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jazziejax · 2 days ago

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𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A simple day turns into something much more. Tension brews, words are exchanged, and things begin to shift between old friends.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, romantic tension, use of a gun, emotional vulnerability, slight suggestiveness.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Part 1 of this is series is the very first time a post of mine has gotten that many likes. I’m mind blown, excited, thrilled and juts so grateful that you guys are liking this idea i literally just threw together. I’ll have to make a special chapter to express my gratitude but i hope you guys truly enjoy this, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 13,018+

The girls had barely gotten the bags set down when a knock sounded at the door. Sinclair, baby Ryan perched on her hip, answered it with a small smile. Standing there was Smoke, Stack hanging back in the car. Smoke was looking stoic as ever, and Stack waved and offered a sheepish grin as he looked at the baby in her arms.

“Uh, left my wallet.” Stack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Think I dropped it in one of the bags.”

Sinclair didn’t miss a beat. “Perfect. Y’all can help me real quick too.” She said, shifting Tyson to her other hip. Before Smoke could protest, she nodded toward the driveway. “Car won’t start. I was gon’ get Juicy to call Keith to take care of it, but since y’all are here…”

Juicy groaned softly behind her sister as she came from putting some of the things away in the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was to owe these two anything — they had just gotten back into town, and she wasn’t tryna look helpless. But Sinclair had already ushered them inside, thanking them sweetly before disappearing down the hall with the baby.

“I can call a tow or something.” Juicy tried weakly, crossing her arms as she followed Smoke outside. “Ain’t no need to trouble y’all—”

Stack waved her off, already heading for the hood of the car. “Ain’t no trouble. We bored anyway.” He said, flashing her a wink as he popped the latch.

Smoke was quieter, surveying the car with narrowed eyes. He glanced at Juicy once, reading her reluctance, but didn’t say anything. Just lifted the hood and started working with the tool bag so close placed on the porch before running back into to Tyson. Mary flopped down onto the porch swing beside Juicy, nudging her shoulder into her leg with a grin.

Juicy exhaled loudly and joined her, watching as the twins tinkered with the car. Occasionally, Sinclair peeked out from the doorway, shouting little updates or asking if they needed anything.

After a while, Stack called over his shoulder, “Y’all just gon’ sit there and stare?”

Juicy, ever the quick one, shrugged, trying to mask her real reason for watching. “The view ain’t so bad.” She quipped, flashing a cute, closed-lip smile.

Both men chuckled. Stack shook his head while Smoke smirked under his breath, glancing back at her with an amused, almost… intrigued look. Juicy could feel her cheeks heat up, but she played it cool, sitting back and licking at her slowly melting strawberry ice cream.

“Girl.” Mary leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper only Juicy could hear. “I’m sorry, but if that was me? I’d hop on that so fast.”

Juicy frowned, glancing sideways at her. “Huh?”

Mary gave her a look like it was obvious. “Come on, Ju. You see how they lookin’ at you. Both of ’em. Like they tryna figure out who’s gon’ get the first move. You or one of them.”

Juicy shook her head, lips pressed tight to hide a smile. “You trippin’.”She mumbled, though her heart picked up in her chest.

“Nah, you just blind.” Mary laughed, licking her own ice cream cone. “I’m just sayin’ — if you don’t do something about it, I might.” She said suggestively, nudging in the arm. Juicy just rolled her eyes, pretending she wasn’t affected, but her eyes wandered back to the driveway, watching the way Smoke leaned over the hood with his sleeves pushed up, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each turn of a wrench. Stack was no better, lounging against the side of the car, wiping sweat from his forehead with the hem of his shirt, flashing a glimpse of his abs.

Damn. She thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Mary wasn’t crazy.

After a while, since Juicy wasn’t about to let the twins work themselves to death, she brought the men out something to drink. Slipping back inside the house, she returned with a small tray balanced in her hands, setting down a cold pitcher of lemonade and a stack of bottled waters on the porch railing. She also dragged out an old, battered radio, plopping it near the steps and fiddling with the dial until it landed on a station spinning smooth R&B tracks.

Stack caught the change in atmosphere first, glancing over his shoulder and giving a low chuckle when he saw Juicy setting everything up like a little hostess. Or a nice housewife. Smoke didn’t say anything — just wiped his hands on a rag and nodded his thanks before ducking back under the hood of gray ‘96 Buick LeSabre.

Juicy and Mary settled on the porch again, bare legs swinging lightly above the ground, chatting and laughing while the twins worked. Every so often, Stack would pop his head up, teasing them about being lazy, and Juicy would shoot something back just as quick, the easy back-and-forth slipping into something more familiar. Something warmer.

“You gon’ sit there and watch all day?” Stack called out as he tightened a bolt.

Juicy rolled her eyes as she sipped at her lemonade through a straw, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile. “I’m minding my business, which just so happens to be that car, and making sure y’all don’t make it worse. Now get back to work, handsome.” She tossed back sweetly, flashing him a playful grin.

Both twins barked a laugh at that — Smoke shaking his head with a smirk while Stack grinned wider, flashing those gold fronts that caught the sunlight.

They were almost finished when a group of girls strutted up the sidewalk, all lip gloss and cut-off shorts, waving excitedly at Juicy and Mary.

“Y’all coming to the rink tonight?” One called, Sharee, bouncing on her toes. “It’s ladies night — free entry. And DJ Sammie’s on the music so you know it’s gon’ be poppin’!”

Juicy hesitated, letting out a questioning him and glancing sideways at Mary, who immediately nodded like a bobblehead. Juicy couldn’t help but laugh as she stood up from the wing and moved over to the porch railing.

Sensing the pause, another girl chimed in, grinning mischievously. “Keith’s gonna be there…”

That name got both Stack and Smoke’s attention. Stack looked up from under the car, wiping his hands on his jeans, while Smoke just leaned an elbow against the hood, eyes narrowed slightly as he listened.

Juicy groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out. “We ain’t goin’ for Keith.” She said firmly, crossing her arms. “We goin’ for the music. And the skating.” The group of girls just giggled, but the twins kept their reactions to themselves, although the way Stack shook his head and muttered something under his breath wasn’t lost on anyone paying attention.

Just then, Smoke stepped out from under the car, grabbing the hem of his white muscle shirt and dragging it up to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. The move revealed a long stretch of carved abs and broad chest, glistening slightly under the sun.

The girls on the sidewalk went still, staring, barely trying to hide it. Mary leaned over to Juicy and whispered something that made her snort.

Smoke’s arms, chest, and abs were cut and gleaming, every muscle shifting as he moved. His expression was calm, like he didn’t even notice the sudden heavy air. But the girls noticed.

They tried — tried — to stay cool, fake texting on their phones, fiddling with their hair, pretending to stretch like they weren’t sneaking glances at every inch of him. One girl tilted her head, lips parting slightly before she caught herself and quickly turned to whisper something to her friend, who was already elbowing her back.

The whole group looked like they wanted to fan themselves but knew better than to make it obvious.

Smoke ignored the attention entirely as she turned and waked towards the porch. His focus stayed locked on Juicy as he strolled up to the porch, a confident stride. Without a word, he picked up one of the glasses she had set out and drained it in a few long gulps.

When he finished, he lowered the glass, standing close enough that Juicy had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. The other girls might as well have disappeared.

“Can I get some more ice, please?” Smoke asked, his voice deep and steady. Juicy blinked, a little caught off guard by the way he said it — by the slow, deliberate way he spoke, like every word was dipped in syrup.

“Of course.” She said, a little softer than before, reaching out to take the empty glass from his hand.

“Thanks, ma.” He added, flashing a rare, almost boyish grin that somehow made him even more dangerous.

Juicy barely managed a nod before spinning on her heel quickly and disappearing into the house with the glass, feeling the heat creep up her neck.

Smoke watched her go for a second longer than necessary before heading back to the car without a word, his expression unreadable. Stack only laughed lowly, shaking his head as he tightened another bolt. “You got her flustered, boy.”

Smoke just smirked under his breath and leaned back under the hood. “Shut up and fix the damn car.” He muttered, but even then, there was a certain lightness to him that hadn’t been there before.

Meanwhile, on the sidewalk, the group of girls tried desperately to collect themselves, sneaking peeks at each other like who the hell are they and why haven’t we seen them before? Their excitement was bubbling under the surface, barely contained, especially knowing there was still another fine man half-hidden under the car.

Juicy came back out seconds later, filling the ice cup with water and said it down, waiting for the man to come get whenever he wanted. She saw the looks on the girls faces, and before the girls could even chime in about the fine men fixing the car, Juicy suddenly rethought what Mary had just said, realizing she didn’t like the way the newcomers were looking at Smoke and Stack. She blinked, glancing between the ogling group.

The girls were too busy stealing glances to notice Juicy’s mood shift, or even her arrival, especially as Stack slid out from under the car, sweat dripping down his bronze skin. Without a second thought, he tugged his white muscle shirt off completely, exposing his toned body to the beaming sun. He used the shirt to wipe his face, running a hand down his cornrows before slipping right back under the car like he hadn’t just stopped half the sidewalk.

Juicy felt something twist in her chest. She didn’t like this one bit. Straightening up, she forced a polite smile, her arms folding over her chest tightly.

“Okay, I’ll see y’all at the rink.” She said, voice tight but sweet.

The girls, slow to pull their attention away from the men, nodded distractedly. One of them even started to raise a finger, angled towards the men and probably about to ask something Juicy had no patience for. Before she could get a word out, Juicy was already coming down the porch steps, keeping her arms folded as she approached.

“I have to go help Mary pick out an outfit. We’ll see y’all there.”She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for further conversation.

Her smile stayed taut and polite, but her eyes sharpened a bit as she looked at the girl who’d been about to speak. The girl simply blinked and nodded. Maybe they caught on to the shift in attitude, maybe they didn’t. Either way, Juicy didn’t care.

She waved them off, watching with a hard stare until they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

When she turned back toward the house, Mary was sitting on the porch, one brow raised knowingly. Juicy rolled her eyes at her friend’s silent teasing.

“Come on.” She huffed. “We gotta find you something to wear.”She stayed planted on the sidewalk, not bothering to head back inside since they were about to walk to Mary’s house anyway.

Mary scoffed as she stood up, amusement all over her face as she made her way down the porch. “Don’t be mad at me ’cause you’re conflicted.”

“I’m not conflicted.” Juicy snapped, arms still crossed over her chest, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. It was a look Stack, still under the car, caught from the corner of his eye — a look that he and Smoke both secretly adored.

Stack rolled out from under the car and looked between the girls. “Where y’all going?” He asked, already pretty sure he knew from the bits of conversation he’d heard. “To Mary’s.” Juicy replied quickly, still sounding a little ticked off without even knowing why.

Stack stood up, stretching his arms over his head lazily before wiping his sweat away with the shirt still in his hand. “Okay, well, you’re not gonna walk. I’ll take you.”

Juicy frowned, confused. “Why? What about the car?”

Stack looked down at her, his gold skin glinting in the sun, cool and unaffected. “Smoke got it.” He said, simple and sure. Juicy opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Stack cut her off, stepping closer and towering over her just slightly.

“And he don’t care. He’ll be a’ight. Now walk on over to that car so we can get you girls ready for the rink tonight.” He said, more a command than a suggestion.

Juicy bit the inside of her cheek, arms pressing tighter against her stomach, trying to ignore the way her body responded to the authority in his voice. When she didn’t move, too caught up in her spiraling thoughts, Stack quirked a brow at her, waiting.

That little flick of his eyebrow snapped her out of it. She blinked, glancing away quickly, then shoved her hand out toward him. “I need the key.” She said sassily, shifting her weight onto one leg, her chin tilted up in challenge.

Stack smirked slightly and pulled the key from his low-hanging pants, dropping it into her palm. Their fingers brushed, and Juicy had to bite back a shiver at the sudden spark that zipped up her arm.

“Go.” Stack said again, his voice low, almost amused.

Juicy scoffed, even though she was already moving toward the parked car across the street. Mary fell into step beside her, grinning devilishly. “Girl, if he talked to me like that, you don’t even wanna know the things I’d be calling him. Shit you only hear in pornos.” She said, her voice loud enough to make Juicy’s face heat up.

Juicy scoffed softly but said nothing, sliding into the back seat with Mary right behind her.

“Girl, you say things you hear in pornos in regular conversation.” Juicy shot back once they were both buckled in.

Mary laughed so hard she snorted. “Exactly! That’s why I said you don’t even know what I could pull out. I got a Rolodex of words that would taint the whole Hall household if I even thought of ’em.”

Juicy scrunched up her nose playfully, a look of exaggerated disgust crossing her face. “Yo freaky ass.” She muttered. The girls’ laughter echoed in the car as Stack disappeared inside briefly, grabbing one of Martin’s spare shirts to tug on and fixing himself a glass of lemonade before joining them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The drive to Mary’s house didn’t take long—it never did. Just a few blocks through the old neighborhood, past houses that still had their porch swings and clotheslines, windows cracked open to let the breeze in. Stack drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. Mary sat up from the back seat, chatting about outfit options for the rink while Juicy stayed quiet in the back seat, arms still folded, her mind split between Stack’s voice in her ear and the way her body still buzzed from it.

When Stack pulled up in front of Mary’s house, he barely shifted the car into park before he popped open his door. Juicy blinked, confused, leaning forward from the back seat. “Where are you going?” She asked, watching as Stack stepped out, the driver’s side still wide open. Her brows were drawn together, confused by his quick exit.

He paused, glancing back at her with that same half-annoyed, half-amused look that always made her want to slap him—and maybe kiss him, too, if she’d ever admit it.

“You thought I was about to sit in this hot ass car while you girls take forever to find one outfit?” He asked, brows raised like she was the one being unreasonable. “Hell no.” Before Juicy could reply, he added with a shrug, “Plus, I gotta speak to Ms. Boothe.”

That caused Juicy to scoff a little and roll her eyes, the corner of her lip twitching into a pout even she didn’t realize was there. “My bad.” She muttered, opening her door. “I was just asking.”

As she began to step out, hand on the car door, he hit her again with that low, level voice.

“Don’t slam my door.”

Juicy paused, one foot on the curb, one hand still gripping the door. She stared at him over the top of the car, unblinking. No sass. Just that locked-in eye contact that always made the air thick between them. He knew her too well. Without a word, she eased the door shut—not too soft, not too rough—just enough pressure to make sure it caught and locked, but nothing close to a slam.

Stack smiled up at her as he got out and rounded the car, locking it behind him. “And I know you’re sorry, baby.” He dded, eyes playful. “I wasn’t yelling at you.”

That smug little smirk made Juicy roll her eyes again, but there was no heat behind it now—just a flutter in her chest that she refused to acknowledge. She turned without another word and made her way up to Mary’s porch, Stack only a few paces behind her.

Mary was already up the steps and in the home, letting herself into the house as if she lived alone as she waked to her on after a quick greeting to her mother. Juicy followed suit, opening the screen door and stepping into the familiar scent of lemon oil and hot grease.

“Hi, Missy.” She called out automatically, slipping off her shoes by the door like she always did.

Missy Boothe, Mary’s mother, was in the kitchen as usual, standing over a simmering skillet and humming something old-school under her breath. At the sound of Juicy’s voice, she turned from the stove with a warm smile.

“Hey, baby.” She said, her voice honeyed and sweet.

But her eyes immediately shifted past Juicy, going wide as she spotted the tall figure behind her.

“Oh, Elias!” She practically sung, her arms already opening as she came toward him. Stack grinned and stepped into the hug with ease, like he’d done it a hundred times before—because he had.

“Hey, Ms. Missy.” He said, wrapping his arms around the petite Southern woman, careful not to smother her with his size.

She pulled back just far enough to look up at him with adoration. “Just look at you.” She fussed, eyes shining. “You’ve grown your hair out again! And that skin is just glowing, boy. You look so handsome. So grown.”

Stack chuckled low in his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve just been outside, Ms. Missy. That’s all the glow you’re seeing, sweat.”

“Oh, hush that modesty.” She waved him off. “You and Elijah must be doing something right. Still keeping up with your cousin?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s good.” Stack nodded, his voice softening with respect.

“That’s good. Well, you have got to come sit with me for a spell and tell me what you boys have been up to. Come on in here, let me fix you something.” She was already turning back to the kitchen, hand still gently latched around his wrist like she didn’t want him slipping away.

As she led him deeper into the house, Stack glanced back over his shoulder at Juicy. She hadn’t followed yet. She stood near the front room, watching the exchange with a small, unreadable smile on her lips. One that held warmth… and maybe just a hint of something else. A tenderness that surprised even her.

Missy Boothe was one of those women who made everyone feel like home. She’d known them since they were small children, always feeding them, always welcoming them in like they were her own. But Stack had a particular place in her heart. She’d always doted on him a little extra, claiming it was because he was so well-mannered, but Juicy suspected it was something else. Like the way his father treated him. He’d always been around. Showing up for more than just meals. Fixing things around the house. Walking Mary to the store when Missy couldn’t. Making sure her trash was taken out without even asking. That kind of presence made a mark.

She watched as Stack settled onto one of the barstools at the counter as Missy poured him a glass of sweet tea. She was talking a mile a minute now, and Stack was answering with polite hums and the occasional laugh that made his shoulders shake. Juicy watched them from the kitchen doorway, a soft smile on her face before she walked further into the house, leaving the man with the woman that adored him most.

Upstairs, Mary’s room was still the same explosion of color and chaos it had always been—posters of Dru Hill and B2K on the walls, an old Destiny’s Child CD case cracked open on the nightstand, and a tangled mess of clothes spilling from an overworked dresser. The window was cracked to let in the breeze, the lace curtains fluttering gently as the soft hum of a fan blew from the corner. It was just past noon, and the air smelled faintly of coconut oil and flat iron heat.

Juicy flopped onto Mary’s bed, laying on her stomach as she watched her friend rummage through her closet. Mary, dressed in a pink camisole and cutoff shorts, was talking to herself more than anyone, throwing tops over her shoulder and groaning dramatically.

“I swear I don’t have nothing to wear!” She exclaimed, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips.

“You have too much to wear.”Juicy countered, grabbing a red Baby Phat halter top off the bed beside her and holding it up. “You could pull this with your denim mini.” She suggested.

Mary turned and wrinkled her nose. “Girl, I wore that the last time I went out.”

“And nobody remembers but you.”

“I remember, and that’s what matters.” Mary said, then spun around with a grin. “But I know you’re not talking. You know you gon’ pull out that same lil’ rhinestone tee you always wear when you tryna be cute. The one that say ‘Spoiled’ on it.” She snickered.

Juicy narrowed her eyes, flipping her off playfully before burying her face in the comforter. “The shirts nice. Can’t help it if it makes my boobs look good.” She shrugged. Mary laughed and flopped down beside her. “Yeah, you’re tryna be cute. And make them look good for somebody.”

Juicy raised her head slowly. “What you mean?”

“I mean…” Mary’s grin grew wide and mischievous. “Keith gon’ be there tonight.”

Juicy’s face twitched—but only just. “I don’t care if Keith there.” She muttered.

“Mmmhmm.” Mary sing-songed. “You was all shy when he asked for your number last week. Actin’ like you ain’t like him back.”

“I didn’t give him my number.” Juicy mumbled, face buried in the pillow now.

“Yeah, ‘cause I was standing right there.” Mary laughed. “But I know you wanted to.”

Before Juicy could respond, the floorboards outside the room creaked. They both glanced up at the same time.

Stack leaned against the doorframe, shoulder pressed to the wood, arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t bothered knocking—he never did when it came to Mary’s house. He let his eyes trail lazily across the room until they landed on Juicy still lying on the bed, then flicked toward Mary with a lopsided grin.

“Keith, huh?” He questioned.

Juicy sat up fast, like she’d been caught red-handed. “Were you eavesdropping?” She asked.

“I just walked in.” He said, pushing off the doorframe. “Y’all was talkin’ like I wasn’t even here.”

Mary, unfazed, gave him a look. “Yeah, because you wasn’t here a second ago.”

Stack turned to Juicy, narrowing his eyes a little. “So who this Keith dude?” He asked, going back to the subject.

Juicy avoided his gaze. “Ain’t nobody important.” She shrugged.

“Seem like somebody.” His tone was light, teasing even, but there was a sharpness just beneath the surface. His eyes didn’t leave hers, though she didn’t look at him, Mary, still oblivious, perked up as she sorted through more clothes. “He’s the boy that helped us bring the sodas to some function last week, he went and picked them up for the free. Real polite. And cute too—Juicy even said it.”

“Mary…” Juicy warned, her voice low.

“What?” Mary said with a shrug. “He’s nice. You blushed when he said you smelled good.”

“You know that my favorite compliment.” The darker skinned girl mumbled, crossing her arms. Stack looked at Juicy, face unreadable and jaw ticking ever so slightly. “You like him?” He asked.

Juicy met his eyes but only for a second before glancing away, her voice suddenly clipped. “No.”

Mary snorted. “You do. You just don’t wanna admit it ‘cause he quiet and not all hard like—”

“I don’t like him.” Juicy cut her off sharply, more forcefully this time, her eyes flicking to Stack’s.

He studied her closely now, catching the shift in her tone, the way her shoulders stiffened a bit and how she wouldn’t look at him. Something about her denial felt too practiced, too deliberate. Like she wanted him to hear it, believe it—need him to.

Mary didn’t seem to notice. She was still talking, still pulling tops and jeans and accessories. But Stack… he was locked in on Juicy. And the longer she avoided his gaze, the more his protectiveness stirred.

“Just curious.” He said finally, voice dropping a notch. “I don’t know the dude. If he weird or got a rep, I need to know.”

Juicy shook her head. “He’s not weird. And he don’t got a rep.”

“So he just a regular dude… interested in you.” Stack said, stepping further into the room.

Juicy sat up straighter, furrowing her brows at him. “Yeah?” She said. “Why does that sound like a problem?”

“It doesn’t.” He said simply, but his eyes told a different story. “Just don’t like niggas coming around who ain’t got good intentions.”

“And who’s to say he don’t?”

Stack smirked a little but didn’t answer. His silence said enough.

Mary finally caught the shift in energy, turning from her closet with a raised brow. “Okay, why does it feel like y’all are arguing over a boy that neither of y’all dating?”

“I’m not arguing,” Juicy muttered, sliding off the bed. “Ain’t nobody checking for Keith.”

“Exactly.” Stack said, but softer now. His voice didn’t carry the same edge. He watched her brush past him toward the door, like she needed some air. And when she left, Mary gave Stack a look that held just the slightest suspicion.

“You ain’t never asked me about no other boy before.” She said.

Stack’s jaw flexed. “Cause you can take care of yourself. I taught you that.” He said. “She’s…I have to look out for her.” He said, but even he didn’t believe it. Not all the way.

Because when it came to Juicy, looking out always felt a little too close to holding on.

Mary finally ended up settling on a teal crop top with rhinestone straps and a pair of low-rise jeans that hugged her hips just right. After a playful back-and-forth, Juicy finally came back and Stack was back in the kitchen. Juicy claimed a vintage red mesh top with long sleeves and a white tank underneath that gave just the right ‘03 attitude. The girls had spent the last hour laughing, poking fun, dancing to 106 & Park reruns in the background, and throwing clothes across the room like it was a sport.

Mary’s room looked like a dressing tornado had touched down—tops and skirts strewn across the bed, sneakers tossed into corners, and hangers hooked on anything that could hold them. Juicy stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands down the borrowed crop top, a snug baby pink number she’d snagged from Mary’s drawer the moment she saw it.

“You sure you don’t want this one back?” She asked, turning with a sly smile.

Mary grinned from where she knelt on the floor, digging through a pile of shorts. “Nah, it looks better on you anyway. Plus, I’m tryna go a little tomboy cute tonight. Let folks know I got range.”

Juicy laughed and adjusted the hem of the top. “I still can’t believe you keep clothes like this tucked away. What else you got hiding in this closet, Mary Poppins?”

Mary tossed a pair of high-waisted denim shorts at her and stood. “Years of thrift and heartbreak, that’s what. You look cute, girl.” Mary said, admiring Juicy’s reflection in the mirror as she tucked one side of her shirt behind her belt loop.

“You think?” Juicy asked, checking herself out with a slight turn.

“I know. Keith might choke on his words if he see you like that.” Mary teased, bumping her with her hip.

“Don’t start.” Juicy warned, grabbing her flip phone and slipping it into her back pocket. “I’m tryna skate, not entertain.”

By the time they made it downstairs, dusk was slipping through the windows, casting the living room in a warm honey-glow. They laughed all the way down the hall, the sound of their sneakers and flip-flops echoing against the hardwood. The smell of baked chicken and cornbread drifted from the kitchen where Missy was pulling something from the oven. She was a sharp woman, always dressed even when she was home, with earrings in her ears and her hair pinned up with care.

“Where y’all headed?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. “To the rink.”Mary answered, swinging into the kitchen to grab a bottled water. “Me and Juicy. It’s ladies’ night so we get in for free.”

Missy arched a brow, her lips already curling with suspicion. “Who all gonna be there?”

“Just us.” Mary said with a shrug. Missy turned to look directly at Juicy, a woman-to-woman kind of look, as if she knew her daughter could get a little wild sometimes, but Juicy? She trusted Juicy. Still…

Juicy stepped forward. “We’re not doing anything crazy, Missy. Just skating, maybe a slice of pizza and back before midnight.”

Missy’s eyes narrowed just slightly, still unconvinced.

That’s when Stack’s voice cut in from behind. “Me and Smoke gon’ be there too, Miss Miss.” He said smoothly. “Ain’t nothin’ gone happen to them with us around.” He was lounging against the archway, arms folded and keys twirling on one finger, decided to chime in.

Missy turned to look at him, eyes softening a bit. “You and Elijah?”He nodded, stepping into view and flashing her that easy, boyish smile. “Yes, ma’am. Promise they’ll be good.”

“Well…”She said, resting a hand on her hip and looking from Juicy to Mary and back. “As long as y’all got some backup, I don’t see no problem with it. I know Juicy’s a good girl.”

Mary rolled her eyes dramatically. “Here we go…”

Missy leaned against the counter, folding her arms. “Juicy, baby, what you been up to now that school’s out?”She asked. Juicy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just… enjoying the break while I can. Taking it easy, having fun, you know?”

“Well, I hope not too much fun.” Missy said with a teasing tilt in her voice. Juicy groaned, throwing her head back while Mary cackled. “Missy…”

“Oh come on.” Mary waved her hand. “You know she’s not that kind of girl.”

“I know, I know.” Missy said with a nod. “But I also know how these boys around here get. They see a sweet girl like you and think they can play you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Juicy said, her tone reassuring but calm.

Missy hummed, then tilted her head. “Speaking of, how’s it goin’ with that Powers boy? What’s his name—Kevin?”

“Keith.” Juicy and Mary corrected at the same time.

Stack raised an eyebrow, cutting a look toward Juicy, as well as Mary, who avoided their eyes. “Mm.” Stack muttered under his breath, eyes sliding over Juicy’s figure.

Missy chuckled. “Right, Keith! How’s he doin’? I know he’s sweet on you. I’ve seen the way that boy look at you when he mowin’ that lawn. Almost broke his neck tryin’ to catch a glimpse.”

Juicy sighed, her smile bashful and soft as she avoided Stack’s gaze. “I think he’s doing fine.”

“You think?” Missy prodded.

Juicy shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, we’re not together. We barely even talk. He’s just… around. I don’t know why everyone’s so pressed about who I’m supposedly dating.”

“Because you’re a nice girl.” Missy said plainly, “And nice girls should have nice young men in their corner.”

“Well, I’m not interested in none of that right now,” Juicy replied gently. “I’m going to school and getting my degree. That’s the goal.”

Missy nodded thoughtfully, her tone softening. “I hear you. But don’t work so hard you forget to enjoy yourself. Everybody needs somebody in their corner. Even the strong girls.”

“I am enjoying myself.” Juicy said, her voice just as gentle.

Their eyes met for a moment, the quiet between them holding weight. Missy smiled then, a glint of pride flashing in her eyes, just before something else crossed then as she looked at the girl.

“Have you talked to your parents?” She asked after a pause.

“Mama.” Mary hissed, shooting her mom a warning look as Juicy stiffened slightly. Stack eyed the women, wondering why was going on.

“What?” Missy said, raising her hands. “I’m just asking. I talked to Serena this morning—”

“It’s okay,” Juicy cut in smoothly. “Uh, no, I haven’t spoken to them in a bit, but it’s just been… you know, school. Finals. Everything’s been a blur. I’ll reach out soon, though.” She reassured, but wanting nothing more than that part of the conversation to be over. Stack eyes the girl, seeing the way she had stiffened at the mention of her parents.

Missy hummed again, slow and understanding. “Alright. Long as you do.”She then clapped her hands once and pointed toward the door. “Now go on. Get dressed, go skate, and have some clean fun. Y’all hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Both girls said at the same time, heading for the door.

Missy turned to Stack on their way out. “And you better come visit me again soon. Bring Elijah with you. I got questions for that boy.”

Stack grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the screen door creaked open and the sun spilled across the porch, Juicy caught herself thinking—still feeling the heat of Missy’s words, of Stack’s lingering gaze, and the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

By the time the sun had started its lazy descent behind the neighborhood rooftops, the girls were back at Juicy’s house with Stack pulling into her driveway like he belonged there. He cut the engine, and hopped out of the car, just as Smoke came out of the Hall home, watching as Juicy and Mary dashed past him.

“We taking them to the rink now.” Stack said, watching the girls disappear into the house. He watched as Smoke’s face morphed into one of annoyance, but he continued before his brother could express his discontent verbally. “I promised Missy I’d keep an eye on them. You in? Cause I know you ain’t got none better to do.”

Smoke shot him a look. “Yeah, whatever nigga.” He said.

They crossed the street to their place, casual and unbothered, stepping into the familiar scent of cologne and laundry detergent. The music thumping faintly from Stack’s room gave the air a soft pulse while the boys got changed—nothing fancy, just fresh fits and cologne. They weren’t skating, but they weren’t about to show up looking like they didn’t belong either.

By the time they were back outside, posted in the car and waiting, the sky had shifted to blue, the street lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The car windows were rolled down halfway, the breeze just enough to cool the sweat off their necks. They didn’t say much—just let the music play and kept an eye on the house.

An hour passed before the front door opened again.

Juicy stepped out first, her curves hugged by denim jeans and a tight off-the-shoulder top the color of blush wine. Her skin caught the soft shimmer of the porch light, collarbones on display and hair done up in that effortless way that still looked like it took forever. Mary trailed after her in a cute, more sporty outfit—a cropped tee Juicy had let her borrow and a skirt with built-in shorts underneath.

Smoke leaned forward. “That’s them?” He asked, since he couldn’t quite see the door from the page her seat,

“That’s them.” Stack said with a little smile, unlocking the doors. “Hop in.” He called out to them.

The girls jogged up to the car, Juicy opening the back door on Smoke’s side with a teasing smirk. “Y’all wasn’t gon’ leave without us, right?”

“You know I wouldn’t dream of it.” Smoke said, sliding his phone into his pocket.

The ride to the rink was filled with soft music and low chatter, the windows cracked to let in the cooling night air. The city was still humming—streetlights flickering, kids biking down sidewalks, couples walking hand in hand, and the occasional honk from a car passing through a yellow light. It was summer energy—slow but charged, with laughter always somewhere in the background.

By the time they reached the rink, the parking lot was alive with it. Cars lined up like a pop-up car show—hoods open, music blasting, boys leaned back on their trunks with drinks in hand and girls circling like butterflies. The smell of hot food, cherry slushies, and lit blunts hung thick in the air. Laughter mixed with the low thrum of bass-heavy music and the metallic clang of skates hitting pavement.

Martin and the crew were already there, posted on the hoods of their cars, chopping it up like they ran the block.

“There go our people.” Smoke nodded, gesturing toward them.

“You go on.” Stack said, looking back at the girls. “We’ll meet y’all inside.”

“Say less.”Mary said, hand in hand with Juicy as she led them to the building while the men were already veering toward Martin and the crew.

Juicy and Mary stepped into the rink like they’d done it a thousand times before—confident, cute, and catching attention. Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with sweat and slushie syrup, the wooden floors gleaming under the multicolored lights that spun in slow circles above. The DJ booth was lit up, music flowing loud but smooth, classic 2000s R&B remixes with just enough bass to keep the rhythm.

Near the tables by the rink, Sharee and the girls from earlier were lounging, drinks in hand and skates already laced up, legs stretched across benches. The moment they spotted Mary and Juicy, they perked up.

“Heeyy!” Sharee waved, sliding out from behind the table with practiced ease. “Look who finally showed up.”

“You know we had to get cute first.” Juicy teased, laughing.

“You didn’t have to try that hard.” One of the other girls said, eyes sweeping Juicy’s figure. “Damn, girl.”

Mary bumped her shoulder, grinning. “Told you this top was gon’ cause a problem.”

“Let’s get you laced up.” Sharee said, already pulling them toward the counter. “The floor’s live tonight.”

Back outside, Stack and Smoke dapped up Martin and the others. They leaned against hoods slick with the day’s heat, cooling drinks in hand and shoes crisp as new, now matter the scuffs they faced from the street. A few of the guys had new cuts, fresh white tees, gold glinting under the glow of streetlamps. They talked hoops, girls, and music—nothing deep, just that loud, layered kind of conversation that could only happen between boys who’d grown up together.

“You came out with Juicy?” One of Martin’s homeboys asked them, flicking ash off his blunt. They glanced at Martin, who was too busy rubbing up on some shock to even pay attention to their conversation.

Stack shrugged. “Yeah, she’s with Mary. Promised her mama I’d keep an eye out. Plus, it ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lil rink night.”

Smoke grinned. “Girls look too good to let ‘em come alone anyway.”

Everyone laughed, the night stretching wide in front of them like a scene from a coming-of-age movie, the kind where nothing big had to happen for it to feel unforgettable.

Inside, Juicy stepped onto the rink, her body finding the rhythm easily, hips swaying as she slid across the polished wood. The girls flanked her and Mary, all of them catching the music like they were made for it. Lights danced across their skin, and for a moment, the world outside the rink—the boys, the pressure, the expectations—melted away.

And it felt good.

The rink was buzzing, the air thick with the sugary scent of concession stand snacks and body spray. Colored lights flickered overhead in lazy circles, casting moving shadows over the skating bodies below. Music thumped with a throwback beat, and the floor pulsed under the weight of roller wheels. Girls glided in tight curves, boys tried to show off, and somewhere in the chaos, Mary and Juicy were exactly where they were supposed to be—together, laughing, skating fast and carefree.

