#seo youngho scenarios

[leftrightnomin]

Drawn // Johnny Seo

Summary: Johnny has been trying to keep the urge to rip the perky little pink skirt off your tiny waist and tainting you, the 21-year-old daughter oh his best friend.

Genre: Smut, Rated R (18+), Bestfriend's Dad x Reader

Word Count: 5.9k words

Warnings: Best friend's DadxInnocent Reader, Dom!Johnny, Sub!Reader, Rough and hard sex, Spanking, Daddy kink, Oral (sjn receiving), Corruption, Fingering, Degradation, Edging, Multiple orgasms, Overstimulation, Dumbification

A/N: Hi, sorry for the wait haha. I've been busy with a lot of things. Hope you understand. I've earned a lot of feedback from the last smut I wrote. So I'm serving you a little something similar. Enjoy!

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The fluffy, pink rabbit ears fit flawlessly atop your head, completing the ensemble. You're standing in front of the mirror wearing a short pink top that covers most of your body, and an over-the-knee perky pink skirt. You pivot to the left and then the right, allowing the skirt to gradually lift and exposing the adorable white cotton underwear you're wearing below. Before you turn around and open your room door, you're smirking at yourself and running your hand down your skirt.

When you arrive downstairs, you hear your parents' voices plus a different, well-known voice. Deep but not too soft, and you already know who's downstairs in the kitchen, sipping coffee and grinning broadly.

Johnny Suh, you're Dad's best friend.

You smile broadly as you descend the stairs and hop a little as you get to the kitchen, where Johnny and your father, Jaehyun are seated. As you approach, your father turns to face you, grinning and giving you a little peck on the cheek.

You say, "Good morning, Daddy," in the kindest voice possible.

"Morning, sweetheart."

When you turn to face Johnny again, he gives you a kind smile. He licks his lips with his tongue, his eyes gleaming. His knuckles are going white as he holds onto the coffee cup in front of him. Even if your clothing doesn't leave much room for Johnny's imagination, he can't stop fantasizing about the pink articles that you're usually wearing, the tight top, and the tiny skirt that covers just a little bit more than half of your ass. And he goes crazy for the cute, fluffy bunny ears you're wearing.

You say, "Hello, Mr. Suh," grinning, and then you turn to prepare your breakfast.

Johnny had to cover up the moan that was beginning to rise in his throat. You can't address him by his last name and be naive at the same time. He had to recline on the chair as his pants are getting too tight and his dick is too painfully pressing against the material.

When you reach forward to get the cereals on the counter, it gets even worse. Johnny's eyes are locked on your ass and cunt, and he struggles to get himself to look away as your skirt slides up to expose your underwear. Fortunately, Johnny appears to be staring at Jaehyun, who is seated in front of him.

Taking the cereal and milk, along with a bowl your dad provided you, you head to sit next to Johnny and fill it up with everything while you silently sing. Later, Jaehyun tells Johnny something about the BBQ, but for now, Johnny is staring at you. You eat your breakfast and sing quietly, and he glances at you.

Your dad says, "I need to go shopping for that. Do you wanna come with me, sweetheart?" but you refuse to say yes.

You grin politely and explain, "I have to do a speech for university."

Johnny gives his lips another lick.

"I'll stay with her while you go and shopping," he informed your dad. "Don't worry she's in good hands."

Johnny urges your father to get everything ready. He couldn't help but think of how he wanted to break your innocence right now by bending you over the table. He can feel his dick twitch even more by the second in his pants.

What a fucking sight.

He thinks while thinking of gliding his dick in and out of you and hearing carnal sounds that come out of your lips.

Johnny and you are alone when your dad goes shopping. With a sly smile, he strokes his long, brown hair and scans the counter for everything you need for the grill. With your hands beneath your chin and your arms resting on the table, you're staring at Johnny. Your legs are swaying back and forth.

Johnny asks, "Do you want to help me, baby girl?"

"Yes, Mr. Suh."

As you make your way around the kitchen island, Johnny feels his dick hardening again.

Johnny is tall, with well-defined muscles, and his face is best viewed from above. He gestures to the bowls he needs from another counter, grinning. You turn around again and lean over to find some candies you wish to give him after nodding and giving them to him. You and your dad adore them, so perhaps Johnny feels the same way?

When you bend over, Johnny's eyes are immediately focused on your ass once again. He groans softly, and when you grab the sweets and turn back, you see the way his eyes darken. You're not sure why he groaned, but Johnny just bites his lips and looks your body up and down, then back into your eyes. His hand reaches out for you, grasping your waist and pulling you close against him.

"A sweet little pink diamond plug would fit perfectly into your pretty little ass."

"A- A pl- What?" You ask, and you narrow your eyebrows.

Johnny closes his eyes, swallowing the low groan. How can someone so sweet be so innocent at the same time? His grip tightens, and he slides his other hand along your side until his hand is placed on your ass.

“A plug, baby. Making you feel good here,” he says, slapping softly with his palm on your ass.

You gasp, looking up at him with a confused expression. Johnny slips his hand underneath your skirt, caressing the soft skin of your ass. You whimper. Johnny leans closer, kissing your nose and your forehead softly, while he slides his other hand to your ass cheeks as well. He then grabs them, pulling them apart and groaning when you press yourself more against him.

“Mr. S— Suh, what are you doing?” You ask.

Your eyes are widening, and Johnny can’t stop himself from groaning once again. His dick is leaking and pressing against his pants. You’re feeling something against your lower stomach; it’s big, and you wonder if he has his keys in his pants.

“Do— Do you have your keys in your pocket?”

“No,” Johnny says, chuckling about your innocence. “That’s my dick. Feeling how hard it is just for you?”

You shake your head.

Why should his cock grow because of you?

You didn’t do anything, so why should there be something he is getting hard from?

He leans down closer to your lips, and you can feel his hot breath on your lips. You close your eyes instinctively, and Johnny chuckles. You whimper when he doesn’t break the distance between your lips. When you close your eyes to look into his steel blue ones, he just grins at you.

“Please, Mr. Suh—“

“Call me daddy, please princess?”

You nod, confused about why he wants you to call him like you call your daddy but you don’t mind. You just want him to kiss you like you have always seen it in those romantic movies.

“And what do you want, baby girl?”

“C— Can you kiss me?”

He smirks, leaning in and capturing your lips with his. It’s a short but sweet kiss, and your knees are suddenly weak, and you feel a tingling feeling in your stomach. One that slides down between your legs and causes you to press your thighs together.

“You’re okay, baby?”

“It’s tingling,” you mumble, blushing.

“What’s tingling. Tell Daddy, where is it tingling?”

Johnny knows what you mean, but he wants to hear it from you. He wants to hear that innocent, sweet girl say that she is dripping her panties because of the big, broad men in front of him.

“Down there,” you say quietly, and turn your head away.

He lets go of your ass with one of his hands and grips your chin, making you look up at him again. His blue eyes piercing in yours, he smirks, while his thumb slides over your bottom lip, pressing into your mouth. You take it and twirl your tongue around his thumb, causing more tingles in your stomach. Johnny removes his thumb with a plop and licks his lips.

“Do you need help with that tingling feeling in your belly?”

You nod, your eyes pleading, "Uh-huh."

Johnny grabs you by your waist and lifts you, placing you on the surface of the counter. His hands slide up and down your thighs, closer to your pussy and he pushes your skirt up, revealing your wet panties. Johnny groans, getting on his knees and pushing his head between your legs. He inhales deeply when his nose touches your covered pussy. You shiver slightly, moaning about the sudden feeling of him between your legs. Johnny brings his hand to shove your panties away, and a low chuckle leaves his lips when he sees your dripping cunt.

“You’re so wet for me,” he says, kissing your pussy.

"Mhmm," ou moan softly.

His tongue glides through your folds, and you can’t help but grip his long hair, tugging at it. You’re not sure if you want him to continue or stop; it’s a new sensation and feels good and weird at the same time.

“D—Daddy, what are you doing?”

Johnny lets go of your pussy for a moment; this innocence of yours makes him so fucking desperate that he just wants to bend you over the counter and fuck you. He knows he would ruin you for everyone else. He wants you to be his, only his.

“I have to taste of your pretty little cunt, baby.” He lowers his head between your legs once again.

"Daddy's so hungry for you, pretty girl," He starts lapping at your pussy, making you moan and arch your back in pleasure.

Johnny’s stubble is scratching your thighs and clit slightly, masking the feeling even more intensely. A feeling you never had before grows in your stomach, and you worry for a moment since it feels like you need to pee. But Johnny’s grip on your thighs is so strong that you can’t move away to get down the counter and go to pee.

“Daddy—“ you moan, your eyes watering.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

“I— I need to pee.”

Johnny looks confused for a moment, removing his tongue from in between your folds. Instead, he shoves his chunky fingers along your folds, circling your entrance before he pushes a finger into your tight entrance.

“Don’t worry, baby. You don’t need to pee; let go for me. Can you do it?”

You nod, "Ye-oh, yes", and Johnny pumps his finger inside of you.

He hits your sweet spot, still tasting you on his tongue and lips. Your moan shamelessly, his finger moving slowly inside of your tight pussy, and he can’t help but imagine his cock in your pussy.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“N-no,” you swallow the pit in your throat. "No, Uncle Johnny."

Johnny almost comes in his pants when you tell him that you never touched yourself. You’re so fucking tight that he just wants to burry his huge dick into you, splitting you open. He pushes his finger deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot and making you almost scream. Johnny smirked, feeling you clench around him. He speeds up slightly, pushing another of his thick fingers into your pussy.

“Daddy, feeling that tingle so much.”

“Let go; come for Daddy.”

And you do.

You arch your back and come all over his fingers, creaming them in your slick while he fucks you with his fingers through your high. Your pussy is squeezing him violently, sucking him deeper into you.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he praises.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of your cunt, making you whimper about the sudden emptiness. Your legs are shaking, and your breath is heavy while you look at Johnny. He brings his fingers to his lips and takes them into his mouth, sucking them clean while he groans about your sweet taste. You look at him, whimpering softly about the feeling growing between your legs. Something like desire, where you need Johnny to take care of your cunt.

“Daddy, that tingling—“

“Shhh— Daddy’s gonna take care of his pussy.”

You nod, pouting slightly, and Johnny chuckles. "Please, Daddy."

He gets off the floor and leans closer, capturing your cheeks with his big hands and pressing his lips softly on yours. His tongue glides over your lips; you part them slightly, and Johnny pushes his tongue into your mouth. His hands slide along your body, removing your panties. Then he unbuckles his belt and opens his pants before he slides them down, revealing his boxers with the outline of his fat, hard cock and a little spot where his tip is pressed against the fabric already wet from his pre-cum.

“Wanna see daddy’s fat cock, little girl?”

“I—“

Johnny doesn’t give you much time to answer; he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and shoves them down his thick thighs. He would love to take off all your clothes, would worship every bit of your body, and kiss every inch of your skin, but he is so desperate to feel you. And the outfit turns him on beyond belief. You look at his weeping cock, which just springs free; the tip is red, and you see the veins running along it. He sees the struggle in your eyes.

What should you do know?

Touch it?

Or let himself touch it?

“You can touch it; just be careful,” he says, holding out his hand to place yours into his.

When your small hand is placed in his big one, he walks a step closer, letting his fingers slide over the soft skin of his cock.

"Come on, sweetheart. It won't bite."

You follow every movement of your fingers with your eyes, furrowing softly while you’re concentrated on the way his tip feels. When you swipe your thumb over the slit, Johnny pushes his hips forward and groans.

“Do— Does it feel good?” You ask innocently and look into his eyes.

He nods, "Yeah, so fucking good," smirking when your smile grows.

You wrap your fingers around his huge length, pumping his cock slowly into your hand. Johnny throws his head back, thrusting it into your hand. When you see the way he reacts to your touches, you use your other hand and take his balls into it, grinning when he groans and hums in response.

When Johnny feels the pleasure in his belly growing, he takes a step back and pushes you by your shoulders down. You whimper, and when his cock taps your pussy, he is smothering his pre-cum all over your pussy. You’re wiggling your ass, earning a slap on your thigh. Tears build up in the corner of your eyes, and Johnny captures your cheeks with his hands, kissing you softly.

He then takes his cock into his hand, giving himself a few strokes and slapping the tip against your pussy, making sure it stimulates the sensitive bundle of nerves on your clit.

"Oh my," You moan softly, and he does it again.

Then he pushes his dick between your folds, still not entering you. With his thumb, he holds his dick in between your wet folds while he thrusts slowly forward. Your eyes are almost closed when his cock always hits your clit whenever he pushes forward.

"Oh, daddy," Your lips are slightly parted, and you whimper, gripping the surface of the counter to steady yourself. "Y/N feels so good."

Johnny grinds against you over and over again until you’re a moaning mess underneath him. Sweat is covering your forehead, and your hair is messy, but for Johnny, you’re beautiful as always. You mumble his name and ‘daddy’ over and over again. So cock drunk, and he hasn’t even pushed in yet.

Johnny loves the way you’re whimpering for more, pushing yourself against him even though you’re such an innocent little girl. Not really knowing what you're asking him for — for a fat cock that will ruin her tiny pussy for everyone else — just the thought makes Johnny come almost immediately.

“Do you want Daddy to make you feel good? Are you daddy’s little slut?” He asks, and you nod, slightly confused about him making you feel good and calling you a slut.

You don’t even know what the word means, but when he uses it, it’s probably nothing bad, right?

So you just nod, and Johnny smirks, still thrusting his dick through your folds and hitting your clit. Your moans grow louder, your back arches, and your legs are shaking when the feeling in your pussy appears once again.

“D—Daddy, so much tingling down there.”

“‘S okay, come for me, You can make a mess,” he says, smirking when you throw your head back.

Your walls are clenching, and your whines are needier when you come a second time. Johnny still moves his dick in between your folds, pressing his tip against your clit, causing you to inhale deeply and push your hips up to get more of his cock.

“Such a slut, trying to get my cock, huh?”

Your legs are shaking, and your chest raises and falls while you slowly clam down from your orgasm. Johnny didn’t come yet, and you wonder why he didn’t; maybe he doesn’t feel as tingly as you do?

“Daddy?”

“Mhm?”

“Don’t you feel tingly?” You ask, pouting slightly.

“I do. But my cock needs to be warm and wet, baby girl,” he explains with a grin.

Johnny’s hand is still holding his cock in between your folds, slapping it a few times on your pussy before he moves further down to your tight entrance. Even when it’s an odd feeling, it gives you at the same time pleasure when his dick touches your entrance. Johnny tries to push the tip of his cock into your pussy, but it doesn’t really work, and he immediately slips out of there.

“Aww, baby girl. Don’t you wanna have Daddy inside of you?” He asks, amused.

“I want to, Daddy,” you whimper, feeling the tears falling down your cheeks. "But you're too big for me."

“Shh— it’s fine. I will make it fit, baby,” he coos, caressing your cheek.

Johnny tries again, pushing his cock slowly into your tight entrance.

"Ouch," You grip his muscular arms, digging your nails into his skin while he stretches your entrance with his dick. "Daddy, it hurts."

You squirm, trying to escape the slight pain he causes in your pussy.

"Calm down, baby. Daddy's got you," Johnny’s just pushing a tiny bit into you before he pauses, your walls already clenching around him, squeezing his cock.

“Do you know that you make me go crazy with that little outfit? Or with all your outfits, showing almost your ass,”

“I— It’s so big, Daddy,” you mumble, digging your fingers even more into his arm.

Johnny smirks, leaning closer to capture your lips with his, soft and warm. When he leans closer, his dick slides deeper into your tight hole. You bite into his lip, causing him to chuckle. When he leans back, your eyes are almost closed. You moan, arching your back, and he pushes his tip completely into you. Johnny groans about the sudden tightness around his cock; you’re squeezing him, and Johnny just wants to push deeper into you, getting more of your warm, tight pussy.

“Breathe deeply, okay?”

You do, inhaling deeply, but it gets interrupted when you suddenly scream in pain. Tears are building in the corner of your eyes, and they roll down your cheeks. Your eyes are red, watering even more when Johnny doesn’t stop from pushing inside of you.

“Pl— Please, stop. M—My belly,” you whine, trying to get away from him while you’re still holding his arms.

“Sh— It’s okay, it feels better when I’m inside of you,” Johnny mumbles, smirking when you nod.

He didn’t know that your tears would make his cock twitch, but they do. You’re pretty when you cry because of his cock. When it’s because of him splitting you in half with his fat dick, turning you into his own little sex toy.

He knows he shouldn’t ruin you for another man, but he just can’t hold back when you’re underneath him with that cute outfit, the bunny eyes on your head, and the tears all over your cheeks while you take his cock like a good girl. And when he is the only one who fucks you, when he is the one who loves you, then he doesn’t ruin you for others because you’re his — and only his.

Johnny is just a bit deeper inside of you than he was before, with most of his cock still outside of your cunt. He wipes the tears on your cheeks away, kissing the tip of your nose, and continues to push into you. He is stretching you open in a way you never thought it could be possible to stretch something.

Johnny is huge; you feel the vein of his cock inside of you, and even though it burns, it kinda feels great.

“Doing so well for Daddy. You're Daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?”

You nod; the pain gets worse once he pushes himself faster into you. "Uhuh, I'm your good girl."

He just can’t and doesn’t want to wait to be completely in the warm wetness of your pussy. Johnny needs you to be inside your pussy, to clench around his cock, and to see more of those pretty tears of yours while he fucks you senseless. He wants to hear you screaming when you come all over his dick, making a mess and squeezing him even tighter.

“D—daddy,” you squeal when he grips your waist harshly to guide his dick better into you.

Johnny laughs, pulling you closer against him and shoving his cock deeper. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you squeeze your eyes shut while he rams his dick in your pussy. He is rough this time, not giving you time to adjust to his length. Johnny needs all of his control to not come immediately; you fit so perfectly around him, sucking him in, and the warmth that surrounds his cock makes him go crazy.

He digs his fingers into your soft skin, bringing his cock completely into your tight hole. You squirm, clenching hard around him, while he splits you open. You pussy burns, and you feel like your tight cunt just can’t get used to his fat cock.

“I’m sorry, baby girl." He inches in deeper in your soft warm walls.

"I just couldn’t hold back any longer."

"Shhhh— breathe; you’re doing so well."

"Taking Daddy’s cock like a good girl."

"You’re so pretty when you cry on my cock; you’re so pretty, baby,” he coos all his praises, leaning closer to kiss the tears away.

Even when you’re still crying, he kisses them away, making sure you’re feeling better with his dick inside of you. He knows he should pull out, give you time to adjust slowly, and work you open with his fingers, but he was holding back for so long, and he just wants to feel the warmth around his cock. The clenching feeling of you and the tears that cover your cheeks because he is just too fat for your baby cunt to take him.

“Daddy, I— I can feel you so deep in my belly,” you whimper.

“Yes. See that?” Johnny asks, pulling your shirt up and revealing your soft belly with the bugle of his dick. “That’s my cock.”

You whimper, sliding your head down to where his cock is visible. You slide your fingers over it and make him smile even wider.

He adores the way you’re looking so innocent and now with his cock inside of you, seeing him poking in your belly and touching the bulge he is causing with his cock. Johnny slowly pulls out of you, making you hiss about the sudden feeling. You whimper when you feel every inch of his cock moving inside of you.

“Nuuu—Daddy, please stay there.”

"Aww, do you need my cock inside of you? Pretty little slut for me,” he says, smirking when you nod eagerly.

He pushes back inside of you, and you immediately sigh in relief. His dick stretches you painfully, but when he pulls out, you feel so empty, and when he just stays like that, the pain slowly fades away. Johnny just pushes slightly forward and backward, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Don’t! Daddy!”

“Oh— baby, not like that; be nice,” he says, bringing his hand to your pussy and slapping softly on it.

You gasp, your eyes watering, and Johnny does it again, causing more tears in your eyes. He then presses his thumb against your clit, circling it softly. You wiggle underneath him, and his dick slides deeper into you until he is balls deep inside your pussy. You squeeze him even more, and when he rubs circles on your clit, the feeling you had earlier appears once again in your stomach.

“Daddy— tingling.”

“It’s okay, come for daddy; come all around his fat cock, little slut.”

And you do, your walls clenching violently around his dick.

"Ugh,"

"Oh daddy,"

"So good,"

You’re moaning loudly, throwing your head back and pushing your hips more against him, and his fingers continue to circle your clit.

Johnny starts thrusting into you slowly and only a bit, but you feel every tiny movement of his cock and every vein along his shaft. His eyes are piercing in yours while he fucks you through your high.

“You’re squeezing me so fucking good, pretty girl.”

Johnny throws his head back when you look through your lashes at him. Your eyes are still filled with tears, but the desire in his eyes makes him thrust into you. You’re sucking him in every time he pulls out of you.

When another sharp pain suddenly appears in your skin, you look at the place where the two of you are connected. He slaps your pussy slightly, but enough to cause a sharp pain in your overstimulated pussy.

Johnny moves his hips at a steady but faster pace against yours. His balls are slapping against your ass whenever he thrusts forward. Your arousal is covering his dick; the sound when he pushes back into you makes him feral, and his thrusts are harder. The juice that is dripping out of you lands in his balls. They are heavy, and it gets even worse when he thinks about the way he is pushing his seeds into you.

“Feels so good—“

“Yeah? Are you daddy’s little slut?”

You nod, pushing yourself against him when he tries to pull out of you.

Johnny chuckles, slapping on your pussy once again, causing you to squeal and look at him with widening eyes.

“D— Faster, please.”

"Fucking hell," Johnny groans but obeys.

He is thrusting his dick faster into your tight cunt, making you cry on his cock even more. Your pussy slightly hurts, but the feeling of his cock inside of you feels just too good.

“You’re such a little desperate slut, so cock drunk, aren’t you, baby? Asking your dad’s best friend to fuck you like a little fuck toy.”

"Ahhh…" You whimper, and Johnny smirks, fucking harder into you, getting more of those sweet moans from you.

Johnny feels his dick twitch, your walls clenching and making it almost impossible for him to move inside of you. He circles your clit with his thumb once again, making your eyes shut up, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“D— Please, I need to come,” you shout, your hands gripping his arm.

Your nails dig into his skin, and you’re feeling his grip on your waist tighten while he fucks you closer to your orgasm. Johnny isn’t far behind you; you feel just so perfect around his dick.

“It’s so sensitive, daddy,” you whimper.

He grins, pushing his thumb further down on your clit. Making you gasp and making eye contact with him.

“My pretty little slut. See, I’ve ruined you for every other man. You’re mine, aren’t you? Tell me you’re mine, and you can come.”

“I’m yours." You gasped breathlessly. "I’m yours, Daddy Johnny.”

He speeds his thrusts up, pushing harder into you.

Johnny loves to hear the soft whimpers and moans slipping over your lips while he fucks you like his little slut — the little slut you are for him. His dick is pulsing, and he is moaning low when you clench more than before.

Your legs are shaking, your bodies are covered in sweat, and his breath is just as heavy as yours. You’re just about to come, and Johnny knows.

He rubs his fingers over your clit, your eyes widen, and you come. Squirting all over his dick and making a mess. Johnny laughs, looking at your juices all over his dick and lower belly. He just comes a moment after you, pushing his cum deep into your tight hole and painting your walls with it.

“So— so sensitive, Daddy,” you mumble, letting your head fall down on the surface of the kitchen counter.

Johnny pushes his dick slower into you, riding both of your orgasms out while you try to catch your breath. His hand slides from your clit to your sides, caressing your soft skin while his dick softens inside of you.

“You’re doing so well. Squirting all over me. You’re all mine,” he says, leaning closer to kiss your lips. “But that’s our little secret, baby. I love you, my pretty girl.”

“I— I love you too, daddy.”

Johnny smiles; he helps you sit up and slips his cock out of you. You whimper about the emptiness inside your pussy. He then looks at your pulsing pussy, admiring the way your cum is dripping out of your cunt. He pulls you closer and grasps your tights to pick you up. He carries you upstairs to the bathroom, placing you on the toilet.

“You need to pee,” he says, turning around and walking out of the room.

He closes the door behind him and lets you pee. After you finish, you open the door quietly and look at the broad man who is standing with some new clothes for you in front of the door.

“Take a seat, and I will clean you, okay?”

You nod, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and look at Johnny, who gets on his knees in front of you. He has a wet washcloth in his hand and spreads your legs, cleaning your thighs. Johnny moves his hand higher to your pussy, cleaning your folds and wiping your mixed juices from your pussy. You whimper, your cunt still sensitive from his dick inside of you.

“Daddy’s so empty down there.”

“It’s okay. Let’s just dress you, and then Daddy needs to clean himself. But I will put my dick into your baby cunt next time your daddy isn’t home,” he says, kissing the pout away from your lips.

After cleaning the two of you, you changed your outfit, still wearing similar clothes and the cute bunny ears on top of your head. Johnny was grabbing your ass when you walked past him out of the bathroom, smirking when you squirmed in surprise.

Now you’re sitting on the kitchen counter while Johnny stands between your legs, kissing your lips softly. His hands are on your waist, and his finger is digging into your soft skin.

“All mine, my little girl, my pretty girl,” he says, smirking when you blush softly. “Now let’s get the barbecue ready; otherwise, Jaehyun is going to ask what we did the whole time.”

You giggle, grasping his shirt to pull him closer and kiss him again. Johnny chuckles, then he pulls away and gets the barbecue ready.

“You’re so beautiful, my pretty girl,” Johnny tells you.

When he walks through the kitchen and reaches you, he kisses you softly while his hand trails along your thigh.

“I’m home!” Jaehyun shouts and walks toward the two of you.

You smile at him, your cheeks red, and Johnny smirks widely, but Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. It’s pretty warm in there, so he doesn’t even recognize what’s happened between you and Johnny. You had sex together, and he took your virginity and claimed you and your pussy as his. And even better, Johnny loves you; he really fell for you.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your ear while he walks outside with your dad.

“I love you too, Johnny,” you say, jumping off the counter.

Johnny’s grin gets wider when his name slips past your lips.

He is a lucky man to have such a pretty girl like you by his side.

[sunshyni]

nasty | Johnny Suh

Johnny Suh × Fem!Reader | eu diria que é um Slice of Life | um teco Sugestivo | w.c - 0.6k

resumo - Johnny não fazia ideia do porque você estava tão concentrada lendo um livro de capa ilustrada. Bom, agora ele já sabe o motivo.

notinha da Sun - @lovesuhng VOCÊ NÃO SABE O QUÃO BOM É ESCREVER COM O JOHN!! Eu escreveria com ele todos os dias KKKKKK Então, pode me fazer quantos pedidos quiser em relação a esse homem 🙏

Ah e sobre o “livro de capa ilustrada”, é que atualmente os livros com a capa desenhada são os mais 🔥🔥🔥 Tipo “Quebrando o gelo” da Hannah Grace KKKKKK

boa leitura, docinhos!! 💚

Don't wanna wait on it tonight, I wanna get nasty.

— O que você tá lendo? — Johnny perguntou, engatinhando até você na cama de casal. Você escondeu o livro com o conteúdo contra o peito, assustada com a voz dele de repente. Estava tão concentrada na leitura que nem percebeu que ele estava ali na sua frente.

— Tá escondendo por quê, princesa? Tem algo aí que eu não posso ler? — Ele perguntou com um sorrisinho, pegando o livro de capa ilustrada antes que você pudesse protestar. Você deu um gritinho, e Johnny se levantou com o livro lá no alto, lendo em voz alta e rindo das suas tentativas de alcançá-lo. Ele até se afastou da cama quando você se pôs em pé, tentando recuperar seu bem, mas sem sucesso.

Enquanto isso, Johnny continuava lendo as perversidades daquele livro como se recitasse o poema mais romântico do mundo.

— Johnny Suh, me devolve esse livro — você pediu em tom de aviso e saiu da cama em direção a ele, soltando um gritinho de surpresa quando ele envolveu sua cintura e te ergueu com um só braço, deixando o livro na cabeceira. Você desistiu; agora que ele já sabia do que se tratava sua literatura, não havia mais o que fazer. Envolveu as pernas ao redor da cintura dele, e Johnny te deu um beijo gentil na bochecha, mesmo que você estivesse fingindo estar emburrada.

Ele te deitou no colchão, mas continuou entre suas pernas. Gostava quando você o abraçava daquele jeito. Johnny acariciou sua bochecha; você desviou o olhar, mas um sorrisinho estava nos seus lábios.

— Eu posso fazer aquilo, você sabe, né? Um 69 — Imediatamente você explodiu em risos. Johnny sorriu, contagiado pelo seu bom humor. Enquanto recuperava o fôlego, ele te beijou delicadamente pelo pescoço, criando uma trilha de fogo por onde sua boca passava. — Por que você tá rindo? É sério.

— Johnny, eu não sou assim. Tem que criar o clima pra mim — suas bochechas ruborizaram com a declaração. A verdade é que o básico te agradava; você gostava da lentidão, das preliminares que deixavam tudo em você quente. Gostava de música ambiente, das luzes baixas, e gostava de vê-lo também, de enxergar os íntimos se encontrando. Definitivamente, gostava de tudo isso, e Johnny sabia como te fazer feliz.

— Criar o clima pra você cair de boca no meu pau?

— Johnny! — Ele riu, te abraçando forte, unindo seus corpos o máximo que a calça de moletom folgada e sua camisola de cetim permitiam. Pararam um pouco, só para Johnny beijar sua boca devagar, do jeito que sabia que você gostava. Tinham todo o tempo do mundo, toda a noite para desfrutarem um do outro, e agora, com as alianças nos dedos, tinham o resto da vida para isso.

— Posso ser egoísta e dizer que você foi desenhada pra mim? — Johnny arrumou seu cabelo atrás da orelha e beijou docemente seu lóbulo, causando arrepios por todo o seu corpo. Você pressionou o quadril contra o dele; ele sorriu, sabendo que, mesmo sendo tímida, você tinha seu lado atrevido.

— Assim como cada estrutura anatômica se encaixa perfeitamente, a gente se encaixa — Johnny beijou seus lábios, e você tocou seu lindo rosto, a barba recém-feita e os cabelos ligeiramente bagunçados. Johnny pós-banho era o melhor. — Minha boca encaixa com perfeição na sua.

Ele procurou sua mão e entrelaçou os dedos suavemente.

— Minha mão aninha a sua perfeitamente — você sorriu, e ele continuou fascinado por você, pela sua beleza, pelo simples fato de você ser você. — Meu corpo encaixa no seu.

— Perfeitamente — você completou, acariciando as costas nuas dele, provocando-o com as unhas levemente compridas, arranhando sua pele e arrancando-lhe um suspiro.

