#what an absolute class act of a man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asahicore · 1 month ago

Text

fast forward - pjs

pairing. jay x fem!reader

synopsis. After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy... and future husband, or so it seems.

genre+warnings. high school au, the type of e2l where they never really hated each other to begin with, they act like they're academic rivals even though they're not particularly academically gifted, jay has a thing about german the language, sunoo and kazuha besties, heeseung is a loser, jake and sunghoon are assholes sorry, ive liz is german, 02z get into a white-boy locker-room fight, attempts at banter etc, they're a little bit silly

word count. 26.6k

a/n. had the idea for this listening to fast forward by somi LAST SUMMER... and only wrote it this summer and only posting it now <3 i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it !!!!! jay is an absolute cutie here pls love him as much as i do.... as always let me know what u think and remember to vote for @zreamy president in the upcoming elections, shes the only one i trust to beta-read and hence to run a country <3 no it doesnt matter that shes scottish put this woman in the white house

There is only one thorn on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life.

Every morning, you wake up feeling refreshed from eight hours of restful sleep. You go downstairs to the kitchen, a boiling cup of milky Earl Grey tea already waiting for you, and eat breakfast with your brother Jinwoo and father. Your mom dashes in, placing a kiss on your and Jinwoo’s foreheads, and on your dad’s lips, saying she’s late for work but will see you in the evening. “Have fun at school,” she bids every morning without fail. Your dad teaches Korean Literature at your school, so the three of you drive there together. He watches amusedly as you and Jinwoo bicker light-heartedly on the way there—even in the pits of his puberty, you and your brother get along like two peas in a pod. He still tells you about everything he learns at school and fills you in on the drama in his class, up-to-date with everything even though he pretends not to be interested.

You’re always one of the first to arrive at school, so you scroll through your feed or finish up some homework as you wait for your classmates to file in. Your friends circle your table and you chat about the last episode of the show you’ve been watching until the bell rings and they leave you for their assigned seat.

Class starts with your teacher handing out the math tests you took last week. “Jay and Y/N, great job, keep it up,” he says as he walks past you and the boy in front of you, and hands you your paper. Relief floods your body as you take in the bright red 82 in the top right-hand corner—not the best of the class, but enough for you to be satisfied.

Good friends, good grades—nothing extraordinary, but it’s a life you dare say any high school senior would want.

There’s just that one thing. The thorn in your side that won’t stop poking.

You glare at it as it whips around in its seat and takes a peek at the grade on your paper before you get to snatch it away from view. It only gives you three seconds to rejoice over your grade.

“Aw, Y/N. Good effort! Maybe you’ll do better next time!” Jongseong coos, holding up his test for you to see and glare even harder at. 85. Not that big of a difference, but it makes you want to punch the faux sympathetic pout off of his face.

You’re about to spit something just as petty back at him, but someone whispers your name, and you turn your head in their direction. Beside you, Jake is smiling at you as he asks what grade you got. Your attention is swiftly taken off of Jongseong, whom you don’t even notice dramatically rolling his eyes, huffing in annoyance, and turning around.

“82,” you whisper back, holding up your paper for Jake to see. His friendly, absurdly handsome smile makes your ears burn. “You?”

The corners of his lips fall down into a sad pout—the kind that makes your heart melt rather than gets on your nerves like someone else. “68,” he says. Leans in over the gap between your tables. Your heart jumps uncontrollably around your rib cage. “Do you wanna go over it together during the break? I think I need some help.”

One-on-one time with Jake Sim? You don’t need to be asked twice. You nod silently, almost mesmerized by Jake as his grin widens. He leans back in his chair. “Perfect. I’ll see you in the library, then.”

“Library, yeah,” you echo dumbly, but thankfully, your teacher tells you to all quiet down and starts the lesson.

You’re antsy all throughout the rest of your morning classes and lunch break, so nervous that you barely manage to finish your yogurt. Of course, your friends, Sunoo and Kazuha, have a field day with this, and even you can’t help but laugh along as they jump between reassuring you that it’ll be fine, slapping your shoulders with excitement and making fun of your uncharacteristic quietness.

Jake arrives at the library five minutes after you, looking around the room before he finds you at the big round table in the back of the library. Your brain is too riddled with anxiety for you to make more small talk than “Hey,” “Hey,” “How was your lunch?” “Good, yours?” “Good.” And so you just jump straight into it.

You’ve only had a couple minutes of quiet explanation on your part and heavy nodding on Jake’s when Jay appears at the entrance of the library. He spots you and Jake immediately, and without any hesitation whatsoever heads towards you and sits down at your table, right across from the two of you.

“Hey, Jay,” Jake greets in a friendly manner, but Jay only responds with a nod of his head.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he says when he notices you glaring. “I won’t bother you.”

As if he could be anything other than a bother, you think, but courteously keep to yourself. The childish rivalry you and Jongseong have got going on has no business spoiling a rare hour of alone time you get with Jake. As you go over the exercises he had the most trouble with on the test with you, your eyes often drift over to Jongseong as if to check on him—you’re cautious like he’s a spider in the corner of the room that might spring on you at any moment.

And indeed, the moment your gaze leaves him for more than a minute as you explain an intricate theorem to Jake, he’s out of sight, and panic shoots through you. Where the hell has he suddenly gone off to? you wonder, but not for long.

“There’s a much easier way to do this, really,” says a voice from behind you, and of course, it’s none other than Jongseong himself, quite literally butting his way into your tutoring session. Right between you and Jake, he bends over and rests his elbows on the table, taking Jake’s pencil from him and describing the theorem in a way that isn’t that much simpler. Your eyes shoot bullets into the side of his face while he, unbothered, explains this and that to Jake, who glances at you a couple of times but otherwise does not seem so perturbed by the sudden change of tutor. Either Jongseong doesn’t notice your glare or doesn’t care, because he doesn’t budge.

Just when they’re done with the exercise and you think you’ll get Jake to yourself again, another voice appears from behind, a much higher, girlier one. You notice the hand on Jake’s shoulder first, until slowly, your eyes drift to the face—you recognize Yunjin, head of the cheerleading squad, and she’s smiling at you, a smile that at once tries to cover and betrays her surprise at seeing you and Jake together. She doesn’t acknowledge you any more than that, gaze going back to “Jakey,” asking him if he wants to head to class together. You check the time—five minutes before the first bell rings. What do they need so much time getting to class for? It’s not like any room in this school is more than a three-minute walk away.

But Jake doesn’t even look back at you, just says “Sure!” with far too much enthusiasm for your taste as he packs his stuff. “Thanks, you two,” he says, looking at Jay first, then at you. You think his eyes linger on you for a second, but just like that, he’s gone, him and Yunjin walking side-by-side.

You watch them leave—they look good together, the cheerleading captain and the soccer team’s star. The white Vans she’s wearing have a bunch of red love hearts on them that look drawn on, and you think, Of course, Jake is the type to date someone cute, someone fun, someone who would draw on their shoes. Not someone like you, whose idea of a good Friday night is lighting up a scented candle and reading your favorite novel for the nth time. When they’ve left the library, you slump in your seat, crumpling the sheet of paper you had drawn a bunch of graphs and formulae on to make things clearer for Jake. Jay awkwardly clears his throat and finally returns to his seat, looking at you with his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Y/N?” he asks tentatively, and the sound is too much to bear, so you pack your things and head to your next class early, too. Your mind is racing with a million thoughts a minute—who is that girl to Jake, how come you’ve never seen them together before, how come he was so eager to leave with her, what was that smile she gave you about? In the fifty-five minutes of your biology class, which you uncharacteristically don’t pay any attention to, you’ve convinced yourself that they are crazy in love and that none of Jake’s actions or words towards you had ever meant anything, that you’d liked him so much you’d dreamt up the possibility of his liking you back, too.

Your next lesson starts—the smile Jake gives you as he walks into History is so bright, it dissipates any clouds hanging over your head. You do believe in male-female friendships, but despite yourself, you can’t help but think that anyone in a relationship wouldn’t give someone else such a perfect, warm smile. It just wouldn’t be right. And so, you reason with yourself that simply walking to a class together didn’t mean two people were a couple.

For an hour, you stare at the back of Jake’s head, and although you do eventually come to the more sensible conclusion that a smile may just be a smile, you also think it's unlikely that he and Yunjin would be a thing. If they were, why would they hide it? Jake is so nice, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d exaggerated his enthusiasm upon seeing her. You’re sure you still have your chances. He even says see you tomorrow when class is over and slips out of the room to go to soccer practice.

You feel like you’re walking on cloud 9 as you head from History to your next class—but when you remember that the next class is German, your mood drops significantly. Because the universe has it out for you, you and Jay are two of just ten students in your year taking German as your second foreign language option, everyone else having gone for either French, Japanese or Spanish. Your reasoning for it is that your dad has had an obsession with Germany since his year abroad in Bavaria, and twelve-year-old you had wanted to make him happy. Eighteen-year-old you regrets it slightly, but at least now your dad is ecstatic every time you tell him in German that the dinner he made was really tasty. Why Jongseong decided to take it beats you—he’s probably just insane.

But because you don’t really know anyone else in the class, and because it’s your last period of the day, you have no friends to run off with once the lesson is over, and he gets to bother you all the way from the classroom door to the staff parking lot.

You’ve barely finished bidding Auf Wiedersehen to your teacher and Jongseong is already harassing you. “So, I didn’t take you as the type to be into guys like Jake Sim.” He says Jake’s name with such disdain, like he thinks he’s so much better than him, or like he hates him. It confuses you just as much as it annoys you; Jongseong didn’t seem to have a problem with Jake earlier at the library.

“And that’s your business, because…?”

