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xumuchluv · 5 months ago

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⌞Vague Lines & Blurred Loyalties⌝

Genre: Smut (MDNI), angst, romance Pairing: Ex Yeonjun x Fem Reader Warnings: CAR SEX, Swearing, Fighting, Miscommunication (Ig), arguments, crying (everyone lmao), Little dry humping, Oral (both receive it), Jealousy, kissing, they're a bit toxic, Dom Yeonjun, unprotected sex, teasing, fake dating, hickeys, etc.. Settings: Summer (Bar, Apartment, Parking lot, Car..) Song Recommendation: Again - Noah Cyrus & XXXTENTACION Word Count: 14k

In all honesty, you’re not the type of person to do double dates. So, you had no reason to be in this downtown bar on a sweltering summer night. Yet here you are, waiting for the other couple to join you, and it’s already well past the original meeting time.

“How much longer will they take? It’s already 11 pm,” you inquire impatiently, feeling the sweat bead on your forehead. The oppressive heat of this summer night is almost unbearable, the thick air pressing down on you, making the sticky leather of the bar stool even more uncomfortable.

“Only five more minutes, okay? You can wait five more minutes for me, right? You know how important this is to me.” Beomgyu bends down, brushing a stray strand of hair off your damp forehead, then looks at you with those glimmering puppy eyes. Those damn puppy eyes that convinced you to agree to this whole charade in the first place.

You sigh, feeling the warm air from your breath mix with the heat, and look down in defeat. Beomgyu’s smile broadens, knowing he’s won. He glances toward the entrance of the bar, the neon lights casting a colorful glow on his face.

“Oh, they're here!” Beomgyu exclaims. His words fade into the cacophony of music and cheers that envelop the bar as he goes to greet his friends. You don’t bother turning your head to meet them. They’ll come to your table anyway. You lean your head back, closing your eyes, hoping for a moment’s peace before the inevitable small talk begins.

The heat seems to amplify the sounds around you—the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations, the distant laughter. Suddenly, you hear approaching voices mingling with Beomgyu’s loud chatter and lift your head, preparing to greet the couple. Out of politeness, you stand up. However, the sight before you shocks you into sitting back down involuntarily.

“Hello! Nice to meet you. I’m Nari. I’m guessing you’re Y/N?” The girl asks, her voice smooth and friendly. She smiles warmly, but your focus is on the man beside her. Yeonjun. He stands there, an imposing figure, his presence commanding the space around him. The soft glow of the bar lights accentuates his sharp features, and there’s an aura about him that makes the stifling heat feel even more intense.

In your head, Yeonjun and you were like what thorns are to roses, Yeonjun adorned you the same way thorns do to roses. He protected you many times, shielded you from even yourself at times. However, he suffocated you, blocking the outside world from your view. And so the rose had to pluck out the thorns; you had to pluck Yeonjun out of your life.

(And when the rose violently snapped off her thorns, once a part of her, her body released a liquid, blood, to try and soothe her pain. Though, now without her thorns, she still feels the emptiness from the gaps of where the thorns used to decorate her body. But the rose would never admit to that.)

It is safe to say that your relationship ended rockily.

"Y/N? Babe?" Beomgyu snaps you out of your trance. "Sorry, I was zoned out a bit." You smile back at him and stand up. "Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N," you say, fighting the urge to look into Yeonjun’s piercing eyes.

"Beomgyu talks so much about you, I feel like you're my friend as well," Nari says, laughing. She seems so sweet, and you can’t help but examine her. You once used to be as bright as her. You remember when you styled your hair in various ways and wore colourful clothes just like hers. Now, you’re the complete opposite of how you were. All thanks to Yeonjun, and you can’t help but feel bad for her.

“Haha, does he?” You look at Beomgyu as you exclaim that, and he wraps his arm around your neck as he laughs, looking away, supposedly embarrassed. “Well, a friend of Beomgyu is a friend of mine as well,” you giggle.

The group chuckles amongst themselves, but now it’s time for Yeonjun’s introduction. Which Yeonjun seems to lack interest in doing, so Nari kindly chimes in, "Y/N, this is Yeonjun, my boyfriend." You decide to be brave and look him straight in the eyes. He looks just as amazing as you remember. Yeonjun is silent, extending his hand to shake, and utters the quietest “Nice to meet you.” It’s not spewed in a shy tone, but rather an annoyed one. He slightly grits his teeth as he says it. He meets your eyes with ferocity dancing in his eyes, almost matching your own.

His audacity always amused you, so you have no problem reciprocating his manner and shaking his hand. Your lips curl into a slight smile, feeling too natural for your own liking. The handshake is cut short by a subtle yank from your end.

“Nice to meet you too,” you say without faltering your smile.

As the four of you sit down at the table, the feeling of his fingers brushing your palm lingers on your skin. You're reminded of all the other times those fingers touched you, in all kinds of places. You suddenly feel your skin burning with imaginary touches from the man sitting in front of you, and you feel like you need to crawl out of your own skin. Disturbed with yourself for thinking about what you fought so hard to forget.

"Have you guys ever come here before?" Beomgyu asks the couple sitting opposite you. "No, well, Nari and I usually prefer to have dates in more romantic spots. Like the movies or an aquarium, you know?" Yeonjun says rather smugly, lifting his arm to place it around her shoulder.

You chuckle to yourself. Romantic spots? Yeonjun? The same Yeonjun who was always too focused on his games to even take you out? The same Yeonjun who would only take you on unplanned dates, if he took you out at all? Yeah, right.

A scoff escapes your mouth, and you force it into a laugh. “That’s great! Beomgyu and I do the exact same, but we like to experience a different atmosphere once in a while.” You look lovingly into Beomgyu’s eyes. “Right, Gyu?” The nickname rolls off your tongue, and Beomgyu looks a bit taken aback. “Yeah, of course, sweetheart.” You smile and lean your head onto his shoulder.

You chatter amongst yourselves for the remainder of the hour, except Yeonjun and you don’t really exchange words—not directly, at least. Instead, you exchange looks. Both of you can’t seem to help your wandering eyes. He looks just as you left him, but even better than you remember. That’s what time does, you suppose. On the contrary, you doubt he recognizes you as the person to wear your current fashion, nor the person to wear such expressions on your face either. But you suppose that’s what time does.

You’ve never been as clingy toward Beomgyu as you currently are. You’re practically sitting on his lap. However, the same can be said about the couple in front of you. Being as touchy as possible, there’s a silent competition occurring, and you and Yeonjun are the competitors.

A specific question arouses your interest compared to the blur of the last few minutes. "How did you and Yeonjun meet?" Beomgyu asks. You lean your head in, awaiting her answer.

"Well, Yeonjun and I used to play games together all the time, and when we found out we lived in the same area, we decided to meet up. That was around two years ago, I think. He actually had a girlfriend when we first met in person, but shortly after we met up, they broke up, and that was my chance, haha."

Oh? Oh. So that's why she's familiar.

You met her once. She was gorgeous, but you also remember the huge fight that happened after the meeting. She was acting extra clingy toward him for just a friend, and you did not feel that was appropriate. And instead of reassuring you, Yeonjun just mocked your emotions. So she must be the reason he was always on that game, chatting with her. Suddenly, her laugh is agitating you.

A sense of betrayal washes over you upon learning this information. Yeonjun had many flaws, which you memorised inside the core of your brain ever since your breakup to convince yourself it was the right choice, but being a cheater was a new addition to the list.

You slowly avert your eyes up to Yeonjun’s. He has his body leaned against the wall behind him, and he looks down, meeting your gaze. "Is that so?" you blurt out, interrupting her not-so-little story. "I wasn't aware you enjoyed games that much, Yeonjun. What games other than video games do you enjoy playing? Perhaps mental games?" you spit out, the sharp edge of your words cutting through the air. Only Yeonjun seems to understand your intent.

He looks to the side and chuckles lowly, as if in disbelief over your words. Then he moves his frame onto the table and leans his head onto his hands, mirroring you. "I prefer physical games, actually," he says, emphasising the word "physical." It shouldn't have affected you as much as it did, but it did. Your flushed cheeks shine with a mix of your makeup, oil, and sweat under the dim lights of the crowded bar. You take his advance towards you as a challenge, maintaining direct eye contact with him, facing each other head-on.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words and lingering tension, the din of the bar fading into the background. You feel your pulse quicken, every heartbeat echoing in your ears. The heat of the summer night seeps into your skin, amplifying the flush on your cheeks.

"Okay.. Well, Y/N, I have to go grab something from your car. Could you come with me to get it?" Beomgyu asks, cutting through the electrified silence.

"Mhm," you say lowly, your voice barely above a whisper as you slowly divert your eyes from Yeonjun, reluctantly breaking the intense gaze to follow Beomgyu's figure. Yeonjun's pupils following you as you leave.

Once you step outside, you exhale deeply, taking in lungfuls of the fresh night air. "Y/N, what's wrong?" Beomgyu grabs you by the shoulders, his eyes searching yours with deep concern.

"I don't know if I can continue this, Gyu. I'm sorry," you reply honestly, your voice trembling slightly.

"You seem bothered by something. You surprisingly seem to enjoy acting as if we are dating..?" He speaks with a confused expression, which soon shifts to a satisfied smirk. "Not that I'm complaining though. Nari clearly seems annoyed by it. I just thought I'd be the one initiating all the romantic stuff, y'know?"

The truth is, you and Beomgyu are just friends. His recent ex, Nari, and he have been playing this game of complete idiocy, in your terms. They pretend they're just friends, when they're not. Once Beomgyu found out she had moved on already, he had to see her with his replacement himself. So, Beomgyu suggested a double date. Unfortunately, you had to partake in all this to support your dear friend. He also asked you to act clingy towards himself to elicit a reaction from Nari.

"Gyu there's something you should know." You explain how Yeonjun is your ex, and how you've been extra clingy to make it seem as if you're dating Beomgyu, because you wanted to make Yeonjun feel as though you had moved on completely. You keep it short, not mentioning how you believe Yeonjun cheated on you with Nari.

"Oh... wow," he blurts out.

"Yeah. Oh." You repeat, feeling a bit exasperated after throwing all your words out.

"So... both of us are trying to make our exes jealous?" he questions. You both look at each other, sharing a single brain cell, you think, and then burst into laughter.

"How did we reach this level of desperation?" you laugh out, wiping your eyes from the tears of laughter.