— Já pintou o clima pro 69? — Johnny perguntou, enquanto você cobria o rosto, rindo divertida. Ele afastou suas mãos e te beijou até que você cedesse à posição ousada que ele tanto insistia em propor.

Mas vocês tinham o resto da vida para isso.

notinha da Sun² - me inspirei em “nasty” da Ari pra escrever essa, e mais especificamente nessa playlist:

@sunshyni. Todos os direitos reservados.

[espresseo-cafe]

life is still beautiful | johnny | ch.1

genre: cappucino, romance, angst, university!au, dad!au, drama, slice of life

pairing: collegestudent!johnny x fem!reader

bean count: 4k

a/n: i’m so excited to be sharing this with you! it has been in the works since 2020 on and off and omg i can finally post this fanfic. this whole series has mentions of characters from different groups other than nct- red velvet, dreamcatcher, seventeen, sf9, etc to avoid confusion with people of the same name! note: this is only a work of fiction, it doesn’t reflect the artists’ personalities in any way.

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growing up, the continuous tingling feeling whenever you see your parents arguing at the end of your hallway always broke your heart. the raised voices, objects getting thrown around, and the banging of slammed doors against the doorframe deafened your ears. you remembered you had to knock on every single apartment on the floor; same, above, and below- to apologise the nuisance your parents caused. some with good hearts would understand out of pity for you, others would provoke to kick your family out of the building. so far, you’ve made it to several years without any notice from the landlord.

with that background, there weren’t any doubts that it affected the way you perceive everything in life. silence overpowered the joyous you like a large coat, it has been that way. the younger you wouldn’t understand the clash of your parents. the younger you wouldn’t know the problems they had. most importantly though, the younger you wouldn’t receive any love or support from them at all.

it was like you never existed.

as you hit the eighteenth mark, you’ve made the bold but practical decision to move out. the toxicity they emitted were too much for you to handle. with every penny or dime you’ve been saving everyday since you were twelve and some extra cash from various part time jobs since you were sixteen, you had your small carry on luggage packed and left first thing in the morning one summer. a dilemma kind of held you back whether to leave a note for your mom and dad, only deciding not to and tell them not to find you.

if there was anything you were blessed with even if you were put in a dire situation of a broken home, you had to pat yourself at the back for never failing your grades. just average and sometimes in the honorable mention’s list. thanks to that, you’ve secured a place at a university far from your family home.

and of course, choosing a location far off was more than intentional.

the first few months were a challenge, the surroundings took you sometime to familiarise. adjustment was never an issue though, running away from home was worth the change. as you expected, your parents didn’t bother to look for their only daughter. scoffing at the past, you realised it had almost been three years since you left.

making friends was easy too, to your surprise. known as the loner and depressed type in high school, you tried to change yourself a bit and managed to befriend a new crowd of people. of course, you were discerning on people who are worth to befriend, not the ones who’d waste your time. one of them being kim yoohyeon, who’s now your best friend and roommate.

“y/n, i’m going out to the store, want anything?” she asked while putting on a cardigan.

you hummed and rolled your eyes playfully, “hm, two packs of ramyeon and chips. you’re paying alright?” she threw a crumpled ball of tissue at you, gasping at the very direct response. “what? it’s two in the morning and i’m helping you pull an all-nighter for your fashion thesis due in two months and a half. i deserve a treat. be thankful i don’t have class tomorrow and that my part-time’s in the afternoon.”

“okay fine.” she dramatically slouched her shoulders down, “be back in a jiffy bub!”

as the door closed, you sighed and stretched your almost numbed body. yoohyeon’s project was half done, just needed a little more tweaking and you could say hello to a convenience store feast.

yoohyeon was the first person you met at orientation, she seemed to extract innocence at first glance. though as you got to know her, she was a meme in real life who possessed extreme talent in singing. you and her clicked, she had problems in her home but they were immediately managed. so she was all smiles from ear to ear. it was something you were envious of; to have a healthy relationship with parents, however, it wasn’t working with you at all.

sometimes you wondered how it felt like, to have someone love you like family. your aunts or uncles would message you to check on you, and whenever they brought your parents up, you shoved down the topic back to its grave. it’s dead conversation anyway. the latest update you heard from them was two years ago. they still lived in the same damned roof where they argued a lot, you wondered why they were still stuck to each other like glue. the only difference was that your dad worked the night shift while your mom on the mornings. so they probably never see each other eye to eye.

when they did though, all hell broke loose.

you were brushed off your thoughts when yoohyeon opened the door, “okay, here’s your food, time to pig out!”

“finally, i’m starving.” you had the hot water boiling before she arrived, immediately putting the ramyeon in the pot.

“so,” she started, opening a bag of potato chips.

“when are you planning to date? it’s been theee years since uni started and i’ve never seen you on dates before.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line, “not right now.”

“why not? you’re pretty, you can cook; you’re even taking an early childhood education course, specifically in special education.” she plopped one into her mouth and chewed shamelessly, “i bet you’re good with kids too.”

“so apparently that makes me an ideal girl?”

“an ideal girl worth to have!” she exclaimed, later reaching for your unlocked phone. “guess what, download this app and go have some fun.”

“if that’s tinder you’re planning on brainwashing me with, i’m not interested.” you joked, mixing the sauce and toppings with the now cooked noodles.

“you never know, it might work.” she singsonged.

you sighed, yoohyeon has been pushing you to date because she felt like you were like a hermit, always stuck in your own shell and would only go out if needed to. not that you were interested, you just wanted to get school done and make a stable living. love will come anyway.

she clicked on the app store and downloaded a trendy app named ‘love click’. “it’s an app solely made for university students within the state. kinda like tinder but you play anonymous with a made up nickname, no one will know how you look like.”

you raised a brow. “that’s dangerous than tinder, y’know?”

“this is different, they can detect fake accounts and do a facial recognition. anyway, once you put your actual photo and real age, it will automatically pair you with others similiar with yours; interests, and hobbies. then it will change your face to a random avatar if ever you do a video call.” she tapped away. “that’s how i met hwang minhyun.”

“eh, i still think it’s risky. besides, you just got lucky. you scored a hottie.” you slurped on the noodles. “i could never.”

“just try, you could always quit and they’ll never find you. and who knows? you might even receive the whole package.”

you sighed, “okay fine. i’ll do it just once, for you alright?” you finished the rest and threw the excess soup away. “i’m not doing any after that.”

“cool! all your details are in here already. let me know if someone messages you.” she gave you a playful wink before working on her project once again.

—

johnny stretched his limbs after a quick power nap, he haven’t had enough rest since he was on the clock 24/7. he turned to his side to check the time, sighing a relief when it was only 3pm. as if it was waiting for him to be awake, a text message from his mom appeared on the screen.

[ mom] : “don’t forget to eat, my dear john. you’ve got two mouths to feed ❤️”

johnny smiled at his mom’s reminder, he was relieved that the messages were reduced to a low, knowing how protective she was.

a loud thud on the floor made johnny stand on his feet and rush to the door next to his. his worried demeanor soon changed to a soft one when he saw a little smile beamed at him from the ground.

“youngmin-ah, what’re you doing on the floor? did you hurt yourself?”

the child just giggled, softening johnny’s heart every single he did so.

he remembered the night when the almost two year old came into his life. it was a rough beginning, but he managed himself and was proud how he actually did while still in school.

his friends were in full support of this unexpected scenario and would take turns in looking after the child while he worked the night shifts at a café. like any other people, his friends were in doubt at his decision of bringing him to lectures.

johnny again proved them wrong.

what surprised them wasn’t how the baby managed to be quiet in all of the classes, but how johnny effortlessly handled him if ever a fuss was made. kun recalled that in one of their exams in biology major, johnny had the baby cradled in one arm as the other wrote the quiz. the professor wanted to hold the baby boy while johnny did the exam, but young man refused to, saying that he could handle it. he wouldn’t want the baby crying in a stranger’s hold while everyone was so stressed for the exams. adding that the baby’s wails would be a distraction.

he became viral at the university page when a photo of him feeding youngmin a bottle of milk, that certain scenario made girls want him as a husband. sometimes they would stop by to say hello to him and the child.

“dada.” johnny smiled at title, the little toddler fiddling the bottle in his hand while his feet stretched up.

“seems like you’re alright.” he poked his nose, earning a giggle from the two year old. “i still have to check any injuries. say youngmin, your birthday’s coming up soon. what would you like?”

youngmin hummed, as if he understood the question clearly.

“well?”

“mama.”

johnny was caught off guard that he tickled the little toddler as he smiled. “buddy, you already have a mama though.” his phone dinged, indicating an incoming text message. “speaking of her, she just texted me.”

[ kim minji ]: sorry babe, couldn’t make it tonight for dinner. i got singing rehearsals.

[ johnny ]: it’s cool. how about tomorrow?

[ kim minji ]: i’ll see first, pretty busy.

he put his phone back into his pocket, sighing at the same excuse his girlfriend gave. he didn’t want to overthink but it had been like this for a while, he wondered if she had fallen out of love. shaking his head, he shrugged off the thought to the back of his mind.

youngmin turned his full body to the side before standing and climbed onto johnny’s kneeled figure, the bottle still in between his baby teeth. “mama, where?”

“she’s not coming home tonight. maybe some other time.” he ruffled youngmin’s soft hair, eyes closing due to exhaustion. but then the little toddler smiled and patted his cheek and johnny wrapped his arms around the little frame. “come on, let’s get you dinner, we’re having your favourite!”

“lasagna!” youngmin put arms up, and johnny could melt anytime.

“hey you said it perfectly this time! well done my so-“ he paused as his phone dinged, a snapchat notification from taeyong appeared on the screen. making the toddler tilt his head to why the young man stopped mid-sentence. “let’s go to wash your hands alright?”

while youngmin nodded then hopped away towards the bathroom, swiping to unlock his phone, a snap video that his said friend sent made his eyebrows meet in an ugly mood.

[ taeyongss ]: bro is that jiu? your mj?

it was his girlfriend giving a lap dance to someone he couldn’t seem to recognise due to the flashing lights, she was enjoying it and the shocking thing was, she wasn’t drunk at all.

kim minji, his girlfriend since senior high, had a few names labeled on her. one of them was jiu (pronounced as ji-yoo) a nickname everyone called her in school, being one of the main solos for the choir.

some of the juniors called her a pink princess because of her obsession with the said colour. owning almost everything in it.

and mj was a form of endearment that only johnny used. his expression changed from a smile to a frown, throwing his phone on the bed that it bounced off and landed on the ground; earning his phone a crack on the screen.

“dada?” youngmin peeked through the bedroom door. now it was him to hear the thudding sound. “happen?”

johnny jumped a little seeing the child standing by the door with a towel in his hands. “my phone fell. come on, let’s eat.”

lasagna was a favourite dish youngmin adored eversince he brought him to an italian restaurant. meatballs were a favourite too, but something about lasagna topped it. as youngmin was busy making his hands dirty, johnny called his mom at this hour, she was probably home by now.

“ah my love johnny! i’m glad you called, what is it?” her voice still bright and lively.

“um, i was wondering if i could drop youngmin off tonight?” he played with the fork. “taeyong messaged me and i think i need to have a drink and hang out for a bit.”

his mom’s soft laughter brought relief to his ears, “oh sure my dear, your dad and i could need some company. it’s been quiet around here since you’ve grown.”

johnny smiled at the reply, “great, we’ll be there in ten.”

“see you later.” she singsonged.

after dropping youngmin off, he made his way to the bar where his girlfriend was. everyone who met johnny knew that he could be reckless when someone crossed over the line, who knows what scene he’d make tonight?

“johnny.” taeyong called out after seeing him enter the bar, johnny walking towards the bar where his friend was stationed at. “please don’t make a scene. my boss let you off the hook the last time you broke loose.”

johnny’s eyes scanned the area, looking for mj before looking at back at taeyong. “don’t worry. i won’t. this johnny won’t do anything.”

“better keep your word. she’s by the corner over there.” taeyong pointed with his head, “she’s been here for the past three months. good thing i’m the only one from campus who has seen her. if anyone else did she’d lose her solo spot at the choir. so called ‘angel’, huh? no offense.”

“none taken, but thanks bro. see you later at the dorms.” johnny said, then he walked through partygoers, the blasting music was deafening so much he hated it.

“i know right? he’s such a sweetheart.” mj said to her friend as she patted the guy’s shoulder who she danced with earlier. “i’d love to-“

“mj.” johnny’s cold voice rung in her ears, sending shivers to her spine. what is he doing here? “i’m guessing rehearsals ended early or it never existed.”

“babe i-“

“ey johnny suh!” the guy seated next to her greeted him drunkenly, the more he looked closer in the dimmed light, his blood boiled. “haven’t seen you since you had a baby! minji has been great to me recently.”

it was his high school rival, takuya terada.

“we’ll catch up soon won’t we?” johnny said sarcastically. takuya wouldn’t know anyway, his vision probably already blurry to even comprehend a straight conversation. he looked at minji, who averted her gaze towards him as she rolled her eyes. “we need to talk, outside.”

he took her by the wrist and he didn’t care if he was hurting her. she hurt him first; for a while now actually. he just had to put up a front before he vent out when they exited the bar.

“what the hell, minji.” he threw his grip away, minji holding her wrist and tsk-ed at the attitude. “is that why you’ve been missing out lately? you were cheating on me with takuya?”

“missing out? johnny you’ve been missing out too!” she raised her voice, “i don’t know if you have noticed but it’s been straining on the both of us recently!”

“so your solution was to hang out with another guy when you could’ve voiced out to me about your feelings? mj, we’ve talked about this!” he wiped his face frustatingly. “i don’t think-“

“i don’t love you anymore, john.” she said blankly, her face didn’t emit any pain she felt, it was like she wanted it out there. “that’s why i’ve been ‘missing out’.”

“you don’t.. love me anymore?” johnny stood in shock, his voice shaking a little.

“i fell out of love. i’m sorry.. i’ve been planning to tell you but i couldn’t.” she hugged her arms. “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

“my gut feeling told me there was something up. i was hurt just thinking about it. i don’t know but somehow i knew it all along that you were out of it. i didn’t bring it up because i held onto hope and believed my guts were lying that you cheated on me.” he said, his hands rested on his hip. “turns out i was right.”

“i’m sorry.”

“save it. i’m not hurt at all. maybe i just had to come here to confirm if it were true. you can live with that guilt that you’ve broken me already before you even said anything. i’ll raise youngmin myself. we’re done.”

johnny walked away while the cold wind sliced through his cheeks. usually in a breakup, one would break down. him and minji dated since high school, and there were on and off arguments here and there. they would always make up through talking, but to be told that she was cheating on him by another person sure sucked. he’d rather find it out himself and vent out right then and there.

guess this timing was actually better. though he told minji he was broken, he was actually so much more than that. he expected to at least shed a tear, he didn’t, for youngmin’s sake. even though he felt like an elephant was lifted off his shoulders, his heart was anchored deep below.

he felt so heavy with betrayal that his heart ached so much in a way he didn’t expect.

he wanted to break down so bad.

the door swung open of his family home and youngmin screeched a high pitched tone loud enough to startle the old man beside him, who was reading a newspaper. “oh john’s back.”

“dada.” the little one ran towards him, hugging his long legs for a second before johnny picked him up. “back!”

johnny’s mood changed like a shooting star whenever youngmin’s in sight. “hey little buddy! i’m back, i had to meet a friend earlier.” he kissed his cheek, “were you good to granny bear and papa bear?”

“he was an angel, john!” his mom gave her son a quick peck on the cheek. “who knew you could raise him very well? plus singlehandly!”

“he got it from me, my dear.” his dad took the chance to say, “are your studies going well though?”

“still a dean’s lister, dad.” johnny’s ears tinted a light shade of pink.

“that, he got it from me.” his mom winked at his dad, who scoffed at the remark. “where’s minji? you haven’t brought her here for a while.” the look on johnny’s face was too readable that his mom knew in an instant.

“we broke up. she had another guy behind my back.”

the sudden snickers from his parents left him in question, were they laughing? “great ‘cause we didn’t really like her for you!”

“really?.. wait, what?” he asked in disbelief, “anyway, i broke it off and i kinda knew she was out of it already.”

“took you a while to realize it, john.” his father just sighed, “are you going to get a new one?”

“what? no.” johnny chuckled awkwardly, “anyway we’ll take our leave now.” johnny shook youngmin a little before his parents bid them a goodbye. he walked towards his car and buckled him up. “ready to go, buddy?”

“ready.” he wiped his eyes, sleep covering him very soon. “music please.”

“which one?” johnny asked as he set the rear mirror to get a good look at him, knowing well what youngmin was going to say.

“coldplay!” they said simultaneously.

“now that, you got it from me.” he laughed heartily while they made their way back to his shared apartment with taeyong, jungwoo, and kun.

the clinks of the apartment keys had the boys look up from their game on playstation. jungwoo sighing frustratedly when kun defeated him thrice in a row. “seriously? you’re cheating, kun hyung!”

kun stretched, “clearly not. you’re just a bad player.”

“could one of you dumbasses get the kimchi from the table?” taeyong shouted from the kitchen, only to be greeted with youngmin having the wanted side dish in his tiny hands. “see, youngmin just got here and he did a better job than you two!”

“it’s loud in here, damn.” johnny took his shoes off while youngmin had his phone in his hands.

kun sat on one of the couches, eating the kimchi fried rice taeyong just made. “so you met up with minji, how did the dinner go?”

taeyong nudged the younger boy, and jungwoo looked confused. johnny couldn’t blame the two, they didn’t know what actually happened. “these two lovebirds called it quits tonight.”

“what!?”

“yup.” johnny popped his lips, “takuya terada”

kun’s eyes widened, “like.. takuya from high school?”

“they suit each other anyway, the biggest flirts of ____ high.” jungwoo chewed on a kimbap. “no offense.”

“none taken, i feel relieved anyway.” he sat down spotting taeyong busy typing on his phone. “you still looking for girls on love click?”

“well yeah, someone should at least find me attractive.” he replied.

jungwoo snickered before choking on his food, “as if anyone would see your face through a filter system on the app. just what is the university thinking?”

“ha, wait until they see this handsome thing for real.” he turned to johnny, “bro you should try looking for new love, you’re in need of it right now, you know?” taeyong locked his phone to continue eating the almost midnight dinner.

“please, i’m still freshly ‘heartbroken’, don’t tempt me.” johnny rolled his eyes.

“mama.” youngmin shook the huge phone, a selfie of johnny and minji flashed the screen.

“not mama anymore.” he told him, then youngmin clicked on another app.

“mama.” he showed them the love click app; the color scheme of red and pink caught his attention. and johnny scrunched his brows, the other three smirking at each other.

“seems like he wants a new mama.” kun teased, earning a death glare from johnny. “what? that whole daddy look of yours is attractive to almost every girl in campus. just wife someone up already!”

shaking his head, he couldn’t believe the encouragement from his friend. “too soon my bros.” johnny chuckled, “maybe i’ll give it try after a few weeks or so.”

johnny sat by the bed while youngmin slept with his sausage pillow. now that he thought about it, the little boy hadn’t seen minji in months. it was obvious that he’d look for her. but what he didn’t get was that he showed love click; a dating app he didn’t remember installing.

“mama.” he recalled youngmin say.

he dimmed the lights and sat beside youngmin, patting his bottom gently as he drifted away into slumber, he too was getting sand in his eyes. he pressed his lips into a thin line, halfheartedly created an account just in case he really needed it.

“this is stupid.”

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taglist: @titanmaknae29 @joepomonerof @lovesuhng @studyingthemind @cheyehc

[writemekpop]

Do-Over | Johnny Suh

Summary: You give your kid’s deadbeat dad Johnny one last chance to step up. A snowstorm puts him in danger of letting you down yet again.  

Genre: Baby daddy!Johnny, ex boyfriend!Johnny, angsty 

Word Count: 1.2k

Johnny laughed at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. In his homemade costume, he looked like a turnip.

He was determined to go all the way for yours and his daughter Rakha’s play. He would make awful jokes, he would hold little Rakha on his shoulders, he would point her out to the other parents and say, That one’s mine!

He was ready to finally step up and be a father to his kid.

The bouquet of long-stemmed red roses for you was a bit much, he now realised. They were the floral equivalent of a confession of love. Maybe he should leave those in the car.

Thick snow piled up over everything. The world looked a day old.    

The dash on his bust-up Ford Fiesta said 5:40pm. He might just make it to Rakha’s end-of-term play in time…

Then he turned a corner, and cursed. He had just hit a mile-long stretch of road where the snow had not been shovelled. The land ahead of him was as blank and lonely as a piece of paper.  

There was no way to get through.

He whipped out his phone and tried to call you, but there was no signal.

He let his forehead fall forward in frustration.

He would never forget his last conversation with you.

“Just one more chance. Please.” he had begged, trailing you as you strode to your car. You strapped Rakha in the backseat without looking at him, then got in the front.

He held the car door open so you couldn’t shut him out.

You looked coldly up at him. “She barely recognises you, Johnny.”

“I’ll be at the next recital. On time. Early – early, in fact.”

When he saw that glint of steel in your eyes, he remembered why he had fallen in love with you. Your words cut like razors, but even as it ached, he loved you for it.

“Go get some sleep, Johnny,” you said. Your nose curled. “And a shower.”

You tried to close the door, but he stopped you one last time.

“Y/n” Johnny said quietly. “When will I see you again?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Fine. She has an end-of-term play. But if you don’t make it to this one… I don’t want to hear from you again.”

--

You stood at the back of the tiny church, glancing at the clock. You kept picturing Johnny thundering through the doors, blurting out apologies in his bull-in-a-china-shop way.

But he was nowhere to be seen.  

You still worried about Johnny. You would never tell anyone this, but it was true.

Every night, you would get up at around midnight, leave the bed without waking your new boyfriend Mark, and walk out onto your tiny balcony. Standing there, you would silently ask the universe where Johnny was. If he was still living in his parents’ basement. If he was eating alright.

If he still thought about you.

Then you would go back to bed, without ever telling a soul what you had done.

The curtains opened for the play, and you applauded with all the other parents. You watched Rakha’s little face fall when she realised Johnny wasn’t with you.

That was when you realised. Just like Rakha, you had still secretly believed that Johnny would show up.

Of course, he’d forgotten.

You felt like an idiot.

--

Johnny felt a fire burn in his belly, despite the freezing air in the car.

He would get to that recital if it killed him.  

It was a blizzard now, but he was only about twenty minutes’ walk from the church.

He pushed his way out of the car and started the slow trek, using an old map to shield his head. The wind howled in his ears. Each flake of snow was a tiny blade.

He couldn’t feel his fingers, but he was determined to keep going. It wasn’t just his baby girl he was fighting for.

It was you.

--

“You know what my husband Mr Giant likes best? Little girls on toast,” a girl in Rakha’s class shouted. “Quick, Jackie, hide!”

Rakha, who was playing Jackie in Jackie and the Beanstalk, jumped behind a cardboard cut-out of a pot.

There was silence.

That was when you realised your mistake. Unable to resist Johnny’s pleading, you’d let him play the Giant in the school play. It was a tradition that one parent would take part in the play with the children.

Rakha’s face started to turn red. Her eyes flicked to the door and back. The sight was torture for you.

You were rigid in your seat. Should you jump up and be the Giant?

Suddenly, the double doors at the back of the church slammed open. Everyone turned around.

A six-foot tall, monstrous figure limped into the room. It was shaking, and covered with snow and mud.

Its voice thundered through the room. “FEE-FI-FO-FUM! I smell the blood of an Englishwoman!”

All the kids squealed with joy. Even the teachers were laughing.

You were the only one not smiling.

Johnny’s half-hearted attempts at parenting were almost more painful than if he just disappeared. They made you hope. And hope was a road that led nowhere.

When the play was over, Johnny lifted Rakha up onto his shoulders. She proceeded to pull his ears and try to control his movements like a puppet.

When Johnny saw the look on your face, he put her down.

Your arms were crossed. “The play started at six, Johnny. Not six forty-five.”

Johnny explained everything about the snowstorm, and how he had to abandon his car.

You didn’t want to believe him, but you had to admit he was telling the truth. And… it was a little sweet how he’d learned all his lines.

Johnny smiled.

“What is it?” you said.

“I just realised how I remember this church.”

He walked into a dusty music room filled with old pianos and organs.

He turned to face you. “Have you really forgotten? My 18th…”

You chuckled, your face heating. “Oh my god. Was it really this room?”

Johnny pretended to lay himself seductively over a grand piano. “My very first time.”

“Shut up,” you said, grinning. Then you saw that he was serious. “I was your first?”

Johnny came close and placed his hands on your waist. You placed yours on his shoulders, just as you used to do.

Johnny leaned slowly down and kissed you. His lips were unbearably sweet.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked quietly, though you already knew the answer.

“I want to try it for real,” Johnny said. “I want us to be a family.”

You wished you could be like your daughter Rakha. You wished you could love Johnny effortlessly, for love’s sake. Without having to remember all the times he had let you down.

It wouldn’t be that easy. You were a parent now.

But then, why it felt so natural so be in Johnny’s arms, despite the years you had spent apart. Johnny was your home. It was as simple as that.

“How about… we start with the Easter fair, and we can take it from there?”

Johnny was about to protest, but you put a finger to his lips.

You grinned. “Just to warn you… that costume of yours did not exactly hold up in the rain. You might want to put that jacket back on before somebody calls the police.”

Smirking, you walked away, leaving Johnny in that little hall.

They say you cannot choose your family.  You could not choose whether or not to love Johnny.

You would always love him.

It was as simple as that.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[taelme]

close your eyes, and i’ll kiss you

pairing: johnny x reader

genre: established rs au, implied friends-to-lovers, (fluff, very lowkey suggestive?) just a couple in love ig

word count: 1.8k (quick breezy read)

summary: in which johnny just wants to kiss you

a/n: got into my johnny hours while watching stranger things so I banged this out in the afternoon. Not proof read so enjoy~

“Need a break before the next episode, baby?” you felt your head lift from where it rested on your boyfriend’s chest as he stretched his arms above his head with a grunt. Letting yourself sink deeper into his hold, you snuggled your head against his shoulder, shaking your head against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“Hmm?” Johnny hummed at your lack of a reply, picking up the remote to press the button for the next episode before it could automatically load.

“No, I’m okay. You?” you murmured, words slightly muffled from how your cheek pressed against him, feeling his free hand come to rest on your back, the weight of it grounding you as he rubbed between and over your shoulder blades in a slow, soothing manner.

“Nah, I’m good, too. Kinda feel like a snack but I don’t know if that’s just ‘cause my mouth is like… itchy. Not literally but like, itching to do something, you know?” he huffed, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Isn’t it always?”

This time, Johnny could only laugh. It was different from if you guys were out at a party, or with friends. Those times, you saw how the energy of the room would affect him, spur him on to joke around and be loud and playful. In times like these, when the both of you were awake when everything else seemed to be asleep, you saw the same playfulness in him, definitely. It was just more mellow, more gentle; much like the way he simply let his hand travel down to give your butt a pat now.

“Well, my baby sure knows me well, doesn’t she?” he cooed, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead.

Feeling too shy to respond with words, you let out a content hum when you felt his hand move back up to your back, sighing as you let your eyes close just a little longer this time with your blink.

Truth be told, you were tired from a whole day out with your parents, helping them with things in their house that you supposed they always reserved for when you would come home - things like mail, finances and figuring out what on earth the doctor prescribed to them.

You were feeling a little headache come on and looking at Johnny’s tv screen in his living room wasn’t exactly helping. It wasn’t his fault, really. He’d been recommending this tv series to you for a while now, endlessly telling you how much he thought you’d like it, and the holidays opened up time for you to finally watch it (with him being more than happy to re-watch it with you, insisting he wanted to see your reactions to it). He was right, you did enjoy the show, but nights like the one you were having now were practically begging you to simply give in to your fatigue.

You were halfway through the episode when you let out a sigh, “I’m gonna close my eyes but I’m still listening, okay?”

Johnny hummed, amused as a scene of two characters kissing had come on just then, “You sure you wanna just listen to this?” He laughed, sounds of the kisses and the rock song playing in the background suddenly echoing louder than ever through the room now that you had your eyes closed.

It seemed then that Johnny had come across a brilliant idea, one that would satisfy both your needs.

He started by letting out a loud sigh, one that echoed through his chest where your ear was pressed against now. Craning his neck just enough to see your eyes still closed, hand against his chest and your fingers lightly drumming along to the rock song playing.

Your time knowing Johnny meant that even now, you could feel his gaze on you with your eyes closed, the light tickle of his hair against your forehead as he leaned closer. The woody smell of his perfume mixed with his breath that still had hints of beer and the grape sweets he'd been stealing from your bag that was conveniently placed next to the sofa.

Leaning back with another sigh (you'd caught on that he was leading to something by now), Johnny's hand came up to the side of your head, thumb caressing the skin of your temple and cheek again in that gentle, mellow manner, with yet a tinge of playfulness you were waiting for.

“Teenagers,” he sighed wistfully, “we were like that once, weren’t we?”

That tempted you just enough to open your eyes, face heating up at the sight of the scene and how much it really did remind you of you and Johnny back in high school and college. You could almost picture yourselves back on your old couch in your senior year, not seeming to be able to get enough of kissing each other that you had to practically shove yourself off of him at the sound of your parents’ car pulling up the driveway, pretending the both of you were just taking a break from studying.

“You’re still the same, you know,” you rolled your eyes, and you knew you were right when you felt him shift underneath you, rolling over just enough so that your head was on the couch now and he was lying next to you, propped up with his elbow near your head.

“Can’t help it, baby,” his smile grew, leaning in as your eyes closed naturally, only to feel his kiss on your cheek instead, “you’re just as hot.”

You scoffed, eyes still closed as your hand came up to find his head, resting comfortably on the back of his neck.

“‘Hot’? Very romantic of you, Johnny,” you teased, feeling him smile against your neck before you felt another kiss pressed there.

"Uh-huh," your smile grew at the ticklish feeling of him murmuring against your skin, as if mapping out his path as they went up your neck, “and I’m romantic enough to say it again.”

"You’re hot," he spoke. Another kiss to your jaw.

"Beautiful." Beneath your earlobe.

"Gorgeous." To your cheek.

This time, he pulled back just enough that you couldn't help but let your eyes open, wanting to see him. You didn't regret it, feeling like a giddy teenager when you saw the way he was looking at you, the slightest of smiles on his face.

"Sexy," he let his tongue peek out to wet his lips, leaning over to press them against yours, feeling almost reluctant for them to pull apart. The unabashed way with which he said these words was enough to make you shy, relishing in the praise but also feeling like you had to shush him out of embarrassment.

"Irresistible?" the way his tone lilted up made you scoff.

"Is that a question?" you laughed, earning a grunt from him.

