#ff series

[owarinaki]

President. Rufus Shinra

( Final Fantasy VII Rebirth ) some recap

Index gifs // Trailer recap

Junon; part1 ; part2 ; part3 ; part4 :: part5 ;; part6

Trailer recap 1/3 ;; 2/3 ;; 3/3

[kthice]

JJK'S CASE | JUNGKOOK FF (M) •ongoing #2

Summary: A town shrouded in mystery. A detective entangled in a web of secrets. As Jungkook delves into the buried past, he unearths a truth far more sinister than he ever imagined. Some stories are forgotten for a reason—because once the truth is revealed, there is no turning back.

pairing: jungkook x reader •genre: dark romance, psychological thriller,mystery detective oc

warnings: vióléncé ánd gráphíc dépíctíóns óf hárm, psychólógícál ábúsé, mánípúlátíón., dárk thémes óf révéngé ánd páín., déscríptíóns óf ínténsívé cáréss, térrór, ánd prófánítý, mátúré lángúágé (prófánítý) ánd viólént áctíóns, RÈVÈNGÈ, 18+, m*rder, g*re and several mature scenes.

MASTER LIST

• 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 •14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 epilogue

Chapter 2

YONGDONG POLICE STATION

6 PM

Jungkook stepped into the office, the scent of aged wood and ink filling his nostrils. The place felt frozen in time, as though it had been untouched for years, its walls lined with shelves crammed with old files and records. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above only added to the eeriness of the space, flickering every now and then like the place was fighting to stay alive.

--

He sat stiffly in the dimly lit conference room, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and old paper. A large corkboard stood at the front, covered with photographs of people-men, women, and even children-all pinned under the same glaring title: Missing.

Captain Min, an older man with sharp eyes and a tired expression, stood at the front, flipping through a thick file. Beside him, Detective Jiho leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he exhaled sharply. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of unsolved cases pressing heavily on the room.

Jungkook cleared his throat.

"So... what's the situation?"

Captain Min didn't look up as he spoke.

"We've had multiple disappearances over the last year. No bodies, no ransom notes, no traces left behind. These aren't ordinary cases, Jeon." He finally lifted his gaze, his voice taking on a grim note. "And they go back way further than just last year."

Jungkook frowned. "How far back are we talking?"

Jiho pushed off from the desk, grabbing a separate stack of files and tossing them onto the table. "Fifteen years," he muttered. "But the pattern only became noticeable in the last few."

Jungkook flipped open the nearest file, his eyes scanning the reports. The victims had no direct connection-different ages, different occupations, different social backgrounds. Yet there was something eerily similar about them all.

"No leads? No suspects?"

Captain Min exhaled. "We had a few, but nothing ever stuck. The locals don't talk much, and the ones who do either disappear or... stop talking."

Jungkook glanced at him. "Stop talking?"

Jiho's jaw clenched. "We've had cases where witnesses swore they saw something-strange figures, movement in the woods, people who weren't supposed to be there. Then, a week later? They refuse to say another word. Almost as if something... or someone... got to them."

Jungkook felt a chill creep up his spine.

Captain Min looked at him with a firm expression ."Maybe an outsider like you will see something we missed."

Jungkook  nodded. But as he looked down at the collection of names, dates, and photographs, a sinking feeling settled in his gut.

Something wasn't actually right about this town.

--

Jungkook's desk

Jungkook adjusted the stiff collar of his navy-blue shirt as he stepped into the dimly lit briefing room. The space smelled of stale coffee and old leather, the air thick with an unshakable weight. A low hum of murmured conversations, the shuffle of case files, and the occasional tap of a pen against a wooden table filled the silence.

A manila folder landed in front of him with a dull thud.

"This is yours now," Jiho said, voice edged with something close to resignation. The senior detective leaned back against the desk, his sharp gaze flickering to Jungkook. "It's not pretty."

Jungkook ran his fingers along the worn edges of the folder before flipping it open. A stack of aged documents, faded photographs, and crime scene reports greeted him. The first page detailed names and dates-people who had disappeared over the past fifteen years.

He frowned. "Brief me about it properly, will ya?"

Jiho sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Too long. At first, it was one or two people-easy to write off as runaways or accidents. But then, it kept happening. People just... vanish."

Jungkook flipped through the photographs-grainy black-and-white snapshots of smiling faces, now nothing more than ghosts of Yongdong. No common thread. No known connections.

"And no bodies? No traces?"

"Not a damn thing," Jiho muttered. "They don't leave a trail. No calls, no bank activity, no signs of struggle. Just... gone." His fingers tapped against the table. "And the weirdest part? Most of them disappeared near the forest."

Jungkook's grip tightened slightly on the file. He had passed the forest on his way into town-its dense, towering trees forming an almost impenetrable wall of shadows. There was something about it, something unspoken. Too still. Too watchful.

Jiho smirked, almost like he could read his thoughts. "Welcome to Yongdong."

Jungkook glanced up. "What's with this 'welcome to Yondong thingy you're doing? Its annoying"

Jiho let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Yongdong's a graveyard with a heartbeat." He turned toward the corkboard pinned with old, yellowed newspaper clippings. "Used to be a normal town, but after the disappearances started, people packed up and left. Now? It's mostly the ones too stubborn or too afraid to go. The ones who pretend they don't know anything."

Jungkook followed his gaze. An old aerial map of the town was tacked onto the board. It was a simple layout-clusters of houses, a single main road cutting through the center, and at the farthest edge, the forest. The ink had faded, but the darkness of the trees remained, swallowing the borders like an ink stain spreading across a page.

"The locals don't talk,or else we would have some track in hand" Jiho continued. "They keep their doors locked, their heads down. Outsiders? They don't like us much. Not because they think we'll solve this." He scoffed. "Because they think we won't."

Jungkook thought back to his arrival. The wary glances. The hushed whispers that cut off the moment he entered a room. The way the shopkeepers turned away like they hadn't seen him at all.

He tapped the folder. "And this?"

Jiho sighed and pulled out another document. This one was older, the pages yellowed and fragile. A deep red stamp at the top read:

Cold Case.

Jungkook scanned the details.

Crime: Double Homicide Date: 15 years ago

He turned the page, eyes landing on the first crime scene photograph.

A man, lying in a pool of blood, his skull fractured beyond recognition.

The second photo-another body. An older man, stab wounds deep in his chest.

His stomach tightened. The brutality of it was different from the disappearances. This was messy. Personal.

And then his gaze fell on the witness statement.

Witness: Kim Taehyung.

Jungkook's breath stilled.

His fingers hovered over the name as an unsettling feeling curled in his chest.

Jiho was watching him carefully. "He was a kid when it happened. Eleven, maybe twelve. He was the only one who saw it."

Jungkook flipped to the next page-a shaky, handwritten account.

"I saw the man with the axe first. He was standing in the clearing, staring down at the other man. There was blood on the ground. A lot of it. He looked at me, but... his eyes. They weren't normal. It was like he wasn't real. Like something else was wearing his skin."

Jungkook swallowed.

"He was found in the forest the next morning," Jiho added. "Alone. Barefoot. Kept saying the same thing over and over."

Jungkook looked at him. "What did he say?"

Jiho's expression darkened.

"The forest keeps them."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Jungkook closed the file, pressing his palm against the paper as if he could absorb the weight of it.

Outside, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting elongated shadows through the station windows. The town of Yongdong stretched beyond them, quiet, unmoving.

Watching.

Jiho exhaled, pushing off the desk.

"I hope you find them, Jungkook." His voice was quieter now, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. "But in this town? Hope doesn't last long."

Jungkook didn't respond.

Because for the first time in a long time, he felt it.

The distinct, creeping sensation that he was stepping into something far bigger than he could ever understand.

And that maybe, just maybe-

It had been waiting for him all along.

---

Somewhere in Yongdong

The world was painted in hues of gold and green, the late afternoon sun stretching long shadows across the mossy ground.

The forest hummed with life, but in a quiet, unintrusive way-soft rustling leaves, the occasional chirp of a hidden bird, and the gentle murmur of the stream flowing past smooth stones.

Hanna sat on the edge of a large, sun-warmed rock, her legs dangling freely over the water. The cool current lapped at her ankles, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine as she let her toes skim through the ripples. Tiny fish darted away from the disturbance, their silvery bodies vanishing beneath the glassy surface.

The weight of the world did not exist here.

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes, letting the warmth of the sunlight seep into her skin. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching in the light like strands of silk.

For once, she wasn't thinking about anything.

No worries. No responsibilities.

Just the steady rhythm of the water, the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, and the feeling of absolute peace.

And then-

A rustle.

Barely audible, just a shift of movement behind her.

Before she could react, something soft brushed against her hair, featherlight and delicate.

A voice followed, low and teasing, filled with a warmth she knew all too well.

"Guess who?"

A small, knowing smile ghosted across her lips. She didn't need to turn around.

"Taehyung," she murmured, not bothering to hide the fondness in her voice.

A rich chuckle. "How do you always know?"

"Because you're predictable," she teased, finally opening her eyes. Her fingers instinctively reached up, brushing against her hair-only to find something woven into it.

She blinked.

A crown.

A delicate, slightly uneven wreath of wildflowers, their petals still dusted with tiny specks of earth. Daisies, buttercups, and small white blossoms she didn't recognize had been carefully braided together into a makeshift circlet.

Hanna turned her head slightly, watching as Taehyung plopped down beside her, stretching his long legs out next to hers. He was grinning, clearly pleased with himself, his dark brown curls slightly ruffled from the wind.

"You should've seen me," he said, shaking his head dramatically. "I nearly died fighting off a bee for the last flower."

Hanna laughed, tilting her head. "A bee, huh?"

Taehyung leaned back on his elbows, his deep brown eyes glinting with mischief. "It was ruthless. Stared me down like I had stolen its family heirloom."

"Poor thing," she mused. "Maybe you did steal its favorite flower."

Taehyung gasped in mock horror. "Are you taking the bee's side over mine?"

Hanna shrugged, fighting back a smirk. "Maybe."

A soft breeze wove through the trees, rustling the leaves above them. The world felt so distant here, yet so perfectly whole. The golden light of the setting sun dappled the ground through the canopy, bathing them in warmth.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Taehyung reached out, picking at a stray blade of grass beside him, his fingers absently twisting it around as if his hands always needed to be doing something. Hanna watched him from the corner of her eye, taking in the way his lips curved ever so slightly at the corners, the way his eyes softened whenever he was around her.

"You're too quiet," he murmured after a moment, his voice gentler now. "What are you thinking about?"

Hanna hummed, swaying her feet in the water, watching as tiny ripples fanned outward. "Nothing."

It wasn't exactly a lie.

But if she said the truth-that she felt safe in this moment, that she wished time would slow down, that she never wanted this kind of peace to slip away-she wasn't sure she'd be able to meet his gaze.

Taehyung didn't press her. Instead, he reached for a stray daisy resting near his knee, twirling it between his fingers. The motion was slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

Then, with an almost imperceptible smile, he leaned in and tucked the tiny flower behind her ear.

His fingers brushed against her skin-warm, fleeting, but enough to send an unspoken weight into the air between them.

Hanna swallowed. "What was that for?"

"You looked like you needed one more," he said simply.

She stared at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. Something soft. Something unreadable. Something she didn't want to name.

Instead, she let out a small laugh, nudging his arm. "You're impossible."

Taehyung smirked. "And yet, you tolerate me."

Hanna pretended to think. "Maybe because no one else will."

"Hey!" He gasped, pressing a hand over his heart as if deeply wounded. "I'll have you know, I'm very lovable."

Hanna turned to face him fully, raising an eyebrow. "Are you?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

A pause.

Then-without warning-he reached out and flicked water at her.

The cold droplets hit her skin, shocking her out of the moment.

"Taehyung!" she shrieked, scrambling backward, barely avoiding the second splash aimed at her.

But he was already laughing, his deep, boyish chuckles echoing through the quiet of the forest.

"Oh, you're in for it now," she warned, scooping up a handful of water and launching it at him.

Taehyung yelped, shielding himself with his arms. "Hanna, no-!"

Too late.

Within seconds, they were locked in a full-blown water fight, splashing and laughing, their carefree joy blending into the golden afternoon.

By the time they finally collapsed back onto the rock, breathless and drenched, Hanna was laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach.

"You-" she gasped between giggles. "You look like a wet cat."

Taehyung turned to her, his hair dripping, his lips stretched into a helpless grin. "And you-" he tapped her nose lightly with his finger, "-look like someone who just lost a battle."

"Lost?" She scoffed. "I so won that fight."

Taehyung sighed dramatically, flopping backward onto the rock. "Fine, fine. You win, your highness."

A victorious smile tugged at Hanna's lips. "As long as you remember that."

Another pause. This time, the silence between them was softer, filled with nothing but the quiet sounds of the stream and their steady breathing.

Taehyung turned his head slightly, watching her. His expression had changed.

It wasn't mischief anymore.

It wasn't teasing.

It was something else-something unspoken, something lingering just beneath the surface.

Hanna felt it too.

But neither of them said it.

Instead, she sighed, resting her chin on her knees, letting the moment stretch on for just a little longer.

Here, with Taehyung beside her, with wildflowers tangled in her hair and the sun dipping lower into the horizon, she could pretend-for just a little while longer-that the world beyond this stream was still kind.

That nothing bad would ever come for them.

Even though, deep down, she knew better.

---

The sun dips low in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest as the evening settles in.

The golden light bathes everything in a soft, fading glow, but the cool breeze that sweeps through the trees whispers a warning of the night to come. It's a time of transition-day to night, light to darkness, safety to danger.

And Jimin is there, hidden in the shadows, his eyes never leaving the pair of figures walking ahead: Hanna and Taehyung.

His posture is rigid, almost predatory, as he stands just outside their line of sight, his body melting into the trees, becoming one with the forest itself.

His eyes, cold and unblinking, narrow in an almost calculating way. He watches how Taehyung moves, his steps protective, the way his body subconsciously shifts to shield Hanna from whatever might be lurking in the open spaces of the woods.

The tension between them is palpable, a quiet electricity that Jimin can almost taste.

He leans slightly forward, his breath barely audible, but the steady rhythm of his pulse is deafening in his ears. His fingers twitch as he watches Taehyung subtly place his hand at the small of Hanna's back, guiding her, his thumb brushing against her skin in what should be a comforting gesture.

But Jimin sees it differently. His lip curls ever so slightly, his chest tightening with a feeling he can't quite name but knows too well. He imagines himself there, standing in Taehyung's place, his hand on Hanna, his thumb brushing against her soft skin.

The thought alone makes his skin crawl in a way that excites him.

No one can protect her like I can, he thinks, an edge to his thoughts. Taehyung doesn't know what she really needs.

He's just a distraction.

Hanna, completely unaware of the eyes on her, keeps walking, her pace slow and peaceful, but there's a tension in the way she holds herself, the way she glances nervously around the woods.

She's on edge-good. Jimin smiles to himself. He can see the cracks in her mask, the way the unease settles in her bones. She's not as untouchable as she thinks.

His gaze flicks between her and Taehyung, studying every moment, every glance, every subtle shift of their bodies. Taehyung's protective nature irritates him, but there's something else-a fascination, a twisted admiration. He doesn't like that someone else feels the need to take care of Hanna.

He doesn't like that she might be turning to someone else for safety, for comfort, for attention.

The light from the setting sun seems to illuminate Hanna in a golden halo, casting her in an ethereal glow. It's almost beautiful. But the beauty feels wrong to Jimin.

It should be his to control, his to shape. It burns his mind that she's not looking at him, not seeking his help, not relying on him.

He can feel his anger rising, though it's tempered by something darker-a twisted sense of control. Jimin smiles to himself, eyes gleaming as he watches Taehyung speaking softly to Hanna, his voice low and soothing. Jimin can't hear their words, but it doesn't matter. He knows what Taehyung is doing-he's trying to reassure her, trying to ease her into the safety of the forest's dark embrace.

But she doesn't need him, Jimin muses, stepping slightly closer. His shoes barely make a sound on the forest floor as he moves, just enough to close the gap between them, just enough to get a better look at Hanna's face. Her eyes are darting around, her mind working through a dozen possible scenarios, but her gaze never shifts toward Jimin.

It's like she doesn't even know he's there-doesn't know that he's been watching her for days, stalking her from the shadows, waiting for a moment just like this.

The darkness that swells inside of him sharpens. It's not just jealousy now, it's possession. Hanna is his-she always has been, even if she doesn't realize it yet. She'll see it soon. He'll make her see it.

The forest feels suffocating as his mind races, each thought darker than the last. Jimin watches as Taehyung's protective grip tightens slightly on Hanna's arm. Taehyung, ever the good guy, ever the hero. But what Jimin sees is a weakness, a flaw-a vulnerable crack in the armor.

Hanna laughs lightly at something Taehyung says, her voice sweet, and for a fleeting moment, Jimin can almost hear it in his mind, the way her laugh might sound when it's directed at him, when it's just the two of them, alone. But then it's gone, and the jealousy flares again.

The ache to be the one she trusts, to be the one she relies on-it's overwhelming, and Jimin can't help but feel the need to close the distance, to finally step into the light.

But he doesn't. Not yet. He enjoys the torment of watching them from the distance, enjoying the growing sense of power that settles into his bones. The sense that he controls this, that every step they take is only bringing them closer to him.

His fingers curl into fists, the sensation of adrenaline coursing through him. Soon, he tells himself. Soon.

As the evening light begins to fade, Jimin watches as Taehyung and Hanna stop at a clearing. They exchange a few more words, and Jimin can't help but let a quiet, psychotic chuckle slip past his lips. It's not loud enough to be heard, but it's there, dark and filled with intent.

Something will happen soon. Something he's orchestrating from the shadows, something that will change everything.

---

The motel room was suffocating. Stale air clung to the walls, mixing with the faint scent of cigarette smoke from whoever had stayed here before him. The flickering yellow light above the bed did little to push back the shadows curling in the corners.

Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers gripping the cheap motel phone, thumb hovering over the dial pad. He didn't want to make this call. He had promised himself he wouldn't.

Yet, here he was.

A deep breath.

He pressed the button.

The dial tone rang once. Twice. A third time.

Then-a click.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and expectant. The air on the other end of the line was eerily still, as if the person on the other side was waiting-watching.

Then, finally-

"You took your time."

The voice was smooth, almost pleasant, but beneath it lurked something sharp. Something cold.

Jimin felt his grip on the phone tighten. "She's here."

A quiet hum. No surprise. No rush. Just patient amusement.

"And?"

Jimin swallowed, his throat dry. His knee bounced restlessly. "I-" He hesitated, licking his lips. "I don't know what to do."

A soft chuckle. "Yes, you do."

Jimin's heart slammed against his ribs. His fingers curled into his palm, nails digging into his skin. "No, I don't," he snapped, though his voice wavered. "This wasn't-this wasn't part of the plan."

A pause. Then, that voice again-calm, composed, like someone explaining the rules of a game to a reluctant player.

"It's always been the plan. You just don't want to accept it."

Jimin exhaled sharply. He rubbed his temple, trying to push away the weight pressing down on his chest.

"She's different," he muttered.

The other person chuckled again, but this time it was laced with something darker.

"You sound like a fool."

Jimin's teeth clenched. "You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," the voice countered, unimpressed. "You're hesitating. You're letting sentiment cloud your judgment."

Jimin shut his eyes, pressing his palm against them as if he could block out the voice in his ear. "I never wanted this."

"But you do," the voice murmured, almost tender now, almost mocking. "You want her, don't you?"

Jimin's breath hitched.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then-

"She won't stay if she finds out," Jimin whispered. "If she-"

"She won't find out," the voice interrupted smoothly.

Jimin wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe a lot of things.

"You don't have to do this," Jimin tried, one last, desperate plea. "There's another way."

A pause. Then, the voice on the other end exhaled slowly. The sound was thoughtful, measured.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

A faint tapping sound came through the receiver, like fingers drumming against a surface.

"I have plans."

Jimin's stomach twisted.

"Big ones."

The tapping stopped.

"She's just the beginning."

Jimin's skin went cold.

Before he could respond, the call ended.

The dial tone buzzed in his ear.

Jimin sat there, staring blankly at the wall, the echo of that voice still ringing in his mind.

Somewhere, out in the city, someone was already setting things in motion.

And Jimin... Jimin had just run out of time.

---

A dim, flickering bulb cast long, distorted shadows across the small, cluttered room. The air was thick, suffocating, the scent of burning wax mingling with something more metallic-something faintly coppery.

Hanging up his phone, the lone man stood, his fingers tracing over old, yellowing newspaper clippings pinned to the cracked wall in front of him.

He smirked, lips curling into a slow, unsettling smile as he tilted his head, studying the overlapping photographs, notes scrawled in red ink, and faces crossed out with thick, jagged lines.

Some were missing persons reports; others were crime scene photos. His fingers stopped at a particular image-a young girl, smiling in the photograph, completely unaware of the dark fate that had awaited her.

He let out a soft chuckle, almost amused by the naïve innocence frozen in time.

The room was silent except for the rhythmic tap of his fingernail against the glossy surface of the photo.

His eyes flickered to another pinned article-a report from fifteen years ago, detailing the brutal murder of Kim Yoohan and another man whose identity had been erased from public records. His gaze darkened.

"So, they're still searching for ghosts, huh?" he murmured to himself, voice laced with mirth. "How adorable."

He turned away from the wall and reached for the small wooden table nearby. A candle burned low, its wax pooling over the edges, and beside it, a small, battered notebook lay open.

Ink-stained pages held scribbled notes, calculations, and dates. His hands, steady and precise, picked up an aged silver lighter, flicking it open with a metallic snap. He held it over the pages, watching the flame dance dangerously close.

But he didn't burn them. Not yet.

Instead, he shut the notebook with an almost reverent touch, pressing his palm against the cover as if it held something sacred. His fingers tightened, nails digging into the leather-bound surface.

"It's almost time."

His voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the room, it carried an eerie weight. He let out a slow exhale, eyes flickering to the only other source of illumination in the space-a single, grainy CCTV monitor set up on the desk.

The screen displayed a dark, deserted street outside a café. A woman walked across the frame, her dark hair swaying slightly with each step.

Unaware. Unprotected.

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, tapping absently, as if contemplating his next move. Then, a smile-cold and knowing-spread across his face.

"Patience, patience... We'll see each other soon."

The screen flickered.

The candle sputtered.

And in the suffocating quiet, the darkness around him seemed to hum with anticipation.

---

The night stretched like an abyss, swallowing every whisper of sound. The dim glow of the streetlights flickered uncertainly, casting elongated shadows across the nearly deserted alley.

The town, though small, was never truly silent-yet tonight, an eerie stillness lingered, thick and suffocating.

Footsteps echoed against the damp pavement.

A young woman-mid-twenties, wrapped in an oversized beige coat-hurried along, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. Her breath misted in the cold air, her pace quickening with each step. Something wasn't right. She could feel it.

The sensation of being watched slithered down her spine, an unshakable weight that made the hairs on her arms rise. The streets were empty. No stray dogs rummaged through trash. No late-night wanderers stumbled home from the town's lone bar. It was unnatural.

A whisper of movement-a faint shuffle, barely there-sent her heart into a frenzy.

She turned sharply. Nothing. Just the yawning darkness of the alley behind her.

Her fingers fumbled inside her coat pocket, searching for her keys. She was only a few streets away from home. If she could just make it-

A metallic scrape rang out. The sound of something dragging along the concrete.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to move faster. Her shoes slapped against the pavement, the only noise in the oppressive quiet. She didn't dare look back again.

Then-

The light above her flickered and went out.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

She barely had time to scream before something cold and gloved clamped over her mouth. Her body lurched backward, arms flailing, trying to fight-but whoever was behind her was stronger. Much stronger.

A sickly-sweet scent flooded her nostrils. Chloroform.

Her vision blurred, limbs losing their strength as she thrashed uselessly. The last thing she saw before the void took her was a vague silhouette-tall, unmoving, watching. And then she was dragged into the shadows, disappearing without a trace.

The town remained silent.

As if it never happened .

-----------

A/n : aah this chapter is so short. But i promise to write long chapters as we gradually move on with the story. Things will slowly get revealed soon.thanks for reading<3 . Don't forget to vote and comment ily ❤️

[hfj-art]

[anishake]

Truly the worst part of a fandom experience is when you are part of a fandom, everyone is vibing, and having fun exchanging ideas about possible narrative development, just living in the moment. Then at some point, you take a break and when you come back years later things are just pure chaos: that one ship everyone liked is now censored and you aren't allowed to ship it, another popular take is problematic and you should shut up. Oh yeah, and that one character is a sexist and an abuser, we should hold them accountable!!

Just... shut the hell up man, SHUT UP

[wonopia]

SUMMER TROUBLES | 009. NAIVE AT ITS FINEST

[WC] . 550

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jungwon was now at his house lying in bed. he’d been feeling tired all day, watching netflix shows on his tv.

his phone buzzed his hand, she was calling him. jungwon moved to be laying on his side, answering the call. he could tell from the quality that she was on her laptop.

“hey,” she spoke, and for the first time he was hearing her voice.

“hi,” jungwon smiled, growing embarrassed.

his face felt warmer than usual.

“you sound different than i expected,” yujin said, smiling back at him. a smile he couldn’t seem to find on her page, so this was also new to him.

“in a good or a bad way?” he asked, making a face at her.

she laughed, “a good way.”

he was able to relax now. she was laying on her stomach, facing the laptop at a 45 degree angle. her phone in her hand.

“i.. i don’t usually call people,” he said honestly, “what do we talk about?”

“anything,” she shrugged, “do you have any questions to ask me?”

are you dating someone, echoed in his head but he wasn’t too naive to make it that obvious.

“why don’t you tell me more about your friends? like how you got to know them and stuff.”

“okay,” she smiled, putting her phone face down beside her, “i’ve known hanni, soobin, and niki the longest. niki lives down the street so i got to hang out with him more often. i think that was one of the reasons why we got so close.”

jungwon nodded to show acknowledgement, so she’s close with the niki guy..