You don’t look at Jongseong, who’s quickened his pace to keep up with yours, but you can feel the smirk on his face. It’s insufferable. “Oh, it’s none of my business. I’m just surprised, is all. You guys are so… I don’t know, different.”

You scoff. “If you think I’m not good enough for someone like Jake, I’d rather you tell me straight up, Jongseong. Or actually,” you say, looking up at him with a dry smile. “Keep it to yourself and leave me alone.”

He looks offended by your words, and it only adds to your already immense annoyance—he’s the one who just insulted you, so why is he looking at you with those stupid furrowed eyebrows?

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“No, Y/N.” He grabs your wrist and makes you face him, your stomach flipping in surprise that you quickly cover up. When he releases you, you cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to speak, keeping your eyes trained on a spot behind him. “I don’t think he’s too good for you.”

This makes you look at him. You have to admit, your curiosity is piqued. Not like Jongseong to say anything even vaguely in your favor. “He’s just…” He sighs, searches for the right word. “Well, he’s just a bit of a dick, isn’t he?”

You freeze for a second. You’re so taken aback, your scoff comes out more as a laugh—Park Jongseong, king supreme of all dicks at this school, just called Jake Sim a dick?

“I’m sorry?”

He sighs again, as though you’re the unreasonable one. “He’s so… smug. A wannabe class clown and thinks he’s the shit because he’s on the soccer team. Have you seen the way he swaggers around school?”

You look at him with fake sympathy. “Jong, are you jealous?”

“Pfft. No way. I just think it’s a shame you keep going after these dudes who are not even worth your time, or whatever, so yeah…” he says, voice trailing off and looking down at his feet as he speaks. Hands in pockets and blank expression on his face, you can tell he’s trying to look cool, but the way he’s avoiding your gaze is a dead give-away. Even his ears have turned red. Jongseong is having one of those shy moments he has when he’s trying to be nice to you. Clearly, a simple act of kindness towards you is so hard for him that it radically changes the way he behaves.

Like when you were fifteen and you just couldn’t get this stupid art project right, so he stayed behind for three hours after school with you, helping you draw and paint and cut and glue.

Like when you were sixteen and your grandma just passed away, making you miss a week of school, and without a word, barely looking at you, he gave you a stack of handwritten notes of all the lessons you missed. To this day, you’re not sure how he did it—you weren’t in the same class that year.

Like when you were seventeen and Park Sunghoon rejected you in the middle of a crowded hallway. You’d run off to the girls’ bathroom to cry it out, but Jongseong quickly found you and spent the entire period cursing Sunghoon out instead of being in English, like you were both meant to be. He was uncharacteristically nice to you for a few days after that, never starting an argument for no reason or interrupting you when you spoke. When you snapped at him, telling him it only made you feel worse that he treated you differently, he smiled and told you how stupid you looked when you cried. It made you laugh more than it should’ve.

Like now, when he suddenly decides that Jake Sim is also a wrong choice for you. “Him and Sunghoon are good friends, you know that?” he says. “Birds of a feather, and all…”

So you know that Jongseong is not all bad. He has his redeeming qualities. He can even be nice sometimes, when he so wishes. But those moments are so few and far between that when he returns to his usual insufferable self, you wonder if you’d dreamt it all up. Which is why you can’t quite take him seriously right now. You roll your eyes and resume walking towards the parking lot, but of course, he continues to follow you. “Why do you even care who I go after?”

“I don’t-”

“You clearly do, otherwise you wouldn’t be bothering me like this.”

“Well, if all your attention is taken up by that douche, who am I going to go up against?”

“That’s what you’re worried about? That I stop arguing with you?” you say, disbelief clear in your voice.

“I’m offended, Y/N,” he starts, his sarcastic tone making you roll your eyes again. “That our little rivalry matters so little to you.”

“We’re not even the top students of our class, for God’s sake, we’re not fighting over anything.”

“I’ve actually got the best grades in German, thanks very much.”

“Whatever. I wouldn’t call it a rivalry so much as a mutual dislike of each other, because one of us woke up one day and decided to start going against everything the other said.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

The exit to the parking lot now appears to you like the gates of heaven. You don’t even bother replying to him, thinking that he’ll just leave you alone now that you’re here. But as you step outside, he places himself in front of you and blocks your path, arms splayed out, eyes wide like he’s just seen a ghost.

“What are you-”

“Have you done the German homework for tomorrow?”

The sudden change of subject gives you whiplash. “What? No, Miss Schumacher assigned it just now-”

“Well, given your tendency for getting the word order all wrong, I can already tell you you’re not gonna have fun with it-”

You pinch the nose of your bridge, trying to calm yourself down before you lose what’s remaining of your mind. “Jongseong, were you actually dropped on the head as a baby? Go away. My dad’s gonna be here any second.” You try to walk around him, but he steps in front of you again. You peer up at him, undisguised annoyance in your eyes. Where are your dad and brother when you need them?

“I’m just saying, you’ll probably need help with it-”

“I won’t. And if I do, I’ll just use Google. Now get out of my way,” you say, and manage to duck under one of his arms.

Then you see it.

Well, actually, it takes you a second to understand what it is you’re seeing. At first, you think it’s one of those horny couples thinking they’re being really discreet by going to the staff parking lot to make out, when in reality they could be caught by any one at any time. They’re just far enough that when you do a double take, you realize that you do know the back of that head; that fluffy mop of brown hair. You sit behind it every History period, next to it every Maths and English period.

The girl is up against the wall, and you can’t really see her, what with her and Jake’s tongues being down each other’s throat and his body blocking her from your view, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders. All the works. She’s wearing a cheerleader uniform, so she could be any of twenty girls—but you’re pretty sure only one of them wears a pair of white Vans with red love hearts on them.

Your heart sinks to your stomach.

You’re frozen in place when a whistle rings in the distance, and Jake and Yunjin separate, giggling to each other as they jog to wherever the sound came from. The sports field, probably. It’s Monday; the cheerleaders and the soccer team share the field for their practice.

Jake spots you and Jongseong staring at them. He waves quickly, awkwardly at you, still smiling even when surprise coats his features. Yunjin tugs on his hand and just like that, they’re gone.

“Y/N-”

Jay’s voice fades in the background. You want to get away from this situation as quickly as possible—it’s embarrassing enough seeing the guy you like and thought you had a chance with kissing a girl that is arguably much more on his level than you are, but having Jongseong of all people not only witness it, but try to protect you from it, God knows why, makes it impossibly mortifying. You speed-walk to your dad’s car, huffing as you plop in your seat and slamming the door behind you. Your brother is already sitting in the passenger seat, and you don’t even argue with him about it. When you only give single-word replies to his questions, he shrugs and returns to playing Clash of Clans on his phone.

The moment you get home, you fish a five cent coin from your purse, change into mud boots and grab your dog’s leash. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

After half-an-hour of trudging through leaves and soft ground, muddy from many a rainy November night, you and Pablo, your massive, fluffy airhead of a German Shepherd, find yourselves at the well in the middle of the forest. Ever since you were little, you have attributed magic powers to the well—not that anyone told you any sort of myth about it, but you remember reading a story about a magic well and decided that your well would be magical, too. You’ve never wanted to abuse its powers, so you’ve used your wishes conscientiously: things like getting a certain present at Christmas (when you were nine and the most important thing ever was getting the Monster High doll you wanted) or not stuttering during your presentation in class (when you really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Park Sunghoon and his cool friends). Every wish you’ve made has come true. Whenever a faint voice of reason tells you that it’s because you always ask for very realistic things, you squash it and continue to believe in the well.

Because today, you’re not asking for something realistic.

Today, you’re asking the well to show you the way to love.

You’ve grown up watching The Notebook and Pride & Prejudice. Your parents are high school sweethearts who are still, twenty-five years later, happily married. You devour romance novels and binge-watch Asian dramas, the more unrealistic and romantic, the better. You are convinced that soulmates exist, that love always finds a way, that it is there for anyone to see. That it can take form in a childhood friend, an archnemesis, a total stranger.

But for some reason, it hasn’t shown itself to you yet, no matter how valiantly you’ve looked.

You’re absolutely sick and tired of it. It is Jake kissing another girl, it’s Sunghoon leading you on for months and then rejecting you in front of everyone, it’s your ex-boyfriend-who-shall-not-be-named, your first love and first heartbreak, dumping you after a year and getting with the girl he had told you not to worry about a week later. At a party a few months later, he’d said, word for word, “At least I didn’t cheat on you.”

Coin lodged between your hands, you interlace your fingers and press your palms closely together, eyes screwed shut in desperation. “Hey,” you start simply, because you and the well are good friends. “It’s been a while since I’ve asked for anything, so I hope you can indulge me… This is gonna sound so cliché, but I’m really tired of getting fucked over by boys — excuse my French — and I just wanna meet the person who’s right for me, you know? Mom’s always reminding me that I’m only eighteen, and that I’ve got plenty of time to meet someone, but I just feel like if I don’t find someone now, I never will. And if I get fucked over again — sorry — I’ll just lose hope and write off men for the rest of my life. So help a girl out, will you? I’ll leave it to you how you wanna go about it, but… just show me that there’s someone out there. Please.”

When you open your eyes, you need a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. You toss the coin in the well. It doesn’t make a sound as it hits the bottom, as if it has been absorbed within the old brick walls. You know better than to question it—the well works in mysterious ways.

You’re quiet that entire evening, making up an excuse of a tiring day at school when your parents ask. Really, you’re just thinking about your wish, whether it’ll work, what might happen. You half-ass your homework—Jay was right, the German exercises throw you into a bout of despair, so you quickly close your textbook and bury yourself in your sheets, falling asleep hours earlier than you usually would.

