#but i feel like he would have a soft spot

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- Heavy angst, hate sex, cum licking, oral (m and f recieiving) choking, smacking, say hi to Gojo, toxic relationship. WC this part- 6.5k

Will be six parts <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!

<<<Part Two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part four (soon)

Part Three

“Fuck…” Suguru’s moaning as he’s filling you, and it’s just too much, too intimate, his silken long locks falling against your skin, his lips hovering over yours, one of your legs wrapped on his hip.

“Fuck you…” Is what you mutter back, as his cock fills you, hitting every damn spot all at once, you’re soaking him, hands gripping the blankets, trying to avoid that desire to grip him instead.

“You love it, don’t you?” You shake your head and he chuckles, slipping his hand down your tummy to toy with your clit, pressing it in circles, making you cum so damn easily. “No?”

“Who c-cares- mnh!” You’re screaming out as he overstimulates you, those lazy lidded violet eyes devouring your face, your nails grip his back on instinct, making him hiss in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He huffs again, as he feels your walls, so slick and tight, pulsating all around his veiny length. “Feel perfect-” He pauses himself, as you gasp, he’s burying his face in your neck again, fucking into you deeper and harder now, taking over all your senses while he hides his feelings.

That he’s obsessed with you should be obvious, it is obvious to fucking anyone besides you, clearly. You haven’t noticed the way he’s non stop in your presence, even as there’s a knocking on his door now, he scowls over at it, you release your nails and he glares at you.

“Put them back.” You scowl right back.

“You’re needed M-Master Geto- oh! Ah!” He’s slamming his cock deeper, using one arm to balance, as the other grabs you by your throat.

“Put them back, now. Are the sheets fucking you?”

“I like them better than y-you.”

“Annoying fucking brat…” He grumbles, shoving his cock so deep as the door knocks again. “What is it!?”

“Plans for Kiyoto, Lord Geto. We have been waiting for an hour.”

“I’m not done yet.” The wet sounds of his cock splitting you in half fill his chambers, as he chokes you harder, looking as you lose oxygen, big hand taking your pretty little neck more and more. “I’ll come later.”

“Kiyoto?” You murmur, and he squeezes harder, slamming his cock even deeper as the bed creaks with the force.

“You can still speak?” He raises an arrogant brow, you’re helpless as the fuzziness of him choking you makes you feel like you’re floating as he slams his cock so deep, tip pressing into your spongy cervix, you pulse all around him screaming silently in pleasure. “There, shut your stupid mouth.”

Suguru releases your throat, slamming his lips on yours, and you’re too weak to fight it, you let him kiss you, clinging to him desperately, and letting go for just one blissful moment. Where you inhale the scent of the sex filling the room, where you feel his taste buds on your tongue, and your tongue moves back, earning his soft little whimper that he hides.

You wish you could let go.

But how do you let go with a monster?

Suguru’s big hand comes to your thigh now, gripping it and shoving impossibly deeper as you whine out, your hips rolling for more. If there is ever a time the two of you aren’t declaring your hate or scowling, it’s when he’s fucking you into that bed, deeper and deeper, kissing you like he could love you. A mix of hatred, desire, and more and more feelings you both suffocate.

A month married to him, in his bed constantly, in whatever position he had you in, last night you’d been on top of him, as he’d laughed while you tried to ride him, but when you’d rolled your hips a certain way, you got that look. The look of whatever real Suguru Geto is inside of this shell, you got a glimpse of his tenderness when he came inside you.

Even now, it doesn’t feel all like hate, not when he slows, and he parts his lips, murmuring something that sounded like beautiful, but when you ever looked at him, asked him what he whispered, he’d shut down and flip you. He’d fuck you harder until you couldn’t remember whatever tender words may have spilled from lips that only produce hate.

You gasp now, looking up at him, when he entwines a hand in yours, it’s too much pressure in your tummy, it’s too intimate really, he shouldn’t fucking do this, and he knows it. “D-don’t…”

“Don’t hold your hand, but I can cum in you?” He whispers back, and you gulp now, nodding, while he shakes his head. “Rather me choke you again?”

“Yes.” He scoffs, slamming his lips back down again, rhythm slowing. “Stop kissing me, fuck…”

“No.” You turn your face and he exhales, biting your throat now, sinking fully in and throbbing inside you. “Fucking brat, I swear.”

“Shut up and finish- mnh!” Suguru leans up and shoves you in that mating press now, looking down at you as his hair falls loose and silky and long, brushing the backs of your thighs.

“Need my cum so bad, pathetic girl?”

“Monkey.” You finish, and he pauses, it’s been weeks since he’s said it during sex to you, shit a week since he said it at all. Any time someone else said it he’d end them, so people don’t talk that way anymore.

But the irony is it’s his creation, calling others that.

“You only shut up when I lick you, even dick apparently doesn’t work.” You flush at that, and he’s spitting down between your thighs now, obscene as he does it, running that rough thumb on your clit again as you scream out. “There we go, you can’t help yourself, feels too good.”

“Hate you. Hate you.” You’re whispering even as you shatter, milking his cock so that he cums right with you, groaning out loud, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Perfect little cunt, fuck…” He’s whispering, as he watches the creamy stripes already oozing from your little hole, moaning as he sees it, releasing your thighs. “You took so much, but you’re just pushing it all out.”

“There’s enough cum, you cum so much, ugh.” You grumble, voice breathy as he chuckles so cruelly, finally pulling out of you, dripping with your slick and his seed, sticky and glistening.

“Clean it up then.” He gets on his back now, yanking you until you’re on his face, you gasp then.

“Suguru…”

“Fuck…” He’s parting your drooling lips as you brace yourself on either side of him, feeling the tip of his tongue flick on your overstimulated clit. “Saying my name? Are you only sweet when I eat you out?”

“Shut it.” You lap at his sticky tip, he jerks in your hand, still mostly hard as he’s moaning against you, making you drip out more of his cum right on his lips, mixed with how slick you are.

“Pretty pussy so beat up.”

“Pretty, hmm?” You are met with him shoving up his cock deep, as you suck as much as you can of him, you’ve sucked him a few times now, times when you can’t help yourself.

You love to.

But you don’t want him having the satisfaction.

Though you’ve never done… this, sitting on his face while he laps you up, his huge hands on your hips, while his tongue scoops the cum pouring, only making you closer again. Your eyes roll back as you suck him deeper, losing yourself in the sensations again, it's hard to remember when his tongue devours you that he’s a mass murderer who ‘hates you’.

“Suguru…” You’re pulling back for a moment, pulling away as he flicks your clit again and again, hot breath right on your core, and he glares, yanking you back.

“Don’t run, now, let me get her ready for me again.” You just whine, pathetically, shaking your head.

“M’gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Now.” You sure won’t be taking his orders, but he sucks your tiny clit in his mouth, shoving his cock up with a thrust of his hips, and you are cumming, just like he fucking said. Your thighs shake on either side of his pretty face, as he licks you clean, his own cock fully hard and ready again in your throat. “Finally being good?”

“Mmm, never…” He laughs at you, tapping your hips as you shakily get off him, just to yank you on top, sliding his length between your puffy lips. Your hands brace on his chest, your flushed face so gorgeous he can’t think for a moment. “Must we… so frequently? Shouldn’t I take a test?”

Suguru pauses then.

“And if you are, will you stop your duties as my wife?” He asks, while you grind on him, and you’re exhaling, trying to focus.

“What’s Kyoto?”

“Jesus… just fuck me, don’t talk.”

“That’s all we do!”

“That’s all I enjoy to do with you, it’s the only time you’re not a mean little bitch.” You glare now, leaning back and slapping his cheek, he slaps you right back, while he drags you on his cock, and you scream in pleasure, tits right in his face bouncing with the motion. “There you go, can’t help yourself.”

“Hate you… what the…” He slaps your tits now, as you whine out in pleasure, he leans up to suck one in his mouth, moaning, cheeks hollowed as he does. “Tell me nothing, hmm?”

“It’s an attack, okay? Will you focus on riding dick, your technique is pathetic.” You scowl again, rolling your hips just so and grinding with him bottomed out, smirking as you elicit a whimper.

“Whining like a little bitch, the almighty Lord Geto.”

“God I hate you.” He whispers, pulling you by your hair and kissing you again, so brutal and bruising while he shoves his cock up inside you, skin sweaty and slick from the two of you.

“Attack for what?” You whisper, close to cumming again.

“A thousand curses, will take out every non-sorcerer… f-fuck you feel so… mmm… and anyone who stops me.” You pause at that, unmoving, looking at him in horror now.

“What!?” You earn his scowl, he flips you on the other side of the bed, on top again, a hand on your mouth, as you yank at it.

“I’m killing everyone in that city that’s human. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe, you’re with me.” Your parents live in Kyoto, he doesn’t even let you argue, sinking deeper, shaking his head.

“My parents-”

“Your parents, my parents, baby they’re all gonna die soon.” You’re in horror and shock as the door knocks again, and Suguru rolls violet eyes. “I said I’m busy!”

“Satoru Gojo is here, Lord Geto. You may want to… see this.” Suguru freezes over you.

“You’re gonna kill our parents!? Everyone!? Really!”

“Have I ever made it a secret?” He scoffs, pulling out of you and making you flush in embarrassment as he looks at your body. “I said I’d make an exception, why is that not enough? What more must I constantly do?”

“I don’t know- not be a murderer psycho!?” He’s scowling again as he gets dressed, and you hastily follow.

“I’ll be out there in just a moment.” He says gruffly and you’re following him out, earning him constantly glaring back at you. “I’ll knock you out with a sleeping curse if you don’t stop.”

“Thought I was supposed to go everywhere with you, as your wife, hmm?” His jaw locks as you two step outside, the brightness blinding for just a moment, as several of Suguru’s cult members are ready to fight Gojo, who’s just smirking, turning his attention to the two of you then.

“You paid me a visit, figured I’d return the favor buddy.” Satoru says with a big grin, and Suguru smirks so damn evil, while Satoru eyes you behind the veil of white thin material, face softening a bit. “Who’s the pretty girl, and why is she near you?”

“My wife, okay?” Satoru pauses, while Suguru steps closer, crossing his arms under his wide robes. “What’s it to you?”

Satoru pulls up his white wrapped blindfold, one cerulean eye meeting yours, swirling storms that you could never forget, looking back at Suguru, glossy lips turning up in a smirk. Suguru scowls right at him, when Satoru puts his hands in the pockets of his dark blue pants, tilting his silvery locks as he steps just a bit closer, his shoes glinting under the light with each step.

“A non-curse user married to the infamous Suguru Geto.” Gojo whistles now, walking closer until he’s right in front of you.

“Arranged marriage.” Suguru says, making you tense, feeling sick to your stomach, sure you know it’s true, but…

Perhaps you thought you were a little more?

“Ah, need me to take her off your hands?” Satoru taunts, grinning as he puts his blindfold back on, and you watch Suguru stiffen, before he glares.

“The fuck you say?”

“You hate humans, I’ll take her with me. Sure she’d prefer that over certain death, hmm?”

“You won’t take her any fucking where.”

“Why, it’s forced, right?” Satoru’s lilting voice was laced with sarcasm, as he looks right through Suguru, the way you do, the way Shoko had so casually the day he last saw her, the way only people…

People he loved did.

Fuck he can’t, he doesn’t, but as Satoru brushes your hair back gently and you eye him curiously, he grips one of Satoru’s wrists tightly, and he can feel the goddamn gaze behind that blindfold. Knowing, still caring somehow, though Suguru doesn’t deserve his care, nor does he deserve you.

If he loved you enough, he’d let you run the fuck away with Satoru, perhaps he could keep you safe, from the monster Suguru had become.

But he can’t stand the thought of you gone.

“Is it because she’s pregnant?”

“What!?” Suguru demands, and he lifts his blindfold again, eyeing you with those powerful six eyes that everyone knows the Gojo heir has, as you touch your tummy, looking at Satoru in shock.

“It’s brand new, won’t even show up on a test, but you are.” Satoru’s voice is just a little soft, you could feel how he felt horrible for you, but also you could still feel the love he had for his former best friend.

“You can see?” You murmur softly, as Suguru’s lips are parted.

“I can see a lot. I see you care about her, hmm?”

“You need to leave, to prepare for when I come.”

“Suguru!” His name on your lips makes him pause, as you look at him with tears now. “You can’t do it.”

“Oh I can’t hmm?” Suguru’s struggling to remember his motives, all he can think of is that there’s a fucking baby in you already.

“You can’t do this, what life will this baby even have?”

“A better one, when the scum is off this earth.”

“Including her?” Satoru says now, and Suguru’s jaw locks, violet eyes narrowed with his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the wind starts whipping around the three of you, as you feel Satoru’s immense energy. It’s far surpassing Suguru’s, intense to withhold as it surrounds him. “If you hate humans, you hate her.”

“That’s… she’s mine.”

“Your human?”

“She’s my…” He stands in front of you now, as Satoru grins, chuckling just a bit. “She’s my wife and has my heir, she won’t leave my fucking sight.”

Suguru never wants you to leave him, the thought makes his heart clench with fear, his very energy shifting, and Satoru picks up on it. “Oh so you’ll just kill her once she has your heir?”

“No I…”

“Why not, care about someone again?” Suguru bristles at that, at his friend seeing everything with one glance, Satoru has always been that way.

“So perceptive now, are you?”

Satoru’s jaw locks. “Now, yes, and you are blinded, can’t even see what’s here for you, can you?”

“Satoru fuckin leave, go prepare now because I sure the fuck am coming prepared to kill everyone in that city, including you.” Suguru stomps away, as Satoru sighs, stepping closer to you.

“Are you alright here?” He murmurs, you nod then, carefully. “I can get you out of here.”

“You what?” You blink just a bit, and Suguru is shouting your name, glaring at the two of you.

“You love him too, don’t you?” Satoru’s question makes you question yourself, your own heart, things you’re trying to shove back, to avoid. But it’s as if Satoru knows you better than yourself and almost like you can feel the love he himself has, the care radiating under his powerful energy.

“No! God no…” You falter, and Satoru exhales, brushing the backs of his fingers across your cheek, and you feel Suguru summon a curse right around you, making you gasp.

“Back the fuck off.” Suguru speaks through gritted teeth, Satoru just smirks, waving off Suguru’s curse like it’s nothing.

“You see them.”

“Yes, I can, some… family trait.” You murmur softly.

“Hmm, interesting. I can still take you away, just say the word.”

You hate Suguru.

Suguru is a psycho murderer.

Right?

“Or…”

“Or?” Suguru’s now got his people around him, his cult, his minions, making you sick as they gather, as if they’re putting a dent in Satoru Gojo.

“Or… you try to stop him.”

“Me!? He fucking hates me, he thinks-”

“Nah. He certainly doesn’t hate you, in fact… maybe only you can get through to him.” He rubs the back of his neck, as Suguru and his group start stepping forward. “I’ve tried, I’m… fucking tired.”

“If you don’t get through, how can I?” Your voice is hoarse, Satoru leans down a bit, voice dropping to a murmur.

“He feels something. Try to… just buy me some time could you?” You gulp now, as you touch your stomach again.

“I’ll try, Gojo.” He smiles at you then, the smile you remember has changed he's… sadder now.

“You have something on here…” He brushes long fingers against your neck, making you tremble a bit at the contact, then blush. You'd only been with Suguru and it wasn't either of your choices, so you wonder if it's just … someone else touching you? Or if it's his intense energy, but soon you notice a little piece of paper that he's placed there. “In case you need me.”

You nod, tucking it in your robes. “Thank you…”

“Good luck with… all of it.”  He disappears with one more sad look at Suguru, who's now scowling as he walks over to you. “Go to your room until I say you can leave.”

“What!?”

“Now you’ll be seen as a weakness.” He says, in disgust at the thought, looking at you furiously.

“Why, when you don’t care?” Your words make him furious, how can you not know what he feels?

“I do care, that’s the problem.”

“Oh, I’m a problem!?”

“Go. Now.” You shake your head at him, and he grabs you by your chin, squeezing it tightly. “Go to your room for the rest of the night, I will not repeat myself, or would you like your parents dead earlier?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You say through your sobs that are rising in your throat, and Suguru pauses, guilt flashing as he sees what he’s already done to you, and he hasn’t even started.

“Now.” You rush off as he stares, and the others gather, he aches to follow you when you slam that door, when he hears your cries, but he does nothing. “Someone lock her doors from the inside out.”

******

It’s been all night you’ve been stuck in this goddamn room, and of course you have no phone in here, Suguru lets you use a cell phone to speak to your parents but he never really lets you keep it in your room. Finally, it’s gotta be late, you’ve lost sense of time but the locked windows of your room show it’s dark out, the door opens with a resounding click.

You peer and see him then, furious at you as he stands there, and you step up to the doorway. “Locking me away like this is beauty and the beast, huh?”

“Might as well be, isn’t that what we are?” He raises a brow, and you gulp now, shaking your head.

“No, you’re beautiful. On the outside.” You watch Suguru pause now, face softening a bit. “If I’m pregnant, shouldn’t I be allowed to eat?”

“I didn’t say… you think…”

“You’ve locked me in here for hours.” Your tummy growls as if on cue, and Suguru feels like…

God worse than shit.

His best friend had just been there, and now the girl he’s fallen for is starving and apparently… pregnant. If Gojo is to be believed, there’s life inside of you already, and what sort of life would it be when you’re living in constant terror from him? But Suguru is too far down this path, as much as he will make an exception for you, he will not do that for anyone else.

His family and yours included, eventually.

“So you know, your parents are on vacation.” You exhale in relief, but then instantly feel guilty.

What about everyone else?

“Can I have a phone to talk to them, please?”

He shrugs then. “Sure, I’ll have one brought to you along with dinner.”

“So I have to stay here!?”

“Until you calm down.” He shuts the door again as you glare at it, and he’s resting his head on the other side, despising himself.

“Suguru, really!?”

It’s of no use. With dinner and a phone in a little bit, you devour it, realizing then that you are starving, you’d fucked the man all morning and are apparently… carrying his baby, and haven’t eaten anything. The door opens and Suguru stands there once again, crossing his arms and looking down at you.

“You can come to my chambers if you behave.” You’ll behave alright.

Knowing it to be your chance to attempt to get to him in any way, you agree. As you walk down the halls, seeing his daughters giggling as if everything’s fine, Suguru pats them on the head as he pauses, and when they leave, he looks at you. “So if they were human, what would you do?”

“I asked you to behave.”

“Did you think of Gojo and-”

“Forget who you belong to?” He says angrily, hands on your shoulders now, heat burning you through the silk of your robes.

“It’s just all arranged, yeah?” Your retort leaves him breathless, sputtering, as he catches you by your wrist.

“It was arranged, but let me explain-”

“Nothing you say makes any fucking sense!” You're yanking your arm, now he is dragging you to his room, you're stumbling helplessly, following his quick pace until he's slammed the door behind you.

“You are mine, all mine.” He whispers, huge hands on your face, as you bite a trembling lip.

“Suguru, you can’t do this. Please.”

“Stop telling me what I can or can’t do. Why, think I’m not powerful enough?” He slams a hand on one side of your head, making you tense.

“Is that all this is, who’s more powerful? Does this mean nothing?” You take that hand putting it on your stomach now, as he gulps audibly, his already tired eyes even more heavy.

“The heir.”

“The baby, say it.”

“Baby…” He murmurs, almost in wonder for a moment, before stepping back, as you feel your heart shattering. “You’ll stay here, you’ll be safe. I’ll have guards if they come to retaliate.”

“Oh, so it’s all fine then, you’re gonna what, kill other kids!? Pregnant women!? Does that make you feel good, Suguru, so fucking strong?” You shove at him now, and his dark brows lower, jaw clenched.

“You will be safe.”

“For how long, until your hatred overtakes you, and you remember what I am. Say it, huh?” He’s squeezing your wrists, shoving you off him, pinning them above your head as he leans down, the ticking of the clock on his wall matching the rhythm of your pounding heart.

Tick tick tick.

How long until your heart stops beating?

“You’re… more.” He wants to say it then, that he loves you, a human… that he’s never felt like this, even with the love of his friends.

Nothing like it.

You scoff right at him. “Tiny, pathetic, useless, but you’re different, okay? I know that you are.”

“I’m a human. Say it. Say monkey, isn’t that what I am?” He glares at you now, shaking his head, and you laugh then, a mean little laugh. “Can’t now, why?”

“You’re… I… just shut the fuck up.” He slams his lips down on your brutally, your arms are going numb until he releases them, his tongue diving inside your mouth, drinking every bit of you up as you whine softly. “I need you.”

You blink a bit, disoriented at his words, as he picks you up in his arms, and you cling to him, tears filling your eyes. “Why? I’m pregnant now, remember?”

“You think Gojo knows?”

“He knows a lot. He knows you.” Suguru glares now, your back against that wall, as his hands grip your ass, and you feel his hard body against you. “He loves you.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” He’s kissing you again, as you exhale, trying to catch a breath, trying to control the storm inside of you. “No one should love me.” He murmurs against your neck, teeth sinking in, making you cling to him, nails scraping against the silk of his robes.

“Why n-not? You’re not t-too far-”

“Baby, I’m no good.” He whispers now, in your ear, and you know it’s true, you know that Suguru Geto is a fucking monster.

But you also know one thing too.

You’re in love with him.

In love with a monster who wants to end the world.

“Then why do you need me? Huh? Go get one of your girls, I’m pregnant already.” Suguru scowls as he leans back, and you bite back a moan as he moves against your hot, eager cunt.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Shut up.”

“No! We won’t.” You wriggle until you’re out of his hold, and heading for his door, he presses your front against it, hand on yours on that knob. “Let me go. You said once I got pregnant, you were done. Remember?”

Suguru said a lot, a lot of bullshit.

He called you disgusting, useless, trash, a monkey… but as you look at him the way you do, you’re breaking him, in between making his desire to take you grow by every fucking minute. He cups your face, brushing aside your tears, you always cried over him, didn’t you? He’s not worth them, he’s not worth any of you, yet he’s so obsessed and greedy he still takes.

“We don’t have to stop. We both enjoy this, don’t I make you feel good?” He’s slipping his fingers, moaning when he finds your soaked panties under your pretty yukata, and you clench your teeth, eyes rolling back. “We can give this a chance, having this baby.”

“A chance?” You whisper, in between hiccups of pleasure as he keeps teasing your clit over and over, and you find yourself arching against him.

“To be together. I know they’ll be special- like you.”

“I am a fucking human.”

“No.” He’s sinking two fingers in your slutty little hole, as those sticky walls grip his thick digits so good, as he loses himself in your scent, your feel, the sound of you, every fucking bit. “You’re special, you’re more, I know it.”

“Mnh… I hate you…” You cry out as he pumps more and more, thighs shaking while he works you so damn well.

“I know you hate me. You should… go ahead, cum f’me.”

“Call me it.”

“No.”

“Useless, pathetic- weak, worthless-”

“Beautiful.”

“No!” You’re fighting it, turning in his hold, as he sucks your juices off his fingers, getting on his knees for you, and you’re faltering again. “Don’t call me that.”

“You are beautiful. Do you not know?”

“Shut up. I hate you more for it.” Your tears stream further down your face, as he tries to grip you by the hips, to drag you closer to him. “You act as if you could ever love me.”

Suguru blinks then, pressing a kiss on your tummy for a moment, making you both pause. “We can have a perfect world.”

“It’s a massacre, it’s murder, it’s not perfect! Killing everyone that doesn’t meet your standards? Suguru please just stop. Stop it.”

He scowls now, standing tall, looming right over you, your breath catches in your throat in fear. “I will not stop my plans. Gojo got you this fucked up from one meeting? Maybe you did like him then.”

You scoff now. “Your audacity is batshit. How can you be jealous of your arranged wife who is a human, that you said you didn’t wanna touch!?”

“I… you know I didn’t…”

“I don’t know shit, Suguru Geto. Except Gojo loves you, and fuck, I see glimpses of how and why. I do.” You cup his face then, he jerks back for a moment, like your touch is fire, as you cup the other side of his face. “If you love Gojo, and if you care for me one little bit, you won’t.”

“You assume I love anyone.” His words, lies, tear you apart.

You blink more tears, as Suguru lies right to your face. “You care.”

“So what!? That’s why you’ll be safe.”

“And Gojo? And those damn kids from Jujutsu high, and the people of Kyoto, children, you’ll kill them?”

“Just go. You don’t want to now that you’re pregnant, right? Leave.”

“It’s not that, it’s that I want to know if anything good is fucking inside you, Suguru please just this one thing. Just don’t attack.”

His jaw sets as he pulls your hands off, and they fall to your sides, while he glares down at you. “I’ll give him another week to prepare, you can let him know since you’re suddenly his friend, hmm?”

“He loves you. Don’t you see it? Can’t you still be worthy of it? Of… my love?” You whisper, after he’s turned away, and Suguru laughs darkly.

“You could never love me.”

“How do you know- if you’d just try, Suguru!”

“I’ll give it a week. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“Is there any room for me or this baby in whatever heart you have left, with all that hatred inside you?” You whisper, he turns to open his mouth, but you storm out of his room, sobbing as you rush down the halls, leaving him alone, picturing his friend brushing your hair back.

Gojo would be better for you, wouldn’t he?

But Suguru doesn’t think he could ever let you go, even when he brings you to tears, even when he himself feels moisture that hasn’t been there in so long, memories and images of happiness filling him. Of you and a baby, maybe they look pretty like their mom, maybe they’re fiery like you, maybe they’re…

Human.

He sinks to the ground then, head falling against the door.

What if they’re human?

You’re collapsing on your bed, in tears, trying to pull yourself together, finally getting the number Satoru had conveniently hidden in your collar, pulling it out and dialing it, sniffling. “Hello?”

“I tried… I tried but…”

“Shh, hey, calm down.” Satoru sits up in his empty home, hearing your cries, some odd ache to comfort you filling him.

If anyone knows what it’s like to love Suguru Geto, despite all his flaws and his intentions, it’s Satoru Gojo. But also… you seemed so fragile, so small in a home that all hated you. And yet he saw it in your eyes, pretty eyes, full of fear but also feelings, and then he knew that you care for him, as much as Suguru cared for you, so very clear to Satoru.

“It’s okay… it’s not all on you.” Satoru says, his voice comforting your aching heart now.

“He said another week he would give you.” Satoru sighs then, nodding.

“A week is better, more time to prepare.”

“I tried, he doesn’t… he won’t…”

“I know. You love him.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Neither should I, but I remember my best friend, the only friend I had.” Your heart tears apart for the person Suguru used to be, and now for Satoru, who you barely know, but you feel it, the longing, the loneliness.

“I don’t know if he’s in there. I don’t know if I can face him if he does it.”

“You bought me time, sweetheart, thank you okay? You can only do so much right now.” He says softly, and you take a shaky breath.

“I see why you two were close, you’re kind of comforting.”

“Comforting hmm, I don’t think I was back then.” Satoru remembers being a little shithead, conceited, cocky. “I don’t think I was there when he needed me, when he needed someone. I can’t forgive myself for it.”

“You should.” You lay on your back now, staring up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling, as the warmth of the phone touches your cheek. “What are you gonna do, Gojo?”

“Try to save everyone, of course. Should be a piece of cake.” You snort then, as he laughs a bit, deterring the situation some. “I meant it, I can get you away, somewhere safe.”

“Why would you?”

“You didn’t choose this. You’re just… a girl. You know?”

“Pregnant, really?”

“Mmm, yeah I’m pretty sure. It’s a certain energy I can pick up on, like more than one in your body.”

“I should go, I’ll be fine, I don't think he’d hurt me… in any way other than… hurting others.” He hurts you in his own ways, sure, but Suguru doesn’t realize how much he’s hurting you, pushing you away. You shouldn’t care, you should have known he was this way, but something in you loves him, against it all.

Do you love the monster or the man still inside?

“All right, if you’re sure.” Satoru says softly, cutting your thoughts off as you blink a bit.

“Satoru, will you… kill him if you had to?” He hears the fear, the thoughts he has in his own mind clearly connecting with you, the last thing Satoru ever wanted to do was kill him.

“I’d try everything else first, but I have to defend the kids, and everyone else… if it comes to it, I… shit I don’t wanna think of it.” You hear his emotions, sighing as you come to understand his meaning.

“Is there any of him left?” You ask softly, Satoru takes off his blindfold, pouring himself a drink and leaning against the counter, pressing you against his ear.

“You want to know if the Suguru you met that day is in there?”

“What was he… like, even?”

Satoru laughs a bit, without humor. “He was a little shit.”

“Well, he’s still that.” You both laugh softly, shit it’s the first time you can recall laughing since you’ve been here almost.

“He was arrogant, but he was kind, he thought we should help the weak, I argued with him. He stopped me from… doing some rash things. We lost a few people, and he grew distant, I wish I noticed… or…”

“He wanted to protect the weak?”

“Yes.” You can’t fathom that it's the same man, sighing a bit now, shifting in the bed as sleep starts to tug at you somehow, though you’re scared to even close your eyes. 

“You really loved him.”

“I still do.” He clears his throat a bit now, Satoru’s never really shared how he felt until you, a stranger on a phone, married to his former friend, but for some reason he feels you understand more than anyone. Your voice alone, speaking the words, are something he didn’t know he craved.

“I will keep trying if I can, but I can’t face him right now.”

“Just get some rest, if you need me I’ll get you away. But I hope… I hope he’s still him, somewhere.”

“Me too. Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night.” You hang up, leaving his mind whirling, thinking of your pretty forlorn face, wishing he could save you, wishing he could save his damn best friend, and everyone else. “An extra week, huh…”

You curl up and pass out shortly after, in nightmare after nightmare, hating Suguru, loving Suguru, images of Satoru in there too, of them killing each other, hurting each other. Villages burning, a city in ruins, Suguru’s curses everywhere, so vivid and real you’re tossing and turning, unable to wake up, even as you scream out loud in your sleep.

Suguru is in your chambers then, watching what he’s done, sitting by your side as you toss and turn, gently touching your forehead, sweaty from your exertions. “Shh, Princess…”

Princess.

Why’d he say that?

Why couldn’t he call you it- monkey- anymore?

“Suguru don’t… I love you…” He pauses at your words, on your lips incoherent, tears glistening in the dark room. “Don’t… you’re hurting me… never loved me…”

“I do, fuck I do.” He leans down, holding you, he’s never spent the night with you, of course you wouldn’t allow it, but he’s never even held you.

What’s he done, but fuck you good and try to make you forget how horrible he truly is? As you calm now, blinking a bit, in and out of a daze. “Suguru?” You whisper, fear in your pretty eyes, mixed with more.

He caused this.

How could you even have a baby like this?

“Go to sleep, you were screaming so loud everyone is up.” He huffs, lying to you now, and you pull back.

“I’m fine. Just go, sorry I was having nightmares.” He pulls you back against him now, his strong chest, warmth you ache to sink against, all while you try to picture a world in which he wasn’t evil, wasn’t insane, wasn’t bloodthirsty. A world where he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl, cuddling in bed.

It’s a lovely dream, but you know it’s fake.

“Get to sleep.” His soft order is met with him pulling you even closer, covering you both with a blanket, and for one moment, you let yourself believe the lie, that Suguru could be himself again. That he’d give up this insanity for you.

A beautiful lie, really.

You nestle against him, wrapping an arm around his waist, burying your tired face against his neck, and Suguru feels himself breaking in two. Part of him wants to just… go back to how things were, to be good for you, but there’s still such hatred that’s eaten at him for years. Consuming him.

He knows hatred will win.

But as he holds the girl he loves, he hopes she’ll forgive him for what he's about to do.

More angst cominggg- this will be 6 parts loves <3

taglist #1 @ur-1fav-girl @gradmacoco @arabellasolstice @saitamaswifey @rjreins @uarmyhopeworldwide @makkiihehe @dabisdolly @angelzrulez21-blog @juicu @meme848 @arcanedx @satxoru @jeon-blue @longlivegojo @silvarys @enhasrii @inthedarkshadows000 @shokosmokes @schlokki @ashdiamashi @socutesotall @staarflowerr @you-need-namjesus @pkcoleight @tasteofapplecider @erenspersonalwh0re @makingtimemine @boobsbeesbongos @sjstg3 @msniks @hhhhhhhikariiiiiiii @l1v1ngzomb1e @lilbxtchsyndrome @voideddd @maddyhehehehhe @nanamiskentos @yenayaps @alygator77 @slamonwords @nonamevenus @sugurumylove @shibataimu @spicy-woodland-queen @nonamebbsblog @notyuralycat @beabamboo @satttanx

[svtiddiess]

Now Baby

Synopsis: What better way to make use of the adrenaline rush from the stage than a post-concert fuck?

Pairing: Seungcheol x stylist!afab!reader

Genre: smut, established relationship, series

Rating: mature

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, exhibitionism(?), semi-public sex, orgasm denial, dom!Seungcheol, sub!reader, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Surprise! The celebration doesn't stop until I say so! Enjoy the final fic for the celebration, a bonus to the Quiet Baby series!

Thank you Ally @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!

Quiet Baby | Kneel Baby | Louder Baby | Now Baby

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You rock back and forth on your heels, waiting backstage as the muffled cheers of the crowd bring a smile to your face. They're all here for Seungcheol—your Seungcheol. Even after months of being together, the thought of calling him yours still makes you giddy.

You both tried to keep your relationship a secret, but in Seventeen, secrets don't exist. The rest of the members figured it out almost instantly. Luckily, management is still in the dark—otherwise, you'd be at risk of losing your job, and that's the last thing you want (not that Seungcheol would ever let that happen).

Your eyes stay glued to the monitor as the group takes their final bow, officially wrapping up what felt like an endless concert—courtesy of their never-ending "Aju Nice" encores.

Your grin widens the moment you spot Seungcheol stepping off stage, heading straight for you. Before you can even greet him, he grabs your hand and pulls you deeper backstage.

"Cheol, where are we—" Your words cut off as he shoves you into an empty green room, locks the door, and crashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.

You melt into his embrace, completely consumed by the kiss—messy, heated, and desperate. His hands roam eagerly over your body, gripping and exploring every curve. A soft moan escapes your lips as his hands find your breasts, squeezing them with a hunger that sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

"I need you. Now," he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and urgent, before capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. He guides you to the couch, laying you down with a gentle yet firm insistence.

"Cheol, what if we get caught?" You whimper, your voice trembling as his lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

"Then we'll just have to finish before the others get here, baby," he smirks, his tone teasing but laced with desire before his lips crash into yours again.

A shiver runs through you as his calloused hands slide beneath your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. In one swift motion, he pulls your shirt off, leaving you exposed in just your bra. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and teases your bra-covered nipple with a slow, deliberate lick. A whine escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward his touch.

"Don't tease," you pout, your voice laced with playful frustration, drawing a low chuckle from him.

"Such a spoiled princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he deftly unclasps your bra, letting it fall away and leaving your chest bare.

A shiver ripples down your spine as the cool air kisses your exposed skin. Without hesitation, Seungcheol's mouth finds your nipple, his lips sealing around it as he sucks gently, his hand teasing and toying with the other. Your fingers instinctively tangle in his hair, tugging him closer and urging him to take more. A sharp whimper escapes you when he bites down, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain through your body.

You feel yourself growing wetter by the second, the heat between your thighs intensifying as waves of pleasure surge through you. The sensation of your damp panties clinging to your skin is almost unbearable, and your hips begin to grind against his of their own accord, desperate for more friction. Seungcheol chuckles softly at your needy state, his lips trailing a slow, deliberate path down your body, inching closer to where you need him most.

With deliberate slowness, he peels off your pants, his grin widening as he notices the obvious damp spot on your panties. "Already so wet for me," he hums, his voice thick with desire. He drags a finger over the soaked fabric, making you squirm and whine in frustration.

"Cheol, you said we should hurry," you whine, your voice trembling with need.

"Hush, baby. Or I won't let you cum," he growls, his tone both commanding and teasing. You pout at him, but he only grins in response, clearly enjoying the control he has over you.

He slowly slides your panties down, his breath catching at the sight of your glistening, exposed core. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath before slipping a finger inside you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

You squirm instinctively as his finger begins to move, the sensation overwhelming. "Stay still," he growls, his other hand pinning you down firmly. His fingers work you with precision, curling and thrusting in a rhythm that leaves you breathless. The wet, slick sounds of his movements mix with your moans, filling the room.

A choked mewl escapes your throat when he curls his fingers just right, hitting that sweet spot that sends sparks shooting through your body. He knows you too well, and he knows exactly how to push you to the edge with practiced ease.

Your moans grow higher and more desperate as you feel yourself teetering on the brink of release. But, just as you're about to tip over, he suddenly withdraws his fingers, leaving you gasping and writhing, your orgasm ripped away before you can reach it. A loud, frustrated wail escapes you, your body trembling with unfulfilled need.

"Did you really think I'd let you cum on my fingers?" He chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with amusement. "No, baby, you're only allowed to come on my cock." With that, he pulls down his pants, freeing his hard length. The tip is flushed and glistening, beads of precum already leaking as he positions himself between your legs.

In one swift, unrelenting motion, he slams into you, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as if they're your only anchor. He sets a brutal, animalistic pace, each thrust driving you deeper into the haze of pleasure. His fingers dig into your hips with a possessive intensity, sure to leave bruises as a reminder of this moment later.

The air around you is thick with the heady mix of sex, sweat, and the faint trace of his cologne, overwhelming your senses and leaving you lightheaded. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your eyes rolling back as you surrender completely to the raw, unrelenting pleasure coursing through you.

"Perfect pussy, made just for me. Isn't that right, baby? You're meant to be fucked by me, only me," he growls between thrusts, his voice rough and possessive. All you can do is moan in response, your mind too hazy to form any coherent words.

"Did I already fuck you dumb, baby?" he teases with a low chuckle. Your only reply is another desperate moan.

Your body feels like it's melting beneath him, every thrust hitting that perfect angle that sends electric jolts of pleasure shooting through you.

Knock knock!

The sound of knocking at the door makes you choke back a gasp, your eyes widening in alarm as you glance at Seungcheol. But, he doesn't stop—if anything, his pace becomes even more relentless, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless.

Suddenly, the air feels heavier, charged with a dangerous thrill. The thought of being caught only fuels your arousal, and Seungcheol groans when your walls clench around him, as if your body is reacting to the risk.

"Shit, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained. "Fuck, you're such a slut," he chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your ear. "You want them to come in and see how good I'm fucking you, don't you, baby?"

His words send a shiver through you, and you can't help but moan loudly, your body tightening around him again. Seungcheol groans in response, his pace quickening as if he's determined to make sure whoever's on the other side of the door knows exactly what's happening.

You try to muffle your cries, but Seungcheol won't let you. His hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing it with expert precision, drawing loud, unrestrained wails from you.

"That's it, scream my name, baby. Let them know how good I'm making you feel," he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

With a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you're pushed over the edge, crying out his name so loudly you're sure it echoes beyond the room. Seungcheol follows soon after, his own moans muffled against your neck as he spills into you, his hips stuttering as he rides out his release.

For a few moments, you both lie there, catching your breath as the intensity of the moment slowly fades. Seungcheol brushes a few strands of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender, before leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It's a sweet reminder of the love that underlies the passion, and you can't help but smile as you melt into it.

After pulling out, he helps you get dressed, both of you cleaning up as best as you can. Seungcheol gives you one last kiss before unlocking the door.

It swings open to reveal Minghao, his expression a mix of disgust and exasperation as he takes in the scene.

"You guys are absolutely disgusting," he scoffs, shaking his head. "You really couldn't wait until you got home? You just had to taint the room with your…horniness?"

Your face burns with embarrassment, and you instinctively hide behind Seungcheol, who only shrugs, looking far too smug for someone who just got caught.

Minghao sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear, it's the same thing after every single concert," he mutters, stepping past you to grab the phone he'd left behind. He shoots you both one last disapproving glare before storming out of the room.

"Cheol, you said we wouldn't get caught," you whine, your cheeks still flushed.

He laughs, pulling you close. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it, baby," he says with a grin, sealing his words with another kiss.

And you can't help but grin back because, well…he's not wrong. You did enjoy it—a lot.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee

[ditzydoe444]

faking an orgasm with jay and he knows and he lowk punishes you or makes you cum 3 times in a row !!

-🍎

MDNI 18+

jason todd x reader

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

▐ vaginal sex, brief mention of overstimulation

“mm, i came jay,” you moaned, trying to hide the shame in your voice as you lied. you didn’t come, but you were just so stressed out to the point where you were pretty damn sure that it’ll take you forever to even reach an orgasm.

jason frowned, he knew you didn’t come, god he knew what you felt like when you did. your gummy walls would clench around him, squeezing him so tight where you would almost milk him dry, then you would soak his cock with your cum. “no you didn’t,” his tone firm as he gently squeezed your lower stomach, kneading the soft flesh there. “don’t lie, i know how to make you come.”

jason took great pride in making you feel good, and you faking and orgasm was probably the most insulting thing you’ve ever done to him. he knew how to make you feel good, so why lie?

you shook your head, “no jay, really i did.” though shame quickly ate you away, your cheeks heating up as you avoided eye contact.