But even in the haze of fun, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show

They’d met up with Sharee and the girls by the tables again, and as soon as Juicy and Mary sat down to catch their breath, the gossip started flowing like soda from the fountain machine.

“You see what Jaleesa got on?” One girl leaned over, dragging a French-tipped nail through her hair. “I know she saw that little muffin top when she looked in the mirror.”

“Girl, don’t play.” Another snickered. “She wore that on purpose, swear she thick now ‘cause she got some new jeans.”

Juicy raised her brows, sipping from her slushie with furrowed brows. Mary met her eyes with the same familiar look—Here we go.

They listened, half-engaged, nodding here and there, but it was the same old routine. The moment one of the girls left to go say hey to someone else, she became the next topic.

“Did y’all peep how Destiny keeps skating past Keith like she don’t seem him?”

“Mmhm, and acting like she didn’t cry when he stopped messing with her.”

“She was real loud last week talking about how she ‘don’t care about no boy’—now look.”

Juicy and Mary both leaned back a little. It wasn’t like they were innocent—hell, they had sharp tongues too, but something about the girls’ energy was just off. And it’s something they peered everyone they were asking the girls they considered acquaintances. It was loud and fake and dipped in desperation. The kind of thing you could only stomach in small doses.

Mary leaned over and whispered, “They so fake. And boy-crazy. Like, get a grip.”

“Girl.” Juicy said, voice dry. “You one to talk.”

Mary laughed. “I like men. That don’t mean I’m dumb about it.”

“No,” Juicy agreed, “You just use ‘em.”

“And they love it.” Mary flipped her hair and looked over the rink like a queen surveying her kingdom. “These chicks only keep us around ‘cause dudes still be thinkin’ I’m exotic or whatever.” She said in disgust. “Only white girl they ever seen with a little edge and ass.”

Juicy smirked. “And me?”

“Please. You know why, Miss Juicy. All them boys lookin’ at you like you a prize they ain’t won yet. You know every boy in here waitin’ for you to slip up and let one of ‘em get a taste.

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That’s ‘cause I ain’t let none of ‘em hit.”

“Exactly,” Mary said with a wink. “Mystery makes ‘em drool.” She smirked, taking a sip of her drink before starting again. “And they don’t even like each other for real.”

Juicy laughed low. “Tell me about it.”

“They just keep us around for clout. Me ‘cause dudes still think I’m exotic or some shit.” Mary said, her voice only for Juicy as she scoffed in disgust.

Juicy rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She knew how they looked at her—especially now. She’d grown into herself, thick in the right places, cute with a touch of mystery, and still untouched. That part made them more curious. She hated it sometimes.

“You the main one they scared of.” Mary added, nudging her. “They’re trynna peep who you want and act accordingly for themselves.”

“Too bad none of ‘em will get anything from me.” Juicy said sweetly, standing up. “I need me something sweet.”

She rolled off on the carpet, coasting across the floor toward the concession stand. Her body moved with practiced grace, her skates soft against the rhythm of the music. The line was short, just two people in front of her, and soon she was at the counter, fingers tapping lightly as she placed her order.

“One strawberry cotton candy, please.” She said, already fishing out her few crumpled dollars.

And then, rolling up beside her on silent wheels, came Keith.

“Didn’t expect to see you off the floor.” He said with that easy, boyish smile that always lingered too long. Juicy looked over at him, trying not to grin but failing. “Didn’t expect to be stalked at the snack bar either.”

He laughed. “Stalked? I’m offended. This here’s just coincidence.”

“Mhm. Coincidence got you skating all the way over here, huh?” She questioned, waiting for the man to come back with her sweet treat. “I call that audacity.”

Before he could answer, the concession guy came back, handing Juicy her fluffy, pink cotton candy wrapped around a paper cone. Juicy reached into her pocket, but Keith slid his hand in first, already paying.

“Come on, Keith.” Juicy frowned, smacking his shoulder lightly. “I had that.”

“Nah, let me.” He said with a grin. “Sweet stuff for a sweet girl, ain’t that what they say?” He smirked, causing Juicy to side eye him, though the blush was undeniable. “Oh, you are so corny.”

“But you smiled, didn’t you?”

She tried not to, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “Barely.”

“So not funny, but corny and generous.” He said he said with a shrug, plucking a piece of her cotton candy before she could stop him.

“Boy, get your sticky hands out my—!” She laughed, trying to shield the candy, but he grinned through it, teasing her as they shared space there by the counter. “Oh, no sir. You didn’t even ask.”

He popped the bite in his mouth anyway, laughing. “Mmm. Tastes better when it’s yours.”

“You are triflin’.”Juicy muttered, spinning away, but she was grinning. And then, right on cue, Sammie’s voice came over the speakers, smooth as syrup and twice as slick:

“Alright, alright, alright. Y’all know what time it is—it’s 10 o’clock and that means love jams, baby. If you got you a lil somethin’ somethin’ or wanna get you a lil somethin’ somethin’—this is the part where you skate up close. We playin’ them slow ones now. Lovers only.”

The lights dimmed slightly, shifting to a warm red-and-purple glow, and the first slow song came on—“So Into You” by Tamia sliding in soft and sensual.

Keith looked over at Juicy, cotton candy still in hand, his smile tilting into something more. “You wanna skate with me?” He asked.

Juicy blinked, caught off guard. “What, like now?” She asked as she put a piece of cotton in her mouth.

He glanced at her lips as she sat and nodded. “What about my candy?” Juicy said. “I just got it. And I can’t have it in the rink.” She said, giving him a flat look, only for him to grin wider and say. “I’ll buy you another one. Maybe even two more.”

“You makin’ some big promises.” She said, eyes narrowed playfully.

“I’m good for it.” He smirked. And something about the way he said it—smooth, sure, not cocky but real—made her believe it.

She sucked her teeth, laughing. “You are somethin’ else.”

“You like it.” He said simply, holding out his hand.

“Please.” Juicy scoffed. The them look down at his hand, and she hesitated just a beat—long enough to feel that nervous flutter in her chest—but then she set her cotton candy down and took his hand, warm and sure in hers.

“Come on, Miss Hall.” He said, tugging her gently toward the rink as the beat throbbed and couples began pairing off under the dim, romantic glow.

And just like that, they rolled out together, hands locked, the world around them fading for a little while as Tamia sang softly overhead and the air spun slow with sweet summer magic.

Juicy and Keith were giggling like two kids sharing secrets, fingers laced as they rolled in unison across the floor, their skates moving in an easy rhythm.

Juicy’s cheeks were still a little pink, but it wasn’t from skating—it was from Keith leaning in too close, whispering nonsense in her ear that had her biting her lip to keep from smiling too wide. Every now and then, he tugged her hand to spin her, and though she wobbled, she laughed and let him pull her back, their fingers never losing contact.

They ignored the eyes, because there were eyes. Girls posted up by the benches, whispering and frowning behind manicured hands. Boys paused mid-glide to try and piece together who Keith was, and why Juicy—the thicker, glowing, and untouchably pretty girl—was giggling with that square. The looks were hot, heavy, and nosy, but neither of them paid it much mind. Not tonight.

Across the way, Mary had peeled off from the rink, gliding smoothly toward the concession stand with her usual sway, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was walking a runway. Her eyes scanned the crowd lazily, but they sharpened the second she noticed a familiar figure at the entrance.

Smoke.

He walked in slow, scanning the place like he owned it, his eyes low but alert. He didn’t come to skate, not really. He’d told himself he was just checking in, that maybe Mary or Juicy needed a ride or an excuse to leave if things got too messy. But the truth was more complicated—more annoying to admit. He just wanted to see her. Juicy.

He clocked Mary first, her red lips curved into a knowing smile as she spotted him. She raised her hand and waved, but he barely gave a nod before his gaze drifted past her—to the rink.

And then he saw them.

Juicy.

And some dude.

Holding hands.

Skating like they were in a damn music video.

Smoke’s jaw tightened, not all the way, but enough that Mary caught it when she walked up beside him, sipping from Juicy’s forgotten cotton candy. “Didn’t know you were coming in tonight.” She said casually, leaning one hip against the wall.

Smoke didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on the couple on the rink that guy with his laid-back smile and cocky posture, Juicy with her radiant laugh and those soft brown thighs thick in her jeans as she spun around, smiling over her shoulder.

He didn’t recognize the boy. And he didn’t like that he didn’t recognize the boy.

“Who’s that?” He asked, still watching.

Mary licked a bit of cotton candy from her thumb, eyes twinkling. “Keith. We went to school with him, but he and Juicy’s dint started talking until a few months back. He been sniffin’ around since.”

“Yeah?” Smoke muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.

“She ain’t locked down with him or anything.” Mary said, a little too pleased. “Girls gotta skate with somebody.”

Smoke didn’t laugh. He crossed his arms, watching the way Keith spun Juicy one more time, then pulled her close so they glided side by side, nearly shoulder to shoulder, laughing about something only they could hear.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. But something settled low in his gut. Tight. Irritating.

He’d seen Juicy laugh before—she always had a laugh that felt like honey, thick and warm and sweet—but he hadn’t seen her laugh like that for another dude.

That was his girl.

Except she wasn’t.

He had only just gotten back and now he seemed to want this new version of Juicy he was seeing before him. He was just like every other guy, but they had history. He knew her better than she knew herself, and he wanted her before any other guy could come along and ruin the beautiful woman she was becoming.

But since he’s been back, he’s never made a move. Never said anything. Just hovered in her space like a shadow, being there when she needed him, listening when she talked, watching when she wasn’t looking. And now, someone else had slipped into the light.

Smoke’s fingers twitched at his sides.

Mary, sensing the tension, leaned in a bit. “Stack’s been askin’ about her too.“ Smoke’s head turned slowly toward her, a frown tugging at his lip. “Stack?”

She shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? She’s a catch.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared back at the rink where Juicy and Keith moved in sync, the lights reflecting off her skin like she was glowing from the inside out.

Mary nudged him. “You wait too long, Smoke, someone else gon’ scoop her up. That girl is gold. Every boy in this building got their eye on her.”

Smoke didn’t look at Mary, but his voice dropped low, quiet.

“She don’t belong to nobody.”

Mary’s smirk grew. “Not yet.” She said.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the two on the floor finish the song, Juicy still giggling as Keith led her to the edge of the rink. He said something that made her shake her head and laugh harder, brushing his hand off her shoulder in mock annoyance.

Smoke’s fingers curled loosely into fists at his sides. The lights dimmed again, a new slow jam beginning to play. He watched Keith lean down, whisper something in her ear, and watched her smile, wide and unguarded.

Smoke didn’t move. Didn’t storm over. He wasn’t up for a show like that at the moment. But his jaw locked, and his gaze darkened, his stance quiet and unreadable. Mary tilted her head, watching him. “She ain’t picked yet, y’know.” She said, and Smoke finally glanced her way, catching the grin she was giving him. “But they sure tryna make her.”

And with that, she stepped away, cotton candy in hand, hips swaying back toward the crowd, leaving Smoke alone at the entrance, still watching Juicy like she was his favorite secret.

The music began to fade, the rink’s lights lifting into a lazy spin overhead, casting a golden shimmer across the floor. Juicy and Keith slowed to a halt, still holding hands, breathless from skating and laughing. She gave him a soft smile, her hand slipping from his fingers as they made their way off the rink, shoes tapping back onto solid ground.

Just before they could grab their seats or even decide what came next—maybe snacks, maybe a few more laps—Smoke appeared.

Before Keith could speak, before Juicy could even brace herself, Smoke’s hand wrapped gently but firmly around her wrist. He didn’t say a word, didn’t spare Keith a glance, and pulled her away as if he’d been looking for her all night.

“Hey—” Keith started, but stopped when Juicy gave him a small smile over her shoulder, eyes soft, waving her fingers as if to say, It’s okay. I know him.

She did.

Even if she didn’t always know what to do with him.

“Who is that?” Smoke asked, low and rough, not even glancing back at her as they moved. Juicy stumbled slightly on her wheels, nearly losing her balance.

She huffed. “Smoke—”

But instead of shaking him off, she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin just barely against his shoulder. He didn’t let go right away, but her warmth did something to him—made his grip shift, his hands finding a resting place on her hands that were placed on his abdomen as she coasted behind him. She wasn’t walking. Wasn’t skating. Just letting him pull her along like he was gravity and she was the moon.

“Why is that any of your business?” She asked, voice drowsy with irritation.

Smoke slowed a little but didn’t stop. “Because you are my business.” He said, tone flat but firm. “And I asked politely.”

Juicy sighed, eyes rolling so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall right out her head. These twins—always in her damn orbit.

“That’s Keith.” She muttered.

Smoke veered toward one of the booths near the edge of the rink, dragging her the last few feet before sliding in without asking. She didn’t sit across from him. Not yet. She stood there, leaning her weight on the table, hovering like some storm he couldn’t ignore. Her brown skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, and her denim jeans gripped her thick thighs in a way that made Smoke’s gaze flick there—just for a second—before dragging itself back to her face.

“And who’s Keith?” He asked, tone deceptively neutral. Juicy blinked, arms crossed. “What do you mean, who is he?”

Smoke tilted his head, voice a little sharper now. “Who are his folks? What’s he do? How you know him?”

Juicy raised a brow. “Is he my boyfriend now?”

“That too.” He said, calm, but unblinking.

Juicy took a breath and finally plopped into the booth across from him, sliding in slow, arms still crossed beneath her chest. Her legs stretched out under the table, brushing against his.

“He’s from Clinton. The Powers people.” She began, tone clipped. “His daddy owns that car wash off Main and his mama runs the beauty shop next door. I sweep floors there on Saturdays. He’s got other folks—one granddaddy’s a preacher, the other’s a retried principle, I think. Keith’s a sophomore at Morehouse. Same year as me, but he came back for the summer.”

Smoke listened, his face unreadable, only the slow tightening of his jaw betraying how closely he was taking it all in.

Juicy kept going. “We went to Provine together. Barely talked. He played basketball. His sister was prom queen. But when he came back about a month ago, we started talking a little. Nothin’ serious. He brought his boys down to see what Mississippi life is like.”

Smoke raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“He your boyfriend?”

Juicy gave a dry little chuckle. “No. And I don’t think I’m interested either.”

He leaned back a little, arms stretching over the back of the booth. “What do you mean, you think?”

“I mean what I said.” Juicy’s gaze dipped for a second, her voice losing some of its edge. “He’s cool. Sweet, even. But I don’t know. Something about him feels more… friend-like.”

Smoke nodded slowly, lips twitching like he wanted to smile but didn’t. He looked up at her fully now, meeting her gaze as she halfway sat up on the table, the curve of her body framed by the light above.

Juicy tilted her head, eyeing him.

“Why are you and Stack so interested in who I’m dating, huh?” She asked, a teasing edge returning to her voice. “What? Y’all interested or something?”

Smoke didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“In you?” Be asked, voice low. “Yeah.”

Juicy froze.

For a beat, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Her lips parted, brows knitting together just slightly. “Huh?” She asked, breath quieter than before.

Smoke licked his lips, never taking his eyes off her. “You heard me.”

The air between them thickened, her heart skipping a beat even though she didn’t want it to. He was sitting there, arms stretched like he wasn’t affected, but his eyes—those deep brown eyes—were watching her like she was the only thing he saw in the whole damn rink.

She stared at him, mouth still slightly open, heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted to leap out and slap her.

And then, softly—so softly—she smiled. Not wide. Not flirty. Just… soft.

Like maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for him to say it. “Smoke—” Juicy began, but Mary interrupted, her voice sharp as she rushed over to them.

“Sharee’s fighting some girl outside over Jarod.”

Juicy gasped, her eyes widening. “What?”

Mary grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the large windows overlooking the parking lot. They skated over, their wheels clacking against the floor, and pressed against the glass, trying to get a clear view, Smoke right behind them.

Outside, under the harsh glow of the parking lot lights, a crowd had gathered. Sharee was in the center, her hair wild, arms flailing as she shouted at another girl. The other girl, equally animated, was yelling back, her friends trying to hold her back. The tension was palpable, the crowd’s energy feeding the chaos.

Suddenly, fists flew. Sharee lunged, grabbing the other girl’s hair, pulling her down. The crowd erupted, some cheering, others trying to intervene. Men began to get involved, pushing and shoving, the fight escalating beyond control.

Juicy’s eyes scanned the crowd, her heart pounding. She spotted one of Donavan’s boys throwing a punch at one of Martin’s homeboys. Her stomach dropped. She knew what was coming.

She gasped, stepping back from the glass. Smoke stood behind her, his eyes fixed on the scene outside.

“Where you going?” He asked, his voice low.

“Martin’s out there.” She replied, trying to remove her skates. Smoke grabbed her arm, his grip firm. “You’re not going out into that bullshit.”

“My brother’s out there; something could pop off.”She scoffed, struggling against his hold.

“And he’s a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions.” Smoke hissed, tightening his grip. “What the hell are you gonna do, huh? Stop the fight? Yell?” His voice was as fine as he stare as she looked down at her.

Juicy paused, her eyes meeting his, fire blazing within them. Before she could respond, the sharp crack of gunshots rang out. Three shots, each one louder than the last.

She gasped, turning toward the window, but Smoke pulled her down, shielding her with his body. Mary dropped beside them, her hands over her head.

The rink fell silent, the music cutting off abruptly. Screams echoed from outside and inside as people scrambled for cover. Security rushed toward the exits, trying to restore order.

Amid the chaos, a familiar voice boomed over the commotion.

“Get yo ghetto asses on with this bullshit! Get the fuck outta here before I bust every last one of you!” Stack hollered, his voice cutting through the noise.

Smoke muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Mary peeked over the window sill, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

The night had taken a dark turn, the once vibrant energy now replaced with tension and fear. Juicy clung to Smoke, her heart racing, unsure of what would come next.

The parking lot quieted in slow, tense waves, the smoke of chaos still lingering in the air like the fading scent of gunpowder. Tires squealed in the distance as the last of the scattered crowd peeled off, leaving only a few clusters behind—faces tense, adrenaline high.

Stack stepped through the roller rink doors, his presence commanding even without a word. He adjusted his oversized tee, slipping his piece back into the waistband of his jeans. The music hadn’t resumed. The rink was silent now, a thick hush of unease draped over everyone still inside.

His eyes scanned the crowd until they found Juicy crouched behind one of the snack counters, her curls wild, jaw clenched. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if she was okay, she pushed past him—skates gone, socks damp on the rink floor—and made a beeline for the exit.

Smoke was leaning against the wall nearby, arms folded. He met Stack’s glance and simply shrugged.

Mary, quick to catch on, stumbled after Juicy. “Ju!” she called out, struggling to keep up with her determined pace.

But Juicy had her eyes locked on someone else.

Her feet hit the pavement outside like a warning shot. “Are you fucking crazy?!” She snapped the moment her gaze landed on Martin, who was leaning against a car, arms crossed like he hadn’t just helped set the whole block on fire, cloths a little disheveled from the brief scrap he’d gotten into.

Martin sucked his teeth, clearly over it already. “Not now, Ju.”

“Not now?” She echoed, her voice rising. Her fists were balled at her sides, brows knitted in fury. “Not now?! Nigga, it obviously is now since you and these other dumbass niggas out here startin’ shit!”

Before Martin could even respond, Smoke and Stack jogged up from behind her, Smoke with her shoes in his hands, the gravel crunching beneath their sneakers. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the night felt heavier than ever.

“What the fuck is your problem, Martin?” Juicy went on, unrelenting. “Out here fighting—for fucking what? That shit didn’t even have anything to do with you!”

Martin’s jaw twitched. His hands dropped from his chest as he stepped forward, the tension between them flaring like fire to oil. “And it definitely ain’t got shit to do with you! So just shut the fuck up!” He pulled as she walked up on her.

Juicy reeled her head back, stunned at his tone and the way he was approaching her. The insult didn’t sting so much as the threat behind it did.

“Oh, so what, nigga?” She barked. “You were gonna hit me?!”

Smoke was already stepping between them, one firm hand on Martin’s chest. “Chill, Mar.” He said evenly, nudging him back just enough to plant a line in the dirt.

Martin’s nostrils flared. “All you fucking do is butt into shit that ain’t got shit to do with you! I’m handling my shit like a grown-ass man!”

“Handling it?!” Juicy yelled, the two of them shouting over each other now. “You tryna act hard in front of these broke-ass bitches with no fucking life, huh?! These fucking bums! You gonna put your fucking hands on me, huh?! That’s what you’re doing now?!”

“Juicy,” Mary whispered, catching up and tugging on her arm. “It’s okay.” Her voice was soft, but her grip was steel. She was trying to hold the girl back, to reel her in before it really got out of hand.

But it was already too late.

“Yeah, get your bitch before she gets her ass whooped.” A voice piped up from the sidelines.

Everyone turned.

A light-skinned girl stood next to Martin, arms folded, lip gloss gleaming under the streetlight. No one remembered her name—just that she was Martin’s latest. The flavor of the month. The disrespect in her voice was enough to turn the air toxic.

Juicy’s eyes snapped to her like a trigger being pulled. “Girl, shut the fuck up. Wasn’t nobody talking to you, bitch.” She spat.

The girl straightened. “Who you calling a bitch?”

“You, bitch!”Juicy and Mary said in perfect unison.

“Martin, you better get your sister and her lil’ friend.” The girl sneered. Martin looked at her like she had just spat on his momma’s grave. “Louie, shut the fuck up and mind your damn business.”

The air cracked with tension. The vibe was off, and everyone felt it.

That one sentence set everything off again. A whole new layer of commotion buzzed to life—heated glares, muttered curses, the tension between family and outsiders now reaching a boiling point. The looks from Stack, Smoke, even Mary—all shot straight toward Louie with collective disdain.

Juicy stepped forward again, but this time Smoke grabbed her from the side, lifting her by the waist with practiced ease. “Nah, baby. That ain’t worth it.” He murmured, his voice low and soothing in her ear even as his eyes stayed locked on Martin. He was handling it—but only barely.

“Let me go!” Juicy shouted, still swinging as he hauled her backward toward the car.

Mary wasn’t far behind, shouting over her shoulder, “Nah, you better watch your fucking mouth, you tired-ass hoe!”

“Bitch, who even are you?” Juicy spat over Smoke’s shoulder.

Louie opened her mouth again, but this time Stack got involved, stepping between the girls and throwing up his hands.

“Enough!” He barked, his tone sharp, slicing through the mess. “Y’all out here lookin’ real fucking dumb right now.”

Finally, after enough huffing and yelling and near blows, Smoke and Stack wrangled the two angry girls back into the car they came in. Mary got in first, pulling Juicy in behind her while still shooting death glares at Louie.

Martin, left to handle the foolish woman he was still stupidly sleeping with, didn’t say much else. Just shook his head, muttering something under his breath while Louie scoffed and rolled her eyes, clearly still not getting it.

The parking lot fell back into uneasy silence. Whatever heat had ignited earlier had burned itself down to embers—but the damage had been done. Lines had been drawn. And Juicy, still seething as the car door shut beside her.

The ride to Mary’s place was quiet, tired but quiet, the kind that settled in after long nights full of heat and mess and words better left unsaid. Smoke sat in the backseat, gazing out of the window as he smoked while Stack drove, hands loose on the wheel. Mary leaned forward between the seats from the passenger side, breaking the silence with a soft voice.

“I’m not staying over tonight.” She said. “Gotta be up early to help my mama shop.”

Juicy, nestled in the corner behind Stack, turned her head and smiled. “Call me. I’ll come with. Ain’t got shit better to do tomorrow.”

Mary grinned. “You sure?”

“I mean, I ain’t say I was reliable. But I’ll show up.”

They both laughed, their shared chuckles easing the final moments of the evening. Mary grinned. “Bet. I’ll call you after breakfast.”

When the car pulled up in front of her place, Mary opened the door, but before she stepped out, she and Juicy leaned toward each other, pressing cheek to cheek in their usual goodbye. A sweet ritual. One kiss each side, soft like sisters.

“Be safe.” Juicy murmured.

“You too.” Mary said, her eyes flickering toward Smoke for a second before hopping out. She offered a lazy wave, then disappeared behind her gate.

The silence returned as Stack finished the drive, turning down their block, the tires crunching soft under the gravel. They pulled up in front of their house, and the car shifted into park. Juicy reached for the door handle before Stack even turned off the engine.

“I’m out.” She said, already stepping out.

“I’m gonna walk her.” Smoke told Stack, nodding toward her as he slid across the backseat and stepped out himself. Stack gave a simple nod, already leaning back in the driver’s seat, half-asleep.

It was silent as the pair walked, and it wasn’t until Juicy was halfway up the porch steps when she looked over at him. “You know you didn’t have to walk me. I’m literally right across the street.” She said. The air was cooler than before, the night settling into its stillest hour.

“I know.” Smoke said, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need that. I’m fine.” She replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

He glanced at her, lips quirking. “I don’t know. Based on today? I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I don’t know if you should.” He quipped. And Juicy let out a short laugh, her breath fogging up in the night air. “You’re a mess.”

Silence hung between them again, thicker this time. He looked at her, really looked at her—like he could see beneath the tough exterior and find the girl who once used to braid ribbons into her curls and laugh with her whole chest.

“You got a key?” Smoke asked, breaking the quiet.

She blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Uh, yeah.” She patted down her jean pockets, checking front, then back. ”…Somewhere.”

“If you don’t, you can always crash with us.” He offered casually. “There’s more than enough room, and I don’t want you waking Sinclair trying to get someone to open up.”

She laughed again, patting her back pocket now. “It’s okay. Here it is.”

Smoke watched her pull the key ring free, his mind drifting for a second when she turned around, her figure bending just slightly to line the key up with the locc since she couldn’t see that well in the dark without her glasses.

Couldn’t feel the key with all that ass back there, he thought, mouth twitching before he quickly checked himself, eyes raising the second she turned back to him. She looked soft again. The fire from earlier was gone, her stress dimmed like the rest of the night. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, lashes long and glossy lips catching what little light was left. Her voice broke the moment.

“Goodnight.” She said gently.

“Goodnight.” He replied, his voice low and a little rough.

Juicy started to push the door open but hesitated, turning to look back. Smoke was already descending the steps, his shoulders broad, head ducked, like he’d made peace with leaving.

“Smoke.” She called, stopping him.

He paused on about the third step, glancing back. “Yeah?”

Juicy lingered in the doorway. Her lips parted like she had something to say, but nothing came out. Her fingers played with the edge of her jacket sleeve. He noticed her nerves instantly.

“What is it, Ju?” He asked, brow narrowing in concern and stepping one foot up.

She swallowed. “Did you mean what you said?”

Smoke blinked. “What I said?” He questioned.

“Earlier.” She began softly. “At the rink. Did you mean it?”

There was a long pause—pregnant, heavy, something sitting thick between them that neither wanted to name just yet. The kind of silence that tugged on heartstrings and made the air feel full of something tender.

“I did.” He said simply. His voice was honest. Steady.

Juicy’s eyes fluttered once. Then something cracked open inside her, soft and trembling. She stepped forward without thinking, crossing the space between them in two strides and threw her arms around his neck, her lips landing on his in a kiss that felt like a storm giving way to calm. Her feet stayed on the porch while he stood a step below her, but he reached up for her like he’d been waiting.

His hands landed on her waist, a bit of warm skin meeting his fingers where her shirt had lifted. The contact was electric, but the kiss was affectionate—slow, meaningful. Her hand curled behind his head, thumb brushing over the waves at the nape of his neck.

The kiss was tentative. It was full of the quiet ache of wanting someone for a long time but never knowing if you could say it out loud. Her lips pressed against his like they belonged there, her body warm against his as she stood a step above him. His hands found her waist instantly, skin meeting skin where her shirt had ridden up, and he breathed her in.

Juicy’s hand found the back of his head, fingers threading into his waves. The kiss deepened, languid and tender, a slow dance of mouths and want and words they couldn’t say.

When they broke apart, the need for air becoming undeniable, Smoke didn’t move—just stared into her eyes, dazed. Her gloss left a faint trace on his lips, and she looked at it before meeting his gaze again.

“I feel the same.” She whispered, rubbing her nose against his.

He blinked, stunned for a beat. Smoke didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. catching her lips again in a kiss that was heavier, needier. His hands slid lower, resting just above the swell of her ass as her own hand tugged him closer. Juicy hummed into the kiss, and he swallowed the sound like a promise.

When they broke apart again, they couldn’t stop pecking each other’s lips—one, two, three soft kisses shared like a secret. Soft, delayed kisses, forehead to forehead, breath to breath, her eyes closed, and his stayed on her. She looked peaceful, and for a second, it felt like the world had gone quiet just for them.

Finally, Juicy leaned back, her palms resting lightly on his shoulders. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, and so did she. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, then turned and opened her door. Before disappearing, she looked back over her shoulder.

He was still watching her, eyes tender.

She smiled bashfully, locking the door behind her. Smoke lingered on the steps for a moment, heart still racing, lips still tingling. He exhaled through his nose, smiled to himself, and made his way back home across the street.

Everything felt different now. Everything felt like something had finally begun.

They would’ve stayed like that all night if the world would’ve let them.

But Juicy slowly pulled back, hands drifting to his shoulders. She looked into his face, eyes half-lidded and warm. “Have a good night, okay?”

Smoke nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. You too.”

She leaned in one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He didn’t move until she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her. She paused just before locking it, her bashful smile the last thing he saw before the bolt slid home.

Smoke stood there for a moment longer, staring at the closed door. Then he exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and made his way across the street in silence.

@the2daily4scoop @childishgambinaax @notapradagurl7 @marley1773 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @synsualsage @wabi-sabi1090 @jackierose902109 @simethingidk @theunsweetenedtruth @blondfortheweekend @nunya7394 @brattyfics @ramp-it-up @afrosandsweatpants @blkandchic @foxybrownsugababe @avoidthings @lovelylocs @thickemadame @greeneggsanpam @blkgirlsneedlove2 @abrienirvana @j0joworld @j0ysyndr0m3 @vile-harlot @inkdrippeddreams @imsohappyilovekbop @bbymuthaaa @susanhill @angryflowerwitch @aliensuperstvr @blackisy2k @the2daily4scoop @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @michifilmz @wabi-sabi1090 @jackierose902109 @ingeniousmindoftune @-harmonytbh @aesthetic-lyssa @yamst3rdamctrl @vaintya1

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infinitydivine · 2 days ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐀𝐂 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠)

Whose Soulmate Are You? (From Their Higher Self’s POV)

𝐀𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥�� 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

If this reading resonates with you, kindly share it to help your reader :)

Masterlist -Paid Readings-Paid Readings Reviews-PAC Readings

Choose your pile intuitively. Take what resonates and leave the other things. If you think this reading is not for you, then choose another pile. If it still doesn't resonate, then this might not be your reading. There are Three Piles.

Pile Snowflake, Pile Cat and Pile Photo

Hello Pile Snowflake~~~ (How your soulmate’s higher self would describe you)

Temperance, Queen of Cups, Three of Swords, The Star

Okay, Pile 1, your Energy is coming off as someone who is a healer intuitively. Their words are like these when they are talking about you

" You are a balm to my soul, a calm to my chaotic soul. You carry such softness in your heart that even after all of the shits you have been through you are still standing strong. You have this quiet strength which is not loud or showy at all but you are this steady person who is like a gentle tide that keeps moving. When you are with other people, they feel safe and calmer because you are such a sweetheart".

Pile 1, you are someone who feels deeply, like every emotion and everything. You may not always show it to the surface, even when you are deep down hurt. Your soulmate's higher self sees you as someone who is a natural healer. You may not even realise the impact you have on others. I am getting the vibes of a sensitive and empathetic soul from this pile. There is a deep sense of nurturing about you, and to me, it feels like you have spent a lifetime learning this art of how to love with patience and selflessness. Though you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders (I specifically heard this word when JK's song Seven was playing in the background, which resonates with the three of swords), you still find the strength to stand tall and offer your hands to others. Your capacity to love others is limitless, and so is your compassion. I heard this is your greatest strength and not weakness...opposite to what you think about yourself,f my loves. But even with this incredible talent of yours to heal others, you are also healing yourself, if not already, you are still learning. Your soulmate's higher self sees you as someone who, despite having your own emotional scar, never gives up on others...neither on love nor on hope.

Channelled Message from their Higher Self to you-

"I have been watching you for what feels like forever. Maybe from another Universe or Timeline, who knows, but the way you carry your heart, it touches me. You are the balm to my soul and calm to my chaotic soul (they repeated this phrase again, so it might be very important to them). Even in your quiet moments, you radiate so much love and warmth. You have this grace in how you love, which makes me feel like I can finally be myself. You are not here to fix me, but to love me, and that is the only healing I need"

If you liked the reading, book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader.

Hello Pile Cat, ~~~ (How your soulmate’s higher self would describe you)

The Tower, Death, King of Wands, Judgment

Hello, Pile 2. You guys are coming off as fierce souls now, feisty, are we? (hehe). I got very straightforward words from your soulmate's higher self. Let's read them now.

"You are a force of nature. Some might even call you destructive, but that's just because they can't handle your fire but I can and I will. When you enter a room, you shift the energy and not because you want to, but because it's just who you are. You are full of fire and raw truth. You are not afraid to challenge people and to show them your raw self. This can be confronting for some, but those who are brave enough to see and recognise their triggers, you are the catalyst for their deepest transformation".

Pile 2, according to your Soulmate's higher self, what makes you so special is your ability to hold that mirror up to people's faces, but with love. You don't point out their flaws to tear them down, but you do it to build them up with tenderness and care. You see what others are too afraid to see and speak about, often, sometimes too scared to even acknowledge them. You are someone who helps push them towards growth while staying in your lane tho. You challenge them to take ownership of their lives and to live fully. You have been there and done that, that's why so can fully tell them to stop hiding in the shadows. You remind people that they have the power to create and rewrite their own stories. Your Soumate sees you as an inspiring force, someone who challenges them to become their better version even if it's energetically. They see you as someone who is helping them to shed their old skin and to rise higher. Your presence to them is like a spark that can ignite a fire of transformation and they are ready for it.