For some reason, the first thing you notice when you wake up is that it’s still dark outside. It must be the middle of the night, you think. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re in a completely strange room.

Instead of your floral-patterned sheets, you find yourself covered by delicate silk sheets that your parents would never agree to buy you, no matter how adamantly you argued for the benefits of silk for your skin. If skincare experts online had convinced you of one thing, it was that silk would do wonders for your obstinate acne. You slide out of bed and find a pair of slippers on the floor, as if waiting for you. Even the pajamas you’re wearing are fancier, more grown up than the ones you have at home, a set composed of a pinstriped button-up and shorts. You look around, for some reason more surprised and curious than panicked. You could’ve been kidnapped, for all you know, but all you care about right now is this room. Rather than the pink and white walls that have surrounded you since childhood, covered with pictures of you and your friends, postcards of artwork bought at museums, and posters of your favorite movies, the walls here are beige and mostly bare, except for a painting of Japanese cherry blossoms above the bed and a family portrait on the opposite wall, above a wooden chest of drawers.

The family portrait. A woman, a man, and what you can only assume are their children. They look like twins—two girls. Can’t be older than three years old. Out of the four faces, you recognize two of them. You recognize them far too well. One of them is yours, of course. You look slightly older, by a decade, maybe? You’re glad to know that you won’t fall off after twenty-five, like much of social media has led you to believe.

The other face you recognize immediately, too, but it takes you a few seconds to truly believe it.

It belongs to none other than Park Jongseong.

A dry chuckle falls from your throat, as if someone has just made a very insulting joke at your expense and you have to pretend you find it funny. The well has a very odd sense of humor, you think. It’s probably just a prank, a magic-induced nightmare before the real thing. Except this already feels real, disorientingly so. The fabric on your skin, the picture, the room. It all feels too real, more tangible than any dream you’ve ever had.

You take a step closer towards the picture, as if looking at it harder will make Jongseong’s face fade into that of another man, the real man that will become your husband and father of your children. But alas, his features remain the same, frozen in time by the photographer’s camera. He, too, looks older—and not only does he not fall off after twenty-five, he becomes all the more handsome for it.

Is this how you find out that Jongseong was handsome all along? You stare at it until the familiar face becomes practically unrecognizable, like repeating a word so much it stops feeling like one. The straight nose, the almond-shaped eyes that seem to have softened overtime, whereas his jaw has remained as sharp as ever. Have his eyebrows always framed his face so perfectly? Has that dimple always been there?

You look around again, and the bright numbers on the bedside alarm clock catches your attention. They read 9:57 p.m., but it’s the date that makes your stomach sink—today is still the 18th of November, but ten years later. You stare at the clock, at the unfamiliar number, a date so far into the future you can’t wrap your head around it. You could barely envision life after high school.

Downstairs, the sudden clang of pots and the sound of a tap running manage to rip your gaze away from the alarm clock. An overwhelming curiosity tells you to follow the noise. This is all a dream, so there are no consequences if you explore a bit more, right?

You’ve never been in this house before, and you have no idea where your feet are taking you until you find yourself in the kitchen. It’s the only lit room in the house, and you’re creepily standing in the dark under a wide archway that connects the kitchen to what looks like the dining room. A man has his back to you, washing dishes and putting them out to dry on a rack next to the sink. He’s wearing a white cotton sweater, one that you feel you recognise without ever having seen before, and a brown apron is tied around his neck and waist.

The first thing you think to yourself is Oh, his haircut hasn’t changed. In almost every class you share with him, Jongseong has made it a point to sit either next to you or right in front of you, so you’ve spent a lot of time glaring at the back of his head. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started developing two eye-shaped bald spots there. His hair is still short and spiky at the back and on the sides, longer on the top. When he lets it grow too long, it sometimes covers his eyes, and he obnoxiously keeps having to push it back like a heartthrob in an 80s movie.

Something like a memory flashes through your mind, blurry like those images you aren’t sure came from a dream or from real life. Your surroundings are unclear, but Jay’s face is nestled against your neck, your hand in his hair. You can feel the softness of the close shave against your palm as clearly as if you were touching it right now. You ask him why he’s always kept it that way, and he replies that it’s simple to maintain. Then in classic Jay fashion, he adds, “And it makes me look awesome.”

Another memory, a clearer one, this time—this definitely happened. It’s halfway through sophomore year, a random Tuesday, and Jay walks in, holding his head high and looking smugly around himself. The bastard got a new haircut. Long gone, his messy, unorganized flop of black hair that looked like it didn’t know what it was doing; hello, sleek undercut. It accentuates all of his best features, which is terrible news for you. You had never even thought of Jongseong as someone having “best” features, but now they’re being thrown in your face. His nose. His jawline. His smile.

It ruins your day, and a few after that. You can’t quite put it into words when your friends ask what’s wrong at lunch—or rather, you don’t wanna face the humiliation of uttering something along the lines of “Park Jongseong looks good with his new haircut, and it’s bothering me.”

Here, it’s a familiar sight in an unfamiliar environment, the back of his head. Without really thinking, you take a step forward. Jongseong starts at the sound of your slippers against the marble floor tiles, but his face relaxes into a smile when he sees you.

“Oh, it’s just you, honey. I thought you were sleeping.”

Just you. As if the two of you being in the same kitchen is normal. You guess it must be, to this version of Jongseong. To him, you’re not the annoying girl he strives to best in every class—you’re honey.

“I was,” you say, walking around the kitchen island to join him by the sink. Something in you needs to look at him, really look at him, maybe pinch yourself or pinch him to be sure you’re not going crazy. Maybe you caught wafts of some ancient algae that lives in the well and made you hallucinate?

“I left a plate out for you in case you woke up. Made your favorite. The girls weren’t so happy, seeing as it’s the third time this month,” he says with the special kind of smile reserved for parents talking about their children. The girls. A mention so casual, so obvious, your heart hurts. “But I think I got it really right this time,” he continues. “Honestly, it might even be better than the original.”

He goes back to washing the dishes and you watch the sponge in his hands as it scrubs away tomato sauce, the soap as it runs from the plates into the sink. A knot forms in your stomach, something like a deep sadness that overwhelms you all of a sudden, and tears form in your eyes, threatening to fall any second.

When you haven’t budged in almost a minute, Jongseong starts to say, in an intimate, almost worried voice, “Aren’t you going to eat, honey?” but when he sees your wet eyes, the tremble in your lower lip, he shuts the water immediately and dries his hands. With his thumbs, he wipes away the tears that have started falling from your eyes. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.

You can’t reconcile the man in front of you with the image you have of the boy that torments you in every class you share. You can’t reconcile the genuine concern in his voice with the snarky tone you’re met with every day. And yet, they respond to the same name, their features are identical, if not for the years that separate them, the stress of adulthood on one and the carefreeness of youth on the other.

Your body reacts automatically to the soft touch—never in a million years would you let the Jongseong you know come near you like this, but here, nothing feels more natural than his hands on your face, your shoulders, your hair, as though they’re just as much his as they are yours. You realize the emotion in your stomach is not sadness—tears fall, but you’re not sad. You’ve never felt as home as you do now, and if one thing romantic novels have taught you, is that this must be love.

You look up at the man in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as you search his face for confirmation or some sort of an answer. There’s a tremble in your voice when you speak next. “I just… I think I love you, Jongseong.”

He chuckles. “Well, we established that a while ago, didn’t we? What with getting married and having kids. But I’m glad you still feel that way.”

The mention of marriage and children doesn’t faze you nearly as much as it should. You’ve only got one thing on your mind. “Do you love me too?”

You expect him to laugh—not out of cruelty, but because the answer is so obvious, it almost doesn’t deserve to be answered seriously. Like when your brother asks if he can have one more of your cookies and you tell him you’ll cut his hand off. Sometimes you think it’s easier to be sarcastic than be unabashedly nice to someone. Especially with Jongseong, whom you don’t expect kindness or patience from, you wait for him to stay something like, “No, that’s why I’ve stayed with you these eight years.”

So when instead, he says, “More than anything on this Earth,” voice low and vulnerable, tears flow even harder.

“Sorry, it’s probably just my period,” you say through sobs, although you have no idea where in her menstrual cycle this version of you is.

Jongseong chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You do get emotional around this time.” And you cry more, because you can’t believe someone other than your mother knows you so well that they know what your period symptoms are.

Rubbing soothing circles against your back and whispering soft words in your ear, he holds you for as long as you need to calm down. When you finally do, he tells you to go sit on the couch, that he’ll finish up the dishes then heat and bring your food for you. You think you’ve got your emotions under control, but the moment you bite the pasta, cooked to perfection with the most succulent tomato sauce you’ve ever had, sweet with a little kick of spice and a generous amount of parmesan cheese, tears start to fall again as if you had an endless stock of water behind your eyes.

“This is so good,” you mumble.

Jongseong smiles, his gaze full of affection miraculously directed at you as he tucks away strands of your hair so they don’t get in your eyes or in your food. “I’m glad, baby.”

You react to the nickname viscerally, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can even understand them. “You haven’t called me that in ages.” You widen your eyes at yourself, wondering how this was something you even knew. But when you look at Jongseong, all he does is smile more.

“You’re right, I haven’t. I guess I was reminded of college. You cried all the time back then. As much as it pained me, I can’t say I wasn’t happy to be the one you always came to for comfort.”

You haven’t been through college yet, so you should be unable to tell whether this truly happened or not—and yet, the memories of the body you’re in all confirm what Jongseong just said. But it feels impossible—going to university with him, letting yourself be vulnerable enough with him to not only cry in front of him but let him comfort you. Whatever could have happened in the years between the present you know and your time at university for things to change so drastically?