You and Beomgyu decide this is the perfect opportunity to get revenge on both your exes and annoy them as much as possible. You carry out the initial plan and both of you plot to make it seem as if you were making out. You rub your lips and smudge your lipstick, using some of it to rub onto Beomgyu's lips and neck. You prepare a dazed, off-kilter look.

The bar was a stifling cocoon of heat, the air so thick and heavy it felt like it was pressing down on you. As you and Beomgyu stepped back inside, the warmth wrapped around you, but it was nothing compared to the searing intensity of Yeonjun’s gaze locking onto yours. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into you, a silent challenge simmering beneath the surface. His hand gripped Nari’s waist with a possessive force, fingers digging into her skin as his lips moved against hers with a calculated hunger, each movement deliberate, meant to provoke. The sight sent a jolt of something electric through you, something that made the already heavy air feel suffocating.

You don't know why, but the sight made the bottom of your feet itch to run, the blood in your veins pulse faster, and your hands squeeze shut in anger. Your heart pounds in your ears as a cold fury washes over you, feeling as if your assumptions were proven correct. Still grasping Beomgyu's hand, you walk up to them.

"Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you guys came back already," Yeonjun's voice cuts through the air like a knife, thick with a smirk as he slowly pulls away from Nari’s lips. His tone is casual, but the glint in his eyes is anything but. He’s playing a game—one you’re determined not to lose. You scoff, your chest tightening with a mix of irritation and something more dangerous, something that simmers just beneath the surface.

Nari’s face flushes with embarrassment, a slight tinge of pink crawling up her neck. She shifts uncomfortably, caught in the act. But honestly, what did she expect? Making out with him in public was bound to draw attention.

You and Beomgyu take your seat on the bar stools.

You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you falter. You turned to Beomgyu, who seemed almost frozen beside you, his eyes wide with something between shock, jealousy, and anger. "Oh babe, you have something there," you murmured, your voice laced with deliberate sweetness, as you traced your fingers along the marks you had intentionally left on his neck earlier.

You glanced around for a tissue, a small, almost mocking smile curling at the corners of your lips when you found none. Instead, you leaned in closer to Beomgyu, the warmth of his skin radiating against your own, your breath mingling with his. "Excuse me for this," you whispered, your voice dropping into something almost seductive as you pressed your lips against the spot, the heat of your mouth remaining as you licked off the smeared lipstick.

The contact was more intimate than you’d intended, your lips lingering a moment too long, the taste of his skin mixed with the salt of sweat as the heat in the room seemed to only increase. You felt Beomgyu stiffen under your touch, a sharp intake of breath betraying his surprise, his muscles tensing as your tongue traced the curve of his neck, the suction intensifying as you tried to remove the mark, only to replace it with a darker stain—this time unmistakably a hickey.

When you pulled back, you feigned a look of innocent surprise, eyes wide as if you hadn’t meant to leave such a blatant mark. "Oh, oops," you said, your voice lilting with fake carelessness. You caught the way Beomgyu’s pulse was hammering under his skin, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "We’ll just wipe it off later then," you added with a sly, knowing smile, your gaze sliding back to Yeonjun.

In your peripheral vision, you caught the flash of jealousy in Yeonjun’s eyes, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly, though he tried to mask it with a tight-lipped grin. Nari was no better—her discomfort was written all over her.

The air around the four of you buzzed with unspoken words, each of you caught in this twisted game of one-upmanship, where the lines between past and present, affection and spite, were becoming increasingly blurred. The temperature in the room seemed to rise even higher, the hot air pressing in on all sides as the tension between you all reached a boiling point.

“W-Woahh, uhh, is it just me, or did it suddenly become scorching in here?” Beomgyu’s voice wavers as he fidgets in his seat, tugging at his collar like the air around him had grown suffocating. “Maybe we should ditch this place and head back to my apartment?” he suggests, forcing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Your apartment?” Yeonjun’s tone is laced with suspicion, his eyebrow arching. His gaze flicks between you and Beomgyu, a smirk ghosting his lips as he adds, “Not ‘our’ apartment?” The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Nari, catching onto his tone, chimes in with a voice that mirrors his, a faint hint of accusation, “You two don’t live together?”

“Uhhh…” Beomgyu falters, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down on him. “We don’t. I have a place nearby though. We’re working on moving in together,” you interject, the sweetness in your smile sharp enough to cut. The lie rolls off your tongue with practised ease, but the tightness in Yeonjun’s jaw tells you he’s not fooled.

“And you two?” you continue, your voice deceptively light as you aim to strike a nerve. “Living together already?”

Yeonjun’s response is swift, almost too quick. “We do,” he snaps, his hand tightening possessively around Nari’s waist. There’s a sharpness to his tone that only you can decipher, a silent challenge embedded in his words.

“Wow, that’s fast,” you say. “Considering you only started dating.. two years ago?” The question is a bait, the words dripping with insinuation, daring him to reveal the truth you’ve been suspecting.

Yeonjun’s eyes flash, a storm brewing behind them as he bites out, “She just moved in recently.” His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it, a defensiveness that gives him away.

“Must be nice,” you murmur, your gaze locking with his. The air between you heavy, the tension thickening with every passing second. The couple in front of you might be wrapped up in their own world, but the intensity of your silent exchange overshadows everything else in the room.

Beomgyu, trying to change the subject, forces an awkward laugh, his voice unnaturally loud. “Well! Drinks are on me tonight, so let’s grab our last round before heading back to my place!” His attempt to lighten the mood falls flat, the awkward enthusiasm only highlighting the discomfort simmering beneath the surface. However, the four of you play along.

You decide against drinking. The night is volatile enough, and you need a clear head to navigate whatever’s coming next. A bottle of water will be your only companion on the ride back.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu and Nari down shots like they’re desperate to drown their problems, the alcohol flowing as easily as the lies between you all. That leaves you and Yeonjun, the only two sober minds in a room full of vague lines and blurred loyalties.

The night ahead looms large, it’s going to be a long night.

You step into the bathroom, the cool water splashing onto your face doing little to quell the fire simmering in your chest. Staring at your reflection, you force yourself to take a breath, running your fingers through your hair to smooth it back into place. The moment is brief, but it’s enough to regain your composure—enough to prepare yourself to face Yeonjun once more.

When you emerge, the table is empty, the lively chatter of the bar fading into the background as your eyes land on the closed glass door. Outside, you catch sight of Yeonjun, his hand on Nari’s waist, guiding her into his car with that infuriatingly effortless grace. Beomgyu stumbles along, clearly too far gone to even stand straight. A sigh escapes you. Of course, it’s up to you to settle the bill now.

But as you approach the bartender, he informs you that Yeonjun has already paid. The notion grates on your nerves, a bitter reminder of the man you once knew. Always the gentleman, even when you wish he wasn’t. You grab your belongings, your mind racing with a mix of irritation and something more confusing, something you refuse to name.

As you prepare to leave, your gaze catches a small, familiar object on the edge of Yeonjun’s seat—a Polaroid photo. Curiosity tugs at you, and you pick it up, but before you can even glance at the image, a voice cuts through your thoughts.

“I believe that’s mine.”

You whip around, your heart leaping into your throat as Yeonjun stands there, his eyes locking onto yours. You freeze, the photo still clutched in your hand, as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming. The table presses against your back, the wall on the other side boxing you in, trapping you with nowhere to go.

He moves closer still, the space between you shrinking until it’s almost nonexistent. His breath fans across your face, and you can’t help but notice how it quickens in sync with your own. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, each inhale brushing against him, and you know he notices—his eyes flicker down, taking in every detail.

Your heart pounds in your ears, the tension between you taut, electric. Yeonjun leans in, his face mere inches from yours, and for a brief, reckless moment, your mind blanks, lost in the proximity, the heat. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he plucks the photo from your hand, but his gaze never wavers, his dark eyes boring into yours.

The silence stretches, heavy and charged. This close, it’s impossible to ignore the magnetism pulling you towards him, the unresolved emotions crackling like a live wire between you. But this isn’t the Yeonjun you fell for—this is the man who betrayed you.

“I…” Your voice falters, coming out more shaky than you’d like. You try again, mustering a semblance of confidence. “I don’t think Nari would like seeing us this close…”

His eyes flicker to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low, laced with something you can’t quite place. “She wouldn’t.”

And just like that, he steps back, the spell broken, leaving you breathless and reeling. He turns on his heel, heading towards the exit, and the moment he’s gone, you feel the air return to your lungs.

You take a few steadying breaths, trying to slow the frantic beating of your heart. The room feels hotter now, the air thick and stifling, every brush of fabric against your skin suddenly unbearable. You close your eyes, grounding yourself before finally following him outside into the cool night air.

You approach Yeonjun’s car, as you approach you catch snippets of the conversation between him and Nari.

“What is he doing in my car?” Yeonjun’s voice is low, tinged with annoyance as he glances at the backseat. You follow his gaze and spot Beomgyu, sprawled out and sound asleep, oblivious to the world. The front passenger seat, littered with Yeonjun’s belongings, leaves no room for anyone else.

Nari, swaying slightly on her feet, slurs her words, “It’s okay, don’t wake him up. I’ll just go to Y/N’s car since there isn’t enough space in yours.” Her eyes notice your figure, and she smiles brightly, pointing at you.

“There she is!” Nari exclaims, her voice overly enthusiastic, and you feel their eyes on you. The intensity of Yeonjun’s gaze is impossible to ignore as it sweeps over your body, staying on you for a little too long.

“Y/N, please drive me to Beomgyu’s place,” Nari says, her words blending together. “I’m sure you know the way, right? If you don’t, I can tell you because I—”

“There isn’t enough space for both Nari and Beomgyu in my car at the moment,” Yeonjun interjects, his tone clipped as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his other hand resting on his hip in a gesture of frustration. “And Nari insists on leaving Beomgyu where he is. So, you’ll have to take her. I’ll follow you.”

“Oh.” You glance at Nari, her expression loose and unconcerned. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine.”

It’s not fine. You do not want to be stuck with the girl your ex cheated on you with.

With that, you help Nari into your car, the weight of Yeonjun’s stare still heavy on your back as you slip into the driver’s seat. As you pull away, you catch sight of Yeonjun in your rearview mirror, his car trailing close behind.

The car ride is a relentless stream of chatter, Nari’s drunken rambling filling the space between you. Her words tumble out in a jumbled mess, but you let her talk, relieved she isn’t the crying type. Yet, something she says snags your attention.

“Yeonjun told me you almost saw that photo,” she giggles, the sound annoying you. “It would’ve been really bad for him if you did.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, your grip tightening on the steering wheel. But Nari offers no reply. You glance over, only to find her eyes closed, her breathing even.

