#they let ji be cool!

[wordswhisperinthedark]

THEY FINALLY PUT IT BACK UP👑💛

[bananawaddledee]

mochizuki!! (and yuki)

IF U LIKE PERSONA AND PROJECT SEKAI CAN WE BE FRIENDS 🙏

[bitchfitch]

Tbh this is more me bitching about once again wasting money on a game I probably won't be able to finish due to cripple-itus but we're going to pretend it's a serious discussion on game design.

So to preface: my vision is fucked. Irrevocably. Like get discounts on insurance levels of fucked. But games, even very difficult ones still Often very doable and fun.

One of my favorite genres is "white dot goes on a combat platforming adventure" Ie metroidvania/soulslikes that either Are hollow knight or heavily inspired by hollow knight

And I just want to compare a Good white dot, against an extremely irritating white dot.

This is yi. He is an edgy cat boy. he is a good white dot.

No matter the amount of bullshit on screen or the background color, you can always quickly find the white dot that is Yi or his lil robe.

This Bo. They are a bad white dot. they look like they'd be a Good white dot, what with the really clear silhouette of their ears and strong red markings

This is Bo in the game.

Bo breaks the number 1 rule of being a white dot: they end up the same color as the background because neat light effects which do look Great, were more important than the ability to find you're guy while doing minute long don't touch the ground style parkour sessions.

Like Hollowknight and Nine Sols, Path of the teal lotus uses a lot of forground and back ground layers to create a very nice sense of depth. However the foreground layers frequently completely cover the lower half of Bo's body. often making them a light colored dot on a noisy light colored back ground.

The fact background and play ground elements are often the same color does not help. Nor does the fact the camera is . Bad. it just is. It zooms in and out in the middle of a screen making it extremely difficult to keep track of an already hard to follow character in a setting where. losing track of your guy means getting sent back to the beginning of a tedious boss fight or a prolonged parkour session (which to be clear, would be good if you could track your player character. not the bosses though. They are. bad. they need to attack faster, have more than 2 attacks, or at least have a fraction of the HP they do. so you're not just standing around waiting for them to decide to start up another attack to open a vulnerability window.)

And I'm just going to say it, Someone on the team knew the game had this issue. Because they gave you a fix that doesn't work. You can adjust brightness, contrast, and saturation. None of these fix the issue of Bo disappearing. The game is so blown out that no combination of settings produce a result where bo is consistently visible, and also you can tell whats background and what's something you can stand on.

Anyways Demos are an accessibility feature, and when they're not available don't be lazy like I was and just pirate it. If the devs aren't going to give you a way to check if their shit is busted or not, you'll just have to find one yourself.

Anyways anyways tldr absolutely Gorgeous game, Should've been a silent animated movie instead because it's nearly unplayable and the translators either did a Really bad job, or the writers just didn't get why the jokes they're copying were funny

[shinmiyovvi]

Here's the height reference and casual outfits of my Ultimis Main Ocs

Notes to remember:

Both Drago and Archie wear black leather gloves.

Licia has cuff shirt sleeves (You can go to the Primis version of this reference to see the different types of sleeves.)

It's a bit obvious but Eun Ji has a bishop-like sleeve.

[anemoiawithatouchofobsession]

When you want to post good pictures and fawn over your fave male celebrities like your moots do (@papaya2000s and SVT hehe) but all of them are (extremely happily) married and I lowkey have more respect, appreciation and love for their wives than for them

[nerdlvr]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅rent-a-girlfriend.com

maybe you should've deleted that stupid girlfriend rental website you made years ago. and maybe you should've ignored park jisung's very desperate request to pay for a fake girlfriend. but hey, it's easy money, not like you'll fall in love with him or anything... right?

basically, even though the rent-a-girlfriend site isn't actually in service... who would say no to $40 an hour and free dates with park jisung?

fuckboy!jisung x fem!reader

genre : humor , strangers to lover , fake dating , college au , fluff fluff fluff(jisungs a fuckboy but he's still a dork) , oblivious jisung and y/n , miscommunication trope most likely, crack alternate storyline of cryptic crush

warnings : sex jokes , death jokes , mean insults and comments , jisung a lil freak , should probably read cryptic crush before this one if u haven't (i will be making inside jokes)

notes : im weak for fake dating aus. i'm playing it cool and i'm just gonna let this one flow. i like to focus on the comedic points of my smaus so this one will be no different, but i kinda want like a longing pining type of feel once they start liking each other yk... is it fake dating without secretly crushing on each other? gonna take it slow and see how the plot develops

playlist : kiss me , sixpence none the richer | linger , the cranberries | heaven knows im miserable now , the smiths | valentine , laufey | bad habit , steve lacy | n side , steve lacy | lovers rock , tv girl | glue song , beabadoobee

status : ongoing , updates x2 a week

taglist : closed !

yn’s group , ji’s group

intro

1~ IN THIS ECONOMY????

2~ big booty latina

3~ head for a mcflurry

4~ didn't wipe the what.

5~ something is off…

6~ get real

7~ A TWINK????

8~ this shit just pmo

9~ japan's greatest treasure

10~ savannah slow down.

11~ golden pickle

12~ i want you

13~ 🩷

14~ i was hacked.

15~ ik my cookie good

16~ who else feel like a baka rn

17~ stood up and applauded

18~ mercedes benz logo

19~ auw fucK man

20~ boo you whore

21~ BOMBOCLATT

TBD

extras :

TBD

[zhongfile]

guilty pleasure - park jisung

pairing: jisung x afab reader

wc: 764

warnings: virgin!jisung, praising, kissing, overstimulation, dry humping, handjob, crying, jisung cums in his pants.

requests: open!

A/N: this is based on a reddit post i saw on twitter and i thought it SCREAMMED jisung. I put my own lil twist to it tho🫶🏾 hope you guys enjoy! feedback highly appreciated :)

“fuck— s-shit!” you pulled back from your boyfriend's lips scanning his face for any type of discomfort.

“ji? what’s wrong—“ jisung froze and so did you. you looked down at his lap seeing a clear visible stain over his sweatpants. he tried his best to cover his lap with his hands giggling when he kept apologizing to you repeatedly.

“baby it’s okay” jisung knew you didn’t care about him cumming in his pants but he did. It was embarrassing. and he would much rather not have his sweatpants be sticky every time you two kissed. you and jisung have been dating a little over a year now and you’ve only had heavy makeout sessions. jisung was a virgin and wanted to wait which you respected but every time you two made out he felt his urges were growing stronger. even feeling the need to finally masturbate for the first time but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

you could kiss him for five seconds and he’s pulling back trying to calm himself down not wanting to cum. If you squeezed his thigh or got a little handsy he would stop you before continuing to get his heart rate to slow down. jisung didn’t understand why you didn’t freak out over him cumming in his pants but you honestly found it cute and it gave you a bit of a confidence boost.

It’s been almost a month since you last made out with jisung and you were starting to miss it. jisung was avoiding another makeout sesh too scared he’ll cum in his pants again. he avoided any type of long kisses from you, always feeling his cock get rock hard when your lips begin to linger a little too long. jisung was proud of himself for keeping his cool for a month hoping the next time the two of you made out it won’t leave his pants sticky.

jisung arrived at your apartment with flowers in his hands and a smile on his face. excited to take you on a date after not seeing you for a while.

“baby?” he called, walking in your apartment “in here!” you shouted back from your bedroom bathroom.

jisung smiled once again hearing your voice as he made his way to your bedroom mouth going completely dry he saw you step out the bathroom. your black long dress hugged your body in all the right places. you smelt like his favorite perfume and you had on the promise ring he got you a while back.

“you look beautiful” jisung breathed out, handing you the roses. “thank you baby” you cooed quickly pecking his lips. jisung kissed you again this time deepening the kiss catching you by surprise making you drop the flowers. he pushed you back on the bed hovering over you. you wrapped your arms tightly around jisung’s neck while your plush lips move in sync against his.

jisung could already feel himself getting hard humping against your leg to get some type of friction. you moaned at the contact, his hard cock pressing in between your legs rubbing against your clit.

“gonna cum gonna cum” jisung chanted out between kisses, his hips stuttering as he came staining his black jeans.

“please” he panted. “touch me please” jisung was already pulling his still hard cock out his pants before you could even say anything. his cock red and dripping in his cum.

you slowly started pumping his cock in your hand jisung closing his eyes at the touch. whimpering at the overstimulation.

“does it feel good ji?” you asked kissing at his neck jisung letting out another whimper “y-yes”

you felt your panties sticking to your cunt as you got jisung off. his whines of your name and the way he bucked his hips in your fist turned you on so much.

“baby— i’m close again” jisung's voice cracked as he rested his head on your chest, his second orgasm approaching quickly. you felt a tear fall onto your shoulder looking at jisung. his sweet moans started to turn into small sobs.

“i’m gonna fucking cum” he cried out ropes of cum hitting your dress watching jisung legs shake as he comes down from his high. still letting out small sobs from the overstimulation.

“oh ji” you cooed, pushing his now sweaty hair out his face. “you did so good baby so good” leaving a kiss on his forehead.

jisung kissed your lips again, biting at your bottom lip. he pulled back scanning your face

“need to fuck you next time. please”

[kaysungshine]

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio. 

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves. 

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to. 

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off. 

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative. 

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship. 

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc. 

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress. 

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could. 

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new. 

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock. 

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

 You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it. 

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor. 

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet. 

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully. 

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting. 

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors. 

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping. 

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall. 

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together. 

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile. 

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them. 

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek. 

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume. 

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent. 

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly. 

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face. 

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin. 

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips. 

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing. 

All white. 

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin. 

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body. 

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes. 

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him. 

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes. 

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again. 

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you. 

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit. 

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love." 

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation. 

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance. 

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light. 

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good. 

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished. 

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop. 

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about. 

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh. 

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw. 

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck. 

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting. 

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..." 

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all. 

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back. 

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him. 

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close. 

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out. 

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were. 

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you. 

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it. 

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue. 

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself. 

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you. 

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you. 

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything. 

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me." 

"Fuck, Ji, I-" 

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy. 

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan. 

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips. 

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars. 

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up. 

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him. 

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful. 

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming. 

"I love you." You finally murmur. 

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder. 

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you." 

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it. 

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you." 

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip. 

You knew the night was far from over. 

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you. 

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐆 — ( h. jisung. )

pairing: bf!Han Jisung x reader

genre: drabble fluff

summary: you call your boyfriend 'bug'.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

"Hey, Bug."

The studio was dimly lit, the only glow coming from Jisung’s monitor and the warm LED strip running along the desk. He was hunched over his laptop, fingers tapping rhythmically against the keyboard, eyes flitting between the screen and the small notepad beside him.

You stood in the doorway, watching him with a fond smile. His hair was messy, a telltale sign that he had been tugging at it in frustration. His hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of his collarbone. He was lost in his world, completely unaware of your presence.

Shaking your head with amusement, you stepped closer, careful not to startle him. “You’ve been here for hours, Ji,” you murmured, voice soft as a whisper in the quiet room.

Jisung jumped slightly, eyes wide as he spun in his chair to face you. “Ah— baby, you scared me,” he said, hand over his chest as he exhaled dramatically.

You chuckled, stepping forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry,” you said, “but you should take a break.”

He pouted, lips pressing into a familiar, stubborn line. “I just need to finish this part—”

“Hey, bug,” you interrupted, voice light as a feather, laced with affection.

Jisung froze. His breath hitched.

You blinked, tilting your head. “What’s wrong?”

His ears turned pink. “What—what did you just call me?”

You hesitated, confused by his sudden reaction. “…Bug?”

A flustered laugh bubbled out of him, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “That— um. That was unexpected,” he mumbled, voice an octave higher than usual.

You grinned. “Why? Do you not like it?”

He cleared his throat, still avoiding your gaze. “No, it’s just—” He exhaled, finally looking up at you. His eyes were warm, a little shy, but filled with something soft, something sweet. “It’s cute,” he admitted. “You’re cute.”

Your heart did a little flip.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Well, you are my little bug,” you teased, booping his nose gently.

Jisung groaned, burying his face in his hands, but you could see the way his smile peeked through. “I’m never gonna recover from this.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in a loose hug. “Take a break, and maybe I’ll call you that again.”

He huffed dramatically, but his hands found their way around your waist, holding you close. “Okay, okay,” he relented, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “But only if you keep calling me that.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Deal, bug.”

Jisung melted.

And just like that, his music could wait a little longer.

Jisung didn’t let go.

Even though he had agreed to take a break, even though his laptop was still open behind him, even though he had no reason to cling to you like this—he didn’t let go.

You had called him bug, and now his heart was in absolute chaos.

Your fingers moved lazily through his hair, nails grazing his scalp in the softest way possible, and Jisung was sure he was about to combust. He wasn’t usually this weak to pet names—sure, he liked the occasional Ji or Sungie, and when you were being playful, a teasing Hamster never failed to make him whine.

But bug?

It was gentle. Sweet. It felt like something delicate, something that curled around his heart and squeezed in the softest, warmest way.

His arms tightened around your waist before he could stop himself.

“baby,” he mumbled into your shoulder, voice muffled by your hoodie.

You hummed. “What’s up?”

Jisung hesitated. How was he supposed to put this into words? That his heart was a mess, that you made him a mess, that the way you said his name—hey, bug—made him feel like the luckiest idiot alive?

He pulled back just enough to see your face. Your glasses were slightly askew from the way he had smushed himself against you, and your eyes blinked at him, curious and patient.

His chest ached in the best way.

“I—” He swallowed, licking his lips. “I really like you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, a soft laugh escaping you. “I’d hope so. We’ve been dating for—”

“No, like—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I mean, I really, really like you.”

Your lips parted, surprise flashing across your face.

Jisung groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Ugh, I don’t know how to say it. It’s just—” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his hands flailing as he tried to make you understand. “I think I just had a moment? Like, a realization moment? Where I looked at you and thought, oh. I’m doomed.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you bit your lip, trying (and failing) to fight off a smile. “You’re doomed?”

Jisung sighed dramatically. “Hopelessly. Eternally. Irrevocably.”

You laughed, and Jisung swore he could feel it, the way it warmed the air around him. “And this realization happened… because I called you bug?”

His ears burned. “Maybe.”

You grinned, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “So if I say it again, will you have another moment?”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare—”

“Hey, bug.”

Jisung collapsed.

Not literally, but his head dropped straight into your shoulder again, and a whine escaped his throat before he could stop it. “Nooo, I can’t handle this,” he mumbled, voice slightly strangled.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him again. “I didn’t know my little bug was so soft.”

[starsenha]

COLLAB STAGE / Y.J

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!idol!reader x dom!idol!jungwon (ft. Lesserafim Yunjin)

Genre ◊ SMUT, fluff

Warnings ◊ SMUT (MINORS DNI), harddom!jungwon, hair pulling, fingering, oral (m. receiving), semi-public sex, overstimulation, rough, slight dacryphilia, mirror sex, aftercare, dry humping, petnames (sweetheart, baby...), reader is a year older than jungwon (so he calls her noona)

Word count ◊ 6.7k

Summary ◊ You and Jungwon were friends since your trainee days, you've always seen him as a little brother, until this collaboration you had to with him for your Summer Gayo Daejeon performance

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You stepped out of the sleek, black car provided by Hybe Entertainment, the cool morning air brushing against your face as you headed toward the familiar studio entrance. The tall building loomed above you, your company logo glinting in the sunlight. As you entered the lobby, you were greeted by the usual bustle of staff and trainees, everyone busy with their own schedules.

“Good morning!” you called out to a few familiar faces, receiving nods and smiles in return. The anticipation bubbled in your chest as you reached the designated practice room. Today was pretty special. The CEO had chosen you to do a collaboration stage with a member of Enhypen for the upcoming SBS Gayo Daejeon performance. And you were so happy that that member was Jungwon. You used to train together back in the day. He was only a year younger than you, and you were always pretty close. Plus, your groups debuted around the same time. But, what you did not know, was that Jungwon always kinda had a crush on you, and he’s been trying to make you see him differently for months now. 

Pushing open the door to the studio, you saw him already there, stretching on the floor. His eyes lit up when he noticed you, and he jumped to his feet with a wide grin.

“Noona!” Jungwon called out, his youthful enthusiasm infectious.

“Won! You’re here early,” you said, smiling back as you dropped your bag on the bench and joined him in stretching.

“I was too excited to sleep much,” he admitted with a chuckle. “This is going to be so much fun. I can’t believe we finally get to do this.”

“I know! I’ve been looking forward to it too,” you replied. “It’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to work on something together.”

As you both chatted and caught up, the door swung open again, and the choreographer, Ji-eun, walked in. She was a renowned figure in the industry, known for her intricate and dynamic hip-hop routines. You had already worked with her, as she created the choreography for your group’s last comeback.

“Good morning, everyone!” Ji-eun greeted, her energy palpable. “Are you two ready to work?”

“Yes!” you and Jungwon responded in unison, exchanging amused glances.

Ji-eun clapped her hands together, signaling the start of the session. “Great. Let’s get started with the basics of the routine. It’s a hip-hop piece with a lot of sharp movements and synchronization. I need you both to bring your A-game.”

You and Jungwon nodded, focusing as Ji-eun demonstrated the initial steps. The beat of the music pulsed through the room, and you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm. Jungwon mirrored your movements perfectly, his natural talent shining through.

“Good, good! Now, let’s add some more complexity,” Ji-eun said, moving into the next sequence. The steps were fast and challenging, requiring both agility and precision.

As the session progressed, Ji-eun occasionally stopped to give pointers, adjusting your posture or tweaking a movement here and there. The routine was demanding, but you relished the challenge. You and Jungwon fell into an easy rhythm, your movements syncing effortlessly.

“Perfect! That’s what I’m talking about,” Ji-eun praised after another run-through. “You two have great chemistry. This stage is going to be amazing.”

Jungwon grinned at you, wiping sweat from his brow with his towel. “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

“We always have,” you agreed, returning his smile. “Remember those practice sessions back when we were trainees? We were always trying to outdo each other.”

“Yeah, and you always won,” he laughed, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Not always,” you corrected him. “But most of the time, yes.”

You saw Jungwon roll his eyes playfully and open his mouth to retort, but Ji-eun called for another run-through. You threw yourself back into the routine, your body moving instinctively to the beat.

An hour and a half flew by in a blur of music and movement. By the time Ji-eun finally called for a break, you were both exhausted but exhilarated.

“Take fifteen, and then we’ll do a full run-through with the music,” Ji-eun instructed, heading out to take a call.

You collapsed onto the floor, stretching out your legs. Jungwon flopped down beside you, panting lightly.

“This is going to be epic,” he said between breaths.

“Definitely,” you agreed. “We’ll show everyone what Jokerz and Enhypen can do together.”

Jungwon’s expression softened as he looked at you, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.

Ji-eun returned to the studio and gave you both some final pointers before she left you to rehearse on your own. The studio was buzzing with the high-energy choreography you had been perfecting all morning.

“Okay, you two, I think you’ve got a good handle on this,” Ji-eun said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll leave you to practice on your own for a bit. Just remember to keep the energy up and stay in sync.”

“Got it!” you and Jungwon chorused, both of you giving her a confident nod.

As Ji-eun left the room, you turned to Jungwon with a grin. “So, ready to run it again?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with determination.

You both got into position, and the music started up again. This time, without Ji-eun’s watchful eye, you found yourselves more relaxed, allowing your natural chemistry to shine through. Your movements were fluid and synchronized, feeding off each other’s energy.

“Nice move there, wonnie!” you called out mid-routine as he nailed a particularly tricky step.

“Thanks, noona! You’re killing it too!” he shot back, his smile wide.

After a few more run-throughs, you both paused for a break. You went to take your water bottle in the corner of the room, trying to do some air with your hand. 

At the corner of your eye, you saw Jungwon pulled off his hoodie, revealing a tank top underneath. You blinked, momentarily taken aback. You had always seen Jungwon as a little brother figure, but seeing the definition of his muscles was… he was so hot. You tried to ignore the unexpected flutter in your stomach as you took a sip of water. As he took his own water bottle, you watched him discretly, a pool forming in your belly. 

“Uh… you’ve been working out lately?” you said, attempting to keep your tone casual.

He glanced down at himself, then back at you with a casual shrug. “Oh, this? Yeah, I sometimes work out with the hyungs. Gotta stay in shape, you know?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the conversation and not how his tank top clung to his frame. Wow, this was new. “Makes sense. It’s just… I guess I never noticed before.”

Jungwon’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he caught the slight flush on your cheeks. “Noona, are you blushing?” he teased, flexing his arm a bit more prominently.

Your face heated up even more as you sputtered, “N-no! I’m just… it’s hot in here, that’s all.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Determined to shift the focus, you stood up and stretched. “Let’s get back to it. We’ve got to nail this routine.”

Jungwon chuckled, following your lead. “Alright, let’s do it. But don’t think I didn’t notice, noona. You were totally checking me out.”

You shot him a mock glare, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “Focus, won. We’ve got a show to prepare for.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, still grinning. “I’m focused, don’t worry,’’ his grin transformed into a cocky smirk as he put his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants and walked up to you. 

As the music started up again, you threw yourself into the routine, trying to push aside the newfound awareness of Jungwon. But every now and then, you caught him glancing your way, that same smirk still on his lips. It was clear he enjoyed seeing you flustered, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place.

After a long and exhausting practice session, you finally made your way back to your dorm. As you opened the door, you were greeted by the familiar sight of one of your bandmate, Yunjin, lounging on the couch with her phone in hand.

“Yay, you’re back!” she exclaimed, looking up from her screen. “How was the practice with Jungwon?”

You sighed, dropping your bag by the door and collapsing onto the couch beside her. “It was… something.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What happened?”

You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Well, you know how I’ve always seen him as a little brother, right?”

“Yeah, of course. You’ve mentioned it a million times,” she replied, her curiosity piqued.

“Okay, so today, we were practicing this really tough hip-hop routine for Gayo Daejeon,” you began. “And Ji-eun left us alone to rehearse on our own for a bit.”

“Uh-huh, go on,” she encouraged, leaning in closer.