But before you can make sense of any of it, Jongseong speaks again. “Why? Do you like it when I call you baby?”

Your stomach flips. Heat rises to your face at his words, the tone with which he said them, the things he was alluding to—you know that having children means you’d popped your cherry at some point, that you’d had sex with Jongseong specifically, but to be confronted with the fact was something else.

“Maybe,” you mumble, and proceed to stuff your mouth with pasta so that you can’t incriminate yourself further.

He puts on a recent movie, something you should arguably be paying attention to, since you’re literally getting a glimpse into the future of cinema—you could steal the idea, go back to your present and sell it for an outrageous price.

But Jongseong’s presence next to you makes it impossible to concentrate on anything but him. The warmth emanating from him, the scent of his perfume envelop you, give you a sense of just how real this all is—despite how comfortable being with him like this feels, you’re still not convinced you’re not just in an unsettlingly vivid dream. You take one of his hands in yours, examining each finger, turning his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm, smoothing your thumb over his nails—it’s an undeniably human hand. Warm against yours, slightly rough. He’s started using hand cream, you think, all these winters when his dry hands would crack because of the cold coming up to your mind, teenage Jongseong’s hard refusal to wear any sort of cream to protect himself. Memories bob up to the surface: fixing his cracked hands up with a plaster, your tear falling on his hand, the both of you in your school uniforms in what looks like the school infirmary; awkwardly gifting him some hand cream the Christmas of that year, not looking at him as you hand him the small package. Saying, “It’s a waste of plasters for something that could be fixed so easily.” Him treating you to warm, spicy tteokbokki because he felt bad for not having gotten you anything, even though this was the first time either of you had ever given the other one a present.

As your fingers trail up from his hand to his forearm, his shoulder, his jawline, more memories flood your mind. Clumsy first kisses; squabbles of the kind you were already used to; lazy mornings in bed; hours spent in your kitchen or his, before you shared one, cooking dinner together; the way you felt when he proposed, a feeling so intense remembering it is almost unbearable now. Your eyes and fingers examine his face in detail—even though you’ve seen him almost every day since the start of high school, this feels like the first time you really perceive him. The delicate bow of his lips, the strong nose, the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. Your heart beats uncontrollably as you hold each other’s gazes, but you feel inexplicably relaxed at the same time, two nearly opposing realities fighting each other inside of you—one in which you and Jongseong regarding each other with such affection is unthinkable, the other in which it is daily routine.

“Movie not to your taste?” he asks, voice gentle, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Hm?”

He nods towards the TV screen. “I see you’re not paying much attention.”

“No. I have… things on my mind.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly growing on his lips. “Yeah?” You think your heart might actually flatline when he brings you in closer to his chest, and, face buried in your hair, says, “You know, I’ve been thinking that the twins might want a younger sibling to play with soon enough…”

You’re not sure whether he actually wants a third child or if this is weird dirty talk that apparently turns parents on—all you know is that this is something future you will deal with, not high school senior you.

You whip up your head at him, eyes wide in panic that he mirrors immediately. “Or—or not. Later. Later?” You nod fervently, and the worry dissipates from his handsome features. “Okay, later,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head before returning his attention to the movie.

A couple hours later, you’re laying in bed in the dark together—you can tell Jongseong is falling asleep by the regularity of his breathing and his stillness, but you’re wide awake. You don’t know how you’ve managed to spend all this time with him, acting like the wife he knows and loves, without imploding. But suddenly, the idea of waking up in your childhood bed, surrounded by your pink-and-white walls, going downstairs to be greeted by your brother and parents, sends a wave of panic through you. You haven’t felt this comfortable in a long time—Jongseong’s arm draped over your waist, the fact that you could reach over and feel his skin against your palm if you wanted. You don’t want to go back to a time where you hate him. In fact, you don’t know if you could hate him after this.

“Jongseong?” you say softly, the syllables unfamiliar on your tongue, even though the name rings brusquely through your head for the best part of every day.

It takes a few seconds, but he reacts eventually. “Hm? Did you just call me Jongseong?” he murmurs sleepily, as if you’d just called him Robert or Christopher and not the name his own parents gave him.

“Yeah.”

He chuckles. “Now that’s something you haven’t called me in ages. Makes me feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, turning over and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and one of your hands comes up reflexively to feel the softness of his close shave.

“...Jong?” you try.

“That’s a step up, but not quite what I want,” he mumbles.

You’re silent for a few moments. “Honey,” you say tentatively, voice a mere whisper.

“That’s better.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Will you be here in the morning?”

“Mh-hm. It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

“No,” you say, feeling out of breath. “I mean, will you be here?”

You’re aware you’re not making much sense—and yet, Jongseong needs no further explanation. “Of course, baby,” he starts, voice soothing. “I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day afterwards. ‘Til death do us part, remember?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too,” you find yourself saying, and, more importantly, meaning. It’s the last thing either of you says before falling asleep.

Tears are streaming down your face when you wake up the next day. When you open your eyes, pink and white obnoxiously stare back at you. The clock reads 7:12, just three minutes before your alarm goes off, and unfortunately for high school you, the night hasn’t given in to Saturday morning—it’s Tuesday, and you have to go to school and act as if you hadn’t just had the weirdest, most realistic dream of your life. You don’t even get a weekend to shake this weird feeling in your stomach off, you’re going to have to face Park Jongseong full force. At least, this will become your friends’ favorite bit for the foreseeable future.

They’re already sitting in the classroom when you get there, animatedly chatting to each other. You plop down in your seat in front of them, and when they see the sullen look on your face, ask you what’s wrong.

“Did you wake up during the night to play Hay Day again?” Kazuha asks, eyebrows knotted with genuine worry.

“I’m not that person anymore,” you reply. “No, I just had a really weird dream. More like a nightmare, really. It feels like I didn’t get any sleep.”

“What was it about?” Sunoo asks.

Your eyes dart back-and-forth between the two of them as you brace yourself for their reactions. Not wanting anyone else to overhear, you lean in conspiratorially. They mirror you. “I was married to Park Jongseong,” you whisper. As expected, they burst into laughter immediately, and you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms in annoyance. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny,” Kazuha retorts. “It’s ironic, even, considering how much you hate the guy.”

“Exactly!”

“But I guess even you know how ridiculous it is that you hate him, if your brain is able to imagine yourself being married to him,” Sunoo adds, shrugging. “It’s a good reminder that you’re literally the only person in this school with a vendetta against him.”

Kazuha nods energetically. “He picked up a pen for me, once. He’s a nice guy.”

You look around the room in panic. “Keep it down, will you?” you hush, despite the fact that no one is paying any attention to the three of you. You sigh, resolving yourself to telling them the entire truth. “But guys, I’m scared. I think this might be a sign.”

Their eyebrows perk up. “A sign that your hatred of him has actually been disguising a crush this entire time?” Sunoo asks, feigning innocence.

“No—what? Where did you get that idea?”

“Nowhere. Go on.”

“Whatever. Come here,” you say, gesturing for them to huddle again. “It’s the well.”

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’ve actually lost it,” Kazuha says, fascinated by your stupidity.

“I’m not going to tolerate any well slander, this is serious. I just wanted it to reassure me that there was someone out there for me. And then I had that stupid dream.”

Kazuha and Sunoo exchange a look like they’re parents trying to announce to their daughter that she’s adopted. “Y/N…” Sunoo starts.

“This is crazy. Like, love philters and writing Park Sunghoon’s name a hundred times are one thing, this is…”

“Crazy,” Sunoo said, nodding along. “This is crazy. There’s no other word for it. Your eighteen years of boyfriendlessness have finally caught up to you.”

“You guys don’t get it. What about that time I asked it to give me a good grade on our Literature exam and I literally came first out of our class? Or when I told it I missed Jung Hae-in and his military discharge announcement came the next day?” you say, aware that the look in your eyes is only confirming their suspicions—but you need someone to believe you, or at the very least understand you.

“One, you’re a good student. Two, that was pure coincidence,” Sunoo explains.

“But girl, if you want to marry Jay, that’s fine. You’ve got our blessing,” Kazuha says, shrugging.

“Yeah. He picked up her pen, once,” Sunoo adds.

“And you know, you guys clearly have some sort of chemistry.”

You scoff. “If you think that him refuting my every word and finding every opportunity to make fun of me, then yeah, I guess you could say we have chemistry.”

“You guys have banter,” Kazuha says as if it’s obvious.

“Oh, please. Banter is cute. I want to kill him every time he opens his mouth.”

Your friends both roll their eyes. “While I understand that most men are better off staying quiet—no offense, Sunoo—”

“None taken.”

“You have to admit Jay is not nearly as insufferable as you make him out to be,” Kazuha says.

“Are you kidding me? He’s always acting like a child. Rubbing it in my face when he gets a better grade, trying to start arguments for no reason, sucking up to teachers, stealing my erasers, for God’s sake, you’d think he’s twelve. I know that I’m not on the majority's side, but I seriously cannot understand how other people tolerate him at all.”

Sunoo sighs. “Because he’s nice to everyone. He never hesitates to help people, he’s even funny, sometimes, and—well, look at him.” He nods his head towards the door, and when you turn around, Jongseong is indeed walking in the classroom. “He’s not a bad-looking boy.”

“Gosh, Sunoo, maybe you should marry him,” Kazuha says, but since you laid your eyes on Jongseong, you’ve stopped listening.

You feel weird. You look at him, and you feel weird. It’s the same feeling you had during your sleep last night, a feeling that paralyzes you from head to toe, that starts in your stomach and spreads to your entire body, weighs you down in your chair.

