by the faintest hint of a smile.

“I still feel dreadful about it,” you murmured, withdrawing your hand but keeping your gaze on his. “You must think me terribly clumsy.”

“Not at all,” he said, stepping back slightly to ease the tension. “I think it’s one of the more memorable introductions I’ve had this evening. If I'm being honest, I've grown tired of the flirty introductions of single ladies tonight encouraged by their eager mamas.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Introductions?”

He gave a small bow, his grin widening. “Ethan Bridgerton, at your service.”

The name struck you like a bell, and for a moment, the ballroom seemed to blur around you. Memories of a boy holding a bucket of flour, laughter echoing from a high balcony, rushed back to you.

“You,” you said, narrowing your eyes slightly as recognition dawned. “You’re the one who—”

“Dumped flour on your head?” he finished for you, his grin now bordering on boyish mischief. “I do believe that was me. Though, in my defense, it was rather funny.”

Despite your embarrassment, a small laugh escaped you. “I’m not sure I’d agree with that.”

“Well, then,” he said, gesturing to his stained jacket, “I suppose this makes us even. I dumped flour on you, you dumped lemonade on me.”

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Perhaps.”

You suddenly realized, with a slight jolt of embarrassment, that you hadn’t even introduced yourself properly yet. Straightening your posture and clasping your hands lightly in front of you, you gave a polite, practiced bow.

“Violet Ledger,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Viscount Bridgerton.”

Ethan inclined his head with a smile, but before he could respond, the moment between you was abruptly interrupted. A group of young ladies, unmarried and eager, with their mamas trailing behind them had suddenly swept into the scene like a wave. Their eyes sparkled as they took in the handsome Viscount, his presence drawing attention like a moth to a flame.

“Viscount Bridgerton! What a surprise to see you here tonight,” one of the young women gushed, a dazzling smile lighting her face.

Another chimed in, “We didn’t expect to see you so soon after your family’s return to London. How delightful!”

The women surrounded him, their voices a symphony of pleasantries and gentle competition. You stood off to the side, momentarily forgotten, your heart sinking as the reality of your position settled in again. This was what always happened, wasn’t it? Ladies like them, with their bright smiles and effortless charm, were exactly the kind of women gentlemen like Ethan Bridgerton were drawn to.

Ethan, however, didn’t seem particularly charmed by the sudden onslaught. His smile, while polite, no longer reached his eyes. He glanced at you for a brief moment, as if searching for something. Then, in a voice just loud enough for you to hear, he leaned slightly toward you and murmured, “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could respond, he had already begun to step away. He offered the ladies a gracious bow and a few kind words of parting. “Ladies, you’ll have to forgive me. I find myself quite parched after the journey here.”

The mamas behind the girls exchanged a flurry of glances as they urged their daughters to follow him, but the group hesitated just long enough to allow Ethan and you to slip away.

He gestured toward a side door leading out onto the terrace. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure whether it was from the attention you’d just received or the audacity of his actions. The low murmur of the crowd faded behind you as the cool night air embraced you both, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom.

As the door closed behind you, Ethan turned to face you with a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well,” he said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket, “I daresay I haven’t made an escape that dramatic since my childhood days.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “I think you may have just caused a minor scandal in there.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” he replied, his tone light and amused. “But I assure you, Miss Ledger, it was entirely worth it.”

The two of you stood side by side on the terrace, gazing out over the moonlit gardens in a peaceful, companionable silence. The cool night air was a relief from the overwhelming noise of the ballroom, and for a moment, neither of you felt the need to fill the quiet.

Finally, you gathered your thoughts and spoke, your voice soft and tentative. “Viscount Bridgerton—”

He turned to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he interrupted. “Ethan.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“Call me Ethan,” he repeated, his tone warm and easy.

For a moment, you hesitated, glancing at him uncertainly. But his expression was earnest, and you found yourself nodding. “Very well... Ethan.”

The name felt foreign on your tongue, but also strangely natural, as though it was meant to be spoken in this moment. You adjusted your gloves, casting your gaze down briefly before meeting his eyes once more.

“I wanted to offer my condolences,” you said softly, your tone sincere. “For your father. My family received the news in a letter this morning. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Ethan’s expression faltered, the light in his eyes dimming just slightly. He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint attempt at a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s been... a difficult adjustment, but I suppose it’s to be expected. My father was a great man. Filling his shoes is no small task.”

You nodded solemnly, not entirely sure what to say. “It must have been hard to inherit the title so suddenly.”

“It was,” he admitted, his gaze drifting back toward the gardens. “But as the eldest son, it was always expected of me. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

The weight in his voice was unmistakable, and for a brief moment, you glimpsed the burden he carried—one that went far beyond the responsibilities of being a viscount. You wanted to offer some kind of comfort, but words felt insufficient.

So instead, you reached out hesitantly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Unruly for a lady who's all alone with a man, but you couldn't care less. He looked at you then, and the sadness in his expression softened into something quieter, something more grateful.

“Thank you,” he said again, his voice low. “Truly.”

You offered him a small smile, hoping it conveyed everything you couldn’t put into words.

Ever since then, you were never able to get rid of the man. A beautiful friendship blooming between the two of you.

Ethan had been nearby, escorting a dance partner to her seat. As she departed, he turned to you, his smile playful.

“Miss Ledger, are you always this determined to blend in with the curtains?” he teased, glancing at the floral drapes behind you.

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned, before you chuckled softly. “It’s called being observant, Viscount Bridgerton. You should try it some time, I bet it would help in making you wiser.”

“Ah, but you see,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes bright with amusement. “The observant ones always have the most to say. They simply haven’t been asked yet.”

You laughed lightly, surprised at his wit. “And what would you like me to say then, my lord?”

His grin widened. “That you’ll grant me the honor of this next dance, of course.”

The following week, your paths crossed again during a morning promenade in the park. Ethan had joined you unexpectedly, claiming he needed a distraction from the paperwork piling up on his desk.

As you walked along the gravel paths, he pointed out the ducks waddling near the pond, remarking on how they seemed far more organized than the members of Parliament.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You truly have a talent for finding humor in the most mundane things, Ethan.”

“And you,” he replied, his tone softer, “have a talent for making even the dullest promenades feel like a grand adventure.”

The morning sun casts a golden glow across the stables as you made your way toward your horse, the light filtering through the wooden beams and glinting off the rows of neatly arranged saddles.

Ethan was already there, his sleeves rolled up and his jacket slung casually over a nearby post. He greeted you with a bright grin, one that always seemed to make your heart beat just a little faster.

“You’re late,” he teased, his tone warm and familiar. “I was beginning to think you’d left me to ride alone.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’m not late; you’re just too early. Honestly, don’t you have anything better to do than loiter in the stables?”

“Nothing better than helping my favorite partner in crime prepare for a ride,” he quipped, grabbing the saddle and hoisting it effortlessly onto your horse’s back.

You chuckled, though the flutter in your chest was impossible to ignore. He moved with an ease that spoke of years of riding, his hands deft as he adjusted the straps and tightened the girth. Watching him like this, so at home and so...him, made you forget for a moment how much he’d come to mean to you.

As you worked together, the conversation turned light and aimless, a pleasant back-and-forth of teasing and shared stories. But then, as he led your horse out into the sunlight, the topic shifted.

“So,” Ethan began, his tone casual as he patted the horse’s neck, “have you noticed how everyone seems to assume we’re something we’re not?” He laughed, the sound soft and carefree. “It’s ridiculous, really. Can you imagine? You and me?”

Your heart sank, the words hitting you like a cold gust of wind. You forced a laugh to match his, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow as it felt. “Ridiculous,” you echoed, though your voice faltered ever so slightly.

Ethan didn’t seem to notice. He was already climbing onto his horse, the sun catching the golden strands of his hair as he settled into the saddle. “They’ll talk about anything, won’t they? It’s absurd. You’re my closest friend, Violet. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”

Your grip tightened around the reins of your horse as you climbed into the saddle, your fingers trembling slightly. His words replayed in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Closest friend. Nothing more.

You smiled anyway, because what else could you do? “Yes, absurd indeed,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced over at you, his expression soft and unassuming. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” you said quickly, too quickly. You tugged on the reins, urging your horse forward. “Come on, let’s see if you can keep up with me for once.”

Ethan grinned, the same easy smile that always lit up his face. “You’re on.”

And just like that, the moment passed, but as the wind rushes and the landscape blurs around you, the ache in your chest remained, showing you the reality of how you expected something more from nothing.

At another ball, you found yourself at the edge of the dance floor again, but this time, Ethan’s gaze found yours across the room. He was engaged in a conversation with a group of gentlemen, yet his attention seemed to waver as he glanced your way.

You have been sneakily avoiding him after that day, always finding an excuse to be busy just so you could turn his invitations down. You did what you had to do. You had already fallen deep for the Viscount, and he's nowhere near reciprocating your feelings. He made that clear.

The strings of the orchestra swelled, and all of a sudden, someone swept you to the dancefloor, and you found yourself in Ethan’s arms once again, gliding across. His touch was gentle, his movements effortless as he led you through the steps of the waltz.

“You’re avoiding me,” he remarked, his voice low and just for you.

You glanced up at him, searching his face. “Am I?”

He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. “Do you find my presence disturbing now?”

“I suppose I do,” you lied, feeling the warmth of his hand resting lightly on your waist. You do not want to tell him the real reason.

As the music continued, you felt a shift in the air between you, something unspoken yet palpable. Then, as the dance neared its end, he leaned in ever so slightly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Violet,” he murmured, his tone both hesitant and sincere, “I think I feel something more for you.”

Your breath caught, but before you could respond, the music reached its crescendo, and the dance ended. The partners switched, and suddenly, Ethan was gone, replaced by another gentleman.

You moved through the motions of the next dance, your mind racing and your heart pounding. The moment the music ceased, you turned, scanning the crowd for Ethan’s familiar figure.

He was walking away, his tall frame weaving through the throngs of guests. You quickly stepped forward, attempting to follow him, but the sea of people seemed to conspire against you.

“Miss Ledger, how lovely to see you,” someone greeted, blocking your path.

You forced a polite smile and nodded, excusing yourself as quickly as you could. But by the time you reached the edge of the ballroom, Ethan was nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, you stood still for a moment, the crowd swirling around you. The evening’s events replayed in your mind, leaving you with a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty.

Where had he gone? And why had he chosen that moment to reveal his feelings?

The morning light streamed through the windows of the drawing room as you carefully played a simple melody on the piano, the gentle notes filling the air. Your mother, Baroness Vivian Ledger, stood behind you, silent but watchful. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she sighed deeply, breaking the quiet.

“Violet,” she began, her tone calm but firm. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Viscount Bridgerton?”

You froze for a moment, your fingers hovering over the keys. Turning to face her, you blinked in confusion. “What do you mean, Mother?”

She folded her arms, her expression unwavering. “You’ve been promenading together, dancing at countless balls, and I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Do not play coy with me, Violet. Why hasn’t he called on you yet?”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly turned back to the piano, your hands fidgeting with the keys. “Why would he call on me?” you muttered, attempting to downplay the fluttering in your chest. “We’re just friends.”

Your mother let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. “Just friends? Don’t be ridiculous, a gentleman doesn’t spend that much time with a lady, nor look at her the way he looks at you, if he only sees her as a friend.”

Before you could respond, the doors to the drawing room creaked open, and a servant stepped in, bowing slightly. “Miss Violet Ledger, you have a caller.”

Your heart leapt to your throat as two footmen entered carrying extravagant bouquets of flowers, bright colors with delicate arrangements. They placed them carefully on the table. It was heathers, your favorite flower, filling the room with their sweet fragrance.

And then he appeared. Ethan Bridgerton stepped into the room, impeccably dressed and wearing his usual polite smile. His eyes flicked to yours, warm and steady, before he turned his attention to your mother.

“Baroness Ledger,” he greeted with a slight bow. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Your mother’s face lit up with genuine delight. She had always been fond of Ethan, treating him almost like a son during the times the Bridgertons had visited your family. “Ethan, my dear boy,” she said warmly, gesturing for him to sit. “Come, you two have a seat. I’ll have refreshments brought in for you.”

Ethan offered a nod of thanks as your mother ushered you both to the couch and sat beside each other. Your mother lingered for a moment before retreating to the other side of the room, a clear signal that she intended to give the two of you some privacy while still keeping a watchful eye.

“I hope the flowers are to your liking? They're your favorite, Heathers,” you stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You’re calling on me?” you blurted out, disbelief clear in your voice.

Ethan turned to you, his smile softening into something more personal, more earnest. “Of course I am,” he replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart raced, and for a moment, you struggled to find words. Everything about this felt too surreal to be true.

“Well,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think—”

He chuckled softly, leaning in just enough for his voice to lower, though not enough to cross the boundaries of propriety. “You didn’t think I’d call on you after all this time?” You blinked, at a loss for words, as his gaze held yours.

“But you made it clear to me,” you said, your tone soft but tinged with disbelief. “You would never see me as something more than a friend, and last night after telling me that you actually hold deeper feelings for me, you just… vanished.”

Ethan’s gaze softened, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face. “That’s true,” he admitted, leaning slightly forward. “And for that, I owe you an apology. It wasn’t my intention to leave you wondering. But, Violet” his voice steadied firm, “I left because I already knew what I had to do.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words. “And what was that?”

“To court you,” he said simply, his lips curling into a faint smile. “I knew from the moment we met that you were unlike anyone I’d ever known, yet I kept denying it, wanting to preserve our friendship. But last night, as we danced, after weeks of you ignoring me, it became clear to me that I want more than just your friendship, Violet. I want your partnership, your trust, your love. I wasted no time this morning because I knew I needed to see you and make my intentions clear.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you were certain he could see the way your hands trembled slightly in your lap. Before you could respond, Ethan reached out, taking your hand gently in his.

“And so,” he continued, his expression sincere and unwavering, “I am here now to ask for your hand in marriage.”

The room seemed to fall silent, the weight of his proposal filling the air. Your heart raced, your mind spinning. Marriage. It wasn’t just an idea or a possibility, it is here now, being offered by a man who had somehow become everything you’d ever wanted. A marriage of love match.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

His smile broke into something brighter, almost relieved, as if he’d been holding his breath. “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of England, Violet.”

“Ethan? Why me?” you couldn't help but ask, the question escaping your lips before you could stop it.

His smile grew even wider, and he let out a soft chuckle, his brown eyes glimmering with warmth as they fixed on yours. “Why not you?” he replied, his tone light but full of conviction.

You blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of his answer. Before you could respond, “Violet,” he started, his voice growing softer but no less certain. “At first glance, you seem quiet and boring if I'm being frank. But the more I watched, the more I realized how wrong that was.”

His words made your breath catch, and you felt the familiar warmth creeping into your cheeks.

“You aren’t just quiet, Violet,” he continued, his tone deepening with emotion. “You’re thoughtful. You observe, you listen, and you understand things most people overlook. Your mind is a place of quiet wisdom, and your heart—” He paused, his gaze softening as he searched your face. “Your heart is deeper than the ocean. Once someone has the privilege of knowing you, truly knowing you, they realize just how extraordinary you are.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity of his gaze, it was all warming.

“I admire how you care for the people around you, even in the smallest ways,” Ethan continued, his voice steady but full of feeling. “The way you remember the things that matter to them, the way you make them feel seen, even when you don’t say much. How your kindness isn’t loud or showy but so deeply rooted in who you are.”

He took your hand then, holding it between both of his, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “And I admire you because, when I’m with you, I feel like I’ve finally found something I’ve been searching for my whole life.”

You felt your chest tighten, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. His words were unlike anything you’d ever heard, his love unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“So, why not you?” Ethan said again, his voice quieter now but no less resolute. “Why wouldn’t I choose the woman who’s shown me what it means to truly love and be loved?”

Your voice broke as you finally whispered, “Ethan…”

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your fingers. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Violet. Everything I never knew I needed.”

Before you could say another word, the door to the drawing room opened, and your father stepped inside. His eyes quickly swept over the scene, Ethan holding your hand, the bouquet of flowers on the table, and the unmistakable atmosphere of a momentous occasion. Right behind him is your mother, who stood up from being seated in the other side of the room, her sharp gaze instantly assessing the situation.

“What’s this?” your father asked, his tone curious but warm.

Ethan stood immediately, straightening his coat and offering a respectful bow. “Baron, Baroness, good morning. I hope you don’t mind my calling on your daughter.”

Your father’s gaze flickered between the two of you before landing on Ethan. “I take it this visit is of a particular nature, Bridgerton?”

Ethan nodded, his confidence unwavering. “It does, Lord Bridgerton. I’ve come to ask for Violet’s hand in marriage. She has already given her consent, and I would be honored to receive yours as well.”

Your father paused, his expression unreadable as he regarded Ethan. Then, slowly, a smile crept onto his face. “I must say, Bridgerton, you’ve caught me by surprise. But I can’t say I’m displeased. You’ve been like a son to us for years, and I can think of no one more fitting to marry my daughter.”

Ethan’s shoulders relaxed visibly, his smile widening as he extended his hand. “Thank you, sir. I will do everything in my power to make her happy.”

As the two men shook hands, your mother stepped forward, her sharp eyes softening as they settled on you. “Is this truly what you want, Violet?” she asked gently.

You nodded, your voice steady as you replied, “It is, Mother. Very much so.”

Vivian’s lips curled into a faint smile, her voice losing some of its usual edge. “Then I’m happy for you, my dear. You’ve made a fine choice.”

With a nod of approval, your mother returned to stand beside your father, her expression soft yet resolute.

“Then it’s settled,” the baron declared, his smile broadening. “We have a wedding to plan.”

Ethan turned back to you, his eyes shining with affection and excitement.

Ethan gently tosses you onto the bed, making you laugh. He licked his lips as he stood by the edge of the bed, watching as your chest heave up and down in anticipation, "You know," he said softly, "This is our honeymoon. I can finally do whatever I want to you,” he gives you a mischievous grin. Tonight is the night after your wedding, a memorable occasion that officially bound you and him as husband and wife.

He yanked his top free with impatient, fumbling hands. The fabric strained against the hurried movements, a few threads snapping as he tore the shirt open.

The buttons popped loose, some scattering to the floor, but he didn't stop to care. He shrugged the garment off his shoulders in one swift, almost frantic motion, tossing it aside like he was so eager to get rid of it.

Slowly, he leaned forward, one knee sinking into the mattress, followed by the other. His movements were deliberate, almost predatory, as his hands pressed into the bed to steady himself. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he crawled forward, and hovered on top of you.

Ethan cupped your face gently with one hand “I’ll be gentle, just follow my lead, alright?” you nodded your head in response and he kissed you carefully as if you're a fragile thing.

It was slow and romantic, but you needed more, so you let out a muffled soft moan, pulling him closer by the back of his neck and you felt his lips curl up into a smile while kissing you more eagerly now.

Your breathing got heavier as he licked and explored the insides of your mouth, shoving his tongue further to taste you, his warm breath mingling with yours, making you dizzy.

Your combined spit soon started dripping down your chin. His warm hands caress your sides in a way that it ignites a fire inside you. The both of you leaned back to catch your breaths, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

He dipped his head down to pepper kisses all over your skin. He's had enough of you being fully clothed in your white dress, “Can I take this off you?” he asked to which you lazily nod.

He helped you out of your corset and dress, leaving you with nothing but your underwear. His eyes twinkled once he set his gaze upon your exposed plump breasts.

Out of nowhere, you were shying away from his hungry gaze, your hands quickly covering your breasts in embarrassment, cheeks blushing profusely. However, he was still quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head swiftly using one hand.

“Don’t, don't hide your pretty body from me. It's beautiful and I'm here to worship it.” He whispered, erasing every doubt in your head. You can only nod in response, staring into his eyes while your foreheads touched each other, as if in an unbreakable trance.

You feel the excitement and arousal bubbled up in you, your thighs instinctively pressing up against each other as your underwear soiled.

Ethan smirked, “You’re wet, aren't you?” he asked, forcing your legs apart using his strong arms, eliciting a loud whine from you. You never expected intimacy would feel this good.

He dipped his head again to nuzzle on your neck, licking the skin with his warm tongue before sucking on it, purposefully leaving marks.

Your back arches and he took advantage of this to attack your neck more, grinding the bulge on his pants against your covered core. Oh how you love the things he's doing to you right now.

He trails wet kisses down until he reaches your chest, sticking his tongue out and licking up your cleavage. You were almost certain your heart clawed out of your chest from how hard it's beating, and he only looks up at you with those eyes you love so much all while pressing the most tantalizing kiss right on your left nipple, silently telling you that all of you, even the most private parts, now belongs to him.

You couldn’t take your eyes away from him even if you try to, you watch every bit of his movements down your body. He envelops your nipple using his soft lips. He swirls his tongue around it and sucks hard, his other hand coming up to play with your other breast.

The moans coming out of your lips only encouraged him more as he shamelessly sucked your tits like a hungry man, lustful eyes looking up at you, corner of his lips smiling. He delivered a strong squeeze to your boob just to see your pained expression.

He switched his mouth, sucking the other one and playing the wet breast using his hands. He circles the swollen nipple before pinching it right after. You whined in pain at his harsh play on your mounds, making him tweak your nipple gently to soothe it.

Grazing your nipples with his teeth as he started alternating between the two in a fast manner had you whimpering and squirming underneath him. When you continued to squirm around, he firmly held you in place, gripping your waist.

“Stop moving, darling,” He instructed, hands sneaking down from your waist to your panties. For a moment, you had no idea what he was about to do, but an audible gasp left your lips when he ripped your underwear with such ease, immediately throwing the torn fabric away.

He placed his head in between your legs, kissing your inner thigh. He sucked in a breath as he heard your sweet helpless whimper. You grab a fistful of his hair, pulling on them and crying out when he pushed your legs up to bite and suck harshly on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. You are sure that you'll wake up tomorrow with your thighs and legs decorated in purple red marks.

Ethan is shameless when it comes to his possessive nature, even mumbling the word ‘mine’ nonstop underneath his breath. He stopped as he reached up to your private part, taking a deep breath and inhaling the aroma of your wetness, “Goodness, you smell so fucking delicious, darling.”

You propped yourself up using your arms to peek down at your husband, the sight of him staring in awe at your core, smelling it while licking his lips. He then purposely blew hard on your soaked cunt, surprising you and making your body jolt at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Ethan please,” you pleaded desperately, “Yes, darling? What do you need? Say it.” He asked breathily, dark eyes still fixated on your pussy as he whispered directly on it, “How beautiful.”

In a desperate attempt, you took advantage of having his hair fisted on your hand and pushed his head into your pussy, bucking your hips forward to shove it on him. He growled and immediately started lapping at your pussy as if it's his last meal. You throw your head back, eyes closed at the euphoria you're feeling.

“Fucking sweet pussy” Ethan groaned, going completely feral, not holding back as he devoured you, licking, sucking, biting, and slurping on your folds, while holding your legs apart to make sure you remain bare and open to him.

His nose nudged on your clit as he slipped his tongue in your clenching hole, wiggling the wet muscle around your walls. “All mine,” he groaned with each lick, sending vibrations on your cunt.

The last straw was when he slurped your folds before biting your clit gently, sending you over the edge with a loud scream, eyes rolling back and legs shaking as he teased you by torturing your poor clit more.

He laps up your juices happily, making sure to catch every drop on his mouth. Even if your legs were already shaking in his hands while he holds them up, your cunt clenching around his tongue. He shoved it as deep as he could.

He couldn't stop, it's like he's trapped in an enchantment, or perhaps he's just really too pussy drunk to even stop and give your poor cunt a rest.

With his movements getting rougher, you took it upon yourself to snap him out of his trance and push his head away with all the remaining strength you have. Successfully prying his head from your swollen overstimulated core and closing your legs to prevent him from diving back in.

His mouth all the way down to his chin glimmers with your essence as he gives you a playful grin, almost laughing at the state you're in.

His big bright eyes observed you, wanting this image of you to imprint on his brain. You looked like an absolute goddess brought down by heaven for him. A flower he is to help bloom more and to cherish forever.

You, his now wife, laid there bare to him, body having slight trembles of aftershock from the orgasm he just gave you, your cheeks tinted with natural blush, skin sweaty, lips parted while panting, eyes closed, and your hair a mess on the pillows on your head.

What a heavenly sight, and Ethan’s raging hard on is a testament to it. But he’s nowhere near done with you yet, for the show is only starting. Now that he finally tasted you, he is more than eager to know how you would feel wrapped around his length.

As you felt him move around, your eyes snap back open curiously, only to see him getting rid of his last piece of clothing, his pants and drawers in one go, discarded onto the floor with no care.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his manhood, slapping his abdomen with how hard it is, the tip is red and leaking so much precum, it shows just how much he's been waiting for this moment. You sit up clumsily even if your legs were still shaking just to get a closer look of it.

Your shaky hand slowly reached out to it but stopped mid air, hesitating, you really have no idea what to do. So you looked up at your husband, “Ethan, may I?” you asked shyly.

Thank god your husband was able to understand you without making you say it out loud because you might just die in shame, “Of course, darling. Go ahead.” He smiled down at you and you could've sworn he got more handsome with his hair messy and sticking to his wet forehead, lips pink and glistening with your juices and that stupid gentle eyes he has on right now.

He took your hand and guide it to his length, wrapping your hand around the thickness of the base, “Start slowly, move your hand up and down,” he instructed and you followed, moving your hand up and down in a slow pace.

He groans softly as your hand pumped his cock, he offered you a satisfied smile, his eyes half-lidded as he enjoys the gentle stroking. "You're going to make me cum so much, darling... I can feel it already.”

Encouraged by his words, you gained more confidence and started pumping him faster, "Shit... you're gonna make me bust like this?" He groans loudly, throwing his head back against the rock as you pump his length aggressively. His hips lift slightly to meet your strokes, his length hardening like steel with each pump of your hand. "You wanna see me nut, baby?”

You nodded, your eyes eager which only had his length twitching on your hold. He sucked in a sharp breath as you leaned down to press a gentle kiss on his tip before trailing kisses down the rest of his length.