“no you didn’t, and i’m going to make you come, so don’t fucking lie.” he grunted before slamming his cock back into you, making you cling onto him. “mm, jay!” you moaned as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, the head board of the bed slamming against the wall. “‘m gonna make sure you’re coming all over my cock at least three times now, need to show you how i can make you come so easily.”

jason didn’t stop until you came three times like you said. “how you feeling sweetheart? did i lose you?” he cooed at your dazed face, your mouth hung open pathetically as your eyes were half lidded. despite your earlier protests about how you were too stressed to come, you were clearly lying, soaking the bed making a damp spot, your inner thighs glistening and jason’s pubes painted with it. “sweet girl why would you lie about your orgasm when clearly you have no issue?” his voice soft as he gently rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“did i milk to dry? can you still come?” he teased as a thick white ring was formed on the base of his cock, your cunt making the most lewd squelching noise. “‘m can’t come anymore jay,” you whined, your pussy all puffy and swollen. “yeah, i’ll be the judge of that alright?”

[morganaawriterr]

Love’s the death of peace of mind; Jay

SYNOPSIS ➺ You always believed your obsession with Jay was somewhat harmless — the stolen glances, the job you took just to stay close, the nights spent following his every move. But when familiar faces start vanishing and strange coincidences pile up, a chilling truth begins to surface.

PAIRING ➺ Stalker fem!reader X not-so-inocent lawyer!Jay

GENRE ➺ Thriller; slow burn (?); stalker au; killer au; strangers to lovers (?);

WORDS ➺ 13k

WARNINGS ➺ Staker behavior; mentions of blood and death; cursing; obsessive behavior; sexual content (not fully smut); heavy tension; age gap (3 years);

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➺ This fic is so freaking cool, I am so excited to finally post it! This took me a whole week to write and prepare and its literally my fav ever!!! I hope you guys like it as well! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you so much! Masterlist

You never knew you were capable of becoming what you have.

But your eyes are, once again, focused on him as he sits down in his usual spot by the large window. He always sets down his backpack and takes out his computer after placing his order. He doesn’t put on his earphones until his drink is sitting on the table, just so he can hear you call his name. You barely know him; in fact, you only know his name because you had to write it on the cup. Yet your mind drowns in thoughts of him every time he comes to the café.

The ambient is calm and quiet, the only audible sounds coming from the Bluetooth speakers playing soft jazz. You force your eyes to shift to the dark day outside, where heavy gray clouds paint the sky dark even at three in the afternoon. You admire the bushes swaying in the wind by the entrance, noticing small flower petals drifting away.

Your gaze wanders to the big TV hanging on the wall, and your eyes widen at the news. A girl who’s been missing for months flashes across the screen, and as you carefully take in her face, your heart tightens with an unfamiliar fear, a deep, unsettling feeling that you can’t quite place.

Uncomfortable, you turn toward your annoyed coworker, who’s making the drinks all by herself. As you watch, you notice the store is out of the caramel topping your mystery man always asks for. You smile to yourself, grateful for the universe giving you a chance to talk to him. Your heart flutters at the thought of his voice—not too deep, but warm and attractive.

You slowly walk toward his table, and he notices you halfway there, turning his head to shamelessly watch you approach. Despite your hair being tied in a tidy ponytail, Jongseong can tell how long it is as it sways with each step. His eyes travel lower, and though you’re wearing the unflattering store uniform, he imagines the curves of your body beneath it. The uniform consists of a forest-green button-up shirt, black slacks, and a white apron tied around your waist.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jongseong. Unfortunately, we’re out of caramel topping. Would you like to replace it with something else, or would you prefer a refund?” You speak calmly, keeping your voice as professional as possible.

The man in front of you lifts his gaze to yours, his deep brown eyes holding your attention with an intensity that makes the air feel suddenly thick and hard to breathe. You feel your cheeks flush under his insistent stare, and after a few seconds of silence, he finally responds:

“You can replace it with whatever you think is best. Something tells me your choice will be better than anything I could come up with.” Jongseong’s voice is just as smooth and alluring as you remembered, and you can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“Sure thing, Mr. Jongseong.” You offer him a gentle smile and bow politely before turning back toward the counter.

Jay watches you walk away, his eyes following the confident sway of your hips. The apron tied snugly around your waist only emphasizes your figure, and he finds himself captivated. He’s never seen someone so beautiful working such an ordinary job, and now he has his eyes on you.

At the counter, you tell your coworker to add vanilla instead, your favorite flavor for both milk and coffee. As you lean on the counter, she notices the silly smile on your lips and rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by how easily flustered you are. But she doesn’t know how Jongseong’s eyes wandered over your body or how that gaze left you feeling warm and tingly.

After all, she’s stuck with an unappealing man who’s older but somehow more childish than she is. She thinks you don’t know, but you’ve overheard their fights when he comes to pick her up, his voice always reeking of cigars and cheap cologne. The way he looks at you, like you’re a piece of meat, makes your skin crawl. But today, you’re feeling generous, thanks to the universe, so you let it slide without a word.

As soon as your coworker finishes his drink, you take the cup in your hand, your fingers tracing the letters of his name written on the fragile plastic. You love the way his name rolls off your tongue like a quiet spell.

“Order for Jongseong!” You call out, your voice clear and careful, your eyes fixed in his direction.

Just like a scene from a romantic movie, he rises slowly from his chair and walks toward you. His dark hair is styled back, exposing his forehead, and he’s wearing a sleek black Prada suit. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air as he approaches, and once again, his eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering.

“Here. I hope you like it!” You say eagerly, extending the cup toward him.

“I’m sure I will,” Jongseong replies with a small smile, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the cup from your hand.

And with that, he turns his back and returns to his spot, getting back to his computer just as quickly as he left. You find yourself glued to the way his long fingers move across the keyboard and wonder how they would feel on your skin, gripping your flesh, exploring you, teasing you. You imagine how easily they could reach that spot inside you that you can barely brush against.

Without noticing, your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. Your coworker notices how still you’ve become and gives you a light push, making you stumble on your feet.

“You're staring. At least be sneaky,” she whispers by your side, a teasing smirk on her thin, dry lips.

“Thank you so much for the advice!” you respond with a fake smile before turning around and heading to the back of the café to take a deep breath.

The storage room carries an unpleasant smell of rot because the forgotten fruits in the wooden basket have started growing mold. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, feeling a wave of annoyance. Reaching for the basket, you prepare to take it outside to the trash. Your coworker claimed she had thrown them out last week, which was the last time you worked with her, but clearly, she hadn’t.

As you step through the rusty back door, a harsh gust of wind hits your warm face, offering a refreshing relief. You walk unhurriedly toward the back of the building, where the recycling bins and trash cans are located, humming a soft tune to yourself. You open the trash bin and dump the rotten fruits inside, glad to finally get rid of the stench. Being so sensitive to smells, you notice the distinct scent of rain in the air and know it’s about to start pouring.

As you stand outside, watching the heavy clouds roll across the sky, you feel the first cold drops land on your hair. The raindrops are thick and heavy, soaking your uniform as you close your eyes and tilt your head up, savoring the cool comfort they bring. But after a few seconds, the sensation shifts. You no longer feel the rain hitting you, but instead, you sense the presence of someone standing very close.

You open your eyes slowly and are met with the sight of the tall, handsome man from the café, holding a large black umbrella. His eyes travel across your face, confusion flickering across his sharp features. He takes in your appearance, your dark lashes heavy with rain and your lips stained a deep, bloody red. There’s something about you that draws him in, something he can’t quite place.

“What are you doing out here in the rain?” Jongseong asks, his voice breaking the silence beneath the umbrella, contrasting with the relentless sound of the rain pounding against it.

You stay quiet for a few seconds, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of his jawline now that he’s so close. His lips look even more tempting up close, a perfect balance of pouty and full. You wonder why the universe keeps gifting you these small, perfect moments with him, but you’re grateful all the same.

“I needed to throw away some spoiled fruit,” you explain, his gaze burning into you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“Then shouldn’t you hurry inside instead of standing out here in the rain?”

There’s a teasing edge to his voice, but it also feels like gentle scolding. You try to come up with a reason for lingering besides the simple desire to feel the cool rain against your heated skin. After all, he’s the reason your body feels so warm, his presence and his intoxicating scent clouding your senses.

“I’m going,” you joke, your eyes locking with his one last time before you turn and run toward the back door. You feel his gaze on you the entire way until the heavy metal door closes behind you.

Jay smiles to himself at your adorable reaction, feeling more intrigued than ever. Standing there in the pouring rain, he tells himself he has to come back every day just to catch a glimpse of your pretty face—and maybe, just maybe, get to know you better.

Jongseong comes back the next day, hoping to admire you for a while before starting his work. The city's streets are bustling, and since the café is in the heart of the city, the walk there isn’t long. He smiles as the front of the café comes into view, the blooming bushes swaying gently with the wind.

To his surprise, when he steps inside the cozy place, he isn’t met with your familiar face. Instead, two different girls are working. They smile as soon as he walks in and greet him politely.

“Hello, what can I get for you today?” one of them asks, but Jay finds his mind elsewhere.

“Maybe an espresso to go, please,” he responds just as politely, a small smile on his lips.

“In what name?” she asks, her fingers gripping the black marker, waiting for his answer.

“Jongseong, please.”

She writes his name down and proceeds with the payment. Jay fights a battle inside his head, curious about where you are and whether you’re okay. Should he ask about you? Would that be weird? You’ve only spoken twice, aside from exchanging a few glances. But before his brain can stop him, his mouth moves on its own. As his hand wraps around the warm cup, he asks:

“Do you know if your coworker who worked yesterday is okay?” The words leave his mouth, and he immediately cringes. What a stupid question.

“Hmm, yesterday? Who worked yesterday?” the girl asks the other barista making the drinks.

“It was YN and Munhee, but I think they’re okay. Today’s their rest day,” the girl responds while shaking a cup. Her eyes flick briefly to Jay and then back to her friend.

“Maybe you’re curious about YN? Since Munhee has a boyfriend…” the girl teases with a smile. “YN works on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Don’t tell her I told you this, please!” she adds with a playful pout.

Jay can’t help but smile. “Thank you, and don’t worry. I won’t tell her anything!” he assures them with a last bow and a warm smile before leaving the café.

As he walks away, he reflects on how easy it was to get that information. Don’t they know it’s not safe to share their coworker’s schedule with strangers? Who knows what someone could do with that knowledge? Thankfully, Jongseong only wants to see you more often.

He still remembers the first few times he saw you. You were always smiling and polite, helping your coworkers and keeping an eye on the customers to make sure they were comfortable. The first time you made eye contact was when you noticed him putting on his jacket and turned the AC on, adjusting the temperature just enough to be comfortable.

Jay admired you from afar, his eyes drawn to the curve of your lips as you smiled at him, a quiet acknowledgment. That small, thoughtful act was what made him want to keep coming back, hoping for just a little more of your warmth. It’s nothing more than a quiet admiration, or so he tells himself.

Today is Saturday, and the coffee shop is busier than normal, and as you pace back and forth behind the counter, the sun shines beautifully outside. The light reflects inside the place and spreads a comfortable warmth, despite the chaotic environment.

This time, because your coworker is new, she is taking orders, and you are making the beverages. The drinks today seem to be oddly specific, with numerous variations and additions, causing you to take longer to prepare them. And to your luck, the new hire is also making mistakes when adding the extras, forcing you to remake multiple drinks.

You can feel the sweat forming on your forehead as time goes by and the customers' unsatisfied glares burn into your back. The stress makes your body feel warmer, and your hands start to tremble, exhaustion taking over. Today was also the day you opened the store, and now this rush hour is dangerously close to the time you clock out.

You didn’t even notice him, but he was there the whole time, sitting in his usual spot by the window, calmly sipping his coffee while occasionally glancing in your direction, hoping you would finally see him. But that never happens.

Jay lifts his head from his computer and tries to glance your way, and that’s when he notices something is wrong. His fingers slowly take his earphones off, and he is met with a loud male voice, shouting and making exaggerated hand movements toward you. You stand there with your hands behind your back, head facing down, listening to the man’s insults.

“This is an unacceptable thing to happen!” the man says louder, his eyes scanning the room to make sure everyone is watching. “If you’re that bad at making drinks in this stupid job, maybe do something else!” he jokes with a disgusting smirk, his eyes now traveling up and down your figure. “With a body like that, the OnlyFans site would be grateful to have—”

Before he can finish his sentence, Jongseong is right by his side, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Jay holds it tight, making sure the man can barely breathe. Jongseong’s body is shaking from the sudden adrenaline, but he wouldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch make fun of you.

“If you can’t accept that mistakes happen, you better stop coming to coffee shops,” Jay says, mocking the man’s words.

“She spilled cheap coffee all over my expensive suit!” the man fires back, glaring at Jongseong.

“That doesn’t give you the right to harass her, asshole.” Your Savior’s gaze quickly flickers toward you, making sure you’re okay.

Jay finally releases the man’s collar, causing him to stumble back slightly. As if accepting his defeat, the man turns his back and walks out, leaving a heavy atmosphere behind. Your eyes are visibly watery, and Jay hates it more than he can confess. As his gaze lingers on you, the customers slowly return to their own bubbles.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a low voice, his eyes carefully searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Yeah, thank you,” you respond with a shaky voice, your cheeks turning pink. “I leave in thirty minutes… so I can handle it.” Your eyes hesitantly meet his, hoping he understands the message behind your words.

“Good,” Jongseong responds simply, offering you a final smile before turning around and walking back to his usual spot.

Those thirty minutes feel like hell, your brain shaming you for telling him that information, judging you for being too easy. Thankfully, the customers start to leave, and the pace finally slows down. Your new coworker seems scared for her life, turning quiet after the incident.

“You okay?” you ask her as you step by her side, with no more drinks to make. She tries to give you a small smile.

“I’m fine… that just caught me off guard. I didn’t know people could be this mean to someone who’s just working,” she says softly.

“It doesn’t happen often,” you try to assure her, softly patting her shoulder. “It’s finally one p.m., and Munhee’s already here, so I’m leaving. Keep up the good work, and don’t worry about the mistakes they make on the first days.” You try to ease her mind before leaving, knowing how annoying Munhee can be.

Your eyes scan the room in the hope of seeing Jongseong, but he’s nowhere to be found. He left? You wonder, feeling a pang of disappointment.

The changing room feels cold as you strip off your uniform, but the memory of the warm day outside makes you smile, already coming up with different plans to fill the rest of your day. As you pull on your red, lacy top, your mind wanders back to Jay.

Where could he be? Why was he here every day you worked? Was he rich? Did he have a wife? Where does he work? What does he do? This might seem a little obsessive since you barely know him, but you can’t deny that over the past few days, there’s been a spark every time you spoke, and it made your heart jump in excitement.

You grab your black purse and grip your phone in your hand, thinking about investigating him on Instagram. Maybe you could find his account and start answering your questions there. But as you push open the heavy back door, you’re met with someone leaning against the wall.

“Sir, you can’t be here,” you begin, but when your eyes fully take in his features, the rest of your words die in your throat. “Jongseong?” you manage to let out, your heart once again speeding up.

“Hey, Y/N. You said you were leaving in half an hour, so… I waited here.”

He has a soft smile on his lips as he looks at you, waiting for your answer.

“I thought you didn’t get the memo. I looked around for you, and I didn’t see you,” you explain, feeling a little embarrassed by your honesty.

“I didn’t want the people to see me leave with you,” Jay says as he starts walking toward the main street.

You don’t like the way he says that, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. A heavy silence settles between you as you walk down the main street, people pacing around, busy with their usual Saturday routines. Suddenly, your stomach growls, making Jay turn his head in your direction.

“You hungry?” he asks, glancing at you with a soft curiosity.

Your knees almost buckle under his intense gaze. “Yeah… I didn’t have time to eat before I left,” you confess, turning your head to the side in hopes that he doesn’t catch your flushed cheeks.

“Let me get you something to eat,” Jongseong offers, his hand gently brushing against yours, his index finger softly tracing your skin.

Following the delicious smells drifting down the street, you soon find yourself at the local market. The road is lined with food stalls stretching into the distance, and the sight immediately makes you smile. It had been a busy day at work, and you genuinely hadn’t had time to eat.

As your eyes scan the shops, Jay disappears from your side for a few minutes, and you watch him from afar, asking the nice old lady for a portion of food. When he starts walking back in your direction, you recognize the small portion of tteokbokki.

“Here, eat this while we look for a shop with full meals,” Jay instructs, handing you the small plate. The spicy smell hits your nose, and you close your eyes, savoring it.

“I love tteokbokki so much!” you say with a wide smile while looking at Jay. “Thank you so much!” As you shift the plate to your right hand so you can start eating, Jay walks behind you.

His long, bony fingers gently gather all of your hair, and then he ties it in a low bun with a hair tie. He takes his time, making sure the hairstyle looks as perfect as you. Slowly, you look over your shoulder and are met with his confused face as he studies your hair. When he feels your eyes on him, his gaze moves from your strands to your face.

“Gotta make sure you don’t get this beautiful hair dirty while eating,” he says, as if he were reading your mind.

The butterflies spreading in your stomach make you sure that maybe you are starting to develop a crush on him and his sweet demeanor. He comes back to your side and slowly starts walking, watching you while you eat the spicy rice cakes eagerly. Jongseong isn’t sure what’s making him act like this with you. He never does this with anyone, but you feel different.

As you walk past the people also looking for something to eat, you let the familiar noise help calm your racing heart, feeling like a kid with a crush. The last rice cake enters your mouth just in time, and Jay throws the plate in the trash while his eyes scan the shops, wondering which one you would like.

“Stay here. I’ll get it,” you tell him, smiling.

“No, wait—” He stops you, his right hand gently wrapping around your wrist. Your eyes travel to his hand, scanning his fingers for a sign of a wedding ring. But you can’t find anything. “Let me do it for you.”

“No, there’s no need for you to pay for my food, Jongseong,” you insist, trying to push his hand away from your skin.

“I want to,” he responds in a stern voice, eyeing your face. Jay loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, as if you were spelling out each syllable carefully just to affect him.

You press your lips together and roll your eyes, wanting badly to give in, but still feeling guilty about it. Jongseong’s other free hand gently taps yours, and his fingers leave your wrist right after. You watch as he walks up to yet another small shop and buys you a steaming bowl of bibimbap. He walks back to you as fast as he left, a smile on his face.

“Here you go. I hope you like it,” Jay says softly, his eyes affectionate as he hands you the warm food. “It’s almost two thirty. I have to go back to work. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer, YN.”

You gaze at him, hypnotized, hating how much you love the way your name sounds in his voice. Then you realize you’ve never actually told him your name. But before you can ask, you remember that your uniform has a name tag, and maybe that’s how he knows.

“You work on Saturdays too?” you ask, a little disappointed.

“Yeah. Being a lawyer isn’t as easy as it may seem. I have to study the case before court,” he explains, his right hand reaching for your cheek and gently caressing it.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he assures you, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down at you.

Another thing that makes you weak is his height and how much taller he is compared to you. “See you,” you wave at him as he starts walking away, blending into the big crowd of people.

You’ve never done this before, and you never thought you ever would, but all the mystery around Jay makes you curious. What he told you still hangs in your mind. Why didn’t he want people to see him with you? That must mean he has something to hide.

So, before you even realize it, you find yourself following his steps through the crowd. He seems to be in no rush, walking slowly along the busy streets like he has all the time in the world. You eat the bibimbap as you follow him, taking time to lean against a wall to hide every time he looks back or makes a turn.

Your heart beats faster the longer you go after him; the suspense of finding out something is making you nervous. As he crosses the road, you throw away the empty bowl and wait a few seconds before crossing it too.

From your hiding spot near a public bathroom, you watch him walk inside a big building covered in glass. The large letters outside spelling “Law Firm” confirm that his job is indeed being a lawyer. You slowly walk toward the building, taking your time to avoid running into him. You’re not sure what you’d do or say exactly if you did, but you can’t stop now. Not when you’re so close.

As you step inside the place, you’re met with a security pass just ahead. Behind it, a large coffee spot spreads out, with brown and white sitting areas and sofas. As your eyes scan the place, you notice a big sign saying they’re looking for a new manager for the coffee area, and a small smirk grows on your lips.

Is there any better way to get closer to Jongseong than working in the same building as him?

The next few days at work pass by surprisingly fast. Since it's officially summer, the coffee shop is always filled with happy teens asking for refreshing drinks. During the four days you’ve worked, Jongseong comes around just in time to see you get to work or a few moments before you leave, but this week he never kept you company after work.

You felt kind of disappointed about it, wanting to talk to him more and more every day, but he was always there at the café, waiting for you to call his name so you could hand him his drink. And every time you did, he’d walk over with that precious smile, making butterflies swirl in your stomach. Jay’s fingers would linger on yours every time you passed him the cup, causing a faint pink blush to paint your cheeks.

Sometimes, when the café was calm, you’d pretend to clean the tables near him just so you could admire him, mesmerized by his prominent jawline and expensive clothes. Other times he’d call for you, pretending he needed something, just so you’d come over to his table and talk to him. Jongseong would ask about your day, scold you if you hadn’t eaten yet, and always flash you his beautiful smile and those small dimples.

Of course, he was unaware of the days you followed him back to his workplace, unaware of how you weren’t exactly as innocent as he thought. This week, you’d started taking photos of him, carefully, of course. He was clueless about how you admired those pictures in your bed late at night, drowned in thoughts of him. Every time you lay down and closed your eyes, you could hear his voice saying your name in a needy tone; you could imagine his long fingers tracing your thighs and making you scream his name.

That handsome face of his—you wanted to see it contort in pleasure so badly. Or maybe in pain, as you sink your teeth into his flesh and mark him up so everyone knows he’s yours. Every time Jay asked if you slept well, you always said yes with the biggest smile on your lips.

Today you were working with your work-bestie, Jihyo, who was always funny and matched your energy at work. As you spoke to Jay, her eyes stayed glued to the two of you. She found it adorable how shy you became when he was close, but as Jihyo observed his face more carefully, she realized he was the man from the other day, the one who’d asked about you.

Something inside her stirred, and she felt sick. Call it a bad omen, but she wasn’t as happy to see you with him anymore, realizing how creepy the whole thing seemed. When you started walking back with a tray filled with empty cups, she ran to your side to help you load them into the dishwasher.

“I have something to tell you,” she said in a low voice, her tone hinting that something was wrong.

“I have something to tell you too!” you added with a bright smile, completely missing the worry on her face.

“I’m serious, Y/N…” Jihyo said sternly, her fingers tightening around a cup. “That guy you were talking to—he came here last week asking about you. At first, I thought he knew you from somewhere and was going to tell me something about you, but he didn’t even know your name. I had to tell him. The new hire mentioned you were on your rest day, and I told him that.”

She explained, pushing the dishwasher door closed. You looked at her with furrowed brows, not understanding where she was going with this.

“So I told him your schedule. I didn’t mean to, but it just happened. Munhee told me he’s been here every day just to see you. Isn’t that creepy?” she asked, her eyes wide as she looked into yours.

“Creepy? No!” you giggled. “He’s just interested in me and trying to impress me.” She didn’t like your answer.

“No, listen to me. It wouldn’t be weird if he came from time to time… but every single day you work?” Jihyo insisted, that bad feeling stirring inside her once again.

“I think it’s kind of hot, honestly. Relax,” you told her, giving her a side hug. “I know how to take care of myself, and besides, I like him too.” Jihyo wanted to believe you, wanted to ignore the heavy sense of dread sitting in her chest, but it was too much.

Still, she forced a small smile. “Well, you know I’m always here if you need me,” she added, and you made a cute pout before giving her a real hug.

“Aw, you’re so cute! I know you are; that’s why I want to tell you something!” you teased, excitement lighting up your face. “I’m going to be a manager!” you announced, and Jihyo’s face lit up with the biggest smile you’d ever seen.

“Oh my god, girl! I’m so proud of you!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, but don’t get too excited… because it won’t be here,” you said, watching her expression shift. “It’s in a big building, a law firm. They have this massive coffee shop area, and the pay is wonderful!”

She stayed silent.

“Come on, Jihyo! Say something,” you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at her.

“I’m happy for you, girl, but… this whole thing… it has a weird vibe,” she confessed, still trying to keep her smile.

“It’s going to be fine~!” you said, brushing off her concern before turning your back to check on the new customers waiting at the counter.

You didn’t notice the horrified look on Jihyo's face when she realized Jay had been standing by the counter the entire time — his eyes locked on hers as she voiced all of her concerns. When her gaze met Jongseong’s, his stare was intense and uncomfortable. The charming and sweet aura he usually carried was gone. The way his eyes darkened made him look like a complete psychopath, and a shiver ran up her spine.

Quickly, she turned her back on him and hurried to the backroom, needing a deep breath before returning to the front. But the image of Jongseong’s deadly stare was already engraved in her mind.

Walking down the usual street today makes you feel emotional, knowing it’s your last day working in this place. Memories cross your mind, and you remember all the good days at work, the laughter, and the fun you shared with your coworkers. A small smile grows on your lips, but it doesn’t last long. When you walk into the café, you notice how empty it is despite it being a Saturday.

The day outside is warm and bright, spreading positivity that should motivate people to leave their homes, yet only a few customers are sitting inside, chatting quietly. Your eyes meet Munhee’s, and she gives you a fake smile, as if silently saying you should have come in earlier. You return a forced smile.

Since it’s so quiet and slow, you tell her to stay behind the counter while you grab some cleaning supplies to give the coffee machine a deep clean. To your surprise, she agrees without protest. So you busy yourself with the mission of scrubbing every inch of the machine while vibing to the music playing from the speakers.

Two hours later, the place is still somehow deserted. Your eyes scan the few customers inside, and you realize Jongseong hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe he won’t come today, and if he doesn’t, you won’t get to tell him it’s your last day. You hadn’t mentioned it before because you wanted it to be a surprise, but since he hadn’t waited for you after work this week, you never got the chance.

As your mind drifts, you remember how strange he looked yesterday. When you left work around lunchtime, you grabbed a quick bite and waited near the building where he works. But to your surprise, he didn’t leave until nine p.m., looking exhausted and maybe a little sick. His skin was paler than usual, and you watched him sneeze a few times before getting into his car.

Perhaps he’s taking a sick day, you think. With that thought in mind, you try to keep yourself busy, cleaning everything within reach. After the coffee machine, you tackle the pastry display, then the inside windows, the tables, and even the floor. Sweat forms on your forehead as you proudly admire the spotless windows, not a single fingerprint in sight.

You find yourself standing in the middle of the room when your eyes catch the TV, where an elderly woman is crying, pleading for her missing daughter to come home. The sight brings back memories of the girl who disappeared weeks ago. Tears well up in your eyes at the woman’s desperate words, so you quickly look away, trying to regain your composure.

With your shift almost over and hunger setting in, you grab a chocolate muffin and head to the back for a quiet moment. But your peace doesn’t last long.

“That weirdo stalker guy you like is here. He’s outside,” Munhee announces with a smug smile.

“Don’t you think you should worry more about your own creepy boyfriend? It’s weird how you pretend he’s not a whole thirty-five-year-old dating a nineteen-year-old,” you snap back, tired of her constant jabs.

Truth be told, her comments about Jay have been grating on your nerves for days. The second the words leave your mouth, her face twists in shock, clearly not expecting you to bite back.

“He’s not a creep! I’m not a minor!” she shouts as you head toward the back door, refusing to engage any further.

Outside, Jongseong stands against the wall, looking more casual than usual. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants, and your eyes trail over his toned arms, following the line of his muscles until he notices you.

“Hey,” he greets you, his voice deeper than usual.

“Hey. What’s up with you?” you ask, pretending not to know he’s sick.

“Caught a cold. Not sure why,” Jay explains, his gaze fixed on you. “You’re not done with work yet?”

“No, but only ten minutes left,” you reply with a grin, your eyes drifting to his neck.

“I’ll wait here,” he assures you.

You nod and slip back inside, closing the rusty back door behind you. The last ten minutes pass quickly as you put the cleaning supplies away and wash your hands.

“I’m leaving,” you inform Munhee, untying the knot of your apron.

“No, you’re supposed to close!” she whines, but you just flash her a smile.

“I don’t care. Goodbye,” you reply, heading toward the changing room. Before you disappear, you add one final jab. “Oh, and tell your boyfriend I’d never sleep with him, no matter how much he begged the last time.”

The way her face flushes with rage makes you laugh as you slip away. Quickly, you change into your long black dress and boots, leaving the uniform behind for good. When you step outside again, Jay is standing right by the door. His eyes rake over your figure, taking in the way the soft fabric of your dress hugs your curves.

“Shall we go?” he asks, extending his hand.

You nod and let him take your hand; his fingers warm around yours.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask with a smirk, your other hand clutching your purse.

“I thought we could grab something delicious at the local market. Like last time,” he suggests, glancing at you.

“Sounds good. But you’re not going to ditch me this time, right?” you tease, pouting up at him.

“I won’t leave, princess. I promise,” Jay assures you, his dark eyes softening with affection.

Your face lights up with a wide smile as you stroll alongside him, the silence between you feeling warm and comfortable. You take in the busy street, the hum of conversations, and the scent of street food filling the air.

As Jongseong’s eyes wander over the bustling city, you wonder what’s going through his mind. He always looks so composed and serious, but when he looks at you, his entire face softens. That change in him is what draws you in the most. He’s unreadable.

“What are you feeling today? Rice or noodles?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the road to admire your face.

“Hmm… maybe noodles,” you say thoughtfully, your eyes meeting his.

Jay nods, his lips curling into a small smile. “Let’s see what options we have.” His eyes scan the line of food stalls ahead. “Oh, what about rabokki?” he suggests, and the way your face lights up tells him he’s made the right call.

This time you and him walk together to the small shop and sit down on the plastic chairs while waiting for the food to be ready. You rest your chin in your hands and look at Jay once again, analyzing every inch of his handsome face. Then, a question pops into your head:

“Can you tell me a bit more about yourself? We've been talking for weeks, and you didn't even tell me your age,” you say.

Jay presses his lips together and rubs his hands, seeming a little embarrassed. “I’m not half as interesting as you think I am. But you are right. I’m 25, I am a lawyer, and I’m single. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you.”

“Hmmm, a loyal man, I see. I like those,” you joke, earning a laugh from him. “I’m 23, a very skilled barista, and I'm also single,” you share.

Jay admires the way your lips curve into a smile as you speak, making your cheeks look fuller. He might seem laid back and confident, but the way you are making him question things about himself kind of scares him. You're so cute and hardworking… such an angel.

His thoughts are interrupted by the voice of the old lady saying that the food is ready. Proving once again how much of a gentleman he is, Jongseong gets up from his spot and reaches for the two hot bowls, setting them on the table. For drinks, you both choose a Coca-Cola can and get some kimchi on the side.

Silence sits with you at the table as you both start to eat, but despite not talking, there is something hanging in the air. You can feel it every time you accidentally lock eyes with Jay. A shot of electricity that you haven't felt with anyone else. You notice every single little movement he makes as you eat—the way he grips his chopsticks and the way his free hand gently holds the bowl.

“I need to tell you something,” you say in a low voice, your eyes nervously avoiding his.

“Tell me.”

“I quit my job, and I'm starting somewhere else,” you finally disclose.

Jay flashes you a smile.

“That is great! Why are you acting like it's a big deal?” he asks, chewing on a piece of rice cake.

“Well, I won't be able to see you so much.” It is an obvious lie because the place you've been employed is in the same building as his job, but he doesn't know that.

“Oh, that's what worries you?” he adds with a small smirk, teasingly. “We can try to make our schedules align and go out anyway.”

“Maybe,” you simply say as that weird feeling from the other day spreads across your body.

The words you want to say die in your throat as your body suddenly becomes hyper-aware of what is happening around you. Jongseong notices the way you suddenly turn quiet and finds it strange. As his eyes analyze your face, he sees that you have turned pale.

It seems like you are trying to listen to the girls behind you, your body leaning into them just enough for him to notice. “YN, are you okay?” he asks, concerned, his hand sliding across the table and gently holding yours.

“Yeah… It’s just that the girls behind me are talking about that girl and those men who have been missing for months. And I don't know why, but every time I think about them, I feel sick,” you explain, nervously swirling around the little bit of noodles you have left.

You don't notice how his face turns cold as you talk about the missing people. Your eyes are busy looking at your food. But Jay’s jaw tightens, and his skin becomes warmer.

“YN, I would never let anyone come near you to hurt you,” Jongseong tells you, his eyes serious and dark as he gazes into your face, looking at your eyes. “I can protect you. You don't need to be scared.”

You finally lift your face and look into his eyes, but they barely offer any comfort. Instead, they make your throat close. “Thank you,” you manage to say, pulling away from his hand. “Can we leave? I’m feeling suffocated,” you ask him, but it sounds more desperate than you intended.

Jay nods his head and stands up to go pay for the meal. After that, he signals you to walk in front of him as he slowly follows behind, his hand barely resting on your lower back, trying to offer you some comfort. When you are finally back on the main road, the fresh air feels incredible as you take a deep breath, but the discomfort from before is still present.

Not understanding what your body is trying to tell you, you try to come up with an excuse to go home. Soon enough, you find one.

“Thank you so much for the meal, but I'm feeling exhausted. I think I need some rest,” you explain, stopping your walk to look at Jay, whose eyes haven't left your frame for one second.

“Sure, princess, I can take you home if you want.” Jongseong suggests.

“No, it's okay. You're sick; maybe it's better you go rest too!” you deny his request, needing to be alone to process what you are feeling.

“Alright, as you wish,” Jongseong adds in a sweet tone, his hand reaching out for your face so he can caress your cheek.

You close your eyes and lean into his palm, the feeling of his touch burning your skin in the best way possible. As you open your eyes, you observe the little dimples on his cheeks as he smiles at your cute reaction.

“Maybe you can give me your number?” Jay asks, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean… I just want to know if you're okay when—”

“Of course I can, dummy. Here.” You reach for your phone and show him your number. He quickly grabs his cellphone and types in your contact information. Then he calls you for a few seconds so you can save his number too.

“Text me when you get home,” he adds sweetly as he leans forward and plants a small kiss on your forehead.

Your cheeks feel warm all over again, his manly demeanor putting you under his spell. You don't say anything else; just wave at him and start your way back to your place, your heart still jumping happily at the faint sensation of his kiss on your skin.

Later, when you get home, you quickly text him, “I’m home, Jay,” and then run to your bathroom to take a long, hot shower. You use that time to think about what you felt and what your next step will be since you've got the job at the same place as him. These feelings that you have for him are much more than just a crush. You crave him. You want to know every single detail about him. You want to be the center of his world, and you want him only for yourself.

As you start to dry your damp body, your phone vibrates, signaling that Jongseong has responded to your text: “I’m glad, princess. I’m also at home. My body feels heavy, so I'm going to sleep. Have a good rest of the day!” You read the message, and a smile automatically grows on your lips at the nickname.

Deep down, you want to pursue this relationship normally, but you can't help but want to know more about him as fast as possible. If he ever found out you follow him almost every day and that you got this job just to be closer to him, he would probably be freaked out and leave. But you would never let that happen.

When Monday rolls in, you jump out of bed with extra energy, excited to start this new job. You did apply to be closer to Jay, but the opportunity is genuinely attractive. Being the manager can't be much different from what you've done before, since you used to be responsible for the café all the time due to the many months you'd worked there.

So, you put on a black suit and a thin white blouse with the first two buttons undone, exposing your chest. On your feet, you wear some comfortable low heels, and you put on your favorite perfume. Causing a good first impression is the most important part. With one last look in the mirror, you leave your apartment and take the subway that drops you closer to the building.

Stepping inside the familiar building feels good; the thrill of the challenges makes you speed up with excitement. As soon as the doorman sees you, he comes by and hands you your key card so you can finally have access inside. On the other side of security, an older lady is waiting to show you around the whole coffee space.

She excitedly shows you around, starting with the sitting area and then moving to the kitchen. It’s equipped with the latest machines and hardware, making you wish you'd come here earlier. After the tour, you have a meeting to discuss your duties and meet all the employees, who are girls in their early twenties. They seem responsible and hardworking, and that’s all they need to be to keep you satisfied.

Lunchtime comes faster than you realize, and soon the entire morning is over. As you sit inside the small office behind the kitchen, you notice you haven't eaten anything yet, so you walk to the counter and snatch a small slice of apple pie and an iced coffee. But before you can turn around and go back to your office, a familiar voice calls out to you:

“YN? What are you doing here?” Jongseong asks, surprised, his eyes admiring your frame.

“I work here.” You watch as his face turns confused.

“Wait, the place you told me about is… here?”

“Yeah.” A silence settles for a few moments before you remember you need to act like you didn’t know he was going to be here. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I work here too. I mean, in the offices above, but yeah.” You open your mouth, faking surprise.

“There is no way! This has to be destiny,” you joke, smirking at him.

Jay shakes his head and smiles. “Yeah, let’s call it destiny.”

“I have to go back to work. There’s a bunch of paperwork to go through,” you complain, trying your best to sound bored.

“I understand. I’ll see you around.”

You wave at him one last time before walking back to the office. Closing the door behind you, you sit down on the tall chair, your mind making new plans to learn just a little more about your crush. Jay looked extra good today, wearing a full black suit and shirt, complementing his black hair. While your mind wanders back to his handsome face, you find yourself working automatically.

The rest of the day passes by incredibly slowly, and by the third hour alone in the office, you decide you need somewhere else to work. So, you grab your stuff and walk to the sitting area of the café, choosing a corner seat with a clear view of the exit so you can see when Jongseong leaves.

Just as you predicted, Jay appears at the exit a few hours later, and when his eyes meet yours, he waves goodbye and leaves. You know exactly how long it takes him to get to his car—four minutes—so you stand up, clear your stuff, and leave the building.

Today is the day you find out where he lives.

Since you came by subway, you need to find a taxi soon, and as if the universe is on your side, an old man stops right by you. You get inside and ask him to follow Jay’s car, faking a story that he’s your husband, and you think he’s cheating on you. The poor old man swallows your story and eagerly follows Jay. A few minutes pass, and as Jay starts parking, you tell the kind old man to drop you off. He shows you a sympathetic smile and tells you to be strong.

You leave the taxi with a stupid smile, not believing how well you lie. From the corner of the street, hiding behind a tall brick wall, you watch Jay grab his usual work bag and walk toward a very luxurious house, tall trees lining the front gate and surrounding the property. How can a lawyer afford this kind of house? You wonder. There is something he isn’t telling you.

Patiently wait for him to get inside the house before slowly crossing the street and walking closer. Curiously, you take a stroll around the house, your eyes carefully analyzing each door and window, making sure to avoid being seen. You catch a glimpse of him in the living room, taking off his blazer and then throwing himself onto the sofa, legs spread and shirt half unbuttoned.

The sight makes your body heat rise and your mouth water. Jongseong always looks so manly and confident, causing your obsession to grow. You leave him for a few moments to study the area and think about a good place to park your car next time you come to see him. You didn’t drive today, so he wouldn’t recognize your car if he ever spotted it while you were watching him.

You don’t like to call it stalking. You’re just looking after him, making sure he isn’t lying to you about his life. Your eyes dart up to the sky, and you realize it’s getting dark. For your safety, you decide to head home and be done for the day. You take one last round around the house before leaving, and to your surprise, Jay is no longer visible in any of the windows. Not even his shadow in the bathroom's opaque glass. Despite finding it a little strange, you start walking down the main road, planning to take the bus back home.

A month passes incredibly fast between learning your new position at work and watching Jay almost every day at his house. You find yourself enjoying managing the café more than you thought you would. Taking care of the employees, making sure everything is well done, and checking the weekly supply orders. It is definitely easier than dealing with rude customers.

You have also surprisingly enjoyed watching Jay eat his dinner at home almost every day while you silently eat something from the outside, as if you are eating together. You notice he has a very strict routine. He comes home, watches TV for an hour, then prepares dinner and eats. After that, he goes to his office, works a little more, and then goes to sleep.

You have watched him undress his work clothes and change into his pajamas a few times, but it still catches you by surprise every time. His body is well-built and proportional for someone who doesn't seem to work out. He has muscular arms and a lean frame. And his Calvin Klein boxers never fail to make you squeeze your thighs together, unable to control your mind from imagining all the possible steaming scenarios with him.

You can almost see yourself on your knees in front of his king-sized bed, face to face with his boxers, eyes locked on his as he gently brushes your bottom lip with his thumb and forces himself inside your mouth. You wouldn’t mind him being a little rough. All you want is to please him, to watch his face drip with sweat as you work hard to make him cum.

It hasn't been easy to keep your thoughts pure around him since you've been eating lunch together every day. Every time his dark brown irises meet yours, there is an unspoken desire that makes your body shiver. You feel his eyes linger on your chest when you're having a conversation, and the truth is you open an extra button every time he comes around, on purpose to give him a show.

You can also feel his eyes burn into your waist and thighs every time you bend down to get something from the ground, and you love it so much. You love feeling desired by him. You love the feeling of his hungry gaze on you. You're sure he can see how your breathing quickens every time he accidentally brushes against you, pressing his hips into yours when squeezing past the counter to follow you to your office.

The way he always leans in the door frame, his seductive eyes and addicting cologne invading your office, makes it impossible not to think about him even when he’s gone. And today is no different. You're sitting across from him in the building’s cafeteria. The atmosphere is calm and comfortable as the people around you chat and laugh.

As you put a bunch of glass noodles into your mouth, your eyes wander to the big TV on the wall. The same words flash across the screen again, and that unsettling feeling spreads across your body like wildfire. Another man is missing. That makes it three people in three months. Your mind wanders to how the police are doing absolutely nothing to look for them, just showing their faces in hopes someone has seen them.

“They should probably start looking for their dead bodies, no?” you comment in a low voice, your eyes now flicking in Jay’s direction.