“Hey, guys,” he greets simply, and his voice wraps itself around your heart and squeezes. You can’t do anything but watch him as he takes his seat next to you, plopping his bag on the table and taking his notebook out. He looks at you, watches you watching him, then swivels around in his chair.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asks your friends.

“She had a dream that she m—”

“Do not finish that sentence, Zuha, if you want to live to see another day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replies, a satisfied little smile on her lips.

Despite yourself, you’re still staring at Jongseong, trying to figure out what the hell these emotions are that are raging up a storm inside of you. Instead of ignoring you, he turns to face you, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm as he stares back at you, smirking. “What’s up, Y/N? Has it finally dawned on you how devastatingly handsome I am?” he asks, and you frown, because he’s not so far off from the truth.

“Please, kids, it’s 9 a.m., don’t flirt right in front of us,” Sunoo says, despair in his voice.

“She’s the one who started it,” Jongseong replies, still looking at you, his smirk growing.

For some reason, this startles you out of your trance, and you look away from him like you’ve been burned, preoccupying yourself instead with your notes for this class. “In your dreams, Jongseong,” you mumble.

“More like in yours,” Kazuha says, her and Sunoo giggling.

“Zuha!” you exclaim. Jongseong looks at you with raised eyebrows, and with his infuriating capacity to put two and two together, you’re scared he’s figured out what she meant, but you’re literally saved by your teacher who walks in at that moment and starts the class.

The second the bell rings to signify the end of the class, you hurriedly pack your things and mutter an excuse about needing the bathroom, trying to get as far away as possible from the boy whose all-too familiar scent had messed with your thoughts all class, whose every brush of his arm against yours had made your heart race uncontrollably.

It hadn’t just been a dream. It couldn’t have been.

Just like there was no doubt the 28-year-old Jongseong from last night had once been the annoying boy you knew, the 18-year-old Jongseong was sure to one day become the husband of your dreams. A devoted partner and father, his presence comforting, his good looks indeed devastating, unwavering.

There was no mistake to be made. The well had worked its magic.

Whether you liked it or not, you would end up marrying Park Jongseong. You, of all people; him, of all people.

Was there already something of your future husband in the boy that snickered when you mixed up your genders in German class, or would he one day spring out of nowhere? Apparently, you’d be around to find out.

But for now, how to act around him? It felt unfair that you were privy to this knowledge of your shared future while he was ignorant of it. Blissfully, perhaps. You couldn’t imagine that he would rejoice much at this news.

Your mind is somewhere else the entire day. At lunch, your other friends try to get the thing that’s obviously bothering you out of you, but Kazuha and Sunoo are there to tell them not to bother. You’d needed to tell someone about it, but you don’t want the entire school to know about your marital premonitions. The two knuckleheads you call your best friends are already doing a good enough job teasing you about it—”There’s your husband, Y/N,” when Jongseong walks past; “So have you thought of baby names? Kayleigh and Mackayleigh, perhaps?” unsolicited, during Physics. You turn around to check on the culprit — because yes, Jongseong is the culprit here, you, a mere a victim — and when he notices you staring, nods at you as if to say, What’s your problem?, trying to look threatening in his white lab coat that’s three sizes too big and protective goggles.

It doesn’t help that Jongseong has a way of hovering around you. Even in classes in which your teachers assigned the seats for you, he’s never far from your seat. The two of you sit next to each other in German, your last class every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. But today, the seat next to you is empty—what would’ve been a cause for celebration just yesterday is now a source of worry. You’d seen him just two hours ago in your previous class together, so where the hell was he now? He’s lucky that your teacher is an old German lady who always spends the first ten minutes of the lesson rambling about something in dialectal German no one understands but nods along to anyway. When he walks into the room, five minutes late, she just says, “Hallo, Jay,” and continues with her story. It’s about her first school trip to Berlin when she was fifteen and the country was still divided. You think.

He winks at you when he takes his seat and you roll your eyes. You pretend to listen to your teacher for thirty seconds, then hit him gently with your elbow. “Where were you?” you ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t answer immediately, probably surprised you initiated a non-hostile conversation with him for once. “I was just hanging out with my friends, something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

And your friends wondered why you hated him?

“Still having imaginary friends at eighteen is really concerning, Jongseong. You should see someone about it.”

When you glance at him, he’s already looking right at you, smiling. You’ve never felt so conscious of your side profile.

“Why? Were you worried?” he whispers, kicking your foot with his.

You look at him, horrified—where the hell had he gotten that idea? How was he so spot-on? You scoff, trying to diffuse the tension inside yourself. “No.”

He kicks your foot again. “I was five minutes late and you started to worry?”

“No. Stop.”

“I didn’t know you cared about me so much, Y/N.”

This time, you give him a harsh look, one that lets him know you really mean your words—“Stop it.” Finally, he relents, getting the assigned homework out now that the teacher has actually started the lesson. Your face softens—he looks hurt. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings.

Despite what you might say, you like the way things are with Jongseong. If some people always need to be crushing on someone, you always need to have someone you perceive as an enemy—it was Na Jaemin in elementary school, because he’d once made fun of your incapability to climb the monkey bars; Shin Ryujin, in middle school, for kissing your crush during a game of spin-the-bottle at your own birthday party; Park Jongseong, since freshman year, for simply existing. Your reasons for disliking him are trivial, you’ll admit. You weren’t sure you could even place a finger on what had first triggered your disdain towards him—one too many awful jokes, one too many times raising his hand in class and rattling off a perfect answer, then looking around himself proudly, one too many roars of laughter heard throughout the entire cafeteria. The fact that no one else seemed to be bothered by him only added to your aggravation. He just got on your nerves, and it seemed that you openly showing your dislike of him — him, who was so used to being loved by everyone around him, pampered by his family, praised by his teachers, popular among his peers — was enough to make him dislike you, too. So, after a few failed attempts at trying to be your friend, because Jongseong was unable to not be friends with everyone he met, he didn’t simply give up.

If he couldn’t be your friend, then fine, he’d be your enemy.

At least, that’s how it appears to you, still now. It’s never gone dangerously far, but if there’s an opening to tease you or get on your nerves, he’ll do it. Not passing you the ball during soccer, or conversely, only aiming for you during dodgeball, not sharing his textbook with you when you forgot it unless you beg, loudly clearing his throat when you speak in class. And, lately, pouring salt on your wounds in the form of reminding you how impossible you and Jake Sim are. His motto must be if there’s a will, there’s a way. And when it comes to making your life hell, his will is infinite.

Everything is upside-down now. The question of how your relationship can possibly go from this to that obsesses you. It feels like you’re more capable of sharing a funeral, dying at each others’ hands, than a wedding.

“Jong, your textbook.”

He squints at you. “Funny how I’m Jongseong when you hate me, Jong when you need a textbook,” he says, sliding his book closer to himself.

“It’s not my fault your name is a mouthful,” you retort, trying to pull it back to the middle of the table, but he’s quicker than you.

“Then maybe you should call me Jay, like everyone else on Earth.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Now give it here. Please?” you ask, mustering your best smile. Any other teacher would’ve scolded the two of you by now, but Ms. Schumacher is peacefully going on about the importance of word order and punctuation in the German sentence, oblivious to her two students bickering in the back row. Jongseong usually never sits at the back of the classroom—only here.

He gives in, smiling back, but there’s something behind it, something that tells you nothing good is brewing in his brain. “Only because you’re so pretty.”

Normally, this kind of remark would’ve warranted a slap on the arm or an array of insults, but if today is anything, it is not normal. You look at him like you’ve been stung, visions of your not-dream coming to you in flashes like you’re the titular character on That’s So Raven—the affection in your husband’s eyes, the kindness in his words, the sincerity in his smile. Again, you’re left to wonder if this man is already taking root inside of the boy next to you, if Jongseong’s future capacity to love you presently exists in his heart.

Does your future capacity to love him already exist in your heart?

You watch as his smirk softens into a grin, your flusteredness and lack of a response clearly amusing him, then as he circles the exercises Ms. Schumacher is assigning for the lesson. She seems to have forgotten there was homework due—Jongseong will be sure to remind her of it quickly.

He kicks your foot again, tells you to focus. His ears have turned red.

You wonder if those capacities haven’t existed from the start.

As much as you love a good friends-to-lovers story, characters hiding their feelings out of fear of ruining the friendship have never failed to frustrate you — just tell her, you dummy, it’s obvious she likes you too — and yet, you’ve never related more than now.

Whatever it is that you and Jongseong have, you don’t want to lose it. It adds entertainment to your otherwise average life.

“Good thing she didn’t pick on you while we went over the homework, ‘cause you clearly put zero effort in. And I wouldn’t have helped you, even if you’d asked, by the way.”

You hum absent-mindedly as you put your notebook and pencil holder in your bag. Are you sure that these are even your feelings in the first place? Just because the well put a silly idea in your head doesn’t mean you have to believe it like it’s scripture. If what you saw is real, then it will happen in its own time. Things don’t have to start changing right this instant.

“Gosh, Y/N, what’s up with you today? You’re so boring,” Jongseong continues, following you out of the classroom.

“Just tired,” you reply. Wouldn’t it be unnatural if you were to radically alter the way you behave with Jongseong? Love should come about organically. Sure, his presence has always provoked some kind of reaction within you, but that’s usually been annoyance. Whether he’s stealing the fifth eraser you’ve bought that month or running on the soccer field, beads of sweat running down his temples, hair sticking out everywhere, victoriously smiling when his team scores—you’re annoyed. Whether he’s sticking up his hand higher than yours or going to the school dance with Ahn Yujin—you’re annoyed. When you learned that she’d been his neighbor since infancy and that she had a boyfriend, who went to another school and only trusted Jongseong to take her to the dance, you were still annoyed—this time at yourself for feeling even the tiniest bit relieved that nothing was going on between them.