You swirled your tongue before taking him inside your warm mouth, a loud guttural moan escaping his throat when he saw your lips envelop his length and hollow your cheeks sucking him in so desperately.

“Shit, play with my balls,” he commanded, guiding your hand to massage his balls while your mouth eagerly sucked half of his length. Suddenly he grips the back of your head, shoving you down, his length hitting the back of your throat making you gag, “Fuck yes, choke on my dick, darling.”

The sight of you gagging, your eyes wet with tears as you look up helplessly at him. You moaned around his length, the vibrations shooting straight up his cock.

He’s sweating profusely all over, taking big deep breaths while looking down at you. His eyes lustful but filled with fondness. But before he could even reach his orgasm, you took his length out of your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asked, caressing the top of your head, “Need a second to breathe,” you admitted softly while panting, sitting up to recollect yourself.

He smiled understandingly at you, a gentle smile that contrasts his sinister words, “That’s fine, but I'm nowhere near done with you.” He said and your eyes widened, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“W-wha–” You tried to ask but he cut you off as he slammed his lips against yours again, licking the insides of your mouth with his tongue before pulling back, “You think I’d let you go now that I got a taste of you? Without feeling that sweet cunt grip my length?”

“But–” you protested but he shushed you with his finger, leaning his face so close that your warm breaths mingled, “Shh, you can take it. Trust me, yeah?”

His tone is seductive, wooing you to trust him even though you already knew that the moment you say yes, he'll pounce on you like a wild animal. But deep inside, you wouldn't really mind, right?

“Yes,” you whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible. He pushed you back down, his body caging you in. Your body responds to him fast, legs spreading wide and wrapping around his waist, his hips grinding against yours.

Ethan asked, grinding the tip of his cock up and down your folds, your juices lubricating his length. “Ready, darling?” he asked and you gave him a nervous nod in response, your hands pressing on his chest to brace yourself.

He didn't waste any time, he entered your needy hole, his length pushing past your hymen and splitting you open. He immediately bottomed out. Your back arched, your eyes shut tight, while you screamed at the uncomfortable pain. You tried soothing yourself by clawing at his chest.

Ethan moans out loud, giving no care about the servants around the mansion who could all probably hear the coupling. The way your walls clenched his huge size, “Jesus darling, you feel so good,” he sighed in relief.

He gave you some time to adjust before teasing you again, “Look, darling,” he helped you raise your head a bit to make you watch where you both are connected. He pulled back all the way to the tip only to slam back in harder as you gasped. His hand pressing your lower stomach where the outline of his cock is prominent, “It reached so deep.”

“You’re so big,” you cried out, and he only laughed softly at you, “You love it, darling.”

He started ramming into your hole, making your breasts bounce and jiggle with each thrust. He reached forward to suck your left boob once again with no gentleness. Growling and grazing his teeth on the sensitive nub while fucking you like a wild animal.

“Mine, all mine, my beautiful wife,” he mumbled while he sucked your mounds.

“Goodness– Ethan!” you panted heavily, hands moving to grip the bedsheets as he abused your pussy, pushing so deep and hard as if he's shaping your walls into that shape of his cock.

You felt pure bliss, like you're in heaven, and just when you thought it couldn't be any better, Ethan reached his hand down to use his thumb, rubbing your clit in tight circles that made you cry out and squirm on his hold.

“Don’t you dare move. You're gonna lay there and take what I give you.” he sternly said as his free hand gripped your hip in a bruising hold, holding you down and preventing you to squirm away from this touch.

“Good girl, stay still for me, yeah?” He coo before pushing himself impossibly deeper, you swear you could feel him in your womb now, his hips flush against yours while still circling your clit.

Ethan kept mumbling about how good you feel around him, it was addicting how he seems to lose his mind over fucking you.

The room echoed with the sounds of wet skin slapping, and the combined moans and groans from you and him. Everything feels so hot and your nostrils were overwhelmed by the smell of sex.

You felt another coil in your lower stomach that's about to snap and you could no longer hold it, “Ethan, I'm gonna–�� you warned him but before you could even finish, the coil snapped and your juices came gushing out all over his length, soaking his abdomen and balls.

You arched off the bed and your eyes roll to the back of your head so hard. You cried out, tears rolling down your cheek that he immediately licked, the taste of your salty tears knowing he's the cause of it in a good way pushed him closer to the edge.

Your spent pussy pulsated while he continues to aggressively pound you, trying to reach his own high. With one final thrust shooting ropes after ropes of cum inside your womb.

He stills inside you while filling you up, his length twitching while you both tried to regulate your breathing.

When he pulled out, his load came dripping out of your fluttering hole. You whimpered at the sudden empty feeling. But your husband was quick to scoop up his cum and shove it back inside you using his fingers.

Ethan rolled over to lay beside you, turning his body to the side to wrap you in his arms, pulling you close, “Are you alright, darling?” he asked in concern, giving your forehead a gentle kiss.

Your body was engulfed in a profound warmth, Ethan being so sweet and caring after fucking you into oblivion. He whispered sweet praises into your ear making you laugh softly.

And you fell asleep in that position, drifting off while your husband whispers sweet nothings into your ear, soothing you and making sure you feel secured and safe.

16 years into the marriage, and the Bridgerton mansion brimmed with life. Laughter echoed from every corner as well as the occasional scolding of multiple governesses trying (and failing) to impose order. You stood by the grand staircase, a hand resting protectively over your swollen belly, your other hand gripped the banister as you surveyed the chaos with an amused smile.

“Atticus!” Your husband’s voice boomed as he stepped out of the study, his tone caught between exasperation and pride. “How is it that you can manage the accounts better than half the estate staff, but you cannot get ahold of your siblings that are on the verge of turning the house into a battlefield while I'm busy?”

Atticus, now a strikingly handsome and serious young man at sixteen, appeared from around the corner with a calm expression, though his lips twitched in amusement. “They need to keep busy, Father. It’s an essential part of their education.”

“Perhaps,” Ethan replied dryly, “but I doubt orchestrating another impromptu chasing game qualifies as productive.”

Atticus shrugged and turned, nearly bumping into Caleb, who was sprinting down the hallway with a mischievous grin.

At thirteen, Caleb was all energy and unpredictability, and he carried himself like a boy constantly on the verge of some grand adventure—or disaster. “Out of my way, Atticus!” he shouted, clutching a poorly folded map as if it contained the secrets of the world. “I’m exploring!”

“You’re going to explore a broken vase if you’re not careful!” You called, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile on your lips.

Not far behind, seven-year-old Giovann charged after Caleb with a makeshift sword, his laughter ringing out like music. “You can’t explore without a knight, Caleb! I’m your protector!” he declared, wielding the wooden sword with as much ferocity as a child could muster.

Benjamin, at fourteen, strolled into the drawing room, humming softly as he carried an armful of paper and brushes. His kind and artistic nature stood out starkly amidst the chaos, and he settled himself by the window, carefully setting up his materials. “Mother,” he said brightly, glancing up at you, “I think I’ll paint the garden today. Dorothea’s been complaining that the roses don’t look vibrant enough.”

“You’re going to paint the garden again?” Dorothea’s voice chimed in from the doorway. At eleven, she exuded poise and wit, her beauty and sharp intellect often leaving her siblings scrambling to keep up. She arched a brow as she crossed her arms, a knowing smile on her lips. “Why don’t you paint Caleb tripping over his own feet instead? That would be far more entertaining.”

Benjamin smirked, dipping his brush into the paint. “I’d need to create a series for that, Thea—it happens far too often to capture in just one painting.”

“Very funny,” Caleb shot back, his head poking into the room just long enough to glare at his older brother before he vanished again, Giovann still hot on his heels.

Dorothea shook her head, her long dark hair swaying elegantly as she moved to make you sit beside her in front of the piano, “Mother, I don’t know how you manage all of us,” she said softly, though there was a hint of teasing in her voice.

You chuckled and gently stroked your daughter’s hair. “I manage because I have to. And because I wouldn’t trade any of you for the world, even when you drive me mad.”

Ethan appeared beside you then, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as he surveyed the scene. “Do you think this little one,” he said, nodding towards your rounded belly, his hands caressing it ever so softly, “will be just as much trouble as the rest of them?”

You let out a sigh, leaning against him. “I have no doubt about it.”

Ethan smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. But the soft moment was quickly interrupted by the disturbance of your restless children.

A loud and jarring sound from the piano made all of you jump. Both you and Ethan turned your heads in alarm to see Giovann standing by the piano, gleefully slamming his little fingers across the keys with no concern for melody. Dorothea, who had been tidying her music sheets, froze, her expression darkening as her blood pressure spiked.

“Giovann!” she yelled, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos. She stormed toward him, her posture rigid with irritation. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you know how long it takes to tune that piano?!”

Giovann, entirely unbothered, shot her a cheeky grin. “It’s not my fault you’re always playing boring old songs, Thea.”

That was enough to send Dorothea chasing after him, her scolding echoing throughout the room as Giovann scrambled out of reach, still laughing. “Come back here! I swear, Giovann, I’m going to���!”

Sighing, you shook her head fondly while rubbing your temple. Ethan chuckled, leaning closer, “And to think, you said this baby would be just as much trouble. I’m starting to wonder if it could possibly be worse.”

Meanwhile, Atticus had settled on the couch, a picture of calm amidst the commotion. He lazily reached for a macaron from a nearby snack plate, casually biting into it.

“Hey!” Benjamin’s dismayed voice rang out. He stood by the window, his unfinished painting of the snack plate now ruined. His brush dropped to his side as he whined, stomping his feet, “I was painting that!”

Atticus only smirked, unbothered by his younger brother’s frustration. “Too bad,” he said with a shrug, continuing to munch on the macaron with no remorse.

Benjamin huffed, his face falling into a pout as he picked up his brush again, muttering something about “barbarians ruining art.”

Before he could retreat fully into his sulk, Caleb came bouncing into the room. The boy tackled Atticus without hesitation, snatching the macaron right out of his hands.

“You–” Atticus protested, glaring at his younger brother.

Caleb grinned mischievously, holding the half-eaten macaron like a trophy. “What’s yours is mine, big brother.”

Atticus lunged after him, sending the two into a playful scuffle as they tumbled onto the floor, much to Benjamin’s dismay.

“Could you not wrestle in the middle of the room?” Benjamin groaned, setting his palette down and crossing his arms. “Some of us here are trying to work!”

Caleb only laughed, dodging Atticus’ grab and tossing the macaron up in the air before catching it in his mouth. Atticus groaned in defeat, flopping back onto the couch.

You turned your head to glance at your husband, lips twitching into a smile, “You see? This is what you started, they all got that stubborn teasing manner from you,” you teased.

Ethan laughed, “I don’t know, darling. I think we’ve created something rather perfect.”

Ethan rose from his seat, brushing his hand on your chin. He turned to his eldest son with a warm smile, “Atticus, come with me. I’ll need your company for some hunting practice.”

Atticus nodded, standing from his chair. The two grabbed their shotguns and headed out of the mansion. They strode along the estate grounds, and their path took them past a patch of vibrant flowers just outside in front of the mansion, where Ethan stopped abruptly.

“Wait here a moment,” Ethan said, kneeling by the flower patch. His hand carefully selected a few sprigs of heather, the delicate blooms swaying lightly in the breeze.

“Your mother’s favorite,” he murmured with a fond smile, holding the flowers up to inspect them, “They’re quite lovely, are they not?”

Atticus, crouched a few steps away picking his own flowers, glancing up as he smiled briefly, “Dorothea would be jealous if we returned with nothing for her.”

As Ethan stood, a low hum buzzed past his face that he tried to swat away, but it only agitated it, stinging him in the neck before flying away. “Ugh this bloody–” he muttered as he caress his stung neck.

Atticus glanced curiously while still picking flowers, “What is it, father?” he asked but got no answer. This made him stop his movements to look up at his father.

Atticus stood up, his own set of flowers in hand. “Father?” he asked, noticing Ethan’s unusual stillness.

Ethan didn’t respond.

“Father?” Atticus repeated, his voice more urgent now. Ethan turned to face him, but something was terribly wrong. His face had grown pale, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Veins bulged along his neck as his chest heaved in an uneven rhythm.

“Father!” Atticus shouted, dropping the flowers to the ground and rushing to his father’s side. Ethan staggered, his legs buckling beneath him as he collapsed onto the grass.

Atticus knelt beside him, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he gripped Ethan’s shoulders. “Help! Somebody help!” he screamed, his voice echoing across the estate grounds.

A shout that reached the insides of a mansion, reaching you and disrupting your focus from reading a book, sitting on the couch. You know your children's voice so well, and Atticus’ urgent shouts alarmed you. It made you rose swiftly despite the weight of your pregnancy.

You immediately hurried out the door, heart pounding so fast in your chest as you followed the sound of Atticus’ panicked voice outside.

The sight of Ethan lying there in the grass made your heart stop. For a moment, your mind refused to accept it—this couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening.

Your chest tightened, and it felt as if the air around you had vanished. You tried to breathe, but all you could feel was the sharp sting of panic gripping your lungs. You ran to them in a hurry.

As soon as your knees hit the ground hard, you didn’t notice the pain. All you could focus on was Ethan’s face, pale and strained, his lips parted as he struggled to breathe.

“No, no, don't leave me,” you whispered, your voice shaking as your trembling hands reached for him, holding his body in your arms. His skin was clammy and cold under your touch, a jarring contrast to the warmth you’d known your entire life.

“Ethan,” you choked, your voice breaking. “Breathe, please, just breathe.” The words felt useless, hollow, as though saying them could somehow force air back into his lungs.

Your tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t care. Your fingers brushed his face, his hair, his neck, desperately searching for something—anything—that might save him.

You were powerless, and the weight of that realization crushed you. It clawed at your chest, making it hard to breathe yourself. Your mind screamed at you to do something, but what could you do? You were helpless. Completely and utterly helpless, “No, no, no, no, no.”

When his hand rose weakly, brushing against your cheek, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It was such a small, gentle gesture, yet it carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say. His lips moved, but no words came, and his eyes, filled with a pain you couldn’t take away, stared into yours.

“No, Ethan,” you pleaded, shaking your head as if denying it could stop the inevitable. “No, please. Please, don’t leave me.”

His hand dropped to the side, lifeless, and you froze. The silence that followed was deafening, drowning out the world around you. You shook him, called his name again, “Ethan? Ethan!” your voice growing louder and more frantic, but there was no response.

A sob tore from your throat, raw and unrelenting “No! Oh god! Please,” your entire body shook as you cradled him, pressing your forehead to his, as though holding him close might somehow bring him back. The world felt like it was collapsing around you, and the pain—oh, the damn pain—it’s unbearable. It ripped you, leaving you hollow and broken.

When you turned your head, you saw them, your children, standing at the entrance of the house, their innocent faces filled with confusion and fear. A fresh wave of agony surged through you, but you forced it down. “Atticus,” you rasped, your voice trembling. “The children… take them inside. They… they cannot see this.”

He didn’t move, his face pale and stricken. “Go!” you cried, snapping him out of his daze. He stumbled to his feet, his steps unsteady, and hurried toward the others, herding them away.

You turned back to Ethan, your tears falling freely onto his still face. The love of your life, the man who had been your world, was gone. And you didn’t know how you were supposed to survive without him.

The maids ushered you inside the house distant murmurs of servants and the echo of footsteps as they moved about in quiet urgency. Ethan's body was taken care of, and a doctor was already called to confirm his death. You sat at the bottom of the staircase, your body trembling, your mind a storm of disbelief and anguish.

The maids’ hands rested on your arms, trying to steady you, but their touch felt distant just like everything else.

Your tears blurred your vision as you clutched the bannister for support. The weight of Ethan’s absence was unbearable, suffocating, pressing down on you until it felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

His laughter, his voice, his presence, everything is gone. Every memory of him felt like a dagger to your heart, and the pain was suffocating. You gasped, your sobs uncontrollable, your chest heaving as you rocked back and forth, overwhelmed by grief.

“Ma’am, please,” one of the maids said softly, her voice trembling with concern as she knelt beside you. “You must rest.”

But you couldn’t rest. How could you, when the love of your life had been ripped away from you? When the last memory of him was the light fading from his eyes?

And then it hit, a sharp, sudden pain in your abdomen. It was so intense it took your breath away, and your hands flew to your stomach instinctively. The maids stiffened, their faces pale with alarm.

“My lady!” one of them cried, her voice shaking as she grasped your shoulders.

You tried to speak, but the words were swallowed by a fresh wave of pain. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before—an ache so deep it seemed to pull you apart, and yet it paled in comparison to the gaping hole in your chest.

Your breathing became erratic, your sobs mingling with gasps as you clutched your stomach. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. “Not now.” But your body had other plans, and the pain intensified, rippling through you with each passing moment.

The maids surrounded you, their voices frantic as they tried to calm you, their hands gentle but firm as they guided you away from the stairs. “It’s the baby,” one of them said, her voice filled with urgency. “She’s in labor. Quickly, someone fetch the midwife!”

Luckily, the children weren't here to witness all of this. They're all taken care off by Atticus on the other side of the mansion, keeping them away from this traumatic scene.

The realization sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. This was Ethan’s child—the one he would never meet, never hold, never name. He wasn't able to live up to the birth. The thought was unbearable, and you cried harder, the tears falling faster as the pain in your heart joined with the pain in your body.

“It hurts,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. The maids tried to reassure you, their words soft and soothing, but nothing they said could touch the agony that consumed you.

The sharp contractions made your legs give out, and you collapsed to your knees, your body trembling as another wave of pain tore through you. “I can’t do this,” you sobbed, shaking your head as the maids worked to lift you. “He’s gone, and I… I can’t do this without him.”

But you had no choice. The baby was coming, and your body refused to wait for your grief to subside. As the maids helped you to your feet, your heart shattered all over again. Ethan should have been here. He should have been the one holding your hand, whispering words of comfort, and waiting to meet his child.

Instead, you were left with a hollow ache and a pain that would never fade. And as the contractions grew stronger, you clung to the only thought that gave you strength– this baby, this piece of Ethan, was all you had left. You had to keep going for the both of you.

The air in the room was thick with tension and urgency, the voices of the midwife and maids blending into a blur of noise as you lay on the bed, soaked in your own sweat and trembling. Every muscle in your body screamed with exhaustion, the contractions relentless and unforgiving.

You clutched the sheets, gasping through gritted teeth as another wave of pain wracked your body. It was unbearable, almost blinding, yet it still couldn’t drown out the ache in your chest—the hollow, consuming void left by Ethan’s absence.

“Just one more push, my lady,” the midwife urged, her voice steady but insistent.

Your breath hitched as you braced yourself, every ounce of your strength pooling into this final effort. The pain was overwhelming, but you forced yourself to keep going, your thoughts consumed by a single, agonizing truth, that Ethan would never see this child. He would never hear their cries, hold them, or whisper their name with love.

Tears streamed down your face as you let out a guttural cry, pushing with everything you had left. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the room holding its breath, and then—

A sharp, piercing wail filled the air.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced, her tone warm and triumphant as she held up the tiny, squirming infant.

You collapsed back against the pillows, utterly spent, your body trembling from the effort. The maids bustled around you, wiping your brow and whispering soothing words, but their voices barely registered. All you could hear was the sound of your baby’s cries, sharp and desperate.

The midwife approached, carefully placing the newborn in your arms. You stared down at her, your breath catching as you took in her tiny features—the delicate curve of her nose, the soft flush of her cheeks, and the way her tiny fists curled against the blanket. She was so small, so fragile, and she looks just like Ethan.

Your tears came faster now, dripping onto the blanket as you cradled her close. “Heather,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you ran a finger gently along her cheek. “Her name is Heather.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. The midwife and maids exchanged glances, their expressions softening with understanding.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as a fresh wave of sorrow washed over you. “My favorite flower” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “He died with them in his hands… for me.”

Your tears blurred your vision as you pressed a kiss to Heather’s forehead, your heart breaking and mending all at once. She was a piece of Ethan, a reminder of the love you had shared and the life you had built together.

Heather stirred in your arms, her cries softening into tiny, contented murmurs. You closed your eyes, the exhaustion finally pulling at you.

The drawing room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves outside the window. You sat on the couch, staring out into the vast, empty garden. The sunset light filtered through the window, but it felt cold to you. Everything did. You’d been sitting there for hours, unmoving.

This is the first time you actually left your room, for you have been non functional since the day your husband died. Even detaching yourself from your children, suffering with the grief paired by your post-partum depression.

The sound of cautious footsteps broke the silence, and you knew before turning who it was. Atticus. Your eldest.

He approached slowly, his tall frame carrying an air of hesitation. "You look well," he said softly, his voice gentle as if afraid to disturb the fragile stillness around you.

You didn’t turn to him but blinked slowly, registering his words. You responded in a voice that was distant, detached, and empty. “I slept. I bathed. I went for a walk outdoors. I saw the children. I made myself useful in embroidery.” Each word was recited mechanically, as though you were listing chores you had completed, but there was no life behind them.

Atticus gave a tight-lipped smile, though you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Perhaps you could join us today for a family dinner,” he offered cautiously, his tone carefully measured.

You shook your head once, your gaze dropping to your hands, and your eyes closed tightly against the swell of emotions that were always lurking, ready to suffocate you.

“I know this is hard,” Atticus began again, his voice cracking just slightly, betraying his youth and the burden he now carried as the man of the house. “I know you miss him—but we all miss him.”

The words pierced you, a fresh wound on top of the endless ache. Before he could continue, your trembling voice cut him off, fragile and breaking. “Please.”

Atticus hesitated but tried again, his concern for you outweighing his fear of upsetting you. “Mother, I think—”

“Atticus,” you said as you looked at him for the first time, your eyes wet with unshed tears. “This is it. This—this is my best. I’m doing my best.”

The weight of your grief spilled out, your words trembling as your voice broke. “Every day, I get up. I get dressed. I feed myself. I try to breathe in and out.” You paused, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself, but the tears came anyway, hot and relentless.

“I force myself to stop by the nursery,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you gasped for air, “But all I keep thinking about is how sorry I am for little baby Heather, because she will never know Ethan’s laugh. Or the way he smiled. Or how it felt to be hugged in his arms.”

The tears fell freely now, and you covered your mouth with a trembling hand, the pain suffocating. “All I could think of,” you choked out, “is how sorry I am for thinking that this baby did not do me the kindness of killing me so that I could be with my husband.”

You looked up at Atticus then, your eyes brimming with sorrow and a deep, unbearable pain. Your voice softened into a whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. “Ethan was the air that I breathed… and now there’s no air. So don’t ask me to do better,” you said, your voice breaking once more. “I’m doing my best.”

Atticus’ expression crumbled as he stood there, unable to respond. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he looked down at his hands, helpless and aching for his mother. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but there was nothing he could say that would fill the void Ethan left behind.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with grief, until finally, Atticus nodded once, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving you to stare once more into the void, clutching your broken heart as tightly as you held onto the memory of your husband.

Servants flitted about, adjusting gowns, fluffing skirts, and arranging jewelry on the vanity. You stood beside Dorothea, your hands gentle as you fastened the final pin in her hair. Her dark locks gleamed, swept into an elegant updo that framed her youthful, radiant face.

It has been eight years since the passing of Ethan. And today, your daughter is on her second season in the marriage mart.

Your daughter sat poised, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. The soft pastel blue gown she wore was a masterpiece, flowing like water and adorned with intricate lace. It suited her perfectly.

You glanced at her through the mirror, pride swelling in your chest. “You look flawless, my dear,” you said warmly, smoothing a strand of hair that dared to fall out of place. “Today is your day. I just know it.”

Dorothea turned to you, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mama. I truly hope this season will bring what I’m looking for.”

You could see the longing in her eyes, the same longing you had once carried when you were her age. A love match. A marriage not of convenience or obligation but of true affection. It was rare, yes, but you believed your daughter deserved nothing less.

“You will find it, Dorothea,” you assured her, your voice steady and filled with quiet confidence. “I have no doubt.”

The peaceful moment was interrupted when the door to the room burst open with a dramatic thud. “Dorothea!! You. Must. Make. Haste!” Elisa's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative, as she stormed in, punctuating every word with an exaggerated stomp of her foot.

Both you and Dorothea flinched at the sudden intrusion, but when Elisa came into view—her cheeks flushed with urgency, her hands on her hips like a soldier commanding an army—you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Elisa!” Dorothea exclaimed, half in shock and half in amusement.

“What?” Elisa shot back, her tone exasperated. “You’re going to make us late! Again! Do you want every member of the ton to think we Bridgertons have no sense of time?”

Her mock scolding sent Dorothea into peals of laughter, and you joined in, shaking your head fondly at Elisa’s theatrics.

Over the years, Elisa had become as much your child as the others. Though she wasn’t born into your family, you adopted her and loved her fiercely. She also fit right in with her spirited, unapologetic nature.

Dorothea stood, her gown flowing gracefully as she stepped toward Elisa. “Alright, alright, I’m coming!” she said with a grin.

Elisa crossed her arms, satisfied, though a playful smirk tugged at her lips. “Good. You’ll thank me later when we're not late to the ball and the ton won't stare and silently judge us.

You watched them both with a smile that only grew as they teased each other. It wasn’t the life you had once envisioned when Ethan was still by your side, but it was still a life full of love and joy. Your children who are each unique, lively, and wonderful in their own way were your everything.

As Dorothea moved toward the door, you called out softly, stopping her for just a moment. She turned, and you reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Good luck, my darling,” you said, your voice tinged with hope and pride. “May this season bring you everything your heart desires.”

Dorothea’s smile softened, and she nodded, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Thank you, Mama.”

The other children joined you as you descended down the stairs with Elisa and Dorothea. The boys immediately offering their arms to link each of the ladies in the family. Atticus coming to escort you with a smile.

Ethan may have been gone, but his legacy lived on in each of your children. And as long as they were by your side, you knew you could carry on.