“What?” he asks, sounding uninterested, covering his mouth as he speaks to keep chewing his food.

“The missing men and the girl. They should probably look for their dead bodies, right? I mean, it’s been three months since the first girl went missing.” You explain your point, uncomfortably shoving around the rest of your food.

“Maybe. I don't know,” Jongseong replies, his voice avoidant and deep.

The silence that follows feels suffocating, making it hard to finish your meal, but you eventually do. Jay finishes his food faster than you, then stands up and gives you a quick “see you later” before leaving the table. You find his behavior odd, but you already felt uneasy yourself, so you figure you could also use some extra time alone.

The end of the day rolls by incredibly slowly, and you find yourself exhausted. You consider skipping your usual routine of watching Jay tonight, but something in your gut tells you to go. Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, you change into black clothes and drive to his house.

As usual, you turn off the engine and stay inside the car for a few minutes, making sure he isn’t around, and it’s safe to leave. But as your eyes scan the road, you notice that Jay’s car isn’t in the driveway like it usually is. Intrigued and with a strange gut feeling, you decide to stay right where you are. The tiredness slowly starts to get to you, your eyes growing heavier by the minute.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, the sound of a car passing by wakes you up. You focus the second you notice it’s Jongseong’s car, but unlike usual, he opens the gates and parks inside his house. You wait just a few more minutes before stepping outside, making sure he’s already in the house when you move.

You walk slowly to the front of the house, making sure no one can see you behind the plants lining the street. Your eyes follow his movements inside, from the hall to the bathroom and then to his bedroom. You glance at your wristwatch and realize it’s already on a.m., and this isn’t normal for Jay. He’s always home by eight and follows the same routine every day.

Outside, you peek around the corner and move to the bedroom side of the house. Between the curtains, you watch him start to undress. He’s wearing something unusual—black pants, a long black T-shirt, and a baggy black hoodie on top. Your brows furrow as your eyes travel along his body. There are dark, sticky stains on the side of his jaw and his forearms. From this distance, you can’t quite tell what it is, but it sends a strange feeling crawling up your spine.

For a brief moment, curiosity gets the best of you, and you lean forward, but you slip and fall against the bushes. You let out a faint, panicked sound, but you think you’re safe. Jongseong is close to the window, his eyes scanning the area, but he doesn’t see you. After a few tense moments, you carefully watch him move back to the center of the room.

Jay never thought he would feel this way, threatened and scared. He’d noticed a different car in his neighborhood, one that was never in the same spot in the morning, but he thought he was just seeing things. Now that he’s seen you, it all makes sense. He can’t believe you would do something like this, after all; he thought you were a naive person.

He knows that if he acts any differently than usual, you’ll probably realize you were seen, so he tries his best to give you a good show. Jongseong starts by slowly taking off the rest of his clothes, letting his hands brush against his bare abs longer than usual. He can’t see you, but he’s sure you’re there because he can feel your eyes on his body.

Jongseong then turns his back to the window and slips his boxers off, something he’s never done before. He takes his time reaching for the clean boxers on his bed, dragging out the moment before sliding them on just as slowly. When they’re finally secured around his waist, he turns back around and stretches, his muscles flexing under his skin.

Maybe he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is, but if you came all the way here, he might as well make it worth it. After his little seductive show, he lays down on his bed and turns off the lights. As his head rests against the cold pillow, he wonders how long you’ve been doing this and how long you usually stay. Despite his tired and sore body, sleep doesn’t come easily, as the strange sensation of being watched still lingers.

After a few restless minutes, Jay figures it’s time to stop hiding the truth and finally tell you everything. Since you seem to be just as crazy as him, it shouldn’t be too hard, right?

The next day, the same routine with Jay follows. He waits for you by the cafeteria door so you can eat lunch together. When you start walking in his direction, he waves and smiles, seemingly happy to see you.

“Hey!” You greet him excitedly.

“Hello, princess.” He responds, matching your energy.

“Did you sleep well yesterday?” You ask as the two of you walk to the center of the cafeteria to grab your food.

Jay glances at your face, and there it is again, the innocence. Your eyes are big and sweet, and your lips curled into an affectionate smile. He can't believe you’ve been following him all this time.

“I didn’t sleep much, honestly. Bad nightmares kept me awake,” he explains as he reaches for a bowl of kimchi soup.

“Nightmares? They’re the worst. I have a lot of them.” You pout, grabbing a bowl as well.

“I know.”

Jongseong’s words make you quickly turn your face in his direction.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, statistically, women are more likely to have nightmares. So I figured you probably have more than me.”

Though he feels like that was a lame excuse, you seem to take it at face value.

Silence settles between you as you find a table and sit down, enjoying the peace. Despite seeming normal, you’re clearly deep in thought. Your eyebrows furrow as you eat, and your lips occasionally press together in a thin line.

“I have something to ask you.” Jongseong says, pulling you from your thoughts. “I’ve been talking for a while, and I was thinking… would you like to come over tonight? Have dinner with me?”

You’re obviously caught by surprise. He can tell by the blush that spreads across your face. Your eyes seem to sparkle under the ceiling lights, like you’ve been dreaming of this for a long time.

“Of course, I’d love that, Jongseong.” You smile, your heart skipping a beat under his dark iris.

“Good. That’s good,” Jay whispers, more to himself than to you.

Don’t get him wrong. He does have second intentions in asking you this. But he’s also genuinely excited to have a moment alone with you. To get to know you better. For you to get to know him better.

The rest of the day passes teasingly slowly, and when the clock finally hits six, you sprint out of the building to get to the subway as fast as possible. You’re finally taking a step further into the relationship, and you have to make sure you look your best, just for him.

When you get home, you leave your heels at the door and head straight for the bathroom. You take a long shower, using the expensive shampoo that leaves your hair smelling divine for days, and lathering yourself in a floral-scented body wash. You want him to lose himself in you the moment he gets close enough to breathe you in.

After the shower, you carefully dry your hair and style it with loose curls. Then, you put on the black dress that has been sitting in the back of your closet for years. It’s made of a thin, slightly heavy material that clings to your curves despite its loose fit. To finish, you slip on your red bottoms and fasten a dainty silver necklace around your neck.

Checking the time, you realize it’s almost eight, the time Jay asked you to arrive. He sent you his address by text, little knowing how familiar you already are with it. You arrive faster than intended, so you stay in your car for a few extra minutes, reapplying your lipstick and taking a deep breath.

After convincing yourself that you look good enough, you walk to the pavement near his house and send him a text, telling him to come outside since you don’t know which house is his. Jay responds almost immediately and appears within seconds. You watch as he steps out the front door, making his way toward the gate.

“Here, love,” Jay calls to you in the sexiest tone you’ve heard from him yet. You flash him a smile and walk toward him.

Jongseong watches your every move, mesmerized by the way you look. You always look good, but today you really took your time to drive him crazy. His eyes flicker down to your chest as it bounces with each step, lost in the sight of you. He thinks about dragging the truth out just a little longer, just enough to touch you. But he’s waited long enough.

“You look so handsome, Mr. Jongseong.” You flirt as you walk past him, your eyes accentuated by dark makeup.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he responds, throwing you one of his signature side glances, the ones he knows make you shy.

And the way you turn your head away to hide a smile? He finds it cute how well he knows you.

You both walk into the house in silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

You carefully analyze every detail of the place, finally being able to take it all in up close. As expected, Jay has great taste in interior decor. The house is eclectic yet meticulously clean. As you stepped further inside, the sound of your heels echoed through the empty space, reflecting the rapid beat of your heart.

Suddenly, you feel Jay’s presence behind you, his figure still towering over you despite your heels. You turn your head slightly to the side, trying to follow the movement of his hands. He gently takes hold of your blazer sleeve, his eyes locked onto yours. First, one side slips off, then the other. Soon, he’s holding your jacket in his hands.

You turn to watch him hang it up. “Thank you, Jay,” you say softly. You're breathing unsteady from his faint touch.

“You’re welcome, princess. Shall we go to the kitchen?”

Jay guides you with his hand resting lightly on your lower back. When you step into the modern-style kitchen, you’re caught off guard by the dim lighting, the red rose petals scattered across the table, and the expensive champagne. Your eyes widen at the sight, the romantic gesture making you crave him even more.

“Woah, Jay, this is beautiful!” You exclaim, turning to look at the mastermind behind it all.

He gives you a proud smile, his small dimples appearing. “You deserve all of this.”

Jongseong steps closer, his intoxicating scent invading your senses. His hands settle on your hips, but his eyes never leave yours. The warmth of his touch seeps through your skin, sending heat through your entire body.

“Let’s sit down and eat.” He suggests, his head tilting slightly.

“Sure.” You respond, breathless.

Jay pulls out your chair for you, and your stomach flutters at the gesture. You love these little gentlemanly moves of his. He then circles the table, pouring you a glass of champagne as he begins serving the food.

But suddenly, something inside you shifts. Your breath quickens, and your palms begin to sweat.

What is this feeling?

Deep down, you know. It’s the same feeling that overwhelms you when you see the faces of missing people on TV. A warning. A bad omen.

Jay doesn’t notice the shift in your mood, too focused on making your plate look perfect, wanting to impress you with his cooking skills.

“Can I use the bathroom?” You ask suddenly, standing up a little too fast.

“Sure, it’s down the hall, the door on the right.” He gives you a curious look but doesn’t question it.

He could notice the weird way you were walking, as if your legs felt weak, but he tried to ignore it, wanting to follow his plan. Jay waits patiently for you while sitting down at his table, the hot rice and steak steam hitting his nose and making him hungry. But you were taking longer than you usually do, and he found it strange.

You find yourself lost in that immense corridor, or maybe it was the anxiety that was making it harder. You close your eyes and try hard to remember which side Jay said the restroom was, but it's all gone. The corridor is empty, quiet, and haunted, making goosebumps form all over your skin. Your legs fail you for a few seconds, and your body falls forward, towards the wall.

You use your hands to steady yourself, pressing them against the wall as all the oxygen in your lungs seems to fade away. Just as you thought that things couldn't get any worse, you feel something move under your fingers.

Confused, you knock on the wall a few times, and the sound that it makes is dry and loud, as if there were a room behind it. With a little extra stretch, you seem to press the right place, and a small gap forms on the wall. You take two steps back, unsure of what to do, but your intuition is screaming for you to check it out.

You ponder on the possibility for a few minutes, though your heart is telling you to leave this house and never come back. Despite the desperate pleas of your gut, you decide to slide the door just enough so you can step inside and are faced with stairs going down. Due to the lack of light, you let your right hand slide across the cement wall and go down, steadying your body.

Soon you find yourself inside a large basement. It is still rough, with no color or tiles on the wall or on the ground, just plain gray cement. The smell is unpleasantly clean, and instead of bringing you peace, it makes your stomach twist. As you walk further down, you are faced with a large table and a sink, and as you stroll closer, you realize that there is a small ax resting there. It is all clean, despite a few small red stains on the wooden handle.

A gasp leaves your mouth, and you cover it to try to keep quiet, but it doesn't do much, because when you turn to your side, what you see is even worse.

“What the hell is this?” you whisper to yourself as you step closer.

Before you is a big whiteboard filled with pictures of you and things related to you. You notice a picture of your apartment, one of your car, one of you walking by your main window, and one of your old workplace. As your eyes wander more, you recognize the faces of three people. They are pictures of the missing people, and they have a red cross on top of them.

Your mouth dries out, and your heart starts to beat uncontrollably fast against your rib cage. Fear takes over your body, and you start to shake, the adrenaline pumping hard.

“Oh, you're here already? I thought we were having dinner first.” Jay’s voice says its mocking tone, sending shivers down your spine.

Your head turns to him, and you watch how he slowly walks over to you, his face a mix of seriousness and something else you can't quite identify.

“What... what is all of this?” you stutter, your voice failing you.

“This is my master plan, YN,” Jongseong confesses. “I know you thought you were the one who had this under control, but I did. I made it all happen, princess.”

“I don't... I don't understand. You've been stalking me?” you ask with a strangled voice, your throat closing up.

“It's way more than that. Can’t you see it?” Jay adds, feeling annoyed. “I made everything happen. You getting that job instead of the other girl, coming there every day and letting you work in my company. I even protected you from creeps and evil men. Look.” He pointed at the two male faces. “Can't you recognize them?” he insists, tapping on the photographs hung on the board.

Now that you think about it, you do recognize the three faces. The woman was the girl who was fighting for your position when you applied for the job at the café where you met Jay. The first male face was from the guy who yelled at you at that same café, and the last one was Munhee’s boyfriend.

“What did you do to them?” you ask as tears start forming in your eyes. No, this can't be real; this can't be happening.

“I killed them all,” Jay responded with a smile. “Aren't you going to say thank you?”

“Say thank you... Are you crazy? What the actual fuck?!” you shout at him, tears silently rolling down your cheeks. But to your surprise, Jongseong just smiles as you yell.

“Yes, you should be thankful. If I hadn't killed that girl, you would never have had that job because she slept with the owner to secure it. The man that shouted at you was pleasurable to kill. After all, he was just a creep addicted to porn. And your coworker's boyfriend? It wasn't just a favor to you, but to the world. That fucker was a pedophile. Besides dating a literal barely adult, he had multiple videos of... you know what.”

You remain silent at his words. Though it is horrifying what he did, he kind of... did something good. They weren't exactly good people, and he just got rid of them for you. There is another shift in the atmosphere, and Jay seems to notice it because he steps closer to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Jongseong...”

“Don't act like you weren't obsessive over me as well,” he starts. “I saw you the other night when you fell and made that noise that startled me. And I know you followed me all the way to my company and applied to that job just to be closer to me.” Jay shows you a devilish smirk as he watches your cheeks turn red. “I had just killed that pedo when I caught you spying on me. It was a funny coincidence if you ask me.”

“What do you mean,'my company?’ ”You ask, confused.

“I own the building and the advocacy company. I was the one who accepted your candidature for the coffee department.” Jay explains as one of his hands reaches for a stray strand of your hair and puts it behind your ear. “And I did all of this so you can be mine.”

You know this is psychotic and disturbing; you know you should be afraid, and yet you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“I have been yours, Jay. All of this was unnecessary,” you try to reason.

“No, don't you get it? I made you fall for me,” he insists, his hands now holding your face.

“It doesn't matter how it happened. I am yours,” you confess once again, your eyes shifting into something that Jongseong had yet to see.

Slowly, he starts to lean in, his warm breath ghosting against your lips as he holds your face in place. With no more hesitation, his plump lips kiss yours slowly but eagerly. The kiss felt better than all the fantasies you've made in your head, and his tongue was definitely more dominant as it danced with yours, tasting you as if you were his favorite meal. Your hands fly to his hair, and you pull on it gently, earning a sound from him.

“But now, princess,” he whispers against your lips in a low tone, “I have to kill you too since you know all about me.”

Your heart starts beating fast against your rib cage all over again, his indifferent stare making you sweat cold. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, too stunned to form coherent phrases.

Jay watches the way your features turn to fear in a matter of seconds, and he feels disappointed that you believe his words. After all, would he do all of this just to end up killing you?

“I’m joking, my love. I would never hurt you, never,” he adds with a smirk that worries you more than calms you down. His thumb caresses your cheek lovingly. “But I am serious about something, though. You can never leave this house ever again. After all, no one but you can know about all of this.”

Jongseong plants a small kiss on your forehead, and before you can realize what he said, it is too late. He was several steps away from you, and as you ran up the stairs behind him, he closed the invisible door, locking you inside the basement. Panic takes over your whole body that instant, and you bump against the door with all the strength you have, but it's useless.

As you slump down the door, tears start to form in your eyes, and you break down crying.

Jay listens to your sobs from the other side of the door. And though it makes his heart ache, it's necessary to make sure that you would never tell anyone about what he did. The playlist he made for the night is still playing as he sits down alone in the kitchen and starts to eat. His thoughts travel to the future, where you would freely walk around the house, waiting for him to come back from work so he can take care of you as no one else can.

As he sings the lyrics of the song with the feeling, ‘Love’s the death of peace of mind,’ he finds himself agreeing with them. Because ever since he laid his eyes on you, he was never at peace again.

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[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (16 - A Heart to Break)

Chapter Summary: This was cold, deliberate. Wanda wasn’t avoiding you, not exactly. She was around, always there at team meetings, in training sessions, and the common areas. But she never acknowledged you. When she did look at you—on those rare occasions—it wasn’t to meet your eyes. It was to look through you, as if you weren’t even there.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags: Angst

A/N: I'd like thank all of you again for following this series. Getting asks or feedback for this story is always the highlight of my week, especially how busy I am with school. Hope you like more angst :) P.S. @justagaynerdsblog it's not what you think. It's not THAT kind of triangle, it's just two idiots in love and being stupid // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Wanda started dating Vision right away.

Much to your chagrin.

Not that you had any right to feel that way. You’d practically shoved her toward him, hadn’t you? Painting Vision as the perfect choice, the logical choice, the safe choice. You could almost laugh at how quickly they’d made it official. 

Well, almost.

Every time you saw them together, that laugh stuck somewhere in your throat. The compound wasn’t exactly big enough to avoid them. You saw them everywhere—Vision holding open a door for her, Wanda tilting her head back to laugh at something he said. It was all perfectly polite—just like you’d told her it would be. 

You told yourself it was fine. You had no right to feel jealous, no right to feel the knife that twisted in your chest every time Wanda smiled at him the way you wanted her to smile at you—how she used to smile at you.

Still, it grated.

You didn’t realize how much until the team dinner that Friday.

The dining room was rampageous, everyone laughing and talking over each other in a way that only happened when Tony was footing the bill and the drinks were flowing freely. Wanda sat next to Vision, their chairs too close, their hands brushing often enough to make your jaw clench every five minutes.

You’d taken a seat at the far end of the table, two spots down from Sam, who was loudly recounting some mission story that had Natasha rolling her eyes. You weren’t really listening. Your attention kept drifting to the other end of the table, where Wanda was leaning in to whisper something to Vision, her lips curving into a soft smile at his response.

You looked down at your plate, stabbing a piece of grilled chicken a little harder than necessary.

“Having fun there?”

You glanced up, startled, to find Sam smirking at you, his arms crossed like he’d been watching for a while.

“What?” you asked, your brain still catching up.

“You’re murdering your dinner,” he nodded toward your plate, “What’d that chicken ever do to you?”

You looked down and realized your fork was practically embedded in what used to be a respectable dinner. Now, it was just a mushy lump, draining what was left of your appetite. You loosened your grip and mumbled, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Sam said with a wink, his grin widening before he went back to the group discussion.

At the other end of the table, Vision said something that made Wanda laugh. It wasn’t one of those fake ones (you could honestly tell) she gave when she felt like she had to. Against your better judgment, you risked a glance. Wanda’s eyes were bright, her head tipped slightly toward him, looking positively smitten. Vision said something else, and she laughed again, this time quieter, her hand brushing her hair back behind her ear.

“God, this is pathetic,” you muttered to yourself, barely audible.

“What’s pathetic?”

Natasha this time. For someone trying to keep their head down, you were doing a terrible job. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled quickly, hoping she'd let it go. 

Of course, she didn’t. “You’re sulking like a teenager, and it’s making everyone uncomfortable. Come on,” she said.

Before you could make your defense she was already on her feet, nodding for you to follow. You hesitated for a fraction, then pushed your chair back, grateful for the excuse to leave. You could feel Wanda’s gaze on you as you stepped away from the table, Natasha leading the way out.

By the time you reached the balcony, you were ready to empty the meager contents of your stomach. You hadn’t been eating well lately, and it was starting to take a toll on your training regimen. You’ve been skipping workouts more often this week, and Natasha had been noticing that too.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked, though there’s no pressure in her tone of voice.

“Nope,” you replied, short and to the point.

Natasha shrugged, unbothered. “Suit yourself.” 

She shifted to one side of the balcony, pulling a cigarette from her back pocket and lighting it with the kind of flair that made you wonder if she smoked to think or just to piss people off.  She inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled away from you in a long, steady stream. 

You leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the cold metal, trying to focus on the night sky rather than the conversation you knew was coming. Natasha never forced anything, but she didn’t let things go either. Not when she thought there was something worth digging into.

“This… push and pull with Wanda. It’s exhausting to watch, honestly,” she started.

You scoffed, almost exaggerating it. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“You were friends, real friends, and now you can’t even be in the same room without turning into this.”

“Into what?” you asked.

“Like a zombie, Y/N. And Wanda—or maybe Vision—is the brain you want to eat. You’re not yourself. What happened?”

“That’s ridiculous.” You bristled, looking away. “Nothing happened, okay?”

“Right. Because ‘nothing’ turns people into brooding messes who barely eat, barely train,” she countered.

You kept quiet. Natasha had no business knowing about this. If your face gave you away this evening, you were just going to have to fake it until you make it.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Natasha said, not even bothering to disguise the accusation. “Between you two. Because this? This isn’t just awkward. It’s worse. My guess? You broke your own damn heart.”

“I don’t have—”

“A heart to break?” she cut in, rolling her eyes so hard you could practically hear them scrape against her skull. “Stop it. The more you deny it, the more it owns you. That’s how it works.”

You frowned, trying to parse where she was going with this.

“There’s a way to handle it,” she continued, exhaling smoke as if it carried some of her frustration with it. “You move on, Y/N. But, clearly, you’re doing it wrong.”

“You’re the expert now?”

“I’m saying I’ve been there,” Natasha said, taking another drag of her cigarette. “You’re stuck because you haven’t accepted the decision you made. And it’s eating you alive.”

“How do you know that I—”

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Wanda’s been obsessed with you since she joined the team,” she said with a faint smirk. “And now she’s with Vision. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. You chose something—or someone—and now you’re second-guessing yourself.”

What she said settled over you like a suffocating blanket. Natasha was right. It was the ‘what if?’ that’s been haunting you since you denied your feelings for Wanda—rather impulsively if you were being truly honest. 

“Do you… Do you think I made the right choice?”

“As much as I’d love to hand you the answer on a silver platter, I don’t have it,” Natasha said, brushing ash from the tip of her cigarette. “Only time will tell, I guess. But I will say this: you made your choice for a reason. Trust yourself on that, at least.”

Natasha pushed off the wall, brushing her hands against her pants. “Better get back inside before she comes looking for you.”

“She won’t.”

Natasha let out a dry, skeptical hum before heading back inside. You’d thought she’d dragged you out here to convince you to get Wanda back. But this was harder to swallow.

Trust yourself. 

As if it were that simple.

—

The fallout with Wanda this time was different. Different from all the other times you tried to jumpstart some version of a friendship or a co-working relationship and failed. It wasn’t the wary distance you’d both kept when she first arrived at the compound, when trust was something neither of you could afford to give. This was worse.

This was cold, deliberate. Wanda wasn’t avoiding you, not exactly. She was around, always there at team meetings, in training sessions, and the common areas. But she never acknowledged you. When she did look at you—on those rare occasions—it wasn’t to meet your eyes. It was to look through you, as if you weren’t even there.

She was always with Vision now. Rarely did you see her without him by her side. The team had started referring to them as Wanda and Vision, like they were one entity. It wasn’t, “Ask Wanda,” or, “Ask Vision.” It was, “Ask Wanda and Vision.” As if they’d merged into one seamless, perfect unit. When Vision wasn’t around, the questions still fell to Wanda, as if she spoke for him. When Wanda wasn’t around, Vision became her proxy. The separation between them had dissolved in everyone’s minds, and you hated it. Not because they didn’t deserve to be happy—no, you’d told yourself you wanted that for her. You just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to watch it unfold right in front of you.

You told yourself you’d get used to it, that it was just a phase, but it wasn’t. It was more like a drawn-out misery you couldn’t escape. You missed her. You missed the easy banter you’d started to build before everything fell apart. You missed the way her sharp wit challenged you, the way she’d smirk when she knew she’d gotten under your skin just enough to make you react. You found yourself wondering if she still trained, if she was keeping up with the progress she’d been so proud of.

And sometimes, when you were alone in your room, you wouldn’t even turn up the music. You’d sit there in the quiet, waiting, straining to hear anything from her side of the wall. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d hear her playing the guitar—something she’d started doing more often in recent weeks. Most nights, though, it wasn’t the guitar you heard. It was Vision. Wanda’s voice rarely reached you, but when it did, it was laughter. Laughter that you didn’t cause, that wasn’t yours to hear anymore.

The worst of it came when they started leaving together. Late at night, when the compound had quieted down and most of the team had gone to bed, you’d hear the faint sound of their footsteps, see them heading toward the exit. You told yourself they were just walking, just talking, but you weren’t naïve. You knew what couples did late at night.

And they were a couple now.

—

You considered going back to your apartment in the city. It wasn’t far—just a few miles—but the missions were rolling in again, and timing was everything. It was easier to stay at the compound, to be ready for whatever disaster came next. Besides, throwing yourself into work was better than sitting alone in an empty apartment with your thoughts circling Wanda and Vision like vultures.

Missions came and went, and luckily, you weren’t paired with Wanda or Vision. Someone else was always available, someone else always volunteered. It was a small mercy you clung to as you poured yourself into the work. You kept yourself busy. Busier than usual. You took on every assignment thrown your way, volunteering for extra shifts, running double-time during debriefs. 

But the work didn’t just distract you—it became a way to punish yourself. You didn’t take unnecessary risks; you took reckless ones. If the odds were stacked, you went in headfirst.  It wasn’t that you wanted to get hurt—at least, not consciously—but somehow, the pain on the outside felt like the only thing that could dull the pain within.

And the wounds came. Small ones at first—a sprained wrist, a shallow cut above your brow. Then larger ones. A nasty gash along your arm during an ambush. Against protocol, you never went to the in-house medical team. You handled it yourself—bandaging wounds in your room, stitching yourself up with clenched teeth, biting down on a scrap of fabric to muffle the sounds of pain.

It was only a matter of time before your luck ran out.

—

The bullet grazed your side during a narrow escape, tearing through your jacket and slicing into your skin with brutal efficiency. You barely had time to think about it in the heat of the moment, too focused on getting out alive. But by the time you returned to the compound, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving nothing but the sharp, unrelenting pain and the blood—hot and stick— seeping through your fingers as you clutched your side.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with Wanda, who was coming back from the gym. She was still in her workout gear, a towel slung over her shoulder, her hair pulled back, a light sheen of sweat on her skin. Her eyes darted up to meet yours, and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t look away immediately.

You managed a small nod and tacked on a weak smile for good measure. She returned the nod but the smile didn’t come. She moved to step past you, and you thought that would be the end of it.

But then you faltered—just a split-second wince as the pain surged, a grimace you couldn’t quite hide. Her steps slowed, her head turning slightly. Her eyes landed on your hand, pressed against your side, and then on the dark red stain spreading through your shirt.

“Wait,” she said sharply.  

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trudging along, trying to walk straight even though your side burned like hell.

Without a word, she turned back and then unwound the towel she had draped around her shoulders, stepping closer and pressing it firmly against your side. You jerked back at the pressure but didn’t stop her. Her hand stayed steady, though her expression betrayed none of what she might’ve been thinking. It wasn’t anger, or at least not just anger. 

“I’m calling the medic,” Wanda said.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just a graze. I don’t need the medics.”

Wanda merely glared at your wound, though you could see the tightness in her jaw, the way her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You’re bleeding through a towel,” she said flatly.

“I just need the first-aid kit,” you mumbled, glancing toward the storage room. “That’s all.”

She didn’t look at you as she asked, “Where is it?”

“Why?” you asked cautiously.

“So we can patch you up.”

We.

Did she mean you and her? Or was this some prelude to Vision walking into the hallway and the couple patching you up together? You didn’t ask, though the thought burned in the back of your mind.

“It’s just right there,” you finally said, pointing weakly toward the door a few feet away.

She didn’t move right away. Her hands stayed where they were, pressing the towel firmly against your side, applying just enough pressure to slow the bleeding but not enough to stop your brain from wondering why the hell she was doing this. Wanda had made it pretty clear she wanted nothing to do with you. A wound like this wasn’t life-threatening at all. But she was treating it like you were on death’s doorstep, making it more difficult for you to ignore the flutter of feelings you’d been working so hard to bury.

After what felt like too long, Wanda stood, releasing her grip on the towel. “I’ll get it,” she said simply. You stayed where you were, slumped against the wall. The absence of her hands left you trembling slightly, and for the first time, you really felt the weight of exhaustion pulling at you, the weakness from blood loss settling in.

Fine. Maybe you’d lost more blood than you’d let on. Maybe being stubborn about not calling the medic wasn’t your brightest move. Still, you’d had worse. This didn’t even rank in your top five.

Wanda returned a moment later, but instead of handing you the first-aid kit, she surprised you by crouching beside you and looping your arm over her shoulder. Without a word, she guided you to the storage room, half-carrying you with surprising strength. Once inside, she maneuvered you to sit on a low bench against the wall, then turned away to open a cabinet. When she crouched back down in front of you, first-aid kit in hand, she didn’t so much as glance in your direction. She snapped the lid open and laid out the supplies.

“You don’t have to do this, Wanda,” you whispered, your voice scratchy and weak, which annoyed you more than the actual wound. You were starting to feel a little loopy, unsure if this was really happening or just a dream—if you were dead somewhere else or still lost in sleep in your bed. If it were the former, you thought, it was certainly a good way to go. It made you smile without realizing it, which only seemed to make Wanda more alarmed.

Now moving with a bit more urgency, she grabbed a bottle of antiseptic and a piece of gauze, pouring the liquid onto it before pressing it against your wound unceremoniously. You hissed, waking you up a little, your hand gripping the edge of the chair as the pain flared. She didn’t acknowledge the sound, her attention fixed on cleaning the blood away.

“Stay still,” she warned after you’ve shied away too far.

When she pulled out a needle and thread, your stomach sank like a stone in dark water. “Stitches?” you muttered, though it barely qualified as a question—more of a sigh, defeated before the fight even started.

“It’s deep enough,” she reasoned, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

The first stab of the needle lit up your nerves, a white-hot jolt that ripped through your side. You sucked in air through clenched teeth, fists balled tight at your sides.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered under your breath.

“Stop moving,” she said, her voice maddeningly calm.

You didn’t stop moving, not entirely, but you managed to keep your whimpers to a minimum as the needle went in again. And again. At some point, the pain dulled—not because it got easier, but because it started to blur, your skin either numbing or your brain deciding it had enough.

When she tied off the last one, she grabbed the bandages, wrapping them around your torso.  The bandage had to loop around your waist, and for that, she leaned in, her arms slipping behind you. She was so near that you could almost count the freckles scattered across her nose. The proximity made you hyper-aware of yourself—how you reeked of blood, smoke, and sweat, and how there was nowhere to hide from it.

And then it was over. She finished without ceremony, knotting the bandage with quick fingers before standing and turning away. For a moment, she hovered by the cabinet, her back to you, her shoulders stiff.

“Don’t make me do this again,” she murmured so quietly that you couldn’t quite decipher the emotion behind it.

Her words should’ve felt like an admonition, but instead, they landed like a plea. You weren’t sure if she was talking about the stitches or something much more complicated. And as you watched the way her shoulders sagged slightly, the way her head dipped like the fight had drained out of her, it hit you—this wasn’t easy for her either. None of it was.

“Wanda…” Her name came out too soft, like you didn’t really want her to hear it. Like you weren’t sure what you were going to say next.

“Get some rest,” she murmured, the words almost tender—

But final.

[htaesan]

　ᅠ 📩　ᅠ EMAILS BETTER LEFT UNSENT part 1　　────　ᅠ ( park sunghoon )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your crush on your best friend of almost ten years is getting out of hand, and you feel like it’s time to give up𑁋especially after seeing how well your desk mate treats you.

　　　ᅠ 박성훈 & 심재윤 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 32k ⠀ genre fluff a bit of angst childhood best friends to lovers non idol au high school au ⠀ contains mentions of food sickness crying skinship pet names ocs and random characters ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ HELLO your fav fic is back and better!!! (i hope.) saurrrrr i know the word count is crazy and tumblr does not let me put that much words in one post.. so this will have to be in two parts >< (i am so sorry) thank you to soph for proofreading this for me!! i hope it wasn't too much babes ㅠㅠ and enjoy reading my debut enhypen fic on my new blog ^_^

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

THE December afternoon unraveled like a quiet, fluffy blanket over the landscape. The sky was coloured a soft gray, thick with clouds as it waits for the evening to set. A chilly breeze blows through the skeleton of trees, their leaves long gone. The air was biting against your exposed skin, each breath forming clouds swirling through the atmosphere. 

Nevertheless, you walked through the midst of winter, unbothered by the stinging cold that’s making the tip of your nose red. Munching through a steaming bungeo-ppang in your hands, you skipped jollily through the neighbourhood, happy that you finally didn’t have to spend money on snacks that week. Your brother, Heeseung, had lost a bet against you, and he had to pay for your afternoon snacks for a week. 

As you approached the road your house was located at, you spotted a boy seemingly your age. He was wearing a black puffy winter coat, a pair of ice skates dangling from his hand. His shoulders hunched up and down, quietly sobbing outside the house. 

You heard that scene immediately—why would a boy, who seemed like he was also seven years old like you—cry outside alone? 

Taking a bite out of your bungeo-ppang, you approached him. He heard the rustling of your footsteps against the snowy pavement, and immediately brought his head up. He hastily wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, though he couldn’t hide the fact that he was still crying. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, pushing aside the half-chewed contents of your mouth to one side of your cheeks. 

The boy pressed his lips together. He remained stoic for a while. “It’s not your business.”

You frowned. “But you’re crying—and alone too! Do you know,” you paused, swallowing the bite, “how cold it is right now? You could freeze to death!”

Your mother had always taught you to be kind and compassionate, and it didn’t quite stick with you to let him sob there alone in the cold. 

The boy didn’t reply, and he remained staring at you, tears sticking to his face. 

“You know what? Here,” you said, reaching for the extra bungeo-ppang that you bought. You handed it to him. “I hope that cheers you up and keeps you warm!”

The boy held the bungeo-ppang in his hands, mortified. Did this girl, cheeks and nose red from the cold, hand him a warm treat just because he was crying? He didn’t even know you, and you certainly didn’t know him. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly—a little too quiet that you barely caught it.

You flashed him a smile—one that he could never forget. 

“Come on, eat it,” you urged, taking a bite of your own bungeo-ppang. You chewed on your bite slowly, hoping that your action helped prompt the boy in front of you to do the same. 

You took a seat on the steps next to him, watching closely as he slowly unwrapped the bungeo-ppang. Your lips began to form a wide smile, the cold air nipping at your cheeks as they rose up. You watch him take a hesitant bite of the bungeo-ppang you had shoved into his hands, a flourishing feeling of thrill in your chest. As he began chewing, his sniffles began to fade away, and the tension in his shoulders slowly disappeared. 

“See?” you said, grinning. “Bungeo-ppang makes everything better!” 

Sunghoon didn’t answer right away, letting his eyes dart between the bungeo-ppang in his hands and you, who’s beaming brightly. His tongue remained silent for a while. He slowly chewed on his bite, letting the sweetness of the red bean paste melt on his tongue before finally setting his gaze firm to you. The frown that he had on for the entire day began to waver without him realising. Then, just barely—he smiled. 

It was funny but endearing at the same time—how you, a cute little girl with cheeks puffed out, filled with food—was attempting to cheer him up, not even knowing why he was upset in the first place. 

You smiled back, not aware that your smile caused a feeling that swept through the boy like a gush of fresh air. 

“I’ll get going then!” you said. You gave him a wave of goodbye as cheerful as your smile, then you walked away, not knowing that you would see the crying boy again.

Except that he’s not crying the next time you meet him. 

You were walking through the school hallways, rushing to get back to your homeroom after grabbing your colouring book from your locker. Too busy minding how fast you could get to class without sweating too much, you bump into a boy that looks too familiar for you to just shrug off and say sorry.

“You–!” you exclaimed, almost dropping the colouring book in your hands. The same boy that you saw crying alone outside of a house was now standing in front of you, a calm expression painted neatly across his face. 

Your eyes darted towards the name tag pinned on the boy’s right chest. 

Park Sunghoon. 

“Yeah?” he answered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I know you! You’re the boy who was crying–” 

Before you could finish blurting out the rest of your sentence, Sunghoon extended his hands, clasping them over your mouth to shut you up. He frowned, and under his slightly overgrown hair, you could see the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Yes,” he grunted, forcing a smile. “I’m the same person.”

You stood there, starstruck as you waited for him to remove his hands. Once he did, a huge smile was revealed on your face. 

“You go to the same school as me—this is so cool.” Your eyes sparkled with wonder. 

“Well,” Sunghoon sighed, nodding. “Yes, I do.”

You giggled, feeling like you’re jumping over the moon. You don’t know why, but ever since the day you gave him a warm snack, you couldn’t forget it. You would remember that moment for years to no end. 

The moment you made Sunghoon smile for the first time. 

Something moved in your heart—and it’s as if Sunghoon traded you his friendship in exchange for making him smile that winter afternoon. 

Over the years, it was evident that reserved Sunghoon made room in his heart, in his life, for you. Your worlds expanded—from chasing each other at the playground during recess into racing each other during high school sports day, from yelling at each other about the silliest things into late-night debates about life, and from staying up late to secretly eat snacks under the table to staying up late to study together. 

All of a sudden, it’s been ten years. 

Many things changed for sure, and one thing that was significant is that the boy who you once found crying in the cold had transformed into a handsome youngster. 

But through all the ups and downs, one thing remained the same. 

Sunghoon always smiled at you. 

Or at least, most of the time. 

He is still unpredictable, too.

And somehow—tucked neatly into all the times of teasing, him calling you “princess” more often than he calls you your own name, his lingering touches, and the way he always saves you the last bite of his food—you found your heart constantly betraying you.

“PARK Sunghoon, if you don’t get up right now, I swear I’m going to smack your head with this hockey stick.”

You stand at the edge of his bed, already fully dressed and ready for school. You hit your head lightly with Sunghoon’s hockey stick in one hand, trying to calm yourself down. 

A few minutes ago, his mother had let you in, feeling sorry about how you had already waited fifteen minutes outside, in the freezing cold. Your irritation from the wait only spiraled when Sunghoon’s mother told you that his son hasn’t woken up despite her many attempts to try and awaken him, and you should try waking him instead. 

You don’t mind doing that at all, but the fact that you have reminded him so many times to sleep early for the first day of school, and the audacity he has to not do as promised makes you even more agitated than you should be. 

You have always walked to school with Sunghoon—you had given up trying to catch up with Heeseung and his friends, and now that he’s in college, you have no one to accompany you. Except for your best friend, who’s making you feel like giving up on asking him to walk you to school too. 

You cross your arms, glaring at the lump under the blankets. It’s the first day of senior year, and you’re stuck with trying to get you and your best friend on time at the gates. 

“Five more minutes,” comes his muffled groan. 

“Did you stay up playing games again?” you nag. And in a more stern tone, you continue. “I’m leaving without you, Park Sunghoon.”

“Five more minutes,” he whines from under the covers. 

You make an annoyed sound—imitating the one that your mother often makes when she’s displeased. You drop the hockey stick to the ground with a loud thud, promptly yanking his blankets away. “Nope. Park Sunghoon, we are not doing this again.”

You choke on the remainder of your words, the rest of your blazing irritation dissolving into the air. The blanket had slipped from your hand, revealing a very shirtless, sleep-tousled Sunghoon. His hair is a complete mess, and his toned arms become more apparent as he stretches them.

Your eyes widen, and you immediately look away. But the damage is done, and you’re in an obvious red mess. Your heart had already reacted. 

God, please help me. Not this again. 

“Is it really necessary for you to be like this in the morning?” you mutter, huffily grumbling—more to the fact that the boy you’ve been liking since middle school is shirtless in front of you, than the fact that he’s only got ten minutes to get ready for school.

“Like what?” Sunghoon asks, smirking. He gets up, sitting at the edge of his bed as he ruffles his tousled hair. 

“Like a menace.”

“Woah,” Sunghoon chuckles. “You wound me, princess.”

You turn sharply to him, ignoring the obvious pink spread across your cheeks, and you give him a glare. “Go get ready before I leave you.”

“Okay, fine,” Sunghoon laughs as he grabs his towel and bolts towards the bathroom, leaving you steaming at the corner of his bedroom. “Wait for me!”

And as he shuts the bathroom door close, you know. Another year of this. Another year of pretending that you totally don’t fancy your best friend. 

YOU walk towards the school grounds, almost running to reach past the gates before the clock strikes 8. Sunghoon walks leisurely behind you, his hands shoved into his pocket. He wears a small grin on his face, eyes trained on you as you jog towards your group of girl friends. 

“Y/N!” Jennie exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “I thought you’d never make it. It’s already seven forty!”

“Yeah, you’d always come earlier than all of us, even in freshman year,” Naeun nods, casually sipping her carton of milk. “What’s up today?”

“The usual,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. You gesture to Sunghoon, who’s approaching you. “See that loser over there? He woke up at seven fifteen! And guess who had to physically yank him out of bed?”

Jennie makes a disgusted look. “My goodness… and we’re seniors already.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Exactly my point.”

“I sometimes don’t understand how you even cope with him,” Naeun shakes her head. 

“Love makes everything beautiful,” Jennie giggles, elbowing you. Looking into her eyes, you know that she’s joking—and the ‘love’ she’s referring to is merely platonic—but you can’t help but feel a little unsettling. 

Does she know?

After Sunghoon catches up with you, you then walk to the school gymnasium to attend the assembly with your friends. You walk side by side with your girls, arms intertwined as you chat mindlessly over the things you did over the summer holidays. 