Channelled Message from their Higher Self to you-

"I feel you in my every bone. I feel your fire, your truth and your strength. You make me want to face myself and my darkest shadows. Even when I am afraid, you are with me, supporting me silently. I have never met anyone like you. You don't let me hide. You don't let me settle. I am so thankful to the Almighty for sending you to me and you are exactly what I need. Thank you for challenging me in the best way".

If you liked the reading, book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader.

Hello Pile Photo, ~~~ (How your soulmate’s higher self would describe you)

The Lovers, Six of Cups, Page of Cups and the Moon

Hello there, Pile 3. Are some of you guys water signs? because I am feeling like I am under the water, but in a good way, it feels dreamy. Oka,y anyways, your Soulmate's Higher self has a lot to say but the main word is "dream".

"You are a living dream. There is an extraordinary quality to you that makes everything look more magical. Is it you, or are you an angel, sweetie pie? You have this unique ability to see the world through the eyes of wonder and possibility. Where others see the plain, you see the extraordinary things. You are an artist, and you create magic. The way you speak, move or do things, everything has magic in it. You make everything feel like part of a grand story. You bring joy to the boring things, and that is something rare and precious."

Pile 3, your soulmate's higher self is very jealous of the people who get to spend time with you because they know that they are immediately drawn to your infectious energy. The energy that keeps them wanting more of you and your Soulmate knows how easily you attract energy vampires who drain you. You remind your soulmate of the beauty of life, even in their deepest darkest time, the things they forgot to appreciate in their daily life. There is a softness in your energy that invites people a lot, like a lot sometimes even more than you want. You are not just a dreamer, you are someone who encourages others to dream and to believe in their very same dreams. You reach out to your soulmate through their dreams and they are very much aware of it. You have helped your soulmate and seen potential in them even before they saw it in themself. Your soulmates see you as someone who makes their world colourful and bright ,especially when they are facing their demons alone. You encourage them to reconnect with their heart especially those parts where they have deepest emotions and to trust in love. To them, you are a beautiful reminder that life doesn't have to be heavy or serious and that they can enjoy it despite going through difficulties. Your soulmate has so much respect and admiration for you because to them, you look like someone who makes everything possible.

Channelled Messages from their Higher Self to you-

"You have a special ability to make me see the world through a different lens. Your presence makes me believe in love again. You make me feel like I can trust you with my heart and you won't break it. It's like I can trust you, I can trust us. I see and feel how you make my life brighter just by even appearing in my dreams. I just want to keep dreaming and you should too. Please keep believing in yourself. You are everything I have ever hoped for."

If you liked the reading, book a personal reading with me or you could leave a tip for the reader.

Thank you and Love

Infinity

Dividers by @babybellangel 🩷

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linoxpudding · 2 days ago

Text

No Escape- Kim Seungmin

summary: your life is turned upside down when a ruthless mafia leader falls for you— his obsession growing stronger each day, pulling you deeper into his dark, twisted world

pairing: mafia!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: slow burn angst, dark romance, yandere, mafia au

word count: 7809 words

warnings: kidnapping, obsession, possessiveness, forced confinement, emotional manipulation, mentions of violence, toxic dynamics, controlling behavior

a/n: okay, but seungmin in those chaumet event photos? like, he’s living rent-free in my brain at this point. the white suit is giving prince energy, but the black one though? MAJOR mafia boss vibes. help me, I'm down bad

Masterlist

~°~

It was a random Tuesday evening.

The sky had cracked open without warning, releasing a cold, relentless rain that soaked through your sweater in seconds. You didn’t have an umbrella, your tote bag was already damp, and your fingers trembled as you hugged your books against your chest.

You’d meant to head straight home after classes, but something about the storm made you duck into that little café across from the industrial district instead. It was warm inside—quiet, dimly lit, with rain tapping gently on the fogged windows. The kind of place that smelled like old wood and cinnamon.

You found a spot by the window and sank into it, grateful. Ordered a latte, pulled out the book you were currently reading, and let the storm settle around you.

Across the street, he noticed you the second you ran into view.

From the backseat of a matte black car, tinted windows rolled halfway down, Seungmin’s fingers paused around the rim of a crystal tumbler. Amber scotch swirled lazily inside, untouched. The man beside him—older, in a gray coat, mid-sentence about offshore accounts and numbers Seungmin didn’t care about—went ignored.

Because you had caught his eye. You were nothing like the world he usually lived in. No designer heels, no bloodstained alliances, no veiled threats behind fake smiles.

Just you.

Soaking wet, eyes squinted against the rain, half-laughing as you darted across the street, nearly slipping. Your hair clung to your face. Your bag bounced at your side. You looked annoyed, tired… human.

And you disappeared inside the café like a whisper.

Seungmin leaned forward slightly, ignoring the impatient look his associate gave him. The sharp sound of rain on the windshield, the glow of café lights through the haze—everything else dulled in comparison.

He didn’t even blink.

“Are you listening, Kim?”

The man’s voice broke through the quiet.

Seungmin didn’t respond at first. Just narrowed his eyes at the café door.

Then finally, he exhaled through his nose, cold and flat. “Repeat that.”

The man clicked his tongue but did.

Yet Seungmin’s mind was still elsewhere.

He hadn’t seen anyone like you in a long time—someone who didn’t look like they belonged to the world he owned. And something about the way you carried yourself, even in the most mundane way… it scratched at something deep in his chest.

He needed to see your face again. To know your name. To understand why he suddenly didn’t care about the deal he’d spent weeks arranging.

But when the meeting ended and the man finally left the car, Seungmin turned his head back toward the café but you were gone.

The corner booth was empty. Your drink half-finished. Chair still slightly askew. Gone. Just like that.

He blinked once. Then twice. Sat forward in his seat like it would bring you back into view. Nothing. His hand tightened around the glass of scotch until it cracked.

“Where the fuck did she go?” he hissed, tossing the glass to the floor as the door opened.

Han Jisung slid into the backseat, raising a brow at the shattered mess. Han was one of Seungmin’s most trusted men. His consigliere. The silver-tongued devil who could talk a rat into a cage. He charmed politicians, bribed judges, made enemies feel like friends before they bled out on concrete.

Han looked at the mess before speaking, “Did that dude say something stupid again or—”

“She’s gone.”

“Who?”

“The girl.”

Han frowned, turning his head toward the café. “There was a girl?”

“Corner booth. Reading. Wearing white.”

“I didn’t see anyone when I came out.”

“That’s the point,” Seungmin growled. “She was there. Then she wasn’t.”

Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out into the drizzle. Crossed the street. Pushed into the café.

The bell over the café door jingled softly when he walked in. Heads turned. The few customers glanced up in mild curiosity—then quickly looked away when they saw his face.

Because he wasn’t just anyone.

He was Kim Seungmin. The name you only whispered when you were absolutely sure no one else could hear. The name associated with disappearing debts, bodies found floating in rivers, and entire criminal families reduced to ashes.

He didn’t run a mafia. He was the mafia.

Ruthless. Calculated. Obsessively private. His power was the kind that didn’t require guns drawn in public—people made space the second they recognized him. Because if Kim Seungmin had to show up in person… it meant you were already too late.

And tonight, he didn’t care about stares.

He walked straight to the counter, dark suit still perfectly pressed, eyes razor-sharp under the soft lights. The scent of rain still clung to his coat, a few stray droplets falling from his sleeves as he placed both hands on the polished wood.

The boy behind the counter blinked twice before his hands nervously reached for the register. “W-What can I get for you, sir?”

“Girl. Corner booth. Just now.”

The barista blinked. “Oh, uh, yeah. She was here. Didn’t order much. Latte, I think. Stayed maybe an hour?”

“Her name?”

“She didn’t give one.”

“Card?”

“Paid cash.”

“CCTV?”

His face paled. “Camera system’s been broken for months, sir. Sorry.”

Seungmin stared at him for a beat too long. Then turned sharply, storming out, Han hot on his heels.

“Boss—”

“Every angle of this street,” Seungmin barked, already pulling out his phone. “Find her. I don’t care if you have to tear this district apart.”

And that was the moment it began. Not a crush. Not curiosity. Obsession.

The café became a checkpoint. He sent someone to ask for the receipts that night. Pulled surveillance from nearby businesses. Tapped traffic cams.

Just to see your face again. Just to find you. Because he wasn’t used to wanting something he couldn’t immediately take. And that made you dangerous.

But even more than that it made you his. You just didn’t know it yet.

*********************

The next few days blurred.

Han returned hours later, drenched and irritated. “No CCTV. The one across the bakery’s busted. The pole cam on the street’s been non-functional for three weeks.”

Seungmin didn’t respond.

He stood by the window of his penthouse suite, city lights sprawling beneath his feet. Hands in his pockets. Jaw tight.

“She’s untraceable,” Han said. “Like a ghost. I mean, you sure this wasn’t just—”

“She’s real,” His voice was low, threatening. “And I’m going to find her.”

It should’ve been easy to find a girl in a small city. You should’ve been traceable in hours, maybe days—at most a week.

But you weren’t. You disappeared like a whisper on the wind.

Han wasn’t the only one frustrated. By week two, even Lee Minho—Seungmin’s most level-headed lieutenant—was starting to lose his calm.

“Tell me how a goddamn street full of million-dollar real estate has no working cameras?” Minho snapped, slamming a thick folder onto the desk.

“Don’t raise your voice,” Seungmin muttered without looking up.

“I’m not raising it. I’m explaining how stupid this is.”

Minho paced the floor of Seungmin’s study, black-gloved hands clenched and twitching. “You’re telling me that in your territory, there’s an entire street with zero surveillance. That a girl—one girl—shows up, disappears, and we have nothing on her?”

Han exhaled from the armchair. “We tried tracing the route from nearby businesses, traffic cams—half of them are fake or broken. And the only useful one was facing the other side.”

“She wasn’t a plant, right?” Minho asked sharply. “No one sent her?”

“She didn’t even look up,” Seungmin said darkly. “She wasn’t aware of anything except her book.”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “And that’s what got you so obsessed?”

Seungmin stood abruptly.

It was the first time in days he’d shown emotion louder than a breath.

“Something about her didn’t belong in this world,” he said, almost to himself. “Like she was dropped into it by mistake. And I…” he dragged a hand through his hair, something unhinged glinting in his eyes, “…I needed to have her.”

Minho didn’t speak. But his jaw ticked.

“If we don’t find her soon,” he said finally, “someone else might. You’re not the only one who noticed you were staring.”

“She’s mine,” Seungmin snapped. “Let them try.”

*********************

Weeks passed.

No face to match. No name to trace. No leads.

He remembered the way your fingers curled around your mug. How your eyes flicked over the page like you were drinking the words. You didn’t even look up when the thunder cracked. You were that absorbed.

You were… different. Something about the stillness in you made the world around you fade.

And it drove him insane.

He dreamt of you.

Sometimes you were sitting at the booth again, sunlight hitting your hair. Sometimes you were on the other side of the window, face pressed to the glass, mouth forming his name. But when he reached for you, you vanished.

By the third week, Seungmin had men positioned around every café, bookstore, and university campus in the district. He scanned police records, hospital visits, university logs. Checked social media using facial sketch renderings. Had artists draw from memory.

He started carrying that small sketch folded in his wallet. An artist’s attempt to draw you from memory.

Han saw it once. “You really think this will help?”

Seungmin didn’t answer. Just stared at the drawing, his thumb brushing across where your mouth would be.

He was furious. And yet still enthralled. Because the harder it was to find you, the deeper you embedded yourself inside his mind.

You became a challenge. A puzzle. An ache he couldn't scratch away.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered one night, slumped back in his leather office chair, brows furrowed deeply as a glass of scotch sat untouched on his desk.

“I always find what I want.”

The search turned violent after that.

Bribes weren’t working, so Seungmin turned to threats. A few coffee shop owners went missing. A college registrar’s office burned down. Rumors started swirling about a “ghost girl” and the man obsessed with her.

But no one could give him your name.

The longer you evaded him, the worse his temper got.

Minho stopped arguing with him. Han spoke in a calculated tone. The entire gang operated under a cloud of tension, walking on eggshells because Kim Seungmin was unraveling.

“Find her,” he growled. “Or you’ll wish you were never born.”

Each night, in the silence of the mansion, he sat by the window — scotch in one hand, your sketch in the other.

Every night, that same question: Where the hell are you?

*********************

Three months in.

Minho entered his office with a grim look. “I think I got a hit.”

Seungmin straightened immediately. “Where?”

“College campus. Some girl matching your description helped a classmate with a presentation. One of the guys mentioned a book you were reading… it matched the one from the café. Niche edition. Rare.”

Seungmin was already grabbing his coat.

“I want eyes on every exit,” he ordered, voice low but sharp. “We move only when I say.”

The next hour passed like a countdown. Minho took the wheel. Jisung slid into the passenger seat beside him. Seungmin sat in the back, silent, unreadable, one hand tapping slowly against his thigh. Rain drizzled over the windshield as they pulled up outside the university’s east gate.

They waited.

Minutes stretched. Students trickled out in clusters—hoods up, laughter rising faintly even through the closed windows.

And then you finally stepped out of a building with a few other students, hoodie pulled over your head, laughing at something someone said.

He knew instantly.

Even before your face turned toward the road—he knew.

His breath hitched.

“That’s her,” he muttered, barely audible.

Han followed his gaze and smirked. “Three months of hell, and we finally found her.”

Seungmin watched you from the shadows, his eyes wild with something dark and aching.

“There you are,” he murmured.

Three months.

Three months of madness. Of obsession. Of sleepless nights and fraying patience.

And there you were. Just walking. Just breathing. Just existing like you hadn’t haunted him all this time. He smiled slowly but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let her walk home,” he said. “I want to know exactly where she lives.”

Seungmin’s eyes didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. His chest rose once, then fell slowly.

He leaned back in the leather seat, fingers tapping the armrest in thought. Han was already dialing someone.

“Got her,” Han murmured into the phone. “University campus, east side. She just exited Building C. Heading south.”

Pause.

“No. Boss says let her walk. Tail her. We need a confirmed residence before anything else.”

He ended the call and turned back slightly. “She doesn’t even know what’s coming, huh?”

Seungmin’s gaze was razor sharp. “Not yet.”

From the driver’s seat, Minho glanced in the rearview mirror and smirked. “I gotta say, I didn’t think anyone could get under your skin like this. But here you are. Reckless, obsessed, and even more stubborn.”

Han crossed one leg over the other, still casual. Still light. “You’ve had senators beg for your favor. Rival bosses fear your name. But a girl reading in a café?”

Seungmin’s voice dropped to a cold murmur. “She made everything else disappear. Just for a second. I’ve never had that before.”

Han, the ever-loyal consigliere — second-in-command and Seungmin’s most trusted mind — finally sobered. He saw it now, the storm building in his boss’s eyes.

“Alright,” Han said, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve. “Then let’s do this right. Clean. Quiet. No mistakes.”

The rain had stopped, but the streets were still slick with its memory. You walked briskly, headphones in but music low, the weight of your backpack tugging against your shoulders with every step. A faint fog curled around the edges of the sidewalk as streetlamps flickered to life, casting long, lonely shadows.

At first, it felt like any other week night. You’d stayed late for a study session and were on your way back to your apartment. Tired. Hungry. Ready to collapse.

But then that feeling.

The kind you couldn’t quite place. A tingle along the back of your neck. That primal whisper in your bones that said you’re being watched.

You glanced behind you.

Nothing. Just a sleek black car parked down the block. Engine purring low. You thought you’d seen it earlier near the campus gates, but maybe you were imagining things. You weren’t used to this part of the city. Maybe it belonged to someone in one of the new apartment complexes.

Still.

You crossed the street.

And when you turned again, the car had moved. Just a few meters forward. Slow. Deliberate.

Your steps quickened. The car matched pace. That’s when your stomach twisted.

You tugged out your phone and pretended to answer a call. “Hey. Yeah, I’m almost home. Just two blocks away. Yeah, can you come down and meet me at the door?”

Your voice was loud. Sharp. A deterrent. But the car didn’t stop. From the backseat of that car, Seungmin watched. Silent. Focused.

“She’s smart,” Han muttered beside him. “Caught on faster than I expected.”

Seungmin didn’t respond.

He watched you turn again. Eyes scanning the street. Your chest rising just a bit too quickly. The panic blooming behind your calm façade. He could tell. And fuck, did it make him feel alive.

He had waited three goddamn months for this. Scoured the city, bribed officials, threatened civilians, pulled every string he had just to find a girl he knew for maybe thirty seconds.

But those thirty seconds had ruined him.

“Don’t grab her yet,” he said quietly.

Han blinked. “Why not? We know where she lives now. She’s vulnerable.”

Seungmin leaned forward slightly, his voice low. Controlled. Dangerous.

“She ran once. I want to see how far she thinks she can go before she breaks.

You didn’t look back again. You couldn’t. Your heart was hammering now, your legs carrying you faster than you thought possible, the edges of your vision blurring. You practically ran the final block, breath shallow, keys already clenched between your fingers like a makeshift weapon. Just in case.

And then someone grabbed you.

Not harshly. Not like you expected. Just a firm hand around your wrist, a second one over your mouth. The shock of it froze you. Then you thrashed.

You kicked, screamed into the palm muffling your voice, tried to bite, claw, anything—

But another set of hands caught you from behind.

“Careful,” a voice muttered near your ear. “She’s feisty.”

That unfamiliar voice was low, smooth. Tinted with casual amusement, like this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. Like this was just another Wednesday for him.

“I told you to bring the damn chloroform sooner,” another voice snapped. Cold. Dispassionate. Less amused, more… efficient.

Something sweet hit your nose. A soaked cloth pressed against your face. Your body instinctively struggled, adrenaline trying to fight the chemicals rushing through your system.

“Your apartment’s way out of the way, couldn't you just stay in the campus dorm, huh?” Han sighed. “Would’ve saved us the gas.”

You struggled weakly, everything swam and then the world blurred.

“Shut up,” Minho said flatly. “She’s out.”

Minho lifted you without a word, his arms steady as he carried your limp form towards the car parked a bit the building. Han walked in front and opened the backseat door.

Inside, Seungmin was waiting.

The moment Minho leaned in and passed your unconscious body to him, Seungmin reached out, almost too quickly. His arms wrapped around you carefully, protectively, as if afraid you might vanish if he wasn’t gentle enough.

“You were real,” he whispered, watching you like a starved man. “God, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

He was brushing the strands of hair from your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin like you were something sacred. His expression unreadable. Han closed the door behind them with a soft click.

Rain pattered on the roof. Inside, it was silent.

Seungmin leaned closer, his lips ghosting against your forehead—not quite a kiss. Almost reverent.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” he whispered.

One hand cradled the back of your head. The other traced the line of your jaw, feather-light.

“You disappeared like a dream that night,” he murmured. “But I’m done dreaming now.”

His voice was calm, steady, but something about it sent a chill down even Minho’s spine.

“Mine,” Seungmin whispered again. “Finally… mine.”

*********************

Your head pounded. The first thing you registered was the softness beneath you—silken sheets, a mattress far too plush to be your own. Then the light. Dim, golden, filtering through sheer curtains that danced lazily with the breeze.

You blinked groggily. Your limbs felt like they weighed a ton, but your heart quickened with the creeping realization that this wasn’t your room.

This wasn’t your home.

You sat up slowly, panic curling in your gut. The room around you was lavish—elegant, but unfamiliar. Marble floors, velvet drapes, carved furniture that looked too expensive to touch. A mansion.

Someone had taken you. You had been kidnapped.

Your hands trembled as you looked down—still wearing your shirt and jeans.No injuries. No bruises.

Suddenly, the door opened and a man stepped in like he owned the world. And he did. In a way. Dressed in a sharp dark suit over a shirtless vest in deep green marble-textured hue with a metallic sheen. His hair was neatly styled— parted slightly off-center with long, layered bangs that softly frame the face and sweep naturally across the forehead. His face wore a chilling calm. The kind that didn’t need anger to be terrifying.

You knew that face. You’d seen it whispered about in headlines, splashed across grainy surveillance images and blurred news clips.

Kim Seungmin. The ghost in the criminal underworld. The youngest and most merciless of them all. The mafia prince with a smile that made people disappear.

Your blood ran cold. You tried to stand but stumbled.

"Don’t rush," he added, walking in like he owned the air you were breathing. "The drugs take a bit to wear off. It’s a custom blend. Just enough to keep you quiet. Not enough to hurt you."

He approached you slowly, his footsteps soft on the marble, his presence impossibly overwhelming. He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, not saying a word, and gently cupped your face in his hand.

That’s when you really saw him.

Seungmin's features were carved with precision. His skin was smooth and fair, glowing faintly in the golden light. His jawline was sharp and elegant, and his lips—soft, plush, and slightly parted—were tinged with an unreadable expression.

But it was his eyes that held you captive. Dark brown, deep like ink and impossible to read. They were cold, yet curious. Soft, yet calculating. They flicked across your face like he was memorizing it—committing it to his memory.

You noticed the tiny moles on his face— one on his left cheek and the other one on his nose, making him look even more endearing.

You wanted to look away. You should’ve looked away.

But you didn’t.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low, smooth—like velvet laced with steel. “Good.”

Your pulse thundered.

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, the barest smile pulling at his lips. “You’re scared. That’s good. Means you understand who I am.”

His fingers brushed your cheek with dangerous tenderness. His eyes were void of mercy.

“You’re mine now,” Seungmin whispered. “I don’t share. I don’t let go. And I sure as hell don’t lose.”

You froze.

The chill in his voice laced with something darker than possessiveness—it was certainty. Finality. Like your fate had already been sealed the moment he laid eyes on you.

Seungmin took your wrist and then he brought your hand up to his chest, resting it over the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—tauntingly calm compared to your own frantic one.

“You feel that?” he murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “That’s how steady I stay… even when everything else burns.”

You turned your face away, jaw clenched. His proximity suffocated you—his expensive cologne, that quiet dominance in his posture, the way his eyes drank in your fear like it thrilled him.

“Why am I here? Why.… why did you take me?” you asked. “Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to you…”

“You did everything,” he said. “You stole from me.”

Your brows furrowed. “What…? I didn’t steal anything—”

“Yes, you did.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You stole my heart. You belong to me now.”

You went still.

“I don’t belong to you,” you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts. “You can’t just take people.”

He leaned in slowly, lips ghosting near your ear.

“I didn’t take you,” he breathed. “I claimed what’s mine.”

You trembled, torn between fury and fear. “No, please, let me go.”

A low chuckle escaped him, warm breath grazing your neck. “I’ve been searching the whole world for you, love.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again, the cruel amusement fading, replaced by something far more dangerous—intent.

“Let you go?” He scoffed, “I had to find you. Had to dig through shadows, burn cities, turn every stone until I felt the ghost of your presence. You think that was easy?”

“Please,” you begged, your voice cracking. “Let me go.”

Seungmin’s gaze hardened, his stare now sharp as glass. “I’ll give you everything you could ever want,” he said, his tone softer, but colder. “But don’t mistake that for freedom. If you ever try to leave...”

He let the words hang in the air, thick with threat, “I’ll make sure you forget what the outside world even feels like.”

You tried to push him away, but his hold only tightened.

Then, without warning, he kissed your temple. Soft. Almost loving. The contradiction made your skin crawl.

“Rest,” he said, guiding you back toward the bed like a twisted lullaby. “You’ll need your strength. There's so much I want to show you.”

And as he pulled the covers over you, like a lover might, he whispered once more—

“Everything you were before… is over. You're mine now.”

The door clicked shut behind him, the echo of his footsteps retreating down the marble corridor. Only then did your lungs finally expand in a full breath.

You sat upright, trembling beneath the weight of his words—You’re mine now.

The echo of that sentence coiled like barbed wire around your chest. A moment later, the door opened again.

But this time, it wasn’t him.

A woman stepped inside — middle-aged, expression blank. She wore a simple black uniform, the crisp white apron spotless. Her eyes didn’t meet yours as she silently walked over to the edge of the bed, setting down a folded dress of deep emerald silk beside you.

“You’re to wash and change,” she said in a clipped tone. Her voice held no emotion. “The master wants you presentable.”

You stared at her, your voice still unsteady. “Wait—please. Can you tell me—where am I? Why is he—why is this happening?”

But the woman had already turned.

“Please!” you tried again, louder. “Can you just help me—just tell me if someone is coming for me—”

She paused at the door but didn’t turn back. Her voice was low and eerily calm, “Don’t try to run. There are guards outside. They have orders.”

And then she left.

You scrambled from the bed and ran to the door, but the handle didn’t budge. Locked.

Just outside, you could hear faint murmurs—low, male voices. Guards. Just like she said.

You turned slowly, the room no longer luxurious but suffocating. A cage dressed in silk.

Your eyes dropped to the dress.

It shimmered faintly in the light. The fabric was soft to the touch, tailored perfectly to your size. You hadn’t told him your size.

He knew.

You swallowed hard, hugging your arms around yourself. Somewhere in this palace of quiet horror, Kim Seungmin was waiting.

You paced the room like a caged animal. The dress lay untouched on the edge of the bed—silky, delicate, expensive. Just another reminder that you weren’t a guest here. You were a possession being wrapped up like a gift.

You’d tested the windows. Locked.

Tried the balcony. Too high up. No phone, no landline, not even a clock. The guards stationed outside your door hadn’t moved in hours. No way to slip past them, no chance to ask the maid anything—she’d disappeared before you even got a word out.

Your mind raced through escape plans, every single idea falling apart the moment it met the cold weight of reality.

You didn’t even hear the footsteps until the door slammed open.

Seungmin.

His presence sucked the air out of the room.

His dark suit’s jacket sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the veins in his forearms prominent as he pushed the door shut with a force that made the walls flinch.

"Why," he said slowly, his voice low and sharp as a blade, "are you still in those clothes?"

You froze, eyes widening as his gaze bored into you. The clothes you were wearing from the day before—had become a silent statement, a refusal to accept the reality he had forced you into. But now, with his anger simmering and his jaw clenched tight, you knew that defiance was no longer an option.

His voice lowered further, a quiet growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “I didn’t bring you here to have you walking around in those filthy things. Freshen up. You’ll wear the new clothes I had prepared for you. Now.”

Your heart raced. The last thing you wanted was to comply, but the tension in his voice made it clear that disobedience would come with consequences you weren’t ready to face.

“I give you comfort, safety, everything, and you can’t follow one simple instruction?” He snapped.

You stepped back as he strode forward, cornering you without touching you. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was a wall.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he hissed, eyes narrowing. “Pacing like that. Looking at the window. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I just want to go home,” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “This is your home now.”

Your fists clenched. “You’re insane.”

His lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. “Maybe. But you’re still here. So what does that make you?”

He grabbed the dress and shoved it into your hands, gentler than you expected—but the threat in his voice was unmistakable.

“Put. It. On.”

Then he leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear again, the same way he had hours ago when he stole the ground from under your feet.

“If you ever want to walk through that door without chains on,” he whispered, “you better start learning how to play your part.”

And with that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

You stood frozen for a few long seconds, heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to shatter your ribs. You realised you had no choice but to play along. For now.

You made your way to the en-suite bathroom. It was massive—gold-trimmed mirrors, a claw-foot tub, rainfall shower, the kind of place that felt too luxurious to be real. You stared at your reflection under the soft vanity light. Your skin looked dull. Eyes hollow. But there was a spark behind them. Defiance.

You carefully undressed, stepping into the steaming shower. Every movement calculated. You let yourself feel human again under the water—just for a moment. But even in there, your mind worked overtime.

There were no cameras in the bathroom, as far as you could see. No microphones either… you hoped. Maybe Seungmin thought you were too drugged, too scared, too broken to strategize.

Good. Let him think that.

Let him think you were weak.

When you stepped out, the emerald dress clung to your damp skin like liquid temptation. You fastened the clasp, staring at yourself again.

You looked like someone else. A doll. A bride dressed for a marriage you never consented to.

But your eyes were yours. Burning now.

Back in the bedroom, you scanned again. Window. Balcony. Furniture. You knelt beside the bed, ran your fingers along the underside of the frame. Nothing yet—but you’d keep checking. If there was a way out, you’d find it. And if not? You’d make one.

The guards were still posted outside. You tested the lock with a twist—it was electronic. Impossible to open without access.

But that meant something important: it could be hacked.

Your brain began mapping every possibility. All you needed was a device. A phone. A wire. A keyboard. Anything.

You sat down at the vanity table and opened the drawer. It was full of makeup products and accessories, but you weren't looking for lipstick or brushes. Your fingers trembled as you dug through the items, praying for something—anything—that could help you. Nothing.

*********************

You tried to escape two nights later.

The door hadn't been locked. You had waited—counting the seconds, memorizing the guards' rotation, mapping out the halls like your life depended on it.

And it did.

The moment the opportunity presented itself, you ran.

But you didn’t make it far. He was already there.

His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable. “You never learn, do you?” he muttered, his voice a low rasp that sent chills down your spine before he grabbed you by the waist and forced you into your room before throwing you back onto the bed with a force that stole the air from your lungs.

You screamed, kicked, scratched, fought with every ounce of strength you could muster.

“Let me go, you fucking asshole!” you cried out. “Let me go!”

He didn’t even flinch. With a calmness that made your skin crawl, he pinned your wrists above your head, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

And just like that, the storm inside you quieted—he had control. Again.

"You’re testing me," he growled, his grip tightening, "and I don’t think you want to see what happens when I’m truly tested."

Your heart raced, pulse thundering in your ears, but you met his eyes with all the defiance you had left.

“You’re disgusting,” you spat, words trembling with fury. “You’re sick.”

His face remained unchanged. The same icy calm.

“I let you breathe,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath hot against your skin. “Let you sleep in silk. Treat you like a queen. And you still curse me?”

You could feel the heat of his proximity, his lips grazing the side of your jaw, sending a sickening thrill through your body.

His words came in a murmur, soft and deadly. “You’ll learn to love me,” he promised. “You will.”

*********************

The guards came twice a day—once in the morning, once before sunset. They never said a word. Their footsteps echoed against marble floors, and their eyes never left your face. Each tray of untouched food was replaced by a fresh one, steaming and seasoned, taunting you with the scent of meals you once loved. You didn’t eat. Not out of rebellion anymore—but because your stomach couldn’t bear to keep anything down.

Sometimes, you woke to the soft rustle of fabric at the foot of your bed—new clothes, pristine and folded with meticulous care. Dresses that shimmered like liquid gold, silks in soft pastels, heels you’d once admired in glass store windows.

Other mornings, it was flowers. Always your favorites. How did he know? The answer was simple. He had dug through your past and he used it against you.

He always came to see you in the mornings before leaving for work—and again at night.

Like some cruel tradition, he arrived after dark, just as the silence began to settle over your bones. You could feel him before you saw him—his presence thick in the air, like a storm waiting to strike.

The fifth night, you cracked.

You were shaking—cold, exhausted, hungry, and unraveling. Tears blurred your vision as you were curled up on the bed, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, when the door creaked open. You didn’t move. Not even when the sound of his shoes broke the quiet, soft against the carpeted floor.

Carrying a bowl of soup in one hand and a glass of water in the other. You sat on the edge of the bed, silent, unmoving.

“You look thinner,” Seungmin said, his voice calm, but with a weight beneath it. “Are you trying to punish me?”

You didn’t answer.

“I’m not playing with you anymore,” he said, placing the bowl on your bedside table. “You’re going to eat.”

You turned your head, “No.”

His jaw clenched. He took a deep breath, walked to your side, and crouched so your eyes were level.

“You haven’t eaten in five days!”

“Good.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up the spoon, scooped some soup, and held it out to you.

You stared at it, “I will spit it in your face.”

He said nothing. Just brought the spoon closer. You slapped it away. Hot broth spilled over your blanket, staining it. His eyes darkened.

“That’s enough.”

He moved faster than you could react—gripping your jaw tightly, prying your mouth open with terrifying precision.

“You don’t have to like it,” he said coldly. “But you will survive.”

The spoon came again. You turned your head. Fought. But he held you in place, firm and unyielding, forcing the liquid down your throat one spoonful at a time.

You coughed. Gagged.

Tears streamed down your cheeks—not from pain. Not even from fear. But from the helplessness.

When it was over, he wiped your chin gently with a napkin, then rose to his feet.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

You glared through your tears. He didn’t smile this time. He just left.

The next morning, you woke with a sharp sting in your arm. You groaned, instinctively trying to move—but your wrist tugged against a soft restraint. That’s when you saw it. A thin IV line trailing from your vein to a clear drip bag hanging beside your bed.

“What the hell—?”

“Don’t move too much,” came a calm, unfamiliar voice from the corner of the room.

You turned your head sharply.

A man stood there, clipboard in hand, white coat hanging open over all-black clothes. His face was calm. Hands gloved. Eyes unreadable.

“I’m Dr. Bang Christopher,” he said. “But you can call me Chan.”

“…His doctor?”

“Personal physician,” he corrected, walking over to check the IV. “You were dangerously dehydrated. Malnourished. Refusing food, I heard. So this was the next best solution.”

You yanked your arm again. “Take it out.”

He didn’t even blink. “I can’t.”

“Take it out!”

“I take orders from Mr Kim,” he said flatly, adjusting your pulse monitor. “Not you.”

You stared at him in horror. He looked back at you, then down at his notes.

“Don’t try to pull it out yourself. You’ll bleed.”

With that, he scribbled something, removed his gloves, and turned to leave. At the door, he paused.

“He cares for you, you know,” he said, without looking back. “As much as a man like him can.”

Then he was gone. Leaving you restrained, broken.

*********************

Seungmin came into your room again later at midnight. He crouched beside you, hands resting loosely on his knees. He studied you the way a collector might inspect a rare object—something precious, but already cracking.

“You’ve been here for a week,” he murmured. “And still, you fight me.”

Your eyes lifted, burning. “Because I’m not yours.”

Something in his jaw tensed. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You jerked away.

He sighed. “I’m not your enemy.”

That made you laugh—a bitter, broken sound.

“You kidnapped me,” you hissed. “You locked me up like a doll in a glass box and you expect gratitude?”

He tilted his head. “No. I expect understanding.”

“Understanding?” Your voice rose, wild with disbelief. “You think this is love?”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that love can grow in strange places. Even in cages. Even in silence.”

You shook your head. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning in, “you still look at me like you’re waiting for me to crack.”

He wrapped his arms around you as you resisted. But he held you tighter.

“I can wait,” he whispered. “I can wait longer than you can resist.”

“Let me go! Ple—please, just let me go!”

“You’re hurting yourself,” he whispered into your hair. “Stop. Please.”