“Well, Jungwon took off his hoodie because it was getting hot in the studio,” you continued, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory. “And he was wearing this, like, tank top underneath. I had no idea he was that… fit.”

Yunjin’s eyes widened, and she burst into laughter. “Oh my God, you got flustered, didn’t you?”

“I mean…a little,” you admitted, burying your face in your hands. “It’s just, I’ve always seen him as this cute younger brother or something. But today, he looked… argh.”

“Different how?” she pressed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sighed, finally giving in. “He looked… so, so hot. I couldn’t stop staring, and he totally noticed!”

She laughed even harder, clutching her stomach. “This is priceless! Our ynnie has a crush on Jungwon!”

“It’s not like that!” you protested, though your blush betrayed you. “I was just… surprised. I didn’t expect him to have grown up so much.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, still giggling.

“Stop teasing me, Unnie,” you groaned, playfully shoving her. “I’m just trying to process it. I mean, he’s always been like a brother to me, and now suddenly, he’s this attractive guy. How did that even happen?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad,” Yunjin teased, nudging you with her elbow. “But seriously, it’s not a bad thing. Maybe it’s time to see him in a new light.”

You sighed, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t know. It’s just… really confusing. I’ve always been so sure of our dynamic, and now it feels like everything’s shifted. It doesn’t feel…platonic anymore.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Feelings can be complicated, especially when someone you’ve known for a long time changes. Just take it one step at a time and see where things go.”

“Thanks, Unnie,” you said, grateful for her understanding. “I guess I’ll just have to see how things play out during this collaboration.”

“It’s just a week and a half away, you’ll be fine. And in the meantime, try not to get too distracted by his muscles,” Hana added with a wink, causing you to throw a pillow in her direction, one she dodged as she got up from the couch and sprinted to the kitchen. 

“I hate you,” you said, loud enough so she could hear you. 

As the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but replay the events of the day in your mind. Seeing Jungwon in a new light was certainly unexpected, but maybe Hana was right. 

The next day, you arrived at the practice studio a bit early, hoping to get some stretches in before Jungwon showed up. As you rolled out your yoga mat and began your stretches, the door opened, and Jungwon walked in, his demeanor radiating confidence.

"Morning, noona," Jungwon greeted you with a charming smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Morning, wonnie," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "Ready for today?"

"Absolutely," he said, dropping his bag and joining you on the floor. He started stretching beside you, his movements fluid and relaxed.

You chuckled nervously. "We need to nail this routine."

As you both warmed up, the studio felt smaller, the air charged with an unspoken tension. Jungwon seemed more confident, and his movements were more assured. And you couldn’t help but feel turned on by his confidence. Focus, yn. Stop thinking about that. When you began practicing the routine, his eyes never left you, making you hyper-aware of his presence.

“Alright, let’s take it from the top,” you said, hoping to focus on the choreography and not on the way his tank top accentuated his toned arms. Of course, he had to wear a tank top again. A white one this time. 

The music started, and you moved in sync, your bodies effortlessly flowing through the steps. But every time Jungwon’s eyes met yours, you felt your concentration waver. He seemed to notice, and his smirk grew more pronounced.

“Come on, noona, keep up,” he teased, executing a particularly sharp move with ease.

“I’m keeping up just fine,” you shot back, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

As the routine progressed, Jungwon's playful teasing only intensified. During a particularly close part of the choreography, where you had to mirror each other's movements, he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear.

“You’re doing great, noona,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you missed a step, stumbling slightly. “Th-thanks,” you managed to stammer, trying to regain your composure.

He pulled back, grinning. “What’s wrong? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Just focused on getting the steps right,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t see through your facade.

“Sure,” he said, clearly unconvinced but not pushing it further.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus. The routine was intricate, demanding your full attention, but Jungwon's newfound confidence made it increasingly difficult. He moved with a grace and assurance that was hard to ignore, and his constant teasing only added to your distraction. 

You couldn’t continue like that, or else you might burst. You never noticed how handsome he was or how hot he looked when he was focused on something. But since yesterday, that was the only thing you could think about. 

During a break, you sat down to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead. Jungwon plopped down beside you, a bottle of water in hand.

“Here,” he said, offering you the bottle. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking it and drinking gratefully. “You’re really on fire today. Did you have an extra shot of coffee this morning or something?”

He laughed, leaning back on his hands. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you flustered.”

You nearly choked on your water, coughing slightly. “I-I’m not flustered.”

“Sure you’re not,” he said, his smirk widening. “It’s okay, noona. It’s kind of cute.”

Your face burned, and you looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment. Why did your heart skip a bit when he said that? The way he was looking at you, with his playful smirk and his glimmering eyes. You should scold him, he was younger than you, how could he called you ‘’cute’’.  You hated that you actually liked it. 

You cleared your throat, your cheeks still red and got up from the ground. ‘’Uh… we should get back to practice ‘’

“Of course,” he agreed, but the playful glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done teasing.

As you both resumed practice, Jungwon continued to push your buttons, his confidence making him bolder. During a particularly challenging sequence, he placed his hands on your waist to guide you into the correct position, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“There,” he said softly, his breath warm against your neck. “Perfect.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his closeness. “Thanks,” you murmured, stepping away to put some distance between you. You couldn’t be cphysically close ot him right now. Not outside of the chores. 

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Anytime, noona.”

By the end of the session, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Jungwon’s confident teasing had left you more flustered than you cared to admit, and focusing on the routine had been a constant struggle.

“Good work today,” Jungwon said as you both gathered your things. “We’re getting better.”

“Yeah, we are,” you agreed, forcing a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving you a wink. “I can’t wait.”

As you left the studio, you couldn’t help but replay the day’s events in your mind. As the days unfolded, you avoided him the best you could. After practices, you always came up with an excuse whenever he asked if you wanted to grab something to eat or drink. But most of all, you avoided looking into his eyes. His beautiful and hypnotizing eyes. 

Today was one of your last practices, as the Gayo Daejeon was approaching. You tried to keep your focus only on the routine, determined not to let him get to you. You couldn’t. The choreography required for you to look into his eyes, but today was clearly impossible. His hair was parted in a way to make his features appear stronger. he looked so good. Every time your eyes locked, your cheeks would heat up, and your heart could race uncontrollably. Instead, you fixed your gaze on the floor or focused on a point over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But Jungwon wasn’t one to miss much. After the fourth time, you avoided his eyes during the routine, he began to suspect something was up. Plus, he noticed how distant you were and how you tried to avoid him during the last few days. During a particularly close part of the choreography, where you had to face each other and mirror each other’s movements, he finally decided to confront you.

You were supposed to step into each other’s space, your faces mere inches apart. Instead of looking at him, you kept your gaze firmly on the floor, focusing on your feet.

“Look at me,” Jungwon’s voice was low but commanding. He stopped his movement and placed his fingers gently under your chin, tugging your head upwards to look at him, holding your waist wth his other hand.

You swallowed hard, your eyes reluctantly meeting his. “Why are you avoiding my eyes, noona?” he asked, his smirk widening as he saw the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“I’m not avoiding your eyes,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, his fingers still holding your chin. “You’re a terrible liar. What’s got you so flustered?”

“I’m not flustered,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away, but his grip, though gentle, was firm.

“Sure you’re not,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence. “Come on, noona, you can be honest with me.”

The intensity of his gaze, coupled with the proximity of his body, almost buckled your knees. “I just… I’m trying to focus,” you stammered.

He leaned in closer, matching your height, his breath warm against your lips. “And looking at me makes it hard to focus?”

You bit your lip, your mind racing for a plausible denial, but nothing came to you. The way he was looking at you and how confident he seemed made it hard for you to concentrate. “Yes,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible.

A triumphant smile spread across his face. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his other hand that was on your waist pulled you closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt like you were melting into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with a hunger you hadn’t realized you’d been suppressing.

You both pulled away, breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see the desire in his eyes. His pupils were dilated and he looked at you with half-lidded eyes. 

Without even thinking twice about it, you grabbed the front of his tank top, pulling him back to you for another kiss, this time a lot more aggressive and forceful. Jungwon groaned against your lips, his hands finding the small of your back and pulling you closer. The kiss was fiery, your mouths moving in a heated dance. You both put so much force into the kiss, you were practiaclly sure your lips would have bruises on tomorrow. 

He backed you up until you felt the cool surface of the mirrored wall against your back. His hands were firm as they roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your hands were feeling him, going from his broad shoulders to his biceps to his abs. You felt every muscle tense against your hands, and you absolutely loved it. You needed to touch him. 

“Look at you,” he murmured as his lips attached to your neck, kissing and biting it, his voice thick with desire. “So needy. You like this, don’t you?”

You gasped, feeling a shiver run down your spine. “Fuck, yes,” you whispered, the admission making your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

His eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he pinned your hands above your head, his body pressing against yours, trapping you against the mirror. You could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants. “Say it again,” he demanded, his tone commanding.

“Yes, I like this,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

Jungwon smirked, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl.’’ His hand slipped under your shirt, caressing your skin, eliciting a moan from you. He chuckled, his hand moving higher, his thumb brushing over your bra. “So desperate for my touch. Fuck, you’re perfect.’’

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan. “Please…”

“Please what?” he taunted, his thumb circling your nipple through the fabric. “Use your words, baby.”

“Please, touch me,” you begged, your voice breaking.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping under your bra to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive skin. “I love hearing you beg for me.”

You moaned, pressing into his hand, your body trembling with need. “Wonnie, I need you…”

He growled, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. “I know, baby. I know.” His free hand slid down to your thigh, lifting your right leg to wrap around his waist. “God, you’re so perfect. So responsive.” You felt his hard-on against your clothed core as he started to move a bit, causing both of you to hiss. 

You felt like you were drowning in him, every touch, every word sending you spiraling deeper into desire. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Look at you, so desperate for me. Do you know how hot you look right now?” He thrust again, a little harder this time, and you let out a small, needy whine. He smirked, his hand moving to the waistband of your sports shorts. 

In one swift motion, he slipped his hand inside, his fingers finding your core. You gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. ‘’Fuck you’re so wet for me,’’ he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? So ready to be touched.”

You moaned, unable to form coherent words, your body responding to his touch with a mind of its own. “Yes, yes, please…”

He leaned in, his lips hovering your ear, before you could feel him sink his teeth to your lobe. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” And with that, he entered one finger and started pumping it, slowly at first. He picked up the pace when he saw you responding to his moves. He quickly added another one and you couldn’t stop the moans from slipping. 

"God, you’re so tight," Jungwon murmured, his voice laced with a mix of awe and desire. "I can barely fit two fingers in."

You gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he pushed his fingers deeper inside you. The tightness and the heat around his fingers made him groan in satisfaction. "Fuck. If you’re this tight around my fingers, I don’t know how I’m gonna fit."

You moaned, the combination of his words and his rough touch driving you wild. He smirked, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing harsh circles around it. "You like that, don’t you? You like feeling my fingers inside you, stretching you."

"Yes," you breathed, your hips bucking against his hand, seeking more of his touch.

His smirk widened as he pushed his fingers deeper, his pace rough and unrelenting. "Look at you, so desperate for me. So wet and tight. Oh, I’m gonna ruin you."

You whimpered, the pleasure building inside you, making it hard to think or speak. He chuckled darkly, his free hand coming up to cover your mouth as a particularly loud moan slipped out of your mouth. "Shh, we can’t have anyone hearing you, can we? Anyone could walk into the studio and see you like this, begging for my touch."

His hand muffled your moans, the pressure of his fingers inside you and the movement of his thumb on your clit pushing you closer to the edge. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You’re such a good girl, taking my fingers so well. But you’re also a dirty little thing, aren’t you? Getting off in the practice studio where anyone could see."

You nodded, tears of pleasure forming in the corners of your eyes. The combination of his praise and degradation made your body tremble, every nerve ending on fire.

"You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?" he whispered, his voice low and commanding, as he felt your walls tightening around his fingers. ‘’Fuck, I can feel how close you are. Go ahead, come for me, but keep it quiet. Show me how good you can be."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You bit down on his hand to muffle your cries, the intense waves of pleasure crashing over you. Jungwon continued to finger you through it, his touch relentless and rough, prolonging your release until you were a shaking, panting mess. 

When you finally came down from your high, he withdrew his fingers slowly, his eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. ‘’You’ve made such a mess, all because of my fingers."

You blushed, leaning your had against the mirror. You were completely breathless. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "You taste amazing. I can’t wait to be inside you.’’

When you finally find some sanity left, you gently push him a bit from you and let your hands run through his abs before tugging at his shirt, signaling for him to take it off. You wanted to make him feel just as good. He took off his shirt, revealing his toned abs. 

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his smirk reappearing as he realized your intent. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"Returning the favor," you said, your voice husky with desire.

His eyes darkened with lust as you dropped to your knees in front of him, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants. You pulled them down slowly, your breath hitching as you revealed more of his skin. When his boxers followed, you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. His cock was big indeed and the sight of him made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance and amusement.

You nodded, your eyes locked onto his impressive length. You licked your lips, your desire evident.

"Then show me," he commanded, his tone dominant. "I want to see that pretty mouth of yours around me."

You nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss on the tip of his hard cock. He groaned, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command.

You opened your mouth, taking him in slowly, savoring the weight and feel of him on your tongue. He let out a deep groan, his hips twitching as you began to bob your head, your hand wrapping around the base to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

‘’Fuck, baby" he growled, his grip tightening in your hair. "You look so good like this.’’

You hummed around him, the vibration eliciting another groan from him. You quickened your pace, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length.

"That’s it," he praised, his voice breathless. 

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the intensity of his gaze made you shiver. His dominance, the way he looked down at you with a mix of adoration and arrogance, only fueled your desire. You wanted to make him lose control, to hear him praise you more.

You deepened your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Jungwon’s head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. "Fuck. Your mouth feels so fucking good. So fucking perfect."

You felt a surge of pride and arousal at his words, your movements becoming more fervent. His grip in your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he thrust roughly into your mouth. "You like this, don’t you?" he asked, his voice rough. "Being on your knees for me, taking my cock like a good little slut."

You moaned around him, the degrading words sending a thrill through your body. He was pushing all the right buttons, and you loved every second of it.

"Answer me," he commanded, pulling you off him just enough so you could speak.

‘’Fuck, yes, I love it," you gasped, your voice breathless and needy. "I love making you feel good."

"Good girl," he purred, thrusting back into your mouth. "Keep going. Make me come."

You redoubled your efforts, your hand stroking him in time with your movements. His breathing became more ragged, his moans louder. "I’m close," he warned, his hips bucking into your mouth. "Fuck, you’re gonna make me come."

You moaned in encouragement, hollowing your cheeks and taking him as deep as you could. With a final, guttural groan, he tensed, his release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste and the sound of his pleasure. When he finally released his grip on your hair, you pulled back, licking your lips and looking up at him. Jungwon’s eyes were dark with satisfaction and something deeper, something more tender. 

He grabbed your jaw forcefully, making you go back on your feet and crashed his lips into yours, tasting himself on your tongue. He grabbed your hips firmly. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire.

You did as he said, your heart pounding in anticipation. Jungwon pressed you against the mirrored wall, his body heat radiating against your back. He tugged your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, and you gasped at the sudden coolness against your skin.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, his hand gripping your chin and tilting your head up to face the mirror. “I want you to see how desperate you are for me.”

Your eyes met your own reflection, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with anticipation. Jungwon’s eyes bore into yours through the mirror, a predatory gleam in them. He positioned himself behind you, his hand sliding between your legs to tease you, finding you already wet and ready.

He smirked, positioning himself at your entrance. Without warning, he thrust into you roughly, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he filled you completely. You cried out, the sudden intrusion overwhelming, but Jungwon’s hand quickly covered your mouth.

“Quiet,” he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. “Anyone could walk in and see you like this, see how much you love being fucked by me.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip to stifle your moans as he began to move. His pace was relentless, each thrust rough and deep, pushing you against the mirror. The sensation was intense, every nerve in your body on fire.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, his hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to meet your own eyes in the mirror. “Look at how you’re taking me, how much you love it.”

You whimpered, your reflection showing you lost in pleasure, completely at his mercy. His other hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in sync with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much, and you felt your body tightening, the first orgasm building rapidly.

“Wonnie, I’m gonna—” you started, but he cut you off with a harsh thrust.

“Do it,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “Come for me, beautiful. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His words, combined with the relentless pace of his thrusts and the pressure on your clit, sent you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Jungwon’s hand muffled your cries. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice rough with satisfaction. “You look so beautiful when you come.”

He didn’t give you time to recover, his pace never slowing. Each thrust pushed you higher, the overstimulation making your body tremble. “Won, please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper. “It’s too much.”

“You can take it,” he growled, his eyes filled with a dark hunger. His fingers moved faster on your clit, the pressure building again. You couldn’t believe how quickly another orgasm was approaching, your body responding to his every touch.

“Won, I can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with another rough thrust.

“Yes, you can,” he insisted, his voice filled with dominance. He leaned in, his chest pressed against your back as his lips hovered over your ear. “You’re going to come again, and you’re going to do it while looking at yourself. I want you to see how much you love being fucked by me.”

The intensity of his words and the unrelenting pace of his thrusts pushed you over the edge again. You screamed into his hand, your body convulsing with the force of your second orgasm. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, your vision blurring as you were overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jungwon groaned, his own release approaching. “You feel so good. So tight and wet. You’re fucking perfect.”

With a final, deep thrust, he came inside you, his body tensing as he filled you with his release. You both stayed there for a moment, panting and trembling, the intensity of the encounter leaving you both breathless.

After you both recovered a bit, Jungwon carefully helped you straighten your clothes, pull up your shorts and panties, and made sure you were comfortable. He guided you to sit down on one of the benches, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and concern.

“You okay, noona?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, still breathless and trembling slightly. “Yeah, just… wow.”

He chuckled, his confidence still shining through. “Yeah, wow.’’

You smiled weakly, feeling the soreness already settling in. “I don’t think I can practice anymore today. I’m too sore.”

Jungwon’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I guess I really did a number on you, huh? Didn’t expect you to be so breathless and sore. Maybe I should’ve gone easier on you.”

You gave him a playful glare. “Don’t get too cocky, now. You’re just lucky I didn’t outlast you.”

He laughed, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Sure, sure. But that’s not what you were saying when I was indie you, huh? All I heard was you begging for more.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you feel better.”

Jungwon stood up and retrieved a small towel from his bag, dampening it with some water from his bottle. He knelt in front of you and gently wiped the sweat from your face and neck, his touch tender and caring.

“Here, let me massage your legs a bit,” he said, his tone softening. “It’ll help with the soreness.”

You nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness. As he began to knead the muscles in your calves and thighs, you felt some of the tension easing away. His hands were skilled, and the massage was both soothing and relaxing.

“Better?” he asked, looking up at you with a warm smile.

“Much better,” you sighed, feeling more at ease. “Thank you, wonnie.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. He leaned in and kissed your neck, his lips warm and gentle against your skin.

You shivered, a mix of pleasure and exhaustion washing over you. “Won, we can’t… not here. We’re already lucky nobody walked in on us.”

He pouted playfully, his eyes filled with mischief. “But I was just getting started on round two.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe later. I’m way too tired right now.”

He smirked, his confidence and cockiness still evident. “Fine, I’ll hold you to that. But don’t think I’ll forget.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Jungwon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle hum of the studio lights created a comforting atmosphere. You laid down on the bench, your head resting on his tights, while he played with your hair. 

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of footsteps in the building provided a soothing backdrop to your quiet moment together. Jungwon's fingers traced light patterns on your scalp, making you feel relaxed and content.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, peeking up at him with a playful smile. “That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very funny, noona. But seriously, I was thinking we should go out sometime. You know, on a proper date.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised but intrigued. “A date, huh? Are you sure you can handle that?”

Jungwon smirked, his fingers still threading through your hair. “I think I can manage. Unless you’re too scared to go out with me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Scared? Please. I’m just worried you might not be able to keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” he said confidently. “The question is, can you handle it?”

You rolled your eyes, enjoying the banter. “Alright, tough guy. Where do you plan on taking me?”

He pretended to think for a moment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “How about dinner at that new rooftop restaurant downtown? I heard the view is amazing.”

“Ooh, fancy,” you replied, impressed. “Trying to impress me, are you?”

“Is it working?” he asked, his expression hopeful but playful.

“Maybe,” you said, pretending to ponder. “But I’m going to need more than just a nice view to be impressed.”

He laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Challenge accepted. So, what do you say? Dinner tomorrow night?”

You bit your lip, considering his offer. Despite the teasing, you felt a genuine excitement at the prospect of going out with Jungwon. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a date. But only if you promise not to be late.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning seriousness. “I promise. I’ll even show up early, just to make sure.”

“Wow, early?” you teased. “You must really want to impress me.”

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his tone more sincere. “You’re worth it.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you smiled up at him. “Well, in that case, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” he said, his fingers resuming their gentle play in your hair. “It’ll be nice to spend time together outside the studio.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and letting the comfort of the moment wash over you. “Yeah, it will be. Just you and me, no distractions.”

“No distractions,” he agreed, his voice a soft promise.

[mashtatosworld]

lover boys (2)

summary: 'not kissing your partner goodnight' prank

[GD, TOP, D-LITE]

Kwon Jiyong (GD)

You were always the first in bed, your husband usually busy faffing around - picking up stray earrings from the dresser, tucking your clothes into their proper places, making sure everything was just so.

Like clockwork, he’d eventually shuffle over, yawning, before flopping onto the bed with a dramatic bounce, limbs sprawling across the sheets.

You bit back a smile, waiting for the next part of the routine.

Sure enough, he wriggled his way across the mattress until he was glued to your back, his arms and legs locking around you like a koala clinging to a tree.

So predictable.

Normally, this was when you’d turn over, kiss him softly and whisper goodnight. But tonight, you kept your head on the pillow, unmoving. Waiting.

Fifteen seconds.

That’s how long it took before he started squirming, jostling you in the process.

“Jagi,” he mumbled into the back of your neck, voice half-sleepy, half-demanding. “Turn around.”

You kept your breathing slow, like you were already drifting off.

“Jagiya,” he tried again, squeezing you tighter. “My kiss.”