The seniors are seated at the most back of the gym, and you’re somehow ecstatic that you finally get to sit on the ‘honorary’ benches. It feels great in some way, but it’s also telling you that you’re a senior now—you’re a role model, and everyone looks up to you. 

Sunghoon takes his seat next to you, as per usual, adjusting his tie as he gets himself comfortable on the bench. You settle yourself down, your girlfriends to your right. 

You’re starting to take in your surroundings, to process the fact that you’re finally a senior—and you have about seven months left of school; until you feel a smooth cold surface press against your cheek. You turn to the source at once, finding it to be Jake, holding a refrigerated can of Milkis in your direction. 

“Jake!” you exclaim, unsure if you should take the beverage that’s obviously for you. 

“Hi,” Jake grins. “I told you to call me Jaeyun—and here,” he leans forward, gently pressing the can of Milkis into your hand, “this is for you.”

You stare at the can in your hand. “Thank you?” 

“Of course,” Jake winks, and before he can let the rest of his words reach you, Sunghoon acts swiftly. 

Sunghoon straightens his posture, completely blocking Jake. He grabs the can of Milkis from your hands, and he opens it with a quick and loud hiss. 

It all happens too quickly, and you aren’t able to even register anything. 

“Here,” he says in a plain tone, accompanied with a gaze as firm as his words. “Drink up.”

You grab the can from him, slightly turning away from two of them. You bring the drink to your mouth, feeling the uneasy energy emitting from the two boys. 

YOU close your bedroom door behind you, sighing the day’s weight away. You drop your bag beside your study desk, heavy with all the books you carry throughout the day, and immediately launch yourself to your bed. You don’t care that it’s late into the evening and you’re still in your school uniform—complete from the blazer to the ribbon around your collar—all you need is the comfort of your bed. 

Your head is spinning. 

You had hoped, desperately, for a year free from all the complicated feelings swirling around in your heart. You know that it’d distract you, causing you to have to work harder than you already are. You know that it’s dangerous and hopeless—why would Sunghoon like you back? 

You are nothing but his childhood best friend. 

You toss your body to the other side, feet dangling off the bed. 

But what about all the butterflies that flutter in your stomach, threatening to make you burst, everytime Sunghoon is near you?

It’s the first day of school, and your heart is already reacting with a great deal of joy. Your mind replays the little moments you had with Sunghoon today—subtle but enough to remind you of your not so little crush on your best friend.

Him fixing your hair and tying it back after hearing you grunt about your hair getting in the way of your lunch about two times. 

Him holding your bag up the entire walk back home. 

Him chuckling softly at you, the snow falling in slow motion around him, as he listens to you yap about the school’s new Physics tutor. 

Him throwing his scarf to you, in a very unromantic way that you found so sweet, telling you huffily to remember to bring a thicker scarf next time. 

That same scarf is still wrapped around your neck, the thick fabric comforting, his scent familiar. 

You immediately sit up straight, harrumphing as you pull the scarf away. 

I can’t do this.

Not bothering to even shrug your blazer off, you scramble to your desk, turning your laptop on. Your heart beating fast and your head feeling hot, you feel the extreme urge to let it all out. 

You know you have to. 

Five years of harbouring secret feelings for your best friend—feelings that you can’t ever bring yourself to tell him—is burdening. 

You long into your email account, clicking the ‘compose’ button with the determined resolve of a seventeen year old. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if this will clog up your inbox, but I heard from Jay that you don’t really use this email address anymore. So I’m going to send everything here.  I hope these emails will never, ever find you. Sent 22:45 PM. 1st March. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Today is our last first day of school. Ever. It’s insane, isn’t it? I’ve known you ever since we started school, which was nine, almost ten years ago. Absurd, is it not?  I remember vividly how we met. Or, more correctly, how our friendship started.  It was a cold December evening. I remembered walking home from the convenience store, carrying a plastic bag of bungeo-ppang, my favourite winter snack ever. I thought about how foolish I looked—a small and petite seven-year-old kid munching on her snacks in the thick of winter—but how could I resist, risking eating them cold when I reached home? My older brother, Heeseung, lost a bet against me and he said he’d buy me anything I wanted from the convenience store.  And, of course, as a seven year-old, I chose to buy a ton of my favourite snacks. Anyway, as I was waddling home, I saw you. Sitting outside of what I didn’t know back then was your house. Your face was wet with tears, the tip of your ears red from the cold. I remember specifically the moment—I cheerfully said ‘hi’, pouted when you didn’t answer and simply stared deep into my eyes. I then handed you a bungeo-ppang—the one with the red bean paste inside, my favourite one—to help brighten the grim look upon your face.  And, of course, I remember so vividly, the smile that lit up your cute face.  I didn’t even ask what went wrong. I don’t know why—maybe it was the instincts of a first grader. It’s as if the universe was telling me that the only thing you yearned for at that moment was something to simply rejoice your mood.  For the first time, Sunghoon, I felt warm on a winter day.  Sent 23:09 PM. 1st March. 

After pressing send, you lean back into your chair, some kind of relief washing through you. You read over the words you typed, a piece of your pent up feelings for Sunghoon poured out into the screen. Your affections are safe here, expressed in the ways you’ve always wanted to, but you won’t ever have to ruin your lifelong friendship with him. 

You smile to yourself, getting up from your desk. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Thank you for the chocolate moist cake, by the way! It’s really good—I love your mom’s cooking.  Okay, before you scold me—yes, I’m going to go and get ready! You’re coming at 16:30, so technically I still have around 30 minutes to pick out an outfit—and it’s not like we’re going on a date. We’re going to a cafe to study.  Why am I even thinking of going on a date with you? Sent 16:07 PM. 14th March.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  Why are you so good-looking?  Oh and I want to thank Jaeyun for playing basketball in class and accidentally throwing the ball at my face—now I get to see you up close.  Since when are you so… handsome, Hoon? Thanks for saving me. I would’ve hit the floor and cracked my skull if it wasn’t for you.  Sent 17:01 PM. 19th March.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, I’m sure you know this by now, but hoco’s in around a week. Do you have anyone to go with?  Gosh, I feel so pathetic. I’m sitting in my room, like a complete idiot, typing away emails that convey my feelings. Emails, Hoon, that the person I like will most likely never read.  I mean, I could’ve written letters… or confessed in person… or text you about this. But, yeah, instead of all the other brilliant options I should’ve done, I’m sending emails to an unused email address instead of confessing directly to the person I like. Funny, ‘cause the person I’m referring to—the person I like—it’s you. There’s a 99% chance you’ll never read these, since the email address I’m sending this to is your old one, the one you used in middle school—with a username that you now think is super weird.  Again, do you have anyone to go with to hoco? I’m asking, ‘cause if you don’t, I’m here. I’ll go with you. Actually, scrap that. I want to go with you. Sent 6:00 AM, 1st April. 

At the study session after lunch that day, you find yourself sitting at your desk, flipping through your textbook as you try your best to direct your focus to its contents. You spin the pen in your right hand absentmindedly, your brain already fried after only a few weeks of school. 

“I swear, I think my brain is short-circuiting.”

Jake, who’s sitting next to you studying his own subjects, turns towards you.  He smirks. “Maybe you just need a good tutor? Or someone to accompany you to the cafeteria right now—either of those choices, I volunteer.”

Sunghoon, whose seat is in front of yours, perks up from his notes. He glances at you, but doesn’t say anything. 

You roll your eyes, laughing. “I’ll pass. You’re trying to catch me off guard, aren’t you? Planning to make me pass out in a food coma.”

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon, Mom just asked if I got a date for homecoming. What should I say? I mean, it’s not like I don’t have any potential candidates—Jaeyun’s been hinting to go with me for a while. Poor him, honestly. I keep on ignoring him… Also, Naeun told me that Huening Kai from 12-2 is planning to ask me if I want to go to homecoming with him tomorrow.  Well, if you’re asking me, I could go with Jaeyun or Kai. It doesn’t really matter—Jaeyun’s really nice, he treats me well. He plays basketball too, and I’m sure he’ll show up with flowers or something (that’s what Jennie, his twin sister, said). Kai seems okay, too, I’ve heard rumours about him being ridiculously handsome if he wants to. I’m not entirely sure what that means. But, deep inside my heart, I know just perfectly who I want to go with.  You.  Just… you. Sent 13:43 PM, 1st April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon! 30 minutes ago, I saw Heeseung come home with purple flowers and a bunch of chocolate. Something clicked inside my head as I knew something was up—something related to my friend, Jennie Sim, as her favourite colour is purple and she LOVES chocolate. Okay, anyway, I rushed downstairs to ask him what that was all about.  And guess what? Heeseung’s planning to ask her to homecoming!  I’m kicking my feet in the air as I’m writing this.  Though, you know, I wish I had someone like my brother. I mean, someone who’s going to love me like I’m the only woman in his mind. Like I’m the only one that matters, and that he loves me with his entire existence.  Don’t ask me why I wish for that someone to be you.  It’s weird. It’s bad. I’m not supposed to like my own best friend.  Sent 17:55 PM, 1st April. 

IT’S the next day, and you’re dreading every single step towards school. Today, Sunghoon is not walking you to school—you’re not too disappointed, as you needed some time away from him. 

It’s ridiculous—you know you shouldn’t even be upset. You and Sunghoon are just friends. Nothing more. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn around, curious to see Jake running towards you from the school gate. Jake is your desk mate, and your best friend’s twin brother—so the two of you had been quite close ever since Jennie and Jake’s family moved next door. 

You wait for him patiently, and unsurprisingly, he barely takes a few seconds to catch up to you. 

“Hey,” he greets you tenderly, slightly out of breath. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you smile. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” the brunette replies, offering you the goofiest smile you’ve ever seen. “Just wanted to walk with you. Also, Y/N, I swear, you get prettier every time I see you. What are you trying to do—trying to make me fall harder for you?”

You choke on thin air, eyes bulging as you try to form a response.

Jake grins, but then he looks around, looking for someone. Without missing a beat, he asks. “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“He’s probably on his way, still,” you answer, glancing at the time on your smartphone, a little glad Jake changed the topic. 

7:15 AM.

“Sunghoon should arrive soon. He usually comes to school exactly at twenty past seven,” you continue. “I honestly have no idea why. He wants to come to school earlier than half past seven, but not earlier than quarter past seven.”

Jake chuckles at your little rant about Sunghoon. “He’s one attentive person, I guess.”

“Surely,” you nod, mentally slapping yourself for smiling about such a small talk about Sunghoon. 

“Come on, let’s walk to class,” Jake says, “we’ll wait for Sunghoon there—do you want any drinks? You know, like coffee or tea. Strawberry milk, maybe?” 

You begin walking with Jake, footsteps in sync, to your homeroom. “Drinks? This early in the morning?”

“You look like you haven’t eaten anything for breakfast,” Jake replies. He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the cafeteria—straying away from the path to your homeroom. His eyes quickly scan for any snacks or lightweight meals he could buy for you. 

“Jae,” you say, purposely using a nickname you never use (and probably will never do again) to grab his attention. “You don’t have to buy me anything, you know.”

Jake, who’s deep in engagement with the cashier, perks up at the nickname. He turns around and gives you a grin, “yeah, I know I don’t have to. I just want to.”

“Here,” he hands you a kimbap and a box of mango yoghurt drink, the silly grin still on his face. That grin you always see Jake offer you. “Eat up.”

“Thanks,” you reply with a smile, marvelling at how delicious the kimbap in your hand looks. 

7:35 AM.

“Hoon!” you exclaim, jumping out of your seat so abruptly it startles Jake—who’s reading a comic book next to you. You race towards your best friend at the door. Sunghoon, despite his usual nonchalant demeanour, gives you a small and brief smile.

“Hi,” he utters in his customary tone—deep and quiet. “You’re early.”

“Not really,” you reply with a bubbly smile. 

“Have you eaten breakfast?” you ask as the two of you walk to your desks. 

“I have—have you?”

You shrug. “Yeah, kinda—Jake bought me some.”

Sunghoon’s smile falls, but you’re too busy rambling to notice.

“You’re 5 minutes late, by the way.”

Sunghoon lets out a chuckle, his face quickly hiding the slip up, “I forgot you assume that I can teleport from the school gates right to the front of the class.”

Your cheeks flush warm, “no! I’m just saying… you usually come at half past seven. Like, exactly. Did something happen?”

Sunghoon pulls his chair out of his desk and sits down. Smirking, he comments, “Y/N, are you my girlfriend or something? You sound like it.”

His words make both you and Jake choke on thin air. 

I wish, you think to yourself.

“Hoon!” you stammer, “what the hell?”

“Sorry,” he says in between gasps of silent, ‘Sunghoon’-type laughter. “Couldn’t defeat my intrusive thoughts.”

“So,” you begin, changing the topic of the conversation so flawlessly. It’s always been that way—nothing is ever really complicated with Sunghoon. You could talk about ten different topics in under five minutes; and he’d listen to it all. “Have you thought about who you’re bringing to homecoming?”

Homecoming. A topic that makes your stomach turn upside down—knowing that, given the current situation, you’d be going with Jake instead of Sunghoon. 

And as expected, the two boys seated around you look up. 

“Nope,” Sunghoon’s reply is simple. 

“You? The golden hockey player of Decelis, haven’t thought about who to bring to homecoming?” Jake exclaims, with a touch of drama. 

Sunghoon chuckles. “It’s just homecoming. I could bring anyone.”

You break his gaze, looking away.

That ‘anyone’ broke your heart just a little bit. If he could bring anyone, that possibly meant he wouldn’t bring you—there are many other girls, much prettier and livelier than you, that he could bring. 

“You, Y/N?” Jake asks, “who are you going with?”

“I don’t know,” you reply after some time. 

You watch as Sunghoon opens his mouth to speak, yet is fiercely cut off by Jake’s relaxed comment. 

“You know, you could always go with me,” he says with a careless smile, leaning back into his chair. 

Sunghoon stiffens while you awkwardly smile. This was the first time Jake had directly brought it up—his requests and subtle hints of going to homecoming with you had always been through Jennie, contrasting with the way he’s always so obvious with his interest in you. “Actually, I’m probably not going to homecoming.”

“Why?” Jake asks. 

“Um…”

To be frank, despite being active in clubs, and being seemingly social, you dislike big social events. Especially the likes of homecoming or prom. There’s something about large crowds that makes you feel slightly out of place, and the fact that you’re surrounded by couples… just makes you a little sappy.

“Y/N doesn’t really like those kinds of events,” replies Sunghoon, his gaze directed to Jake a little too sharp than you’d like. 

“Hoon,” you lament, nudging him with your elbow. 

“If you’re asking her out,” Sunghoon continues, his nonchalant expression morphing onto his face, “you should know.”

“OI! Princess!” Sunghoon calls from behind you, oblivious of your widened eyes and accelerating heartbeat due to the nickname. 

You turn around and stop in your tracks, letting him catch up. “Yeah?”

He adjusts the placement of his varsity jacket—his pride, earned by qualifying into the school’s varsity hockey team—before he speaks. “Are you really not going to homecoming?”

You purse your lips before nodding. 

To you, there’s really no use of going to homecoming, not when the only person you’re truly interested in going with isn’t going. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not. Why?”

Sunghoon shoves his hands into his pockets. For a second, he looked really disappointed. But the look quickly dissolves, and he shrugs. “N-nothing, I was just curious.”

Embarrassed, you quickly nod. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” he gives you a smile, ruffling your hair. “Get back home safely. Text me when you’ve arrived home.”

“But you’ll be at practice–”

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon cuts you off, flashing you a soft, reassuring smile. One that makes your heart lap a million miles per hour. “I’ll read it anyway. They can’t get rid of me—I’m Decelis’ best bet at winning this season.”  

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon… What was that? That was weird. Really weird. I don’t like it.  Why did you ask me if I was really not going to hoco? Are you going to ask someone out, and not want them to think we’re friends?  I… you know, what? I’m not going to think about it anymore.  I don’t care.  Just… ask out anyone you want to. Even if it’s not me.  Even if it’s me. This possibility doesn’t quite make sense, as I don’t think you do see me the way I… see you. My saviour, the person who knows me best, the person I’ve developed feelings for.  You know what, Hoon? I’ll go with Jaeyun, if there are no signs of you asking me to go with you. By tomorrow. Sent 18:01 PM. 2nd April.

“HONESTLY, Y/N, I admire you,” Jennie says suddenly, causing you to almost spit out your lunch. 

You’re sitting at the usual spot you usually do with your girlfriends—Jennie and Naeun—people-watching as each of you devour your lunches. Jennie sits in front of you while Naeun sits on your left side. Jennie, as usual, has her lunch of various goodies from the convenience store; and Naeun, like you, sticks to what the school cafeteria serves. “What? Why?”

“I admire the way you don’t even care if you have a hoco date,” she continues. 

“Oh, God,” you exhale shakily. “Jen, you scared me! And yes, I don’t care. If I don’t have a date, then I don’t have to go.” 

Lie. 

Kind of.

Actually, a very small part of you wanted to go to homecoming—just for the experience. Besides, you’re a senior now, and you won’t get to experience any of this after graduation. But again, you’re reminded by the fact that you do not have a date, or at least, the person that you want to go to isn’t your date. 

“Why do you not want to go?” Naeun, from your left, asks. She gulps down the last bit of her strawberry milkshake before continuing. “I mean, I know you’re the top student, and you don’t party ‘cause all you do is shove your nose into a book and study. But, Y/N, it’s your last homecoming.”

You dramatically groan, “you girls know why I hate hoco. Looking at all the couples around me makes me wanna barf.”

Naeun and Jennie burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs. Amused, you grin along.

“Well, I can’t relate anymore,” Jennie giggles. “I’ve got–”

Naeun hits Jennie’s head lightly with her fork. “Okay, girl, we get it,” she turns to you, flipping hair off her shoulders. “Y/N, honestly, how does it feel when your best friend’s dating your brother?”

“We’re not dating!” Jennie shrieks. Naeun rolls her eyes.

You laugh, “honestly, it is kind of weird hearing someone talk so… fondly, I might say, of Hee oppa. Frankly, Jen, Hee oppa is not who you think he is.”

“He’s amazing,” gushes Jennie. One look at her face, and an exchanged glance between you and Naeun, was enough to tell that Jennie’s completely smitten. 

“For now,” Naeun quickly adds. “Though, if he starts treating you like trash, or making you shed a sad tear, I won’t hesitate to burn his house down.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, despite agreeing with Naeun. Your brother or not, you’d destroy his life if he made your best friend sad. “Where am I going to live if you burn our house down?”

“Sucks to be Heeseung’s sister, huh?” Naeun jests. 

“You can live with me,” Jennie adds on to the joke, “Jaeyun’s going to be delighted to have you live with us.”

“Mhm, remind me, are you finally going to go to hoco with Jake?” Naeun asks. 

“Yeah, are you?” Jennie urges. “I swear, it is so annoying hearing him talk about you. It’s weird—aren’t you guys friends?”

You shove another dumpling into your mouth. “Yeah, we are friends… and yeah, it is weird, now that you say it.”

“Reject him if you don’t want to,” Naeun suggests. “Pity him. He’s been on your tail for like God knows how long, trying to get you as his homecoming date. And more.”

“He’s liked you for quite some time,” Jennie says softly. “Well, trust me, it’s weird hearing him talk about you, my best friend, in that way—but I do want you to decide quickly. If you don’t want to go with him, just say so.”

You stay silent, processing the obvious variety in Jennie’s words. 

“This is for your own good, Y/N,” she adds, “and my twin brother’s own good, too.”

“I’m not sure what to do,” you finally say. “I… don’t want to risk losing a friend by rejecting him.”

Honestly, that’s how you feel with Sunghoon, too. Your friendship, strong and unbreakable for almost a decade, was the sole reason you’re afraid to confess your true feelings to him. 

On the other hand, however, you feel extremely weirded out by Jake. You started befriending him in early sophomore year, when he was first assigned as your deskmate. You remember him being as bubbly and friendly as he is now, and you’re sure that the two of you became friends because of his benevolent attitude.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Jennie pats your shoulder. “I know him best to assure you that he’s not the type to break off a friendship just because his feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

Now, you feel a little less bad to tell Jaeyun (or Jake, to most people) that you’re going to go as his date only if Sunghoon’s not asking you too.

“SO, how was practice?” you ask Sunghoon, slightly smiling at how the thunk of your footsteps coincide.

Sunghoon tilts his head for a moment, trying to form his words. He then looks at you before replying, “yeah, it was okay. Nothing really interesting.”

“What about that newbie—what’s his name again?” you ask, recalling about Sunghoon telling you that they were having a few new players.

“Riki? The freshie?”

“Yeah!” you nod, “that one!”

“He’s okay,” replies Sunghoon, “he’s good, actually, for a freshman. I heard he played in middle school, so I guess that’s where the skills come from.”

You nod again, and comfortable silence engulfs the two of you. The crunch of autumn leaves beneath your steps and the gentle breeze creates a fulfilling ambiance. 

“What about you?” he asks, after a few moments of silence—of you basking in his presence, enjoying the present of walking home with him. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to balance being our batch’s top scorer and orchestra at the same time.”

You chuckle. It had been hard on a few occasions; for example, if you had an orchestra concert to practise for, and around the same had tests to study for. But, generally, it’s quite simple. “Violin’s just a hobby of mine. I’m glad I have an orchestra club as a way to practise it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Don’t ever come to me and complain about it, then, if it’s ‘just a hobby’.”

You laugh, stealing a glance at Sunghoon. And, as always, it hits you. 

You dislike, probably just a little bit, how carefree and easy you become when you’re with Sunghoon; how he makes everything feel so simple; how he makes life less tiring, and how he makes you feel that you’re worth befriending. 

He’s so handsome it hurts—his fair complexion looks soft and well taken care of, his nose bridge is sharp, his smile stunning yet delicate. 

“We’re here,” Sunghoon says, pushing you out of your train of thought. You stand, with him,  in front of your house. The smell of kimchi soup begins to attack your sensory buds. “Oh, that smells good…”

“I think mom’s making dinner already,” you point out. “Do you wanna stay over? I can go and ask.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, smiling lightly. “No, it’s okay. As much as I want to devour every last drop of your mom’s cooking, I have to get home. My mom’s bringing us to visit grandma, so I shouldn’t miss it.”

You mirror his smile. “Okay. Get home safely.”

Sunghoon nods, and after a few steps away, he turns around and waves. He smiles—the usual, soft and gentle grin he always offers you, yet… something just feels different. He lingers around longer than you expect him to, before finally turning on his heel and walking home. 

You watch him walk away, and it’s like a scene in melodramatic dramas: he strolls leisurely home, your eyes follow him from behind as golden brown leaves sway down from the trees. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Park Sunghoon, It’s Thursday now. Um, yeah, I know I shouldn’t be sleeping this late, but I just finished watching 20th Century Girl, and I took, like, 15 minutes to calm myself down from all the tears, hehe.  Are you… going to ask me to go to homecoming with you?  It’s getting more and more hopeless as every minute passes by. In 7 hours, I’m going to go to class and say yes to Jaeyun, you know?  I hate it. I hate how I’m hoping you would stop me from saying yes to Jaeyun. I hate how I’m desperately wishing you’re preparing something to ask me to homecoming.  You know, what? Forget it. I’m going with Jaeyun. Sent 00:10 AM, 3rd April. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Heeseung asks, making you look up from your half-eaten bowl of a concoction of rice, soup, kimchi, bean sprouts and seaweed. He sips on his tea, eyes trained sharply on you. 

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, feeling a little guilty. You weren’t entirely lying, but it’d be such a fabrication if you told yourself you weren’t feeling down at all. “Why?”

“Did you sleep late? Or did you get dumped?”

“Oppa!” you exclaim, “when did I ever get a boyfriend?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that you’re always sticking around with Sunghoon. People think you’re his girlfriend, so no one’s asking you out,” Heeseung snorts. 

Your eyes slightly widen. Heeseung sounds sarcastic, but you uncover some truth behind his words. “Wait—people actually think like that?”

“Yeah, of course,” Heeseung replies, rolling his eyes. He swallows his bite before continuing, “everyone thinks you’re Sunghoon’s, you know?”

“People think so?”

“Girl, the two of you act like a literal couple. You hold hands, kiss cheeks and call each other nicknames like it’s nothing. I mean, those who know you guys are friends know that it’s platonic, but–”

“Then, why isn’t he doing anything about it?” you snap, crossing your arms. Your sudden outburst shocks everyone in the room—even Heeseung stops eating. 

“Y/N-ie, you alright, sweetie?” your mom asks from the kitchen. 

“I’ll be fine,” you reply. “Heeseung oppa is bothering me!”

“What are you saying, idiot?” Heeseung hisses. “I’m not bothering you, just tell me whatever is bugging you!” 

“I’m upset,” you declare truthfully. “I want to go to hoco with Sunghoon. But he’s not asking me or anything,” you whine, dragging out each word in a dramatically exaggerated manner.

Heeseung snorts, “if you want to go with him, just tell him? It’s not that hard.”

“It is hard! Oppa, imagine telling your childhood best friend: ‘oh, I like you. Can we go to homecoming together?’. That kind of thing completely ruins a friendship! Imagine if he doesn’t like you back? How would you feel?” 

Heeseung leans back into his seat, smirking smugly. “I don’t have any girl best friends, so I wouldn’t know.”

“YAH!” you yell, smacking your brother’s head with your spoon. He laughs, clutching his stomach as you sit back down, pouting. “I’m upset and all you’re doing is laugh at my face.”

“Hey, I’m just joking around,” Heeseung reassured, “I get how you feel—even though I kinda don’t.”

Your brother laughs as you huff. 

“I think you should go and confront him about it,” Heeseung suggests, going back to devouring his breakfast. “I’m honestly surprised you told me that so straightforwardly, but I guess that’s the result of me sacrificing my ego to get close to you when we were kids.”

You kick his leg under the table, annoyed by the way he’s laughing as you do so. “Shut up. Don’t make me regret having you as my brother.”

“SEE you after school, Y/N-ie,” Heeseung says as you exit the car. He waves to you before driving off. You then make your way towards the entrance gate, only to be greeted by an obviously excited and jumpy Jennie. 

“Y/N!” Jennie waves, all smiles. “Come on!”

You jog up to her, who’s standing at your school gate. “Hi. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she replies, but you know her a little too well to accept that as an answer.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, don’t you?” you elbow her, “you’re a bit too smiley at quarter past seven. Something’s definitely up.”

Jennie giggles, “I’m sorry, I forgot you’ve been my friend since middle school. Now I kind of resent myself for picking Decelis Academy as my study abroad option in 8th grade.”

You hit her shoulder, laughing in synchronisation. “Anyway, Jen, tell me what’s going on. Is Heeseung coming to pick you up after school today or what?”

“Nah, I am,” Jake’s voice coming from your left startles you, making you lose your balance. Yet, Jake is quick to grab your arm, stabilising you. 

You turn towards the source of the voice, expecting him to be standing at a reasonable distance beside you. But, oh boy, the goosebumps you get from seeing his face merely inches away from yours…

“Oh?”

Jake smiles. “I’m sorry for startling you,” he says, letting go of your arm gently. “What were we talking about again?”

“Yah, Jaeyun,” Jennie interrupts, smacking her twin brother’s head. “Don’t go around and scare people by whispering right in their ear. It’s creepy, you know?”

Jake laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Anyway, you’re picking Jen up today? What does that mean?” you ask. “Don’t you guys, like, cycle home everyday? Together?”

“Yeah, we do,” Jennie replies, “but today he’s bringing me and you dress-shopping.”

“Me?” you gasp.

“Yep,” Jake nods. “I-I mean, I suggested it to her. You know, since… um, my sister’s going to hoco with your brother, a-and she wants to go dress-shopping… I thought it’d be fitting to bring you too.”

“You can help me pick,” Jennie adds, smiling. 

“Sure,” you agree after some thought. After all, going shopping with Jennie is something you enjoy doing, and there’s nothing wrong with her twin brother accompanying the two of you. 

Except… that the said twin brother is most likely, according to the current situation, your hoco date. 

WALKING out of the chemistry lab, you drag your feet towards the cafeteria. There have been several periods and classes with Sunghoon, yet there hadn’t been any indication that he’d be asking you to go to homecoming with him. 

“So,” Jennie begins, as soon as you set down your tray. She waits for you to sit down before uttering, “are you going to homecoming?”

“I think so,” you say, shrugging. “I mean, I thought about it, and it’s my senior year. I should go to homecoming.”

Naeun and Jennie shriek happily. 

“Oh my God! My wish came true!” Jennie clasped her hands together. 

“We can finally take a trio polaroid together. Complete. As one,” Naeun says. 

“Gosh, stop over–”

“What wish?” you get interrupted, once again, by the one and only: Park Sunghoon. He nods to acknowledge Jennie and Naeun in front of you, before sitting down next to you. 

“Nothing,” you immediately reply. You shift awkwardly in your seat, uncomfortable by the way your cheeks are warming up. 

How on earth did you actually survive being Sunghoon’s best friend for almost 10 years whilst having a crush on him? 

Maybe having a crush on him for 5 years has taught you the skill of burying your feelings whenever he was around.

“I’ve known you for 10 years,” Sunghoon says. His left cheek bulges as he chews on his mouthful of cold noodles. “And if I learned a thing or two, it is to never trust you when you say ‘nothing’.”

“Exactly!” Naeun exclaims. “Sunghoon, you tell her to stop using the same excuse every time, it’s so obvious when she’s lying.”

“Oh, shut up, Nae.”

Sunghoon rips open the package of his chocolate bar and breaks it in half. “Here,” he places it on your tray. “You like cookies and cream.”

You bit your lip in hopes to suppress a smile. “Thanks,” you say coolly, taking a bite out of it. 

“Anyway,” Naeun grins, a glint of mischief in her eyes. You glare at her, already dreading what’s to come. “Got anyone to go to homecoming with, Park Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, stealing a glance at you. “No. I don’t want to go.”

You almost spit out the contents of your mouth at his blunt statement. “What? Why?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’ve got no one to go with?” 

“Well, you can go with me if you want to,” you murmur, afraid to raise your voice. 

“What?” Sunghoon tilts his head, eyes staring into yours. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing!” you quickly say, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I-I’m going though.”

It’s now Sunghoon’s turn to be confused. “Huh? I thought you weren’t going.”

“Yeah! I-I wasn’t going to… but Jaeyun asked me… to go with him,” you utter each word with complete caution, eyes going back and forth between Jennie and Sunghoon. “And I’m… going with him.”

The world pauses for a second, and you don’t realise you’re holding back a breath.

Jennie gasps, happiness causing her to beam. But at the same time, you couldn’t shrug off the pang in your heart when you witnessed, from the corner of your eyes, Sunghoon’s expression morph into something you’ve quite never seen before.

Was it jealousy? 

“Double date!” Jennie gushes, her eyes crinkling with laughter. “God, I’m so happy! I can finally go to homecoming with my best friend!”

You give Jennie a half smile. 

“...have you told him?” Sunghoon asks, somehow struggling to force the words out of his mouth. 

“Who?” you reply, turning to him. 

“Jake.” 

You purse your lips, then shake your head. “Nope. I’ll tell him after school, though.”

Sunghoon nods, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than it usually does. Then, he turns to his lunch and finishes it in silence, ignoring the conversation buzzing around him. 

AFTER the last lesson of the day ends, and the teacher walks out, you get ready with the books and stationery you need for studying.

“Let’s go?” Jake taps your shoulder, smiling widely as always. You perk up, a question popping in your head. Does he ever get tired of smiling?

Seeing him twinkle, you’re instantly reminded of the plan you made with the twins.

“Oh, okay!” you reply, quickly standing up to start packing up your bag. “Wait for me at Jennie’s homeroom.”

“Alright. I’ll see you there.” Jake nods, and struts out, which leaves you realising that it’s only you and the ridiculously good-looking boy sitting in front of you, Sunghoon, left in the homeroom. 

“Where did the others go?” you mutter to yourself, grunting at how your cheeks are starting to warm up. 

“Where are you going?” Sunghoon asks, his tone careful and slow. You look up, and he’s already staring at you, something in his gaze that you can’t pinpoint. 

You swing your bag over your shoulder. You give him an innocent smile. “I’m… going dress-shopping.”

“With Jake?” he asks. 

You nod slowly. 

“Y-yeah. And Jennie.”

“Have you told him you’re going to hoco with him?”  

You sigh. “No, I haven’t. I’m a bit embarrassed to… tell him.”

Silence floods the two of you. Though, this time, the silence was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. There was some kind of tension that hung between you and Sunghoon, and you know precisely what caused it.

“Hmm,” is all you get from your best friend after a few moments of awkwardness, that involves you standing straight near your desk, unable to move as you await his response. 

“Do you like him?” Sunghoon asks, standing up from his chair. His height towers above you, and you gulp in nervousness. 

“No?” you say, “I don’t. Wait, I mean, I-I do. But I like him as a friend.”

“Like how you like me?”

Your eyes widen as if a nuclear bomb was dropped in front of your face. 

“L-like what?”

Sunghoon chuckles, ruffling your hair. “I’m joking, pumpkin.”

Memories flood your vision, goosebumps racing against your skin, upon hearing the childhood nickname; vivid like it happened yesterday. 

You clearly remember your six-year-old self, sitting at his house’s dining table with a seven-year-old Sunghoon. The two of you were having lunch together after his mom picked you two from preschool. 

You always had a strong dislike for pumpkin, and everyone around you knew that, but Sunghoon didn’t. 

So when his mother asked what the both of you wanted for lunch, Sunghoon had eagerly requested for the porridge—and you innocently agreed, not knowing that the porridge he ardently asked for was pumpkin porridge with rice balls. 

Sunghoon held his stomach, laughing loudly. “You look so funny, Y/N, it’s just pumpkin!”

“Shut up!” you yelled. “I just don’t like the taste!”

“Oh dear,” Sunghoon’s mother rushed to you. She picked up the bowl of pumpkin porridge in front of you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know—would you like something else?

“It’s okay, auntie!” you insisted on a small voice. “I’ll just eat the rice balls.”

Sunghoon laughed his soul out in the background, still finding your revolted expression upon eating the pumpkin porridge extremely funny. His mother shook her head, patting your head. 

“You sweet girl—it’s alright. I’ll cook you something else, okay? Do seafood pancakes sound delicious to you?”

You give her a big smile, nodding. “I’ll love that!”

And for the rest of that year, Sunghoon insisted that he called you pumpkin.

“Gosh,” you whisper shakily, “I haven’t heard that nickname in a while.” 

Sunghoon smiles—and it’s as if, in this entire universe, it’s only you and him. It’s an unexplainable feeling; it’s as if time had stopped, and everything else around you froze—and he’s the only one for you. 

“Hmm? I thought I’d call you pumpkin,” he jokes, “since, you know, your face looks as orange as the porridge that day.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, “it’s been so long! Don’t remind me of that!”

Sunghoon lets out a train of laughter—and it rushes through you like a refreshing breeze, reminding you of your never ending feelings for him, and how his laughter is one of the things you’d never get tired of hearing.

“Come on then,” he urges you to walk out of the class. “We have a dress to find.”

You follow his lead, your brows knitting with each other. “Huh?”

Sunghoon looks back at you for a second, smiling while he’s at it. 

“I’m coming with you to buy your hoco dress. I mean, I’m sure your mother wouldn’t get mad at you if you’re going out with me,” he says, as your legs freeze, unable to move. You’re dazed at Sunghoon’s presence. Everytime he smiles at you, you’re smitten—and it’s as if your entire body is in love too. 

“I’ll pick your dress for you if you don’t come! I’ll pick the most horrible one!” Sunghoon yells playfully from the corridor, causing you to jolt awake from your trance. “And I’ll tell Mrs. Lee, you’re going out without asking her first!”

“YAH!” you scream, swiftly dodging tables and running out of the classroom to catch up with Sunghoon. “Wait for me, Park Sunghoon!”

“HERE,” Jake hands you a cup of mango yakult boba, accompanied with a smile that you wish you didn’t notice was a little bitter. It must’ve been because Sunghoon’s here, standing beside you.

You sigh, recalling that Jennie had whispered about it to you when you were in the bus. 

“What?” you ask him. 

“Take it,” he insists. “It’s on me, so don’t worry.”

You nod thankfully before poking the straw into the cover of the drink to take a sip. Though, before your lips could even touch the tip of the straw, Sunghoon gets himself a big sip of your drink. Bewildered and stunned, all you could do is watch and let your lips form a twitchy smile as Sunghoon perks up from an angle slightly lower than your eye level.

You gulp, suddenly nervous at the close proximity. 

“This is good stuff,” he says with a grin. 

Your eyes shift quickly between Jake, who’s standing right in front of you, shock painted all over his facial expressions; and Sunghoon, who’s standing to your right, grinning like he’s just scored the winning goal for the inter school hockey competition.

“Hoon!” you smack his arm, “this is my drink—you didn’t even ask!”

Sunghoon keeps his grin on. “I mean, you wouldn’t even finish it,” he shrugs. “Plus, you prefer strawberry flavoured things over mango, right?”

You watch with guilt as Jake’s facial expressions morph into a shameful expression. He lets out an “oh”, and he looks away.

“It’s okay, Jaeyun,” you say, offering him a smile, which makes him rebuild eye contact. “It’s not that I don’t like mango. I do! Just that I prefer strawberries.”

Jake nods attentively. “Ah, okay. I’m sorry—I’ll remember that from now on.”

“Okay, guys! Enough of this awkwardness,” Jennie says out loud, looping her arm with yours. “We’ve only got a few hours to shop for Y/N and I’s dresses, so get your asses up and moving, boys.”

The four of you then walk through the mall, window shopping to find your dresses. Jennie, of course, is the most excited. She practically drags you and Jake around, Sunghoon tagging along. 

You naturally enjoy the experience of shopping with your girlfriend. It’s certainly a refresher—sipping on your boba drink as you browse through a wide selection of eye-catching dresses. Though, every time you look to steal a glance at Sunghoon, there’s this off-putting feeling that you can’t quite name—and the reason as to why is evident, displayed right in front of your eyes. 

Every time you make eye contact with Sunghoon, you notice a challenging aura blazing through. It’s as if he’s purposely making it hard for Jake; as if to dare him to prove that he’ll be a good date to you.

Honestly, you think to yourself, it’s just one night. It’s not like I’m dating Jake for real.

And you wonder too, why Sunghoon is making such a big deal out of it. 

Even though all of you are shopping for homecoming at the last minute, everything’s certainly going well.

“Heeseung’s going to bawl his eyes out when he sees you in this dress,” you say with a sparkle of melodrama. Jake chuckles, while Sunghoon simply nods disinterestedly, his eyes glued to his phone.

You marvel at how beautiful Jennie is—her beauty is enhanced with the purple dress she’s wearing. It’s exactly her vibe—a lilac baby doll dress with ruffles and puffed sleeves—soft and dainty. 

“Buy this one,” Jake says.

“Okay!” Jennie happily nods. “What about you, Y/N?”

You’ve tried on several types of dresses in many different colours—jade, champagne red, and light pink. Though, none of them thoroughly suited your taste.

“Jaeyun,” you say, causing the boy to perk up and look at you with slightly widened eyes—not expecting his name to be called. “What do you think?”

“M-me?” 

You smile and nod, ignoring Sunghoon’s piercing gaze. “Yeah, you.”

“I-I mean, I don’t know,” Jake stammers, “why are you buying a dress though? I thought you weren’t going to hoco.”

“Well…”

“You stupid idiot, she’s going with you!” you hear Jennie shout from inside the changing room. 

You don’t know why, but some feelings of delight wash through you as you watch Jake’s lips form a wide smile. He laughs, awkward and strained at first, like he doesn’t believe it’s true. Though, gradually, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs breathlessly into your shoulder as you pat his back. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Jake pulls away from the hug, and for the first time, you see tears form at the edges of the basketball prodigy. 

And, for the first time too, you see Sunghoon looking away from you. 

“Jen!” you whisper-yell, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible. You and Jennie are in the changing room, the latter helping you to put on dresses. Out of all the dresses you tried—the light blue ball gown dress, the lavender mini dress with bow details, and many other bodycon and babydoll dresses—none caught your eye. 

Except for one. 

A simple midnight blue dress, adorned with pearl details and sparkly lace; one that Sunghoon picked out. At first, you weren’t sure if it’d suit you, but after trying it on, you were baffled by how you look. The dress fits you perfectly, highlighting exactly where it needs to be.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask, pulling your hair out of your dress. 

Jennie nods, an adoring look on her face. “Girl, everyone will be smitten.”

Of course, you didn’t believe her at first—but the look on Sunghoon and Jake’s faces made you second guess yourself. 

Sunghoon’s eyes stop blinking, and his lips part slightly. Something feels stuck in his throat, and everything dawns on him. 

You look absolutely magical.

He can’t pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. You are his best friend, the person he feels most comfortable with. And now, it hits him like a truck. 

You’re breathtaking. 

To his left, Jake is completely blown away by your beauty. The edges of his mouth twitch, indecisive as to whether he should smile or not. His pupils widen as he takes in the view of you, realising that you really are more prettier than he thought you were. 

“So,” you finally say, pretending to not notice the two guys’ gazes on you. You smile at Jake, not forgetting to spare Sunghoon a glance. “How’s this?” 

You twirl in front of the mirror, examining how the dress hugs your frame. “I don’t know,” you murmur. “Does this look weird?”

Jake leans forward from his seat, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Weird? Y/N, if you show up to homecoming in that, I might have to fight people off for you.”