No. You need answers.

You reach over and shake her shoulder, your voice sharp as you call her name. “What did you mean by that?”

She stirs, blinking groggily. “Huh? Mean by what?”

Frustration coils in your chest. Her drunken haze is a barrier you can’t seem to break through, and the urgency gnaws at you. Up ahead, a traffic light turns yellow, and without thinking, you press down on the gas pedal, speeding through the intersection. In the rearview mirror, you catch a glimpse of Yeonjun’s car, stopped at the red light, his face a mask of confusion.

Your pulse quickens, the unanswered question burning in your mind. What was in that photo? Why did it matter so much to Yeonjun? The road stretches out before you, but the only thing you can focus on is the mystery hanging over you like a storm cloud, dark and heavy.

—

Yeonjun slams on the brakes at the red light, the sudden stop jolting him out of his thoughts. He stares ahead, torn between chasing after you and staying put, uncertainty gnawing at him. A thud from the back seat snaps him back to the present.

“Ah... damn it...” Beomgyu groans, his voice muffled as he peels his face off the car’s floor, where he’s fallen in his drunken state.

Yeonjun mutters a curse under his breath, his knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel. He shoots a glance at Beomgyu through the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his ex’s new boyfriend.

“Blame your girlfriend for that,” Yeonjun mutters, unable to keep the venom from his voice.

Beomgyu sluggishly drags himself back onto the seat, his movements slow and uncoordinated. “My girlfriend...?”

Time seems to stretch as the red light stubbornly refuses to change, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. The tension in the car is thick, the air almost crackling with it. A notification dings on Yeonjun’s phone, momentarily pulling his attention away from the awkward silence.

It’s a message from Nari, and Yeonjun’s brow furrows as he reads it:

‘Stic to right lane & turn right at honey strt’

Yeonjun exhales sharply, the frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. His fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel, a rapid, nervous rhythm that betrays his inner turmoil. What are you planning?

Beomgyu’s voice, lazy and taunting, cuts through the tense silence. “You know, I’ve only seen Y/N speed through this stop a few times...”

Yeonjun’s gaze shifts to the rearview mirror, locking onto Beomgyu’s reflection. The younger man’s smirk is infuriatingly smug, a glint in his eyes.

“It only happens when she’s in a rush... to get to my apartment.” Beomgyu’s voice drops lower, more suggestive, as he leans back, spreading himself comfortably across the seats. “When she’s in a rush to feel me... on her.” He pauses, watching as Yeonjun’s chest rises and falls with controlled breaths. “...in her.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and provocative. Yeonjun’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking with barely restrained fury. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles almost popping, the pressure enough to shatter it. The intensity in his eyes as they meet Beomgyu’s in the rearview mirror is scorching, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

“If... you know what I mean,” Beomgyu adds, his tone dripping with a taunt that cuts deeper than any blade.

Yeonjun’s eyes burn with an icy fire as he stares Beomgyu down, a challenge hanging between them like a drawn sword. The tension is like a bomb, vibrating with the threat of explosion, each man’s pride and desire for dominance clashing in the confined space of the car.

But then, a sharp honk from the car behind shatters the moment, dragging Yeonjun back to the harsh reality of the situation. He blinks, the connection between them severed, and with a muttered curse, he presses down on the gas pedal, hard, as the light finally turns green.

—

Nari’s voice cuts through the atmosphere in the car, her words slurred but her concern evident. “Woah, Y/N, what the hell?”

"Please text Yeonjun to stick to the right lane throughout the entire road until he reaches 'Honey' street, where he'll need to take a right turn to arrive at Beomgyu's apartment parking." You give her instructions, sounding formal from restraining your true feelings at the moment.

She fumbles with her phone, her drunken fingers struggling to tap out a coherent message.

‘Stic to right lane & turn right at honey strt’, she manages to sent Yeonjun.

Your mind is elsewhere, clouded with doubt and anger. “You mentioned something earlier... about how it would’ve been bad for Yeonjun if I saw that photo. Why?” Your voice is strained, and without thinking, you wrench the steering wheel to the left, taking a detour that gives you more time for your discussion.

Nari yelps, gripping the seatbelt as the car swerves. “Y/N!” Her voice is tinged with fear, but you barely register it. All you can think about is that photo—what it could mean, what it could reveal.

“Nari,” you snap, your voice tight with desperation. “Tell me right now! Is it a photo of you? Of you two while he was still with me? Is that why it would’ve been bad for him? That bastard!” Your voice breaks, tears stinging your eyes, blurring the road ahead. You blink rapidly, trying to focus, but the emotions are overwhelming.

But instead of the answer you dread, Nari’s laughter fills the car, light and almost mocking. “Y/N... I know you and Yeonjun dated,” she says, her tone a strange mix of amusement and sympathy. “But do you really think he cheated on you? With me?” She pauses, letting the question hang in the air. “It’s a photo of you, Y/N. He shouldn’t be carrying around a picture of his ex while he’s dating someone new, right? That’s why it would’ve been bad for him.”

Her words hit you like a truck, leaving you momentarily breathless. You slow the car, the confusion and shock twisting your stomach into knots. What? That was the last thing you expected her to say. You roll down the window, letting the night air wash over you, trying to calm your racing heart. “Nari... I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Nari sighs softly, her gaze distant as she stares out the window. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just... don’t tell Yeonjun I said anything, okay?”

“Yeah... of course,” you murmur, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

The rest of the drive is suffocatingly quiet, Nari’s gentle snores the only sound as you’re left alone with your swirling thoughts. The earlier confusion and the anger all blend into a chaotic mess in your mind.

You finally pull into the parking lot, spotting Yeonjun leaning against his car, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He straightens up when he sees you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You step out of the car, gently helping the now nearly unconscious Nari out as well. There's a silence between you and Yeonjun, as he watches you with an inscrutable gaze.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, his tone laced with irritation. He rolls his eyes, but you don’t rise to the bait, too drained to engage.

“Where’s Beomgyu?” you ask, ignoring his remark.

Yeonjun’s jaw tightens slightly, but he answers, “He went up to his apartment.”

You nod, guiding Nari towards the building, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. But one thing is clear—you’re not done with this conversation. Not by a long shot.

Finally, after what feels like an endless climb up the stairs—thanks to the conveniently broken elevator—you reach Beomgyu’s floor. Each step was a reminder of the weight of the night, and you can’t help but let out a breathy, victorious "fucking finally" as you clutch your knees, trying to steady your racing heart. You open Beomgyu’s unlocked door, your hand trembling slightly from the adrenaline over climbing too many steps in a short amount of time.

Yeonjun steps in, carrying Nari effortlessly, with a strong frame. The apartment is cozy, with just enough space for two, yet the intimacy of the setting only adds to the suffocating tension. His eyes sweep over the place, lingering on the personal touches—Beomgyu’s little marks of comfort and style. The kitchen, neat and orderly, the living room inviting with its well-worn sofas surrounding a central table atop a small circular carpet, and finally, his gaze drifts to the door on the right, presumably leading to the bedroom.

You watch him as he gently lays Nari down on the nearest sofa, his movements careful, deliberate. He then returns to the entrance, his hands slowly working on the laces of his shoes, almost like he’s stalling. When he slips off his jockey university sweater, the air seems to thicken, and you can’t help but trace the contours of his body with your eyes, quickly averting them when you feel your cheeks burn with memories better left forgotten.

The room suddenly feels too small, too intimate. Here you are, after everything, sharing the same space as Yeonjun in Beomgyu’s apartment. The thought makes your stomach churn. You shake your head, trying to refocus. Beomgyu—where was he? You need to find him, cling to the present to avoid drowning in the past.

You move towards the bedroom, the light already on, spilling out into the hallway. “Beomgyu? Are you there?” Your voice echoes softly, breaking the stillness.

A response comes from the bathroom, on the right of the room, his voice familiar yet strained, “I’m here…”

Relief washes over you, and you step inside, your earlier tension momentarily forgotten. “You know, it's kind of rude to leave your guests—” The words die in your throat as your gaze lands on Beomgyu, shirtless, hunched over the sink, struggling to apply ointment to a nasty, jagged scratch running down his back.

Your breath hitches as you take in the scene. The sight of him, vulnerable and hurt, ignites a surge of concern that pushes aside everything else. You approach him slowly, your earlier bravado slipping away, replaced by something gentler. “What… happened?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, laced with worry for your friend.

Beomgyu’s reflection in the mirror meets yours, a faint, tired smile tugging at his lips. But it’s the pain in his eyes that catches you off guard, making your heart clench.

“Gyu... what the hell happened?” The words slip out in a frantic whisper as you rush over to him, grabbing the ointment from his trembling hands.

“Nothing,” he mutters, a scoff barely masking the pain in his voice. His eyes are downcast, avoiding yours as if hiding something. You gently begin to apply the ointment to his raw, sensitive skin, your hands trembling slightly as you try to be as careful as possible. But Beomgyu doesn’t even flinch, his body numbed either by alcohol or something far deeper.

“This is not nothing, Beomgyu,” you say firmly, your voice stern with concern. The thought of what—or who—could have caused this flashes through your mind, and an image of Yeonjun surfaces, dark and accusing. A surge of anger pulses through you. Could he have done this? You turn, eyes blazing with determination. “Did Yeonjun do this to you?”

Beomgyu’s eyes roll in exasperation, his head tilting back slightly as if he’s exhausted by the question. “I told you, I don’t care about this scratch, okay?” His voice is flat, devoid of its usual spark, as he pushes himself off the sink and saunters towards his closet, passing by you, searching for a shirt.

You follow him, not willing to let it go, your heart pounding in your chest. From the corner of your eye, you catch Yeonjun standing near Nari, as he hands her a drink you can only assume is water to sober her up, removing a bottle of wine from her other hand. You lower your voice, trying to keep the conversation private. “Beomgyu,” you press, your tone urgent and low, “Did Yeonjun do this?”

“Ugh, yeah, he did, but it’s not what you think. I’m not even mad about it—”

“I hate him.” The words spill out before you can stop them, your voice quivering with raw emotion. You turn on your heel, ready to storm out and confront Yeonjun, the adrenaline surging through you like fire. But Beomgyu’s hand catches your arm, his grip firm yet pleading.

“Y/N, stop,” he says, his voice cutting through your anger like a knife. “It was my fault. I riled him up... it’s complicated.” His eyes drop, the weight of whatever he’s holding back pulling him down.