And this — his quick steps trying to keep up with yours, his dumb story about yogurt coming out of Heeseung’s nose today at lunch when they were laughing too hard — yes, you’re still annoyed. But you realize you’re not annoyed at him.

You’re annoyed at how he makes you feel.

“Y/N?” he says, but you’re too deep in your thoughts, only vaguely registering the sound until he repeats it, louder this time, and grabs your hand, making you abruptly stop walking. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice. “You’re barely listening to me. I mean, it’s not like you usually really do, but you’d have told me to get lost, like, five minutes ago now…”

He chuckles self-deprecatingly, but despite his words, you’re focusing on something else yet again. His hand on yours, his loose hold on your fingers. Your brain is yelling at you—hold his hand, hug him. It’s like there are still traces of the 28-year-old version of you you visited yesterday, urging you to behave like her and not 18-year-old you.

So, the well had let you know that you need not look much further to find what you wanted. Here it is, in the form of a boy you have convinced yourself you hated, and hated you, and yet, he’s holding your hand, asking you if you’re okay, worry knotting his eyebrows together.

Hold his hand. Hug him. Instead, you retract your hand, let it fall limply by your side. Jongseong’s eyebrows shoot up.

He’s so close, the supposed love of your life. You don’t know how to reach out to him.

For now, you smile. “Get lost, Jong.”

you guys how the hell do i act around jongseong now that i know our fates are romantically intertwined

kazuha i think not treating him like the number one public enemy would be a good start

you so what… be nice to him? how do i do that

sunoo oh my god y/n when she has to treat another person like a regular human being

you he’s not just another person!

sunoo okayyyyy i see you little miss repressed feelings

you i hate u

kazuha just don’t roll your eyes at everything he says anymore and don’t start arguments for no reason

you he’s the one who starts them… but okay i’ll try

“Let’s pair up for the reading analysis today. You can stay with your deskmate or pick a partner, I don’t mind as long as you get the work done. I’m talking about you, Chaewon and Yuri. This is English class, not a gossip session.”

The second your English teacher has finished speaking, Jongseong swivels in his chair. “Let’s partner up, Y/N?”

“What about me?” Jake asks, eyes darting back-and-forth between the two of you.

“You can partner up with Minju,” Jongseong replies, pointing to the girl he’s usually seated next to. “Look. You guys will be great together. Say hi, Minju.” Minju waves shyly at Jake, braces on display as she smiles ecstatically. It’s not everyday that she gets to talk to one of the most popular guys in school.

Jake reluctantly switches seats with him, glancing back at you and Jongseong who just grins at him, fake friendliness plastered on his lips, until he turns around again. Your new partner’s smile softens and reaches his eyes when he looks at you. “Hi.”

You have to look away—you feel your face burn under his gaze. “Hi, Jong.”

He tilts his head. “What? Do you hate me so much that you can’t even look at me now?” he asks, and you can’t tell whether he’s joking or genuine.

You frown. “I don’t hate you.”

“Oh? That’s a recent development.”

“I guess,” you mumble after a few seconds. Is it really? You suddenly can’t remember if you ever really hated him, or if you’d exaggerated your own feelings.

His smile widens. “Well, good. I mean, you were going to have to realize at some point that I really am funny, smart, endearing, handsome-”

“Back to hating.”

“Let’s start the assignment.”

You agree on reading the passage first, but you realize halfway through that not a single word has been absorbed. “Hey. Why did you switch seats with him?” you ask, whispering so as not to be overheard.

Jongseong shrugs. “I thought you wouldn’t want to work with him, considering…”

“Right.” You’re silent again, but only for a bit. “What’s it to you?” you mumble.

He scoffs. “Sorry for trying to be considerate.”

“That’s not—”

“Let’s just focus on this.”

His sudden coldness vexes you. You know you should let it go — don’t start arguments for no reason, and all that — and you know it’s childish, but you can’t help yourself. You have certain reflexes you’re not particularly proud of when it comes to one Park Jongseong. “Let’s just focus on this,” you repeat, mocking his grumbling tone of voice and shaking your head like a puppet.

He glares at you. “Can you not act like a toddler for once?”

“Can you not be a dick for once?” you bite back.

“Y/N, Jongseong, I’m sure you’re having a fascinating conversation on the use of chiaroscuro in the text?” your teacher asks, a look of warning on his face.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, embarrassed.

“Yes, so much chiaroscuro,” Jongseong mumbles, resting his cheek on his knuckles. When the teacher has turned away, he kicks your foot. “See, you’re getting us in trouble.”

“Do you even know what chiaroscuro is?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the problem here. You are.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t-”

“Y/N, Jay, final warning.”

“Sorry,” you both say at the same time. With one last glare at each other, you finally get to work.

So your plan to start getting along with Jongseong isn’t in full-force yet. On the drive back home that afternoon, you reassure yourself that these things take time. When the moment is right, the two of you will grow closer.

But increasingly, it feels as though the right moment will never come.

Two months have passed since your visit to the well, and things between you and Jongseong have not changed. Not really, at least.

You still bicker like cat and dog — it goes without saying that you’re the cute puppy and he’s the heartless cat — and he gets as much on your nerves as ever, especially now that you know that the potential to be nice to you, to love you, even, exists somewhere inside him. Somewhere deeply hidden perhaps, but somewhere nonetheless. Of course, after telling yourself that what must come will come of its own accord, you haven’t done much to change the dynamic between the two of you. But if you used to see your retaliations against him as necessary to your survival, you now find some sort of enjoyment in them—some might call it Stockholm Syndrome, you perceive it as a step in the right direction. You’ve followed one of Kazuha’s pieces of advice: you don’t roll your eyes at him anymore, simply because you don’t feel the need to. You argue with him with a smile on your face, his attempts at insulting or annoying you have started to make you laugh.

He doesn’t say anything but seems to gladly welcome this change. If you get a lower grade than him on a test, he doesn’t try to stick the knife in further, but genuinely offers to go over it with you later. If you give in after two hours of tearing your hair out over a German exercise and text him for help, he doesn’t make fun of you. If he says something particularly arrogant or makes a really bad joke, all you need to do is give him a look, and he’ll mumble an apology.

Could it have been like this the entire time? you wonder, watching him across the schoolyard as he and Heeseung hunt for Pokémon. Just a couple months ago, you would’ve scrunched your nose at the sight, making fun of him for his childish interests. Now, you notice the way he laughs, audible all the way to where you sit with Kazuha and Sunoo, the way he jumps excitedly and points at things only he and his friend see, and all you feel is endearment.

“Look at you, look at that,” Sunoo says as he hits you on the forehead with his metal spoon, startling you. He tuts. “You’ve got love dripping from your eyes, sweetie.”

“Sunoo, that’s disgusting.”

“Love? I know.”

“No, your spoon. Your saliva’s all over that,” you say, and all he does is eat another mouthful of his yogurt while staring wide-eyed right at you. When you look back at Jongseong, he’s high-fiving Heeseung. You wonder which creature he’s caught now. In the library yesterday, he spent thirty minutes showing you every single one he had captured so far instead of revising for the upcoming Physics test.

“Yeah, we know you’d like someone else’s saliva more,” Kazuha chimes in, and the two of them snort.

“It’s not like that,” you say, biting into an apple slice.

“Oh yeah? What’s it like, then?” Kazuha asks.

“We’re… becoming friends,” you say, but you’re not sure who you’re trying to convince more.

“Y/N, I’ve had to watch the two of you giggling to yourselves in the library one too many times to believe you’re friends. I know your homework’s not that funny,” Sunoo argues.

“Friends can giggle with each other!” you exclaim, but your friends are inflexible.

“I would tell you to get yourself together if you giggled at me like that,” he says.

“I saw you twirl your hair the other day,” Kazuha adds.

“I never—When?!”

She shrugs. “The other day.”

You deflate, crushed under your friends’ accusations. “I wouldn’t twirl my hair…” you mumble. You decide to busy yourself with your apple slices, not even bothering to find out what Kazuha and Sunoo start snickering and elbowing each other about.

“Hey,” a familiar voice greets, making you look up. Jongseong smiles at you and steals an apple slice from your tupperware as he sits down next to you, Heeseung across from him.

“Hi, Jong,” you say, sitting up straighter. You offer a piece of fruit to Heeseung but he declines, saying he doesn’t like apples without peanut butter.

In front of you, your friends exchange a look, and you’re immediately terrified of what they’ll do next. Leaning in, they place their elbows on the table, and Kazuha starts them off. “Jay, you and Y/N know each other pretty well, right?”

Jongseong glances at you, eyes wide. “Uh, sure.”

“Have you ever noticed her, say, twirling her hair?” Sunoo asks, tilting his head innocently at the poor boy by your side.

You’ve never seen him look so confused. “Um, yeah, she does that when she’s concentrating on something, sometimes…”

They lean back. “Huh,” Kazuha says, studying Jongseong’s face.

“Interesting. Very interesting,” Sunoo says, slowly nodding.

You glare at your friends. “See, that’s different,” you tell them. “I was concentrating on something, not doing… whatever you guys had in mind.”

Jongseong looks at you. “What did they have in mind?”

You answer before either of them can dig your grave any deeper. “Nothing. It’s nothing. We were just having a stupid conversation.” You muster your most convincing smile, and the subject is finally dropped.

No one says anything for a few moments, until Heeseung decides to speak up: “You should’ve seen Jay earlier, Y/N. He caught this super rare version of Pikachu earlier, it was awesome.”

“Dude…” Jongseong murmurs.