His direct response makes your eyes widen and a snort escaping your lips. Jennie, who’s standing next to her brother, merely grins. 

You swat at Jake. “Be serious, Jaeyun.” 

“I am,” Jake winks smoothly. “You look gorgeous.”

A wave of heat rushes up your cheeks—the way Jake looked directly in your eyes, the word gorgeous slipping out of his tongue like it’s easy for him to say. You look away, redirecting your gaze to Sunghoon, slightly overwhelmed by the way Jake’s smile seems to tell you that he means everything he said. 

Sunghoon, who had been sitting silently in the corner, shifts in his seat. He doesn’t say anything, but his jaw flexes. He simply looks at Jake, then at you, before looking away. 

You press your lips into a thin line. 

Something in Sunghoon’s behavior bothers you. 

You turn back to the mirror, smoothing the fabric of the dress with your hands. “Hoon,” you say, looking at him from the reflection of the mirror. “What do you think?”

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and something unreadable flickers across his face. He holds his gaze for a second before turning to his phone.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, loud enough for you to catch. 

You frown, glancing at Jennie, who’s wearing a bewildered expression on her face. 

“Fine?” you ask. 

Jake scoffs, putting down his drink that he’s been sipping on. “Dude, that’s all you got? She looks stunning, and all you gotta say is ‘fine’?”

You bite your lower lip, watching as Sunghoon grits his teeth. The grip on his phone tightens. “I said it looks fine,” he repeats, sharper this time. “I mean, you look great, I guess.”

A pause. 

You gulp, exhaling shakily. 

“Okay…” you say, dragging the word out as you turn back to the mirror. You sigh.

Why are you feeling this way—defeated, disappointed, and angry, even? Sunghoon is just your best friend, and you’ve been friends since you were in first grade. He’s not your boyfriend, nor do you think he’ll ever be—so why are you so upset?

Jennie walks up to you, squeezing your shoulders in some kind of solace. She smiles. “Let’s go check out other dresses—or do you want to buy this one?”

You glance at Sunghoon. 

“Let’s buy this one?”

You and Jennie giggle before turning to the shop employee to discuss further about your dresses. After you turn away, Jake sighs. 

He looks at Sunghoon, leaning in. He drops his voice so only Sunghoon can hear. “You know, if you wanted to compliment her first,” he says, his words stinging. “You should’ve spoken up.”

Sunghoon stares at his phone stoically, not reacting at first, but his fingers begin to curl against his knee. He does not say anything, and the tension stays in the air, unsettled between them. 

You jog back towards them a few minutes later, happily smiling at the purchase. The feeling that stings your heart when you look at Sunghoon still lingers, but you’re too jolly about the beautiful dress that’s now yours to don. 

Jake sits up straight, his smile mirroring your beam. He watches you and Jennie animatedly gush about your dresses intently, contrasting with the way Sunghoon is quietly staring at you, pretending like he’s not interested. 

At the end of the day, Jake was the one you playfully swatted, the one listening intently to every word you say—and Sunghoon was the one you looked at, waiting.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, Thank you for picking out the dress for me. I think I like it a lot. Obviously because it’s not what you picked out but anyway! I’m nervous. Not because I like Jaeyun or anything. It’s just the general homecoming thing. You know, the surroundings and the partying… I hope I can handle it. I’ve got nothing against Jaeyun, he’s very sweet and kind, but I do still wish you’re my date instead.  Why didn’t you ask me to be your homecoming date, Hoon? Did you know how desperately I have been waiting? Did you know how guilty I felt to be brushing off Jaeyun every single time he asked me to go to hoco with him? Look at me now. I’m his date for tomorrow.  Hoon, I wish I had the courage to tell you. I wish I was brave enough to tell you that I like you, and that I don’t care if it ruins our lifelong friendship. I wish I was fearless enough to ask you to homecoming.  I wish I was better. I don’t know if I’m good enough for you, but if you ever need a girlfriend, or a wife one day… I’m here. Always.  Sent 23:00 PM, 3rd April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon,  It’s homecoming.  Jaeyun’s going to come and pick me up soon—in like half an hour. I got the girls over, to help with makeup and all. I feel gorgeous, Hoon, but I wonder if you think so too.  I wish the person who’d come and pick me up to go to homecoming today was you. I really want to see you in a suit—oh God, I know just how good you’ll look. Honestly, even in a hoodie and sweatpants, you look stunning.  Sent 17:35 PM, 4th April. 

“Y/N! Sweetie, Jake’s here!” you hear your mom call from downstairs. 

“Coming!” you shout back, shoving a lipgloss and a pack of tissues into your purse before rushing downstairs. 

The sound of your feet thudding against the stairs causes Jake to turn around, and his eyes immediately widen.

His eyes sparkle as they gaze on you, and he looks as if he’s never seen someone as beautiful as you. He stands respectfully by the stairway, giving you a polite smile.

“Hi,” you greet Jake, leaning into his side hug. Jake is smartly fitted into a neat suit with tie, and a corsage is tucked perfectly into the pocket of his chest. He hands you a matching one. 

“Do… you want to wear this?” 

You make eye contact with Heeseung, who’s standing by the door with Jennie. He nods, and you turn to Jake. “Sure.”

He fastens the corsage around your wrist, his touch gentle and careful. “Is it okay? If i-it’s too tight or anything,” Jake says, “tell me.”

You pat his shoulder. “It’s fine, I’m good. Thank you, Jaeyun.”

Heeseung drives all of you to the conference hall of Decelis Academy, where the homecoming will be held. Upon arrival, Jake opens the door of the car and helps you out. 

Feeling slightly overwhelmed hearing the faint music coming from inside the hall, you turn to Jake. “So,” you say, slowing down your walking pace. “What do we usually do at hoco?”

“Hmm, there’s a concert by our school band—you know Jay? He used to be the lead guitarist,” Jake explains. “His girlfriend, Han Jihyeon, is the main singer. They’re sickeningly cute, in my opinion.”

You chuckle and nod along, recalling several moments where you’ve seen the couple interact with each other at school last year. 

“There’s also plenty of games,” continues Jake. The two of you walk together into the hall, and as you reach the door, he opens it for you. “Oh, and you don’t have to dance if you don’t want to, you know.”

You nod, bracing yourself for a chaotic night. 

After taking pictures with Jake, Jennie, Naeun, and Heeseung, you find yourself retreating to the refreshments section of the conference hall. Jake left to play games and dance with his friends, as well as reconnect with his old buddies who have graduated. At first, he felt guilty to leave you alone, but you insisted he go enjoy himself so much that he gave in. 

You bring out your phone and adjust your hair, which your mom had put in a half updo adorned with a sparkly white ribbon. Your makeup tonight is bedazzling too, and you admit, for once, it made you feel more beautiful than ever before. Kudos to Jennie and Naeun for being your makeup artist. 

“Y/N!” you hear Jake call for you. You look towards his direction, seeing him quickly approaching you. 

“Yeah?” you answer, fidgeting with the empty plastic cup in your hand. 

“Do you want to come and play some games?” he asks. He grins confidently, but he quickly adds a stammering, “I mean, i-if you want to.”

“Honestly, I don’t really want to,” you reply, “but since we’re already here, why not?”

You watch as Jake’s uptight and polite expression transforms into a bright smile. “Okay!” he beams, grabbing your arm. “Let’s go!”

You don’t know if it’s Jake’s luminous grin or if it’s the games that are fun, but you enjoyed almost every minute of the games you played. You found yourself laughing amongst Jake and his friends, and found them to actually be decently nice. You too found yourself sharing many greasy yet fulfilling snacks with Jake, bonding over random things such as physics, iconic movies and so on. 

When the time to go home comes around, Jake escorts you to Heeseung’s car and waits until your brother comes. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs as you lean slightly against the car, “I had a really good time tonight.”

You give Jake a smile. “Of course,” you pat his shoulder. “I also enjoyed tonight a lot, surprisingly. Thanks for asking me out.”

Jake laughs shyly, the corner of his eyes crinkling along. He rubs the back of his neck. “Y-yeah! You’re welcome… and you know, I think we should hang out sometime?”

“With Hoon?” you inquire—immediately regretting it after, realising the meaning behind his words.

“Um–” Jake lets out an awkward chuckle. “Sure, alright.”

He smiles, more genuine and confident this time. “But I’d like it if it was just the two of us.”

The breeze blows, and you realise that you’re wearing something so revealing on an early spring night. You push your hair out of your face and rub your bare shoulders with your hands, in an attempt to warm yourself up. “It’s really cold tonight,” you laugh. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jake agrees, swiftly removing his suit jacket and placing it on your shoulder. He stands right in front of you—and you notice, then, how tall he is—and adjusts the placement of his jacket on you. “Is it better now?”

The scent of honey, cinnamon, and freshly baked apple pies mixed with a faint touch of expensive cologne attacks your senses. You pull Jake’s suit jacket closer to your body, attempting to combat the cold winds. “Yep! Thank you so much, Jaeyun.” 

“Jake!” you hear Heeseung call from a distance, interrupting something Jake was about to say. Your brother—accompanied by Jennie—quickly approaches the two of you, giving Jake a brief handshake. “Thanks for waiting with Y/N.”

Jake places a hand on his chest before nodding slightly. “Of course. The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Thanks for coming to homecoming with my twin brother, Y/N-ie,” Jennie says, giving you a hug. “We finally get to take pictures together. I’ll send them all to you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, mirroring Jennie’s smile. “I’ll see you later, Jen.”

“See you!” she exclaims before linking arms with Jake. “Come on, my feet hurt from all the dancing.”

You watch with a huge smile as the twins walk away to their ride. 

Jake rolls his eyes. “Who told you to wear heels?”

Jennie simply gave her twin brother an annoyed look. “Shut up. Beauty is pain.”

“Anyway, we have to go now,” Heeseung says, pulling your attention back to him. 

“Mom will kill me if I don’t get you home before midnight,” he continues, nudging you with his elbow. He opens the car door, signalling for you to get in. “Come on.”

“Bye, Jaeyun, Jen!” you say as you get into the car. 

Jake sends you a soft smile along with a nod. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“WHAT the hell,” you breathe shakily. 

First, you forgot to return Jake’s suit jacket to him before he left.

Secondly, you’re barely done with your nighttime after-shower routine when you hear knocks on your window. 

Quickly wiping your hair dry with a towel, you rush to your window, the damp towel still in hand. You push the curtains open, only to be greeted with a vision of Sunghoon, leaning against the glass with a grin on his face. Your eyes widen with shock.

“Park Sunghoon!” you exclaim hushedly, immediately opening the window to let him in. 

“Thanks,” he grumbles, effortlessly climbing into your room. He lands with a soft thud, and he stands patiently, waiting for you to close the window. 

“God, you gave me a heart attack,” you say. “What are you doing here? It’s cold outside, you know? How did you even manage to climb up here?”

“Eat,” he replies, instead of answering your questions. Sunghoon then hands you a plastic bag filled with goodies—and you perfectly know what’s inside. 

“What’s this?” you ask nevertheless, grabbing the plastic bag. 

Before you could even open the plastic bag, Sunghoon excellently answers, “Pocari Sweat, cream cheese with salmon kimbap and ice cream.”

A wide grin immediately emerges on your face, much to Sunghoon’s satisfaction. “Oh my god!” you exclaim, sitting down on the heated floor. “I’ve been craving this.”

“You always do, especially after a long night,” Sunghoon murmurs, more like to himself, as he sits down across you, leaning against the wall. 

Unnoticed by you, Sunghoon stays silent as he watches you eat heartily; your facial features highlighted by the warm light of your bedside table.

Something caresses his heart. Some kind of feeling… It makes him feel full and content.

“Switch on the lights, I swear to God,” Sunghoon sighs. 

“No,” you shake your head, cheeks filled with kimbap. “My parents are going to think I’m still awake. Plus, this kind of ambiance makes me sleepy.”

“And?” Sunghoon raises a brow, amused. “Do you want to eat while sleeping?”

“No!” you insist, swallowing a big bite of kimbap. “I want to make myself sleepy so that I can sleep as early as possible.”

Sunghoon snorts. “It’s 12 o’clock, Y/N. What kind of ‘early’ are you talking about?”

He laughs cheerfully—still keeping a low volume—as he dodges a pillow from you. 

“I mean,” you defend yourself, mouth still full of food. “At least it’s earlier than 5 o’clock.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, laughter still lingering around him. “Whatever you say, princess.”

Princess. 

A nickname that rolls off Sunghoon’s tongue so comfortably. It’s an old habit—stemming from an incident that happened when the two of you were kids; where Sunghoon had deliberately called you ‘princess’ just to annoy you, knowing that as a seven-year-old, you wanted to be a dragon warrior when you grew up, not a princess.

Though, the same nickname used by Sunghoon for years to no end still gives you plenty of butterflies and heart-fluttering moments. By logic, you should’ve gotten used to it by now, considering the absurd amount of times he called you by that. 

The two of you sit facing each other, faces lit by the dim light of your mushroom shaped lamp. You and Sunghoon sit in pure silence, the sounds of breathing and occasional satisfactory humming coming from you due to the food filling the atmosphere. 

Sunghoon looks at you attentively—the way you melt into every bite of food that you enjoy; the way that you sit cross-legged in front of him, vulnerable and authentic. It’s just you and him—the pure and bare you; your face naked with no makeup on, your shoulder-length hair let loose, the bangs framing your face perfectly as it should. 

“Goodness, I’m so tired,” you groan, laying down on the floor with an almost finished ice cream in your hand.  

Sunghoon scoffs, adjusting his lean against the wall. “You’re going to choke on that ice cream.”

You throw him a glare. “Shut up.”

Sunghoon merely chuckles, shaking his head. 

“So, Y/N,” Sunghoon says after a moment of unbroken eye contact, caused by him intently watching you try to eat ice cream while laying down. “How was it?”

You immediately sit down. “Hoco?”

Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. Was it fun, with Jake?”

“It was okay. I unexpectedly enjoyed it more than I wanted to,” you reply, finishing your ice cream. “I do think I prefer night-ins to binge watch dramas or movies—like To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, or Emily In Paris—don’t you think?”

Sunghoon smiles briefly. He nods, “movies are more of your thing, I think.”

“Anyway, I’m glad I went,” you continue, “I’m in my senior year—we’re in our senior year, and we won’t get to experience something like this anymore. It’s actually fun!”

Sunghoon sighs as he shrugs. “Homecoming’s not my thing. I thought… I thought it wasn’t yours either.”

You look at him, staring at his features a minute longer. “I-I mean, it still isn’t. I just went because Jennie and Naeun insisted I go.”

“And because Jake did too?”

“Oh, um,” you stammer, “not really. I-I mean, I’ve been shrugging him off for a while now. I even rejected him for prom last year, remember?”

You swear you saw Sunghoon smirk for a split second. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m surprised someone even asked you out.”

“Why?” you roll your eyes. “You think I’m not pretty enough?”

“You are.”

“What–”

“You’re too pretty, people are afraid to ask you out.”

Silence. 

You stare at Sunghoon, your childhood best friend, with widened eyes. He looks back at you, firmly connecting the eye contact with some kind of determination and genuineness you’ve never quite seen before. 

It took a while for you to finally form a response. 

“Oh. Um..”

Sunghoon stands up. “Well, then, sleep well. I have to go now.”

“S-so soon?” you blurt out, flabbergasted. 

Sunghoon smiles softly. “I have practice tomorrow. Come watch.”

“Of course, I always do,” you nod eagerly. You didn’t know when it all started, but for as long as you remember, Sunghoon and you had always been each other’s biggest supporters. You never really missed any of his hockey matches and most of his practices; and he never truly missed any of your music recitals too. 

Your cheeks blush at the thought, and all you could do is gawk at Sunghoon as he ruffles your hair.

“See you later, princess,” he says, pushing your window open. “Sweet dreams.”

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon! I’m so excited! A four-day school trip is really what I needed—just spending time with friends with no worry of anything at all… it must be fun. I hope it’s going to be just like how it is in the dramas; where all we do is play games, maybe sort out treasure hunts and eat delicious food all day. I heard the fee’s going to be quite a lot, so I really do hope the activities are worth attending for.  Also, I think I need to restock on sunscreen and some other stuff. I want to ask Heeseung to take me to Olive Young, but if I’m not mistaken he has a resume to work on and my mom’s not letting him go out until he gets that done.  So… Okay, I’ll just text you if you want to go. Hope you do, and hope you won’t think it’s weird or anything! Sent 11:09 AM, 8th April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon!  Tomorrow is the trip! Ahhh, I’m so excited! I don’t know why I’m very excited for this year’s trip when I went on one last year—maybe it’s the fact that I’ll be spending it with you, for the last time; maybe it’s the fact that I know I’m going to treasure every single moment of this 4-day trip… I don’t know for sure.  This year, we’re going to Gyeongju! I’ve only been there once, with my grandmother in second grade’s winter break, and I loved it there. I’m sure you’ll like it too.  Hoon, thank you for being my friend. You’re such a miracle, a gift to humankind. Also, stop treating me so kindly? It’s… making me delusional.  Sent 20:13 PM, 8th April. 

From the beginning, the senior’s trip is already fun—but the first activity requires something that you somehow dread. The teachers that came along organised a scavenger hunt at the villa that your batch was staying at—and, of course, you’re paired up with Sunghoon for it. 

The tasks were simple but a little tedious, obviously requiring two people. You breezed through them fairly well, but it doesn’t quite help that you’re constantly biting back a smile, remembering how you slept on his shoulder the entire bus ride there.

It also doesn’t quite help that Sunghoon is smiling at you every time you finish a task, looking at you with all of his attention when you’re talking about the next clue. 

You and Sunghoon finished second place, which was not too bad—you were a bit bummed out, considering that the team that finished first was just a few seconds faster than you and Sunghoon. But you weren’t given too much time to dwell on that, because as soon as the scavenger hunt wrapped up, it was time for your tour of Gyeongju.

And, of course, a classic from the dramas had to happen to you. 

You were taking pictures with Jennie and Naeun at the Bulguksa Temple, all giddy and happy due to how pretty it is. 

Then, all of a sudden, it starts pouring. 

Everyone runs for cover, and you’re a bit too slow to catch up with your friends. You try your best to run, eyes squinting as the rain pours down. Suddenly, you’re pulled to your side. You gasp, widening your eyes as you realise that it’s Sunghoon. He pulls you under his jacket, his arms holding it up for the two of you. You hold your breath in, realising how close your face is to his—your nose is barely brushing his. 

He guides you to a hut nearby, where some students are gathered. You gulp—face hot despite the rain bringing stinging cold against your skin. 

“Didn’t know you care so much,” you joke, laughing breathlessly as you attempt to lighten the tension in your shoulders. 

Sunghoon looks at you, holding his gaze for some time. Something difficult to interpret flashes through his eyes for a second. 

“You have no idea,” he mutters before gently pushing you under the roof. 

You watch him, heart thumping loudly against your chest, as he ties his now wet hoodie around his waist, avoiding eye contact. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Park Sunghoon,  What’s going on with my heart? Why does it accelerate so quickly when you’re around? Why does it feel like it’s going to jump out of my chest every single time you hold my hand?  Oh my God. I think I’m going insane.  I can still smell your cologne in the air.  What did you do that for, Sunghoon? I mean, I know it was raining hard and you know I get cold easily… but couldn’t you have just given me your hoodie or something? Anyway, Bulguksa Temple is pretty, isn’t it? Oh my, I’m going to write more when we get home. I can’t really type with my friends around… it’s weird. Also, I have to go get some medication because I think I’m sick from the rain.  Sent 21:00 PM, 9th April. 

“I swear to God, this is so annoying,” you mutter under your breath as you grab onto a light pole for support. You’ve been sneezing non stop for the past hour, and now you’re on the way to the pharmacy near your hotel to get some medicine. Though, it’s really hard and troublesome for you to walk there with constant sneezing and a throbbing headache.

The autumn night wind blows, and you immediately regret wearing a thin cardigan out. 

Why aren’t hoodies in my reach whenever you need them? 

“Y/N!” you hear someone yell your name, footsteps approaching from behind. 

You turn around, surprised to see Jake sprinting towards you. He arrives in a matter of seconds, panting as he catches his breath. 

“Jake?”

“Call me Jaeyun, I said,” he recalls in the midst of his heavy gasps for air. 

“Okay, fine,” you huff, “why are you here, anyway?”

“You’re sick,” Jake says, standing up straight. “Our rooms are two rooms away from each other and I can hear you sneeze all the time. Your nose is red too.”

“Oh,” you purse your lips. “Y-yeah.”

“You’re wearing something so thin too, aigoo,” Jake sighs. He promptly takes off his hoodie, leaving him bare with a white t-shirt underneath. He smoothens the hoodie out and hands it to a flabbergasted you. “Wear this. It’s not too chilly out, but you’re sick so you have to keep warm.”

“Oh,” is all you manage. You then wear Jake’s hoodie as instructed, and the scent of honey and cinnamon engulfs you again. “Thanks. I-I feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good to know,” he says, smiling delicately. “Then let’s go and get you some medicine. We still have two days of the trip, and tomorrow we’re going to Cheomseongdae Observatory. I’m sure you wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

You nod, returning his smile. “Okay then, let’s go.”

Your plan to quickly grab medicine and run back to the hotel as you promised your teacher is completely wrecked. Now, you stand behind Jake at the cashier counter as he pays for your painkillers. 

“Done,” he says, smiling again. He lifts the bag of medicine to his face and shakes it gently. “Look.” 

The thought of doesn’t he get tired of smiling? rushes into your head as you nod. You reach out your hand to take the plastic bag away from him, but he pulls his hand away at the right moment.

“What?” 

“Let me hold it,” he says. Then, he wraps his left arm around your shoulder, leading you out of the pharmacy. “Let’s go eat some ramen?”

“N-now?” you ask him. 

Jake nods enthusiastically. “Mhm, now. You have to eat before you take paracetamol.”

Seeing that he’s actually guiding you to the convenience store a few blocks away, you try to stop him—though he’s a little too strong for you. 

“Jaeyun, you don’t need to eat before taking paracetamol,” you address. 

Jake chuckles. “My mom always told me to eat something warm before,” he answers, “I know you don’t have to, but it makes you feel good. So, why not?”

Maybe it’s Jake’s smile that’s so bright it convinces you to sit down at the convenience store, slurping away instant noodles with him beside you. 

“So good,” you groan, melting into every gulp of the noodles. 

Jake grins. “Told ya.”

“Does it make you feel better?” 

You nod, smiling wide. “It does! I mean, I don’t think it can beat my mom’s chicken soup, but this will do.”

Jake laughs, casting a warm atmosphere around the two of you. He throws his head back, and his smile is so big and cheerful it makes you giggle too. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you your mom’s chicken soup, or at least an authentic one. I can’t get caught venturing further than this.”

You chuckle. “It’s alright. I’m grateful enough that you bought me both my medicine and my food.”

Jake smiles, yet again, at you. “My pleasure.”

“So, Y/N, I heard you play violin,” Jake says after silently watching you finish your cup of noodles. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, cleaning up your things. “I do. Why?”

“Nothing,” Jake replies, “I’m not really into instruments, but my mom and dad used to make me go to piano lessons when I was in elementary school.”

“Lucky,” you giggle, nudging his shoulder. “I wanted to learn piano too, but my dad told me it’d be better to learn violin. I don’t know why, but I guess he wanted me to learn violin because Heeseung oppa was learning piano. Call it ‘variety’,” you laugh. 

Jake chuckles along. 

“So, you know how to play piano, then?” you ask him. 

Jake immediately shakes his head. He raises his hands to his chest in defeat. “A big no! I don’t remember most of it, and I’ve gotten so rusty. I quit piano lessons as soon as middle school started—I got myself busy with basketball so my mom couldn’t bother me.”

You snorted in an attempt to hold in your monstrous laughter. “You’re so petty.”

Jake chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “Y-yeah, I can be.”

“Y/N!” Sunghoon exclaims loudly as he rushes to you. You had just returned with Jake, and you’re about to get into the lift to go back to your room—when suddenly, Sunghoon emerges and hugs you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away to examine you. In fact, he pulls away too fast you didn’t even get to feel the warmth of his embrace. “You’re sick? Why didn’t you tell me? Was it because of the rain?”

As if it’s on cue, you sneeze. “Yeah, I guess. Don’t worry though! Jaeyun got me some medicine, so I should be fine.”

“Jake?” Sunghoon inquires, and he finally notices Jake, who’s standing behind you the whole time. 

Jake shrugs, showing Sunghoon the plastic bag filled with medicine that he’s holding. “I was about to ask where you were. How could you not know that Y/N’s sick?”

“Okay, I’m not that sick, Jaeyun,” you retort. 

Jake narrows his eyes at you. “Mhm. I’ll believe you, Y/N. If I didn’t catch you halfway, you’d be hit by a car with all the sneezing you’re doing.”

“But–” 

“Whatever,” Sunghoon scoffs. He sharply snatches the bag of medicine from Jake’s hand. “C’mon, Y/N, I’ll bring you upstairs.”

“Hey–”

Sunghoon grabs your hand and drags you away, leaving no chance for either Jake or you to say a word. He stays silent, and you do too, throughout the five minutes it took the two of you to get to Room 92. 

“Wh-why are we in front of your room?” you ask, panic starting to seep in. You had memorised his room number from the list your teacher had given out to everyone before the trip. “My room’s 99, not this one…”

“I know,” he says, letting go of your hand as he unlocks the door. “Get in.”

You nod, fiddling with the edges of Jake’s hoodie that you’re wearing. “Where’s your roommate?”

“I told Kangmin to crash at Minseo’s room,” Sunghoon replies offhandedly, closing the door shut. He then changes the light intensity of the lamps, making it a comfortable ambiance for you to be in with such a throbbing headache. 

“Why?” you ask, feeling a little awkward. 

“Well,” Sunghoon replies, pausing to look at you for a while. He continues like it’s the most obvious thing ever, “I didn’t want your roommates to be uncomfortable with you sneezing every five seconds.”

You glare at him. “I mean, they didn’t say anything about it!”

“Yeah, because they don’t want a sick person to feel bad when they’re already sick,” Sunghoon retorts. He walks over to the mini fridge under the cupboard and brings out a carton of strawberry milk. 

“Here,” he hands you the milk. “Eat your medicine quickly, then you can go to bed—wait, have you eaten soup?”

Sitting down on the edge of one of the single beds in the room, you sigh. “I have,” you reply, opening the packaging of the straw. “Jaeyun bought me some.”

Sunghoon, who’s about to get in the bathroom, pauses as he looks at you. For a moment, he doesn’t look away. 

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath as he says, before going to the bathroom. 

For a minute, you stare at the strawberry milk in your hands. You can’t help but smile a little—Sunghoon knows that you can’t swallow pills without flavoured drinks to go with it, due to the bad aftertaste; and he knows that your favourite flavour with almost anything is strawberry—your heart flutters, even if just a little bit, at your best friend’s simple gesture. 

You quickly take your designated dose of paracetamol, followed by the strawberry milk; flopping down sideways onto the bed, feeling the exhaustion taking over you. Unable to control yourself, the world around you then goes dark as you close your eyes shut. 

“Y/N? Princess?” Sunghoon calls, his tone softening as he spots you asleep. 

He walks over to you, shaking his head. “I swear, this girl…”

After trying to wake you up several times and failing, Sunghoon decides to just let you sleep on his bed—he’ll sleep on Kangmin’s. With his build, he easily adjusts your posture so it’s more comfortable for you—he tucks you in with the comforter; neatly arranging your medicine and half-finished strawberry milk on the bedside table. 

His tense features relax upon seeing you. 

Sunghoon sits beside your sleeping figure, taking his time to absorb your presence. Some kind of heavy emotions dawn on him—he doesn’t know why or where they came from. Maybe it’s overwhelming affection for his best friend of more than a decade; maybe it’s the emotions suppressed for years. 

Although reluctant, Sunghoon brushes hair away from your face—stunned to find himself admiring every inch of it. Accentuated by the dim lighting of the room, you look extremely beautiful. 

Sunghoon retracts his hand, pressing it against his accelerating heart. 

Why did she have to smile like that to Jake? Why did she have to let him take care of her when I’m here?

For the first time, he realises the heat in his cheeks as he gazes upon you. For the first time in a while, he admits the way his heart tightens, and the way his emotions churn in his stomach as he watches a laugh escape you when you’re with Jake. For the first time in years, he recognises the beauty of his best friend—it’s enchanting, ethereal and everlasting. 

Though, Sunghoon’s extremely worried—and this is the sole reason why he’s been pushing away his own feelings for several years—he’s feared that his feelings would get in the way of your strong friendship. Countless thoughts attack him daily, every time he finds himself admiring you a little too much than he’s supposed to—what if you don’t like him back? What if you think it’s extremely weird? What if you don’t want to be friends with him anymore because you’re uncomfortable with it?

Sunghoon shakes his head, smacking his face lightly to knock himself out of it. He better get rid of whatever he’s feeling before it gets out of control.

At least I get to be close to her at all times. 

Sunghoon then places his hand against your forehead, thankful that your temperature has gone down. The paracetamol was taking effect, and Sunghoon dearly hopes that you’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. 

He smiles at the thought of spending a whole day with you. 

“Shut up, Park Sunghoon,” he mutters to himself. 

“Y/N! Good morning!” Jennie greets you, bringing you into a hug. She raises a brow at Sunghoon, who’s following you as you come out of the elevator. “What’s going on?”

“What?” you ask. 

“Don’t be so dense,” Naeun sighs, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Why did you come out of the elevator with Sunghoon? You were gone last night too—I can’t believe I had to spend a night in a city I’ve never been to alone.”

Your eyes widen—you had spent the night in Park Sunghoon’s room without telling your girls about it. A misunderstanding could happen, and you didn’t have the energy to face one. “I-I accidentally fell asleep,” you say, before leaning close to your friends to whisper, “in his room.”

Naeun makes a disgusted face and Jennie gasps loudly. “Are you kidding me?” the latter shrieks. 

Behind you, you hear Sunghoon chortle. 

“No, no! It’s not what you think it is,” you panickedly say. Then, you add—even though it hurts to say, “we’re just friends.”

Jennie throws a dirty look at Sunghoon, who’s somehow struggling to keep a poker face on. “Yeah, sure. I’ll take your word for that,” she replies with a heavy sarcastic tone. 

“I’ve done it multiple times!” you blurt out, immediately regretting that you worded it wrong—surely, it sounded like something else to your girlfriends. “I-I mean, we’ve been friends since pre-elementary, and we’ve slept together platonically for countless times.”

Naeun chuckles, “whatever.” 

“Oh, also,” Sunghoon says, catching the attention of you and the two girls. “Here, wear my jacket,” he adds, smoothly taking off his varsity jacket, which has P. SUNGHOON and the number 23 embroidered at the back. He grabs your shoulders, spins you around and places the cream and navy blue varsity jacket on you. 

“There,” he says, smiling sillily as he spins you back around to face him. “In case you get cold.”

You suck in your breath through gritted teeth, knowing perfectly the looks given to you and Sunghoon from Jennie and Naeun. Though, as you fight your inner demons that are strongly urging you to squeal your heart out to release the heat in your cheeks, you smile.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you say as you properly wear his varsity jacket. Soon after, your nose buds are graciously attacked by the familiar scent of Sunghoon—fresh and masculine; a floral fragrance with herbaceous sweet undertones, perfectly blended with a warm and earthy aroma of a sweet yet spicy undertone. 

“Hoon,” you ask, “are you wearing the Ralph Lauren perfume I got for you for your 16th birthday?”

He nods, slightly surprised. “You remember?”

Your cheeks warms again, “y-yeah. Well, I did smell it thoroughly before giving it to you, t-that’s why I got it memorised,” you smile as warmly as your cheeks, “I had to give you something that suits you so well.”  

Sunghoon laughs. “Really?”

Actively ignoring the disgusted looks on your friends’ faces, Sunghoon proceeds to pinch your cheeks. “Aww, you love me~” he jokingly coos.  

You mask your true feelings, once again, with a horrified expression. “Yeah, I do,” you admit slowly under your breath.

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  I think I just fell in love with you all over again.  Oh God.  Sent 21:45 PM, 12th April. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Park Sunghoon,  It’s been a long time since I’ve sent in anything. School has been quite hectic, hasn’t it? I barely see you after school, now that you’re busy with hockey practice and I’m busy with extra class and orchestra practice. Ahh, I’m so nervous! This is my first time assigned to play in the First Violins! I honestly wish I got to lead it this time, considering the amount of time I’ve played in a concert, but I do think that Gaeul deserves it! She plays violin really well, I’m sometimes envious of her skill.  Oh, we have two concerts upcoming, by the way. One is next Tuesday, for the choir—we’re playing alongside as their background music. I’m the concertmaster for this one! I’m really really really nervous… I’ve been practising a lot, my hand hurts even typing and doing homework! Would you come and watch me play, Hoon?  Sent 20:04 PM, 10th May. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Sunghoon! I think you did well today. Did you notice me in the bleachers? I was at school for a short while today—I wanted to pick up a textbook I accidentally left in my locker… hehehe. Please don’t scold me for being forgetful, I was so engrossed in orchestra practice yesterday. I almost missed the bus too! When I was walking past the ice rink, I saw you playing with your friends. You look so cool… gracefully skating on the ice. You look so determined and skillful. Oh my God, how do you even manage to look handsome and play hockey so well at the same time? I’m speechless… Anyway, I came in and watched you guys play. I sat with Han Jihyeon—you know her? She’s Dongmin’s noona. I talked to her about a lot of things—like how the fall band concert went, and how she’s balancing studies alongside her other stuff. Honestly, I admire her support for her younger brother. She says she’s never yet to miss watching any of his hockey practices and matches… She inspires me to do the same for you! Hehe.  Oh God, I’m so… optimistic for no reason. I act like your girlfriend, even… when I’m not.  You know what? It’s okay. At least I get to be there, admiring you from afar. That’s not too bad, right? Sent 13:56 PM, 11th May. 

AS you’re putting on some makeup, trying to not ruin it due to your shaky hands, your smartphone rings. You glance over and see Sunghoon’s contact name, ‘Baekgu’, calling you. You quickly put your eyeshadow palette and brush down, picking up the call. 

“Hi,” you say, putting the call on loudspeaker. You then set your smartphone back on your table, turning to the mirror to continue your makeup routine. “I’m putting you on loudspeaker, I’m putting on makeup.”

“Okay,” comes his reply. “What time is your concert? Isn’t it at half past five?”

You nod, carefully putting on highlighter and glitter on the edges of your eyes. “Yeah, but I have to get there at five.”

“Want me to pick you up?” 

You snort. “You can’t even drive yet, Hoon.”

You hear him scoff, and laugh at the imagination of him doing so. “I have a motorcycle licence, you idiot.”

“Okay, okay,” you chortle, “but you don’t have practice today?”

“No,” he replies, “I can go to tomorrow’s—you have a concert today, why would I miss it?”

Your pupils dilate, and you pause in the midst of applying blush. “U-um—are you crazy, Park Sunghoon? You’re in the varsity team,” you scold him, “you shouldn’t be skipping any training!”

Sunghoon cackles. “Yah, who do you think I am? I’m Park Sunghoon, you know? One day of no training isn’t a big deal to me!”

To: parksung.h0812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon, I’m so nervous. On Tuesday, we’ll have the orchestra concert—and Miss Jeon, this morning, had suddenly told me that I have to replace Gaeul as concertmaster as she had an accident, broke her arm and was hospitalised, so she can’t play. I went to visit Gaeul just now, and she told me not to feel bad because I’m replacing her, but rather that I should feel proud because Miss Jeon knows that I’m capable enough to be a good concertmaster.  I don’t know… I don’t know if I’ll play well enough. Sent 10:12 AM, 18th May.

You adjust your sitting posture, taking a deep breath of the fresh air around you. You had walked over to the park to clear your thoughts. The concert that you’re going to play in as concertmaster is coming in less than two days, and since it is the biggest concert you’ve ever played in, you’re more nervous than you ever were for any of your previous concerts. 

“Y/N!” you hear Jake’s voice, and as you look up, he’s already making his way towards you. 

“Hi,” he smiles as he greets you. “What are you doing out here alone? Without a hoodie, too.”

You shove your hands into the pockets of your pants, grinning sheepishly. “It’s okay, it’s not too cold.”

“You okay?” he asks as he takes a seat next to you. Jake looks a tad bit reluctant to do so, but the tension present in his features relaxes a little as you give him a reassuring smile. “You look a little off right now. Are you alright?”

You laugh, patting Jake’s arm. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Jake looks at you, his eyes filled with adoration. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s spring, but lately, he’s constantly thinking about you. Recently, all he’s curious about is if you’ve eaten, if you’re taking good care of yourself, if you’re feeling okay. 

Though, Jake knows that he’s just a friend. Jake knows, perfectly enough, that he’s just your deskmate, who you talk to only out of courtesy or when Sunghoon’s away. 

Spring is the season of love and blossoming feelings, and for Jake, it is wishing that you would see him as something more. 

“I’m just wondering,” you begin, “if I’ll do good enough for the concert. I’m really, really nervous. I feel like my heart’s about to burst.”

“Oh?” Jake tilts his head slightly. “I think you’ll do okay.”

You lower your head. “I don’t think ‘okay’ is enough. I need this to be perfect—it’s my last high school orchestra concert, and-and I don’t think I’ve been practising as much as I wanted to, with all the studying–”

Jake grabs your hand and places it on his heart. It’s racing, beatng faster than you thought it was.

Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.  

“Here. Can you feel it?”

Too flustered—both from the sudden form of intimacy and the feeling of Jake’s heartbeats against your hand, you find yourself unable to form any words, so you simply nod. 

“This is how I feel every single time a basketball match is about to start, or whenever I’m with someone I enjoy being around,” Jake continues, “it’s as if my heart is running faster than I do… but anyway, my point is that it’s okay to feel nervous, even when you’re doing something you’ve done so many times. You’ve worked hard for this concert, right?”

Jake looks at you, directly in the eye, and he gives you a gentle smile. It’s reassuring and comforting, conveying to you more than his words did. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

“Then, you don’t have to be afraid,” Jake says, his voice softer than his usual poised tone, “you’ll do well—just like you always do. If you don’t believe in that, it’s okay. Just know that I believe in you. A lot of people do.”

“Thank you, Jaeyun,” you sigh, after taking a few minutes to process Jake’s words—and the fact that you’re sitting there, with him, hand in hand. 

It gives you tingles, exciting your nerves—Jake’s presence is gentle and warm, even if it’s a little sudden and abrupt. You enjoy being around him, and seeing another side to the well-known basketball talent—who’s always seen as someone who is carefree and laid-back. Honestly, you’re surprised to find out that the caring side of Jake was so much more than just smiling frequently at people. You’re surprised to find that Jake is a soul made out of compassion and kindness, and you’re ever so grateful to befriend someone like him. 

“My pleasure,” he replies, squeezing your hand once. “I’m… glad to be of help.”

You let go of his hand, standing up. “I’m going to go home and practise some more,” you tell Jake, who immediately perks up at your voice. “I’ll see you later?”

“Alright—you don’t want me to walk you home?”

You shake your head, “it’s okay, I can manage.”

Jake nods, and waves you goodbye. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Today’s the day of the concert. I’m very scared, but I’ll try to shrug it off. I woke up super early today, despite not being able to sleep that well last night. I’m all dressed, I did my hair and makeup for school; I even have the dress for the concert all ready. I already double checked my violin and memorised my music sheets (even though I’ll be having them on display for the concert later)... but I just still feel so anxious. Help me, Sunghoon, I don’t know what to do. Sent 6:32 AM, 20th May.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jake greets you, knocking you out of your train of thought. You look to your side and see him hopping off his bicycle, pushing it slowly to match your walking pace. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you smile back, your cheeks itching due to the insincerity of the smile. “Where’s Jennie?” 

“She’s still at home,” Jake answers, “you know her—she’s always out at around half past seven.”

You nod, aware of what he’s talking about. “I see. Why are you out so early, though? It’s only seven o’clock.”

Jake chuckles. “Well I figured I had to start out early to catch up with you. Turns out my timing is perfect today. I always catch you at school already.”

“Yeah,” you give him a courteous smile. “I noticed that too.”

“So, how’ve you been doing?” Jake asks, after around five minutes of silence.  

“I’m fine,” you simply say. You’re lying, as who would be absolutely fine when they’ve got an extremely important and big event coming up in a few hours? Though, you didn’t feel the need to explain to Jake. 

“Are you?” he counters, an eyebrow raised in the following. “I’m really amazed if you truly are, considering that you’ve been balancing studying for midterms and national entrance exams—which at the same time, you’ve also been practising violin.”

You choke out some laughter. “You’ve been observant of me, huh? Don’t think that’s a little creepy?”

Satisfaction and a little bit of guilt washes through you as you delightfully watch Jake’s eyes widen. “I-oh my,” he stumbles over his words the same way he’s tripping on air out of pure embarrassment. He quickly catches up with you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as a creep, Y/N. I’m just quite… observant, that’s all.”

You chortle, feeling in the mood to tease the five feet nine inches dude walking beside you. “Are you?” you tease, mimicking his accent and the way he said it to you earlier, “then, Jaeyun, tell me what are the ten enzymes in the glycolysis process?”

Jake’s jaw drops wide open. “I-I mean–”

You burst out laughing, glad that you’re finally able to catch him off guard. “Gotcha. Knew you weren’t thoroughly observant.”