“for hanni..” she mumbled in thought, “i’ve just known her since kindergarten. i got to know soobin in third grade and we immediately became friends, he was always really nice. i got to know jake and bahiyyih in middle school. we all got really close then. what about you and your friends?”

“i’ve known heeseung and taehyun the longest. they’re a year older but they always looked out for me,” jungwon explained, “jay and sunghoon were always together so they came as a pair. i got to know them when i was just starting middle school, they were my mentors.”

jungwon continued, “sunoo, i got to know in fourth grade. we got sat together and we quickly became close.”

“that’s really cool,” she said with eyes full of interest, “this is a really small world we live in.”

“it really is,” jungwon agreed.

she paused, trying to generate a new question, “how about a love interest,” yujin started, her finger pointing at him, “any lucky person for you?”

he hummed at the thought, “i’ve never really been the type to.. be interested in that stuff.”

“so you’ve never had a crush?”

he paused, tilting his head at her, “um.. what does it even mean to have a crush on someone? like how do you know you like them?”

she pursed her lips at his question, “well.. you kind of just know. you.. want to be around them, you.. get a funny feeling when they’re around, and they make you a better person. at least thats what i believe.”

jungwon readjusted his position to lay on his other side, bringing his hood over his head.

“then..” he mumbled, “i don’t think i like anybody, but.. but i don’t really know anything about that stuff,” he laughed nervously, feeling a pit in his stomach.

“yeah, i get you,” she smiled a little.

“what about you? any lucky guy?”

she smiled at the thought, nodding her head, “yeah.. i don’t think he likes me though. he seems pretty naive, perhaps dumb.”

jungwon smiled at her expression, “i’m glad you found someone, but how could they not like you?”

even though jungwon could feel his heart pang at the idea of her liking somebody else, he was glad he was a close friend to her.

hours later, they continued to talk and laugh, telling stories they haven’t talked about in a while. they eventually drifted off to do their individual things.

it started with her having to do the dishes in her kitchen, where he saw her mom. jungwon continued to watch his show that he’s watched a trillion times over and over again.

jungwon had his phone against his lamp horizontally, facing himself. from the view he had of her, he could tell it was also on her bedside table.

eventually, he drifted off to bed as his show began to end. his eyes shutting and light snores coming out of his lips.

“hey jung..” yujin began until she saw his state.

she silenced herself, and took this moment to observe him. even though it was dark in his room, the light from his tv shined along his face so it was visible.

yujin reached for her lamp, pulling the string to click it off before pulling the comforter up to keep her warm.

note: phone is back but i cannot guarantee for how long 🙊

© wonopia 2024

open TAGLIST: @nodiotter @ilovejungwonandhaechan @sol3chu

[riotgrrrlnat]

Daily Cloud Strife #6

[winternet-s]

jujutsu kaisen :

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*begin, beginning - g. satoru: [name] living creature of Frost, a planet where girls have little to no rights decide to leave after hearing the story of a woman who escaped the planet to live on Earth. And this one night [name] also tried.

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･cupid is dumb - g.satoru : in which [name] is the cupid of her after helping tons of students with their relationships or crushes, satoru included - but who could fool cupid in terms of romance ?

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ stuck in you - platonic, fem!reader : in which [name], yuuji, megumi, and nobara had one mission to eliminate the curse but find themselves into each other's bodies.

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･la foule - g.satoru: after a rough day your friends encouraged you to go to the festival of the village, the moment of dance came into the frame, and by changing partners destiny gave you that one brown-haired man.

!★ totally...spies ‐ g.suguru (disc.): it's the story of four friends who are spies living a life as high school students that is anything but normal. Undercover for the secret organization Whoop, they travel the world to protect the innocent and save lives. Balancing dangerous missions with the everyday challenges of adolescence, they navigate a world filled with secrets, betrayals, and thrilling adventures.

SLAM DUNK

!★ misunderstood - slam dunk ( disc.): After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･camping is for falling in love – r.miyagi : After Shohoku’s big win, you invite the team to your family’s camping site for a night under the stars. It’s supposed to be all fun and games until Ryota Miyagi sees his chance to finally confess his feelings for you. With the fire crackling and the team teasing, he’s ready to open up… if his nerves (and Sakuragi's ego) don’t get in the way first.

[jbcrochetwizard]

A cute Chocobo doll appears! 🐥 The finished size of this yellow bird amigurumi is 6.5” height and 5” wide (16.5 x 12.7 cm).  Pattern is available on Etsy and Ravelry.

[wouldtheyfuck]

[kleptocos]

A preview of my piece for the @ffladieszine! My 2-page spread is a collage of 10 photos of Yuna based around the theme of water 🌊

Preorders are open now! Details at @ffladieszine!

If you’re an FF fan, you will not want to miss this one! The love and talent that everyone brought to this zine is amazing! So thankful to be part of it!

FF女子ずジン予約受付中！ ユウナのコス写真を10枚掲載して頂いた！

[video-game-birds-tournament]

Iconic Bracket - Side A - Round 1 - Match Up 1

Propaganda:

Donald Duck

we love one angry tsundere duck who will only heal you after you healed yourself

Like the regular D*sney duck but with 200% more Power of Friendship

Chocobos

You want to ride with your Chocobo into the wide world, into the sunset, after a wonderful camp meal you fall asleep under the open starry tent at the warm campfire leaning against the softest feathers of your Chocobo, you ride up on the hill with the rising sunrise, over the whole span of the world. You want to take your Chocobo's wings in your hand and dance with him across the meadows. You are both free and the world is at your feet. Nothing can take away your joy. Some chocobos can use magic, some can climb mountains, and some even have the ability to fly! The birds are mostly used for riding from a to b, but they can also be summoned to help and kick around in minor battles. If you need a certain character rather than a species, there is a Chocobo simply called Chocobo in the chocobo series. https://finalfantasy.fandom.com/wiki/Chocobo_(Chocobo_series)

Staple of the Final Fantasy series as a whole, generally just silly :]

[owarinaki]

Final Fantasy XVI Character design !+ FranckmullerxFF16

[shy9-29]

Love, Lies, and Sim Jake

심재윤 x reader - enhypen campus series

You were the quiet girl with the not-so-quiet crush on Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, smooth talker, and everything you should’ve stayed away from. But when a bet turns your name into a game, the rules change fast. He didn’t expect to fall for you… and you didn’t expect to find out. Now it’s your move—and this time, you’re not playing nice.

wc. 16.4k

a/n. This took me so long istg but lwk wanted then to be endgame @sheseung

masterlist | req open

It wasn’t supposed to be obvious. You were careful—or at least you thought you were.

Sure, maybe you stared a little too long when Jake walked into class late, hair still damp from a rushed shower, backpack half-zipped like he couldn’t be bothered. Maybe you laughed a little too loud when he made a joke, even if it wasn’t that funny. Maybe your friends caught you scrolling through his Instagram more times than you could count—but you had never said it out loud.

But somehow… everybody knew.

It started small. You remember the moment it all began to slip. One afternoon in the library, your best friend nudged your arm and whispered, “You’re staring again,” followed by the most annoying smirk you’d ever seen. You blinked, cheeks warming, then looked away quickly as Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching in that way he had to know showed off his arms.

“It’s not like that,” you’d mumbled. Lie. Straight lie. But it was your go-to line.

Then came the whispers. The way people started looking at you just a little differently whenever Jake was around. In the dining hall, one of his teammates nudged him and said something under his breath, both of them turning your way right after. You pretended not to notice. But you felt it—the heat in your face, the tightening in your stomach. You hated it.

It was like high school all over again. Like a crush you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you tried to play it cool.

And the worst part? Jake noticed.

He started looking at you a little longer in the hallways. Smirking when you’d pass by. Saying “hey” like he hadn’t ignored you for two semesters straight. You weren’t sure if he was just being polite—or playing with you. Still, every time your name left his lips, something fluttered in your chest and you hated that you let it.

Then, one night at a party, it all came out.

You were standing by the kitchen, holding a red solo cup you barely sipped from, when you heard it—your name. Jake’s voice.

“She’s cute,” he said casually, too casually, and the room seemed to go quieter around you. “And I’m pretty sure she’s into me.”

Laughter. Someone said, “Bro, everyone knows she is.”

Another voice chimed in, “You’re the first thing on her mind when she walks into class.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as your stomach flipped.

They were talking about you like you were an object, like your feelings didn’t matter.

You tried to shrink back into the corner of the room, hoping no one noticed your face burning hotter by the second. But Jake didn’t miss a beat.

He didn’t stop them. Didn’t correct them. Didn’t even seem surprised.

You were supposed to be doing your sociology reading. That was the whole plan. Laptop open, textbook to the side, highlighter in hand—every prop perfectly in place. But instead of notes, your screen was filled with him.

Jake Sim’s Instagram page.

His latest post? A blurry mirror selfie at the gym, captioned something dumb like “light work.” His abs were obnoxiously sharp, his hair pushed back by a sweatband, and there was a cocky little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing. You didn’t even like gym pics—and yet there you were, zooming in like a creep and biting your lip like an idiot.

You were halfway through stalking his tagged photos when Yuna burst into your room.

“Oh my god,” she said, before even setting her bag down. “Are you stalking him again?” You jumped, slamming your laptop shut like it was something illegal. “No.” She raised a brow. “You literally jumped like I caught you watching illegal shit.”

“I was doing research,” you muttered, trying to sound convincing.

“Research on what? His jawline?” Yuna flopped onto your bed, grinning. “Girl, you need help.”

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “I know. It’s so bad. I can’t stop.”

“Yeah, no kidding. This is like… phase five of a full-blown Jake Sim spiral.” You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you think he knows?” Yuna blinked at you. “Girl. Everyone knows.” You groaned again, louder this time, flopping back in your chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so pathetic.”

“Not pathetic,” Yuna said sweetly. “Just tragically whipped.” She laughed and tossed a pillow at you, and you couldn’t help but smile through the embarrassment. Because yeah—you were absolutely whipped.

And the worst part? You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him yet.

Yuna stayed sprawled on your bed, scrolling through her phone while you reopened your laptop—this time pretending you were actually going to study, even though your fingers hovered dangerously close to Jake’s profile again.

“I swear, he’s getting hotter by the day,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to her.

“Don’t do it,” Yuna warned without even looking up. “Don’t go back to his highlights. You already watched his Europe trip twice last night.”

“I just like the aesthetic,” you defended weakly.

“You like his face.”

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm, eyes drifting back to his latest Story. Just a casual boomerang of him walking into a party, surrounded by people, drink in hand, that same effortless confidence radiating off of him. He looked like he belonged there—like the world bent to him just slightly wherever he went.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t even bend your willpower long enough to not stalk him for one damn night.

“He’s at that rooftop bar again,” you murmured. “That one near campus.”

Yuna glanced at your screen. “With the LED lights and overpriced drinks? Ugh. Of course he is. He’s always out. Does he even do homework?”

“He’s passing econ somehow.”

“Probably because he flirts with the TA.”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t even be mad.”

Yuna tossed her phone aside and sat up. “Okay, real question. What are you actually gonna do about this?”

“Do?”

“Yes, do. You’ve been drooling over him for months. Either shoot your shot or block his page and join a monastery. This in-between spiral is destroying you.”

You hesitated. The idea of talking to Jake—really talking to him—made your heart race in a way that was more panic than excitement. He was just so… untouchable. Like a poster boy for bad decisions wrapped in designer cologne and half-smiles. And you were just—you.

“I don’t even think he knows my name,” you said quietly.

Yuna gave you a look. “Oh, he knows.”

You blinked. “What?”

She just smirked, grabbing her bag. “I’m gonna leave that there. You think about it.”

And with that, she disappeared out the door, leaving your heart racing in the quiet. Because if Jake did know your name… what did that mean?

You sat frozen for a solid thirty seconds after Yuna left, her last words echoing in your head like a fire alarm.

“He knows.”

She had to be messing with you, right? Yuna loved a good dramatic exit. She lived for chaos. There was no way Jake Sim—resident heartbreaker, campus lenend, the guy with a rotation of girls longer than your Spotify playlist—actually knew who you were.

…Right?

You glanced back at your laptop. His story was still up.

Tap.

Next slide—him laughing at something, dimples on full display, head tilted back like life was just that easy for him. You paused on it, your stomach twisting in that way it always did when you saw him smile. It was gross. You hated how much you liked it.

You shut the laptop again. This was getting out of hand.

Grabbing your phone, you opened your group chat with Yuna and your other two friends.

You:

i hate you why would u say that

Yuna:

what did i do NOW

You:

“he knows” ??? why would u say that and then LEAVE like some cryptic little drama gremlin

Kazuha:

HELP what’d she do

Minju:

this is about jake isn’t it

Yuna:

ok first of all. i am a drama gremlin. second of all. i didn’t lie.

You:

YUNA.

Yuna:

look he asked about you once okay?? don’t freak out

You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, heart thudding so loud you almost didn’t hear the buzz of another message.

You:

he what.

Yuna:

like two weeks ago. after class. he was talking to beomgyu and i walked up and he was like “hey that girl you always hang with, she’s in my stats class right?”

and i said yeah. and he nodded.

that’s it.

Minju:

girl that’s not nothing

Kazuha:

he definitely knows. also why do i feel like he’s been looking at her lately???

You:

guys stop

i’m sweating wtf

this is too much

You dropped your phone on the bed and covered your face with your hands again, half-screaming into your palms. This couldn’t be real. Jake noticed you? He remembered you existed?

You thought about the times he held your gaze a second too long in class, the lazy way he said “hey” when passing you on campus, the smirk you always thought was meant for someone else.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up. That was dangerous. That was how people got hurt. But still…

Just maybe…

This crush wasn’t as one-sided as you thought.

Jake leaned back against the bench, legs stretched out and sunglasses pushed up into his hair as the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees. The quad buzzed with weekend energy—students lounging on the grass, music playing from someone’s speaker, that kind of lazy chaos that only ever happened when no one felt like doing real work.

Jay sat beside him, twirling a straw around in his iced coffee, eyes scanning the crowd like he was picking out a movie to watch.

“You know what I was thinking?” Jay said suddenly, eyes still tracking something in the distance.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a terrifying sentence.”

Jay smirked. “We’ve never been in a real relationship. Like ever.”

Jake scoffed. “And your point?”

“My point is,” Jay said, sitting up, “we should see who can actually do it. Lock in. Longest relationship wins.”

Jake blinked, amused. “That’s the dumbest bet you’ve ever made—and you once bet Beomgyu fifty bucks you could throw a slice of pizza on the dorm ceiling and make it stick.”

“It did stick,” Jay pointed out.

“Yeah, and the RA made you clean it off.”

Sunghoon, who’d been quietly watching some random soccer game in the distance, sighed like he was already regretting his life choices. “This is so stupid. Why would you guys want to date someone just for the sake of it?”

“Because we suck at it,” Jay shrugged. “We’re trash at commitment. Might as well make it fun.”

Jake tilted his head, thinking for a second. “So what, we just pick someone and… date them?”

“Exactly,” Jay grinned. “No hookups, no games. Real dating. See who lasts longer.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “You guys are hopeless. Seriously.”

Jake was about to respond when Sunghoon suddenly nodded toward a group of girls laughing across the lawn.

“What about her?” he said, jerking his chin in that direction.

Jake followed his gaze—and immediately shook his head, a tight, amused smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Heeseung would kill me.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press it. Sunghoon just shrugged like it wasn’t his problem.

Jake leaned back again, lips pressing into a thin line. His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to you.

He didn’t know why, but your name floated to the surface, soft and unspoken. He pictured your face for a split second—how you always seemed to be laughing with that same small circle of friends, always just there on the edge of his world.

He said nothing.

Instead, Jake pushed himself off the bench, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.

“Where you going?” Jay asked, glancing up.

Jake just smirked and threw a lazy wave over his shoulder.

“Nowhere. Just remembered something.”

Jake shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked off, head down just enough to avoid the glare of the sun but not enough to miss the way people turned to greet him as he passed. He gave the usual half-smile, a couple nods, but didn’t stop.

He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just didn’t feel like sitting there talking about bets and fake relationships when his mind was suddenly, annoyingly, stuck on you.

Not in a romantic way—God, no. Jake Sim didn’t catch feelings like that. Especially not for girls he barely talked to. That wasn’t how he operated. That wasn’t how this worked.

You weren’t the hottest girl on campus or the loudest or the one constantly throwing yourself into his orbit. If anything, you stayed out of it. And yet… you’d started showing up in his peripheral vision more often than he liked to admit.

Every time you passed by him in class, you did that little thing—tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes flicking to him for half a second before you looked away like you’d been caught doing something wrong. You weren’t subtle. And Jake wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed.

It was kind of… cute.

He kicked a rock off the sidewalk, watching it bounce onto the grass.

He didn’t know why you popped into his head when Sunghoon pointed out that girl. Maybe it was because you felt like the opposite of a challenge—someone easy to talk to, someone safe. Not messy. Not loud. Not tied up in anyone else’s drama.

And maybe, he thought, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to win a bet.

He stopped walking.

But then again… this was stupid. It was Jay’s idea. It wasn’t that deep. And you? You were just a thought. A maybe. An option.

Nothing more.

Jake smirked to himself and kept walking, brushing the idea off like it was dust on his sleeve.

No feelings. No strings.

Just a game.

Jake didn’t think about it again—at least, that’s what he told himself.

The next day, he walked into stats like he always did: five minutes late, iced americano in one hand, phone in the other, no apology in sight. He dropped into his seat near the back, legs stretched out under the desk, and immediately tuned out the professor’s monotone voice.

But then he saw you.

You were in your usual spot, two rows ahead and just slightly to the right. Laughing at something Kazuha whispered to you, pen twirling between your fingers, that same focused-but-not-really expression on your face.

Jake leaned back, tapping his pen against his lip.

You looked soft. Not in the cheesy romcom way—just… not sharp like most people. You weren’t trying to be noticed. You weren’t dressed to impress. You just were. And Jake had a strange moment of clarity where he realized: that might be why he’d thought of you in the first place.

Predictable. Low drama. Quiet.

Someone he could control the narrative with.

Jay’s dumb idea floated back into his head again: “Real dating. See who lasts longer.”

Jake exhaled slowly, like it would push the hesitation out of his lungs.

This wasn’t about feelings. He didn’t like you. He didn’t want to text you goodnight or hold your hand at parties or any of that romcom garbage. But maybe you were safe enough to play the part. Someone who wouldn’t make things messy. Someone who already had a soft spot for him.

He glanced at you again, just as you looked down to write something in your notebook, your brows furrowed in concentration.

He could do it. Just a few weeks, some dates, a little effort. Easy.

Jake grinned to himself, resting his chin on his hand.

He didn’t realize he was already watching you too closely.

Didn’t realize he was starting to wonder how you’d react if he actually said hi.

He just thought,

Yeah. This’ll be easy.

Jake caught himself watching you again.

It wasn’t even on purpose—at least, that’s what he told himself. You weren’t doing anything special. Just taking notes, occasionally glancing at the board, the corners of your mouth twitching every time Kazuha leaned over and whispered something dumb. But for some reason, he couldn’t look away for long.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of it.

Jay:

pick someone yet or u backing out?

Jake smirked, thumbs tapping quickly.

Jake:

working on it

Jay:

clock’s ticking

Jake rolled his eyes, tossing the phone facedown on the desk.

The truth was, he already knew. He’d made up his mind the second he walked into class and saw you laughing like you didn’t have a single clue how close you were to becoming part of something you didn’t sign up for.

But he wasn’t going to tell Jay yet. He wasn’t even sure why.

Maybe because part of him felt like once he said it out loud, it would make it real. More real than it needed to be. And despite how casual he was pretending to be, this wasn’t like hooking up with some girl from a party. This wasn’t sneaking out of someone’s dorm room at 2 a.m. before things got too serious.

This was… a role. A performance. One he’d have to keep up if he wanted to win.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes drifting toward you again.

You didn’t even know he existed—at least, not really. Sure, you might’ve looked at him a few times, maybe had that little crush people liked to tease about, but you didn’t know him. Not the version he showed at parties, not the bored one in class, not the one who smiled when he needed something.

You were still clean.

Jake wondered how long that would last.

When class ended, he stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder, lingering by the exit just long enough to watch you gather your things. You laughed at something Kazuha said again, then turned to wave goodbye to Minju.

And for half a second, your eyes met his.

He gave you a slow, easy smile—one he’d used a thousand times before—and this time, you didn’t look away so quickly.

Jake walked out of the room, his smirk growing.

You couldn’t focus the rest of the day.

Jake Sim had smiled at you.

Not just a polite, passing one. Not the half-distracted, probably-at-someone-behind-you kind. No. It was at you—slow, smooth, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he meant it.

And stupidly, pathetically, you’d smiled back.

Your stomach was still fluttering from it hours later. Even as you sat at your usual café table with Yuna, Kazuha, and Minju, pretending to listen to their convo, all you could think about was that look. That damn smile. The way his eyes had lingered just long enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Yuna caught you zoning out and kicked your foot under the table. “Earth to lover girl.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve been checked out since class,” Minju said, sipping her iced latte like she wasn’t stirring chaos.

“Let me guess,” Kazuha added, leaning forward with a smirk. “Jake smiled at you?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but Yuna cut in with a dramatic gasp. “He did?! Wait—you smiled back?!”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I don’t know what it was, okay? He looked at me and—ugh, I probably imagined the whole thing.”

“You didn’t,” Minju said casually. “He looked at you. I saw it.”

You peeked through your fingers. “Was it like… a weird look? Or just, like, a normal thing?”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow. “Does Jake Sim ever look at someone normally?”

Yuna leaned her chin on her palm, suddenly serious. “Okay, but real talk. If he did look at you, like, look at you… be careful.”

Your heart sank a little. “What do you mean?”

“He’s Jake,” Minju said. “He doesn’t date. He flirts, he parties, he makes girls fall for him and then disappears.”

“I’m not falling for him,” you said too quickly.

Three sets of eyebrows went up at once.

“I’m not!” you insisted, but your voice cracked halfway through, completely ruining your case. They all exchanged knowing looks, and Kazuha patted your hand like you were already a lost cause.

You sat back in your seat, sipping your drink in silence, trying to calm the chaos in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Jake smiled at a hundred girls a day.

But still, the way he’d looked at you…

It didn’t feel like nothing.

And somewhere not too far from that café, Jake Sim was leaning back against a wall outside the library, scrolling through his phone.

He hadn’t told Jay yet. He hadn’t told anyone.

But your name sat quietly in the back of his mind.

Like a string he’d just started tugging.

Like a move he hadn’t played yet.

And tomorrow? He planned to say hello.

The next day came quicker than you expected.

You tried not to overthink it. Tried not to pick out your outfit with him in mind. Tried not to rehearse fake scenarios in your head where Jake Sim actually acknowledged you again—maybe said hi, maybe made a joke, maybe even asked you a question. Nothing big. Just something. Anything.

But deep down, under the nervous energy and second-guessing, a small, traitorous part of you hoped.

You walked into stats early, which never happened, your notebook hugged to your chest like it might protect you from your own delusions. Kazuha and Minju were already there, chatting quietly, and you took your usual seat beside them, eyes scanning the door more times than you cared to admit.

You told yourself you weren’t checking for him. Just being aware. Just… existing in the same room.

And then he walked in.

Jake didn’t look at anyone at first. Just strolled in like always—relaxed, unbothered, his usual drink in hand. He scanned the room casually, his eyes drifting past people without really stopping.

Until they landed on you.

And this time, he didn’t look away.

A lazy, lopsided grin pulled at his lips as he met your gaze. Not rushed. Not accidental.

Intentional.

Your throat went dry.

And then—like it was the most normal thing in the world—Jake Sim nodded at you. A simple, subtle gesture.

But it felt like the whole room paused around it.

You blinked. Your lips parted, surprised, and then instinctively—you nodded back. Small. Shy. Like your heart hadn’t just punched through your ribcage.

Jake held your gaze for half a second longer, then turned and walked to his usual seat near the back like nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

Kazuha leaned in immediately. “Okay, no. That wasn’t normal. He totally looked at you.”

Minju blinked. “Did he just nod at you like you guys are friends or something?”

You couldn’t even answer. You were too busy trying to regulate your breathing, too focused on the way your hands suddenly didn’t know what to do.

Across the room, Jake sat down, stretched out, and didn’t say a word.

Jay nudged him. “You good?”

Jake didn’t look away from the front. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Just watching something.”

Jay raised a brow, confused, but let it go.

You felt it the second you walked out of class—like a magnet at your back.

You didn’t have to turn around to know he was behind you. His steps were slower than yours, but just close enough that you could hear the occasional scuff of his sneakers on the pavement. And even in the noise of campus—people laughing, bikes zipping by, someone blasting music from a speaker—you felt him.

Jake Sim. Still walking behind you. Still very much a mystery.

“Okay,” Kazuha whispered beside you, leaning in with the most obvious side-eye imaginable. “Do not freak out. But he’s right there.”

“I know,” you hissed, eyes forward.

“I mean right there, like five steps back.”

Minju, on your other side, kept her voice casual. “What do you think he wants?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “Probably just going the same way.”

“Oh, sure,” Kazuha drawled. “Because Jake Sim always just happens to walk behind girls he makes eye contact with for five seconds straight.”

Your face was hot. You hated how your brain had started keeping track of these things—every glance, every nod, every smile like it meant something.

You turned the corner with your friends, and for a second, it felt like maybe that was it. Maybe he was just walking the same direction.

“Hey.”

One word. Smooth. Easy.

Him.

You stopped. Your heart didn’t.

Jake slid into view beside you like he did this all the time, like you weren’t already halfway to spiraling.

He looked straight at you. “You’re in my stats class, right?”

You blinked. Your mouth opened slightly. “Uh… yeah.”

He smiled like he already knew the answer.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said casually, like this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it. “What’s your name?”

You told him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake nodded, like he was tucking it away. “Cool. I’m Jake.”

Like you didn’t already know.