His face hovered close to yours now, his pout brushing your cheek. When you didn’t respond, he pulled back just enough to stare at you.

“Yah,” his voice sharpened, suspicious. “What is this?”

“Hm?” you hummed innocently, burying your face deeper into the pillow. “It’s late, Ji. Let’s sleep.”

“Not without my goodnight kiss,” he huffed, his nose and lips smooshing into the side of your face. “I can’t sleep without it. You want me to get nightmares? To suffer?”

You bit your lip to hold in the laugh, shaking your head.

That did it.

“Come here, come here - ” He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks like you’re mochi, peppering kisses all over your squished, helpless face.

You shriek with laughter, trying to keep your volume measured but his hair tickles your face and his kisses are relentless.

“Stop - !” you giggle, trying to swat him off.

"Not until I get my kiss."

It had to come from you, just as much it did him.

You try to hold strong, but the way Jiyong’s looking at you - all needy and desperate, his weight resting warm and solid over you - it’s game over.

You grab his face, pulling him close for a proper kiss, slow and sweet, his little sigh of relief making you smile into it.

When you finally pull back, his nose scrunches, eyes narrowing. “This was a prank, wasn’t it?”

You grin. “Maybe.”

“So mean,” he mutters, but he’s already nuzzling into your neck again, arms locking around you like he’s never letting go.

“Goodnight, my clingy husband.”

“Goodnight, my teasing wife.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Seunghyun (TOP)

The moment you slip into bed beside him, Seunghyun gently closes his book and plucks his glasses from his face. But despite the cool exterior, you’ve always known the truth: he’s a man of quiet routines. One of those routines?

The goodnight kiss.

It’s never over the top. Sometimes it’s just the softest brush of lips against yours, sometimes it’s lazy and distracted, but it’s always there.

Until tonight.

When you turn your head away at the last second, his lips barely grazing your hair, he doesn’t react. Not immediately.

He just rolls onto his side, back to you, like it’s no big deal.

You blink in mild surprise, having expected more of a reaction but then again, he was never one for dramatics.

The minutes creep by and you feel yourself beginning to drift off into a hazy slumber. You picture what the next day would bring, excited that the two of you were going to a new gallery in the morning to look at -

“YAH!”

His sudden, explosive shout makes you jolt so hard you nearly fall out of bed. Your heart’s racing, your body tangled awkwardly in the blankets as you twist to face him, eyes wide.

“What the hell, Seunghyun?!”

He’s sitting up now, hair a mess, hands flailing just slightly in frustration. His voice is low, but urgent, that unique blend of serious and ridiculous only he can pull off.

“I can’t sleep,” he grits out. “Not until you tell me what's wrong. What did I do?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, trying to settle your heart rate.

“You always kiss me goodnight. Always.”

You blink, the prank springing back to mind. You were on the edge of sleep and had nearly forgotten about it.

“Did I do something?” he demands. “Is this because I ate your chocolate? Because I’ll buy you more, okay? Right now. Just- ”

“No! No, baby, it’s just a prank,” you finally confess, raising a hand to stop him from climbing out of bed. “I was only messing with you.”

Seunghyun freezes, and his eyes narrow at you.

“Pranks are supposed to be funny.”

“You love me.”

“...I do.” he admits with a reluctant tut.

You reach for him, pulling him down by the front of his shirt until he’s back beside you, face hovering just above yours.

“You big softie,” you whisper, brushing your lips softly over his. "I can't believe I ever thought you were scary."

He sighs into your kiss, relief melting into affection.

“Never do that again,” he mutters, voice low. “I need my goodnight kiss.”

His arm slides around your waist, anchoring you against him, no exceptions allowed.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Daesung (D-Lite)

The evening unfolds like it always does - side by side at the bathroom counter, your faces slick with cleansers and foams, giggles exchanged through the mirror as you gently pat each other’s cheeks dry. Daesung hums a song under his breath, eyes closed as you smooth the final layer of cream into his skin.

It’s muscle memory by now - the way your fingers trail over the curve of his jaw, how you usually lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips before calling it a night.

But tonight, you don’t.

Instead, you pat his cheeks one last time, smile sweetly, and without a word, flick off the bathroom light and slip into the bedroom, turning off the main lights too. No kiss. No final touch.

You don’t see the way his brows scrunch together, confused but not yet concerned.

He follows you a beat later, clicking the bedroom light back on.

“Are we not going to sleep?” you ask from the bed, already pulling up the covers to your chin.

He stands in the doorway, brow furrowed like he’s solving a particularly difficult puzzle.

“Uh…” His voice is slow, drawn-out, confused in the cutest way. “I don’t… think so?”

“You don’t think so?”

He just stares, blinking. You’re the one not following the bedtime script - and it’s short-circuiting his whole brain.

Still, he crawls into bed beside you, fingers fiddling with the corner of the blanket as you reach over and flick off the light once more.

A beat.

Then, click - the room floods with light again. He'd turned it on from his bedside switch.

You blink, turning to face him. “Dae.”

He’s got that innocent, wide-eyed look, lips pursed, caught red-handed.

You flick the light off again.

Click.

On again.

You narrow your eyes. He raises his brows, silently daring you.

It’s a full-blown, silent standoff, neither of you willing to break first.

With a huff, you snap the lights off once more, this time yanking the covers over your head for good measure.

You can hear the click of the switch.

Then you feel the duvet being peeled back almost immediately, Daesung’s face hovering inches above yours, his expectant pout softening into something far too adorable to resist.

“What do you want?” you ask, exasperated but already laughing.

His eyes flick to your lips, then back up to yours - hopeful.

“You know.”

You let out a sigh you don’t mean, and before he can whine, you cup his face and pull him down for a delicate kiss.

His whole body sinks into yours, humming happily into the kiss like you’d just put the universe back in order.

“See?” he grins, curling into you like a giant puppy. “Now we can sleep.”

The lights stay off this time, and his arm wraps snugly around your waist, content.

“Needy,” you whisper.

“Always,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck - but the smile on his face doesn’t fade for a second.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

i've got so many drafts but i dont know what to work on next arghghg helppp

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

[thedensworld]

Sound Of Vengeance | C. Sc

Genre: action, angst, arranged marriage au!

Summary: after happily living an arranged marriage, he found out that his charismatic, flawless, and admirable wife has a secret hiding from him.

Warning: mention of violence, car accident, blood, knife stabbing, gunshot, stuff.

Seungcheol watched you from his position, his ears tuned to the men’s conversation, but his eyes were fixated on you, following your every move. He noted how your gaze lingered on the speaker’s lips, how your expression shifted subtly with every word. That smile—poised, eloquent, and effortlessly charming—spread across your face, leaving no one in the room unaffected. A sharp pang of jealousy coursed through him. His grip tightened around the glass in his hand, the cool surface grounding him against the rising heat in his chest. It was supposed to be his. His lips. His gaze. The attention you dared to lavish so intensely on anyone but him.

"How do you think, Seungcheol?"

His father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Seungcheol turned slightly, meeting the older man’s expectant eyes. The glass of wine in his father’s hand swirled lazily, a stark contrast to the tension in Seungcheol's.

"Don't pressure him, Mr. Choi," another man interjected with a chuckle. "The younger generation these days—they’re different. They won’t rush into having children immediately."

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he registered the conversation. Children. Family. An image of you flashed through his mind, your soft laughter echoing in a distant memory. His shoulders squared as he finally replied, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

"We’re working on it," he said smoothly, casting a brief glance your way. "My wife and I want to have a child as soon as possible, but with business being so hectic, it’s been a challenge."

The men nodded in understanding, their attention shifting back to him. Seungcheol seized the opportunity to steer the conversation away.

"Speaking of challenges," he continued, his tone shifting effortlessly, "how’s the harbor, Mr. Kim? Has your son resolved the issues with the government yet?"

Mr. Kim let out a disgruntled sigh. "It’s been nothing but delays," he grumbled, shaking his head.

Seungcheol leaned in slightly, his presence commanding yet unassuming. "Delays can be costly," he remarked. "If you need additional support, let me know. I’ve had some success navigating similar situations."

As the conversation deepened into business matters, Seungcheol's gaze flickered back to you. You were laughing now, your head tilting slightly as you responded to someone. His chest tightened again, the earlier jealousy morphing into something deeper—something unspoken, buried under the weight of his responsibilities.

But for now, he played his role, the perfect husband in a room full of expectations.

Seungcheol excused himself from the group, his movements purposeful as he made a beeline toward where you were standing. You turned toward him, sensing his presence before he even spoke, and the corner of his lips twitched in satisfaction. Without hesitation, his hand found its place on your waist, a silent claim that did not go unnoticed.

“Choi Seungcheol, Ji Y/n’s husband,” he introduced himself to the man in front of you, his voice firm and polished.

The man extended a polite smile. “I’m Hong Jisoo. I attended your wedding a few months ago. Nice to meet you.”

Seungcheol nodded curtly, his sharp gaze scanning the man before replying, “From Hong Property, I presume?”

Jisoo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That’s my father and brother. I work in a hospital,” he clarified, pulling out a business card and offering it.

Seungcheol accepted the card, his eyes briefly scanning the text. Dr. Hong Jisoo, Psychiatry Department. His lips curved slightly, though his grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly. When he glanced up, his gaze landed on you, noticing how your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Just like every day. Just like how it was supposed to be.

“I wasn’t aware my wife was acquainted with a psychiatrist,” he remarked, his tone casual yet laced with an underlying edge.

“Old friend,” you replied smoothly, your tone light as you cast a brief glance at Jisoo.

That glance didn’t sit well with Seungcheol.

His thumb gently brushed against your side, a subtle reminder of his presence, as he straightened slightly. “I’m sorry, but we have to leave,” he said, his voice firm yet polite. His attention shifted to you, softening just enough to mask the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface. “Love, should we go home?”

You nodded, offering Jisoo a polite smile. “It was nice catching up, Jisoo. Take care.”

“Likewise. Have a good evening,” Jisoo replied, his tone warm yet reserved.

Seungcheol didn’t wait for further pleasantries. With his hand firmly on your waist, he guided you toward the exit, his strides confident and unwavering. The air between you carried a tension he couldn’t quite articulate, but the quiet sense of satisfaction in reclaiming your focus was enough for now.

Seungcheol used to be just a man obsessed with his work, a relentless workaholic. His life revolved around business—expanding, negotiating, multiplying his family’s wealth tenfold. Relationships? They were an afterthought, a distraction. Blind dates came and went, each one predictable and forgettable.

That was, until his parents introduced him to you.

He approached the blind date with little expectation, assuming it would end like all the others: polite small talk, forced smiles, and no sparks. But with you, everything was different.

The moment your eyes fixated on him, he felt it—a current of electricity that surged through his entire being. The way your gaze roamed over him, studying him with quiet intensity, left him unnerved in the best way. You started with his eyes, then trailed downward, your focus lingering on his lips just a second too long. That moment branded itself into his memory, leaving him restless and preoccupied for a week.

He couldn't get you out of his mind. And that was how he agreed to an arranged marriage, a decision that surprised even himself.

Now, months later, he lay beside you in the dim morning light, the quiet intimacy of your shared space filling the air. As he felt you stir awake in his arms, he opened his eyes, his thoughts drifting to the night before. He had been a little rough, a little too consumed by the jealousy that burned in his chest when he caught you looking at someone else’s lips.

“Did I go too rough with you last night?” he murmured, his voice husky and low, thick with concern as he tightened his embrace around you.

You squirmed slightly, shifting to face him, your sleepy eyes meeting his. He searched your expression, his brow furrowing as silence stretched between you.

“Was I too rough? Are you okay, love?” he asked again, his worry evident now.

You shook your head slowly, your lips curving into a soft smile. Reaching up, your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin as you pulled him closer. Without a word, your lips met his in a tender, reassuring kiss, melting away the tension in his chest.

When you pulled back, your voice was gentle, teasing. “Was something wrong last night? You seemed… different.”

Seungcheol hesitated, the tips of his ears flushing red as he avoided your gaze for a moment. How could he admit that the fire in him last night was born of jealousy? That the mere thought of your attention lingering on someone else’s lips had driven him to near madness?

Instead, he exhaled softly and shook his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “No,” he lied, his hand sliding up your back to rest between your shoulder blades. “I just can’t help myself around you.”

You laughed lightly, the sound warm and soothing. “Good,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips brushing against his like a promise. Because, as much as Seungcheol tried to play it cool, you already knew—you had him completely undone.

"We’re going to be late if we don’t start getting ready now," you told Seungcheol, glancing at the clock with mild urgency.

He chuckled, his deep voice laced with mischief as he leaned closer. “Five more minutes,” he murmured, his hand brushing yours before pulling you along with him toward the bathroom. A teasing grin spread across his face. “Together, of course.”

Later, as the two of you settled at the dining table, Seungcheol joined you with a fresh, clean look and a calm demeanor that betrayed none of his usual morning rush. “I’ll drive you,” he said casually, sipping his coffee.

You blinked, looking up from your plate in surprise. “What?”

“I’ll drive you,” he repeated, meeting your gaze. “And I’ll pick you up today.”

His firm tone left little room for debate, but the soft warmth in his expression made your heart flutter. You quickly nodded, taking the last bite of your sandwich with a smile tugging at your lips.

At the office, Seungcheol was all business. The moment he stepped through the door, his trusted right-hand man, Lee Jihoon, was already waiting with updates and a detailed briefing.

“Today’s schedule is packed,” Jihoon began, keeping pace with Seungcheol as he strode toward his desk. “The shipping updates are as follows: the cargo from Incheon has cleared customs, and the team is preparing the distribution reports. The Hong Kong shipment—”

“What’s the status on that?” Seungcheol interrupted, his sharp eyes flicking toward Jihoon.

“It’ll arrive tonight,” Jihoon replied promptly. “Do you want to oversee it yourself?”

Seungcheol shook his head as he sat down, loosening his tie slightly. “No need. I trust you to handle it. Just make sure everything is documented thoroughly.”

Jihoon nodded, jotting down a quick note. “Understood, sir.”

As Jihoon left to attend to the shipment, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, glancing briefly at his watch. His thoughts wandered to you, wondering how your day was going and reminding himself to clear his evening to pick you up as promised. Balancing business and you wasn’t always easy, but for him, it was a priority he wouldn’t compromise.

*

There were a few strict rules in your office, and everyone at Ji Art Gallery knew to follow them without question.

Rule one: never speak to you with your back turned. Communication had to happen face-to-face, ensuring nothing was misunderstood.

Rule two: click the light switch whenever someone entered your office. You always had a mountain of tasks, and multitasking was not your forte. The light switch was an unspoken signal to gain your attention without disrupting your workflow.

Rule three: lunch hours were sacred. During this time, you watched the news alone. No one was allowed to enter, except for your family. It was an unbendable rule, one you wished could explain itself.

To everyone else, you were a perfectionist boss, firm but fair. What they didn’t know was that behind the rules lay a quieter truth—you are deaf, relying on observation and lip-reading to navigate the world.

It wasn’t perfectionism that demanded your routines. It was survival.

As you worked, engrossed in reviewing a painting’s exhibition proposal, the door to your office suddenly opened, and your mother stepped in unannounced. She clicked the blinds shut with a sharp movement before tossing a branded paper bag onto your desk.

"Here," she said brusquely. "Wear this for your next intercourse with Seungcheol."

You glanced at the bag, your expression calm despite the storm brewing inside. The name of an expensive lingerie brand was emblazoned across it in bold letters.

"I’ll send some herbal remedies to your house later,” she continued, her tone cold and matter-of-fact. “Make sure you get yourself pregnant within the next two months."

She flopped onto the couch in your office, crossing her legs elegantly as if she hadn’t just barged in to dictate your life. Her sharp eyes focused on you, scrutinizing every detail of your reaction—or lack thereof.

"Why don’t you say something? You’re deaf, not mute," she snapped, her words slicing through the air.

You sighed softly, your eyes fixed on her lips as you watched each word fall out of her mouth with precision and purpose.

"Yes, Mother," you replied, your voice measured, betraying none of the turmoil inside.

A smile curved on her lips—a smile that never reached her eyes. "Be a good girl for me and your stepfather, Y/n. You have a lot to repay. No one wants to raise a deaf child," she said cruelly, standing up with the air of someone who believed they were owed the world.

Her words were poison, but you stood stoically, refusing to let her see the cracks she left behind.

"But," she added, adjusting the hem of her designer jacket, "once you have the Choi family heir growing inside you, we’ll all be fine. So, make sure you do your job."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels, the sound of her expensive shoes clicking against the floor echoing in your office. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.

You sat still, staring at the paper bag she had so carelessly thrown onto your desk. The weight of her expectations pressed against your chest, but you forced yourself to exhale, straightening your shoulders.

Every day, you practiced watching the news, focusing intently on the movement of lips to perfect your ability to read them. It was a quiet, relentless routine, your way of ensuring no one would ever discover your deafness. You wanted people to communicate with you comfortably, unaware of your secret.

It was a weakness you’d been forced to accept 15 years ago. The result of a tragic car accident that not only robbed you of your hearing but also took the life of your stepsister.

You still remembered waking up in the hospital, disoriented and frightened. The first thing you saw was your mother, her face twisted with rage as she screamed at you. Her mouth moved furiously, but you couldn’t hear a single word. You could only guess at her accusations, but you were certain of one thing—she wished it had been you who died instead of your stepsister.

That was the turning point.

From that moment on, you became the scapegoat of the Ji family, the one burdened with their collective frustrations and failures. Surviving that accident, instead of being a blessing, turned into a curse. They treated your survival as an inconvenience, a debt you were expected to repay with unwavering obedience.

“You survived, his daughter didn’t,” your mother’s lips had said once, her voice forever silent to you but still haunting in its clarity. “So make yourself useful.”

From then on, you learned to carry their expectations silently, shouldering the weight of their contempt while striving for perfection. You worked tirelessly, honing your skills, building your reputation, and hiding your deafness as if it were a crime.

Being the "goat" of the Ji family meant you were their sacrifice, their scapegoat, but it also fueled your determination. If survival was your punishment, you would ensure it wasn’t in vain. You would rise above their cruelty, even if it meant enduring the pain of their indifference and the burden of their demands.

You weren’t just surviving anymore—you were fighting. And every day you practiced, every lip you read, every rule you enforced in your life was proof of that.

Every moment of intimacy with Seungcheol was blissful, a haven where the world outside ceased to exist. Even though you couldn’t hear the sounds he made—the soft gasps, the whispered words you imagined he might say—you felt every touch, every movement, as if they spoke directly to your soul. But you always wondered if he felt the same way. Did he share the same satisfaction, the same warmth, the same euphoria at the peak of it all?

You wished you could hear him. Just him.

Seungcheol always looked at you with such tenderness, his gaze soft and unwavering. It made your heart ache with guilt. The guilt of knowing that you and your family had trapped him in this marriage. The guilt of hiding your secret from him—your deafness, the one part of you you couldn’t bring yourself to reveal. And the guilt of knowing your family was draining his wealth under the guise of a business arrangement.

Every time he smiled at you, every time he touched you like you were his world, the weight of your lies grew heavier.

How could you allow yourself to be happy in a marriage built on deception?

The warmth you felt with Seungcheol was tainted by the cold reality of your circumstances. He deserved honesty, love without strings, a partner who could give him everything. And yet here you were, bound to him by a contract you had never wanted but couldn’t escape.

Every night you lay beside him, listening to the silence that enveloped you, longing for a world where your love could be as pure as the way he looked at you.

*

Seungcheol was always amazed by how poised and graceful you carried yourself in public. As a Ji, it was expected, but being married to you had brought a constant stream of surprises he never anticipated.

One of those surprises came during a business meeting involving Wen Junhui, the son of a long-time Chinese producer Seungcheol had worked with for years. Since the business had been handed down to Junhui, negotiations hadn’t been as smooth as before. Seungcheol hoped that meeting in person during Junhui’s visit, accompanied by his wife, would be the perfect opportunity to revive their partnership.

But what Seungcheol didn’t expect was what happened next.

Junhui’s wife, Daisy, had been deaf since birth. It was something Seungcheol had learned in passing but hadn’t given much thought to—until now. As he turned to look for you, he saw you standing with Daisy, engaging her effortlessly in sign language.

His breath hitched. You moved your hands with such confidence and fluidity, your expression lighting up as Daisy responded with equal enthusiasm. Neither Junhui nor Seungcheol could hide their surprise.

“Your wife is incredible. I didn’t expect this,” Junhui said, clinking his glass lightly against Seungcheol’s. “Daisy rarely gets to meet someone who can sign fluently. Thank you for bringing her; she’s finally relaxed for the first time in a long while.”

Seungcheol offered a polite smile, but inwardly, he was stunned. “Thank you,” he said simply, his eyes drifting back to you.

Junhui glanced at his wife before turning back to Seungcheol. “I heard you wanted to negotiate the pricing of our products.”

Seungcheol’s attention snapped back to the conversation. He nodded eagerly. “Yes. We haven’t found a supplier with the same quality as yours. I’d like to propose that we continue the terms we had before. Would you have time tomorrow? I’ll bring the paperwork.”

Junhui thought for a moment before nodding. “Sure. But how about bringing your wife as well? Daisy seems comfortable around her, and it would be nice for her to have someone to talk to while we discuss business.”

“Of course,” Seungcheol agreed, still taken aback by what he’d just witnessed. “I’ll speak to her about it.”

As Junhui moved to speak with someone else, Seungcheol found his gaze lingering on you. He had never known you knew sign language, let alone that you were so fluent. Seeing you connect with Daisy in a way so few others could made him feel something deeper—a mixture of awe, pride, and a touch of guilt for underestimating just how remarkable you truly were.

As Seungcheol mingled with a group of businessmen, his mind was suddenly pulled elsewhere when he realized he couldn’t spot you anywhere. A twinge of unease crept in, but he brushed it off—until his phone vibrated in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he was surprised to see your caller ID.

You never called.

In fact, you hated calling, even in emergencies. It was a well-known rule that anyone needing to contact you had to text or call your secretary, Seo Myungho. For you to call directly was entirely out of character.

Seungcheol excused himself from the lively conversation, weaving through the crowd toward a quieter area. Pressing the answer button, he brought the phone to his ear.