"Too many words, too little kissing," he shook his head with a little wince, before leaning over and connecting his lips with yours again.

There was the same mellowness and gentleness you felt in his hand that grasped your hip, moving down to your thigh and holding you like that, his thumb rubbing against your warm skin.

Johnny's movements were far from the hurried, urgent kisses you recalled just moments ago from high school. But they had all the same intention to render you giddy just as they did back then. His hand moved up to your shoulder, grazing over your collarbones to your neck as they reached up further to cup your face, the warmth of his hand making you lean into him. As if that was his cue to deepen the kiss, he did, the tv series now long forgotten in the background as you let your hand come up to cup his face.

You weren't complaining at all, and you didn't think you ever would. The thought was enough to make you giggle- the way you were still managing to spend time with him, feel so close to him and not have to strain your eyes.

"What's so funny?" Johnny asked, the feeling of his tongue and his lips as he kissed you after almost making you miss his question.

"No, nothing," you hummed, managing to say between kisses (that was funny to you too, how he asked you a question but barely gave you a chance to answer with his insistent kisses).

“Tell me, baby,” he continued, and if he continued kissing you like that you were sure you wouldn’t be left with any words.

Pulling away just enough that you could grasp his face in your hands, your hands took the liberty of touching his face, as if giving you a visual with your eyes closed.

"I just thought it was funny how," you let the pad of your thumb touch his bottom lip, running it gently across it, almost melting at the way you could feel him suck in a small gasp.

"How this kind of solves both our problems. I didn't wanna open my eyes, and your mouth was itching to do something."

Johnny smiled, his index and middle finger moving your hair out of your face, letting his head hang forward so his lips were close to your ear, humming in agreement as he shifted himself, one of his legs going between yours to support himself better.

You opened your eyes, leaning forward to press another chaste kiss to his lips, almost laughing at the way he chased after your lips as you pulled away.

"I think I'm ready to get back to the episode, though."

You turned to give the tv a glance, beginning to reach over for the remote lying next to your stomach. Though there was no missing the way he kept his gaze fixed on you, his expression serious and definitely unwavering.

“Nope, sorry, no can do,” he spoke, his hand that was touching your hair moving to touch your chin, guiding your head back to face him, “I’m not ready yet.”

You shot him a look, your other hand still cupping his face, the soft skin of his cheek, feeling his strong cheekbones in a way high-school you never would’ve been able to, not with the baby face he had.

You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling him put more of his weight on you. His strength showed in the way he kissed this time, deep and with an insistence that made you feel like he was trying to render you even more than just giddy.

“Something tells me,” you spoke between kisses, “you’re not gonna be ready anytime soon.” Your fingers ran through his hair, he’s due for a haircut soon.

Johnny pulled away slightly to huff, his arms next to your head almost caging you in as he held himself up. From the way he was smiling at you, you could almost hear him say it, the flashback of how he cooed that his baby knows him so well.

Here it was again, on a midnight like this, his mellow, gentle yet playful side as he let his teeth graze your lower lip slowly, just enough to make you gasp.

“Well, lucky for us, we have the whole night to find out.”

[mymoodwriting]

6.7k, yandere, sci-fi, inter dimensional travel, time travel, manipulation, drugs, sedatives, restraints, nausea (@starillusion13) (@peanutpinet)

(Prev//First Part)

“Where do we start?”

The problem with following a schematic for a cross dimensional travel device was that it didn’t come with a manual. It appeared to be functioning properly, and looked similar to what they had all seen before, but they had no way of knowing how to actually use it.

“Jungwoo, you take it.” Jaehyun suggested.

“What? Why me?”

“You were the one who originally built this in secret, and actually knew how to use it.”

“That wasn’t me!”

“But maybe the memories are still there.” Doyoung said. “You should at least try.”

“Everything about that is hazy, like a dream.”

Jungwoo picked up the two bracelets they had made. They looked like the transporters they had come across before, but that was as far as their knowledge went. The only information from the schematics they had was how to activate them and connect them to an external device to access the higher functions. Now Jungwoo was just holding a tablet and staring at a bunch of settings and information he could barely understand. Although he had to admit there was a sense of familiarity. He carefully checked the different settings, a faded sense of knowledge tickling the back of his mind.

The more he explored the more things just seemed to click in his head. Even if it was still a blur in his memory, he felt confident with what he had. Of course everyone was still weary. This technology was beyond them, but it was their only way back to you. Jungwoo wore one of the bracelets, making sure it was mapping him out properly, and it gave everyone else confidence. It seemed like they were all set to use the transporters, although there were some other concerns that came to mind. If they traveled across dimensions, they didn’t really know what their landing spot was going to be. Someone could get stuck in something, or worse, another living being.

Strangely enough Jungwoo knew how to take all that into account, and made sure that the settings would keep them safe from such dangers. The only other thing is that they couldn’t go empty handed. Last time they faced their doppelgangers they found them to be very hostile, and if they were going to wind up at their base, then they needed to be prepared for a fight. Everyone grabbed something to use as a weapon, making sure they had everything together before taking the next step. They were all going to go together, so Jungwoo enlarged the size of the other bracelet and everyone grabbed on.

“Alright… here we go…”

Everyone closed their eyes, and even Jungwoo did after he hit the button. They felt a weird tingle, and then there was the urge to vomit. Some just swallowed it back down, but others found something to throw up in. Regardless, they all soon became aware that they were in the lab, but not theirs. Here it was dark, the only source of light coming from the window. It was night time, just as it had been back at their place.

“The Neos aren’t here anymore.” Mark stated.

“Good.” Yuta added. “Makes it easier for us.”

Jungwoo went over to the nearest computer, figuring out a way to turn it on. From there he could see the time and date, but he was more focused on searching the web. He typed your name in and news articles popped up about you with the Neos. There was all this talk about peace, and the end of the rebellion.

“Look at her.” Taeyong scowled. “All happy with those fakes… what did they do to her…”

“We know the transporters work.” Johnny commented. “We should go back before we attract attention. Just cause this place is abandoned doesn’t mean the Neos won’t know we’re here.”

They did what they came for, which was to make sure the transporters worked. In order to figure out their next steps it would be best to do so back home. Together they returned to their dimension, needing a moment to recover from the nausea. This victory was cause for celebration, it was one step closer to bringing you home. Although they’d soon discover it to be short lived.

“Guys… I think we have a problem.”

“Huh?”

Doyoung had gone straight to his laptop once he had recovered. Before they all left to the other dimension he synced up two timers, one on his smartwatch and the other on his laptop. He wanted to see if there was any sort of time difference when it came to traveling dimensions, but his results now were concerning. He explained to the others what he had done.

“So what’s the problem?” Yuta questioned.

“I figured there might be a time difference in seconds or milliseconds when we traveled dimensions, but here it shows a difference in minutes.”

“I still don’t…”

“We’d need to run some more tests but… we were in the other dimension for a few minutes, perhaps the exact amount of time that is shown to be off here.” Doyoung mumbled. “I think… I think we came back to the exact moment we left. As if time never moved forward here.”

“Okay… I’m still tryna wrap my head around that.” Jaehyun said. “But I’m not seeing an issue here.”

“Let’s run more tests first. Then it might be easier to understand.”

The boys trusted each other, so they followed along with what Doyoung asked of them. What they were doing was measuring time. Doyoung synced up two timers again, and had another person note what time it was the second before they jumped. Upon landing back in the Neo world one of them pushed past the sickness and went to the computer, checking the time.

“What the…”

“What’s the time, Haechan?” Doyoung asked.

“Half an hour into the past.”

“What?” Jungwoo got up and went over to the computer. “It’s the same… when we came here last I turned on the computer and saw the time. It’s the same time now as before… like we’ve gone back in time.”

“Johnny, how long have we been here so far?” Taeyong questioned.

“As of now… a little over a minute…”

“Let’s go back. Now.”

They all gathered together and returned to their dimension. They hadn’t had much time to recover from the first jump, so the sickness felt worse, yet that wasn’t the concern right now. Doyoung went over to his laptop and called Johnny over. Although when he compared the timer on his watch to one on his laptop he saw that they were completely off. Then he noticed the actual time laptop, Johnny noticed too.

“We… it’s the same time from the Neo world… we’ve traveled back in time here too.” Johnny looked around. “There. I had a cup of coffee earlier and put the cup down by my computer, it’s not there anymore but back by the coffee pot.”

“My notes.” Haechan stumbled over to his computer, grabbing a notepad. “I wrote somethings down before we left in case we didn’t make it back. When we did return I threw them in the thrash… but they’re back over here now…”

“How did we travel back in time?” Mark questioned. “That doesn’t make any sense…”

“We’re stuck.” Yuta realized. “We must be stuck between those two points in time… no matter how much time passes here or there. So whenever we travel to that dimension we’ll always land at that exact same time, and when we come back here it will also be the same time.”

“This must have been the exact time we left our world the first time, and arrived at the other.” Jungwoo added. “For some reason these transporters aren’t just fixed on the coordinates, but the time as well.”

“Then change it.” Jaehyun said. “So time continues to move forward.”

“I’m not sure I can…”

“What?”

“When the Neo version of me created and used these transporters they were only meant for a one way trip. Not to mention we also came back to our dimension via other means.”

“So we’re stuck…” Doyoung added. “Back to square one…”

“Not necessarily.” Mark stated. “We kinda have all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re somewhat traveling in time but we aren’t forgetting anything from the future. We can use that to our advantage.”

“I’m still not following.”

“We can go to the Neo world and plot out what happens over the next few days, figure out where y/n is and find the best time to rescue her. Then we come back here and gather whatever we need and go back. We’d be in the past but we’d know the future, we can’t lose.”

“It’s a waste of time.” Taeyong said. 

“Huh?”

“Let’s say we do that. Recon. What if the best time to strike is in three weeks? We have to relive those three weeks. All that time together equals a month in a half. We’ve spent longer just getting the transporter to work.”

“Not to mention the Neo world is completely foreign to us.” Jungwoo added. “We don’t know how to navigate it. The rebellion is also dead, and our faces wouldn’t make it easy to blend in the crowds. The only thing we’d have going for us is the element of surprise, but we wouldn’t even know what we’re doing. We’re completely on our own.”

“You’re also forgetting that’s not our y/n.” Yuta continued. “Those Neos messed with her head. Besides getting her physically back to us, we don’t even know how to put our y/n back into her body.”

Johnny scoffed. “We really don’t know what we’re doing… all this time we’ve been focused on the transporters as if it was the answer, but it’s barely a step in the right direction. We’re still so far away from getting y/n back…”

The morale in the room plummeted so fast. The transporters worked but they weren’t really any closer to getting you back. There were still so many variables to consider, many that were so obvious they hadn’t even thought about them until now.

“Maybe… maybe I can fix this…” Jungwoo mumbled.

“Huh?”

“There has to be a way to make sure we’re not stuck between two fixed points of time.”

“That doesn’t solve the other problems.” Jaehyun reminded. “Actually getting to y/n seems impossible…”

“But we could solve everything all at once.”

“What?”

“This whole mess does prove one thing… these transporters can travel through time. If I can figure out how to input time with the coordinates… we could go back to before y/n was taken from us… and make sure we don’t lose her in the first place.”

“Is that… is that even possible?”

“We’ve already traveled dimensions, and done a bit of time travel, so why not give that a shot.”

“Do you really think you can do it?” Doyoung asked.

“Yeah. As long as I succeed, then no time would really be wasted.”

♥♥♥♥♥

Even if things had fallen apart for the moment, they found a way to put themselves back together. Jungwoo and Doyoung focused on the transporters, trying to unlock its time travel potential. The others needed to focus on something else so they don’t go mad waiting. With the idea of going back in time to save you, they needed to figure out what the best time would be. They had to keep in mind all the things that had happened to you, and when the Neos actually started to mess with their world. All this kept them going, kept hope alive, and a few days later it all came to fruition.

“It moves…”

“What?”

“Look.” Jungwoo showed everyone the tablet. “These are coordinates to the Neo world. They’re meant to be set numbers but look at these at the end, they’re moving on their own now, which they weren’t before.”

“So we can travel dimensions without getting stuck at certain points in time.”

“I believe so, but we still need to test things out.”

The first thing they needed to do was confirm they weren’t stuck anymore. So they all went to the Neo world together, seeing that the time and date were different, matching the present time from their world. When they returned they saw that time had passed, relieved to know they were no longer stuck, but moving forward. Now was the more difficult part of figuring out how to actually travel through time. It would involve running more tests, and of course they’d do this all together. Messing with time in any way was dangerous, and they didn’t want to lose each other along the way.

Jungwoo knew of a way to make the numbers at the end freeze, so they needed to figure out how those numbers correlated with time. It was a lot of data they needed to jot down, and a lot of jumping around within their own world, but eventually they figured out how to measure time. They tested it by seeing if they could jump to specific points in time, and they succeeded in their endeavors. Now they could travel through time, they could actually see you again. Of course now they needed to get back to their other data, figuring out exactly what point of time to return to.

“Alright. So this was the date that other Jungwoo gave y/n the necklace.” Johnny explained. “From there the Neos began messing with her head so we need to go further back from that point.”

“I lost track of time when I received that video message.” Jungwoo commented. “And that was like two weeks before I gave that necklace to y/n.”

“The Neos also admitted to having been watching our world for months before they even tried anything.” Jaehyun stated. “So we have to go back even more.”

“At this rate we seem to be going back a whole year.” Haechan said. “Can we really do that and not mess up our future?”

“Not losing y/n would change our future dramatically.” Yuta reminded. “And that’s the whole point of this. As long as we get her back, we can figure out our future together.”

“What about our past selves?” Mark asked. “We might run into them. Or do we just take their place?”

“We’ve been jumping back into time in little pieces.” Doyoung said. “And we haven’t run into our past selves. So I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Taeyong stated. “We know roughly what time to return to. So can anyone remember when we were all in the lab, without y/n or anyone else of course. That way we don’t have to worry about others or our possible past selves.”

It took a little bit, but Haechan remembered a time they had all been gathered in the lab by themselves working on the robot for the competition. He managed to point out an exact date and time to go back to. Everyone was on board, so now it was time for what was hypothetically their last jump. Together they gathered and counted down, traveling far into the past. By now they were used to the feeling, so they didn’t really get sick. They took in the lab around them, seeing how it had changed to an old yet familiar scene. Doyoung checked the time, and they were exactly when they meant to be. There was also no sign of another version of them, so they had taken their own places in the past.

“We did it…” Jungwoo mumbled. “We actually…”

“So how does this even work?” Haechan wondered. “Did we like split the timeline or-”

“I brought snacks!”

Your voice made them all freeze. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion as they turned around to see you entering the lab. A huge smile was on your face, and you looked at them with such joy. You held up bags filled with treats for them, and it felt like such a dream. They all had the same idea though, and ran over to embrace you in a big hug.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s the occasion? Did you guys make a big breakthrough with the robot or something?”

“Or something.” Johnny said. “We should go out to celebrate.”

“Don’t you have homework?”

“We can do that later.” Taeyong commented. “Let’s go. I feel like we don’t see each other often enough.”

“I come by everyday.”

“Still not enough. Let’s go spend the evening together.”

“Alright. Sounds like fun.”

The rest of the day was spent getting food together, and drinks, and some karaoke, doing all kinds of things to make up for lost time. It was one of the best nights of your life. The whole night was nostalgic, reminding you of the days of your youth, and how you all spent it together. You also realized how much you had been missing them and how grateful you were to still have them in your life. Come early morning you were exhausted, and none of them could get you back to your dorm since it was strictly forbidden for boys to enter. So they wound up letting you crash in their lab, up on the little balcony they had.

“We have to protect her.” Yuta said. “The Neos could still make a move in the future. We can’t take her for granted, but she can’t be in the lab too often.”

“What if Jungwoo gets possessed again?” Jaehyun asked. “What then?”

“It was cause of that video.” Jungwoo explained. “So I’ll avoid any weird emails this time around. We all should.”

“Doesn’t mean one of us won’t get tricked.” Mark added. “We need to figure out a way to make sure we’re actually us.”

“Perhaps if we can record our brain waves.” Doyoung suggested. “Surely they’d be different if someone else was in our body.”

“We’ll work on that.” Taeyong said. “Along with readjusting to this time and getting our assignments done.”

“Ugh.” Haechan whined. “We have to build that robot again.”

“At least we know how to make it work.” Johnny reminded. “So it’ll be easy to redo. Let’s build it better this time.”

“That’s a great idea!”

It was difficult to adjust to the past. They knew they were reliving these days again, which meant repeating things, and it was frustrating. Still, the days were the same and different. They all gave you more attention, never allowing you to be alone when in the lab, and never putting you off to the side. You were right there with them as they built their robot, and designed this brain scanner. They couldn’t really explain it, but just said it was a fun side project. You were more than happy to help where you could, picking up a few things in the lab and being able to work alongside them like a proper team member.

Even if it was great to have you around, they all knew it wasn’t a good idea to have you in the lab for too long. For the most part they’d pair off and entertain you in other ways, taking you out and engaging with your major as well. A part of themselves also hated how they neglected you before, missing out on all these things with you. Although once they had their device built, and had a record of their brain waves, and yours as well, it put them at ease with having you in the lab. It was a place for their science, but they had a special place for you if you ever wanted to paint.

“Oh, let me do it!”

You eagerly took the device from Johnny, walking up to Mark and Haechan. It looked like something to check your temperature with, but as the boys had told you, it was for scanning brain waves. This was part of some on going person project they had, and it was important to check everyone’s brain waves every day. Haechan smiled brightly and leaned forward. After a moment the device chimed and showed a green light. The same result for Mark.

“Have you been scanned today?” Haechan teased. “Or can I do it for you?”

“Hm… I don’t remember.”

“Then allow me.”

Haechan took the device from you and checked your brain waves, as expected they were normal. He playfully pet your head.

“Excellent.”

“You guys are collecting a lot of data for this project.”

“The more the better. Thank you for all your help.”

“No problem.”

You felt more welcomed in the lab, so you spent more time there than before. It was a safe and relaxing space. One day as you were working on a research paper on your laptop you got a message from one of the boys. It was a simple message that asked for your favorite color. You figured it was for a surprise, so you answered without asking why. They thanked you and told you to come by the lab later that night for a present. You looked around the room, trying to hide your smile and excitement.

At night, once everyone was gone, you returned to the lab. You turned on the lights and looked around, wondering if anyone was there. They couldn’t really hide, so you figured you were alone, and then you saw it. There was a present on the table, wrapped up in your favorite color. You picked it up and shaked it gently, removing the top. There was a note you grabbed, and then you saw two bracelets in the box. You thought they were cute and decided to read the note first.

“We made these special for you. As long as you wear them you’ll be safe and we’ll always be able to find you.”

The note made you smile, and you grabbed the bracelets. You slipped them onto your wrists, admiring them for a moment. They were cute, but then they suddenly gripped you tightly. It startled you, and you tried to get them off, but you couldn’t get your finger under them. The more you tried to get it off the tighter it got. You screamed, and then started to feel a tingling sensation. This wasn’t good, and you had to do something. You pushed the pain to the side and tried to focus. You needed help, and you weren’t gonna get it here.

You tried to leave the lab, but as you reached for the doorknob your hands started to shake. You couldn’t even get a good grip on the door, and when you tried to get your phone it fell out of your hands. You were practically trapped in this room, and it was so late that screaming probably wouldn’t help you either. You needed to come up with another plan, and as you paced around the room you started to get this dizzy feeling. If this was some kind of prank, or experiment, it wasn’t funny. You went over to the table and looked at the note, but you didn’t see anything that could help you.

Something was very wrong here, and you felt like you were running out of time. Then it hit you, the fire alarm. That would be the fastest way to get attention. You made your way over to it, managing to pull the switch only for nothing to happen. The panic was starting to settle in, and you could barely think straight. Then you remembered the lab had its own alarm, something that would notify the guys directly. You had to search your brain for a moment before remembering the button was located under Taeyong’s desk. You managed to get to it before collapsing, your legs giving out.

You felt your world spinning, and you could barely keep your eyes open. You didn’t know how much time passed, but you vaguely heard the sounds of a door opening. Someone called your name, but you weren’t able to answer. Although you soon felt someone grabbing you and pulling you into their embrace. It took a moment to realize who was holding you, but you managed a smile when you saw Johnny’s face. He seemed concerned, but you were just happy that you weren’t alone anymore.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay. Just relax.”

“Johnny… I’m scared…”

“Sh, don’t worry.”

“What happened!” Jungwoo and Yuta came into the room, rushing over to your side. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but she seems okay.” Johnny explained.

“The bracelets.” Yuta realized, trying to take them off. “Fuck. They won’t budge.”

“A certain charge should be able to fry them and not hurt her.” Jungwoo said. “Give me a second.”

“Hurry!”

Jungwoo went over to his desk, looking around for a battery and some wires. As he found what he was looking for Johnny was suddenly in his face, taking the items from his hands and throwing them across the room.

“Johnny what are you-”

“You’re not gonna interfere.”

“What are you…” Jungwoo’s eyes went wide. “You’re not Johnny.”

“Huh?”

“Ya!”

Yuta suddenly jumped on Johnny, wrapping an arm around his throat and trying to choke him. The two struggled, but Yuta was determined to hold on.

“Jungwoo! The bracelets!”

“Right!”

Jungwoo rushed over to find the items he had gathered before, quickly returning to your side. He could tell you were out of it but his priority was getting the bracelets off. 

“Stay with me, y/n. Stay awake.”

The door suddenly opened and a few others came in. They had many questions about the sight before them but Jungwoo and Yuta quickly got their attention on something else.

“That’s not Johnny!”

Everyone else put their focus on taking down their former friend, while Jungwoo kept his focus on you. He managed to overcharge the bracelets and get them off you, gently massaging your wrists. The others managed to take down Johnny and tie him up, gagging him in the process as well. Jaehyun had gone over to you, pulling you into his arms. You were barely conscious, but you were okay nonetheless.

“How could this happen?” Doyoung wondered. “We did everything right…”

“Let’s double check that.”

Mark grabbed the scanner and went over to Johnny. The device made an error noise and lit up red. This was their confirmation that the Johnny before them wasn’t the one they knew.

“The question is what happened to Johnny.” Yuta said. “We all knew to be careful.”

“But why?” Jaehyun asked. “Why are they still coming after her?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Taeyong let out a yell of frustration then went over to Johnny. He stared at the boy, seeing a stranger in those eyes. He so badly wanted to hit him, but he knew that wouldn’t solve the problem. The stranger watched him curiously.

“Alright. Let’s just cut to the chase.” Taeyong sighed. “I’m sure you must have questions, but I’ll make this simple. We know who you are, and about your world. All the tech advancements you have, and that you were trying to take y/n away from us, but that’s not gonna happen. Now tell me why are you even trying!”

Taeyong held himself back again and removed the gag on Johnny. The boy took a deep breath and looked around the room, his eyes landing on you.

“She’s pretty.” Johnny chuckled. “You were the first world we found, and it seemed like it would be easy to take her. We almost succeeded after all, yet you were strangely prepared for us. I’m curious about that myself.”

“Get out of Johnny’s body.” Taeyong ordered. “I want to speak to your Taeyong. I know none of you will come here, but your technology is advanced enough to communicate without body snatching!”

“True. This was fun while it lasted. Even if it was only for a few hours.”

Johnny took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then it seemed like he fell asleep. After a moment Taeyong grabbed the scanner, and this time it lit up green. Just to be safe they also had a record of their brain waves when unconscious, so they could be certain their Johnny would be the one to wake up. Doyoung and Jungwoo untied their friend, and now it was a matter of waiting. It wasn’t long before every screen in the room came to life. At first there was static, and then a familiar face appeared on every screen.

“I’ve underestimated you. Then again, that’s not the case is it? We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“Yes. And we won’t let you have your way.”

“Not again I presume.” Taeyong chuckled. “Do me a favor and amuse me, how have we crossed paths before? I don’t think I’d easily forget such a face, unless… you’ve traveled through time, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Very impressive. Although you aren’t advanced enough, so explain.”

“It’s simple. We used your tech. I guess you don’t even know what you’re capable of.”

“Oh you mean the transporters. Yes. The coordinates can lock in on time as well, we just don’t use that feature.”

“If you’ve been capable of time travel yourselves how come you’ve never used it? You could be with your own y/n instead of becoming enemies and losing her.”

“You speak of time travel as if it’s so easy. In case you forgot I am on top in this world. Why would I change the past? Besides, if anyone knew what our technology could do then the peace we’ve built would crumble.”

“No one has to know.”

“What are you talking about?” Doyoung questioned.

“I agree.” Taeyong got serious. “Care to share your thoughts?”

“We mimicked your technology in order to get y/n back, and used it to travel through time. The transporters we built are made with our own technology, therefore they belong to our world, not yours. There would be no trace for you to find of any of your tech bending the rules of time and space. Therefore neither Taemin or Boa would know what you’re up to.”

“And you really think this is that easy?”

“Either I help you with this so you can leave our y/n alone, or you can go bother another dimension.” Taeyong spat. “And even then, things can end just like this again. It’s your choice.”

Things were quiet, but you were starting to get some clarity back. You weren’t entirely sure what was going on, but seeing Taeyong on all the screens, and Taeyong also standing to the side, you were very confused.

“What’s…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Haechan cooed. “Everything’s gonna be ok.”

“Let’s talk.” Taeyong said. “Face to face.”

“No way!” Jungwoo yelled. “That’s a trap!”

“Not gonna happen!” Yuta added.

“Taeyong, you can’t-”

“I’ll take up your offer.” Taeyong’s double cut in. 

“Really? How come?”

“You made good points. Along with using your own technology and all the other variables it’s the best solution, and I lose nothing either way.”

“Fine then. I’ll meet you.”

Taeyong grabbed the bracelets that had been gifted to you, putting them on. The others were quickly on him, trying to stop him. They didn’t like this idea, nor did they understand what Taeyong was doing, but he asked them all to trust him.

“What if something happens?” Jaehyun questioned.

“I’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“You’ll be fine too.”

“Taeyong…” You mumbled. “What’s going on…”

“I won’t be gone long.” Taeyong pet your head. “Don’t worry.”

Despite the protests, everyone put their trust in Taeyong. He reconnected the bracelets that had been sent as a gift to you, and took the ones he and his team had created. It was dangerous to go alone, but it was easier if he only had to worry about himself. He double checked the coordinates before closing his eyes and hitting the activation button. There was that uneasy feeling in his stomach, but nothing he wasn’t used to. When he opened his eyes he saw that he was in the lab, but not the one of his world. The Neos all gave him shady looks, none of them really happy to see him, especially Johnny.

“Don’t mind them.” Taeyong said. “This is between us right now. Let’s talk outside.”

Taeyong led his doppelganger outside. The sun was setting so there was still some light in the sky. It was quite beautiful.

“We can skip the formalities.”  Taeyong stated. “Neither of our people are happy with us, but we’re seeing the bigger picture here. So, what’s the plan?”

“Simple. We change the past.”

“And how exactly are we going to do that?”

“We go back to the key moment, where things changed, the science fair.”

“The science fair? You want to go that far back?”

“It’s the only place to go. Any other point can’t be guaranteed to make a difference.” 

“Alright. Let’s see what you got.”

Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. Taeyong had returned the bracelets that weren’t from his world, and used his own. Of course he needed his doppelganger to enter the coordinates and time, as things were different in this world. Taeyong made a note of the time as well, knowing things had to work out in order to keep you safe. He did have a plan, but he still needed to execute it to make sure it worked out, or that it could work. Once everything was set the two made the jump. It was kind of surprising to both of them how the other didn’t get sick, but it was a testament to how often they had been using such technology.

The two maintained a low profile and made it to the science fair. It was quite surreal to be in such a place. Their memory only contained pieces of it, and for Taeyong some things were different. After a bit of looking around they spotted your table, seeing your little mushroom project, and right next to you were familiar faces. It was odd for Taeyong to see a younger version of himself and his brothers while also knowing that’s not actually him. More so knowing that the young version of you wasn’t the one he had back home. There was a strange feeling in his chest. The little girl with the mushrooms would grow up to be a revolutionary, fight against those right next to her, and die by the hands of her allies. He saw to change all that, but he wasn’t really grasping how much of this world, of her fate, he’d change.

“So what’s your plan here?” The doppelganger asked. “How do we change the future without messing up?”

“It’s simple, we play matchmaker.”

Taeyong managed to find a pen and paper, writing something down. He asked a girl nearby if she could pass a note along to you. Then he did the same and had a note sent over to Taeyong and the rest of his group.

“Is that seriously gonna work?” Taeyong asked. “What did you even write down?”

“Y/n always had feelings for us, even though we were too blind to notice. It’s probably the same here, so if she believes you’re interested in her perhaps that’s all the courage she needs to be more than friends with you.”

“And the note you sent to my younger self?”

“Wouldn’t you want to show off and engage with a girl who’s crushing on you?”

“Manipulation? I didn’t think you’d play in my field.”

“It’s not manipulation. I’m just letting both sides know there are mutual feelings.”

“I guess you can spin it however you like.”

The two kept their distance and watched the two tables. When things got quiet you started asking the Neos about their project, and how they had come up with it. They offered you a chance to try it, and you wound up talking about your own project. The mushrooms had their own way of creating connections and communicating. As living beings it was an organic connection whereas their technology could do the same, making it an artificial connection. It was in its infancy but already showing so much potential in what they could do. The conversation shifted to comparing notes from both projects.

“Huh… we never talked like that before…” Taeyong commented. “Guess things are already changing.”

“Your projects have a lot more in common than you originally thought.”

“It seems so.”

Eventually the judges went around to see all the projects presented. The two already knew the outcome, nothing could really change that. After the announcement of the winner the boys were swarmed by people, and happily engaging with them about future opportunities. They could see how you were pushed away, and how you stepped back too. Without realizing Taeyong took a step forward, but was held back.

“We can’t interfere.”

“…”

Taeyong could tell his counterpart was tense, but it wasn’t a good idea to mess with things directly. After the big commotion people were cleaning up and putting things away. You were about to be on your way when the younger version of Taeyong approached you, holding out his phone and asking for your number. He promised to call you, wanting to talk more about your research and his own.

“If things work out, your memories should slowly change.” Taeyong said. “Any difference?”

“There’s only one way to find out. We go home.”

With their mission seeming to be a success the two returned to the present time, and remained outside the Neo lab. Taeyong stared at the lab, able to see movement but unsure if you were in there.

“I hope we don’t cross paths again.” Taeyong mentioned. “Cause I won’t be so nice.”

“Nice?” The doppelganger chuckled. “What you’ve done is far from nice, but I’ll let you go. Take care of y/n, you wouldn’t want to lose her again.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you.”