[j47n]

JAKE — DRB (02.)

this video for reference

sc. jake cuddled up to a LONG pillow reminds me of him in iland 4 some reason it’s soooooouper cute to me like.. the way he tucks his head under, literally CARESSING the pillow.. find me dead .. and his arm under.. head patting.. adjusting for comfort.. why.. not me.. ok wtf I’m going crazy

(this is crazy short btw I literally came up with these right as I was about to sleep.. fuck me sim jaeyun)

boyfi!jake who wants a cuddle buddy (you) saur bad (you) because he’s lonely and just genuinely loves to embrace anything that smells sweet (like you) or is cuddly like him (you)

boyfi!jake who gives you kisses and literally cannot stop until you manage to shove his broad ass off of you but like if you manage to do so anyway who’s going to tell you.. he’s gonna.. lunge back on you.. and.. attack you.. like.. a madman.. teehee!

boyfi!jake who will claw on the bed impatiently until you come back from either the bathroom or grabbing a cup of water, literally wearing his hands strength out waiting for u

boyfi!jake who whines not for no reason but not being able to stroke your hair for a hot minute because your hair is so soft and silky and he likes nuzzling into it and he just loves your hair and.. and.. um.. smells yummy..

boyfi!jake who sleeps half naked throughout the night because he wants to feel you all over him.. like, all over but he only ever waits until you’re dead asleep so he doesn’t creep you out..

boyfi!jake who’s a HEADPUSHER (I know I said that) and likes to occasionally, veeeery gently push your head into his chest sighing in content before he drifts off to sleep with your hair tangled in his hands ahabsbabvba because he likes it

[wonkizz]

blossom of a flower

in which: you post yourself doing a sexy choreo for the first time ever and it makes enhypen feel…hot and heavy.

엔하이픈 x fem reader genre: highly suggestive warn: very suggestive language, flirting, usage of pet names, cursing, reader can be picked up in riki’s

now playing ▶️ : dance for you by beyoncé

희승

you had posted it on purpose, knowing your boyfriend had your post notifications on. no caption, just the video alone.

you were currently apart, you at your own practice while heeseung was at his. although it wasn’t long before he called you.

“hello,” you answered, trying not to giggle as you heard his harsh breathing on the other end of the phone.

“you’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he says, not even waiting for you to answer before going on a spiel.

“i know you and i know you did that on purpose, knowing we’d be apart. im not there to tease you. not there to tell you how well you did, how good you looked. i can only imagine what was going through your head doing that. was it me? were you thinking of me, baby?”

“i’m always thinking of you hee,” you respond, feeling the temperature in the room get 10x hotter than it already was.

“just wait until later, i’ll give you all the attention you’re probably craving right now.”

종성

your background in hip hop made the genre of dance very easy for you to do and accomplish. jay always praised you whenever you posted a new video of you doing choreo, complimenting you moves. though you had never done something like this.

you decided you wanted to expand your horizons and give another type of dance a try. you didn’t tell jay, wanting it to be a surprise for him as well as your fans.

when you posted it with him right next to you, watching as he got the notification, you gauged his reaction. his eyes widened hearing the song and its lyrics, but his eyes followed you on the screen, watching you move across it in ways he didn’t know you could move.

as the video finished, jay didn’t move nor speak for a moment.

you finally chose to break the ice, “so, what’d you think?”

“i think i have a problem and only you can solve it,” he says, tossing his phone aside, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom.

재윤

jake was your biggest hype man. nobody did it for you like him.

whenever you posted a new video showcasing your talents, he’d be the first one to text you, complimenting you on how good you are.

this time though, when you posted, your phone was eerily dry in terms of texts from him.

you sat on your shared couch, confused as to why he hadn’t texted. did he not like it? was he angry you had posted something like that?

the door suddenly swung open, showing an out of breath jake, sweating like he’d just ran a marathon.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, immediately concerned.

you get up, vying for the kitchen to get him some water when a hand grabs you from behind, turns you around and lips crash onto yours.

the kiss is heated and you can barely keep up as jake moves hurriedly, discarding every piece of clothing he can reach.

“do you know how fucking crazy it drove me seeing you move like that. i had to run out of practice before anyone saw how hard i was.”

성훈

sunghoon was in the dorm when you sent him the link.

“tell me what you think 😘” you had said.

and he watched it, not knowing what to expect.

but the way he immediately got hard was astronomical. he had to use a pillow to cover himself before anyone could see.

“get over here immediately.” he texted back.

you arrived 10 minutes later, jolly with yourself.

the others had thankfully retreated to their rooms, not there to witness sunghoon’s embarrassment. he practically dragged you to his room, throwing you onto his bed and locking the door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny huh?”

you laid there, pleased with yourself if the smile on your face said anything, “i think i’m pretty much a comedian.”

sunghoon started undoing the tie on his sweats, “i’ll show you funny, sweetheart.”

선우

sunoo was also very big on supporting you. he always did his best to show you love and affection, cheering you on with everything you did. this time was no different. he texted you almost immediately after you had posted the video, giving you a live reaction.

“omg im watching it now.”

“okay, love the song choice”

“ohhh this is different for you!!”

“how do you move like that, seriously??”

and then it was quiet for a few minutes.

“are you okay?” you had texted, worried something had happened.

the text bubble popped up immediately and you couldn’t help but laugh at his next text.

“i’m okay, but im hard and horny now :( how could you do this to me?”

“do you need me to come help you?”

“yes please.”

정원

you and jungwon danced together frequently.

today you decided to show him a new choreo you had learned with your choreographer. he was excited of course, always ready to see whatever it was you wanted to show him.

what he wasn’t expecting was the loud bass and slow melody to come out of the speakers.

nor was he expecting the way you moved to the floor. the way you moved…how else could he describe it other than enticing and absolutely beautiful? by the time you finished, he had to wipe the drool that had escaped his mouth.

you walked up to him, laughing at his shocked face, knowing this was something you’d never done before. something he’d never seen before.

“so, what’d you think?”

jungwon had to take a second to think about his next words. he got up, going to the door of the practice room, locking it.

he came back to you, “i think i need you right now and i can’t wait until we’re back home.”

니키

riki was in the bedroom, getting ready to go out with the guys while you were sat in the living room.

you posted the video on purpose of course, your intention to make him stay home with you, without words of course.

within seconds, you could heard the video playing from the bedroom. you giggled to yourself, praying your plan worked.

you thought it would end after one play, but then you heard it play three more times.

is he good? you thought to yourself, but not getting up to check on him.

suddenly, he came out of the bedroom, phone in hand, video playing again for a fourth time, half dressed by the way.

“if you wanted me to stay home, you could’ve just asked,” he said, smirking at you.

you shrugged your shoulders, “maybe i just needed a reason to post the video.”

riki suddenly ditched his phone in favor of picking you up off the couch and carrying you to the bedroom as you laughed.

“we’ll see how much you’re laughing by time i’m done with you.”

WONKIZZ 2025

note: i got kinda lazy as we went so pls ignore that :/ i hope u enjoy anyway andddd yeah hehe

[heeaara]

박종성 ──────ANOMALY.

RELATiVE : no matter how hard you both tried, it wasn't just meant to be.

iNDEX : ｡｡ park jongseong + 𝑓.reader ⟡ wc1.7k, cw 𓂃 relationship, skinship, petnames, violence, mentions of blood, accident, death ? overall full on angst ♡.

아라 : my first angst fanfic, for those who had lost their loved ones, this ones for you. People come and people go, what important is that you cherish and treasure the moments you had spent with them.

You flinch slightly as you hear a knock on your window. It was past midnight, you were lying in your bed, wide awake, as many thoughts and feelings ran through your mind about the events that were programmed for tomorrow. tomorrow was a very big day for you, not only for you but someone you loved and held dearly. you sigh as you arise from your bed, going towards the window, opening it, letting in your soon to be husband.

Yes, tomorrow was a great day, tomorrow was yours and park jongseong's wedding day, tomorrow you were finally and officially going to be committed to the love of your life, to the man of your dreams, to the one you went through so much with. but, yet, you had this weird . . lingering feeling which you didn't like, instead of feeling ecstatic, you felt almost painfully sad, as if something horrible was to happen tomorrow.

A small sigh leaves your lips as jay wraps his arms around you softly. you aim to shake off this weird feeling as you snuggle into his neck, your favorite spot where you always seek to find warmth and comfort. 

"shouldn't you be sleeping ?" he asks softly as he chuckles, placing a soft feathery kiss on top of your head as you snuggle more into him. "no, can't sleep." you mumble against his neck as you close your eyes feeling assured of his presence.  "and why is that princess ? too excited for tomorrow are we ?" he states in a glee. you pull your head away from his neck, your arms still wrapped around his waist as you look up into his eyes. He looks down, back at you softly as a wave of emotions run through you, all those weird, unknown, miserable feelings coming back to your heart and mind. You look away, not being able the cope up with your emotions and you didn't want him to be worried as you knew how well he took care of you and how good he was at sensing when something wasn't right.

"Look at me." jay whispers, pulling you a little close as you glance at him, his eyes looking right into yours, trying to search for answers. "What happened baby ?" he asks softly as he holds your cheek, his thumb grazing it in a gesture of comfort. "I ━ its nothing." you mumble.

"Then why are you not looking at me?" he asks softly.

You look at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looks right into your eyes, searching for answers. "you know i'm always here for you right?" he states and, that was it. That was the final straw as finally, a sob leaves your lips. Jay quickly wraps his arms around you, your head buried into his crook. You hug him tighter as he whispers words of comfort, he hated seeing you cry, he hated every single atom that had hurt you. 

Time passes, your cries slow down as jay runs a had through your back, whispering words of comfort, trying all kinds of ways to ease you.

You slowly pull out of his neck, looking up at him. " I'm sorry." you whisper as you gaze at his soaked shirt, filled with your tears.

"Oh come on baby, You'd throw a whole tub of water and I wouldn't complain." he remarks as a breathy laugh leaves his lips. You lightly slap his chest as a small chuckle escapes your lips as well. 

"Now, my pretty girl, will you please tell me what happened hm?" He calls on. You look at him as a sigh escapes your lips. "We should go to sleep." You say as you pull yourself out of his grip and guide him towards the bed. "Hey, but ━ ".

You cut him off "cuddles please." 

"I can't say no to you, can I?" he remarks as he gets on the bed next to you, engulfing you by his arms. You both keep laying down as his hands involuntarily runs through your hair.

"I ━ it's just surreal." You say quietly. Jay hums as you continue, "We have gone through so much, no way it's been 6 years since us dating and now, finally we are engaged and will get married soon." 

"Yeah". he whispers. "I never knew this day would actually come, considering how much ━ just happened. Its just overwhelming, we went through so many breakups, had so many fights, cried together, laughed together. We have made so many memories, and I can't believe the fact that we will make so much more as well." You sniff, your voice raw with deep emotions.

"With our kids too." Jay says smiling ear to ear, earning a chuckle from you.

He cups your face with his one hand as he looks into your eyes, his gaze moving down to your lips as he slowly starts to lean in.

"I love you." he whispers right next to your lips.

"I love you too." You reply, closing your eyes and you felt it, you felt his lips perfectly molding into yours. He kisses you softly yet passionately, he hovers on top of you and You return the same passion by encircling your hands around his neck. And, without you even realizing, some tears fall from your eyes during the kiss. You did not know why were you crying, you had no idea you actually were and why exactly. Kisses with him had always felt safe, yet filled with love but this time, this kiss, felt as if it's the last time, you did not know what was going on, you had no idea why were you feeling like this. 

He kisses you harder as he hovers over you and slowly and gradually it turns into a steamy session, everything feeling hot, his hands running through your body, your heart beating fast.

And that's how the night passed, with you in his arms, sharing love through the night. You both knew you both loved each other a lot and everything just felt overwhelming and emotional to you.

──── 030125.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for the one last time till you exit the hair salon. Today was finally the day, the day you and jay had to make promises to each other. You felt nervous yet excited, you had dreamed of this day since you were a child. You wearing a white bride gown, A vile covering your face with the man of your dreams in front of you, the both of you taking your vows.

You get escorted by one of your maids, to the wedding car you would be going in, to the venue where your wedding was to be held. 

One the other side, jay had been anxiously waiting for your arrival. He kept checking his watch, the clock ticking second by second without any signs of you showing up. He was getting restless, his hands were feeling sloppy and moist due to sweat that came with the nervousness. He was perfectly dressed into a perfect black tailored tuxedo, his hair perfectly done.

tick.tick.tick, time passing by.

Where is she? he thinks to himself, why is the time going so fast? The guests were waiting, the priest was waiting, he was waiting, everyone were waiting, for you to arrive.

His thoughts get interrupted by a call on his phone, his feeling giddy, he had a bad feeling about this, he thought to himself. With slightly shaky hands, he pics up his phone, attaching it to his ear, "h-hello?" 

"hello, is this park jongseong speaking?" the other side said, an unknown number, "yes, its me." He replies, his chest feeling congested for some reason, an unknown ache filling his heart. 

"I am sorry to inform you that kim y/n has gotten into a severe car accident, she has been established to the hospital please reach up."

car accident. car accident. car accident. his mind kept repeating.

the phone fell off jay's hand as his mind goes numb, blank. The place around him moving in circles, his eyes blurry. His friends called him out, shook him, shouted out at him to tell them what happened. All he could do was stare at their face blanky, his throat felt as if clawed with chains, and his heart? it was about to die.

tick. tick. tick. time passing by.

He finally reached the hospital, where you were. His hair messy, his mind numb, his face soaked with tear stains and his perfectly tailored tuxedo? turned into a wreck. His friends where there, his parents were there, your parents were there, his world upside down, his heart filled with an unbearable ache.

he covered his face with his palms as he takes a seat on one of the steel benches in the waiting, his friends asking the doctors where you were, the whole place was a chaos.

His friends comforted him when jake and heeseung, who had been discussing your situation with the doctor came back, their faces pale, their hearts filled with deep sorrow and grieve.

"jongseong. ." heeseung mumbles as he looked down at jay who had covered his face with his hands. jay look up at him startled as he gets up immediately, bombarding them with questions, "y/n, my love, where's y/n, what did the doctors say? is she okay ━ heeseung hyung?" heeseung looks down, unable to face jay as he says, "we're sorry, jongseong.", controlling his sobs and tears as well.

Jay tries to move past the boys, trying to go to the doctor, his face full of panick "huh? fuck you mean? y/n ━ she's okay i know she's okay, we're getting married today━", jake had no other choice but to stop him, his hands moving towards his shoulders, moving him backwards. "y ━ y/n, she's . . no more", jake says as he sniffles, holding jay by the shoulder, a slight sob escaping heeseung's lips.

"YOU BASTARD." jay screams as he gets a hold of jake's collars "YOU'RE LYING TO ME, LYING TO MY FACE LIKE THAT, Y/N PROMISED ME SHE'LL NEVER LEAVE ME, MY Y/N WILL NEVER LEAVE ME, YOU MOTHERFUCKER." he shrieks, giving jake jerks as he hold his collars, his eyes wide, his face blank, his heart slain.

Heeseung tries to break free jay's grip from jake, "JONGSEONG CONTROL YOURSELF !" heeseung shouts.

Jay violently leaves jake's collars giving him a push, as he stumbles, his eyes wide, the world around him moving into circles, "y/n-ah. . ." he whispers her name, what was going on? Was this some kind of a joke? Was this a nightmare?

An unbelievable, hoarse chuckle leaves his throat as jay laughs, running a hand through his face, when gradually, his laugh turns into violent sobs.

Jake immediately hugs him, giving his friend a shoulder to cry on, a shoulder to take off his sorrows. This world was indeed a cruel place.

"take me t ━ to her, take me to my y/n, PLEASE, I SAID FUCKING TAKE ME TO MY Y/N" he sobs uncontrollably, not believing what his friends were saying. Everything was okay till yesterday, his life was going smooth and, in a matter of seconds? his life crashed down in front of his very eyes. He was helpless, so fucking helpless, his agony unendurable.

──── .

Silence, complete silence, no sound of breathing, nothing, only the faint smell of blood and moist is all he could feel as he entered the room. His face was red, his eyes were bloodshot due to the amount of crying he did. Why was life so unfair to him?

He takes slow yet small steps, his breath caught in his throat, his body shivering due to the impact of what he's going through. He takes slow, shaky steps towards the bed, where the lifeless body was placed, covered with white fabric completely over it.

His hands were shaking, his body was shaking.

Please don't be y/n, Please don't be y/n, Please don't be y/n, please wake me up from this nightmare. he kept thinking.

He slowly reaches his hands towards the white fabric, with shaky hands, languidly sliding off the fabric, his breath stuck in.

He forgot, he forgot breathing. His heart stopped, it had stopped a long ago. His mind in a haze. Your lifeless body pale, your body filled with wounds, your skull bandaged, your skin light purple and your bridal gown, the gown that you were wearing for your wedding was now filled with bloodstains, a complete devastation.

"no . . y-y/n-ah . .wake up, baby . . it's me, your jongseong."

no reply.

blank.

"c ━ come on y/n, this isn't funny anymore, WAKE UP, I SAID WAKE UP, PLEASE ━ PARK Y/N." he wails in torment, "PLEASE Y/N DON'T DO THIS TO ME, T-THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE", he sobs, his eyes swollen due to shedding so much tears.

"WAKE UP, I SAID FUCKING WAKE UP." he shakes your body, giving your cheeks pats, in hope that you'd wake up completely fine.

Sobs, one sob after another, he kept crying, roaring, he kept shaking you, still, nothing, your lifeless body didn't move a budge.

Getting a hold of your pale, lifeless hand, he intertwines his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles softly, feeling your cold skin beneath his lips.

"No matter how hard we tried, it wasn't just meant to be." he whispered, not to himself but to you as well. Maybe, maybe in another life, things won't be like this. maybe in another life, you both would be destined together.

TAGLiST : @chrrific @vmpivory @manaah02 @liwinly @hazelira @llovelili ( imk if you want me to add you in the perm taglist ).

[htaesan]

　ᅠ 📩　ᅠ EMAILS BETTER LEFT UNSENT part 1　　────　ᅠ ( park sunghoon )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your crush on your best friend of almost ten years is getting out of hand, and you feel like it’s time to give up𑁋especially after seeing how well your desk mate treats you.

　　　ᅠ 박성훈 & 심재윤 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 32k ⠀ genre fluff a bit of angst childhood best friends to lovers non idol au high school au ⠀ contains mentions of food sickness crying skinship pet names ocs and random characters ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ HELLO your fav fic is back and better!!! (i hope.) saurrrrr i know the word count is crazy and tumblr does not let me put that much words in one post.. so this will have to be in two parts >< (i am so sorry) and enjoy reading my debut enhypen fic on my new blog ^_^

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

THE December afternoon unraveled like a quiet, fluffy blanket over the landscape. The sky was coloured a soft gray, thick with clouds as it waits for the evening to set. A chilly breeze blows through the skeleton of trees, their leaves long gone. The air was biting against your exposed skin, each breath forming clouds swirling through the atmosphere. 

Nevertheless, you walked through the midst of winter, unbothered by the stinging cold that’s making the tip of your nose red. Munching through a steaming bungeo-ppang in your hands, you skipped jollily through the neighbourhood, happy that you finally didn’t have to spend money on snacks that week. Your brother, Heeseung, had lost a bet against you, and he had to pay for your afternoon snacks for a week. 

As you approached the road your house was located at, you spotted a boy seemingly your age. He was wearing a black puffy winter coat, a pair of ice skates dangling from his hand. His shoulders hunched up and down, quietly sobbing outside the house. 

You heard that scene immediately—why would a boy, who seemed like he was also seven years old like you—cry outside alone? 

Taking a bite out of your bungeo-ppang, you approached him. He heard the rustling of your footsteps against the snowy pavement, and immediately brought his head up. He hastily wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, though he couldn’t hide the fact that he was still crying. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, pushing aside the half-chewed contents of your mouth to one side of your cheeks. 

The boy pressed his lips together. He remained stoic for a while. “It’s not your business.”

You frowned. “But you’re crying—and alone too! Do you know,” you paused, swallowing the bite, “how cold it is right now? You could freeze to death!”

Your mother had always taught you to be kind and compassionate, and it didn’t quite stick with you to let him sob there alone in the cold. 

The boy didn’t reply, and he remained staring at you, tears sticking to his face. 

“You know what? Here,” you said, reaching for the extra bungeo-ppang that you bought. You handed it to him. “I hope that cheers you up and keeps you warm!”

The boy held the bungeo-ppang in his hands, mortified. Did this girl, cheeks and nose red from the cold, hand him a warm treat just because he was crying? He didn’t even know you, and you certainly didn’t know him. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly—a little too quiet that you barely caught it.

You flashed him a smile—one that he could never forget. 

“Come on, eat it,” you urged, taking a bite of your own bungeo-ppang. You chewed on your bite slowly, hoping that your action helped prompt the boy in front of you to do the same. 

You took a seat on the steps next to him, watching closely as he slowly unwrapped the bungeo-ppang. Your lips began to form a wide smile, the cold air nipping at your cheeks as they rose up. You watch him take a hesitant bite of the bungeo-ppang you had shoved into his hands, a flourishing feeling of thrill in your chest. As he began chewing, his sniffles began to fade away, and the tension in his shoulders slowly disappeared. 

“See?” you said, grinning. “Bungeo-ppang makes everything better!” 

Sunghoon didn’t answer right away, letting his eyes dart between the bungeo-ppang in his hands and you, who’s beaming brightly. His tongue remained silent for a while. He slowly chewed on his bite, letting the sweetness of the red bean paste melt on his tongue before finally setting his gaze firm to you. The frown that he had on for the entire day began to waver without him realising. Then, just barely—he smiled. 

It was funny but endearing at the same time—how you, a cute little girl with cheeks puffed out, filled with food—was attempting to cheer him up, not even knowing why he was upset in the first place. 

You smiled back, not aware that your smile caused a feeling that swept through the boy like a gush of fresh air. 

“I’ll get going then!” you said. You gave him a wave of goodbye as cheerful as your smile, then you walked away, not knowing that you would see the crying boy again.

Except that he’s not crying the next time you meet him. 

You were walking through the school hallways, rushing to get back to your homeroom after grabbing your colouring book from your locker. Too busy minding how fast you could get to class without sweating too much, you bump into a boy that looks too familiar for you to just shrug off and say sorry.

“You–!” you exclaimed, almost dropping the colouring book in your hands. The same boy that you saw crying alone outside of a house was now standing in front of you, a calm expression painted neatly across his face. 

Your eyes darted towards the name tag pinned on the boy’s right chest. 

Park Sunghoon. 

“Yeah?” he answered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I know you! You’re the boy who was crying–” 

Before you could finish blurting out the rest of your sentence, Sunghoon extended his hands, clasping them over your mouth to shut you up. He frowned, and under his slightly overgrown hair, you could see the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Yes,” he grunted, forcing a smile. “I’m the same person.”

You stood there, starstruck as you waited for him to remove his hands. Once he did, a huge smile was revealed on your face. 

“You go to the same school as me—this is so cool.” Your eyes sparkled with wonder. 

“Well,” Sunghoon sighed, nodding. “Yes, I do.”

You giggled, feeling like you’re jumping over the moon. You don’t know why, but ever since the day you gave him a warm snack, you couldn’t forget it. You would remember that moment for years to no end. 

The moment you made Sunghoon smile for the first time. 

Something moved in your heart—and it’s as if Sunghoon traded you his friendship in exchange for making him smile that winter afternoon. 

Over the years, it was evident that reserved Sunghoon made room in his heart, in his life, for you. Your worlds expanded—from chasing each other at the playground during recess into racing each other during high school sports day, from yelling at each other about the silliest things into late-night debates about life, and from staying up late to secretly eat snacks under the table to staying up late to study together. 

All of a sudden, it’s been ten years. 

Many things changed for sure, and one thing that was significant is that the boy who you once found crying in the cold had transformed into a handsome youngster. 

But through all the ups and downs, one thing remained the same. 

Sunghoon always smiled at you. 

Or at least, most of the time. 

He is still unpredictable, too.

And somehow—tucked neatly into all the times of teasing, him calling you “princess” more often than he calls you your own name, his lingering touches, and the way he always saves you the last bite of his food—you found your heart constantly betraying you.

“PARK Sunghoon, if you don’t get up right now, I swear I’m going to smack your head with this hockey stick.”

You stand at the edge of his bed, already fully dressed and ready for school. You hit your head lightly with Sunghoon’s hockey stick in one hand, trying to calm yourself down. 

A few minutes ago, his mother had let you in, feeling sorry about how you had already waited fifteen minutes outside, in the freezing cold. Your irritation from the wait only spiraled when Sunghoon’s mother told you that his son hasn’t woken up despite her many attempts to try and awaken him, and you should try waking him instead. 

You don’t mind doing that at all, but the fact that you have reminded him so many times to sleep early for the first day of school, and the audacity he has to not do as promised makes you even more agitated than you should be. 

You have always walked to school with Sunghoon—you had given up trying to catch up with Heeseung and his friends, and now that he’s in college, you have no one to accompany you. Except for your best friend, who’s making you feel like giving up on asking him to walk you to school too. 

You cross your arms, glaring at the lump under the blankets. It’s the first day of senior year, and you’re stuck with trying to get you and your best friend on time at the gates. 

“Five more minutes,” comes his muffled groan. 

“Did you stay up playing games again?” you nag. And in a more stern tone, you continue. “I’m leaving without you, Park Sunghoon.”

“Five more minutes,” he whines from under the covers. 

You make an annoyed sound—imitating the one that your mother often makes when she’s displeased. You drop the hockey stick to the ground with a loud thud, promptly yanking his blankets away. “Nope. Park Sunghoon, we are not doing this again.”

You choke on the remainder of your words, the rest of your blazing irritation dissolving into the air. The blanket had slipped from your hand, revealing a very shirtless, sleep-tousled Sunghoon. His hair is a complete mess, and his toned arms become more apparent as he stretches them.

Your eyes widen, and you immediately look away. But the damage is done, and you’re in an obvious red mess. Your heart had already reacted. 

God, please help me. Not this again. 

“Is it really necessary for you to be like this in the morning?” you mutter, huffily grumbling—more to the fact that the boy you’ve been liking since middle school is shirtless in front of you, than the fact that he’s only got ten minutes to get ready for school.