Your anger deflates, replaced by a heavy sadness. You move closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm, your mind racing to piece together what could have driven Beomgyu to such a state. “Is it... Nari? Is that what this is about?”

At the mention of her name, his expression crumbles, the facade he’s been holding up finally breaking. His shoulders slump, and he nods, the pain evident in every line of his face. “I think it’s over... between us. She seems to really have moved on.” His voice is barely a whisper, thick with unshed tears as he clings to your arm.

You remember Nari’s words in the car about Yeonjun keeping a photo of you. The thought of it makes your heart twist in your chest. How could they be in a genuine relationship if Yeonjun hasn't let go of the past? “Don’t be so sure, Gyu,” you murmur softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you turn to him. There’s a flicker of hope in your chest—hope for Beomgyu and Nari, though you’re unsure what it means for you and Yeonjun.

Beomgyu looks up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, his vulnerability laid bare. “What makes you say that?” he asks, his voice trembling with both fear and hope.

You smile down at him, tenderly wiping away a tear that escapes from the corner of his eye. “Just trust me,” you whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter closed at the contact, and you pull him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his head, cradling him like something precious. “You’ll see, Gyu,” you murmur, swaying gently back and forth, trying to soothe the storm inside him.

You hear a cough behind you and turn to find Yeonjun and Nari standing awkwardly in the doorway. Their presence feels like an intrusion, but you quickly move away from Beomgyu, who hastily wipes away any lingering tears, trying to compose himself.

"Um, I kind of made a mess outside and... was wondering if I could use your shower?" Nari asks, her voice small and hesitant as she clutches her soaked shirt. It’s only then that you notice the wine stains covering her clothes. Yeonjun, on the other hand, looks dry, but his eyes are averted, and he huffs before turning and leaving the room without a word.

"Yeah, of course," Beomgyu responds, standing up to lead Nari to the bathroom. You decide to give them some space, hoping that maybe this moment alone is what they need to work things out.

As the door closes behind them, the apartment falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the distant murmur of Beomgyu and Nari’s voices. You turn back to the living room and see Yeonjun bent over, scrubbing a wine stain off the floor. Relief washes over you that the spill didn’t hit the carpet or the couch, but then your eyes land on the table—your paper, drenched in crimson liquid.

“No...” You rush over, your heart sinking as you pick up your soaked assignment, trying to salvage what little remains. The paper disintegrates in your hands, the ink smudging and bleeding until there’s nothing left but a soggy mess between your fingers. The frustration and anger bubble up inside you, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to hold back on your anger.

When you open them, you see Yeonjun, still cleaning, completely ignoring your disaster. You didn’t expect an apology, but his indifference stings more than any words could. And perhaps you mixing your own personal emotions when you said your next words, but they had come out more hurtful than intended.

“Hey, jackass.” The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and biting, aimed at Yeonjun’s turned back. He stops and slowly turns to you, his expression one of mild annoyance. He doesn’t say anything, just waits for you to continue.

“Were you just standing there like a useless idiot when she knocked over the wine?” you snap, your voice dripping with contempt.

Yeonjun scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he straightens up and takes a step towards you, the air between you crackling with unresolved feelings. He doesn’t speak, just watches you, his gaze challenging and unyielding.

“Are you mute as well as useless?” you bite out, your anger flaring as you meet his eyes, refusing to back down. His silence is infuriating, and you can feel the rage boiling over, threatening to spill out in ways you can’t control. In the background, you hear the bathroom shower begin, the sound pulling you back to the present moment, grounding you in the here and now. And right now, you were angry.

“Fuck’s sake!” You slam your hands down on the table, the impact sending droplets of wine splattering across the surface and onto your hands, staining them red. “I’ve been trying so hard to be civil with you, but you don’t even try. You’re just... unbearable.” Your voice cracks with frustration, the words spilling out in a torrent of pent-up emotion.

Yeonjun lifts an eyebrow, a smug expression creeping onto his face, as if he’s amused by your outburst. That look—the one he always gives when he thinks he’s above it all—pushes you over the edge.

“And that!” you hiss, leaning in closer, pointing a trembling finger at him. “That exact face you make when something doesn’t please the almighty Yeonjun. You’re a fucking bastard, Yeonjun. You lie, you fight, you ruin everything good, and you cheat.”

At this, he grabs your hand, his grip firm. “Cheat?” His voice is low, dangerous, his eyes burning into yours with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, Y/N, you broke up with me. Didn’t even have the decency to tell me why. And now you’re here, accusing me of cheating? Is that really why you left me?”

You glare back at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “No, it wasn’t. But I’m sure you did, Yeonjun. With Nari.”

His face falls for a split second, the anger faltering as a flash of hurt crosses his features. He stumbles back slightly, his hands dropping to his sides. “Wow...” he breathes, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “This is just... great.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, before shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I’m not dealing with this shit.” He grabs his keys and wallet off the table, heading for the door with long, angry strides. The door slams behind him with a force that reverberates through the apartment, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, reeling from what just happened.

“Fuck...” you whisper to yourself, the weight of the argument settling on your shoulders. You know you should just let him go, but something inside you refuses to leave things like this. Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you rush after him, leaving behind your pride. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to hear his side of the story.

As you hurry down the stairs, your footsteps echo in the stairwell, amplifying your growing desperation. You spot Yeonjun far ahead, his figure a shadow in the dimly lit space. “Yeonjun!” Your voice is firm, laced with the urgency of everything unsaid. But he doesn’t respond, his pace steady and unrelenting.

Bursting out of the building, you speed-walk after him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeonjun!” you shout, your voice cracking with frustration and anger. He continues to ignore you, his focus entirely on his car as he throws his belongings into the passenger seat with a controlled fury. You scurry over, desperation driving your steps, and grab his arm just as he reaches for the door handle. “Yeonjun…”

He shakes your hand off with a harsh flick, his movements sharp, and slides into the driver’s seat. You move without thinking, planting yourself directly in front of his car, the headlights casting long shadows behind you. The weight of your actions hits you as he honks, the sound jarring in the empty parking lot.

You’re the one who ended it, so why are you here now, standing in his way, demanding answers you thought you never wanted before?

With a final, angry honk, Yeonjun’s patience snaps. He explodes out of the car, slamming the door so hard the sound echos in the parking lot. His eyes blaze with barely contained anger as he strides toward you, his hands gripping your arms with a force that borders on painful.

“YN, seriously. What do you want?” His voice is a low growl, each word dripping with the frustration and pain he’s held back for too long.

“Yeonjun, I just want to hear your side.” Your voice trembles, your previous tone slipping away as the reality of the situation crashes over you.

He pauses, another bitter laugh escaping his lips as he looks down, shaking his head. “My side?” His voice is laced with incredulity. “You’re two years late, YN.”

Desperation claws at you. “Then tell me now—did you cheat on me with Nari?”

His gaze snaps back to you, eyes narrowed. “No. And for fuck’s sake…” He looks away, running a hand through his hair, the movement jerky, frustrated. “We’re not even dating, YN. She’s just a friend. Believe that or don’t—I don’t care anymore.” His voice drips with a mixture of exhaustion and disdain. “Happy now?”

“Yeonjun…” The word is a broken whisper, a mix of confusion and the lingering echoes of mistrust.

He whips his head back towards you, the anger flaring up again. “YN, you don’t get to say my name. Not.. like that. Not anymore.”

“But, Yeonjun—” You’re cut off by the intensity of his gaze as he takes a deep breath, his hands trembling as they reach for your face. He hesitates for a moment before cradling your cheeks gently, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his eyes.

“No, YN, you don’t understand.” His voice cracks, the anger giving way to a raw, vulnerable pain that takes you by surprise. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these two years? After you?” His words hang in the air, each one weighted with years of buried emotions. “Do you know that after you just deserted me like we were nothing, I locked myself away for weeks? Do you know that, YN?” His voice rises, the tears welling up in his eyes breaking free.

You feel your own tears threatening to spill over as you listen, the weight of his pain crushing you. “Do you?” he presses, his voice dropping to a whisper, as though the admission itself is too much to bear. “Of course you don’t. You blocked me on everything. You erased me from your life as if we never existed.”

A tear slips down his cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, his composure crumbling. “I know I wasn’t perfect. We weren’t perfect. But we were trying, we were learning. And then you just gave up. You gave up on us, on me.”

His breath is warm against your face, contrasting sharply with the cool night air. “I’d like to know your side, YN. Why? What made you break up with me?”

Your eyes blur with tears, each blink sending droplets cascading down your cheeks. His face is so close now, his presence overwhelming. “Hm?” he murmurs, his voice softening as he leans in, his lips brushing the side of your cheek in a featherlight kiss. “Why?”

He moves across your face, leaving a trail of kisses, each one a question, each one a plea. “How?” Another kiss, his breath hot against your skin. “How could you leave me for that kid?”

Your mind races, the past and present colliding in a storm of emotions. You should answer him, give him the closure he deserves, but your voice is trapped in your throat. You realize now that you were wrong—so wrong about Yeonjun.

He pauses, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath mingling with yours. His large hand snakes around your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. He holds you there, his grip firm but gentle, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing you all over again.

Yeonjun’s voice drops to a whisper, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that’s almost heartbreaking. “Tell me, YN,” he pleads, his gaze locked onto yours, desperate and vulnerable. The world around you seems to pause as you both stand there, holding onto each other like lifelines, lost in the moment.

Just as you gather the strength to answer, Yeonjun shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his face. “No... actually. I don’t want to know. I don’t care,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. The abrupt change in his demeanor leaves you confused, your eyebrows knitting together as you try to process his words.

“Just tell me one thing,” he whispers, his breath hitching as he stares at your lips, then flicks his eyes back to yours. “C-can I kiss you?”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at something deep within you. “Jun…” His name falls from your lips, barely audible, as if you’re testing the sound of it. You clear your throat, trying to steady yourself. “Yeonjun,” you breathe. You look into his eyes, seeing beyond just your reflection and his dark magnetising pupils, and into the raw, unfiltered desperation. Yeonjun truly loves you—there’s no denying it now.

You inhale sharply, the reality of the moment crashing down on you. “Y-yes,” you whisper, the word barely escaping your lips, but it’s enough.

Before you can take another breath, his lips crash into yours, and the world around you disappears. The kiss is urgent, almost frantic, as if he’s afraid this moment will slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. There’s no grace in it—only raw emotion, the kind that has been building for years, waiting to burst.