You sobbed in his arms, trembling, hating yourself for how warm he felt. How safe. How his cologne smelled like cedar and regret and something that almost made you ache.

“I hate you,” you whispered. “I hate you, I hate you—”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and stood up to leave. The door closed behind him with a click.

And you were alone again—with your breath quick, your fists clenched, and your fear folding itself into anger.

Just like that a month passed already.

You hadn’t said a word to him.

Not when he brought you new clothes. Not when he knocked. Not when he stood silently in the doorway, watching you with eyes full of something far too close to obsession.

You reluctantly ate food just enough to survive. Kept tearing the flowers he sent to shreds.

And when you looked up at the camera blinking red above your bed, you made sure he saw your middle finger.

Still, he never stopped watching.

He sent books. Jewelry. A bottle of expensive perfume you used to love.

All unopened. All untouched. You wouldn’t let him win.

Until that night.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him. Measured. Unhurried. Like he already knew how this would end.

The door creaked open. He stepped inside, and immediately, you knew.

Something was wrong.

He wasn’t composed like usual. He wasn’t cold or calculated. He looked... exhausted. Frustrated. Dangerous.

“You’re still doing this,” he said quietly, voice rough like he hadn’t spoken all day. “Still pretending like you hate me.”

You didn’t respond. Just glared at him from where you sat on the edge of the bed. He stepped closer.

“I’ve done everything for you,” he continued, his voice low, controlled—but trembling at the edges. “I found you. Brought you here. I gave you everything. And you act like I’m the villain.”

You stood up, slowly. “You are the villain.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”

“You kidnapped me. Drugged me. Threw me in a stranger’s house and tried to dress it up like a castle.” You shook your head, biting down the trembling in your throat. “That’s not love, Seungmin. That’s psychotic.”

He flinched at the word. Actually flinched.

You pushed further. “You want to keep me here like a doll in a cage, then go ahead. But don’t pretend it’s about love.”

He reached for you, sudden and sharp, grabbing your face in one hand. You gasped.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” he said, voice shaking now. “Don’t look at me like I’m a monster.”

“I don’t have to look at you like that,” you snapped, breath catching. “You are one.”

He stared at you—really stared. His expression was blank and cold.

“You’ll come around,” he said finally. “You’ll understand.”

“No,” you whispered, fury rising behind your ribs. “I will never understand this. I will never want you. I would rather die than love you.”

Something cracked. His hand dropped. He stepped back like your words had sliced him open. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then he turned to the guards at the door, voice ice.

“Don’t let her leave this room. Not unless she changes her mind.”

“Seungmin—” you began, but the door slammed behind him before you could finish.

And then there was silence.

You collapsed, back hitting the edge of the bed as your knees gave out. Tears gathered in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were trembling, you were afraid and a heavy sigh escaped you as hopelessness settled in.

*********************

Crying had become a routine— not from fear. But from frustration. Because you deeply loathed him.

You hated the way he stared at you like you were his salvation and his possession. You hated the way his voice sank into your bones, the way he touched you like you’d shatter, the way your body had stopped resisting even when your mind still screamed.

You hated that no one was coming.

And worse, that a part of you had stopped hoping they would.

You curled under the sheets, fists clenched, teeth biting into your sleeve to muffle the sobs. Every shadow in the room felt like him. Every creak in the walls sounded like his footsteps.

You didn’t want to need him.

But your body was weak, your mind even weaker, and the isolation was breaking you apart thread by thread.

You thought of your family—did they even know you were missing? Were they looking for you? Had they given up?

The door creaked open. You didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. You already knew it was him.

Seungmin stepped inside slowly, quietly, like he’d done every night since you arrived. He sat at the edge of the bed without a word.

And you didn’t tell him to leave. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t say anything. He just sat there in the dark, a silent presence—watching, breathing, waiting.

Eventually, you rolled onto your back, your eyes meeting his in the low light.

“…I can’t escape, can I?”

His silence answered for him.

You swallowed hard, the bitterness lodged deep in your throat.

“I’m never getting out of here.”

Seungmin’s gaze softened—sad, gentle, but far from apologetic.

“No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

Your chest rose and fell slowly. Shallow breaths. Eyes dry now. You looked up at the ceiling. The moonlight washed over your face.

“…Fine.”

Your voice was hollow. A whisper of surrender. Not love. Not forgiveness. Not even understanding. Just the cold, empty truth. There was no escape. So you stopped trying.

And when Seungmin’s hand slowly reached for yours—this time, you didn’t pull away.

You didn’t hold it either.

You just let it happen.

Because maybe that was all you had left.

The next morning, Seungmin entered your room.

His day always started better when he saw you—still asleep, curled up beneath the soft sheets like something fragile and precious.

You didn’t stir when the door creaked open. He stepped inside quietly, like he always did, careful not to wake you. The sight of you—peaceful, unmoving—eased something deep in his chest.

You looked… soft today. Less angry. Less hollow.

He approached your bedside and crouched beside you, letting his fingers graze the blanket near your hand. Not quite touching. Just close enough to feel your warmth.

He’d memorized you like scripture—the way your breath hitched when you dreamed, the way your lashes fluttered just before you stirred, the way your fingers used to clench the sheets when he entered.

But now, they were still. You didn’t flinch anymore. That tiny shift meant everything.

Seungmin sat there for a moment longer, just watching. Admiring. Loving.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Why don’t you see it, baby?”

He reached forward, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. You shifted slightly in your sleep but didn’t pull away. His hand lingered for just a second more before retreating, trembling with restraint.

You looked like peace.

But he knew the battle inside you hadn’t ended. Only changed shape.

Still… he could feel it. The quiet acceptance in the way you no longer resisted his presence. The way your body allowed his closeness. The way your fingers had once grazed his hand and didn’t pull away.

You hated him. He knew that. But in time, he would rewrite that hate. He would replace it—slowly, methodically—with something warmer. Something softer.

“You know me now,” he continued, his voice low, almost hypnotic. “You hate me but that’s also an emotion, right? You feel something for me.”

He stood, stealing one last look at you before leaving for the day. His heart ached, swollen with the weight of longing and victory.

You were still here. You hadn’t run. And last night, for the first time… you had let him hold your hand.

“You can deny it all you want,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with an undeniable certainty. “But we’re bound now. You’ll see.”

As he closed the door behind him, his lips curled into the faintest smile.

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

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askoverkill · 9 hours ago

Note

Okay, best not sugar coat the blood curse

transcript below:

...So you wanted to know about my Curse?

Yeah, I can't help you if-

Well, heh, I won't be any help, but tell me regardless?

The Curse rots you while alive.

It's mainly at my eye, but when I get to the first floor it spread to my hands and teeth.

Stars, that's awful??! You just live with that???

What else would I do? Die?

You said it got worse in the House?

Yeah, I think whenever I approach a floor I bad bleed. It also happens when I'm feeling extreme bad emotions.

Wow, you're all sorts of screwed, then??? Are you sure you'll even get to the bottom?

There is a bottom?

For the play, yes. Three full floors. Not including the tutorial areas. When you get to the end, that's when you fight the Director.

...Fight? We have to fight a god?

Yes, but your Housemaiden has that "thing" now. That's new.

[A gun: A futuristic weapon constructed out of a metal tube, which has projectiles shot out by the force of a small explosion.]

[Most often lethal, proceed with caution.]

Oh, so that's what a gun is. Continue.

(But they were the one who explained it???)

...Uh, so the past Siffrins fought the Director?

And they never won? Even with a full party?

Yep. That's why I suggested you two team up. Not that'd it matter. They're too overpowered by now.

...I still have to try.

Okay, I'm going to start calling you deader meat, how's that sound?

#story #isat au #isat #overkill au #in stars and time #asks #long post #loop 3

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taegularities · 1 day ago

Text

candles & flames: breeze | jjk (m)

(final) bonus chapter III: breeze

Summary: One day an end might near – but never with him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; angst!!, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: mmmkay, they are at a weird place, but love each other so much; insecurities and sadness, jk grovels a lot, jihyo/illegitimate child mention, tears and overthinking, their kids <3, fears, abandonment issues, dad!jk, brief mention of a past death, yearning, an event, manyyy memories and references to the other parts, mention of post-sex memories, orphanage!!, kissing in the rain, jihyo sigh, oc makes him better fr </3 the ending bc that's what this chapter is </3 ➳ wc: 19.6k ➳ a/n: ah yes, the end of an era :') not sure if it was due to this being the definitive finale or just them in general, but i cried a lot, once again. thank you for giving them the amount of love that you did. i hope you like this one <3 ALSO, listen to the playlist, trust me!! ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3 and the collaborative playlist here!

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s interesting how a routine turns every night into the same returning experience.

Somewhat soulless, people awake in the morning, treading through their days and hours to fall back into the deep slumber that their bodies so desperately beg for. Back into the peace from the moment that the sky reveals its stars and its moon.

Then, the cycle repeats: cracking up their eyes at the same dawn or noon as the day before, or when the sun sits at its highest point, greeting and smiling, or hidden.

For you, it’s been different.

The nights always shift their personality, and the mornings unravel yet another unfelt, unseen emotion. Love, then longing, then misery, then near paralysis. Numbness.

You don’t recall ever having been much of a victim to fate; you consider yourself more or less lucky, born under just the right constellation. But something about the odd way your mind has been circling around its own axis for a while now doesn’t feel natural.

An indicator of something bad, and you know. You know the phenomenon and know the reason and know the pain it accompanies.

With the nights, the seasons change, too. The more time passes, the warmer it gets. The cold has left. Left the shivers behind; left your head hanging. The dark and grey clouds floating above have vanished for the most part, clearing like a mist to boast the sky’s beauty.

You love the view. You love how rays of sunshine fall into your room like giving it a halo, golden and warm.

But above all, you have changed the most. In every shape and form, you’re somebody entirely new. As if you’re pottery, forged into something solid before smashed flat again. Inconsistently moving up and down, building and crashing, to the better and worse.

Healing isn’t linear, you have realised. You have known; you have seen it on him before, too. Sometimes, you do ponder whether you’re overreacting. Whether you’re supposed to move on the way so many other women do when their husbands come home late.

But no.

Your husband did not come home late.

You were the one who was late.

He never did you wrong; he didn’t intend to hurt you, did he? And thinking about it realistically: not a soul in this world summons even a fragment of the life you breathe into him. Nobody comes into any close proximity of who you are in his eyes and in his heart and in his mind.

But the pain never subsides so easily. What a shame, though. Your sister always appeases you by insisting that you have every right to hurt; that envy can be part of a deeply-feeling empath, and that love elicits these emotions naturally.

That one day, it’ll get better. That for now, you’re allowed to hate people, and allowed to hate him.

But you don’t. You do not hate him. You guess if you did, it would hurt much less.

It would hurt less to stand in the bit of sun shining through the window, letting it prick your skin. It would ache less to sleep next to him every night; to get up and leave at times, wandering the lonely mansion, just so his touch doesn’t stun your body or keep you awake.

Sometimes, you turn to see him awake, too, tossing and turning. Lifting his lids to meet your eyes wordlessly, at times with the smallest, weakest of smiles.

And it would pain less — stepping over the threshold, silken robe draped around you, and into the spacious room downstairs. It’s brighter than the corridor; the latter would’ve been quieter, darker, but certainly more depressing, too. Colder.

You can’t just roam around there. Weird, though — who knows what dragged you back into this room of all, right where you first broke down; where your perspective changed.

It’s often the same; you tend to land here, as if to relive the moment and to convince yourself that it wasn’t as bad as you make it out to be. Or that it was, but that you need to look past it. You promised Jungkook to work on this, to not give up.

Told yourself that distance hurts more than closeness.

And it does. If you were to pack your bags and leave again, you might not be able to come out of the pitch black void again. At least he’s here; where you are.

You and me, in every damn life.

But you’re in a loop. Still right there, in this heart of his, but so forlorn, too. Always the same shit. If she hadn’t come, life would pain less. If you hadn’t been here, life would hurt less. If, if, if…

If you didn’t love him, you could look him in the eyes. If you didn’t love him, you’d care less. But you do. And you’re tortured by the fact that he constantly seeks your gaze. All the time.

Even now.

Right now, as he stands near the dead chimney, staring up to you from whatever document he was reading. You don’t have it in you to meet the dark brown eyes beseeching you to forgive. Sometimes, you do — in a moment of strength, you do.

But not right now.

And you guess you have forgiven him. You converse with him; but the change is palpable, just like the weather is.

From afar, you watch a smile appear on his still-gorgeous face, though a bit more sunken since last fall. His steps are timid when he nears you, and you mimic, walking towards the man whose arms you so desperately seek.

“Good morning,” he greets, and you answer in kind before he adds, “You still look tired. Do you need to sleep more? I don’t mind, I have a bit of time to take care of—”

“Oh, no, no,” you reassure, coming to a stand in front of him. Your fingers twitch to reach out, but your mind refuses; you hate this constant occurrence. “I feel fine, actually. And Hana will get up soon as well.”

“If you are certain.” Jungkook nods; then rolls his eyes again, more in a manner of amusement and sarcasm than annoyance. “That girl runs to her pony so fast these days that she barely ever acknowledges us anymore. So not a lot to do there for us.”

You chuckle a little. “Isn’t that right?” You observe as his head tilts just slightly; a gesture you well associate with affection. “What about you? You are awake early, too.”

A shrug of a shoulder as a response, no word uttered. He blinks once, just slowly, before his hand surrenders to the urge yours suppressed — and moves up, up towards your face. It happens in slow motion, an unnatural pace to it; but a moment later, you feel the touch.

A palm cradling your face. A familiar, somewhat ancient feeling. Known yet so estranged these days.

You close your eyes. Take in the warmth. Let the delusional relief wash over you for a second. And you feel better; much better when he presses in a tiny bit. You forget the pain still lingering.

Every fibre of you yearns to jump into his arms and to remain right there. To inhale his scent, to feel his lips in your hair, to feel the longing in his touch. And he would succumb to each sensation within a moment, a walking white flag, waiting for you to bring him to his knees.

He has been craving every bit of you in every little way, and you know. You know because you have been, too. But whenever his parted lips linger on your burning cheek, perfectly rosy and inviting and as beautiful as ever, or his thumb grazes your trembling chin, you just…

You trap yourself in this cramped cage of your own miserable thoughts; questions arise.

Such as—

Did he touch her like this, too? What did her skin on his feel like? And did he look at her with the same glint dancing in his dark gems? The same hooded gaze, pining and erasing every other thought, so incredibly desperate; like your own eyes offer oxygen for another day?

And—

How are you different?

This is what has been undeniably wounding you the most. The recurring thoughts you can’t turn off. The queries popping up. The fact that you can’t and won’t ask, and that you know what the answer would be, and that you would still burst your head overthinking.

Jungkook knows you’re drifting away day by day.

He’s crept up on you and learned about every single piece of you, has understood you on a level so detailed that even you can’t quite comprehend about yourself. So it’s only natural that he sees it when your mind doesn’t reside with him.

When you’re in pain. And he is in pain, too — perhaps in greater distress, even. But you have told the petty inner voices that this isn’t a competition; that no matter what the bad parts of you demand, he is not supposed to hurt worse than you. None of you is.

But he’s told you. Told you about the torment. The night you came back, as he held you for dear life, glued to you under the thin sheets until you could barely breathe against the fabric covering his chest, you heard him say—

“I cannot figure out what to do… I— I lost myself once. I wouldn’t recognise myself again if I lost you, too.”

You wonder — did he already know what future to expect if you weren’t in it? The time you were gone; did he see a version of himself he didn’t recognise?

You want to ask, but your mentality keeps slipping. Always absent but deep in his own emotions; you hate that you’re so aware of his thoughts. That even right now, he doesn’t expect you to quite look at him or to reciprocate his touch, even though sometimes, reluctantly, you do.

And he doesn’t expect you to smile. He has never known you otherwise — but he doesn’t expect it, consumed by his guilt. He knows you’re entitled to feel the way you feel. Doesn’t expect you to talk to him as you used to either, or to love him the way he’s always known.

He knows you love him… but he misses the moments when you showed him you were in love with him.

Months and years of affection passed, and the weeks since Jihyo entered your life shattered part of the idyllic paradise you had built for yourself. Covered it in clouds.

Yet, he accepts it. To you, it sometimes seems that he is content that you’re here at all. He won’t tell you what happened, how he felt, what he did while you were away, but it seems that his most prevalent fear is you vanishing again.

As long as he sees you standing here, in flesh and blood and not just in his wanting mind, understanding that you are not a figment of his imagination, he is satisfied.

Then again, you don’t think there is an absolute way of not hurting. So you’re not surprised when he brings you back to where you stand, into this moment, and says, “Hey,” he tries to lift your head, “I miss looking at you properly.”

You try. You meet his eyes. They’re filled with sleepless hours and the same sadness as yours.

You keep looking at him, eyebrows slightly moving, breath accelerating, and say, “I do, too.”

“And I miss your voice.”

“I know.”

“And I want you to laugh again. About anything at all.”

ƒrims Well. Maybe you were wrong. Or maybe not — he doesn’t expect you to smile, but… he can still want it, right?

Your body reacts fully automatically, closing in until your forehead gently collides with his. You hear it when he sucks in a sharp breath, hopeful and so hopelessly adoring, before he whispers, “I love you so much.”

Translates to: I need you back.

Translates to: I need you here.

Translates to: Stay.

For a moment, you keep staring into his pupils. A little longer… and then a little longer. It’s hard to look away; as if they harbour a spell and he’s practicing it right this moment. But then you feel another ache in your heart.

Familiar, but never less painful. The same damn one that your mind and body have been shooting through you, keeping you from giving in.

You move back just a little — but he understands. Accepts that you need more distance, just for a while; that it’ll take time. But as if to tell you he’s nowhere near giving up, he grazes your cheek again, warmth in the back of his fingers; hot as the fire that he is.

When he lets go, you feel breathless. Drowning.

“It seems that our daughter is awake,” he comments. You only now notice her tiny voice. Drowsy little girl waddling to her beloved father. Cheek to his shoulder, quiet in the morning, eyes closed again once she’s settled. He adds, “Let’s get breakfast.”

And you follow, but the appetite isn’t too big. Your heart is still beating in your stomach.

Hana has now learned to express herself enough to ask what’s wrong. She understands basic emotions. Sometimes, you let yourself feel in your twins’ presence alone, solely for the reason that they do not pose questions.

But Hana knows.

And you adore her with everything that you are and everything that she has become; but so does she. She sees it when your eyes droop; notices when her father misses a thing she said or two. When he looks at her with deeply rooted affection, but with dead and stinging pain, too.

You think that sometimes, gaping at her round, bubbly face, he remembers as much as you that she’s not all there is. That she and the boys do belong to his blood, but that somewhere out there, another boy gets all excited about visits every now and then.

A child older than any toddler in your massive mansion, residing in a warm home so small and compact in comparison. At times, you think that your husband knows, too: That sweet Minjun is truly all that has ever defined Jungkook.

The art; the smile; the dimples. The politeness and gentleness.

You take a deep breath.

How does anybody ever get over this? You promised Jungkook to fight, and you will, with time you will because you love him, but…

How will you move past this? Will you stop seeing all that happened in everything one day? Grow out of it, find a way to hold onto him and onto who you are, to hurt less?

“Mama… did you hear?”

“Hm?” You glance at your daughter as she wipes her bangs out of her face, eyes too big on it. She’s holding a toy pony towards you. “Hear what, sweetheart?”

You stretch out a hand, carefully holding the toy in your palm. It’s still beautiful, solid snow white porcelain, albeit missing one of his four legs. Hana cried for a whole while when it happened.

“What I just said!” she tries again, her voice reprimanding, disappointed. Then she sighs, pouts, “You didn’t hear.”

It’s the enormous doe eyes that pierce your heart. When he’s sad, he looks the same. Awakens the urge to protect and to love and to keep him far from even a scratch. You sigh, too; keep yourself together.

“I apologise, baby,” you shift closer to her; she’s a bit older now, more forgiving. Still feisty, but very forgiving. “Mama is just tired. But I’m here, yes? Tell me again, please?”

Whenever Hana starts a thought, she needs to finish it. Your absent mind can’t keep her from it; so she soon turns to you, her voice much louder than yours. “I was saying,” she starts, easy to persuade, “I want to see Tee.”

You laugh.

Tee.

A self-made abbreviation for the term auntie. Somehow, it was too odd of a word for her to pronounce, so she settled on this one syllable to define your sister. She has accepted it; grown to love it, in fact. You guess her name is now simply Tee because Jeon Suhana says so.

“How convenient.” Your laugh dies; replaced by a little jump as his posed, soft voice suddenly joins the room, echoing through it. You give him a small smile. “Right?”

Jungkook walks in with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, two buttons of his dark shirt open. His chest peeks golden from underneath, with light spots of red, as if he rubbed the skin over his heart, soothing it.

The usually lifted collars are falling lazily to the sides; the baggy, loose sleeves rolled just below his elbows.

He looks as breathtaking as he did when you met him all those years ago; when you fell for the soul he revealed. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t fade, in any way at all. He still emanates the same confidence, even in times of desperation. Radiates pure attraction.

You guess people would be fooled by this, fall for the untamed, silky, dark hair if they didn’t know him well.

But you do — and you see the change in hue under his eyes. How the fragile, thin skin is a tad bit darker, and how he usually takes care of his mane so well. The way his strands stick out isn’t his usual appearance. Your husband used to be more put together.

But he’s smiling. For your sake and for hers, perhaps even for his own.

Hana is beaming back at him, though a bit timid in face of the change she’s surely seen in him.

But she couldn’t focus on more than the grand city right now, you know. Somehow, you reckon he planted this thought into her mind. He’s been mentioning an upcoming ball this spring, not too many days from now.

If you went, it’d be an excuse to visit your families again. For him to see his mother, and for you to spend an afternoon with your sister. He’s spoken about this once or twice, told you to think about it.

That—

I, however, understand if it is uncomfortable. If it hurts.

Of course it does. Going back to the one place where he handed you his bleeding, beating heart, yours for taking. But the place where he almost became hers, to. The place you met pain and then embraced love.

You were going to give him an answer soon, and you haven’t, and you know how goddamn unfair it is to him, but…

Your heart has been so delicate, and your tongue too mute to truly verbalise a proper response. Yes or no is all it takes, but you can’t stop pondering about the pros and cons.

“Daddy…” Hana calls, palms on the ground, butt up to lift herself upright. “Daddy, what?”

Ever-the-curious daughter. She probably got this from you. Too many unknown flowers that you picked together.

He lifts his trousers to his ankles and then crouches down to her, on the carpet that the two of you have made yourselves comfortable on. Hana drops back onto it. “We could see Tee, if we can make time, baby.”

If your mother agrees.

“Really?!”

Her legs are folded, her upper body leaning forwards, as if she can’t contain the joy in her little heart. She’s delighted, fists on the carpet, and for a moment, it lifts your spirits.

His eyes shift to yours carefully as Hana does a little victory dance, and you feel a prick in your chest. Is it okay to go back? You want to. You don’t want to. Will your heart withhold the pain and take the weight the trip might bring? Or perhaps the opposite…

“Wait,” Hana interrupts, suddenly solemn, “who will play with Leehi if I go?”

Leehi, her favourite nanny, young and beautiful and gentle. You chuckle, and Jungkook follows before he hums for a moment, responding, “Well, she will certainly miss you. Perhaps you should go and tell her that you might go away for a bit?”

Hana gets to her feet again, still your teeny tiny baby as she lifts a finger and declares with raised eyebrows, “I will tell her to not miss me.”

“You do that, love. Leehi is in your room, making your bed.”

Your daughter bolts away with such determination that you can’t help but laugh; her two braids move back and forth.

And once she’s out of sight, Jungkook plumps down on the carpet, knees pulled in and arms around them. He tilts his head with a tender smile, chest rising before he asks, “Did you have time to think about it? Going home?”

You remember a time not too long ago when you’d sit here like this, too; despite the couch in the back, you’d play with the twins and Hana right here, on this warm carpet, and Jungkook would join after work. You’d place your head on his shoulder and whisper-converse with him.

Sometimes, you’d fall asleep and wake up in his arms, in your bed, with the children secured in theirs. You never needed proof for how gentle Jungkook handles you — but if he could carry you into your room like a feather without disturbing a moment of your sleep, you were at utter peace, right?

He did that to you. He still does; his presence calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You want to put your head on his chest again, slumber there. Instead, you nod and say, “I did, yes.”

“And?”

“Hana wants to go.”

His eyes move to the side, down to the floor, then back to you as he tries again, “And what about you?”

You shrug a little. “Can I really refuse my daughter’s wish?”

He moves closer; a very small distance, but noticeable to you. His eyes are intense as he emphasises, “What’s your wish, love?”

Yours? You have a lot of wishes.

Whispered upon falling stars and eyelashes. You can’t utter most of them now, though, can you? But maybe you should. Maybe, rather than the universe, it could be him granting you what you desire.

He can read your thoughts anyway. Because he encourages, “You can share your mind with me. I’m your husband, darling.”

You nod; let something in you break and break until your fingers move, up to one of his knees. He immediately puts a palm onto your digits, holds onto you as you say, “You are.”

“Only yours.”

You inhale deeply. The tears are less these days, but never truly gone. You blink before they can reemerge, quickly adding, “I will go if you want to go. Your wish is my wish.”

“It is?”

“Of course. I am yours, too.”

A fresh colour dusts his cheeks, as if he’s falling in love anew. But his gaze betrays him; still sad when he wonders, “Then… Can I say something very kitschy?”

You feel yourself melt just a little. A hint of a smile graces your face. “Always.”

“My wish is… that I want you back.” He drops his head the moment your heart sinks, too. Even from here, you see the damp waterline. “I want you to be mine the way you were. I wish to give you the same joy I used to. I just…” His voice shakes. “I need my girl back so badly.”

And then, another whisper, stuck in a loop, “I miss you.”

You nod again, tell him, “I know.” Because if you said anything more, you’d cry. You know you would.

He looks up at you, the rims of his eyes red, trapping the tears in. He sniffles; shuts his lids, as if preparing for something. And then asks—

“Do you still love me?”

Do you?

Does he truly need to ask?

His presence still calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You love him irreversibly. You love him with an intensity that has nestled into your heart and is here to stay. Jungkook will never leave its crevices, no matter what. You just wish…

You wish you could show these sentiments to him better. Easier.

You’re the only one in your way now.

Mustering strength, you admit, “If I had stopped— I might’ve been long gone.”

He nods right away — it seems to be enough for him. Encourages him. Like he needed the confirmation; like, even for a moment, he’s glad that your life and soul and being are still merged with his. You haven’t strayed as far as he always fears and it relieves him.

Relieves you, too.

He licks his lips, clearing his throat, and says, “If you don’t want to go… we don’t have to, yes? I am sorry for putting pressure on you.”

“No,” you hold onto his fingers, just weakly, “no, we can go. I want to and… It might be a good alternative to the usual routine.”

Another bop of his head before he sees the pony in your other hand, reaching for it. You give it to him, and he inspects it. Comments, “Oh… It broke.”

“Mmh… damaged but still here. Hana makes sure of it.”

Jungkook looks at you. You understand your words; understand the hope behind them. And it makes him smile.

The same smile that you remember from before; the one you saw in the orphanage, in the carriages, in the rain. Months ago when you pestered him in his office until he came to bed with you.

You don’t know if he hears it when you add a quiet mumble under your breath; you guess he registers at least pieces of it as he finds your eyes soon again, so tender and vulnerable and speechless.

Pained and comforted at once as you whisper, “I miss you, too.”

This is far from your first time entering a hall that exceeds all expectations you have of pre-summer events and boasting the riches.

Jungkook and you have hosted parties before and attended even more. The number accumulated over the years; to a sum that made you immune with time. To the lusters and the dances; to the lights and the food.

Never to his touch, but much to the noise and the giggle. Most of the conversations are superficial, and when they’re not, you’re barely part of them. In your town, people respect you, but they have their own little culture that you’re not always too well versed with, up there in your mansion.

And here in this town, you stopped being a true, proper member of the peerage long ago. Even when you’re welcomed with wide arms and open hearts. People encourage you and admire you, but your life has long evolved.

These people don’t know half of it. To them, you’re the co-ruler of a beautiful town, far from here and deep in your own head. Living your days with gorgeous children and a wildly desired husband.

But you have perfected your act. Nobody suspects a thing, and you don’t want them to. So you cling to Jungkook’s arm, a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach when you enter the brightly lit hall and take in what you know.

The place is familiar; many years ago, you flipped to a new page right here, following the same steps. You probably walked the same line to the middle of the room, too, and then up to a dark hallway, meeting Jungkook in a corner before you turned your lives around.

For a while, this spot was connected to memories you would’ve rather forgotten. Tears and pain and betrayal and lies and eventually, the truth. But aches have dimmed over time, despite the fact that neither of you will truly ever forget.

You replaced these miseries. You live through your own and resolve them with a priority unmatched to all you ever experienced.

Yet, this very moment feels different somehow.

It has been years since you danced here together. Months since you danced properly at all.

Back then, there was envy in his touch, you so vividly recall. Affection in his words, concern in his thick eyebrows, fear in his dark brown pupils. Gems, is what they always were, and you would always fall for them; when you’d sneak up to empty rooms or hurt in vacant hallways.

When he was still younger than he is now, and you were, too; when you had so many other issues to forget about, the world seemed much bigger. Like there was hope somewhere out of these walls; and there was.

You were children so in love, inevitably possessed by a powerful force that never quite left you after that. The heartbeat, wild and thumping, never calmed.

All you used to be and all you remained is in your chest and in your mind. On your lips and in your words. No wonder everybody behaves so normally. Who could think otherwise than to be absolutely certain that your days are still the same as they always were?

Jungkook pulls up his arm gently, glove-clad hand lifting up to offer to you. He isn’t interested in conversing with others today. He allows a little greeting or a smile, but he doesn’t indulge in more or divulges his innermost emotions.

And they don’t bother. He isn’t trying, so they don’t either just yet; being a royal plants timidness in other people.

No, what he is focused on is your weak self next to him, knees as wobbly as many years ago. The palm shown to you is beseeching you to come with him, and to do him the honour of being his for another night.

You didn’t ever stop being his, but you don’t need to reveal this to him. Even when he nods a little, moving his hand up just a little to urge yours into it, you know he knows.

But you still accept with soft fingertips lightly kissing upon his warm hand, debunking all possible thoughts of doubts and erasing them out of his mind. And he seems relieved when you gulp down the stress, following your silent husband across the room.

You remain as wordless as you watch familiar and stranger faces float by. You nod when they do, pressing their digits when they reach for yours, a soft and quiet greeting with a smile or, on the other hand, a delighted, “Hello!”

You find your voice when you respond, find it when Jungkook does, reciprocating the others’ eventual, brave curiosity and joy upon seeing the two of you. Hearing him helps you bring your vocal cords back into swing.

And you feel as though you haven’t spoken for ages when you finally tell Jungkook, “You know…” He turns a little, not quite in the middle of the room just yet. “You used to be worried about me rejecting you.”

You aren’t sure why you’re saying this at all. Perhaps because he isn’t fearful of distance anymore — or at least, not the one he used to be afraid of. This is different. Back then, he was scared he’d lose a presence in his life that he hadn’t been able to call his own just yet.

Today, he knows exactly what he’d be letting go.

Maybe he isn’t overthinking it as much as you, though.

Because as you look at him, head a little tilted and carrying a big, dreamy mind, you lose yourself in his twinkle a bit. The smirk is crooked and saccharine, the same old as when the two of you met.

There aren’t that many couples on the dancefloor yet when you reach it, but it seems that you two being one of the few to make the start helps. Inspires others; pre-wedding season is always an interesting event to witness. People are just waiting for an opportunity.

And when his hand reaches the small of your back, body close in front of you, you catch yourself taking in a breath too deep. You’re enthralled when he once again reminds you of the sugary undertone in his voice, so cautious when he says, “You know, I do not think I was ever worried.”

You lift an eyebrow. “You weren’t?”

“Well, worried would be the wrong word. I would rather argue—” He shrugs a shoulder, eyes drifting to the side, to the floor, and then back up to you as he scours his thoughts for a proper term. “You teased me, and I indulged in it.’”

You laugh softly, blinking slowly. Encouraged by the sound of it, he laces his fingers with yours, and you let him. Let him burn your skin through the gloves. Amused, you whisper, “I teased you?”

“You always did, did you not?”

You’re not too certain about this. If he is referring to your little sarcastic taunts, playfully threatening to keep his dance cards empty, he might be right. But you remember more than just this—

“You were the one to make short carriage rides adventurous,” you playfully accuse.

Another chuckle, and you’re nearly sold. As he twirls you a bit, leading you across the shiny floor, you find enough time for yourself to reminisce for a moment. Wherever you went, whenever the world called you to some nearby thing to attend to, his lips would find you.

Innocent or not.

Your clavicles, your neck, the spot behind your ears.

Or — your knuckles, your shoulder, your wrist.

People might have wondered how your love could bud this fast when only weeks had passed back then, but you knew and saw and felt it all. You never questioned any of it.

Jungkook says, “Maybe I should again.”

Hm…

“Maybe you should.”

Weren’t you just as breathless and faint back then, too? You think so. And you think he fared no better, did he?

He’d sigh, too, the moment you arrived at your destination, whispering promises and plans to you through similar symphonies as you are hearing right now. But even with the familiarity of the strings, reality has changed now.

Because as you rock, you don’t hear the cheerful music playing. The strings are dim in your ears and the dancing a reflex. Rather, for you, there is a piano in the background, keys singing the tune of what you were.

The more you talk and the more you listen, the more you see. Behind your eyes, fabricated by your mind, you register all the fleeting pictures of a distant yet vivid yesterday. And some of it still aches, but…

You can’t stop talking, and you can’t stop listening, either.

The nostalgia, paired with the movements dragging your feet across the floor and into his arms, keep catapulting you back to a place you know and one you crave to return to so deeply. But at the same time, you can’t be that young again.

You will always be in love, but you won’t feel the same sickening beginning again. Truths are harsh.

But are they always as thorough as you valued them to be?

Because if you can’t be who you were, why does your heart still hammer like this? If you’re so hurt, why do you still feel transported to another lifetime, like you never really left? As if you’re trudging and wading and crawling through it again to relive it all?

Maybe because you are. Maybe you never truly left indeed.