“Like what?” Sunghoon asks, smirking. He gets up, sitting at the edge of his bed as he ruffles his tousled hair. 

“Like a menace.”

“Woah,” Sunghoon chuckles. “You wound me, princess.”

You turn sharply to him, ignoring the obvious pink spread across your cheeks, and you give him a glare. “Go get ready before I leave you.”

“Okay, fine,” Sunghoon laughs as he grabs his towel and bolts towards the bathroom, leaving you steaming at the corner of his bedroom. “Wait for me!”

And as he shuts the bathroom door close, you know. Another year of this. Another year of pretending that you totally don’t fancy your best friend. 

YOU walk towards the school grounds, almost running to reach past the gates before the clock strikes 8. Sunghoon walks leisurely behind you, his hands shoved into his pocket. He wears a small grin on his face, eyes trained on you as you jog towards your group of girl friends. 

“Y/N!” Jennie exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “I thought you’d never make it. It’s already seven forty!”

“Yeah, you’d always come earlier than all of us, even in freshman year,” Naeun nods, casually sipping her carton of milk. “What’s up today?”

“The usual,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. You gesture to Sunghoon, who’s approaching you. “See that loser over there? He woke up at seven fifteen! And guess who had to physically yank him out of bed?”

Jennie makes a disgusted look. “My goodness… and we’re seniors already.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Exactly my point.”

“I sometimes don’t understand how you even cope with him,” Naeun shakes her head. 

“Love makes everything beautiful,” Jennie giggles, elbowing you. Looking into her eyes, you know that she’s joking—and the ‘love’ she’s referring to is merely platonic—but you can’t help but feel a little unsettling. 

Does she know?

After Sunghoon catches up with you, you then walk to the school gymnasium to attend the assembly with your friends. You walk side by side with your girls, arms intertwined as you chat mindlessly over the things you did over the summer holidays. 

The seniors are seated at the most back of the gym, and you’re somehow ecstatic that you finally get to sit on the ‘honorary’ benches. It feels great in some way, but it’s also telling you that you’re a senior now—you’re a role model, and everyone looks up to you. 

Sunghoon takes his seat next to you, as per usual, adjusting his tie as he gets himself comfortable on the bench. You settle yourself down, your girlfriends to your right. 

You’re starting to take in your surroundings, to process the fact that you’re finally a senior—and you have about seven months left of school; until you feel a smooth cold surface press against your cheek. You turn to the source at once, finding it to be Jake, holding a refrigerated can of Milkis in your direction. 

“Jake!” you exclaim, unsure if you should take the beverage that’s obviously for you. 

“Hi,” Jake grins. “I told you to call me Jaeyun—and here,” he leans forward, gently pressing the can of Milkis into your hand, “this is for you.”

You stare at the can in your hand. “Thank you?” 

“Of course,” Jake winks, and before he can let the rest of his words reach you, Sunghoon acts swiftly. 

Sunghoon straightens his posture, completely blocking Jake. He grabs the can of Milkis from your hands, and he opens it with a quick and loud hiss. 

It all happens too quickly, and you aren’t able to even register anything. 

“Here,” he says in a plain tone, accompanied with a gaze as firm as his words. “Drink up.”

You grab the can from him, slightly turning away from two of them. You bring the drink to your mouth, feeling the uneasy energy emitting from the two boys. 

YOU close your bedroom door behind you, sighing the day’s weight away. You drop your bag beside your study desk, heavy with all the books you carry throughout the day, and immediately launch yourself to your bed. You don’t care that it’s late into the evening and you’re still in your school uniform—complete from the blazer to the ribbon around your collar—all you need is the comfort of your bed. 

Your head is spinning. 

You had hoped, desperately, for a year free from all the complicated feelings swirling around in your heart. You know that it’d distract you, causing you to have to work harder than you already are. You know that it’s dangerous and hopeless—why would Sunghoon like you back? 

You are nothing but his childhood best friend. 

You toss your body to the other side, feet dangling off the bed. 

But what about all the butterflies that flutter in your stomach, threatening to make you burst, everytime Sunghoon is near you?

It’s the first day of school, and your heart is already reacting with a great deal of joy. Your mind replays the little moments you had with Sunghoon today—subtle but enough to remind you of your not so little crush on your best friend.

Him fixing your hair and tying it back after hearing you grunt about your hair getting in the way of your lunch about two times. 

Him holding your bag up the entire walk back home. 

Him chuckling softly at you, the snow falling in slow motion around him, as he listens to you yap about the school’s new Physics tutor. 

Him throwing his scarf to you, in a very unromantic way that you found so sweet, telling you huffily to remember to bring a thicker scarf next time. 

That same scarf is still wrapped around your neck, the thick fabric comforting, his scent familiar. 

You immediately sit up straight, harrumphing as you pull the scarf away. 

I can’t do this.

Not bothering to even shrug your blazer off, you scramble to your desk, turning your laptop on. Your heart beating fast and your head feeling hot, you feel the extreme urge to let it all out. 

You know you have to. 

Five years of harbouring secret feelings for your best friend—feelings that you can’t ever bring yourself to tell him—is burdening. 

You long into your email account, clicking the ‘compose’ button with the determined resolve of a seventeen year old. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if this will clog up your inbox, but I heard from Jay that you don’t really use this email address anymore. So I’m going to send everything here.  I hope these emails will never, ever find you. Sent 22:45 PM. 1st March. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Today is our last first day of school. Ever. It’s insane, isn’t it? I’ve known you ever since we started school, which was nine, almost ten years ago. Absurd, is it not?  I remember vividly how we met. Or, more correctly, how our friendship started.  It was a cold December evening. I remembered walking home from the convenience store, carrying a plastic bag of bungeo-ppang, my favourite winter snack ever. I thought about how foolish I looked—a small and petite seven-year-old kid munching on her snacks in the thick of winter—but how could I resist, risking eating them cold when I reached home? My older brother, Heeseung, lost a bet against me and he said he’d buy me anything I wanted from the convenience store.  And, of course, as a seven year-old, I chose to buy a ton of my favourite snacks. Anyway, as I was waddling home, I saw you. Sitting outside of what I didn’t know back then was your house. Your face was wet with tears, the tip of your ears red from the cold. I remember specifically the moment—I cheerfully said ‘hi’, pouted when you didn’t answer and simply stared deep into my eyes. I then handed you a bungeo-ppang—the one with the red bean paste inside, my favourite one—to help brighten the grim look upon your face.  And, of course, I remember so vividly, the smile that lit up your cute face.  I didn’t even ask what went wrong. I don’t know why—maybe it was the instincts of a first grader. It’s as if the universe was telling me that the only thing you yearned for at that moment was something to simply rejoice your mood.  For the first time, Sunghoon, I felt warm on a winter day.  Sent 23:09 PM. 1st March. 

After pressing send, you lean back into your chair, some kind of relief washing through you. You read over the words you typed, a piece of your pent up feelings for Sunghoon poured out into the screen. Your affections are safe here, expressed in the ways you’ve always wanted to, but you won’t ever have to ruin your lifelong friendship with him. 

You smile to yourself, getting up from your desk. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Thank you for the chocolate moist cake, by the way! It’s really good—I love your mom’s cooking.  Okay, before you scold me—yes, I’m going to go and get ready! You’re coming at 16:30, so technically I still have around 30 minutes to pick out an outfit—and it’s not like we’re going on a date. We’re going to a cafe to study.  Why am I even thinking of going on a date with you? Sent 16:07 PM. 14th March.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Why are you so good-looking?  Oh and I want to thank Jaeyun for playing basketball in class and accidentally throwing the ball at my face—now I get to see you up close.  Since when are you so… handsome, Hoon? Thanks for saving me. I would’ve hit the floor and cracked my skull if it wasn’t for you.  Sent 17:01 PM. 19th March.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, I’m sure you know this by now, but hoco’s in around a week. Do you have anyone to go with?  Gosh, I feel so pathetic. I’m sitting in my room, like a complete idiot, typing away emails that convey my feelings. Emails, Hoon, that the person I like will most likely never read.  I mean, I could’ve written letters… or confessed in person… or text you about this. But, yeah, instead of all the other brilliant options I should’ve done, I’m sending emails to an unused email address instead of confessing directly to the person I like. Funny, ‘cause the person I’m referring to—the person I like—it’s you. There’s a 99% chance you’ll never read these, since the email address I’m sending this to is your old one, the one you used in middle school—with a username that you now think is super weird.  Again, do you have anyone to go with to hoco? I’m asking, ‘cause if you don’t, I’m here. I’ll go with you. Actually, scrap that. I want to go with you. Sent 6:00 AM, 1st April. 

At the study session after lunch that day, you find yourself sitting at your desk, flipping through your textbook as you try your best to direct your focus to its contents. You spin the pen in your right hand absentmindedly, your brain already fried after only a few weeks of school. 

“I swear, I think my brain is short-circuiting.”

Jake, who’s sitting next to you studying his own subjects, turns towards you.  He smirks. “Maybe you just need a good tutor? Or someone to accompany you to the cafeteria right now—either of those choices, I volunteer.”

Sunghoon, whose seat is in front of yours, perks up from his notes. He glances at you, but doesn’t say anything. 

You roll your eyes, laughing. “I’ll pass. You’re trying to catch me off guard, aren’t you? Planning to make me pass out in a food coma.”

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon, Mom just asked if I got a date for homecoming. What should I say? I mean, it’s not like I don’t have any potential candidates—Jaeyun’s been hinting to go with me for a while. Poor him, honestly. I keep on ignoring him… Also, Naeun told me that Huening Kai from 12-2 is planning to ask me if I want to go to homecoming with him tomorrow.  Well, if you’re asking me, I could go with Jaeyun or Kai. It doesn’t really matter—Jaeyun’s really nice, he treats me well. He plays basketball too, and I’m sure he’ll show up with flowers or something (that’s what Jennie, his twin sister, said). Kai seems okay, too, I’ve heard rumours about him being ridiculously handsome if he wants to. I’m not entirely sure what that means. But, deep inside my heart, I know just perfectly who I want to go with.  You.  Just… you. Sent 13:43 PM, 1st April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon! 30 minutes ago, I saw Heeseung come home with purple flowers and a bunch of chocolate. Something clicked inside my head as I knew something was up—something related to my friend, Jennie Sim, as her favourite colour is purple and she LOVES chocolate. Okay, anyway, I rushed downstairs to ask him what that was all about.  And guess what? Heeseung’s planning to ask her to homecoming!  I’m kicking my feet in the air as I’m writing this.  Though, you know, I wish I had someone like my brother. I mean, someone who’s going to love me like I’m the only woman in his mind. Like I’m the only one that matters, and that he loves me with his entire existence.  Don’t ask me why I wish for that someone to be you.  It’s weird. It’s bad. I’m not supposed to like my own best friend.  Sent 17:55 PM, 1st April. 

IT’S the next day, and you’re dreading every single step towards school. Today, Sunghoon is not walking you to school—you’re not too disappointed, as you needed some time away from him. 

It’s ridiculous—you know you shouldn’t even be upset. You and Sunghoon are just friends. Nothing more. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn around, curious to see Jake running towards you from the school gate. Jake is your desk mate, and your best friend’s twin brother—so the two of you had been quite close ever since Jennie and Jake’s family moved next door. 

You wait for him patiently, and unsurprisingly, he barely takes a few seconds to catch up to you. 

“Hey,” he greets you tenderly, slightly out of breath. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you smile. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” the brunette replies, offering you the goofiest smile you’ve ever seen. “Just wanted to walk with you. Also, Y/N, I swear, you get prettier every time I see you. What are you trying to do—trying to make me fall harder for you?”

You choke on thin air, eyes bulging as you try to form a response.

Jake grins, but then he looks around, looking for someone. Without missing a beat, he asks. “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“He’s probably on his way, still,” you answer, glancing at the time on your smartphone, a little glad Jake changed the topic. 

7:15 AM.

“Sunghoon should arrive soon. He usually comes to school exactly at twenty past seven,” you continue. “I honestly have no idea why. He wants to come to school earlier than half past seven, but not earlier than quarter past seven.”

Jake chuckles at your little rant about Sunghoon. “He’s one attentive person, I guess.”

“Surely,” you nod, mentally slapping yourself for smiling about such a small talk about Sunghoon. 

“Come on, let’s walk to class,” Jake says, “we’ll wait for Sunghoon there—do you want any drinks? You know, like coffee or tea. Strawberry milk, maybe?” 

You begin walking with Jake, footsteps in sync, to your homeroom. “Drinks? This early in the morning?”

“You look like you haven’t eaten anything for breakfast,” Jake replies. He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the cafeteria—straying away from the path to your homeroom. His eyes quickly scan for any snacks or lightweight meals he could buy for you. 

“Jae,” you say, purposely using a nickname you never use (and probably will never do again) to grab his attention. “You don’t have to buy me anything, you know.”

Jake, who’s deep in engagement with the cashier, perks up at the nickname. He turns around and gives you a grin, “yeah, I know I don’t have to. I just want to.”

“Here,” he hands you a kimbap and a box of mango yoghurt drink, the silly grin still on his face. That grin you always see Jake offer you. “Eat up.”

“Thanks,” you reply with a smile, marvelling at how delicious the kimbap in your hand looks. 

7:35 AM.

“Hoon!” you exclaim, jumping out of your seat so abruptly it startles Jake—who’s reading a comic book next to you. You race towards your best friend at the door. Sunghoon, despite his usual nonchalant demeanour, gives you a small and brief smile.

“Hi,” he utters in his customary tone—deep and quiet. “You’re early.”

“Not really,” you reply with a bubbly smile. 

“Have you eaten breakfast?” you ask as the two of you walk to your desks. 

“I have—have you?”

You shrug. “Yeah, kinda—Jake bought me some.”

Sunghoon’s smile falls, but you’re too busy rambling to notice.

“You’re 5 minutes late, by the way.”

Sunghoon lets out a chuckle, his face quickly hiding the slip up, “I forgot you assume that I can teleport from the school gates right to the front of the class.”

Your cheeks flush warm, “no! I’m just saying… you usually come at half past seven. Like, exactly. Did something happen?”

Sunghoon pulls his chair out of his desk and sits down. Smirking, he comments, “Y/N, are you my girlfriend or something? You sound like it.”

His words make both you and Jake choke on thin air. 

I wish, you think to yourself.

“Hoon!” you stammer, “what the hell?”

“Sorry,” he says in between gasps of silent, ‘Sunghoon’-type laughter. “Couldn’t defeat my intrusive thoughts.”

“So,” you begin, changing the topic of the conversation so flawlessly. It’s always been that way—nothing is ever really complicated with Sunghoon. You could talk about ten different topics in under five minutes; and he’d listen to it all. “Have you thought about who you’re bringing to homecoming?”

Homecoming. A topic that makes your stomach turn upside down—knowing that, given the current situation, you’d be going with Jake instead of Sunghoon. 

And as expected, the two boys seated around you look up. 

“Nope,” Sunghoon’s reply is simple. 

“You? The golden hockey player of Decelis, haven’t thought about who to bring to homecoming?” Jake exclaims, with a touch of drama. 

Sunghoon chuckles. “It’s just homecoming. I could bring anyone.”

You break his gaze, looking away.

That ‘anyone’ broke your heart just a little bit. If he could bring anyone, that possibly meant he wouldn’t bring you—there are many other girls, much prettier and livelier than you, that he could bring. 

“You, Y/N?” Jake asks, “who are you going with?”

“I don’t know,” you reply after some time. 

You watch as Sunghoon opens his mouth to speak, yet is fiercely cut off by Jake’s relaxed comment. 

“You know, you could always go with me,” he says with a careless smile, leaning back into his chair. 

Sunghoon stiffens while you awkwardly smile. This was the first time Jake had directly brought it up—his requests and subtle hints of going to homecoming with you had always been through Jennie, contrasting with the way he’s always so obvious with his interest in you. “Actually, I’m probably not going to homecoming.”

“Why?” Jake asks. 

“Um…”

To be frank, despite being active in clubs, and being seemingly social, you dislike big social events. Especially the likes of homecoming or prom. There’s something about large crowds that makes you feel slightly out of place, and the fact that you’re surrounded by couples… just makes you a little sappy.

“Y/N doesn’t really like those kinds of events,” replies Sunghoon, his gaze directed to Jake a little too sharp than you’d like. 

“Hoon,” you lament, nudging him with your elbow. 

“If you’re asking her out,” Sunghoon continues, his nonchalant expression morphing onto his face, “you should know.”

“OI! Princess!” Sunghoon calls from behind you, oblivious of your widened eyes and accelerating heartbeat due to the nickname. 

You turn around and stop in your tracks, letting him catch up. “Yeah?”

He adjusts the placement of his varsity jacket—his pride, earned by qualifying into the school’s varsity hockey team—before he speaks. “Are you really not going to homecoming?”

You purse your lips before nodding. 

To you, there’s really no use of going to homecoming, not when the only person you’re truly interested in going with isn’t going. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not. Why?”

Sunghoon shoves his hands into his pockets. For a second, he looked really disappointed. But the look quickly dissolves, and he shrugs. “N-nothing, I was just curious.”

Embarrassed, you quickly nod. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” he gives you a smile, ruffling your hair. “Get back home safely. Text me when you’ve arrived home.”

“But you’ll be at practice–”

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon cuts you off, flashing you a soft, reassuring smile. One that makes your heart lap a million miles per hour. “I’ll read it anyway. They can’t get rid of me—I’m Decelis’ best bet at winning this season.”  

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon… What was that? That was weird. Really weird. I don’t like it.  Why did you ask me if I was really not going to hoco? Are you going to ask someone out, and not want them to think we’re friends?  I… you know, what? I’m not going to think about it anymore.  I don’t care.  Just… ask out anyone you want to. Even if it’s not me.  Even if it’s me. This possibility doesn’t quite make sense, as I don’t think you do see me the way I… see you. My saviour, the person who knows me best, the person I’ve developed feelings for.  You know what, Hoon? I’ll go with Jaeyun, if there are no signs of you asking me to go with you. By tomorrow. Sent 18:01 PM. 2nd April.

“HONESTLY, Y/N, I admire you,” Jennie says suddenly, causing you to almost spit out your lunch. 

You’re sitting at the usual spot you usually do with your girlfriends—Jennie and Naeun—people-watching as each of you devour your lunches. Jennie sits in front of you while Naeun sits on your left side. Jennie, as usual, has her lunch of various goodies from the convenience store; and Naeun, like you, sticks to what the school cafeteria serves. “What? Why?”

“I admire the way you don’t even care if you have a hoco date,” she continues. 

“Oh, God,” you exhale shakily. “Jen, you scared me! And yes, I don’t care. If I don’t have a date, then I don’t have to go.” 

Lie. 

Kind of.

Actually, a very small part of you wanted to go to homecoming—just for the experience. Besides, you’re a senior now, and you won’t get to experience any of this after graduation. But again, you’re reminded by the fact that you do not have a date, or at least, the person that you want to go to isn’t your date. 

“Why do you not want to go?” Naeun, from your left, asks. She gulps down the last bit of her strawberry milkshake before continuing. “I mean, I know you’re the top student, and you don’t party ‘cause all you do is shove your nose into a book and study. But, Y/N, it’s your last homecoming.”

You dramatically groan, “you girls know why I hate hoco. Looking at all the couples around me makes me wanna barf.”

Naeun and Jennie burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs. Amused, you grin along.

“Well, I can’t relate anymore,” Jennie giggles. “I’ve got–”

Naeun hits Jennie’s head lightly with her fork. “Okay, girl, we get it,” she turns to you, flipping hair off her shoulders. “Y/N, honestly, how does it feel when your best friend’s dating your brother?”

“We’re not dating!” Jennie shrieks. Naeun rolls her eyes.

You laugh, “honestly, it is kind of weird hearing someone talk so… fondly, I might say, of Hee oppa. Frankly, Jen, Hee oppa is not who you think he is.”

“He’s amazing,” gushes Jennie. One look at her face, and an exchanged glance between you and Naeun, was enough to tell that Jennie’s completely smitten. 

“For now,” Naeun quickly adds. “Though, if he starts treating you like trash, or making you shed a sad tear, I won’t hesitate to burn his house down.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, despite agreeing with Naeun. Your brother or not, you’d destroy his life if he made your best friend sad. “Where am I going to live if you burn our house down?”

“Sucks to be Heeseung’s sister, huh?” Naeun jests. 

“You can live with me,” Jennie adds on to the joke, “Jaeyun’s going to be delighted to have you live with us.”

“Mhm, remind me, are you finally going to go to hoco with Jake?” Naeun asks. 

“Yeah, are you?” Jennie urges. “I swear, it is so annoying hearing him talk about you. It’s weird—aren’t you guys friends?”

You shove another dumpling into your mouth. “Yeah, we are friends… and yeah, it is weird, now that you say it.”

“Reject him if you don’t want to,” Naeun suggests. “Pity him. He’s been on your tail for like God knows how long, trying to get you as his homecoming date. And more.”

“He’s liked you for quite some time,” Jennie says softly. “Well, trust me, it’s weird hearing him talk about you, my best friend, in that way—but I do want you to decide quickly. If you don’t want to go with him, just say so.”

You stay silent, processing the obvious variety in Jennie’s words. 

“This is for your own good, Y/N,” she adds, “and my twin brother’s own good, too.”

“I’m not sure what to do,” you finally say. “I… don’t want to risk losing a friend by rejecting him.”

Honestly, that’s how you feel with Sunghoon, too. Your friendship, strong and unbreakable for almost a decade, was the sole reason you’re afraid to confess your true feelings to him. 

On the other hand, however, you feel extremely weirded out by Jake. You started befriending him in early sophomore year, when he was first assigned as your deskmate. You remember him being as bubbly and friendly as he is now, and you’re sure that the two of you became friends because of his benevolent attitude.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Jennie pats your shoulder. “I know him best to assure you that he’s not the type to break off a friendship just because his feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

Now, you feel a little less bad to tell Jaeyun (or Jake, to most people) that you’re going to go as his date only if Sunghoon’s not asking you too.

“SO, how was practice?” you ask Sunghoon, slightly smiling at how the thunk of your footsteps coincide.

Sunghoon tilts his head for a moment, trying to form his words. He then looks at you before replying, “yeah, it was okay. Nothing really interesting.”

“What about that newbie—what’s his name again?” you ask, recalling about Sunghoon telling you that they were having a few new players.

“Riki? The freshie?”

“Yeah!” you nod, “that one!”

“He’s okay,” replies Sunghoon, “he’s good, actually, for a freshman. I heard he played in middle school, so I guess that’s where the skills come from.”

You nod again, and comfortable silence engulfs the two of you. The crunch of autumn leaves beneath your steps and the gentle breeze creates a fulfilling ambiance. 

“What about you?” he asks, after a few moments of silence—of you basking in his presence, enjoying the present of walking home with him. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to balance being our batch’s top scorer and orchestra at the same time.”

You chuckle. It had been hard on a few occasions; for example, if you had an orchestra concert to practise for, and around the same had tests to study for. But, generally, it’s quite simple. “Violin’s just a hobby of mine. I’m glad I have an orchestra club as a way to practise it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Don’t ever come to me and complain about it, then, if it’s ‘just a hobby’.”

You laugh, stealing a glance at Sunghoon. And, as always, it hits you. 

You dislike, probably just a little bit, how carefree and easy you become when you’re with Sunghoon; how he makes everything feel so simple; how he makes life less tiring, and how he makes you feel that you’re worth befriending. 

He’s so handsome it hurts—his fair complexion looks soft and well taken care of, his nose bridge is sharp, his smile stunning yet delicate. 

“We’re here,” Sunghoon says, pushing you out of your train of thought. You stand, with him,  in front of your house. The smell of kimchi soup begins to attack your sensory buds. “Oh, that smells good…”

“I think mom’s making dinner already,” you point out. “Do you wanna stay over? I can go and ask.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, smiling lightly. “No, it’s okay. As much as I want to devour every last drop of your mom’s cooking, I have to get home. My mom’s bringing us to visit grandma, so I shouldn’t miss it.”

You mirror his smile. “Okay. Get home safely.”

Sunghoon nods, and after a few steps away, he turns around and waves. He smiles—the usual, soft and gentle grin he always offers you, yet… something just feels different. He lingers around longer than you expect him to, before finally turning on his heel and walking home. 

You watch him walk away, and it’s like a scene in melodramatic dramas: he strolls leisurely home, your eyes follow him from behind as golden brown leaves sway down from the trees. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Park Sunghoon, It’s Thursday now. Um, yeah, I know I shouldn’t be sleeping this late, but I just finished watching 20th Century Girl, and I took, like, 15 minutes to calm myself down from all the tears, hehe.  Are you… going to ask me to go to homecoming with you?  It’s getting more and more hopeless as every minute passes by. In 7 hours, I’m going to go to class and say yes to Jaeyun, you know?  I hate it. I hate how I’m hoping you would stop me from saying yes to Jaeyun. I hate how I’m desperately wishing you’re preparing something to ask me to homecoming.  You know, what? Forget it. I’m going with Jaeyun. Sent 00:10 AM, 3rd April. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Heeseung asks, making you look up from your half-eaten bowl of a concoction of rice, soup, kimchi, bean sprouts and seaweed. He sips on his tea, eyes trained sharply on you. 

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, feeling a little guilty. You weren’t entirely lying, but it’d be such a fabrication if you told yourself you weren’t feeling down at all. “Why?”

“Did you sleep late? Or did you get dumped?”

“Oppa!” you exclaim, “when did I ever get a boyfriend?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that you’re always sticking around with Sunghoon. People think you’re his girlfriend, so no one’s asking you out,” Heeseung snorts. 

Your eyes slightly widen. Heeseung sounds sarcastic, but you uncover some truth behind his words. “Wait—people actually think like that?”

“Yeah, of course,” Heeseung replies, rolling his eyes. He swallows his bite before continuing, “everyone thinks you’re Sunghoon’s, you know?”

“People think so?”

“Girl, the two of you act like a literal couple. You hold hands, kiss cheeks and call each other nicknames like it’s nothing. I mean, those who know you guys are friends know that it’s platonic, but–”

“Then, why isn’t he doing anything about it?” you snap, crossing your arms. Your sudden outburst shocks everyone in the room—even Heeseung stops eating. 