“Hey! That isn’t fair, you’re asking me about biology,” Jake pouts. “Who on earth would pay attention in Mrs Nelly’s class?”

“Y/N would.”

You pause in your tracks, shock sending chills throughout your body as you feel Sunghoon’s voice to your right. You look in his direction, and he’s already walking in synchronisation of your tempo. Sunghoon slides his arm around your shoulder, giving you a grin.

“Good morning, princess,” he says casually. 

 You clear your throat, your cheeks coloured pink at the close vicinity. “Good morning, Hoon.”

“Good morning, Sunghoon,” Jake says plainly. 

“Oh, Jake?” Sunghoon tilts his head, giving the basketball jock a taunting yet innocent look—as if he’s just noticed his presence. “G’morning.” 

You manage to catch a glimpse of Sunghoon’s smug face: his left eyebrow raised and his slight  smile was evidently one-sided—directed straight to Jake. 

“Have you eaten breakfast, princess?” Sunghoon asks, turning back to you.

You shake your head, flexing your shoulders to adjust the position of both your backpack and your violin case backpack. “I don’t have the appetite.”

Both Sunghoon and Jake form a perplexed look simultaneously. Sunghoon smacks the back of your head feebly, rolling his eyes. “Yah! What did I tell you? Eat your breakfast!” he scolds, “do you want me to die?”

“What does my breakfast have to do with you dying?” you retort. 

“Well–” your best friend of almost 10 years pauses. “It doesn’t matter, but, c’mon,” he changes the topic, grabbing your hand. He glances at Jake, who’s biting his lips shut, before dragging you away. “Let’s get to school early so we can grab some breakfast.”

“Oomf–” you manage, stumbling. “See you later, Jaeyun!” you give Jake a wave with your free hand. Jake forms a smile upon seeing it, and in return, he waves. 

“ARE you nervous?” Sunghoon asks as the two of you are packing your bags at the end of the day’s lessons. 

“Well, if you can’t tell,” you joke with a deadpanned expression, zipping your school backpack shut. “Yes.”

Sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, smiling meekly. “I mean, you’re so good at the violin, so I didn’t think you’d be nervous.”

“Are you insane?” you gasp, smacking the 12th grader’s head. He blocks your hit effortlessly with his arm. “It’s my biggest concert as a freaking concertmaster!”

Sunghoon grins. “So? You’re going to ace it either way,” he grabs you, and before you could react, puts you in a headlock. He ruffles your hair aggressively. “Won’t you?”

“Hey!” you scream, frantically pulling yourself away from him. Luckily for you, his grip is purposefully loose, so you quickly stand back on your feet. “What was that for?”

Sunghoon merely smiles—it’s gentler and comforting this time—as if he’s silently reassuring you that everything will go just fine. 

“Y/N,” Jake calls, shattering the moment you’re having with Sunghoon. You quickly turn to face him, unaware of the grim change in Sunghoon’s expression. Jake hands you a canned ice lemon tea. “Here, um, I don’t know if you like lemon tea or not–”

“I do!” you animatedly beam. Jake sighs in gratitude.

“...thank God. Anyway, I got this for you, my grandma said that tea’s good for calming your nerves down,” Jake continues. 

“The sugar will make her energetic anyway,” you hear Sunghoon mutter grumpily behind you. You’re not sure if Jake hears it, because the smile on his face is unwavering. 

“Thanks,” you say. Jake nods, and before he can say anything in reply, Sunghoon snatches the can of ice lemon tea in your hand. 

“This looks good,” he muses, his smirk evident. You turn towards him, confused. What is he really trying to do? “I’m gonna have some, eh?”

You wear your backpack, shrugging. “You do you, Park Sunghoon. I’m going to go now, I’ve got to get ready for the concert.”

“Wait up!” Sunghoon exclaims, running after you. 

SUNGHOON runs into the waiting area of the orchestra pit’s stage, 15 minutes before the concert starts. He tries to spot you—or simply anyone he knows to help him find you. He sees plenty of people: a group of violinists, another group of people tuning their cellos and violas. His eyes scan through the crowd, and spots you in a corner, pacing here and there to calm yourself down.  

“Y/N,” he says, a little softer than he intended. You turn around—the ankle-length black skirt creating a flower around you as it swirls, your hair gently hitting your face. Sunghoon clears his throat in an attempt to drive away the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. 

“Oh, you look beautiful,” he blurts out, leaving you wide-eyed and as flustered as he is. 

“T-thanks,” you manage. 

Sunghoon takes a deep breath, hesitating at the last minute. He brings out his arms and pulls you into a hug, embracing you in his warmth; at the same time stepping over the line he’s placed between himself and you. He lingers around longer than you expect him to, and when he finally pulls away, the tip of his ears are flushed red. 

“You’ll do great,” Sunghoon whispers, squeezing your shoulders in hopes of channeling the confidence he has in your ability, to you. “I know that.”

You smile warmly at him. 

This is why you can’t stop falling in love with him—Park Sunghoon—your own best friend. He knows you so well, probably even more than you know yourself. He knows exactly when you need anything, and perfectly how you need things. He makes you feel like it’s so easy to befriend you—like loving you is the easiest thing in the world, even if it was platonic. 

Everything is simple and easy when you’re with Sunghoon. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Dear Sunghoon,  I haven’t been writing to you in a very long time—I hope you’re doing okay. National state exams are coming in less than a week, and I’m a total nervous wreck. I’ve been studying every single day, but I don’t know… I wish I planned things out better. I don’t know if I’ve memorised everything, if I’ve reviewed everything, and if I’ve done enough practice questions.  I’m laughing at myself right now. So ironic, right? I’m Decelis Academy’s prodigy, the so-called “academic weapon” of our school, but I can’t even get studying right.  I haven’t been studying properly these past few days. I can’t even open my eyes… my head hurts and nothing makes sense. I don’t know, Sunghoon. I wish burnout didn’t exist. And I sincerely hope that you’re not going through the same thing as me.  Sent 12:48 PM, 9th November. 

To: parksung.h0on812@gmail.com From: sincerely/n@gmail.com Hoon, Why am I like this? Why can’t I study properly? Every passing minute I feel more like a failure. Why can’t I memorise anything? I’m so dumb. So stupid.  I don’t know anymore. Sent 8:03 AM, 10th November.

Sunghoon grabs a coat and quickly heads out of his house, desperate to get fresh air. Studying has gotten his head clogged, and for the first time in a while, he believes that burnout is real. He hasn’t even been to two weeks of hockey practice, and that is significant for someone like Sunghoon. 

He grabs his smartphone out of his pocket and opens one of the only pinned contacts in his messages—you. He’s worried; you haven’t texted him back in three days. And knowing you, Sunghoon guesses that you probably forgot to respond to him due to your intense studying. 

Since he’s already out and about to talk a walk, he might as well grab a refresher or two and visit you. Sunghoon stops by a cafe near your school, one that he specifically knew to always have your favourite strawberry danish. He buys two of them along with two cups of lemon sprite, swiftly catching a taxi to arrive at your house faster. 

After sitting down, Sunghoon texts you. 

hey, have you had lunch?

And to his surprise, he gets a response within three minutes. 

Though, it wasn’t from you. 

sunghoon, this is heeseung

y/n’s in the hospital

she collapsed 

the doctor said it’s bc she hasn’t eaten properly the past few days

He couldn’t believe what he was reading.

His heart stops for a split second. The world around him starts spinning rapidly as he tries to process Heeseung’s messages. His hands start to shake, making it hard for him to type a response to Heeseung. Fear starts to creep up on him, and malicious thoughts fill his brain. 

Sunghoon shakily calls out to the driver to change the route and bring him to the hospital—his heart banging loudly against his chest every second of it. 

“LEE Y/N!” Sunghoon’s scream echoes through the hallway of the hospital as soon as he enters. His vision blurry with tears, he storms in with shaky fists, ignoring all the judging eyes on him. He approaches you, standing right next to your bed. 

“Hoon?” you say, confused. You’ve been awake for half an hour, so you didn’t feel entirely weak. You’re leaning against the bed frame with a pillow propped behind your back, an IV drip to your left hand. 

“Why do you always do this to yourself?” Sunghoon whimpers, every word he utters weaker than the previous one. “Why do you always neglect yourself? Why do you always treat yourself badly? Do you not care about yourself? Do you not care about me… about how I feel when you do this?”

You watch, horror painted across your face, as tears rain down Sunghoon’s cheeks. He utters every word with pain laced onto every letter, and by the time he manages to force the last bit out of his throat, his knees go weak. Sunghoon is on his knees, his hands tightly gripping the sides of the hospital bed. Tears flow uncontrollably from his eyes, staining his handsome porcelain face.

“Hoon,” you call gently, causing him to look up. The expression on his face, his sparkly eyes filled with pain and agony broke your heart. “What… what’s wrong?”

The response comes out of Sunghoon, slow and weak—yet it is sincere, straight from his heart. 

“I can’t lose you.”

“I-” you’re torn. You’re so sure Sunghoon doesn’t see you as someone more than his best friend, yet why is he bawling his eyes out, on his knees, in front of you? He looks like someone who’s almost lost his significant other—yet you’re sure that Sunghoon simply sees you as his childhood buddy. 

Though, you can’t hold it in anymore—your heart breaks at the sight of Sunghoon, the boy you’ve loved for years to no end, in tears because of you. You collect every bit of energy in your body and hop off the bed, crouching to his level. 

“Hoon,” you mumble, grabbing his hands. “Look at me.”

Sunghoon follows, and once again, it breaks your heart to stare into his eyes, now red and tear-stricken. 

“I’m here,” you say, staring straight into his eyes. “Okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

You fight back a smile, reminiscing at a distant memory—one where you comforted a nine-year-old Sunghoon who was wailing the living daylights out of himself, due to you being sick and absent from school for three days. He thought he lost you, that you had moved away and would never come back. You remember pulling him into a hug at the school playground, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Though, as the two of you grow up, Sunghoon never really cried. It’s always been you—crying during sad movies, silently weeping when you get a grade you wished was higher, sobbing when violin classes were a little on the harder side—and Sunghoon had always been the one there to listen and comfort you. Well, quoting a ninth grader Sunghoon, he said men aren’t supposed to cry.

This was the first time you’ve seen him cry, in years. 

Sunghoon looks at your hands, and when his eyes land on the one with the IV drip, tears begin to rain down again. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“What are you sorry for, Hoon?” you ask. 

Sunghoon lets out a heart wrenching sob and pulls you into his embrace. It’s sudden yet warm and tight as if you’ll disappear if he lets you go. You let him sob on your shoulder, though you’re still wondering why seeing you in this condition makes him seem so heartbroken.

A glimpse of hope flutters its way in.

Perhaps Sunghoon harbours the same feelings as you.  

“Y/N!” you hear Jake’s voice, and as you look up, you see him in front of you. His chest is heaving up and down, catching his breath. 

“Hi,” you smile. “Did you run here?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I was at extra class. Then, I heard from Jennie that you’re…”

You chuckle sheepishly. “Yeah… I’m sorry if I made you worry,” you say, glancing at Sunghoon—who’s asleep by your side, his head propped against the bed. 

Jake looks briefly at Sunghoon, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Am I interrupting something?” 

You widen your eyes, quickly shaking your head. “No! I mean, nothing’s going on. He’s just tired.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line, nodding along. “Where are your parents? Heeseung?”

“Oh, they left to get lunch. They should be back soon,” you reply, “I forced Heeseung to make them go, ‘cause I know my mom loses her appetite entirely if anything happens to me or my brother.”

Jake nods. He approaches your bedside table and places a plastic bag filled with fruits inside. “Here, I bought some fruits. They should replenish your energy pretty effectively.”

“Why? Is it because they contain a high level of glucose, fibres and antioxidants?” you jest, giving Jake a lopsided grin.

Jake stares at you, blinking his eyes rapidly in confusion for a few seconds. “Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiles a little. “Well, true, but fruits contain natural sugars that can be broken down into glucose. They don’t contain, like, plain old glucose.”

You break out in fits of laughter. “Oh my, someone has been doing his studying well!”

Jake laughs, lowering his head to avoid breaking into a larger eruption of laughter. “Well, I need to study, unfortunately,” he says, after gaining composure. “The entrance exam isn’t going to write itself, is it?”

The two of you exchange smiles. You then look away, shifting your gaze from one object to another while trying to come up with a subject to talk about—as it has become quite awkward as both you and Jake don’t know what to say. 

“So, um, are you feeling okay?” Jake asks, his eyes flickering between your face and the IV drip taped securely on your hand. 

You nod. “I’m okay now. I ate two strawberry danishes,” you giggle, pointing over to the opened packaging of the pastries on the bedside table. “Sunghoon bought them for me! Wah, how does he know exactly what I’m craving for? I haven’t eaten these in so long!”

Something stung Jake’s heart, seeing you talk so animatedly about a tiny gesture made by Sunghoon. The big smile on your face and the higher pitch of your voice tells Jake everything he needs to know about how you feel towards your childhood best friend. 

You like Sunghoon, more than what friends are supposed to. You love Sunghoon, on a much higher level than what friends would do. 

“Why do you like strawberries so much?” Jake asks.

You chuckle awkwardly. “Um. I don’t… really… know how to answer that? I’ve always loved strawberries since I was a kid.”

“Was it because Sunghoon gave you a strawberry when you guys first met?” Jake probes even more. It was just a guess, but he wanted to see your reaction to it. 

Your pupils dilate abruptly. “No! No… no, obviously not. The first thing he ever gave to me was a Bumblebee action figure. He thought it’d be a good replacement after breaking the Kung Fu Panda figurine Heeseung gave to me,” you answer, chuckling at the old memory.

“You remember every moment very clearly,” Jake points out. 

“Oh! Um. Well… that’s because…” you end up simply cheekily smiling at Jake, as you didn’t know what the appropriate response would be.

“You like Sunghoon,” Jake states so curtly it makes you choke on air. 

“Don’t you?” he adds to further push the answer out of you. Jake knows what your answer would be, though he needed to hear it from you.

Your cheeks pink, you spend a good minute staring wide eyed at Jake, not knowing how to respond to such a thorough revelation. You’ve never witnessed this side of Jake before—fierce, determined and harshly curt—his polite and bright smile turned into a sharp and alluring gaze.

“It’s complicated,” you end up saying. 

“You believe he doesn’t like you,” Jake continues. His words hit hard like a bullet, attacking you in every aspect. 

You gape at the 12 grader in front of you. How was he so observant, or are you just too obvious and easy to figure out?

“Yeah…” you sigh. “I mean, friends aren’t supposed to like each other. There are so many better girls out there for him, so I doubt he even sees me more than a childhood best friend.”

Pause. 

“And there are better guys for you, out there, too,” Jake says softly. 

Before you’re able to process the harsh reality in Jake’s words, he hits you with another bullet—a brutal offensive straight to the heart. 

Jake takes a deep breath, determined. 

“I like you.”

Slowly, you look up to meet his eyes. The pair of brown eyes are filled with firm sincerity, as if he’s giving it all; never backing down. 

“Date me,” he says with a firm tone that tells you perfectly that he’s serious about it. “I’ll treat you better than anyone ever will.”

“I-I–” you stammer, unable to look Jake in the eye. 

“Try dating me for a month,” he suggests, his tone gentler than before, almost shaky. “I’ll show you how well I’ll treat you.”

You force yourself to meet Jake’s eyes—finding some desperation lingering around. He’s firm and resolute, yet you could actually hear his voice shaking. “If you still don’t like me after that, reject me. I’ll be content… with your decision.”  to be continued...

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ check out PART TWO

[borathae]

Red Shirt | JJK x f.Reader

↳ Full Art

“Jungkook tries to sneak away after last night, unaware that you have been watching him all this time.”

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Morning After!AU, Magic!AU, Smut

Warnings: nudity, messy bodies after messy sex, Kook is a fucking flirt & tease, she takes pictures of him, allusions to: rough & passionate sex, pegging, breeding with fake cum, vaginal sex, creampies, marking & bruises, naked cuddling

Wordcount: 1k

a/n: patreon stresses me out so much omfg 😭 BUT here is another lil short story to one of my art ohohoh ❤ if you want to support me on patreon, i will love you forever (my dream is to one day only live off my art & writing jdsfjj)

“Come back to bed“, you say, sitting up to trail your boyfriend with your eyes as the latter hurries through the room.

“You know I want to, but I can’t”, Jungkook tells you and scans his eyes over the floor in search for his briefs.

He woke up earlier than you. The sun had barely passed the distant mountains and you hugged him to your chest when he did.

It is a regular thing that Jungkook wakes up in your arms as your little spoon. Jungkook doesn’t need to hold something as he sleeps, while you do. He doesn’t mind when you roll over in your sleep and pull him against your chest. He liked it this morning especially.

You were rough last night. Jungkook wanted you to. The wet, creamy reminder of it still oozed out of Jungkook as he sat up after waking up. It seeped deep into your rose-coloured satin sheets, joining all the other stains you and he painted last night. The once purple and pink marks on Jungkook’s body healed over night, but Jungkook still remembers all the spots they covered. It tingles when he brushes his fingers over them.

Jungkook liked waking up as your little spoon this morning. He liked feeling your bared, silken skin against his equally as bared skin. He liked the tickling swirls of breath dancing over the nape of his neck and he liked the sensation of your soft cunt against his ass. You and he didn’t clean up last night because you are both into feeling the sex on your skins the morning after, so Jungkook woke up to your messy cunt pressed against his sticky ass.

Jungkook liked it and he would have stayed in your arms if he didn’t have responsibilities today.

“Why can’t you stay? It’s too early to leave”, you bargain, missing his touch. The worst part about mornings with him, is when he has to leave and you have to make do with the solitude which once he filled. Just as you filled him last night. And then he did you. Fuck, last night was so messy and passionate.

Jungkook bends down to pick up his briefs, “I promised Yoongi to help with the Rippers. I can’t let him down”, he argues and straightens up. His torn apart briefs hang on his pointer finger in messy shreds.

You eye them and press your legs together. It smears the mess all over your thighs.

“Really?” Jungkook says with a chuckle on his lips, “couldn’t you have gone easy on them?”

“No.”

“You’re unbelievable”, Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. “Ever since you learned how to use your magic to get stronger, you’re a maniac”, he says with fondness in his voice. He discards the torn briefs on the floor and snatches his jeans. He steps into them and pulls them up, stuffing his cock into them.

“So this is your best solution? No underwear?” you ask, lifting your right brow in question.

“I’m already late and running back to my wing takes too much time”, Jungkook says and turns to hurry to where you discarded his red button up. It was right after you pushed him into your bedroom and told him that you will have him arching his back later, which turned out to be true.

You drop into the sheets with a loud sigh, rubbing your hand over your own forehead.

“You aren’t making it easier for me when you leave like this.”

“I know. It’s not my preferred way either, but I’m late.”

“You know that I wasn’t speaking of uncomfortable pants”, you say as you laugh breathily.

Jungkook chuckles, “I’m aware.”

You sit up again. The sun is shining into your bedroom, illuminating your boyfriend’s fit stature temptingly well. Bright spots of lights cover his chest and parts of his sculpted abs, dark shadows blend into the colours and hide his tattoos in slight mystery. His jeans are still open enough to reveal his shaft and parts of his balls to your eyes. His dark hair hangs messily, matching in colour with his thick bush. You reach for your film camera and snap a picture as Jungkook is putting on his shirt.

The latter lifts his head at the sound of the shutter, watching you lower the camera again.

“For me”, you say, giving Jungkook a playful grin.

Jungkook lets out a fond scoff and closes his shirt, “you’re too obsessed with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are”, Jungkook says and stuffs the shirt into his tight jeans.

“Even if I was, is that a problem?”

“Yeah, a little”, Jungkook says, closing the buttons of his jeans.

“Why?” you laugh as you ask the question.

“Because…” Jungkook closes the distance between you and him. He takes your face between his fingers and tilts your head up.

You moan softly, looking up at Jungkook with slight submission in your adoring eyes.

Jungkook traces your lips, “…it makes me wanna act up”, he rasps and kisses you.

You mewl, pulling him closer by a bundle of his red shirt. You arch your back, parting your lips so Jungkook could claim what will always be his’.

Jungkook, however, doesn’t deepen the kiss, breaking it with a gentle bite to your lower lip. It tingles.

“Kook…please…” you sigh, chasing him with an arch of your back and your thighs rubbing together.

“It’ll get late today. Try not to think of me too much”, Jungkook whispers and brushes his thumb over your parted lips. Seconds later he is gone, leaving you with nothing but stained sheets, ripped briefs and the memory of how it was to be buried in his willing ass.

[xoxochb]

“wait!”

you pause in your movements, awaiting percy’s next words.

he holds up his index finger and walks to the pantry cabinet. you sigh and drop the mixing spoon against the side of the bowl so you can keep your infant from falling off the counter until percy returns.

you smile at her. not any older than seven months old. you tap her nose lightly and watch as she begins to giggle and kick her tiny feet excitedly. you cup her small face and kiss her forehead gently.

soon enough, percy returns with a bottle of blue food dye, tossing it in the air and catching it with one hand as he takes your spot in front of the baby.

“most vital ingredient.”

you sigh and take the bottle, dropping in his recommended amount into the cookie batter before you begin to stir it again. this time it begins to turn blue not to anyone’s surprise.

there had not been one food made in this house that wasn’t blue at this point— anything that possibly could be colored was. you didn’t argue with it, over years and years and years of knowing percy you had gotten used to it.

and by now, you’d be upset not to see something blue.

you finish stirring the dye into the batter, dropping the spoon against and twirling your wrist to remove the aches.

with one hand around the baby, percy uses his opposite to kiss your wrist.

“I need a baking pan now. please.”

“yes ma’am.”

percy places a kiss to his daughter’s head before retrieving the next item. this time, you scoop the child into your arms. she smiles and begins to pat your face with her tiny hands. you attempt to kiss each of them but she’s swift with her movements.

when percy arrives back, he brushes a hand over the small of your back before moving you to the side with two hands on your hips. you lean your back against the counter and watch as he begins rolling the dough into spheres.

the baby does not like seeing her father preoccupied. she begins to whine in your arms and reach out for him.

“ha! she likes me more. see?”

you scowl and slap his head. “focus on rolling the cookies.”

he smiles, nods, and does as instructed. “anything for my sweet wife.”

you don’t stop the smile forming on your own lips. you roll your eyes and turn your gaze back to the infant in your arms. she had grown content, resting her head on your shoulder. you rub her back in an attempt to soothe her to sleep.

“how many are you making?”

percy shrugs. “I’m winging it.”

you were not surprised. “okay…”

it’s silent for a moment.

“do I have to use… all of this?”

“you’re not eating the batter, perseus.”

“aw.” he continues rolling the dough until the pan is filled. you’re unsure that they’ll all cook properly as they’re so close. but you hope for the best.

as percy sees your arms full of a half-sleeping baby, he puts the cookies in the oven himself. though the mess you would clean later.

slowly, he makes his way back to you. “do you want me to take her?”

you shake your head. “wait until she’s asleep.”

he nods and places a kiss to your forehead. “sit with me at least.”

you’d never pass up on that. carefully, you enter the living room and sit down on the oh-so comfortable couch. percy sits beside you, arm going over the back of the couch behind you.

the baby falls asleep soon after sitting. you know because you’re able to feel the puddle of drool seeping through your shirt.

you turn your head and wipe her chin with your index. “she drools just like you.”

“she doesn’t have any teeth.”

you shrug. “still drooling.”

and still drooling once all her teeth come in. suppose you’d won that argument easily.

༯ “to you, I can’t admit, that I’m just to soft for all of it” - sweet nothing, taylor swift, midnights.

[theseinfernalangels]

Fragile — Sawyer Henrick

Synopsis: Mender!Reader comes back from RSC worse off than the rest of your squad. Sawyer is heartbroken and takes care of you.

A/N: I pumped this one out surprisingly fast! I may post my OC reference sheet after this for more context, since there are references to characters you haven’t met yet, such as Reader’s dragon, Cridhe, and Eden (Liam’s girl!). We’ll see how it turns out! I might even do a part two for this hehe.

Warning for mentions of blood, injuries, insecurities, and anxiety. Oh, yeah; don’t forget the dragon telepathy.

Sawyer knew something was up when you didn’t meet him outside the Gathering Hall. 

It wasn’t like you to be late for…Well, anything, much less seeing him. He certainly wasn’t an anxious person, but it made his fingers twitch with nervousness when he didn’t spot your cautious frame lingering close to the sides of the hall. He waited anyway. He’d always wait for you.

At the ten-minute mark, his thoughts began to race. He could understand if you stayed behind for a word with one of your professors – you were a genius, anyway. Perhaps you could have gone off-track to help another cadet in need of extra notes. That was just in your nature (even though Sawyer and Ridoc had tried to convince you to charge a couple coins for it – you’d be swimming in gold by now). Maybe you were in the infirmary with your friend…Eden, was it? Emily? He could barely remember.

But no. Another fifteen minutes slowly ticked by, and his reasonable side began to veer off a little. Maybe you’d been injured somehow. Maybe the other cadets had finally taken advantage of your anxious, gentle nature and were in the middle of ganging up on you. Maybe they’d finally gotten you – the Marked cadets who weren’t too fond of you for what your parents, Navarrian military legends, had done to them.

He heard Sliseag’s chiding voice resound in the back of his mind. Easy there, Ashling, he soothed. Do not worry too much. She is exactly where she is meant to be.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I would beg to differ, he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. If she was in the right place, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.

The dragon snorted. Really, now? he mused. Look up.

Sawyer had just turned, his palms sweaty, when he saw a figure moving sluggishly in his peripherals. He squinted, then froze, the sight making his blood run cold.

You finally showed up…But you looked awful.

Damaged was the best word to describe it. Your hair was messy, your bangs falling in your face in a way it only looked after an intense flight. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the rest of your face was battered. Your bottom lip was split and bleeding, the blood oozing out sluggishly and staining your chin crimson. That was only your face; the rest of your body was probably just as bruised and injured.

Go, he heard Sliseag urge. Go to her now. She needs you, Ashling.

He broke out of his trance; he couldn’t run fast enough to get to you, his legs moving on what felt like autopilot. Gods. What did they do to you?

You held up a hand when he neared you. “I’m fine,” you whispered hoarsely. “I…It looks worse than it feels.”

Sliseag made a noise of disapproval in his mind. I doubt that.

Sawyer, in that moment, felt almost scared to touch you, as if putting his fingers anywhere would shatter you like glass.

Finally, he found his voice. “What the hell happened to you?” he murmured, wincing at how sick he sounded. His eyes traced your face; you still looked gorgeous as ever, but just looking at your good eye made his heart wrench.

“We,” you began, faltering as you fell forward a bit. Sawyer caught you with ease, splaying a hand on your back as you leaned into him. “We had RSC. I…I didn’t expect for it to be so…awful.”

You looked down, and Sawyer made a soft sound of protest as he lifted your chin back up to face his. Skies above, he thought. He’d seen you injured before, obviously – there was no avoiding that at Basgiath. But this…

“Oh, darling,” he murmured, ghosting a kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry. You…You haven’t been to the infirmary yet?”

You shook your head. “No. I saw a clock and remembered we agreed to meet up. Wanted to see you first.”

Oh, he thought. Damn you, you sweet, sweet girl. Damn you and your loveliness. 

He sighed quietly, glancing at the sky. It was getting close to dusk, which meant that the infirmary was probably winding down for the day. His gaze flitted back down to your trembling form, his heart aching.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound pushy. “I’m sure your friend is still there; she’d be willing–”

His voice trailed off when you vehemently shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “Not now. Can we…Can we just go to yours?”

At that moment, with you looking up at him hopefully, your good eye wide but exhausted, Sawyer would have given you just about anything. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too hard. “Of course, darling. Just hold on to me. I don’t trust your legs right now.”

The pained smile you gave him twists his heart. “I don’t, either.”

It took a little while, but the two of you finally made it to his dorm in relative silence, save for the pained gasps and whimpers that occasionally fell from your swollen lips. The whole time, Sawyer was clenching his teeth. It didn’t matter that RSC was something that happened to everyone – not even his injuries hadn’t looked this rough.

He sat you down gently on his bed. He didn’t want to leave you, not when you looked that beat up, but he pushed that aside to grab the little box of medical supplies you kept in his room for when he was beat up after sparring. If you weren’t huddled beside him looking more fragile than he’d ever seen you, he would have made a joke about it.

You’d already removed your jacket and shirt, leaving your torso bare save for the bindings you always wore. Sawyer relaxed for a moment before he took note of your ribs, black and blue bruising rippling up both sides. Save for that, though, and other bruising and – Gods forbid, handprints – you honestly didn’t look too terrible.

He brushed your bangs away from your face, tilting your chin up so he could assess the damage. “Have you tried mending yourself?”

You sighed, sounding almost disappointed in yourself. “No. I’ve never tried that, but it won’t work, anyway. I tried to mend Anya’s arm after it got dislocated, but it didn’t work. I’m either terrible with my signet, or the injury was too bad, or–”

He cut you off before you could delve deeper into self-doubt. “No,” he assured you, taking a wet rag and wiping the blood on your chin. “They tampered with your water. It’s supposed to dull your signet and cut you off from your dragon to feel more realistic.”

Your lips formed an O in realization. “So that’s why I couldn’t feel Cridhe,” you mumbled, hissing in pain once he actually touched your lip. “I got worried there for a while.”

He nodded, ducking his head lower to check the area around your neck. There was an angry red line around your throat; someone had tried to choke you, he assumed. Bastard.

“I know,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “When they took me, the serum didn’t wear off for about a day. I thought Sliseag randomly chose to hate me or something.”

The aforementioned scoffed softly. As if, Ashling, he muttered. I didn’t choose you just to leave you behind.

The words warmed Sawyer’s heart long enough that your silence didn’t bother him for the next few minutes while he looked you over.

He only paused when you spoke softly, your voice faint. “I…think I have a concussion,” you mumble. “The light hurts, and I’m dizzy.”

A tight-lipped smile fought its way onto Sawyer’s face. “Trust you to diagnose yourself barely an hour after it happens.”

You don’t respond, prompting Sawyer to lean back up and look into your eyes. Sure enough, your pupils were unfocused and exhausted. Smart girl.

He opened his mouth to make another little quip, only for it to die on his tongue once you leaned into his side.

“Tired?” he prompted you gently. A soft hum from you confirmed his suspicions, and he hesitated for a moment before relenting. He could carry you to Nolan or a healer in the morning, after you slept the night away.

He looked away for a moment, and you had somehow managed to snag a random shirt off his floor and slip it on. His eyes softened, and he reached over to help you out of your pants and under his covers. You looked so…unusually small in his bed, curled in on yourself like a flower without the sun to warm it. He didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform, opting to kick off his boots and leave himself in his undershirt as he settled next to you. You slowly unfurled from your tense position and rested your head on his chest. Pure bliss.

You both lay there in silence for what seemed like hours before Sawyer found his voice again, feeling weirdly sentimental. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you don’t want to talk about it.”

Your silence was an answer enough.

“Thought so,” he murmured. “That’s okay. We don’t have to. Just…I hope you know that I’ll never let that happen to you when the time comes. Whoever it was, they’d have to kill me first to get to you.”

More silence from you. Sawyer thought for a moment that you fell asleep, but his eyes popped back open once he heard your weary voice.

“Sawyer?”

“Yes, darling?”

A beat. Two beats.

“Thank you for this. I didn’t want to be anywhere besides here.”

…You don’t have to thank me, he thinks, a pained smile tugging at his mouth. I’d do anything and more for you, anyway.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ

…𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

phone sex, angst, loneliness, mental health struggles, sub!chris?, longing, vulnerability, intimacy, anonymous relationship

word count - 1.9k

The lecture hall hummed with the usual mid-morning buzz. She sat in her usual spot up the back, the dim lighting above her making the world feel like it was happening just a little too far out of reach. Her pen danced across the notebook as the professor spoke, but her thoughts kept wandering. She let her gaze wander too, getting distracted by a group a couple rows in front of her, talking amongst themselves, laughing. One guy in particular stood out, the messy brown hair, the posture and his laugh. It was almost familiar. The boy turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Too many emotions hit her all at once as she recognised him.

Chris Sturniolo. 

She hadn’t expected to see him at university. He had only been a year ahead of her, part of a different crowd back in their small town. They weren’t exactly close back then, but she noticed him. Too much, probably. He was handsome, loved by all, a star athlete, and someone she had quietly admired from afar back. She remembered how often she would find herself stealing glances at him in the hallways, her heart fluttering whenever he passed by.

She almost told him once. That one moment, standing at the edge of the bleachers after the final game of his senior season, watching him laugh with his friends. She’d almost spoken up. Almost told him everything. How she felt. But then, she chickened out. The moment passed, and she convinced herself that it was better left unsaid.

And here he was, sitting just a few rows ahead in this university lecture hall, surrounded by friends, completely unaware of the secret she’d carried all those years. She couldn’t stop staring, even if she was doing everything she could to pretend she wasn’t.

She quickly looked down at her notebook, heart pounding in her chest. No way he remembers me, she thought. He probably doesn’t even know I exist.

Later that night, Chris sat in his dimly lit dorm room.

The weight of the day had settled over him like a heavy fog. The typical distractions weren’t helping. Parties? He wasn’t interested. Chasing some girl? Didn’t feel right. He hadn’t felt truly good in a while, not with anything, with anyone. The last few months at university had been lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

He didn’t really know how to be close to anyone anymore, so overwhelmed by the difference between suburban and city life. He found himself longing for stuff but lacking the conviction to make it happen. There were nights where his own hands weren’t enough. Porn lost its appeal months ago.

That’s when he stumbled across it. A hotline. Anonymous, safe, and just what he needed. He wasn’t looking for a relationship or something serious. He just wanted to feel close to someone, even if only for a few minutes. To have a connection without having to expose himself in the ways he wasn’t ready to.

He hesitated, but figured he didn’t have much to lose. With a few quick taps, he dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Daisy,” came the soft voice on the other end, smooth and soothing. Something about it made his pulse pick up.

Chris hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Uh… I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just… needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy’s voice was calm, welcoming. “I’m here to listen. Whatever you need.”

Chris swallowed, the easy familiarity of her tone loosening something inside him. “I don’t know… I just feel so... empty, you know? Like there’s something missing.”

There was a brief silence. Chris wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if she actually understood. But then her voice came back, gentle yet firm.

“Loneliness is tough to carry. But you don’t have to do it alone, not tonight.”

Chris exhaled sharply. She was saying exactly what he needed to hear, and the calm in her voice made him feel like he could let his guard down a little. He felt the weight of his words as they left his mouth.

“Yeah... I don’t know. I just feel like I can’t really... be with anyone. Like I can’t get close. But I need it. I need to feel something.”

“You deserve to feel close to someone. It’s okay to want that, baby.”

The words, followed by the pet name, hit him harder than he expected. Something inside him cracked open, and before he knew it, he was saying things he hadn’t intended. 

“I just... I want to feel like I’m... wanted. Like someone’s here with me. Not just... in the usual way, but like I’m actually... seen. You know?”

Her voice was soft but firm. It was like she could sense the vulnerability behind his words, even though they were both hidden behind the veil of anonymity. 

“I see you. And I can make you feel seen, if you’ll let me.”

Something about that promise stirred something deep inside Chris. It wasn’t just the loneliness anymore; it was the pull of wanting her, wanting to connect in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling at the same time. It stirred something deep in him, and before he knew it, his body was reacting, an instinctual response he couldn’t control.

“Please.” he found himself whining, a bulge already forming. 

“Are you hard, baby?” Daisy’s voice was quieter now, almost teasing.

Chris let out a strained breath. “Mhm.”

“Good.” She let the word hang there, a subtle promise in her voice. “I want you to trace your pretty cock with your fingers. Just the outline of it, on top of your boxers. Lightly, softly. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Chris murmured, following her instructions. His pulse quickened, and he hesitated for a moment before doing as she asked, the action feeling foreign yet somehow natural in the moment.

“Now, take it out.” Chris groans at Daisy’s words, the soft, teasing lilt to her voice. 

“Just like that,” Daisy’s voice continued, cool and soft. “Lightly, just enough to feel it. I want to hear from you.”

She noticed the way his breaths were picking up, and there was something different in her voice now. The usual professionalism slipped a little, the edge of something more... real, slipping through.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she said, her words softer. “Say it. Let me take care of you.”

She tried to keep herself focused, tried to not to let the rush of unexpected arousal cloud her thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel this, not for a stranger, not over the phone, and especially not when it was just another job.

She could hear Chris’s breaths, sharp and uneven. He was close, she could tell by the way his words faltered.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Daisy asked softly, the pet name slipping out almost automatically.

Chris’s voice crackled back. “Yeah… just... god, it feels so good.”

Her pulse quickened. It was supposed to be just a call, just a transaction. But his words, the way his voice wavered with need, felt different. Too real. She couldn’t deny the heat creeping up her neck as her mind raced. She had never let herself get this affected before. But there was something about him that stirred her. Something about the rawness in his voice made her wonder what it would be like to have this kind of closeness, not for money, not for a role.

“Good boy,” she whispered again. “Now, keep going. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. I want to hear from you. Let me know how it feels.”

Chris let out a ragged breath, the sound of him following her direction ringing in Daisy’s ears. She pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay professional, to keep the distance that was usually so easy for her when other lonely men called.

But tonight, tonight was different. Her chest tightened with the strange, unfamiliar emotion twisting in her stomach. Maybe it was her loneliness, maybe it was the isolation of the job, or maybe it was just him. His voice, so lost in his own desire, so vulnerable in ways he didn’t realise. 

She bit her lip, suppressing a sigh that threatened to slip out. This was supposed to be about the money.

She had to remind herself of that.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, her voice dipping into something more commanding. It was easier to stay detached when she was in control, when the power was hers. But her pulse raced against her will. “Say it. Let me hear what you need.”

Chris’s breath hitched. “I. God, I just want to feel you. I want to...”

His words trailed off into a groan, and Daisy's breath faltered. She pushed herself to maintain control, to keep the rhythm of the moment. Her fingers tightened around the phone, but she felt the heat in her own body building, her hand edging closer to where she felt the need the most. Unexpected, unwelcome, but undeniable.

Her pulse quickened, but she tried to keep it in check. “You’re close, aren’t you? Let go for me, baby. Let it happen. You’ve earned it, sweet boy.”

Chris let out a groan, his hand moving faster as she encouraged him. He was almost there, and in that moment, it felt like everything in the world was narrowing down to just this. Her voice, his need, the warmth of the call.

When he finally reached his release, it wasn’t just the physical relief. There was something else, something deeper that he didn’t know he was craving. He could hear her breath, soft and steady, as she guided him through it.

Chris’s response came in a guttural groan, and the sound of his release sent a jolt of heat through Daisy’s chest. She instructed him to slow down, to catch his breath, her own chest tightening as she focused on keeping everything in check. She reminded herself that this was just her job, just another call.

But, as she released a breath of her own, something stirred inside her that shouldn’t have. Something warm and soft. She quickly shut it down. She wasn’t supposed to want this. She wasn’t supposed to want him. She had been called by dozens of men, heard dozens of voices, and she’d never felt this way.

“Good boy,” she murmured, not even realizing how tender her voice had become. “You did so well.”

There was a quiet pause as Chris caught his breath on the other end of the line. He didn’t know that Daisy, in some strange way, felt just as affected as he did. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, not knowing if he was thanking her for the physical release or for something else. But Daisy didn’t reply right away. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

When she spoke again, her voice was back to its professional calm. “Of course, baby. Take care of yourself tonight.”

But as he hung up, a strange ache settled in her chest. The kind that hadn’t been there before. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the vulnerability he had let slip. Or maybe it was just her own insecurities creeping in. 

As their conversation ended, Chris felt lighter, more peaceful than he had in months. He drifted off to sleep thinking of her, Daisy, the girl that had made him feel so good.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers !!! <3

a/n: gahhhh i made this too long but whatever! hope u enjoy!

taglist: @applecidersturniolo @throatgoat4u @sturnslutz @desreads @courta13 @kier-with-a-k @bluestriips @sturns-mermaid @ishasturnz @sweetshuga @snoopychris comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist !!

till next time!

[inlovewithpandora]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ FIRST TIME FLUTTERS ᝰ You and Miguel feel the baby move in your belly for the first time.

Music Advisory — Miguel O’Hara x fem!preg!reader // fluff, domestic!miguel, established relationship [married couple], mom!reader & dad!miguel, pregnancy [second trimester], emotional [happy tears], belly rubbing + kissing, Miguel speaking Spanish [google translations included]

Duration — a little under 1.0k words

Words from Artist — This was such a cute and fun little Drabble I wanted to write with Miguel because I love writing him w/ prego!reader and I was inspired when I seen this tiktok couple (the video is so cute🥹!!). I have some longer fics in the works for him with prego!reader but I wanted to post something short/quick for him. As always feel free to comment and reblog, I enjoy reading y’all reactions and would love to hear your thoughts <3

Current Platforms — Main M.list・Atsv Taglist・Navigation

The quiet hum throughout your home is soothing while the scent of Miguel’s cologne lingers in the air and your favorite choice of music plays softly in the background. You're currently sitting on the couch, curled up in one of your husband’s oversized shirts, while your hand rests gently over your belly. At nearly five months pregnant, your baby bump is becoming more prominent, a constant reminder of the life that’s constantly growing inside you.

Miguel’s in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. Tonight is one of the many times he insisted on cooking for you instead of letting you lift a finger since you revealed to him that you were carrying his child. He’s been extra attentive lately, always making sure you’re comfortable, well-fed, and not pushing yourself too hard.