You melt into him, savouring everything about him—the taste of his lips, the scent of his skin, the way his body presses against yours with both tenderness and urgency. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

The kiss intensifies, becoming rougher, more desperate, as if the years apart have created a hunger that neither of you can control. His hands move with a purpose, lifting you effortlessly onto the trunk of his car, the cold metal beneath you a stark contrast to the heat of his touch.

Everything is happening so fast, too fast, but your body reacts instinctively, arching into him as he presses against you, his hips grinding into your clothed core. A gasp escapes your lips, breaking the kiss, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth trails down your neck, leaving a burning path of kisses and fresh red marks that make your skin tingle.

“Junnie…” you breathe out, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions—desire, uncertainty, and the lingering fear that this might not be the way to mend what was broken. But Yeonjun is relentless, his focus entirely on you, on this moment, as if nothing else matters.

You’re caught in the whirlwind of his passion, your thoughts spinning as fast as your heart. Is this the right way to rekindle what you once had? The question lingers in the back of your mind, but it’s drowned out by the intensity of Yeonjun’s determination. He’s here, he’s real, and right now, he’s all that you can think about.

Yeonjun’s breath hitches as he presses closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, desperate whisper. “YN, I need you... fuck,” he groans, the hardness beneath his pants pressing against you as his hand slowly slides up your shirt, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His lips pause against your skin, and he murmurs, “Need you to say you need me too.”

Your mind is hazy, drunk on the intoxicating feel of his lips worshipping every inch of you. The words barely escape your mouth, a soft, breathless, “Need you too,” as your fingers tangle in his hair, nails gently raking over his scalp, eliciting a low hum of satisfaction from him.

His grip tightens around your legs, guiding them to wrap around his waist with a possessive urgency. “No need to be so shy,” he whispers, the corner of his mouth curling into a playful smirk that you can feel against your skin as he peppers your face with kisses. In one swift motion, he lifts you effortlessly and opens the back passenger door, the cool night air brushing against your heated skin.

Clinging to him tightly, he gently lays you down on the seat, your back sinking into the plush leather. Your eyes drift over his body, taking in every detail—the veins standing out against his skin from the strain of holding you, the way his hair sticks to the beads of sweat on his forehead. Your hand reaches up, brushing his hair back, leaving it slightly slicked as he kisses his way down to your collarbone, his tongue tracing circles that make you squirm beneath him.

He finally pulls back, his eyes dark and intense as he studies your face, his arms braced on either side of you, framing your face. For a moment, he just watches you, a strand of his hair falling out of place, and it’s the second hottest thing you’ve ever seen. The first is the sight of him as he pulls away, sitting up, leaning back against the window with his legs spread wide, his gaze smouldering as he taps his lap, silently inviting you to crawl over and cradle him.

But you’ve got something better in mind. Words fail you, but your actions won’t. You sit up slowly, turning to face him before lowering your upper body, arching your back and lifting your hips as you move toward his lap.

Yeonjun’s eyebrow arches in surprise, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you. “Wanna make you feel good, Junnie,” you coo, your voice soft and teasing as you gaze up at him through your lashes. The sight of you like this makes his heart race, his pulse quickening as his desire for you intensifies.

You lick your lips, the anticipation building as you balance yourself on his lap, your fingers deftly undoing his belt. Your eyes never leave his, the connection between you electric as you slowly slide his pants down, your gaze locked on his, every movement deliberate and charged with tension.

As you slide his pants off, your eyes widen at the sight of him. His hardness stands tall, pressing against his stomach, a stain of wetness seeping through the fabric of his boxers by his tip. A wicked grin spreads across your face as you reach out, your finger lightly brushing the spot where he’s leaking. He hisses, his eyes locked on yours, watching your every move with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine.

You trace the outline of his length with your fingernail, feeling the hard, pulsing veins beneath the thin fabric. The sensation drives him wild, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You press down, earning a chorus of hisses and groans that only fuel your desire. Your palm flattens against him, moving slowly over the length of his boxer-clad heat. You can’t help but lick your lips, practically drooling at the thought of having him in your mouth.

Lifting your thumb, you press it against his tip, feeling the warmth and wetness beneath. But before you can go further, his hand snaps to your wrist, gripping it tightly as he lets out a low, guttural groan. “Stop playing,” he growls, the sound rough and commanding, sending a shiver of excitement through you.

You smirk, your eyes sparkling with mischief, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking. Slowly, teasingly, you lower your hands to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. Your eyes dilate at the sight before you—his full length, hard and ready, standing proud.

Wasting no time, you wrap your hand around him, feeling the weight and heat of him in your grasp. You pump him a few times, eliciting a deep groan from his throat, before you lean in, your tongue darting out to gently flick across his tip like a teasing kitten. The sensation is too much for him to bear, and his hands fly to your hair, tangling in the strands.

When you take him fully into your mouth, enveloping him in your warm, soft lips, he loses control. His grip on your hair tightens as he lets out a strangled gasp. “S-shit,” he stammers, his voice strained with pleasure. “Only I should see you like this, hm?” His hands tug at your hair, lifting your head so he can look into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze nearly overwhelming.

You groan deeply, the sound vibrating through your body and into his, drawing a low moan from Yeonjun. Your tongue works expertly around his length, flicking and swirling over the sensitive head, teasing the skin where it meets the shaft. With Yeonjun’s impressive size, you’re able to take him into your mouth while your hand wraps around the base, moving in sync with your mouth in smooth, circular motions. Your wrist twists with each stroke, ensuring he feels every bit of your attention.

The car fills with a symphony of lewd, wet sounds—the slickness of your efforts combined with his, the steady rhythm of sucking, and the occasional slurp as you work him over. It’s a soundscape pulled straight from the most explicit fantasies, made even more intense by his deep, throaty groans and the filth he whispers under his breath. Your own body responds involuntarily, heat pooling between your legs, your core aching with need, practically dripping from the sheer eroticism of the moment.

“Uhhh, fuck… I’m… fucki-ng close,” he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. He squirms slightly, adjusting his position as he grips your head with a possessive intensity. Despite the pressure, the fact that he’s now thrusting into your mouth keeps you steady, your focus entirely on him.

Yeonjun shifts, planting one knee on the leather seat between your legs for balance while the other foot remains on the floor. You instinctively adjust as well, spreading your knees wider, your toes curling as they press into the seat beneath you. Your upper body remains steady as he takes control, thrusting faster and deeper, each movement more urgent than the last.

“Does… he—” He grunts, thrusting sloppily, “Does his cock taste… or feel half as good as mine?” The words are edged with jealousy and possessiveness, but you’re unable to respond, your entire mouth and throat occupied by his cock. Your hands clutch at his bare thighs for support. Your glossy eyes meet his, tears threatening to spill as his length hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly. He looks down, his expression one of dominance, searching your eyes as if expecting an answer, though he knows you can’t give one.

“Thought so,” he murmurs, smirking at his own satisfaction, his voice dripping with self-assurance. A low, breathless laugh escapes him. “Fuuuuck…” The syllables draw out, his head falling back as his movements grow more erratic and sloppy. “Take your shirt off, now,” he demands, his voice rough with need.

Without hesitation, your hands move faster than your thoughts, peeling the fabric from your body. As you lift your shirt over your head, his length slips from your mouth with a distinctive ‘pop,’ leaving you breathless. You toss the shirt aside, quickly unclipping your bra, letting it fall to the floor of the car.

Yeonjun’s eyes are locked onto you, his hand furiously pumping himself, his breathing ragged as he watches. With a few final strokes, he comes undone, his release shooting out in thick, warm spurts onto your bare chest. The force of it has him throwing his head back, a loud, extended “fuck” tearing from his throat as his body shudders with the intensity of his climax.

Visibly spent but far from satisfied, Yeonjun’s dark, lustful gaze locks onto your cum-streaked body, his breath heavy and ragged. You expect him to take a moment to recover, but instead, he commands through his labored breaths, “Undress. All of it.” His voice is low, dripping with desire, sending a shiver down your spine.

Driven by the hunger in his eyes, you quickly discard your pants, leaving only your underwear clinging to your skin. Meanwhile, Yeonjun tears off his shirt, revealing his sculpted, sweat-slicked torso. As you finish, he’s already on you, your bodies colliding, sticky with sweat and remnants of his release. His arms encircle you tightly, his intense gaze boring into yours as he lowers you onto the seat, his body hovering, exuding dominance.

The moment his weight lifts from you, the cum that once joined your bodies drips back onto your chest, and you catch the glint of dark amusement in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he dips his head, tongue darting out to gather his droplets, then hovers above you. His fingers gently pry your lips open, and he lets the cum drop from his mouth onto your outstretched tongue. “Taste me,” he whispers, the command seeping into your skin as his mouth crashes onto yours, deepening the connection in a slow, fervent kiss.

His hand slides up your body, smearing the evidence of his release over your skin. The warmth of his palm, the deliberate pinch of your nipple, sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you arch into his touch. He breaks the kiss, moving his mouth down your chest, his tongue and lips worshipping your flesh, savoring the mixture of sweat and his essence.

Each flick of his tongue over your nipples, each gentle tug, ignites a fire within you, leaving you squirming beneath him. But his firm grip on you ensures your movements are minimal, controlled, just as he likes it. His lips continue their descent, marking your skin with purples and reds, a visual testament to his possession.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the skin just above your underwear, “how much I missed this.” His words, coupled with the sensation of his mouth and hands, make you whimper, your desire pooling between your thighs.

As his face reaches your thighs, he kisses the tender flesh there, his hands caressing you, teasing you. When he finally positions himself over your core, his eyes meet yours with a devilish smile, and without another word, he lowers his mouth to your most sensitive spot.

Yeonjun’s tongue flattens against your soaked underwear, teasing your core with deliberate, languid strokes. His mouth explores every contour of your folds, shaping them with expert precision, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. A helpless whimper escapes your lips, your breath hitching as his tongue presses firmly against the center of your desire. He pushes against your entrance, the fabric of your underwear creating a tantalising barrier, before he uses the hard edge of his bottom teeth to graze upward along your sensitive flesh, drawing out a sharp gasp from you.

You can’t help but lower your gaze, watching him intently, eyes locked on his every movement. He meets your gaze, his eyes dark with lust, as he takes the waistband of your underwear between his teeth, slowly pulling them down, the fabric dragging across your skin until it’s finally discarded with a flick of his head. The sight of him, smirking with your underwear still between his teeth, sends a shiver down your spine.