“Y/N-ie, you alright, sweetie?” your mom asks from the kitchen. 

“I’ll be fine,” you reply. “Heeseung oppa is bothering me!”

“What are you saying, idiot?” Heeseung hisses. “I’m not bothering you, just tell me whatever is bugging you!” 

“I’m upset,” you declare truthfully. “I want to go to hoco with Sunghoon. But he’s not asking me or anything,” you whine, dragging out each word in a dramatically exaggerated manner.

Heeseung snorts, “if you want to go with him, just tell him? It’s not that hard.”

“It is hard! Oppa, imagine telling your childhood best friend: ‘oh, I like you. Can we go to homecoming together?’. That kind of thing completely ruins a friendship! Imagine if he doesn’t like you back? How would you feel?” 

Heeseung leans back into his seat, smirking smugly. “I don’t have any girl best friends, so I wouldn’t know.”

“YAH!” you yell, smacking your brother’s head with your spoon. He laughs, clutching his stomach as you sit back down, pouting. “I’m upset and all you’re doing is laugh at my face.”

“Hey, I’m just joking around,” Heeseung reassured, “I get how you feel—even though I kinda don’t.”

Your brother laughs as you huff. 

“I think you should go and confront him about it,” Heeseung suggests, going back to devouring his breakfast. “I’m honestly surprised you told me that so straightforwardly, but I guess that’s the result of me sacrificing my ego to get close to you when we were kids.”

You kick his leg under the table, annoyed by the way he’s laughing as you do so. “Shut up. Don’t make me regret having you as my brother.”

“SEE you after school, Y/N-ie,” Heeseung says as you exit the car. He waves to you before driving off. You then make your way towards the entrance gate, only to be greeted by an obviously excited and jumpy Jennie. 

“Y/N!” Jennie waves, all smiles. “Come on!”

You jog up to her, who’s standing at your school gate. “Hi. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she replies, but you know her a little too well to accept that as an answer.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, don’t you?” you elbow her, “you’re a bit too smiley at quarter past seven. Something’s definitely up.”

Jennie giggles, “I’m sorry, I forgot you’ve been my friend since middle school. Now I kind of resent myself for picking Decelis Academy as my study abroad option in 8th grade.”

You hit her shoulder, laughing in synchronisation. “Anyway, Jen, tell me what’s going on. Is Heeseung coming to pick you up after school today or what?”

“Nah, I am,” Jake’s voice coming from your left startles you, making you lose your balance. Yet, Jake is quick to grab your arm, stabilising you. 

You turn towards the source of the voice, expecting him to be standing at a reasonable distance beside you. But, oh boy, the goosebumps you get from seeing his face merely inches away from yours…

“Oh?”

Jake smiles. “I’m sorry for startling you,” he says, letting go of your arm gently. “What were we talking about again?”

“Yah, Jaeyun,” Jennie interrupts, smacking her twin brother’s head. “Don’t go around and scare people by whispering right in their ear. It’s creepy, you know?”

Jake laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Anyway, you’re picking Jen up today? What does that mean?” you ask. “Don’t you guys, like, cycle home everyday? Together?”

“Yeah, we do,” Jennie replies, “but today he’s bringing me and you dress-shopping.”

“Me?” you gasp.

“Yep,” Jake nods. “I-I mean, I suggested it to her. You know, since… um, my sister’s going to hoco with your brother, a-and she wants to go dress-shopping… I thought it’d be fitting to bring you too.”

“You can help me pick,” Jennie adds, smiling. 

“Sure,” you agree after some thought. After all, going shopping with Jennie is something you enjoy doing, and there’s nothing wrong with her twin brother accompanying the two of you. 

Except… that the said twin brother is most likely, according to the current situation, your hoco date. 

WALKING out of the chemistry lab, you drag your feet towards the cafeteria. There have been several periods and classes with Sunghoon, yet there hadn’t been any indication that he’d be asking you to go to homecoming with him. 

“So,” Jennie begins, as soon as you set down your tray. She waits for you to sit down before uttering, “are you going to homecoming?”

“I think so,” you say, shrugging. “I mean, I thought about it, and it’s my senior year. I should go to homecoming.”

Naeun and Jennie shriek happily. 

“Oh my God! My wish came true!” Jennie clasped her hands together. 

“We can finally take a trio polaroid together. Complete. As one,” Naeun says. 

“Gosh, stop over–”

“What wish?” you get interrupted, once again, by the one and only: Park Sunghoon. He nods to acknowledge Jennie and Naeun in front of you, before sitting down next to you. 

“Nothing,” you immediately reply. You shift awkwardly in your seat, uncomfortable by the way your cheeks are warming up. 

How on earth did you actually survive being Sunghoon’s best friend for almost 10 years whilst having a crush on him? 

Maybe having a crush on him for 5 years has taught you the skill of burying your feelings whenever he was around.

“I’ve known you for 10 years,” Sunghoon says. His left cheek bulges as he chews on his mouthful of cold noodles. “And if I learned a thing or two, it is to never trust you when you say ‘nothing’.”

“Exactly!” Naeun exclaims. “Sunghoon, you tell her to stop using the same excuse every time, it’s so obvious when she’s lying.”

“Oh, shut up, Nae.”

Sunghoon rips open the package of his chocolate bar and breaks it in half. “Here,” he places it on your tray. “You like cookies and cream.”

You bit your lip in hopes to suppress a smile. “Thanks,” you say coolly, taking a bite out of it. 

“Anyway,” Naeun grins, a glint of mischief in her eyes. You glare at her, already dreading what’s to come. “Got anyone to go to homecoming with, Park Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, stealing a glance at you. “No. I don’t want to go.”

You almost spit out the contents of your mouth at his blunt statement. “What? Why?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’ve got no one to go with?” 

“Well, you can go with me if you want to,” you murmur, afraid to raise your voice. 

“What?” Sunghoon tilts his head, eyes staring into yours. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing!” you quickly say, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I-I’m going though.”

It’s now Sunghoon’s turn to be confused. “Huh? I thought you weren’t going.”

“Yeah! I-I wasn’t going to… but Jaeyun asked me… to go with him,” you utter each word with complete caution, eyes going back and forth between Jennie and Sunghoon. “And I’m… going with him.”

The world pauses for a second, and you don’t realise you’re holding back a breath.

Jennie gasps, happiness causing her to beam. But at the same time, you couldn’t shrug off the pang in your heart when you witnessed, from the corner of your eyes, Sunghoon’s expression morph into something you’ve quite never seen before.

Was it jealousy? 

“Double date!” Jennie gushes, her eyes crinkling with laughter. “God, I’m so happy! I can finally go to homecoming with my best friend!”

You give Jennie a half smile. 

“...have you told him?” Sunghoon asks, somehow struggling to force the words out of his mouth. 

“Who?” you reply, turning to him. 

“Jake.” 

You purse your lips, then shake your head. “Nope. I’ll tell him after school, though.”

Sunghoon nods, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than it usually does. Then, he turns to his lunch and finishes it in silence, ignoring the conversation buzzing around him. 

AFTER the last lesson of the day ends, and the teacher walks out, you get ready with the books and stationery you need for studying.

“Let’s go?” Jake taps your shoulder, smiling widely as always. You perk up, a question popping in your head. Does he ever get tired of smiling?

Seeing him twinkle, you’re instantly reminded of the plan you made with the twins.

“Oh, okay!” you reply, quickly standing up to start packing up your bag. “Wait for me at Jennie’s homeroom.”

“Alright. I’ll see you there.” Jake nods, and struts out, which leaves you realising that it’s only you and the ridiculously good-looking boy sitting in front of you, Sunghoon, left in the homeroom. 

“Where did the others go?” you mutter to yourself, grunting at how your cheeks are starting to warm up. 

“Where are you going?” Sunghoon asks, his tone careful and slow. You look up, and he’s already staring at you, something in his gaze that you can’t pinpoint. 

You swing your bag over your shoulder. You give him an innocent smile. “I’m… going dress-shopping.”

“With Jake?” he asks. 

You nod slowly. 

“Y-yeah. And Jennie.”

“Have you told him you’re going to hoco with him?”  

You sigh. “No, I haven’t. I’m a bit embarrassed to… tell him.”

Silence floods the two of you. Though, this time, the silence was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. There was some kind of tension that hung between you and Sunghoon, and you know precisely what caused it.

“Hmm,” is all you get from your best friend after a few moments of awkwardness, that involves you standing straight near your desk, unable to move as you await his response. 

“Do you like him?” Sunghoon asks, standing up from his chair. His height towers above you, and you gulp in nervousness. 

“No?” you say, “I don’t. Wait, I mean, I-I do. But I like him as a friend.”

“Like how you like me?”

Your eyes widen as if a nuclear bomb was dropped in front of your face. 

“L-like what?”

Sunghoon chuckles, ruffling your hair. “I’m joking, pumpkin.”

Memories flood your vision, goosebumps racing against your skin, upon hearing the childhood nickname; vivid like it happened yesterday. 

You clearly remember your six-year-old self, sitting at his house’s dining table with a seven-year-old Sunghoon. The two of you were having lunch together after his mom picked you two from preschool. 

You always had a strong dislike for pumpkin, and everyone around you knew that, but Sunghoon didn’t. 

So when his mother asked what the both of you wanted for lunch, Sunghoon had eagerly requested for the porridge—and you innocently agreed, not knowing that the porridge he ardently asked for was pumpkin porridge with rice balls. 

Sunghoon held his stomach, laughing loudly. “You look so funny, Y/N, it’s just pumpkin!”

“Shut up!” you yelled. “I just don’t like the taste!”

“Oh dear,” Sunghoon’s mother rushed to you. She picked up the bowl of pumpkin porridge in front of you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know—would you like something else?

“It’s okay, auntie!” you insisted on a small voice. “I’ll just eat the rice balls.”

Sunghoon laughed his soul out in the background, still finding your revolted expression upon eating the pumpkin porridge extremely funny. His mother shook her head, patting your head. 

“You sweet girl—it’s alright. I’ll cook you something else, okay? Do seafood pancakes sound delicious to you?”

You give her a big smile, nodding. “I’ll love that!”

And for the rest of that year, Sunghoon insisted that he called you pumpkin.

“Gosh,” you whisper shakily, “I haven’t heard that nickname in a while.” 

Sunghoon smiles—and it’s as if, in this entire universe, it’s only you and him. It’s an unexplainable feeling; it’s as if time had stopped, and everything else around you froze—and he’s the only one for you. 

“Hmm? I thought I’d call you pumpkin,” he jokes, “since, you know, your face looks as orange as the porridge that day.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, “it’s been so long! Don’t remind me of that!”

Sunghoon lets out a train of laughter—and it rushes through you like a refreshing breeze, reminding you of your never ending feelings for him, and how his laughter is one of the things you’d never get tired of hearing.

“Come on then,” he urges you to walk out of the class. “We have a dress to find.”

You follow his lead, your brows knitting with each other. “Huh?”

Sunghoon looks back at you for a second, smiling while he’s at it. 

“I’m coming with you to buy your hoco dress. I mean, I’m sure your mother wouldn’t get mad at you if you’re going out with me,” he says, as your legs freeze, unable to move. You’re dazed at Sunghoon’s presence. Everytime he smiles at you, you’re smitten—and it’s as if your entire body is in love too. 

“I’ll pick your dress for you if you don’t come! I’ll pick the most horrible one!” Sunghoon yells playfully from the corridor, causing you to jolt awake from your trance. “And I’ll tell Mrs. Lee, you’re going out without asking her first!”

“YAH!” you scream, swiftly dodging tables and running out of the classroom to catch up with Sunghoon. “Wait for me, Park Sunghoon!”

“HERE,” Jake hands you a cup of mango yakult boba, accompanied with a smile that you wish you didn’t notice was a little bitter. It must’ve been because Sunghoon’s here, standing beside you.

You sigh, recalling that Jennie had whispered about it to you when you were in the bus. 

“What?” you ask him. 

“Take it,” he insists. “It’s on me, so don’t worry.”

You nod thankfully before poking the straw into the cover of the drink to take a sip. Though, before your lips could even touch the tip of the straw, Sunghoon gets himself a big sip of your drink. Bewildered and stunned, all you could do is watch and let your lips form a twitchy smile as Sunghoon perks up from an angle slightly lower than your eye level.

You gulp, suddenly nervous at the close proximity. 

“This is good stuff,” he says with a grin. 

Your eyes shift quickly between Jake, who’s standing right in front of you, shock painted all over his facial expressions; and Sunghoon, who’s standing to your right, grinning like he’s just scored the winning goal for the inter school hockey competition.

“Hoon!” you smack his arm, “this is my drink—you didn’t even ask!”

Sunghoon keeps his grin on. “I mean, you wouldn’t even finish it,” he shrugs. “Plus, you prefer strawberry flavoured things over mango, right?”

You watch with guilt as Jake’s facial expressions morph into a shameful expression. He lets out an “oh”, and he looks away.

“It’s okay, Jaeyun,” you say, offering him a smile, which makes him rebuild eye contact. “It’s not that I don’t like mango. I do! Just that I prefer strawberries.”

Jake nods attentively. “Ah, okay. I’m sorry—I’ll remember that from now on.”

“Okay, guys! Enough of this awkwardness,” Jennie says out loud, looping her arm with yours. “We’ve only got a few hours to shop for Y/N and I’s dresses, so get your asses up and moving, boys.”

The four of you then walk through the mall, window shopping to find your dresses. Jennie, of course, is the most excited. She practically drags you and Jake around, Sunghoon tagging along. 

You naturally enjoy the experience of shopping with your girlfriend. It’s certainly a refresher—sipping on your boba drink as you browse through a wide selection of eye-catching dresses. Though, every time you look to steal a glance at Sunghoon, there’s this off-putting feeling that you can’t quite name—and the reason as to why is evident, displayed right in front of your eyes. 

Every time you make eye contact with Sunghoon, you notice a challenging aura blazing through. It’s as if he’s purposely making it hard for Jake; as if to dare him to prove that he’ll be a good date to you.

Honestly, you think to yourself, it’s just one night. It’s not like I’m dating Jake for real.

And you wonder too, why Sunghoon is making such a big deal out of it. 

Even though all of you are shopping for homecoming at the last minute, everything’s certainly going well.

“Heeseung’s going to bawl his eyes out when he sees you in this dress,” you say with a sparkle of melodrama. Jake chuckles, while Sunghoon simply nods disinterestedly, his eyes glued to his phone.

You marvel at how beautiful Jennie is—her beauty is enhanced with the purple dress she’s wearing. It’s exactly her vibe—a lilac baby doll dress with ruffles and puffed sleeves—soft and dainty. 

“Buy this one,” Jake says.

“Okay!” Jennie happily nods. “What about you, Y/N?”

You’ve tried on several types of dresses in many different colours—jade, champagne red, and light pink. Though, none of them thoroughly suited your taste.

“Jaeyun,” you say, causing the boy to perk up and look at you with slightly widened eyes—not expecting his name to be called. “What do you think?”

“M-me?” 

You smile and nod, ignoring Sunghoon’s piercing gaze. “Yeah, you.”

“I-I mean, I don’t know,” Jake stammers, “why are you buying a dress though? I thought you weren’t going to hoco.”

“Well…”

“You stupid idiot, she’s going with you!” you hear Jennie shout from inside the changing room. 

You don’t know why, but some feelings of delight wash through you as you watch Jake’s lips form a wide smile. He laughs, awkward and strained at first, like he doesn’t believe it’s true. Though, gradually, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs breathlessly into your shoulder as you pat his back. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Jake pulls away from the hug, and for the first time, you see tears form at the edges of the basketball prodigy. 

And, for the first time too, you see Sunghoon looking away from you. 

“Jen!” you whisper-yell, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible. You and Jennie are in the changing room, the latter helping you to put on dresses. Out of all the dresses you tried—the light blue ball gown dress, the lavender mini dress with bow details, and many other bodycon and babydoll dresses—none caught your eye. 

Except for one. 

A simple midnight blue dress, adorned with pearl details and sparkly lace; one that Sunghoon picked out. At first, you weren’t sure if it’d suit you, but after trying it on, you were baffled by how you look. The dress fits you perfectly, highlighting exactly where it needs to be.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask, pulling your hair out of your dress. 

Jennie nods, an adoring look on her face. “Girl, everyone will be smitten.”

Of course, you didn’t believe her at first—but the look on Sunghoon and Jake’s faces made you second guess yourself. 

Sunghoon’s eyes stop blinking, and his lips part slightly. Something feels stuck in his throat, and everything dawns on him. 

You look absolutely magical.

He can’t pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. You are his best friend, the person he feels most comfortable with. And now, it hits him like a truck. 

You’re breathtaking. 

To his left, Jake is completely blown away by your beauty. The edges of his mouth twitch, indecisive as to whether he should smile or not. His pupils widen as he takes in the view of you, realising that you really are more prettier than he thought you were. 

“So,” you finally say, pretending to not notice the two guys’ gazes on you. You smile at Jake, not forgetting to spare Sunghoon a glance. “How’s this?” 

You twirl in front of the mirror, examining how the dress hugs your frame. “I don’t know,” you murmur. “Does this look weird?”

Jake leans forward from his seat, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Weird? Y/N, if you show up to homecoming in that, I might have to fight people off for you.”

His direct response makes your eyes widen and a snort escaping your lips. Jennie, who’s standing next to her brother, merely grins. 

You swat at Jake. “Be serious, Jaeyun.” 

“I am,” Jake winks smoothly. “You look gorgeous.”

A wave of heat rushes up your cheeks—the way Jake looked directly in your eyes, the word gorgeous slipping out of his tongue like it’s easy for him to say. You look away, redirecting your gaze to Sunghoon, slightly overwhelmed by the way Jake’s smile seems to tell you that he means everything he said. 

Sunghoon, who had been sitting silently in the corner, shifts in his seat. He doesn’t say anything, but his jaw flexes. He simply looks at Jake, then at you, before looking away. 

You press your lips into a thin line. 

Something in Sunghoon’s behavior bothers you. 

You turn back to the mirror, smoothing the fabric of the dress with your hands. “Hoon,” you say, looking at him from the reflection of the mirror. “What do you think?”

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and something unreadable flickers across his face. He holds his gaze for a second before turning to his phone.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, loud enough for you to catch. 

You frown, glancing at Jennie, who’s wearing a bewildered expression on her face. 

“Fine?” you ask. 

Jake scoffs, putting down his drink that he’s been sipping on. “Dude, that’s all you got? She looks stunning, and all you gotta say is ‘fine’?”

You bite your lower lip, watching as Sunghoon grits his teeth. The grip on his phone tightens. “I said it looks fine,” he repeats, sharper this time. “I mean, you look great, I guess.”

A pause. 

You gulp, exhaling shakily. 

“Okay…” you say, dragging the word out as you turn back to the mirror. You sigh.

Why are you feeling this way—defeated, disappointed, and angry, even? Sunghoon is just your best friend, and you’ve been friends since you were in first grade. He’s not your boyfriend, nor do you think he’ll ever be—so why are you so upset?

Jennie walks up to you, squeezing your shoulders in some kind of solace. She smiles. “Let’s go check out other dresses—or do you want to buy this one?”

You glance at Sunghoon. 

“Let’s buy this one?”

You and Jennie giggle before turning to the shop employee to discuss further about your dresses. After you turn away, Jake sighs. 

He looks at Sunghoon, leaning in. He drops his voice so only Sunghoon can hear. “You know, if you wanted to compliment her first,” he says, his words stinging. “You should’ve spoken up.”

Sunghoon stares at his phone stoically, not reacting at first, but his fingers begin to curl against his knee. He does not say anything, and the tension stays in the air, unsettled between them. 

You jog back towards them a few minutes later, happily smiling at the purchase. The feeling that stings your heart when you look at Sunghoon still lingers, but you’re too jolly about the beautiful dress that’s now yours to don. 

Jake sits up straight, his smile mirroring your beam. He watches you and Jennie animatedly gush about your dresses intently, contrasting with the way Sunghoon is quietly staring at you, pretending like he’s not interested. 

At the end of the day, Jake was the one you playfully swatted, the one listening intently to every word you say—and Sunghoon was the one you looked at, waiting.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, Thank you for picking out the dress for me. I think I like it a lot. Obviously because it’s not what you picked out but anyway! I’m nervous. Not because I like Jaeyun or anything. It’s just the general homecoming thing. You know, the surroundings and the partying… I hope I can handle it. I’ve got nothing against Jaeyun, he’s very sweet and kind, but I do still wish you’re my date instead.  Why didn’t you ask me to be your homecoming date, Hoon? Did you know how desperately I have been waiting? Did you know how guilty I felt to be brushing off Jaeyun every single time he asked me to go to hoco with him? Look at me now. I’m his date for tomorrow.  Hoon, I wish I had the courage to tell you. I wish I was brave enough to tell you that I like you, and that I don’t care if it ruins our lifelong friendship. I wish I was fearless enough to ask you to homecoming.  I wish I was better. I don’t know if I’m good enough for you, but if you ever need a girlfriend, or a wife one day… I’m here. Always.  Sent 23:00 PM, 3rd April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon,  It’s homecoming.  Jaeyun’s going to come and pick me up soon—in like half an hour. I got the girls over, to help with makeup and all. I feel gorgeous, Hoon, but I wonder if you think so too.  I wish the person who’d come and pick me up to go to homecoming today was you. I really want to see you in a suit—oh God, I know just how good you’ll look. Honestly, even in a hoodie and sweatpants, you look stunning.  Sent 17:35 PM, 4th April. 

“Y/N! Sweetie, Jake’s here!” you hear your mom call from downstairs. 

“Coming!” you shout back, shoving a lipgloss and a pack of tissues into your purse before rushing downstairs. 

The sound of your feet thudding against the stairs causes Jake to turn around, and his eyes immediately widen.

His eyes sparkle as they gaze on you, and he looks as if he’s never seen someone as beautiful as you. He stands respectfully by the stairway, giving you a polite smile.

“Hi,” you greet Jake, leaning into his side hug. Jake is smartly fitted into a neat suit with tie, and a corsage is tucked perfectly into the pocket of his chest. He hands you a matching one. 

“Do… you want to wear this?” 

You make eye contact with Heeseung, who’s standing by the door with Jennie. He nods, and you turn to Jake. “Sure.”

He fastens the corsage around your wrist, his touch gentle and careful. “Is it okay? If i-it’s too tight or anything,” Jake says, “tell me.”

You pat his shoulder. “It’s fine, I’m good. Thank you, Jaeyun.”

Heeseung drives all of you to the conference hall of Decelis Academy, where the homecoming will be held. Upon arrival, Jake opens the door of the car and helps you out. 

Feeling slightly overwhelmed hearing the faint music coming from inside the hall, you turn to Jake. “So,” you say, slowing down your walking pace. “What do we usually do at hoco?”

“Hmm, there’s a concert by our school band—you know Jay? He used to be the lead guitarist,” Jake explains. “His girlfriend, Han Jihyeon, is the main singer. They’re sickeningly cute, in my opinion.”

You chuckle and nod along, recalling several moments where you’ve seen the couple interact with each other at school last year. 

“There’s also plenty of games,” continues Jake. The two of you walk together into the hall, and as you reach the door, he opens it for you. “Oh, and you don’t have to dance if you don’t want to, you know.”

You nod, bracing yourself for a chaotic night. 

After taking pictures with Jake, Jennie, Naeun, and Heeseung, you find yourself retreating to the refreshments section of the conference hall. Jake left to play games and dance with his friends, as well as reconnect with his old buddies who have graduated. At first, he felt guilty to leave you alone, but you insisted he go enjoy himself so much that he gave in. 

You bring out your phone and adjust your hair, which your mom had put in a half updo adorned with a sparkly white ribbon. Your makeup tonight is bedazzling too, and you admit, for once, it made you feel more beautiful than ever before. Kudos to Jennie and Naeun for being your makeup artist. 

“Y/N!” you hear Jake call for you. You look towards his direction, seeing him quickly approaching you. 

“Yeah?” you answer, fidgeting with the empty plastic cup in your hand. 

“Do you want to come and play some games?” he asks. He grins confidently, but he quickly adds a stammering, “I mean, i-if you want to.”

“Honestly, I don’t really want to,” you reply, “but since we’re already here, why not?”

You watch as Jake’s uptight and polite expression transforms into a bright smile. “Okay!” he beams, grabbing your arm. “Let’s go!”

You don’t know if it’s Jake’s luminous grin or if it’s the games that are fun, but you enjoyed almost every minute of the games you played. You found yourself laughing amongst Jake and his friends, and found them to actually be decently nice. You too found yourself sharing many greasy yet fulfilling snacks with Jake, bonding over random things such as physics, iconic movies and so on. 

When the time to go home comes around, Jake escorts you to Heeseung’s car and waits until your brother comes. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs as you lean slightly against the car, “I had a really good time tonight.”

You give Jake a smile. “Of course,” you pat his shoulder. “I also enjoyed tonight a lot, surprisingly. Thanks for asking me out.”

Jake laughs shyly, the corner of his eyes crinkling along. He rubs the back of his neck. “Y-yeah! You’re welcome… and you know, I think we should hang out sometime?”

“With Hoon?” you inquire—immediately regretting it after, realising the meaning behind his words.

“Um–” Jake lets out an awkward chuckle. “Sure, alright.”

He smiles, more genuine and confident this time. “But I’d like it if it was just the two of us.”

The breeze blows, and you realise that you’re wearing something so revealing on an early spring night. You push your hair out of your face and rub your bare shoulders with your hands, in an attempt to warm yourself up. “It’s really cold tonight,” you laugh. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jake agrees, swiftly removing his suit jacket and placing it on your shoulder. He stands right in front of you—and you notice, then, how tall he is—and adjusts the placement of his jacket on you. “Is it better now?”

The scent of honey, cinnamon, and freshly baked apple pies mixed with a faint touch of expensive cologne attacks your senses. You pull Jake’s suit jacket closer to your body, attempting to combat the cold winds. “Yep! Thank you so much, Jaeyun.” 