While your mind begins to wander on the baby, wondering if she’ll have more of your features or Miguel’s, you notice that the soft flutter you felt earlier this morning has returned feeling a little more prominent than before, like tiny butterfly wings brushing against your skin. Earlier you assumed your mind was playing tricks on you, you’ve been so excited to feel your baby girl moving inside your womb that you assumed your body mimicked the feeling of flutters but now that the feeling is more profound you know that it's real, that you're actually feeling your baby move for the first time.

“Miguel!” 

He appears into your line of sight in an instant, his sharp features softening when he sees the expression on your face. “What’s wrong, cariño?” His voice is laced with concern at first, not knowing what’s going on but when he notices the way your hand is cradling your belly, his brows raise in curiosity.

“She’s moving,” you whisper, your smile growing as you continue to feel movement in your belly. “I can feel her.”

Miguel’s eyes widen at your statement, and without hesitation, he comes by your side, kneeling in front of you so he can feel your daughter making her presence known. His large, callous hand replaces yours on your belly, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tries to find the magic spot. “De verdad? [really?] She’s moving?”

“Yeah, right here.” You place your hand over his, guiding him to where you feel movement. For a few moments, nothing happens, Miguel can’t feel anything and you can see the faintest trace of doubt cross his face. But then, the flutter comes again, soft and unmistakable, and his eyes lit up with pure wonder. “There she is,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I can feel her.”

He presses his hand more firmly to your belly while his other hand covers yours, wanting to feel your touch. “Mi niña hermosa [my beautiful girl], it’s me, your papá. Can you feel me?” 

You watch as his usual stoic demeanor melts away and you can see the softer and emotional side of him that only you get to see. Miguel bends closer, his lips brushing against your belly as he begins to speak to the baby. “Hola, mi amor. [Hello, my love.] I’ve been waiting to meet you. You’re already so strong, just like your mamá.” He kisses your belly gently, his voice growing thick with emotion as he imagines what life will be like raising a child with you. “Tu mamá y yo te amamos tanto. [Your mom and I love you so much.]”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion as you run your fingers through his dark hair, watching him pour his heart out to your unborn daughter. “You feel her again?” you ask softly, blinking away your tears, trying your best not to cry but the moment is just too heartwarming not to.

He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek as another flutter greets the palm of his hand. “Sí [Yes], she’s moving so much now. She knows we’re here.” He presses multiple kisses your belly now, moving his hand to different places on your flesh as he speaks life into his unborn child, wanting her to feel his love before she even takes her first breath. “Te prometo, mi niña, que siempre voy a cuidarte. [I promise you, my little girl, that I will always take care of you.] You’ll never have to be afraid, not while I’m here.”

His voice cracks as he speaks, and he looks up at you, his dark red eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “She’s really in there.” He says almost in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes shift between you and your belly.

You let out a little chuckle while you nod in agreement, tears streaming down your cheeks as your hand rests on the back of his head, gently rubbing your thumb against his skin. “Yes. She’s really in there, Miguel.”

Miguel straightens up, sitting on the couch with you as his hands keeps their current placement, protectively on your belly. “I’m going to be the best dad I can be for her.” Ever since you told him you were pregnant he’s made it his mission to become the most dedicated husband and father possible. His usual reserved and serious demeanor has softened ever since he found out, and despite his mind racing with concerns about the future holds, the risks, or his own responsibilities, he’s fully committed to doing his best. 

You lean your head against him, pressing your head against chest and wrapping your arm around his. “I already know you will be. She’s so lucky to have you.”

After a moment, Miguel leans over slightly, his face level with your belly once again. He rested both hands on either side of your bump and pressed another kiss to your skin. “Te amo, mi princesa. [I love you, my princess.] I can’t wait to meet you. You’re going to be amazing, just like your mamá.” He rubs slow circles on your belly, his lips brushing against it as he whispers against your soft skin.

Once Miguel is done talking to your unborn child, he pulls you into a deep embrace, wrapping his arms around your body and your belly as if he could shield you both from the world. “We’re going to be parents.” you whisper, your voice breaking, trying to keep your emotions in check but due to pregnancy hormones it’s harder than usual.

He nods in agreement, kissing the top of your head, excited for what the future holds for the two of you. “We’re going to be the best parents.”

Fanbase — @migueloharasoulmate @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @tater-tot0423 @theitgurl2 @miguelsesposa @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @maxlynn17 @kxllanxtdoor @ban-al3x @beargracecanbeanyone @miguellover6969 @3zae-zae3 @mellagzz @h3art-l3ss-blog1 @taylormarieee @popeheywardssecretgf @onlyloaksgf @solanawrld @baizzhu @savagemickey03 @soilmayo @lilmiss-stussy @pixiesrealm

[evenyvn]

Full of Love

himeko, welt, pom-pom x gn!reader [platonic]

summary : people always say you're so full of love, especially for the astral express family.

cw : gn!reader, sfw, fluff, found family troupe, reader is a nameless, mention of ptsd, reader have bad past before joining astral express, word vomit tbh.

i really adore astral express family, they're my roman empire. i might write for the trailblazer trio + sunday after this. also fyi i rarely write for platonic relationship so please don't expect me to write more platonic stuff 🙏

masterlist

Many people say that you're a person full of love, especially for the Astral Express family. And you never deny it—because they're not wrong. The Express has been your haven, your safe place, a place you call home.

Before you boarded the Express, life had always been hard on your 'home' planet. In fact, you're not even sure if you could call that hellhole of a place a home. Not once did you feel safe since the day you were born.

But now, that's all in the past. You've healed, you've made peace with yourself and your past, and all you can do is share your love with the other crew members.

Starting with Himeko. The red haired navigator has been your savior—since the day she welcomed you with open arms, guided you out of your darkest times, and became the first person you could truly trust.

Her gentle smile makes your heart flutter with happiness that you couldn't explain. Her presence makes you feel safe. She always stands by your side, supporting your decisions with an open mind.

You're always grateful for her, and you can tell she's grateful for you too.

"You're a blessing that not even an Aeon can give,"

She once said on a night when your body trembled from the weight of nightmares from the past. She held you in her arms, her hands running soothingly along your back as she whispered soft words of comfort. She handled you with pure kindness—never she treats you like you were some kind of a scared animal, but as an equal. She treated you like a human being.

People always say you're full of love for Himeko, and it's true. Every morning, you never failed to brew her a cup of coffee just the way she likes it, even if her preferences were odd, even if you dislike the strong smell of the coffee beans. You do it for her. And every time, she never failed to send you a grateful smile and a few words of praise as she takes a sip. You wouldn't trade the world for the smile she gives you.

You're always full of love for Welt, the man who mysteriously boarded the Express one day. At first, you were skeptical of him. Before he arrived, it had always been just you, Himeko, and Pom-Pom. Your skepticism were justified, and Welt never took offense.

He was patient. He earned your trust slowly but surely.

At night when the nightmares became too much to bear, when sleep felt impossible, you'd wander the halls of the Express. Some nights, you didn't have the heart to wake Himeko, even though you knew she wouldn't mind comforting you like always.

You'd drift through the dimly lit corridors before finding yourself in the Parlor Car. There, you’d often spot Welt, sitting on the red couch in front of one of the tables. He would acknowledge your presence with a small glance before a slight smile pulled at his lips.

"Having trouble sleeping too?"

He never pried, never forced you to talk. He simply welcomed you to sit beside him, allowing you both to exist in silence as you gazed at the endless stars through the glass panels. And so, your little habit began.

Some nights, when neither of you could sleep, you'd sit together in comfortable silence. Other nights, one of you would open up, little by little. Welt would tell you stories of his late home, and in return, you'd share yours. It became a quiet, unspoken secret between the two of you.

People say you're full of love for Welt, and it’s evident in the way you'll sketch countless pictures of his characters from the animations he’s shown you before.

In fact, he's the one who taught you how to draw, sharing his little joys with you as you eagerly followed his lessons. You'll proudly show him your sketches, even when the lines were wobbly and imperfect. But no matter what, he always praises you.

His little smile says it all. He’s proud of you and it's evident in the way he secretly pins your sketches above his monitor. so he can look at them fondly while he animates.

You're full of love for Pom-Pom too.

The fluffy conductor’s constant scolding has become one of your favorite things. It might sound odd, but you find comfort in their slightly agitated voice whenever they reprimand you for forgetting your cleaning duties. Your punishment is always the same—scrubbing down the entire Express for the day.

"Pom-Pom is only doing this because Pom-Pom is worried about you!"

Yet, at the end of the day, when you're exhausted and wiping the sweat off your forehead, you always find a plate of your favorite food waiting for you in your room. When you ask Pom-Pom about it, they avoid eye contact, flustered, before lying and running away.

Everyone on the Express knows the truth—Pom-Pom has a soft spot for you. And you have a soft spot for them too. It's an open secret that you're their favorite passenger, even if they deny it every time.

You will always be full of love for the Astral Express, your family.

And you will never stop giving them your love.

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated ♡

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part 24)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Smut

The sun streamed through the bedroom window, casting a warm glow across the bed as Cillian lied there, his eyes still closed, a peaceful expression on his face.

The events of the past few days played out in his mind like a movie reel as he indluged on a sleep-in.

He could smell the scent of you that still lingered on the pillows, a sweet reminder of last night as he stretched, a soft smile curling his lips, before reaching for his phone.

His fingers danced across the screen, pulling up your message from this morning, which he must not have heard coming in.

"Thank you for last night. I feel much better today and can't wait to see you on set tomorrow," it read, followed by a heart emoji.

Cillian's chest filled with warmth, thoughts of you dancing in his mind as he typed a quick reply. "Miss you already. Hope filming is going well," he sent, his heart quickening at the thought of your smile before he crawled out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

The water cascaded over him, invigorating, washing away remnants of sleep. Cillian's mind wandered back to your laughter, the way it lit up a room.

His phone buzzed again; another message from you. Heart racing, he stepped out, curiosity gripping him.

"Miss you too x," it read on the screen and Cillian chuckled, shaking his head, a grin spreading. It had been quite a while since he felt such a lightness in his chest and the fact that he was well and truly falling for you worried him.

After drying himself off, Cillian threw on a thick hoodie and some jeans. He then glanced in the mirror and coamed his hair quickly, which is when another buzz jolted him back to reality.

It was his alarm, reminding him that his daughters were landing soon and, with a quick text to you, he rushed out of the apartment.

..........

When he arrived at Liverpool airport, the bustling terminal greeted him, filled with the chatter of families and the scent of coffee. Cillian strided through the crowd and scanned the arrivals board which indicated that the flight from Dublin had just landed.

After about twenty minutes of waiting, Cillian eventually spotted Nina and his youngest daughter Ciara, who is 15, among the throng, their faces lighting up as they spotted him.

"Dad!" Ciara shouted, weaving through the crowd and Cillian walked towards them, meeting them halfway.

"Hey, you two," Cillian grinned, wrapping his arms around both daughters, squeezing them tightly.

"Okay, that's enough, dad," Ciara huffed playfully, pulling back and rolling her eyes. "People are watching us and you are being emberassing," she teased, but a smile tugged at her lips while Nina stepped forward, glancing at her father with a raised eyebrow.

"What's with the hoodie? Hiding something?" she quipped, her eyes narrowing, catching a glimpse of the fading hickey on his neck.

"No, why?" he asked, feigning innocence while his pulse quickened, heart pounding in rhythm with her gaze.

"Well, you do have a bit of a mark there," Nina pressed, her brow arching, a smirk dancing on her lips. "On your neck, which looks like a hickey," she nudged him playfully, her eyes narrowing with mischief.

"Definitely not a hickey," he countered, running a hand through his hair, trying to maintain composure. "It's from filming," Cillian insisted, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to him.

Nina crossed her arms, her expression a mix of amusement and suspicion.

"Please tell me that's not from Y/N during one of your intimate scenes. Because that would be totally gross," she blurted, her brows knitting together.

Cillian forced a laugh, his cheeks heating. "Nah, it's from a different kind of scene," he replied, his eyes darting away, hoping to deflect her curiosity. "Don't worry about it," he insisted, trying to maintain a nonchalant demeanor.

"Whatever you say, Dad," Nina smirked, crossing her arms while Ciara nudged her sister, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"So, are we going shopping or what? I need new trainers and Nina needs some stuff too," Ciara determined, knowing full well that her father disliked shopping trips.

"You guys really want to go shopping?" Cillian clarified, eager to distract them from any more inquiries about his neck.

"Yeah, I need new trainers for track," Ciara chimed in, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Nina nodded, crossing her arms. "And I need some summer clothes for our trip to France," she added, a hint of excitement creeping into her tone.

"France?" he echoed, his brow furrowing.

"Mum is taking us to that new festival in Nice. Big names, great vibes," Nina explained, her eyes lighting up.

"Right," Cillian straightened, keeping a casual tone. "I didn't know anything about it," he admitted, forcing a smile.

"Well, you and mum don't talk anymore, so how would you?" Nina shot back, her tone teasing yet pointed.

Cillian rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes, but he swallowed his pride. He knew that his ex did not have to inform him about every detail like this, but it would have been nice if it had been discussed, especially since Ciara is only 15 and had school to attend.

"So, mum booked that very nice hotel for us. It's supposed to be amazing," Nina added, excitement bubbling in her voice as the three of them walked towards the parking lot. "And I was going to ask Y/N if she wanted to come too. Mum said she could," Nina glanced sideways at Cillian, causing him to audibly choke on nothing.

"Y/N?" Cillian's heart raced, the thought of you going on a trip with his ex unsetteling.

"Yeah, dad, my best friend. Y/N. Remember her?" Nina chirped, oblivious to his unease.

"Right," Cillian murmured, his mind spinning. "Uhm, she is auditioning for a play in Galway soon, so I doubt she'll be able to."

Nina raised an eyebrow, her expression one of skepticism. "A play, huh?" she asked as they finally sat down in Cillian's hire car. "How come you know about it and I don't?" Nina leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, a challenge sparkling in her eyes.

"Because she told me about it in passing. We've been talking a bit more now that we work together," Cillian replied, masking the warmth creeping into his chest as he lied to his daughter who, after this, luckily changed the topic.

...........

Twenty minutes later, Cillian pulled into a bustling shopping centre's car park, the sounds of chatter and laughter spilling out from the nearby cafés.

"First stop, trainers," Ciara declared, unbuckling her seatbelt and jumping out and Nina followed, throwing a glance back at Cillian who took a little longer to get out of the car.

"Come on, Dad! We don't have all day," Nina called, already darting towards the entrance.

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head, but hurried after them, scanning the bustling crowd. The thrill of his daughters' excitement pulled him along, a welcome distraction.

"What sort of trainers do you want, Ciara?" Cillian asked and her response amused him.

"Something that'll make me look fast," she grinned, darting through the entrance.

Nina rolled her eyes at her sister's enthusiasm. "You know it's all in the runner, not just the shoes," she teased, nudging Ciara as they entered a brightly lit store filled with vibrant displays.

Cillian followed behind, shaking his head with a smile. "Alright, let's see what we can find," he said and, as soon as they walked into the first shop, Ciara dashed towards a wall of colourful trainers, her eyes lighting up at a pair adorned with electric blue accents.

"These! They'll make me fly!" Ciara said while two of the three female store assistants were quick to offer their help, or more so, attempt to flirt with Cillian, tossing their hair and smiling nervously at him.

"Do you need a hand with that?" One of them asked, glancing at Ciara's choices, feigning interest while clearly admiring Cillian instead.

"Can I try them on? In a 38 please?" Ciara asked the assistant, her excitement bubbling over, but the assistant was busy staring at Cillian, completely smitten.

"Sure thing! Right this way," she replied, her voice bright as she flashed a smile at Cillian who caught Nina's eye, shaking his head with a bemused smile.

"I don't get it. She is like what? 25 at the most?" Nina whispered to her father as they watched the sales assistant dash off quickly and Cillian couldn't help but blush.

"I don't know what you are talking about," he muttered, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Sure you don't," Nina teased, nudging him playfully.

Cillian shook his head, a chuckle escaping as he watched Ciara excitedly try on the trainers. "What do you think, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes bright as he knelt beside her.

"They're perfect!" Ciara exclaimed, bouncing on her heels, already envisioning herself on the track.

"Alright, let's get them then and get out of here," Cillian said, tossing a glance at Nina, who held back a laugh as she continued to observed the two sales associates whispering to each other, their eyes darting Cillian's way.

"Are we taking these?" one of them then asked and Cillian nodded before pulling out his wallet.

"Yes," he replied, following the woman to the counter.

"Fabulous. They look really nice on your daughter," the cashier remarked, her eyes sparkling as she scanned the trainers.

Cillian nodded casually. "She seems happy with them," he answered, handing over his card.

"That's 180 pounds pleasse," the cashier announced, glancing up with a bright smile as Cillian tapped his card and, once the payment went through, the sales assistant handed Cillian the receipt along with a piece of paper with her name and phone number on it.

Cillian pocketed the receipt, glancing at the note, somewhat bemused.

"Uhm, I don't think I...," he murmured, an awkward smile flickering on his lips as he tried, politely, to refuse to take the woman's number while Nina and Ciara both snickered beside him.

"Just take it, Dad," Nina laughed, interrupting and nudging him.

"Yeah, be a good sport," Ciara teased, grinning as she grabbed her new trainers.

"Okay, thanks," Cillian muttered, shaking his head but unable to suppress a smile as he pocketed the note, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Alright, where to next?" he then asked, turning to his girls, who stood by the door, grinning with amusement.

"Clothes, definitely!" Nina exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement, already dragging Ciara toward the next shop.

Cillian followed, his gaze flitting between colourful displays and laughter bubbling up from his daughters. He felt so out of place as they flitted from shop to shop but enjoyed the vibrant energy they radiated.

After a few hours however, he had enough and, luckily for him, so did his daughters.

"Alright, that's it," Cillian declared, hands on his hips, surveying the chaos of shopping bags scattered around them. "Let's get to the apartment and have some dinner," Cillian declared, leading the way through the bustling centre, his daughters trailing behind with arms laden.

...........

When they arrived at the apartment with their suitcase and shopping bags, Cillian gave them a quick tour.

"Now, the apartment isn't big, but it will have to do as the entire hotel has been booked out by the cast and crew. So, you girls will sleep in the bedroom and I will take the couch," Cillian announced, brushing a hand through his hair as he ushered them inside.

"Sounds good," Nina replied as she headed straight to the bedroom to drop her bags and Ciara followed closely behind her, shoving her own bags beside Nina's just before she stepped on to something sharp with her bare feet.

"Ow!" Ciara yelped, hopping on one foot as she glanced down, right besides the freshly made bed.

"What is it?" Nina turned, concern flashing across her face.

"Just some stupid earring," she replieed, picking it up and holding it up for Nina to see.

"That's Y/N's earring," Nina exclaimed, her eyes widening as she squinted at the delicate piece of jewelry which was given to you by your grandmother. "Where did you find it?" she then asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"On the floor, near the bed," Ciara replied, a frown creeping onto her face.

"Weird," Nina said before taking in it from her sister's hand and putting it into her pocket. "But, I wanted to catch up with her anyway, so I will text her later," Nina announced before seeking out her father again who was busy with preparing dinner already.

"What time does Y/N get off?" Nina asked, her brow furrowing as she glanced towards the kitchen.

Cillian turned at the sound of her voice, stirring a pot on the stove.

"She should be done by six," he replied, checking the clock. "Why?"

Nina shrugged her shoulders. "I thought I'd see if she wants to join us for dinner if that's okay with you?" she proposed, a determined smile spreading across her face. "I wanted to catch up with her anyway, and I thought it might be nice for her to join us," Nina added, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Cillian froze for a moment, knowing very well that, having you over for dinner, would be awkward.

"Nah, lets just have a nice family dinner tonight," Cillian replied, turning back to the stove. "Despite, I am sure she is probably tired."

"Dad, come on!" Nina pressed, her smile unwavering, eyes glinting with determination. "At least let me ask her," Nina asked and Cillian turned back, stirring the sauce with more intensity, the aromatic scent filling the kitchen.

"Fine," he relented, glancing at her with a raised brow. "But don't pressure her, okay?"

"I won't," Nina promised.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22 @meadows5 @randomcreator-09 @hagarsays @kikimurphys @strangeobsessed

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

This is 1000% a rewrite of this series, I read through it recently to refresh my memory of the story and I actually died a little inside knowing this is how I wrote 3 years ago 😅 I deeply apologise so please this is my redemption post.

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: Dark Romance

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: No warnings yet, however, I am going to say this is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary: In a world where submissives crave dominance and dominants seek out their submissives, a thrilling tension brews when deep emotions start to intertwine with binding contracts. What happens when the lines blur between desire and duty? Can a contract stay just a contract when the flames of passion ignite? As love weaves its way into the dynamic, are they prepared to face the tumultuous journey of balancing hearts and agreements? The stakes have never been higher—will they surrender to love, or will they fight to keep it in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath, thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me.

Chapter One

 

"Are you out of your mind, Grace?" you respond, a mix of disbelief and amusement in your voice. Surely, this can’t be serious—she must be joking, right?

 

"Absolutely, I mean it." She was your sole ally in this vast world, and there was something undeniably captivating about her dominant nature.

 

“What!.noooo, please, I’m not looking for one at the moment,” you replied, trying to sound convincing, although deep down, you knew it was a lie. The truth was you did desire a Dom to share laughs, experiences, and quiet moments with. However, the thought of finding a random guy on the internet made you feel uneasy.

 

Grace was aware of your past experiences and the fears that lingered from them. Your last relationship had left a sour taste in your mouth; he had been a bit too rough, disregarding the boundaries you tried to set. You often replayed those uncomfortable moments in your mind, unsure if you were ready to open yourself up to someone new. The idea of stepping back into the BDSM world felt daunting, and the online scene was even more intimidating. You longed for a genuine connection, but the anxiety of navigating it all made you hesitate.

 

"I have found a guy I think you will like...he classifies himself as a soft Dom, “As she spoke, her fingers quickly navigated her phone's screen until she found the image she was looking for. With a proud smile, she turned the device towards you, revealing a clear picture of the guy. His features were sharp and striking, framed by tousled hair that suggested a carefree spirit, and his expression was one of warm confidence. You could see the way his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, instantly drawing you in as she eagerly awaited your reaction.

 

You look closely at the profile photos. He catches your eye. "Grace, please tell me you haven't messaged him?" You watch her mouth curl into a mischievous grin. 

 

"He's here right now." She was such an asshole for doing this to you. "Okay, behave,” she warns, her teeth clenched tightly. With a mix of tension and determination, the young man strides toward the table, his expression revealing a blend of nervousness and curiosity.

 

"Umm, hi," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hint of nervousness in his voice. You glance up from your spot, and there, standing before you, a man of about 5 feet 7 inches tall. His brown hair is slightly tousled, falling just above his expressive brow. But it’s his eyes that truly captivate you—rich, warm brown, like molten chocolate, drawing you in with an intensity you didn’t expect. As he awkwardly chuckles, a shy smile breaks across his face, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek, and he shifts his weight before sitting down beside you. The air feels charged with an unspoken connection, and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at this unexpected encounter.

 

"Hello, I'm Chan," he said, extending his hand with a warm smile that momentarily lit up the elegant room. But as he leaned in closer to introduce himself the glass of red wine that grace, had ordered from the bar tipped over, spilling its contents across his Fendi black suit.

 

"Oh no, not again," he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise as he quickly lifted the glass, but it was too late. The dark crimson liquid soaked into the fabric, threatening to leave a permanent stain.

 

Almost instantly, a waiter in a crisp white shirt and black bow tie appeared by your side, looking flustered. "I'm so sorry, sir," he said, his face flushed with embarrassment as he bent down to help with the clean-up. He hurriedly grabbed a stack of napkins and began to dab at the fabric, his movements quick but careful.

 

"We will get you another glass," the waiter added, waving his hand to signal the bartender to come over and replace the drink.

 

Chan shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes despite the situation. "No, no, it's quite alright, truly. This was all my fault. I really don’t need another glass, thank you," he replied, waving dismissively.

 

His gaze shifted back to you, and he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "But perhaps, miss—" He glanced at you with an inquisitive expression, silently asking for your last name to complete his introduction.

 

"Y/L/N," you replied with a playful smile, confidently shaking your head. "But no, thank you—I don't drink," you said, watching as the waiter redirected his attention to the bartender.

 

A soft "good girl" slipped from Chan's lips just as he attempted to wipe the wine stain off his jacket.

 

"Wait, don’t rub it! Dab… let me handle that," you said, leaning in closer, the thrill of the moment pulsating in the air. He met your gaze, his eyes lingering on you, drawn in by the tantalising view.

 

He carefully extended the jacket towards you, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he offered it. "Thank you, but you really don’t have to go through all this trouble," you replied, though your hands had already instinctively reached for the coat. With a napkin soaked in water from your glass, you began gently dabbing at the dark stain that marred the material.

 

He watched you intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "It’s important to act quickly; it stops the mark from spreading," you explained, your voice calm yet serious.

 

Just then, Grace, with a resigned sigh, pulled the clasp of her handbag shut with a decisive snap. "Well, this is off to a swimming start… I think I shall be heading out now," she announced, her tone laced with Amusement. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way toward the restaurant door, her exit as swift as the unfolding drama around you.

 

"I'm really sorry she had you come all the way out here just to meet me," you said, brushing your hair back to clear your view.

 

He glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his wide eyes. "Honestly, I'm not," he replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

 

You caught his gaze and offered the jacket, carefully passing it back to him. "Just remember to use some stain remover when you get home. Let it sit for about 20 minutes, then give it a soak."

 

He grinned, taking the jacket, placing it behind him. "Stain remover, let it sit, then soak—got it! Thanks for the tip!"

 

"So, have you visited this place before?" he asked, a nervous itch at his shoulder blades giving away how he was feeling.

 

Leaning in closer, you locked eyes with him, feeling the weight of the moment. "I'm going to cut to the chase," you said, your voice low and confident. "I know Grace mentioned that I’m looking for a dom, but honestly, after our conversation, I don’t think your quite suited for that role."

 

Chan raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief curling his lips into a smirk. "Oh really? … What makes you think that?" His sudden loss of composure intrigued you, a thrill running down your spine as you recognised the shift in his demeanour.

 

With a playful giggle, you tilted your head slightly. "Well, for starters, you seem to be struggling to keep it all together," you teased, enjoying the way his confidence wavered under your gaze.

 

He chuckled, a charming smile spreading across his face as he glanced back down at his menu, the playful banter intensifying the electric tension between you. "Well… you might just have to be the one to keep it together for both of us," he replied, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes.

 

Curiosity bubbled up inside you as you contemplated where to go from here. With a gracious smile, you leaned back slightly, wanting to gauge his reaction. "Should we hit the reset button on this conversation?" you asked, your voice infused with intrigue. It was clear he was not one to back down easily; the playful challenge hung in the air, inviting exploration.

 

"I'm Y/N," you said with a warm smile as you extended your hand, ready for a handshake.

 

"Chan… or you can call me Chris for now," he responded, his eyes locking onto yours as he firmly grasped your hand. There was something reassuring in his grip, a blend of confidence and approachability. "So, tell me, Y/N… what do you like to eat? It's on me, obviously," he added, a playful smirk spreading across his face as if relishing the chance to treat you.

 

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. "Hmmm, if you're paying… I think I might just go for the lobster." A grin broke across your face, the thought of indulging in a luxurious meal making your stomach flutter with anticipation. He chuckled softly, seemingly unfazed by your choice, his gaze wandering back to the menu as he scanned the options with a thoughtful expression.

 

Suddenly, the same waiter who had attended to you earlier approached your table, a notepad in hand and a charming smile on his face. "Are you ready to order?" he asked, his tone professional yet friendly, clearly accustomed to the rhythm of the restaurant. The atmosphere was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes.

 

“I’ll have the eye fillet” Chan said, flashing a warm smile as he looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

 

"And Y/N will have the lobster, right?" he added, confidently placing the order for you. The thought of him being willing to pay for your $100 lobster meal sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

 

"Oh yes, please!" you replied, returning his smile with one of your own, sweet, and grateful as you addressed the waiter. He nodded politely, jotted down your orders, and then disappeared into the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant, leaving you and Chan in a cosy bubble.

 

"You honestly didn't have to order me lobster... I could have picked something else," you admitted, leaning in closer to him, the intimacy of the moment warming your cheeks.

 

Chan leaned in too, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lowered his voice slightly, creating an air of secrecy between you. "The truth is… I'm secretly hoping you don't eat it all so I can have some." The playful confession made your heart flutter; you loved how he relaxed in your company, the tension that once lingered starting to fade away.

 

"Maybe Grace was right about you," you teased, taking a sip of your water, savouring the cool refreshment as you tried to read the expression on his face, delighting in the rapport that seemed to blossom effortlessly between you two.

 

"Oh, you think so... hmmm, interesting," he said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers interlaced thoughtfully. “So why did you leave your last dom?” His gaze was steady, encouraging you to share more.

 

“He uhhhh... he was a sadist,” you began, you voice trailing off as memories flooded back. “I left him because he burnt me pretty bad." The weight of your confession hung in the air, a heavy reminder of a past that felt both distant and achingly close. As you recalled those terrifying times, it felt as though it all happened just yesterday; the emotional scars still fresh in your mind, a painful reminder of a relationship that had spiralled out of control.

 

 

"How severe is it?" His voice carried an undertone of concern, mixed with a curious edge that hinted he was trying to grasp just how serious the situation really was. The furrow in his brow and the intensity in his gaze suggested he braced himself for an answer that could change everything.

 

"Let's just say my back tells a story, “You replied, your tone deliberately flat. The scars weren't merely physical; they were haunting reminders of a past you rarely revealed. You wondered if he would probe deeper or gracefully allow this moment to linger in silence.

 

"So, fire is definitely a hard boundary for you, then?" His voice softened, now cautious as he delicately navigated a sensitive topic. It was evident he wanted to understand your limits without pushing you into uncomfortable territory.

 

"Yes, absolutely," you replied, a slow smile breaking through as you started to warm to the idea of Chris as your master.

 

"Noted," he said, folding his arms thoughtfully. "Did he ever mention anything about being into sadism?"

 

"No, not at all. He started off charming and sweet. I never would have agreed to play if I’d known. But over time, as our relationship deepened, his obsession with sadism began to surface."

 

"I'm truly sorry he treated you that way," Chris said softly, his voice filled with empathy as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. His gaze was intense, penetrating your eyes as if searching for a connection. "But if you decide to be with me…I promise I will never put you in a position like that." There was sincerity in his tone that made your heart flutter.

 

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. "But it's your turn now," you said, eager to learn more about him. "Why did you leave your last partner?"

 

A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face. "She left me... There were just certain expectations I couldn't fulfil, things she wanted from me that I couldn't overcome," he explained, his voice tinged with regret. "We came to the conclusion that it was best for her to move on." The admission stirred some unease within you, prompting you to dig deeper. "So, it sounds like… you weren't firm enough for her?"

 

A nervous tension sparked in the air as he pulled his hand away, his expression shifting as if he were retreating into himself. Just then, the waiter approached with the meals, momentarily breaking the atmosphere.

 

"Excuse me, sir… would you mind placing both meals in the centre of the table?" you asked, giving the waiter a warm, inviting smile. He nodded in agreement, carefully setting down the beautifully plated steak and lobster in front of you.

 

"Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it," you said, watching the waiter depart with satisfaction. As you turned back to Chris, you noticed a flicker of admiration in his eyes.

 

"Here, allow me," you offered, excitedly reaching for a lobster tail. With deft movements, you placed it beside the generous steak. You then sliced the steak in half, transferring one piece onto the lobster plate. After artfully arranging lobster tails atop the steak, you drizzled luscious lobster sauce over the entire presentation.

 

Once you had skilfully crafted the dish, you presented it to Chris, who looked genuinely captivated, his eyes wide in disbelief.

 

As he snapped out of his daze, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. "I believe they call this surf and turf."

 

His smile faltered, replaced with a thoughtful expression. "Thank you. I must be honest with you… I would like to discuss the possibility of a contract."

 

Chan POV

 

"Chan, come on, you really have to move on from Vanessa," Changbin asserted as he dramatically dropped onto the well-worn studio couch, the cushions sinking under his weight.

 

"I’ve moved on, seriously," I scoffed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

 

"Then what’s the big deal about going on this date?" Changbin asked, tilting his head slightly and shifting to the edge of the couch, his curiosity evident in his expression.

 

"I don’t know, man... I’m just nervous," I admitted, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "What if she doesn’t like me? What if it all goes wrong? She doesn’t even know it’s supposed to be a date," I continued, my voice trailing off as I felt the weight of uncertainty settle in my chest. As I spoke, Changbin began packing up his headphones, clearly trying to focus on my dilemma.

 

Changbin was staring at me, his brow slightly furrowed and his eyes wide with confusion, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

 

"It's someone that Grace arranged for me to go on a date with," I explained, trying to keep the details vague. I didn't want to delve into the specifics of how the matchmaking had come about or share my mixed feelings about it.

 

"Oh, your hot friend Grace," he said with a smile. If only he knew what she was like, she would eat him alive. "When are you planning to hook me up with her?" he continued.

 

"I'm not… you're not her type" I mean, I wasn't lying. She liked women. 

 

"You just want her all to yourself," he said, his voice laced with a hint of jealousy as he fixed his gaze on the ground, his brow furrowing slightly.

 

"Anyway," I replied, meeting his eyes with a light smile, trying to shift the conversation away from the tension. "What do you think I should wear? We’re going to a really fancy restaurant, and I want to look the part."

 

He paused for a moment, considering my question, before finally saying, "Your black suit is stylish. It always fits you perfectly."

 

 

……

 

This brings me to the point where I find myself saying, "I would really like to offer you a contract," and I can't help but wonder, Chan, why do you always act this way? She barely knows you, and here you are, making a complete spectacle of yourself. I couldn't help but notice the advice about the stained shirt—I mean, it was a bold move on her part to share that with me. And the way she offered me half of her food was so generous. I realise that if I don't seize this opportunity now, I might never encounter another submissive like her again.

 

She smiled politely, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and replied, "I'm flattered…but don't you think you should get to know me a bit better first?" As she said this, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gesture both casual and intimate, making me realise just how much I wanted to learn more about her.

 

"I'll be right back," I promised, glancing at her as a smile spread across her face. I knew that Vannesa always kept a stash of hair ties in my car, a little quirk of hers that I had come to appreciate. With a quick stride, I made my way to the parking lot, the cool evening air brushing against my skin.

 

Once I reached my car, I opened the glove compartment with a soft click. Inside, neatly tucked away among a few scattered receipts and an old parking ticket, were the hair ties — a colorful assortment that Vanessa loved. I picked out a bright pink one, its elastic still strong and ready for action.

 

"Perfect," I murmured to myself as I closed the compartment and locked my car's door. I turned and made my way back to the restaurant, my heart a little lighter with each step.

 

As I re-entered the warm, inviting space filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, I spotted Y/N sitting at our table, her hair slightly tousled. "Here," I said, extending the pink hair tie toward her. "Please… take this."

 

Her eyes sparkled with delight as she reached for it, the tension in her features easing with a grateful smile. In that moment, I could see how the small gesture meant the world to her.

 

A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she glanced down, an awkward smile breaking through her initial embarrassment. "Oh wow, thank you… I, umm, totally forgot to bring mine," she admitted, her voice light yet laced with a hint of self-consciousness.

 

I chuckled softly, remembering my own past. "You know, my ex used to always keep spare hair ties in the glove compartment of the car. I completely forgot they were even there until I saw you struggling with your hair," As I spoke, I took a decisive cut into the perfectly cooked steak on my plate, savouring the moment while trying to ease her discomfort.

 

"Well, thank you," she replied, returning my gaze with a warm smile.

 

As she tied her hair up, I couldn't help but notice how the sleek strands came together in a polished ponytail, accentuating the graceful curve of her neck. There was something undeniably captivating about her look, and I found myself drawn to the way the lighting caught her hair, making it shimmer. "I really like you with your hair up," I remarked, feeling a rush of warmth spread across my cheeks as her eyes lit up with my compliment. Her smile widened, and in that moment, the world around us seemed to fade away.

 

……

 

 As I glanced down at my watch, the glowing numbers caught my eye, and a sense of urgency washed over me. The night had slipped away faster than I had anticipated.

 

"Well, Chris…" she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice as she reached across the small table to grasp my hand. Her touch was warm and grounding, making it difficult for me to let go of the moment.

 

"I'll walk you to the car," I replied, hoping to prolong our time together just a little longer. After settling the bill, I led the way out of the cosy restaurant, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the sidewalk.

 

As we walked beside each other, the cool evening air wrapped around us, filled with the faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from nearby establishments. We made our way around the corner, where her car was parked under a lamppost, the light casting a gentle glow over its sleek silhouette. I couldn't help but steal glances at her as we walked, cherishing each second of this fleeting encounter.

 

"Thank you for tonight," she said with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with the soft glow of the overhead lights. "I assume Grace gave you, my number?" She laughed lightly, the sound as familiar as a favourite song. She and Grace had a long-standing friendship, a connection that made me feel a little more at ease.

 

"Yeah, she texted it to me during dinner," I replied, chuckling in return.

 

"Well… call me, please," she continued, her voice shifting from casual to something more serious yet undeniably inviting. There was a warmth in her tone that caught me off guard. "I'd love to discuss your proposal." Did I really hear that correctly? Did she just express genuine interest in talking about the contract? My heart raced at the thought, the prospect electrifying.

 

In that fleeting moment, I felt a powerful surge of desire to convey just how much she intrigued me. I could almost visualise those soft, inviting lips of hers brushing against mine, the warmth of our kiss igniting something deep within. Yet, amidst that longing, a voice of caution echoed in my mind, reminding me that rushing into anything too quickly could scare her off. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to find the right balance between my yearning and the need to nurture a genuine connection.

 

"You can kiss me, Chris," she said with a playful smile, her hand resting lightly on my chest, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I gently tilted her chin upward, ensuring our eyes locked in a moment that felt suspended in time. With a soft, steadying breath, I leaned in, my lips hovering tantalizingly close to hers. "I will, but only when you sign that contract, missy," I teased, a playful smile breaking on my lips as I held her gaze, savouring the tension that crackled between us.

 

Y/N  POV

 

You couldn't believe it, but Grace was right about him. As he strolled away towards his car, a warm smile spread across your face, a blend of excitement and disbelief. Everything about him seemed to resonate with you, from the way he carried himself to the charming glint in his eyes that sparked a quiet hope for what might unfold.

 

Just as you were lost in your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you back to reality.

 

**Ting Ting**

 

An unknown number flashed on the screen, and with a curious frown, you opened the message. It read: 

 

"Meet me at my office on Monday at 9 a.m. (address included). We will discuss the contract terms then - Master."

 

Y/N 

"Yes, sir, I look forward to it." 

………

 

Sunday morning dawns, and you are jolted awake by an insistent pounding on your door. Groggily rubbing your eyes, you mutter, "Jesus Christ," to yourself as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle toward the door.

 

Swinging it open, you find Grace standing there, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh good, you’re up!" she exclaims, brushing past you into the apartment without a second thought. "So, how did the date turn out with Chris? Isn’t he just delicious?"

 

Sitting down on the couch with a resigned sigh, you can't help but smile at her excitement. "He’s nice," you reply, playing with the hem of your shirt. "But... he’s an absolute mess." You lean back against the cushions, recalling the chaos of the evening you just survived. Grace plops down next to you, eager for the full story.

 

"Look, I know Chan pretty well," she said, settling onto the couch with a decisive thud. "He was a bit nervous earlier, which is unusual for him. You must understand, he’s a very sought-after dom in our community. He doesn't just take on any submissive; he’s quite selective. If he's offering you a contract, trust me, you should seriously consider it."

 

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in and asked, "What makes him so special?"

 

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my question. "Excuse me? He is the perfect dom…. If you're looking for a soft pleasure dom, he's one of the absolute best out there."

 

My mind raced as I processed that. "Wait, he’s a pleasure dom?" It felt like an incredible revelation. Pleasure doms are rare gems in this community, and to hear about one of his calibres was intriguing. It's no wonder he had such high demand—his reputation preceded him.

 

"Absolutely, big time," she affirmed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "He hasn’t had a submissive for over eight months now, which is practically an eternity for him. I’ve never seen him so anxious about meeting someone before. He must really like you—there's no other explanation for his nerves! So, when does he want you to sit down and discuss the details of the contract?"

 

"Tomorrow," you said, turning towards her. Suddenly you feel nervous. What if you can't please him like he wants. 

 

“Shit, he’s moving fast,” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, her brow furrowing as thoughts raced through her mind. “Look, nobody knows Chan like I do… There’s no way he’d just turn around and ask a girl he met to sign a contract like that.”

 

Her tone shifted, urgency seeping into her words. “So, what should I do, Grace?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice.

 

“Listen to me… You need to hear him out, alright?” She leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Do you trust me?”

 

“Yeah,” you replied, your gaze unwavering as you searched her eyes for assurance.

 

“Good girl,” she said, a sultry undertone lacing her words, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, as if she knew she had you right where she wanted you.

 

………

**Monday**

 

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you took a deep breath, your fingers carefully wrapping a curling wand around a lock of hair. “Why am I so nervous?” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus on your reflection. The soft morning light streamed through the window, highlighting the mix of excitement and anxiety etched across your features.