“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His grin widened slightly. Not cocky, not smug. Just… amused.

“Right,” he said, a little laugh in his voice. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he was gone.

No flirting. No teasing. No over-the-top pickup line.

Just your name on his lips. Like he planned to use it again.

Your friends were staring at you with open mouths.

Kazuha grabbed your arm. “I am going to pass out.”

Minju fanned herself. “You talked. To Jake Sim.”

You stood there, blinking at the space where he used to be, your heart still racing.

You didn’t know what just happened.

But whatever it was, it wasn’t nothing.

Jake didn’t look back.

He didn’t need to. He knew you were still standing there, probably replaying the conversation in your head, maybe wondering if you’d said something weird or if he’d meant anything by it.

He hadn’t.

Not really.

(Kind of.)

He let his smirk fade the second he turned the corner, jaw tightening slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He could feel Jay’s voice in his head already, mocking him—“So? Who’d you pick?”

He wasn’t going to tell him yet. Not until it was set in motion.

And it was now. Officially.

He’d spoken to you. Broke the fourth wall. You weren’t a background presence anymore—you were the option. The one he was going to test this theory out on.

Not because you were a challenge.

Not because you were hard to get.

But because you were… interested.

He’d seen the look on your face when he asked your name. That flicker of nervous excitement, like you’d been caught in the middle of something you didn’t want to end. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. Dozens of times.

But this time? He wasn’t here to break hearts. He was here to win.

That was the bet.

Longest relationship.

Play the part. Make it believable.

Easy.

Jake walked into the dining hall like nothing had happened, spotting Jay already sitting with a tray of fries and a bored expression.

“Yo,” Jay said. “You look like you just committed a crime.”

Jake slid into the seat across from him, swiping a fry. “Maybe I did.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You pick someone?”

Jake chewed slowly, then shrugged. “Thinking about it.”

“‘Thinking about it’ or already made up your mind?”

Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Let’s just say… I’ve got a good feeling.”

Jay laughed. “You’re gonna lose.”

Jake grinned back, calm and sure of himself. “We’ll see.”

Meanwhile, two buildings over, you were still stuck in place—your name echoing in your ears in his voice.

Jake Sim had talked to you. Asked your name. Smiled like he’d meant it.

And you?

You were already in trouble.

You just didn’t know it yet.

You floated through the rest of your day in a haze.

Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, unintentional walking distraction, the guy you’d spent way too long overanalyzing from a distance—had not only spoken to you, but said your name. Like it belonged in his mouth. Like he planned to say it again.

You replayed it on loop.

“What’s your name?”

“I’ve seen you around.”

“Cool. I’m Jake.”

You. Were. Doomed.

Yuna nearly screamed when you told her.

“HE WHAT?” she shrieked in your dorm room, slamming her phone face down on your bed. “Okay, no. Wait. Start from the beginning. Word for word. Breath for breath. Blinking pattern. Everything.”

“I already told you everything!”

Yuna gave you a flat look. “You barely told me anything. You just stood there in a daze and whispered, ‘He talked to me’ like you were in some kind of Jake-induced coma.”

“I was in a Jake-induced coma,” you mumbled, falling back onto your pillow dramatically. “I think I still am.”

“Okay but why now?” she asked, sitting at the foot of your bed and stealing one of your chips. “Like, what changed? You guys have had stats together for weeks and he’s never even looked at you.”

You blinked at the ceiling. “Maybe he just… noticed me.”

Yuna gave you a look. “Guys like Jake don’t ‘just notice’ girls. It’s either because he’s bored, he’s interested, or he’s got some kind of motive.”

You sat up a little. “You think he has a motive? Like… what? What kind of motive?”

Yuna paused, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know. But Jake doesn’t make small talk unless he’s getting something out of it. Trust me. He’s hot, yeah, but there’s always something else going on in that beautiful, toxic little brain.”

You rolled your eyes, but a tiny part of you held onto her words. You didn’t want to believe that. You wanted to believe maybe he was just… curious. Maybe he thought you were cute. Maybe—by some miracle—he wasn’t playing a game.

But then again, Jake Sim was known for a lot of things.

Genuine interest wasn’t one of them.

Still, your heart refused to care.

He said your name.

He smiled.

He looked at you.

And for now, that was enough to keep you wide awake at 1:42 a.m., staring at your ceiling, whispering his name once just to hear how it sounded in the dark.

You told yourself it wasn’t for him.

You were just in the mood to look nice today—normal girl behavior. Nothing out of the ordinary. So what if you curled your hair instead of your usual half-tied bun? So what if you put on a little gloss and swapped your hoodie for a top that fit just a little better than usual? You weren’t going to see him anyway. Probably.

(But you left five minutes earlier than usual… just in case.)

You blamed Yuna for the way your nerves spiked as soon as you stepped onto campus. Her voice kept looping in your head like a warning bell.

“Guys like Jake don’t just notice girls out of nowhere.”

You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but it stuck. Still, when you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror outside class, a small smile tugged at your lips. You looked good. Confident. Not for Jake—but if he noticed? That wouldn’t be the worst thing.

He did.

You felt his gaze before you even stepped into the classroom. The weight of it. Heavy, warm, lazy like he wasn’t in a rush to look away. You didn’t dare meet his eyes—not right away—but your heart was already beating in your ears.

Kazuha whispered a teasing, “Oooh, someone came dressed to kill today,” as you sat down, and you tried to play it cool, brushing her off with a laugh. But you couldn’t ignore the glance Jake threw over his shoulder.

And the small nod. Again. Just like before. It was subtle. Barely there. But intentional. And that was enough to keep you smiling through half the lecture like an idiot.

Later that day, back at your dorm, you were practically humming as you kicked off your shoes. Yuna looked up from her laptop, narrowed her eyes, and said immediately, “Okay. Spill. What happened?”

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You wore lip gloss,” she deadpanned. “You only do that for confidence or crushes. And knowing you? It’s both.” You flopped onto your bed with a dreamy sigh. “He looked at me again.” Yuna groaned. “Girl. You’re spiraling.”

“I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your stomach.

“No, you’re in the delusional phase,” she said, sitting up. “Where you think he’s texting you with his eyes and secretly planning your wedding. I’m telling you, this is how he gets girls. He makes you feel seen.”

You stayed quiet, fiddling with the edge of your pillowcase.

“I’m not saying he’s evil,” Yuna went on. “I’m saying he’s not… safe. He’s not consistent. And I just don’t want you to be another story where he gets bored and leaves.”

You didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when your heart was still soaring.

“I get it,” you mumbled. “But it’s not that serious. It’s just a crush.”

Yuna stared at you for a long moment. “That’s exactly how it starts.”

But you didn’t answer. You just kept smiling to yourself. Because Jake Sim looked at you again. And in your head, that meant everything.

Jake saw you before you saw him.

You were sitting on the low stone wall outside the library, legs crossed at the ankles, earbuds in, flipping through your notes with a furrow between your brows like you actually cared about the quiz tomorrow. The afternoon sun hit your face just right, lighting up the gold in your lashes, and for a moment—just a second—he forgot this was supposed to be a thing.

A game. A bet. A joke between him and Jay.

He shook it off.

“Go say something,” Jay muttered from beside him, nudging Jake with his elbow.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Relax.”

“Relax? Bro, you were just talking about how easy this was gonna be,” Jay said. “You smiled at her, got her name. Step three is conversation.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He just watched you.

You looked like the type who wrote in a journal at night. The type who doodled on worksheets, who had a playlist for every mood and a favorite pen that no one else was allowed to touch. You weren’t like the girls at parties who clung to him for the thrill of it, who liked the idea of Jake Sim more than Jake himself.

That made it interesting.

Or maybe risky. He hadn’t decided yet.

“I’m giving you three seconds,” Jay said. “Then I’m picking someone else for you.”

Jake scoffed and stepped off the path.

He took his time crossing the grass, casual but with purpose. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever study playlist was pulsing through your ears. He tapped the back of the bench once with two fingers, and you startled slightly, pulling one earbud out as your eyes lifted to meet his.

There it was again—recognition. Surprise. That soft little tilt to your lips like you were trying not to smile too much.

“Hey,” he said, leaning slightly against the edge of the wall. “You always study out here?”

You blinked. “Only when it’s nice out.” He nodded, eyes flicking to your open notebook. “What’s the subject?”

“Stats,” you said, grimacing. “Trying to pretend I understand anything from today.” He laughed a little—easy, smooth, practiced. “Yeah, same. I zoned out after the first ten minutes.”

You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You sit in the back. You always zone out. He raised a brow, impressed. “So you’ve been watching me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, then faltered, clearly realizing what you’d just admitted.

Jake grinned. Gotcha.

“I mean—not watching watching,” you rushed to say. “Just, you’re… kind of hard to miss.”

He let the moment hang between you, his smirk lingering before he glanced down at your notes again. “You want help?” he asked suddenly. You blinked. “With stats?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t guarantee results,” he said, pushing off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. “But we could suffer through it together.”

Your eyes searched his face for something—for a sign he was messing with you. But he didn’t look away.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Yeah. That’d be… cool.”

Jake nodded once, then stepped back. “Tomorrow. After class?”

You nodded.

He turned without another word, heading back toward Jay with that easy gait that made people move out of his way. Jay raised his brows at him like well?

Jake just said, “Locked in.” And didn’t explain further.

Didn’t mention how your voice had sounded a little shy when you said yes. Didn’t mention the part of him that liked that.

He told himself he wasn’t catching feelings. He was just playing the role. That’s all this was. Wasn’t it?

The next day, you didn’t know whether to dread or look forward to stats.

You’d barely slept. You kept rewriting yesterday in your head—Jake walking up to you, Jake talking to you, Jake offering to help you study like it was nothing. Like that wasn’t the most surreal part of your entire week.

You were half convinced it was a fluke. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe it was some joke. Or maybe—maybe—you dreamed it and none of it actually happened.

But then he slid into the seat next to you like it was his usual spot.

Like it had always been his.

You looked up at him in surprise, your voice caught in your throat. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” he said easily, tossing his phone on the desk and leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “You still down to study after this?”

You blinked. “Y-Yeah. Of course.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, then leaned in a little closer, voice low enough that only you could hear it. “What’s your Instagram?”

You froze.

You knew this moment was coming. Like, eventually. Hopefully. Maybe. But not this fast. Not like it was casual.

“Oh—um,” you fumbled with your phone, screen lighting up as your fingers clumsily opened the app. “It’s just—my username is kind of stupid, don’t laugh.”

Jake chuckled under his breath. “Now I have to see it.”

You turned your screen toward him, and he leaned in slightly, shoulder brushing yours for a second too long. His fingers grazed your phone as he typed it into his own, brows furrowed in concentration.

“There,” he said a moment later. “Followed.”

Your phone buzzed instantly, the notification lighting up like a siren:

simjyn started following you.

You tried to stay calm. Cool. Normal.

But Jake? Jake was already scrolling through your feed like he had nothing better to do. His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re cute in this one.”

You almost choked.

He was pointing to a picture Minju had taken of you a couple weeks ago—your hand resting on your cheek, smiling softly at something off-camera. You’d only posted it after three days of deliberation.

“You—what?” you said, breathless.

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re cute. You don’t agree?”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

He laughed under his breath, clearly enjoying the way he’d short-circuited your brain. Then he leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t just sent your pulse into orbit.

“Stats,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook. “Then coffee. That’s our deal, right?”

You nodded slowly, your cheeks on fire.

He didn’t say anything else.

But your phone buzzed again under the desk.

simjyn: looking forward to it

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. So you did both. Internally.

You didn’t even have to type it in.

The second Jake said, “What’s your Instagram?” you already knew where this was going. You played it off so well—bit your lip like you were thinking, fumbled with your phone a little like you needed to search for his account too.

But you didn’t. You’d known it for months.

@simjyn.

No numbers. No punctuation. Just clean, simple, cool. Like him.

You’d visited it more times than you’d ever admit out loud.

You knew the exact photo he’d posted on New Year’s Eve—black button-up, rings on his fingers, drink in hand, smirk sharper than his jawline. You remembered how his captions were always short, effortless. Sometimes just a song lyric, sometimes a single word. Always just enough to keep people guessing.

You’d watched his stories religiously. Even the ones that weren’t interesting—clips of skateparks, random memes, grainy concert videos. You once spent an entire night reading through the comments on one of his old posts, heart dropping every time a girl left a flirty emoji and he liked it.

And now? That username lit up your phone for real.

@simjyn followed you.

@simjyn ❤️ your story.

@simjyn sent you a DM.

You nearly forgot how to breathe.

What made it worse—or maybe better—was how normal he made it all feel. Like he hadn’t just stepped out of the fantasy you’d kept locked behind your phone screen. Like this wasn’t your real life crashing into the version of Jake you only knew from filtered posts and captions.

You tried to keep your cool, acting like this wasn’t a big deal. Like you hadn’t already scrolled back to his 2019 posts at least once. Like you didn’t already have his account bookmarked under a folder labeled “Just Vibes” (because “Jake Sim” felt too on the nose).

Still, when the class ended and you stepped outside, your fingers twitched with the urge to check your notifications again. And there it was.

@simjyn: looking forward to it.

Like it was just the beginning.

And maybe, terrifyingly, it was.

The days that followed felt like they were moving in slow motion, each one dragging longer than the last as you waited for something to happen.

The moment you’d been hoping for—the one where Jake would finally make it real, where the playful back-and-forth would shift from flirtation to something else—wasn’t happening.

Instead, he kept it casual. Too casual.

Too normal.

He kept up the conversations. Stats class? He would lean over, whispering about the notes, joking about the professor’s monotone voice. He would always walk with you afterward, or grab coffee with you. Nothing over the top. Nothing overtly romantic.

But your heart still raced every time he smiled at you. Every time he leaned a little too close. Every time his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you your coffee or his shoulder bumped yours when you were walking together. You could tell he was making it seem easy. Comfortable. Like you were just friends.

But you were barely holding it together.

Your phone buzzed late one night while you were finishing up homework. You glanced at it, heart skipping when you saw his name pop up in your notifications.

@simjyn: Got a minute?

You stared at the message for a solid minute. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation creeping in. Should you play it cool? Or be honest and show just how interested you were?

You took a breath, tapped the screen, and typed back:

You: Of course, what’s up?

It took a few seconds for him to respond, and when he did, you couldn’t help but feel the subtle excitement surge in your chest.

@simjyn: You free tomorrow after class? Thought we could grab lunch or something.

You stared at the message for a long second, rereading it just to be sure it wasn’t some joke. But no—he’d actually asked. He’d really asked.

And you, being entirely unable to contain the flutter in your stomach, replied without hesitation:

You: Sounds good. What time?

It didn’t take long for him to send the reply, casual as ever:

@simjyn: 1 p.m. sharp. See you then.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to play it off to yourself. You were going to lunch.

With Jake Sim.

Just lunch.

Still, as you set your phone down, the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. It twisted, deepened, and tightened with something you couldn’t ignore.

This was different.

You weren’t just some girl caught up in the attention of a guy.

This time, it felt real.

The morning of the lunch, you barely made it through your classes. Every few minutes, your mind would wander back to the text. You tried to focus, to pay attention to the lecture, but all you could think about was what you were going to wear. You settled on something comfortable—nothing too dressed up, but something that still made you feel good. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you also didn’t want to look like you didn’t care.

When the bell rang, you gathered your things and tried to move quickly, but not too quickly. There was no way you were going to be that eager.

You got to the café a little early, scanning the tables, heart racing as you waited. And then, just as you began to think he might be late, you saw him walk through the door. Jake Sim, effortlessly cool in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was slightly messy in that way that made you want to run your fingers through it.

He glanced around and spotted you almost immediately. The moment your eyes met, he gave you that signature, crooked grin. The one that made your stomach flip.

“Hey,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from you. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

You shook your head, trying not to act too flustered. “No, not at all. I just got here.”

He gave a nonchalant nod, then leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the menu on the wall. “So, how’s the studying been going?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Same as usual. Lots of work, not a lot of results.”

Jake chuckled, glancing over at you. “I can relate. Stats is definitely not my strong suit. I’ve had to rely on the internet a lot.”

You laughed, genuinely this time. “I can’t believe you’re just now admitting that you’re using Google.”

“Hey, it works,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense. “Why make life harder?”

The conversation flowed easily after that, lighthearted banter about classes, the terrible food at the campus café, and random bits of gossip you both knew. Nothing serious. But somehow, it felt… different. He was relaxed around you. More relaxed than he’d ever seemed before, and it made you wonder if this was just another casual thing to him, or if something else was starting to shift.

Then, after a while, Jake’s tone softened. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’ve been acting a little different lately. More… put together, you know?”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged slightly, his eyes still focused on you, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been pretty chill, but you’re, like, shining now. What’s up with that?”

Your heart skipped, a small nervous laugh escaping your lips. “I’m just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting better at balancing everything.”

Jake leaned in just slightly, his gaze narrowing with interest. “I think it’s more than that. You’re definitely pulling it off.”

You stared at him for a second, not sure what to make of the compliment. He said it so casually, like it was just an observation. But it felt different, like he was actually noticing you—really noticing you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. “Well, thanks. That’s… sweet.”

There was a moment of silence between you, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, to your surprise, Jake broke the tension with a grin. “You know, I’ve got a theory.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “A theory?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, looking like he was about to say something way too casually. “I think you might just be trying to impress me.”

The words hit you like a bolt of electricity, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to laugh, blush, or run away. “What? No—no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, maybe a little bit, but… I don’t think I need to impress you.”

Jake smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Oh? I’m not that impressive, huh?”

You bit your lip, not sure how to play this. “No, you are. I just—” You cut yourself off, suddenly realizing how much you’d revealed in a single sentence. But Jake didn’t press. He just chuckled, clearly having fun with this.

“You’re cute when you get nervous,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Your cheeks burned at the comment, but you quickly composed yourself. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything to impress you with. I’m just… me.”

Jake leaned forward slightly, eyes locking with yours in that way that made your heart race. “That’s all I need to see.”

His words hung in the air between you like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, you thought you might actually fall for the idea that this wasn’t just a game.

But then, just as quickly, he sat back, picked up his coffee, and took a casual sip like nothing had happened.

You blinked, trying to clear the confusion in your head. Was he playing with you? Or was this real?

Before you could ask, Jake grinned, his eyes flicking to your phone. “Hey, I’ll hit you up later. I’ve got to go catch up with Jay about something.”

“Okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll see you later, then.” He stood up, tossing a few bills onto the table before flashing that same carefree smile. “Yeah. See you around.”

As he walked away, you watched him go, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t figure out if he was just being Jake, or if something else was going on. But one thing was clear. He had your attention, and it felt like you were already in this deeper than you wanted to admit.

The next few days were a blur of moments that felt too good to be true. Every time you saw Jake, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. He was suddenly everywhere, his presence more noticeable, more… intentional.

It started small—an unexpected text, just a random meme or a “How’s your day going?” message. It wasn’t the kind of thing friends usually exchanged, not unless they were really close. But he made it feel effortless. Like it was normal. Like you were supposed to be texting each other.

When you sat together in class, Jake would lean a little closer, whispering jokes in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. He’d brush your arm with his when reaching for a pen or hand you a piece of paper as if your hands weren’t already close enough to touch. And every time his gaze met yours, there was this flicker in his eyes—a hint of something that made you feel like you were both in on some secret that no one else knew.

“You’re wearing that sweater again,” he’d say, a grin pulling at his lips. “I like it.”

You’d laugh nervously, trying to act casual, but inside, your heart would race. Every time he called you out like that—whether it was for something you wore, the way your hair fell across your face, or the way you bit your lip when you were nervous—it felt like a compliment. A tease. And you couldn’t tell if you were supposed to be flattered or embarrassed.

But then, you’d notice the little things—like how his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than usual, how his smile reached his eyes, and how he seemed to make every conversation feel like an inside joke. You could feel it. The playful flirty energy was unmistakable.

One afternoon, you were walking across campus together when Jake leaned in and said, “You know, you look really cute when you’re thinking.”

Your mind went blank. “What?”

He laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. “When you get all quiet, just staring at nothing. You’re cute, I can’t help it.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stop it.”

But his grin only widened. He didn’t stop. Not this time. His arm brushed yours as you walked, the skin-to-skin contact sending an electric jolt through your entire body. He kept close, just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, just close enough that it started to mess with your head.

“Really,” he continued, “You should smile more. Makes everything better.”

You couldn’t think straight. He was being so Jake about it—teasing and flirty, but there was something in the way he said it, something deeper, like he was trying to get closer to you than just casual flirtation. You tried to brush it off, but there was no denying it—he was turning up the charm.

The worst part? You liked it. You liked it too much.

But as much as you were getting drawn into the flirty energy with Jake, your friends noticed. Especially Yuna.

“Hey, you’re pulling away,” Yuna said one day as you walked with her across campus. “You’ve been hanging out with Jake a lot lately. Like… more than usual.”

You tried to brush it off, but the protective tone in her voice was obvious. “What are you talking about? We’re just hanging out.”

She raised an eyebrow, giving you a skeptical look. “I don’t know, YN. I mean, I’ve seen the way he’s been acting with you lately. Don’t let him mess with your head. He’s—”

“Stop,” you snapped, more sharply than you meant to. “I’m not stupid. I know what I’m doing.”

Yuna stopped walking, eyes wide as she stared at you. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she said quietly. “Jake’s not exactly the type to take things seriously. You don’t want to end up hurt.”

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. But instead of feeling gratitude for her concern, you felt something else—a weird, unexpected irritation.

“I said stop,” you repeated, this time quieter but no less firm. “I don’t need you to remind me every five seconds that Jake’s a bad idea. I’m fine.”

Yuna opened her mouth to argue, but you held up your hand, cutting her off. “Really, Yuna, just drop it. I can handle myself.”

You could see the hurt flash across her face, but you didn’t care in the moment. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear about how Jake was playing you, how he was just a game to him, how everyone saw it coming except you. Because you didn’t want to see it. Not now. Not when things were just starting to feel… good.

You walked away from her then, your mind in a whirl. But even as you pushed away your concern for her words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something was off, and it wasn’t just with Jake.

And as you thought about it more, as you thought about his flirty comments, the way he leaned in too close when you were talking, the way he looked at you like he knew something you didn’t, you wondered if maybe Yuna was right after all.

But then again… why would you care?

After all, he was giving you attention. He was talking to you. It felt good. And sometimes, that was all that mattered, right?

Later that week, you found yourself standing in front of Jake’s apartment door, the cold metal of the handle pressing against your palm. You didn’t know exactly how you’d gotten here, but somewhere along the way, you’d ended up accepting his invitation to hang out. It wasn’t even that late. You’d just had a weird day with your friends, and now, you were here.

Jake’s voice came through the door before he even opened it. “Hey, come on in!”

The door swung open, and he flashed you that familiar grin that you still weren’t used to, despite how many times you’d seen it. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he said with a teasing raise of his eyebrows.

You didn’t even have it in you to give a smart remark back. Instead, you just walked in, kicking your shoes off as you stepped inside. The apartment was just as you remembered—lived in, a bit messy, but still comfortable. Jake had that careless confidence about him, the kind that made everything feel like it was in its rightful place, even when it wasn’t.

You plopped down on the couch, dropping your bag beside you, feeling suddenly exhausted. Your shoulders slumped, and Jake’s eyes followed the movement with a curious look before he sank onto the couch beside you, casually stretching his arms out along the backrest.

“What’s going on?” he asked, genuinely concerned, but his tone was light, trying to keep things casual, like everything was fine.

You took a deep breath, then sighed heavily, letting it all spill out in a way that surprised even you. “I don’t know what’s going on with me lately,” you said, your voice a little softer than you expected. “I mean, Yuna’s being… overprotective. She thinks you’re just playing with me. And I get it. She’s looking out for me. But it’s like, I can’t get her to understand that I’m fine. That I’m not… that stupid.”

You glanced at him for a moment, but he was just listening, his focus on you in a way that made your stomach flip. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t tell you you were overreacting. He just sat there, waiting for you to keep going.

“I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds. Like one side wants to just… enjoy it, you know? You’re fun, you’re everything I thought you were. But then, there’s this other side, where I can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re not looking for anything serious, and I’m just… falling for it. But I can’t stop myself,” you vented, your voice starting to tremble slightly.

Jake stayed quiet for a few seconds, his gaze shifting to the floor for a brief moment before looking back at you.

“You’re allowed to feel what you feel,” he said softly, the words coming out slower than usual. “Don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself. Yuna’s just trying to protect you, but you can handle it. If you’re not ready to hear what she has to say, then you don’t have to. That’s your decision.”

There was something in his tone that was different—something almost… comforting. It wasn’t the usual cocky Jake. This was the version of him that actually cared.

You let out a shaky laugh, unsure of whether it was from nerves or relief. “I don’t know if I can handle this… It’s all just so confusing. I don’t even know if I’m reading everything wrong, or if I’m just imagining things.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in just slightly, the casual distance between you both shrinking. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, you know? You don’t have to be perfect. Not with me.”

And before you even realized it, you were leaning toward him. You didn’t even think about it, didn’t even second-guess it. Your body just reacted, your forehead resting against his shoulder, your exhaustion seeping out of you all at once.

Jake didn’t pull away, didn’t even flinch. He just stayed still, his body tense for only a second before relaxing, letting you lean on him, letting you take the weight off for just a little while. His arm slowly reached up, resting gently on your back, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

For a moment, the world outside disappeared. There was only the sound of your breathing and the steady, comforting presence of Jake beside you. And in that space, you didn’t feel confused or vulnerable. You just felt… safe.

But Jake? Jake felt something he wasn’t prepared for.

His chest tightened as your weight shifted against him, your head resting on his shoulder. Something in the pit of his stomach stirred in a way he wasn’t used to. The easy, flirtatious banter, the teasing touches, the smiles—it had always felt like a game, a light distraction. But now, with you leaning on him like this, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had crossed some invisible line.