A voice interrupts your thoughts, the lights coming into focus again. Jungkook’s breath is close to your cheek as he hushes the words, wondering, “What are you thinking about?”

Yes, what are you thinking about?

You’re thinking about a plethora of things; none of which you can arrange into rational, lucid thoughts. Words don’t come easy to you these days, so you rely on what you feel. Rely on your senses.

On how he looks at you. How he touches you. How he speaks to you. And on how he moves.

You swallow again, hoping for your voice to overshadow the violins playing and the piano’s tunes taking form in your head. You tell him, “I am thinking about how gracefully you still dance.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “can that ever change?”

Your left shoulder lifts a little. “We don’t dance as much as we used to. But I suppose not.”

“Or perhaps it can change and I just find it easier with you.”

Your eyes expand a bit, but you don’t know if he sees it.

Easier with you.

With you, of all the people he has known over the decades. A life filled with touches so godless that you can barely wrap your head around still being the only one.

And you try to blend them out so badly. The thoughts of his body swaying as easily with somebody else’s, or hiding in another nook, far from creeping eyes. Feeling another heat on a chilly night.

You are truly trying to focus.

To focus on the heartbeat against your back when he releases you and turns you in his grip. For a moment, he holds you there, against his vest, the buttons cold on your bare arm. Your skin reacts, goosebumps scattered all over, helped by the proximity his lips come into.

They graze your ears, as if he’s doing this to you on purpose; as if he’s attempting to draw out the message your soul delivers. Responding with your name, spelled out by the pumping of his heart. He’s trying to make you receive it.

Every damn second, he has been wanting you to focus on him, and you have been. More so now than ever. On this and this only.

But it’s never easy. It hasn’t been.

You turn back in his arms. Even the piano fades a little now; you barely hear any of it anymore, let him lead you, relying on the pure trust you still put in him. It burns as much as all you see in those eyes of his.

Two tiny flames, red and orange, flickering blue sometimes. Behind them, a dark and sweet and gorgeous void; it still leads to his heart.

You have never seen this much love in anyone’s glance. Except for when he looks at your children, you guess. But this is different. The two of you are always, always different.

Jungkook loves you. Jungkook loves you with all he has and all he ever had and all he’ll be able to give. Jungkook intends to love you to your last exhale, and will love you into the next life; and Jungkook will wait for your soul in order to merge back with it someday, in the great unknown.

No matter who of you leaves this cruel world first — you have never caught him looking at someone like this. Like he will be sitting on his cloud impatiently on the other side, holding onto the fate bestowed upon you.

You know this much. You know the nature of the two of you because you are part of this constellation. So it should hurt less. Eternity should relieve you.

And he understands, too, that you’ll always be here, patient as he watches you come closer step by step, back to him. No matter in which universe and which time; he’ll be there, in an uncertain future and when humanity has changed into something far bigger.

But…

Right now, right where you are…

The same lights, the same light steps. The same love and the same scent announcing the change in season. This place and the memories attached to it; the fragility of your mind and the still fresh wounds to your heart.

They extend in size much too fast, much too ruthlessly.

You unlace your fingers when the sound ebbs down, just in a moment all too fitting to not raise much suspicion. The bodies around you are bowing, chattering, smiling. They don’t notice you.

So you step back by mere inches, parting from him with a frail smile. You offer a slight bow, as well, watching him imitate it with muscles just as feeble. You bring a hand to your face. Touch your cheek first, still feel the heat brushing your skin.

Then, you fan air against it, feigning the warmth that a near-summery event such as this often brings. They won’t know. You breathe out, as if overwhelmed by the heat, and then begin to walk away. But he realises your intentions immediately.

For a second, you see his mouth forming your name. Then, his voice changes, as if you’re the only one who can hear it through the crowd, adding a tiny, “Sweetheart—”

So aware of it all.

But you’re already stepping away because you can’t stop now. Because your feet won’t halt, their heels pressing into the floor as if they’re moving by themselves, carrying you away.

And because the wind outside helps, even if just a tad; even if only until his shoes clack against the floor, their sound all too known to you. He catches up to you right away; not that you expected otherwise. Jeon Jungkook would not stand there and let you go.

Not again.

You hear your name again, wondering about the next syllable to utter. Your mind is obscured, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing, no matter how obviously you just ran away. So you sniffle a bit and then suck in some air, as if to blame the now colder night.

It’s a lie. It’s still pleasant; you aren’t cold despite the still-present gooseflesh. Maybe that’s why you find it so hopeless to contain your silent cries or to wipe away that one stray tear as you respond, “Yes.”

And the moment allows some time again. Time to think back to more that you never experienced, that you’d rather still not be a part of.

Because you still can’t stop comparing. All you ever see is her when he never does. Whenever you think about how much he loves you now and loved you then, you remember that he was in the same halls with her, staring from a far end, hoping for something she could never grant.

That he stood at the same spots in this damned world as the two of you did many years ago — but without them ever further advancing. Because none of them could, not because they wouldn’t. Because they were veiled, forbidden.

You start to pour your heart out the moment you turn to him, at the end of the porch, watching his mouth open to speak. You aren’t prepared and haven’t written a mental speech, so you’ll need to improvise.

Which means, you need to shield yourself as you speak, expecting how pain-struck he looks when you begin, “My mind keeps saying…”

It’s already a miserable start; but Jungkook still urges, “It says what?”

“That,” you clear your throat, so absolutely fazed and dazed when his thumb reaches out, catching the tear only followed by many others, “that it could have been her. That she is still there and—”

You pause to breathe, looking past his shoulder. Nobody else is outside, and you see the crowd through the door. A pair of eyes or two peeks out, but you’re clearly not interesting enough right now. So they diverge their gaze again.

You don’t care about whether somebody sees. You only care about them possibly thinking that he hurt you. That the grand, famous son of the former, beloved duke has done something to break a heart.

You don’t want them to.

So you drop your head, keeping your voice in check as you try to add, “I am afraid that you might start regretting that it was not her.”

Jungkook silences. The lips so close to your ears before are locked now; not because he thinks you’re right or because he’s ever entertained the option of a reality where she replaced your role in his life.

But because he’s told you the truth so many times. Over and over; circling round and round. It won’t carve itself into your mind as it has onto his tongue, words repeated like crazy.

He pauses a little longer; much until you glance up. And despite each of his failed attempts at bringing you back to where you used to be, he refuses defeat and tries again—

“And does this not tell you otherwise? Does it not mean anything? This…”

The thumb wanders from your cheek to your jaw. “That it ended up being you and not her.”

You tilt your head again; it’s different now than from a couple minutes ago. Maybe you truly are being a tease. Giving him hope one second, crying the next. Asking things like, “What does it mean?”

You know. Of course you do. But you’re being selfish for the first time, waiting until he tells you, “That it was supposed to be you. Always, and even now. I can’t tell you how all the days without you pass, but I just…”

A shake of his head, a drop of his hand. His head falls like yours did, and he closes his eyes, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose to pinch it a little. You wait. His lips, full and pink, form a circle, breathing out, and then he says,

“I am running out of words.”

Maybe he doesn’t need to add anymore. The former ones still echo. All of them always echo.

The eyes looking at you and the whispers he utters. The stare that wants to bring you the stars. They want to freeze the moment, the wind, the clouds in place — it all echoes his heart.

“Jungkook…”

It’s all your strength allows.

And what else can you say at all?

You can only listen as he pleads again, “Please stay.”

What else can you do? You see him everywhere anyway, hear him all the time. The love never vanishes either way, no matter what the world does to crush you. And you don’t want it to.

You want to remember it.

Even if any of this came to crumble to pieces and left you with merely half of what you’re able to call yours. Even if one day, you were deserted and alone and started forgetting his voice or the way his hands moved or the warmth of his touch, you’ll remember this much.

The intensity of the burning in your stomach as it spreads, a wildfire that consumes. But if you’re smart enough, you’ll listen. You’ll stay. You’ll add to the memories instead of erasing them.

Build a world that’s both old and new to you and leave whatever you survived throughout these months in another universe, one that you didn’t ever live in but solely visited.

You were wrong. His name isn’t all that your strength allows. There’s more left in your wobbly, fragile body. A rising of your chest; a lift of your head, blinking of your eyes; and a step or two, enough to close the distance.

He’s pleading on repeat, the same little request that has accompanied you the past months. Still whispering a little, “Stay,” as he watches you close in, lodged in place because this time, it’s your feet dragging you to him instead of away from him.

You feel it in every fibre when your body collides with his. Head to chest and arms wound around him as if clasping some support to keep you afloat. Your legs, no matter how aflame your heart, are weak somehow; you might falter.

But Jungkook helps you fare better. Keeps you in place when his hand finds the small of your back, slowly, unsurely. Cautious as it drifts up your spine, leaving something in its wake that you missed so fiercely.

You need to stay like this. Just for a while. Perhaps tonight, if you don’t, you might die. With a feeling eating you up, blazing as it could get, and tears rolling down that you’re certain could be acid.

They have been for a bit; everything has been for a bit.

But right now, somehow, somewhat, they’re still as different as you prayed for them to be for so long.

That night, you don’t stay in his humongous mansion that is resplendent in this picturesque town of yours. In truth, Jungkook doesn’t spend much of his nights over there when you visit the place you once knew.

His mother and brother mind less, but to him, the bright walls are tinged with a darkness only he sees, perceptible under the touch of his palms and in the endless, empty hallways.

Instead, you spend an hour of the night staring at the door you grew up gazing at, big and comforting and closed, a portal to your younger years and turbulent moments. Just a minute walk from that door and down the stairs, there is an entrance that Jungkook once stood in front of, begging, stepping over the threshold to touch you just once.

To tell you what you needed to know, without his tongue ever working. And you remember bringing him back here one day then, with a ring on your finger and an arm slung around his. Listening as he told you, looking around, “So cosy.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful. And the scent helps.”

You smiled. You had given the kitchen staff an entire list of Jungkook’s favourite dishes. He is an omnivore; he will eat almost anything presented to him, never too picky. Before you were married, he had enjoyed every bite and every drop given to him.

But he was here as your husband for the first time, and you wanted to pamper him as much as he spoiled you daily.

He looked sweet as he sniffed, nose crinkled, dark, dark eyes so enthusiastic and happy. That moment had long killed all the pain you’d felt burning in your blood a year prior, and you knew he’d keep your veins clean and your heart pumping.

And today… years and years after.

It felt different as he came in. This is still his home, too. Your mother loves him. Your father loves him. Your sister, while empathic, no matter what past she shares with him, adores him as her brother-in-law, too.

And despite all the trails of dryness on your face, where the tears flowed, you love him, too.

His calm breathing behind you offers a source of relief. His warmth is palpable under the blanket, the mattress filled. When you came here with Hana last time, you truly noticed how big your bed was and how you’re not used to the space, how you don’t even want it anymore.

And when Jungkook moves, sighing, evidently turning, you close your eyes. If he notices, he will ask why you’re awake, and if you tell him why, you will cry, and you can’t cry again.

Too late, though.

He knows; but he doesn’t ask.

What he does do is touch your waist just a little. The fingertips send a shiver up your sides. Gentle goosebumps and a fiery pain, well-known but so far away that it catapults you back to what you were.

Your throat is clogged when he, well aware of how awake you are, analyses the pattern of your breathing so easily that you should’ve known you needn’t act. He whispers, “May I…”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. You want to turn around and cuddle into him, so close to holding the side of his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

But before your body can react, he does, an arm slinging around you when you put a hand over his. He pulls you close to him, a trembling lower lip sinking to your shoulder, and your inhales break.

Quickly, you close your eyes, thinking of the wind in your hair a couple hours ago. It was balm to your heart, the way his hug was; but the sobs echoing in front of the porch added a couple stones to your heart, forcing it heavier.

All these months, you have suppressed your tears in front of him, but by now, there is no need to hide and to pretend. Jungkook never has. Even now, he doesn’t veil a thing — you know when you realise he’s crying, too, shakily breathing in against your shoulder.

Between the silent weeping, you hear his voice whimper. You’re carried away when he holds you closer, still grovelling, delivering a now-rare touch to your clavicles and your jaw, as if to feel your heart and your presence.

And then, he mutters, “I love you. I am so sorry. I love you so, so much.”

The words are quiet, drowned as he presses his lips deeper into your shoulder, into your neck. His tears fall onto your skin, and you shut your eyes tight, letting out the same liquid, mixed with a longing, quiet moan. You don’t need to tell him that you feel the same.

You know he feels it. Feels it in the way you grip his hand. In how your head turns to his, and his fingers pinch your chin, and in the way you look at him. How you let him kiss your nose. Your lips.

In how you finally do put a warm palm to his neck, grazing the hair in the nape of it, mouth close to his as you shut your eyes before he does.

You remain and cry and hope and love until he falls asleep, and you follow.

You basked in the breeze.

It was scented and gentle, like the back of loving fingers caressing your cheeks. The sky was nearly cloudless; spring was slowly setting in. When you had walked the distance to this very spot, the wind howling in your ears had soothed you somehow.

Softly and sweetly; a desired change, along with the welcoming sun rays kissing your face. Warmth and love, a dress swaying. There was something about this world you breathed in that resembled a girl’s fairytale dreams.

So you didn’t mind the bugs or how ticklish the ankle-high grass made you or how hot it was getting by the hour today.

You wanted to be here. You wanted to be surrounded by the old trees, gazing at the paths between them leading to where you stood, amidst the butterflies and flowers and underneath the azure sky.

You were alone.

Saturdays were busy for the mansion and the village; people wandered about and tended to their businesses. Sometimes, they’d indulge in low-labour days and wander to this place. Some of those who could afford horses, would ride here with their kids, take a walk to breathe in the season and the worldly wonders the edge of your town offers.

But not today; and you were thankful.

You kicked the earth underneath your feet, the low boots not high enough or protective of your skin beneath the dress. You had fled from the mansion and the conversations going on. Jungkook was in the parlour and the children were playing with the nanny.

You guess this was the place to be. So you tucked your hair behind your ear, looking around the empty space, and then took a seat despite the wildness of the field. Plucked the grass.

Jihyo was probably still sitting in front of him, legs not nervously pressed together as she used to do when she visited. She crosses them now, her back a little more bent than usual, comfortable with her son and the man she once knew.

When you left, they were still exchanging pleasantries, but you knew it wasn’t long before they’d get to the business he’d promised her. Both of them pleaded with you to stay. To listen in and make decisions with him.

He held your hand until you retracted it, fingers left in his hold, and then, you pulled back entirely.

You were terrible at being there. And you were terrible at being away, too. But the wind engulfed you with some solace at least, and this was only half as worse as the stifling air in that one room. Invisible thumbs pressing into your neck.

But this town, this village — they weren’t big. And your staff, and Jungkook, and the people knew you.

So you shouldn’t have been too surprised when she found you here, too. When you heard her voice close and recognised it immediately, swearing that the field was empty just a moment ago.

She was slow, careful. She knew you by now, at least a little; but she still always approached you as if she was waiting for an outburst, well aware that you weren’t going to snap again. But she saw a deep fault in herself, expected to be thrown out at some point.

But you wouldn’t; you never did. If you wanted to, you wouldn’t have found this very hidden spot that she’d located so easily.

Hands folded in front of her body, she smiled when you looked back at her, alarmed by the steps in the grass. You managed a little smile, just as savvy of the fact that she was harmless as she was. You didn’t hate Jihyo; but you were still wounded, insecure.

Squinting into the high sun, eyes hidden behind some of her strands swaying in the wind, she nodded towards you, standing over you before she said, “We are done.”

You reciprocated her nod, telling her, “That’s good.”

“He is giving Minjun a bit of his time, so I left. I have been wanting to find you for so long, but you always disappear.”

Of course she’d noticed. Jihyo, despite her faults and stupid mistakes in the past, wasn’t dumb in any way. She was a woman, like you, deeply tenderhearted and understanding of what swirled through your mind in her presence.

She knew that if she was you, she’d be hurting the same.

Yet, you told her, “I apologise.”

“There is no need.” Small pause, and then, “May I?”

She pointed to the spot next to you, asking to take a seat in the middle of a field that you didn’t own. Not like this; she didn’t need to ask. But you still nodded, shifting a little to the right, even though you didn’t need to.

Putting both hands under her thighs, she tucked the dress under her bottom and sat down, legs folded and fingers immediately grabbing some grass to toy with. She asked, “How are you?”

You puffed out a tiny breath. What were you supposed to answer? The shrug of your shoulder accompanying your seeming pondering was redundant, because you knew the answer very well. What good did it do to put on an act?

You responded, “It might take a while to feel like myself again.”

It was enough as an answer. She nodded once again, one eye still pinched shut as the noon sun stung in it. “It does take a while. Life would hurt less if it didn’t.”

“My mother says hardships build character.”

“Yes?” she wondered, letting out a little chuckle. Her digits wandered from the grass to her dress, picking at a stray thread. “I don’t know. I think it wouldn’t be too bad to evade these hardships. Does the character really need to be built?”

You sighed. “Right? I do not reckon I need to evolve as a person if I can just be happy.”

“Right,” she repeated.

She silenced again for a moment, the quietude broken by the whistle of the breeze. You breathed in, thankful for the oxygen so different from your hometown. You were thankful for a plethora of things around here and this was one of the aspects topping the list so easily.

Jihyo tongued her cheek and you watched for a second. When she noticed you staring, she smiled again, adding, “I appreciate your honesty. You do not need to talk to me at all, but you still do. Thank you.”

“Well,” you began, offering a tender smile, “it kills me to not be honest.”

Which was true, but not quite.

It wasn’t that you had been lying to Jungkook; you were just constantly burying your actual thoughts. What you felt and what you thought and what you needed. You felt odd about the moments you shared with him, and often waited for the right situations to be vulnerable.

It was killing you to not verbalise your mind, but you still powered through.

“I can see it,” she still admitted, “I see it even in your face.”

You were sure she could. Your face often felt contorted. Even if you wanted to, you were certain you couldn’t quite hide the emotions your brain elicited; it would always show in the eyes first. Windows to the soul and whatnot.

Did his eyes reveal the same to her? Did she see any of what she had so many years ago?

When he found out about her morals, when he felt the pang of pain in his chest back then, did he look similar to her? Or did she see a difference now?

Your stomach churned at the thought of this.

Words at the tip of your tongue, you chose to let them tumble, and asked in a voice so fragile, “How was he back then? Jungkook.”

Jihyo thought about it for a minute. Looked at you. Then gazed back down; without meeting your eye now, she said, “…Hurt.”

“Hmm…” you voiced, uncontrolled with your following words, seeking answers. “Then, he must not look different now. You know him like this, do you not?”

Another second to evaluate your question.

Your heart beat in your throat, and you let your head fall, understanding her answer until she spoke, and you realised that you actually didn’t, “I am not sure. For one, I did not know how to heal him. Back then, it was not just me. His emotions had to do with something much bigger than what we had.”

You only stared.

Your eyes begged for her to elaborate, and she did.

“He was hurt, but for another reason. Back then I was the distraction from his problems and he fell back into them once he stepped out of my life. But…” She hesitated, fumbling for words. “But you are the main reason for his heartache.”

Her words hurt deeply and violently. They had long been sitting in a space so concealed, but they floated to the surface now. As she voiced them, there was no way to deny them anymore; even if you weren’t at fault, and even if you understood your pain, validated it every day…

It was no lie that he was hurt because of you, too.

“Yes…” you confessed, your voice tiny and pained.

Maybe Jihyo understood what she had just uttered and how you’d taken it, because she shook her head in the next moment. Clarified, “Do not misunderstand, I don’t mean this in a bad way. Just that—”

She was struggling; was attempting to not be the source of your ache again. She inhaled deeply, and then tried again, “There is a big difference between me and you and his pain between us. With you, it’s so much more profound. If he can hurt because of you, and only hurt because he had lost a distraction all those years ago… doesn’t it reveal his true feelings?”

You didn’t answer. You needed to digest her words; eyes drifted to the ground, and you repeated them in your mind. She leaned into you, touched your elbow ever-so-gently. “Does it not?”

You tucked your hair loosely behind your ears. Partly, because it kept covering your eyes; partly, because you felt shy all of a sudden. Not the way you used to. Rather in a familiar in-love-way, yearning for somebody who was waiting for you just the same.

Somebody adored you for who you were, thankful for every damn breath you drew. There were moments of realisations like this; when you rethought your life and once again understood who it truly was who fell for you.

You were lucky, you thought, to be the one to be worthy enough to be loved by him.

“You’re right,” you soon agreed, “of course… of course you are.”

Jihyo didn’t answer right away. Your conversation was shaped by certain awkwardness, but it was drenched in support, too. You didn’t think you’d find yourself here, but realistically, you also knew that Jihyo wasn’t quite a bad person.

She had hurt, hadn’t she? Every woman deserves a love she can be proud of; Jihyo had never experienced it until now. Not when she hid with Jungkook in vacant rooms. Never meaning to hurt anybody when she broke into your life.

You wished you could despise her for her flaws, but you couldn’t.

Not when she looked at you like this. Those gorgeous, dark eyes so sweet, eyebrows knitted together just a little. Arched, pretty lips in a small smile, but the distress so obvious underneath her expression.

She said, “I don’t want to come in between you. I never wanted to, it’s just that…” She gulped. You already knew what she’d say and you nodded, but she explained anyway, “I need to ensure his safety. I wish there was another way.”

Perhaps there was. But no easy one. And maybe she was right anyway. If not the father, who else?

“I wish there was,” she repeated, “but as soon as I have figured it all out… I will be gone.”

The shake of your head came quicker than you would’ve assumed or expected. You surprised yourself when you defended, “But Jungkook deserves a relationship with him, too. I don’t want to take it away.” You gazed down again. “He wasn’t part of his life until now, but… can you or me or he really abandon that? Minjun is still his… his blood.”

You choked out the last words, suppressing the urge to hold onto your chest, to grip your heart and protect it, so it didn’t bleed through your digits. What could you do, really? You could’ve agreed, told her to pack her things once things were resolved.

You wished you were selfish like this; you knew Jungkook would’ve been for you if you just told him. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t fair towards anyone.

“Then…”

Jihyo’s gaze was intense, trying to communicate verbally. Maybe she knew it was hard to find the right words at the right times; she wasn’t bad at it, but it didn’t come to her naturally either, like the way it did for Jungkook so often. And he had said many times that it did for you, too.

“Then you might need to find a way to cope,” she threw out, “or to… to not hurt anymore. I’m wrong, I don’t want you to cope. I want us to stop hurting. Because I respect you.”

She let out another breath. Her hand moved in place, and you knew she was trying to reach out, holding back until you did it for her. Put a palm on her fingers. She continued, “And I do not want to lie… I am fond of you.”

Maybe because she understood. Or because, at heart, she knew you were good. Worth respecting. You wanted to hurt others just as little as she did.

You nodded, responding, “Thank you. I— I am fond of you, too, just not… of—”

“Of the situation itself. I know.” You agreed with another nodding gesture, nibbling at your lower lip for a second. Jihyo sighed. “Realistically… without lying to yourself. Do you want to leave?”

Did you? Of course not. If you’d wanted to, you would’ve. But you were too weak to fall out of love with him. Or maybe, in truth, this was one of your strengths.

Compassion. Care. Forgiveness.

You never thought it took much to love him. But it always takes a lot to compromise, to fight through issues and circle back to love. Were you strong enough to do this?

Maybe. Probably.

Because it was him. Come on…

It was him.

“No,” you then said.

“You love him,” she stated. Not a question. A solid observation; anyone would see.

“I do.”

“…Would you regret staying more or leaving?”

Asking the right questions. Then again, the answer didn’t take much thinking. Your instinct knew, and your heart knew, and every overthinking thought, once cleared, would give way to one and only answer.

So you acknowledged, “I do not know how to leave him.”

And that was it.

Jihyo didn’t say more than that. She leaned back, one single nod, palms against the sharp grass; she didn’t seem to bother.

She stretched her chin towards the sun, indulging in the start of the spring. You saw a ladybug crawling up her clothed leg, but she didn’t pay it any mind. In fact, she didn’t utter anything at all anymore. Because she didn’t need to.

You knew, and she knew.

Because whatever she could’ve said, you already saw. Her silence divulged it.

Quietly, wordlessly made clear to you—

“Then you know where this will eventually go.”

The corners of your eyes are dry, somehow crusty when your lids flutter open the next morning. You guess that’s where the liquid traced down your face and left your skin to desiccate.

Your left side feels airy and empty, and when you turn, you see it devoid of a presence indeed. But there’s a soft, close rustling and whispering that you soon detect to be the man that priorly deserted the bed.

He’s standing close to your childhood room’s door, throwing a thin, baby blue coat over his shoulders. It’s reminiscent of the royalty he is.

His eyes meet yours in time as you blink at him, sad yet dreamy. The desire to act upon the emotions that the dream — no, the memory — called forth is vigorous. Like an invisible force, urged by the girl you expected it from the least.

She was right, you knew where it’d go. Perhaps you just needed more time; to heal, to come to terms with all the change around and inside you.

And you want to leave it behind and want to pull him back to you; but as his eyes flicker with an already established plan, you hold back, listen as he verbalises it, “Get dressed, my love. We shall go out today.”

“Out? Where?”

“Let me lead you. I wouldn’t want to ruin the moment.” And then he turns away. Adds, “I will wait downstairs. I will give you some time to get ready.”

He nods once towards the general direction of the house’s exit, hand already on the handle of the door. You start, “You can stay if you—”

But he sighs, not in annoyance but amusement. His mouth curves into a smile before he chuckles a bit, pushing down the handle. You silence, but he doesn’t leave before infiltrating each of your thoughts when he says, “I know you are fine with this, but—”

Just one more time, he turns to you, “But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.”

He doesn’t need to specify what it is, because you remember, too. The excitement seconds away from the door, when you’d rush to open and put your gloved hand into his. He’d bow and kiss your knuckles and offer his arm.

And you’d stare. You’d keep staring. Would marvel at the sun reflecting in his eyes or the raindrops trailing down his temple or the snowflakes melting in his hair.

You’d admire and fall, freeze and burn. Would wait for a single moment in a vacant corner, anticipate his lips closing in, holding the hand lifting to your cheeks.

The clot in your throat is thick as Jungkook leaves and shuts the door gently. And you, as lovesick as you have always been, let your legs dangle, for a minute tops before you hurry to find all you need.

Your maid helps you a little, tightening the corset and assuring you that Hana is still asleep. That your sister was planning on buying her toys today anyway, a certainly long trip. Maybe it was Jungkook who had schemed all this beforehand — it seems to work quite well.

Hana is never one to complain when it comes to her aunt or her uncle or her cousin.

You don’t notice how much time passes until you’re finished, a lock dangling on each side of your face and a summer hat sitting on top of the carefully mended hair. You only question what Jungkook did in your absence once you near the staircase.

Converse with your father? Flatter your mother? Soak in some of the sun, just outside on the porch, greeting passersby who must surely still remember him?

But it’s none of these things, really, and you should have known. Should have reminded yourself of the sincerity in his voice and the words he uttered as you awoke.

Because he’s nowhere near any of your family members; instead, he’s right there in the middle of the welcoming hall. Stands there like a lost but gorgeous, sweet puppy. Fondles with his fingers, a strand in his forehead.

His mane is as dark as his eyes when they find you at the top of the staircase, but they’re shinier, with a degree of affection you’ve known for years. So there’s something ancient in his gaze.

Something you knew back when life truly started. When he’d wait, just like this, and you’d walk down the stairs, as if descending to join him at the altar. Come to think of it, you think you remember similar sentiments in his pupils when you married him, too.

No, you don’t think so; you know. Hell might freeze over — you wouldn’t forget the way he looked at you, so vulnerable and in disbelief. Somewhat glad and relieved that you were there, putting his trust and his heart in your palms, yet expecting the worst.

You know that you taught him — to understand his worth and to see what he is to you.

And you see the same feelings now.

He knows you, knows you better than anyone. But he’s falling in love again. Seeing you again. Trying to mend what’s broken and finding an anchor in you, seeing the beauty one usually recognises in forests and waterfalls and colours.

You breathe in. Then out.

Keep watching as he watches.

His mouth is slightly apart, a bittersweet pain in his eyebrows, and once you reach him where he waits, you see him gulp. He dares not to blink as you take his hand, cherishes each moment and all he’s allowed to see of you.

Jungkook doesn’t need to say any of it. He has before. And even when he didn’t, you knew. He might have studied you over the years, but you know him better than anyone, too.

Strange, how your brain convinced you otherwise and planted doubts when you’ve never not been aware of the loyalty he always pledged to you.

But he’s so unwaveringly beautiful as you take him in. There is no moment in existence when he isn’t, but… those eyes. And the bridge of his nose, ending in that little button. The arch and curve of his lips and the moles you have kissed so often.

You’re breathless and taken when he smiles like this, madly insane when he says, “Not that I ever forgot, but,” he exhales, “I am incredibly lucky.”

Timid, you lower your head for a brief moment, fingers curling around his as you swallow the knot and tell him—

“Funny… I was going to say the same thing.”

You know the building. Know it like the back of your hand, even now.

“You brought me to…”

You look around, slightly blinded by the sun as you squeeze one eye shut. Some of the bricks look the same, some have been replaced. You didn’t realise how much you missed it here until now; not until the door of the carriage closes and it sinks in that he actually brought you here.

“The orphanage,” you breathe.

“You talk about them so much,” Jungkook says. Good — perhaps you did miss them and knew. But years passed. A new life started. Still… “We never got around to visiting this place. But I wanted to bring you this time.”

Your head turns to look at him. “Have you ever since you first asked to come to town?”

“Well… no,” he admits, “rather, I have wanted to for months. Before anything happened.”

You don’t know what to reply. There’s a little version of you in the back of your head, jumping in joy and tearing up at the same time. Another reminder of a million that Jungkook has always been attentive with you.

Maybe that’s why you fell just a bit deeper every day while other loves faded and wavered. Because Jeon Jungkook fucking cares. If not for anyone, then about you. You might die with this certainty embedded in your mind.

“Shall we go in?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, nervous and curious and so, so fond.

Once you’ve put your name in the visitors’ archive, the passage to the main hall is more or less empty, with a couple new faces passing you by. But once you reach the lovely place you’d frequent, watching spontaneous or carefully crafted performances on a small stage, names start coming to you.

It takes a second for them to perceive you. The orphanage can be a crowded place and random guests, especially unannounced, are not a given. You knew that back then, too. There are kind souls in this town, but the children are still not used to visitors.

They were used to you before you left.

And you see the month and year-long fondness they had set up for you once they do finally detect you. Some of them are new once again, but several you recognise. Just like you, they freeze momentarily, robbed of air.

For a second, they stare at you as if met with a forgotten ghost. As if they’re trying to place you into a fitting category in their lives, figuring out when you were part of it until they finally get it.

A boy and a girl, fraternal twins, are the first to abandon their game of nine men’s morris and get to their feet. You wave with a quiet, “Hello,” and they lift their hands and open their mouths, wordlessly telling you that, “I can’t believe this!”

The boy, Chul, would always hug you back when you came here. He was still so young then and now he’s grown by one or two heads. It’s easy to tell who they all are despite the time that passed; the moles and movements and smiles are still the same.

Though they have grown into such dashing gems.

Behind the twins, you see more children rushing, but he’s the first to speak your name, taking off his ivy cap, “You… it’s been so long. So long, welcome—”

“It has been,” you tell him as you allow him to take your hand. He must be around sixteen now. “Way too long as I can see. When did you start sounding like this?”

He laughs, looking around to the other kids and tells you, “You missed quite a lot. I even choose my clothes myself now.”

His sister chimes in, “Yet he’s not mature enough to see how awful they look at times.”

It is a joke, but you can’t help but feel a little sad. Even all those years ago, these two would bicker, playfully insulting each other’s intellect and appearance as siblings knowingly do. But even today, you know that the mere reason for unfitting clothes is the lack of resources at times.

The orphanage tries its best, but it can’t defy worse times. Chul is tall but on the leaner side, and the shirt is slightly too big. One day, you hope they can find a life outside from here, shape something they have dreamed of.

“You will grow into it,” you tell him, Jungkook quiet next to you, and pat the boy’s bicep, “you already look so much stronger.”

Chul blushes, carding his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. “I do try my best.”

Your eyes fall to the back, to a girl with lifted eyebrows and an absolutely delighted expression. Easily recognisable, too. She used to have flaming red hair; somehow, it has darkened with time, only by a shade.

But her eyes are still a rare green, as unique as all of her. Lily was one of the few children who travelled from afar, in her mother’s arms that she never got to meet, like most of the kids here.

You still don’t quite know which country she originally came from, and it took her a while to accept that she’d never meet who brought her here. Almost everybody struggled with this at some point, but it took Lily longer to come to terms with it.

She was always loved, though. You recall her being mature beyond her years, and even now, she seems so put together. She must be close to adulthood by now.

And she was also one of the girls speaking to you when you brought Jungkook here for the first time. Bittersweet and nostalgic; she embodies much more for you than just the sweet girl you used to know.

She reminds you of Hana a bit, though they have nothing in common. Perhaps it’s because you hope Hana will be just as amazing one day; heighten all the wonderful qualities she already possesses.

Lily steps forward, along with the others; you soon see that a bunch is missing. A lot of those you played with and talked to — but as the conversation continues, you soon learn that they left the orphanage when they were old enough.

Saved up from the work they did as they grew old enough and then travelled the country and cities to find a college, studied what they desired, established a life. Those you knew as older children back then are now probably somewhere, hopefully happy, finding joy in something new.

You feel inexplicably proud.

The rest is still here — hoping to follow in their footsteps. Different from you who disappeared so long ago. You said your goodbyes back then, but you were sure you’d return.

Life moved so fast.

The kids, soon finding themselves in a circle on the clean floor, facing you, ask where you went and how you were doing. What life was like away from here.

They’re sweet, these people. Didn’t mind folding their legs on the spot, but insisted on offering a blanket for you to sit on. Jungkook is close to you, just a few inches behind you, allowing you space and privacy with those you cherished.

But as enthusiasm in all voices grows, he speaks up as well, curious as he asks, “Do you all remember me, too, by the way?”

Some nod enthusiastically; others stare at each other, still young and even younger then. Jungkook picks them from the circle, cocking an eyebrow in faux-offense as he curses, “Well, damn. I shall remember this.”

But the twin sister, Eunji, shakes her head, reprimanding, “How do you all not remember? He was the prince!”