 

“Okay, Y/N… You’ve done this before,” you reassured yourself, smoothing down the front of your blouse. “Just strike out what you’re not comfortable with.” You ran through your mental checklist, contemplating the plans for the evening, and mentally discarding any doubts that surfaced.

 

Finally, satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed your handbag—a sleek black purse that felt just right in your hand—and headed for the door, taking one last glance back at your apartment. With a quick exhale, you stepped outside into the crisp air, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

 

As you approached the curb, your heart raced a little faster. There, parked majestically in front of your building, was a black Range Rover. Standing beside it was Chris, an easy smile lighting up his face as he spotted you. “Oh good… I was afraid you wouldn't show up,” he chuckled, his warm demeanour instantly easing some of the tension you felt. The sound of his voice made you grin.

 

"So, you actually came to pick me up?" you inquired, your voice laced with curiosity as you approached him.

 

Chris stepped aside with a flourish, swinging open the door of his sleek black car. "After you," he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this unexpected gesture. Wasn’t he supposed to have his own driver? The thought lingered as you climbed into the plush leather seat, the scent of fresh upholstery filling your senses.

 

Inside the car, an uncomfortable silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken words. You caught glimpses of the city lights reflecting in the windows, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of the situation. Just as the tension began to feel unbearable, Chris reached over, his hand enveloping yours with a warmth that both surprised and calmed you. He threaded his fingers through yours, creating an unbreakable connection. "You don't have to be a nervous baby girl," he said, his tone both gentle and commanding.

 

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your legs to release the anxious energy coursing through you. "I can't help it," you admitted, feeling the flutter of excitement and anxiety battling within.

 

"Spot that," he said, his voice taking on a stern edge as he fixed his gaze on the road ahead. There was a seriousness in his tone that made your heart race, but a part of you felt comforted, knowing he was there.

 

You sit perfectly still in the passenger seat, fixing your gaze straight ahead, your heart racing as you decide to remain silent for the remainder of the drive to his office. The moment you arrive, the name "JYP Entertainment" slips from your lips, your tone laced with surprise and intrigue.

 

With a playful chuckle, Chris swings open the car door and steps out, the sound of the vehicle’s door closing echoing in the quiet lot.

 

“Here, allow me to help,” he offers, extending his hand toward you with a warm, inviting smile. You can feel a slight flutter in your stomach as he firmly locks his fingers around yours.

 

He leads you through the entrance of the building, its sleek, modern design taking your breath away. "I've booked a meeting room for us," he states, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. You can’t help but notice the briefcase he holds, its professional elegance hinting at the serious nature of the meeting ahead.

 

"This way," he continues, his voice bright with enthusiasm, as he guides you toward the elevator. The polished metal doors slide open, and you step inside, both of you sharing a moment of anticipation as the elevator begins its ascent.

 

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you stepped inside alongside him, feeling the heat of his presence nearby. His hand trailed along your lower back, a gentle yet possessive gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

 

The soft hum of the building faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble once again. You settled into a chair, the plush fabric contrasting the excitement that swirled in your stomach, while he turned to pour you a cup of water from a sleek glass pitcher on the table.

 

“have some water,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind, echoing authority that sent your heart racing.

 

With a playful glimmer in your eyes, you shot back, “You’re not my dom yet, Chris… I don’t have to listen to you.” Your tone carried a cheeky defiance, a challenge laced with a hint of flirtation.

 

In response, he leaned closer, closing the distance between you until he was mere inches from your face. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “Do you want to repeat that?” The thrill of his proximity made your pulse quicken, mixing a touch of mischief with a growing sense of exhilaration that hung heavily in the air.

 

You take a gentle sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you try to quell the anticipation bubbling within you. He leans closer, his presence both comforting and electrifying. "That's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing a soft, tender kiss just below your ear. The warmth of his lips against your skin sends an involuntary shiver cascading down your body, igniting a thrill that dances through you.

 

"Alright… shall we get started?" he asks, shifting into a more businesslike demeanour as he settles down next to you. With deft movements, he opens his briefcase, revealing a neatly organised array of documents inside.

 

He pulls out two contracts, the crisp paper brimming with promises and stipulations. "Let's begin with the limits," he states, his voice steady as he hands one of the contracts to you. With a flick of his wrist, he opens his copy, revealing a series of terms and agreements laid out before him. "I took the liberty of striking out fire," he says, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

 

You nod appreciatively, feeling a sense of control in the negotiation. "Okay, also animal and age play… those need to go as well," you respond assertively, catching his eye momentarily. There's a moment of understanding between you two—a silent assurance that both of you are on the same page. "And you should add… I will not refer to you as anything other than Chan, Chris, Master, or Sir."

 

He smiles as he acknowledges your added stipulation, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Okay, yeah, that works for me," he replies, his tone lightening with the shift in energy. Then, with a teasing lilt, he leans slightly closer and raises an eyebrow at you, asking without words if you have any further limitations in mind. "Sooooo noooo..." His playful inflection hangs in the air, inviting a deeper exploration of the intricate boundaries you’re both establishing.

 

“No use of the word 'Daddy,'” you say with a slight frown, your eyes narrowing playfully.

 

“Okay, okay, that’s fine with me,” he replies, raising both hands in mock surrender, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 

Curiosity piqued; you lean in closer to examine the document spread out on the table. “What is this down here… am I meant to move in with you?” The words hang in the air, and you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken at the thought.

 

“Uh, well… only if you want to,” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. He reaches for a pen, ready to strike that line out, but you swiftly grab his hand, squeezing it gently to stop him.

 

“How about we start with just weekends, okay? Besides,” you add with a teasing grin, “I have to work during the week.”

 

Chris's expression brightens at your decision. The tension eases, replaced by a shared excitement as he nods, clearly pleased with the compromise.

 

……

 

As the hours ticked by and you delved deeper into the intricacies of the contract, a sense of comfort began to wash over you. Chris had truly anticipated every detail, which was both reassuring and exciting. Eager to break the silence, you turned to him and asked, “How long have you been a master?”

 

A warm smile spread across his face, and he met your gaze with a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I’ve been a master for five years now," he replied, his tone light yet filled with a hint of nostalgia. He looked away for a moment, as if lost in a memory, before continuing, “Before that, I was a sub.”

 

“Oh, really?” you interjected, genuinely intrigued. “What made you decide to make that transition?”

 

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he leaned back slightly, his demeanour becoming more relaxed as he reminisced. “It was my dom… She inspired me in ways I never expected. She was incredibly smart and stunningly beautiful, but she had this fierce temper that kept everyone on their toes,” he admitted, the warmth of his memories evident in his voice.

 

You leaned in a little closer, your heart racing with anticipation. “So, is that what I can expect from you?” you challenged playfully, feeling a flush of excitement as you pressed your legs together tightly. The prospect of uncovering more about Chris and what it meant to be under his guidance stirred a rush within you.

 

"I make it my priority to be fair in all situations," he states, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "But I must warn you upfront—I only provide one chance when it comes to behaviour. If you test the limits, punishment will follow, and trust me, I don't take chatting back lightly." He observes you closely, noticing the hint of mischief in your eyes that suggests a bratty side lurking beneath the surface.

 

"Oh really? Hmmmm... that sounds intriguing. Have you ever successfully tamed a brat before?" you reply, your voice laced with seductive curiosity, a challenge glimmering in your eyes.

 

"I have," he replies, his tone firm yet teasing. "Just remember, even though I have a softer approach as a dominant, I won’t tolerate bad attitudes for long." He continues flicking through the contract, his focus partially on the words, but mostly on you.

 

"I wouldn't dream of testing you, sir," you say, a slight smirk playing on your lips. Chris's expression shifts at your use of "sir," a flicker of interest igniting in his eyes.

 

"I'd love to see your house before I sign the contract," you add, your tone growing more enticing.

 

"Absolutely," he replies, gripping the paper tightly, his curiosity piqued. "Do you have time to check it out right now?" He leans forward, eager to show you more than just the words on the page.

"I actually need to go to work", you smiled. Very convenient timing. 

 

“Perfect, I’ll drop you off,” he said with a tone that caught you off guard. You felt a rush of heat spread through you; after all, you worked at a sex shop, and the last thing you wanted was for him to discover that little secret in such an unexpected manner.

 

With a gentle smile, he led you down the path to the car, his presence both reassuring and slightly intimidating. As he opened the passenger door, you hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the plush seat. The driver, who had been waiting patiently, turned to you expectantly as you recited the address.

 

As you spoke, you glanced over to find Chris looking increasingly astonished. “You mean the sex shop on the corner?” he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

 

A light laugh escaped your lips, barely able to conceal the amusement bubbling within you. “Yeah, is that a problem?” You tried to keep your tone light and playful, enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

 

He shook his head, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, though you noticed the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Nope… not at all,” he replied, though the way he fidgeted with his hands and avoided your gaze gave away his intrigue. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but it was hard to miss the excitement fluttering beneath the surface.

 

Your workplace is about twenty minutes away, nestled in a bustling part of town. As you pull up outside the shop, Chris undoes his seatbelt with a determined look on his face.

 

"What are you doing?" you exclaim, a wave of panic rising in your chest. The thought of him entering the shop sends your mind racing.

 

"I’m coming in…. I want to look around… and I might pick up some toys for later when I come to get you," he replies, his voice casual but his eyes glinting with mischief.

 

"Don't you dare," you retort, giving him a warning look. His expression shifts, and he shoots you a challenging stare, the kind that reminds you how stubborn he can be. Realising you’ve lost this battle, you slump back into your seat, resigned but still slightly irked.

 

"Let’s go," he says with a playful grin as he steps out of the car, extending his hand toward you.

 

You take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and push the door open, hopping out reluctantly. "Fine," you mutter, but there's a hint of amusement in your voice. As you take his hand, you can’t help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for his spontaneous nature. Together, you walk toward the entrance of the shop, the bell above the door jingling as you step inside.

 

Chan  POV

 

"Did she really just roll her eyes at me?" I thought, feeling a mix of irritation and intrigue. "Be careful, Channie... she's not yours just yet," I reminded myself as I walked beside her, the anticipation of the moment hanging heavily in the air. Though the urge to discipline her for her blatant disrespect bubbled beneath the surface, I knew I'd have to bide my time.

 

As we approached the store, I reached out and intertwined my fingers with hers, the warmth of her hand sending a jolt through me. She paused momentarily, her surprise flickering in her eyes, before she confidently led me inside. "Good morning, Noah," she greeted cheerfully as we entered, her voice brightening the room. I cast a glance toward Noah, who stood behind the counter—a striking young man with long, flowing blond hair that framed his chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to capture the attention of everyone around him.

 

"Morning, Y/N... Who's this?" he asked, extending his hand toward me with a mixture of curiosity and charm.

 

I grasped his hand firmly, my grip slightly stronger than normal, as if to assert my presence. "This is my friend Chris," she said, her smile a beacon of warmth as she looked up at me, the friendly tone in her voice stinging a little. Just a friend? A surge of possessiveness surged within me; I yearned to show her just what kind of "friend" I could be.

 

Y/N then walked behind the counter, placing her bag with a practiced ease that suggested familiarity, while I observed her every move. There was an effortless grace to the way she navigated her surroundings. Once she returned to my side, a playful smirk danced on her lips. "Okay, you can leave now," she playfully dismissed me.

 

Taking the moment, I gently lifted her chin with my index finger, a gesture that was both tender and commanding. Drawn in by the magnetism that crackled between us, I leaned closer and pressed my lips against hers. The softness of her plump lips sent a rush of warmth through me, and I couldn't help but smile as I pulled back, feeling victorious.

 

I turned to Noah, whose expression of shock illuminated the space between us—clearly, he hadn’t seen that coming. With a sense of satisfaction swelling within me, I stepped out of the store and headed back to the car, a grin plastered on my face. "That'll show him... she's all mine," I muttered under my breath as I settled into the driver's seat. Opening my phone, I glanced at the time and said, "Okay, can we go back to the company?" My mind was already racing ahead, planning the next moves in this intricate game.

A:n thank you again to all that have read my rewrite for master

Taglist: @daceydeath @bakedlilgoonie @armystay89 @krishastumblernow @cakeracha

[frvnkcastles]

YOU SEE ME FOR WHAT I AM ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Your friend Curtis sets you up with a friend of his, and you are pleasantly surprised by your blind date.

Warnings: Reader has PTSD (background not specified), drinking, implied female reader

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: I’m aliveeee!! Y’all, I feel so bad that I’ve been gone for so long but with Born Again just around the corner I was itching to finally write something again. School has me so burned out and whatever little time I have to myself I just spend binging GMM but I suspect I’m going to be overwhelmed with inspiration to write in no time. At the very least, my semester is over mid-April so by then I should be back for good! Anyway, it’s been a long couple of weeks so I really wanted something wholesome. I know I’ve got a bunch of requests waiting for me, but here’s a little blind date scenario <3 I’m so so indescribably excited to get my best guy back.

You had to admit you were walking into that unassuming dive bar you had walked past so many times but never entered with your mind already made up. When Curtis had insisted on setting you up with a guy he knew, you weren’t exactly leaping with joy, but he was far too persuasive for you to decline his offer. He was no longer just the guy in charge of the group meetings you attended to for some insight on trauma although you were not ex-military, he was also a friend of yours by now, and you had reluctantly admitted that you trusted him on this.

Still, it had been a shitty week and you just wanted to curl up in the corner of your couch with a book and your favorite drink. But you couldn’t deny that sometimes the best cure for your troubles was to be with other people; people who didn’t bring you down or cause prematurely gray hairs for you. That was exactly what Curtis had told you regarding his friend too — that he was the most introverted introvert he had ever met and could really use someone nice to talk to, someone like you.

Whether sparks of the romantic nature would fly between you, well, that was up to you two.

As you hesitantly walked into the bar, you spotted him immediately even though there were plenty of people around. Well, it was less knowing and more hoping, the sight of that tall hunk of a man taking your breath away so quickly, it was almost embarrassing. He was leaning against the bar counter and sipping a beer while scanning the room; for you, you hoped, but the tension in his broad shoulders suggested he was out of his element, too.

Swallowing, you gathered your strength and stepped over to the bar, and as soon as his stare found your shorter figure striding towards him, some kind of recognition awakened in the dark depths of his eyes. He didn’t move away from you, but he also didn’t say anything, so you took in a deep breath and made the first move, hoping he would invite you into his company — though you couldn’t deny the thought was intimidating, too.

”Are you Curt’s friend?” you asked, your voice coming out more soft and careful than you intended, and as he eyed you over in a way that he probably meant to be subtle, you assumed he could tell how nervous you were. You hadn’t been until you had seen him from

the doorway, and now, with his burly frame towering over you, you couldn’t help the quiver in your fingertips.

”Yes, ma’am. Frank”, he introduced himself, sticking out his large hand for you to shake. His old-fashioned mannerisms made your lips twitch upwards and you felt some of the anxiety dissipate as you gripped his thick fingers and shook them.

”No need to be so formal, Frank”, you insisted with a chuckle, telling him your own name before ordering your go-to from the bartender. He watched your every move keenly, dark eyes observing you curiously like you were something awfully unusual. His scrutinizing gaze invited warmth to your face but you didn’t comment on it, and he did not either, though his mind was running a million miles an hour.

Then again, it often did. But this was different. Just like you, he had been reluctant to agree to Curtis’ idea but he generally had a hard time saying no to the man, and tonight was no exception. So, begrudgingly, he had put on the only shirt he had without any blood on it, shelved his plans for a late night mission for a later time and strolled to the bar with the single goal of just indulging Curtis. Having a beer didn’t sound so bad, either. And then you showed up, and his throat started to close up and his palms sweat against the cool bottle. He was good at giving nothing away, for the most part anyway, but he couldn’t quite resist scanning your figure and instinctively licking his lips.

”How d’ya know Curtis?” Frank cleared his throat then, his eyes meeting yours while he tilted his head to the side as a display of his attention. You drew a much needed sip from your drink and debated on whether to give him the long, honest answer or the filtered version of it. Most guys didn’t want to hear the heavy shit right off the bat, but you were well-aware who the man in front of you was, and you supposed that heavy was hard to avoid with him. Maybe he’d even appreciate it, knowing he wasn’t the only one burdened by the past.

”Uh, I go to his group every now and then. I—I’ve never served, but um, PTSD haunts me like it does a lot of the people there so I like going there, being surrounded by people who understand”, you decided to choose the middle road by elaborating just enough to sate his curiosity.

His eyebrow lifted at your answer, and the look in his eyes shifted, like he saw you differently now — but not in a degrading, disappointed way. It was more like he recognized himself in what you were saying and it hooked him in, made him realize that you were more than just a pretty face Curtis had sent to woo him. Maybe he should have known his best friend wouldn’t waste his time.

”Guess Curt thought you and I got that in common”, he grunted, sipping his beer before shrugging, ”I mean I ain’t the biggest fan of goin’ to the group but I do it sometimes. Never bumped into you before, though.” You wondered if that was a good thing or not. He was easy on the eyes, that much was obvious to you, but there was a certain charm to him in general, and so, you were inclined to wish you could have met him sooner. Still, you couldn’t help but feel like hearing you at your most vulnerable might have scared him off, so you supposed you were glad to meet under these circumstances.

Clearing your throat, you gave him a careful nod. ”I understand that, it still makes me kinda anxious, too. But it’s helped a lot, I think. I mean, I’m still here, aren’t I?” you managed a chuckle, and he repeated the sound, briefly ducking his head before looking back up at you with an inkling of a smile on his lips. When the purple light above the bar hit him just right, you saw the fading cut on his bottom lip and the dark bruises on the corner of his eye, and you gulped so hard your throat bobbed, unable to resist wondering what he would feel like under your fingertips or, better yet, your own lips.

”I’m real glad you are, sweetheart”, he remarked, that deep, gravelly voice of his sending a thrill down your spine. You were starting to be into this, into him, way more and way faster than you had anticipated, but you tried to cool off and simply enjoy the excitement of his firm body so close to yours. You could practically feel the warmth of him, and even with the people and the music around you, it felt like you were in your own bubble with him. His eyes were laser-focused on you now, still darting to the front door whenever someone left or entered, but for the most part he had ceased his jittery observing of the room.

”So, guess you haven’t dated in a while, either?” you pointed out, trying to convey that you knew about his past without prying too much. ”Same here. I’ve had a few bad experiences that kinda deterred me from trying again but I guess Curtis thought I should leave my apartment more”, you continued casually, not wanting to get too hung up on his dating life beyond the necessary acknowledgment. It was up to him to share if he so wanted; you were starting to be comfortable enough with him to ramble on.

He looked at you with his eyebrows pulling together. ”Anyone I gotta take care of?” he asked, his voice so stern and laced with concern, even a sense of duty, that you couldn’t quite tell if he was being serious.

”Thanks for offering, but I’m good. It’s in the past”, you smiled at him, partly out of amusement but it was sincere, too. Even though it wasn’t all in the past, you didn’t feel the need to worry about it now — right here, right now, you were happy to be in Frank’s company, and with every minute that passed you by, you felt increasingly, and inexplicably, safe with him.

He chuckled, almost bashful while scratching the back of his neck. ”Yeah, uh, I’m the same, sweetheart. Don’t really see a lotta people ’cept Curtis and I’m takin’ this as a hint that he’s gettin’ sick of seein’ my ugly mug”, he shrugged, and immediately, you made a sound of protest.

”Don’t try that with me, Frank, ’cause you know I’m gonna tell you that you look good. If you haven’t dated, it’s definitely not because you don’t have women lining up”, you argued playfully, waggling your finger at him. He gave you a short laugh, but the amusement on his face melted into something almost hungry as he gave you a quick once-over.

”Nah, darlin’, outta the two of us, you’re the stunner. Got me all flustered and shit, y’know?” he insisted, hiding his mischievous smile by drawing a long sip from his beer. You fidgeted shyly, clearly bashful and unable to say anything witty back, but before you could feel uncomfortable under his curious gaze, he continued.

”But, uh, yeah, I ain’t been datin’ all that much ’cause I don’t exactly feel ready for it. I dunno what that feels like, really. Maybe I’ll never feel ready, but I just gotta take that leap”, he explained, sucking in a breath as he looked into your eyes, ”I don’t mind this, though. I’m startin’ to be real happy I showed up.”

Smiling at him, you nodded. ”Me too. It’s been a… long, long week and I didn’t think I was in the mood for meeting someone new but this was the right decision, I think”, you agreed with him, twirling the straw in your drink, feeling your heart race in your chest.

He considered his options for a minute, took a look around the bar and then finally turned to you with a quizzical look. ”Ya wanna get a booth, sweetheart? Sit down, have some privacy? You can tell me all about that long week, huh?” he proposed, and immediately, your stomach flooded with butterflies. His attentiveness, his rough voice, his fingertip grazing the back of your hand… they all worked together to make your head spin and you didn’t know if you would even be physically capable of forming the word ’no.’

But that was the last thing you wanted to say to him.

”I’d love that, Frank. I’m not in any rush to leave”, you affirmed, and nodding in approval, he flagged the bartender down for another round of drinks.

Once he was armed with a second beer and your cocktail was refilled, he nodded towards an empty booth in the corner. He waited for you to walk ahead, and you felt your body quiver with excitement when his tall, broad form followed behind you like a guard dog, working as a forcefield against anyone even giving you a look.

As you sat down across from him, he flashed a grin and you almost swooned.

”And you can lemme know about those assholes you been datin’ and we’ll see what I can do, yeah?”

[brookediamonds]

Can I request a Larusso reader x Axel where reader has been competing all her life and is a three time female champion of the sakai takai and already dating Axel but when it comes time to get ready for the sakai takai Daniel automatically gives the captain spot to Sam. So reader decides to join the Iron Dragons and becomes the female captain but Silver has sinister plans for her since he knows who her dad is and uses training methods like Wolf does for Axel and tries to break her mentally. When that doesn't work during the brawl he sees a chance to get revenge and makes sure the other dragons aren't near her and the cobras(minus Tory) decide to use the chance to try to get their revenge on her(since she managed to beat most of them in the team fights) and Axel notices and he sees her get attacked and him and Tory(who if possible was reader's best friend) jump in and even the odd

growing pains | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: As a 3x Sekai Taikai girls' champion, you embark on new friendships, relationships, and even sponsorships. Being a legacy kid to Daniel LaRusso came with a territory and when it's time for one of the most important tournaments, your dad has decided to strip you of your title leaving to make a life-changing decision your friends and family never saw coming.

Word Count: 4k Warnings: none, angst, fluff, violence (fighting)

gif is not mine

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands tightening around the fabric of your black belt as you secure it around your waist.

The green gi of the Iron Dragons feels foreign on your skin, a reminder that everything is different now.

That the life you spent building, the titles you fought for, the legacy you were meant to claim, it’s all slipping through your fingers.

You still remember the way you felt when your dad informed you you'd be sitting this tournament out as the girls' captain.

"You're not even gonna let me fight for it?" You questioned your dad as Miguel and Robby prepared to fight for the male captain spot.

"Y/n, you've been the captain the last three times, and won every tournament," your dad attempts to justify. "It's always just been you and now we need to give the other girls here a chance."

You exhale sharply, shaking the thoughts away. Later that day when you were on FaceTime with your boyfriend, Axel, his sensei overheard the conversation and offered you the spot you had lost.

You were reluctant at first, but the more you and Axel talked into the night, the more you had become convinced.

It was perfect, you pretended you would still fight with Miyagi-Do and by the time you arrived in Barcelona, Axel introduced you to sensei Wolf.

Sensei Wolf easily remembered you, you being the 3x girls' champion of the Sekai Taikai. It was almost a little too perfect.

As you go to pull your hair back, you feel a presence behind you, the familiar warmth of someone stepping into your space without hesitation.

"You’re missing something," Axel’s deep voice rumbles low against your ear.

Before you can respond, his hands reach up, sliding a soft piece of fabric over your forehead. Your breath stills as he gently ties the captain's headband into place, one that matches his.

The knot is secure, firm, as if he’s anchoring you in place, reminding you who you are.

"That's better," he states leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"They'll never understand," you spoke quietly, eyes lingering on your new uniform. "Did you see my dad's face when he saw me?"

You'd never forget the look of betrayal on his face, the look of disappointment on your sister's face. It was almost enough to make you rethink everything.

"You are just doing what's best for you," Axel reminds you, softly laying his hands on your shoulders. "You want to be a Legacy, right?"

You nod, your eyes connecting with his through the mirror in front of you. "I do. More than anything."

Sam could have the LaRusso-Miyagi legacy. You wanted your own.

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

The first few days of the tournament are chaotic to say the least, you surely hadn't anticipated fighting your sister and best friend all in one round.

Luckily you were used to the categories of the individual fights, the bo-staff competition, and the platform challenges.

Having your boyfriend of three years as your partner definitely helped, together you two strived through everything.

Not to mention it had been a few months since you last saw him during summer break, and having a hotel room not too far from each other's had its perks.

Axel’s hands are firm yet gentle as they hold you close, his lips moving against yours with a slow, unhurried intensity.

It’s been too long since you last saw him in person, and you can feel it in the way he's kissing you, like he’s trying to make up for lost time.

You shift slightly in his lap, one of his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine.

Just as you start to deepen the kiss, your phone buzzes on the nightstand beside you. You try to ignore it, but it keeps vibrating, the sound persistent.

Axel groans against your lips when you pull away, his hands tightening on your waist.

"Seriously?" he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours.

"It could be important," you murmur, reaching for your phone.

"It’s not," he grumbles, already leaning in to steal another kiss.

You giggle, barely managing to check the screen as he tugs you back toward him. Squinting at the message, you read:

Tory 🥊🖤:  You and lover boy wanna grab drinks? Bar near the hotel. Come on, don’t be boring.

Axel takes the opportunity to press his lips to your jaw, then lower, trailing down the side of your neck. You shiver, biting your lip as you try to type out a response.

"Axel," you half-scold, trying not to laugh as he ignores your attempt at seriousness.

He exhales against your skin, clearly annoyed.

"What could possibly be more important than this?" His voice is low, almost teasing, as his fingers squeeze at your waist.

You turn the screen toward him. "Tory wants to meet up at a bar near the hotel."

Axel barely glances at the message before shaking his head.

"Tell her no."

You roll your eyes, already typing. "We should go. It'll be fun."

He huffs, leaning back against the pillows. "I have a better idea. We stay right here, and you put that phone away."

"Tempting, but I already told her we’re coming," you smirk, placing the phone back not the nightstand.

Axel groans dramatically, dropping his head back. "You’re killing me, Y/n."

"You’ll survive," you respond pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, grinning.

He gives you a long, suffering look before exhaling sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine. But I’m not moving unless I get one more kiss," he counters.

Laughing, you lean in, pressing your lips to his once more. He pulls you in tighter, dragging it out longer than necessary, because if he’s getting up, he’s making the most of this first.

And honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

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

After managing to pull the brooding boy out of bed, you two throw on some fresh clothes and meet your friend at the place she sent you.

You lean into Axel’s side in the booth, sipping your drink as Tory eyes the two of you with a smirk.

"You kicked my ass out there," she says bluntly, her thumb tapping against the rim of her glass.

"I'm sorry," you wince remembering the way you took her down to the mat on the very first challenge. You hold your hand out in front of you. "Friends?"

She let out a laugh smacking your outstretched hand way knowing this wasn't personal.

The three of you talk about how intense the competition is this year compared to the last three you've been to, and how nice Barcelona has been.

When it's time for round 2, Axel offers to grab the drinks, leaving you and Tory to talk amongst yourselves.

"How's it going with them?" She asks curious as to what your new team was like.

"It's going pretty good so far," you shrug. "Their sensei is a little intense, but I can handle him."

Tory glances at a table across from you where your sister and her boyfriend sat.

"Have you talked to... Sam and them?" She asks hesitantly.

You sighed leaning back in the booth, swirling the straw around in your melted cocktail. "Yes and no. They want to understand but can't grasp the fact that I would go so far as to join another team."

"My dad knew that winning this year could mean a spot for me on the Sekai Taikai board as a Legacy," you huffed. "This wasn't just a hobby to me, this is my life."

Tory stares at you with remorse, knowing the tears, sweat, and blood you poured in to karate.

"You're gonna be a Legacy," she assures you, reaching her hand out on the table. "We're going to get you a spot on the board."

You give her small smile at her words of encouragement.

"And we're gonna get you those sponsorships," you promise her laying your hand over hers.

Just then, Axel returns, setting down a fresh round of drinks with an effortless ease.

"Alright, what did I miss?" he asks, sliding in beside you again, his arm naturally draping over the back of the booth.

You and Tory share a look of knowing, both silently agreeing together you'd push yourselves through this tournament to get what you both needed.

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

The next morning, you and the rest of your team are called to the studio to practice before the competition begins.

"Y/n," sensei Wolf calls out to you.

"Yes, sensei," you straighten up as he walks over to you and Axel.

"Follow me, there's someone I want you to work with while you are here," he says coolly, turning on his heel.

You look over at Axel who just shrugs at you, not knowing why you're being called to another room.

Following Wolf, you trail behind him as he leads you to a separate studio lined up with mirrors.

As you scanned the room, your eyes land on a familiar, looming presence standing with his back to you.

You recognized the silver hair slicked back into a ponytail, dressed in his usual black attire.

Terry Silver.

Your stomach tightens as he turns to face you, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

"Y/n LaRusso," he greets, his voice smooth, calculated. "It’s about time we officially met."

You can hear your dad's voice in your head. Run. Get out of there.

"I can't say the same," you snap back. After everything he's done to your family, your friends, you wanted nothing more than kick him in the face.

His smirk deepens. "I have to say, I was surprised when I heard you joined the Iron Dragons. Then again, it seems you’ve finally realized what your father never could. True power isn’t about balance. It’s about dominance."

You clench your jaw but say nothing. He takes your silence as an invitation, stepping closer.

"You want that Legacy seat, don’t you?" he muses, circling you now like a predator sizing up its prey. "You’ve worked for it your entire life. But tell me… are you really ready to do what it takes?"

You bristle at the implication. "I’ve won three world championships. I know what it takes."

Silver chuckles, shaking his head. "No, you know what it takes to win the right way. But the right way isn’t always the winning way."

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words but before you can respond, he grabs a nearby bo staff from the rack and twirls it effortlessly between his fingers.

"Let’s see what you’ve got," he says, tossing it toward you.

Instinctively, you catch it, gripping it tightly. You watch cautiously as Silver steps onto the mat in front of you, his own staff in hand.

"Show me your best," he instructs.

You don’t hesitate, you lunge forward, aiming a quick, precise strike toward his midsection.

But Silver deflects it easily, countering with a swift, powerful strike to your ribs. You barely block it in time, your arms vibrating from the impact.

"Too slow," he taunts. "Again."

You grit your teeth, adjusting your stance, and swing at him with more force. But the moment you do, he sidesteps—crack!

The staff slams against your thigh, hard enough to send a jolt of pain radiating up your leg. You stagger, inhaling sharply.

"You hesitate," Silver says, his tone unreadable. "That’s the problem with Miyagi-Do. Too much defense, not enough action. In this tournament, hesitation gets you beaten. Gets you forgotten."

You tighten your grip, forcing yourself to push through the sting.

"I don’t hesitate," you say, trying to sound firm, but even you can hear the slight wavering in your voice.

Silver smirks knowingly. "Then prove it."

He attacks again, and this time, you block. Barely. But before you can counter, he sweeps your legs out from under you with a swift, merciless strike, sending you crashing to the mat.

Pain explodes through your back, but before you can recover, Silver crouches beside you, his voice low.

"You’re skilled, Y/n. But skill won’t get you that seat at the table." His eyes gleam with something almost sinister. "The Sekai Taikai rewards strength. Ruthlessness. You want to be remembered? You want that power? Then fight like it."

His words sink in, cutting deeper than the bruises forming on your skin.

You’ve spent your life proving yourself, showing the world that you’re more than just Daniel LaRusso’s daughter.

But now, for the first time… you wonder if your way is enough.

As Silver rises and steps back, you stay on the mat for a moment longer, gripping the bo staff so tightly your knuckles turn white.

And for the first time… you hesitate.

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

It's the day of the finals, a team has been eliminated due to their students using steroids, and both Miyagi-Do and Cobra Kai have managed to stay in the competition.

"What's wrong?" Axel asks pulling you to the side. "You've been spaced out since yesterday. What's going on?"

You exhaled out a shaky breath as you see Kwon and the Furia De Pantera captain fight on the mat.

"I'm worried," you voiced. "I'm worried that if I don't win this, everything I've put my family, and friends through, will all be for nothing."

You were especially worried about having Silver on your side. Of course your dad and sister tried talking some sense into you, but it was only for a few days. Surely you could handle whatever he threw at you... right?

Axel studies you, silent for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he steps closer, placing both hands on your shoulders. His warmth seeps through your gi, steadying you.

"You listen to me," he says firmly. "You’ve always been a champion. You always will be. I knew that the second I saw you fight when we were fourteen."

A small, almost nostalgic smile tugs at his lips. "Back then, you stormed up to me after your win and said, 'Guess we have to be friends now.'" 

You laugh at his words while he chuckles, shaking his head.

"You had that same fire in you then that you do now. You weren’t scared of me, of the competition, hell, of anything. And that’s never changed."

You bite your lip, something warm blooming in your chest despite the nerves still coiling in your stomach.

"You're going to win this. Not for your dad, or your dojo, or for anyone else. Not even for that seat on the board. You're going to win because you love this, and that has always been enough," he finishes.

The tension in your shoulders eases just slightly. You nod taking in his final words.

"I'd kiss you right now, but—" you cut him off by tugging him down by his gi, smashing his lips down to yours. He barely has time to react before sinking into it, his hands gripping your waist.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you whisper, "Thank you."

Axel exhales a small chuckle, brushing his thumb over your cheek as you gazed up at him lovingly.

"Next up is Y/n L/n versus Maria Àlvarez!"

Mr. Braun’s voice booms over the speakers, snapping you both back to reality. Axel smirks, giving your waist one final squeeze before stepping back.

"Go show them why you’re the best."

And with his words still burning in your chest, you go step onto the mat ignoring the world around you. Your focus was primarily on your opponent in yellow, you could do this.

The referee has you bow to him, then to each other before signaling to begin.

Maria comes at you immediately, a blur of movement as she aims a spinning kick toward your ribs.

You block with ease, countering with a swift backfist to her shoulder: one point.

She resets, bouncing lightly on her feet, trying to read you. You feint right, making her flinch, and use the opening to land a clean sidekick to her chest: two points.

The match continues at a brutal pace, but you stay ahead, striking efficiently, dodging effortlessly.

Every movement is controlled, calculated, perfectly balanced. By the end of the first round, the score reads:

Y/n: 5 Maria: 1

You breathe deeply, satisfied with your performance, until you make your way toward the sidelines.

Terry Silver’s arms are crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. But his disappointment is clear.

As soon as you step off the mat for the short break, he moves toward you, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise of the arena.

"Five points?" he scoffs. "You could’ve ended that in the first thirty seconds."

You tighten your jaw. "I’m controlling the fight."

Silver steps closer, eyes cold. "That’s your problem, LaRusso. Always so worried about control. About balance. You’re holding back."

"I’m winning," you fought, eyebrows furrowed.

"But you’re not fighting."

He leans in, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Lose that balance crap your father taught you and actually fight. Make her fear you."

Your heart pounds in your chest. The referee calls you back to the mat for Round Two.

Maria looks fired up, her eyes locked on you with renewed determination. But something shifts inside you.

The moment the round starts, you don’t just defend, you attack.

You sidestep her opening punch and drive your knee into her ribs: Two points. 

She stumbles, gasping, and you press forward, slamming your forearm into her shoulder before sweeping her legs out from under her: Three points.

You hear Silver’s words in your head. Make her fear you.

Maria scrambles to her feet, eyes flashing with frustration. She lunges, but you’re faster.

You pivot, spinning into a brutal roundhouse kick. The impact lands perfectly, snapping her head to the side.

A sickening crack is heard throughout the area as you watch a small, white fragment fly through the air before hitting the mat.

Her tooth.

Maria drops to her knees, a hand flying to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. The buzzer chimes just in time, stopping the fight momentarily. The arena is a mix of cheers and horrified gasps.

Your chest tightens. Your breath feels trapped.

You couldn't believe you just did that.

You take a step back, suddenly aware of the raw power in your own limbs. Your fists feel heavier. The taste of victory turns bitter in your mouth.

Maria wipes her lips, sees the blood on her fingers, and glares at you.

The fight isn’t over.

You make your way back to Silver and sensei Wolf, a look of accomplishment on Silver's face.

"That's what I'm talking about," he cheers raising a closed fist.

"I've never done that before," you say breathlessly.

"If you want to win," Silver smirks. "You'll do it again, and this time she won't get up."

His words send a chill down your spine, you glance over at Axel who stared at you with a look of worry.

"I can win without being aggressive, it's not who I am," you say finally putting your foot down.

You stand up straight as Silver leans in close to you, avoiding his gaze.

"If you don't knock her out, you can kiss that Legacy goodbye."

You swallow the lump in your throat, his threat has stuck a chord within you. The ref signals it's time for the final round, you make your way back to the middle, shaking your uneasiness out.

"Fight!"

This time, you hesitate.

The aggression from before is gone, replaced by an unsettling feeling in your gut. Maria takes advantage.

She lunges, landing a sharp hook to your ribs: one point.

A second later, she whips around with a fast sidekick to your shoulder: another point.

The crowd erupts. She’s pushing back.

But despite your swirling thoughts, your instincts kick in. You shift into a defensive stance, watching, waiting, and then counter.

Maria moves in, and you strike.

A precise jumping front kick snaps her head back: Two points.

A lightning-fast spinning backfist: Three points.

The buzzer sounds.

Final Score: Y/n: 15 | Maria: 4

You won.

The referee lifts your arm, but you barely hear the cheers. Your gaze flickers to Silver on the sidelines. He's glaring at you, but you ignore him.

When you've made your way back to the side, he's hot on your heels ready to fire down on you.

"You can't change where I come from," you spat turning swiftly to face him. "I can be a champion and still win the right way."

Silver chuckles darkly making your stomach twist as he closes in on you.

"You still have one more fight," he reminds you. "And if you don't demolish Nichols on that mat, if you show her mercy... you will lose everything."

He walks off leaving you to stand there in your thoughts. Axel brushes past him, greeting you with a small smile.

"You did it," he cheers coming up to rest his hands on your shoulders. "Just one more fight."

You give him a half-smile, not completely convinced there would be another fight.

"It's your turn," you say averting the focus back to your boyfriend. "Go win your fight so we have something to celebrate about tonight."

He smirks down at you, giving you a nod. "Yes, ma'am."

Axel is matched to fight Robby, and if he won he would fight Kwon from Cobra Kai.

You're a little nervous to see your old team standing across from you on the mat, and your dad and sister can't help but spare you glances.

When the fight begins it's all Robby, he's trying to strike and kick every which way against Axel, but your co-captain is precise and fluid with his blocks.

The minute Axel begins to fight back, Robby is struggling to hold on and defend.

And then the unthinkable happens. You're not sure how it starts, but when Axel kicks Robby into one of the guys from Cobra Kai, they get into each others faces and all hell breaks lose.

The teams begin to swarm out on to the mat, and everyone starts fighting each other. Before you can even process what's happening, you suddenly feel yourself being tugged backwards, before your back hits the floor.

You're farther from the rest of your team, and whoever was pulling at you is now gone. Standing up, you glance around the chaos, looking for anyone you know in sight.

Spotting your sister, you attempt to make your way through the sea of teens when you're suddenly surrounded by black gi's.

"You are supposed to fight Tory next," the Cobra Kai captain sneers taking a step towards you. "Let's make sure she can't."

The four boys begin to attack you, throwing kicks and punches at your body.

The first strike comes fast, a sharp kick aimed at your ribs. You block just in time, but another follows, a fist barely missing your face as you jerk back.

They're relentless, attacking in unison, giving you no room to breathe.

You fight back the best you can, dodging, countering, but four against one is impossible to keep up with.

A kick lands hard against your side, making you stumble. Another blow clips your shoulder.

Your body screams in protest, but you grit your teeth, refusing to go down.

Then, through the crowd, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

"GET OFF OF HER!"

Before the next strike can land, Axel is there.

He shoves one of the Cobra Kai guys away from you, his fist colliding with another’s jaw in a sickening crack.

You feel yourself being helped up, your best friend has come to your side, her wide brown eyes scanning you.

"You alright?" Tory asks keeping you close to her.

"I'm good," you nod, squeezing her hand in reassurance. "Thanks."

The three of you begin to fight back together, Kwon is upset by the betrayal of his co-captain, and now targets everyone.

Somehow you manage to takedown one of the Cobra’s with Tory’s help and Axel has defeated the captain.

Axel stands by your side as Kwon lays on the ground, knocked out cold. Your fingers find his instinctively, and he laces his through yours without hesitation, his grip firm, and steady.

You glance up at him, bruised, breathless, but still managing a slight smile.

"My hero," you murmur, voice just above a whisper.

Axel huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head as his free hand comes up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. 

He tilts his head down pressing a soft kiss to your temple making you feel warm and safe.

Your heart is still hammering against your ribs, the adrenaline making it hard to think. But through the haze of everything, the chaos, the pain, the uncertainty, Axel squeezes your hand.

You're not sure where you'll go from here, and what drawing back from the final fight could mean for your future, but you knew one thing is for certain:

You’re not alone in this.

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Masterlist

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