“What’s wrong, love? Where are you?” His voice softened, filled with concern.

The voice that responded wasn’t yours. It was sharp and unfamiliar, carrying a sinister undertone that sent a chill down his spine.

“‘Love?’ Very funny, Choi Seungcheol. Didn’t your father ever teach you not to care too much? Makes you weak, vulnerable.”

Seungcheol froze, his jaw tightening. The words hit like a taunt, a deliberate jab meant to rattle him.

“Who is this?” he asked, his voice dropping to a cold, controlled tone.

“Relax. I’m just a fan of your wife. She looks stunning in black tonight. I’d love to—”

“Where is she? Why do you have her phone?” Seungcheol snapped, his composure slipping as his eyes darted across the ballroom.

A low laugh came through the receiver. “You know, secrets can be dangerous, Seungcheol. Especially the ones your lovely wife is keeping from you.”

“Stop playing games! Tell me where she is!” His voice was edged with desperation now.

The call ended abruptly, leaving Seungcheol gripping the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. His heart pounded as he scanned the room again, his mind racing.

“Ji Y/n!” he called out, his voice booming across the corridor.

There was no sign of you. The air felt heavier with each passing second, the tension clawing at his chest. He dialed your number again, but the call went straight to voicemail.

Just as he rounded a corner, his hurried steps brought him face-to-face with someone. Relief flooded through him when he realized it was you.

“Cheol?” you asked, startled by his sudden embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his breath uneven as though he’d been holding it in.

“Thank God,” he whispered, burying his face into your shoulder for a moment.

“What’s going on?” you asked, confused by his reaction.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning you as if to ensure you were unharmed. “Where were you? Where’s your phone?”

You blinked, frowning at his intensity. “I don’t know. I can’t find it,” you admitted, rummaging through your clutch only to find it empty.

Seungcheol’s expression darkened. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and called Jihoon. “Get the car ready. We’re leaving now.”

The ride home was tense and silent, the weight of his unspoken thoughts filling the space between you. You glanced at him repeatedly, but his stern expression gave nothing away. His grip on your hand was firm, almost as if he feared letting go.

Once home, Seungcheol ensured you were safely tucked into bed. “Get some rest. I’ll handle this,” he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead.

After he left, you stared at the closed door, unease creeping into your chest. Something was wrong, but you knew better than to press him when he was in this mood.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol retreated to his office, his hands trembling slightly as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. The liquid swirled in the glass, much like the chaos in his mind.

He dialed Jihoon again. “Trace her phone immediately. Whoever has it was at the event. Secure the guest list and cross-check everyone.”

Jihoon hesitated. “That’s going to take time, sir. We’ll need to involve third parties.”

“I don’t care how long it takes. I want answers,” Seungcheol growled, his voice low but seething with authority.

After ending the call, he sank into his chair, his mind running over every possible angle. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest as he stared at the glowing city skyline through his office window.

“Who are you?” he muttered under his breath. The question gnawed at him, the weight of it pressing heavily on his chest.

And more importantly, why would anyone dare to use the person he loved most to threaten him?

*

Seungcheol jolted awake, his breath hitching when his hand reached out to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. A sense of dread gripped him as the events of last night resurfaced in his mind. The mysterious phone call and its ominous implications lingered like a heavy shadow, refusing to let him rest. He’d only managed to get some sleep because you had come into his office and practically dragged him to bed. But even now, his thoughts raced—who was the caller? What secret could they possibly be referring to?

His heart pounded as he sat up, scanning the room for any sign of you. Then, a faint sound from the bathroom caught his attention. He was out of bed in an instant, his strides purposeful as he approached the door.

“Y/n?” he called, his voice laced with concern as he pushed the door open.

There you were, crouched in front of the toilet bowl, your body wracked with discomfort as you emptied the contents of your stomach. The sight made his chest tighten.

“You okay, baby?” Seungcheol took a step closer, but you weakly waved a hand, signaling for him to stay back.

“Don’t… I’m fine,” you muttered between breaths, your voice strained.

Ignoring your protests, Seungcheol was by your side in seconds. He knelt beside you, his large hand gently soothing the back of your neck while his other gathered your hair to keep it out of the way.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his concern palpable.

When you were finally done, he helped you to your feet, steadying you as you rinsed your mouth at the sink. His hand remained firm on your waist, his protective instincts in full swing.

“Talk to me,” he said gently, guiding you back to the bed. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call the doctor?” His brows knitted in worry as he tucked you in, his hand brushing stray hairs from your damp forehead.

You shook your head weakly. “I think it’s just food poisoning from last night’s dinner,” you murmured, offering him a faint smile in an attempt to ease his concern.

Seungcheol let out a small chuckle, though the tension in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate. “Food poisoning or not, I’m calling Dr. Kim just to be safe. No arguments.”

You sighed but didn’t resist, too exhausted to protest further.

“And no work for you today,” he added firmly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reached for his phone. “I’ll let them know you’re not feeling well. Just focus on resting, alright?”

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as his soothing presence eased some of the discomfort. As he dialed the doctor, his gaze lingered on you, the lines of worry deepening on his face.

Jihoon’s phone buzzed just as Seungcheol finished his meeting with a client. He glanced at the screen before answering the call from Dr. Kim, a slight frown crossing his face as he listened. Seungcheol, sitting across from him in the car, noticed the shift in Jihoon’s expression.

"Yes... she is? I see." Jihoon’s voice was calm, but Seungcheol's instincts told him something was off.

After a beat, Jihoon ended the call and turned to Seungcheol, his face betraying nothing but the weight of the news he was about to deliver.

"Your wife is pregnant, sir."

Seungcheol’s heart seemed to stop, his entire body going still as the words hit him like a cold wave. But it wasn’t just the pregnancy that unsettled him. The next words were the ones that sent a flicker of anger through his veins.

"But your wife is in the office now," Jihoon continued, his voice measured. "She has an important meeting with the curator that she couldn’t leave."

Seungcheol’s pulse quickened, the fury within him rising. The news of your pregnancy only added to the questions swirling in his mind, but the fact that you were in the office—at this very moment—was what pushed him over the edge.

"Drive me to her gallery," Seungcheol ordered, his voice dangerously cold.

Jihoon nodded, without a word, and signaled to the driver to make a sharp turn. Seungcheol’s thoughts raced as the car sped toward the gallery. His heart pounded with a mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing worry.

Seungcheol arrived at your office just in time to see your psychiatrist friend, Dr. Hong, leaving. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the man walk out, the realization settling uneasily in his chest. He turned to Myungho, your assistant, who had stepped forward to greet him.

"I heard she had a meeting with the curator. Is the curator... apparently also a psychiatrist?" Seungcheol asked, his words barely more than a murmur as his thoughts raced.

Myungho looked momentarily taken aback, his eyes widening before he answered, "Are you referring to Mr. Hong, sir?"

Seungcheol shook his head, frustration mounting as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. The events from last night, the shocking news of your pregnancy, and the fact that you had still gone to work this morning despite his request—everything was colliding in his mind, leaving him on edge.

"Is she free? Can I see her?" Seungcheol asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Myungho nodded without hesitation, immediately leading him to your office. He announced Seungcheol’s arrival before stepping out, leaving the two of you alone.

You looked up from your desk as Seungcheol entered, your gaze softening at the sight of him. "Seungcheol, you're here," you said gently as you stood up.

He approached you slowly, his fingers reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was softer than usual, a tenderness beneath the usual calm. "I told you not to work," he murmured, his gaze searching yours.

You met his eyes, guilt flickering across your face. You bit your lip slightly, feeling a pang of regret. "I'm sorry. But I had a meeting with a foreign curator earlier. I'm glad it went well," you said, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

Seungcheol’s expression softened as he leaned in and kissed your temple, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. "I heard about it," he said quietly, his smile widening. "We're going to be parents." The excitement in his voice was undeniable as he took your hands in his. He looked at you with a warmth that melted some of the tension in the air.

You smiled weakly, leaning into his embrace as your head rested against his chest. His comforting presence grounded you, even as the weight of the moment settled over you both.

"You’re going to be an amazing mother, love," Seungcheol whispered, his hands gently cradling you as you closed your eyes, basking in the sincerity of his words. The world outside the two of you seemed to disappear as the reality of your future together began to take root.

*

You stepped into your childhood home, the weight of the news you had to share pressing heavily on your chest. Your mother’s wide grin greeted you before you even crossed the threshold, her hands moving wildly as she signed with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, look who’s finally here," she signed, her expression one of mock excitement. "What’s the good news, Y/n?"

You hesitated for a moment before signing, "I’m pregnant."

Her hands froze mid-air, her face flickering with surprise, but it didn’t take long for that emotion to morph into something much darker. She straightened up, her sharp gaze locking onto you. "Pregnant?" she signed, her movements quick and sharp. "Of course, you are. The Choi heir..."

You fought to steady your breath, trying to brace yourself for the storm you knew was coming. But your mother’s expression softened into something far too calculating. "This will fix everything, Y/n. You’ve done your part, finally. You’ve done something right," she signed, her eyes now gleaming with something almost predatory, like she was already envisioning what this could do for her.

The sting of her words was familiar, yet still sharp. You looked away briefly, trying to gather your thoughts before signing back, "This isn’t what I wanted."

Her laughter was sharp and cruel. "Oh, please," she signed, her tone dismissive, as if your words had no weight at all. "What else could you possibly want, Y/n? You’ve got the Choi family wrapped around your finger. You’re carrying the heir. " Her hands moved with exaggerated flourishes, her gestures mocking the sincerity of your feelings. "You should be thanking us."

You could feel the bile rising in your throat, but you bit your lip, refusing to let her see how much her words stung. "I didn’t ask for this," you signed again, more forcefully this time.

She shook her head, her expression almost pitiful. "Of course, you didn’t," she signed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Who would, right? A girl like you—deaf, unremarkable, never good enough for anything more than a marriage of convenience. But look at you now. You’ve done it. You’ve secured your place."

You bit your tongue, trying not to let the tears sting at your eyes. She had always been this way, using your deafness to remind you of how little she thought of you.

Her next words were even sharper, and you could feel the coldness in every words as she signed, "You’ll never be anything more than a stepping stone for your husband's wealth and power. Look at you, finally fulfilling your role as a good little Choi wife."

You flinched at the bitterness in her words, but you held your ground, trying to keep the hurt from showing on your face. It was clear now that she wasn’t speaking to you as a daughter but as a means to an end. You were nothing more than a transaction in her eyes.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, signing with as much defiance as you could muster, "I’ll make my own future, with or without your help."

She rolled her eyes, signing back with a mocking smirk, "You think you’ll be anything without us, Y/n? The Choi family is your ticket. Don’t you see? You’ve got your future set, and this baby—this baby—is the final piece. You’ll be taken care of for the rest of your life, all thanks to us."

The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you didn’t react. You didn’t need to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

With a final glance at her, you signed, "I’ll make my own choices. You can’t control me anymore."

Your mother’s lips curled into a sardonic smile, her eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, sweetie," she signed, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You never did have any real choices, did you?"

The finality in her words hit you hard, but you turned your back on her before she could say more. It didn’t matter anymore. You had made your decision long ago. The Choi family may have given you a life of comfort, but at what cost?

You left her house feeling emptier than when you arrived, the weight of your family’s expectations a bitter reminder of the path you had been forced onto.

"You've been silent. You don’t like the food? I can ask the cook to make you something else," Seungcheol’s voice was soft but laced with concern as he noticed you staring blankly at your plate, barely touching the food. You shook your head, offering a weak smile in his direction, though it didn’t reach your eyes.

"It’s just... I don’t feel like eating," you mumbled, your voice barely a whisper as the weight of everything you were feeling pressed down on you.

Seungcheol sighed, his expression tinged with worry as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving you. "Do you have anything in mind that you want to eat? You have to eat, love," he urged gently, his tone firm yet filled with care.

You shook your head once more, the knot in your throat tightening as you stood up from the dining table, your legs feeling heavier than usual. "I’m going to bed. My head hurts," you said, avoiding his gaze as you walked away, the words feeling suffocating in your chest.

Seungcheol didn’t push further, though his worry was palpable. He nodded quietly, watching you retreat to your shared bedroom. The soft click of the door closing behind you left an unsettling silence in the air, one that lingered in the room long after you were gone.

As soon as the door was shut, the weight of everything that had been building up inside you crashed over you. You let the tears fall, each one a painful reminder of the life you had been forced into, of the expectations you could never seem to escape. The facade you’d held up for so long finally crumbled, and you were left in the quiet emptiness of your own despair.

Till when do I have to endure this kind of life?

The question echoed in your mind, unanswered, as the tears continued to flow.

*

Seungcheol received a package that morning, its plain exterior offering no hint of the chaos it would bring. At first, there was nothing suspicious about it. But as he opened it, his stomach churned. Inside was a pair of women’s underwear, carefully folded, accompanied by a note that sent a cold shiver down his spine:

"Do you like it when she stares at your lips? I like it too."

Seungcheol crumpled the paper immediately, his fists tightening around it. His heart raced, not from surprise, but from the overwhelming disgust he felt. He knew exactly what the note was referring to—and he hated it. Hated that everyone found your gaze just as captivating as he did. It made him furious, this feeling of possessiveness creeping over him.

"Who sent this?" Seungcheol demanded, holding up the package to Jihoon.

Jihoon glanced at the contents, his brow furrowing with concern. Without hesitation, he dialed the security team. Moments later, he turned back to Seungcheol, his face tight with frustration.

“They said it was just a courier,” Jihoon informed him.

Seungcheol scoffed in disbelief, tossing the crumpled paper onto the desk. "A courier? That’s all they have? I want more than that."

"Can we track the sender?" Seungcheol pressed, his voice sharp with impatience.

Jihoon took the package from his hands, his eyes scanning it briefly. "I’ll get on it. I’ll let you know what I find," he assured him.

Seungcheol wasn’t satisfied, but he knew there was little else to do but wait. He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration building in his chest. There were still so many questions left unanswered.

“What about the person who took my wife’s phone? Have you found them?” Seungcheol asked, his voice hard.

Jihoon handed him a file, his tone quieter now. "The phone was found near the hotel the next day. Whoever took it must have gotten rid of it immediately. It’ll take some time to track the voice, though."

Seungcheol flipped through the file, his gaze hardening as he processed the information.

“Are you familiar with the voice?” Jihoon asked, sensing Seungcheol’s growing unease.

Seungcheol shook his head, frustration bubbling inside him. "No. I don’t think they’re from anyone around me. And as for the Jeon family… Haven’t heard from them since Wonwoo got married."

He said it with a bitterness that was hard to miss. The Jeon family, once a rival of the Choi family, had always been a thorn in his side when it came to business dealings. And now, with a situation like this unfolding, it didn’t feel like a coincidence. Seungcheol couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than simple revenge or some random act.

"Whoever’s behind this is going to regret messing with my family," Seungcheol muttered under his breath.

The same threats arrived with relentless frequency—through emails, packages, and anonymous phone calls. But Seungcheol had long since stopped letting them consume him. None of it mattered as long as he knew you were safe with him. He’d doubled the security around your gallery and fortified the guards at his house. With his child growing inside you, his protective instincts had only intensified. You and the life you carried were his priority—his entire world.

For a while, that mantra kept him grounded. But by the fifth month of your pregnancy, as your belly began to show, the threats took a darker turn. They became more pointed, more unsettling. One email read, “Close her eyes and see what she heard.” Another note taunted, “She’ll never listen.” Each message seemed to inch closer to the secret they claimed to know.

He kept the weight of it all to himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of burdening you. You already endured enough—carrying his child, enduring the discomfort of pregnancy from morning until night. The last thing you needed was to shoulder his fears. No, this was his fight, and he was determined to keep it that way.

“As long as she’s safe.” That was the mantra he repeated to himself every day. It was his anchor, the thought that kept him moving forward despite the shadow looming over him.

“Do you think it could be someone from your past, sir?” Jihoon asked one evening, breaking the silence in Seungcheol’s office. He looked frustrated, just as perplexed as Seungcheol about the source of the threats. Ten years of working together still hadn’t prepared Jihoon for something like this.

Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I’ve pissed off plenty of people, sure, but nothing to warrant this kind of obsession.”

Jihoon frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. “It doesn’t make sense for this to be random. Someone claims to know her secret. Someone knows you.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. That was the part he couldn’t wrap his head around. He’d always been someone who preferred moving forward rather than dwelling on the past. That was how he lived—how he thrived. But now, the threats weren’t just confusing; they were demanding something he didn’t know how to give.

“I’m not sure what they want. But they’re not getting her. They’ll have to go through me first,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and resolute.

Jihoon nodded, his expression grim. “We’ll figure this out, sir. But the longer it takes, the more dangerous it gets. These messages aren’t empty threats.”

“I know,” Seungcheol said quietly, his gaze hardening. He looked out the window, his hand instinctively resting on his phone in case you called. As long as she’s safe, he reminded himself. That was all that mattered. For now.

*

On your first anniversary, Seungcheol wanted to celebrate with an intimate dinner at home. He hired a renowned chef to curate a fine dining experience and had the house meticulously decorated with flowers and candles. It was meant to be a perfect evening, a celebration of your bond and the life you were building together. You were unaware of his plans, but a single photograph shattered the illusion.

The picture showed your home transformed into a romantic haven, the dining table adorned with delicate arrangements and warm, glowing lights. But as you stared at the photo, your surroundings brought a stark contrast. You were seated in a dim, suffocating room, the air damp and reeking of decay.

Jisoo stood before you, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his phone as he grinned. He closed the device with a soft click, his demeanor unsettlingly calm. You struggled to process the situation, piecing together fragments of memory.

Jisoo had offered to drive you home, assuring everyone—Myungho, the guards, and even yourself—that you were safe in his care. Yet here you were, trapped in a place you’d never seen, with a man you thought you trusted.

"Even like this, you still look pretty," Jisoo murmured, his voice gentle but laced with something sinister. He crouched down to meet your gaze, his hand brushing against your cheek in a mockery of tenderness.

It took a moment for the realization to sink in: Jisoo had kidnapped you. The man who had been your psychiatrist, your lifeline when you lost your hearing, had betrayed you. He wasn’t the kind and attentive figure you had thought; he had been paid by your parents to ensure you stayed functional, nothing more.

"It took me months to get to this point, Y/n, so you better cooperate," Jisoo said, his grin widening. "Or else I’ll reveal everything to Choi Seungcheol."

Your stomach churned as his words sank in.

"A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve him, to be honest," he added, almost as if he were musing aloud. "But hear me out. You’ll leave him in a month. Come with me, or no one will be able to protect you."

"What are you talking about, Jisoo?" you asked, your voice trembling as your hands instinctively moved to shield your growing belly.

Jisoo chuckled, leaning back as though amused by your confusion. "Don’t act so innocent. I know you didn’t marry him for love. It was all for your family’s benefit."

You froze, his words striking a chord of truth that left you paralyzed.

"The investment the Choi family made into your family’s business—it saved them from ruin. But it wasn’t enough, was it? Your parents wanted more," Jisoo continued, his gaze dropping to your stomach with a flicker of disdain.

"No one wants this baby to disappear except for you and me, Y/n," he said, his tone softening into a chilling whisper. "I can give you the life you deserve, away from all of this."

His words sliced through you, leaving a gaping wound of betrayal. You had trusted Jisoo, confided in him during your most vulnerable moments. He had been there when no one else was, not even your mother. You had believed in his kindness, even supported him when he confided about the pain of losing someone he loved. But now, that same man was holding you hostage.

"You don’t understand, Y/n," Jisoo continued, his expression darkening. "All your secrets—your deafness, your marriage—they’ll all come out eventually. Seungcheol will find out everything. And when he does, he'll destroy you. But you don’t have to wait for that to happen. Leave him and run away with me."

"And if I don’t?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jisoo’s grin faded, replaced by a cold, menacing stare. "Then you and the baby... will get hurt."

Your heart pounded as you sat frozen in the suffocating room, his words reverberating in your mind. The man you had trusted was a stranger, his obsession and bitterness now a threat to everything you held dear. Betrayal tightened its grip around you, suffocating and inescapable. This was not a situation you had ever imagined for yourself, and yet here you were, trapped in a nightmare.

"Happy anniversary, love." Seungcheol’s voice was warm as he leaned down to kiss your temple. You barely managed to stand in front of him, your legs shaky and your heart heavier than ever as Jisoo’s words echoed in your mind.

"Seungcheol will find out everything. And when he does, he’ll destroy you."

Your eyes wandered across the room, taking in the meticulously arranged decorations, the fragrant flowers, and the elegant dinner set for two. The sight should have filled you with joy, but instead, it suffocated you. This wasn’t a celebration. It was a cruel reminder of everything you had been hiding. Every affectionate gesture, every whispered “I love you,” all laced with deceit.

Your chest tightened as you looked at Seungcheol. He stood before you with a loving smile, holding a bouquet in his hands, radiating pure happiness. Yet all you could see was the weight of your betrayal pressing down on you.

"It was all for your family’s benefit." Jisoo’s voice rang in your head, relentless and unyielding. You tried to silence it, but it only grew louder, drowning out the world around you.

Every night, as you lay beside Seungcheol, watching his peaceful figure in the dim light, you were reminded of the lies. The way his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his features soft in sleep, it made you ache. He was so innocent, so trusting, so undeserving of the darkness you had brought into his life.

"I love you," Seungcheol said, his voice steady and sincere. The three words you feared most hung in the air, piercing through your facade. They weren’t just words to him—they were a promise, a testament to how deeply he cared for you. And you had used that love as a weapon, a means to an end.

Your family’s plan had succeeded flawlessly. They had wanted him to fall for you, to depend on you, to bind him to your family with a child. And now, here you were, carrying his baby, living a life built on manipulation.

"You’ll leave him in a month. Leave him and run away with me." Jisoo’s words were a persistent shadow, haunting every step you took.

You wished you could hear Seungcheol’s voice in this moment, soothing and full of love, reassuring you that everything would be alright. But you couldn’t. The silence in your world was unrelenting, leaving you trapped with only your thoughts and regrets.