“What?” Heeseung asks, his enthusiasm quickly dissolving into confusion. Jongseong just shakes his head. Thankfully for all of you, the bell rings then, and you head to class. The three of them walk in front of you while you and Jongseong fall back a step.

“Why were you guys sitting outside? It’s freezing today,” he asks you. Walking side-by-side like this, you can’t help but notice the inches he has over you, the broadness of his shoulders in comparison to yours.

“They turned the heat way too high in the cafeteria, so we came outside for some fresh air,” you explain. He’s right, the air is chilly today—it’s a few days into December, and the temperatures have been accordingly low.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Your heart skips a beat. One of the side effects of not being at each other’s throat anymore was that you got more and more often to be privy to this side of Jongseong—attentive, considerate, kind. What you once thought were his moral attempts at not being so mean to you all the time, you found out was actually his real nature. He wasn’t a prick who was sometimes nice, he was a nice person who turned into a prick with you. Whether the fault lay on him or you was another debate.

“No, I’m alright,” you say, but your body decides to betray you and makes you sneeze three times in a row.

“Bless you,” Jongseong says, laughing. “Here.” You try to stop him, pushing his hands away, but he takes his gloves off and forces them in your palms.

“I’m going to be inside for the next four hours, Jong, I’ll be fine. Keep them.”

“No, it’s okay. Just so you can warm up quicker.”

You eventually give in, putting the gloves over your hands, laughing at the extra fabric that hangs off the tip of your fingers. But when you look at Jongseong’s now-bare hands, something catches your attention. Stopping in the hallway, you grab one of them, examining the cuts on his knuckles. “You need to wear hand cream, Jong, your hands are too chapped.”

He lets you turn his hand over, smooth over his skin, do the same thing with his other hand. “Men don’t wear hand cream,” he says, a grin on his lips.

You burst out laughing. “I think that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Seriously, though, I don’t like the way it feels. Too sticky.”

“You just need to get a quick-absorption one.” Then, you make the terrible mistake of looking up from his hand and meeting his eyes—you gasp silently, his gaze and soft smile transporting you right back to that night, the images of 28-year-old and 18-year-old Jongseong mixing into each other, becoming indistinct from each other. Your gaze drifts down to his lips — chapped, too, when they’re usually plumper, rosier — and his hand, still in yours, balls into a fist. The second bell rings and you both take a step back, eyes meeting again for a brief moment before looking down at the floor. With uncharacteristically shy, embarrassed words of parting, you make your separate ways to your next classes.

“That was beautiful, Y/N,” Sunoo says, waiting for you by the door, and you walk past him without so much as a glance.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

sunoo jay and y/n almost kissed earlier

kazuha WHAAAAT

you KIM SUNOO.

kazuha WHEN?????

sunoo right before class after the lunch break y/n was sooo embarrassed afterwards lol

you we did NOT almost kiss you’re talking out of your ass

kazuha i can’t believe i missed this fml

you YOU DIDNT MISS ANYTHING NOTHING HAPPENED

sunoo be serious u guys we’re standing inches apart

you were* and no we weren’t

sunoo oh stfu it was autocorrect i saw it w my own eyes y/n… you WERE literally holding his hand and staring into those beautiful eyes of his

kazuha sunoo…?

sunoo what can’t a man acknowledge another man’s objective attractiveness if i was y/n i would’ve folded the moment i saw him

you literally one of the first times he talked to me was to make fun of my handwriting

sunoo yeah he’s on his tsundere shit i fw it

you …

sunoo anyways zuha you shouldve seen it when the bell rang they practically leaped away from each other and u didnt know what to do w yourselves afterwards likeeee it was so obvi what you both were thinking of

kazuha cuuuute

you i resent these accusations.

sunoo istg if u dont kiss him next time i will

kazuha ???

you SUNOO?

sunoo WHAT

Something happens a few days before the start of winter break.

Ms. Schumacher is absent, gone off to Germany to visit her family there—she has enough seniority in the school that they let her abandon her responsibilities as a teacher once in a while. A week is too short a period of time for them to bother finding a substitute. It’s usually your last class of the day, but you have to wait around for your dad to be done working, so while most of your classmates have gone home early, you sit with about six other people in the unsupervised study room, absent-mindedly jotting down tid-bits of dialogue for your new story idea, too preoccupied with Jongseong’s absence to really pay attention to anything else. It’s fifteen minutes after the hour, but he’s nowhere to be found, although you know for a fact that he takes those weird Molecular Gastronomy cooking classes your Chemistry teacher offers for extra credit every Thursday after school, so he should be here. And anyways, if he’d gone home, he would’ve texted you something like, Have fun sitting around for an hour, I’m gonna go do awesome stuff with Heeseung, even if awesome stuff meant playing Mario Kart or drinking Sprite and holding a two-person burping contest.

You’re so engrossed in your own thoughts that you pay no mind to the sudden ding of a phone in the room, followed by some gasps and heated whispers. The exchanged words go through one ear and out the other—There was a fight? In the locker rooms? It must be bad if they were sent to the nurse before the principal… Huh? Over who? So he took both of them on? Damn, I didn’t know Jay got like that. He seems so well-behaved.

Your head whips up at the mention of your friend’s name. “Jay? Did something happen to him?” you ask out loud, the whispers dying down immediately as everybody stares at you.

Gaeul, who was in your class last year, is the only one who answers you. Holding up and waving her phone, she says, “They say he got into a fight.”

Jongseong? A fight? It sounds like a practical joke. He admitted to you he once started crying watching Heeseung playing Call of Duty, it was so violent. You shake your head. “He-he did? With who?”

Gaeul and the girl next to her exchange a concerned, almost guilty look. “Jake and Sunghoon.” The crease between your eyebrows deepened. You don’t need to ask anything else before she adds, “They’re at the nurse’s station. It sounds pretty bad…”

That’s enough for you to leap out of your chair and run to the nurse’s station. It seems the news has spread impossibly quickly among your year group—even Kazuha and Sunoo are already blowing your phone, asking you if you’ve heard, if you know how Jay is. You ignore them, reminding yourself to text them back later, until one message from Sunoo in particular catches your attention: It apparently started because Sunghoon said something about you, Y/N. They’re saying Jay got angry.

The nurse is busy on the phone when you get there, her back to the entrance, so you’re able to slip in unnoticed. You head to the adjoining room where the beds are, all three of them taken—you walk by Sunghoon first, his arms crossed over his chest and pointedly not looking at you, then by Jake, who calls out your name. You glare at him and pull on the white plastic curtain that separates his bed from Jongseong’s. They’re already going to hear you, you don’t need them seeing you on top of that.

Jongseong sits up with a grunt when you appear at the end of his bed. The sight of him makes your stomach flip, and not in a good way, for once—his left eye is swollen and circled by a deep purple bruise, shiny with ointment, there’s a cut on his cheek, his lower lip is busted, his right hand is wrapped in bandages. “Oh my God,” you whisper as you help him up, voice breaking. He stares at his hands, jaw locking when you gently place one palm on his good hand, the other on the side of his face, moving it this way and that so you can take a better look at his injuries. He winces, and you let go, resting your hand on his shoulder instead. “What the hell got into you?” you whisper vehemently, unable to decide if you’re worried or angry or both as tears form in your eyes.

He tries to shrug, but even that seems to hurt. “Don’t shrug, Jongseong, tell me what happened.”

“I’m Jongseong again now?” he says, attempting a smile, but only one corner of his lips rises.

You sigh. Even in this state, he has to be a smart-ass. “You’re Jong when I need a textbook, Jongseong when you get into stupid fights,” you reply, and he smiles wider but immediately winces, hand coming up to the cut on his lip. You notice that his hand is still riddled with cracks, and whether they’re due to their dryness or to this fight doesn’t matter—”Wait here,” you say, and go rummage through some drawers for plasters. “She forgot some spots.” You feel Jongseong’s eyes on your face as you patch him up to the best of your abilities.

“I don’t want to tell you what happened. I’ll do the job of hating these idiots for the both of us, so don’t concern yourself with them,” he says, apparently not caring that the idiots in question can hear his every word.

He keeps his promise—you never hear another word from him about the cause of the fight.

Later, you find out through other means, namely Sunoo’s questionably remarkable ability to unearth any and all gossip, that in the locker rooms after Phys Ed, someone had started Jake on the topic of Yunjin, who had been recently revealed as his girlfriend. They’d apparently kept it secret because it was just fooling around at first, and only later had gotten serious enough for them to parade around the school as the couple.

It had been an unremarkable conversation until Jake said, “You guys know Y/N from our class? She saw us in the staff parking lot once, and I was sure we’d be busted then. But she didn’t tell anyone.” And just like that, the conversation turned to you, someone who was usually never a topic among these boys, jocks, soccer players, “the kind of people who peak in high school and still have a superiority complex at forty,” as Sunoo describes them.

He has a harder time explaining what happened next, can’t quite look you in the eye as he recounts what was said. “So, this is what they say, apparently someone said that you used to be obsessed with Sunghoon, then with Jake, and Sunghoon said you… Well, he said you were pathetic, that asshole, and that you had been so easy to lead on, then Jake joined in, saying the same things, basically, how funny it was seeing you so obviously in love with him when he would never give you a chance…” He looks at you worriedly, but you tell him to go on. “And so that’s when Jay got up and just straight-up punched Jake in the face. And while Jake was trying to figure out what happened, Jay punched Sunghoon, and then they both got on him, pushing him, but when he wouldn’t stop throwing punches, they started fighting, too. I think they all got some good ones in before the other boys were able to break them apart and the P.E. teacher arrived…”

But that would be later. Now, sitting with Jongseong in the nurse’s station, tears falling onto the plasters you place on his hand, nothing matters but him. You don’t need the details—he’s hurt, he got hurt over you, you feel as though every cut on his body may well have been done by your own hand. You’ve never felt so guilty for something you didn’t do. Your voice trembles when you speak; you’re unable to look at him, at his busted eye. “I just don’t want you to get hurt for me.”