♥♥♥♥♥

Taeyong had made a note of when he had originally left his world, and made sure to return moments after he had disappeared. He didn’t need the others worrying about him for too long. So for them it felt instantaneous.

“Taeyong!”

Everyone was glad to see him, but more than anything he was happy to see you. When he returned you got up to hug him tight, sniffling a bit. Taeyong wrapped his arms around you, gently rocking you and trying to calm you.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay now.”

“I don’t know what happened… but please don’t leave again…”

“I won’t, I promise. This was all just a bad dream, okay? Everyone’s okay, so you don’t have to worry.”

Since you were so out of it from everything that had happened, it was kind of easy to push the narrative that it was all a dream. Jaehyun got you a drink and slipped a sedative into it, letting you get some sleep. They double checked to make sure you didn’t have any other tech on you. Hopefully the wouldn’t cross paths with their doppelgangers again, but for now they still had to remain alert. They had you sleeping in the lab again, Yuta by your side, gently holding your hand.

“Did you do it?” Jungwoo asked.

“Huh?”

“You threw Sticker under the bus to protect y/n, you realize that right?”

“They wanted our y/n, and the only way to stop them was to give them what they wanted. It was just a matter of fixing their mistake.”

“But you didn’t just change something from their past, or one singular life.” Johnny added. “The history of their world has changed because-”

“That doesn’t matter to us. If changing that world means our y/n is safe, then I’d do it again. We never should have been involved with another dimension to begin with. We didn’t start this whole mess, so whatever we did to get things back to normal here is worth it. Don’t burden yourselves too much. It was my idea, and I executed it alone.”

“I guess we ended up like them.” Haechan remarked. “Traveling dimensions and messing with other worlds for the sake of the one we love… we are twins after all…”

“Let’s just focus on the present.” Doyoung said. “And our future. Like Taeyong said, we are back to where we are supposed to be, just better.”

“We’ve got y/n back.” Johnny added. “We’ll take care of her.”

“And we’ll do it right this time.”

[allaboutthedongs]

‘Ay-Yo’ #JOHNNY

〖Ay-Yo - The 4th Album Repackage〗

➫ 2023.01.30 (KST)

💿Pre-save & Pre-order

https://nct127.lnk.to/ay-yo

[seoyounqhoe]

coming back here on tumblr 5 freakin' years later, where johnny reveals sexy back was his on-the-spot audition track

youngho got me whipped.

[fullsunalicia]

hiii! i just found your account and i’m so in love with everything you’ve written!!! can i request a johnny demigod au?

piece by piece — SYH

johnny would rather die than admit he’s not able to fix something. no matter what it is, he’s absolutely certain he can find a way to make it right. correct the clock’s tick. make the light bulb shine again. puzzle the pieces of your heart together. who else would, if not him?

son of hephaestus!johnny x daughter of dionysus!reader

of course you can! thank you for request love, i hope you enjoy! <3

Some people are born with a silver-spoon in their mouth. Johnny entered the world with mechanical tools and screwdrivers in his little hands. At least that’s what he keeps on telling others when they watch him build something.

He’s always had a knack for stuff like that. During experiments, it was always Johnny who got the thing up and working. He loves to create. There’s no better feeling than getting something to work again, like a broken clock, or a flickering light.

There’s only one exception. Johnny’s never tried to fix a heart before, but he’s willing to try.

A loud yelp escapes you as Johnny takes away the wine bottle you were clinging to. Is this your second or third one? Honestly, he doesn’t remember. He hasn’t been paying attention. The only thing that matters right now is getting you away from all the alcohol, and into a bed to sleep your rush off. Your eyes are stained red, rivalling those of a stoner. Your fix is free; it’s called ‘tears’. Truth be told, you’re an emotional mess, and everything spills over the second alcohol enters your bloodstream and chases away the deep-rooted pain inside your chest.

“You give that back right now, Seo.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he deadpans. The frat house is way too loud, overcrowded with people he’s never seen before, but you’re gonna have to deal with that if you’re going to sleep over tonight. Strong arms slide beneath your back and into the hollows of your knees, lifting you up as if you‘re the pound of feathers and not the pound of iron you feel like. It’s a familiar feeling, because Johnny always carries you to bed. It’s a tradition that’s slipped into your drunk habits aswell, since you tend to pass out in your intoxicated bliss instead of helping yourself to an appropiate sleeping place.

Johnny sets you down on a soft mattress, one you recognize too easily. His blankets are freshly washed, and you ignore the laughter falling from Johnny’s lips as you snuggle into them. You look like a toddler. “Aren’t you going to change, (y/n)?” he mumbles, fingertips brushing over your cheekbones. You’re like a sculpture - flawless marble, the perfect depiction of a Greek beauty. Venus de Milo is literally sprawled over his bed. Not many guys can say that. “That croptop must be kinda tight. Here, let me help you.”

“You think you’re funny?” you drawl out. Alcohol makes your tongue heavy, speaking is an effort. He’d never admit it out loud, but you’re rather adorable whenever you’ve had a sip too much. Johnny tucks you in, the soft, plushy blankets covering your entire body. Your eyes are already screwed shut. You’ve got a sharp tongue, but everybody knows how much you trust Johnny. More than anyone else in your life. He’s the one who looks past the drunk facade and sees the sorrow beneath it, the very same your father must have felt when Ariadne left him for eternity. Like an illness, your heart is rotting from an invisible wound, inflicted by someone who didn’t know how to treat you right.

Johnny would. He knows you deserve to be treated like a princess, not some prize. That’s why he broke that guy’s jaw with pure pleasure. The busted knuckles after that were beyond worth it, and the kiss you had left on them was just the cherry on top.

There’s nothing Johnny wouldn’t do for you. His head is filled with thoughts about you and you only, his entire existence revolves around protecting his tiny best friend. You’re his world, and Johnny’s the moon circling it. You just don’t know it yet. Maybe you don’t want him, reject him like Aphrodite did to his father. It doesn’t sound so bad when it means he can still baby you like this, fingers carding through your hair, listening to the appreciative hums you let out at that. When he lowers his head to sneak a kiss on your cheek, cheeky and daring, you don’t fulfill your threats to snap his neck. Drowsily, since you’re already slipping into slumber, you catch Johnny around the neck and pull him down to leave your own peck on his temple.

Whoever in Olymp is responsible for your behavior, whatever Fate had meddled with your creation - he’d sincerely like to thank them from the bottom of his heart for making you a clingy drunk.

Since the first day of college, Johnny has been taking care of you. He had helped you renovate your dorms since you are literally helpless when it comes to building cupboards and setting up some baseboards. Whenever you miss a lecture, you copy off his carefully written notes. And you can bet your sweet ass you’re the first one to take a sip of Johnny’s freshly brewed coffee. It’s not like he has it in himself to stop you - he’s the one who offers you the mug and scolds you for not taking care of yourself. He’s the one who wants to ease off some stress from your shoulders by helping you with your living quarters. He wants to make sure you get the correct notes so you don’t fail during an exam.

It’s only right he’s the one to solve the jigsaw puzzle that represents your heart.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Raise your hand if you think (y/n)’s an alcoholic.”

“Nakamoto, if you don’t shut up, I’ll seriously consider stuffing your mouth with a croissant.” Over the breakfast table, you throw an not-so-evil glare Yuta’s way, but the man only laughs and starts eating his cereal. You don’t really look threatening in your blanket cocoon; you had refused to part from them when Johnny had woken you up and dragged you out of his room. “Seo, put that hand down right now.”

“Lying is a sin, (y/n).” He catches the hand that tried to hit his chest, and you yelp loudly when he tugs you out of your safe space inside the blankets so you can sit on his lap. His frat brothers are staring, all of them aware about the feelings blossoming in Johnny’s chest for the alcoholic he managed to befriend. He doesn’t care, though. He’s too busy adoring the embarrassed blush on your cheeks, so distracted by the sight that he forgets you’re in attack mode. The flick to his forehead actually hurts. “Don’t make me throw you across the table, (y/n). You know I can do it.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you shoot back. Stubborn as always.

Johnny’s arm around your waist doesn’t seem to bother you. You actually continue your breakfast while he rests his head on your shoulder, lost in your natural fragrance. Of course you smell like grapes. The stench of alcohol. But he also picks up roses, the underlying notes of the perfume you had put on last night. According to you, he smells like burnt wood and oil. That doesn’t sound as pleasant as you do, but he’ll take what he can.

The gears are already set in motion. Without you knowing, Johnny plans to cure your broken heart. So when you set down the knife you used to cut open your croissant, Johnny asks you: “(y/n), wanna go on a date?”

You freeze on his lap. Your heartbeat thunders below his touch, like a clock ticking away. Hearts are nothing but clockwork, racing towards your death. The last hour of your life. Until your battery finally runs out. Johnny has a lot of mechanic jokes. “Excuse me? Are you still drunk?”

“You of all people are not allowed to ask me if I’m drunk.”

“Fair,” you mumble, almost offended. But the shock still lingers in your veins, painted on his friend’s face aswell. You turn in his hold to look Johnny in the eyes, the disbelief in yours driving a knife through his heart. “Is this a joke, Seo Youngho? I don’t particularly like to joke about this and you know that better than anyone else.”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking.” Johnny’s fingers tug at your shirt, desperate to feel what’s below. Is your skin as soft as it looks like? If he touches you here and there, what can he coax out of you? His thoughts run wild about you always; sometimes innocently, sometimes anything but. “I’m sick of watching you drink your problems away, (y/n). We all know you’ve gotten over him, you’re just afraid of facing the consequences of what he’s done to you. Let me help you. I can fix this.”

Your eyes are hypnotizing. Maybe this is what it looks like when maenads possess their victims, luring them in with the promise of a good time and better alcohol. You don’t offer him intoxication - you offer Johnny the entire galaxy, every solar system locked into your gaze, a kaleidoscope of human memories, desire, love. One look would make any man lightheaded.

Children of Hephaestus are fireproof. They’re supposed to be blacksmiths, working at any temperature. Only you manage to leave scorch markings where your fingertips meet his face, uncomfortably hot, and still irresistible. Second degree burns don’t sound so bad when you’re the one inflicting them.

“You can’t fix everything, Johnny,” you tell him. The sadness clinging to your voice is centuries old, older than time itself, the common tale of a heart broken that’s never going to be whole again. “No matter how hard you try.”

Johnny clings to you like a drowning man would to his life ring. “You wouldn’t know. You never let me try.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Johnny doesn’t know where you start and he ends. Your relationship is blurred lines, interwoven red strings. There are pieces you’ve been given by him to make you complete, and parts you’ve given away to fulfill him. You give and give and give, never once thinking if it’s going to break you.

That’s why it’s so easy to love Johnny. A very long time ago, you’d already promised him your heart, long before it had been darkened by strangers who never learnt how to treat it. It’s his, in every sense of the word. Over the years, it has been fed with happy things. Johnny’s smile. The pride you feel whenever he wins an award for his experiments and ideas. The giddy feeling he sets off inside you when he lifts you off the ground to twirl you around like a princess. The many nights you used to stay up to listen to him and count the stars, naming them after you while you fell asleep to the sound of Johnny’s pulse. How could your heart belong to someone else, when it’s never known anyone besides him?

As long as there’s a beat inside your heart, there will be love, too. In the many thousand shards that pierce through your lungs and are barely hidden beneath your skin, affection will always pool beneath the blood they draw. You were so suspicious of Johnny’s attempts, yet it comes so easy.

He takes you out to see the city, even though you know every corner of it. Johnny forces you to see it with new eyes, to chase away the bad experiences you connect them with. The park where you had been broken up with turns into the place where Johnny teaches you to skate, arms tight around your waist, the promise of no harm ever coming to you if he can prevent it luring you to try. The many restaurants you had started to avoid because of the couples dining there had turned into date nights where Johnny orders for you and you in turn for him, laughing at the grimace the other pulls when it doesn’t taste as expected. He takes your memories and flips them, good side up.

Your lungs had been poisoned with toxins for a very long time. Johnny was the clean air that helped you breathe. What had once been pain turned into newfound happiness, the flutter of butterflies inside your stomach. The exploding fireworks Johnny sets off when his lips meet your skin.

Where alcohol had once mended was now pure fire. Johnny’s fire, burning you from the inside out, setting you free like a phoenix out of his ashes.

You should’ve known better than to trust this good feeling. A year’s worth of pain is not erased so easily. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Doubt eats away at your heart, casting long shadows of the healing pieces.

❀ ❀ ❀

Johnny hates the theoretical part of his studies. His hands itch to work, to forge, to create. They can’t sit still, and that’s why it takes him hours to finish his assignments. If there’s not the impending doom of an exam lingering inside his mind, there’s no reason for him to sit unmoving on a chair for several hours to concentrate on the task at hand.

But time is running out, and he has to finish this now. He had already slept for the entire day, having eaten breakfast at 3pm since another frat party had kept him awake yesterday. Yeah, he should’ve laid off the alcohol, but you go ahead and try to tell Sicheng no when he begs you to come play beer pong.

That’s physically impossible. There’s not a single soul on this planet that’s able to resist Sicheng’s puppy dog eyes, and he knows. Monster.

That’s why Johnny sits here now. He has to force his short attention span to cling to the paper he’s supposed to be writing on, since he knows damn well he’d grasp at any chance to procrastinate. His thoughts wander to you, like always. His sweet (y/n). The raging alcoholic.

Or, how he likes to call you, his princess.

The petname colors your cheeks red and makes you lower your pretty eyes. His imagination is too vivid - Johnny groans loudly as you conquer his mind again, determined to stay there forever. Daydreams are always conjured by the wish of seeing you. Johnny is so unbelievably whipped.

He’s already decided. The next time he sees you, he’s going to ask you to be his girlfriend. To be his for as long as he exists, and in turn being yours forever. In a room full of people, Johnny’s eyes would still search for you. Who else would he love for the rest of his life if not you?

Maybe he’ll never get to.

The door to his room is thrown open rather loudly. Yuta tumbles in, yawn leaving his lips, before the man freezes in his movements and stares at Johnny. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“This is my room, you know.”

“I know this is your room, you giant idiot,” Yuta hisses. Johnny furrows his eyebrows; had he done something wrong...? What’s gotten the man so worked up? “I’m asking you why you’re here instead of the date you promised your almost-girlfriend who you’ve been in love with your entire life!”

Johnny’s heart drops. It falls and falls into that pit of dread inside his stomach, just like pencil and ruler as he throws it onto the table and grabs his jacket. He almost tumbles down the stairs and breaks his neck, but that’d be worth it if it meant reaching you faster. Taeil yells at him to be more careful, though his words only meet deaf ears. Johnny’s already long gone, bursting through the door as he starts running and prays it’s enough to reach you in time.

You’re not there.

He wonders how he can call himself a son of Hephaestus when he cannot even stop his own heart from shattering at the realization that he may have lost you forever. It would’ve been your anniversary with your ex boyfriend today, and Johnny realizes only now.

If only his father could see him like this. He’d cast him off Olympus, a perfect mimic of what Hera had done thousands of years ago. It’s what Johnny would have deserved.

❀ ❀ ❀

The many messages he leaves on your voicemail remain unanswered. He knocks at your dorm often, but you never open, not a rustle is heard inside. Like a graveyard, there’s only the sound of the wind breezing through your apartment, no sign of life. Your phone doesn’t ring when he calls you from outside the dorm, as if you’re not there. Not home.

Nowhere near him.

Back to square one, Johnny loves you from a distance. His tears soak the blankets you used to lull yourself in, and he spends hours locked inside his room listening to the playlist you created.

In a morbid sense of longing, he even bought that type of vodka you like so much. The one that tastes like peppermint and makes him want to retch, even though you’re able to swallow it up like water. He’s always known you were an alcoholic. For once, Johnny wishes you were here, getting drunk alongside him.

No matter how much the liquor numbs his senses, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about you. Like a broken record, Johnny always ends up wondering how you are. If you feel a little better, even though Johnny stood you up.

Every night, he asks the stars for you. They never respond.

❀ ❀ ❀

Johnny doesn’t know what he’s doing here. There’s no sense to knocking at your door - you’d die before opening it willingly. After all, you had opened your heart to him, and look where that had gotten you.

He almost passes out in relief when your face appears in the doorway, tear tracks staining your face. “Have you come to torture me more?” you whisper, too afraid of your voice breaking. If you can’t even stop your heart from doing it, you’d like to atleast beware your voice. “Go ahead. Let’s see what kills me first, my broken heart or alcohol.”

“(y/n),” he breathes out, and the pain in his voice makes you flinch. It matches the one sitting in your chest, an exact replica. Distance wounded you both. “(y/n), I am the stupidest man alive and I am so sorry I left you standing in the rain back then. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

“I’d like to know that, too,” you mumble. Your voice is bitter, but your hands reach to hold his. Is he imagining things, or are you actually tugging him inside right now? Is it wishful thinking? Is that it?

Your apartment looks like a mess, as always. A perfect mirror to your mind. Johnny used to tease you about it. Now, it just makes him feel worse, because he did that to you. “I need to say it,” he suddenly says. “I need you to know.”

“To know what?”

“I love you.”

The three magic words. Instant remedy to any kind of wound, no matter how old, no matter how deadly. You confuse Johnny by laughing, fresh tears running over the old traces on your cheeks.

“I know.” You tug at his shirt and force him down; your scent floods Johnny’s senses when you press your face against the column of his neck. Now you’re home. Right where you’re supposed to be. “Who the else would be patient enough to fix me? I’m a big, fat mess. I should’ve waited for you that day...”

“You should have beat my fucking ass,” Johnny curses, and then he finally kisses you. Like fire, his kiss devours, rampant heat frying your senses and jumpstarting your tired heart. The kiss is way too messy, teeth knocking against each other in a frenzy. This is what you needed - the undying, pure love Johnny provides you with. It’s what you’ve been longing for since the first time you set eyes on him, the very first time his puzzle pieces clicked into place inside you.

Johnny’s never tried to fix a heart before, but he’s also the one who knows yours inside out. It’s only right that he’s the one who puts it together piece by piece.

[najaemein]

[ 20:48 ] “Can you please stop playing that song every day? Don’t you know any other pieces?” You couldn’t help but frown at your roommate’s words.

Of course you knew other songs. You’ve been playing the piano ever since you were a small child. You debated whether or not to stop playing once you reached high school. But when you met Johnny, it resparked your love for the beautiful instrument.

“I made a promise to him that I would play it everyday.”

“Deathbed promises don’t count.”

[sunshyni]

vou te levar pra saturno | johnny suh

notas da sun: 'cês acharam mesmo que ficariam sem mim nesse final de semana??? Demorei, mas cheguei KKKKKK Respondendo um pedido, olha só ( @lovesuhng me desafiou a escrever algo deste homem e eu não poderia ir contra um pedido da Mika, não é mesmo???) Acho que é a coisa mais dramática que escrevi pra este perfil, é uma mistureba que me agradou demais, envolve principalmente “Saturn” e “Snooze” da SZA, “Cinnamon Girl” da Laninha e “Mirrors” do Justin Timberlake, só musicão porque a mãe tem bom gosto 😎

w.c: 1k

contexto: o Johnny faz parte de uma gangue japonesa “do bem” (é isso ai mesmo, culpa “Walk” e o Yuta em “Mystery in Seoul”) e a protagonista é uma enfermeira de um hospital clandestino.

avisos: menção honrosa ao Yuta em “High & Low” 🙌

boa leitura, docinhos!!!

— Você só tá com febre, mas vai melhorar depois desse medicamento — Você disse para a garotinha de 10 anos que brincava com as próprias tranças enfeitadas por duas fitas finas de cetim que formavam lacinhos fofos. Seus olhos desfocaram do rostinho infantil e vermelho devido a temperatura corporal e miraram além, para a chuva torrencial que caía lá fora e que coincidentemente combinava e muito com como você estava se sentindo internamente.

Sentia-se tal qual um motoqueiro em direção debaixo de uma chuva sem igual, a viseira do capacete não estava ajudando em nada, a estrada escorregadia e as curvas cada vez mais fechadas e ariscas. Além disso, não tinha sinal em seu celular, verificar um GPS para conferir um melhor caminho para o seu destino se tornara uma tarefa impossível, e você estava oficialmente sozinha.

No entanto, existia alguém, existia uma pessoa em particular que poderia te tirar daquela agonia, mas você recusava a ajuda, por que o que adiantaria aceitá-la de bom grado quando essa pessoa em especial se colocaria diante do temporal para te salvar? Se arriscaria tanto quanto para bancar o herói por sua causa. Você acreditava que aquilo não passava de uma troca de valores, você saía do primeiro plano e Johnny o ocupava confiante e irresistivelmente teimoso.

— Acho que você e o tio John combinam. Por que vocês não namoram? — Você sorriu sem mostrar os lábios para a expressão dúbia da menininha, ele costumava ser famoso entre as crianças do bairro quando não estava conduzindo alguma missão que às vezes envolvia casas de apostas ilegais, o que dava a chance de Yuta Nakamoto, o líder do bando, abdicar do conjunto vermelho social e apostar no casaco pesado animal print egocêntrico.

— Infelizmente, não é tão simples assim, princesa — Ouviu-se dizer e percebeu o quanto aquela frase soava feito uma desculpa esfarrapada para uma criança, de repente sentiu falta da sua infância, de como tudo parecia ser possível, bastava despejar toda sua criatividade num giz de cera e criar o seu mundo partindo das cores primárias, um mundo em que mais pessoas boas existiam, em que o amor era valorizado mais do que cédulas, um mundo em que você acordasse todos os dias dez minutos antes do Suh despertar, só pra tê-lo envolvendo sua cintura num abraço carinhoso na cozinha, a voz grave questionando ao pé do seu ouvido: “Por que acordou? 'Vamo voltar pra cama, por favor”.

Você ajudou a garotinha a descer do leito hospitalar após ouvi-la reclamar sobre o quão adultos tornavam coisas singelas em extremamente complicadas e sua cabeça balançou, num gesto positivo. Virou-se por alguns segundos, organizando suas coisas numa pequena mesinha de trabalho localizada próxima a maca quando Johnny surgiu de súbito, encharcado, uma expressão de dor cobrindo-lhe a face bonita enquanto segurava o próprio braço visualmente machucado.

Sua primeira reação foi levá-lo até o leito, onde ele sentou sem protestar embora tenha resmungado quando você o apalpou do cotovelo até o pulso, havia algo de errado com o seu antebraço mas ele pouco se importava considerando o sorrisinho agridoce que esboçou, mesmo com a probabilidade de ter fraturado algum osso. Você parou de examiná-lo e mirou os olhos castanho escuros, Johnny retribuiu o olhar, só que diferente da sua pessoa, ele te observava com doçura, com tanto carinho que fez sua expressão suavizar, ainda que seu coração batesse sem controle como o trote de um cavalo sem rédeas.

— Na última vez que nos vimos, você praticamente disse que me odiava, quase soletrou isso — Com a mão boa, Johnny segurou o seu queixo com o polegar e o indicador, fixando o olhar no seu, te impedindo de desviá-lo para alguma janela ou qualquer outra coisa presente naquele ambiente. Seus olhos brilhavam com a umidade acumulada e seus lábios tremiam ligeiramente com o anúncio abrupto de lágrimas que, você sabia, rolaram pelas suas bochechas da mesma forma que a chuva caía lá fora, impiedosamente, sem intervalos — Então por que se importa? Por que se preocupa com alguém que você odeia? Me fala.

Você piscou e a primeira lágrima traiçoeira desceu solitária pela sua face, Johnny a capturou com os lábios, beijando seu maxilar antes que a gotinha salgada molhasse seu pescoço, como da última vez quando você mentiu sobre seus sentimentos, afirmando detestá-lo mesmo depois de tê-lo em sua cama, em seu corpo e em seu coração, ele acariciou sua bochecha com a palma levemente calejada, odiava o quanto ele parecia sereno ainda que vivesse transbordando suas emoções, Johnny insistia em transmitir plenitude e calmaria. E pra ele, você tinha o efeito de um entorpecente feito o ópio, aliviava a dor severa e o fazia crer num lugar inventado, num lugar melhor.

— Porque eu não te odeio. Percebi que nem se eu quisesse, eu conseguiria fazer isso.

Johnny te beijou, envolveu sua nuca com a mão e colidiu os próprios lábios nos seus, sentiu o gosto das lágrimas tanto suas quanto as deles que se misturaram, molhando o rosto e o beijo, ele sabia exatamente como estava suportando a dor latejante no braço esquerdo, o remédio tinha nome, sobrenome, uma fragrância fresca característica feito uma brisa marinha no verão e um sorriso gentil, viciante feito um alucinógeno, capaz de fazê-lo se machucar de propósito apenas para te ver, para que você pudesse tocá-lo ainda que platonicamente, o que graças aos céus não era aquele caso.

Johnny gemeu no fundo da garganta, o que te fez separá-lo de si empurrando seus ombros com delicadeza, sem saber ao certo se aquele som fora reproduzido por puro prazer ou se na euforia de pressionar os corpos, você piorara o ferimento, no entanto o Suh dedicou um dos seus melhores sorrisos para você, aliviando sua postura e fazendo você voltar a respirar novamente.

— Eu tô com medo. Tô com medo de te perder... Isso tudo é tão perigoso.

— E o que você acha que é tudo isso? Você tá se arriscando por essas pessoas. Por mim.

Johnny queria e muito te acalmar, queria te mostrar que seriam vocês contra o planeta Terra daquele momento em diante, que vocês poderiam mudar aquela realidade estúpida juntos, que ficariam bem. Por isso ele esfregou o nariz esbelto no seu pescoço, a voz grave provocando seu corpo, incitando seu coração a acelerar de supetão.

— Fica tranquila, eu vou te levar pra Saturno.

notas da sun²: quis voltar aqui só pra dar uma explicação para vocês. Na própria música da SZA, ela cita Saturno como uma fuga da realidade enfadonha, como se Saturno fosse um lugar melhor, por isso ela diz: “Life is better in Saturn”. Foi exatamente isso que eu quis trazer pra esse texto, como se a protagonista e o Johnny fossem “Saturnos” um para o outro, por isso somente juntos eles conseguem se deslocar para um “lugar melhor”, “um mundo inventado pela criatividade e gizes de cera”, enfim espero que vocês tenham gostado dessa tanto quanto eu gostei 🥰

@ sunshyni. Todos os direitos reservados.

[espresseo-cafe]

[17:09] the skatepark was like johnny’s second home. for the most part, seeing him skate made your heart jump. in both good ways and not, the feeling you had in your stomach verified that your best friend was indeed a chick magnet. he was that well known at the area.

and because you were his best friend, you had to tag along to his trips to the skate park every time you were on days off. so here you were sitting hesitantly by the bleachers. as much as you hated to admit it, a little jealousy creeps up on you when you see others eyeing johnny with hunger.

“should i ask for his number? he’s hot.” one asked her friend, sporting a denim high shorts paired with long socks and an old school vans.

her friend squealed and nudged her, “like yes?? you guys are matching in denims, too.”

you tsked to yourself and rolled your eyes, chewing on your gum and put your airpods max back on, continuing to sketch the scenery in front of you. honestly? you could care less.. if you didn’t habour any feelings for him at all.

but no, you had a massive crush on johnny and it pains you to know that the girl you scoffed at may have just caught his attention, he kept looking her way. of course you were just assuming at this point because who wouldn’t love your very attractive best friend anyway?

johnny on the other hand knew this all too well. he smiled to himself when he saw your supposedly ignorant front until he saw your transparent jealousy. he felt flattered yet he as well couldn’t hold his frown back when other guys approached you for a small talk.

“dude, you’re frowning again.” jaehyun smirked at his friend, knowing his hidden crush on you since way back. “you know you could skip today’s practice if it’s bugging you so much.”

“it’s not bugging me..” johnny coughed, preparing for his skateboard run down the ramp.

“righttt.” jaehyun pushed the guy playfully but johnny didn’t miss jae’s expression as he pointed at you. “dude!”

shocks and squeals heard at the park when people’s attentions shifted to you, and johnny never whipped his head as fast as he did. seeing your hands covering half of your face.

it didn’t take long for him to figure that a skateboard flew straight at you and made your nose bleed. apparently there was a fight close by before you got hurt.

“y/n!” he called out, skating immediately next to you, who was sniffling in pain. “don’t put your head up. just tilt it a little.” he said, holding up your head while he checked for other injuries you might’ve had.

his heart sank when he spotted upcoming bruises on the side of your face, neck, shoulder, and arms.

you didn’t want to make a scene but you were really hurt so you hugged johnny and told him you wanted to leave. “johnny, i wanna go home.”

johnny patted your back and caressed it, “alright, alright. let’s go to the hospital first to have you checked.” he turned around to glare at the two people guilty of this. “you guys did this to my girl?”

the two guys nodded and accepted to pay for your hosptial bills.

he aided you by your side and you winced at the pain, “it’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

your heart beated quick, not because of the stressful atmosphere but of johnny’s remark. so you smirked at him, “my girl, huh?”

johnny just coughed as he got busted. “well you were firing up with jealousy when the girls were thirsting on me.”

you flinched, you got busted too. “you were watching me?” you chuckled.

“… i always have.”

[moonctzeny]

hello miss angel, pls gimme johnny + edging/orgasm denial 😩 thank you, smooches for you <3

johnny + edging/orgasm denial

here you go miss inna 💞💞 I'm returning the smooches and I hope you like this!

genre: smut

wc: 260

warnings: explicit smut, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, dirty talk

You’re not sure how long Johnny has been eating you out for. It sure felt like hours, reaching out for one orgasm after the other only for your boyfriend to rip it out from your hands right when you were ready to fall over the edge. A sadistic smile would form on his lips every time he did so, letting you squirm in protest before he dived between your legs again.

His hair is all messed up from your grip on it earlier, full lips soaked from your wetness. His blown-out pupils are staring up at you darkly.

“Stay still”, he mouths against your folds, sucking on your clit only to make your legs shake even harder. “I said, stay still.”

“I can’t”, you whimper out in response, tears welling up in your eyes from the stimulation. You’re sure you look like a mess, sweat making your hair stick on your temples and your skin glisten, yet Johnny can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

“I’ll let you do anything if you let me cum, please.”

“But you look so pretty when you beg.”

Wanting to make a point, he starts to kitten lick you then, triggering a series of pleas to leave your lips. You’re so close you can see stars bursting on your plain ceiling, and you can only hope your boyfriend mercies you this time.

“Don’t rush, baby. We have all night.”