And you wished you could hear yourself. Maybe then you would know how broken your voice sounded as tears streamed down your face, how your words betrayed your trembling resolve.

"I’m happy," you whispered, a lie wrapped in fragile sincerity. You weren’t happy—not with this life, not with the choices forced upon you. But you had made your decision. You had chosen to stay, chosen to protect the baby growing inside you, chosen to shield Seungcheol from the pain of the truth.

Because despite the lies, despite the betrayal, you couldn’t bear to hurt him. Seungcheol was the first person to love you without condition, without ulterior motives. And you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy the one person who had shown you what real love could be.

*

Seungcheol came home with his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing. Earlier that evening, Seo Myungho, your assistant, had paid him an unexpected visit at his office. It was past working hours, but the usually quiet and composed man had come with urgency etched across his face.

"I'm sorry for taking your time, but there's something you need to know," Myungho said, pulling out a photograph.

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. Myungho placed the picture on the desk.

"I've worked for your wife for years, and my observations have never been wrong," Myungho began cautiously.

In the photograph, you were stepping out of a building with Jisoo, and the timestamp matched the day of your anniversary.

"I was supposed to drive her home that afternoon," Myungho continued, "but Mr. Hong insisted on taking her instead. I followed them. It took them two hours to get home, and this picture was taken while I was tailing his car."

Seungcheol's brows furrowed deeply. "Are you trying to say she's cheating on me?" he asked, his voice tight with disbelief.

Myungho hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's not something I can confirm, sir. But I will say this—she hasn’t been the same since that day. If they were involved in an affair, she wouldn’t have told me to stop letting Mr. Hong visit her gallery."

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched as he leaned back in his chair. "What exactly are you insinuating, Seo Myungho?"

After a pause, Myungho finally said what had been weighing on his conscience. "Your wife… I think she’s in danger."

The words hit Seungcheol like a thunderclap.

When he stepped into the house, his voice echoed through the empty halls. "Y/n!" he called. There was no answer. He hurriedly searched every room, his calls growing louder and more frantic.

"Y/n!"

Finally, he made his way to his home office. That’s when he noticed your phone lying on his desk, ringing in response to his calls. The top drawer of the desk, where he kept the bank books, was slightly ajar. His stomach twisted when he realized the bank book with your name was missing.

Unlocking your phone, Seungcheol’s blood ran cold. On the screen was a series of messages, the tone eerily similar to the threats he had been receiving over the past months.

"Leave the house now, or I’ll tell everything about your secret."

Seungcheol’s grip tightened around the phone as he immediately dialed Jihoon. His voice was steady but filled with urgency as he barked orders. "Mobilize everyone. Start searching for her now."

He scanned the phone again, another message flashing on the screen.

"I’ll wait for you at the park near the bank."

Seungcheol sent Jihoon the location before sprinting to his car. He had no doubt now—whoever had been threatening him was after you too.

"My boss… your wife…" Myungho’s earlier words echoed in his mind, the revelation twisting like a knife in his gut.

"She’s deaf," Myungho had said quietly. "She lost her hearing in a car accident. I overheard a conversation between her and her mother once."

Seungcheol pressed harder on the gas pedal, weaving through traffic as Myungho’s voice played on repeat in his head.

"Do you know how much your wife has suffered in this marriage? I thought she found solace in Mr. Hong at first. But then she told me to stop allowing him to visit, and that’s when I realized—he wasn’t helping her anymore."

Seungcheol gripped the wheel tighter, fury and dread clawing at his chest.

"Mr. Hong likes your wife, sir. And I believe he’s the one behind these threats."

The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Jisoo had been manipulating everything, orchestrating the threats, and now he had escalated to targeting you. Seungcheol’s heart raced as he sped toward the park, the weight of the truth pressing down on him.

"What is his deal?" Seungcheol muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling in his chest as he raced toward the park. His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone. Seeing Jun’s name on the screen, he immediately answered, his voice commanding, "Speak!"

"Sir, where are you?" Jun’s voice came through, laced with confusion. "Everyone is in front of Seoul Bank, but we don’t see you or Mr. Lee here."

Seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as anger flared in his chest. "It’s the park near SK Bank, not Seoul Bank!" he snapped, his voice booming.

Jun hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback, before replying, "But sir, Mr. Lee instructed us to gather at Seoul Bank."

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. His mind raced as he processed the situation. Why had Jihoon sent his team to a different location? Was it a mistake, or was there something more sinister at play?

"Forget what Mr. Lee said and head to SK Bank immediately," Seungcheol barked.

"Understood, sir. We’re moving now," Jun replied before the line disconnected.

Seungcheol’s mind churned as he pushed the car to its limit. Was there something he was missing? Jihoon was one of his most trusted people, yet this discrepancy felt off. A sinking feeling settled in his chest, whispering that this was more than just a miscommunication.

Every second felt like an eternity as Seungcheol’s thoughts spiraled. Had Jihoon deliberately sent his team elsewhere to buy time? If so, why?

His gut told him the pieces of the puzzle weren’t adding up. If Jihoon was involved in this, there would be hell to pay. For now, all that mattered was finding you.

*

Seungcheol first met Jihoon during the interview for his secretary team recruitment. Even then, he could see the passion and fire in Jihoon’s eyes—a fighting spirit that convinced him this man could help navigate the treacherous waters of the dark business he was trying to expand. Back when Seungcheol left his position at his father’s company to build his own empire, Jihoon had been his first hire, his personal assistant. For the past ten years, they had been inseparable, working side by side through every challenge and victory. Jihoon wasn’t just an employee; he was someone Seungcheol trusted with his life.

But that trust was now hanging by a thread.

Seungcheol’s heart dropped when he saw Jihoon’s car parked by the curb. He hurried over, peering inside only to find it empty. His gaze darted around the area, but there was no sign of Jihoon—and more importantly, no sign of you.

Panic mixed with fury as emotions churned violently inside him. He clenched his fists, his breathing ragged, and immediately dialed Jun. His voice was sharp and commanding when Jun picked up.

“Track Jihoon’s location. Now. He’s missing,” Seungcheol ordered.

“Understood, sir,” Jun replied quickly, not daring to ask further questions.

Seungcheol ended the call, his mind racing. Jihoon had been the first person he’d confided in about the threats. He’d trusted Jihoon to investigate, to handle everything discreetly. But now, the puzzle pieces were falling into place. Jihoon had sent the team to the wrong location deliberately—to buy himself time.

And that could only mean one thing. Jihoon wasn’t just aware of the threats. He was one of them.

A cold realization settled over Seungcheol, chilling him to the core. The man he had trusted for a decade had betrayed him, and now you were in danger because of it.

Seungcheol gritted his teeth, gripping his phone tightly as he fought the urge to call the police. That wasn’t an option, not for him. He’d made the mistake of involving the police before and paid dearly for it. His hands weren’t clean, and he knew better than to invite unnecessary scrutiny into his life.

All he could do now was rely on his people, his resources, and his determination. He couldn’t afford to let emotions cloud his judgment. He had to focus on two things: finding you and finding Jihoon.

And when he did, Jihoon would have to answer for everything. For the lies, for the betrayal, and most of all, for putting you in harm’s way.

A phone call shattered the tense silence as Seungcheol sat in the living room of his parents' house. The air was heavy with shared worry and shock, each family member struggling to process the sudden revelation of Jihoon’s betrayal.

Seungcheol’s spine stiffened the moment he heard the voice on the other end of the line. It was unmistakable—Jihoon. The man who had been his closest confidant for ten years had finally revealed himself.

“Choi Seungcheol,” Jihoon’s voice came cold and calculated, carrying a chilling undertone.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, the weight of realization pressing down on him. “So it’s you,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

A low, mocking laugh echoed through the line, and Jihoon’s voice followed, dripping with venom. “Hong Jisoo did a great job moving Y/n. He’s a better player than I expected.”

Seungcheol gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles whitening. “What do you want, Jihoon? What dragged you into this madness?”

Another laugh escaped Jihoon’s lips, sharper and colder this time. “Beg, Choi Seungcheol,” he hissed. “At least suffer for a bit. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Ruining lives and walking away.”

“Stop speaking in riddles!” Seungcheol barked, frustration and desperation mingling in his voice.

But Jihoon’s next words stopped him cold. “You killed my mother that night,” Jihoon spat, his voice trembling with years of suppressed rage. “Do you even remember? Or is it just another ghost buried under the weight of your family’s sins?”

Seungcheol froze, the accusation hitting him like a freight train. “I never killed anyone! Especially not a woman!” he shouted, his mind scrambling to make sense of Jihoon’s claim.

Jihoon let out a bitter laugh, his tone growing harsher. “Oh, maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was your father. Honestly, I don’t care anymore. Your entire family is a wreck!”

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol started, trying to piece it together. “What are you talking about? What happened to your mother?”

Jihoon’s voice cracked with raw emotion. “You could’ve saved her, Seungcheol. You were there. You saw her lying in the street after that accident. Instead of helping, you let your driver speed off. You left her—my mother—alone to die at the crossroad near Jongno.”

The memory stirred faintly in Seungcheol’s mind, a shadowy fragment from years ago. A car accident. A desperate night. Could it be true? Had his family been responsible? Was this all Jihoon’s revenge?

Seungcheol swallowed hard, his voice low and steady. “Jihoon, if what you’re saying is true, let’s talk about it. Let’s fix this.”

But Jihoon’s response was icy. “Fix it? You can’t fix what’s already broken, Choi Seungcheol. Your family destroyed mine, and now it’s my turn to take everything from you.”

There was a pause on the line, a dreadful silence that made Seungcheol’s heart race.

“Let’s see if your wife survives this,” Jihoon said, his voice eerily calm.

And then, a deafening gunshot rang through the phone.

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol yelled into the receiver, his voice cracking with panic. But the call had already ended, leaving him in a suffocating void of silence and dread.

*

"You promised not to hurt her!" Jisoo shouted, his voice trembling as he held up a gun, his eyes wide with panic. He had just witnessed Jihoon aiming the weapon at you, your unconscious form sprawled on the cold floor. At the last second, Jisoo lunged, shoving Jihoon’s hand away. The gun fired, the bullet ricocheting off the far wall, narrowly missing you.

Jihoon snarled in frustration, swinging his arm to shove Jisoo aside. Jisoo stumbled and fell hard onto the floor, the gun now pointed directly at him. Jihoon’s gaze burned with fury.

“This is your fault,” Jihoon hissed, his voice like ice. “You left her phone at Seungcheol’s house. Do you realize how close he came to finding us?”

Jisoo glared up at him, his expression a mixture of anger and betrayal. “This isn’t about her! What you want is Seungcheol! There’s no need to hurt her!”

Jihoon let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Seungcheol made me lose someone I loved. Isn’t it only fair he loses his? Who told him to have a weakness in the first place?”

“You’re insane, Jihoon,” Jisoo spat, his voice rising with disbelief. “This was never the deal!”

“I make the deal,” Jihoon said with a cruel smirk. “I decide how it plays out.”

Jihoon had pieced everything together when he discovered who had called Seungcheol using your phone that fateful night. It was Hong Jisoo—your old friend and, ironically, your psychiatrist. Jihoon’s curiosity was piqued. Why would an old friend go so far as to threaten his friend's husband?

The answer came quickly: Jisoo was in love with you. He had been ever since you became his patient. Jihoon saw the truth in Jisoo’s eyes—the way he lingered on your name, the way he spoke about you with barely contained bitterness. Jisoo had been waiting patiently, hoping for his chance. But that chance never came. Your family, powerful and calculating, had arranged your marriage to the Choi family. To someone far wealthier, far more influential than Jisoo could ever be.

Jisoo felt betrayed. Everything he’d done for you, all the time he’d spent caring for you, meant nothing in the end. His motives became clear: he wanted to end your marriage at any cost. And when Jihoon offered an alliance, Jisoo jumped at the opportunity, even if it meant working with someone as dangerous as Jihoon.

The final piece of Jihoon’s plan clicked into place when he saw you. The day of your blind date with Seungcheol, Jihoon had been there, driving the car to pick up his boss. He noticed you speaking with someone in sign language, your hands moving fluidly as you signed, “I can sign because I’m deaf.”

It was a fleeting moment, but it struck Jihoon deeply. His mother had been deaf too, and in that instant, he saw the vulnerability Seungcheol had brought into his life. Jihoon began to watch closely, waiting for Seungcheol to fall for you, and when he did, Jihoon knew he had found the Choi family’s Achilles’ heel.

You.

Seungcheol’s love for you had turned you into his greatest weakness. Jihoon’s plan had been carefully orchestrated, each move designed to exploit that vulnerability and make Seungcheol pay for the sins of his family.

And now, standing over Jisoo with a gun in hand, Jihoon felt the culmination of his years of planning. The question was no longer whether Seungcheol would suffer—it was how much.

Jisoo’s hands trembled as he slowly pushed himself off the ground, his gaze locked on Jihoon, who stood menacingly with the gun aimed at him. The weight of betrayal, desperation, and fear swirled in Jisoo’s mind.

“I won’t let you do this,” Jisoo growled, his voice raw with emotion.

Jihoon cocked his head to the side, his smirk unwavering. “You won’t let me? What can you possibly do, Jisoo? You’ve already played your part. It’s over.”

But it wasn’t over—not for Jisoo. In one swift motion, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a knife, the blade gleaming under the dim light. Without hesitation, he lunged at Jihoon with all his strength, his movements driven by pure instinct and fury.

Jihoon’s eyes widened in surprise as Jisoo’s body collided with his. The gun went off, the sound of the shot reverberating through the air, but the bullet missed its mark, hitting the wall instead. Jihoon staggered back, his grip on the gun faltering as Jisoo shoved the knife into his side with brutal force.

A guttural cry of pain tore from Jihoon’s throat as he felt the blade sink into his flesh. Blood seeped through his shirt, staining the fabric crimson. Jihoon’s hand instinctively tightened around the gun, his vision blurring from the searing pain.

“You think this will stop me?” Jihoon hissed, his voice strained but laced with venom.

Jisoo didn’t respond, his breathing ragged as he pushed the knife deeper, his resolve unshaken. He could feel Jihoon weakening beneath his grip, but he underestimated just how dangerous Jihoon could be, even in his wounded state.

With a surge of adrenaline, Jihoon raised the gun and fired again, this time hitting Jisoo square in the shoulder. The force of the shot sent Jisoo stumbling backward, his grip on the knife loosening as he fell to the ground.

Both men were now gasping for air, their bodies trembling from the pain and exertion. Blood pooled on the floor between them, the room thick with the metallic scent of violence.

Jihoon clutched his side, his hand slick with blood as he leaned against the wall for support. His gaze flickered to Jisoo, who lay sprawled on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder and groaning in agony.

“You really thought you could outsmart me?” Jihoon sneered, though his voice was weaker now, his energy draining rapidly.

Jisoo coughed, his chest heaving as he glared at Jihoon through the haze of pain. “You’re no better than the people you claim to hate,” he spat. “You’ve become the monster you wanted to destroy.”

Jihoon’s expression darkened, his fingers tightening around the gun. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his tone cold. “But at least I’ll have justice for my mother. You? You’re nothing but a coward, Jisoo. Hiding behind your obsession.”

Jisoo’s hand twitched, reaching for the knife still embedded in Jihoon’s side. But before he could grab it, Jihoon raised the gun again, aiming directly at Jisoo’s chest.

“I warned you,” Jihoon said, his voice icy and devoid of emotion. “Stay out of my way.”

The sound of another gunshot echoed through the room. Jisoo’s body went still, his eyes wide in shock before they slowly fluttered shut.

Jihoon let out a ragged, shaky breath, his knees giving way as he collapsed to the floor. His hand instinctively moved to the knife buried in his side, but he didn’t dare pull it out, knowing it would only hasten the flow of blood. Pain shot through him with every shallow breath he took, sharp and unrelenting, as if his body were punishing him for every choice that had led to this moment.

His vision blurred, the room tilting as the strength in his legs failed him completely. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to steady himself, but the cold surface only amplified the chill spreading through his body. Each heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, a reminder of how quickly his time was slipping away.

As his gaze wandered across the room, it landed briefly on the lifeless form of Jisoo, crumpled a few feet away, his blood staining the floor in dark, viscous pools. The memory of the fight replayed in Jihoon's mind like a broken record—Jisoo’s desperate lunge, the glint of the blade, the deafening crack of the gun.

Jihoon’s breath hitched, his hand pressing harder against his wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. The edges of his vision darkened, the world around him losing focus. His chest heaved as he tried to stay conscious, but the weight of his injuries was too much to bear.

The room felt eerily quiet now, the echoes of their struggle replaced by the faint, distant hum of the city beyond these walls. Jihoon tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling as a bitter smile played on his lips.

*

Seungcheol’s heart hammered in his chest as he and his team stormed through the abandoned harbor. The old warehouse loomed ahead, a towering silhouette against the dark sky. Every breath felt heavier as he pushed forward, each step fraught with mounting dread. They had tracked Jihoon’s location down to this forsaken place—now, all he could think of was finding you, ensuring you were still alive.

The sound of his boots pounding against the cracked pavement echoed in the still night air as he reached the heavy doors of the warehouse. With one forceful push, they creaked open, revealing the cavernous interior dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. The air was thick with the smell of rust and dampness, the kind of place that whispered forgotten secrets.

But what greeted him inside was far worse than he’d imagined.

Blood. It was everywhere. Pools of dark crimson staining the cold concrete floor. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him as his eyes darted across the scene. His team fanned out, but Seungcheol’s gaze was drawn to the lifeless body of Jisoo, sprawled across the floor in an unnatural position. The unmistakable evidence of a gunshot wound on his chest confirmed that he was beyond saving.

Seungcheol’s pulse quickened, a suffocating pressure forming in his chest. He couldn’t stop his legs from carrying him toward the body. His eyes briefly shut as the weight of the situation settled into his bones. Jisoo—dead.

But where were you?

His breath hitched as his gaze swept the warehouse. There was no sign of you. No trace of Jihoon. The blood led into a narrow corridor at the back of the warehouse. His pulse raced, the fear gnawing at him like a festering wound.

“Search the entire place. Don’t leave a single corner unchecked,” Seungcheol ordered, his voice tight with barely controlled panic.

His men scattered, checking every shadow, every room, but still, no sign of you. His heart sank with every passing second. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of their frantic searching.

Seungcheol moved toward the back, following the blood trail. It led to a door cracked slightly open, its edges stained with crimson. Without hesitation, he pushed it open, his eyes scanning the area for any clue, anything that could point him to you.

There were drag marks. Disturbingly faint, but they were there. Leading toward the docks.

His mind screamed at him to hurry. “Get to the docks! Block all exits!” Seungcheol barked. He could barely hear his own words over the rush of blood in his ears, his vision narrowing with each second.

He needed to find you. He would find you. No matter what it took, no matter the cost.

The water lapped softly against the shore, the only sound that seemed to break the tense stillness. Seungcheol stared out at the dark horizon, feeling the weight of the past few hours pressing on him. Was it too late?

“I’ll find you,” he whispered, barely audible to anyone but himself, as he squared his shoulders. “I swear I will.”

*

You ran, your heart pounding in your chest as the cold night air stung your skin. Your feet, bare and scraped from the rough pavement, barely registered the pain as you pushed your body to its limits. You could still hear the haunting memory of Jihoon’s voice in your head, feel the weight of Jisoo’s betrayal in your bones.

They wouldn't come back. They couldn't come back.

The thought of them finding you again, of them dragging you back into their nightmare, was enough to keep you moving even as exhaustion threatened to pull you under. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your throat dry and tight with thirst, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

And then, just as you were beginning to feel your legs betray you, you saw them—a group of women, dressed in thick wetsuits, their movements confident and assured. They were divers, the kind who harvested abalone, their hands strong from years of working the sea. They noticed you before you could stagger past them, their trained eyes immediately scanning your bloodstained dress and the wild, frantic look in your eyes.

"Young woman? Are you okay?" One of them called out, her voice gentle but concerned.

You lifted a hand, weakly waving in their direction. You could feel your body weakening, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. The ground beneath you tilted, and your knees nearly gave way. You knew you couldn’t keep running for much longer. Your vision blurred, but you forced the words out.

“I was kidnapped…” Your voice cracked, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The truth hung in the air like a heavy weight. They could see it in your eyes—the terror, the exhaustion, the desperation.

The women exchanged quick glances, scanning your disheveled state, the blood on your dress that stained the night darker still. They didn’t question you. Instead, one of them stepped forward, her tone gentle but firm.

“Come with us,” she said. “You’re safe now.”

You didn’t have the energy to protest. Your legs wobbled beneath you as they carefully supported you, guiding you away from the dangers you’d just escaped.

With each step, you felt yourself slipping closer to unconsciousness. The dim lights of the village shimmered like a distant dream, and you clung to the hope that, maybe, for the first time in what felt like forever, you were finally safe.

*

"What happened that night?" Seungcheol demanded, his voice cold and heavy as he confronted his father. The room was dimly lit, the weight of the topic casting a suffocating shadow over them. The matter at hand was the death of a woman his father’s car had struck 15 years ago—a moment that had come back to haunt them both.

His father took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. "She was a cleaner at our company. But before that, she was a witness to one of our transactions. She confronted the leaders and threatened to report everything to the police unless she got paid off." His tone was calm, detached, as though recounting a mundane business deal.

Seungcheol’s fists clenched. "And?"

"I gave her enough money to raise her children. More than enough. I even found her a job. She was deaf, Seungcheol, and no one was willing to hire someone like that back then."

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as the pieces fell into place. Jihoon’s mother had been employed as a cleaner for several months before that fateful night. But it didn’t end there.

"She demanded more money," his father continued, voice devoid of remorse. "She wanted more, and I had no better option than to make her disappear."

Seungcheol felt a wave of nausea as his father’s words hit him. He nodded grimly, the memory of that night flashing in his mind. "That’s what I knew. She wanted more money," he muttered, almost to himself. "That’s why I left her that night. I thought she was just another extortionist."

There was silence between them until his father broke it. "And your wife? Has anyone found her?"

Seungcheol shook his head, his heart sinking further into despair. "No. Neither her nor Jihoon." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke. The thought of you out there—alive or worse—was unbearable. You were the first person he had ever truly loved, and now you were gone, all because of the vengeance Jihoon had carried for years.