Jake wasn’t the type to let his guard down easily, especially not with someone like you—someone who was already too easy to get attached to. He’d always prided himself on being able to keep things light, keep things easy. But now, as you sat there with your breath steady against his chest, he felt something shift in his chest. It was too strong, too real, too unfamiliar.

He knew he shouldn’t be feeling it. He knew he shouldn’t be letting himself get this close, this comfortable. But there was something about the way you were so trusting, so open, that made him rethink everything. Maybe he didn’t have to keep things light forever. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let things get a little deeper.

But Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away, and he didn’t push forward. He just stayed there, letting the moment stretch out, wondering what it would mean if he allowed himself to feel whatever this was.

And for the first time in a long time, Jake Sim wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him.

The next day, you were walking with Minju and Kazuha when the conversation inevitably turned to the topic you were avoiding. Your friends had been whispering behind your back, but now, they were cornering you about it, and you knew exactly what was coming.

“YN,” Minju started, her voice soft but firm. “We know you’re close with Jake now, but Yuna’s just trying to look out for you. She cares about you.”

You tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that twisted inside you, but it was impossible to shake off. You had felt bad about snapping at Yuna, but right now, you just weren’t ready to deal with it. Not when everything with Jake was still so… new, so uncertain.

“I know, okay?” you said, your voice slightly more defensive than you intended. You slowed your pace, unwilling to keep walking any longer. You could feel their concerned gazes on you. “But I don’t need to hear it right now. I don’t want to think about it.”

Kazuha frowned, tilting her head as she studied your face. “We just don’t want you to get hurt, YN,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with worry. “We know you like him, but… Jake doesn’t exactly have the best reputation when it comes to relationships.”

You clenched your jaw. Not this again.

“I don’t need anyone else telling me what I already know.” Your words were sharp, but it was hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine. I’m not an idiot. I know the risks.” You paused, your voice quieter now. “I just… I’m not ready to have that conversation with anyone, especially Yuna. So, can we just drop it?”

Minju gave you a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “We’re just looking out for you, YN. It’s not about not trusting you. It’s about the fact that we’ve seen this kind of thing happen before.”

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, but… I’m not asking for advice right now. I just want to figure things out on my own. I don’t want to hear how this is going to end before it’s even really started.”

Kazuha took a step closer, her tone easing as she tried to lighten the mood. “We’re not trying to ruin the fun, YN. We just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

“I know you care. But please… not now,” you said, holding up a hand to stop any further discussion. You didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to let your friends down, but you just couldn’t handle it at that moment. You needed time to figure out where you stood with Jake before you could process any of their warnings.

Minju and Kazuha exchanged a glance, and even though they both wanted to say more, they stayed quiet, sensing that you weren’t in the right headspace.

“Okay,” Minju said finally, her voice softening. “But we’re here for you when you’re ready to talk. Just don’t shut us out completely, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of frustration and relief. “I won’t. I promise.”

The conversation ended there, but the lingering tension between you and your friends stayed in the air. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were worried about you, and that made your chest tighten. But as much as you knew they were just trying to protect you, a part of you didn’t want to listen. You just wanted to figure things out on your own.

And for now, that meant staying focused on Jake and whatever this thing was between you two. Even if it meant pushing everything else aside, at least for a little while.

Jake wasn’t one to let his guard down easily, but over the past few days, something about you had begun to chip away at it. The easy flirtation, the playful teasing—it was all still there, but there was something more now. Something deeper. He couldn’t help but notice how the little things seemed to matter more when you were around. The way you laughed at his jokes, even the ones that barely made sense. The way you smiled at him when no one else was watching. It felt too easy, too natural, like he’d always known how to make you smile. But lately, it didn’t feel like a game. It felt… real.

And that, in itself, was dangerous.

Jake found himself thinking about you even when he didn’t want to. His friends, Jay and Sunghoon, had made jokes about him getting “soft” or “whipped,” but it was hard to shake the feeling that they were right. He did feel something for you. Something he didn’t quite know how to name.

It wasn’t that you were different than the others—no, you were different in a way that made him uncomfortable. You made him want things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Stability. Connection. More than just a fleeting encounter.

And it was killing him.

He didn’t know why he let himself get closer to you. Maybe it was the way you always seemed to understand him, like no matter how far he pushed, you’d still stick around. Or maybe it was the way you made him laugh even when he didn’t feel like smiling.

He found himself texting you more, asking if you wanted to hang out, even if he had no real reason to. He’d steal glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, noticing the way your eyes would light up when you spoke, the way you’d tilt your head when you were thinking. He even started texting you just to hear you laugh, just to see your name pop up on his screen. It was stupid. It was complicated. And, most of all, it made his stomach twist in ways that were both unsettling and addicting.

That night, things were different. You’d come over to his apartment again, this time without any of your usual defenses. You were quieter than usual, your eyes slightly more distant. He could tell something had been weighing on your mind, and despite all his usual nonchalance, he couldn’t help but want to comfort you.

You were sitting next to him on the couch, a slight distance between the two of you, but it felt like there was something pulling him toward you. He wasn’t sure what it was—maybe it was the way you looked tonight, or how vulnerable you seemed, or maybe it was just the growing ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

“So, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, no teasing, no playfulness. Just concern.

You met his gaze, your lips forming a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Nothing. Just… stuff with my friends. You know, the usual drama.”

Jake felt his heart sink at the emptiness in your voice, like something was off. But he didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, he leaned closer to you, watching as you pulled your knees up to your chest, clearly lost in your thoughts. Without thinking, his hand found its way to your shoulder, lightly resting there.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said, his voice quieter, gentler than before.

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know if you want to hear it. It’s just… complicated.”

“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing along your shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m listening.”

You met his gaze then, and for a moment, something passed between you. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Jake felt it like a jolt of electricity between you. The weight of the silence was thick now, and the space between you felt too small.

Without thinking, Jake moved closer, his hand shifting from your shoulder to the side of your face, cupping it gently. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. You just stared at him, eyes wide, like you were waiting for him to make the next move.

Jake’s pulse quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been here before—flirtation, attraction, all of it. But this time, something was different. This time, it wasn’t just about the thrill or the chase. It was about you.

You leaned toward him, your lips brushing against his, tentative at first, like neither of you quite knew what was happening. But then, something clicked. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, and Jake’s entire world seemed to narrow down to that single moment.

It was everything. And it was nothing like he expected.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together as if you both were grounding each other.

Jake’s mind was racing, but his body felt weightless, like he was floating. He didn’t know what had just happened. Didn’t know if it was just a moment or if it meant something more. But for the first time in a long while, Jake Sim didn’t want to walk away from something. He didn’t want to pull back.

And he didn’t know how to explain it, but it scared him. More than he cared to admit.

The night of the party, you were already feeling a little on edge. Jake had invited you, and for the first time, it felt different than all the other times. There was a part of you that had been hesitating, unsure of how things were really between the two of you. His texts had been more frequent, his touches lingered a little longer, but you couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You were getting ready when your phone buzzed—Jake had just texted to remind you about the party. He seemed excited about it, but something felt off in the way you were receiving it, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and had no idea what would happen if you jumped.

As you walked into the party later that night, the music thumping in the background, you tried to shake off your nerves. People were scattered around, some dancing, others talking in smaller groups. You spotted Jake almost immediately—his usual confident grin, that cocky air about him, but tonight there was something different. He waved when he saw you, and his eyes lit up as you approached.

But before you could make your way over to him, you overheard Jay and Sunghoon talking in the corner, standing just out of earshot from where you were. You froze, hearing your name mentioned, and despite yourself, you couldn’t resist the urge to listen.

“Yo, Jake is really into this girl, huh?” Jay’s voice was low, but you caught every word.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sunghoon replied, a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he’s been all over her. This bet’s got him acting like a different person.”

You felt your heart drop, but you didn’t move, too stunned to turn away. You tried to act casual, but everything inside you tensed. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your stomach sinking.

“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Jay asked, his voice skeptical. “I mean, it’s Jake we’re talking about. He doesn’t do ‘serious’—he’s just playing it for the win. He’ll probably drop her after.”

Sunghoon didn’t sound so sure, though. “I don’t know, man. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. It’s not like the other girls he’s been with. He actually seems invested.”

You wanted to walk away then. You wanted to ignore it, pretend you didn’t hear, but their words were like a knife twisting in your gut. The truth was, you weren’t stupid. You knew something was off. You had seen Jake be playful, you had felt the connection, but hearing his friends talk about it like it was a game… it made everything you had been feeling seem so much more meaningless.

“But it’s still a bet, right?” Jay said, the doubt lingering in his voice. “That’s what I don’t get. Is he really getting attached, or is he just playing the part? I’ve never seen him act like this with a girl. Not once.”

There was a long pause before Sunghoon replied, his voice lower now, more serious. “I don’t know. It’s Jake. Who can say for sure? But… I think he might actually care. Just a little bit.”

You didn’t stay to hear more. You didn’t need to. The damage had been done.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. You hadn’t expected this, not like this. But the pieces were starting to fall into place. Jake had been different with you—maybe more than he’d been with anyone else. The thought that this could be a game, a bet, was suddenly so clear. You couldn’t just ignore it anymore.

Your heart was pounding, but you forced your feet to move, walking over to where Jake was standing. You pasted on a smile, trying to keep your voice steady, but it felt harder than ever before.

“Hey,” you greeted him, your voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. He smiled, his usual confident grin appearing on his face. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of something, teetering between what you thought was real and what you had just overheard.

“Hey, you made it!” Jake’s voice was light, happy, as if nothing was wrong. But something in his eyes made you pause.

Maybe it was time to figure out just how deep this bet really ran. And whether you were just part of it—or something more.

You stood there with a smile stretched across your face, but your heart was pounding so hard you swore Jake could hear it. His grin was easy, his eyes soft when they landed on you, like he had no idea you’d just overheard everything. Like you hadn’t just heard your name tossed around like a prize in a bet.

So, you smiled back.

You smiled even though your hands were trembling at your sides. You leaned in closer when he talked, nodded when he joked, even laughed—though it was a little too sharp, a little too forced. Because you weren’t about to fall apart in front of him. Not when everything finally made sense.

If this was a game to him, then fine. You’d play.

You could act too. You could flirt back, make him think he had you wrapped around his finger. You could give him exactly what he wanted—attention, affection, maybe even more—just to turn it around on him later. Just to prove you weren’t some stupid girl who didn’t know what she was getting into.

“I missed you,” Jake said, brushing your hair off your shoulder as he leaned closer to be heard over the music.

Your breath hitched slightly, just for a second. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, eyes wide and soft—just how he liked them. “Yeah?” you replied, your voice light, teasing, even though it shook at the end. “You’re not just saying that because I finally came out tonight?”

He laughed, completely taken with you. “No. I mean it.”

You didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe part of you still wanted to. That was the most pathetic part. But you just nodded, playing along like everything was normal. Like your heart wasn’t breaking and piecing itself back together all in the same breath.

Jake kept talking, leaning in like he couldn’t get enough of you, and all you could think about was the sound of Jay’s voice—He’s really into this bet. And then Sunghoon’s, Or maybe it’s real.

You hated how badly you wanted that second part to be true.

But you pushed the thoughts down, deeper than they’d ever gone, and played your part. You looked up at Jake like he was the only person in the room, like your voice hadn’t just betrayed you a few moments ago. Like you didn’t feel like the punchline of some cruel joke.

Because if he thought you were falling for him—then you were already winning.

You’d play along. Smile. Flirt. Fall—just enough to make him think he won.

But neither of you realized that somewhere along the way, Jake had already stopped pretending.

The party had started to blur around the edges—music thumping, people laughing, the usual chaos of a Friday night. But all Jake could focus on was you.

You were standing by the kitchen counter, half-listening to some conversation you clearly didn’t care about, your arms crossed and your head tilted like you were already somewhere else. Like maybe, you didn’t belong in this room full of noise and people pretending.

Jake found himself watching you a little too long. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to snap out of it, but the weight in his chest wouldn’t go away. The bet. The damn bet. It had been fun at first—a dumb challenge between him and Jay to see who could last longer in a relationship. A joke. Something to pass the time. But now, with you standing there looking like everything he didn’t know he needed, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, slipping past the crowd.

“Hey,” he said, brushing his knuckles gently against your arm. You turned, a bit surprised, blinking up at him.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice still a little unsteady. You were trying to keep the act up—Jake could tell—but he didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know that you had already heard the truth.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

Jake smiled, but something in his chest twisted.

“Cool. Just—go ahead to my car, I’ll be right there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the front door.

You gave him a small nod and slipped away without another word, your steps a little faster than usual.

Jake exhaled, then turned around and made his way through the crowd until he found Jay and Sunghoon standing by the back patio, drinks in hand, mid-laugh.

“Yo,” he called out, stepping up to them.

Jay glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Leaving already?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. With YN.”

Jay smirked. “You’re really committed to this whole long-game thing, huh?”

But Jake didn’t laugh. His jaw clenched as he looked between the two of them.

“I’m ending it,” he said plainly.

Jay blinked. “What?”

“The bet,” Jake said again, firmer this time. “I’m done.”

Sunghoon straightened, exchanging a quick glance with Jay. “Seriously?”

Jake shrugged, but his voice was tight. “Yeah. It’s not fun anymore. I’m not… playing.”

Jay frowned, the smirk fading. “You caught feelings.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Jay let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Sunghoon just nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting this. “Good. About time.”

Jake didn’t wait for more. He turned and headed for the door, his heart beating fast for reasons he couldn’t explain—not even to himself. He just knew one thing:

He didn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.

When Jake stepped out into the cool night air, his heart was beating fast—but not with excitement, not with adrenaline. It was something else. Something heavier. Something he wasn’t used to.

He spotted you leaning against his car, arms crossed, your gaze fixed on the night sky like you were looking for answers. You looked calm, but you weren’t. You were still hearing Jay’s voice in your head—He’s really into this bet—like it was playing on loop.

Jake walked up slowly, unlocking the car with a soft beep.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost cautious.

You didn’t look at him right away. “Took you long enough.”

He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jay wouldn’t shut up.”

You gave him a tight smile and slipped into the passenger seat, still playing your part.

The drive was quiet. The city lights passed in a blur outside the windows, but inside the car, the silence stretched. You were trying to act normal, casual, maybe even a little detached. But Jake felt it. The difference.

And maybe that’s what made him speak.

“Are you okay?” he asked, not looking away from the road.

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He didn’t believe you. But he didn’t push.

A few more minutes passed before your voice broke the silence again. “Why’d you invite me tonight?”

Jake glanced at you. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

You turned to him, searching his face for any flicker of dishonesty. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I just… like being around you.”

You held his gaze for a second longer than you should have, but your heart ached. Because you didn’t know what was real anymore.

When the car pulled up in front of your place, you unbuckled your seatbelt, hand hovering near the door handle. But you didn’t open it.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said quietly.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. Then, “YN, wait.”

You looked over, and before you could ask what, he leaned in.

His hand gently found your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His touch was warm, careful. And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t cocky or playful like you might’ve expected. It was slow. Almost unsure. Like he was feeling everything for the first time.

And for just that moment, the noise in your head stopped.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t say anything. Neither did you.

You just stared at each other—confused, shaken, caught somewhere between a lie and a feeling that had started to feel too real.

You opened the door quietly, stepping out. Before you closed it, you leaned in just a little, voice softer than it had been all night.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

He watched you go, the echo of the kiss still warm on his lips.

And for the first time, Jake Sim wasn’t sure who was playing who anymore.

You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding with a mix of emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle.

Jake had kissed you.

And worse?

You had kissed him back.

You touched your lips absentmindedly, remembering the way he held you like you were fragile. Like you meant something. Like you were real.

But you weren’t falling for it. Not again.

No, you told yourself, turning over in bed and squeezing your eyes shut. You are not doing this.

He played you. He made you feel seen, chosen, like maybe—just maybe—you were special. All the soft smiles, the subtle touches, the “accidental” run-ins, the way he said your name like it was his favorite word. All of it had been leading to this. The kiss. The final act in his perfect little performance.

You gritted your teeth and swallowed the lump rising in your throat.

Never again.

You weren’t going to be that girl—the one who got strung along, who ignored every red flag, who made excuses just because he looked at her like the sun rose in her eyes. No. That girl was gone. You buried her the moment you heard Jay’s voice echo in your head: Jake is really into this bet.

This was all a game to him.

So now? You were going to play too.

You’d play the part of the clueless, lovesick girl. You’d give him exactly what he wanted—until you flipped the whole damn game back on him.

And when the time came, when he was fully convinced he had you wrapped around his finger, when he couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake anymore—you’d confront him. You’d look him dead in the eyes and tear the mask right off his face.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d watch his heart shatter the way yours almost did.

But the worst part—the most frustrating, infuriating, confusing part—was how damn convincing he was. The way his eyes softened when they met yours. The way he smiled like he meant it. The way he touched you like he cared.

He seemed so in love with you, it made your chest ache. Like maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all a lie.

And you hated that part more than anything.

Because for one small, dangerous second… you wanted it to be real.

It was one of those rare moments when everything felt almost normal again. You’d been home alone for a few hours, scrolling through your phone, when the text from Jake popped up.

@simjyn: Hey, I was thinking of coming over. You free?”

You stared at the message for a moment, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You had been trying to keep things light with him—after everything that had happened, after hearing about the bet, you couldn’t let your guard down. But part of you still wanted to see him. Maybe part of you was still pretending things could be okay.

“Sure,” you replied, biting your lip. “I’m alone, so come on over.”

Not long after, the sound of the doorbell echoed through your apartment, and there he was, standing outside with that familiar smile. He wasn’t dressed any differently from the usual, but there was something in his eyes today. Something that made your heart skip in a way you hated.

Jake stepped inside, pulling you into a quick hug before you could even react. His hands lingered at your waist, warm and firm as he squeezed you close.

“You look good,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Thanks,” you muttered, stepping back to break the hold, though you could already feel your heartbeat accelerating.

You led him into the living room, where he flopped down on the couch with a sigh of relief, like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“So, what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart was beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.

He grinned up at you. “Just wanted to see you,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

You nodded, though the words felt too heavy in your chest to speak. He wasn’t here just for a visit—he’d been clingier lately, texting you more than usual, wanting to be around you all the time.

It should have felt nice, but it felt suffocating. Every time he smiled at you, kissed your cheek, leaned in close like he couldn’t get enough—it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been… kind of different lately,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words had more bite than you intended.

Jake furrowed his brow, his expression shifting to something more concerned. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, frustrated by how easily he could shift his tone. “You’re being… clingy. All the time.”

He tilted his head, eyes widening in confusion. “Clingy? I just like being around you. Is that a bad thing?”

You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter to steady yourself. You could feel the tension rising in your chest, the frustration bubbling over.

“Jake,” you began, voice trembling just slightly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not some… some toy for you to mess with. I’m not a prize, and I’m definitely not some girl to play along with your little bet anymore. If you’re really into me—then fine, but if this is just some fucking joke, then get the hell out.”

His face faltered for a second, just a flash of confusion before his gaze softened, his hands reaching for you. “I—what? No, YN, I’m not playing any game—”

You took a step back, hands trembling at your sides, the anger, the hurt, and the disappointment threatening to spill out.

“I know about the bet, Jake,” you snapped, cutting him off. “I know exactly why you started all this. And I’m done pretending I don’t. I’m not going to be the one who falls for this, okay? Not when you don’t even know what you want.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Jake didn’t move, his eyes wide, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in them—something that looked like regret.

But it was too late.

You turned your back on him, pacing toward the window, your heart pounding in your ears. “Just go,” you said, voice cold. “I don’t want you here. Not like this.”

“YN, wait—” he started, his voice softer, like he was trying to make you understand. “I’m not lying. I’m not playing games anymore. I—”

“Just go, Jake,” you snapped, spinning around to face him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty that had never been there before. But you couldn’t bring yourself to soften. Not when he had already crossed the line.

With one last look, Jake slowly stood up, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Then, without a word, he walked toward the door, the weight of the moment sinking in with every step.

And just like that, he was gone.

You sank down onto the couch, your mind racing. You told yourself you wouldn’t trust him again, you reminded yourself. You wouldn’t fall for it.

But deep down, there was a part of you that still wished this wasn’t the end.

Still hoped, somehow, that Jake would come back. But you didn’t trust that part.

The next day at school was chaos.

You barely made it ten steps into the building before you heard your name—sharp, urgent.

“YN!”

You stopped, heart clenching as you turned to see Jake storming down the hall toward you. His eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of desperation and something dangerously close to hurt. You froze in place as he reached you, his voice already rising.

“You knew.” His words sliced through the tension in the air. “You knew this whole time and you were punishing me, weren’t you?”

Your breath caught.

Students slowed around you. Some stopped walking altogether. You could feel the shift—phones slipping out of pockets, eyes glinting with curiosity. You tried to step around him, but Jake moved with you.

“You acted like nothing was wrong,” he went on, voice getting louder. “You smiled, you kissed me, you looked at me like—like I meant something to you.”

You snapped. “Yeah? Well, welcome to my world.”

His expression twisted like you’d hit him.

“You were playing me from the start,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered with the weight of everything. “I heard Jay. I heard everything. And I kept going, Jake. I kept smiling, kept letting you in, because I wanted to see how far you’d go.”

He blinked like he couldn’t process it, like he hadn’t thought you’d actually know.

“You—” He shook his head. “You kissed me back.”

“You made me believe it was real.”

“I didn’t fake any of it!” he fired back, stepping closer. “You think this is just about a bet now? You think I haven’t lost sleep over this—over you?”

The hallway was dead silent except for your voices. Students were openly filming now, whispering like wildfire spreading through the air.

“Jake Sim and YN?”

“She’s actually yelling at him.”

“I heard it was a bet. Is that true?”

You glanced at them, your fists clenching at your sides, your chest rising and falling fast.

“Jake Sim chasing someone like her?” someone murmured nearby. It stung. It always did.

You turned back to Jake. “You had your fun, right? You got what you wanted. Just leave it alone.”

But Jake didn’t move. His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on you like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

“I didn’t fall for you because of a bet,” he said quietly, voice raw. “But I might’ve lost you because of it.”

That did something to your chest. You hated it.

You hated him for saying the one thing you weren’t ready to hear.

Without another word, you turned and walked away—past the stares, past the whispers, past Jake.

And for once, you didn’t look back.

The next day, you didn’t expect to run into Jay—especially not when you were still raw, still reeling, still angry. But there he was, leaning against the lockers near your homeroom, like he’d been waiting.

The second he saw you, he pushed off the wall and walked straight up, his expression unreadable.

“Why did you chew him out like that?” he asked, no greeting, no hesitation. His voice wasn’t angry, just confused—tired, maybe. “In front of everyone?”

You froze, blinking up at him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

Jay crossed his arms. “Yeah. Because the guy’s been a mess since yesterday. You acted like he’d—what, humiliated you? Like he was still playing you or something.”

You laughed, sharp and bitter. “The audacity to ask that when this whole thing started as some game between you and him.”

Jay’s eyes narrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “Game?”

“Don’t play dumb, Jay,” you snapped. “I heard you and Sunghoon at the party. You literally said he was invested in the bet. What else was I supposed to think? That everything he said and did was real?”

Jay went quiet for a second, then shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Wait—wait,” he said slowly. “You thought the bet was still on?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Jay exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like the weight of it all had just hit him. “YN… Jake called it off. He called it off way before he asked you out. He told us it didn’t feel right anymore. That you weren’t just some challenge or a joke—he wanted something real.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“No, he didn’t,” you muttered, barely audible.

“He did,” Jay said. “I swear on everything. He told us it stopped being about the bet a long time ago. That he wanted to be with you for real, no games. And honestly… we could all tell. He wasn’t faking anything.”

You looked away, suddenly cold all over. Your brain scrambled to make sense of it, replaying every interaction, every touch, every word. Had it all been real? Had he actually cared?

The guilt hit like a truck.

You chewed him out in front of everyone. You looked him in the eye and threw his feelings back at him because you thought he was still playing. Because you were scared.

Jay’s voice was quieter now. “He was falling for you, YN. He still is. But after yesterday… I don’t know if he’ll try again.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You just stood there, heart cracked open, with nothing to say and everything to feel.

You didn’t go to class that morning.

Instead, you found yourself sitting alone behind the school gym, knees pulled to your chest, trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. Everything felt like it was collapsing in slow motion. You were the one who was supposed to have control now. You were the one playing him—so why did it feel like you were the one who lost?

He ended the bet.

He wanted something real.

And you… you’d shoved it all back in his face, right in front of everyone. You humiliated him for something he had already walked away from—because of you.

The worst part? He hadn’t even defended himself.

He just stood there, took it, because maybe he thought he deserved it. Or maybe… because he didn’t want to hurt you anymore.

You remembered the look in his eyes—the way they didn’t hold that smug glint anymore, the way they softened when he looked at you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to break.

And you had shattered it first.

You rested your forehead on your knees, eyes burning. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for him. Promised you’d get even. And maybe you had.

But it didn’t feel like winning.

It felt like you’d pushed away the one person who had tried—really tried—to love you, in the only way he knew how.

Maybe he messed up. Maybe you both did.

But somewhere between the lies, the games, and the dares, something real had bloomed. And now?

Now it was buried under everything unsaid.

But feelings don’t just disappear. Not like that.

So maybe… maybe this wasn’t the end.

Maybe it was the part right before you decided what kind of story this was really going to be.

here to be added to permanent tag list PART TWO OUT NOW

[thedensworld]

A New Vendetta| J. Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x Mafia's daughter reader

Genre: arranged marriage au!, mafia au!

Type: angst, fluff, smut (mdni!)

Word count: 18k

Summary: Raised in an abusive family, you were thrown into an arranged marriage that overwhelmed you. Can you survive all of these?

Once you got into the cab and felt a hand cover your mouth with a cloth, a wave of dread swept over you. This was it, you thought. This was the end of your miserable life. You fought with every ounce of strength left in you, but as the world began to fade, your mind drifted to regrets you’d been holding on to. You could’ve accepted Mr. Seo’s offer for a date. You could’ve been kinder to your colleagues—especially Mrs. Chae. You could’ve treated your students with more warmth, if only you had known this was how it would end. Your end.