[taelme]

treacherous

genre: regency!au (with some tweaks ofc), kind of secret romance, painter!johnny, marquess!johnny (mild angst, a lot of fluff im telling yall this was self-indulgent)  pairing/s: Johnny / Reader (ft Jaehyun and oc (reader’s sister)) word count: 26k+ (love language strikes again)  tw: brief mentions of a parent’s death, mentions of food, reader has a tense relationship with her mom? mentions of religious imagery  summary: in your search for love in a material world, you find the acquaintance of a poor painter and discover what it means to feel safe to trust, to be vulnerable, to love—and everything in between a/n: very self indulgent!! (this technically can be read as a standalone but reading enchanted before this can help with context!) was definitely zoning out during my lessons thinking about this johnny.... can yall tell im in love? may have died many times writing this ... definitely was difficult to edit because i was giggling throughout as though i wasn’t the one who wrote it. themed on treacherous but i’d love to hear if you found any other tswift song easter eggs inside!! happy reading  read on ao3

There were many rules any supposed self-respecting or ‘well-bred’ gentleman and lady had to abide by in the world you lived in—rules that ensured the protection of a culture, that shaped character, that cultivated virtue. You were very well-versed in such rules, having been fed every conduct manual your mother could get her hands on from the time you were able to read. 

You would internalise all that you’d read, taking the words seriously and living by the advice given, moulding yourself into a daughter who was perfect as and when you were judged by the book. Perhaps that was what your mother hoped, that her daughter would agree to being mothered by conduct books. 

Of course, that wasn’t quite the case. You read them, surely, but whether you lived by them was an entirely different matter. 

The first thing to note, a lady like you was expected to wait to be introduced to a gentleman, and never introduce herself.

“Would you stop fidgeting? How impossible is it for you to just sit still for a moment?” your mother clicked her tongue in distaste, her voice soft enough only for you to hear, but her tone no less cutting. 

You glanced at her blankly, shifting in your seat once again before turning your gaze back to the field before you, the crowd of people around you waiting for the races to start. Frankly, the appeal of a race for you lay in watching the horses, how gracefully and strongly they galloped, oblivious to the money being placed behind their speed. 

But you knew why you were here, it was hard for you to forget. 

“It’ll be nothing short of a miracle if anyone finds you desirable with your horrible manners to show for yourself,” she huffed, turning to your father who was sitting beside her for some sort of support, only growing more annoyed when she saw that he was otherwise unbothered by your fidgeting. 

“Spare her, she’s still new to all of this,” he murmured. 

“Her sister wasn’t like this when she first debuted,” your mother retorted, earning a sigh from your father.

Your sister, who was now away on her honeymoon with the viscount she married. As much as you were happy for her, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the support she gave you, especially during times like these where it seemed you would be caught in the crossfire of your mother and father’s disagreements. 

“Are they not both ladies? You have to stop treating her like she’s still a child,” your mother murmured harshly, making you shift in your seat uncomfortably, “the sooner you do that, the easier this whole process will be for all of us.” 

Now, you couldn’t hide behind the fact that you were young. You were out in society, expected to be looking for a marriage partner, but you still found yourself feeling intimidated by the number of people here knowing that they weren’t looking at you as anyone other than a lady to be married off. 

Thankfully enough, you spotted a familiar face (or they spotted you), your gaze landing on a family friend, a bachelor named Taeyong under the tentage next to the spectator stand. 

“I’m… going to say hello to Taeyong.” 

Your mother hadn’t acknowledged you with anything but a huff, so you took that as a greenlight to leave, straightening your posture in an attempt to make it seem as though you weren’t completely intimidated by the crowd of men you were practically walking into. 

Nodding your head at Taeyong in greeting when he met your gaze, he flashed you a smile. 

“My lady,” he bowed with extra dramatics, earning a grimace from you, “it feels oddly refreshing to be seeing you in a place like this.” 

“How so?” your eyebrows lifted, gaze flickering briefly to notice the man standing next to him, taller than Taeyong and much taller than you, giving him a small nod in acknowledgement. 

You knew it was more socially acceptable for you to focus on conversing with Taeyong and not acknowledging the man, since it would have been an obvious fact that he and Taeyong were of different social standings. The man’s dressing was that of a typical man of the working class, compared to Taeyong’s more expensive fabrics, with special tailored tailcoats and frills in his shirt. In spite of this fact, you couldn’t help your gaze from wandering over to the man even as you spoke with Taeyong, something about the way he carried himself making him seem as though he was the one of power between the two of them. 

It was a confidence and sureness that you weren’t used to seeing, different from the air with which the viscount Jung Jaehyun carried himself. For the viscount, there was always an air of tension in his slightly aloof demeanour. The man standing next to Taeyong now didn’t seem tense, instead, he possessed a calm confidence. You weren’t sure why it intimidated you more. 

“I’m more accustomed to seeing you in your home,” Taeyong huffed, “I guess this means it’s your first season?” 

You nodded, glancing again at the man next to Taeyong, who wore a curious expression on his face, observing you as you spoke with Taeyong. 

“And my last, if I'm fortunate enough,” you joked, even if you didn’t mean it. 

You glanced briefly again at the man standing next to Taeyong, averting your gaze when you met his confident stare, Taeyong’s huff of laughter distracting you just briefly. 

“I’m sure the season will be forgiving to you, you’ve always had a rather sweet disposition,” he assured you, eyebrows lifting as he shifted his body just slightly to gesture to the man next to him. 

“Oh, right. May I introduce you to a friend of mine who just moved into the town? He’s a painter, a very talented one at that. Miss Y/N this is Mr Suh. Mr Suh, this is my family friend, Miss Y/N.” 

The man gave you a polite bow, “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a polite smile. 

Your head tilted in surprise, not having expected the lilting voice to have come from a man whose presence was anything but gentle. 

Taeyong glanced between you and Mr Suh, momentarily distracted when he was approached by a man who had greeted him loudly, immediately rattling off into a discussion on the horse race. 

Almost about to leave to find your way to the lemonade, you heard the lilting voice again. 

“Who are you betting on?” he asked nonchalantly, and with the way he looked ahead as he talked, it would have seemed as though he wasn’t talking to you from the outside. You wondered whether it was intentional. 

“Me?” you asked, turning to look up at the man’s face, seeing him tear his gaze away from the horses to look at you, a soft smile gracing his features as he did. 

He nodded. 

“Am I supposed to be betting on one?” you asked in spite of everything you knew and read from the conduct manuals. You didn’t need Mr Suh to tell you to know that you weren’t supposed to be betting on anything, regardless. 

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted, taking his lower lip between his teeth before letting it go, “Well,” he began, “I suppose you shouldn’t. But the stakes are what make it more entertaining, aren’t they?” 

You scrunch your nose up in disagreement, shaking your head. 

“I would beg to differ. Sometimes things are best enjoyed without too many expectations.” 

Mr Suh hummed, clasping his hands behind his back, the stance somehow making him seem even more confident, you could almost imagine him dressed in formal wear attending one of the balls your sister spoke of the previous season. A man like him would be hard to miss in a crowd. 

“What makes you say that?”

You shrugged, your gaze flickering over the way the sunlight was shining on him through the little holes in the tent above the both of you, casting a pretty glow on where it touched his hair, his skin, his hazel eyes that held the mischief of a cheshire cat to them. 

“I suppose when you leave less room for expectation, you also leave less room for disappointment,” you hummed, watching in borderline awe as he let out a huff of laughter. 

“Not that I don’t agree with you, because trust me, I do. But humour me, pick one and we’ll see who wins,” he offered smoothly, with the same confidence that made you feel as though he were drawing you in, as if his simple proposition was enough to spark your desire for some excitement in what you otherwise assumed was going to be a boring day. 

“And if you win? What happens then?” you asked, earning a thoughtful hum from Mr Suh, lips pursing in thought as if he hadn’t already thought of what he wanted. 

Mr Suh’s lips parted, as if having reached a moment of realisation, “You’ll grant me the honour of getting you a glass of lemonade.” 

“And if I win?” 

Mr Suh grinned, “Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” 

You hummed, “Alright then. I pick number two.” 

And you watched, as the race began, as Mr Suh watched with a serious gaze as the horse you chose had run neck in neck with his, the way number two had begun to pick up speed halfway and you knew you would prevail as the winner by a landslide. Funnily enough, Mr Suh didn’t feel the slightest bit bitter about losing, curious as to what you had in mind for your reward. 

It was amusing to you, to see the way the many people standing in the tent had either gushed out yells of excitement or frustration as the race ended, Mr Suh’s expression looking still as calm and confident as he turned to face you. 

“Have you decided what you wanted?” he asked, “I’ll still get you a glass of lemonade, since it’s a hot day after all.” 

You followed next to him as he walked towards where the staff were serving refreshments, paying for a single glass of lemonade and handing it to you, an expectant look on his face as he awaited your reply. 

“You said you were a painter, is that correct?” you began, earning a tilt of the head from him, wondering where you were going with this. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Could I pay a visit to your studio one day? You know, to see some of your paintings?” 

If Mr Suh was surprised at your request (he was), he hadn’t shown it, simply looking at you with the same curiosity in his gaze, giving you a nod. 

“You’re more than welcome to come by. I’m located near the flower shop by the market, the old space that used to belong to the… the wine merchant,” he told you, and with how much you frequented the market, you instantly knew the space he was referring to, already mapping out a route in your head that would allow you to visit his studio after you ran your errands on Monday. 

Somehow, you couldn’t get used to the way he held your gaze, something about it making you feel as though you were frozen in your spot, unable to look elsewhere yet feeling as though you were too shy to return the same attention to him. 

“I’d better be going now, wouldn’t want to worry my mother,” you fumbled out an excuse in your flustered state, giving him a nod before you’d left promptly, sipping on your lemonade in an attempt to cool the warmth in your face and neck. 

===

Another thing worth noting, is that a lady like you is often placed in a very delicate situation. You may be distinguished by a kind of calculated attention to gain your affections, while it is impossible to know whether this attention will end in a serious declaration. 

You didn’t manage to visit him once the week started, busy with your own errands that occupied your first few days of the week. 

The next time you saw Mr Suh, it almost seemed like you were being guided towards each other. It was an odd moment on that Wednesday morning, something compelling you to look up from the yellow sunflowers you were talking to the old woman running the store about, turning your head to the right even though you weren’t quite looking for anything, your gaze coming to land on the man that you were almost hoping you would chance upon while in the area. 

Seeing the way his eyebrows lifted in recognition, you gave him a small nod to signal that you were acquainted with him, a smile gracing his features as he stood before you. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he remarked, earning a strangely shy smile from you, surprising yourself at the way you reacted towards him. 

You hummed, “I’m here often, actually,” you admitted, your gaze flickering briefly to the sunflowers you were looking at before, your finger touching one of the soft petals absently. 

“Is that so? Do you like flowers?” 

You shrugged, “... the simple answer would be yes.” 

Mr Suh surprised you with the way he’d gasped lightly, eyes widening with a hint of exaggerated dramatics, his hands in his pockets as he leaned over slightly, “Well, now that you’ve said it like that, you’ve gotten me curious about what the complex answer would be.” 

You weren’t sure what came over you, or what was compelling you to go against your mother’s wishes of not entertaining men who weren’t those you danced with at balls. 

Perhaps it was the way he conversed with you so smoothly, or the confident way he held himself, or even the way it seemed as though there was something inexplicable drawing you in through his gaze, telling you there was more to him than he was letting on. As if it would only  continue to nag at your curiosity if you didn’t explore it. 

“It is an answer I would easily offer to you if we were in a more conducive space,” you huffed in amusement, gesturing around to the various other market stalls, the grocers and the merchants yelling and ringing their bells as they bartered off their products. 

Mr Suh felt it too, the strangest feeling in his gut that made him feel as though he were being prompted to get to know you more. As he looked at you now, in the silence of the flower shop with the old woman giving him a knowing look, he couldn’t deny that he was curious about your intentions, about what you could possibly be thinking by being so willing to acquaint yourself with a poor painter like him. It was oddly refreshing, and he could safely say you were the first lady to still treat him with such attention and respect after coming to know his social standing. 

“Would you like to claim your reward now, then? I was just about to head back to my studio, we could have some tea before you head back?” 

You frowned, knowing very well that as much as you would like that, you couldn’t very well do that now. 

At the sight of your frown, Mr Suh sucked in a sharp breath, “Poor timing?” 

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you nodded, “Unfortunately. I have to be at the church, I was supposed to get the new flower arrangements done for the altar and all…” 

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted, nodding in understanding, it seemed there was even more he was curious about you now. 

“Will you be playing the organ for the mass today too, dear?” the old woman asked, earning a hum from Mr Suh when you gave an affirmative nod. 

“You know how to play?” he asked, earning an insistent hum from the old woman. 

“ Very well , in fact,” she told him, and somehow you felt a strange sense of bashfulness under the praise of the old woman, though it wasn’t as if you were a stranger to hearing it from her. 

Somehow, the fact that you were in the presence of Mr Suh as you heard it reminded you of the feeling you got when you were younger and your parents were entertaining guests, insisting that you play a piece for them. The feeling of all their eyes on you that filled you with the want to run off into your room, the only time you’d relaxed slightly was when you would centre your focus on the piano, the music being the distraction from their gazes on you. 

The way Mr Suh looked at you, his curious gaze, somehow filled you with this sort of almost-panic, a panic that came with being so focused on, a sudden feeling of being exposed. 

You didn’t have to worry about this with your family, knowing they were all focused on their own worries to pay such delicate attention to your affairs. Mr Suh, however, his gaze was intense, though it did not seem to possess the same intention to nit-pick like your mother, or the insistence of your father’s, or distraction of your sister’s. His could only be described as unadulterated curiosity . 

“I’d love to hear it one day,” his lips curled into a small smile, “perhaps you could grant me the honour of hearing you play while I complete a commission at my studio.” 

You huffed. Somehow the prospect of being able to be involved in the creation of art in such a way enticed you, and it left you feeling excited for the day to come. 

“I would like that,” you told him, turning to the old woman and giving her a small nod to signal that you would like to take the flowers you ordered now. 

“Would you like to take the ones for home now?” she asked, earning a shake of the head from you. 

“No, thank you. I’ll come by later to collect those,” you told her with a smile, turning to Mr Suh and giving a small bow. 

“I should be heading off now.” 

Mr Suh huffed in amusement, “That sounds familiar,” there was a hint of mischief in his tone that made your lips part, a small scoff leaving you. 

“Are you teasing me?” you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped you, earning a smile from him. 

“I mean no menace,” he continued, shaking his head, “I should be off as well…” 

He let out a small sigh, the soft smile lingering on his features, “It was nice to see you here.” 

You huffed, wanting to say more, but settling for a simple nod. 

“When would be a good time for me to come by?” you decided to ask, earning a shrug from him. 

“Whenever it suits you, I’m usually in the studio by the afternoon,” he spoke, earning a tilt of the head from you, prompting him to continue, “okay, how does Friday afternoon sound?” 

You nodded, “Perfect.” 

Bidding him goodbye, your breath hitched at the way his tone had lilted with the same calm confidence as he addressed you, your brain replayed the way he’d addressed you, wondering how his voice could make your name (something you figured you would have been so used to after all your years of living), sound as though it were being spoken to you for the first time. 

You turned and left before you could tempt yourself to stay longer and forget about the flowers in your arms waiting to be displayed, though even the sunflowers seemed to twirl around to face him. 

The giddiness fluttering within you remained as you sat by the stone bench preparing the flowers, the sound of the gentle flowing water of the fountain you were sitting beside somehow reminding you to still your heart, lest you get too carried away with the excitement you felt from your interactions with Mr Suh. 

As you fixed the placement of one of the sunflowers, you let your gaze wander to the elderly woman who was a few benches away from you shaded underneath a large tree, looking at the arrangement of flowers you’d placed at the foot of one of the statues.

Observing her expression as she gazed at the flowers, you wondered what she was thinking about, what she was here for, perhaps even what she was praying for. You knew you weren’t a stranger to it even as you observed her, you had been here many times; out of desperation, out of boredom, out of joy, out of hopelessness. 

You liked the freedom that came with being here, how you could essentially stay undisturbed due to the unspoken understanding that those who came here sought out that same solace and peace you did.

It was more of an escape at first, from the confines of your house and the myriad of books waiting to be read and re-read again. You weren’t sure when it started becoming a place you wished to return to willingly, like an escape you sought out because it became less of an escape and more of a shelter. 

There was vulnerability and protection you found in being alone, in the thought that even if no one was being attentive to you, maybe a higher power was. This thought always pulled you into deeper reflection, it made you struggle with how comfortable and uncomfortable you were in this vulnerability. How perhaps you were comfortable with it because it wasn’t exactly tangible, yet how uncomfortable you felt with it because you knew that this desire for vulnerability, to be seen, known and loved in such a way was something that resonated deep within your soul, and perhaps it was never tangible to begin with. 

Done with the main arrangement meant to be the centrepiece at the altar, you got up, dusting off your dress. Picking up the basket, you made your way down the aisle of the church till you were at the altar, placing the basket delicately onto the marbled floor before something compelled you to take a seat there on the floor of the aisle, looking up at nothing in particular. 

“Do you recognise the painting?” 

You turned your head in the direction of the sound, seeing the priest walking over to you from your left, earning a hum of confusion from you. 

Gesturing above you to the direction you were staring in previously, he gave you a small smile, “You were staring at it, were you not?” 

Turning your head to fix your gaze on the painting, you saw that it was a painting of a raging sea, a boat in the background with many people on it, but a man, and another who you assumed was the Lord on the water, the man looking desperate as he clung on to his saviour. Yet somehow, the way his saviour held him, you could sense the safety, the security present in his hold. 

“Do you recall? That man, Peter, walked out onto the water when the Lord called him.” 

You frowned, nothing about it made any logical sense, to put yourself in such a position of vulnerability, subject to drowning, subject to the harsh currents of the waves willingly . 

“Why did he do that?” was all you could ask, reminded again of this vulnerability, and whether as you looked at this painting, you could see how there was protection in this vulnerability like you had felt before. 

The priest could only huff in amusement, a deep sigh leaving him. 

“Would you like the simple answer?” he asked, earning a sheepish smile from you. 

“Would it be wrong of me to say yes?” 

Shaking his head, the priest turned his gaze back to the painting, “Love.” 

He did it for love?  

Perhaps the answer you wanted really wasn’t for something tangible to begin with, you figured, because you felt his words resonate in your heart. 

How willing were you to be vulnerable? And what were you willing to be vulnerable for? 

“That sounds more like the complex answer,” you huffed, your hands fiddling with the fabric of your dress, picking off leaves that had stuck onto your dress while you made the flower arrangements.

Your words had only earned a laugh from the priest, the elderly man giving you a shrug. 

“I suppose simple doesn’t mean simplistic.” 

Sighing, you nodded, knowing you would be left pondering his words for the next God knows how long . And it was true, even as you played the organ for the mass that day, as you left the church grounds to make your way back to the flower market.

Even as you were greeted by a bouquet of hibiscus flowers the old woman said Mr Suh had left for you, the thought continued to stir your heart. His simple bouquet, which sparked a far-from-simplistic longing in your heart. 

Were you willing to be vulnerable for something like love? 

Perhaps only time would tell. 

=== 

The third rule, a lady like you was not to engage in any activity that could give rise to gossip. A young, unmarried lady like you was never to be alone in the company of a gentleman outside of family and close family friends. Other than during a walk to church or to a park in the morning, a lady like you was not to even so much as walk outside without an appropriate companion.  

“Where are you off to so early, Miss?” Your lady’s maid had asked in a hushed whisper, passing you the little biscuits you asked for her to help you retrieve from the kitchen without your mother noticing. 

“To church,” you smiled, earning a surprised hum from her. 

“I suppose this is the message you would like for me to relay if anyone were to ask for your whereabouts?” her tone was knowing, a hint of a smile playing at her lips as she handed you the makeshift bag she made using the cloth used to wrap your biscuits. 

You smiled, nodding at her as you let out an exaggerated wistful sigh, “I cannot express how thankful I am to have you here. You’re an absolute breath of fresh air in this house.” 

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head at you, glancing around the kitchen before lowering her voice to a mere murmur, “Will you be back late?” 

You shook your head.

“I’ll be back in time for tea, I’m going to visit a painter.” 

She gasped, a deadpan tone to her joking as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, “Need I get the chemicals ready to soak your dress when you return?” 

You rolled your eyes in good-nature, a giggle leaving you in your embarrassment. 

“I won’t make a mess of myself this time, I promise,” touching her arm, you told her with as serious a look as you could muster, earning a deep sigh from her. 

You supposed it was warranted, she’d known you since you were a baby, it was only right that she’d grown accustomed to your rather clumsy nature. 

“I’d rather you not make promises you can’t keep, Miss.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise ,” you grinned, fighting your laughter as you saw her expression dripping with scepticism. 

“I do miss your sister dearly, she was never one to keep me on my toes like you do. I’m always fighting for breath these days when I talk to the madam,” she let out a wistful sigh.  

You huffed, already beginning to walk out of the kitchen, “Don’t miss me too much when I’m gone,” you waved, practically brisk walking out of your house and beginning on the route you had planned in your head since the day of the races. 

Saying you were going to church wasn’t a complete lie. And it was important to note this, because you weren’t a very good liar to begin with, so details like these helped. 

Walking into the church grounds, you’d initially planned on just walking through it as a shortcut to the market, but you couldn’t deny the little anxiousness within your heart that came with your excitement. Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting from your meeting with Mr Suh later, though you knew there was a need to maintain a level of secrecy about it.

Perhaps it was the guilt from this secrecy that compelled you to make a little detour, sitting on the same bench you saw the elderly woman sitting at the other day. 

Only when you were sitting in the same position as she was, you realised how different it felt to be sitting right in front of the little grotto. It felt much more like you were up-front instead of still having the pseudo-security of being a little further from the little altar. 

Somehow, you found yourself listing out in your head the various things you’d planned on doing today, imagining (and perhaps hoping as well) that while you went about these things, this higher power would be watching over you, protecting you as you went about your day. The thought served to comfort you, and you found yourself feeling a little less nervous about seeing Mr Suh. 

You wouldn’t have known that Mr Suh was equally if not more nervous than you were, finding himself agonising over which flowers he wished to gift you when you were to arrive. 

The way the old woman mending the store was looking at him wasn’t helping much either, with her knowing looks and watchful gaze as she observed the flowers he leaned towards. 

“Are you planning on getting them for Miss Y/N?” the woman finally asked after she seemed to have enough of his indecision.

Mr Suh nodded, “I was wondering if you could advise me on the meanings of the flowers?” he asked, earning a smile from the woman. 

“My dear, there are far too many flowers here for me to advise you on all of them now. Perhaps you could tell me what you wish to convey, and I could help you pick the right flowers accordingly?” 

Mr Suh hummed thoughtfully. He didn’t want something too forward, or something that would make you wonder what the special occasion was. At this point, all that was coming to mind was the image of your smile that he wished to have the honour of witnessing again. She does have a lovely smile. 

“Yellow tulips, then!” the woman offered gleefully, making Mr Suh’s eyes widen. He was glad Jaehyun wasn’t here, he didn’t think he would be able to recover from his slip-up so easily if that was the case. 

And so yellow tulips were what you were greeted with when you’d arrived at the studio, barely shutting the door behind you before you were greeted by the bright yellow that you found eliciting a smile from you without even noticing. 

“Are these for me?” you asked, the nod he gave you making you stretch your fingers in your gloves before you accepted the flowers from him, noticing the lack of gloves on his hands. 

“They couldn’t possibly be for me, I don’t think my smile is worthy of being compared to sunshine.” 

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, feeling warmth travel to your face and neck as you averted your gaze. 

“I’m… flattered to know you think mine is.” 

That seemed to elicit a smile from him, rivalling his words from before with the way he was beaming at you, a little giggle leaving him.

“You can set them aside here in the meantime, I was just in the middle of working on a small piece,” he told you, taking the flowers from you to set them in a makeshift vase. A little cup with dried paint on its mouth and exterior filled with clear water. 

“What of?” you glanced at the canvas on the easel in front of a tall stool, not being able to distinguish the markings on the canvas, seeming to be in its early stages of creation. 

Waiting for his reply, you took the opportunity to look around the studio. It was cleaner than you expected it to be, with how it was left unoccupied by the previous landlord for as long as you could remember. 

You noticed the carpets over various parts of the floor, the patterns resembling the ones you had at home. There were various tables around the room, used more for temporary storage than for display, housing various sketches on loose pieces of paper and card. Even so, the sketches were of various landscapes and nature. 

There were no statues here, contrary to what you expected, mainly bowls of fruits and flowers that you assumed were for still-life paintings or sketches. It wasn’t furnished anything like you imagined a typical painter’s studio to look like. You’d expected more statues of human figures, more artwork of people or portraits. The most life you detected in the room other than him and the bowls of fruits and flowers was the piano sitting at the side of the room. 

He stood in front of a tall easel that rested on a large cloth over the carpet to catch any mess that could ruin the rug. Next to the easel, there was a small table with his palette, and a little glass jar he used for water, a set of what you identified as watercolours next to the jar. 

“Your expression is making me curious. Penny for your thoughts?” 

You hummed, shaking your head when you decided against voicing out your thoughts. You wouldn’t want to risk offending him. 

Mr Suh seemed undeterred, simply tilting his head at you curiously, “What seems to be stopping you from telling me?” 

Daring yourself to glance at him in surprise at his forwardness, you shook your head, “No, no, I just… I don't want to speak out of turn.” 

Expecting him to simply nod and move on to another topic, you were even more surprised when he huffed in amusement, dismissing your worries with his gentle gaze. 

“I can assure you, I won’t expect you to bear the consequences for my feelings.”

Walking over to the tall easel where he stood, you pressed your lips together and mustered whatever courage you had to be honest with your thoughts. Something about his reassurance told you it was safe to allow yourself that much in this space. 

“I was just thinking that… your studio doesn’t look like what I expected it to look like,” you began, earning a nod from him, prompting you to continue, “I expected… more… you know, life .” 

Mr Suh’s expression remained calm and confident as always, as if he’d expected you to have pointed it out at one point. 

“I understand why you may think that,” he huffed with a smile. 

“Was it intentional?” you asked, “the focus on landscapes?” 

He nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, the attentiveness he offered to you once again feeling foreign, yet somehow reassuring. 

“I don’t do portraits. And I know it sounds foolish, considering they make more money than paintings of nature and whatnot. But it’s somewhat of a… personal philosophy , I suppose.”

Sensing your confusion, he huffed in amusement, continuing, “I find there is much more life to be found in nature that we overlook. When we’re not so concerned with… you know,” you met his gaze again, the same captivating feeling rendering your attention only fixed on him, “material things.” 

You nodded, his words striking a chord with you, remembering the many conversations you had with your sister on your worries about your debut, about whether you would be accomplished enough, presentable enough, respectable enough. When the desire, that intangible desire that resonated within you remained; the want to be seen, known and loved for your soul, unaffected by money or status. 

“It’s hard to be unconcerned with that in this society,” you huffed, earning a nod from him. 

“I suppose a lady like you has no choice but to be concerned about it,” he murmured, earning a sigh from you. 

“I wish I didn’t have to be.” 

Mr Suh gave you a soft smile, “At least… you don’t have to be while you’re here.” 

You hadn’t noticed you were smiling, something about his words making a wave of relief wash over you. Like a breath of fresh air, to hear that he wasn’t expecting you to be your mother’s daughter while you were here. The little invitation behind his words was enough to make you want to laugh. You were almost wondering why you’d felt so nervous to come here just a while ago. 

Making your way to the piano, you took a seat in front of it, still failing to stifle your smile, turning to him with a nod. 

“I… I’m afraid I like that offer a little too much.” 

And so that was what the studio became for you, a place where you were free to be alone yet share in the company of another, to allow for the creation of art within the space that you came to realise held more life than you initially thought. 

There was life found in the sound of the music that filled the walls, life found in the way Mr Suh’s brush would dance over the canvas, bringing colours alive with his fluid movements, life found in the little sparks of excitement and understanding when you would glance over at each other ever so often. 

“I like that piece the most,” Mr Suh told you as you were preparing to leave, holding out the last honey biscuit to him for him to take. Pinching it between his fingers, he popped it into his mouth. 

“You do?” 

He nodded, swallowing the last of the biscuit in his mouth as he smiled, “It happens to be my favourite.” 

Something about that knowledge made you see the piece in a different light, not having expected him to choose that of all the ones you played that day. 

Something about it was almost ironic, the meaning of the piece being to cast away earthly pleasures for a greater, spiritual love. It made you think about whether the intangible desire in your heart resonated in his as well. 

Unfortunately, that little moment was cut short when Mr Suh had taken out a small pouch that jingled in an all-too-familiar way, reminding you of your father’s study. 

“What’s this?” he set the pouch in your free hands, taking the empty cloth used to hold your honey biscuits and folding it neatly for you. 

Mr Suh hummed, “Take it as… pin money. I wouldn’t have been able to complete those paintings without the beautiful music you played.” 

Before you could refuse, he shook his head, “I insist, really. If you won’t accept it for the music, accept it for the biscuits.” 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you huffed, taking the now neatly folded cloth back from him. 

“You’re not going to take it back regardless, aren’t you?” 

The grin he sent your way was enough to make your knees feel weak. 

“You’re a quick learner, Miss Y/N,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.  

Again, the feeling akin to a gentle brushstroke on canvas, unassuming, yet permanent with the way the colour stood out against the white. 

“Will I be seeing you again soon?” he dared to ask, and you found yourself almost breathless as you searched for an appropriate reply. 

“Do you wish to?” 

Mr Suh wasn’t sure what came over him either. It was akin to an inner knowing, a gut feeling, an unmistakable intuitive feeling that told him not to fight the fact that he was drawn to you, the fact that he wanted to know you more. So, he decided not to fight it, as risky as the decision felt to him. 

“I do, if you are consenting.”  

You huffed, amusement in the way the smile played at your lips, nodding at him. “Then you will see me again tomorrow.” 

It became an unspoken agreement of sorts, for you to visit him in the mornings until it was time for you to return home for tea, blaming your happiness or giddiness on a particularly blessed time of prayer, or the time you took to get back home on the time you would ‘stay back’ in the church grounds on your own. 

Though your father didn’t mind, always having excused you whenever it came to matters of religion, your mother didn’t like it. She wouldn’t hesitate to express how she felt it wasn’t necessary for you to be devoting so much of your time to going to church when you had better things to do, like brushing up on your piano playing, refining your needlework skills or reading and internalising more conduct books. 

They wouldn’t know that the real reason behind your departure from home lay behind the (now many) flowers pressed between the pages of your many conduct books. Each one attached to a special memory of Mr Suh’s bouquets he gifted to you during your visits, the arrangements handpicked by him and unlike any you’d seen or made before. 