Enlightenment spreads over the others’ visages. Of course it’d take them a little. They have probably heard of the Jeon Jungkook, one of the main royals the town offers, but since he left with you years ago, they wouldn’t know his face anymore, would they?

They were so little when they met him first.

“I mean, I am not really a prince, but—” Jungkook starts, but one of the older ones interrupts—

“Well, you looked like one.”

Then, one of the youngsters that forgot, “You still do.”

Jungkook chuckles. You look over your shoulder, catch the crinkles around his eyes and the bunny grin; the way he lifts his shoulders some whenever he laughs. He looks much younger like this.

Like before. Like then.

“Wow,” his candied voice utters, “thank you so much.”

“Were you already married back then?” Eunji asks.

You shake your head. “No, not for a while still. I invited you, did you forget?”

“Ooooh. I keep mixing up memories. But dang,” she teases, leaning forward, “so you fell in love when you brought him here, huh?”

You smile; see Jungkook blush. These are still hormonal, young adults. They’re probably roaming around, falling in love, too. No wonder they dig such topics so much. They didn’t care all those years ago.

But you’re delighted when you tell them parts of your and Jungkook’s story, conveniently leaving out pieces that concern nobody but the two of you. You must admit even: being here helps you forget some of it.

And as time passes, you reckon this was partly Jungkook’s intention, too.

Another girl, Hayun, hitherto quiet and listening, wonders at some point, “So why are you here?”

“I wanted to visit you,” you tell them.

The answer is easy and clear as day, though you weren’t the one to manifest the idea into actions. You don’t tell them that it is Jungkook doing this for you; that you would’ve come back for them, but perhaps not now, not with how life went for weeks.

But you don’t regret a moment. You’re thankful. If you could, you’d take his hand, squeeze it, silent gratitude, so he knows how you feel about all of this. And you’re determined to keep their smiles on, to return when you can when they ask,

“Are you going to stay?”

“Not for long… I will need to go home in a day or two…”

You could feel guilty. But you don’t; you’re not leaving for so long ever again. You adored all of them from the bottom of your heart. You won’t let all of what you came to feel be for nothing.

“But… if you’d like,” you begin and some of them straighten their posture, “I can stay here for a bit today. I will come back another time, too. Is that… alright?”

Their reaction is immediate. How did you never assume how much you mean to them, too? Of course you do. You were a frequent face and they learned to love it, to appreciate you deeply. Considering some of the lonely days they lived through, they’d never forget you.

Your waterline dampens, for the millionth time this week, and you blink it away. You won’t cry, not here, not now. They’re a source of joy, so you’ll show them this exact emotion, too.

“Of course!” they chime. “As long as you’d like. We’ll be here.”

But it’s hard, containing it all in your eyes. They must be seeing your glassy look, because theirs turns empathetic, smiles everywhere you look. Filling the seconds of noon, and then afternoon, with stories.

You’re baffled about how much has changed. Years ago, they’d tell you about their day and ask you for permission to braid your hair and draw with you.

Now, they reveal their first loves and tease you and ask about your children. And still, some of the moments are so familiar.

Because you remember that Jungkook sat next to you back then like this, too, and that he was silent, staring and caring and falling in love just like he is now. Seeing you for who you are and creeping deeper into your heart.

Things have changed and relationships have changed, but then again, they haven’t.

The young people the two of you were, flirting and rolling your eyes, pushing the other and then pulling them in. Swiftly into his arms, into his mind. You’re more mature now, but still in love, still one molten soul.

And you still see the same damn devotion when you recite a poem the children remember pieces of. You’re glad you still recall most of it, because they struggle with finding the words, reminiscing about how they loved it but not what it consisted of.

A belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral clasps and amber studs, And if these pleasures may thee move, come live with me, and be my love.

When you catch him looking, he doesn’t avert his eyes. They stay on you, aching and yearning, soft but so expressive.

There’s unspoken comfort floating between you, a sense of pleasure and beauty that truly moves you to your core, like ivy buds and amber studs, and you feel it perfectly.

Your heart — much closer to his chest than your own.

His hand is balmy in yours as it escorts you out.

The children’s day isn’t infinite. They soon find themselves busy with chores, apologising every now and then, and as the evening breaks in, you decide to leave them to their meals and tasks.

You have barely left, stepping into the carriage when you whisper, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your fingers, much as you wished to do before, and asks, “What for, love? This was long overdue.”

But you shrug, tell him, “Not just for this. But also for reminding me who I used to be.”

“You’re still who you were.” He nods a bit, a corner of his lips slightly jerking upwards. “If I saw anything today, then that you’re still you.”

“This is…” You furrow your eyebrows, not because you’re irritated but because you’re so deeply affected. Still sore from the knots in your throat, still wounded by the longing. “This is comforting… hearing it from you.”

He lets your hand go, fingers sneaking up to your face instead, cradling it. It’s not the first time, but the repetitiveness doesn’t stop him from vowing to you that, “Whatever you might assume… I will always feel the same about you.”

This isn’t what you are scared of; Jungkook has proven over and over again that he loves you more than humanly possible. It’s rather that—

“And I will never feel the same for anyone else.”

This. It’s this.

Your chin trembles and you start to give in, succumbing to the touch and the eyes and the memories. Your voice is shaky when you start, “I love you, Jungkook… I do. If there was—”

The shake of his head quietens you. “We’re not done yet.”

“What?”

“We’re not done,” he repeats, pinching your chin tenderly, “tell me all you need to once the night is over. I… I need you to be certain.”

You blink. “Certain about what?”

“About… all you need to be certain about. You’d know what that is.” Digits come back to yours, holding them again as the carriage starts with an unsteady jolt. “Only you.”

Yes… maybe nothing has changed as much as you thought.

“Back then you gave me time to think, too… Never rushed,” you say.

“I always will.”

“…Even though we live a human life that is so limited.”

“I will keep waiting.”

“I will be certain before the night is over, then,” you promise, breathe out the pain, “like I was then.”

He brings your knuckles up to his velvety lips, silky like your scarf as he presses a feathery peck onto them. They graze his cheeks and then his jaw, and you barely notice when your body drifts towards his when he speaks.

“Like you were then.”

As far as you recognise, you aren’t too far from your home.

Jungkook walked through a park and along a river with you, admiring the content fish and swans in its depths and at its shore. You didn’t come here a lot when you were younger; mostly with your parents, so there are memories attached to this place that aren’t quite his and yours.

Or at least, until now.

You assume Jungkook is giving the two of you the time you need, bringing back pieces of what was. But you don’t fully understand what it is and what he’s doing until you reach a bench and a spot you are very well acquainted with.

Jungkook’s and your name is clearly written in the sky above where you stand, like you own this place. Like it’ll be you who’ll be remembered by those passing by once both of you have left this realm.

The resemblance to the night you first spoke to Jungkook, many, many years ago when you were just kids, too, is striking. It’s when your initial enmity started; when you learned to abhor somebody you’d eventually learn to treasure.

And this… this is exactly where he first asked you about the odd deal. To be courted. When you stared at him in disbelief and dismissed him with a hundred accusations.

Why did he bring you here?

And why do you feel this way, as if things could truly be okay again? How does it all fit?

So you ask, “Why here?”

“Because… I don’t care which insufferable things we felt for each other,” he explains, “we started here.”

But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.

This is it, isn’t it? Jungkook didn’t just plan a random outing due to the pleasant day, the warm sun, the gentle breeze slowly introducing thunder and grey clouds. If he had, you’d have spent the day on a hill the two of you love, or strolled amongst a crowd.

No, Jungkook is retracing your steps. The ones you took several years ago, when you hadn’t each exchanged half of your hearts just yet. He wants to bring you back to a place of hopelessness and hostility, prove to you that sometimes, you can save a withering flower.

Or make something new bloom instead.

“We changed so much over time, no? I can barely remember what I used to feel that day,” he says; he’s right. You cannot even conjure fragments of the revulsion between you; it dispersed so quickly. “I can’t even believe any of the hatred ever existed at all.”

“As if we were someone else.”

“It seems like it, does it not? And then… now…”

Yes…

A shared mansion and shared offspring. A beautiful face choosing toys with her aunt and twins familiarising themselves with the grandparents they met too seldomly.

From there to here, from black to white. Then, to a hue of grey.

“As we started our life together…” Jungkook starts, his face more like ash now; the space between the clouds is narrowing. “Did you ever doubt the change? Remember how we were the years before.”

You would never dream of such a question or a thought. Would never form a doubt such as this in your mind. Even then, you were nearly blindly trusting, hopeful in people. You knew they were capable of change, because you weren’t the same anymore either.

“No,” you tell him, “I never thought you were a bad person at your core, but… it needed time for me to realise, too. And when we became what we are today, I knew who you really were. So no, I never did.”

You wait, watch him nod. He seems relieved but also nervous, distracted. Tells you, “I did a little. Doubt myself. I was scared that I wasn’t truly that kind person you saw me as. That I was still the same man plaguing you.”

“You never plagued me,” you promise, stepping near, an automatic hand finding his cheek. “You gave your all.”

“Do you remember,” he begins, halting when a quiet thunder sounds, “do you remember how scared I always was to mess up? Before Hana and anything.”

The books he’d read. The memories he’d carry. The conversations you’d have. Frightened to repeat or forward what he’d grown up with.

“I do,” you say.

“And you’d always remind me that I was easy to love… that effort is always worth it.”

“It is. It was for you, too. Our kids love you.”

The rain collects silvery in his waterline, at the same time as it does above in the sky. He’s harbouring something in this fragile heart of his — a dozen questions and a hundred scenarios. You know he’s hoping for a specific one, hoping for the right responses to all his inquiries.

So there is no surprise in the words he utters next, nor in the shaky fear in his voice, “And you?”

You're quick to answer.

“I will never unlove you.”

“D-do you also remember… how I’d always tell you how afraid I was you’d run away? Before I married you. How much I feared that I’d wake up and not find you anymore?”

“But you found me. I would never hide—”

“But I’m still scared. You reminded me that everybody’s worth loving, despite their mistakes and burdens, and despite all I let out on you or anyone else… you found a way to forgive me and love me. And I’m still scared because—”

His palms shoot up, too, holding your face much as you are holding his. He presses them in, pulls you closer, and you gasp soundlessly. Then, “Because none of this was or is ever a given.”

“I know, too, Jungkook,” you counter, “I never took you for granted. And you know it, you were never bad. Just…”

“Mistreated. You’ve told me, just… I chose to handle it all… way worse than mistreatment justifies. You never did so, no matter what or who hurt you because you’re the sound one, you know?”

“Jungkook, my coping does not have to align with yours, we’re different—”

“Yet, baby, I learned to be a proper human being because of you.”

“This is too big of a responsibility, Kook… it was never just me.”

“No…” he says, gulping, shutting his eyes for a second when another thunder rolls. Fitting spring evening for a blossoming yet blue couple. “I don’t want to attach my sanity to how you react to the things I do. I did this once and…”

He shakes his head, moving your hands with them. Your thumb brushes over his cheekbone and then sideways to his hair. He continues, “I don’t want my ability to make wise choices to be dependent on who you are to me, but… I will never deny what your existence did for me.”

You nod, as if to pacify him; you do it with your children sometimes, make them feel heard and seen. It works with every human being. Jungkook is no different. He seeks your approval and seeks your love.

He sniffles. “Perhaps it wasn’t you making me decent but— it was you leading me back to myself.”

The sun is starting to set. You don’t know when time disappeared and rushed, but it’s almost invisible behind the pale sky. And now, the first drops fall, too. Starting slow but exploding quickly.

It’s a harsh reminder that, as a human being, you cannot repeat moments from the past. Even when you trace them back, they won’t come again; you won’t feel the exact same giddiness again.

But you can create new ones, more dizzy days.

Ones that resemble the night you stepped out of the orphanage, or any other hazy and dark evening that you spent wading through the shower instead of evading it. Or the moment you saw the duke’s son properly for the first time, sobbing on a lonely bench.

Whatever ghastly and foggy disappointment grew in your chest that very night a lifetime ago has long been replaced by guilt — guilt about not understanding better as a kid, not being able to elude the disgust that would follow your entire youth.

But most of all, sadness about how hurt he truly was and would continue to be; how you see something similar now, even though the situations differ drastically. Most of the issues from then have been resolved, and now he’s caught in something else.

Then again, losing somebody and dreading loss both induce fear, don’t they?

And it’s you who helped him last time; how deeply does the pain really run when his anchor is drowning, too?

You look around the world for a moment, lost in dreams and in your head. Jungkook calls your name, a distant sound as the rain patters onto your skin. It takes you a second to recall that you’re supposed to answer, and when you look at him, his voice is so terribly delicate—

“Do you remember?”

“…I do. All of it.”

“We’re living a new life now, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are,” you say, your hands falling a bit, grazing his neck to keep his attention and sanity just enough. “But a new life means rebirth. That does not have to be a bad thing.”

“It doesn’t,” Jungkook agrees. His hair is already soaked — when he shakes his head even a bit, the tips throw the drops into all directions. “But some things stay the same.” He stares up for a second, blinking faster as the sprinkle falls into his eyes. “The rain still connects us to the sky.”

He laughs when you do, suddenly and sweetly, breaking out of you. It has been a while. You keep your smile intact, but the chuckle stirs another emotion in you that you’ve kept at bay for the minutes you’ve stood here.

Glassy eyes find his, silence befalling the world for a moment barring the gentle storm. Then—

A sob.

It travels up straight from your throat, no way of stopping it, no matter how hard you try. Your voice stutters, eyebrows coming together, and his expression changes. Culpable, unforgiving towards himself.

His head sinks a bit, and you guess it doesn’t help when you admit, “Jungkook… I am so hurt.”

“I know,” he whispers; you’re surprised you hear him at all. “I am, too.”

“I’m so… why are my thoughts everywhere, Kook?”

Your desperation implodes and explodes, evident in every tone and tear. You hold onto the collars of his blue coat, tug yourself closer to him. You’re aching, but you need him nearer. Maybe you’ll spiral if he isn’t.

“It hurts so goddamn much to think about it, well knowing who I am to you, and… and I hate losing this part of my sanity,” you tell him.

“Do you…” he starts, swallowing. The state of his eyes resembles yours now; the salty grief is similar as it glides down his already wet face. “What do you need me to do to be happy? Do you need me go— gone?”

He barely gets the word out. Hesitates. So terrified of hearing your answer, unsure whether to take it back, as if it could make you forget he suggested it at all.

But you know Jungkook. He’d rather cut pieces of his heart and never mend them again if it meant bringing you peace and comfort.

The truth, though, is…

“How could I?” you mutter to the ground, not daring to move, like it could make reality dematerialise and throw you into one without him. “No matter the pain, I think that— that losing you would hurt more.”

His breathing accelerates. Some of the life he always breathes into you sparks anew, and he grasps your hand, lets you know that, “You’re not losing me. I’m right here.”

“What if this all, or I, ruin your life?”

“…How?”

“By being like this all the time, Kook—”

“What?” You shut up at the tone. He has told you before — he detests you accusing yourself of something when he messed up… always his words. “Do you know what’d happen if you left?”

You do. You don’t.

You have an idea of what happened when you were away, but he never told you all of it. If you disappeared for good, you’d possibly be met with a world with a Jungkook in it that you don’t even want to imagine.

“I don’t care if you ruin my life,” he emphasises, “I want you to. I want to sit at the fireplace with you and laugh and cry and fight with you. I want to see the kids grow, together with you. I want this. Okay… Okay?”

“I—”

“And I want you to keep remembering it all. How we started, how we grew, too. How I thought I’d die without you the moment I saw you walking towards me at the altar.” He brings your hands to his face as he always does, brushing your knuckles against his lips. “I… I can’t have this with anyone else.”

He moves your fingers to his eyes, and a moment later, you feel further wetness, the tears against your skin. He shakes his head, lets all he concealed for weeks flood out at once. You knew he was hurting, but he barely ever showed it as openly as he is now.

Just like you are. You remember — that he held back for you, died a bit every day.

“And I don’t want to,” you hear him whisper. And then, again. “I really don’t fucking want to.”

You’re speechless; if only for a second.

“This is… what you’ve grown to feel?”

“I always have,” he tells you through his trembling voice, a pitch higher now as he capitulates, “she was just— a fleeting memory of just one moment. And you are every second of my day.”

He has been occupied all these years — in every single nanomoment of every damn day and night, you were the main thought taking over his brain. Whatever he’s done, whatever’s he’s ever said, he’s done and said so for you.

Jungkook favours you over every existence in this universe, and you should have always known. No, you did. You were never an overthinker until the world turned upside down, until it forced dubious hesitation into you that you should’ve deemed irrelevant from the start.

Jihyo isn’t part of him anymore. He didn’t see you when she was. He didn’t see her now that you are. Does that very past matter more than this, though? This warm touch and the promises in it and the love in his eyes and the sadness in his lower lip.

“You don’t know who you are to me,” Jungkook says, not waiting for your query before he tells you, “you don’t know who you are at all, do you? Do you never see all the kindness and generosity? How selfless you are and how much you care?”

“Don’t you? See it in yourself, Jungkook?”

“This is what I mean. You’re so fucking forgiving, too, no? I—” Pause. Then, quieter, “Please forgive me…” He’s begging now, full on crying, closing in until his lips float over yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Jungkook has kissed you a million times. But when he does this time, he adds emotions you don’t think you’ve ever felt his lips press against yours.

And you feel it all when he leans in, parted mouth colliding with yours. He’s been so afraid to kiss you; but not now. Not when every single one of your glances pleads for him to. Not when you’re not ready to break the rhythm, not now, not ever.

Everything is already blurry around you, but it seems to vanish now. You still register the glossy streets, the silver, misty air, but all of it seems unreal. And then, you finally close your eyes, give in.

None of this feels rushed, but it feels urgent. Slow and tentative, but also desperate and thirsty. The rain combines with your tears and slips down your faces, threaded through your hair and soaking your clothes.

But you don’t care. You don’t move. You need warmth. Need shelter. This achingly gentle, still and suspended moment where everything ceases to exist.

Only skin and rain and tongues and lips. Only him and how he holds you, pulls you in, uncaring of who might see or what they might say. This waited to happen. You know it did.

It takes minutes until you gasp for air, remembering to breathe, fingers in his hair and forehead against his as you realise that you will never be able to unshackle yourself from him. You’re here to stay, following his steps, entangled with him until you cease to exist, too.

You’ll keep running back until he catches you. And you’ll catch him when he hurries to you.

And as he exhales into the air, face half lit as the moon rises, you clutch his body to yours, his ruined clothes for dear life, cheeks searing as you tell him—

“I do, too. I love you, too.”

For a moment and for an eternity.

Seasons changed again.

The twins talk now.

And ever since they learned to finally babble, it’s all they’ve been doing. Hana loves the fact, but acts as if she doesn’t. She’s an undoubtedly mature child. Knows too much for her age, still forgiving — but her ego also still remains intact, especially when it comes to her brothers.

The care she grants them rattles your heart. Protective and loving and so giving. But the fights continue; your twins are as gentle as their parents, but they do not shut up when they feel like they don’t need to.

They confront you or their sister when needed. Probably got this from you, too.

So nobody is really surprised when Hana feels as thoroughly irritated as she does most days growing up with them, a whiny voice exclaiming, “I don’t want your carrots! Eat them yourself!”

The brothers have been dumping their vegetables onto her plate for the past seven minutes; half of their meal makes a mess on the floor. You usually don’t let them eat on your precious carpet, but the kids have been particularly sweet these days.

Absolutely and unwaveringly mannered at yesterday’s gathering especially. You were celebrating Hana’s eighth birthday; maybe they were too distracted by the pastries and the cake to fight, too.

But you’re too weak, too easy to convince. As strict as needed at times, but not entirely immune to their irresistible charm. And Jungkook… he’s a hopeless cause anyway when it comes to them.

“Stop this!” Hana yells, returning the already mashed baby carrots. She emphasises each word with each piece she throws back onto their plates. “Eat. Your. Veggies!”

“I dun want to,” Jaehyuk responds, and Jaehoon, following, imitates. It fully provokes her. “You like them.”

“I am done, Jae. Let me rest.”

You can’t hold back the sudden laugh, not even when she fights back with a sigh, leaning back. Acts as if she took care of the dozen chores in the mansion when she’s merely exhausted from the party. To be a child again.

“I need my quiet time,” she told you, and you furrowed your eyebrows in delight before you granted the princess what she wished for.

The sun is setting outside, though having been hidden for most of the day. It’s colder now, but dusk is still pretty. You’re thankful for this; thankful for it all. Because this time of the day equals Jungkook close to you.

Done with work. Hip to hip on the same carpet against the couch that you once kept your distance on from him.

But you long stopped thinking of this. Whenever you find yourself here, basking in the presence of your little family, you think of the precious moments before anything happened. In hindsight, however, not much changed in the extent of affection after all.

Because you learned to cope, learned to let go. Jungkook still meets Jihyo sometimes, forms a bond with his son, provides him with a sense of fatherly love. And you let him — you don’t feel insecure anymore.

“Daddy,” his girl calls, tapping his knee for exclusive attention, “say something.”

And the father, ever so diplomatic and peaceful, settles on, “Leave the carrots, okay? I’ll eat them later. Stop fighting.”

“Hear?” Hana voices, an accusing finger scolding her brothers. They offer a full grin, absolutely aware of their effect on her.

Your eyes widen when Jaehyuk randomly and without a good reason rebukes, “Stupid Suhana.”

“Hey, hey!” you reprimand immediately, cocking an eyebrow until they go quiet. Their attention shifts to their food innocently as you chastise, “Don’t say such things. And definitely not like you’re insulting the name.”

“We are because we dun like her.”

Another giggle from Jaehoon. The boy mostly listens; doesn’t pick a fight. But if it’s about his siblings, he’ll definitely be a culprit, too.

“You so do,” Hana defends, and you agree with a nod and folded arms, “now eat. Leave me alone.”

This time, they listen; resume to their dinner, but not before sticking out their tongues to her. She ignores them, fiddling with her fingers. When she looks at you, her head is tilted, eyes curious as they are all the time before she asks, “Where does this name come from anyway, Mama?”

“Oh…” you respond, shooting Jungkook a look right away. You tell her, “You should ask your dad. It was his idea.”

Her gaze shifts to him, and he hums; then explains, “It was your aunt’s name. So you’re named after her.”

“Oh. Can I meet her?”

Your eyes drift to your lap. You register the change in his undertone as he speaks on, “I’m afraid this won’t be possible. She’s… she’s not with us anymore, baby.”

Hana’s mouth forms a silent Oh. She’s empathetic, sad when she sees a dead bird or a sick cat. She knows to grieve, but she knows to move on, too — so she says, “Well then, I like the name. I think I was named after somebody great!”

“Oh?” you wonder. “How do you know?”

“I wouldn’t have her name if she was bad.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you resume staring at him from the side, quietly finding the hand on his thigh as he answers, “I’m sure she was. I have heard only good things.”

“Good,” Hana says, much at the same time as Jungkook adds, “If I could… I’d thank her.”

You don’t know who this statement is directed to. Perhaps it’s too complex of a thought to truly expand on for your children; perhaps he’s thinking out loud for himself. But Hana doesn’t ask anyway, even though she hears it.

Too distracted by Jaehyuk, the troublemaker, who pokes her annoyance back, and she slaps his hand away, sulking. You let them handle this — sometimes, it’s easier to get rid of a situation when you let it unfold.

Instead, your eyes drift back to your husband, and you wonder, “Thank her, yes?”

“Yes.”

“What would you say?”

From the corner of your eyes, you see Jaehyuk and Jaehoon leave their posts and march to a disheartened Hana. No matter how impossible they are, they don’t like seeing her anything other than joyful.

It warms her heart as much as yours, you know. Soothes it when they position themselves on either side, cuddling into her, eliciting a half toothless smile. You’re content.

Back to Jungkook in time, you listen, “What I’d say?” He turns his hand under yours and entangles both your digits. “Hm, I would say…”

He ponders for a while. Waits for the right words to come to him.

And then, a puff of air escapes, your heart swelling when his eyes soften with his voice, “I would try and word my gratitude towards her. It was her who showed me that even the worst people can care.”

“He cared for her.”

“He did,” he squeezes your fingers, shoulder to shoulder. “It was also partly her who saved me, even if she’ll never know. And it was her who brought me closer to you. I wish I could tell her.”

“I wish I’d met her even once, too.”

“I know.”

He nods. The Suhana you never got to know hasn’t been a topic very often. As years passed by, your mind developed its own image of the Suhana you do know. Hana, Suhana.

But when she is, this remains a common phrase. The never-to-be-fulfilled wish to see her just once. A stranger who never even knew of your existence, let alone your name.

“Suhana was supposed to stay,” Jungkook then voices. “But she didn’t and still managed to shine such light onto us from up there. So yes… I would express my gratitude for the life she gave me.”

He sighs, as if remembering somebody from a distant past. “For the life I had the blessing to witness as a human being and… will have the privilege to experience for the rest of my days. I would thank her for that.”

You cannot stop looking. You keep gazing and gazing. In truth, you don’t think you ever stopped ever since you came back from that one healing trip from your town years ago. You kept gaping. Kept falling — again and continuously.

And he’s still beautiful. Still the same mesmerising entity you once married. The same bright smile, still somehow youthful, blindingly lovely when he gives you one even now.

You and me, in every damn life.

Fingers brush his hair back, and you ask, “How could you ever doubt your kindness?”

And in response, he kisses your forehead, “I don’t anymore, I don’t think.”

You beam back at him. Hook your arm with his, settling your tired head on his chest. You hear his heart underneath, like a lullaby with a steady rhythm, and wait for the children to grow fatigued enough to go to bed.

And after that, he’ll carry you to your room, you foresee it already. Will let you fall into feathery, tranquil dreams.

Then again, perhaps you don’t need to wait for any of it. Don’t ever need a slumber for it.

Because you already live in a dream. And you are one, too.

okayyyyy. i don't cry a lot irl at all, but i'm so weak when it comes to these characters. crazy that their story is finished (once again), but i truly hope you guys will remember them for as long as you can. i know some of you grew to love them a lot and i am so, so thankful, truly. 🤍

if you can, please do let me know what you think! i shall answer everything bc it makes me giddy af anyway lol so do give this a like, a reblog and leave a comment, and talk to me about it!! <3 see you with more taegularities shenanigans soon mwah

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook series #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook smut

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 days ago

Note

How do you think Dante, Vergil and Nero would react to their human S/O feeling like they don't deserve them? Like they think they could do better than a human like them. Even though their boy is Half/part human? And even voice that opinion?

Dante

feels saddened that you felt as though you weren't enough for him all in due to being human, something that you thought was holding him back from looking for something better; but what you didn't know is that you ARE that something better for Dante and he wasn't about to let you continue thinking like this any longer.

He absolutely refuses to allow this to continue.

'babe i'm a half demon, i'm no way any better off without you nor your heart that did nothing but love me no matter what.' Dante started as he holds you in his arms, caressing your back and tracing patterns into it as you cling onto him as though you were scared to let go.

'i still think you deserve better then me, i'm no hunter and can't keep up with you half the time and i can't help but feel as though you need someone who can keep up, someone who can match you in every aspect possible instead of someone who worries if your okay and feels helpless in general when i don't know how to defend myself.' you replied, burrowing your face futher into his chest as you felt the waves of hurt wash over you as you spoke what you felt was the truth.

what was the point of someone like dante being with someone like you if your always going to be hiding behind him when someone slightly threating came across your line of sight, whereas if it was anyone else would stand tall and stand their ground perfectly on their own.

Dante frowns. 'i don't need someone to keep up with me, i need someone to slow me down, i need someone to worry me into worrying about myself and making sure that i can make sure i come home to you safe.' He pinches your side slighlty, making you jolt and look at him as he smiled when he had your attention all on him, showing off his canines.

‘I need someone who will make me take care of myself, recognise that while I’m part demon, but I’m also part human and that part needs protecting more so from my reckless behaviour as much as it does from other demons hellbent on killing me. I need someone who can tell the emotions on my face as easily as though it’s a book and know what I need without words. I need you sweetheart, no one else will do and never will when they have you to unfairly live up to.’ He admits to you in a tone so serious that it made you pay attention to his every word as though it was gospel.

‘You understand?’ He asks you upon noticing your prolonged silence, kissing your cheek when you made a hum of agreement that you had indeed heard and understood his words that had left his mouth. ‘You understand your worth everything to me because I fear of who I’d become if I ever lost you, forever the one person who had only stayed by my side even when they knew how dangerous it would be, and yet they dared to laugh in the face of fate and tell them that you weren’t moving anywhere.’ He adds as he tightened his hold on you out of instinct.

‘Is that really how you see me?’ You inquired.

‘I see you as so much more sweetheart but there aren’t enough words to describe just how much you complete me and make me feel at home like the one I’ve lost a long time ago.’ Dante answered truthfully to your question as you stayed within the other’s arms and sharing whispers of sweet nothings for the duration of the day.

Vergil

He feels as though he might be partically to blame for this mindset of yours with how much he berated humanity as a whole, despite the fact that he himself was half human. Vergil felt as though he had planted the seeds of doudt and insecurity within your head to fester and grow, even under his watchful eyes, as you continue to wonder what was the point in staying with someone who was so vocal with his distain towards anything and all things human.

This was something Vergil felt as though he needed to rectify immeditetly before he lost it all...again.

'i am not in any way deserving more then you,' He begins as he holds your hands within his own, 'if anything you are far more deserving then the likes of me, for you embrace and accept what i cannot anf for that, you posess a strength that i can only fathom the origins of and you smile and stand strong even when you're at your weakest. That is the you that i admire my little dove.'

you frowned. 'what about the moments where i'm not? where im more human then i've ever been, am i still strong or far too human for you to handle?' you asked of him and Vergil clenched his jaw, furrowing his brows as though he was looking for the awnser, but in reality Vergil had the awnser within him and it had been there for a very long time and it had been waiting for this very momwnt to come out.

'even when you're 'more human' as you put it, you are still embracing that side of you that i have long since casted aside, you are not shunning away what makes you you. You are fully aware that you human and yet the feets you have acomplished made you feel bigger than with simple acts of kindness, with th way your gentleness touches eveything and everyone in your presence.' Vergil squeezes your hands reassuringly, 'It's a blessing to be able to bear witness to you smiling and cooing at a cat you seen down the street, it's a blessing to see you cry over a movie and it's even more of a blessing in knowing that i am the one you trust to be vulnerable infront of.' Vergil then rests his forhead agaisnt yours so you could only looked into the icy blue eyes of his that looked at you with a fondeness.

'So don't ever be ashamed of being human, especially not infront of me becuase it was you being human towards me that was the reason i wished for you to be mine, and i wouldn't want you to be anything but human.' he kisses your nose, an act that made you smile, 'So don't you dare change for a foolish half demon like me, when you being human helps me embrace my own humanity alongside you, help me learn to be okay with being human alongside you is the greastest honour of my life after being in darkness for so long.' He steals a kiss from your lips.

'so thank you for being the light that guided me out of the dark.'

Nero

Hates that your putting yourself down becuase you felt as though you couldn't live up to his expectations soely for the fact that you were human, when in reality you were everything he could ever hope for in his entire life.

'where did this come from?' he asks.

you shrug. 'does it matter? it doesn't change the fact that i'm just a stupid human and that you deserve more then something so plain and dull.' you tell him and Nero was quick to hut his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look him in his face that was filled with determination.

'it does matter becuase you're talking about my person, my favourite person alive who is nothing short of perfect, nothing short of being my reason of never stepping over a line that would lead me down a life similar to my father's.' Nero's face harded at the mention of Vergil, but relaxed to look at you with a soft smile and fond eyes. 'you're talking down someone who had stepped in moments where i seemed to be lossing myself, when i seemed too close to abandoning everything i cared deeply about and kept me grounded for a long, long time.’ He finished.

You smiled a little. ‘You’re naturally hot headed and hard headed as well that talking to you in the same tone wouldn’t work, you needed to be talked to neutrally and calmly in hopes you’d see reason in my words. You needed someone to talk to you who had wholehearted faith in you even if the situation seems dire and bleak.’ You replied and Nero was predictably beaming.

‘See! That’s what you are to me and I don’t want you to be anything other than that person who makes me see straight, the person who has been nothing but loving and supportive in allowing me to be me without looking at me any differently and defending me when others couldn’t see past their own biases.’ He tells you as he pepper kisses across your face, making you laugh in response as you found yourself unable to escape his loving grasp and comforting warmth, not that you ever wanted to in the first place.

‘You empower me.’ Nero tells you after bombarding you with kisses, resting his head against yours, just happy and content to have you in his arms like this for the rest of his life if he was allowed such a thing to be his actual reality. ‘You stop me when I get ahead of myself but believe in me enough to let me weigh out my options during missions, never expecting me to be perfect but never allowing me to put myself down. So why wouldn’t you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?’ He then asks you.

‘I don’t want you to worry about me-‘ you tired to say but were cut off.

‘I’ll always worry.’ He retorts.

‘I didn’t think I was worth picking back up after putting myself down.’ You said as though trying to prove a point.

‘I’d never let you stay down for long, besides your deserving of being uplifted as much as I am, if not more, but just know that without you I’d struggle and be content in something that could never fulfill me in the long run like you can.’ Nero replied, kissing your eyelids and cheeks as he bundled you up against him. ‘So I don’t ever want you to downplay your effect on me because you’re human when you have done more for me than another human would be half as inclined to do tenfold.’

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kxsagi · 2 days ago

Note

*Pokes my head through your window* Good morning, may I request: Blue Lock boys with a Reader who insists they drink the homemade herbal tea she made first thing in the morning.

Characters: Chigiri, Yukimiya, any other characters you want

Because seriously, why did Chigiri or Yukimiya never consider TCM as an option?

“𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫”

a/n: i think yuki, reo, rin, and sae would def be into tea

ft. chigiri hyoma, yukimiya kenyu, mikage reo, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

chigiri hyoma

he blinks at the mug like it insulted his entire bloodline.

“what did you say this was made of again?”

you cheerfully answer, “dandelions, licorice root, and love!”

he only heard “dandelions” and “root.” the love part did not save it.

drinks it like it’s poison and glares at you over the rim the whole time.

“you know i already have good hair, right? i don’t need... lawn clippings in a cup.”

he’s so dramatic. clutches his stomach every time like he’s waiting to collapse.

but refuses to skip a day because you always beam at him like he just cured a disease after finishing the cup.

he actually does feel a little more energized. but he will never admit that.

yukimiya kenyu

totally on board at first. skincare king. tea enthusiast.