Without hesitation, he dives back between your thighs, his tongue finding its way to the inside of your folds, massaging them with a fervor that makes your entire body quake. He licks and flicks at your entrance, his tongue reaching deeper than you thought possible for a tongue, drawing out moans and gasps from you. His rough thumb finds your clit, rubbing it with just enough friction to make you writhe beneath him. The dry texture of his thumb against your sensitive bud amplifies every sensation, and your legs instinctively lift, disrupting his rhythm.

But Yeonjun’s resolve is unwavering. His strong hands grip your thighs, pinning them in place as he growls a warning, “Stay still, sweetie.” His voice is thick with desire, his focus entirely on pleasuring you. “Mhm and how sweet you taste,” he murmurs against your skin, making your face flush with heat. You turn your head to the side, embarrassed by his praise, but unable to suppress the pleasure coursing through you.

His tongue circles your clit with calculated pressure, and you become a moaning mess beneath him. Just when you think you can’t take any more, he slides a finger inside you, his touch skilled and unyielding. “Can’t believe someone else heard these sounds from you,” he mutters, his voice low. The words send a thrill through you, intensifying the ache building inside you.

Yeonjun glances up, admiring the sight before him—your flushed face framed by your heaving chest, the curve of your body leading to the apex of your desire. His own arousal pulses with need, but he stays focused on your pleasure, adding another finger and curling them inside you while his tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit. His other hand finds your breast, kneading it with just enough pressure to make you arch into his touch.

The sensations are overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge. Your cries grow louder, more desperate, and you call out his name, “J-jun-ie, I’m so close, I—ah!” The words spill from your lips, half-whined, half-sobbed. He seizes the moment, his voice a seductive purr as he asks, “Who do you belong to, YN? Who?” His question is punctuated by deep, consuming kisses, his lips never leaving your body.

“Yeonjun, Yeonjunnn, Yeonjunnnn,” you whimper, his name tumbling from your lips over and over, each repetition more desperate than the last. Your voice quivers, caught between pleasure and urgency, barely coherent as you’re overwhelmed by sensation. Though unsure if you’re truly responding to his question or lost in the throes of ecstasy, he chooses to believe your words are an affirmation, a declaration of belonging that feeds his need to claim you. The satisfaction inside his chest deepens, even as a flicker of uncertainty lingers, making your submission all the more intoxicating.

As the pleasure crests, you come undone around him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Yeonjun’s jaw never slackens, his tongue and lips working to capture every drop of you, pushing you past the point of overstimulation until your body is trembling from the intensity.

You have to physically push him off you to break the contact with your core. Both of you are gasping, his breaths ragged as though he forgot to breathe while he was lost in you. His lips are red, plump, and swollen from their relentless work.

He sits up, still catching his breath, and swipes his tongue across his lips before wiping away the lingering moisture. “Need you, Yeonjun,” you murmur, thighs pressing together, desperate for some relief. “You think you’re ready?” he teases, his voice laced with playful challenge. “Mhm,” you reply instantly, the desperation clear in your tone.

He chuckles at your eagerness, reclining back into the spot he occupied earlier when you were blowing him, his head resting against the window, his body relaxed. “Then show me how ready you are.” His words fuel your need, and despite the lingering tremors in your legs from your climax, you move to straddle him, your bodies pressing together, warmth meeting warmth. Your core hovers just above his hardness, and as you begin to lower yourself, his hands grip your hips, guiding you to rub against him instead. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and soon you’re grinding against him, your movements instinctive, fueled by need. The air fills with the sound of your shared curses, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

“Need you so badly, Jun...” you almost beg, your hips moving of their own accord. He meets your pleading gaze and releases his hold on your hips, granting you the freedom you crave. Without hesitation, you lift yourself slightly and take hold of him, aligning his length with your aching core. Your hand finds his shoulder for support as you slowly sink down, enveloping him fully.

The sensation defies description, the delicious stretch of his length inside you making your head fall back, eyes rolling in pure bliss. Instinctively, you lean into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you, hands soothingly caressing your back as he waits for your next move.

“All good, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice soft with concern as his fingers gently brush your hair aside, his eyes searching for yours.

“Mhm, so good...” you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders. His laughter rumbles through his chest, a sound of satisfaction that makes you feel even more connected to him. Gathering your strength, you begin to ride him, each movement slow and deliberate at first, your focus entirely on the sensation of him filling you. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, muffling your moans as you concentrate on keeping your pace steady.

But Yeonjun isn’t satisfied with silence. He slips a finger between your lips, prying them open. “I want to hear you,” he whispers, his eyes pleading. With your mouth now free, your moans spill out, unrestrained. “Fuck, Yeonjun, so good,” you choke out, your pace quickening, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure. His groans beneath you are a clear sign that he’s just as lost in the sensation.

He pulls you closer, his hand gripping the nape of your neck as he brings your face inches from his, his eyes piercing into yours. “You ride me so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs before pressing a rough kiss to your lips. “Do you ride him like this?” His voice drops lower, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, “Is his cock as good as mine?”

Your rhythm falters as his words sink in, your movements growing more erratic. Noticing your fatigue, Yeonjun takes control, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he lays you back against the leather seat, his cock still buried deep inside you. Your breath comes in short gasps, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer as if you could meld your bodies into one.

His hair falls forward, framing his intense gaze, his lips tugged into a dark, signature smirk. The sight of him, so utterly captivating, makes your heart ache with a longing you hadn’t realised was still there. As he begins to move, his hips driving into you with renewed vigor, your back arches off the seat, your body instinctively responding to the pleasure. “I missed this, Yeon...” you manage to moan out, “Jun...”

He laughs softly, though there’s a bitter edge to it, one you’re too lost in pleasure to notice. His mind drifts, remembering the pain of your separation, the doubts that plagued him. “Does he fuck you like this?” he mutters, though his voice is strained, not truly expecting an answer. “Does he leave marks like these?” His fingers press against the bruises he left earlier, his touch possessive.

“Does he make you moan like this?” His hand wraps around your throat, his grip tightening slightly, the question more of a growl than a whisper, his eyes glossing over with a mix of pain and desire. It’s as if he’s losing himself, too wrapped up in the physical to recognise the emotional turmoil beneath it all.

But you bring him back. Your hands cup his face, pulling him into a kiss that’s both tender and fierce, grounding him in the present. When you pull away, your eyes lock onto his, your fingers brushing away the tear that slips down his cheek, a stark contrast to the rough rhythm of his thrusts.

“No, Yeonjun. No one else,” you say firmly, your voice carrying a truth that he can’t deny. He searches your gaze, looking for any hint of a lie, but all he finds is sincerity. A sigh of relief escapes him, his grip on your throat loosening.

“I’m sorry, love,” he murmurs, his tone filled with regret as he dips his head, his hands moving to cradle your hips. “Let me make it up to you.” His voice is soft, his mind now focused on one thing: making you feel every ounce of love he still holds for you. His thrusts become more deliberate, aiming to hit that perfect spot inside you with each movement, his eyes locked onto your face as your moans create a symphony of pleasure.

The car rocks with the intensity of his movements, the sounds of skin against skin filling the small space. “I’m close, Yeonjun,” you gasp out, your arms clinging to him as if he were your only anchor in a storm of sensations.

He doesn’t relent, his pace constant, his dirty words whispered against your skin sending your mind into a spin. You wrap yourself around him, holding on as you reach your peak, your body trembling with the force of your release. It’s not just the release of tonight’s tension, but of all the pent-up emotions from the years you spent apart.

Yeonjun isn’t far behind, his release coming in powerful waves as he fills you completely. The car falls silent, the only sounds left are your breaths and the gentle hum of the night outside. His arms remain tightly wrapped around you, as if he’s afraid to let go, as if holding you will keep you here, with him.

Slowly, he pulls back, his movements gentle as he slips out of you, your body shuddering at the sudden emptiness. A mix of your juices leaks out, and Yeonjun can’t resist lowering his head to lick at your sensitive core, cleaning up the mess he made. You squirm beneath him, overstimulated, but he’s quick to finish, his lips leaving your skin with a final, tender kiss.

Reaching into the front seat, he grabs a small blanket and drapes it over your bodies. He props your head up on his jacket, fashioned into a makeshift pillow, before lying down beside you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, his body warm against yours as you both settle into the comfortable silence.

Exhausted and sated, neither of you speaks. You just lie there, naked under the blanket, wrapped in each other’s arms. Whatever tomorrow brings, whatever questions about your relationship remain unanswered, they can wait. Tonight, you sleep in the warmth of each other’s embrace, content for the first time in a long while.

The next morning, you’re startled awake by the loud, chirpy voice of Beomgyu, laughing and saying something you’re too tired to comprehend. Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the brightness of the morning. The first thing you see is Beomgyu, snapping pictures of you and Yeonjun, who are tangled up on the cramped seat of Yeonjun’s car. Beside him, Nari is laughing, playfully slapping his arm to make him stop.

Yeonjun stirs beside you, groaning at the noise and the light streaming in. He notices your movement and is greeted with the same sight—Beomgyu dancing around outside the window, grinning like a fool. Yeonjun lets out another groan, clearly unimpressed.

Beomgyu, ever the mischief-maker, pulls Nari close, pressing her against him in a mock imitation of what you two had been doing last night. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore his antics. “Good morning,” you mutter to Yeonjun, deciding to focus on him instead of Beomgyu’s immaturity. From the way Nari and Beomgyu are behaving, you can only assume their night went just as well.

But as you sit up, still wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, you’re hit with a wave of confusion. Were Yeonjun and Nari really just friends then? The thought leaves you unsettled, and Yeonjun’s expression mirrors your confusion. What was actually going on?

You shoo away Beomgyu with a wave of your hand, and Nari drags Beomgyu away with a grin. Yeonjun slowly sits up, reaching for his clothes scattered on the floor. “Morning,” he replies, his voice stiff, as if unsure of what to say.

You both dress in the peaceful silence that falls after Beomgyu’s departure, the morning air now calm. Once fully clothed, Yeonjun opens the car door, letting in a refreshing breeze. He steps out, stretches, and then offers you his hand. You take it, grateful for his support as you struggle to stand upright.

He leads you to the entrance of the apartment, where Beomgyu is waiting with his usual devilish grin. “Don’t worry, lovebirds,” he says, tapping the elevator beside him with a wink. “Elevators are fixed, just for you two.” If you had the energy, you’d probably smack him, but you’re too drained to even try.

The four of you wait for the elevator, and when it arrives, you all step in. The ride up is awkward, the tension of unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. “So…” Nari finally speaks, breaking the silence. She clears her throat, glancing between you and Yeonjun. “Um, just so you know, Yeonjun and I were never really dating. We’re just friends. That kiss at the bar last night? Was the first and last time.”