His father frowned, his brows knitting together. "No body was found in the water either?"

Seungcheol exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "No. But there was blood on the edge of the dock."

His father’s eyes darkened. "Do you think it was Jihoon’s?"

Seungcheol hesitated, biting his lip as his gaze met his father’s. "I wish it was. But..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

His father studied him carefully before speaking. "There’s something else, isn’t there?"

Seungcheol’s throat tightened as he admitted quietly, "was it possible? She’s pregnant."

The weight of the revelation hung in the air. His father nodded in understanding, his expression grim. "We’ll send more people tomorrow," he said firmly, rising to his feet. He placed a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder, his grip surprisingly steady. "We’ll find closure, one way or another."

Seungcheol didn’t respond, his thoughts spiraling. He didn’t want closure. He wanted you. And the uncertainty of whether you were alive or gone was a torment he wasn’t sure he could endure.

One week.

Two weeks.

A month.

Three months.

Time crawled by as the search for you carried on, only to come to a devastating halt. After three agonizing months, Seungcheol made the painful decision to officially call off the large-scale search. The slowdown in the business was affecting countless lives, and he couldn’t justify sacrificing so many for his own personal grief. Yet, in his heart, the search never truly stopped.

Every weekend, Seungcheol would find himself wandering from one village to another near the abandoned harbor, relentless in his quest. He’d strike up conversations with locals and ask questions.

“Do you have a picture of her?” a villager would ask.

Seungcheol would pull out the photograph, his fingers trembling slightly as he handed it over. You always looked beautiful to him, flawless in every way. Even now, with the ache of your absence, he could only see perfection in your face. The day he’d first laid eyes on you, he’d been captivated, unable to believe someone like you could exist.

The truth of your deafness, which your parents finally revealed to him on the night you disappeared, hadn’t changed his view of you at all. If anything, it made him ache more for what you had endured.

“It was my idea to hide the fact she is deaf! Please forgive me, Son-in-law,” your mother had pleaded, her voice cracking with guilt.

Seungcheol had stared at her, his chest tightening with anger and disbelief. “Tell me one reason why her deafness was a secret.”

“Because a woman’s obligation as a wife is to listen,” she replied, the words cutting through him like a knife.

His hands clenched at his sides. He couldn’t imagine the kind of torment you must have endured growing up in a household like this. The burden of expectations, the cruel standard you were forced to meet—it was suffocating to even think about.

Your mother continued, as if the words excused her actions. “We were relieved when we found out she was pregnant. At least she fulfilled one of her obligations. She lost so much after the accident...”

“Stop,” Seungcheol snapped, his voice laced with restrained fury. “Stop speaking about her in the past tense. She’s still with us. She has to be.”

But even as he confronted your mother’s callousness, doubt and fear gnawed at his heart. Every village he visited, every person he spoke to, left him with nothing but disappointment.

“We’ve never seen anyone like her,” a villager said, shaking their head. “She’s so beautiful. Is she your wife?”

Seungcheol nodded, a faint, hollow smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, she’s my wife.”

That evening, as he drove back home, the weight of his failure pressed down on him. The house, once filled with your warmth, now felt unbearably quiet. The memories of you lingered in every corner—the way you smiled, the way you turned your head to face him whenever he spoke, the way you stared at his lips, a habit he’d never fully understood until now.

It was during those lonely nights that everything started to make sense.

Your habit of always needing to face him when he spoke. The lack of phone calls. The way you’d tilt your head and say, “What?” if he wasn’t looking directly at you.

You couldn’t hear him.

And he’d never realized it.

He thought back to all the times Hong Jisoo had tried to hint at the truth through his cryptic threats. Jisoo had known, just as your parents had, that you had been forced into the marriage. Seungcheol clenched his fists, anger and regret churning inside him.

He felt like he had failed you—not just as a husband but as the man who should have protected you from all of this.

And now, you were gone.

His phone rang in the dead of night, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room. Seungcheol groggily reached for it, his heart sinking at the thought of more bad news. But when he saw the caller ID, his exhaustion was replaced by curiosity.

Seo Myungho.

Your former assistant had never called him again after that time, let alone at this hour.

Seungcheol answered, his voice hoarse, “Hello?”

“I found her.”

Three words. Just three words. But they hit him like a lightning bolt, sending him bolting upright from the bed.

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice sharp and desperate now, as if he couldn’t trust what he’d just heard.

“I found her, sir.”

*

Myungho’s search for you had been relentless, driven by a determination he couldn’t explain but refused to ignore. He carefully tracked your weeks, estimating your birthing date. His method was simple but meticulous—he regularly visited hospitals and clinics in the areas surrounding the harbor where you had last been seen. It was a grueling process, but last week, his persistence paid off.

He spotted you stepping out of a small clinic, your rounded stomach unmistakable. Myungho’s heart skipped a beat. If his calculations were correct, you were due any day now.

Discreetly, he followed you back to a modest village nestled along the coastline. There, he discovered an elderly woman had taken you under her wing, providing you with shelter and care during these past months. Myungho watched from a distance, observing how you seemed to have created a life for yourself despite everything. He saw you teaching local children sign language, your hands moving gracefully as the kids mirrored your gestures with bright, eager faces.

“What are you doing here, young man?” A gruff voice startled him one afternoon. He turned to see an elderly man approaching, his gaze sharp but curious. “You’re not from around here. Are you from the city?”

Caught off guard, Myungho scrambled for a believable response. “Uh, yes. I’m here looking for a great restaurant,” he said quickly. “The kind that serves abalone.”

The old man’s face brightened. “Well, you’re in luck! I’ve got the best abalone in the area. Come on, come on, I’ll serve you myself!”

With little choice but to follow, Myungho was soon seated at a modest table in the man’s small home. A steaming plate of abalone was placed in front of him, the rich aroma filling the air.

As the man chatted, he grew more animated. “You know, there was a big fuss a few months ago. A young woman came here—a deaf woman, staying at Mrs. Jeong’s house. They say she ran away from her husband. Nobody knows what really happened to her, though.”

“Enough, old man!” a woman’s voice scolded. Myungho turned to see the man’s wife slapping his arm lightly. “It’s supposed to be a secret!”

“I was just talking,” the old man grumbled, rubbing his arm.

The woman sighed and turned to Myungho apologetically. “Mrs. Jeong is a respected figure in this village, and she asked us to keep the young woman’s presence a secret. I hope you understand.”

Myungho nodded, hiding his relief. Mrs. Jeong. Now he had a name—a connection to you. He had finally found the key to bringing you back.

When the due was coming, the pain from the contractions gripped your body like a vice, leaving you breathless. The small clinic in the village had tried their best, but it quickly became clear they couldn’t handle the complications of your delivery. You needed a cesarean, and time was running out.

As you sat hunched on the clinic bench, clutching your swollen belly, Myungho appeared. His presence was unexpected, his expression calm but urgent.

“I’ll take her to the hospital,” he said firmly, addressing the worried midwife.

The midwife looked at you, hesitant. “It’s a long drive, and the baby could come anytime,” she said.

Myungho met your gaze. “We don’t have a choice. Let’s go.”

You blinked, stunned by his sudden appearance. “Why are you here?” you asked weakly, the pain stealing the strength from your voice.

He didn’t answer immediately, guiding you carefully toward his car. His hands were steady but firm as he helped you into the passenger seat. “I’ll explain later,” he said, closing the door and rushing to the driver’s side.

The contractions were coming faster now, each one making you grip the seat harder. The car sped down the uneven village roads, Myungho’s hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Breathe,” he said, glancing at you. “Focus on breathing.”

You tried, but the pain was overwhelming. Sweat dripped down your temple, and your vision blurred. Between the waves of agony, your mind buzzed with questions. How did he find you? Why was he here?

The ride felt like an eternity, each second stretching into minutes. Myungho’s jaw was tight, his focus unwavering as he navigated the winding roads.

When the lights of the hospital came into view, a weak sigh of relief escaped your lips. Myungho pulled up to the emergency entrance and jumped out, shouting for help.

Within moments, a team of medical staff surrounded you, gently lifting you onto a gurney. Myungho stayed by your side until the doors to the operating room loomed ahead.

You reached out, grabbing his sleeve. “Why are you here?” you asked again, your voice trembling.

He paused, looking down at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “Because someone had to protect you,” he said softly. “And I owe it to him.”

Before you could process his words, the doors swung open, and you were whisked away. As the bright lights of the operating room blurred your vision, one thought lingered in your mind—was he talking about Seungcheol?

*

Seungcheol stormed into the administration ward, his breath ragged as his frantic eyes scanned the room. When he spotted Myungho standing near the counter, clutching a pen and a clipboard, he closed the distance in long, hurried strides.

Without hesitation, Seungcheol grabbed Myungho’s arm, his grip firm but trembling. His voice was raw, almost pleading. “Tell me she’s alive.”

Myungho looked up, startled but composed. “Please calm down, sir,” he said, his tone steady yet empathetic. “I assure you, she’s fine. She’s in the operating room right now.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened in shock, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The operating room? Why? What’s wrong?!” His chest tightened with dread as scenarios raced through his mind.

Setting the clipboard aside, Myungho placed a reassuring hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder and guided him toward the waiting lounge outside the operating room. “Today is her due date,” Myungho explained as they walked. “She’s giving birth to your child.”

The words hit Seungcheol like a tidal wave, rendering him momentarily speechless. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on Myungho as if needing confirmation that he’d heard correctly. “My… child?” he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief and a glimmer of hope.

Myungho nodded firmly. “Yes, sir. She went into labor earlier, but the clinic in the village couldn’t handle the delivery. It’s a cesarean operation. That’s why I brought her here.”

Seungcheol’s shoulders sagged, a mix of relief and anxiety washing over him. He pressed a hand over his mouth, his thoughts racing between fear for your safety and the realization that he was about to become a father.

“I need to see her,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to maintain his composure.

Myungho shook his head gently. “The doctors are doing everything they can. All we can do now is wait.”

As they reached the waiting lounge, Seungcheol sank into one of the chairs, his head falling into his hands. The sterile smell of the hospital and the faint hum of medical equipment filled the silence around him.

“She’s strong,” Myungho said softly, standing beside him. “She’s been through so much, but she’s strong. And she’s going to make it through this.”

Seungcheol nodded, his jaw clenched as he fought back tears. “I should’ve found her sooner,” he whispered, his voice heavy with regret. “I should’ve protected her.”

“You’re here now,” Myungho said firmly. “And that’s what matters.”

Time crawled by with agonizing slowness as Seungcheol remained in the waiting lounge. His gaze never left the double doors leading to the operating room. The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on his anxious expression, emphasizing the deep lines of worry etched into his face.

He tapped his foot impatiently, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Every passing second felt like an eternity, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily on his chest. Myungho sat a few seats away, silent but observant, giving Seungcheol space while staying close in case he was needed.

Finally, the double doors swung open. A doctor stepped out, his surgical mask still in place, his face partially obscured but his eyes calm and professional. Seungcheol shot to his feet, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Doctor, how is she? Is she okay? And the baby?” he asked in a rush, his voice trembling.

The doctor gave a small, reassuring nod. “Both the mother and baby are safe. The operation went smoothly.”

Relief flooded through Seungcheol like a wave, his knees threatening to give out beneath him. He exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to his chest as if to steady his racing heart. “Thank God,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“The mother is resting now, but you can see her shortly,” the doctor continued. “The baby has been moved to the nursery for observation, but everything looks good.”

“Thank you,” Seungcheol said earnestly, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and shook the doctor’s hand firmly, his gratitude evident in his grip.

Moments later, a nurse led Seungcheol to your recovery room. The sight of you lying in the hospital bed, pale but peaceful, made his chest tighten. He approached cautiously, his footsteps soft as if afraid to disturb you.

You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. When your gaze met his, a flicker of recognition crossed your tired face. “Seungcheol…” you murmured, your voice weak but laced with emotion.

He sank into the chair beside your bed, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not finding you sooner, for everything you’ve been through…”

You managed a faint smile, your fingers curling weakly around his. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You’re here now.”

Seungcheol leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I’m never leaving again,” he vowed.

The nurse returned moments later, wheeling in a small bassinet. Inside, a tiny bundle of life stirred, letting out a soft cry. Seungcheol stood, his breath catching as he saw the baby for the first time. The nurse carefully lifted the infant and placed them in your arms.

You both gazed down at the child, a mix of emotions reflected in your tired but radiant faces. “It’s a boy,” the nurse said with a smile before quietly stepping out to give you privacy.

Seungcheol leaned over, his hand resting gently on the baby’s tiny head. “He’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

For the first time in months, the weight on Seungcheol’s heart lifted as he held onto the two people who now meant everything to him.

*

"We don't have to talk about anything yet. Your recovery is my priority now," Seungcheol said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He gently tucked the blanket around you, his touch as careful as if you might break. Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on your temple, the warmth of his lips lingering like a silent promise.

"Choi Doahn," you whispered, the name slipping from your lips as you cradled your baby for the first time. It was barely audible, but Seungcheol caught it. The way you spoke the name—so full of love and meaning—etched itself into his heart. From that moment, he began calling the baby Doahn.

Doahn now rested peacefully in the small crib beside your bed, his tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm with his soft breaths. Seungcheol couldn’t take his eyes off him. The baby was so small, so delicate, yet he already held a monumental presence in Seungcheol’s life. He crouched beside the crib, his hand hovering over Doahn as if afraid his touch might disturb the baby's perfect tranquility.

Seungcheol’s heart ached with a bittersweet mix of love and regret. How much of this had he missed? The small kicks, the first signs of life, the moments you must have longed to share with him during your pregnancy—he hadn’t been there. He had failed to protect you both when you needed him most.

When the nurse handed Doahn to him for skin-to-skin bonding, Seungcheol felt his breath hitch. The baby stirred slightly in his arms, a soft murmur escaping his tiny lips before settling again. As Seungcheol cradled him against his chest, the warmth of Doahn’s fragile body against his skin unleashed a flood of emotions he had held back for too long.

Tears streamed down Seungcheol’s face, unbidden and unstoppable. They weren’t just tears of relief, but also of guilt, sorrow, and overwhelming love. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Doahn’s head, his lips trembling as he whispered, "I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now, and I’ll never leave you or your mother again. I promise, Doahn."

You watched from the bed, your heart full despite your exhaustion. Seeing Seungcheol with your baby, the tenderness in his touch, and the raw emotion on his face reminded you of the man you fell in love with—the man who always cared so deeply, even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

Seungcheol turned to you, his tear-streaked face breaking into a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Thank you for giving me him… for fighting through everything. I don’t deserve either of you, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you both feel loved and safe."

In that quiet room, the three of you found a moment of peace amidst the chaos that had brought you here. It wasn’t the end of the journey, but it was the beginning of a new one—a chance to heal, to grow, and to finally be a family.

It was late afternoon when Seungcheol finally broached the subject. The soft glow of the sun streamed through the hospital room window, casting a warm light over you as you rested in bed. Doahn was asleep in the crib beside you, his small form wrapped in a blanket. Seungcheol sat on the edge of your bed, his hands clasped tightly together, as though gathering the courage to speak.

"I think we need to talk now," he said gently, his voice low so as not to wake the baby. He searched your face, his eyes brimming with unspoken emotions.

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the blanket draped over your lap. You had been waiting for this moment, dreading it but knowing it was inevitable. "Where do we start?" you asked softly, your voice carrying both hesitation and resolve.

Seungcheol took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I want to start with an apology," he said, his tone steady but thick with emotion. "I failed you, love. I should’ve protected you, been there for you when you needed me most. Instead, you had to face all of this alone." His voice cracked slightly, and he paused, looking down at his hands. "I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. And I’m sorry for not realizing sooner… about your hearing. I should’ve known."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in your throat. "It wasn’t your fault," you said after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. "I kept it a secret because I was scared. My parents…" You hesitated, the memories of their harsh words and expectations still painful. "They told me I wouldn’t be good enough for anyone if people knew. I didn’t want to burden you with it."

Seungcheol’s heart clenched at your words. "Y/n, you’re not a burden. You never were, and you never will be. I hate that they made you feel that way." He reached out, his hand covering yours. "You’re perfect to me, just the way you are."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I was so scared, Seungcheol," you admitted, your voice trembling. "When Jihoon took me, when I was alone in that village… I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you’d given up on me."

"I never gave up," Seungcheol said firmly, his grip on your hand tightening. "Not for a second. I searched for you every day. Even when the official search ended, I couldn’t stop. I knew you were out there, and I had to find you."

You nodded, the sincerity in his words soothing some of the pain you had carried. "I know now," you said softly. "And I’m grateful. For everything you’ve done for me and for Doahn."

Seungcheol’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "We’ve both been through so much," he said. "But I want us to move forward together. As a family. No more secrets, no more fear. Just us, starting fresh."

Seungcheol had been watching you with quiet anticipation, his gaze filled with patience and love. You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes with a resolve you hadn’t felt in years.

"If.." you began, your voice steady but laced with emotion. "If we’re going to move forward, I need you to know there are things I can’t compromise on anymore."

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed slightly, his concern evident, but he nodded. "I’m listening," he said softly, leaning closer.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. "I want my freedom," you said firmly, your voice carrying a weight that left no room for doubt. "I want to be free from my parents’ control. They’ve dictated so much of my life—how I should live, how I should act, even who I should marry. I can’t go back to that."

Seungcheol nodded slowly, his expression serious. "You won’t have to," he assured you. "I’ll make sure they understand that you’re your own person now. Whatever it takes, I’ll stand by you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you pressed on. "And also...," you said, your voice faltering for a moment. "I… I want to hear. I want to try to get my hearing back."

Seungcheol’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "You mean… surgery?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while," you admitted. "Living in that village, teaching sign language to those kids… it made me realize how much I’ve missed out on. But more than that…" You paused, your voice breaking as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I want to hear you, Seungcheol. And I want to hear Doahn."

The raw emotion in your voice made Seungcheol’s chest tighten. He reached out, taking your hands in his. "Love," he said softly, his voice steady and full of warmth, "if that’s what you want, then we’ll make it happen. Whatever the cost, whatever the process, I’ll be with you every step of the way."

You let out a shaky breath, relief washing over you at his unwavering support. "Thank you," you whispered, your fingers clutching his as though he was your lifeline.

Seungcheol smiled faintly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You don’t have to thank me," he said. "This is your life, your choice. And I’ll do everything in my power to help you live it the way you want."

In that moment, you felt a surge of hope—hope for a future where you could finally take control of your own life, where you could experience the world in ways you’d only dreamed of. And with Seungcheol by your side, you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

*

Months passed, and the promise of a new beginning grew stronger with each passing day. With Seungcheol’s unwavering support, you underwent the delicate surgery to restore your hearing—a decision that filled you with equal parts hope and fear. The process wasn’t easy; it was marked by long days of recovery, uncertainty, and moments of self-doubt. Yet, every time you felt like faltering, Seungcheol was there, holding your hand, his quiet reassurance anchoring you to the dream of what could be.

When the moment finally came, when you heard Doahn’s soft, melodic coos for the very first time and Seungcheol’s deep, steady voice calling your name, it was as if the world had burst into vibrant color. A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, tears spilling down your cheeks as you clutched Doahn close to your chest, his tiny hands gripping your shirt.

"He sounds… perfect," you whispered, your voice trembling with wonder, every syllable carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.

Seungcheol knelt beside you, his gaze filled with warmth and relief. Resting his hand gently on your shoulder, he whispered, "Just like his mother." His voice, rich and tender, was the sweetest sound you’d ever heard.

With your hearing restored, the world transformed into a symphony of wonders. Every sound was a discovery—the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore, the laughter of children playing. Even the hum of the city streets, once distant and imagined, felt alive and vibrant. But nothing compared to the sound of Seungcheol’s laughter. The way his voice softened when he spoke your name made your heart swell, reminding you of how far you’d come together.

Seungcheol honored his promise to give you the freedom you craved. The chains of old expectations were broken, and you stepped into a new chapter of your life with a renewed sense of purpose. You found joy in teaching sign language, helping others rediscover their voices, and advocating for those who had been silenced by circumstance. Doahn grew up surrounded by unconditional love and support, his first words—soft and innocent—brought tears to everyone’s eyes, especially Seungcheol’s.

Though the scars of your past lingered, they no longer defined you. Instead, they became a testament to your resilience. Seungcheol, too, carried the weight of his guilt but turned it into strength. He made it his mission to make up for lost time, pouring his love into every moment he shared with you and Doahn.

One quiet evening, the three of you sat by the ocean, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of gold and amber. Doahn toddled between you and Seungcheol, his giggles echoing like music against the gentle waves. You leaned into Seungcheol, resting your head on his shoulder as a soft sigh escaped your lips.

"This is freedom," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with certainty and peace.

Seungcheol turned to you, his lips brushing your temple in a kiss as tender as his words. "And it’s just the beginning," he replied, his voice brimming with quiet determination and love.

In that moment, you knew that despite everything—the pain, the struggles, the loss—you had finally found your place in the world. A place where love, freedom, and hope could coexist, and where the future stretched out before you like the endless horizon.

*

The moon was about to cast its pale light on the quiet dock as you dragged Jihoon's limp, injured body toward the water. His breathing was shallow, labored, and each step you took felt heavier than the last. Blood seeped through his torn shirt, staining your hands as you struggled to pull him closer to the edge. He groaned, a faint sound of resistance, his body twitching in pain as he fought to stay conscious.

"Stop..." Jihoon rasped, his voice weak but filled with defiance. His head lolled to the side, his eyes flickering open to meet yours.

You crouched beside him, your breath coming in shallow pants. For a moment, you simply stared at him, the man whose vengeance had cost you so much. Despite his condition, Jihoon’s gaze burned with stubborn determination.

But you didn’t speak. Instead, you raised your hands, signing slowly and deliberately so he could follow your words.

“눈에는 눈, 이는 이로는 세상은 눈먼 자들로 가득 찰 것이다.” (An eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind.)

Jihoon’s brows furrowed as he struggled to focus on your hands, on the message you were conveying. His lips twitched, forming the faintest shadow of a bitter smile.