“ah, herbal. nice. did you steep it at 80 degrees?”

you: “i microwaved it.”

the betrayal in his eyes.

drinks it anyway and nods politely with the stoicism of a man pretending he likes your cat’s cooking.

goes full monk about it – sits cross-legged on the couch, sipping in silence, whispering affirmations like “my gut microbiome thanks me.”

you find out later he’s been sneaking in a drop of honey every morning to make it bearable.

“you can’t get mad if it still has the benefits.”

if you try to make a new blend, he gets suspicious. “... what’s in this one?”

you: “vibes.”

mikage reo

very chill about it. the first morning you offer it, he drinks it and goes “interesting.”

you ask what he means and he just says “tastes like nature with a grudge.”

he drinks it every day but adds a bougie little mint leaf or lemon slice like he’s in a spa.

insists you sell it as a “detox elixir” and slaps a mikage corp sticker on your tea jars.

drinks it with his pinky up.

convinces nagi to try it once and nagi just immediately lies down on the floor and doesn’t move for thirty minutes.

reo just shrugs and says “it’s an acquired taste. like kale or emotional vulnerability.”

karasu tabito

makes fun of you. every single time.

“you’re trying to assassinate me with twigs in hot water. just say you hate me.”

gags dramatically. slides down walls. wipes imaginary tears.

but still drinks it. because deep down he’s a little whipped.

sneaks in a spoonful of sugar when you’re not looking. sometimes three.

once asked if he could add protein powder to it and you almost kicked him out.

starts calling it “witch potion” and “swamp smoothie.”

“ah yes, nothing like drinking a cauldron shot first thing in the morning. love you, babe.”

kaiser michael

sips it once. pauses. looks at the mug like it personally betrayed him.

“this is what you give to your enemies, not your boyfriend.”

you tell him it helps inflammation. he raises an eyebrow and goes, “it’s inflaming my taste buds.”

complains every single day but shows up like clockwork for his morning mug.

mutters under his breath in german. probably insulting the tea. probably insulting you too but in a sexy way.

insists on a dramatic health report each morning: “vital signs stable. vision slightly blurry. taste buds... gone. but still hot.”

tries to bribe ness to drink it for him one day. you catch him and double the dosage.

after a week, he starts posting selfies with #herbalhealing like he’s a lifestyle influencer.

says he hates it but starts sending you pinterest boards titled “tea aesthetic.”

itoshi rin

stares at the mug like it personally offended his ancestors.

you: “it’s good for your immune system.”

rin: “i’m not drinking grass clippings.”

refuses for three days straight. you finally wear him down by saying it’ll reduce cortisol/stress.

he drinks it. expression doesn’t change. not one twitch. you ask him how it is.

“… it’s wet.”

dramatic sigh. takes another sip like he’s at war.

“did you brew this in a pond?”

glares at the mug the whole time he drinks it. like he thinks it'll grow legs and fight him.

starts researching each ingredient. one day comes home with a list like, “you know licorice root can raise blood pressure, right?”

he still drinks it daily. never tells you why.

you catch him once making it himself when you’re not home. you say nothing. he pretends nothing happened.

itoshi sae

you hand him the mug with a cheerful “good morning!” and he just stares.

“why is it the color of swamp water.”

drinks it anyway. immediately gags like you slipped him poison.

“is this payback for something i did in a past life?”

says he’s gonna die every time he drinks it. clutches his throat like a victorian ghost.

“this is why i don’t eat vegetables. it always leads to this.”

puts it down dramatically and whispers, “bury me with my cleats.”

complains for 10 straight minutes, then asks, “… wait, what’s this good for again?”

next morning: already seated at the table with an empty mug.

“not saying i believe in your dirt tea, but i didn’t need a nap during my training break today. that’s progress.”

texts you “bring the juice” every morning like you’re his shady herbal dealer.

still makes fun of it. calls it “potion of pain.” but you catch him once calling his teammate "weak" for not drinking his girlfriend's tea.

he’s a silent believer. with attitude.

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dysthymia-wet-specimen · 2 days ago

Text

source for Liam allegations in case anyone wants to read: https://www.mercurynews.com/2024/10/17/liam-paynes-ex-fiancee-says-he-barraged-her-with-warnings-about-his-early-death/

Henry talked about how alarming his messages could be and the extraordinary lengths he would go to deliver them. She said he would “blow up my phone,” and send messages to her from different phone numbers." Henry said she felt torn about what to do. On one hand, she admitted that she felt “manipulated,” especially when Payne also began contacting her mother with similar warnings. On the other hand, she said, “I would always be like: ‘He’s saying these things. I have to help him because if I don’t I will never be able to live with myself if something does happen to him.”

This kind of abuse is sadly extremely common, not always going to the extent of suicide, but threatening it. it's emotional abuse. the idea that men are just "poor wittle 🥺 suicide victims" when every other mental health issue affects women more is just another way gross manosphere bullshit is just accepted at face value with no critical thinking. female suicide is a fetish, something to romanticize. but male suicide is an epidemic... so when women are guilted by suicide it's preying on not only the expectation of women assume this motherly wifely caretaker role many of us were conditioned to feel like we have to be in order to be valuable or a good partner, but it also feels more severe. "men kill themselves more. it's not like when you're suicidal... it's not serious when women kill themselves, much less have any other mental health condition" It wasn't until my high school sex ed class I realized that I could even call what my groomer did to me abuse (aside from the sexual things and grooming piece like the emotional abuse part)

2K notes · View notes

cherrynpink · 2 days ago

Text

still yours

pairing: ex!mingyu x f!reader

genre: exes to lovers, second chance romance, fluff, angst, smut MDNI!

warnings: jeongcheol is the side ship hehe, bsf cheol, very angsty, bickering, down bad oc n gyu, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, yearning, there is a hot tub involved, if even 1 of u get the yeh jawani hai diwani reference it's worth it, flirting, mentions of threesome, making out, oral sex (f. recieving), softdom!gyu, clitoral stimulation, fingering, soft sex, emotional talks here and there, unprotected sex, creampie, happy ending!!!, lmk if I missed anything!

w.c.: 9.7k

playlist: still yours

note: this is slightly inspired by the movie yeh jawani hai diwani if any one of u get it thank u so much I love you. that specific part of party 4 u by charli xcx was playing in my head the entire time i was writing and I've been writing this for a week 😭 alsooo woke up last morning to see a 100 followers, thank u so much ☹️

u can message me here or comment if u wanna be part of my taglist, my requests are open if u have something u wanna read or just talk. feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one :3

cheol🖕🏻: did u land yet?

you: at the baggage claim rn

still NOT talking to u

kys

cheol🖕🏻: very rude of u to talk to ur dear friend (who paid for ur ticket btw) like that

you: i will throw cash at u the second I see u, still not talking to you

cheol🖕🏻: DID YOU JUST WANT ME TO NOT INVITE HIM I CAN’T DO THAT Y/N

you: WOULD HAVE APPRECIATED IT IF U HAD TOLD ME BEFORE I BOARDED

cheol🖕🏻: did not want to give u the chance to run off

also tf

r u saying u wouldn’t have come to my wedding :(

you: never said that but i would be more prepared

would’ve snuck cocaine up my ass and had a few drinks at the lounge if I knew

cheol🖕🏻: they would arrest u for the cocaine babe

you: it’s ok ur lawyer fiancé can bail me out

cheol🖕🏻: he is very talented :)

you: stop thinking about dick for a second u sick freak

cheol🖕🏻: stop slut shaming me :(

did u find a cab yet?

you: yeah

will be there in 40 minutes

still NOT talking to u

sick liar

cheol🖕🏻: I WAS NOT LYING HE DID SAY HE WASN’T COMING UNTIL LIKE A WEEK AGO

you: SO YOU HAD A WEEK TO TELL ME AND YET U DIDN’T

wow

they were right

cheol🖕🏻: who’s they

you: all men do is lie

#sigh

#allmenarethesame

cheol🖕🏻: :(

you: can see u pouting through the screen

you are NOT the victim here dawg

cheol🖕🏻: y/n

it will be okay

you: it’s been 5 years. It won’t.

cheol🖕🏻: it’s not just him yk, we all are there too

it’s been literally years since we all were together and I want u to see that putting this mingyu thing aside

I put a week aside for us all to spend some time like we did

and I hope u and mingyu sort it out because it’s been ages since we were all in the room and I miss us

you: yeah ur right

i’ll behave

promise

n talk to him

cheol🖕🏻: thank you.

you: unless he decides to be a bitch

cheol🖕🏻: STOP

you: hehe :3

see u in a bit

read

Okay. Deep breathes. You can do this. You’ve spent the entire duration of your flight preparing for what to say, what to do, how to act, how to breathe (a typical one in one out would do you assumed). Spent all of the hours imagining innumerable scenarios of how meeting him again could go. How bad could it be right? You’re just meeting your ex you broke up with 5 years ago, you’ll be fine. It’s not like your break up left you an emotional mess for months and mingyu shaped hole in your heart that still remains untouched by any man that’s come in your life the past few years.

How will he react? Has he been looking forward to it? Oh my god, what if he has another girlfriend? You’re going insane. It doesn’t help that you’ll have to spend an ENTIRE week around him. He was already so good looking in college; you can only imagine how handsome he’s grown now he’s a man. Despite of still being in the same friend group, you’ve managed to barely see him since your break up because well, life. No matter how tight knit you were with your friends, people grow apart due to circumstance; whether it be due to higher priorities in life or simply distance, that’s what happened to all of you. Everyone got too busy keeping up with growing careers, and bills, and relationships- all moving away to different parts of the country.

That’s why Seungcheol organized this for all of you, right before his wedding weekend. He met Jeonghan through you, believe it or not. You were dating a guy you met on a dating app, who worked with Jeonghan. Once while you and Seungcheol had gone to a club together, you bumped into them. You and Vernon broke up, but Seungcheol and Jeonghan kept seeing each other, and the rest is history.

As you’re lost in your thoughts of your past and all your old memories, you hear the cab driver halt to a stop in front of the resort and you’re brought back to reality. And the resort is honestly gorgeous. And oh, in between Jeonghan and Cheol, they are absolutely LOADED. Because not only have they booked rooms for all their guests at the resort, but they’re getting married right on the private beach of the resort. You could imagine Cheol quitting his job in a few years and just becoming a trophy wife.

You take your luggage out of the trunk of the car and walk into the lobby of the hotel and who do you see but Seungcheol, laughing with Jeonghan as he slowly turns back to you and you see him giving you a wide smile; but Seungcheol’s eyes are still on Jeonghan- and it warms your heart. When you see them together, you get it; they make sense. You see how easy it’s supposed to be- loving someone. How so in love someone can be, that their entire world disappears, and the person they want is the center of their universe.

Finally, Jeonghan nudges his shoulder as he begins to walk to you, open armed embracing you in a hug as you can’t help but smile. As you pull away from him, right behind you is Seungcheol, wasting no time before he is absolutely squeezing you, leaving you out of breath. No matter how many times you see him, he still hugs you the same way he did 8 years ago when you first met. You don’t think you’ll actually ever love anyone as much as you love your best friend.

“Hey, leave her, she literally can’t breathe!” Jeonghan says giggling.

“You’re getting married!” you say against Seungcheol’s shoulder, still in his tight grip.

“I’m getting married” he says with a smile as he finally lets you go, his hand still wrapped around your shoulder.

“You literally saw me a week ago, what’s with all the touchiness?”

“God forbid a man be happy and love his best friend.”

“Let’s take your luggage up, everyone is already up in our room.” Jeonghan says. “Cheol, carry it.”

“Everyone’s up? Mingyu’s reached too?” you say hesitantly. There is a nervousness in your voice that neither Jeonghan nor Cheol miss.

“There’s no need to be anxious y/n.” Jeonghan says as you walk towards their room.

“Just- you know, say hi to him, hug him, smile and it’ll be over. Doesn’t have to be awkward.” Seungcheol says, as if completing Jeonghan’s thought. God. They were so annoying and perfect.

“Oh, didn’t realise I lacked basic human interactive skills guys! Yeah, thanks a lot for that.” You say in annoyance as you roll your eyes, finally reaching their room; and you can already hear the sound of laughing and someone singing from the outside.

“Y/n, literally. Chill.” Seungcheol says as he opens the door. And there they are. The people you love so much, all rushing to crowd around you. you hear multiple iterations of your name being shouted as Seungkwan becomes the first to hug you, followed by Joshua and Dokyeom. You feel so full of love and happiness your heart might just burst, because it’s been just so long since you all saw each other together. Even though they’ve all grown up so much, you can’t help but picture the moment you first saw each of them, eyes so innocent and full of wonder; and how none of your 8 years ago versions would believe how far you’ve come. It truly makes you teary.

As they all swarm you with hi-s and how are you-s, they look so excited to welcome you- sitting you down, taking your bags from you, bringing you room service they ordered; and through it all you see him walk in. Ice bucket in hand, bright smile, hair all fluffy and messy like that of a puppy, eyes sparkling; but a maturity in them that he lacked when you met him years ago. His neck shines with sweat, as your travels down to see him wearing a tight tank top with low waist baggy jeans. God, he looks better than ever. And he has gotten so much buffer than before, did he just live at the gym now? As soon as your eyes meet his, there’s a twinkle in them- as if his head is filtering through a montage of flashbacks of the 3 years you spent together.

You both realise you’ve been staring at each other far too long as an uncomfortable silence settles in the room, the rest of the group giving each other awkward glances. You see him place the ice bucket on the table as he smiles and picks you up, hugging you, spinning you around in his arms, flashbacks flooding your head. As he sets you down, your hands still on the back of his neck, his hand reaches to tuck your curtain bangs behind your ear so that he can see all of you, no piece of hair obstructing the sight in front of you.

“Hi”. he says, his thumb on your cheek. You’re panicking in your head, because all this is going way too fast, way too soon. But he’s always been like this; it’s Mingyu. Your Mingyu.

“Hi.” you reply, a soft smile on your face as your hand drops to his chest, beginning to pull away.

And the realization hits you: this week is about to be so much harder for you that you anticipated.

They all send you to your room to freshen up, because it has been a long travel and you look like hell. You’ve got the whole week to catch up; they can wait for a while to let you catch a breath.

You finish unpacking and take a long shower to rid your body of the sweat that just doesn’t stop because of the southeast asian heat and till you’re finished, it’s already evening; the sun hasn’t set yet but it adorns the horizon in a yellowish-orange hue. You’re in the middle of drying your hair, when you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/n, it’s Joshua!” you hear him call out as you open the door in the hotel room.

“We’re leaving for the beach in a bit, so get dressed.” He says casually, hand in the pocket of his loose swim shorts.

“But I just took a shower! And blow dried by hair too! they’re gonna get ruined.” You whine with a pout on your face.

“Don’t make that face it’s literally never worked on me, come on, get dressed.”

“Fine, but I’m not getting in the water.” You say accepting defeat as he leaves your room.

Knowing your resort had a private beach, you had packed tons of cute bikini sets that you couldn’t wear at home. You pick out a white floral set with a matching sarong, choosing to wear a pair of denim shorts over it till you reached the beach. And you set out the room, floral clip in hair, tote bag and light island girl makeup that you had learned on tiktok the previous day.

Your room is right next to the one Joshua and Dokyeom are sharing, so you knock on their door as Dokyeom opens it, him too wearing the same hotel robe.

“Oh y/n you look great, there are lots of hot lifeguards here.” He says teasing you.

“Why are you still in your robe after asking me to get dressed! I rushed through my makeup.” You say entering their room, and boy did it look like a mess- suitcases wide open in the middle, clothes scattered all over, empty beer bottles placed randomly around the room.

“Oh it’s my bad, I feel asleep.” He says running his hand through his hair giving you a smile.

“Damn bro you live like this?” you say scrunching you nose pointing to the mess in his room.

“Here comes miss superiority complex type A personality. You were worse in uni.”

“Yes it’s called improving yourself dokyeom, I-”

“Okay stop with the bullshit and ignoring the elephant in the room.” He says cutting you off.

“First of all, very rude- never interrupt me. Second of all, there is no elephant in the room.” You say acting innocent.

“You and Mingyu. What was that earlier.”

“Oh my god I have no idea as well! As soon as I got into my room, I was like what the fuck was that!” you say like it’s all you’ve been waiting him to bring up.

“Don’t fuck him.”

“What- I wasn’t going to do that!” you say denying these heinous allegations.

“You were thinking it the second you saw him. I know that the break up was hard for you, but you have to know it was equally if not harder for him too.”

“Well, of course I know that I mean it was mutual so-”

“I know that. Just, be careful, okay? Be friends again, we all want that. But be careful.”

“Why wasn’t he going to come until a week ago?” you ask.

“He thought you would be uncomfortable. But then me and shua convinced him to come because it was about Cheol. And it was important for as all to be here with him.”

"By the way, does he have a girlfriend?" You ask trying to act nonchalant, and he sees right through you, but decides against teasing you because you already look miserable enough.

"No he's been single for months now." He says while brushing his hair.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can get through this vacation sober.” You say as you fall back on the bed, your face in your hand.

“There are minis in the refrigerator you know.”

“Aren’t they like super expensive.”

“Cheol will pay for them.” He says handing you a mini bottle of vodka, and you down it in an instant.

“Are we going to bankrupt him this week?” you whisper feeling the liquid burn down your throat.

“Eh, he’ll earn it back. C’mon let’s go.” He says grabbing a baseball cap as he’s finally dressed and ready to leave.

On the other end of the hallway, Mingyu is absolutely panicking his room, screaming at Joshua and Seungkwan for reasons even he doesn’t understand.

“Why did I lift her up?” he screamed in frustration. “I’ve literally never done that! My plan was to give her a handshake as to not make it awkward and-”

“Yeah, because a handshake is totally not weird at all.” Seungkwan says interrupting Mingyu’s very stressful rant.

“Anything you did would be awkward when you haven’t met in years, it’s natural. Don’t worry about it too much.” Joshua says nonchalantly, as if Mingyu is not having a complete breakdown right in front of him.

He almost wants to correct Joshua that you did in fact meet once a year after the breakup, even though it ended in empty bottles of soju scattered on his side table and you wrapped around him in his bed, but he stops himself from telling his friends because you made him promise not to.

“You’re overthinking this, let’s go now, dokyeom says they’re all waiting for us.” Joshua says holding up his phone to show his texts. His friends are useless in giving advice, he thinks. He’s asking Jeonghan next time.

When he gets out of his room, he sees you laughing with the rest of the group, and he thinks he’s going to have a heart attack after seeing you in the prettiest bikini he’s ever seen; or maybe it’s just pretty because you’re the one wearing it- he doesn’t really care, but he’s not sure he’ll be alive if you take off the denim shorts on the beach and prays to god you don’t want to get into water because the only thing worse for him than you in that bikini would be you wet in the bikini.

“No but why is it that I have to share a room but Seungkwan isn’t sharing with gyu!” he hears Dokyeom complain as he approaches them.

“Because Seungkwan’s girlfriend is coming for the weekend and mingyu booked the room himself and you are alone Dokyeom.” Seungcheol says as Dokyeom pouts at the rather harsh yet true comment.

“Hey, if you have that much of an issue to share with me get a room alone.” Joshua suggests, a bit of anger in his voice hearing his friend complain.

“Okay let’s go now if you both are done.”

Once you’re all on the beach, you lay down the sheets you got from the hotel, setting down your tote bag as the rest of the guys run to the water, watching Joshua tackle Dokyeom to the ground- a payback for complaining earlier, as you laugh from a distance, left alone with mingyu. You’ve never been good at starting conversations, and it’s really easy for you to get awkward. You hope to god mingyu remembers that about you and starts the conversation. Finally you hear his voice from behind as you turn to face him.

“You’re not gonna go with them?”

“I just did my hair, didn’t want to ruin it.” You say shrugging your shoulders. “I could ask the same to you, you know?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” he says softly, and god does he look beautiful- golden honey skin shining as the sun hits just the right spot on his cheekbones, hair curling on his forehead as the wind blew them and pleading eyes that stared at you asking questions you don’t know the answers to.

“We’re going to need something to drink.” You say as you sit besides, opening one for you and him you both from the multiple six packs Seungcheol had carried because you “needed it” in his words.

“I don’t think us and alcohol is a good idea.” He says with a slight smirk as you remember what happened when you were drunk around him the last time. But there is also no way you can talk to him sober without it ending it tears or sex, no in-between. You hope that you being in a public setting near your friends would help you avoid that.

“For old time’s sake mingyu. C’mon you’re going to refuse a drink from me? It’s just a beer anyway.” You say as you forward your hand towards him, offering him the bottle and that is apparently all you needed to say to convince him.

Once you’re both a bottle or two (you can’t tell at this point) in, it’s honestly much easier. It just feels like you and mingyu. Like nothing has changed in the past few years, and it’s just you and him again like it was 8 years ago as you catch up. The conversation flows from “oh how are you” to telling each wild stories, to reminiscing about college life and every small thing you haven’t talked about since forever. You’re both so immersed in talking that you don’t even notice the guys have moved on to playing beach volleyball now, horrible beach volleyball you must say; considering you were the team captain throughout school and college- and the watching them play is torture for you.

“why’d you leave that job then?”

“because I was stagnant. It was a great job honestly, but I wanted to progress and I wanted something new.” You said and Mingyu totally got it, because that has always been you. You’ve always went with what you felt was right for you in your gut and you weren’t afraid to take risks, something he’s always admired and wished he had the courage to do. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have to leave you years ago. But he pushes that thought out of his mind. He’s spent years thinking about maybe-s and what if-s, so he tries to focus on you again.

“After I left, I took a vacation back home for like a month and then I got a new offer.”

“No wait I’m confused again, you left it last year and visited home, so where are you now?”

“Where I wanted to be in college.” You say with a sly smile.

“No way.” he says, covering his mouth with his hand dramatically.

“Started at Regalia a few months ago.” you say with a smirk, leaning back on one hand as you take a sip of your beer.

Suddenly you see mingyu move from the corner of your eye as he jumps onto you, hugging you from the side.

“Y/n, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you mingyu.” You say as your hand reaches to caress his shoulder.

“I really mean it.” He says as he separates from you. “I know it was all you ever dreamed of.”

“it wasn’t all I dreamed of.” You say, finally addressing the elephant in the room you both had been dancing around for the past hour.

“Y/n, I never meant to-” mingyu starts but is interrupted as he feels the ball hit him straight in his face, leaving sand in his mouth as you fall back, bursting into laughter, the beer almost coming out of your nose.

“Mingyu, Y/n how long are you going to sit! You have to come play now!” Seungkwan screamed at you.

“Only if you promise not to cheat!” you shout back.

After a screaming exchange between both of you for a while you finally give in, running over to them.

You and mingyu don’t complete your conversation later, blame your avoidant personality but you have the a few more days to finish it, right?

Once you’re all absolutely worn out by the very one-sided volleyball match (which your team won btw) you immediately all head back to your rooms to get some rest before dinner, but you have no time for rest because not only do you have to shower again because Seungcheol absolutely shoved you into the sand “accidently” because he doesn’t realise his own strength, but you now have to get dressed all over again. As you're already tired from the jet lag and the volleyball, you decide to keep it simple for dinner with a baby blue A-line dress and light makeup since you know your face is going to get red because of the alcohol anyways.

When you reach for dinner, you can see that you are the last one to arrive, yet again and hear half-hearted complains from the group for being late, but you know they don’t mean it. It’s good you and Mingyu talked for a bit even though you didn’t really clear the entire air around you because it’s easier for you all to just talk and catch up and drink like crazy. Seriously, after you spend more than an hour joking around and making fun of each other you realise how drunk you all are: Dokyeom is singing with the live band, going to them and literally taking the mic from them, Seungkwan is being really emotional with you and Joshua telling you and him how much he loves you both while Joshua is totally zoned out mumbling something about how difficult dating is today, and Seungcheol and Mingyu are screaming at each other for some reason. You think you’re the only one being normal, but from Jeonghan’s seat he can see you giggling like crazy and everything Joshua says for no reason and he regrets being the only one who’s not as drunk as the rest of you, and pities himself for being the one who’s going to have to take each one of you personally to your respective beds and tuck you in, otherwise there's no telling where you'd run off to.

When you wake the next morning, you have no idea how you got into your bed, your head is killing you and as your eyes hurt from the bright sunshine in your eyes and you see a blob like figure blurry in front of your eyes and a ringing sound in your head.

“You should never drink again for the benefit of society.” Is what you hear the blurry figure say to you, until you blink a few more times and see Seungcheol and Mingyu standing in front of you.

“Leave me aloneeee.” you whine as you pull the sheets over you again, before they are once again pulling it off of you.

“Y/n you sent me a detailed itinerary of everything you wanted to do with timestamps and what not. And you said you quote, would kill me and ruin my wedding if you missed any of it. So according to it, you need to absolutely need to leave in an hour.”

“Noooo! I don’t wanna do anything I was lying.” You say, still in a nasty hangover, your pillow on your face.

“You will blame me 3 hours later if I don’t do this. Now, our caterer has cancelled on us last minute so me and han need to figure it out, and you have to go with Mingyu since he’s the only one free. Be a good girl and behave, okay?”

“Never call me that again I almost puked.” you reply as you finally sit up.

“I think you almost puked because you’re still in a hangover y/n.” Mingyu interrupts as you groan into the pillow.

Finally, after a lot of arguing they succeed in getting you out of bed as you get ready and have breakfast, ready to leave to travel around the city for the day with 1000 bags in Mingyu’s opinion, which are all “essential” in your opinion. The whole day you drag him everywhere in the city, from a café to a shopping center, to touristy places, to souvenir shops; and he complies throughout it all- because if anyone can make a travelling plan it’s you. He had forgotten how much he truly missed exploring places with you and listening to you tell him about it as if you were a travel guide. You ask him to a million pictures and he does each time, because he does remember all your good angles after all. He watches you collect absolutely ridiculous memorabilia for each place, “so that I remember and have a piece of the place” you say to him; watches you shove a few napkins from the 100-year-old café, pamphlets from wherever you can find, collect beer bottle caps, tags from clothes, bills- basically everything in your sight.

You find a hidden beach with just the perfect sunset view, you and mingyu sitting on big rocks next to each other eating ice-cream. As the evening approaches you, there is just one spot left on your list, an art gallery; but as soon as you notice the time you panic, because it’s about to close in half an hour.

“Mingyu, if we don’t do the art gallery, it won’t open for another week, and we won’t be here then!” you say anxiously.

“Y/n, you’ll see many art galleries, but this sunset, if you miss it, you won’t catch it again.” He says calmly. “You can’t go about everything according to your checklist. We didn’t expect we’d find this beach, but we did and we would be stupid to leave. You can't go about life based on a to-do list, because then you miss out on experiences like this. Let’s enjoy this sunset in the moment and think about what to do next later.”

And that’s hard to argue with, so you don’t protest more, and just end up leaning your head on his shoulder. Maybe this is why you didn’t work out, you’re just too different; different mindsets, different ideology, different goals. You’re so contradicting it makes you wonder how you stayed together for 3 years. You both stay silent, staring at the waves crashing; and this time the silence isn’t uncomfortable- it’s comforting, it’s easy, it’s just you and him and the sound of the sea as you watch the sun set on the horizon together, an orange-yellow hue in the summer and a cool breeze on your face.

“Gyu” you call him softly, looking straight at him. “Why weren’t you going to come?”

“It doesn’t matter y/n, I’m here now, right?” he says as he looks at you.

“Answer me please.” You mean for it to come out a demand, but it ends up sounding like a plea.

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” He says looking down, avoiding your gaze.

“I could never be uncomfortable around you.” you say as you take his hand in yours. “Gyu I- I never blamed you for the break up. Never.”

“I know you didn’t, but I shouldn’t have left even when you asked me to, because you were hoping I would choose you, and I regret that I didn’t.” he says rubbing your thumb with his as he holds your hand tighter.

“Look at you gyu, look at where you are in life right now. You’ve grown so beautifully. At that moment, it was important for your career to move to-”

“I could’ve worked for my dad and stayed home y/n, and I-” he tries to argue, but you cut him off yet again, resting your head on your shoulder.

“Of course a small selfish part of me wanted you to stay, but I don’t think we would have grown as individuals if you did. You would’ve resented me for never chasing that great opportunity and I would always feel guilty for holding you back.”

“I could never resent you.” he says softly.

“I don’t blame you for leaving, because I encouraged you to; but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt me. But we were in different phases of life, we had different goals. And look at us now gyu” you say as you lift your head from your shoulder to meet his eyes. “We’ve become all that we wanted to be.”

“I wanted to do it with you beside me.” He says.

“I wanted to too, but we don’t have control in what’s written for us. At the time, it might’ve been the right call for us. When you left, I thought you didn’t care enough to stay and that left me a mess for days, but later I realised you left because you did care. No one can replace the love I have for you, and no one ever will. It just took me too long to realise that sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“When you asked me to leave, you broke me y/n, because I felt like you didn’t love me as much; but I recognize my fault in that too. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for us. But if with someone like you, it wasn’t the right time, then how could it ever be the right time with anyone?”

And for the first time, you don’t know what to say. So you just stay silent. And the silence doesn’t feel awkward, it feels good. It feels like you’ve both finally let years of heaviness and burden off your shoulders. There’s a lightness in the air around you as you continue to rub his thumb, the silence comforting you.

You don’t know how long you both sit there, just staring at the water but before you know it you’re getting a text from Joshua asking where you are.

“The guys are asking for us, we should leave.” You tell Mingyu. Once you’re both off the rock and you begin to walk away, Mingyu grabs you by your hand, stopping you.

“Y/n, we’re good?” he asks, eyes still nervous, an uncertain expression on his face looking for answers in yours. You imagine words won't do as good of a job as actions will, so you walk back to stand in front on him, taking his face in your hand and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek on your tiptoes.

“We’re good Gyu, let’s go now.” You say with a smile as you drag him by his hand.

After another night of excessive drinking that night and almost getting kicked out due to the noise complaints from everyone in the resort because of the midnight karaoke competition, you wake up the third day yet again with a killer hangover, somehow worse than the previous night and don’t even the energy to dress up for breakfast as you hear dokyeom banging on your door while you’re still in bed.

“Do you have like any pills?” he asks, rubbing his eyes as he sees you a mess, opening the door.

“I didn’t bring drugs dokyeom.”

“Shut up, now is not time.” He says as he enters the room uninvited. “I meant for the hangover.”

“Jeonghan gave me one yesterday, works like magic. Go bang on his door and get one for me too. I’m gonna go to breakfast.”

“Babe it is 12:15 in the afternoon there is no breakfast.”

Great. So now not only are you hungover, but hungry as well. Thank god for room service and Cheol’s card as well, you eat better than ever in your pajamas. He did give you the card for emergencies only, but this was an emergency, you were starving and it was on him for not waking you up earlier. Little do you on the other side of the hallway he is absolutely obliterating his intestines as he pukes into the toilet, Jeonghan holding his hair up while Mingyu and Seungkwan stays asleep in their room and not in their own for some reason. You all spent the afternoon in your rooms, just resting for once since getting there. You had initially planned to go to the club in the night; but after the state you were all in, you just chose to go to the pool in the evening and a simple dinner in one of the many restaurants of the hotel.

When you return from dinner, it’s fairly early because this night, for once, none of you drank like crazy, only some wine as you had a lot planned the next day between snorkeling and going to the club later. You’re getting ready for bed, just finishing brushing your teeth as you begin to wear your comfy pajamas as you hear your phone buzz.

mingyu: if u must know

you: i really really must

mingyu: you looked really pretty at dinner

in that yellow dress

also at the beach

you: we didn’t go to the beach today tho

mingyu: first day

when u wore that white bikini

floral

looked so pretty

you: r u drunk

mingyu: had like 2 sips at dinner

not drunk

you: u looked really pretty too

mingyu: saw u staring

you: saw some other girls staring too

mingyu: no need to be jealous baby :)

you: shut up

hate u

ur not asleep yet?

cheol was very strict on us getting up early tmrw

need to get up at fuckass dawn

mingyu: can’t sleep

Now, you have had the talk with mingyu. and unlike him, you did have a bit more to drink so you're not totally in your senses and can't be held completely responsible for your future actions. And yes, you did promise Dokyeom you wouldn't do anything like this. But also, you're just a girl who has tried so so hard to control yourself around the aphrodite of a man and simply can't take it any longer. After all how bad could it turn out, right?

you: typing

he sees you typing for a while. The little bubble appearing and then vanishing repeatedly, but then you finally say fuck it and send the message.

you: i have a hot tub

in my room

mingyu: oh

Oh. He knows where this is going, and he knows very well what game you're playing. Well, two can play at a game.

you: wanna come over?

might as well use it since cheol paid for it

mingyu: coming

You hear a soft knock on your door, as if he doesn’t want to let anyone know he’s sneaking over to your room at midnight.

“Hi” he says leaning on the doorframe as soon as you open the door, lips pursed together- a smile on his face.

You grab him by his arm and pull him in, closing the door behind him shut.

“Cheol is rich as fuck, why did he give you a hot tub.” He says pouting.

“I’m his favorite.” You say as you giggle, leading him to the tub.

“Nepotism” he loudly whispers behind you, making you laugh.

As you finally reach the hot tub, you slowly take off your short silk robe, revealing the same white bikini he liked so much on the first day as you put your hair up as to not get them wet, front strands falling on your face. You hear him suck a sharp breath in as he takes in your figure.

“You wore it for me?” he questions, struggling to get words out of his mouth.

You bend down making sure his eyes are on you, turning on the jets.

“you said you liked it.” You say, your back still facing him, but looking at him over your shoulder.

You start to get in, swaying your hips with each step you take in slowly as his eyes are transfixed on you.

“Get in gyu.” You say, your voice turning sultry, the one he remembers so well, the one you used when you begged him to eat you out, the one he’s been desperate to hear since he last saw you.

He takes off his shirt slowly, knowing your size difference always turns you on, and steps in following your lead as he sits in front of you in the small tub. You can stretch your legs fully to rest on his thighs, but poor mingyu has his knees bent in an uncomfortable position, making you laugh.

“Sit next to me.”

“Mhm but then I won’t be able to keep my legs on you.” you respond, but still get up to sit beside him.

“Do you want something to drink?” you ask innocently, hoping he catches onto what you’re implying.