But then, somehow, you woke up.

You blinked against the dim light, disoriented, and slowly took in your surroundings. The posters, the bookshelves, the scent of lavender… You were in your old bedroom, the one you’d left behind four years ago. This was your parents' house.

You shot up from the bed, a dozen questions firing off in your mind. Hadn’t you been kidnapped? How were you here, of all places? You struggled to process, but then realization hit. This had to be your parents' or your brother's doing. They had found you...and forced you back.

"Welcome home," a low, familiar voice drawled.

You turned sharply to see Seungcheol standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. So, it was him—your brother. It had been his doing all along.

A dry scoff escaped your lips. "Real classy," you muttered, rolling your eyes. Kidnapping you? A dramatic, underhanded stunt. But of course, it was nothing new—your family always preferred control over conversation.

Seungcheol’s eyes glinted as he strolled toward you, a self-satisfied smirk curving his lips. "Four years away from home, and look at that attitude." He reached out and roughly cupped your chin, lifting it so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Don’t touch me!" you snapped, wrenching yourself free from his grasp. Seungcheol simply chuckled, an arrogance radiating off him that only made you bristle more. That glint in his eye was something darker, something that reminded you just how ruthless he could be.

But it was his next words that made the room go cold. "Don’t worry," he sneered, “you won’t be here longer than a week. We’ve got everything arranged."

You frowned, trying to make sense of his cryptic statement. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, forgive me for breaking the news so bluntly.” His voice was laced with mockery. “You’re going to marry into the Jeon family."

The words echoed in your mind, each one twisting like a knife. Marry into the Jeon family? Arranged…by them?

You barely managed to whisper, "The Jeons…?"

Seungcheol nodded, and before you could pull away, he patted your head with a mockery that felt almost sinister. "That’s right. Finally found you a purpose in this family." He dropped his hand, then suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back so you were forced to look him in the eyes.

“And don’t think for a second you have a choice, Choi Y/n. Run as far as you want, but we’ll find you. Just like today."

A bitter chill settled over you as his words sank in.

This was how it would end, after all.

Weeks later, you sat at the dining table the night before your wedding, feeling like a ghost in your own life. Your father, mother, and brother sat around you, talking about the wedding, the Jeons, and your future—as if you weren’t sitting right there with them. Your father steered the conversation with a business-like precision, his words detached and clinical, while your brother chimed in with cold, calculated suggestions on how you should conduct yourself once you were officially part of the Jeon family. His every word seemed to emphasize your role as nothing more than a tool to cement a family alliance. And your mother? She just sat there in silence, powerless, not even a whisper of comfort to ease your loneliness.

You longed to go back—to your apartment, your sanctuary. The one place where you’d fought so hard for your independence, the place that held all your dreams of a life free from the shadows of your family’s influence. All the effort you’d put in—studying relentlessly through high school, earning a place at a prestigious university, fighting tooth and nail to live on your own, even moving to Busan to work like an ordinary person—all of it felt wasted. You would never be “normal” as long as you bore the Choi name, as long as Choi blood flowed through your veins.

The family’s construction company, the empire your father had built, was struggling. Business had slowed in recent years, and not even Seungcheol, with all his skills and clever maneuvers as a director, could salvage it alone. So, they played their last card: you. A political marriage, sealing your fate to secure the future of the family. It was nothing new in the Choi lineage—almost every member had been born into a marriage of convenience, a bond made for power, not love. It explained a lot. No one here was truly happy. Not even your parents.

“Make sure she doesn’t make a scene tomorrow,” your father said coldly, his words like a verdict. “Station guards around her room tonight. I don’t want her pulling any stunts. Ensure there’s no way she can run.”

With that, he rose from the table, his final words echoing in the air, suffocating you with their weight.

You let out a sigh, barely audible, a silent plea. Couldn’t they just leave you alone, even for a single moment?

*

The first time you saw your groom’s face was at the altar. You knew almost nothing about this underground world your father and brother had dragged the family into, this illegal network where alliances and debts seemed to rule over any shred of morality. But one thing was clear: the Jeon family was no better than yours. They were villains in this twisted world, and your husband could be just as dangerous.

Now, you stood in front of him, heart racing, every nerve on edge. His face was sharp, his jawline defined, and his expression unwavering. His brows conveyed a strong-willed intensity, and his eyes held a kind of passion that only unsettled you further. You hated it—they were far too similar to your father’s eyes, filled with ambition and control. Something was off, you could feel it.

Would he treat you the way your father treated your mother?

Would he hit you? Swears?

Would he belittle you, try to break you down until you were nothing?

You took a shaky, nervous breath before placing your hand in his, the cold weight of inevitability settling on your chest. Your head spun, each breath feeling more difficult than the last. Was this real? Were you seriously about to be married today?

You premised your students that you’d grade their tests by the weekend!

A sudden, firm grip tightened around your hand, yanking you from your thoughts. Jeon Wonwoo—his name, all you knew of him—stared down at you with an intensity that bordered on piercing, his gaze unwavering as if he could see right through you.

You’d never imagined yourself in a situation like this. You had vowed you’d never end up in a marriage of convenience like your parents, trapped by arrangements you didn’t control. You’d sooner die, you’d thought, than ever agree to be a pawn in their twisted game.

As the ceremony unfolded, his grip never loosening, your mind wandered to a single thought, dark and sharp like a knife’s edge.

How to escape this. Even if it meant finding your own way out—even if it cost your own life.

*

Wonwoo watched you intently during the dinner that followed the wedding. This was the first time the Jeon and Choi families had gathered together for a meal, but the tension in the room was thick and unrelenting. This marriage was a business deal, nothing more, a simple contract that would benefit both families as long as it remained intact. Divorce was out of the question. Everyone involved had too much at stake—including him.

He was grateful that the proposal had been accepted by your family; it meant he could finally begin building his own empire, a chance to distance himself from the family business that never suited him. But it was clear you didn’t share the sentiment. From the moment he laid eyes on you today, he could see it in the slump of your shoulders, the hollow look in your eyes. You were more than just unhappy—you looked utterly defeated.

He couldn’t exactly say he enjoyed the day either. Playing the perfect son for his father’s business associates, mingling with your family—well-known figures in the construction underworld—was draining. Thinking of it as a business transaction helped him get through it, masking the discomfort with a polished facade.

He had done his research before today, reading through the sparse details in your profile. The only daughter of the Choi family, you were an interesting puzzle. What intrigued him most was that you’d run off to Busan after returning from studying abroad, quietly taking a job at a university there, far from your family’s influence. That move was one he hadn’t expected.

Why did you leave?

His gaze shifted to your mother across the table. She looked as stoic as you, her face giving nothing away. Perhaps it was a family trait, this quiet, expressionless mask. Or maybe it was something else, a grief frozen in time—he recalled reading about your brother’s drowning a decade ago, a tragedy that seemed to cast a shadow over the Choi family even now. Whatever the reason, she, like you, appeared detached, locked away behind a wall of silence.

Wonwoo considered if he liked the idea of a “submissive” wife—someone like your mother, who seemed to blend into the background, supporting her husband’s dominance without question. Was that what he had expected of you? But there was a fire in your eyes, even buried beneath the sadness, that told him you weren’t going to be as easy to control.

“Honey, isn’t it time for Wonwoo and Y/n to go?” his mother asked, looking over at her husband and reminding everyone of your planned departure for Jeju Island. The Jeon owned a private villa there—a family vacation spot that had been chosen for the three-day honeymoon trip.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, glancing over at you. When your eyes finally met his, he was struck by the deep brown depths beneath your lashes. He wondered if they would ever show him anything other than wariness, whether he’d ever see any warmth or trust there.

He rose from his seat, his voice steady as he addressed the table. “I think it’s time we head out. Thank you all for today.”

He reached for your hand, feeling the cold sweat of your palm. Bowing to both families, he caught your brother Seungcheol’s pointed remark about being a “good wife.” You didn’t even flinch, giving him no reaction, no indication that you’d heard him at all.

It only made Wonwoo more curious. Just how close—or how distant—were you from this family that claimed to control you?

*

Wonwoo spent the day subtly observing, trying to piece together what kind of person you were. During the flight, he’d tested the waters—asking if you were cold, offering his jacket, holding your hand during a patch of turbulence just to see if you would react. But you remained composed, barely acknowledging him. Fewer than five words had escaped your lips the entire time, as though you were carefully crafted to reveal nothing.

As the two of you disembarked from the Jeon family’s private jet, Wonwoo kept hold of your hand, guiding you toward the grand villa where you’d be staying. The sight brought back memories—he’d spent countless childhood vacations here, running around with his cousins, exploring every corner. But those days were long gone, buried beneath responsibilities and the family business. He never thought he’d return under these circumstances, with a wife by his side. It struck him how fast time had passed.

“Are you tired?” he asked as you sank into a plush couch in the villa’s main room, exhaustion clear on your face. “You can head to bed first. I’ll join you after I make a call—”

“Can we have separate bedrooms?” You cut him off, your voice quiet but firm. He turned, eyebrows raised in surprise. So, you could speak, he thought, intrigued.

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious. He hadn’t expected such a direct request—especially on your wedding night.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “It’s just… I have trouble sleeping when there’s someone else in the same room.”

He tilted his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. This was the first real conversation the two of you had, and it was about where you’d sleep. “But we’re married. Aren’t we supposed to share a bed, even if we’re… not exactly on good terms?”

“But this is a business marriage,” you replied, voice steady yet distant. “I don’t think we need to sleep in the same room.”

So that’s what you’ve been thinking, Wonwoo mused. You saw this marriage as nothing more than a transaction, as if intimacy were just another formality you could avoid. He studied you for a moment, then nodded.

“Alright.” His agreement came quickly, almost to his own surprise. He was tired, too tired to debate it further.

“You can take the master bedroom,” he said, gesturing to the hall. “I’ll take the room next to yours.”

Without waiting for a reply, he walked out onto the balcony, pulling his phone from his pocket. There was a call he had to make, business that couldn’t wait—if he wanted even a chance at resting tonight.

As he stepped outside, he glanced back, catching a glimpse of you alone on the couch, your expression unreadable. The distance between you two felt vast, yet something about your quiet defiance intrigued him.

“Happy wedding, man,” a familiar voice greeted Wonwoo as his call connected.

Wonwoo scoffed, “How’d you know? I didn’t tell you.”

The other person chuckled. “I have my sources everywhere. So, is that why you were asking about a house in Busan? Are you moving?”

“Yeah, I am,” Wonwoo replied, glancing at the villa. “My people are stationed there, and it’ll be easier to manage things from that side.”

“Got it. I’ll send over some listings. Just let me know if you have any specific requests,” the voice on the line replied smoothly. “And by the way, enjoy your wedding night,” he added with a teasing tone.

Wonwoo let out a laugh as he ended the call, quickly opening his email to find the property listings his friend Mingyu had just sent. As he scrolled through the catalog, he couldn’t help but think it was a lucky coincidence that you were already working in Busan.

Perhaps, for once, things were aligning in his favor.

*

You opened your email first thing in the morning, only to find it oddly filled with congratulatory messages from your colleagues and students. What’s going on?

Just then, a text came in from Mr. Seo, offering his own congratulations on your marriage. He even apologized for asking you out a few times without realizing you were already taken. He thanked you for the parcel—something you hadn’t sent but were sure was Seungcheol’s doing. At least he was responsible enough to help cover the work you’d had to leave behind on such short notice.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. It was Wonwoo, his head peeking in, a faint smile appearing when he saw you were awake.

“Breakfast is ready. Come join me,” he said warmly.

You left the bedroom and made your way to the dining area, where a spread of food awaited. Wonwoo sat with his coffee, his other hand scrolling through something on his tablet.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, glancing up from his screen as he sipped his coffee.

“Great,” you lied, forcing a small smile.

The truth was, you hadn’t slept at all. The image of Wonwoo walking off to the balcony last night lingered in your mind. Was he mad? Would he get angry if you made another request like that? Would he—like everyone else in your family—end up getting tired of you?

“I asked if you wanted coffee or milk,” Wonwoo said, bringing you back to the present. You blinked, realizing you’d been lost in thought.

“Oh, coffee, please. Thank you,” you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. You caught a glimpse of a quiet laugh on his face as he poured coffee into your glass.

Wonwoo set down his tablet, his attention now fully on you. “Did you see the closet yet?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“My mom picked out a few things for the honeymoon. I hope you’ll like them,” he said, taking another sip.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, nodding politely.

As you watched Wonwoo during breakfast, he seemed calm and collected—so different from your brother, who always wore a smug, confrontational expression, or your father, whose look always seemed to say everyone owed him something.

It was a relief, but it frightened you, too. You couldn’t read him, couldn’t guess his next move. He was smiling as he spoke to the maid now, but could that change in a flash? Would he end up yelling or even hurting you the way your father had with your mother?

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. It had been years since you’d witnessed that kind of violence, at least until you’d been pulled back to your family’s house three weeks before the wedding. You remembered your brother grabbing you by the hair, your father screaming at your mother. You knew about Seungcheol’s revolving door of relationships—a habit he’d probably picked up from your father’s infidelities.

Would that be your life, too?

You better come up with some plans.

*

The calm and collected, the submissive and innocent—those were the labels Wonwoo had instinctively assigned to you when he first met you. Yet, who could have predicted your next move? Running away, just a day after your honeymoon ended.

Wonwoo was at work—his first day back after a four-day absence—engrossed in an important meeting when his right-hand man, Lee Seokmin, discreetly approached him. Leaning down, Seokmin whispered, “Your wife ran away.”

Wonwoo’s fingers drummed against his lap as he processed the words, a wave of irritation rolling over him. Now, seated in his car, he was on his way to Busan. Good thing he’d asked Seokmin to plant a tracker in your wedding ring; otherwise, finding you would have been far more complicated. He glanced at his phone, tracking your movements. You were at work—of course.

“You didn’t tell her you were moving to Busan next week?” Seokmin asked, his tone laced with mild amusement. Wonwoo sighed tiredly, rubbing his temple.

“No, I didn’t,” Wonwoo muttered, exasperated. “I didn’t think I needed to. This whole situation is ridiculous.”

Seokmin glanced at his boss but wisely chose to remain silent. He had witnessed Wonwoo’s growing frustration during the honeymoon. Despite the picturesque Jeju scenery, the trip had been far from enjoyable for either of you. Wonwoo had spent most of his time working, glued to his phone or laptop, even forcing Seokmin to turn on airplane mode during moments when Wonwoo couldn’t resist calling him. The honeymoon wasn’t just a disappointment—it was a disaster.

Wonwoo barely saw you during those four days. You had breakfast long after him, skipped lunch entirely, and dined early, ensuring your paths rarely crossed. It was clear you were actively avoiding him, and it grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit.

This marriage isn’t just inconvenient for you, he thought bitterly as he watched the road ahead. I’m stuck in this mess too.

And now, you’d decided to make things worse by running away from his house to Busan just to get back to work. All of this could’ve been avoided if he’d simply told you about the plan to move next week. The thought irritated him further.

“This entire situation could have been avoided if you’d just communicated better,” Seokmin remarked, half-joking. Wonwoo shot him a sharp look.

Seokmin raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. Maybe next time, a simple conversation will save you both the trouble.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as the car sped down the highway. One thing was clear—he needed to get you back, not just physically but emotionally. Because while this marriage had started as a business arrangement, the chaos you brought into his life was beginning to feel far too personal.

"Why are you here? How the hell did you open my door?!"

You stood in front of him, your voice sharp with fury, yet it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in Wonwoo’s dark eyes. He had been waiting for nearly four hours, watching every move you made—from university to a café, to a restaurant, and everywhere but home. Each passing hour had only fueled his frustration.

He had his men tail you, making sure nothing happened, but every moment you were out of his sight left his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He could already picture the wrath of your father and brother, their faces etched with rage if something had gone wrong.

"Took you long enough to get home," Wonwoo drawled, leaning back on the couch. His tone was calm, but the anger simmering beneath was unmistakable. He glanced at his watch—23:44.

"I asked you, how did you get inside?!" you snapped, your frustration growing as you saw him lounging on your couch like he owned the place.

Wonwoo didn’t bother answering. Instead, he casually propped his legs on your coffee table, ignoring your glare.

"Why are you here?" you repeated, this time with more control, though your patience was wearing thin.

Wonwoo let out a low scoff, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Why are you here?" he shot back, his voice carrying a challenge.

Your brows knitted in confusion. "What are you talking about? I was working. You're not the only one who has a job."

His expression darkened at your response, his jaw tightening as his irritation reached a boiling point. "You could’ve told me. There was no need to run away and make me chase you here."

You crossed your arms defiantly, tilting your chin up. "I didn’t ask you to chase me."

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, dropping his legs to the floor. The air between you grew heavy with tension. "Oh, but you did," he said, his tone dangerously calm. "The moment you stepped out of my house without a guard, you asked for this. You're my wife. Remember that."

Your laugh was humorless, bitter. "So what are you going to do now? Run crying to my father? Or are you going to beat the shit out of me because I can’t be your perfect little wife?"

Wonwoo stilled, caught off guard by your words. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any hint of sarcasm, but instead, he found something that made his chest tighten—a raw, painful truth hiding behind your defiance.

"What are you even talking about?" he asked, his voice lower now, laced with confusion.

You exhaled shakily, dropping your bag to the floor. Your shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had finally broken you. "What are you waiting for, then? Slap me. Swear at me. Call me useless. I’m used to it all by now."

The tears that slipped down your cheeks caught him off guard more than your words. Something twisted in his chest, a deep ache he couldn’t quite name. How could you say that? What kind of life had you been living before this?

Wonwoo looked away, unable to meet your eyes as guilt crept up on him. Midnight struck. The sharp chime of the clock broke the silence, but it did little to ease the tension in the room.

He stood abruptly, his movements controlled but deliberate, and walked toward the balcony. Before stepping outside, he paused, speaking over his shoulder. "Prepare a bed for me. I’m staying here tonight. The house will be ready tomorrow. Sleep well."

With that, he slid the door shut behind him, letting out a heavy sigh as he leaned against the railing. His fingers reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette. The faint flicker of the lighter illuminated his face for a moment, revealing an uncharacteristic weariness in his expression.

The first drag of smoke filled his lungs, and for a second, he let the tension in his body dissipate. He’d thank Seokmin later for slipping a pack into his suit—it wasn’t often he needed one, but tonight was different. Tonight, everything felt heavier.

As the city lights stretched before him, Wonwoo stared into the distance, the bitter taste of nicotine lingering on his tongue. Your tears haunted him, replaying in his mind. He had thought he understood you, but now he realized he hadn’t even scratched the surface.

What the hell happened to you? he wondered, the smoke curling around him like a ghost of unanswered questions.

*

You woke up in bed. The soft mattress beneath you was a surprise; you were certain you’d left it for Wonwoo last night and made yourself comfortable on the couch. Had your husband moved you here? Husband. The word felt foreign and heavy in your mind, like trying on a coat two sizes too big.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sat up and glanced at the clock. Two hours before your first class—plenty of time to get ready. You swung your legs off the bed and stretched, pushing away the lingering haze of confusion.

Freshly dressed, you stepped out of your room, planning to grab a quick breakfast. A slice of bread and some milk might hold you over until lunch. But as you walked into the living area, you froze.

Wonwoo sat at the dining table, arms crossed, his posture as commanding as ever. Across from him stood Lee Seokmin, his ever-efficient assistant, carefully plating food from plastic containers onto dishes that looked too fancy for your humble kitchen.

"Good morning, ma’am," Seokmin greeted you warmly. "Please have some breakfast before heading out."

Your eyes wandered to the table, laden with an array of nutrient-packed dishes. It was an impressive spread for such an early hour. Your gaze flicked to the couch, where the pillow and blanket you’d used were already folded neatly. Of course, he’d tidied up. Your husband was nothing if not meticulous.

"I’ll have the house ready by this afternoon. You can start moving your things tonight," Wonwoo said, breaking your thoughts as you hesitantly joined him at the table.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What house?"

"Our house," he replied simply, sipping his coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world. "We were supposed to move next week, but I pushed them to finish it earlier."

Your confusion turned to irritation as you stared at him. "You’re moving here?"

Wonwoo nodded, his tone calm but firm. "My business was originally centered here. I used to travel back and forth between Seoul and here frequently. Now it’s easier for me to stay permanently."

You sighed, frustration bubbling in your chest. All your carefully laid plans to create some distance between the two of you—gone. "Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?"

He scoffed, a hint of amusement in his otherwise serious expression. "Do you think I had the chance to tell you?"

His sharp gaze locked onto yours, a subtle reminder of the days you spent in your room during the honeymoon, avoiding him entirely while binging dramas. The pointedness of his words stung more than you cared to admit.

Seokmin cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. "Please eat before it gets cold," he said politely, excusing himself soon after.

As he reached the door, Wonwoo added, "Tell Jun to get the car ready. Y/n will be driven by him today."

Seokmin nodded and left, leaving you to frown at Wonwoo. "I can go to work by myself," you argued, your voice firm.

"I know," he said nonchalantly, picking a piece of meat from one of the dishes and placing it on your rice bowl. "But I’ve assigned Jun to drive you. He’s excellent at martial arts."

You sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing further. Wonwoo always seemed two steps ahead, and resisting him felt like fighting the tide. You reluctantly picked up your spoon and began eating.

The silence that followed wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, though your mind was still racing. He had tracked you down, shown up at your apartment like he belonged there, and even had a home ready for the two of you. He had already begun dismantling the semblance of independence you’d clung to, piece by piece.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. Did he also handle your apartment lease? You dreaded the possibility. He's crazy if he did.

As if reading your mind, Wonwoo spoke, his tone neutral but direct. "I’ll talk to your building owner about the lease after breakfast. Don’t worry."

You stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant gratitude. At least he wasn’t entirely crazy. Your husband, as infuriating as he was, wasn’t heartless.

*

You didn’t remember asking him to pick you up from work.

As you walked out of the building with your colleagues, the lively chatter surrounded you. Among them was Mr. Seo, Seo Myungho, who had asked you out a few times in the past. He strolled beside you, quietly attentive as the others babbled about your sudden wedding.

You had already explained to them, in the simplest terms possible, that it was an introduction followed by a quick marriage. Yet, their curiosity remained insatiable, likely fueled by the unexpected month-long leave you'd taken—something orchestrated by Seungcheol. At least he'd sent gifts that bolstered your professional reputation, though it didn’t make the constant questions any less exhausting.

"I do understand why the Dean approved her leave for almost a month," Mrs. Chae remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "She’s her favorite, after all."

The comment hung in the air, and you chuckled softly to yourself, resisting the urge to fire back. Wasting energy on Mrs. Chae's barely veiled resentment wasn’t worth it.

"She’s been doing excellent work on her research projects this year," Myungho interjected kindly, his tone steady and polite. He smiled at you briefly before addressing Mrs. Chae. "I think she’s more than earned her time off."

You felt a small wave of gratitude toward Myungho. His support didn’t go unnoticed, and it seemed to shift the mood slightly, with the others murmuring their agreement. Everyone, except Mrs. Chae, of course—her disdain was as predictable as ever. You were younger, more competent, and rising through the ranks faster than she could handle, and she hated every second of it.

Then, you saw him.

Wonwoo.

Your husband stood tall, casually leaning against his sleek car. He was a striking figure, dressed impeccably, yet looking oddly out of place in front of your university building. The sight of him felt surreal. Wonwoo didn’t seem like the type to wait outside for anyone, let alone you. It was baffling—and slightly annoying.

"Who’s that guy?" one of your colleagues asked, their curiosity piqued.

You barely heard them as you quickly turned to bid everyone goodbye. "I’ll see you all tomorrow!" you said hastily before jogging over to Wonwoo.

When you reached him, you glared up at him. "Who asked you to come here? Let’s go!"

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your urgency. Before he could respond, you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the car. He moved with you, a bemused expression on his face as you opened the door and pushed him inside.

You quickly slipped into the passenger seat, taking a deep breath. Turning back to your colleagues, who were still watching, you forced a polite smile and waved. They waved back, but their curiosity had undoubtedly turned to outright speculation.

Your marriage had already become the hottest topic of gossip among your peers. Now, seeing you leave with a man as striking as Wonwoo—and in a car as luxurious as his—would only pour fuel on the fire.

You sighed heavily, sinking into the seat as the car pulled away. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Wonwoo glanced at you, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. "You're welcome," he said dryly, eyes flicking back to the road ahead.

You scowled at him, but there was no denying the slight flutter in your chest. For better or worse, your life was now entangled with his—and there was no turning back.

You glanced at Wonwoo as the car smoothly merged into traffic, the tension between you two lingering like an uninvited guest. You finally broke the silence, your voice low but sharp. "Where are we going?"

Wonwoo didn’t take his eyes off the road as he replied calmly. "To our new house."

You frowned. "Why? I thought we weren't moving until next week."

"I wanted to make sure everything you need is settled before you move in," he explained, his tone as matter-of-fact as if he were discussing the weather. "I’ve also arranged for a moving agency to pack and transfer your belongings tonight. It’s all scheduled."

You blinked at him, stunned by his efficiency—and, admittedly, a little irritated. "You scheduled my move without asking me?"

He finally looked at you, his dark eyes steady. "I didn’t think you’d agree if I asked. And whether it’s now or later, you’ll have to move in anyway. So why delay it?"

You sighed deeply, leaning back against the seat and closing your eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Now or later, this situation wasn’t going to change. Fighting him on it felt pointless, and you were already drained from the day.

"Fine," you muttered, surrendering to the inevitable. "But don’t expect me to be excited about it."

Wonwoo smirked faintly, his focus returning to the road. "Noted."

As the car wove through the streets, you gazed out the window, trying to calm the swirling thoughts in your mind. The idea of living with him, under the same roof, felt surreal. You weren’t ready to call this man your husband—let alone share a home with him.

But what choice did you have?