Though it was no secret that Mr Suh enjoyed your company and conversation, there was always a little nagging in his head that would return every now and then. It was as if its purpose was to remind him of who you were in society. It would return whenever he heard gossip in the market the morning after a ball, or chatter from bachelors in a local bar. It served as a  reminder that no matter how close the both of you were getting, you were still a lady, who could be subject to such gossip and chatter if you weren’t careful. 

“You’re risking your virtue each time you come out here to see me, you are aware of that right?" He spoke, while you were engrossed in sifting through his various sketches, finding ones to display on the walls of his studio. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, holding up a sketch of a tall, sturdy-looking tree planted by the water.

"And what is virtue to you, the man who keeps inviting me here?" you hummed.

Mr Suh narrowed his eyes at you, albeit amused at your witty reply. 

"I meant without a chaperone."

You sighed, almost instinctively assuming the disposition you would when you were being nagged by your mother. 

“I think it’s a little belated for you to be telling me this,” you muttered, still distracted by his sketches, your hands reaching up over your head to see what it would look like higher up on the wall. 

“Miss Y/N,” his tone was firmer than usual, insistent for you to pay attention. 

“Hmm? How do you think this would look up here?” you thought out loud, not having noticed him getting up from his stool to walk over to you, his hand reaching out to pin the paper you were holding against the wall with apparent ease, making you come down from your tip-toes. 

Turning around, you were shocked at how close he was, your eyes widening and taking a step back. 

“Are you listening?” 

In your surprise, you sputtered out whatever made sense to you in your head. 

“Right, yes. Chaperoning.” 

This had only managed to earn a quirked eyebrow from Mr Suh, “Yes… chaperoning …” 

“You understand the need for it, don’t you?” he continued, insistence in his tone. 

You huffed, “Don’t you think we’re past that by now? My parents are too caught up with whatever their latest worry is. If anything, they're relieved I'm finding something to occupy myself with. I’d only be a nuisance if I remained at home.” 

Mr Suh relaxed his arm, grasping the sketch in his hand as he lowered his arm to his side. 

“You’re avoiding the point. How can you be so sure that you trust me?” His eyebrows furrowed, seeming as if he were in disbelief that it was possible. You didn’t understand that. 

You shook your head. 

“I’m not,” you met his gaze, his eyes that shone a beautiful hazel in the sunlit space of his studio, “that is up to you to show me who you are, and up to me to be discerning about it.” 

His gaze softened, making you feel prompted to continue. 

“I am very aware of my stand in society, if that is what you are asking. But didn’t we agree? That this would be a place where that doesn’t matter?”

Mr Suh’s expression was pensive, his lips pressed into a firm line as he searched your gaze for something unknown to him, “Forgive me, I am simply concerned for you. It would do you no good to be seen with a man like me.” 

You sighed, ducking down to take the sketch from his hand and glancing at it, the sketch of the tree planted beside the water. 

You let out a huff of amusement, “Be kinder to yourself, Mr Suh. I’m not being forced to be here. Your company has been more enjoyable than any man I have come across.”

Sensing he was taken aback by your words, you decided to change the subject. 

“You have many sketches of places I have never seen before. Were they all places you’ve visited?” you asked, using a simple glue to attach just the top of the sketch to the wall, not wanting to ruin it if you decided you wanted to take it down. 

Mr Suh cleared his throat, “Yes, they were all from my travels, or some of the places I remember visiting.” 

Humming, you picked up the other sketch you planned on displaying as well, amusing Mr Suh  (and perhaps making his heart flutter) with how seriously you regarded his sketches, even if most of them were done on a whim. 

“They seem like lovely places. What made you come here, then? I wouldn’t say this area is as lovely as what I've been seeing in your sketches.” 

Huffing, Mr Suh’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips, a relaxed nature in the way he watched you go about your movements, “My father passed. This was uh… his birthplace.” 

At that, you turned to face him, tilting your head at him as your gaze softened.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Letting out a huff of laughter that bordered on bitterness, he shook his head in dismissal, “There’s no need to be sorry. We were not that close.” 

Frowning, you let out a small sound of disagreement. 

“It’s not a crime, you know? There’s no rule that says you aren’t allowed to grieve simply because you weren’t close to him.” 

Mr Suh felt a little wave of comfort reach him at your words, comfort that he didn’t realise he needed until the words left your lips and graced his ears. It left him feeling strangely grateful. Not just for your words, but for your heart which allowed you to feel so sensitively for others. 

“Thank you,” was all he could muster, earning a soft smile from you. 

“What was your relationship like? You know, to your father?” you dared yourself to ask, sensing that it would do him some good to talk about it. 

“He was strict with me when I was growing up… actually, he was a rather quiet man, a contrast to my personality. I always found I was more similar to my mother, more… expressive,” there was a gentle smile on his features at the mention of his mother, something about it making you want to hear more. 

“I was more comfortable talking to my mother, and naturally she was more involved in my activities and whatnot while I was growing up… it’s a bit strange now that I think of it. Even while she called me her own little nicknames and terms of endearment, it felt more comfortable for me to hear that as opposed to my own name, only my father called me that. But even though that was the case, it still felt awkward hearing it from him.” 

You nodded, your attentiveness prompting him to continue. 

“I don’t regret it, though. It wasn’t as though we had a bad relationship, it just felt… a bit more formal, less playful than the one I had with my mother.” 

“That’s what matters, I suppose, that you have no regrets,” you shrugged. 

Mr Suh nodded, “That’s what I thought, as well. My duty now is just to… carry on, I suppose.” 

You nodded. 

“Awfully wise of you,” you quipped, earning a smile from him. 

“Of course, I thought you would’ve known that about me by now,” he teased, earning an eye roll from you, though there was no menace behind the gesture. 

You huffed, “I can only imagine what you were like as a child,” you murmured, your imagination getting the better of you. 

The look on his face made it seem as though he were recalling his childhood, huffing a small laugh as he shook his head, “I don’t think I’ve changed much, to be honest.” 

The honesty of your next words surprised you.

“You must’ve been the loveliest little boy, then. I’m sure of it.” 

The smile you received in return was new, tinted with bashfulness unlike the usual calm and confident exterior you were used to seeing. He averted his gaze, poorly stifling his smile before looking back at you and shaking his head. 

“You’ve got a dangerous way with words, Miss Y/N,” he sighed, though his smile lingered on his features. 

“Of course, I thought you would’ve known that about me by now,” you recalled his words, using them to tease him in the same lilting way that he did, though he was sure the effect you had on him was much worse, his laughter bubbling out of him without restraint, his hand reaching out to grab the table next to him in a poor attempt to steady himself. 

You were growing to like it, this honesty that was growing in how the both of you were showing up to each other. Honesty that wasn’t hidden behind etiquette rules or social ‘do’s and ‘don’t’s. What you and him were experiencing with each other felt authentic, unfiltered. 

Sure it may have been frowned upon, it may have been deemed risky or dangerous, but in moments like these where all you could focus on was his smile and the way it warmed your heart. Conduct books be damned, looking at him now, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

=== 

Another important thing for a lady like you to note, is that whatever your views are in marrying, you should take every possible precaution to prevent their being disappointed.

“How was yesterday’s ball?” 

You grimaced, your playing slowing down, the melody taking a more melancholic turn,  “I’d rather not talk about that.” 

“Was it that terrible?” he laughed, busy with sorting aside his tools and paints. Today was more of an ‘inventory day’, it seemed. 

You groaned, stopping your playing altogether, “Perhaps it would’ve been more bearable if you were there. Then at least I wouldn’t have to torture myself listening to countless men tell me how much they preferred a demure, quiet young lady with better birthing hips than I had.” 

Mr Suh didn’t bother trying to hide his amusement, letting his laughter bubble out freely as you tried to make your glare firm, though the more he laughed, the more it helped you find some sort of amusement in the memory. 

“I think your hips are fine,” he spoke, though the moment the words left him you could see him press his lips together firmly, a laugh threatening to spill out.

Scoffing, you couldn’t help but laugh as well, “My sister would perish if she heard you say that.” 

“Perish because I’m right? Though, I’m not so sure I could say the same about you being demure or quiet, unfortunately,” he told you knowingly, making you scoff. 

“I’d like to argue with you, but even I can’t argue with that,” you sighed, turning your body on the cushioned seat and closing the lid of the piano so you could lean against it. 

“Has there really been nobody trying to… court you?” he asked, more out of curiosity than out of an actual want for you to say that there has been. God knows he didn’t want that. 

You sighed, bringing one arm up to rest against the top of the piano, using your gloved hand to support your head as you looked at him busying himself with sorting out what he could keep and what needed to be disposed of. 

“It’s… difficult to explain. I know eligibility is one thing, background, status, wealth, the lot ,” you huffed, gesturing with your free hand as you spoke, something you were sure your mother would’ve chided you for if she was here, “but it's awfully difficult to grow attached to any of these men… they seem to have an image of me in their minds that they aren’t willing to compromise.” 

Mr Suh looked up from his paint, sensing your frustration that you were struggling to keep hidden, deciding to sit on the stool and show that he was listening, his hands finding their way to his pockets once again. 

“It’s as though I’m not allowed to be anyone else other than the perfect wife they’ve conjured up in their heads… how can you expect me to want that? To… to want to feel lonely in a conversation? To want to just constantly feel underestimated and misinterpreted . When I think of marriage, of a life with someone…” you glanced at him, averting your gaze to the floor, “I think of offering them my heart, but I don’t think of doing that to be met with money and a loveless house in return.”

You turned your head, adjusting it so you could support your head more comfortably, holding Mr Suh’s gaze as he looked at you, an understanding shared in his silence that you never appreciated more. 

You knew that within this unspoken understanding, you had to acknowledge that things were different here from how they were at the ball. Now, as you were in this space, under his gaze, you weren’t underestimated, you weren’t being ‘sheltered’ from anything deemed too much for you. Mr Suh let you be yourself here, receiving you graciously as you were, and you were starting to truly appreciate that. 

“The marriage market is truly lonelier than it seems,” he sighed. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Nothing, just… from what you tell me. Am I mistaken?” 

You huff, shaking your head, “Definitely not. I’d be better off having more stimulating conversations with a priest than any of the men I spoke to last night.” 

Mr Suh couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him at the image you put in his head, “A priest? Not even me?” 

You rolled your eyes, “That goes without saying, it’s obvious I much prefer talking to you.” 

Mr Suh couldn’t help the way his heart felt like it slowed at your words, the way it felt like he was finally taking a deep breath after a while of not breathing. It was refreshing, seeing someone so honest and unashamed of their feelings and thoughts like you were. He found he had come to like that about you. Very much. 

“Speaking of priests, do you really go to church in the mornings? Or is that just limited to an excuse you use to sneak off here,” he gave you a teasing smile, making you huff, shaking your head at him. 

“I do, sometimes.” 

“For the flower arrangements?” he asked, recalling the time you had met at the flower market. 

Shaking your head, “Not just for that. But that wasn’t how it started.” 

Mr Suh hummed, his eyebrows lifting as he prompted you to continue. 

“It’s… well, it sounds a little funny but I used to wander around the neighbourhood as an excuse to leave the house… My parents never really noticed because they were busy with my sister’s debut and family business affairs at the time, but my father would always excuse me if I said it was to visit the church,” you huffed, “I liked it, actually. There was something so… peaceful, about the church grounds.” 

“I suppose it didn’t feel like I was just wandering around whenever I went there, because I could see all sorts of things and people… people in their desperation, their hope, in their vulnerability… somewhat like I was when I was watching them,” you averted your gaze to the vase of white lilies that sat on top of the little round table he had near him, reminding you of your sister, “there was a period around last year, if I recall correctly. My sister was going through a difficult time, and I was worried sick about her… my role in the family was always to just occupy myself with my own whims and fancies, to be kept out of the loop because they were afraid I couldn’t handle the truth of things. But I knew what was happening.” 

Mr Suh nodded, “Did something happen to her?” 

You nodded, “The family was at risk of being in debt because of a man my mother was trying to marry her off to while she was in love with someone else, who we weren’t sure was ever going to return to town. Honestly, the situation didn’t seem very hopeful at the time, and I had to just keep pretending I didn’t know what was happening when I was in front of my parents.” 

“It was scary, to see how she almost married into a lie.” 

Glancing at Mr Suh, you were surprised to find his gaze still on you, attentive, patient, reassuring. You shifted in your seat, your hands in your lap as you fiddled with your fingers and your gloves. 

“It grew difficult, obviously, to be always finding ways to feel useful and overcompensating at home because I felt so helpless, so I would go off to the church as a sort of escape, you know? A place where I didn’t have to be ‘doing’, a place where I could just… feel what I was feeling.” 

Humming, Mr Suh nodded, “It was safe there,” he commented, earning a nod from you. 

“I suppose my loitering grew obvious,” you huffed in amusement, “because one day the priest just came up to me and asked me if I was alright, you know, if there was anything I needed.” 

“So, I told him how I was feeling—again, I’m not very sure what compelled me to do that, but it felt natural, I suppose, since I felt safe there—and I asked him what a person in my position could do. And he told me something really interesting… he said faith is nothing without trust, and … at the heart of trust is to be vulnerable. That was all I could do, to let myself be vulnerable and trust that what I was doing for my sister was enough, even if I didn’t feel like it was.” 

Mr Suh nodded, your words seeming to resonate with him again, the similar desires within your hearts to be vulnerable and be protected and loved in this vulnerability that came with baring your heart and soul to another. 

“I suppose that was how it started, because it made me realise that I wanted that. I was busy telling myself that I couldn’t because I would feel helpless, but I wanted to allow myself to be who I was, to feel all that I felt and be seen in all of that, and to know what it is like to be loved for that, to be supported in that. But… I suppose that is the dilemma I have found myself in,” you laughed, “searching for all of that in a place as ruthless as the marriage market when I couldn’t even seem to find it from my own parents.” 

The questions continued to circle in your head as you looked at Mr Suh, wondering what he was thinking after hearing your tiring monologue. Your mother always told you you had far too many words, no man would be bothered to listen to you. But for some reason, you hoped that if anyone were to, Mr Suh would. 

“Miss Y/N,” he began, the gentleness to his tone paralysing you again, as if grasping you by the shoulders and forcing you to look at him, “I cannot promise you much… but you make me want to promise you all that I have. Even if it is this modest space, I want to promise you that it is safe for you.”

Somehow, that was enough for you.   

A warmth had flooded you, sending warmth to your eyes, a lump forming in your throat that made you feel as though you were dipping your fingers into the depths of this vulnerability you were entering with him. 

You gave him a soft smile, your unspoken expression that it was enough.  

Somehow, that was enough for him. 

Straightening up in your seat, you let out a deep sigh, “But you are right, I can think of far much more excitement to be found elsewhere than debutante balls.” 

Mr Suh quirked an eyebrow at you, not minding the fact that you changed the subject so abruptly judging from the amusement in his smirk, “Is that so? Enlighten me.” 

“Perhaps I shall write a scandal sheet!” you exclaimed, even if you didn’t mean it. 

Always quick to bounce off of your words, Mr Suh scoffed, “You don’t need an excuse to write about me.” 

Not being able to help the laugh that bubbled out of you, you gasped, “How did you know? I already had an article prepared: ‘ Local painter is too flirtatious for his own good’ .” 

Mr Suh laughed, getting up from his stool to make his way over to the little table sat against the wall, your curiosity getting the better of you as you made your way over to where he was, peering over curiously at the various bottles of things he had on the table. 

“What are these for?” 

Pointing at the little bottles he had, labelled in a scrawl you weren’t focused enough to decipher, he spoke, “These are bottles of pigments. I don’t have an assistant or an apprentice or anything like that, so I usually like to make my oil paints myself since I only need them in smaller quantities at a time. It’s quite therapeutic actually.” 

“Is it difficult to make?” 

Sensing your curiosity, Mr Suh smiled, a certain playfulness to his gaze, “Nothing you can’t handle. Do you want to try?” 

Excited by the offer, you nodded, seeing him start to bring out the various things you would need, lifting a granite slab you were sure you would’ve had difficulty lifting onto a long table behind you, followed by another block of granite that was long and flat at the bottom, looking somewhat like a cone but without the sharp edge of it. 

Taking out two small bottles the size of his palm, he made his way over to you, “This is what gives it the colour,” he pointed at one of the bottles, opening it to reveal an earthy brown colour. 

“There’s others, but I wanted to make this one, so I suppose you could help me with that instead.” 

You nodded, eager for him to get on with explaining the process to you, bubbling with excitement from how long it’d been since you got to do anything involving paint. 

“I’ll help you add the oil, and then you can start to use the muller to work it into the pigment.” 

“I’m sorry, the what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, earning giggles from Mr Suh. 

“Perhaps I should just show you, I think that would be better. But before I do that,” he stopped himself, turning to his easel and picking up the apron that hung from its side, your eyes widening as he held it by the neck, “May I?” 

You nodded, wordless as he draped the apron over you while facing you, his gaze intent and maybe even slightly amused at your expression as he let his hands find the strings at the sides, your breath hitching as he reached them around your waist to tie them in a loose knot behind your back, his proximity sending shivers down your spine. Trying to calm your nerves, you took off your gloves, setting them onto the table. 

“There, you may proceed,” his tone was teasing as ever, letting you continue as you folded the oil into the paint using the little paint knife like how he had shown you before. His hands had moved with practised and controlled strength, unlike yours, who simply enjoyed the sensation and malleability of the paint. 

“You can use the muller now,” he pointed at the block of granite that sat on top of the slab, sitting on the stool near you and watching you as you worked. 

Under his gaze, it didn’t feel as though he were watching because he didn’t trust you with the pigment, but quite the opposite, as he watched you with a relaxed demeanour, a hint of a smile playing at his features. 

You weren’t sure how long you were working the muller into the paint, but you were definitely developing a newfound respect for whoever did this as a job. Though you did see why it was therapeutic, you felt weak as you heaved the muller around, wanting to laugh as you imagined how you must look. 

“What an honour it is, to have the diamond of the first water making oil paint for me,” Mr Suh lilted, making you huff, using your forearm to dab at the sweat that formed on your temple, continuing with the rhythmic movements you were growing used to. 

“You’re awfully mistaken, I’m not the diamond.” 

Expecting him to tell you he was joking, you should’ve known Mr Suh had an equally, if not more dangerous way with his words than you did. 

“Is that so? The queen’s judgement is clearly not to be trusted, then… I know that much as I’m looking at you now.” 

Your breath hitched, recovering quickly as you continued your movements, lifting the block to scrape the paint off the edges and collect it on the slab so you could continue to work it in. 

“Are you teasing me?” you scoffed, laughing in spite of yourself. 

Mr Suh, however, remained sincere, the slightest of smiles on his face, “Not in the slightest bit.” 

You weren’t sure how to react, his words flustering you to no end, but you spoke your mind nonetheless. 

“You’re funny, saying that to me while I’m performing an act like this. I can’t imagine how un-ladylike this must look,” you huffed, amused in a way that made Mr Suh smile without knowing. 

“Not quite, something about the way you do it is very… graceful,” he hummed, “perhaps you would have to be in my position to understand what I mean.” 

Turning to face him, your eyebrows lifted in scepticism, “Let us swap places, then. Though, I doubt it would be the same. You’re much more experienced than I am.” 

Always agreeable to your little suggestions, Mr Suh stood up, making his way over to you as you padded over to the stool he sat on before, watching him pick up where you left off. 

Your only thought was that he was right. He was right, he was absolutely right. 

Watching him as he mulled the paint, you found yourself captivated once again, if he thought you were graceful, you wished you could show him what he looked like. There was a certain seriousness he tapped into the moment he stepped up to the table, the gravity with which he regarded his craft, the sincerity he put into it. It attracted you, quite simply. 

Your gaze wandered over to his arms, his hands, the strength they held, making the block of granite look much smaller than when you held it, you figured. It was strength, in its most gentle, practised form. A strength that did not destroy, but that created. 

Something about that thought added to the feelings you associated with the studio, that it was a space of safety, unlike the many debutante balls and soirées you attended. You were starting to wonder if it was the space that made you feel that way, or the presence of Mr Suh within it. After all, it was him that encouraged you to be honest, to be yourself, to try things because he believed you were capable. 

In short, you felt seen. 

“Are you alright?” you hadn’t realised you were staring, Mr Suh tilting his head at you curiously. 

You shook your head, clearing your throat gently in an attempt to conceal your embarrassment, standing up from the stool and stretching your hand out to him. 

“Can I try again?” 

He smiled, already stepping aside to let you take your place at the table.

===

Other rules to help a lady like you squelch the possibilities of romantic passion included forbidding the use of Christian names, paying compliments, and any kind of intimate contact.

“What’s this?” you touched a leatherbound book, secured closed with a string around the middle that sat on the table where you’d placed a fresh vase of salmon coloured roses from Mr Suh. 

Mr Suh turned around from where he was standing at his easel, setting the piece of charcoal in his hands down when he saw what you were looking at, quickly making his way over (borderline stumbling) as he took the book gently from your hands. 

You had grown comfortable with each other, having no qualms about entering deeper conversation, about embarrassing yourselves with each other, revealing deeper parts of yourself to each other, so it was safe to say that his reaction confused you. 

“Is it your diary?” you asked, eyes lighting up with a hint of mischief that Mr Suh found hard to remain firm against. 

Giving you a huff, he held the book behind his back with one arm, “It might as well be.” 

“So, it's not a diary? A notebook, then?” you asked, almost feeling like you were playing a game with how naturally your guesses were coming out, the childlike side of yourself resurfacing and making itself comfortable in Mr Suh’s presence. 

He nodded, “it’s my sketchbook.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, “... that I am not allowed to see?” 

Swallowing thickly, Mr Suh huffed, a hint of embarrassment in the way he averted his gaze just briefly, looking back at you and shaking his head. 

“What you ask of me… is not as simple as you make it seem,” he began, letting out a small sigh, “I would be baring my heart to you, quite plainly.” 

You weren’t sure why the thought of that made you wonder just what was inside his sketchbook. He insisted himself that he did not do portraits, so just what sort of sketches could be within that book that made him so hesitant to show you? You wondered what sketches could possibly hold pieces of his heart so clearly that he felt the need to protect it in such a way. 

“Is that such a horrifying thing?” You asked, genuinely curious, “you seem to have no problem flaunting it on your sleeve.” 

At your words, Mr Suh let out a huff of amusement, his lips pressed together as his expression turned more serious, almost speechless as he shook his head. 

“Not quite… you’ve been the only one able to see it thus far,” his words came out in a soft murmur, solidifying the thoughts that wavered in your heart. 

It was almost like a declaration of intimacy, something stirring within you at the reminder that your relationship with Mr Suh was more than just acquaintances, solidified by friendship and understanding, but entering into much more. 

You shook your head, “Only because you have dared to show it to me.” 

The look on Mr Suh’s face was unreadable, as if he had a million thoughts circling his mind that prevented him from settling on one emotion. And there you stood, oblivious to the fact that he was experiencing that same paralysing feeling of not being able to focus on anything other than you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot show it to you yet,” he sighed, sounding more disappointed than you were. He should’ve known you weren’t one to dwell on it, though, respecting his wishes. 

“I understand,” you assured him, “Well, if you won’t let me see your sketchbook, what will you let me see?” 

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a soft smile gracing his features, humming in thought. 

“I suppose I could draw something for you now?” he offered, earning a smile from you as what you supposed was a reckless (genius) idea came to mind. 

“Could you draw it on me?” 

Mr Suh’s lips parted, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him or whether you’d actually said what he thought you did. 

“Hmm?” 

You nodded, “I said I want you to draw it on me.” 

Whether it was bold or reckless, you wouldn’t very well put a label on it at the moment. What you did know, however, was that this was definitely going against anything a ‘respectable lady like you’ should have been doing. It was different, you felt, from simply asking if he could draw you. It was like you said, a kind of vulnerability and trust you were willing to offer to him, for him to print his art onto your skin, something only the both of you would be able to see. 

Mr Suh’s throat felt dry, looking at you blankly and keeping his volume lowered because he felt as though his voice would give, “Uh… where, where exactly would you want it?” 

You debated on your options as you looked at him. You wanted it somewhere where you could keep it hidden, where your mother wouldn’t be able to see it as easily.

You knew that ruled out your hands and arms, since your mother’s gaze was always scanning you during mealtimes and when you played the piano, when your hands and arms weren’t hidden by your gloves. 

Your only other thought was to have it on your ankle, since that would be somewhere only you or your lady's maid would ever see, your mother didn’t very well pay attention to little details like that when it came to you, as long as what was noticeable wasn’t out of line. 

“Sorry, I realise I didn’t bother asking you if you were comfortable with it first,” you huffed, giving him a sheepish smile, feeling your heart stop at the smile he gave you. 

“Believe me, Miss Y/N, if I were uncomfortable with it, I would have told you by now,” he huffed, amusement in his smile as he retrieved his inkstand and quill. 

Only when he sat on the rug in front of you did you realise just what you had gotten yourself into, something about the proximity between the both of you was tempting. It felt close, yet in a way that made you desire to be even closer to him, both in the literal and figurative sense. 

Swallowing, you shifted in your seat, glancing up at him with a nervousness that wasn’t quite present just moments before. 

“Have you decided where, or what you would like me to draw?” he asked, crossing his legs as he leaned his palm against the floor to support his weight, the same calm confidence that made you feel shy under his gaze. 

You nodded, “On my ankle.” 

You watched the way he glanced at said ankle, covered by your stocking and your foot that was still covered by your shoe, blinking up at you before nodding. 

“Somewhere… only I get to see.” 

At that, Mr Suh smiled, “And is there anything in particular you would like me to draw?” 

Now it was your turn to smile, already excited to see what he would come up with, what he would associate with you. 

“I’ll let you decide that.” 

His eyebrows lifted, the image coming to mind almost immediately. 

Giving you a nod, he had barely registered what you were doing as you removed one of your shoes, averting his gaze and pretending to be busy with his ink as you started to remove one of your stockings, his gaze landing on the ribbon garter you had used to hold it up, tossing it aside as you worked on removing the silk stocking. 

Mr Suh let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, looking at his fingernails and then at the ribbon again, at your face and then at the stocking you now tossed aside next to the ribbon, unsure where to place his gaze out of respect for you. 

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to your now uncovered leg peeking out from under the hem of your dress. 

Nodding, he reached one of his hands out to grasp your ankle, the feeling of the warmth of his hands on your skin surprising you, your breath hitching just slightly and hoping he hadn’t noticed. 

You lifted your foot off of the ground to help him, surprised when he’d set your ankle on one of his thighs, understanding that the angle would make it easier for him and more comfortable for you. 

Mr Suh let out a small huff of amusement at the way you’d flinched when the quill had touched your skin. 

“Sorry, it was a little ticklish,” you huffed, the unfamiliar sensation distracting you from your nervousness slightly. 

You heard him sigh, his gaze still trained on whatever drawing he was working on.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, the tone with which he said your name making you soften, almost forgetting about your nervousness as you looked at him, humming in response, “I do hope you are not as willing to offer yourself to just any man in such a manner.” 

Your lips parted in shock, bashfulness creeping up on you again as you huffed, trying to mask your embarrassment with your words, “Do you suppose I should only make such an offer to you?” 

Mr Suh glanced up at you, detecting the little hint of challenge in your tone, his hand resting on where he was holding your ankle to keep it steady, his thumb smoothing over the skin unconsciously (or consciously, you wouldn’t have known). 

“My honest answer?” he spoke, his gaze searching yours with that same calm confidence of his, “is yes.”

Your stare was blank, in spite of the many thoughts racing in your mind. 

“You can rest assured, Mr Suh,” you murmured, suddenly feeling disappointed at the fact you did not know his first name, feeling as though addressing him so formally sounded off in a situation like this, “you are the only one I would trust with myself like this.” So intimately. 

Mr Suh poorly stifled the smile on his face as he tilted his head down, continuing with his drawing as you tried to calm your heart. 

“Actually, if you don’t mind me asking…” you murmured, swallowing as you mustered up your courage in spite of your shyness, “what is your first name?” 

Mr Suh replied naturally, as if not giving it a second thought as you felt the ticklish feeling of the quill against the delicate skin of your ankle. 

“Youngho,” he murmured. 

You hummed, clenching your fist to prevent yourself from shifting from the ticklish feeling.

“Youngho,” you echoed, feeling the ticklish feeling stop almost instantly. 

You felt his grip on your ankle tense before relaxing, looking up from your ankle and blinking at you slowly, his expression unreadable but rendering you speechless with how he was looking at you. 

Letting out a shaky breath, it didn’t register to you why he was so taken aback, your mind racing to the conduct books, wondering if it was because addressing him by his name like this was too intimate, too personal. Only then did your mind recall the conversation you had about his father, figuring that must have been why he seemed so shocked. 

“Sorry,” you blurted out, “I forgot about what you said about your father—” 

“No, no,” Youngho shook his head, reassurance in his expression and his tone, “... I want you to call me that.” 

Your eyebrows lifted, feeling as though something was being unlocked between the both of you, as if now it wasn’t just dipping your fingers into the depth of what you both desired, but stepping in, fully knowing what you were getting into with the action. 

“Will you call me by my first name as well?” 

Youngho nodded slowly, “Do you want me to?” 

You nodded, not even being able to find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how quickly you responded. 

“I do.” 

Youngho hummed, “then I will, Y/N .” 

Somehow, hearing it like that, spoken so delicately, spoken so intentionally by him, it was as if he were giving you more reason to fall in love with hearing your name again. 

It felt like it had been ages ever since you had heard someone call you by your name, hearing it felt foreign, yet it felt right, as if it was the only way you wished to hear it. Like a declaration of love. 

Letting go of your ankle, he gestured with a small (even slightly bashful) smile that you could take a look. With all the eagerness you’d been struggling to restrain, you pulled your leg closer to yourself, your smile growing when you spotted the delicate looking sunflower on your skin. 

“I like it very much,” you murmured, appreciating the delicate look of it, yet how it held a meaning that was anything but. 

Youngho simply smiled, “I’m pleased that you find it to your liking.” 

This time, Youngho wasn’t sure why he couldn’t take his gaze away from you as you wore the stocking over your leg, watching as the little sunflower got covered by the silk fabric that was eventually smoothed over your leg to just over your knee, the way you picked up the pink ribbon garter, tying it around the hem of the stocking with practised, routine movements. 

Youngho brought a hand up to the collar of his shirt, fixing his suspenders out of a need to fidget, to distract himself from his want to know what the silk ribbon would feel like in his hands, to distract himself from the feeling of the distance between the both of you. Yet not being able to feel as though it was a certain reverence that was keeping his gaze on you. 

Once you were done, you smoothed your dress over, standing up with a small grunt, your legs feeling sore from sitting in the same position for so long. Youngho stood up as well, though he kept his gaze averted, knowing it was about time for you to return home for tea. 