“Jake!” you hear Heeseung call from a distance, interrupting something Jake was about to say. Your brother—accompanied by Jennie—quickly approaches the two of you, giving Jake a brief handshake. “Thanks for waiting with Y/N.”

Jake places a hand on his chest before nodding slightly. “Of course. The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Thanks for coming to homecoming with my twin brother, Y/N-ie,” Jennie says, giving you a hug. “We finally get to take pictures together. I’ll send them all to you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, mirroring Jennie’s smile. “I’ll see you later, Jen.”

“See you!” she exclaims before linking arms with Jake. “Come on, my feet hurt from all the dancing.”

You watch with a huge smile as the twins walk away to their ride. 

Jake rolls his eyes. “Who told you to wear heels?”

Jennie simply gave her twin brother an annoyed look. “Shut up. Beauty is pain.”

“Anyway, we have to go now,” Heeseung says, pulling your attention back to him. 

“Mom will kill me if I don’t get you home before midnight,” he continues, nudging you with his elbow. He opens the car door, signalling for you to get in. “Come on.”

“Bye, Jaeyun, Jen!” you say as you get into the car. 

Jake sends you a soft smile along with a nod. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“WHAT the hell,” you breathe shakily. 

First, you forgot to return Jake’s suit jacket to him before he left.

Secondly, you’re barely done with your nighttime after-shower routine when you hear knocks on your window. 

Quickly wiping your hair dry with a towel, you rush to your window, the damp towel still in hand. You push the curtains open, only to be greeted with a vision of Sunghoon, leaning against the glass with a grin on his face. Your eyes widen with shock.

“Park Sunghoon!” you exclaim hushedly, immediately opening the window to let him in. 

“Thanks,” he grumbles, effortlessly climbing into your room. He lands with a soft thud, and he stands patiently, waiting for you to close the window. 

“God, you gave me a heart attack,” you say. “What are you doing here? It’s cold outside, you know? How did you even manage to climb up here?”

“Eat,” he replies, instead of answering your questions. Sunghoon then hands you a plastic bag filled with goodies—and you perfectly know what’s inside. 

“What’s this?” you ask nevertheless, grabbing the plastic bag. 

Before you could even open the plastic bag, Sunghoon excellently answers, “Pocari Sweat, cream cheese with salmon kimbap and ice cream.”

A wide grin immediately emerges on your face, much to Sunghoon’s satisfaction. “Oh my god!” you exclaim, sitting down on the heated floor. “I’ve been craving this.”

“You always do, especially after a long night,” Sunghoon murmurs, more like to himself, as he sits down across you, leaning against the wall. 

Unnoticed by you, Sunghoon stays silent as he watches you eat heartily; your facial features highlighted by the warm light of your bedside table.

Something caresses his heart. Some kind of feeling… It makes him feel full and content.

“Switch on the lights, I swear to God,” Sunghoon sighs. 

“No,” you shake your head, cheeks filled with kimbap. “My parents are going to think I’m still awake. Plus, this kind of ambiance makes me sleepy.”

“And?” Sunghoon raises a brow, amused. “Do you want to eat while sleeping?”

“No!” you insist, swallowing a big bite of kimbap. “I want to make myself sleepy so that I can sleep as early as possible.”

Sunghoon snorts. “It’s 12 o’clock, Y/N. What kind of ‘early’ are you talking about?”

He laughs cheerfully—still keeping a low volume—as he dodges a pillow from you. 

“I mean,” you defend yourself, mouth still full of food. “At least it’s earlier than 5 o’clock.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, laughter still lingering around him. “Whatever you say, princess.”

Princess. 

A nickname that rolls off Sunghoon’s tongue so comfortably. It’s an old habit—stemming from an incident that happened when the two of you were kids; where Sunghoon had deliberately called you ‘princess’ just to annoy you, knowing that as a seven-year-old, you wanted to be a dragon warrior when you grew up, not a princess.

Though, the same nickname used by Sunghoon for years to no end still gives you plenty of butterflies and heart-fluttering moments. By logic, you should’ve gotten used to it by now, considering the absurd amount of times he called you by that. 

The two of you sit facing each other, faces lit by the dim light of your mushroom shaped lamp. You and Sunghoon sit in pure silence, the sounds of breathing and occasional satisfactory humming coming from you due to the food filling the atmosphere. 

Sunghoon looks at you attentively—the way you melt into every bite of food that you enjoy; the way that you sit cross-legged in front of him, vulnerable and authentic. It’s just you and him—the pure and bare you; your face naked with no makeup on, your shoulder-length hair let loose, the bangs framing your face perfectly as it should. 

“Goodness, I’m so tired,” you groan, laying down on the floor with an almost finished ice cream in your hand.  

Sunghoon scoffs, adjusting his lean against the wall. “You’re going to choke on that ice cream.”

You throw him a glare. “Shut up.”

Sunghoon merely chuckles, shaking his head. 

“So, Y/N,” Sunghoon says after a moment of unbroken eye contact, caused by him intently watching you try to eat ice cream while laying down. “How was it?”

You immediately sit down. “Hoco?”

Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. Was it fun, with Jake?”

“It was okay. I unexpectedly enjoyed it more than I wanted to,” you reply, finishing your ice cream. “I do think I prefer night-ins to binge watch dramas or movies—like To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, or Emily In Paris—don’t you think?”

Sunghoon smiles briefly. He nods, “movies are more of your thing, I think.”

“Anyway, I’m glad I went,” you continue, “I’m in my senior year—we’re in our senior year, and we won’t get to experience something like this anymore. It’s actually fun!”

Sunghoon sighs as he shrugs. “Homecoming’s not my thing. I thought… I thought it wasn’t yours either.”

You look at him, staring at his features a minute longer. “I-I mean, it still isn’t. I just went because Jennie and Naeun insisted I go.”

“And because Jake did too?”

“Oh, um,” you stammer, “not really. I-I mean, I’ve been shrugging him off for a while now. I even rejected him for prom last year, remember?”

You swear you saw Sunghoon smirk for a split second. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m surprised someone even asked you out.”

“Why?” you roll your eyes. “You think I’m not pretty enough?”

“You are.”

“What–”

“You’re too pretty, people are afraid to ask you out.”

Silence. 

You stare at Sunghoon, your childhood best friend, with widened eyes. He looks back at you, firmly connecting the eye contact with some kind of determination and genuineness you’ve never quite seen before. 

It took a while for you to finally form a response. 

“Oh. Um..”

Sunghoon stands up. “Well, then, sleep well. I have to go now.”

“S-so soon?” you blurt out, flabbergasted. 

Sunghoon smiles softly. “I have practice tomorrow. Come watch.”

“Of course, I always do,” you nod eagerly. You didn’t know when it all started, but for as long as you remember, Sunghoon and you had always been each other’s biggest supporters. You never really missed any of his hockey matches and most of his practices; and he never truly missed any of your music recitals too. 

Your cheeks blush at the thought, and all you could do is gawk at Sunghoon as he ruffles your hair.

“See you later, princess,” he says, pushing your window open. “Sweet dreams.”

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon! I’m so excited! A four-day school trip is really what I needed—just spending time with friends with no worry of anything at all… it must be fun. I hope it’s going to be just like how it is in the dramas; where all we do is play games, maybe sort out treasure hunts and eat delicious food all day. I heard the fee’s going to be quite a lot, so I really do hope the activities are worth attending for.  Also, I think I need to restock on sunscreen and some other stuff. I want to ask Heeseung to take me to Olive Young, but if I’m not mistaken he has a resume to work on and my mom’s not letting him go out until he gets that done.  So… Okay, I’ll just text you if you want to go. Hope you do, and hope you won’t think it’s weird or anything! Sent 11:09 AM, 8th April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon!  Tomorrow is the trip! Ahhh, I’m so excited! I don’t know why I’m very excited for this year’s trip when I went on one last year—maybe it’s the fact that I’ll be spending it with you, for the last time; maybe it’s the fact that I know I’m going to treasure every single moment of this 4-day trip… I don’t know for sure.  This year, we’re going to Gyeongju! I’ve only been there once, with my grandmother in second grade’s winter break, and I loved it there. I’m sure you’ll like it too.  Hoon, thank you for being my friend. You’re such a miracle, a gift to humankind. Also, stop treating me so kindly? It’s… making me delusional.  Sent 20:13 PM, 8th April. 

From the beginning, the senior’s trip is already fun—but the first activity requires something that you somehow dread. The teachers that came along organised a scavenger hunt at the villa that your batch was staying at—and, of course, you’re paired up with Sunghoon for it. 

The tasks were simple but a little tedious, obviously requiring two people. You breezed through them fairly well, but it doesn’t quite help that you’re constantly biting back a smile, remembering how you slept on his shoulder the entire bus ride there.

It also doesn’t quite help that Sunghoon is smiling at you every time you finish a task, looking at you with all of his attention when you’re talking about the next clue. 

You and Sunghoon finished second place, which was not too bad—you were a bit bummed out, considering that the team that finished first was just a few seconds faster than you and Sunghoon. But you weren’t given too much time to dwell on that, because as soon as the scavenger hunt wrapped up, it was time for your tour of Gyeongju.

And, of course, a classic from the dramas had to happen to you. 

You were taking pictures with Jennie and Naeun at the Bulguksa Temple, all giddy and happy due to how pretty it is. 

Then, all of a sudden, it starts pouring. 

Everyone runs for cover, and you’re a bit too slow to catch up with your friends. You try your best to run, eyes squinting as the rain pours down. Suddenly, you’re pulled to your side. You gasp, widening your eyes as you realise that it’s Sunghoon. He pulls you under his jacket, his arms holding it up for the two of you. You hold your breath in, realising how close your face is to his—your nose is barely brushing his. 

He guides you to a hut nearby, where some students are gathered. You gulp—face hot despite the rain bringing stinging cold against your skin. 

“Didn’t know you care so much,” you joke, laughing breathlessly as you attempt to lighten the tension in your shoulders. 

Sunghoon looks at you, holding his gaze for some time. Something difficult to interpret flashes through his eyes for a second. 

“You have no idea,” he mutters before gently pushing you under the roof. 

You watch him, heart thumping loudly against your chest, as he ties his now wet hoodie around his waist, avoiding eye contact. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Park Sunghoon,  What’s going on with my heart? Why does it accelerate so quickly when you’re around? Why does it feel like it’s going to jump out of my chest every single time you hold my hand?  Oh my God. I think I’m going insane.  I can still smell your cologne in the air.  What did you do that for, Sunghoon? I mean, I know it was raining hard and you know I get cold easily… but couldn’t you have just given me your hoodie or something? Anyway, Bulguksa Temple is pretty, isn’t it? Oh my, I’m going to write more when we get home. I can’t really type with my friends around… it’s weird. Also, I have to go get some medication because I think I’m sick from the rain.  Sent 21:00 PM, 9th April. 

“I swear to God, this is so annoying,” you mutter under your breath as you grab onto a light pole for support. You’ve been sneezing non stop for the past hour, and now you’re on the way to the pharmacy near your hotel to get some medicine. Though, it’s really hard and troublesome for you to walk there with constant sneezing and a throbbing headache.

The autumn night wind blows, and you immediately regret wearing a thin cardigan out. 

Why aren’t hoodies in my reach whenever you need them? 

“Y/N!” you hear someone yell your name, footsteps approaching from behind. 

You turn around, surprised to see Jake sprinting towards you. He arrives in a matter of seconds, panting as he catches his breath. 

“Jake?”

“Call me Jaeyun, I said,” he recalls in the midst of his heavy gasps for air. 

“Okay, fine,” you huff, “why are you here, anyway?”

“You’re sick,” Jake says, standing up straight. “Our rooms are two rooms away from each other and I can hear you sneeze all the time. Your nose is red too.”

“Oh,” you purse your lips. “Y-yeah.”

“You’re wearing something so thin too, aigoo,” Jake sighs. He promptly takes off his hoodie, leaving him bare with a white t-shirt underneath. He smoothens the hoodie out and hands it to a flabbergasted you. “Wear this. It’s not too chilly out, but you’re sick so you have to keep warm.”

“Oh,” is all you manage. You then wear Jake’s hoodie as instructed, and the scent of honey and cinnamon engulfs you again. “Thanks. I-I feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good to know,” he says, smiling delicately. “Then let’s go and get you some medicine. We still have two days of the trip, and tomorrow we’re going to Cheomseongdae Observatory. I’m sure you wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

You nod, returning his smile. “Okay then, let’s go.”

Your plan to quickly grab medicine and run back to the hotel as you promised your teacher is completely wrecked. Now, you stand behind Jake at the cashier counter as he pays for your painkillers. 

“Done,” he says, smiling again. He lifts the bag of medicine to his face and shakes it gently. “Look.” 

The thought of doesn’t he get tired of smiling? rushes into your head as you nod. You reach out your hand to take the plastic bag away from him, but he pulls his hand away at the right moment.

“What?” 

“Let me hold it,” he says. Then, he wraps his left arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the pharmacy. “Let’s go eat some ramen?”

“N-now?” you ask him. 

Jake nods enthusiastically. “Mhm, now. You have to eat before you take paracetamol.”

Seeing that he’s actually guiding you to the convenience store a few blocks away, you try to stop him—though he’s a little too strong for you. 

“Jaeyun, you don’t need to eat before taking paracetamol,” you address. 

Jake chuckles. “My mom always told me to eat something warm before,” he answers, “I know you don’t have to, but it makes you feel good. So, why not?”

Maybe it’s Jake’s smile that’s so bright it convinces you to sit down at the convenience store, slurping away instant noodles with him beside you. 

“So good,” you groan, melting into every gulp of the noodles. 

Jake grins. “Told ya.”

“Does it make you feel better?” 

You nod, smiling wide. “It does! I mean, I don’t think it can beat my mom’s chicken soup, but this will do.”

Jake laughs, casting a warm atmosphere around the two of you. He throws his head back, and his smile is so big and cheerful it makes you giggle too. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you your mom’s chicken soup, or at least an authentic one. I can’t get caught venturing further than this.”

You chuckle. “It’s alright. I’m grateful enough that you bought me both my medicine and my food.”

Jake smiles, yet again, at you. “My pleasure.”

“So, Y/N, I heard you play violin,” Jake says after silently watching you finish your cup of noodles. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, cleaning up your things. “I do. Why?”

“Nothing,” Jake replies, “I’m not really into instruments, but my mom and dad used to make me go to piano lessons when I was in elementary school.”

“Lucky,” you giggle, nudging his shoulder. “I wanted to learn piano too, but my dad told me it’d be better to learn violin. I don’t know why, but I guess he wanted me to learn violin because Heeseung oppa was learning piano. Call it ‘variety’,” you laugh. 

Jake chuckles along. 

“So, you know how to play piano, then?” you ask him. 

Jake immediately shakes his head. He raises his hands to his chest in defeat. “A big no! I don’t remember most of it, and I’ve gotten so rusty. I quit piano lessons as soon as middle school started—I got myself busy with basketball so my mom couldn’t bother me.”

You snorted in an attempt to hold in your monstrous laughter. “You’re so petty.”

Jake chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “Y-yeah, I can be.”

“Y/N!” Sunghoon exclaims loudly as he rushes to you. You had just returned with Jake, and you’re about to get into the lift to go back to your room—when suddenly, Sunghoon emerges and hugs you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away to examine you. In fact, he pulls away too fast you didn’t even get to feel the warmth of his embrace. “You’re sick? Why didn’t you tell me? Was it because of the rain?”

As if it’s on cue, you sneeze. “Yeah, I guess. Don’t worry though! Jaeyun got me some medicine, so I should be fine.”

“Jake?” Sunghoon inquires, and he finally notices Jake, who’s standing behind you the whole time. 

Jake shrugs, showing Sunghoon the plastic bag filled with medicine that he’s holding. “I was about to ask where you were. How could you not know that Y/N’s sick?”

“Okay, I’m not that sick, Jaeyun,” you retort. 

Jake narrows his eyes at you. “Mhm. I’ll believe you, Y/N. If I didn’t catch you halfway, you’d be hit by a car with all the sneezing you’re doing.”

“But–” 

“Whatever,” Sunghoon scoffs. He sharply snatches the bag of medicine from Jake’s hand. “C’mon, Y/N, I’ll bring you upstairs.”

“Hey–”

Sunghoon grabs your hand and drags you away, leaving no chance for either Jake or you to say a word. He stays silent, and you do too, throughout the five minutes it took the two of you to get to Room 92. 

“Wh-why are we in front of your room?” you ask, panic starting to seep in. You had memorised his room number from the list your teacher had given out to everyone before the trip. “My room’s 99, not this one…”

“I know,” he says, letting go of your hand as he unlocks the door. “Get in.”

You nod, fiddling with the edges of Jake’s hoodie that you’re wearing. “Where’s your roommate?”

“I told Kangmin to crash at Minseo’s room,” Sunghoon replies offhandedly, closing the door shut. He then changes the light intensity of the lamps, making it a comfortable ambiance for you to be in with such a throbbing headache. 

“Why?” you ask, feeling a little awkward. 

“Well,” Sunghoon replies, pausing to look at you for a while. He continues like it’s the most obvious thing ever, “I didn’t want your roommates to be uncomfortable with you sneezing every five seconds.”

You glare at him. “I mean, they didn’t say anything about it!”

“Yeah, because they don’t want a sick person to feel bad when they’re already sick,” Sunghoon retorts. He walks over to the mini fridge under the cupboard and brings out a carton of strawberry milk. 

“Here,” he hands you the milk. “Eat your medicine quickly, then you can go to bed—wait, have you eaten soup?”

Sitting down on the edge of one of the single beds in the room, you sigh. “I have,” you reply, opening the packaging of the straw. “Jaeyun bought me some.”

Sunghoon, who’s about to get in the bathroom, pauses as he looks at you. For a moment, he doesn’t look away. 

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath as he says, before going to the bathroom. 

For a minute, you stare at the strawberry milk in your hands. You can’t help but smile a little—Sunghoon knows that you can’t swallow pills without flavoured drinks to go with it, due to the bad aftertaste; and he knows that your favourite flavour with almost anything is strawberry—your heart flutters, even if just a little bit, at your best friend’s simple gesture. 

You quickly take your designated dose of paracetamol, followed by the strawberry milk; flopping down sideways onto the bed, feeling the exhaustion taking over you. Unable to control yourself, the world around you then goes dark as you close your eyes shut. 

“Y/N? Princess?” Sunghoon calls, his tone softening as he spots you asleep. 

He walks over to you, shaking his head. “I swear, this girl…”

After trying to wake you up several times and failing, Sunghoon decides to just let you sleep on his bed—he’ll sleep on Kangmin’s. With his build, he easily adjusts your posture so it’s more comfortable for you—he tucks you in with the comforter; neatly arranging your medicine and half-finished strawberry milk on the bedside table. 

His tense features relax upon seeing you. 

Sunghoon sits beside your sleeping figure, taking his time to absorb your presence. Some kind of heavy emotions dawn on him—he doesn’t know why or where they came from. Maybe it’s overwhelming affection for his best friend of more than a decade; maybe it’s the emotions suppressed for years. 

Although reluctant, Sunghoon brushes hair away from your face—stunned to find himself admiring every inch of it. Accentuated by the dim lighting of the room, you look extremely beautiful. 

Sunghoon retracts his hand, pressing it against his accelerating heart. 

Why did she have to smile like that to Jake? Why did she have to let him take care of her when I’m here?

For the first time, he realises the heat in his cheeks as he gazes upon you. For the first time in a while, he admits the way his heart tightens, and the way his emotions churn in his stomach as he watches a laugh escape you when you’re with Jake. For the first time in years, he recognises the beauty of his best friend—it’s enchanting, ethereal and everlasting. 

Though, Sunghoon’s extremely worried—and this is the sole reason why he’s been pushing away his own feelings for several years—he’s feared that his feelings would get in the way of your strong friendship. Countless thoughts attack him daily, every time he finds himself admiring you a little too much than he’s supposed to—what if you don’t like him back? What if you think it’s extremely weird? What if you don’t want to be friends with him anymore because you’re uncomfortable with it?

Sunghoon shakes his head, smacking his face lightly to knock himself out of it. He better get rid of whatever he’s feeling before it gets out of control.

At least I get to be close to her at all times. 

Sunghoon then places his hand against your forehead, thankful that your temperature has gone down. The paracetamol was taking effect, and Sunghoon dearly hopes that you’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. 

He smiles at the thought of spending a whole day with you. 

“Shut up, Park Sunghoon,” he mutters to himself. 

“Y/N! Good morning!” Jennie greets you, bringing you into a hug. She raises a brow at Sunghoon, who’s following you as you come out of the elevator. “What’s going on?”

“What?” you ask. 

“Don’t be so dense,” Naeun sighs, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Why did you come out of the elevator with Sunghoon? You were gone last night too—I can’t believe I had to spend a night in a city I’ve never been to alone.”

Your eyes widen—you had spent the night in Park Sunghoon’s room without telling your girls about it. A misunderstanding could happen, and you didn’t have the energy to face one. “I-I accidentally fell asleep,” you say, before leaning close to your friends to whisper, “in his room.”

Naeun makes a disgusted face and Jennie gasps loudly. “Are you kidding me?” the latter shrieks. 

Behind you, you hear Sunghoon chortle. 

“No, no! It’s not what you think it is,” you panickedly say. Then, you add—even though it hurts to say, “we’re just friends.”

Jennie throws a dirty look at Sunghoon, who’s somehow struggling to keep a poker face on. “Yeah, sure. I’ll take your word for that,” she replies with a heavy sarcastic tone. 

“I’ve done it multiple times!” you blurt out, immediately regretting that you worded it wrong—surely, it sounded like something else to your girlfriends. “I-I mean, we’ve been friends since pre-elementary, and we’ve slept together platonically for countless times.”

Naeun chuckles, “whatever.” 

“Oh, also,” Sunghoon says, catching the attention of you and the two girls. “Here, wear my jacket,” he adds, smoothly taking off his varsity jacket, which has P. SUNGHOON and the number 23 embroidered at the back. He grabs your shoulders, spins you around and places the cream and navy blue varsity jacket on you. 

“There,” he says, smiling sillily as he spins you back around to face him. “In case you get cold.”

You suck in your breath through gritted teeth, knowing perfectly the looks given to you and Sunghoon from Jennie and Naeun. Though, as you fight your inner demons that are strongly urging you to squeal your heart out to release the heat in your cheeks, you smile.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you say as you properly wear his varsity jacket. Soon after, your nose buds are graciously attacked by the familiar scent of Sunghoon—fresh and masculine; a floral fragrance with herbaceous sweet undertones, perfectly blended with a warm and earthy aroma of a sweet yet spicy undertone. 

“Hoon,” you ask, “are you wearing the Ralph Lauren perfume I got for you for your 16th birthday?”

He nods, slightly surprised. “You remember?”

Your cheeks warms again, “y-yeah. Well, I did smell it thoroughly before giving it to you, t-that’s why I got it memorised,” you smile as warmly as your cheeks, “I had to give you something that suits you so well.”  

Sunghoon laughs. “Really?”

Actively ignoring the disgusted looks on your friends’ faces, Sunghoon proceeds to pinch your cheeks. “Aww, you love me~” he jokingly coos.  

You mask your true feelings, once again, with a horrified expression. “Yeah, I do,” you admit slowly under your breath.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  I think I just fell in love with you all over again.  Oh God.  Sent 21:45 PM, 12th April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Park Sunghoon,  It’s been a long time since I’ve sent in anything. School has been quite hectic, hasn’t it? I barely see you after school, now that you’re busy with hockey practice and I’m busy with extra class and orchestra practice. Ahh, I’m so nervous! This is my first time assigned to play in the First Violins! I honestly wish I got to lead it this time, considering the amount of time I’ve played in a concert, but I do think that Gaeul deserves it! She plays violin really well, I’m sometimes envious of her skill.  Oh, we have two concerts upcoming, by the way. One is next Tuesday, for the choir—we’re playing alongside as their background music. I’m the concertmaster for this one! I’m really really really nervous… I’ve been practising a lot, my hand hurts even typing and doing homework! Would you come and watch me play, Hoon?  Sent 20:04 PM, 10th May. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon! I think you did well today. Did you notice me in the bleachers? I was at school for a short while today—I wanted to pick up a textbook I accidentally left in my locker… hehehe. Please don’t scold me for being forgetful, I was so engrossed in orchestra practice yesterday. I almost missed the bus too! When I was walking past the ice rink, I saw you playing with your friends. You look so cool… gracefully skating on the ice. You look so determined and skillful. Oh my God, how do you even manage to look handsome and play hockey so well at the same time? I’m speechless… Anyway, I came in and watched you guys play. I sat with Han Jihyeon—you know her? She’s Dongmin’s noona. I talked to her about a lot of things—like how the fall band concert went, and how she’s balancing studies alongside her other stuff. Honestly, I admire her support for her younger brother. She says she’s never yet to miss watching any of his hockey practices and matches… She inspires me to do the same for you! Hehe.  Oh God, I’m so… optimistic for no reason. I act like your girlfriend, even… when I’m not.  You know what? It’s okay. At least I get to be there, admiring you from afar. That’s not too bad, right? Sent 13:56 PM, 11th May. 

AS you’re putting on some makeup, trying to not ruin it due to your shaky hands, your smartphone rings. You glance over and see Sunghoon’s contact name, ‘Baekgu’, calling you. You quickly put your eyeshadow palette and brush down, picking up the call. 

“Hi,” you say, putting the call on loudspeaker. You then set your smartphone back on your table, turning to the mirror to continue your makeup routine. “I’m putting you on loudspeaker, I’m putting on makeup.”

“Okay,” comes his reply. “What time is your concert? Isn’t it at half past five?”

You nod, carefully putting on highlighter and glitter on the edges of your eyes. “Yeah, but I have to get there at five.”

“Want me to pick you up?” 

You snort. “You can’t even drive yet, Hoon.”

You hear him scoff, and laugh at the imagination of him doing so. “I have a motorcycle licence, you idiot.”

“Okay, okay,” you chortle, “but you don’t have practice today?”

“No,” he replies, “I can go to tomorrow’s—you have a concert today, why would I miss it?”