You turn to look at her, slightly surprised. “Oh… I see.”

“Yeah,” she continues, her voice lightening. “Honestly, I brought Yeonjun to make Beomgyu jealous. That’s all.” She laughs, and you can’t help but join in. After all, Beomgyu basically did the same thing.

“And Beomgyu told me about you guys,” Nari adds, her laughter infectious. Yeonjun, who has been silent until now, finally turns to face her, his interest piqued.

“Oh… Did she not tell you yet?” Beomgyu asks, looking between the two of you, confused. “No?” Yeonjun replies, equally confused.

Just as another question is about to be asked, the elevator doors slide open, and Beomgyu and Nari quickly exit, eager to escape the tension. You and Yeonjun follow, your body leaning against him for support as you’re still feeling the aftereffects of last night.

Inside Beomgyu’s apartment, Yeonjun gently sets you down on the couch and helps you remove your shoes. “We’ll be in the bedroom for, uh, a few seconds,” Beomgyu says with a grin, pointing between himself and Nari.

“Uh-huh,” Yeonjun responds, still perplexed. As the two disappear into the bedroom, you’re left alone with Yeonjun, and now is the perfect time to clear the air.

You turn to face him, gathering your thoughts. “Yeonjun.” He gives you his full attention, his expression serious. “Beomgyu and I were never dating either. He’s actually my friend from kindergarten…”

You pause, watching his reaction. “Beomgyu wanted to see Nari again, and this was his dumb idea to make it happen. He didn’t even know we were exes. It was just a crazy coincidence that we both ended up here.”

“And we’ve never done anything like… that,” you add, your voice softening. He knows exactly what you mean. “Ever since we broke up,” you continue, licking your lips nervously, “I haven’t even taken any interest to another guy. I haven’t moved on. I couldn’t.”

His face remains unreadable, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. “Yeonjun, breaking up with you was my biggest mistake,” you admit, your voice wavering. “I was dealing with so much in my own head, and we were younger, and I didn’t realize how much our relationship meant. I thought it was holding me back, but I was blind to all the good parts.”

He sighs, his chest rising and falling as he processes your words. His eyes drop to the floor, lost in thought. You move closer, gently cupping his cheek with your hand. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your thumb brushing against his skin. “For wasting so much time, for hurting you.”

You hesitate before adding, “I understand if you’re not ready to get back together—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firm. He lifts his head, meeting your gaze. “No, I want to get back together. It’s what I’ve needed for the past two years, Y/N.” His words bring a smile to your face, and he takes your hand in his. “And if you’re ready, I’d like to start fresh. Better than before.”

“I’d love that, Yeonjun,” you reply, your heart swelling with relief. He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tender kiss. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Yeonjun,” you respond, and the two of you stay like that for a moment, savoring the closeness.

Suddenly, your moment is interrupted by a loud moan from the bedroom. “Oh, Beomgyu!” The sound is unmistakable, and you and Yeonjun snap your eyes open, exchanging shocked looks before bursting into laughter. Yeonjun’s signature laugh fills the room, his eyes squinting into crescents as his eyebrows shoot up in a mix of shock and amusement.

“Fuckkk,” Beomgyu’s voice echoes through the walls, followed by the undeniable sound of skin slapping against skin. “Oh gosh, let’s get out of here,” you say, scrambling to get off the couch, your face flushed with embarrassment.

Yeonjun agrees, quickly putting on his shoes. “You like that, huh?” Beomgyu’s voice continues, and you and Yeonjun exchange horrified glances as you both rush to leave.

“Yeah, no, we’re leaving,” Yeonjun says, scooping you up into his arms and hurrying you out the door.

“Yeonjun!” you squeal, laughing as he carries you outside. “Where are we even going?”

“My apartment,” he answers with a smile, the two of you leaving Beomgyu’s place behind, a trail of giggles following in your wake.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Author's notes)

Hi this is my first ever Tumblr story that's this long! So, I would appreciate if you comment any feedback or critiques!

I will be making a master-list to organise my work really soon :).

I'm also working on another story currently, that I believe is longer and has a more intense plot. It includes smut but it is more of detective psychological story with plot twists. I still haven't fully decided who to pair it with (I'm open to any group I'm familiar with; BTS, TXT, SVT, ATZ, ENHA, ZB1 etc..), so if you would like a specific member for this story lmk! I'll try to take in your suggestions :D! I will also be posting a prolougue/teaser to it soon.

If you'd like to be in my taglist please reply and lmk.

I take in requests! So, feel free to send any in :)!

So yeah, hope this story was an enjoyable read! Have a great day loves 💕.

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minxmut-cafe · 1 month ago

Text

9. Whispers and Shadows

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Genre: Fantasy Au.

Authors note: HERE is the 9th chapter! I've also opened a KOFI page so if you're interested in my writing your support would be appreciated.

General Warning: (eventual) Smut, crude language, angst, fluffy, gorey themes, lil bit of torture,

Summary: In the kingdom of Solaria, Prince Jimin is caught in a web of secrets, darkness, and ancient power. When a mysterious maid enters his life, he's drawn into an intricate tale of betrayal, loss, and a curse that binds a forgotten princess to the depths of the ocean. As tensions rise between the five powerful tribes, Jimin discovers a hidden connection between the princess, a siren, and his own fate-one that could unravel the balance of the entire world.

With the Abyss calling, and the truth slipping just beyond his reach, Jimin must navigate treacherous waters, confront his past, and uncover the secrets that tie him to the ocean's depths. But the more he learns, the deeper the darkness becomes, threatening to pull him under.

Will Jimin uncover the truth before it's too late? Or will the ocean's power drown them all

MASTERLIST

The Festival of Unity transformed Solaria into a vibrant mosaic of colors and sounds. Tribes from all corners of the realm mingled, their banners rippling in the breeze, their traditions blending in a delicate dance of harmony. Yet, beneath the laughter and the feasting, tensions simmered. Ignis Solari and Nerithal stood at the heart of it, their leaders exchanging pleasantries that barely masked the cracks in their fragile alliance.

Jimin moved through the bustling courtyard, helping the citizens set up decorations and carry supplies. The simple work gave him a fleeting sense of normalcy, a chance to forget the secrets he carried. He even managed a faint smile as children ran past him, their excitement infectious. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt princely—like someone his people could rely on.

But the sensation didn’t last long.

As he helped a group of elders arrange a ceremonial garland, he felt the weight of a gaze. He turned his head, his heart sinking as his eyes locked with Queen Althea’s.

She sat among the visiting kings, her regal posture impeccable, her expression cold. Her gaze wasn’t casual or indifferent; it was sharp, probing, as though she could see straight through him.

Jimin swallowed hard, quickly averting his eyes. She didn’t know the full truth—she couldn’t—but her suspicion was palpable. She knew there was something, some connection between him and the princess.

He needed to leave.

---

Jimin slipped away from the courtyard, weaving through the palace halls until he reached the kitchens. The warm air and comforting aroma of baked goods did little to ease his nerves. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on her.

The maid was moving quietly among the chaos, arranging platters and garnishing dishes with an efficiency that bordered on grace. But Jimin knew better. The maid was no ordinary servant. She was the shadow of the princess, tethered to her in ways he still didn’t fully understand.

Without hesitation, he crossed the room. “Come with me,” he said in a low voice, careful not to draw attention.

She looked up, her expression neutral, but something flickered in her eyes—amusement, perhaps? She said nothing, simply nodding and following him out of the kitchen.

They walked quickly, Jimin taking the lead as they navigated the palace halls. He moved with purpose, glancing over his shoulder every so often to ensure they weren’t being followed. When they reached his chambers, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, ushering her in before locking the door behind them.

He turned to face her, ready to speak—but the air in the room shifted.

The temperature dropped, and a faint chill seeped into his skin. It was subtle, but unmistakable. The same cold he had felt in the bathing chambers.

Jimin’s breath hitched as he looked at the maid standing before him. Or rather, the princess.

Her disguise was flawless, her uniform and demeanor identical to that of the shadow he had come to recognize. But there was no mistaking the presence she carried now, an aura that felt deeper, more alive.

“You’re not the maid,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

The princess’s lips curved into a playful smile. “Took you long enough to notice,” she teased.

Jimin narrowed his eyes. “One of you is supposed to stay submerged while the other roams. If you’re here, then—”

“She’s probably drowning somewhere in the ocean,” the princess interrupted, her tone nonchalant. She tilted her head, as if to study his reaction. “But don’t worry too much. She doesn’t mind.”

Jimin ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Your mother is here, along with the leaders of every tribe. If anyone recognizes you—”

“Oh, come now,” the princess interrupted, pouting playfully. “Is it so wrong of me to want to visit my dearest?” She stepped closer, her tone turning teasing. “Besides, don’t you like it when I visit?”

Jimin’s jaw tightened. As a fae, he couldn’t lie, but that didn’t mean he had to admit the truth outright. Instead, he clicked his tongue, looking away.

Her laughter was soft and melodic, filling the space between them. “That’s what I thought,” she said, her voice laced with satisfaction.

Jimin glanced back at her, his frustration warring with something he couldn’t quite name. She was infuriating, reckless—but he couldn’t deny the strange comfort her presence brought him.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

The princess smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “And yet, here we are.”

She moved closer still, her gaze softening as she studied him. “You look different today,” she said, her voice quieter now. “More... alive.”

Jimin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The princess shrugged, her playful demeanor slipping away to reveal something more earnest. “You’ve been so weighed down lately. It’s nice to see you like this. Helping your people. Being a part of something.”

Jimin’s chest tightened. Her words shouldn’t have affected him the way they did, but they struck a chord deep within him.

Before he could respond, she reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. The gesture was brief, almost casual, but it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she said softly.

Before he could respond, she suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him toward her with surprising strength.

"Hey!" Jimin exclaimed, caught off guard. His balance faltered as she yanked him closer. In one fluid motion, she flung him onto his bed, her laughter ringing in the air.

Jimin landed with a soft thud, his breath knocked out of him for a moment. He blinked up at her, incredulous, but she was already sitting next to him, her playful grin never leaving her face.

"Well, now that we're comfy..." she said, settling herself beside him, "tell me, Jimin, how does it feel to be the keeper of such a little secret?"

Jimin, still processing how he’d been so easily overpowered, tried to sit up, but she leaned over, pressing him back down onto the bed.