The car eventually pulled into a gated neighborhood, the homes large and modern, with sprawling lawns and tall hedges. You glanced at Wonwoo as he parked in front of a sleek, minimalist house.

"This is it?" you asked hesitantly.

"Yes," he said, stepping out and opening the door for you. "Come on. I’ll show you around."

You followed him reluctantly, stepping into the house. The interior was just as polished as the exterior—clean lines, neutral colors, and high-end finishes. It felt luxurious but cold, like a place designed for appearances rather than comfort.

Wonwoo gestured toward the open kitchen. "I’ve made sure it’s stocked with everything you might need. If anything’s missing, just tell me."

You nodded silently, your eyes scanning the space. It was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like yours.

He led you to the living room, then upstairs to the master bedroom. "This will be your room," he said, pushing the door open.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "My room?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "You need your own space. I’ll take the guest room."

His unexpected consideration threw you off. You nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. "Okay."

Wonwoo checked his watch. "The movers should arrive in an hour. I’ll stay here to supervise."

You sighed again, the weight of it all settling in. This was your new reality. No matter how hard you tried to run, you couldn’t escape the situation you were in—or the man standing in front of you.

"Fine," you said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I’ll unpack when they’re done."

Wonwoo studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of everything when Wonwoo walked back into the room, his expression calm but purposeful.

"By the way," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "I changed my mind about the room."

Your head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

Wonwoo crossed his arms, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "There’s only one master bedroom in this house, and it’s ours. We’re married, Y/n. It’s only right that we share it."

You stared at him, your mouth falling open slightly. "You’ve got to be kidding me. There are other rooms here. You could easily take one of them."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I could. But I won’t. I want us to share this space."

The way he said it, calm yet unyielding, made it clear this wasn’t up for debate. Frustration bubbled up inside you. "What about what I want? Did you even think about that?"

Wonwoo’s eyes softened slightly, though his resolve didn’t waver. "I did. That’s why I set up an office for you."

You blinked. "An office?"

He nodded, gesturing for you to follow him. Reluctantly, you got up and trailed behind him as he led you down the hall to a smaller room. Inside, you found a neatly arranged workspace with a sleek desk, bookshelves, and a comfortable chair. The shelves were already filled with reference books and stationary supplies, and a corner was decorated with a small potted plant.

You took a hesitant step inside, running your fingers along the edge of the desk. "You set this up for me?"

"Of course," Wonwoo said, standing by the doorway with his hands in his pockets. "You’re a lecturer, and I know you need a space to work. This room is yours to use however you want."

Despite your frustration over the bedroom situation, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude. The office was thoughtful—more thoughtful than you’d expected from him.

Still, you turned back to him, narrowing your eyes. "That doesn’t make up for the fact that I don’t get my own bedroom."

Wonwoo tilted his head, his smirk returning. "You can decorate the office however you want. Think of it as a trade-off."

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "This isn’t a negotiation, Wonwoo."

"It’s not," he agreed, his tone maddeningly calm. "It’s a compromise."

You sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. Living with him was going to be impossible.

"Fine," you muttered. "But if you snore, I’m moving to the couch."

Wonwoo chuckled softly, his gaze following you as you stepped past him to head back to the master bedroom. "I don’t snore. But you’ll have to deal with my early mornings."

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "And you’ll have to deal with me slamming doors if you wake me up too early."

His laughter followed you down the hall, light and warm, making your heart twist unexpectedly. As much as he infuriated you, there was something undeniably disarming about the way he carried himself.

But you weren’t ready to admit that. Not yet.

*

Wonwoo sat at his desk, scanning the report he had asked Seokmin to gather. As he read through the details, something shifted inside him. Your words from yesterday echoed in his mind.

"Slap me, swear at me. I'm used to that."

The sheer pain in your voice as you said those words—how could anyone ask to be treated like that? And the worst part was, you cried. Tears had slipped down your cheeks, and he stood there, frozen, unable to comfort you. The helplessness stung, and for a moment, he questioned his own worth.

His mother had taught him better than that. She hadn’t raised him to be passive, to stand idly by when someone needed help. Yet, in that moment, he had failed you.

Determined to understand the depths of your suffering, Wonwoo had asked Seokmin to dig into your past—specifically, your family. He needed to understand how you had come to be the person you were, how you had been shaped by the world around you. What kind of upbringing had led to someone like you being so broken, so wary of affection?

He already knew about your father. Reckless, cold-hearted, a man who did business as though he owned the world. His methods weren’t just questionable; they were downright illegal. Everything about him was transactional, and it was no surprise that he had built his empire on those very practices.

But it wasn’t just your father. Your brother, too, was no better. Wonwoo had heard the rumors—how your brother had a reputation not only as a businessman but as a lover, a man who seemed incapable of loyalty. Infidelity ran deep in your family, and it had left its mark. Wonwoo recalled the look on your mother’s face during your wedding—distressed, distant, like she knew more than she was willing to let on. It made sense now.

The report mentioned something else that struck him deeply. "Her brother was drowned in the Han River."

It clicked. The pieces fell into place. He had suspected there was something more to your past, something you hadn't fully confronted, and now he understood.

The report also mentioned the PTSD you had suffered, a trauma so deep it had robbed you of the memory of the incident. Your brother’s death had happened right in front of you. It was no wonder you struggled to cope with intimacy, with trust. That level of violence, loss, and betrayal—how could anyone emerge unscathed?

Wonwoo let out a heavy sigh. Now he understood. This was why you had built walls around yourself. Why you flinched at kindness, why you kept everyone at arm’s length. You hadn’t just been shaped by your family’s actions; you had been destroyed by them.

But the weight of that realization didn’t make him resent you—it made him want to protect you more fiercely. His heart ached for you, for the girl who had been forced to grow up in such brutality. He wanted to be the one to help you heal, to show you that not all men were like the ones who had scarred you.

And though it was clear that your past had shaped you in ways he hadn’t fully realized, he was more determined than ever to be the man you deserved—one who wouldn’t walk away when it got hard, one who wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.

He closed the report with a soft exhale, a sense of resolve settling in his chest. Now that he understood, now that he knew the truth, there was no turning back. This knowledge would shape his actions moving forward, guiding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Just as he leaned back in his chair, his phone rang. It was his mother.

"I heard you're in Busan. Have you moved already?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of concern.

"Yes, mother. My wife had to attend to her work immediately, so we moved earlier than expected," Wonwoo replied, trying to keep his tone casual.

He heard a faint hum from the other side of the line, a sign that his mother was deep in thought. "How's life as a husband? I’m worried you won’t be able to treat her right."

Wonwoo chuckled softly, a warm but tired sound. "We're both fine, really."

There was a long sigh from his mother, the kind that spoke volumes. "I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I knew this marriage wouldn’t be easy. I should have known better than to pitch a marriage to the Choi family. I’ve heard so much about them. But your father insisted."

Wonwoo smiled, a wry but understanding expression crossing his face. "Mother, I told you it was okay. I accepted this, and here I am."

"I know, I know," his mother said, her voice thick with regret. "You couldn’t refuse. But I just... I feel guilty for you, and for Y/n, of course."

Her words made his chest tighten a little, the weight of everything settling on him once again. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself, but he said, "It’s not as bad as you think. We’ll figure things out."

There was a brief pause before his mother spoke again, her voice softening. "Just... say hi to her for me, okay? Tell her I’m thinking of her."

Wonwoo’s smile grew a little more genuine as he replied, "I will, mother. Take care."

Wonwoo had started the project with small gestures: a kiss on your temple every morning at breakfast. The first time he did it, you gave him a surprised, almost startled glance, like it was an unfamiliar gesture. But Wonwoo simply smiled, brushing aside your reaction as if it were nothing. Sometimes, his hand would gently brush your hair while you shared a meal, and you'd look at him like he was out of place, unsure of how to react. Still, it gradually became a part of your routine, and everything began to run smoothly.

But then your brother, Seungcheol, came to visit. He stayed for dinner, and immediately, the tension in the air thickened.

"You should leave after dinner," you told him flatly, already anticipating the clash.

"Why would I? It’ll be more comfortable for me to stay here than in some hotel," Seungcheol replied, shooting a glance at Wonwoo.

Now, Wonwoo found himself caught between two siblings, each offering their own persuasive arguments as to why he should stay or leave. Every word from either of them felt like a debate, and Wonwoo couldn’t bring himself to find the right words to settle it. Could he just vanish into thin air?

Before he could respond, a sigh escaped his lips, and he glanced at you, his voice rising to ease the tension. "How about we all stay in a hotel? It’s been a month since our honeymoon. I think my wife deserves a bit of a rest."

Wonwoo immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He cursed himself mentally for the slip-up.

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. "Whatever, I’m not gonna stay here," he said nonchalantly. "You satisfied?" He turned his gaze to you, and you wiped your mouth with a napkin, stoic as ever.

"Your house is beautiful, with a beach view," Seungcheol continued, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. "It’s only a 10-minute walk to the beach?"

Wonwoo nodded, trying to ignore the tension building in the room. "Yes, hyung. Only five minutes by car, but the waves are pretty strong at this hour."

Seungcheol chuckled lightly. "Guess I shouldn’t go near the water, then. Your wife might just drown me."

That’s when you froze mid-motion. Your hand, which had been holding your utensil, suddenly dropped it with a loud clatter onto the plate. You stood abruptly from your chair, your eyes hardening.

"It’s just a joke," Seungcheol quickly added, watching you intently.

You didn’t even flinch. "You better go after your meal," you said in a cold, steady tone. "I don’t want to see your face in my house again."

Seungcheol smirked, unfazed by your words. "You’ve got some nerve after joining the Jeon family, Y/n. Don’t forget I’m your older brother."

Your steps paused mid-stride as you turned back to face him, your expression hardening. "Don’t forget I killed my own brother 20 years ago. Older brother."

The room fell silent.

Wonwoo’s heart raced. His hair stood on end at the chilling words that hung in the air. He wasn’t sure if the coldness in your voice was from the past, or if you were daring Seungcheol to test your limits now. Either way, he realized he had stepped into something far more complex than he had anticipated.

*

It was just you and Jisoo sitting on the deck when it happened. The details were blurry, fragments lost in the haze of suppressed memories. They said you pushed him, that you shoved him off the vessel, causing him to fall into the water and drown. That’s what everyone believed. And because they believed it, so did your 12-year-old self.

You didn’t remember anything from that day. No arguments, no screams, no malicious intent. But their words were louder than your own doubts. "You killed him," they said. The accusation clung to you like a heavy chain, dragging you into a guilt you couldn’t escape.

It changed everything. You stopped attending school, retreating into the isolation of homeschooling, where whispers and judgment couldn’t reach you. But even home was suffocating. The weight of the incident lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, a ghost haunting every corner of your life.

When you decided to enroll in a university abroad, it wasn’t just for education. It was an escape. An escape from the house that felt like a prison, from the suffocating presence of your family. Especially your mother.

She never said much about the incident. No accusations, no consolations. Just silence. But in her silence, you saw her resentment. She didn’t need to say the words for you to know. She hated you. You could see it in her cold stares, in the way she avoided your presence.

Every time your father or Seungcheol raised their hands against you, she stayed silent. She didn’t flinch, didn’t intervene. She just watched, her indifference cutting deeper than any bruise. And what other reason could there be for her silence, besides hate?

You told yourself leaving was for the best. Putting distance between you and them was the only way to breathe, to survive. But even thousands of miles away, the shadows of your past followed you, whispering the same accusation: You killed him.

"I hate Father so much, Y/n. I wish I could have been born into a different family."

"NO!"

Your voice echoed in your ears as you jolted awake, your breath hitching and your chest heaving. The remnants of the dream clung to you, vivid and suffocating. Your heart pounded wildly, its rhythm frantic and uneven as you tried to steady your breathing. Slowly, you sat up, pressing a hand to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself.

The faint sound of movement brought your attention to Wonwoo, who had just stepped out of the walk-in closet, already dressed for work. His hair was still slightly damp, the crisp lines of his suit adding to his composed appearance. He offered you a small smile at first, but it quickly faded when he noticed the tension in your expression.

"Hey," he called softly, his voice laced with concern as he walked toward you. "What’s wrong?"

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. There was still an hour before you had to leave for work.

Wonwoo crouched beside you, his eyes scanning your face for answers. But you avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the sunlight beginning to seep through the curtains. After a moment of silence, he stood and spoke gently. "I’ll drive you to work today."

Before you could protest, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. The simple gesture carried more warmth than you expected, easing the tension knotted in your chest.

And then he was gone, his footsteps retreating down the hall as he left the master bedroom.

You exhaled shakily, the earlier panic slowly fading. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, the touch of his lips on your skin and the sound of his voice had calmed the storm within you.

When Wonwoo said he would drive you to work, you assumed Jun or Seokmin would accompany him. But as you approached the sleek car parked outside, you were surprised to find him alone, sitting calmly in the driver’s seat, waiting for you.

He rolled down the window and smiled at you. “Ready?”

Sliding into the passenger seat, you greeted him quietly as he started the engine. He asked about your sleep, and you gave him a vague response, deliberately skipping over the part about the strange nightmare that had jolted you awake.

He also mentioned your brother. “Seungcheol left early this morning to Seoul. ”

You muttered a soft, “Good,” relieved that you wouldn’t have to deal with him any longer.

As the car glided smoothly down the road, Wonwoo suddenly glanced at you. “Can I hold your hand?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “But… you’re driving.”

A soft smile spread across his face. “I can manage. I just want to hold your hand, even if it’s just for a minute.”

You hesitated, your gaze shifting between his outstretched left hand and his calm expression. “Is this part of the ‘training’ to get comfortable in public later?”

He nodded, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. “It is. So… can I?”

After a moment of hesitation, you slowly lifted your right hand and placed it over his. His hand was warm and steady as he gripped yours gently, holding it securely even as he maneuvered the car.

“It’s nice,” he murmured, his voice soft but sincere.

When the car came to a stop in front of your campus building, he reluctantly let go. “See you at dinner?”

You nodded, stepping out of the car, and walked away without looking back.

“Good morning, Ms. Choi,” a few students greeted you as you made your way through the halls to the lecturers’ room. You offered them polite smiles, your thoughts still lingering on the warmth of Wonwoo’s hand.

Your first class of the day was about Ship Security and Regulations. Standing at the front of the classroom, you scanned the faces of your students as they settled in.

Since you were young, you had known that the world of business wasn’t for you—especially the kind your father conducted. You had always loved the sea: the gentle breeze, the endless horizon, and the calming rhythm of the waves. But that dream of becoming a seafarer had been buried long ago when you realized you had developed a paralyzing fear of water.

As the class progressed, one of your students raised a hand with a cheeky grin. “What if there’s a passenger who wants to jump overboard?”

Laughter rippled through the room at the seemingly absurd question. You sighed, trying to maintain your professionalism. “Is that even possible?”

Another student chimed in, still grinning. “It could happen, Ms. Choi, if someone wanted to end their life.”

You shook your head firmly, your tone growing serious. “Let’s not entertain that idea. There won’t be any cases like that. Focus on preventing real risks, not hypothetical ones.”

The class nodded, the humor subsiding, but you couldn’t shake the unease their words stirred.

As the session ended and the students filtered out, you found yourself staring out the window at the distant ocean. Despite your best efforts, their question lingered in your mind, unsettling thoughts creeping in like waves crashing against the shore.

*

Days later, Wonwoo learned that his wife had registered for a psychiatric consultation. He had known about the abusive environment you grew up in, but he hadn’t realized it had reached a point where professional help was necessary. The news unsettled him, lingering in his mind until dinner that evening, where he cautiously brought it up.

“You visited a psychiatrist, I heard,” he said, carefully watching your reaction.

You nodded casually, as though it wasn’t a big deal. But to him, it was.

“Why?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

“I’m trying to face my phobia of water,” you replied, your tone neutral. “It’s for one of my research projects.”

Wonwoo didn’t press further, but a knot tightened in his chest. He suspected it wasn’t as simple as you made it seem. A fear of water? Yet, you had graduated in Maritime studies and built a career in the same field. The contradiction puzzled him.

The following month, Wonwoo received word that your parents were hosting their anniversary party on a cruise ship. That explained it. Was this why you were trying to cope with your phobia? He couldn’t help but wonder.

The drive from Busan to Seoul was quiet. Jun handled the wheel while Seokmin sat in the front passenger seat, briefing Wonwoo on the event’s details. You sat beside Wonwoo in the back, your eyes fixed on the window, your hand intertwined with his.

“Anyone I should keep an eye on?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm but measured.

Seokmin shook his head. “It’s just an anniversary event. Nothing serious is expected.”

Wonwoo glanced at you, leaning in slightly to whisper. “Are you okay?”

Your gaze shifted to him, startled for a moment before you nodded with a soft sigh.

“You know I’m always here for you,” he murmured. “You don’t have to worry.”

You gave him a small, grateful nod before turning your attention back to the passing scenery.

When you arrived at the cruise ship, Wonwoo followed Seokmin’s briefing, greeting everyone with effortless charm. He introduced you to the guests with a protective arm around your waist, keeping you close by his side.

“This is my wife, Choi Y/n,” he said warmly, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries.

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo,” he added, offering his business card to a few attendees.

As the ship set sail, everyone gathered on the deck for a brief speech from your father. Wonwoo noticed the way your gaze hardened, a glare fixed on the man speaking so highly of your mother. The words seemed hollow, a facade masking the truth you both knew—of abuse, violence, pressure, and threats. Yet, like your mother, you remained silent.

Wonwoo’s grip on your waist tightened subtly as your father shifted the focus to you and him, the newlyweds. Smiling for the crowd, he leaned closer to you, whispering, “Do you want to rest?”

Before you could answer, your father’s voice carried over the murmuring crowd.

“And to my second child, Jisoo… He left us too soon, but we will always remember him. Rest in peace, my son.”

Wonwoo felt your body tense beside him, your breathing growing heavier. He could hear the whispers that began to ripple through the crowd.

“His sister killed him.”

“She was only 12.”

“Is that the sister?”

“Poor kid.”

He leaned in again, his voice firm yet gentle. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

As he began to guide you away from the deck, the ship suddenly lurched, causing a man standing near the edge to lose his footing. Gasps and screams filled the air as the man slipped and fell overboard, the security team springing into action.

Wonwoo felt your grip tighten on his arm, your nails digging into his sleeve as your body went slack. He steadied you immediately, shielding you from the chaos.

“Hold onto me,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you to your room.”

Without waiting for a response, he wrapped an arm securely around you and led you through the crowd, his protective instincts taking over.

*

What you had witnessed brought back the haunting memory of Jisoo falling from the vessel, a memory tied to the very same cruise ship you were now aboard. You were only 12, and he was 15. It had been a family vacation—a week on a private cruise ship arranged by your father. On the final night, you remembered noticing something different about Jisoo. He hadn’t smiled once that day. Troubled by his mood, you gathered the courage to visit his cabin late that night.

"You look sad," you had said softly, standing in the dim light of his room.

Jisoo turned to you, a faint smirk on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. "Wanna go outside?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“Going to the deck past 9 p.m. is prohibited,” you replied, hesitating. “Father will get mad at us.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said with a glimmer of rebellion, gesturing for you to follow him.

The memory felt so vivid that it sent shivers down your spine, yet there was a fog of uncertainty around it. Was it real, or was it just a false memory conjured by your fractured mind?

Wonwoo’s voice pulled you back into the present. He had guided you to the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with worry as he crouched before you. “Hey, you’re okay,” he whispered, his hands steady on your arms as if anchoring you to reality.

But you weren’t sure you were okay. Your mind replayed the image of Jisoo falling into the dark, endless water, his body disappearing into the calm yet terrifying abyss. That night had marked the beginning of your fear of water—its deceptive stillness, its unrelenting strength. And Jisoo had never come back.

Tears escaped your eyes, and it was only when Wonwoo gently cupped your cheeks that you realized you were crying. His thumbs brushed away the wet trails, his touch grounding yet unbearably tender.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos in your heart. “That’s okay… You’re fine. I’m here.”

You looked at him, the warmth of his gaze pulling you out of the suffocating hold of the past. For a moment, you weren’t a scared 12-year-old on a dark deck—you were here, in the present, with someone who cared.

The weight of years of bottled-up emotions surged forward—anger, sadness, guilt, disappointment. It was overwhelming, and all you wanted was to let it out, to empty the well of pain you had carried for so long.

“Can I hug you?” you asked in a quiet, trembling voice, your vulnerability bare.

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. He climbed onto the bed beside you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His embrace was strong, protective, and warm—everything you hadn’t realized you needed.

“I’m here, Y/n,” he said softly, his voice steady in the dim light of the room. “I’m here.”

And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to cry without restraint. Your makeup smudged, your breaths hitched, but it didn’t matter. In Wonwoo’s arms, you felt a strange sense of safety amidst the storm inside you. You clung to him as the emotions poured out, the weight of them finally starting to lift.

In his embrace, you found solace, a quiet assurance that you weren’t alone. And even though the past still haunted you, for this moment, you could let it go, piece by piece, in the arms of someone who refused to let you face it alone.

*

Breakfast with your family was as tense as ever. Wonwoo had joined late after handling an emergency call from his father, leaving you to endure the table’s strained atmosphere without him for a while. Your father, mother, and Seungcheol sat together as the cruise ship quietly sailed back to Seoul, the polite murmurs of other guests filling the air.

“You went to your room early last night,” your father said, his voice breaking through the quiet as you chewed your food.

“She was unwell,” Wonwoo replied smoothly as he settled into his seat. His hand found your shoulder, a protective gesture. “I should have informed you earlier.”

“Unwell, or?” Seungcheol interjected with a smirk, his tone dripping with mockery. His pointed glance at you made your stomach twist. The tension between you and Seungcheol hadn’t eased since the last altercation Wonwoo had witnessed.

To divert the conversation, Wonwoo placed a bottle of expensive, aged wine on the table. “Congratulations on your anniversary. I didn’t get a chance to say it last night, but I brought this as a gift.”

Your father’s expression softened momentarily. “You didn’t need to, son-in-law. Taking care of my daughter is gift enough for us.”

Then, as if on cue, he added with a smirk of his own, “Though it would be even more amazing if you gave us a grandchild.”

Wonwoo faltered, momentarily caught off guard by the statement. But before he could respond, you calmly put down your utensils, your tone icy and resolute. “We won’t have a child.”

The air seemed to freeze. Wonwoo turned to you in surprise, but your expression was unreadable, your demeanor cool and composed. In that moment, he was reminded that your marriage was a business arrangement—and you, perhaps more than him, treated it as such.

Your father’s jaw tightened, his attempt to suppress his anger painfully evident. He glanced at the nearby guests, clearly aware that this was no place for a scene. “You should have a child if you want this marriage to last,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You met his gaze without hesitation, your words cutting through the air like ice. “So you can hit them? So you can scream at them? Threaten them like you did to me?”

The tension at the table became unbearable. Wonwoo could feel the weight of your father’s fury, his grip tightening on the tableware before setting it down a bit too forcefully. Other guests turned their heads, sensing the disturbance.

Your mother looked at you, her wide eyes betraying shock. It was as if she couldn’t believe the words you had just spoken, the defiance in your tone so unlike the quiet obedience she had come to expect from you.

“I’m going,” you said sharply, pushing back your chair and standing without another glance at your father.

Wonwoo quickly rose from his seat, offering a hasty apology. “I’m sorry. She’s been under a lot of stress from work. I’ll go check on her.”

As you disappeared toward your cabin, Wonwoo began to follow, but he stopped when a hand gently caught his arm. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with your mother.

“Mother-in-law,” Wonwoo greeted, bowing slightly out of respect, though her unexpected presence caught him off guard.

“Y/n…” she began, her voice soft but unsteady. “Is she alright?”

Wonwoo nodded, his tone calm as he tried to reassure her. “She’s fine. She was just a bit tired last night. You don’t need to worry.”

But your mother shook her head, her eyes glistening with something that looked like guilt. “I mean after last night. Was she alright? She hasn’t set foot on a ship for years. Not since…” She trailed off, her words hanging heavy in the air.

So, she knows, Wonwoo realized.

“She was nervous,” he admitted, his voice careful. “But she handled it well. She’s stronger than you think.”

Your mother looked away, her expression clouded with emotions she seemed reluctant to voice. After a moment, she took his hand in hers, her grip trembling. “My husband… he can be harsh. Especially toward Y/n. Please…” Her voice cracked slightly. “Take care of her, for me.”

Wonwoo stared at her, taken aback by the vulnerability in her words. For the first time, he saw beyond her composed exterior, glimpsing a mother who, despite her silence, harbored regrets and perhaps even a desire to protect you in her own way.

“I will,” Wonwoo promised, his voice steady. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Your mother released Wonwoo’s hand, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before she stepped away. The silent plea in her gaze lingered in his mind as he made his way back to your shared cabin. But his thoughts were soon interrupted by a call from his father earlier that morning, asking if the two of you could visit their home since you were already in Seoul. Wonwoo suspected there was more to the request—his parents had missed the cruise’s anniversary celebration, and now this sudden urgency hinted at something serious.

When you both arrived at their home, Wonwoo’s suspicions were confirmed. His mother was unwell, lying in bed looking pale and fatigued. Neither his father nor the house staff had told him what was wrong, and the uncertainty gnawed at him. A sense of dread settled in his chest. Was it something serious? Something incurable?

You sat quietly by his mother’s bedside, holding her hand and offering her comforting words. Wonwoo stood to the side, his eyes darting between his mother and father, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Finally, when he couldn’t take the silence anymore, he followed his father to the living room.

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo demanded, his voice sharper than he intended. “What’s wrong with her? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”

His father sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t be mad at me,” he started, his tone hesitant. “She doesn’t want anyone to know.”

Wonwoo’s patience wore thin as he watched his father’s lips tighten, clearly debating whether or not to reveal the truth.

“She…” His father hesitated again, and Wonwoo’s heart raced.

“She’s dehydrated because of diarrhea,” his father finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Wonwoo blinked, stunned. “What?”