Your pupils dilate, and you pause in the midst of applying blush. “U-um—are you crazy, Park Sunghoon? You’re in the varsity team,” you scold him, “you shouldn’t be skipping any training!”

Sunghoon cackles. “Yah, who do you think I am? I’m Park Sunghoon, you know? One day of no training isn’t a big deal to me!”

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, I’m so nervous. On Tuesday, we’ll have the orchestra concert—and Miss Jeon, this morning, had suddenly told me that I have to replace Gaeul as concertmaster as she had an accident, broke her arm and was hospitalised, so she can’t play. I went to visit Gaeul just now, and she told me not to feel bad because I’m replacing her, but rather that I should feel proud because Miss Jeon knows that I’m capable enough to be a good concertmaster.  I don’t know… I don’t know if I’ll play well enough. Sent 10:12 AM, 18th May.

You adjust your sitting posture, taking a deep breath of the fresh air around you. You had walked over to the park to clear your thoughts. The concert that you’re going to play in as concertmaster is coming in less than two days, and since it is the biggest concert you’ve ever played in, you’re more nervous than you ever were for any of your previous concerts. 

“Y/N!” you hear Jake’s voice, and as you look up, he’s already making his way towards you. 

“Hi,” he smiles as he greets you. “What are you doing out here alone? Without a hoodie, too.”

You shove your hands into the pockets of your pants, grinning sheepishly. “It’s okay, it’s not too cold.”

“You okay?” he asks as he takes a seat next to you. Jake looks a tad bit reluctant to do so, but the tension present in his features relaxes a little as you give him a reassuring smile. “You look a little off right now. Are you alright?”

You laugh, patting Jake’s arm. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Jake looks at you, his eyes filled with adoration. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s spring, but lately, he’s constantly thinking about you. Recently, all he’s curious about is if you’ve eaten, if you’re taking good care of yourself, if you’re feeling okay. 

Though, Jake knows that he’s just a friend. Jake knows, perfectly enough, that he’s just your deskmate, who you talk to only out of courtesy or when Sunghoon’s away. 

Spring is the season of love and blossoming feelings, and for Jake, it is wishing that you would see him as something more. 

“I’m just wondering,” you begin, “if I’ll do good enough for the concert. I’m really, really nervous. I feel like my heart’s about to burst.”

“Oh?” Jake tilts his head slightly. “I think you’ll do okay.”

You lower your head. “I don’t think ‘okay’ is enough. I need this to be perfect—it’s my last high school orchestra concert, and-and I don’t think I’ve been practising as much as I wanted to, with all the studying–”

Jake grabs your hand and places it on his heart. It’s racing, beatng faster than you thought it was.

Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.  

“Here. Can you feel it?”

Too flustered—both from the sudden form of intimacy and the feeling of Jake’s heartbeats against your hand, you find yourself unable to form any words, so you simply nod. 

“This is how I feel every single time a basketball match is about to start, or whenever I’m with someone I enjoy being around,” Jake continues, “it’s as if my heart is running faster than I do… but anyway, my point is that it’s okay to feel nervous, even when you’re doing something you’ve done so many times. You’ve worked hard for this concert, right?”

Jake looks at you, directly in the eye, and he gives you a gentle smile. It’s reassuring and comforting, conveying to you more than his words did. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

“Then, you don’t have to be afraid,” Jake says, his voice softer than his usual poised tone, “you’ll do well—just like you always do. If you don’t believe in that, it’s okay. Just know that I believe in you. A lot of people do.”

“Thank you, Jaeyun,” you sigh, after taking a few minutes to process Jake’s words—and the fact that you’re sitting there, with him, hand in hand. 

It gives you tingles, exciting your nerves—Jake’s presence is gentle and warm, even if it’s a little sudden and abrupt. You enjoy being around him, and seeing another side to the well-known basketball talent—who’s always seen as someone who is carefree and laid-back. Honestly, you’re surprised to find out that the caring side of Jake was so much more than just smiling frequently at people. You’re surprised to find that Jake is a soul made out of compassion and kindness, and you’re ever so grateful to befriend someone like him. 

“My pleasure,” he replies, squeezing your hand once. “I’m… glad to be of help.”

You let go of his hand, standing up. “I’m going to go home and practise some more,” you tell Jake, who immediately perks up at your voice. “I’ll see you later?”

���Alright—you don’t want me to walk you home?”

You shake your head, “it’s okay, I can manage.”

Jake nods, and waves you goodbye. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Today’s the day of the concert. I’m very scared, but I’ll try to shrug it off. I woke up super early today, despite not being able to sleep that well last night. I’m all dressed, I did my hair and makeup for school; I even have the dress for the concert all ready. I already double checked my violin and memorised my music sheets (even though I’ll be having them on display for the concert later)... but I just still feel so anxious. Help me, Sunghoon, I don’t know what to do. Sent 6:32 AM, 20th May.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jake greets you, knocking you out of your train of thought. You look to your side and see him hopping off his bicycle, pushing it slowly to match your walking pace. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you smile back, your cheeks itching due to the insincerity of the smile. “Where’s Jennie?” 

“She’s still at home,” Jake answers, “you know her—she’s always out at around half past seven.”

You nod, aware of what he’s talking about. “I see. Why are you out so early, though? It’s only seven o’clock.”

Jake chuckles. “Well I figured I had to start out early to catch up with you. Turns out my timing is perfect today. I always catch you at school already.”

“Yeah,” you give him a courteous smile. “I noticed that too.”

“So, how’ve you been doing?” Jake asks, after around five minutes of silence.  

“I’m fine,” you simply say. You’re lying, as who would be absolutely fine when they’ve got an extremely important and big event coming up in a few hours? Though, you didn’t feel the need to explain to Jake. 

“Are you?” he counters, an eyebrow raised in the following. “I’m really amazed if you truly are, considering that you’ve been balancing studying for midterms and national entrance exams—which at the same time, you’ve also been practising violin.”

You choke out some laughter. “You’ve been observant of me, huh? Don’t think that’s a little creepy?”

Satisfaction and a little bit of guilt washes through you as you delightfully watch Jake’s eyes widen. “I-oh my,” he stumbles over his words the same way he’s tripping on air out of pure embarrassment. He quickly catches up with you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as a creep, Y/N. I’m just quite… observant, that’s all.”

You chortle, feeling in the mood to tease the five feet nine inches dude walking beside you. “Are you?” you tease, mimicking his accent and the way he said it to you earlier, “then, Jaeyun, tell me what are the ten enzymes in the glycolysis process?”

Jake’s jaw drops wide open. “I-I mean–”

You burst out laughing, glad that you’re finally able to catch him off guard. “Gotcha. Knew you weren’t thoroughly observant.”

“Hey! That isn’t fair, you’re asking me about biology,” Jake pouts. “Who on earth would pay attention in Mrs Nelly’s class?”

“Y/N would.”

You pause in your tracks, shock sending chills throughout your body as you feel Sunghoon’s voice to your right. You look in his direction, and he’s already walking in synchronisation of your tempo. Sunghoon slides his arm around your shoulder, giving you a grin.

“Good morning, princess,” he says casually. 

 You clear your throat, your cheeks coloured pink at the close vicinity. “Good morning, Hoon.”

“Good morning, Sunghoon,” Jake says plainly. 

“Oh, Jake?” Sunghoon tilts his head, giving the basketball jock a taunting yet innocent look—as if he’s just noticed his presence. “G’morning.” 

You manage to catch a glimpse of Sunghoon’s smug face: his left eyebrow raised and his slight  smile was evidently one-sided—directed straight to Jake. 

“Have you eaten breakfast, princess?” Sunghoon asks, turning back to you.

You shake your head, flexing your shoulders to adjust the position of both your backpack and your violin case backpack. “I don’t have the appetite.”

Both Sunghoon and Jake form a perplexed look simultaneously. Sunghoon smacks the back of your head feebly, rolling his eyes. “Yah! What did I tell you? Eat your breakfast!” he scolds, “do you want me to die?”

“What does my breakfast have to do with you dying?” you retort. 

“Well–” your best friend of almost 10 years pauses. “It doesn’t matter, but, c’mon,” he changes the topic, grabbing your hand. He glances at Jake, who’s biting his lips shut, before dragging you away. “Let’s get to school early so we can grab some breakfast.”

“Oomf–” you manage, stumbling. “See you later, Jaeyun!” you give Jake a wave with your free hand. Jake forms a smile upon seeing it, and in return, he waves. 

“ARE you nervous?” Sunghoon asks as the two of you are packing your bags at the end of the day’s lessons. 

“Well, if you can’t tell,” you joke with a deadpanned expression, zipping your school backpack shut. “Yes.”

Sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, smiling meekly. “I mean, you’re so good at the violin, so I didn’t think you’d be nervous.”

“Are you insane?” you gasp, smacking the 12th grader’s head. He blocks your hit effortlessly with his arm. “It’s my biggest concert as a freaking concertmaster!”

Sunghoon grins. “So? You’re going to ace it either way,” he grabs you, and before you could react, puts you in a headlock. He ruffles your hair aggressively. “Won’t you?”

“Hey!” you scream, frantically pulling yourself away from him. Luckily for you, his grip is purposefully loose, so you quickly stand back on your feet. “What was that for?”

Sunghoon merely smiles—it’s gentler and comforting this time—as if he’s silently reassuring you that everything will go just fine. 

“Y/N,” Jake calls, shattering the moment you’re having with Sunghoon. You quickly turn to face him, unaware of the grim change in Sunghoon’s expression. Jake hands you a canned ice lemon tea. “Here, um, I don’t know if you like lemon tea or not–”

“I do!” you animatedly beam. Jake sighs in gratitude.

“...thank God. Anyway, I got this for you, my grandma said that tea’s good for calming your nerves down,” Jake continues. 

“The sugar will make her energetic anyway,” you hear Sunghoon mutter grumpily behind you. You’re not sure if Jake hears it, because the smile on his face is unwavering. 

“Thanks,” you say. Jake nods, and before he can say anything in reply, Sunghoon snatches the can of ice lemon tea in your hand. 

“This looks good,” he muses, his smirk evident. You turn towards him, confused. What is he really trying to do? “I’m gonna have some, eh?”

You wear your backpack, shrugging. “You do you, Park Sunghoon. I’m going to go now, I’ve got to get ready for the concert.”

“Wait up!” Sunghoon exclaims, running after you. 

SUNGHOON runs into the waiting area of the orchestra pit’s stage, 15 minutes before the concert starts. He tries to spot you—or simply anyone he knows to help him find you. He sees plenty of people: a group of violinists, another group of people tuning their cellos and violas. His eyes scan through the crowd, and spots you in a corner, pacing here and there to calm yourself down.  

“Y/N,” he says, a little softer than he intended. You turn around—the ankle-length black skirt creating a flower around you as it swirls, your hair gently hitting your face. Sunghoon clears his throat in an attempt to drive away the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. 

“Oh, you look beautiful,” he blurts out, leaving you wide-eyed and as flustered as he is. 

“T-thanks,” you manage. 

Sunghoon takes a deep breath, hesitating at the last minute. He brings out his arms and pulls you into a hug, embracing you in his warmth; at the same time stepping over the line he’s placed between himself and you. He lingers around longer than you expect him to, and when he finally pulls away, the tip of his ears are flushed red. 

“You’ll do great,” Sunghoon whispers, squeezing your shoulders in hopes of channeling the confidence he has in your ability, to you. “I know that.”

You smile warmly at him. 

This is why you can’t stop falling in love with him—Park Sunghoon—your own best friend. He knows you so well, probably even more than you know yourself. He knows exactly when you need anything, and perfectly how you need things. He makes you feel like it’s so easy to befriend you—like loving you is the easiest thing in the world, even if it was platonic. 

Everything is simple and easy when you’re with Sunghoon. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  I haven’t been writing to you in a very long time—I hope you’re doing okay. National state exams are coming in less than a week, and I’m a total nervous wreck. I’ve been studying every single day, but I don’t know… I wish I planned things out better. I don’t know if I’ve memorised everything, if I’ve reviewed everything, and if I’ve done enough practice questions.  I’m laughing at myself right now. So ironic, right? I’m Decelis Academy’s prodigy, the so-called “academic weapon” of our school, but I can’t even get studying right.  I haven’t been studying properly these past few days. I can’t even open my eyes… my head hurts and nothing makes sense. I don’t know, Sunghoon. I wish burnout didn’t exist. And I sincerely hope that you’re not going through the same thing as me.  Sent 12:48 PM, 9th November. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon, Why am I like this? Why can’t I study properly? Every passing minute I feel more like a failure. Why can’t I memorise anything? I’m so dumb. So stupid.  I don’t know anymore. Sent 8:03 AM, 10th November.

Sunghoon grabs a coat and quickly heads out of his house, desperate to get fresh air. Studying has gotten his head clogged, and for the first time in a while, he believes that burnout is real. He hasn’t even been to two weeks of hockey practice, and that is significant for someone like Sunghoon. 

He grabs his smartphone out of his pocket and opens one of the only pinned contacts in his messages—you. He’s worried; you haven’t texted him back in three days. And knowing you, Sunghoon guesses that you probably forgot to respond to him due to your intense studying. 

Since he’s already out and about to talk a walk, he might as well grab a refresher or two and visit you. Sunghoon stops by a cafe near your school, one that he specifically knew to always have your favourite strawberry danish. He buys two of them along with two cups of lemon sprite, swiftly catching a taxi to arrive at your house faster. 

After sitting down, Sunghoon texts you. 

hey, have you had lunch?

And to his surprise, he gets a response within three minutes. 

Though, it wasn’t from you. 

sunghoon, this is heeseung

y/n’s in the hospital

she collapsed 

the doctor said it’s bc she hasn’t eaten properly the past few days

He couldn’t believe what he was reading.

His heart stops for a split second. The world around him starts spinning rapidly as he tries to process Heeseung’s messages. His hands start to shake, making it hard for him to type a response to Heeseung. Fear starts to creep up on him, and malicious thoughts fill his brain. 

Sunghoon shakily calls out to the driver to change the route and bring him to the hospital—his heart banging loudly against his chest every second of it. 

“LEE Y/N!” Sunghoon’s scream echoes through the hallway of the hospital as soon as he enters. His vision blurry with tears, he storms in with shaky fists, ignoring all the judging eyes on him. He approaches you, standing right next to your bed. 

“Hoon?” you say, confused. You’ve been awake for half an hour, so you didn’t feel entirely weak. You’re leaning against the bed frame with a pillow propped behind your back, an IV drip to your left hand. 

“Why do you always do this to yourself?” Sunghoon whimpers, every word he utters weaker than the previous one. “Why do you always neglect yourself? Why do you always treat yourself badly? Do you not care about yourself? Do you not care about me… about how I feel when you do this?”

You watch, horror painted across your face, as tears rain down Sunghoon’s cheeks. He utters every word with pain laced onto every letter, and by the time he manages to force the last bit out of his throat, his knees go weak. Sunghoon is on his knees, his hands tightly gripping the sides of the hospital bed. Tears flow uncontrollably from his eyes, staining his handsome porcelain face.

“Hoon,” you call gently, causing him to look up. The expression on his face, his sparkly eyes filled with pain and agony broke your heart. “What… what’s wrong?”

The response comes out of Sunghoon, slow and weak—yet it is sincere, straight from his heart. 

“I can’t lose you.”

“I-” you’re torn. You’re so sure Sunghoon doesn’t see you as someone more than his best friend, yet why is he bawling his eyes out, on his knees, in front of you? He looks like someone who’s almost lost his significant other—yet you’re sure that Sunghoon simply sees you as his childhood buddy. 

Though, you can’t hold it in anymore—your heart breaks at the sight of Sunghoon, the boy you’ve loved for years to no end, in tears because of you. You collect every bit of energy in your body and hop off the bed, crouching to his level. 

“Hoon,” you mumble, grabbing his hands. “Look at me.”

Sunghoon follows, and once again, it breaks your heart to stare into his eyes, now red and tear-stricken. 

“I’m here,” you say, staring straight into his eyes. “Okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

You fight back a smile, reminiscing at a distant memory—one where you comforted a nine-year-old Sunghoon who was wailing the living daylights out of himself, due to you being sick and absent from school for three days. He thought he lost you, that you had moved away and would never come back. You remember pulling him into a hug at the school playground, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Though, as the two of you grow up, Sunghoon never really cried. It’s always been you—crying during sad movies, silently weeping when you get a grade you wished was higher, sobbing when violin classes were a little on the harder side—and Sunghoon had always been the one there to listen and comfort you. Well, quoting a ninth grader Sunghoon, he said men aren’t supposed to cry.

This was the first time you’ve seen him cry, in years. 

Sunghoon looks at your hands, and when his eyes land on the one with the IV drip, tears begin to rain down again. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“What are you sorry for, Hoon?” you ask. 

Sunghoon lets out a heart wrenching sob and pulls you into his embrace. It’s sudden yet warm and tight as if you’ll disappear if he lets you go. You let him sob on your shoulder, though you’re still wondering why seeing you in this condition makes him seem so heartbroken.

A glimpse of hope flutters its way in.

Perhaps Sunghoon harbours the same feelings as you.  

“Y/N!” you hear Jake’s voice, and as you look up, you see him in front of you. His chest is heaving up and down, catching his breath. 

“Hi,” you smile. “Did you run here?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I was at extra class. Then, I heard from Jennie that you’re…”

You chuckle sheepishly. “Yeah… I’m sorry if I made you worry,” you say, glancing at Sunghoon—who’s asleep by your side, his head propped against the bed. 

Jake looks briefly at Sunghoon, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Am I interrupting something?” 

You widen your eyes, quickly shaking your head. “No! I mean, nothing’s going on. He’s just tired.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line, nodding along. “Where are your parents? Heeseung?”

“Oh, they left to get lunch. They should be back soon,” you reply, “I forced Heeseung to make them go, ‘cause I know my mom loses her appetite entirely if anything happens to me or my brother.”

Jake nods. He approaches your bedside table and places a plastic bag filled with fruits inside. “Here, I bought some fruits. They should replenish your energy pretty effectively.”

“Why? Is it because they contain a high level of glucose, fibres and antioxidants?” you jest, giving Jake a lopsided grin.

Jake stares at you, blinking his eyes rapidly in confusion for a few seconds. “Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiles a little. “Well, true, but fruits contain natural sugars that can be broken down into glucose. They don’t contain, like, plain old glucose.”

You break out in fits of laughter. “Oh my, someone has been doing his studying well!”

Jake laughs, lowering his head to avoid breaking into a larger eruption of laughter. “Well, I need to study, unfortunately,” he says, after gaining composure. “The entrance exam isn’t going to write itself, is it?”

The two of you exchange smiles. You then look away, shifting your gaze from one object to another while trying to come up with a subject to talk about—as it has become quite awkward as both you and Jake don’t know what to say. 

“So, um, are you feeling okay?” Jake asks, his eyes flickering between your face and the IV drip taped securely on your hand. 

You nod. “I’m okay now. I ate two strawberry danishes,” you giggle, pointing over to the opened packaging of the pastries on the bedside table. “Sunghoon bought them for me! Wah, how does he know exactly what I’m craving for? I haven’t eaten these in so long!”

Something stung Jake’s heart, seeing you talk so animatedly about a tiny gesture made by Sunghoon. The big smile on your face and the higher pitch of your voice tells Jake everything he needs to know about how you feel towards your childhood best friend. 

You like Sunghoon, more than what friends are supposed to. You love Sunghoon, on a much higher level than what friends would do. 

“Why do you like strawberries so much?” Jake asks.

You chuckle awkwardly. “Um. I don’t… really… know how to answer that? I’ve always loved strawberries since I was a kid.”

“Was it because Sunghoon gave you a strawberry when you guys first met?” Jake probes even more. It was just a guess, but he wanted to see your reaction to it. 

Your pupils dilate abruptly. “No! No… no, obviously not. The first thing he ever gave to me was a Bumblebee action figure. He thought it’d be a good replacement after breaking the Kung Fu Panda figurine Heeseung gave to me,” you answer, chuckling at the old memory.

“You remember every moment very clearly,” Jake points out. 

“Oh! Um. Well… that’s because…” you end up simply cheekily smiling at Jake, as you didn’t know what the appropriate response would be.

“You like Sunghoon,” Jake states so curtly it makes you choke on air. 

“Don’t you?” he adds to further push the answer out of you. Jake knows what your answer would be, though he needed to hear it from you.

Your cheeks pink, you spend a good minute staring wide eyed at Jake, not knowing how to respond to such a thorough revelation. You’ve never witnessed this side of Jake before—fierce, determined and harshly curt—his polite and bright smile turned into a sharp and alluring gaze.

“It’s complicated,” you end up saying. 

“You believe he doesn’t like you,” Jake continues. His words hit hard like a bullet, attacking you in every aspect. 

You gape at the 12 grader in front of you. How was he so observant, or are you just too obvious and easy to figure out?

“Yeah…” you sigh. “I mean, friends aren’t supposed to like each other. There are so many better girls out there for him, so I doubt he even sees me more than a childhood best friend.”

Pause. 

“And there are better guys for you, out there, too,” Jake says softly. 

Before you’re able to process the harsh reality in Jake’s words, he hits you with another bullet—a brutal offensive straight to the heart. 

Jake takes a deep breath, determined. 

“I like you.”

Slowly, you look up to meet his eyes. The pair of brown eyes are filled with firm sincerity, as if he’s giving it all; never backing down. 

“Date me,” he says with a firm tone that tells you perfectly that he’s serious about it. “I’ll treat you better than anyone ever will.”

“I-I–” you stammer, unable to look Jake in the eye. 

“Try dating me for a month,” he suggests, his tone gentler than before, almost shaky. “I’ll show you how well I’ll treat you.”

You force yourself to meet Jake’s eyes—finding some desperation lingering around. He’s firm and resolute, yet you could actually hear his voice shaking. “If you still don’t like me after that, reject me. I’ll be content… with your decision.”  to be continued...

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ check out PART TWO

[jjangwonie]

DOUBLE LIFE

DOUBLE LIFE MASTERLIST

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary: With your anonymous Twitter account, you've acquired a pretty good following and popularity, throughout your school as well. Jake, your long-time crush, is one of them, head over heels. Yet when you once confessed to him, he had rejected your confession, saying that he already has his eye on someone else. What happens when he finds out that his online crush is the person that he rejected? And... How are you going to deal with this?

jjangwonie note: so... OOPSIE. I am BACK THO!!!! I was very busy with my own personal life, but I'll get back to writing slowly. Sorry for the LONGEST wait of all, here is chapter 44 after two months 🤗 quick chapter before work 😬

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FOURTY FOUR - erm, I forgot

©jjangwonie 2024

TAGLIST:

@jvngyoi @heexissa @i03jae @leaderwons @unhakki @dreamiestay @poohoon @j33mn @nshmrarki @ckline35 @payformycoffeeandleave @miszes @onlyhyunjin @iatemycatfreckles @tannyr98 @conwunder @cheridiaries @simsungsims @heelovesmeknot @wayzatiny @sanasour @violets-for-yj @maloilover @riksaes @sunooqvrlsx @alex-is-sleeping @helenngxz @shuichi-sama @noname-123s-things @mochiwonz @atinyrosedoor @bee-the-loser @rairaiblog @sumzysworld @who-tf-soddhi @heartheejake @ddeonuu4me @bananna-12 @haestuffs @diestheticu @lionzyon @tw-hyuck @bmo-bri @zyvlxqht @luvvvash @lisaswifey @xiaoquanquans @steddie-steddie @tinyteezer @blvengene @tkooooop @mewyega

[winterlico]

SEVEN DAYS WITH A DEMON — SJY

⋆.˚ pairing : demon!Jake x fem!reader | status : on going

Summary : You thought summoning a demon for seven days would be temporary. You were wrong.

⋆.˚ word count : 6.3k

Genre : Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Light Angst, Fluff

⋆.˚ warnings : 18+ joke (implicitly), harsh words, making out, LOTS of teasing (buckle up)

⋆.˚ a/n : English is not my first language and this is the first time i uploaded a fanfic, i'm sorry if there is still a lot missing words. If you want to be tagged, comment here!

❛ feedback & reblogs appreciated! ❜

Night Seven: The Final Wish

The television hums quietly in the background, flickering between news channels, late-night talk shows, and commercials that neither of you are paying attention to. The apartment is dim, bathed in the glow of the screen, casting long shadows against the walls.

You are both sprawled on the couch, slumped against each other like it's the most natural thing in the world—Jake’s body warm against yours, his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his golden eyes fixed on the flickering images but his mind clearly elsewhere. And yours? Yours is nowhere near the television either.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting like this, tangled together, neither of you moving, neither of you speaking. It should be comfortable—it always is. But tonight, the air feels different. Heavy. Like something is about to happen. Like something is changing. Your fingers grip the edge of the blanket draped over your lap, your breath slow, measured, as if holding it steady will keep the thoughts from crashing into you all at once.

Because tonight is the last night.

Tonight, he’s supposed to leave.

Your throat tightens at the thought, your stomach twisting with something you refuse to name. Seven nights. That’s all you were given. Seven nights with a demon who has done nothing but infuriate you, tease you, unravel you. Seven nights where he has become more than just a summoned being bound by contract—more than just a temporary presence in your life.

And now?

Now, it's over.

Jake shifts beside you, and when you glance at him, your breath catches slightly. He isn't watching the TV anymore. He's watching you.

His golden eyes flick over your features, slow, careful, like he's committing every detail to memory—the way your lips part slightly as you take a shaky breath, the way your fingers curl into the fabric of your hoodie, the way your chest rises and falls just a little too unevenly. He doesn't say anything, but you can feel it in the way his body tenses, in the way his jaw tightens slightly.

He's thinking it too.

He should be relieved. He should be eager—this is what every summoned demon waits for. The contract is nearly fulfilled, the bond will be severed, and he will be free. And yet—he hasn’t moved. He hasn’t said anything about it. And the weight of that realization settles deep into your bones.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, until finally, you break it.

"Jake." Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but it’s enough to make his golden eyes sharpen, locking onto yours with unnerving intensity.