“Do you think…” he coughed, blood specking his lips, “… that this will change anything?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you signed again, your hands moving with precision, your expression unwavering.

“복수는 또 다른 상처를 남길 뿐이다. 넌 네 복수의 무게를 견딜 수 있겠어?” (Revenge only leaves another wound. Can you bear the weight of your vengeance?)

Jihoon’s head sank back, his strength waning as he closed his eyes. You could see the conflict in him—the doubt creeping into the cracks of his resolve. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, and for a moment, silence enveloped the dock, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the wood.

“You… don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It wasn’t just revenge… It was justice.”

You shook your head, your hands signing one final phrase, your movements deliberate and steady.

“정의는 희생으로부터 나와야 한다, 증오가 아니라.” (Justice must come from sacrifice, not hatred.)

Jihoon’s eyes opened, tears brimming at the corners as he gazed at you, his face a mixture of pain and regret. The weight of your words—or perhaps the truth in them—seemed to settle on him like a crushing tide.

You stared down at him, your heart pounding. For a fleeting moment, your resolve wavered. Memories of the good times—of his laughter, his loyalty—flashed through your mind. But those moments were gone, drowned beneath the weight of his betrayal.

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you signed slowly, the finality in your movements echoing in the air between you.

Then, with a steady breath, you placed your hands on his shoulders and shoved.

Jihoon’s body slid across the wooden planks, his weak protests lost to the flow. The splash as he hit the water shattered the stillness, ripples spreading out in every direction.

You stood at the edge, watching as he sank beneath the surface. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the water settling, the ripples fading into stillness once more.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides as you turned away, the weight of your actions sinking in. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

The dock felt endless as you walked away, the stars overhead offering no solace. Whether Jihoon would rise from the water or disappear into its depths was no longer your concern.

This was the end of the path you had both walked together—and the beginning of a new one, without him.

The end.

[thanosscross]

Fake girlfriend, Fake boyfriend, silly! - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader

Summary: After your manager plotted a fake relationship between his two biggest signed rappers, you and Seung get very close, as best friends, but tell me this...would friends treat friends like how Seung Hyun treats you?

Warnings: None :)

Whenever you were first asked by your manager to start a fake relationship with a guy from one of his boy groups you were complexed, Not recognizing any K-pop idol named Seung Hyun. The first time met him was out at a meeting with your shared boss, Seung Hyun was secretly excited about meeting you, while he found it irritating that his boss felt the need to fake a girlfriend for him, he liked the idea of having someone as cool as you around.

"Seung Hyun, this is Y/n, she's going to your show girl, Y/n, this is Seung Hyun, also known as T.o.p, he'll be your show boy" You manager stated, after that you two became close, using the excuse of having to make it believable to spend almost every minute you could with each other. While you were close with all of BigBang, you and Seung Hyun just clicked together, often sharing a hotel room whenever you'd tour with him for your collaborated shows or songs. It didn't take long after the announcement of your fake relationship for people to immediately either hate or love it, you weren't a rapper like your fake boyfriend, but you did rap in some of your songs, even having a few verses with him where you rapped together, but your manager liked to utilize your voice more, liking the way it wasn't too high pitched but still feminine and calming. You had been 'together' now for almost a year, getting ready for your first full tour with BigBang, you were nervous but also excited, this was big for you, hopefully.

Waking up in your hotel bed you groaned, stretching your body as much as you could before slowly crawling out of your bed before slipping on one of Seung Hyun's hoodies, you weren't sure what time it was, but the sun wasn't up yet, so you knew it was sometime in the middle of the night. You attempted to fall back asleep, but everything was making you uncomfortable, the airport lost your luggage, so nothing in the room made you feel like home, no pillow, blanket, nothing, just the smell of the half ass detergent the hotel used to wash the linens, standing up for the second time you slowly made you way to the connecting you, knowing beyond the door all four guys were most likely asleep, you contemplated on going on, not wanting to risk waking anybody up, but right as you started to turn around Seung Hyun's words echoed in your head 'Don't worry about some silly pillow, if you need something that reminds you of back home, we're all a door away' Turning to face the door again you slowly twisted the knob, watching as it slowly opened into their dark room, all the lights were off and from the faint glow from your bathroom light you could faintly see where everybody was. Ji-Yong and Seung Hyun shared a bed, and Dae-Sung and Tae-Yang shared the other. You pressed Seung Hyun's hoodie to your lips slowly making your way over to whom you hoped to be your fake boyfriend and best friend "Seung hyun" You whispered, feeling your anxiety start to creep up inside of you as he turned his back to you, forcing Ji-yong to stir as well. It wasn't that you were scared or scared of the dark, but ever since you were a teenager you would have severe anxiety in the dark if you sat too long, so standing in the basically pitch-black room wasn't helping your anxiety with not wanting to wake anybody or being in a new weird place.

Trying to stifle your whimpered you felt your hands start to shake as you tried to wake your friend up again "Seung Hyun please...I really need you" You whimpered quietly, instead of your intended target, Ji-Yong slowly sat up, turning his head around confused letting his eyes focus on you "What's up, y/n? Are you okay?" He asked, you bit your lip, trying to swallow the lump in your throat in your throat, sitting up more due to your silence, Ji-yong grabbed his cell phone using the screen brightness to see your face. Seeing your upset state he frowned, catching on to what you were trying to do, he tried to help you, and eventually after about five more minutes, you finally woke Seung Hyun up. As he woke up he shot you both a nasty glare, not wiping it off of his face until his eyes focused and he saw your shaking frame slightly in the dark, without saying anything Seung Hyun just motioned for you to go back to your bed, following behind you with his pillow under his arm. "I-I'm sorry" You whimpered, holding onto the cuffs of the hoodie sleeves, trying any way possible to calm your raging anxiety "Don't. Just lay down, dalkomi" He whispered tiredly, as he pulled the blanket back for you, for a moment you thought he was going to go back to his bed, but instead he just shut the connecting door before laying down next to you "Don't steal all of the blankets again" He warned before wrapping his arm around you pulling you close to where your head laid on his chest, his fingers caressing your spine as you rested your hand on his chest, the more he moved his hand on your back the more you could feel the anxiety slipping away and the tiredness starting to slip in. It didn't take long before Seung Hyun felt your slow relaxed breaths, and the way your hand barely rested on his chest anymore.

You both woke up with a startle, your bandmates standing in your room cooing with their phones out "Sooo cute!" Dae-sung cheered as Seung Hyun groaned slamming his head under the pillow, you just shot them all a tired confused look "Come on Lovers! We have an hour until rehearsals!" Tae-yang reminded as he placed two coffees down on the table, before ushering the others out. Tiredly you turned to look at Seung Hyun who was still hiding under the pillow, you absent-mindedly traced your nails up his back "Aein...handsome, come on" You called sweetly, it wasn't odd for you to call each other pet names, you were actually quite flirty with each other even outside of pretending to be together, you weren't sure about Seung Hyun, but you just liked the way you clicked with him, and you liked the way he'd blush anytime you'd call him into another room by calling him Aein. You watched as he slowly lifted his head "Do we have to?..I'm comfortable" He complained, you just laughed offering him a sympathetic smile as you patted his back "Yep, we have to, now come on, handsome" You replied before climbing off of the bed going towards the large costume bag your manager had dropped off earlier "ooo We're going to look hot, Aein" You cooed as you opened the black bag, seeing the deep red fabrics of a suit and dress, on top of other things, giggling as every outfit was coordinated together, Seung Hyun moved to where you stood smiling "You're going to look amazing" He agreed, you blushed slightly as you pulled out your first outfits, handing the suit to Seung Hyun before you disappeared into the bathroom. After a few moments you both called out "Aein?.." "Dalkomi?" Giggling you opened the bathroom door stepping out "Zip me up?" You asked playfully, he walked over, carefully placing his hands above your waist to hold the fabric of the dress, zipping the zipper up and clasping the small latch he smiled "Tie this damn thing for me?" Seung Hyun asked, playfully pouting as he motioned to the black tie "Of course, handsome" You teased tying the tie effortlessly. As you pulled away you both stopped, staring into each other's eyes before hesitantly pulling away, what was that?

As the show started you stood in the center of the boys, the smoke machines layering a thick smoke over the floor of the stage, as you all dispersed you waited for your cue to start singing. You were having fun, completely forgetting all about your moment with Seung Hyun until Fantastic Baby, you had sat down more to the back of the stage to watch considering you weren't singing and weren't required to preform currently, As soon as Seung Hyun started his first verse he made his way to you pulling you to your feet as he rapped, bringing you close to him before finishing, nodding his head along to Ji-Yong, smiling as he followed to chorography facing you, you just laughed at him starting to mimic his movements, he brought the microphone close to his mouth cheering into the mic before moving back to the center of the stage to continue his second verse.

After the song came to an end you smirked hearing you voice layover theirs, the song transitioning into one of your favorites of yours. As you rapped along to it you took notice of Seung Hyun nodding his head along to your words, throwing some of his own chorography in, Seung Hyun rushed over to you, spinning you around before shaking his hips as he jumped around you, obviously having fun with his free time. As the song ended you panting attempting to catch your breath, Ji-yong circling the stage talking to the crowd as you regrouped with Seung Hyun and the others "Fuck it is next, ready for it?" Tae-yang asked, knowing that was the song that required the most interaction and movement between you and Seung Hyun other than Bae Bae and your back dancing with Seung Hyun for Zutter. "I'm already so tired" You mumbled as the track started to play, Seung Hyun just smiled, kissing your cheek as he rushed past, grouping with the guys for the beginning of the song. Other than your small verse towards the end, your main focus during this song was moving with Seung Hyun and the boys, basically bouncing between them all as a long interest.

Whenever the boys preformed If you, you used your opportunity to take a break, sitting down and taking a drink of your water you smiled in awe. You never heard Seung Hyun actually sing often, but you always loved it, you thought it sounded exactly how you manager described your voice. Whenever Zutter came on came on you were proud of yourself, hitting every move and mark perfectly with the music, and even whenever you'd throw you own little moves in with Seung Hyun, he still always knew what to do somehow, you watched as he pointed at you while rapping, you just rolled your eyes as you danced, giggling whenever you felt Seung Hyun press his hips against yours from behind, bouncing his hips with the beat of the music, your face immediately broke out in a blush as you smacked his chest in shock.

Whenever it came to your last song you purposely saved the most sexual and vulgar for last, you liked the chorography a lot, liking how confident it made you feel as you slid on to your knees at the end of the stage, bouncing on your knees for a moment as you sang, letting yourself slowly fall back you slid back arching your back away from the cold stage surface, silently thanking the spandex shorts under your dress, your head arched just enough to see Seun Hyun running his hands up his body and neck, mimicking your song from his spot at the far with the other boys. As the song ended you stayed were you were, waiting a moment for Seung Hyun to make his way helping you to your feet "That move was new" He stated on your walk back "You think the boss is going to like it?" He teased, you just rolled your eyes "I don't care, I did it for you, Aein" You smiled teasingly watching his face go red, as you all made your way to the end of the stage you smiled, standing on your mark on the platform waiting for the boys to reach theirs before you posed, you immediately kneeled down, using your hands to stabilize yourself Seung Hyun moved forward, pressing his fingers to your cheeks for you, causing you to giggle as the bass to Fantastic Baby played one last time before you all made your way towards the exit of the stage. As you approached the mark you slowed down, blushing brightly whenever Seung Hyun's hand quickly touched your ass, you turned around pretending to storm off stage, Seung Hyun looked towards the ground one last time before winking and running after you.

As you got off stage you were a blushing mess, Seung Hyun quick to find you, a bright smile on his face "I knew you'd be amazing! That's why you're T.O.P Best friend" He said proudly, never noticing your face falling as he called out your real title.

Right..Best friend

---

Ooo we love a slow burn with a fake relationship concept PLUS a clueless but cocky Choi Seung Hyun AND the rest of the band loving you? I dunno about you lovelies, but this gal likes a lot.

--

Taglist!!

@ag022123

@acehasmyheart

@heartz4rubyy

[gdinthehouseee]

Whiskers and Warmth: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: you and ji-yong decide to adopt a cat together for the first time :3

word count: 1464

tags: pure fluff; established relationship with some soft domestic moments (requested)

ao3 link

The soft glow of the television flickered across the darkened living room as yet another cat video autoplayed. Ji-yong sat beside you, legs stretched out, his head lazily resting against your legs as you were sitting up typing away on your laptop. On the big screen, a tiny kitten swatted at a toy, only to lose its balance and topple over. Ji-yong let out a breathy chuckle, eyes warm with amusement. You couldn’t deny the way you found both him and the video cute. 

His eyes remained fixed on the video as he mumbled. “Y’know, it might be nice to have our own cat.”

“Yeah…” you murmured absent-mindedly in response. 

You continued typing away at whatever god-forsaken document you were working on, not fully getting the hint until you briefly looked up and made eye contact with your boyfriend, who was now staring at you over your work.

“Wait, like, actually?” 

He shrugged, playing it cool, but there was something thoughtful in the way he stared at you. “I mean… why not? We’ve got space. It’d be nice to have something waiting for us when we get home.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Something? Like a little gremlin running around, knocking stuff over and ignoring you?”

Ji-yong couldn’t help but smile at your sarcasm, lightly nudging you as you closed your laptop and set it aside to give him your full attention. “First of all, disrespectful. Second, it’s called ‘independent charm.’”

“Like your charm, you mean?”

You both laughed. However, the more you thought about it, the more the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous. Having a pet—a little companion curled up in your lap on lazy afternoons, greeting you at the door after a long day—sounded… nice. You glanced at Ji-yong, who had gone back to staring at the screen with his head now in your lap and a new-found softness in his expression.

“You really want a cat?” You asked, this time more seriously.

Ji-yong hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. I think it’d be fun. And—” He cut himself off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno. I like the idea of having something to take care of together.”

Your heart warmed at that. He wasn’t just talking about a pet—he was talking about you and him.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Alright. Tomorrow, we will go cat shopping.”

He scoffed, looking up at you. “It’s called adoption, jagiya.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. Ji-yong grinned back, excitement flickering in his eyes. Naturally, you watched as he scrolled through his phone, looking up different cat breeds or fancy pet accessories he’d insist on buying. His expression was relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, you just looked at him—at the warmth in his eyes, the quiet excitement he tried to downplay. It wasn’t just about the cat. It was about building something together, about sharing responsibility, about picturing a life where you and him became something even bigger. The thought made your chest tighten, but in the best way—like something precious settling into place. Ji-yong wanted this, with you, and that realization made you fall for him just a little bit more.

And that was how, the very next day, you found yourselves at an animal shelter, wandering past rows of bright-eyed kittens and sleepy older cats. Ji-yong took his time, scanning each little enclosure like he was choosing a new designer jacket, while you crouched beside a timid tabby, offering your fingers in greeting.

Then, out of nowhere, a fluffy black cat with golden eyes leaped in front of Ji-yong and began weaving in and out of his legs, pushing itself up against him as if it was already marking its territory.  

The shelter worker laughed. “Looks like you’ve been chosen.”

Ji-yong, eyes wide, hesitated before bending down and hesitantly scratching behind the cat’s ears. The cat purred instantly. You grinned. “Guess we don’t have a choice now.”

Your heart was aching in the best way possible at the sight of him so fixated on this cat. It wasn’t until the animal made its way over to you, repeating what it had just done to your partner for you, that he had snapped out of his momentary trance. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he watched the cat become more friendly with you. 

Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah… Let’s take him home.”

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Ji-yong had bought the most extravagant toys, yet the cat ignored them in favor of the cardboard box the toys had arrived in. He tried (and failed) to get the cat to sleep in its fancy new bed, only for it to curl up in his spot on the couch.

“This is betrayal,” he pouted when the cat climbed onto your lap instead of his.

“You’re just jealous,” you teased, scratching behind the cat’s ears. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He huffed and rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched up. “I can’t even tell if I’m jealous of you or him, with all the attention you’re giving him.” 

Ji-yong sat next to you and leaned back against the couch, his phone forgotten in his hand as he watched you fuss over the tiny ball of fur curled up in your lap. You were completely focused, scratching gently behind its ears, murmuring soft words he couldn’t quite hear, but it didn’t matter—just watching you was enough. The way your fingers moved so delicately, the way your lips curved into the smallest, sweetest smile, the way the cat nuzzled into you like it already knew it was safe in your arms—it made something in his chest tighten, warm and aching all at once.

Later that night, you dozed off on the couch, the cat nestled against your chest. Ji-yong, who had been scrolling through his phone, glanced over—and his heart melted. Carefully, he grabbed his phone and snapped a picture. Then another. And another.

A soft click stirred you awake. Blinking, you caught him with his phone in hand, mid-snap.

“Are you seriously taking pictures of me in my sleep?” You mumbled and rubbed some sleep out of your eye.

Ji-yong froze.

“I—uh—” He quickly lowered his phone, his face getting visibly warm. “You just… looked cute.”

A slow grin spread across your face. “Aww, is someone getting sentimental?”

“Forget it.” Ji-yong groaned, dragging a hand over his face. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, reaching for his phone. “Let me see.”

He tried to protest, but you were already scrolling through the pictures on his phone, your lips curving into a slow smile. Each one was softer than the last—your face relaxed in sleep, one hand resting over the tiny cat curled against your chest. In some, the cat’s ears twitched; in others, its tiny paws stretched out like it was dreaming. But the way he had captured it—carefully, quietly, like he was trying to preserve something fragile—made your heart squeeze. You glanced up at him, catching the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck as he rubbed the back of his head, avoiding your gaze.

“You’re such a softie,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t pull away, electing to practically melt into your affection. 

Later that night, as the cat stretched between you in the silk sheets of your shared bed, Ji-yong exhaled, his fingers absentmindedly gliding through its soft fur. His other arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you closer as you lay beside him, your head resting in the crook of his neck. The warmth of his skin, the slow and steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all so soothing, so him. The cat let out a tiny sigh in its sleep, its paws twitching slightly, and Ji-yong chuckled under his breath. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever be sharing a bed with a cat,” he murmured. 

You tilted your head, smiling against his collarbone. “Regretting it already?” 

He scoffed, shifting to press a kiss against your forehead. “Not even close.” His hand moved from the cat to your back, tracing slow, comforting circles. “This is perfect,” he whispered, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you. And in that moment, with his touch warm against your skin and the soft rise and fall of the cat between you, you knew—this was perfect. This was home, for the both of you.

“We’ve got our own little family now.” He continued. 

You laced your fingers through his, squeezing gently. “Yeah. I think we made a pretty good decision.”

And as Ji-yong smiled, watching the cat purr between you, he couldn’t agree more.

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t

[daniiye]

The Patient ; Lovesick.

pairing ; choi seunghyun x reader  ─  genre ; romance & angst? (kinda) warnings ; none, this is my first time writing, so there would be imperfections. note ; inspired by ♡ doctor! doctor! by zb1. (pt2 is here!).

You've been a backup dancer for BIGBANG for years, forming close bonds with every member—except Seunghyun. For some reason, he always kept his distance, his interactions with you limited to brief, polite exchanges. It never bothered you; if that was how he felt most comfortable, you respected it without question.

What you didn’t know, however, was that from his perspective, the distance wasn’t indifference—it was self-restraint. Seunghyun had developed a huge crush on you, one that only seemed to grow the more he watched you from afar. He wasn’t good at expressing emotions, and instead of risking awkwardness or letting his feelings slip, he chose to keep things short and simple. It was easier that way—or so he told himself.

Seunghyun prided himself on his self-control. He had built walls around himself, carefully maintaining a cool, untouchable image but lately, something was wrong. His heart pounded at the most inconvenient times—when you laughed, when you danced, when you so much as looked in his direction. His throat tightened around words he couldn't say, and a strange, unbearable heat crawled up his neck whenever you were near.

It was an illness. It had to be, right?

and thats how frustrated sitting in a doctor’s office, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He explained his symptoms as vaguely as possible—racing pulse, breathlessness, an unshakable restlessness. The doctor listened, then smirked knowingly. “Sounds like a classic case.”

really? classic?

Seunghyun tensed. “Classic case of what?”  The doctor scribbled something down and handed it over. Seunghyun stared at the paper, confused.

Lovesick.

His ears burned. “You’re joking.”

The doctor chuckled. “No cure, I’m afraid. But the best treatment? Tell them how you feel.”

Seunghyun scoffed, stuffing the paper into his pocket. Like it was that simple. Like saying the words wouldn’t set his whole world on fire.

Seunghyun pushed open the practice room door, stepping inside to find his bandmates already there, stretching and chatting amongst themselves. The moment they noticed him, all eyes turned his way. Taeyang was the first to speak, his brows knitting together in concern. “Is everything alright, hyung?” Seunghyun hesitated for a split second before averting his gaze, busying himself with adjusting the sleeves of his jacket. He couldn’t exactly tell them the truth—that he had just been diagnosed with something far worse than a simple illness.

“Yeah..” he muttered, voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. “Just a cold.” Daesung chuckled, nudging Ji yong. “Told you he was acting weird. Hyung, you should rest if you’re sick.” Seunghyun only shook his head, forcing a small smirk. “I’ll live.” 

But as the practice session began and his eyes inevitably found you across the room—moving effortlessly, completely unaware of the chaos you stirred inside him. The moment the choreographer called your name alongside Seunghyun’s for the Bae Bae pairing, his stomach dropped. He kept his expression neutral, nodding like it was no big deal, but inside? Inside, he was a mess. As you stepped closer, waiting for the music to start, Seunghyun swallowed hard. He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck. This wasn’t just any performance—this was a routine laced with intimacy, closeness, touch. 

The first notes of the song played, and suddenly, you were in sync, moving together as if gravity itself pulled you toward each other. Your hand brushed against his, and Seunghyun felt like his heart might actually give out. Every glance, every perfectly timed movement sent electricity through him. He was supposed to be cool, effortless, in control. But right now? Right now, he was fighting for his life.

As the final beat of Bae Bae faded, Seunghyun stepped back, trying to steady himself. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Why the hell am i so out of breath?

His shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin, drenched in sweat like he had just run a marathon—not simply danced a routine he had done countless times before. But this time was different. This time, you were in his arms, your touch lingering, your eyes meeting his like you could see right through him.