“I should be leaving now,” you spoke to fill the silence, drawing his gaze to you, not being able to smile at how flustered he looked, as much as he was trying to hide it. 

Youngho nodded, “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Be safe on your way back.” 

Seeming to have composed himself, Youngho brought a hand up to run his fingers through his hair, giving you a tight-lipped smile. 

You nodded, taking your little purse and taking slow steps backwards, reluctant to leave even though you knew it would only be a short while before you got to see him again. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, opening the door for you. 

Turning to give him a smile, you nodded, “Goodbye, Youngho.” 

That day when you’d returned home, a giddy smile on your face and your heart thumping wildly like a protagonist in one of your sister’s romance novels, you couldn’t help but replay your interactions with Youngho in your head. 

A part of you wondered why you hadn’t asked him for his name sooner, because now it was all that made sense. The simple man you had come to know, who was genuine, observant, perceptive, sweet, honest. That was Youngho to you, that was what made sense to you. 

Even as you lay in bed that night, thinking about the little sunflower resting on the skin of your ankle, you were sure anybody else would have thought you were going crazy, but it replayed over and over again in your head. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho. 

Your little mantra of love. 

===

Another rule that was essential to remember, was that a gentleman might take the arm of a lady like yours through his, to support you while out walking. But he must never try to take your hand, even to shake it friendly-like. If he did, you must immediately withdraw it with a strong air of disapproval, whether you felt it or not. 

Something you greatly appreciated about Youngho was that he was never one to be afraid of getting his hands dirty. 

Surely you were the same, out in the garden digging up earthworms as you were a child even though your mother would yell at you that you were going to get your dress dirty. But overtime, as they clamped down stricter on their rules and as you grew more occupied with the various accomplishments they desired for you to build, you had to forego certain things that would get in the way of that. 

Things like painting. 

As much as it was a common accomplishment for a lady like you to have, your mother had always viewed it distastefully, saying that the way you went about it was far too messy. So you’d resorted to other means of creating art, like your flower arrangements. Those, she would excuse, since they were deemed ‘useful’ for the house, so you figured you had come to cling to it as a way for you to express that desire within you to create, to appreciate beauty in such a way. 

When you had told Youngho this, you should have known it was only natural for him to have offered you the opportunity to paint again. He was quick to give you the space, laying out large cloth on the floor to protect the rug, even going to the extent of asking you if you would be more comfortable working on the piece on the easel or on the floor. 

So that was how you ended up standing in front of the canvas, apron wrapped around you snugly as you let yourself enjoy the freedom of letting your body move without much thought. 

“You’d put me out of business if you sold your paintings,” Youngho huffed in amusement, one of many praises he’d offered to you when he saw you painting.

“I doubt so,” you muttered distractedly, frowning slightly at your painting. 

You huffed, turning slightly and picking up your fan from the little table that was next to your hip, making a last-ditch attempt at making the paint dry faster using the breeze you created with your fan. 

Deciding you had other ideas, you set the fan down on the table, looking at your painting and trying to execute your idea. 

For some reason though, it was growing frustrating as the paint didn’t seem to move like how you envisioned it would. Youngho seemed to sense your annoyance (though it was quite obvious through your frustrated huffs), turning his gaze away from his own canvas to face you with a hum. 

“What’s wrong?” Youngho asked, already getting up to make his way over to you, peering over at your painting from behind you. 

“I can’t seem to get it to fan out the way I want it to,” you sighed, “my brush isn’t big enough for it.” 

Youngho’s gaze on your painting was intent, seeming to be thinking from his own perspective, shrugging as he turned to you. 

“You’re free to use my hand as your brush,” he offered, his nonchalance making you pause to process his words. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, earning a nod from him. 

“Really, I’m sure,” he reassured, waiting patiently as you dared yourself to grasp his hand with both of yours. 

Youngho almost wanted to laugh, thinking of the time he had let you mull the paint, how you insisted that your strength used to mull the paint was much less than his, yet he had never felt it so strongly till now, in the firm grip with which you grasped his hand. 

An ever present strength in gentleness that he’d come to associate with you. 

You could practically feel the warmth radiating from his body with how close he stood behind you, with how he let his arm rest against yours as you moved it with ease. 

It was almost amusing to you, how when you used his hand to smear the paint, it looked exactly like how you had pictured it in your mind. It made you wonder if all along you’d grown used to observing him, how he paints, that it was natural for your mind to picture how he would make his mark on your creations.

“Perfect,” you murmured, gaze appreciating your painting, trying to ignore the tension within your body that came with being in such close proximity with Youngho.

Turning to face him, your hands still clasped around his palm and wrist, his soft skin a contrast to the sturdiness you felt as you held his hand, his soft features a contrast from the intensity of his gaze when it met yours. 

It seemed your thoughts had a mind of their own, as you let your gaze wander from the hazel of his eyes, to the deep black of his hair, to the dusty pink of his lips. 

Conduct books be damned, none of them warned you about him. 

“For some reason…” you began, your voice barely a murmur as you shifted your gaze back to meet his, watching how his gaze had flickered to your lips briefly, as if trying to catch himself, “no matter how close you are to me…” 

Youngho shook his head slightly, his lips parting to speak, “It never feels close enough.” 

You nodded, unsure what other words could express your heart better in this moment, feeling him lean in, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips, feeling as though it was a ghost of his kiss that was being pressed against your lips. 

You weren’t sure if you were breathing, the only thing on your mind being the little mantra of love you had for him beating in your heart, supplying you with courage, supplying you with even more affection for him. 

Feeling his lips brush against yours ever so slightly, you clutched his hand tighter in your grip, hearing him huff, a smile gracing his features.

“Are you teasing me?” you whispered. 

Youngho shook his head, watching as your eyes had fluttered shut so naturally, as his breath fanned over your cheek, “Not in the slightest bit.” 

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against yours, softly, yet with insistence. Letting go of his hand, you let yourself make use of the courage coursing through your veins, bringing your hands up to cup his face and feeling the slight stubble under your palm, the action making him stumble forward slightly. Youngho’s hand reached out quickly to find purchase on something and ended up on your fan, the traces of colour from your painting now smeared against the once white and spotless accessory. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it felt as though he did, with how he led the kiss, bringing his paint free hand up to touch the small of your back, pulling you gently towards him. 

So, you let yourself follow, follow the way his lips moved against yours, follow his movements that brought you closer to him, follow the way your head tilted up at the touch of his hand. 

You allowed him to spoil you, to fill your mind with only thoughts of him, with the little mantra that would repeat and that you wished to repeat for as long as your heart could feel for someone, for him. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

You hadn’t realised how much you were leaning into him, with how secure it felt for him to be supporting your weight like this. It didn’t even cross your mind to feel embarrassed at your lack of experience in this area, he never let you feel any of that, not with how he kissed you with such intention as though you were the only one he’d ever loved and would ever love.

It was a strange feeling, solidified by his kiss, to feel desired and even more loved. It wasn’t one or the other that you sensed in the way he’d deepened the kiss, in the way his paint covered hands had grasped your hip to hold you close, because as much as there was desire, there was love you felt in the way he cradled your face, in the way he let you melt into him with the promise that you would be supported. 

In that moment, you knew that regardless of his background, his wealth, his occupation, you were willing to give your heart to him. Only Youngho.  

=== 

A lady like you should have considered this common sense, but you must never confess your feelings until absolutely convinced of a man’s intentions.

Youngho was finding it hard to keep his heart from fluttering as you led him behind the church grounds, your hand grasping his firmly as you walked before him, familiar with the route in a way that only came from experience. 

It was interesting to him, he found, the feeling that stirred within his heart as he looked at your proud smile once the both of you had reached a little pond, its circumference marked out by big stones lined up against one another, and wildflowers decorating the grass. In this case, your actions definitely spoke louder than your words— a girl who couldn’t lie to save her life, willing to take such risks for him, someone only revealed to her as a poor painter. 

He remembered what he told Jaehyun, when the viscount was persuading him to meet the sister of the girl he loved. He remembered telling Jaehyun that he didn’t think love was going to be in the cards for him, but looking at you now, he knew he was wrong. The girl he was looking at, pointing at the little frog that swam past you in the pond and tapping his arm to get his attention, was love in all he had come to discover it to be. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you drawled, gesturing around you at the empty open field, taking your seat next to the pond with Youngho following suit, the two empty glasses and bottle of wine in his hands clinking gently as he did so. 

“It’s beautiful,” Youngho gushed with extra dramatics, earning a huff of laughter from you, “how did you discover this place?” 

You shrugged, smoothing over your dress as you made yourself comfortable, “I told you, I spent a lot of time wandering around.” 

“Well, it was time well spent, indeed,” he smiled, his nose scrunching as he let the glasses lean against his knee, removing his gloves and setting them aside before getting the bottle open. 

“Where did you say that was from, again?” you asked, ever curious. 

Youngho paused briefly, glancing at the bottle before pouring some into each of the glasses. 

“Italy,” he said, “They import wine here, actually. The wine merchant? Do you recall? The one that was the previous landlord of my studio, he’s the owner of the winery that produces this wine.” 

“Wow,” you huffed, “Wonder why I’ve never seen much of it before.” 

At that, Youngho couldn’t help but laugh, looking at you sceptically, “You speak as though you’re an avid drinker.” 

Embarrassed by his teasing, you scoffed, though the smile on your face lingered, “I suppose I could have come across it in my time at home, you know, snooping around in my father’s study.” 

Youngho nodded, a patronising smile on his face, “Yeah, yeah, I suppose .” 

Removing your gloves, you’d set it next to his on the grass, accepting the glass from him with a small murmur of thanks. 

Sniffing the red liquid, you couldn’t help but glance up at him for some confirmation that it was supposed to smell like this, or what to anticipate its taste to be. 

“Go ahead, try it,” he nodded reassuringly, bringing his own glass to his lips, sipping the wine in a way that made him seem all-too-accustomed to such tasting. 

Taking a sip, you swallowed, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and a mustered smile, earning a bout of laughter from Youngho. 

“I’m guessing it doesn’t suit your tastes?” 

You shook your head in disagreement, “No, no, It’s just… interesting ,” you hummed, taking another sip and seeing his eyebrows lift as you did so, endearment written all over his features. 

“I shall have to get used to it, I suppose.” 

And get used to it, you did. 

It was in this very pursuit of ‘getting used to it’ that you found yourself growing much more unfiltered (or at least, more than usual). 

Your head had started to feel heavy, Youngho offering for you to rest your head on his lap, and you did so gladly, looking up at him and enjoying the feeling of his fingertips tracing your features lazily, as if committing them to memory, wondering if a sculpture would do you justice when it was made by his hands. 

“Your eyes are really pretty in this light,” you murmured. 

It’d been long since you stopped drinking, Youngho taking the liberty to finish your glass for you while you lay your head on his lap. 

Youngho almost sputtered around his drink, setting the glass down onto the grass and turning to look at you with a teasing smile.

“If this is you ‘getting used’ to the wine, I find it hard to have any complaints,” he laughed, “you’re smiling at me more than usual, and that’s saying a lot.” 

You brought your hands up to cover your mouth, though it didn’t do anything to conceal your smile, laughter bubbling out of you as you shook your head. 

“This is unfamiliar to me, but I find I cannot help but smile at you. It’s as though my body is moving in its most honest manner.” 

“It’s honest, that’s for sure,” he reassured, earning a hum from you. 

Reaching a hand out towards one of his hands, the one closest to you in your eyeline, you watched him switch the hand that was holding his wine glass so he could let you have his hand, wondering what exactly you were going to do with it. 

Frankly, you weren’t sure either, bringing his hand close to your face and daring yourself to press a gentle kiss to his palm, the smile that followed making Youngho’s eyebrows lift, his smile mirroring yours. 

You let go of his hand, letting it rest on top of your face and shutting your eyes, though it was amusing to him, the way he could feel the outline of your smile against his palm.

You noticed that Youngho grew more serious after a few drinks, a certain sleepiness taking over his gaze as he looked at nothing in particular. The both of you enjoyed the silence, aside from the sound of nature, the sound of the both of you just existing in that place, it was a peace you couldn’t quite describe. You couldn’t deny that the silence gave room for your thoughts to wander, your excitement for your sister’s return bringing with it all your fears about what would proceed from her return as well. 

“My sister is to return from her honeymoon soon,” you said, “I am sure she and her husband have plans to hold a private ball once they are here.” 

Judging from the absence of a smile from your face now, Youngho hummed, moving his hand just slightly so it rested against the side of your face now, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your cheek, warmth radiating from him to you. 

“You don’t sound very happy about that.” 

You shook your head, “I suppose it’s because I’m not.” 

Glancing up at him, you let one of your hands cover his, touching the skin of his hand in drowsy patterns, with no desire in mind but to feel him. 

“I’m sure their search for a suitable husband for me will only intensify once she returns,” you sighed deeply, eyebrows furrowing as you frowned. 

“Husband,” Youngho echoed, something akin to a mix of a sigh and a groan leaving him. 

“Dear husband ,” you drawled, as though you were calling someone, grimacing as soon as the words left your lips, meeting Youngho’s amused gaze and feeling the smile grace your features again. 

“You know, I never once heard my mother call my father anything other than his name before,” you recalled, shifting slightly where you lay so you could see Youngho better. 

Youngho hummed, nodding, “Me neither. I suppose maybe I was too young to notice. Either that or perhaps they saved the terms of endearment for when they were alone.” 

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation. 

“You’re smart, I never considered that.” 

Youngho could only laugh, his hand smoothing over your hair affectionately, “Do I get a reward, then?” he asked. 

Youngho suddenly leaned over so he was close enough to you that it made you shut your eyes, opening them up again with a huff when you felt him press a kiss to your forehead instead, pulling back with giggles leaving him that made it hard for you to remain annoyed. 

“How cruel of you,” you huffed, earning a dramatic gasp from him. 

“Cruel? What an inappropriate descriptor of me,” he smiled. Perhaps he was right, that smile was anything but cruel. 

“What would you call your wife?” you asked, practically thinking out loud at this point. 

Your question surprised Youngho, but he was always sporting your various trains of thought or rambling, and it was no different this time. 

“That depends… on her personality, how I feel towards her,” he glanced at you as he finished speaking, averting his gaze back to the field as you felt his thumb continue to caress your cheek. 

“So, it would change from person to person?” 

Youngho hummed, “I suppose it would.” 

You were starting to realise the truth behind the phrase ‘liquid courage’, your gaze firm on Youngho with your next words. 

“What if it was me, then? What would you call me?” 

Youngho met your gaze, looking almost pensive for a moment as he felt the peace you described about the church grounds, the peace in his heart that came with your presence, and all the love you brought to him with you. 

“Beloved,” he spoke, again, as though he was calling your name, and as if you were hearing it in the only way you wished to hear it, “I’d call you beloved.” 

“My beloved,” he said with finality. 

In that moment, in that little declaration of who you were to him, it was as though you were being reminded of what you seemed to have forgotten. In being declared his beloved, you were worthy of love, you were loved as you were, regarded dearly even in your fear of not being useful or helpful. 

In short, you felt known. 

It was true, Youngho was not cruel. What was cruel was the reminder that your mother would never approve of him, what was cruel was the fact that once your sister returned, you were going to be thrown into whoever’s arms your family deemed fit. What was cruel was that you knew whoever they were, they weren’t Youngho. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, averting your gaze from his face. 

Youngho was feeling the effect of his words, knowing very well for himself that he was in far too deep now. But even despite this knowledge, he didn’t want to come out. He wanted to bury himself in all that he was feeling, to solidify the fact that when he thought of a wife, only your face came to mind, only you made sense to take that place. 

“Do you think it would have been different…” he glanced at you, searching your pensive gaze, “you know, if we had met under different circumstances.” 

“What circumstances?” you hummed, attentive in a way that made Youngho feel even more certain about his words. 

“As nobility.” 

The seriousness of his tone would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, considering it was completely hypothetical. But perhaps it was your pensive mood that made you consider his words more seriously, wishing they were the reality you were in. 

You frowned, shaking your head, “It’s never crossed my mind, but… I’m sure I would’ve been drawn to you the same.” 

Turning to brace a hand on his thigh as you sat up, letting his hand fall back onto his lap as you met his gaze, mirroring his seriousness and sincerity as you spoke the truth of what you felt. 

“I’m sure of it,” you repeated, as if hoping it was getting through to him, “nobility or not… you’re you .” 

Taking his hand in his, you fiddled with his fingers, interlocking your fingers, moving them just enough so you could press the tips of your fingernails against the pads of his fingertips. 

Glancing down at your hand in his, he let out a deep breath, looking back up at your face. 

“Do you mean that?” he asked, needing to hear the confirmation from your own lips. 

You shot him a look, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. 

“You know I’m not a good liar,” you reminded, a certain shyness overcoming you as you struggled to hold his gaze, something about the intensity of the way he was looking at you flustering you to no end. 

Youngho huffed, a hint of amusement in his features that let you know he was about to say something to tease you. 

“And you know I would believe anything you say to me when you say it like that.” 

You sighed, daring yourself to bring one of his hands up to your face, letting yourself lean into the warmth of his palm. 

“Youngho,” you began, and Youngho was sure just in how you said his name, there was all the sincerity he searched for, all the vulnerability of yourself that you were showing to him. 

“To be a lady and for me to be like this with you... I need you to understand what this means for me… I need you to understand all that I am risking, and know that I find it worth risking for you.” 

As the words left you, you felt unbearably exposed under his gaze, Youngho’s silence making you want to reassure him, your hand that covered his on your face rubbing the back of his hand gently. 

"Do you believe me?" you murmured. 

Youngho didn’t know what to do with all the love he was feeling, so he did what felt natural to him. 

He let his hand pull away from your face, pulling you close to him so he could wrap his arms around you, cradling your head in his hand, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. 

“I believe you.”

In his arms, you felt the protection around your vulnerability, the intangible desire in your heart manifesting in the way you felt a sigh leave you, leaning into his embrace. 

=== 

And importantly, a lady like you should have a sacred regard to truth, for lying is a mean and despicable vice. 

Padding down the stairs on another morning, a few days after the night in the field with Youngho, you were going about what became your new routine, heading to the kitchen, ready to retrieve your share (and Youngho’s) of honey biscuits from your lady’s maid before you would head off to his studio. 

Except, today was different. 

You should have known something was off from the sympathetic looks you were getting from the staff since you came out of your room, not thinking much of it until you found your lady’s maid in the drawing room, seeing her slip a little pamphlet in your hands with an urgency that unsettled you, your gaze barely landing on the title before you heard your mother’s voice. 

“You,” your head snapped around at the sound of her tone, knowing almost instantly that the sinking feeling in your gut was not unfounded, “I believe we need to have a talk.”

Your gaze landed on your father who stood behind her, stoic and almost apathetic-looking as he simply stood there. 

With how angry your mother  seemed, you were surprised she was even talking to you at all. But as for your father? You felt it was worse, to be constantly searching for his gaze and not being met with it, as he fixed his gaze elsewhere. Following your parents up the stairs, your heart began to pound harshly as they entered your room, feeling as though its pounding stopped entirely when you saw your painting lying on the floor. 

“Is it true?” she asked, earning a frown from you. 

You glanced at your father, who had taken his place behind her, simply looking blankly at the floor. 

You frowned, “Is what true?” you dared to ask, watching warily as her jaw clenched. 

“It aggravates me how you still have the ability to act nonchalant,” she bent over, grabbing the painting so harshly that it made you grimace, “have you been acquainting yourself indecently with that painter ?” 

The way she spoke of his occupation was as though it was a crime, but that wasn’t your concern at this moment. You wondered how she knew, or how you should react, but like you said, you were never a good liar. Your expression alone was enough to give it away. 

“I want you to stop this immediately. You will not ruin your prospects, your reputation, your virtue, for a man who is not worth considering,” there was spite in her tone, the way she spoke about Youngho unnerving you. Though it all still didn’t answer your question of how she came to know about him. 

Your lips parted only to close again, unable to find the words you wished to express to her. 

“He is a good man,” was all you could muster, the scoff you received in return making you cower, feeling warm tears prick at your eyes. 

“Anyone can be a ‘good man’ ,” she told you, “being a ‘good man’ does not provide you financial security. Being a ‘good man ’ does not guarantee you a house. Being a ‘good man’ does not excuse recklessness.” 

You half expected your father to step in, to tell her to go easy on you. Or to try to soothe her temper so her words would become less cutting. But none of that came, even as you looked desperately at him for some signal that he would step in to help you, you continued to be met with the image of your father looking as though he had better things to be done elsewhere, dissociated from whatever was happening. 

You weren’t sure what hurt you more, the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed you or the fear that it was only a prelude for what was to come. It felt as though you were being made to choose between disappointing your family or losing and disappointing the man you loved. Neither of which you wanted, but you knew you weren’t going to have much of a choice. 

“I forbid you from seeing that man again. You will not leave this house if it is not for an event,” your mother spoke, tossing your painting onto the floor and leaving without another word, your father following silently behind her. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt your tears touch your lips, bringing your hand up to wipe your tears away and realising then that you were still holding the pamphlet your lady’s maid gave you. 

Bypassing the mocking title, you continued to read. 

It should have been obvious to you when you read your initial next to ‘Lady’, reading on in spite of yourself. 

‘... seen with a local painter in a position that shall not be described… Considering her sister’s success in marriage that elevated her to a viscountess, it must come as a shock to anyone for her to have looked much lower for her own marriage partner… a fling like this is surely only good for temporary excitement…’ 

You stopped reading, setting the pamphlet aside and burying your face into your mattress. 

How you missed your sister in a time like this, though you had no idea how you were going to explain this to her when she returned. 

You would soon find that your mother would do all the explaining for you, filling your sister in on all the details she’d procured from the scandal sheet while you were simply too upset to do any explaining for yourself. Frankly, the only thought on your mind was that you hoped Youngho wasn’t worried, since it had been weeks since you had stopped visiting his studio. 

Your sister’s husband, the viscount Jung Jaehyun, wasn’t helping either, insisting that he had a friend of his that he felt would be a suitable marriage partner for you. Your sister seemed to agree, casting sympathetic looks your way whenever the topic of marriage came up, but insisting in her own gentle way that perhaps it would be for the best to move forward. 

It was difficult to hear about how much property he had as the owner of a winery, his wealth or even his penchant for the arts because the only thing on your mind was the man with little to his name, sitting in his studio waiting for you to arrive. 

There was nothing left for you to do, not with how your mother wouldn’t speak to you or acknowledge you directly, not with how your father seemed to want to pretend nothing had ever happened to begin with, not with how you weren’t allowed to leave the house if it was not for social events now. It seemed the choice you were being handed on a platter was to be a good daughter, the product of all the conduct books you read; as helpless as it made you feel. 

===

You figured this was a rule you should have regarded more seriously, but a lady like you should remember that infallibility is not the property of man, or you may entail disappointment on yourself, by expecting what is never to be found.

Perhaps the higher power that was watching over you decided that things weren’t quite over yet.  

Because as you stood in the makeshift ballroom of your sister and her husband’s new house, the drawing room they had converted into a ballroom space for dancing and hosting, you couldn’t deny the way your stomach churned with anxiety at her husband’s excitement, insisting that his friend was to arrive soon. 

You were sure you’d tuned out the noise at one point, finding it hard to ignore the way you were feeling giddy (and not in a very good way), wanting nothing more but to be at home away from any potential suitors that weren’t Youngho. So, it was safe to say you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you when you saw the man walking in with the viscount. 

Dressed in clothes that looked even more elaborate and expensive than those you saw on Taeyong at the races, or even those the viscount adorned now, walking with the same air of calm confidence that you’d practically memorised by now. 

The same black hair, hazel eyes, dusty pink lips that grew clearer to you the closer they came to where you stood with your sister. 

None of it made sense, he shouldn’t even have been able to be here. 

You weren’t sure you were breathing, face to face with the very man that hadn’t left your mind for what seemed like forever. Your little mantra of love began to repeat in your head, as though it were natural for your heart to respond in such a way, desperate to let him know that his presence was felt. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho. 

You barely noticed how Jaehyun had introduced him, drawn back to the present moment with your sister’s voice ringing in your ears. 

“It is rather relieving to finally be able to put a face to the faceless Marquess,” she huffed in amusement, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Suh.” 

Marquess? 

You frowned, eyebrows furrowed and your gaze firmly fixed on Youngho’s. The marquess they had told you about for the past week, who had recently inherited all the property of his father who had passed, property including a winery. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what an arduous task it was to get Johnny to agree to attend today’s ball,” Jaehyun laughed, making your frown deepen, your sister being able to sense that this was more than just a displeasure that you felt towards the Marquess. 

Youngho’s gaze was apologetic, which had only served to upset you even more. You were trying to process all that was happening, but couldn’t shake the mixed emotions you were feeling all at once. 

Turning to you, your sister nudged you lightly, “Is something wrong?” 

You managed to tear your gaze away from Youngho, turning to your sister and taking in a deep breath, though it didn’t feel like you were breathing at all, the air not seeming to satisfy your lungs and making you feel as though you had to try again. 

“I need to get some air.” 

You started walking, but you weren’t sure where exactly your destination was. All you knew was that you were hyper aware of the fact that Youngho was following you and you didn’t want to be caught with him alone outside the building, not wanting your mother to be even more upset at you. 

It would’ve been amusing if the situation was different, feeling as though you were playing a game of cat and mouse as you tried to out-walk him in the confines of the drawing room. Youngho’s strides were always much bigger than yours, though, so you should have known that it was only a matter of time before he would have caught up with you.

“May I have the honour of a dance with you, Miss Y/N,” he spoke firmly, loud enough that the lady next to you had turned to you with an expectant look, wondering why you were taking so long to respond to him. 

It was unfortunate, how in a situation like this, you couldn’t exactly go against the etiquette rules you loved to flout. You knew that for as long as you were in this room, you had to acknowledge the truth that as long as you were not spoken for, you had no choice but to accept his offer to dance. 

You settled for a small nod, keeping your gaze low as you accepted his hand and let him lead you to where the other guests were dancing. You barely had time to adjust before you had to react quickly to the song, following the choreography with ease and perhaps even being slightly annoyed that Youngho was even better at it than you were. 

“Please say something,” he pleaded, making you shake your head, still keeping your gaze on anything but his face, not knowing what your heart would make you do if you were to meet his attentive gaze in this space. 

“No,” you muttered, “I’ve been too rude to a marquess all this time.” 

Youngho was barely able to stop himself. 

“Y/N, please.” 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, tears welling up in your eyes as Youngho’s expression softened. You felt his grip on you tighten, steadying you, the same unspoken promise that you were supported even when you felt like your body would give at any moment. 

It didn’t make sense to you in your head. 

Someone like Youngho, who never underestimated you, who was always attentive to you, who read you like an open book and never held it against you. You didn’t think he would ever treat you like how your family did, hiding things from you, viewing you as a little child who was incapable of handling grown-up matters, confining her to her childish duties of pleasing others and arranging flowers. It was an awful feeling that came with the thought that Youngho, of all people, would ever subject you to such humiliation. 

“Why did you lie?” you frowned, swallowing thickly though it did nothing to the lump you felt in your throat, “did you think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? Did you find some kind of pleasure in making me a fool?” 

You scoffed, blinking harshly, “As if I haven’t had more than my fair share of that Young— Your Lordship .” 

Youngho frowned, “Why are you calling me that?” 

You sighed deeply, feeling breathless from both the choreography and your sheer emotion. 

“Is it not your title?” 

Youngho shook his head, more out of dismissal than denial, “What happened to ‘even if we met as nobility’? Did that mean nothing to you?” 

Your lips parted, offence in your gaze as you scoffed. 

“I’m upset, but do not think for even a second that I did not mean every word I said to you,” you told him, a firmness to your tone that made Youngho regret his words, “unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you.” 

Youngho paused, a tense silence falling between the both of you that contrasted the cheerful music echoing around the room. 

“It was not personal,” he murmured. 

You frowned, still unable to place what you were feeling, unsure how to convey it to him in a way that would allow him to understand why you were reacting this way. 

“It is always personal. How could you…” you averted your gaze, shaking your head, “how could you compromise me—”

“ Compromise you?” his tone was incredulous, eyes widening in shock, “I kissed you.” 

Clenching your jaw, you huffed, “Forgive me, truly, for finding it hard to see things for what they are. Forgive me for allowing myself to expect .” 

Your words made Youngho recall your meeting at the races, perhaps some things were best enjoyed without too many expectations . He begged to differ, though, he just wasn’t sure how to let you know that he was ready to give to you whatever you asked for, whatever you were expecting from him. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, frustrated at the environment the both of you were in, at the lack of privacy he felt here, at the way it prevented him from showing you and telling you all that he truly wished to, having to settle for pathetic apologies and pointed looks. 

You let out a sigh, “Just answer me one question.” 

Youngho nodded quickly, humming to prompt you to continue. 

“Were you ever planning on telling me the truth?” you asked, training your gaze up to meet his once again and trying to distract yourself from the way your heart still swelled with love for the one you gazed upon. 

“The day after that night at the church. I was going to tell you then,” he answered, sincerity in his tone, in the way he looked at you, in the way he held you. 

The day the scandal sheet was released.

You nodded, hearing the music come to an end as you let him go, feeling his hands slip from you reluctantly. 

Turning your head, you met your mother’s gaze. 

Youngho noticed the way you had tensed up and increased the distance between yourself and him, returning to the daughter raised by conduct books that your mother was pleased with. The ‘respectable lady’ that would continue to fight her urge to yearn for her love’s touch and search for his gaze in the crowd for the rest of the night. 

=== 

When considering marriage, a lady like you needed to make sure that arrangements offered equitable compensation as it were, for all involved and no one, including the extended families, was being shorted in the exchange.

“How was the ball? Surely it wasn’t so bad after all, wasn’t it?” Jaehyun asked, earning a sigh from Johnny. 

“No, it was the most horrendous torture ever imaginable,” he deadpanned, finding it hard to focus on the boxing match that was happening in front of him, wondering why Jaehyun decided to bring him here of all places. But he figured he wouldn’t have minded being her under any other circumstance. 

Wincing at the fighter who had taken a particularly bad hit, Jaehyun folded his arms across his chest, “Shame, though, I thought you and Miss Y/N would’ve gotten along particularly well.” 

Johnny frowned, “What makes you say that?” 

Jaehyun shrugged, his gaze still following the fight, “You know, I heard from her sister that she was involved with another man… a painter, if I recall correctly. And her mother didn’t seem to approve because of his status or something along that line…” he trailed off distractedly, earning an expectant hum from Johnny. 

“And?” he prompted, impatient now to know what was said about his and your relationship. 

“Oh, right. Yes, so we figured that it would be better to present her with some other options, you know? We thought introducing her to you would help her move on from it, but she’s been off ever since the day of the ball. Her sister says she’s never seen her like that before, going from being so insistent to so… emotionally detached from it all.” 