“Are you having fun?” she asked, her voice light but with an edge of teasing. “Keeping your connection to me a secret? I know it must be so thrilling. A little forbidden rendezvous between the two of us.”

Jimin’s chest tightened, a mixture of confusion and frustration swirling inside him. His mind was racing—why was she so carefree, so full of teasing energy, when the world around them was in turmoil?

“You’re impossible,” Jimin muttered, trying to regain some semblance of control.

The princess’s eyes sparkled as she leaned closer, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Impossible?” she repeated, as if savoring the word. “I’m just having a little fun. But, tell me, Jimin... Do you like it? Do you like keeping secrets?”

She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes searching his face as if she were reading a book. She was close enough now that Jimin could feel her breath on his skin, and the air between them was charged.

Jimin swallowed, trying to steady his breathing. “You’re making this a lot harder than it has to be,” he said, though his voice faltered slightly.

She raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Harder, hmm? I’m just keeping you company. Besides... We both know you're enjoying this more than you'd care to admit.”

Jimin let out a frustrated sigh, his hands running through his hair again, but his words faltered. He couldn't lie—not as a fae—and it was becoming clear to him that part of him didn't want to.

The princess’s playful expression softened for a brief moment, and her tone took on something more sincere. “Don’t worry, Jimin. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

She leaned back slightly, gazing at him with an almost tender look, but then, in the next breath, she added with a wicked grin, “Of course, I wouldn’t mind fulfilling some of your... fantasies.”

Her eyes gleamed with mischief, and she gave him a look that was both suggestive and teasing.

Jimin’s face immediately flushed a deep crimson. His heart raced, and he scrambled to sit up, flustered. “C-Cut it out!” he stammered, hands pushing at her, though she was already leaning back, clearly enjoying his reaction.

His mind was in a whirl, and he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “You—you can’t just—what are you—”

She laughed at his reaction, her expression full of amusement and a hint of something more mischievous. “Oh? I thought fae were known for being bold and unashamed. How cute. I didn’t lrealize you were so shy.”

Jimin tried to push himself further away, his face still burning. “I-I’m not shy! I just... you can’t say stuff like that!”

She just watched him, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned back, hands behind her head. “Well, I think you secretly do like it, Jimin.”

Jimin shot her a glare, but it only made her smile wider. He couldn’t deny the embarrassment that was still making his cheeks flush with heat. "You're impossible," he muttered under his breath.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, her voice light and teasing.

Jimin still couldn’t shake the warmth in his cheeks as he shifted away, trying to compose himself. The princess watched him for a moment, her eyes glinting with amusement, before she finally spoke again, her voice softer but with an edge of curiosity.

“So, tell me, Prince Jimin,” she began, propping herself up on her elbows, her gaze now more direct. “What’s this festival I keep hearing about? The one where all the tribes come together, united for a day?”

Jimin let out a breath, trying to regain his composure as he leaned back against the bed, still not entirely used to the way her presence affected him. He thought about the festival for a moment. It was supposed to be a celebration of unity—an opportunity for peace between the tribes, a day when everyone could set aside their differences. But Jimin wasn’t blind to the tensions that simmered beneath the surface.

“It’s a tradition,” he started, his voice a little more even now. “A celebration of unity. Every year, the tribes gather to commemorate the moment the first king brought us all together.” He paused, eyes drifting to the window where the sunlight was beginning to fade. “But it’s not as peaceful as it sounds.”

The princess raised an eyebrow, intrigued. She shifted, moving closer to him again with the same silent grace, her every movement like water flowing over rocks. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.

Jimin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "The tensions between the tribes are high. The Ignis Solari King, my father, and the others—they don’t trust each other. Not anymore. The festival is supposed to be a moment for peace, but... well, it’s just as much about posturing as it is about celebration."

The princess didn’t seem surprised, but her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “People and their pride. You’d think centuries of history would teach them something, wouldn’t you?”

Jimin couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “You’d think.”

There was a long pause as the two of them sat in the quiet of his chamber, the tension from their earlier exchange still lingering in the air. The princess’s gaze softened, and she studied him for a moment, her dark eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression.

"You seem… different, Jimin. Tired, maybe, but also something else." She tilted her head slightly, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Worried?"

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to answer.

“The festival… it feels like it’s building to something. Everyone’s on edge. I have to keep up appearances, but I can feel it in the air. Something’s coming. I don’t know if it’s the festival itself, or something else…”

She looked at him with an intensity that made him feel exposed, almost as if she could see into his very thoughts. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? Afraid of what might happen, afraid of the future you can’t control.”

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He’d never spoken about his fears to anyone, let alone someone like her. His thoughts about the festival, his role as a prince, and his own personal worries collided in a wave of uncertainty.

But before he could answer, the princess’s voice cut through the silence again, light and teasing. “Well, if you’re so worried, maybe I could help you with that.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, slightly thrown off by her sudden shift in tone. “Help me? How?”

The princess leaned closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “I’m very good at sensing what people need, Jimin. Especially people like you... trapped between duty and desire, honor and your own truth.”

Jimin's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if it was the festival, the weight of his responsibilities, or something else entirely that was making him feel this way. “You think you can help me?” he asked, voice low, almost a challenge.

The princess smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I think I already have."

Before Jimin could respond, a sharp knock echoed on the door, followed by a deep voice. "Your Highness, the King requests your presence immediately."

Jimin hesitated for a moment, the weight of his thoughts pulling at him as he turned toward the door. The princess—no, the maid—was still close, lingering in the shadows as if watching him closely. She gave him a teasing smile, almost as if she knew what his next move would be.

"I suppose duty calls," Jimin muttered under his breath, trying to mask the frustration he felt at having to leave this conversation unresolved.

With one last lingering glance at her, he stepped toward the door, where the guard stood waiting. "The King has requested your presence in the council hall, Your Highness," the guard stated formally.

Jimin gave a small nod, acknowledging the command. He didn’t need to be told twice, not with the weight of his father’s authority hanging over him. But as he stepped past the doorframe, he paused and looked back at the princess. She was standing there still, her gaze fixed on him, though her expression was playful.

"You’ll be fine," she said, her voice light. "I’ll be around." The way she said it—soft, but with an undercurrent of something more—made his pulse quicken. There was a mix of confidence and mischief in her smile, and for a brief moment, Jimin wondered just how much she truly knew about the chaos she was stirring.

Turning away from her, he walked toward the council hall, each step heavier than the last. His mind raced, torn between the growing responsibilities of his title and the mystery surrounding the princess. What was she truly after? And how was she connected to everything that was happening?

Jimin made his way through the grand hall, each step echoing on the stone floor as he approached the door to the summoning hall. The weight of the moment hung heavily in the air, and for a brief second, he felt a pang of unease. The strange events of the past days—his encounters with the princess, the growing tension between the tribes—had left him restless. Now, the king had summoned him, and there was no avoiding it.

He pushed the door open.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. His father, King Hyukjin, sat at the head of the room, his stern gaze immediately falling on Jimin as he entered. The Queen of Nerithal, the mother of the princess, stood at his side. Her presence, always regal and composed, now held an almost unsettling edge. It wasn’t just her cold beauty, but the quiet, calculating look in her eyes that seemed to pierce through him.

Around them, the seers and tide callers stood in a circle, their presence almost ethereal, as though they were attuned to forces beyond the realm of ordinary mortals. Their eyes were closed, but their senses were heightened, channeling the power of the ocean through their words and movements.

The air was thick with whispers—murmurs of prophecies, of warnings, of ancient magic long buried beneath the tides. The seers had gathered for this, as they had for countless generations. But today, something felt different. There was a sense of urgency in the room, a feeling of something stirring beneath the surface.

"Jimin," his father’s voice cut through the tension, deep and commanding. "You’ve arrived."

Jimin nodded, his eyes briefly meeting his father’s before flicking to the Queen of Nerithal. She studied him with that unnerving gaze, but he didn’t flinch. He’d long grown accustomed to her cold demeanor, even if it unsettled him.

"We have gathered here," King Hyukjin continued, "because the southern waters have grown restless. The tide callers speak of strange activity—an increase in abyssal forces. The creatures of the deep are stirring."

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat at his father’s words. Abyssal forces? That could only mean one thing. The princess—the siren who now walked freely among them—was tied to the disturbances. He forced himself to remain calm, to keep his face unreadable. But inside, his mind raced.

The Queen of Nerithal finally spoke, her voice smooth as the ocean’s surface, but with an underlying current of something darker. "The time has come for us to act. We can no longer ignore the changes happening within our waters."

Jimin felt the eyes of the room turn toward him. He stood at the edge of the circle, trying to keep his composure as he met the gaze of each person, feeling their weight pressing down on him. The tide callers, with their mystic robes and sacred symbols, seemed to be waiting for him to speak, their presence silent but heavy.

King Hyukjin’s voice broke the silence. "Jimin, we need you to go to the southern shores. We need to understand what is happening out there. The rise in abyssal activity could be a sign of something far worse. And you, as the heir to the throne, must investigate."

Jimin nodded slowly, his thoughts churning. The southern shores. The very place where the princess had once been sealed away, where the ocean's darkness seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. If the tide callers were sensing something, then it was likely tied to her. But he couldn’t show his hand. Not yet. The less they knew about his connection to the princess, the better.

The Queen of Nerithal's gaze never wavered. "I trust you understand the gravity of this situation," she said softly, her voice filled with hidden meaning.

Jimin bowed his head in deference. "Of course, Your Majesty."

The room fell into silence again as the seers and tide callers chanted softly, their words like an ancient language, their movements graceful but unsettling. Jimin could feel the weight of their power swirling around him, the air thick with magic and tension.

He couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The princess—the siren—was at the heart of this. He had to be careful. Whatever was happening in the southern waters, it was connected to her, and he had a feeling that this mission would uncover more than he was ready for.

King Hyukjin stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "We will send a ship tomorrow at first light. Jimin, prepare yourself. You leave at dawn."

Jimin bowed once more, turning to leave. As he stepped back toward the door, the Queen’s voice stopped him.

"You’ll be careful, won’t you, Prince Jimin?" she asked, her tone sweet but laced with something far more dangerous. It was a warning, though he couldn’t quite place it.

Jimin hesitated, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. "Of course," he replied, his voice steady, though inside, he was anything but.

As the door shut behind him, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The room had been suffocating, the pressure of the council’s expectations pressing down on him. But now that he was alone, his thoughts returned to the princess. To the siren. What was her true role in all of this? What secrets did the southern shores hold?

He had more questions than answers

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