He doesn’t speak.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to say the words that have been sitting heavy on your chest all night. "This is our last night."

Jake doesn’t react right away. He just watches you, unmoving, unreadable. But something flickers behind his eyes—something dark, something restless.

You inhale shakily, your next words barely above a whisper. "Will you forget me?"

Jake's expression shifts, just slightly, but enough for you to notice. His lips part, his breath hitches for the briefest second, and then—his voice drops lower, softer. "Demons don’t forget."

Your chest tightens. You exhale slowly, gripping the blanket between your fingers. "So… what happens now?"

Jake tilts his head slightly, golden eyes searching yours, and then—he smirks. But it’s different this time. It’s not teasing. It’s not arrogant. It’s something else. Something heavier. "That depends on you, angel."

Your heart stumbles. You know what he means.

This is it.

Your final wish.

Jake leans in slightly, his voice dipping lower, rougher, almost desperate. "Tell me what you want."

You want to be selfish. You want to keep him.

And so—you say it.

"I wish you could stay."

The words leave your lips in a whisper, barely audible, but they shatter the space between you.

Jake freezes.

His golden eyes widen, lips parting slightly as if he wasn’t expecting you to say it—like the very idea is unbelievable. Then—something breaks.

A deep, aching longing cracks through his expression, raw and unguarded, something desperate clawing its way to the surface. His fingers twitch against his knee, his breath hitches. And then—he moves.

Fast.

Before you can react, before you can say another word, his hands are on you. His fingers are warm, solid, desperate as they find your waist, pulling you in with a force that steals the air from your lungs. And then—his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft.

It’s raw. Uncontrolled. Devouring.

Jake kisses you like he’s starving, like he’s drowning, like he’s pouring everything he can’t say into this moment. His hands grip your body like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s grounding himself in the reality of you. A soft gasp escapes you, and Jake groans in response, tightening his hold. One hand slides up your back, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head just right as he deepens the kiss.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, closer. But it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

His tongue flicks against yours—teasing, testing, taking. A shiver runs down your spine as you arch into him, the heat in your stomach coiling tighter, spreading, consuming. His breathing is ragged, uneven, wrecked. His hands move lower, pressing, gripping, claiming.

He pulls back. Not far. Just enough to look at you.

His forehead presses against yours, his breath heavy, golden eyes dark and burning. His thumbs trace slow, lazy circles against your skin as if he needs to memorize every inch of you.

He whispers.

"Angel," his voice is hoarse, almost broken. "You have no idea what you’ve just done."

Because some contracts aren’t just words.

Some wishes are stronger than magic.

And some demons—no matter how many centuries they’ve lived—find themselves falling for the one thing they never thought they could have.

A home.

A love.

You.

And this time?

This time, neither of you are letting go.

The air is thick, too thick, suffocating in a way that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature and everything to do with what just happened.

Neither of you have moved.

Jake is still close—too close. His golden eyes burn into you, his breathing uneven, his hands lingering just a little too long on your waist, like he's forgotten how to let go. Like he doesn’t want to. And you? Your body is still buzzing, shaking, alive in a way that makes you feel too aware of everything—of his warmth, of his weight, of the fact that this isn’t a game anymore.

Something has changed. Neither of you know what to do about it.

Abruptly—Jake lets go.

Not smoothly. Not like the smug, arrogant demon you’ve gotten used to. Not like he meant to. He steps back too quickly, too suddenly, like something inside him just snapped, like he can’t trust himself to be this close to you any longer.

His hands twitch at his sides, his jaw clenched too tight, his chest rising and falling too fast. He drags a hand through his hair, exhales sharply, golden eyes flickering with something he doesn’t want to name.

You stare at him, your own breath still shaky, your lips still tingling from the way he had kissed you—the way he had taken, devoured, wrecked. And yet now, standing just a few feet away, he looks like he’s the one falling apart.

And you realize—he’s trying to run.

"Jake," you say, softly, carefully, like one wrong move will make him vanish completely.

His golden eyes snap back to yours immediately, and for just a second—just a fraction of a second—you swear he looks... uncertain. But then, the moment shatters. His expression shifts, a smirk tugging at his lips, the familiar arrogance slipping back into place like armor.

"Careful, angel," he murmurs, his voice dropping low, casual—too casual. "Say my name like that again, and I might start thinking you like me."

The whiplash is so strong, you almost choke.

"Are you serious right now?" you snap, still breathless, still shaken, and yet here he is—acting like he didn’t just kiss you like he was never going to get the chance again.

Jake grins, sharp and lazy, but his fingers are still twitching. "What, did you expect pillow talk?"

He tilts his head, golden eyes gleaming with mischief, but something else lingers underneath it—something real, something raw. "Maybe a confession? Should I tell you how I’ve been dreaming of this moment since the second you summoned me?"

Your breath catches.

Jake notices and suddenly, that lazy grin tightens. His fingers flex at his sides again, his body still tense, like he’s barely holding something back. Like he’s trying too hard to act unaffected.

So you do something reckless.

Something that makes his composure snap.

You step forward until the space between you disappears. Until you’re close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that he has to look down at you, close enough that there’s no way for him to ignore what’s happening between you.

Then, in the softest, most nonchalant voice you can manage, you murmur—

"Jake."

And just like that—he’s gone.

Not literally. Not yet.

But the mask? Destroyed.

He exhales sharply, his entire body tensing. His golden eyes darken, his smirk faltering for just a second before he grabs you again.

Not like before. Not in some rushed, desperate way.

This time, his fingers skim along your jaw, tilting your face up, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that feels different. More focused. More deliberate. More... dangerous.

"You," he murmurs, his voice rough, strained, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. "Are going to be the end of me."

The weight of those words settles into your chest, into your skin, into the space between you. Before you can respond—before you can even breathe—he leans in.

Not kissing you. Not yet.

But close enough that you feel everything.

His nose brushes against yours, his breath warm against your lips, his fingers tightening ever so slightly against your jaw, like he’s savoring this moment—like he’s memorizing it.

Like he’s terrified of what it means. In a whisper—so soft, so unlike him, so wrecked—

"Say my name again."

Your stomach flips. The air burns.

Jake is still too close.

His nose brushes against yours, his breath warm, slow, deliberate, teasing. His golden eyes are locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, but there’s no more amusement there—only heat, only something heavy, something dangerous, something wrecked. His fingers stay on your jaw, tilting your chin up just enough to keep your eyes on him, just enough to keep you trapped in this moment, just enough to make it impossible to look away.

And then—he says it.

Soft. Low. A command wrapped in velvet.

"Say my name again."

The words send a violent shiver down your spine, heat coiling in your stomach so tight, so unbearable, you forget how to breathe.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Not yet.

He notices. Of course, he does.

His smirk returns, but it’s different now—sharper, more dangerous, more certain. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, slow, lazy, taunting. His voice drops even lower, barely a whisper now, but still dripping with control.

"Come on, angel," he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, golden eyes flickering with something wild. "I know you can do it."

You swallow hard, fingers curling into the fabric of the couch, nails pressing into the cushions to ground yourself, to keep yourself from completely falling into whatever this is. But Jake? Jake isn’t letting you go anywhere.

And that’s when you realize—he’s testing you.

He wants to see how far he can push you.

And you?

You don’t want to lose. So, you push back.

Your lips barely move, barely form the shape of his name, but it’s enough.

"Jake."

The second the word leaves your lips—he’s gone. Not literally. But the last bit of restraint?

Destroyed.

Jake moves fast. Too fast.

One second, you’re sitting there, taunting him, teasing him, testing him.

The next?

You’re on your back.

Jake is above you, over you, pinning you into the couch, his hands gripping your hips, his body pressing against yours so solidly, so completely, there is nothing else left but him.

His golden eyes are wild now, dark, dangerous, wrecked beyond belief. His smirk is gone—completely gone.

And his voice. Low. Rough. Desperate.

"You have no idea what you’ve just done."

The moment his lips crash into yours, you forget how to think.

Jake doesn’t kiss you like before. It's raw. Consuming. Overwhelming.

His hands are everywhere—gripping, holding, pressing. His body is solid, warm, heavy, unyielding. He kisses you like he’s never going to get another chance. Like he’s starving. Like he’s been waiting for this longer than he wants to admit.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer, as close as possible. But it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

Jake groans against your lips, deep and wrecked, his fingers tightening against your waist, his breath shaky, uneven. His tongue flicks against yours—teasing, tasting, demanding. A soft sound escapes you, and the second it does—he growls, low and pleased, his grip tightening, his body pressing down harder.

"God, angel," he mutters against your lips, his voice so rough, so wrecked, so unlike the smooth, cocky demon who’s been teasing you all week. "You feel so damn good."

You barely have time to react before he kisses you again, hungrier this time, rougher, deeper. His weight pins you down, his hands tighten, his lips move against yours like he’s losing himself completely.

And you?

You let him.

You arch into him, fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer, pulling him deeper into this moment, into you. His lips trail away from yours, down to your jaw, down to your throat, teeth grazing, tongue teasing, hot breath leaving your skin tingling, burning.

And then—he stops.

Abruptly.

Jake’s breathing is heavy, uneven, completely wrecked. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his entire body tense, shaking, like he’s barely holding himself together.

And then—he laughs.

Low. Rough. Almost bitter.

"Shit."

You blink, trying to process anything at all.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his golden eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. He exhales sharply, his fingers tightening against your waist like he’s trying to keep himself grounded, like he’s trying to understand what the hell just happened.

And then, softly—almost like he hates himself for it—he whispers,

"This wasn’t supposed to happen."

You stare at him, breathless, heart pounding.

And you realize something. He’s not talking about the kiss.

He’s talking about you.

Jake hasn’t moved. Not in the way he should.

His forehead still rests against your shoulder, his breath heavy, his entire body shaking with the weight of what just happened. His hands are still gripping your waist, still pressing into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

His breath ghosts along your jaw, warm, slow, deliberate. His fingers slide higher, trailing up your sides in a way that makes you shudder beneath him.

He moves slowly. His lips find your jaw first, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the curve of it, his mouth warm, open, teasing. His fingers tighten just slightly, his body pressing down against you, making sure you feel all of him, every inch, every part of him that is holding back.

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers tangling into his hair, your body arching just barely beneath him.

Jake notices and that’s exactly why he smirks against your skin.

"You like that?" he murmurs, his voice so low, so dark, it nearly wrecks you. His lips trace along your jawline, slow, lazy, dangerous. "You’re so quiet now, angel. Not gonna fight me this time?"

Your breath catches, you don’t answer. You can’t.

His lips are moving again. They trail lower.

Down the curve of your throat, down to that spot just beneath your ear, the one that makes your pulse hammer against your skin. He pauses there, pressing a kiss so slow, so deliberate, you swear you feel your entire body ignite.

You whimper before you can stop it.

Jake groans.

"God, angel," he mutters against your skin, his voice strained, wrecked, like he’s losing himself completely. "You’re killing me."

And then—he bites.

Not hard. Not enough to hurt.

But enough to make you gasp. Enough to make your back arch. Enough to make heat coil low in your stomach, burning, unbearable.

"Jake—"

You don’t know what you’re asking for.

But it doesn’t matter and he knows.

His lips part against your throat, his tongue flicking against the mark he’s just left, soothing, teasing. His hands slide lower, gripping your hips, pressing you deeper into the couch, making sure you feel him—every inch of him.

"Say my name again," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

You shudder. "Jake."

That’s all it takes.

He breaks.

He grips you tighter, his body pressing flush against yours, his mouth moving lower, tracing along your collarbone, down, down, down. His teeth graze your skin, his tongue flicks against every sensitive spot he can find, his hands sliding up beneath your shirt, warm, firm, desperate.

And then—he pauses.

Breathing heavy.

Shaking. Like he’s barely holding himself together. Like he knows if he takes this any further—there’s no going back. He curses, low and sharp.

Jake is still kissing you.

His lips trail lower, slower, hungrier, his hands tightening against your waist, pulling you closer, pressing into you like he wants to drown in the feeling of you. He’s groaning softly against your skin, his breath uneven, his body a furnace against yours. You don’t stop him.

You don’t want to stop him.

Because it’s too much, and yet, not enough.

Then—it happens. Suddenly. Abruptly.

Like a snap of magic in the air, like a thread yanked too tight before breaking completely.

Jake flinches.

His breath catches in his throat, his entire body going rigid above you, his grip on you suddenly unsteady. His golden eyes flicker, his smirk faltering, his lips parting as if he’s about to say something—but nothing comes out.

You blink, dazed, breathless, confused.

"Jake?"

Something shifts in the air. Something wrong. Something deep, heavy, old—something cold pressing in around the both of you.

Jake's entire body tenses. Then, suddenly—he’s not touching you anymore.

He yanks himself back, violently, like he’s been burned. Like the weight of what just happened between you has finally crashed down on him all at once. His hands tremble at his sides, his breathing is too rough, too uneven, too wrecked. His golden eyes flicker—not with heat, but with something else now.

Panic.

No.

Not just panic.

Fear.

That makes your stomach drop. Because Jake is never afraid.

Your chest tightens, your heart hammering for an entirely different reason now. "Jake, what—"

But he’s already shaking his head.

"No."

The word is sharp, rough, clipped, like he’s trying to shake something off. He moves fast. Too fast.

He’s off the couch, putting distance between you, between whatever just happened, between whatever he’s suddenly afraid of. His hands are in his hair, his jaw clenched too tight, his breathing too unsteady, his golden eyes flashing with something wild.

And for the first time since you met him, Jake looks truly, completely lost.

You push yourself up, your own breath still shaky, still uneven, still trying to make sense of what just happened. Your lips are still tingling from his kiss, your body still feels the weight of him, but now—now, there’s something else filling the space between you.

Something colder.

Something you don’t understand.

"Jake," you say, your voice softer now, careful.

He flinches.

Not visibly. But you feel it. Like a barely-there tremor in the air, like a ripple of tension across his shoulders, like something inside him is already pulling away.

And you hate it. You stand up, taking a step toward him, and that’s when he moves again.

He turns his back to you. Not lazily, not teasingly, not with the smug arrogance you’ve gotten used to.

But like he can’t let you see him like this. Like if he looks at you now, something will break. And you have no idea if it’s him or you.

"Jake, what’s wrong?"

Silence.

He inhales sharply, exhales even slower. his voice isn’t teasing. It isn’t playful. It’s wrecked.

"You don’t understand what you just did."

The words send a shiver down your spine. There’s no heat in them. No amusement. No arrogance.

Just—something else.

Something softer. Something terrified. And you realize—

Jake isn’t pulling away because he doesn’t want you. He’s pulling away because he does. Your heart pounds loudly, painfully, heavy against your ribs.

This is different. This isn’t just tension. This isn’t just desire.

This is Jake unraveling and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, your mind racing. But before you can overthink it, before you can let him slip through your fingers completely—

You move.

One step.

Another.

Until you’re right behind him. For a second—just a brief, fleeting second—he doesn’t move away. You reach out, your fingers hovering near his arm, hesitant. But before you can touch him—

Jake speaks again. His voice is quieter. Softer. And completely wrecked.

"If you don’t stop looking at me like that, angel…"

A pause.

His fingers twitch at his sides. Then—a whisper.

"…I won’t be able to stop myself."

The silence stretches.

Thick. Suffocating.

Jake still isn’t looking at you. His back is rigid, his fists clenched, his breath uneven, his entire body strung too tight, like he’s barely keeping himself together. The weight of his words still lingers in the air between you, heavy, impossible to ignore.

"If you don’t stop looking at me like that, angel… I won’t be able to stop myself."

You should step back. You should give him space.

But you choose not to. Because you know this isn’t what he really wants.

So, you do the opposite. You step closer.

Jake inhales sharply, his body tensing even more, but he still doesn’t move.

That’s all the confirmation you need. Your fingers brush against his arm—light, tentative, testing. A silent question. A plea.

And that’s when Jake finally—finally—snaps.

He turns so fast, you barely register what’s happening before you’re pinned against the nearest wall.

Not rough.

But not gentle, either.

Just desperate.

Jake’s hands frame your face, his golden eyes burning into yours, his breath uneven, wrecked, completely and utterly gone.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is low, strained, full of something he doesn’t know how to say.

Your own breath catches, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt, steadying yourself, steadying him.

"Then tell me," you whisper.

Jake exhales sharply, his jaw tightening, his fingers trembling slightly against your skin.

And then—he gives in.

His lips crash into yours with no hesitation this time, no teasing, no holding back. Just raw, consuming, unbearable need. The kiss is hotter than before.

It’s not slow, not careful.

It’s deep, hungry, desperate.

Jake’s hands tilt your chin up, angling your face just right, his body pressing into yours so completely, so solidly, there’s no space left between you. His tongue slides against yours, teasing, tasting, taking, and the second you whimper against his lips, he groans.

Low. Rough. Completely wrecked.

"God, angel," he mutters against your mouth, his hands dragging down your sides, gripping your hips, pressing you further into the wall. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You do.

You do feel it. Everywhere.

The heat of his body, the weight of him holding you there like he doesn’t want to let go, like he won’t let go.

His lips trail down your jaw, down your throat, hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your entire body ignite. His teeth graze sensitive skin, his tongue flicks against every mark he leaves, soothing, teasing, driving you insane.

And then—he goes lower.

Your breath hitches, your fingers tightening in his hair as his mouth moves down, down, leaving a slow, lingering kiss at the base of your throat.

You shudder.

"Jake—"

His name leaves your lips like a breathless plea, and that’s all it takes.

Jake growls, low and dangerous, his grip tightening, his body pressing even closer, his lips tracing lower, his hands moving higher.

His breath is still heavy, his body still tense, still wanting. But he stops. His hands still against your waist, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his body shaking slightly against yours.

He laughs. Not cocky. Not in a teasing tone.

Something else. Something bitter. Helpless.

"Shit," he mutters, his voice rough, his breath unsteady.

Your fingers twitch against his back, your mind still spinning, your body still burning from where his lips had been.

"Jake," you whisper, and this time, he flinches.

You feel it like a tremor beneath your fingertips. Like something about to break.

"Tell me what’s wrong," you murmur, your voice softer now, careful.

Jake exhales slowly. He lifts his head. His golden eyes meet yours, and this time?

There’s no arrogance. No teasing. No cocky, insufferable smirk.

Just something raw.

"You," he whispers.

A pause. A sharp inhale.

Then—his voice drops even lower.

"You’re what’s wrong, angel."

Jake swallows hard, his grip tightening just slightly against your waist. His eyes burn into yours, unblinking, like he’s struggling to say the words, like he’s fighting himself even now.

And then, softly—almost like he hates himself for it—he whispers, "You make me want things I shouldn’t want."

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

And you realize—this isn’t about just tonight.

This isn’t about the kiss or the tension. This is about everything. Everything that’s led up to this. Every moment. Every touch. Every glance.

Jake isn’t just afraid of what happened tonight. He’s afraid of what you’ve become to him.

You don’t let him run.

Your pulse pounds. Not just from the way he’s touching you. Not just from the heat still lingering between you. But from the way he’s looking at you now.

Like he’s afraid.

Like he’s losing himself completely.

That’s when you know—you have him.

So, you move. You reach up, your fingers brushing against his jaw, tilting his face slightly, forcing his golden eyes to stay locked onto yours. He tenses, his breath hitching, but he doesn’t move away.

He lets you.

And in the softest, most certain voice you’ve ever used with him, you say—

"Then take it, Jake."

His entire body goes still. The air between you ignites. Neither of you are stopping. Your words still hang heavy in the air between you, coiling around the both of you like something living, breathing, waiting.

Jake stares at you now, golden eyes dark, still burning, still wrecked. His grip on your waist tightens, just barely, like he’s still trying to ground himself, like he’s still fighting the urge to just—

Take.

He e exhales, slow, deep, controlled. His fingers twitch against your skin, his jaw clenched tight, his body so impossibly still. And then—he smirks.

Slow. Lazy. But different this time.

"Careful, angel," he murmurs, his voice low, wrecked, full of something he won’t name. "Say things like that, and I just might listen."

Your breath catches. You know he means it. And for a long, stretching moment, you both just stay there.

Close. Too close.

He’s still pressed against you, his hands still warm, still holding, still wanting. Your pulse still pounds in your ears, your skin still tingles where his lips had been, where his fingers had traced.

And he shifts. Just slightly.

Enough for his lips to ghost over your jaw one more time, soft, deliberate, slow. Enough for his nose to nudge against yours, a quiet, lingering touch that feels more like a promise than anything else.

He pulls back to look at you again, really look at you. Something flickers behind his golden eyes. Something deep. Something undeniable.

Then—he grins.

And just like that, the tension shifts. Still there. Still burning. But settled now.

Controlled.

Waiting.

Jake exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps away, his smirk still playing at the corner of his lips. "Guess I should let you breathe now, huh?"

You glare.

"Shut up."

He laughs—warm, amused, easy, like he wasn’t just about to devour you whole. You fall back into rhythm.

The teasing. The banter.

But this time?

Something is different.

Jake doesn’t sit across from you anymore. He sits beside you.

His arm draped over the back of the couch, his knee brushing against yours. Casual. Effortless. Like he belongs there. And when he steals your blanket—just to mess with you, just to see you huff in frustration, just to make you shove him half-heartedly—

He doesn’t move away.

Not even a little.

The morning greets you slowly, stretching through the curtains in soft golden light, casting warmth against your sheets. The world outside stirs lazily, the faint hum of distant traffic, the occasional chirp of a bird somewhere beyond your window, the quiet rhythm of a day beginning.

But none of it matters. Because the only thing that does—the only thing that exists in your world right now—is him.

Jake is still here.

The realization settles into your bones before your mind is even fully awake, a quiet, steady truth that lingers in the air between breaths. He’s leaning against the doorway, arms folded, golden eyes already on you—watching, waiting, unmoving. His hair is a mess, strands falling into his face in a way that looks entirely effortless, and his shirt is still unbuttoned at the collar, hanging loose over his frame as if he hasn’t bothered to fix it. And the smirk? It’s already there, lazy and knowing, like he’s been waiting for you to notice him, like he’s been waiting for you.

"Morning, angel," his voice comes slow and warm, wrapping around you like something indulgent, something meant to stay beneath your skin long after it’s gone.

His smirk deepens just slightly as his gaze drags over you, taking in the way you blink at him, still caught between sleep and disbelief. "Sleep well?"

Your body still hums with the weight of the night before, your skin still tingling with the ghost of his hands, his mouth, his breath against your throat. It’s too much and not enough all at once, the memory of him pressing against you, pinning you down, whispering things he shouldn’t have said but couldn’t stop himself from saying. And yet, despite it all—despite everything—you find yourself staring at him now, lips parting slightly before your voice finally comes, softer than you expect.

"You're still here."

Jake tilts his head, golden eyes flickering with something unreadable before he lets out a slow exhale, feigning indifference, but there’s something beneath it, something too controlled. "Where else would I be?"

And that makes you pause. Because you don’t know. Because you don’t have an answer. Because he was supposed to leave. Because this—whatever this is—wasn’t supposed to last past last night. Because this was meant to be temporary, fleeting, a moment stolen between two people who were never meant to keep each other. And yet, here he is.

Before you can say anything else, before you can try to make sense of why he’s still standing there like he belongs, he moves. Casually, smoothly, without hesitation. Like this is natural. Like this is just what he does.

He steps toward the nightstand, fingers brushing against the glass sitting there before he lifts it, turning back toward you with a motion so effortless, so painfully normal, it makes your chest tighten in ways you don’t understand. And then—he hands it to you. A simple gesture. A cup of water. Nothing remarkable. Nothing grand. But everything.

You take it slowly, fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment, and you swear you feel the shift, the way something inside him stiffens, the way his breath almost catches before he schools himself back into ease. As you lift the glass to your lips, as the cool water runs down your throat, you realize he’s watching you again. Not in the way he usually does—not with amusement, not with smug victory, not with teasing intent—but with something else. Something quieter. Something dangerous in an entirely different way.

The moment lingers, stretching between you like an unspoken question. And then, just like that, it’s gone.

Jake exhales through his nose, the smirk slipping back into place, easy and sharp. "Disappointed?"

His voice dips into something playful, something meant to pull you back into familiar ground. "Were you hoping I'd disappear before you woke up?"

You scoff, shaking your head, trying to ground yourself, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling into places you aren’t ready to confront. "I don't know what I expected."

He hums, stepping closer, resting a hand against the frame of your bed, his gaze flickering with something that shouldn’t be there. "Liar."

And you don’t deny it. Because you don’t know if you wanted him to stay or not. Because this is dangerous. Because this is so much more than it was supposed to be.

The morning drifts forward, slow and seamless, stretching into something neither of you try to define. Jake doesn’t leave. He doesn’t act like he has somewhere else to be, doesn’t make excuses, doesn’t vanish the way a demon should once their contract is fulfilled. Instead—he stays.

And you let him.

You don’t ask why. You don’t press, don’t demand an explanation. Because you know, somehow, he wouldn’t give you one. Because whatever this is, whatever is keeping him here, he’s not ready to name it either.

So, you fall into something that feels easy.

He steals your coffee. He complains about your choice in breakfast. He stretches out on the couch, arms behind his head, golden eyes watching you move around the apartment with something unreadable but steady, something lingering.

And when you sit beside him, when his arm casually drapes over the back of the couch, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, close enough that it would be so easy to lean in—

You don’t move away and so he is.

The morning fades into afternoon. The afternoon drifts into evening. And Jake? Jake never leaves. Not that day. Not the next. Not the one after that.

Days pass. Then weeks.

And somehow, without either of you acknowledging it, without either of you saying the words out loud—Jake just becomes part of your life.

He doesn’t sleep in another realm anymore. He sleeps on your bed. He doesn’t linger in the shadows, waiting to be called. He just exists here now. In your space. In your home. In your world.

Like he was always meant to. Like he was never meant to leave.

THE END.

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⋆.˚ a/n : tmi, i'm tweaking SOO BADD when i write this chapter, ik i'm so so down bad for him ugh i can't help it

[sugarhoonie]

Random bf texts

Lee Heeseung

A/n : This was the winner of the poll~ so yeah, will do other members too!

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