“Hyung, are you okay?” A firm hand landed on his shoulder. Seunghyun barely registered it, still bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. He glanced up to find Taeyang watching him with concern. “I’m fine,” Seunghyun muttered, quickly straightening up despite the way his legs threatened to betray him. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, forcing a small smirk. “Just... got too into it.” Taeyang raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “You sure? You’re sweating like we just finished a whole concert.” Seunghyun waved him off, but his eyes flickered toward you—completely composed, unfazed, perfect. Meanwhile, he was falling apart over a few minutes of close proximity.

This wasn’t just a crush anymore.

This was disastrous.

Seunghyun wasn’t the type to panic, but after that dance practice, he had no other explanation—he had to be seriously ill. The dizziness, the racing heart, the breathlessness. It was getting worse. Every time you were near, it felt like his body was betraying him. Which is how he found himself back in the doctor’s office, arms crossed, jaw tight, again.

The doctor sighed, flipping through Seunghyun’s chart with a knowing smirk. “Didn’t we already go over this?”

“I just need to be sure” Seunghyun muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “There has to be something wrong with me.” The doctor leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his clipboard. “Alright. Let’s go through your symptoms again. Heart racing?”

“Yes.”

“Shortness of breath?”

“Yes.”

“Uncontrollable thoughts about a specific person?”

Seunghyun’s lips pressed into a thin line. “…Yes.”

The doctor chuckled, shaking his head. “Seunghyun-ssi, I told you before. You’re not sick. You’re in love.” Seunghyun scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not helpful. Give me something—pills, a shot, anything.” The doctor only smiled. “Love isn’t a condition that can be treated with medicine.” He scribbled something on a notepad and handed it over.

Seunghyun hesitated before looking down. Instead of a prescription, it was a single sentence:

The only cure is confession.

His grip tightened around the paper as frustration bubbled in his chest. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Because admitting it out loud? That made it real and Seunghyun wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

Meanwhile, you were in the practice room, waiting for Seunghyun to show up. He was taking longer than usual, which wasn’t like him so to pass the time, you found yourself chatting with Ji Yong and Taeyang, but even then, the topic inevitably shifted to Seunghyun’s odd behavior.

“Is it just me, or has he been acting weird lately?” Ji Yong asked, frustration evident in his expression as he leaned back against the wall. Taeyang hummed in thought, arms crossed. “Do you think he’s sick?” You frowned, considering it. “I don’t know…”

He had been acting strange. The way he avoided eye contact, how he seemed out of breath after practice, the way he would glance at you and then immediately look away like he was hiding something.

It wasn’t just you who noticed it.

Ji Yong exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, whatever it is, he better snap out of it soon. We have performances coming up, and we can’t afford distractions.” You nodded absentmindedly, but deep down, curiosity gnawed at you. What was going on with Seunghyun? And more importantly… why did you care so much?

Ji Yong glanced at your furrowed brows, his sharp eyes studying you. Then, with a knowing smirk, he tilted his head. “Y/N, why don’t you talk to him?” he suggested casually. “You’ve been his dance partner since forever.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

Taeyang nodded, as if the idea made perfect sense. “Yeah. If something’s wrong, he might talk to you before any of us.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. It was true that you and Seunghyun had worked together for years, but he had always kept a certain distance—polite, professional, but never close. And lately, that distance felt even more obvious. Still, the thought of confronting him made your stomach twist.

“I don’t know…” you muttered. “If he wants to talk, he will.”

Ji Yong raised an eyebrow. “And if he doesn’t?”

Just as you were about to respond, the door to the practice room swung open, and Seunghyun walked in, holding a cup of coffee in one hand. His usual composed demeanor was slightly off, his posture stiff, but he still had that cool, aloof air about him and right behind him, Daesung caught up, his voice loud and slightly exasperated. Seunghyun didn’t even glance at him, taking a slow sip from his coffee. “I lost track of time,” he said, his tone nonchalant, but there was a hint of something you couldn’t quite place.

As soon as practice began, you couldn't help but notice Seunghyun’s movements. They were sharper, a little more rigid than usual, as if his mind wasn’t fully in it. His eyes occasionally flickered around the room, but never stayed on the routine, and his once fluid motions now seemed hesitant, like he was distracted by something you couldn't see. You turned to face him, trying to adjust your own movements to match his rhythm, but as the next step came, your foot slipped. In that split second, you lost your balance, stumbling forward and instinctively placing both your hands on his chest to steady yourself. "Sorry—" you started to say, but before you could even finish, Seunghyun suddenly pulled back, his eyes wide with something you couldn't quite read.

His hand pressed against his chest, and you watched, a bit taken aback, as his breathing quickened. His eyes darted away from you, refusing to meet your gaze, and you could hear his breaths growing more shallow with every passing second. It was like he was struggling to keep himself under control, as if your touch had triggered something deep inside him he wasn’t ready to confront. "I'm taking a break..” Seunghyun muttered under his breath, his words barely audible as he swiftly turned and walked out of the practice room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the rest of you standing in stunned silence. For a moment, no one said anything. Then, Taeyang exchanged a glance with Ji Yong, who raised an eyebrow. Daesung's face softened in concern.

As you made your way toward the door, ready to follow Seunghyun, Ji Yong quickly stood up, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something more urgent. “I’ll go with him,” Ji Yong said, his voice calm but firm. “He’s probably going to shut down if it’s just you.’’ You nodded, appreciating Ji Yong's concern. He knew Seunghyun better than anyone, after all. Without another word, Ji Yong slipped out of the room, moving fast to catch up with Seunghyun before he could disappear too far.

Left alone with Taeyang and Daesung, you sank into one of the chairs, your hands resting on your knees as you tried to gather your thoughts. The room felt quieter now, the energy from the practice gone, replaced by an awkward silence.

You glanced toward the door, your thoughts heavy. You couldn’t help but wonder what Seunghyun was feeling, what had made him act like this. He’d been distant with you lately, avoiding eye contact, acting like he was physically ill, but it wasn’t like him to pull away from the group. There had to be more to it.

Ji Yong hurried down the hallway, his steps quick but careful as he kept his eyes peeled for Seunghyun. After a few turns, he found him—sitting alone in a quiet corner, a bottle of water resting in his hand. His posture was slumped, his eyes distant as he stared down at the label, not even taking a sip. The atmosphere between them was always natural, always easy—yet, tonight felt different. Seunghyun was distant, the familiar cool, collected front he always wore cracking under some invisible weight. Ji Yong stood for a moment, watching him, unsure how to approach. Seunghyun hadn’t noticed him yet, too lost in his thoughts.

“Hyung,” Ji Yong called softly, taking a few steps closer. Seunghyun’s head snapped up, and for a brief second, his expression was a mixture of surprise and something softer—guilt, maybe? He quickly masked it, returning to his usual unreadable expression, though his hand tightened around the water bottle.

Ji Yong slid onto the bench next to him, not even waiting for an invitation. “I think you know why I’m here.” His tone was light, teasing even, but there was an undercurrent of concern that Seunghyun couldn’t miss. Seunghyun glanced away, his gaze momentarily flicking to the floor. “I’m fine. Just needed a break.”

“You can’t keep avoiding everyone. Something’s been bothering you for a while now.” Ji Yong’s voice softened, but his words were still direct. Seunghyun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was clear now that he couldn’t dodge the conversation any longer. His fingers drummed lightly against the water bottle as he thought about how to respond. Ji Yong, sensing his hesitation, leaned in slightly, his gaze steady and patient. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Ji Yong,” Seunghyun admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand lowered from his neck, his grip on the water bottle loosening, the tension in his body finally starting to unravel. “I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Seunghyun’s voice was barely audible, as if he had just whispered his deepest secret to the air, unsure if he even meant to say it out loud. His eyes were fixed on the floor, avoiding Ji Yong’s gaze. “I like this girl..” Seunghyun continued, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “But I’m afraid she doesn’t like me back.” Ji Yong froze, his heart skipping a beat as the weight of Seunghyun’s words sank in. He had suspected something was off, but hearing the words spoken so vulnerably—so raw—hit him harder than he expected. “I’m not… I’m not asking for advice or anything. I just don’t know what to do.’’ Seunghyun said shaking his head.

Ji Yong smiled softly, placing a hand on Seunghyun’s shoulder. “The worst thing you can do is leave it unsaid.’’ For a long moment, Seunghyun stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the bottle in his hands, deep in thought. The words weren’t easy, and the idea of taking that leap was terrifying. But Ji Yong’s words lingered, like a quiet encouragement, urging him to finally take the step he had been too afraid to make and with a slow, deep breath, Seunghyun finally spoke. “I’ll think about it.”

ill think about it...will i ?...

Days went by, and Seunghyun’s condition only worsened. He had tried to bury the emotions he’d been holding inside, thinking that time would simply let them fade. But the fear, the anxiety, the constant tension in his chest—it wasn’t something that was going to disappear on its own. It was consuming him, little by little. Going back to visiting the doctor, explaining how his anxiety was worsening and affecting his daily life, especially around the girl he liked. The doctor prescribed medication to help manage the symptoms but emphasized that the real solution lay in addressing the root cause. Seunghyun left with the prescription, knowing the pills wouldn’t fix his deeper emotional struggles.

The day of the concert arrived, and Seunghyun could barely focus. His mind was a tangled mess of anticipation, anxiety, and confusion. He had made up his mind: after the concert, he would finally confront you. He would tell you everything—about the way he felt, the way you made him feel like his heart was constantly on the edge of bursting, and how he couldn’t stand bottling it up anymore. It had to be today. The show went on, the crowd’s energy pumping through him, but no matter how loud the music, he couldn’t drown out the constant hum in his chest. All he could think about was you, wondering if you felt anything close to what he did.

After the concert, he searched for you backstage, his heart racing as he pushed through the crowd of staff and fellow artists. He needed to find you, to finally have this conversation, to end the turmoil inside him. His thoughts were racing when he finally caught sight of you, standing a few feet away, laughing with someone. At first, he didn’t think much of it, but as he got closer, his heart dropped. You were standing there, leaning in toward the guy beside you with a smile that made his chest tighten. They were close—too close. His mind ran wild with assumptions, his stomach twisting into a tight knot. The guy had his hand casually resting on your shoulder, and your laugh, the one he cherished so much, sounded different, lighter.

A sudden wave of panic and bitterness washed over him. His breath hitched, and before he could stop himself, he turned away, retreating into the shadows. The sight of you with another guy, so carefree, hit him harder than he could have imagined. He stood in the dark hallway, eyes shut tight, fighting back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He clenched his fists, the words he had wanted to say to you suddenly stuck in his throat. Were you already taken? Was he just a fool for thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was something between you two?

The feelings he had been carrying for so long now seemed pointless, like an invisible weight he couldn’t rid himself of. He had come here to confess, to face the truth but now, all he could do was turn away. It was easier, less painful, to bottle it all up and pretend like everything was fine.

With one final glance at the laughter echoing from the corner, he walked back into the chaos of the backstage area, hiding the turmoil inside. He’d carry these feelings with him, locked away, just like he always had and just like before, he’d let them simmer in silence.

[bambambwi]

can i request where the reader is taeyangs sister and ji yong is dating his sister and taeyang finds out about your relationship with his bestfriend :>>

oh, i actually wrote something similar to this! it has been sitting in my drafts for sometime now though haha,, here you go!

༺ context ; You just returned to Korea after your trip to Japan, only to realize you lost your house key and couldn’t get inside. While you wait till your spare key made, your brother, Taeyang, invited you to his workplace so you wouldn’t be left waiting. ༺ warnings ; None! its entirely fluff

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"Taeyang, it's okay… I really can't just show up at your workplace," you said nervously over the phone.

"It's fine. You have nowhere else to go right now, right? Just come over," he insisted.

You bit your lip, heart pounding for a completely different reason. It wasn’t just about showing up at his workplace—it was about who you might run into.

Jiyong, Your boyfriend. The secret you’d been keeping from everyone for a while now, especially Taeyang.

"…Are you sure?" you asked, stalling for time.

"Of course. Stop overthinking and just over here," he said, already sounding distracted.

The call ended before you could argue any further. You stared at your phone, a pit forming in your stomach.

This was bad. Really bad. Because if Jiyong was there, and if Taeyang noticed anything even remotely suspicious… your secret might not stay a secret for long.

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the taxi, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. The building loomed in front of you, its glass doors reflecting the city lights. Your heart pounded with every step, a mix of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach and before you even had a chance to text Taeyang that you’d arrived, the door swung open.

"There you are!" Taeyang’s familiar voice rang out as he stepped outside, relief washing over his face.

"Hey," you said, forcing a smile, but before you could say anything else, he grabbed your wrist.

"Come on, let’s go inside," he said, already pulling you in.

"Wait—Taeyang, slow down!" you protested, but he didn’t let go, weaving through the hallways like he was on a mission.

"You’re not just gonna stand around in the lobby," he said, flashing you a grin. "Come to the practice room. You can hang out there while I finish up."

Your stomach dropped. The practice room.

Which meant—

Before you could come up with an excuse, Taeyang pushed open the door, leading you straight inside.

And the first thing you saw was Jiyong.

Jiyong’s eyes met yours the second you stepped inside, his expression shifting from confusion to surprise. You froze, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, trying to suppress the panic rising in your chest. Behind Taeyang’s back, you quickly shook your head, silently pleading with Jiyong not to say anything.

He blinked, clearly trying to process what was happening, but before he could react, Taeyang clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Don’t mind my sister," he said casually. "She’ll be staying here for a while."

Jiyong’s gaze flickered between you and Taeyang, his lips pressing together like he was holding back a thousand questions.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to act normal. Just play it cool.

"Yeah… Just for a bit,” you added, your voice steadier than you felt.

Jiyong leaned back slightly, arms crossed, still watching you. You could see the unspoken words in his eyes—Why are you here? Why didn’t you tell me? What are we supposed to do now?

Seunghyun and Daesung greeted you warmly, engaging you in light conversation. They asked about your trip to Japan, and you did your best to respond naturally, talking about the food, the sights, and the souvenirs you had brought back. Their easygoing nature helped calm your nerves—at least a little but, you couldn’t ignore the weight of Jiyong’s gaze on you. No matter how much you tried to focus on the conversation, you could feel it—steady, unrelenting, as if he was silently demanding an explanation. You refused to look at him, afraid that even a fleeting glance would give too much away.

As the conversation settled, Seunghyun and Daesung shifted their focus back to practice. Taeyang, still unaware of the silent tension, clapped his hands together, signaling it was time to get back to work.

Grateful for the chance to retreat, you quietly moved to the side, settling into a chair near the wall. You pulled out your phone, pretending to scroll, but your mind was elsewhere.

The music started, filling the room as they fell into sync, their movements sharp and practiced. You watched absently, occasionally glancing up, but no matter how much you tried to blend into the background.

As soon as they took a break, you seized the opportunity to step away. Turning to Taeyang, you asked where the pantry was, hoping for a brief escape. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and gestured toward the hallway. "Second door on the left."

Before you could leave, Daesung perked up. "Oh! If you’re going, can you grab me some chips?"

Seunghyun nodded in agreement. "And a bottle of water for me, please."

A few more requests followed, and you chuckled despite yourself. "Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can find."

You heard Jiyong’s footsteps trailing behind you, and though you tried to keep walking casually, your heart skipped a beat. After a few moments, he caught up to you, matching your pace silently.

You didn't dare glance back, afraid that if you did, you'd reveal just how unsettled you were. The tension between you both was thick, hanging in the air, and you could feel it more than ever now.

"You're going to get snacks for them?" Jiyong asked, his voice quiet, almost as if he was testing the waters.

"Yeah," you answered, keeping your gaze forward. "Taeyang and the others asked for some stuff."

Jiyong stayed silent for a moment, then muttered, "I didn’t know you were close enough with them to be running errands."

You could hear the subtle edge in his tone, but you refused to acknowledge it, hoping he’d let the conversation die and as you reached the pantry door, you finally turned to face him. "Jiyong, what are you doing?"

He stood a little too close now, his gaze intense, but unreadable. "Making sure you’re okay," he said softly. 

Jiyong’s voice cut through the stillness of the pantry, and you froze, your hand hovering over the shelf.

"Don’t you think it’s time to tell everyone?" he repeated, his tone more direct this time, his eyes not leaving you.

You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your composure. You had been dreading this moment, and now it was here. There was no easy answer.

"I... I don't know, Jiyong," you said quietly, turning away slightly as you reached for the snacks. "It's just... complicated.’’

He stepped closer, his presence filling the space. "But keeping it a secret doesn’t make it easier. Don’t you think it’s worse, trying to hide something like this?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, biting your lip. Part of you knew he was right.

You didn’t answer him, the weight of his words settling in the space between you. Instead, you stepped toward the door, hoping the simple act of leaving would ease the tension that was starting to suffocate you but when you reached for the handle, your hand paused. The door was locked.

Your heart raced as you tugged at the door handle again, panic starting to set in. It was really locked. You glanced at Jiyong, your breath quickening.

"Ji? Ji! It’s locked!" you said, the urgency in your voice obvious.

He walked over calmly, his hand brushing past you as he tried the door, turning the handle with ease. ’’It’s locked!" he said quietly, testing it again as if the answer wasn’t clear.

"I know it’s locked!" you snapped, frustration building. "Can you do something?"

Just as Jiyong seemed to be about to say something, the lights suddenly flickered, then went out entirely. "Jiyong?" you called out, panic starting to rise in your throat. "What’s happening?"

Before you could react, you felt the cold air rush in, your senses heightened by the absence of light. You shrieked, the overwhelming sense of being trapped and vulnerable hitting you all at once. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed onto Jiyong, clutching him tightly.

He froze for a moment, surprised, but then his hands found your arms, gently guiding you closer to him. "Hey, it’s alright," he said softly, trying to calm you. "It’s just a power outage."

"I... I don’t like this," you admitted in a shaky voice, your hands trembling.

Jiyong exhaled slowly, his hands resting on your shoulders now, his touch grounding you. "I know. I’ve got you."

Back in the practice room, the group sat in silence, the absence of light making everything feel heavier. The sound of their voices, however, broke the stillness.

"Don’t you think she’s taking too long just to get snacks?" Daesung’s voice echoed in the dark, a hint of concern in his tone. "What if she got lost?"

Seunghyun, still leaning against the wall, scoffed lightly. "Jiyong went with her. How could she possibly get lost?"

Taeyang, who had been pacing the room absentmindedly, suddenly stopped. He pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight with a small frown. "I’m going to find them," he said, his voice firm. "They should’ve been back by now."

Daesung looked at Seunghyun, both of them sharing a brief, puzzled glance. "Maybe they’re just talking or something," Seunghyun offered. 

Taeyang didn’t seem convinced. "Still, I’ll go check." He moved toward the door, the beam of his phone lighting the way as he pushed it open.

In the dimly lit pantry, the silence stretched between you and Jiyong, broken only by the soft rustle of a chip bag. You had finally started to calm down a little, still clinging to him for comfort, your breath a little steadier now.

Jiyong’s hands were wrapped around the chip bag, his fingers casually pulling out a handful and tossing them into his mouth. He ate them slowly, seemingly unfazed by the situation.

"Are you… are you seriously eating chips right now?" you asked, voice tinged with disbelief.

Jiyong glanced at you, his eyes flickering with amusement, but his expression softened when he saw the tension still lingering in your face. "What else am I supposed to do?" he asked casually, popping another chip into his mouth. "We’re stuck in here. Might as well enjoy it."

As the minutes passed, the situation settled into an eerie calm. Jiyong leaned his back against the pantry wall, seemingly at ease, one leg bent and his hands casually holding the chip bag. Meanwhile, you remained close, still clinging onto him, the weight of your thoughts swirling in silence.

Taeyang’s footsteps echoed through the hallway as he reached the pantry, his phone flashlight cutting through the dark. He pushed the door with force, trying to break the lock that had kept you both inside. The door groaned in protest, but with a final shove, it creaked open.

There, in the dim light, was Jiyong, leaning back against the wall with you still clinging to him, your head tilted slightly toward him. He had his lips near your cheek, and in that quiet, fleeting moment, he kissed you.

Taeyang stood there for a moment, still processing what he had just witnessed. His mind raced, but he quickly composed himself, a deep breath escaping him as he shook his head, trying to grasp the situation.

"Jiyong." he said, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief, "that's my sister."

Jiyong didn’t flinch, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, glancing at you before meeting Taeyang’s gaze. The casualness in his demeanor was gone, replaced with a quiet, almost apologetic expression.

"I know," Jiyong replied, his voice steady but low.

The three of you awkwardly made your way out of the pantry, the door finally creaking open. As you and Taeyang started down the hallway, the atmosphere shifted. The tension between you two, while still present, turned into the familiar bickering of siblings. The bickering continued even walking into the practice room, with Jiyong following along, still quietly carrying the snacks and enjoying the sibling chaos.

You and Taeyang continued bickering in the practice room, your voices filled the space with the usual playful back-and-forth as Jiyong walked over to Seunghyun and Daesung, who had been watching the exchange with curiosity. The two of them sat casually on the side, taking in the back-and-forth like an ongoing show. Jiyong slid into a spot next to them, giving them the  snacks you’d intended to bring earlier.

"What's up with them?" Seunghyun asked, nodding toward the ongoing playful exchange between you and Taeyang.

Jiyong casually shrugged, glancing back at the siblings with a small smirk. "Oh, he just found out I've been dating his sister."

Seunghyun and Daesung both blinked in surprise, their mouths dropping slightly as they looked at each other, processing what Jiyong had just said. "You—what?!" both of them exclaimed in unison.

Jiyong chuckled softly, holding up the bag of snacks in one hand. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly how I planned for him to find out, but it happened."

Both Seunghyun and Daesung exchanged another look, processing the new information. Finally, Seunghyun shook his head, chuckling. "This is going to be interesting," he muttered, still trying to wrap his mind around it.

Daesung couldn’t hold back his laugh, clearly amused. "I’m just glad we’re not the ones caught in the middle of that bickering."

Jiyong leaned back casually, looking over at you and Taeyang, who were still exchanging jabs. "Yeah, that’s all them. I’m just here for the ride."