Johnny hummed, something in him feeling as though he needed to prepare himself to receive a piece of bad news, judging from the way Jaehyun sighed. 

“But I suppose her mother has worn her out,” Jaehyun sighed, “she’s been recommending another man to Miss Y/N, one she claims is more reasonable… you know, dowry-wise and all.” 

Johnny frowned, “Didn’t anyone try to dissuade her?” 

Jaehyun frowned, “I suppose that’s the thing, she hasn’t protested to it herself… my suspicion is that she’s afraid of disappointing her mother.” 

For some reason, Johnny couldn’t wrap his head around it, “And did you try to say anything?” 

Jaehyun shot Johnny a knowing look, “Believe me, I’ve tried. Miss Y/N was the one that told me it was alright.” 

“She did?” Johnny frowned, earning a huff from Jaehyun. 

“Do you see that man over there, standing by the table?” Jaehyun nudged Johnny, gesturing to the direction of the table with a nod of his head, Johnny’s gaze landing on a man who looked twice your age, counting money from bets he’d won in his hands. 

“That’s the man who is courting her,” Jaehyun told him pointedly, observing Johnny’s reaction carefully as the latter’s gaze stayed fixated on the man, a slight furrow to his eyebrows as he watched him.

Jaehyun continued, “His status is similar to theirs, so it does not require much of a dowry, which I suppose is what her mother’s so agreeable about. But… I think you can understand what I mean when I say I cannot seem to warm up to him.” 

Johnny watched the way the man’s gaze had followed a woman who had walked past him to get to her seat in the spectators stand, something about the way he looked at her unnerving Johnny, growing uncomfortable at the thought of the man looking at you in such a predatory manner. 

“And she has no complaints? About him courting her?” Johnny asked, still staring down the man as though he were trying to burn holes into the man. 

Jaehyun was growing frustrated, wondering how long Johnny was going to deflect the issue at hand with his questions. 

“Don’t you think you would be better off asking her yourself?” 

Johnny tore his gaze away from the man, staring blankly at Jaehyun with his lips parted slightly.

“My time away did not make me a fool, Johnny. It was obvious the moment I saw how you reacted to each other at the ball,” Jaehyun rolled his eyes, “do you suppose there were any other painters in town named Youngho that didn’t work in their own homes?” 

Johnny was at a loss for words, starting to understand why Jaehyun decided to bring him to a random boxing match at mid-day. 

“How long more are you going to spend sitting here and pretending you’re okay with it?” Jaehyun hummed, “you helped me before, and honestly, I’d be more frustrated with myself if I let you carry on like this.” 

Johnny’s gaze shifted to the fighters, then to the man, then back to Jaehyun, unsure what his course of action was going to be but knowing that he wanted nothing more than to go to you now. 

“Her parents are here. I suggest you go now, I can buy you some time,” Jaehyun told him smoothly, and Johnny wondered if this was how he must have looked before when he was aiding Jaehyun with his own love troubles. 

But there was no time for him to dwell on that now, already getting up and leaving as fast as he could to the address Jaehyun had told him. 

“Miss Y/N, you have a caller,” your butler informed you as you were in the middle of playing a piano piece in your drawing room, stopping yourself in embarrassment when you realised it was the piece Youngho told you was his favourite.

Though you weren’t exactly sure why you were embarrassed, it wasn’t as if your butler knew that. 

“Who is it?” 

“Lord Suh, Miss,” your eyes widened as the words left him, standing up from the piano and adjusting your dress, your hand coming up to your face, making sure there was no sleep in your eyes as you nodded at your butler. 

“Okay, you can send him in. Thank you.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when Youngho entered, though the scene had come to mind many times before. 

You imagined him coming into the room with a dramatic profession of apologies, and another scenario where you imagined him to come to you with a sombre expression on his face, pleading with you to forgive him. You would be lying if you said you didn’t even imagine him simply coming to the room and kissing you, but of course, that was a little far fetched. 

What you surely didn’t anticipate was for Youngho to enter the room, a determined look on his face as he met your gaze, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“Are you thinking?” he asked. 

Taken aback by his words, you tilted your head at him, confusion written all over your features. This definitely was not something you anticipated in your daydreams.  

“What’s there for me to think so urgently about?” you asked, watching as Youngho brought a hand up to press it against his forehead, letting his hand drop to his side. 

Shaking his head, he pressed his tongue in his cheek, a small huff leaving him, “Do you really want to wed that man? You cannot possibly be in love with him, you barely know him!”

His tone was insistent, bordering on desperate, a contrast to your still solemn expression, something you were falling back on in the hope that you would not start crying. 

“My mother knows him well enough.” 

Youngho sighed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, and you struggled not to let your gaze linger too long on his lips, shifting your gaze to look out of the window. 

“It is your marriage, Y/N. Not your mother’s, nor your family’s,” he spoke, softer now, but with all the same insistence as before. 

“Is it really?” you frowned, “aren’t all marriages these days purely business? When you marry someone, you’re marrying their family as well—weren’t you all too aware of this? Surely, this was why you chose not to tell me you were a marquess, was it not?” 

Youngho frowned. 

“That was not why I did not tell you. It was never about business to begin with,” he shook his head, pained to see your hurt being expressed in such a way, yet still unsure about how to voice out his thoughts. 

“You may take me for a fool, Youngho, but I know for a fact that you are anything but,” you folded your arms across your chest, breathing in deeply though it didn’t seem to satisfy you again, breathlessness creeping up on you, “what makes you think I am any different? How can you be so sure that I will marry this man for love?” 

Youngho’s expression turned even more serious at your words, holding a certain confidence to it that intimidated you, knowing you could never hide from him as much as you were attempting to do so now through your words. 

“I don’t believe you’d marry without it,” he spoke firmly, more as a statement, a fact. 

It made your mind go blank, knowing he was right. 

You shook your head slowly, your gaze hardening in an attempt to remain firm, “Whether you believe me or not, that does not change the fact that he has made his intentions clear. He is offering money and stability. My family can afford the dowry. I am in no position to refuse.” 

Perhaps you would be able to if he did something, you wanted to add. But somehow in that moment, you were afraid. The past few weeks have been a reminder to you of the helplessness you feared, the kind where you were unsupported, left to flail around for yourself not knowing what you were doing. 

This hardening of your gaze, of your words, of your heart, they were your last-ditch attempt at protecting yourself from that feeling of helplessness you were starting to grow familiar with in the past few weeks. You did not want to grow familiar with it, not for the rest of your life. 

“That man does not deserve you,” Youngho frowned, the way he looked at you with such sincerity making you avert your gaze, his attentiveness becoming too much, as if he was unlocking the part of you that yearned, telling you the things you needed to be reminded of. 

“I did not choose him based on how much he deserves me,” you muttered. 

“That’s because it wasn’t you choosing him at all,” Youngho shot back just as quickly, making you sigh. 

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a murmur as you felt your body yelling at you, telling you to take deeper breaths even though with each breath you took, it didn’t feel like enough.

You were starting to feel like the room was growing suffocating, frustration and longing and everything in between overwhelming you, “I do not have a choice—” 

“No, but you do,” he insisted, “you do have a choice. You can reject him and no one would blame you.” 

Your words were coming out faster than you could process now, only being able to focus on the boy in front of you and the way your heart felt like it was aching for that protection, that assurance, that Youngho allowed you to know. 

“And then what? Disappoint my family by saying no to the one thing they let me do?” you huffed, exasperated, “lose my parents’ trust because I wasn’t honest with them for once in my life?” 

Youngho sighed deeply, “What about love—” 

“And what about honesty?” You said, trying to breathe deeply but the ache in your chest made it difficult to, your fists clenching around your clothes as if trying to lessen the way it felt like you were being crushed. 

“Is that what you are ready to settle for, then?” Youngho’s tone was disbelieving, as if baffled that you were willing to sacrifice your needs and wants so easily, “mindless flattery from a man who is only honest about the fact that he sees you as a prize to be won?” 

Youngho regretted his words the moment they left him, seeing how you were leaning on the piano for balance, shaky breaths leaving you as your eyes welled up with tears once again. 

“I know!” You blurted, “... I know,” your hand came up to wipe your tears harshly, the other hand still gripping tightly onto your clothes, “It is not flattering to be desired… whilst not being loved.” 

Youngho couldn’t help himself now, moving without hesitation as he rushed over to where you were, his hands coming to grip your shoulders, letting you lean on him as he pulled you into his arms, your hands letting go of your dress weakly and falling to your sides as you let yourself remember what it felt like to be enveloped in this protection, in this support. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hand coming up to rub your back soothingly, his hold unwavering as he waited for you to calm down. 

“Why are you doing this to me, Youngho?” Your voice was muffled through his clothing, your tears falling freely now as you cried, his hands still comforting you as he sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry for upsetting you, I didn’t mean to.” 

You frowned, daring yourself to pull away from where your head rested against his chest, looking up to meet his gaze, still wrapped in the security of his arms. 

“I’m upset… yet I don’t quite think that’s the word I’m looking for. I’m… at a loss,” you told him, seeing him press his lips into a firm line as he nodded at you slowly, prompting you to continue. 

“Having to listen to you tell me not to marry a man we both know I have no true desire to marry, that I have no affection for… it’s… Here I am, feeling chained to my guilt as a daughter yet not being able to find any part of me that is truly satisfied in making up for my guilt in this way, or fulfilling my ‘duty’ as a daughter through this obedience.” 

You swallowed, averting your gaze to glance at Youngho’s collar before bringing your gaze back up to meet his eyes, the same hazel glow in them that made you feel as though he were the sun and you were simply a sunflower, gravitating towards him. 

Youngho guided you over to the sofa near the piano, letting you sit down, one of his hands still placed protectively over your hand, something you very much appreciated, serving to ground you almost.

“I… I didn’t know what to think, you just stopped showing up and I hadn’t heard from you, I was… I was worried. And to suddenly hear that you were being courted by this man, I just couldn’t help myself,” Youngho admitted, though there wasn’t a trace of regret in his tone that he was here. He didn’t regret this. 

You sighed, the memory feeling almost fresh in your mind as you recalled it. 

“My mother wouldn’t speak to me for weeks after she found my painting, after she read what they said in the scandal sheet. Do you think I like having to be in this position? To desire to be loved by the both of you but to feel as though the two are mutually exclusive.” 

At that moment, it felt as though you were laying your heart bare to Youngho, feeling as though you were the man in the painting you saw in the church, stepping out of the safety of your boat into the raging waters because you saw the one you loved, because you heard them call you to step out, and so you did. Willing yourself to be vulnerable for this love you felt for Youngho. 

“I was upset because… well, how can you even think of asking me if this is what I want? How can you think that for a second I would want to trade you in for a man who cannot possibly compare to you?” you frowned, bewildered that he could ever think such a thing. 

“How could you think for a second that I would want to settle for that man’s corrupt desire?” you murmured, searching his gaze that you saw was growing more insistent. 

“Well, then, what if you had both? What if you had someone who both desired and loved you with their entire being?” 

You shot him a pointed look. 

You knew Youngho was one that enjoyed speaking hypothetically about things, but you didn’t think now was exactly a perfect time to be doing so. 

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you huffed, “Youngho, discussing hypotheticals is not going to make this situation any less real.” 

How could you explain this to him? It didn’t matter if it was someone who desired and loved you, you were only wishing that someone would be him. 

Youngho shook his head, eyes wide as if he were sounding out a new idea to you for his art piece, making your eyebrows lift in curiosity. 

“I know, but what if you already had someone who loved you? What if they were in front of you right now. Would that change your mind about proceeding with that man?” 

You frowned, “Youngho, would you just speak plainly with me? What is it that you are trying to say?” 

Youngho’s lips parted, huffing in amusement in spite of himself, gathering up the rest of his heart to present it to you. 

“I don’t know how much plainer I can get than…”

Youngho’s eyebrows lifted slightly, an almost pleading look to his gaze as you felt his hand squeeze yours gently. 

“Y/N, do you not see that I love you deeply?” 

There it was, the grip that caught you before you could sink into the raging waters, the security and safety that enveloped your vulnerability. 

Perhaps the question you were meant to ponder all this while wasn’t really ‘how willing were you to be vulnerable?’, but ‘how safe did you feel to be vulnerable?’. 

The answer was simple to you now as you looked at him. 

Simple, but far from simplistic. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you told him, watching how his expression softened, his hand over yours grasping onto you tighter. 

“If it’s the money your mother is worried about… I don’t care about a dowry,” he blurted, thinking off the top of his head, the sudden mention of a dowry making you laugh at the absurdity of it. 

“I know you don’t, you never had to,” you scoffed, still recovering from your amusement that he would think you cared about such a thing. 

Youngho’s eyebrows lifted slightly in question, more curious than challenging. 

“Does that fact upset you?” 

You hummed, bringing one of your hands to cover his, running your thumb over the skin of his knuckles in a way that made Youngho melt. 

“How do I explain this to you, Youngho?... You don’t care about a dowry? Quite frankly, neither do I,” you let out an amused huff, “I find myself unable to care about anything other than the fact that it was your hands, your eyes, your heart… that it was you who… let me know what it feels like to be immortalised.”

“It has ruined any chance of me considering anyone else, because if I am to be immortalised, if I am to be conveyed into art, if I am to be vulnerable, if I am to be held... I want it to happen by your hands,” your tone was firm, all the love that swelled in your heart finally making its way out of you and trying to reach his, “your hands and no one else’s, Youngho.” 

“Even now with the knowledge that you are a marquess, that fact has no weight on my decision to love you because I did not fall in love with a marquess . I fell in love with you, your soul. " 

Youngho didn’t think he was breathing. All he could focus on was your voice that rang in his head, sweeter than any melody you played on the piano, sweeter than any sound he had heard, laced with love and painting vivid colours on his heart. 

“I only ever have the privilege of one answer for the suitors I’m presented with… but it was an answer I was only ever willing, or hoping , to offer to you,” a hint of a smile played at your lips, “so, forgive me, for not caring about the dowry either.” 

Youngho’s lips parted, not finding himself thinking about his words carefully, simply letting his heart go before him in his words, his own love desperate to make its way into your heart and make a home there. 

“I brought something for you,” he began, using his free hand (simply because he did not want to let go of your hand) to reach into his coat, pulling out the leatherbound sketchbook you recognised from before. 

“Remember how I told you it was never about business to begin with?” he spoke, earning a nod from you, his fingers absently toying with the string of the worn sketchbook. 

“It’s because… I’ve seen how fickle people are. How they change the moment they find out you are of a certain status or possess certain wealth. It made me cynical for a long time,” this time, you couldn’t find it in you to look away, his gaze that was searching yours was far too beautiful to miss, “I didn’t trust people’s intentions because most of the time they really were only interested in my money or my family.” 

You nodded, prompting him to continue. 

“It’s why I never liked doing portraits,” he admitted, “they always felt cold . It was… overwhelming to me; the idea of immortalising a creature so fickle, so tainted by power and money. You could never really see the person for who they were, only the things they wanted to show off.” 

“So,” he let out a deep sigh, “I told myself that if I ever met someone who could see me as just a poor painter, with little to nothing to his name. Just me, with nothing but myself to show off, and love me in spite of that… then I’d consider. I know it doesn’t change the fact that I lied to you, but… I can’t say I regret it because you proved me wrong.” 

You felt your heart ache, wishing you could express to him just how much love you had for him, how much love he had been missing out on all this while. You wished to hold him in it for as long as you could. 

“You were the first,” he murmured, “to truly see me.” 

He pushed the sketchbook towards you, lifting your hand slightly to let it rest on the leather. 

You recalled his words, how showing you his sketchbook would be him baring his heart to you, and somehow the thought made a wave of emotion wash through you. This was his way of stepping out of the boat, rushing to you after your heart called out to him, willing himself to be vulnerable for love. 

“This,” he gestured to the sketchbook, and perhaps implied much more, “is yours now.”

Letting out a deep breath, this time his confidence showing in the firmness of his tone, the surety of his gaze, “I’ve come to realise that… it was always yours.”   

Letting go of your hands slowly, with all the reluctance in his being, he stood up, nodding resolutely more for himself than for you. 

“I should be taking my leave now… I… hope I’ve made my intentions clear.” 

And you let him leave without another word, watching as his figure disappeared out of your door, past the sunflowers in your garden that looked as though they too were reluctant for him to leave. 

Directing your gaze back to his sketchbook, you fiddled with the string, almost hesitant to open it out of a sheer want to treat it delicately. 

His sketchbook, his art, his heart that he declared was yours now, that was always yours. You saw it clearly once you undid the little knot that kept it closed. 

You saw it in the drawing of your hands on the piano keys, in the drawing of the view of your back as you walked away from him at the flower market, sunflowers peeking over your shoulder to look at him, in the drawing of your hands clasped in front of your dress holding the bundle of cloth wrapped around the honey biscuits. 

You continued to flip the pages. 

The image of your side view, playing the piano in his studio, the image of you tending to the flowers that he gave you, the view of you mulling the paint from where he sat on his stool. The view of you holding his sketches above your head as you decorated his studio. 

It was as though you were seeing yourself from his perspective, ridden with a certain affection and yearning that felt so intimate to be looking at in such a way, knowing it was his hands that had conveyed you into this… permanence. It was sureness found even in the strokes of graphite against paper. 

You dared yourself to continue to flip the pages. 

You noticed that there were even more drawings now, multiple drawings of the same memory, as if you were watching the moment happen before your eyes again. 

An image of your stocking halfway up your calf, your hands grasping it firmly by the hem. Another image of your hands around the delicate pink silk ribbon garter, in the middle of untying the garter. An image of your leg with the little sunflower on your ankle, another image of just that same sunflower alone. 

An image of you in the field with him that night, the mouth of the wine glass touching delicately against your lips, an image of the little smile you mustered after tasting the wine. An image of the smile that hardly left your face that night as you looked at him. Next to the image of your smile, a drawing of tulips. An image of his view of you as you lay your head on his lap, looking up at him, almost embarrassing you as you saw how much affection you could detect in your gaze even then. 

An image of your hand clasped around his, almost being able to remember the feel of his fingertips under your nails as you pressed them gently against his skin. An image of your eyes shut, lips gently parted, wildflowers peeking out from the grass next to your shoulders and his thigh as you waited for the feel of his lips against yours. 

The detail of your features in watercolour as you flipped the pages almost made you feel as though you were looking at a mirror. There was nothing cold about what you were looking at, but instead all the warmth that came with your soul and his, reflected on the paper. 

The whole sketchbook was filled with you, and in it, him as well. All the love he had for you in every line, in every shade, even in the pressure of his pencil against paper, in the colours that made his sketches come alive. This was his heart, for your eyes only. 

In short, you felt loved. 

Perhaps, this was it. The intangible thing you sought, love, made tangible in Youngho. 

=== 

Dancing was tricky business, as you knew. And a rule that you couldn’t help but call to mind now was that if a lady like you were to dance more than twice with the same man in the same night, or furthermore refuse to dance with any but him, you were basically announcing to the world that the both of you were engaged.

It was all that rang through your head as you stood with your sister as the viscount had just returned with drinks for the both of you, slipping off your gloves to accept the drink as you trained your gaze on where your mother was a little far off from you, seeming to be in an intense conversation with Youngho. 

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” you whispered harshly to your sister, anxious as you watched from afar. 

Her laugh caught you off guard, turning to her with wide-eyes. 

“What else do you think they could be talking about? You don’t suppose they would be engaging in such a fervent conversation about paintings, do you?” her tone was sarcastic, laced with amusement as you frowned, huffing. 

Sure, as you watched Youngho, he looked relaxed, radiating the same calm confidence as he spoke to your mother, even smiling while your mother’s expression remained almost surprised. 

You figured that was a good sign, right? As opposed to if her expression was sour. 

“I’m trying to read his lips,” Jaehyun murmured, “but I’m absolutely certain he just said ‘you have nothing to worry about’.” 

Your eyebrows lifted. Of course it would be Youngho, saying that to your mother of all people. That was almost as good as pointing at a table and demanding for it to get up and walk.

Your mind was absolutely racing as you saw her nod, already making her way towards you, with Youngho following a few paces behind her. 

Reaching you, you exchanged a look with your sister before turning your gaze towards your mother. Jaehyun stood beside her, looking on with evident amusement at the scene playing out before him. 

Letting out a tired sigh, she lowered her voice to a murmur. 

“I do not know what it is about you that has seemed to have caught his eye,” she looked as though she were in disbelief, “But the young man was so insistent on getting my approval for him to pursue a marriage with you. Judging by his demeanour, his background, I find no complaints.” 

Your eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, glancing at Youngho who stood behind her with a certain sense of pride that glowed within you. A pride that came with knowing that this was who he was— insistent, charming, sincere— and that did not change with his social status. 

“He insists that he has already asked for your permission, is that correct?” 

You tore your gaze away from Youngho, meeting your mother’s gaze with a firmness unlike Youngho has ever seen you show your mother, his own little pride glowing in his heart as he watched you. 

“He has,” you told her, “and I have granted it to him.”

Your mother’s eyes widened just briefly, surprised at your tone, yet feeling as though she should have seen it coming at the same time. 

She simply let out a breath through her nose, nodding. 

“Then I expect you to see this through,” she told you, as though it were an instruction, “for a man with his status to be looking so favourably upon you, it is a miracle , if anything. Do not ruin this opportunity.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that played at your lips, amused at the way your mother had no idea who Youngho was, and that she would continue to have no idea that he was the same Youngho she was forbidding you to see just weeks before. And you intended for it to stay that way, yours and Youngho’s little secret. 

“Oh, don’t worry, mother. I definitely won’t.” 

Turning to give him a sweet smile, Youngho felt his heart jump in his chest as he extended a hand towards you, asking you for a dance with such politeness that it almost made you laugh. 

Following him onto the dance floor, you assumed your positions so naturally that it was a given that anyone who looked in from the outside would be able to tell that the two of you were well-acquainted.

And as you started to dance, somehow, it felt like Youngho was the only one you could focus on in the room. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

Your little mantra of love began to echo once again with each beat of your heart, begging to reach his heart that you almost didn’t notice yourself saying his name. 

Youngho smiled, a certain knowingness to his playful gaze. 

“Yes, my beloved?” 

Your lips parted, poorly hiding the way the words had sent warmth all through your body, the feeling of his hand pressing against yours as you waltzed, the intimacy of the choreography and the way he was looking at you making your head spin. 

“Beloved?” you echoed, implication behind the word making you lean into him unconsciously, burying yourself in the security you felt in his hold. 

Youngho let out an amused huff that turned into a giggle that bubbled out of him, “You sound surprised. It is no secret that I love you, Y/N.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“My head is spinning,” you admitted, earning a dramatic gasp from him, giving you a playful sheepish look. 

“Sorry, perhaps I dressed too nicely today,” he drawled, the teasing lilt of his tone making your smile grow. 

“Are you teasing me?” you scoffed, your smile removing any possible trace of menace. 

Youngho pressed his lips together, the softest of smiles on his face. 

“Not in the slightest bit.” 

Feigning a glare at him, it didn’t last long the longer you held his gaze, the both of you poorly stifling your joy as little giggles threatened to escape you. 

“I’m not going to impose on you,” he began, sounding breathless from barely having recovered from his bout of giggles. 

“That’s questionable,” you took your chance to quip, earning a scoff from him. 

“All I’ll say is, I’m going to ask you for a third dance. And what you choose to respond with is entirely up to you.” 

Your tongue peeked out to wet your lips, the gesture making Youngho’s gaze shift briefly from your eyes to your lips, evidently having to force himself to bring his gaze back up to your eyes, looking at you with all the affection you wished you could immortalise in a painting. 

Nodding at him, you let yourself enjoy the rest of the dance with him, smiling until your cheeks hurt. And you let it continue as he asked you for a third dance, the both of you not giving it a second thought as you continued to relish in each other’s presence, in each other’s touch, in each other’s love. 

Oblivious to the murmurs and gossip that the both of you were inciting, you were only able to focus on him and him on you, protected and enveloped in the love you both shared no matter how exposed you felt in the room, just as how it should’ve always been. 

Conduct books be damned, here you were, simply a lady in love. 

[psycheyn]

pairing: johnny suh x fem reader

genre: fluff (i guess? i don't knowww this is a first :<)

warnings: nonee (or a little cravings, i guess?)

note: this is my first attempt to write, pls bear with me `^`

[ 12:21 am ]

johnny is on the midst of playing valorant with jaehyun and haechan when he hears a familiar knock on his door.

“yes love? come in.” he said while his focus is still on the game.

“nah, i’ll stay here. are you busy?” you asks although you can faintly hear the keyboard smashing and johnny’s little curses.

“playing a game with jae. why? is there something wrong?— bro, i'll get back.” he stand and walks to the door, opening it to see you leaning sideways on the wall, almost like peeking.

“why? why aren’t you coming in?” he asks but you just smiled and gave him a hug.

“hmm. if you’re hugging me first then it means you need something...” his hands went to your hair and combs it while saying those out loud.

you whip your head upwards to look at johnny.

“do you realize that you unconsciously tell what’s on your mind lately?”

“do i?” he asks.

giggles. “yeah. you did it just now. no worries though, it's cute.” you said while laughing.

“cute.” he smiles. clearly not pertaining to his newfound habit, but instead of you.

“now, why are you hanging around my room and not coming in?”

“i’m coming in~" you said, throwing your hands up in the air to show him you surrender. you sit on his bed so johnny tries to walk towards you (and pamper you with kisses, he plans) but you told him off with a smile.

"finish your game first. jaehyun must be cursing you right now instead of your enemies.” you laugh when you heard him grunt, mumbling a little 'i shouldn't have accepted their invites'.

not long after, johnny turned off his monitor. still sitting in his chair, he spins around to face you.

“i'm done and i'm not playing anytime soon, so will you tell me now?” he said in all finality like you won't be seeing him playing games for a week.

“i’m actually craving some sandwich. can we go to subway?” then you smile at him, paired with two beautiful eyes that captured him the first time he saw it, and the smile that makes his heart flutter whenever he sees it.

it never gets old, it's almost the same as always, he thinks.

“sure. anything for you, mi love.” he stands up to get his keys when you said something you wanted to try again for a long time.

“can i drive too?” johnny looked at you, trying to see if you're testing him or you're just joking. but then he sees you are seriously asking.

he knows you don't really like driving (even though you have a license) because of that one incident when you almost punch the guy who overtakes you and you almost end up hitting another car.

“you want to drive suddenly? out of nowhere?”

“yeah? i mean, it's midnight? there's not a lot of cars going around." you answers. he squints at you, not really convinced so you speak again.

"though it's fine if you're not okay with it.”

“no, it's fine. but are you sure it's okay?" you hum and he smiles, kissing your forehead then grabs your hand as you two walk out of the door.

"okay, if you say so.”

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

“bub, i thought we're going to subway? why are we at mcdonalds?” johnny asks when he saw where you park at. you put up a fist, startling him then pops two fingers, giving him a peace sign for the sudden change of thought.

“hehe. i’m suddenly craving for big mac and fries. oh! and nuggets? i like to eat mcflurries too”

johnny laughs at your remarks. he swiftly get out of the car and went to your side to help you.

“how are you not sure of your cravings, love?" you smiled sheepishly while he ruffles your hair, making you swerve away from him. 'stop ruffling my hair big guy'

"well, maybe my love for mcdonalds surpasses my cravings for sandwich." you jokingly shrug and made your way to the counter when he suddenly blocks you.

"woah, okay. here's a million dollar question for you, pretty lady," he stop his sentence, creating a failed attempt on suspense.

"me or mcdonalds?" you expected it but you still snicker at his question. just how far can he be so cute?

"tough one, but sorry, I have to say mcdonalds." you say, trying to tease him a bit. "come on, I'm starving." then you try to pull him from his stance.

"oh," he said. "so this is how it goes, huh. well i love mcdonalds too."

"i know love. quick, I'm really hungry."

"but not as much as i love you." then he stole a quick kiss from you and went straight first to the counter. you can hear the lady over the cashier telling him the two of you look good together and that made you smile.

uhm... hello? pls forgive me ` ^` ;;

if u saw this somewhere, no you don't ^^;; (that was just me posting on the wrong acc lol)

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

Focus

How can I not write anything about Johnny's solo performance in The Link concerts?

Here's a short piece of how my mind malfunctioned for a moment and indulged in carnal desires.

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

POV: 2nd person

Word count: ~470 words

Warning: I didn't get too smutty. Not yet. We'll get there soon?

Recommended listening: Obviously the song he introduced in the concert and one of my favorites on the album!

---

“Damn, what did I do to deserve you?”

You whispered, taking in the glorious sight in front of you. Johnny Suh, your partner, was only wearing a pair of skintight leather trousers, and his body was glistening from sweat.

He performed a dance to arouse you, and you knew you would already be even if he didn’t do it. You remembered calling him a sex god in your mind, and what he did solidify that further.

“You deserve the best, baby,” he said while approaching your figure, his hands immediately snaking around your waist. “It’s been a while we’ve done this, right?” His lips connected to your neck, peppering kisses that made your body heat up even more.

“Yeah, we’ve been too busy,” you responded, breaking away from his hold a bit to cradle his beautiful face. “And I appreciate your Magic Mike routine. You don’t know how I turned on I am right now,” you stuck out your tongue at him, trying to keep things light. You knew once he got serious, he would be like that throughout the night.

“Well, that’s the point. Do you think I can get a gig with that?” He giggled, his hold on you never faltering. “I’m sure you will, but I’m not comfortable that you'll do that in front of other women,” you kissed the tip of his nose before you tugged at the waistband of your sweatpants.

“No, baby, I’ll only do that for you,” Johnny was quick in undressing you as if he had memorized it a thousand times already. Before you could even touch his pants, he had already taken them off. “Just relax, and I’ll do all the work, okay?” He kissed your forehead before he attacked your lips with a ravenous kiss.

You had to admit that Johnny leading your sexy time was one of the best things you’ve ever experienced in life, and he never failed to deliver. It was a good thing that tomorrow was the weekend, and you could stay in bed the whole day since you know you’ll be sore from all the manhandling he’ll do to you.

He kissed, nipped, sucked, licked, massaged, slapped, and thrusted into your body in all the right places, and the only thing you could do was scream his name louder each time he did.

No one can ever compare to him, not even Jaehyun, who fucked you almost every day when you decided to have an affair with him. You recalled telling the younger guy that he was the best, but when Johnny hit your G-spot repeatedly with his long and thick dick, that thought flew out of your mind.

All you could think of was the pleasure your partner was giving you and damn those guilty thoughts from the past that keep creeping on you during inappropriate times.

---

FIN

P.S. Ugh, that ending. It always comes back to that affair.