“She ate something bad, and that’s what happened. She doesn’t want anyone to know—not even you or Y/n. Says it’s not ‘fashionable.’”

Wonwoo exhaled heavily, running a hand down his face in exasperation. “I thought it was something chronic! For goodness’ sake, I was preparing myself for the worst!”

His father shrugged nonchalantly. “If it were serious, she’d be in the hospital. She’s just embarrassed.”

Wonwoo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I’m her son. I should know these things, whether they’re ‘fashionable’ or not.”

His father offered a faint smirk, leaning back into his chair. “There are a lot of things children don’t need to know about their parents, kid.”

Wonwoo stared at his father, incredulous. “This isn’t about need-to-know; it’s about being family! I’ve been worried sick, thinking it was something life-threatening.”

His father patted his shoulder lightly, as if to dismiss the tension. “She’ll be fine in a day or two. Just don’t bring it up, or she’ll never forgive me for telling you.”

Wonwoo sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, heading back toward the bedroom where you were still sitting with his mother.

When he returned, you glanced up at him, your expression concerned. “Is everything alright?” you asked softly.

Wonwoo gave you a tired smile, sitting down beside you and gently taking his mother’s other hand. “She’ll be fine,” he said, his voice calm now. “Just a little dehydration.”

His mother’s weak smile told him she knew exactly what had happened in the living room. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo chuckled lightly, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I won’t. But only because you asked nicely.”

*

The two of you decided to stay an extra day in Seoul as Wonwoo had a business matter to attend to. That evening, as you settled into bed, Wonwoo joined you with a book in hand. He leaned against the headboard, his focus on the pages, while you lay beside him, staring at his profile. You wanted to speak, the words swirling in your mind, but hesitation kept them locked inside. Sensing your unease, Wonwoo spoke without looking up.

"Speak," he said simply, his voice calm and inviting.

You shifted your position, sitting up slightly to face him. "Is your mother okay? She looked really unwell today," you said, your voice tinged with concern.

Wonwoo closed his book and set it on the nightstand. His gaze softened as he turned to you. "Why? Are you worried about her?"

"Of course, I am. She's my mother-in-law," you replied earnestly, your words earning a faint smile from him.

"She mentioned something earlier, and I’ve been feeling conflicted about it ever since," you admitted, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

Wonwoo’s brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued. "What did she say? Did she ask you for something ridiculous? You know you don’t have to take it seriously if—"

"What do you think about having a child?" you blurted out, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Wonwoo froze, the words hanging in the air between you. He blinked at you, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. "Sorry? What did you just say?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Everyone has been talking about us having children. It’s only been three months, but people are already questioning if we’re serious or if this is just another typical business marriage."

Wonwoo tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye. "You said it yourself this morning—you don’t want a child," he reminded you, his tone lighthearted.

You sighed, your fingers now twisting the hem of your pajama top. "I know. But seeing your mother today... and hearing what she said, it made me think again. What if it’s something we should consider?"

Wonwoo leaned back, studying your face carefully. "What exactly did she say to you?"

"She didn’t explicitly ask for anything, but she hinted that a grandchild would make her happy. And I—I don’t know, it felt serious," you admitted, your voice faltering slightly.

Wonwoo chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You’re overthinking. My mother will be fine with or without a grandchild. She just enjoys the idea, like most parents do."

"But wouldn’t having a child make this marriage... I don’t know, feel more stable? Last longer?" you asked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. "You think a child will stabilize a business marriage?" His tone was skeptical but gentle.

"I don’t know," you muttered, feeling suddenly foolish. "It’s just... everyone seems to expect it. Your family, my family. It’s like they see it as the ultimate proof that this marriage isn’t just a facade."

Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look," he said softly, "if you’re reconsidering this because it’s something you want, then we can have a serious conversation about it. But if it’s just because of external pressure—what they expect from us—then I don’t think it’s a good enough reason."

His words hung in the air, grounding you. You nodded slowly, his reasoning settling over you like a balm.

"You don’t have to decide anything now," Wonwoo continued, his voice steady. "We’re still figuring this out, you and me. Let’s take it one step at a time."

You exhaled, feeling the weight of your thoughts ease slightly. Wonwoo reached over, placing his hand gently on yours. "For what it’s worth," he added with a small smile, "you’re doing great. You don’t have to carry everyone’s expectations on your shoulders."

His reassurance brought a faint smile to your lips, and you nodded. "Thanks, Wonwoo."

"Anytime," he replied, picking up his book again. But before he reopened it, he glanced at you. "And if you ever want to talk about this again, just let me know. No rush."

His understanding made your chest ache in a way that felt unfamiliar but comforting. "Okay," you whispered, settling back into bed beside him.

*

The moment you received word that your mother was in Busan, everything else faded into the background. Dropping your work immediately, you rushed to your house. The news was jarring—your mother had signed the divorce papers and was now in your house.

"She did what?" you whispered in disbelief, your hands trembling slightly as you clutched your phone.

Jun, who was driving you, glanced at you briefly in the rearview mirror. "Mr. Jeon is on his way as well," he informed you calmly.

When you arrived, you found your mother sitting on the couch, sipping tea with a composed air. Across from her sat Wonwoo, his demeanor calm and understanding, as if he were holding the room steady with his presence. In stark contrast, you felt like a storm raging inside.

You didn’t speak right away. Instead, you walked to the couch and sat beside Wonwoo, your eyes fixed on your mother, who looked more at ease than you ever remembered.

Sensing your need for privacy, Wonwoo leaned over, his hand briefly brushing your arm. "I’ll excuse myself," he murmured before standing and stepping out of the room.

The silence that followed his departure was thick, heavy with unspoken words.

"I signed the divorce papers," your mother finally said, setting her teacup down on the table with deliberate care. "I’m sorry it took me so long."

"Why are you apologizing?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. Your eyes were locked on her hands as they fidgeted in her lap.

"It’s just..." she hesitated, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "you’ve wished for this for a long time."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "I wished for this?" you repeated, your voice incredulous. "I don’t understand."

She bit her lip, her gaze flickering to the floor. "You might not remember," she began hesitantly. "After Jisoo... after he left us, you tried to explain what happened. That he fell off the vessel. But no one believed you—not your father, not Seungcheol. No one."

The memory stirred faintly in your mind, like a forgotten dream just out of reach.

"And in your frustration, in your pain, you told me you wished I’d leave him." Her voice cracked slightly, the weight of the revelation pressing down on both of you.

You leaned forward, stunned. "Why would I say that?"

She let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she clasped them tightly. "Because you believed I was the only one who truly trusted you. And you were right. I knew—I knew—you would never harm Jisoo. He was your best friend. Your brother. You loved him more than anything."

A heavy silence hung between you, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Her belief in you, her unwavering trust, hit you like a tidal wave.

"I didn’t leave back then," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "Because I had no power. The only thing I could do was try to give you strength. To help you build a life where you’d never have to depend on anyone else."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. "You helped me get my job," you said, realization dawning.

She nodded. "The dean is an old friend of mine. She told me you were impeccable, that you’d make an excellent lecturer. I used every connection I had to make sure you had opportunities I never did."

"Why?" you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of so many unanswered questions. "Why did you do all that for me?"

Her gaze softened, tears welling in her eyes. "Because I wanted you to have your own power. I wanted you to be free, to stand on your own two feet, so no one could ever control you the way your father did to me."

You swallowed hard, her words sinking in like stones in water. You wanted to ask if this was why you had chosen to marry Wonwoo, but the question felt too raw, too invasive.

Did I fail her? The thought struck you like a sharp pang in your chest. She had believed in you when no one else did, but had you done the same for her? Or had you been so consumed with your own pain that you hadn’t noticed hers?

You bit your lip, your vision blurring as tears welled in your eyes. "I don’t even remember saying that to you," you admitted, your voice cracking.

Her gaze softened, and she reached out to place her hand over yours. "You were just a child," she said gently. "You didn’t mean it the way you think you did. But those words... they stayed with me. They reminded me that someone saw me, even when I didn’t see myself."

The conflict within you deepened. You didn’t know whether to feel grateful or guilty, proud or ashamed. All you knew was that your mother had spent years trapped in a cage she hadn’t built alone, and you had unknowingly become the key she needed to escape.

Her next words shattered what little resolve you had left. "When I saw you stand up to your father on the cruise, I realized that it’s never too late to find my own power. You showed me that."

Her tears spilled over then, and for the first time in years, you saw her cry. Not from fear or despair, but from a release—a shedding of years of silent suffering.

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached for her hand, gripping it tightly as if to anchor both of you in this moment of raw, unfiltered truth.

"Is she alright?" Wonwoo asked as you entered the room. You nodded, exhaustion clear on your face as you walked toward him. Without hesitation, he opened his arms, silently inviting you into his embrace. You stepped closer, sinking into his chest, letting his warmth surround you.

"She’ll be fine with us," Wonwoo murmured, his voice steady and reassuring as he tightened his hold around you. The weight of the night seemed lighter, though your heart still carried the storm brewing within.

"My father..." you began, your voice trailing off before the bitterness returned. "He’s such a menace. I just hope he doesn’t find Mom here."

Wonwoo nodded, his chin brushing the top of your head as he whispered, "I’ll tell Seokmin to add more guards around the property. You don’t have to worry. We’ll handle this, and we’ll find a way to keep her safe."

His words gave you a fragile sense of peace, enough to let you rest your head against him, trusting in the certainty of his promise.

The next day, Wonwoo left for Seoul to have a word with his father. The situation with your mother’s divorce wasn’t just a family matter—it had the potential to create ripples in the business world. Ji Construction, your father’s company, was already in a delicate position, and any negative press could trigger a chain reaction. As a major supporter of Choi Construction, the Jeon Group couldn’t afford to ignore the fallout.

Wonwoo sat in the polished meeting room, tension thick in the air. His father’s trusted advisor, Mr. Park, laid out the details of the situation. "If news of the divorce goes public, it will undoubtedly impact the market. Choi Construction’s stocks could plummet, and given their illegal dealings, there’s a risk of further exposure."

"That’s a problem for Seungcheol to fix," Wonwoo’s father interjected, his expression impassive as he leaned back in his chair. "He’ll have to make a move immediately."

Wonwoo scoffed, unable to hide his disdain. "Seungcheol isn’t capable of handling this. He’s nothing more than a copycat of his father—arrogant and reckless."

"Which is precisely why we need to prepare," Mr. Park said, clearing his throat. "Jeon Group holds the largest share in Choi Construction at the moment. If the Choi family crumbles, we’ll need to decide who will take the reins and stabilize the situation."

His father turned to him, a calculating look in his eyes. "What about Y/n? Does she have any interest in the business?"

Wonwoo shook his head firmly. "No. She’s focused on her career, and I won’t let her be dragged into this mess."

There was a moment of silence before Mr. Park spoke again, his tone measured. "The best step forward is to begin preparing a new leader—someone who can step in if the Choi family fails to recover."

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, the weight of responsibility pressing against him. He wasn’t just thinking about the company or the market. He was thinking about you—how you had suffered enough under your father’s shadow, and how your mother was finally free. This was his burden to carry now, and he would ensure you wouldn’t have to bear it.

"We’ll prepare," Wonwoo said, his voice firm. "But I’m not letting Y/n or her mother get dragged into this chaos. We’ll find a way to stabilize things without jeopardizing them."

The next day, chaos erupted at the Jeon residence. Wonwoo was in the middle of an important meeting when he received your frantic call. Your father and brother, Seungcheol, had shown up unannounced, demanding to see your mother. Sensing danger, Wonwoo didn’t hesitate to cancel everything and rush home.

The scene he walked into was worse than he imagined. Standing at the front door, you were blocking the way, arms spread protectively in front of your mother. Seungcheol’s face was contorted with rage as he swung his hand toward you, ready to strike. Wonwoo’s heart stopped for a second, but his body reacted instinctively. He intercepted Seungcheol’s hand mid-air, gripping it tightly.

You stood frozen, the shock and fear rendering you speechless. Wonwoo’s jaw tightened as he threw Seungcheol’s hand away with a forceful movement. He stepped in front of you, shielding you with his own body as he turned to face your father and brother.

"No one is allowed to harm my wife," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but dangerously firm as his eyes locked on Seungcheol. "That includes you."

"Get out of our way! This is a family matter. It’s none of your business, Jeon," Seungcheol spat, trying to push Wonwoo aside. But Wonwoo didn’t budge.

Your father, with an air of cold authority, interjected, "Let me speak to my wife, son-in-law."

Wonwoo’s expression didn’t falter as he shook his head. "I’m sorry, but when my mother-in-law sought protection under my roof, it became my business too. She’s safe here, and I suggest you go home before things escalate further."

A smirk twisted your father’s lips, but his eyes burned with malice as he stepped closer to Wonwoo. "Are you doing this because you know what will happen?"

Before Wonwoo could respond, you stepped forward, your voice trembling but determined. "Enough, Father. This is our home, and you need to respect its owner. Isn’t that the lesson you’ve always preached to everyone else?"

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, his expression darkening. What happened next stunned everyone. Without warning, your father grabbed your arm and pulled you toward him, his hand tightening around your neck. You gasped for air, your hands clawing at his grip as your brother, Seungcheol, stared in shock, clearly not expecting things to escalate this far.

"Father, stop!" Seungcheol’s voice broke through the chaos, but his words did little to deter the enraged man.

Wonwoo’s blood ran cold as he lunged forward, shouting your name. "Let her go!" He fought to pry your father’s hands off you, his panic turning into fury. Seokmin and the guards rushed in to assist, finally managing to wrest you free from your father’s grasp.

Your body went limp, collapsing to the floor. Wonwoo dropped to his knees, scooping you into his arms with a shaky breath. "Y/n," he whispered, his voice thick with worry. "Stay with me."

Turning to Seokmin, Wonwoo barked orders. "Call the police! Get all the CCTV footage as evidence."

Seungcheol tried to calm your father, whose anger hadn’t abated, but it was clear the situation was spiraling out of control. As your father continued to shout about his wife, Wonwoo carried you inside, his arms tightening protectively around you. His mind raced with thoughts of your safety, but one thing was clear—he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you again, no matter who they were.

*

You woke up in the hospital to the sound of quiet sobs. Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to see your mother sitting beside you, tears streaming down her face. The moment she noticed you were awake, she gasped softly, clutching your hand tightly.

"You're awake," she whispered, her voice thick with relief.

You blinked, disoriented. The sterile white of the hospital room was unfamiliar, and a dull ache in your neck brought back fragments of what had happened. "How...how did I get here?" you asked, your voice hoarse and shaky.

Your mother wiped her tears and took a deep breath before answering. "We got you checked. You fainted after...after what happened. The doctors said you’ll be fine with some rest." Her voice trembled as she continued, "We’re going to file charges against your father. He tried to kill you, Y/n."

The weight of her words hit you like a ton of bricks. Your breath hitched as your hand instinctively reached for your neck. The memory was vivid, and you could still feel the ghost of his grip—the warmth of his hand, twisted with the terrifying force that had robbed you of air.

"Wonwoo..." you whispered, panic creeping into your tone. "Is he okay? Did he get hurt?"

Your mother shook her head quickly, trying to reassure you. "He’s fine, sweetheart. He’s outside talking to the police. Do you want me to call him for you?"

Before she could leave, the door opened, and Wonwoo stepped into the room. His eyes immediately found yours, and a wave of relief washed over his face as he crossed the room in a few swift strides.

"Y/n," he murmured, his voice soft but full of emotion as he leaned down and pulled you into his arms.

The strength of his embrace brought you an immediate sense of safety, and you buried your face against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand gently brushed through your hair, his voice a comforting whisper against your ear. "You’re safe with me now. You’re going to be okay. I promise."

Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of the moment sank in. For so long, you had felt powerless—trapped in the shadow of your father’s control, just like your mother. But now, something had shifted.

You thought back to the confrontation. Despite the fear, you had stood up to your father and brother. You had protected your mother. And when it all became too much, Wonwoo had been there, steadfast and unyielding, shielding you from harm.

The realization hit you like a spark igniting a flame. It wasn’t just that Wonwoo had given you strength—it was that he had shown you the strength you already had within yourself. His unwavering support had become the foundation for your courage, and in standing up for yourself, you had also empowered your mother to take a stand for her own freedom.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Wonwoo. His gaze was filled with concern, but also with pride, as if he could see the shift within you.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears.

Wonwoo cupped your cheek, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. "You don’t have to thank me. We’re in this together, always."

In that moment, you felt a profound sense of clarity. You weren’t powerless anymore. With Wonwoo by your side, you had the strength to face whatever came next—for yourself, for your mother, and for the future you were determined to build.

*

With help from Mingyu, a friend who worked in property, Wonwoo unearthed substantial evidence of your father’s corrupt dealings. As he collaborated with the police to ensure your father faced justice, he simultaneously engaged in discussions with Seungcheol regarding the future of Choi Construction.

“My father hates her because she’s a girl. That’s it,” Seungcheol admitted bluntly, providing the answer to Wonwoo’s lingering question about your mistreatment within the household.

Wonwoo’s patience had long worn thin, and any remaining respect he might have held for your family was gone. To him, your father and brother were just men he had to deal with, not figures deserving of courtesy. As he sat across from Seungcheol, his tone was firm, devoid of negotiation.

“I’ll hand over the rights to the Singapore branch. But in return, you and your family will leave my wife and her mother alone. Permanently.”

Seungcheol stared at the table, his head bowed. “You’re right. I’ve always been too insecure to run the company properly,” he confessed, his voice carrying the weight of years spent under his father’s oppressive shadow. The realization of his inadequacies seemed to dawn on him, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

“Were you close to Jisoo?” Wonwoo asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Seungcheol shrugged, his face devoid of emotion. “I wasn’t close to anyone, not even my mother. My father was too focused on molding me into the perfect businessman. I’ve always been just a puppet.”

Wonwoo let out a deep sigh. “Your family is a wreck,” he said bluntly, his frustration barely concealed.

Seungcheol gave a bitter chuckle. “Tell me something I don’t know. Could you say that to my sister, though?”

Wonwoo glanced at him, his expression softening slightly. He shook his head, unwilling to voice such harsh words about you.

“You love her,” Seungcheol muttered, nodding as if confirming it to himself.

The court’s decision was finally made—your father was sentenced to 25 years in prison for engaging in illegal business practices and attempting to murder both you and your mother.

With Choi Construction left without a leader, Wonwoo was appointed as its new director, while his younger brother took over his former position in their father's company. Wonwoo wasted no time making sweeping changes, rebranding the company as Jeon Construction and reshaping its operations from the ground up. As months passed, he found himself buried in work, barely able to make time for you.

Realizing the imbalance, Wonwoo finally texted you, deciding to pick you up from your mother's house, where she had recently moved to Busan. But before he could leave, Lee Seokmin, his assistant, delivered a very pointed lecture on the importance of "dating your wife properly."

"Bring flowers," Seokmin had added, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

So now, here he was, standing outside his car, waiting for you with a bouquet in his hands. When you stepped out, he felt the corners of his lips lift involuntarily.

"Where are we going?" you asked, eyeing the flowers before taking them with a soft smile.

Seokmin had already booked a restaurant—a fine dining spot that happened to be one of your favorites. Wonwoo wasn’t sure how Seokmin knew that, but he’d figure it out later. Tonight, he wasn’t going to waste a single thought on anything but you.

Over a candlelit dinner, you savored every bite of your meal while Wonwoo enjoyed watching you unwind. As the evening progressed, he raised his glass slightly and asked, "How’s the food?"

You exhaled, setting your fork down with a satisfied smile. "Perfect… actually, amazing. I had a tough day today, and this just made everything better. Thank you."

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. He lifted his glass towards yours, eyes locked on you.

"A toast?" he asked.

You clinked your glass against his, and for the first time in a long while, the two of you enjoyed a quiet moment—just the two of you, no business, no burdens, just the warmth of each other’s presence.

As you took a sip of your wine, the warmth of the moment settled in. The quiet hum of the restaurant, the dim glow of the candles, and the way Wonwoo’s eyes never strayed far from you made the evening feel almost surreal—like a small pocket of peace after the storm.

He set his glass down, fingers tapping lightly against the stem before he finally spoke. "How are you feeling… after everything?" His voice was calm, but there was something deeper in his tone—concern, curiosity, maybe even guilt for not asking sooner.

You placed your glass down and thought for a moment. The past few months had been a whirlwind. Your father’s sentencing had been all over the news—a powerful businessman brought down by his own crimes. Twenty-five years behind bars, stripped of everything he once controlled. But despite everything, a part of you still felt unsettled.

"I don’t know," you admitted, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. "Some days, I feel relieved. Other days… it still feels unreal." You exhaled, meeting his gaze. "He’s still alive, still out there somewhere. Even if he’s locked up, it’s like he still has a grip on me."

Wonwoo nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes held a quiet understanding. "He took too much from you for you to just move on overnight," he said simply.

You swallowed, nodding. "Maybe." A pause. "But I don’t want to keep living in that shadow. I want to move forward. I want to build something new for myself… for my mom."

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, observing you. "And for us?"

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, your eyes flickering to his.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I didn’t go through all this trouble to protect you just to watch you walk away."

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "I didn’t say I was going anywhere."

His smirk faded into something softer. He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. "Good," he murmured. "Because I need you here."

The weight of his words settled between you, heavier than the wine in your glass, more intoxicating than anything you had tasted tonight.

"Then I guess we’re staying," you whispered.

And for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t seem so uncertain.

*

As soon as the door closed behind you, Wonwoo backed you against it, his hands settling on your hips as he leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Yourur tongues tangled eagerly, the flavors of wine and dessert mingling as your mouths moved in perfect sync.

As your lips parted, Wonwoo's breath tickled your ear as he whispered sultry nothings, his warm words sending shivers down your spine. "God, I want you," he rasped, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down the column of your throat. Each nip and lick sent sparks of pleasure through your veins, making you arch into his touch.

As Wonwoo's lips trailed reverently along your skin, his whispers grew softer, sweeter. "You have no idea how much I crave you." His fingertips danced across your chest, tracing patterns that left goosebumps in their wake. "You're all mine," he breathed, punctuating his words with a gentle kiss to the hollow of your throat.

As Wonwoo laid you down on the soft cushions of the sofa, a soft moan escaped your lips at the feel of the cool leather beneath you. Your senses were heightened, attuned to every brush of fabric against your skin and the heat emanating from the man towering over you. You could feel the rigid outline of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh, a tangible reminder of his desire.

"Please, Wonwoo," You whimpered, reaching up to cradle his face in your palms. "Kiss me again, taste me...touch me everywhere," You begged, your voice thick with need. Your hips lifted off the couch, seeking friction against the solid length prodding your leg. "Make love to me, right here, right now," You pleaded, your eyes locked onto his, filled with lust and adoration.

Wonwoo's fingers found the dampened lace at the apex of your thighs, teasing the sensitive flesh through the thin barrier. A gasp slipped past your lips at the intimate caress, your hips canting up involuntarily to press closer to his touch. "Mmm, so wet for me already," he purred, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your clit through the soaked material. The sensation shot straight to your core, leaving you trembling and desperate for more.

"Please, Wonwoo," You whimpered, spreading your legs wider in invitation as his fingers resumed their playful exploration of your most sensitive area. He obliged without hesitation, slipping a digit beneath the drenched lace to stroke through your slick folds, gathering the evidence of my arousal on his fingertip before circling your entrance teasingly. You arched off the couch, a needy moan spilling from your lips at the delicious pressure building inside you.

Wonwoo's husky whisper sent shivers down your spine. "You're breathtaking, my love. Just as I imagined, dreamed of, a thousand times." His hand stilled for a moment, letting you relish in the praise before resuming his tender touch. Slow, deliberate strokes coaxed out more of your essence, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. "Let go for me," he urged, his breath hot against your ear.

As Wonwoo's fingers continued their maddening tempo, the coil of tension inside you snapped. You cried out his name, back arching off the couch as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Pleasure pulsed through your veins like liquid fire, your inner walls clenching around nothing as the orgasm ripped through you. Distantly, you heard Wonwoo's approving groans, felt his body tense above you as he watched you come undone in his skilled hands.

He picked your naked body to the bedroom effortlessly as laid you down softly. Wonwoo's nimble fingers worked their magic, effortlessly shedding the barriers between you, you gazed at him in awe. The soft lighting of the bedroom illuminated his chiseled features and the moonbeams danced across his skin, making him look like a deity descended from the heavens.

He stood before you, glorious, as you ran your hands reverently over the contours of his torso. His body hovered yours. As your lips met, the world around you melted away, leaving only the intoxicating sensations of the kiss and the warmth of each other's bodies.

Wonwoo's mouth slanted over yours, demanding and possessive, claiming you with every brush of his tongue against you. You melted into the embrace, returning his ardor with equal fervor, your moans mingling in the stillness of the room as you lost yourselves in the passionate dance of desire.

Wonwoo's hands roamed the curves your body as he kissed a path along your neck, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touched. He cupped your breast, thumb grazing the pebbled nipple through the thin fabric of your bra, sending jolts of pleasure straight to the core. "So soft, so perfect," he murmured against your skin, nipping and sucking gently as he explored the sensitive terrain of your throat.

"Once I get a taste of you, I may not be able to let you go," he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling with need. The vulnerability in his words only heightened your excitement, your body arching instinctively to draw him closer.

With a gentle yet insistent pressure, Wonwoo guided himself into your waiting depths. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he filled you inch by exquisite inch, stretching and accommodating his impressive girth. Once he was buried to the hilt, he paused, allowing you to adjust to the incredible fullness before beginning to move within you. Each deliberate thrust sparked a cascade of pleasure, the sound of skin meeting skin and your ragged breaths filling the air.

"You're so big.."

Wonwoo's smug grin only added to the erotic charge between you as he drew back and pushed in again, his thick length stroking deep inside you. "Big enough to satisfy this greedy little pussy, isn't it?" he purred, his voice a low, husky rasp. He set a steady, pounding rhythm, each powerful thrust driving him impossibly deeper.