“Oh I don’t think having alcohol at night with you would be a very good idea.” He says as he spreads his arms behind him as they rest on the edge of the tub.

“What? You’re scared of me?” you tease because if anything doesn’t work, you know his competitive streak and how much he loves to prove someone wrong in a challenge, but he is holding onto dear life to not be provoked by you and have some self-control even though he was the one that texted you first.

“No, but do you need to be drunk to talk to me? Am I that bad?” he says with a laugh as you accept defeat.

“I know you had fun last time.” You softly sing as you smirk and your nails trace the veins on his arm.

“I’ve had better.” He says as he smiles wide. Oh, now he is absolutely asking for it you think as your hand is quick to smack the same arm you were drawing patterns on as you hear him say “ow” and laugh.

“Shut up, you’ve never been a good liar. I know it was the best you ever had. For me though, I’ve had better.” You say as you adjust your bikini top while looking straight at him.

“Oh? Please do enlighten.” He says as he cocks his eyebrow, testing how far you’re willing to go.

“When I was working out of the states for a few months, I had a threesome.” You confess as you giggle.

In a sudden move taking you by surprise, mingyu is using his strength to scope your waist in his hands and maneuvering you to sit on his lap, legs on either side of him making contact with his half hard cock through the layers of your thin bikini bottom and his shorts which makes you gasp out loud. His hand reach to toy with the string of your bottom while the other massages your thighs.

“That’s okay y/n.” he murmurs, his eyes focused on your chest spilling out of your top before he’s bringing his eyes to look at yours- full of curiosity and shock.

“It doesn’t matter how many guys you slept with, or who you were with the past years.” He says as he gets closer and closer to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he whispers, “Because I was the first one.” making you shiver. And that’s your final straw as you grab his face and crash your lips into his as an act of desperation. The kiss is tense, and wet, and messy. It seems like neither of is willing to pull away as the kiss deepens, as if to make up for the lost time. You missed this. Missed him. his lips, his eyes, his hands, his everything. You had tried so hard to forget everything about him that you loved but it all comes rushing back to you as you run your wet hands through his wavy hair. His lips are as soft as they always were despite of how roughly he kisses you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“I was the first one to make you scream baby.” he says as he pulls away, eyes hungry with desire as if he’s unleashed. “And I’ll always be the only one to make you feel that good.” He says as he thrusts his hips up lightly, making you gasp as you feel him getting bigger in size. His hands reach down to push your bikini bottoms to the side, a sorry excuse of material barely covering your pussy in the first place.

“Oh? Is it just water or are you wet y/n?” he says as his finger runs up and down your slit, as you clench at his touch.

“Remember when I first took you baby?” he chuckles. “you were so scared, holding my hand in tears begging me to be gentle. Look at you now, made you into the slut you are.” And all you can do is moan in agreement as he finds your clit, rubbing the small nub.

“Gyu, please fuck me!” you whine.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you in a hot tub y/n, I’m just too hungry baby. Wanna taste you.” he says as he pats your hips softly, pressing a kiss to your lips signaling you to get up.

As you get out with him following you behind, he reaches your claw clip and lets your hair down, your curtain bangs falling to your face as he grabs your waist from behind, leaning in to push your hair to one side as he whispers, his body pressing against yours, “you still like to be slapped around baby?” a slight playfulness in his voice, and you can practically feel him smirk against your ears before you’re turning to face and pulling him in once again into a kiss. His hands reach down to cup your ass as you continue to make out.

“I’ve missed you so bad.” You whimper in between kisses.

“Fuck, missed you too baby, not gonna make you wait again.” He says as he parts his lips slightly to let your tongue in, his grip tight on your waist. He licks and bites and sucks on your lips and tongue, making you moan into him. it’s as act of desperation, the way you hold onto him. A way of making up what you lacked and craved for so long, because no matter how hard you tried, no one ever made you cum as hard as he did, and no one made you scream louder than he did.

You waste no time in making your way to your bed, falling back as soon as the back of your legs hit the edge. he eyes you from top as you spread your legs for him easily, because you know you don’t have to do anything to get him down on his knees for you; after all old habits die hard. Before you know it, there he is, on his knees at the edge of the bed as he watches you toy with your clothed pussy like a hawk, just waiting to pounce on you. You continue to play with your soaked bottom as you see him running out of patience, eyes transfixed on you.

“Gyu, touch me please…” you whine and that was all the permission he needs to dive right in as he swats your hand away and tears off your bikini bottom in one go making you gasp.

“hey! I liked that one.” You say as he looks up to you, a cute pout on your face.

“I’ll buy you another one baby.” you hear him say faintly, because right now he’s not really listening to what you’re saying, but busy looking at what he’s been kept away for so long. You undo your top and let your tits fall and within seconds, he’s going right in, licking a long strip along your entrance, making you moan out loud and clench around his mouth as your hand reaches immediately to hold onto his hair.

“What do you want, Y/n?” he says as he peppers soft kisses on your inner thigh, intentionally avoiding the place where you needed attention the most as it dripped with your essence.

No matter how much sexual experience you’ve had, in his hands, in front of him, you turn into the same 19-year-old that was on his couch while he made you say what you wanted as you begged him for more.

“Please don’t make me say it.” You beg him with your face red with embarrassment as you hid it in your hands.

“But I taught you so well? You forgot it baby? What happened to the good girl I met?” he says as he tsks in disappointment.

“I hate you!” you cry out. “Fuck please, need your mouth gyu! Missed it so much.” You whine hoping it will do the job for him. he hands finally makes contact with your clit and he drags your wetness to it and draws soft patterns on it making you falter.

“Mhm, you used to beg better but it’s okay, you’ve been out of practice.” He says as he fakes his sympathy and finally gives you what you want, going right in. He licks and nibbles around your folds, as his hands old your thighs apart because he remembers your habit of closing your legs around his head, cutting off his oxygen; not that he’d mind dying buried in your pussy. He makes out with your cunt with no regard for your sensitiveness as you play with your nipples with one hand as the other pulls on his hair. You’re honestly too horny and needy for foreplay, but Mingyu seems to be enjoying himself too much down there, eating you out like a man starved. As he pushes his tongue in and out, the tip of his nose hits your clit rhythmically with just the right pressure and oh you’re seeing stars. He pulls away for a second as you see him swallow of a second and then spit on your center, making you gasp out loud.

“Sweetest cunt ever baby.” He says. “Can’t believe you kept her away from me. See, she misses me too!” he says as he watches you clench once again over nothing, diving in once again.

While he eats you out, you’re mumbling nonsense. “Fuck gyu! You’re- you’re the only one that makes me feel so good! I- missed you so bad! So bad, fuck!”

Hearing your praises, he inserts two fingers in without a struggle in your tight cunt, taking you by surprise. Your cheeks are red and there’s a thumping noise in your head, your forehead covered with sweat. His fingers drill into you not too slow as to bore you, but not fast enough to drive you over the edge as he sucks on your clit, but with just the right pace to keep you on the edge. there were multiple nights in the past when he would be between your thighs for hours as you were left shaking and shivering, begging him to stop because you just couldn’t cum anymore. He would eat you out for hours, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and making you count, and if you lost the count, he’d start from 1 all over again until he was satisfied with your poor sensitive cunt and until you had forgotten your own name, in sweat and exhaustion. You hope to god this is not one of those nights because you honestly are so close to coming, and too needy to have his cock in you.

He still remembers the little signs you give him without knowing, your little mannerism that tell him you’re close; he has your body memorized after all, every inch of it. And he can you see you unfolding in front of him; your hand that toyed with your tits is beginning to falter in it’s movement, your grip on his hair has tightened just slightly and he can see your lips slightly parted, eyes closed and nose crunched. If this was the last sight he saw before dying, he’d die a happy man. He increases the pace of his fingers just slightly, as squelching noises fill the room along with your soft moans as he talks you through it.

“Can feel you getting close. Are you close love?” he says as he looks up to you nodding frantically, eyes still closed and chuckles.

“Wanted to edge you a little more, but you’ve already waited so long, I’ll show a little mercy baby.” He says as leans down again to lick your clit and increases the pace of his fingers just slightly.

“You can come baby, let go for me.” He whispers. And that’s all the permission you need before you’re screaming his name and arching your back as you coat his fingers with your white liquid, bucking your hips ahead as to keep his fingers inside you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as everything in front of you goes dark, your legs jelly coming down from the intense orgasm as mingyu slowly keeps moving your fingers in throughout it all.

Once you seem to have calmed down from your high, you look down to see him pull his fingers out and engulf them in his mouth, licking your cum off them clean as you see him swallow. He finally climbs onto the bed, grabbing you by your waist to manhandle you up and away from the edge as he comes down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and this is probably the hottest thing he’s ever done.

“Was going to make you cum a few more times on my tongue, but I’m too impatient baby, need to be inside you.” he mumbles as he takes off his swim shorts, his cock standing proudly in front of you, tip slightly red, veiny and angry. Oh you had forgotten how big he was, and how insane the stretch was each time, no matter how many times he fucked you. You see him spit on his hand and pump his length up and down.

“Can you still take it baby?” he says as he smirks, teasing you. “When you had that threesome did they fuck you together? At the same time? Because that’s the only way you’re gonna be able to one of me.” He says as his smile gets wider is pride. You did not know this was going to bite you in the ass later.

“Shut up gyuuu!” you whine. “You’ve been talking for so long, just fuck me!” you say in frustration as he laughs at you.

“Condom, baby?” he asks as he’s finally fully hard, looking around your room.

“I’m on the pill, no condom.” You whisper just loud enough for him to hear you.

“fuck, she is my girl after all.” He says, referring to your pussy as he taps in tip against your tip, “Wanna feel all of her.”

And with that, he finally pushes in slowly, just the tip so far but the stretch is far too big even after he’s opened you up. But he knows you, knows you can take it, you always do. He gives you a second to adjust to his tip before he’s bottoming out in one swift move, reaching you deep in your guts as you scream his name. he leans down to kiss you as you open your eyes to his doe eyes staring at you with the same love he had for you all this time because oh he has missed this. Missed feeling your warmth wrapped around him.

You hook your hand around his neck, pulling him in deeper. He holds your hips as you wrap your legs around him, not willing to let go. You walls seem to suck him in more and more as you clench around his length making him groan into the kiss. He pulls out slowly, making you whine at the loss of contact, only his tip left in you before he’s slamming back into you making you both moan in the pleasure. He does this a few times so that you’re comfortable with his length before speeding his pace up a bit, thrusts still slow yet so deep. His hand reaches up to hold yours and it’s a moment of intimacy which is much more than sex. This is more than sex for you, and this action of his reminds you of that as your pleading eyes look up to him and he kisses you once again while maintaining his agonizing pace. You look at each with gaze full of words unspoken, full of I miss you-s and I love you-s, full of longing and desire as his cock hits just the right spots, kissing your walls in a snug fit.

Any other day, he would go fast, making you scream his name, make you beg and plead, and you know it well from past experience. But today, he fucks you the same way he did when he took you first. Slow and gentle, full of love and care. His slow yet sharp thrusts combined with his hand in yours are getting you close every passing second. His moans mix with yours as the sounds of your wet pussy fill the room. The feeling of your arousal around him feels like heaven as it drips down on the sheets and his balls making a mess. His slender hands reach down where your bodies connect to slowly rub your clit, the pleasure overwhelming for you; not just physically but emotionally.

You feel the heat building up in your core as your senses are in overload, hips bucking up to meet him and he knows you’re getting there.

“Can feel you getting close baby.” He says, and it amazes you how well he knows and remembers your own body even after all this time. “Need you to let go with me, cum around me cock, know how tight you get, fuck!” he says as he tries to maintain the pace he’s set for you, his hand down speeding up, drawing an orgasm for you. With a particular sharp thrust and a pinch on your clit from his fingers, you whine, feeling the knot in your stomach building up to a point you can’t bear anymore as you let go for the second time in the night with a moan of his name as complete darkness surrounds you, your hand on his back digging in deeper and you’re sure the nails will leave marks. As soon he feels you clench around his cock, he follows you, his pace turning erratic as he once again brings his lips down to moan into your mouth, hips stuttering as he paints your insides white, his grip on your hand tightening.

You feel completely worn out and in bliss as his hand never stops to stimulate you poor sensitive clit, making a warm feeling run throughout your chest as he barely holds himself up on you from one arm to avoid crushing you under his weight. He kisses your cheek softly before resting his forehead on yours trying to catch his breathe. In front of him, you couldn’t look any happier; a glow on your face, your eyes shining bright at him, cheeks flushed crimson at the feeling of his warm cum filled to the brim inside you.

As he pulls out, he falls to your side as an old feeling pops up inside you as you feel the cum drip out of you. you see him sitting up, pulling you up to lean back against his chests as he pulls the sheets over you as his hand is still holding onto yours while the other runs up and down your arms. “You’re the greatest woman I’ve ever met.” He whispers into your ear, making you giggle as you swat his hand away, but pulling it back in an instant because you love his touch.

You both lay there for a moment in silence, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other again, before the sinking feeling hits you: this is not a happy ending. You’ll go back to different cities, different people, different lives and your eyes are quick to fill with tears before you hear Mingyu’s voice again.

“Y/n, I’m moving back home.” He says softly and for a second you can’t believe you’re not in a dream right now because there is no way mingyu, your mingyu, is coming back to you.

“What?” you ask in disbelief as you turn to face him.

“Decided it 2 months ago. Dad’s retiring so I’m gonna take over the business.” He says as he holds you in his arms tighter.

“So-” you start but are quickly interrupted by him as if he’s read your mind.

“So, us again?” he asks with a cheeky smile as he leans forward to look at the wildered expression on your face.

“Mhm, but we never know when you could leave again.” You say as you reach him to catch him in a kiss and lift your hand up, the back of it facing him. “You’re gonna have to put a ring on it someday to lock it down.” making him laugh.

“How many carats baby?”

213 notes · View notes

thechaotictheoryy · 1 day ago

Text

Winterfall.

summary: Yunho doesn't know when the last time he didn't feel so much loneliness. You also experienced the same thing causing you to run away from home. What happens when the two of you meet in a small restaurant in the cold winter month of December, discovering that loneliness isn't forever.

pairing: reader x non-idol! Yunho

genre: (18+ minors dni), romance, smut, situational and emotional loneliness, strangers to lovers.

word count: 4,827.

warnings: deep conversation, talks of extreme loneliness, crying, Yunho is really sweet, making out, soft dom! yunho, dry humping, unprotected sex (don't do this lmao), oral sex (both receiving) fingering, slight hand kink, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, etc.), slightly slow sex, creampie, cockwarming.

song rec: Chroma Drift by Plave and Just For Two by Jey.

The snow was so crisp and white as Yunho made his way down the street. It was like any other night when he left the office, it was close to midnight and there were few people still walking around. Yunho’s stomach kept growling since the last thing he ate was a banana and some pretzels for lunch. He knew his roommate and best friend Mingi would scold him for that later since they worked in the same place but Mingi got off a little early today.

The familiar sign of Yunho’s favorite restaurant came into view. It was a simple hole in the wall place that he had found his freshman year of college when he moved to Seoul from Gwangju. It was ran by an old Chinese-Korean couple who moved to Seoul in the late 80s and they were really famous for their seafood jjampong. Yunho hadn’t been there in about two weeks now since work was driving him crazy but it was Saturday and he always ate there every Saturday, mostly by himself but sometimes with Mingi or some co-workers. As much as an extrovert Yunho was, loneliness always consumed him.

Even with friends, his loneliness yearned for something that he couldn’t put into words and he felt bad about it. Mingi always tried to help him out but all his attempts seemed to fail because even when Yunho was physically present… he wasn’t mentally present.

Yunho opened the door to the restaurant and the aroma of noodles and sour kimchi hit his nose. He loved this smell and he became rather cozy to him as weird as it may seem.

“Ya! Where have you been?” Ms. Jung, one of the owners, yelled at him as soon as she saw him.

“I’m sorry Ms. Jung, work has been consuming me” He chuckled.

“Mhm, well have a seat and I’ll have Riku whip up a fresh bowel for you”

Yunho nodded, making his way to a table and sitting. He noticed Ms. Jung walked over to a girl in the back and handed her more kimchi while rubbing her head before walking away. He raised his eyebrow a little in curiosity. He had never seen you here before in all his 6 years of coming here. He practically knew most of the people who walked in and out this restaurant so how could he have missed you?

“That’s Y/N” Ms. Jung said, breaking Yunho out of his thoughts and placing his bowl of hot noodles in front of him. “She just moved to Seoul a few weeks ago from Jinju,” she sighed.

“Why the sigh?”

“Mm, it’s not my business to tell but just know she doesn’t have the most fond memories of everything there which is why she moved up here”

Yunho hummed and started eating his noodles. Ms. Jung smiled at him and patted his head before walking back to the kitchen. The restaurant seemed to empty out a little within the next fifteen minutes. Yunho was sitting there eating and looking through some emails on his phone. He caught himself looking in your direction a few times, more than he would like to admit.

One thing was that you were beautiful in his eyes. Too beautiful honestly for someone like him but that’s just what he thought.

You also did the same without his knowledge, you were glancing at him a lot. To you, he was way out of your league. Someone so tall and handsome like him would never be interested in someone like you especially with how broken you were inside. Loneliness was destined to find you, just like your parents wished on you.

You moved here from Jinju to escape everyone. Your family and the terrible ex you dated for three years that you recently broke up with over eight months ago. You never had the best relationship with your parents because of high expectations they had for you, the blur definitely increased when you went and graduated from art school instead of going to a four year university. The stain in your relationship with them caused you and your little sister to also distant from each other. There was no hate from either of you but because she was being the child your parents wanted you to be, they glorified her more so it made you shut down.

Your toxic relationship with your on and off boyfriend Jeonghan didn’t make it any better. The constant fights and cheating from his end just for him to apologize and make it so easy for you to come back took a mental toll over you. You knew you shouldn’t have ended it after the first time he degraded you and cheated but you hated being alone. You finally ended it when all your emotions boiled over and you leashed out on him. You knew the relationship was making you toxic and depressed plus the bad relationship with your parents so you decided to move three hours away to Seoul.

You heard a chair move and you looked up. Yunho walked to the counter and handed Mr. Jung his bowel, he tried to pay for it but Ms. Jung kept insisting that it was on the house so he left something in the tip jar while they still scolded him. It made you smile a bit and you automatically knew he had to be coming here for a while for them to act like that towards him. As Yunho made his way out, you and him made slight eye contact which made him slightly bow at you with a small smile and you bowed a little at him.

The bells rang on the door as he walked back out into the winter snow.

Little did he know that his small gesture towards you made warmth flow through your heart.

A week passed till Yunho found himself back in The Jungs’ restaurant again. This time it was empty except for the two older men who were almost finished with their bowels at a table near the back. He turned his head and saw you eating near the window. You didn’t notice him yet but he smiled a little, walked to a table near the register. As on queue, a hot bowl of seafood jjampong was in front of him with pickled radish. Work really has been stressing him out and Mingi bringing home random hook ups when he was trying to catch up on sleep didn’t help.

“She’s been looking for you,” Ms. Jung said quietly, walking next to him.

“Mm, why?”

“Who knows, I just always see her look towards the door every time she’s here then gets a little disappointed by closing time. I think you should talk to her”

She walked away before Yunho could tell her that would be impossible. It was impossible because of how stunning you were and he would make a complete fool of himself. Yunho hasn’t been with someone in years and you deserved someone who didn’t drown in his work to cure somewhat of his loneliness. Yunho had looked in your direction again and saw you were gone. He didn’t even notice that you had left but he let out a sign, finishing up his bowel.

He thanked The Jungs and left for the journey to his apartment. It was very cold tonight and the wind was blowing slightly to add on. He wrapped his scarf around his neck a little tighter as he walked. A few blocks down as he passed the park, he heard someone crying and paused. His eyebrows raised and he slowly walked, eyes searching for the person who was crying. He saw a figure on the bench and made his way over, he felt very bad because the cries were like heartbreaking sobs.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he approached. You turned your head slowly to look up at him and his eyes widened as he realized who you were.

“I’m fine,” you looked down and sniffed.

You heard a bag drop and the bench become a little heavier with weight. You turned your head a little and saw Yunho sitting but looking straight, crossing his arms.

“You don’t have to share but it’s dark and I can’t let a girl sit out here alone”

Your chest felt that warmth go through it again. You knew he was only doing as a good person but something about him made the winter not feel so cold tonight. You looked straight and sighed, sniffling. You both sat in silence for about ten minutes till you decided you could speak without breaking down.

“I.. I just got a call from my parents that my sister passed to get into a college in America”

“Oh that’s great, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly,” you sighed. “My parents called to praise her and tell me how useless I was to them. They were glad when they heard I moved away so they wouldn’t have to deal with their failure anymore”

“That’s horrible, I’m sorry” Yunho said. You looked at him and saw concern in his eyes, it shocked you just a little bit because you never saw that from anyone in your life.

“It’s nothing new but what's upsetting is the fact they sent me three million won and told me to stay out their life,” you teared up.

You felt yourself about to break down again until felt arms around you and the warmth from a strong chest. It took you a minute to realize Yunho was hugging you. He also didn’t know what came over him but seeing such a pretty girl like you in tears and being degraded and pushed away like you were nothing made him sad with an overwhelming feeling of rage but he didn’t want you to notice. He couldn’t believe someone could do this to their daughter. Once you seemed to calm down a little, he pulled away and you could see his ears were a bit red.

Cute.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“It’s okay I needed that” you smiled.

“I’m Yunho by the way, should have said my name first” he awkwardly rubbed his neck.

“Y/N” you nodded.

“It’s freezing and you should get inside” he stood up. “Let me walk you home”

“It’s okay”

“I insist and I would feel terrible if something happened to you”

You eventually agreed and you both set off to your apartment complex. There was small talk on the ten minute walk there, just about where he was from and where you both worked. You weren’t surprised when he said he worked for a tech company, he just looked the type to do so. That also explained why you always see him at the restaurant so late but he also learned that you worked at a cafe that closed around 9pm which is why you were always at the restaurant late also.

You two made it in front of your building and he wished you a nice night and started to walk away. You didn’t want him to leave just yet so you said something that the last person who heard broke your heart into pieces.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?”

He turned and looked at you, a little shocked.

“Um.. are you sure? We just met”

“I’m sure” you smiled.

Your smile was going to be the death of him.

He followed behind you as you walked up the stairs to your apartment and looked away when you put in your code to get inside. Once he stepped inside, the smell of cinnamon hit his nose. He looked around after taking off his shoes and scarf. Your home was cozy and clean, if anyone came here they would feel right at home.

“You can go sit in the living room, I’ll be right there” you walked into the kitchen. Yunho slowly walked into the living room and sat on your couch. He noticed your bookcase filled with tons of books and CDs, he smiled at it. He also noticed your blank canvas on the counter with an apron with paint stains all over it.

You walked in with two shot glasses and a case of soju with two beers, setting it on the table. He gulped at the sight and you could feel his nervousness.

“We don’t have to drink all of it, I just felt lazy to keep walking back and forth” you reassured him, sitting beside him.

“Okay, sorry it’s been a while since I've been alone with a girl” He regretfully admitted. “I know that sounded pretty lame”

“Not at all” you shook your head, pouring both shot glasses with soju. You gave him his glass and bumped it with yours, both of you taking the shot together.

“You live alone?”

“Yeah I can’t do the whole roommate thing”

“Lucky,” he chuckled.

“You have one?”

“Mhm, my best friend Mingi. We met back in middle school and wouldn’t trade him for the world but sometimes he can be a bit much”

“Can’t all best friends be?” you both laughed at that.

Your laugh was like a hidden melody that he wanted to keep hearing. Seeing you smile was something he hoped he got to see you do more if this night turned out on a good note and he left here as your friend because he knew you needed one.

“Do you have a best friend?” He asked but by the look on your face after you let the question settle and honestly thought he shouldn’t have asked.

“No, I was always a loner and people who became my friend only used me in the end” You took another shot and sipped some beer with it, looking out your window. Yunho looked at another shot also and sighed a little.

“We have to make new memories in your life here”

“We?” you looked at him.

“You know?” He blushed a little. “We could be friends and I could introduce you to some of my friends, they are bit annoying but they grow on you I promise”

He was very cute to you, rambling. You don’t know if you could possibly get close to other people again. All the trust in you was almost gone and never to return. Your family betrayed you, the man you thought you would marry someday made you feel worthless, and all the fake friends who didn’t care if you were alive or not.

“I don’t know, I probably wouldn’t fit in and my lack of trust might cause me to be distant”

“You can trust us”

You stared at him and he stared at you. You know you never really took in how tall and handsome he was, he really looked like he could be in someone's magazine. His broad shoulders and long legs, his big brown eyes, his lips that looked so soft to the touch, and his hands…. Wow he had huge hands.

“Yunho?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever felt lonely?”

“All the time” He crossed his arms.

“When did it start?”

“Mm, probably not till I hit college. My relationship with my parents was a little rocky but we got along till I hit college then it felt like we started talking less but I didn’t really have much to say anymore… I think that’s why I had a few flings in college to help me cope a bit with being lonely. I tried to go on dates, I just couldn’t feel anything or no one really seemed worth dealing with”

Emotional and situational loneliness is what Yunho felt and you were also the same. Maybe him finding you sobbing your eyes out wasn’t such a bad outcome because you were still in presence, soaking it in. He poured another shot and downed it right away like it took him a lot to even express that to you. Yunho wasn’t one to open up to people too quick but you made him.. comfortable.

“How about you?” He asked, hesitantly.

You sipped some of your beer and told him about your ex-boyfriend plus the relationship with your family. He listened carefully and every detail made him feel sad because you don’t deserve how lonely you are. You felt like he was going to say he was sorry but you didn’t want to hear any more sorrys from him because nothing is his fault for how you were.

“I do have a question”

“Mm?” you raised an eyebrow.

“If your trust is so low, why did you invite me in?”

You blinked at him then looked down, starting to blush. With the amount of alcohol you were consuming you felt you couldn’t hide anything but you also were embarrassed that you craved him so much that you invited him in on impulse. You took another shot and hissed at the small burn.

“I just find you.. interesting, also you sat with me so this is just like me repaying you”

“Mm, okay” He finally opened his beer, taking a gulp.

You didn’t know why you felt so warm like yes it was somewhat the alcohol but also the way Yunho kept looking at you with low lid eyes even though it was just from the shots made you feel some type of way.

You really really wanted to kiss him.

“You can,” he said.

“Huh?”

“You said you wanted to kiss me” He chuckled.

“I-I didn’t mean to” you felt the blush start to creep up everywhere.

“So you don’t want to?” He moved a little closer.

You looked at him and he was so much closer than you anticipated that you could smell the mint mixed with soju and beer on his breath. You looked at his lips then back to his eyes, his hand found your cheek and rubbed it. With slight hesitation, you leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed back, letting out a sigh like he had been waiting for this and you could help but smile into it. His tongue poked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, letting him in. His tongue explored every corner, rolling onto your tongue. You moaned a bit, gripping the couch trying to ground yourself.

“You can touch me,” he said against your lips, pecking them repeatedly and voice just a bit deeper. It made your core feel even hotter and you could feel yourself getting wetter.

“Yunho” You whined a bit as he kept kissing you.

“Yes, pretty?”

“I need more” He pulled away slightly, looking at you. His eyes were filled with lust and…desire maybe. It was like you were the only thing that mattered to him right here at this moment.

Honestly after tonight, Yunho doesn’t know if he can let you go.

He pulled you on his lap and you straddled him with knees on both sides. He gripped your hips as you pushed your lips back on his. Yunho had never been this forward but it was something about you, he wanted to show you that you deserve happiness and to be loved on even if it’s just for tonight.

Even if you wake up tomorrow to the snow higher than it was today and decide you don’t want to be around him anymore, at least he was able to show you for the night that you are desired.

You pulled away to take off your hoodie and shirt to come off with it, that left you in a black lace bra that made Yunho’s dick twitch. You unhooked your bra, letting your boobs fall and he immediately took a nipple in his mouth, worshipping while pulling on the other.

“Fuck,” you moaned, it had been a long time since you been touched like this so you were super sensitive everywhere. He licked around your nipple, trailing up to your neck.

Sucking.

Biting.

You rolled your hips down on his lap and it made him groan softly. You were driving him mad and he wanted to take his time with you but he didn’t know how long he could keep going without him being inside of you. You pushed him back a little, climbing down and spreading his knees apart.

“Oh fuck” He said in a whisper. This sight of you was making his head spin. You slowly unbuttoned his dress pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. Your eyes widened at his size, he was the biggest you ever seen.

“You can handle it, right pretty girl?”

You blushed at that, nodding. You softly held his dick with both hands because he was super thick and slowly started to pump. His reaction made your arousal even higher, you took him in your mouth as much as you could. He let out a low groan and his hand resting on the back of your head as you kept bobbing up and down.

“Oh f-fuck” His eyes rolled back a bit before he looked at you. You looked up at him as you stunk down, taking him deeper but trying to make sure you don’t gag. His hand gripped your hair a little as he trembled, you could tell he was reaching his point but you didn’t want him to cum just yet, not from this. You pulled off, stroking him and he let out a small whine.

“W-Why?”

“I would prefer it better if you cum while inside me” you smiled innocently at him.

Yunho groaned lowly, standing up and picking you up bridal style. You blushed a bit and was a little shook from him manhandling you but you pointed to your room. He kissed you while walking to your room, opening the door slowly so he wouldn’t drop you. He laid you on your back on your queen sized bed. You sat up on your elbows as he took off his button up and you started to drool a little at the sight of his toned stomach and his broad shoulders.

And my god you couldn't wait for his large hands to touch you again.

Yunho was always a little self conscious about his body because he wasn’t that muscular and didn’t have abs but the way you were looking at him, he knew that didn’t matter to you. He laid in between your legs after kicking off his pants and boxers, he kissed you deeply and his fingers made their way down to your sweatpants.

“Is this okay?” He said against your lips. You nodded and he kissed down your chest to your stomach as he pulled down your sweats along with your panties. He threw them on the floor and moved down, kissing your pelvic bone before making eye contact with your wet lips. He moaned at the sight and you spreaded out your thighs more to give him more room, your gesture made him want to combust.

“You’re so wet” he ran his finger down your folds then looked at you. “All of this for me?”

“All of it,” you nodded.

Yunho smirked at that a little, testing the waters and pushing one finger inside of you. You gasped and threw your head back against the pillow. Yunho’s finger was long and kind of thick so it stretched you out a little and he immediately found the spongy spot inside of you. His mouth found your clit, licking it up and down while pushing another finger in.

“Oh god, Y-Yunho” you moaned loudly. He hummed, the vibration going straight to your clit. He pumped his fingers a little faster and harder, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. You felt that tight knot in your stomach and it was ready to let go. He pulled his fingers out and licked over your pussy one time before moving back and kissing you, making you taste yourself. You moaned a little and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Yunho grabbed his dick, pumping it a little before sliding it in between your folds to lubricate it. You moaned at the feeling and squirmed a little when his tip would bump into your clit.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“A little too late to be hesitant considering how far we have come Yunho” you giggled at him.

“I-I know. I mostly talking about the no condom part”

“I’m on a pill and clean, I’m okay with it” you reassured him, pecking his lips.

He nodded and slowly pushed into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as he filled you up. He moans as he continues, finally bottoming out. He paused so you could adjust to his size, he didn’t want to hurt you by any means.

“Y-You can move”

He pulled out till his tip was just in and pushed back in a little harder. You let out a little scream at that and gripped his back, he moved at a slow yet deep pace. You could feel all the ridges and veins on his dick and it just made you wetter.

“God you’re so perfect. Taking me so well like a good girl” He said in your ear.

“Y-Yunho” you whimpered.

“What? You like when I tell you how good you are for me, pretty girl?” He licked your ear, moving at a faster pace.

So pretty.

So perfect.

You deserved to be loved like this all the time.

His words were making you close to the edge but also close to crying. Your ex never talked you through it like this, he never made you feel wanted like this. You felt the tears start to spill over and Yunho looked at you with concern, he started to slow down his pace.

“N-No, keep going” you gripped his back. “Please, I need it I need you Y-Yunho”

“You got me baby” He moved deeper and harder.

“God you’re so deep” you moaned. You felt that band snap in you and your orgasm crushed into you like a tidal wave. Yunho kissed you through, lifting your leg around his hip to push deeper. The overstimulation immediately kicked in and you loved it.

“F-Fuck”

“Can you give me one more pretty? I’m so close I need you clench around my dick like that one more time”

He started to pump faster into you and you could feel all of him in your guts, it made you whimper and claw at his back but it felt so damn good that your second orgasm was creeping up faster than you anticipated.

“Y-Yunho”

“I got you, let go baby. You deserve this beautiful” He kissed your temple as you let go for the second time and he followed behind, stilling in you then moving a bit to carry you through both your highs. He was about to pull out till you locked your other leg around his waist.

“Hold me for a while please” you buried your head in his neck. He smiled a little and nodded, repositioning you both so he didn’t slip out of you but you were now laying on his chest as he laid on his back.

The birds chirping and sunlight coming through your window woke you up. You groaned and stretched your body out, you tried to feel for Yunho but just felt the coldness of the sheets. You set up in a panic and noticed you were in a large t-shirt and you didn’t feel sticky.

You got out of your bed and walked into the living room, there was no sign of him and his stuff was gone. You sighed and sat on your couch, you knew it was all too good to be true.

You turned your head to the door as you heard a code being put in and the door opened up with Yunho holding a tray with two coffees and a bag of food. You teared up a little bit as he walked over after slipping off his shoes.

“Are you okay?” He quickly put the food and drinks down, pulling you into a hug.

“I thought you just up and left me” you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Never pretty” He rubbed your head and you looked up at him. He flashed you a smile then pecked your lips.

“Don’t scare me like that” You punched him playfully. He chuckled and sat down beside you, handing you a coffee.

“Sorry I didn’t want to wake you up but I ran back to my place to change clothes then I thought you might be hungry once I got back. I should have left a note”

“It’s okay, the coffee saved you” you sipped some more. He laughed and pulled out an egg and cheese breakfast sandwich and handed it to you.

“So does that mean you want to see me more?” He asked.

“Yeah” you blushed. “Do you want to see me more?”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go Y/N”

Who knew someone like him would want someone like you in this cold winter?

#ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez #kpop smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez x reader #reader x yunho

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