Wonwoo's praise was a velvet caress against you ears, heightening the euphoria coursing through your veins. "Fuck, you feel amazing wrapped around me," he growled, punctuating each word with a deep, forceful stroke. "Like you were made for me, custom-fit just to take my cock and beg for more."

Wonwoo's fingers found your throbbing clit with ease, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure surging through you. Each stroke harmonized with his relentless pace, the dual sensations threatening to unravel you completely. You clenched tighter around him, the snug, velvety grip of your walls milking his thickness with every thrust.

Wonwoo groaned deeply as he felt the telltale fluttering of yout inner muscles, signaling your impending climax. "That's it, baby, let go for me," he urged, his voice roughened with lust. He rubbed your clit in swift, targeted circles, pushing you precariously close to the edge. With one final, searing plunge, he triggered your orgasm, the waves of ecstasy crashing over you in intense, overwhelming bursts.

With a guttural moan, Wonwoo plunged deep, his hips jerking as he spilled his hot seed inside you. You elt each pulsing wave of his release, his thick cock throbbing and twitching as he emptied himself within your clenching depths. The sensation was decadently intimate, making you shudder with pleasure as you rode out the aftershocks of your own climax. Your bodies moved in tandem, lost in the primal dance of sex and satisfaction.

As you collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, panting and sated, Wonwoo pressed his lips to yours in a tender, lingering kiss. "I've waited so long for this moment," he breathed against your mouth, his words muffled but heartfelt. "Half a year of longing, of craving your touch... and now it's finally real." He nuzzled you temple, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

"I love you."

*

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The air was still, heavy with the remnants of last night—shared breaths, whispered confessions, the quiet surrender to something neither of you had spoken aloud but had felt for so long.

You stirred slightly, the cool sheets contrasting against the warmth of the body next to you. Wonwoo’s arm was draped over your waist, his breathing slow and even. His grip was loose, but even in sleep, he held onto you like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Your mind was quiet for the first time in a long while. No thoughts of your father, no weight of the past pressing down on your chest. Just this—just him.

As if sensing your thoughts, Wonwoo shifted, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin. He hummed lowly, his voice still thick with sleep. “You’re awake?”

You turned slightly to face him, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Mmm.”

His eyes cracked open, hazy and laced with something unreadable. He studied you for a moment before exhaling, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

The question made your chest tighten, but in a good way. He wasn’t just asking about last night—he was asking about everything.

You nodded, shifting closer until your forehead rested against his. “Yeah… I think I am.”

His fingers slid up your arm, his touch grounding. “Good.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable and warm. Then, a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Seokmin’s going to give me hell when he finds out.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You mean he hasn’t already?”

Wonwoo groaned, rolling onto his back. “He probably sent me twenty messages by now. That guy’s too invested in my love life.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him with amusement. “Maybe he just wants to make sure you’re treating me right.”

He turned his head to meet your gaze, something softer in his eyes now. “I don’t need Seokmin to remind me to do that.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could respond, he pulled you back into his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Five more minutes,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. “Then I’ll deal with whatever disaster Seokmin has planned for me today.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you let yourself sink into the warmth of him. “Five more minutes,” you echoed.

You traced small patterns on his bare chest, enjoying the way his skin tensed under your touch. “So… last night,” you murmured, your voice teasing.

Wonwoo cracked one eye open, his lips twitching. “What about it?”

You tilted your head, pretending to be deep in thought. “You talk a lot when you’re in the moment.”

His brows furrowed slightly before realization dawned on him, and for the first time in a while, you saw a hint of red creeping up his ears. “I—” He cleared his throat. “That’s just—”

You smirked, leaning closer. “No, no, I liked it.” You let your fingers dance over his collarbone, your voice dropping slightly. “Didn’t know you had a thing for dirty talk, though.”

Wonwoo groaned, covering his face with his hand. “You’re really going to bring that up first thing in the morning?”

You laughed, enjoying how flustered he got despite everything. “I mean, I just think it’s cute,” you teased, nudging his side. “You’re usually so composed, but last night—”

He suddenly rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath him in one swift movement. His expression had shifted, his teasing smirk returning. “If you keep talking, I’ll have to remind you exactly how much I like talking.”

Your breath hitched as he dipped his head closer, lips ghosting over your jawline. The way his voice dropped sent a familiar shiver down your spine.

Wonwoo rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm as he held you close. The night had unraveled things between you—vulnerability, passion, and something deeper that neither of you had dared to name until now. His fingers traced soft patterns on your back, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in warmth and unspoken words.

Then, he spoke.

“I love you.” His voice was steady, unwavering, but you could hear the slight nervous edge in it. Like he had been holding onto those words for a while, waiting for the right moment. “I don’t think I realized how much until I almost lost you.”

Your heart clenched, remembering everything you had been through. The fights, the fear, the way he stood by your side through it all. Your hand found his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin as you took in the sincerity in his gaze.

“I love you too,” you whispered, watching the way his eyes softened, his lips parting slightly as if surprised despite everything. “And… thank you, Wonwoo.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “For what?”

“For staying. For fighting for me. For always making sure I’m safe.” Your voice trembled slightly, emotions catching up with you. “For giving me a reason to feel strong.”

Wonwoo exhaled slowly, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “You were always strong,” he murmured. “I just reminded you of it.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Well, either way, I still want to thank you.”

He pulled back slightly, his lips curving into that rare, genuine smile you loved. “Then let me thank you too,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips.

And in that moment, you knew—this wasn’t just a marriage of convenience anymore. This was real.

[jksarchives]

volume 3

[ 35/35 ]

ᯓᡣ𐭩

❖ proposal — by @hansolmates

Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. | 20.1k [f, a]

❖ magic stick — by @badbtssmut

Jungkook is kinda sad because he has never been with a girl who could take him balls deep because of his size, reader doesn't believe him and she wants to see, but he tells her that he can't atm bc he's not hard. She is wearing this kinda halter top style with no bra so she looses the top and shows her tits to him and let's him touch them. After he's hard he shows her his dick and she says she's willing to try to take it all and she rides him into the sunset. | ? [s]

❖ crazy — by @girlygguk

you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook. | 15.5k [s, f, a]

❖ we are all dreamers — by @yoonia

Jeon Jungkook is a cocky bastard. Not only does he have the pride and insolence twice the size of his head, but he also has an anger that could open up the door to hell on itself. As he continues to refuse to believe on the soulmate system, he keeps on unknowingly hurting you, punishing you for what the universe has thrown at him in the past. Would he change his ways as he finally meets you? Or would you run away, giving him the exit that he had seemed to desire so greatly? | 16.5k [a, s]

❖ comfort inn ending — by @joonbird

“It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.” | series [a, s]

❖ angel’s trumpet — by @hansolmates

one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. | series [ a, f, s]

❖ the habits of a broken heart — by @softykooky

jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. | 26.3k [a, f]

❖ animal — by @cutaepatootie

series [a, s]

❖ a fallen bookmark on a thursday afternoon — by @cutaepatootie

He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can't even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That's how Jeon Jungkook came into your life. | 19k [a, f, s]

❖ scattered stars — by @taegularities

It’s easy to despise Jungkook when your contradicting magic doesn’t allow you to touch each other without fatal consequences - but what if your eternal enemy turns out to be your soulmate with whom you, unfortunately, do fall in love? | 17.9k [f, a, s]

❖ welcome to the heartbreak show — by @numinousher

you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him? | 28k [a, f]

❖ mutt — by @letsbangts

when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. | 6k [s, a]

❖ answer your phone — by @letsbangts

when the consequences of his actions come calling. — 12.8k [a, s]

❖ the love prognosis — by @awrkive

for as long as you can remember, you've always been a hopeless romantic. the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time. | series [f, a, s]

❖ lie with you — by @girlygguk

in which jungkook doesn't realize what he has until he just about loses it. | 8.4k [a, f]

❖ out of gas? — by @97kuu

It was a setup between Taejoon and Jungkook to get him to hook up with you in the car. However, his guilty heart and physical desire revealed that he wanted more than what he was willing to confess that night.. | 3k [s]

❖ ordinary things — by @lovieku

after a lost match, jeongguk’s only source of comfort is you. | 6.9k [a, f]

❖ cosmic balance — by @explicit-tae

Every universal realm has a positive and negative - good or bad. Jungkook manages to cross the portal from his dystopian world to your utopian one and decides that he'd do anything to stay with you. | 8.7k [a, s, f]

❖ seven storms — by @wintaerbaer

As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option. | 9k [a, s, f]

❖ first class— by @girlygguk

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite. | 25k [a, f, s]

❖ when she loved me — by @jungkookstatts

How does one live when life is bound to end? | 11.2k [a, s]

❖ staged for the season — by @voyter

Going back home for the holidays meant facing his ex — the one he still couldn’t let go of. determined to win her back and spark a little jealousy, he brought you along… as his fake girlfriend. — 18.3k [f, s, a]

❖ guilty as sin — by @gldrushh

You are stuck in time, and Jungkook doesn't stop running from it until he eventually does, and you learn that grief doesn’t wait for death, that love isn't all that dignifying. — 17.3k [a, s]

❖ mature — by @jiminrings

The good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed. — 8k [f, a]

❖ 6 AM — by @neimaami

Jungkook wakes you up at 6AM for more than just morning cuddles. — 4k [s]

❖ year 22 — @rkived

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘ — 11.5k [a, f, s]

❖ tangled webs — @ughseoks

Soulmates are tricky thing. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their destinies intertwined with their missing piece. Signs come in dreams for those fortunate souls; short bursts that are barely memorable when the sun rises. As for you? Flashes of red and blue are your only indicators to the identity of your other half. — 14.1k [a, f]

❖ fighting hearts — @kooktrash

Never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more. — 15k [a, s, f]

❖ a thousand reasons why — @taegularities

After leaving to work towards his dream rather than the bonds that shackle him to home, you didn't expect to see Jungkook again years later at your best friend's wedding. And even less, for love to rekindle at second glance. — 43.1k [a, f, s]

❖ can’t be without you — @ahundredtimesover

One night you’re gushing over rom-coms and Jungkook’s cooking; a few nights later you’re tending to his beat-up face. But while it’s his stubbornness that’s saved you countless times before, it’s that same quality that constantly puts him in danger. OR your best friend just can’t let go of underground fighting and so, drama ensues. — 30.4K [f, a, s]

❖ tangled thoughts — @hongcherry

It wasn’t easy to leave your boyfriend of two years, but the constant lies made you question your relationship. You tried to move on, but you were somehow constantly tangled in his web. After being captured by an unknown, yet familiar, enemy, Jungkook wondered if he was doing the right thing by keeping his secret identity from you. Was it too late to come clean? — 10.5k [a, f]

❖ warning signs — by @hongcherry

Spider-Man is a beacon of hope for most residents in Seoul; although, it causes you to feel a little useless to society. With determination to be a change in the world like your masked boyfriend, you find yourself involved in a secluded organization meant to eradicate underground gangs. However, you’re deeper than you expected—leaving Jungkook trying to discover who this ‘new you’ is alone. — series [a, f]

❖ kiss me better — by @jaykaysthicthighs

Jungkook said some really mean things to you when you started coming home so late. when he realizes how horrible he was, he tried making it up to you. — 4k [a, f]

❖ disney+ & blast — by @1kook

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. — 13k [f, a, s]

❖ blackjack — by @kpopfanfictrash

Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out? — series [s, a, f]

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[wonopia]

THE PHOTOBOOTH | 017. I BELIEVE YOU

[WC] . 3250 [WARNING] . mentions of rape and sexual assault, profanity... pls lemme know if i missed anything! prev ! mlist ! next

even though it felt like summer just started, it was about to end within 2 weeks. misaki hasn’t messaged sunghoon about meeting up yet and he’s been waiting ever-so patiently.

the summer heat has now fully engulfed sunghoon, feeling himself get tan already. beads of sweat beginning to form along his cold skin, ushering to close the window of his best friend's car. forcing on the ac. as the bestest friend he has, heeseung, was able to drive the boy to his skating practices and occasionally stay to watch.

“has she messaged you yet?” he asked.

“nope,” sunghoon sighed, rechecking his duffel bag to see if he forgot anything. he had been anticipating the moment he feels his phone vibrate, nevertheless it was never her. “i’ve actually been so patient. im surprised i haven’t messaged her yet.”

“patient.. right,” heeseung mumbled in unsureness, hands loosening on the steering wheel. he began to roll up his window as well, letting the cold air from the ac refreshen him. “would you call that being patient?”

a week ago

sunghoon was lying on his stomach on heeseung’s couch, staring at his phone. no sign of misaki texting him anytime soon. he continued to lay and stare at the item as if it would summon her. jay sat against the couch on the floor while playing on the ps4 that was plugged into the back of heeseung's living room tv.

music from a nearby speaker, on the table, played various songs as the three boys surrounded themselves with each others presence. not needing to talk, they continued to do their own individual things. heeseung was sitting on a sofa chair, leaning on the armrest and legs on the other end.

“whens she gonna message me back!!” sunghoon whined, kicking the dark beige cushions, burying his face in a pillow at arms reach. he couldn't help but sulk. what's taking her so long to message, he thought.

“bro chill,” heeseung groaned, head rolling back at annoyance of his best friend. as much as he loved him, he couldn't handle this clingy, needy boy on his couch. “you’ve been staring at that phone of yours this whole time. put your phone in the phone drawer.”

jay laughed loudly at the demand, attempting to focus on mario kart, “you heard him, put the phone in the drawer.”

sunghoon tsked at his best friends before grabbing his phone, getting up to put it in the drawer. once he did, he slumped back onto the couch. his eyes subconsciously glancing back at the destination of his phone.

it wasn't long before jay was able to calm down, trying to anticipate where to drive next in his game. his eyes widening at the sight of him being on his third lap, biting his lip in hopes it would make his kart move faster.

“i could feel you staring at it from the back of my head,” jay said, adjusting his shirt due to uncomfortableness.

“oh shut up,” sunghoon retorted, smacking lightly at the back of his head, “i will literally beat the..”

ding. ding.

the phone buzzed, causing the three boys to stare at the tv stand drawer. jay taking a momentary glance before locking back into the game in front of him. heeseung turned to see sunghoon's reaction.

“no way,” heeseung laughed, getting up from the sofa cushion chair to sit normally.

sunghoon gleamed at the thought of misaki texting him. he quickly got up to retrieve the electronic device before his best friend stopped him.

“no, no, no,” jay shook his head, “the rules of the drawer is that you have to wait at least an hour.”

he stared blankly at them, clearly judging. he couldn't believe they were following that pink haired boy's stupid phone rule, “okay, why don't we just keep this a secret from sunoo!” he mumbled, a sense of urgency blended in his voice, going for the drawer.

but as he was just about to open it, he was tackled by heeseung.

“we said no!” he argued, holding back his best friend.

an hour later

“i can open it now!!” he cheered loudly, hands in fists as he declared victory. a million thoughts ran through his head. all the negative and positive sinking into his skin like needles at the ideas.

his two best friends watched him scurry to get his phone, yanking open the drawer. once he got in it his hands, he slid it open to see the only new notifications were 2 texts from heeseung.

“oh you’re gonna get it,” sunghoon yelled, tossing his phone to the floor. heeseung screeched at him, running towards his room, while bursting out into laughter.

present

“shouldn’t you hate her or something?"

sunghoon shook his head, “why should i?”

“she broke up with you without any reason,” hee explained, running a hand through his messy sleek black hair.

“well i really like her so i can’t exactly just hate her like that,” he said, “i want to try and fight for us.”

heeseung glanced at him, trying to understand. for one, he didn't know that sunghoon was this type of person when it came to love. and to realize that this was the first time sunghoon was actually in a relationship, it revealed different sides that even heeseung didn't know were there, “i haven’t dated anyone or anything like that so i don’t exactly relate, but it sounds like you like her way more than you thought.”

it wasn’t long before heeseung had dropped him off at the white glass-like arena.

“don’t forget our plans today, okay?” heeseung reminded as sunghoon got out of the car, “my house right after practice.”

“got it,” he nodded, giving him a thumbs up. heeseung's car drove off, and back onto the road, blending in with the other cars. sunghoon walked to the rink like always. he changed his clothes before gliding onto the ice. he adjusted quickly, letting the frozen air cold hug around him- a feeling he will always be grateful for.

there were several other skaters he knew that were also on the ice, deciding to keep to himself as they all worked on their individual skills. normally their coach would be out to scold them but today was more of a freetime.

to sunghoon, the ice was somewhere he could be himself. somewhere he could feel secure and safe when he feels sad. even if he is just siting on a bench, staring at it, he'd feel a thousand times better.

he continued to work on a triple axel, wanting to get into improvising a choreo as quick as he could. so he blocked out any of his thoughts or worries, and began to critique himself. as soon as he launched off into the air, he spun as fast as he could, landing nicely on his right leg.

"nice land," a husky voice echoed out to him, looking their direction, he immediately recognized him. he never sees him as much anymore since sunghoon began taking late afternoon classes. "you've been coming in a lot earlier than normal."

"oh hey kyson," sunghoon waved, putting on an awkward smile as he began to skate closer to him, "yeah, i've.. been more free since summer started. i decided to start getting my reps in."

"how's that girl of yours?" he asked, spinning in small circles. his skates scratching the ice with a satisfying slice, something sunghoon couldn't ignore. kyson's light brown hair, glistened under the lights of the rink. his hair beginning to cling onto his forehead. it was visible that kyson was here for quite longer than he was.

sunghoon tsked lightly, trying not to feel embarrassed or discomforted, "um.. yeah we broke up a while ago."

he stopped circling and faced the boy, "oh i'm sorry," kyson was always a nice guy, funny even. although they weren't close, he knew he always had good intentions towards this sport. something a bond only they share.

"no, you're good," sunghoon didn't hesitate to put on a fake smile, wanting to dig a hole in the ice just to freeze. the idea alone was comforting. "you didn't know."

"i hope everything gets better," he wishes, giving him a genuine smile- something that oddly touched sunghoon to heart.

"than.. thanks," he stuttered, letting each leg get him to circle around kyson in a smooth, slow motion. kyson watching him do so. sunghoon's skates shredding the ice, small pieces bundling up together.

"when wonyoung and i broke up, i was heartbroken," he laughed, and for one it sounded pure and not generated. but sunghoon could tell he was still hurt by the memories, "for a while when we were dating.. i could've sworn she had feelings for you. i only now learned that she despised your sister."

sunghoon brought himself to a stop spinning to be a few feet in front of him, "oh yeah, i know about that," he nodded.

"anyways," kyson mumbled, shaking his head, "trust me when i say it will get better. i'll let you go now." he waved, skating towards the gate of the rink before walking to the locker rooms.

kyson used to be a playboy. he used to date every girl on campus, but now he doesn't bother to find a new relationship. sunghoon found it strange that he could never stick to one. out of all the wonderful girls he dated, he always broke it off with them.

in spite of playing a bunch of girls, sunghoon could confirm that kyson was a nice guy. he knew how to treat girls well, but for some reason something stops him every time. the two boys weren't that close so he couldn't fill in the missing information.

it was until he met wonyoung, he was able to truly be himself. he could tell kyson let his worries away when she was there. sunghoon could remember every time she came to cheer him on during performances, she was exceptionally kind and supportive to him.

of course she did her best to avoid sunghoon, she never failed to make kyson feel special– put him first through everything.

sunghoon doesn't know what happened to them, nor does he seem like it's his place to ask; but he can't seem to forget how beautiful they represented each other. nonetheless they made loving someone look so easy.

however, it will always be a mystery to him.

in the wink of an eye, the session was over. since it was the weekend, after private sessions it was open to the public. sunghoon hurried to pack up his stuff to leave without a word.

once he left the building, he pulled out his phone, beginning to walk to heeseung's house. but something on his phone made him freeze in place, feeling himself tense up at a text from misaki. she was free now.

it hadn't been long until sunghoon found himself in front of misaki's small off-white house. his hands pressed together, sweat beginning to build up. even through the humid heat, the nervousness made him feel even worse.

he was able to make it to her porch but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to knock. breathe. just breathe, he told himself. he brought his right hand up, pausing an inch away from the wooden door.

but you cannot be loud, he remembered, misaki's voice playing in his head. he sighed, retracting his hand to pull out his phone from his back pocket to text her that he was outside. sunghoon waited patiently, rocking on the heels of his feet until the door slowly opened.

for the first time in a long time, they were seeing each other. his eyes felt like burning, not just from the sun but from her. nevertheless, she still looked so pretty. her hair was down, and her bangs were messily stretched across her forehead. he could tell she had light makeup on, and she wore a hoodie and shorts with long white socks.

"hey," she said lowly, "thanks for not knocking."

"yeah, no problem," he nodded.

"come in," she said, gesturing for him to come inside, "don't mind the mess. just go to my room."

she shut the door before running off to the direction of her room. sunghoon nodded, taking off his shoes before following her to her bedroom. the house was dark, many of the blinds were shut, but sunghoon didn't ask about it.

when he entered her room, he immediately noticed how rearranged everything was. it looked entirely different than before. this was definitely not the room from his dream.

"why'd you want to meet up?" misaki asked, turning to him with arms crossed over her chest. her expression easy to read, she was just as nervous as he was. it was as if his mind went blank. "sunghoon?"

"oh.. well," he mumbled, remembering what jay told him, "why did you break up with me?"

now it was her turn to go quiet. he could see her go visibly tense, eyes looking downward towards the floor. she knew that if she looked at him for too long then all her self control would be long gone, "i lost feelings, alright?"

"misa," he said lightly and quietly, almost in a begging way. gazing at her with soft and vulernable eyes, "please look at me and tell me the truth."

her eyes shifted, looking up to his. she easily let the words slide out of her mouth, "i'm telling the truth," as if it was a line from a book, he couldn't help but feel like she was lying. a sort of need for comfort in her eyes as if she needs a reason to believe it too.

he observed her. he observed the way her eyebrows furrowed at him. he observed how her voice began to get quiet. he observed how her hands started to fidget and scratch with her clothes. he saw how she was holding something back.

"then why do i feel like you're lying to me?" sunghoon asked compassion and need in his voice. he was in need of comfort and a reason to move on. "i don't understand. i really don't. you... you can't just end it like this."

she bit her tongue from saying anything. misaki could feel herself breaking apart, as if something in her was gnawing at her skin, telling her to break. her head began to shake lightly and slowly as if she didn't want him to continue to talk, but he did it anyway.

"how.. how could you lose feelings so fast? what did i do wrong?"

"nothing," misaki stated, forcing to gulp, letting out her breath that she didn't know she was holding. "you.. you did nothing wrong."

"then tell me why you're lying."

"i.." she mumbled, pausing as she remembered what theo told her. she knew the consequences, she knew what would happen if she told him, she knew all the things that would go wrong, "i can't tell you."

he tilted his head at her, "misa, you can tell me. i won't be hurt by anything, i just want the truth. even after you tell me and you don't want to be with me, i'll accept that."

sunghoon stood right by the door, keeping his distance from her in case he'd make her uncomfortable. even though he wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay, he knew it was wrong to force that upon her. to force a comfort that she possibly wanted nothing to do with, and that was the last thing he wanted.

misaki unfolded her arms, walking over to him. she shut the door lightly behind him before softly grabbing his wrist to guide him to the bed to sit down. the small interaction, her touch against his, was something he forever craved.

he watched her do so, sitting on the side of her bed. she stood in front of him. he looked up at her, making sure she was okay. her eyes fixated on his wrist, not being able to look him in the eye.

"theo," she whispered lowly, her breathing becoming abnormal, "he.. he threatened to post a video about me online and it had sara in it. he said if i broke up with you, then he wouldn't post it." sunghoon kept his eyes on her, letting her continue. "i knew you wouldn't want a video of your sister posted online. i.. i didn't want you thinking of me differently."

"misaki," he said, unwrapping her hand from his wrist to hold them in his own. lightly squeezing her soft hands, "what was in the video?"

her eyes locking with his, his touch was something that motivated her to open up. to be vulnerable, to feel the trust he is openly giving to her, "he was.. he was going to.." she fought back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of him.

he felt himself tense up at the sight of her. she was anything but okay, she was hurting and he couldn't even realize that. she was suffering and she didn't feel comfortable enough to tell him. he could feel his eyes sting, your state being something that changes him almost too easily.

almost instantaneously, sunghoon understood. he got up, hugging his arms around her head, bringing her closer to him. she cried into his shirt, clutching onto his lower back. his scent and warmth engulfing her whole, something she seemed to incredibly miss.

"it's okay," he assured her. he couldn't believe it. theo, he didn't even know the guy, but god did he want to punch the shit out of him.

"he.. he was going.. going to touch me a.. and.." she stuttered, attempting to utter it out, "when your sister walked in.. she.. she.. she didn't believe me. no one did," she sobbed, holding onto him tighter.

"it's okay, let it out," he told her, "i'm here and.. and i believe you." he could feel her heartbeat against his. the feeling making him want to cry. sunghoon's heart began to weep inside him at the feeling of her heart racing against him.

misaki began to cry harder, mumbling, "i'm sorry," again and again, "i'm sorry f.. for hurting you. i'm.. i'm sorry for not.. not telling you. i'm so.. so sorry, sunghoon."

"don't be," he reassured her, his hand wandering to her upper back, rubbing to calm her down, "i'm sorry for not realizing it. i'm sorry for not earning your trust," he said, beginning to cry.

she pulled away to look at him to see fresh tears running down his pink cheeks. shaking her head at the glimpse of him crying. for the first time she was seeing him cry, it was because of her.

"no.. no, no you earned my trust," she told him, her voice becoming raspy and tired, "you.. you gained my trust from the start. i.. i.. it was me, i didn't.. i didn't want to lose what we had because of what theo did."

even though he knew she was telling the truth, he couldn't stop the tears from coming out. he couldn't stop the thought in his head telling him it's all his fault.

"sunghoon, can you please stay here tonight? i don't want to be alone."

looking into her eyes, he could tell she was really tired, "yeah. yeah, of course."

note: i feel like i couldve wrote this better but bro im heartbroken for them :(

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