Without missing a beat, he says, “What else would I get hurt for?”

You can only meet his eyes for a split second. Even like this, he manages to look at you with the same softness that has haunted you since the night you met 28-year-old Jongseong, that has rendered all thoughts of anything other than him meaningless since the day your gaze drifted down to his lips just weeks ago. “Jong…” is all you can mutter as you look down at your hands holding each others’, your lips trembling.

He raises his bandaged hand, still not used to his dominant side being ineffective for now, then lowers it when he realizes. Clumsily, he pats your hair with his left hand. “Don’t cry, please…”

Jake’s head pops out from behind the curtain. “Y/N, I’m really sorry—”

“Not right now, man,” Jay quickly interrupts. Jake pathetically disappears behind the curtain again.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again.”

“Y/N…”

“Promise me,” you say, more demanding this time, sticking out your pinky finger. Jay, hesitant, looks between your outstretched finger and your face a few times, but eventually gives in.

The nurse, upon coming to check on the boys, catches you with Jongseong and chases you out immediately. You sulk back to study hall, where everyone’s head perks up the moment you walk in. “They’re okay,” you reassure vaguely, and unenthusiastically answer their many questions. It’s only a few minutes until the bell rings, and you’re free to go then.

jong so… guess who got a five-day suspension

you you idiot what did your parents say?

jong they’re not happy i have to do all the household chores for a month

you boo-hoo

jong not sure why i came here thinking i’d get some comfort…

you … are you feeling better?

jong a little bit the nurse gave us some really strong painkillers but i’m okay because there’s a pretty girl that’s going to drop off the homework for me after school every day :)

you oh did you ask chaewon to do that?

jong um no i was talking about you ..if that’s okay

you haha i know i just wanted you to say it straight up

jong ykw maybe i should just ask chaewon

you i’ll see you tomorrow jong!!

jong :) see you tomorrow pretty

The months that separate your return to school and graduation come and go in the blink of an eye. Jongseong can’t come to school the last day before the holidays or the first four days after, and he’s grounded in-between. Things change bit by bit with every day you visit him—To give him the homework, you tell his parents, although there isn’t much to do when the semester isn’t in full swing, and you could’ve easily sent him pictures. The first time, you spend more time scouring the pictures and trinkets in his room than actually talking to him, and awkwardly give him a half-hug when he tells you he won’t be able to hang out at all during the break before practically running out of his house, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute from the innocent contact. By the fourth time, you lie together on his bed and talk about your plans for college, your hands sitting centimeters apart on the navy sheets. You haven’t dared touch his hand since that day in the nurse’s station.

You’re window-shopping with Kazuha when you spot the hand cream you had seen yourself gifting Jongseong in your well-given vision. Buying it is one thing, actually giving it to him is another, an awkward, stuttery situation in which the wrapping done by the store employee suddenly seems over-the-top and out-of-place. But Jongseong seems to like it—it’s the last day of his suspension, his black eye is now a yellow-ish color, he can smile without risking splitting his lip in two. He applies it immediately, tells you he’ll make sure to wear it every day until the end of winter. You find yourself wishing there was something you could give him for every season so he wouldn’t go a day without thinking of you. When you leave, he bashfully thanks you for making sure he doesn’t fall behind and says he’s excited to see you at school the next day. You hardly know what to do with yourself, so you squeak out a “me too” and slip out the door.

His first day back is a Friday. It starts with Mathematics, a class in which you sit by each other. You remember the first week of classes when Kazuha and Sunoo had ran to sit with each other, expressly because they knew that if he saw you were sitting alone, he’d take the seat next to you, just to better torment you all year. You’d resented it then; it couldn’t make you happier now. Your body is humming with nervous energy, your foot tapping relentlessly against the tiled floor. When he appears in the doorframe, you wave at him as if he’d forgotten his seat in three weeks of absence. His elbow brushes against yours as he sits down.

Between the two of you, friendship blossoms over these months. To the detriment of everyone around you, you continue to bicker as you always have, but it’s now clearly done out of habit, out of affection, even, than out of actual dislike of each other. He and Heeseung slowly integrate your small group of three, and before you know it, it feels as though there have always been five of you. Together, you welcome spring.

In January, to thank you for helping him to pick out his mom’s birthday present, Jongseong treats you to some tteokbokki, which you said you’d been craving all week. He orders the spiciest one, then has to take a sip of water between every bite. You laugh at his teary eyes and red face while you devour the bright red rice cakes easily.

In February, he makes a show of giving you and Kazuha and Heeseung and Sunoo some homemade chocolates, saying it’s a friend thing. You find out that evening that the others each have five in their box—there are twenty in yours. It’s one of the things that makes you second guess what sort of feelings he has for you. For years, you’ve been convinced he harbored strong feelings of disdain for you; now, he seems to enjoy your friendship. You’re scared to read too much into anything, because if Jongseong is well-liked throughout school, it’s for a reason: he’s nice. To everyone. Even to you, too, nowadays. But if nice is giving five chocolates, what is giving twenty?

A sudden realization hits you in March—Jongseong appears at your door, drenched from the rain, a bag of your favorite snacks in hand. “You weren’t at school today. I had to find out you were sick from Kazuha,” he says as if she was a random classmate of yours and not your best friend, as if he should be the first to know about these kinds of things. Your mom rushes him in, finds him so charming in the five minutes they converse that she decides he should stay over for dinner, and as you watch him laughing with her, you think, I haven’t thought of 28-year-old Jongseong in ages. I’ve only thought of you. And although you can trace the start of your feelings to that dream-like experience you had, you can now say with confidence that it’s not the only reason for them.

College application results come out in April, right on his birthday. The five of you celebrate together at an American-style diner, gorging yourselves on crispy bacon and chocolate chip pancakes. Kazuha is going back to Japan, almost a decade after moving to South Korea—”I’m gonna miss you guys, but I miss takoyaki and my grandma more right now.” Heeseung has been accepted into the Engineering department at the country’s top university. You, Sunoo and Jongseong are all heading to the same place: you for Screenwriting, which you’ve known since you were one of the winners of the scholarship contest last October, Sunoo for Communications, whatever that is, and Jongseong for European History and Literature with a minor in German, that freak. It’s a good university, and it’s not far from home. The way Jongseong tells you about his acceptance sticks with you: he doesn’t say, They accepted me, too, or, I’m going to the same university as you. He says, We’ll be together.

May is filled with afternoons at the park when you should all be studying for exams. Your mom keeps asking when she’s going to see “that wonderful boy” again. Your friendship with Jongseong has given him new ways of teasing you—after four years of near-kleptomaniac tendencies, he’s finally stopped stealing your erasers and has instead started to let his gaze linger on your face, to call you pretty when you least expect it, to tuck your hair behind your ear. You hate it most when he asks you whether there’s something from your romance novels or movies that you want him to recreate. “Is there a field big enough nearby that I can walk through at the break of dawn, Mister Darcy-style?” he’ll say, or “I’ve always wanted to try that upside-down kiss from Spider-Man. It’s a classic, really.”

Summer comes early in June. You need to bring a two-liter water bottle and a hand fan to your exams, and you’ve never felt such relief as when it was all over. After endless pictures with your parents and siblings, just your parents, just your siblings, then Kazuha and Sunoo, together, then separately, then with Heeseung and Jongseong as well, Kazuha forces you and Jongseong together, watching with a smile as he shyly wraps an arm around your waist and you awkwardly throw up a peace sign. It’s your first picture of just the two of you.

In July, you and Jongseong unlock a new first: saying goodbye. He’s leaving to stay with his American family as he does every summer. You show up at his house the day before at four p.m. “to help him pack,” you say, but it’s Jongseong, and he finished packing two days ago. So instead, you sit on his desk chair, he on his bed, and you fight back tears. “You’re coming back, right?” you ask, like he’s leaving to go to war and not Seattle. Amusement and affection flicker in his eyes. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t throw four more years of being a pain in your ass away, would I?” he says, and you smile, because you know it’s going to be much more than four years.

But he doesn’t just leave you with a few nice words. Avoiding your gaze, he hands you an envelope. Inside is a single ticket, a two-month membership for your city’s arthouse cinema that you can only go to when they have student deals or when your parents have had enough of your begging. You can’t even begin to imagine how much this must’ve cost. “Jong…” you murmur, in awe at the thin slip of paper between your hands. “This is incredible. Thank you so much.”

Jongseong looks down at his feet, fighting a smile as he kicks the invisible rocks that obviously litter the floor of his bedroom. “I thought you’d get bored without me around, so, that way you can entertain yourself, I guess… And if you run into any film bros next year, you’ll have seen as many pretentious movies as them.”

You burst into laughter then, and, without thinking, wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him over and over again. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around your waist and says it’s no big deal.

As you walk down the path from your house, he calls out your name. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says.

You smile. “Never.”

So, he’s not here for summer. Kazuha is working in her parents’ ramen restaurant to make some money before leaving, even Heeseung leaves two weeks into July for Seoul to visit some relatives there and get accustomed to life in the big city. You only get to laze around with Sunoo, but even he eventually leaves for his grandparents’ house by the sea, making you promise you’ll come visit him at some point, otherwise he’ll “die of boredom.”

It’s August now, and your brain and body alike buzz with restlessness. You go to the cinema almost every day, making the best of your subscription. If you’re not going around your house looking for spider webs with your vacuum cleaner, you’re riding random bus lines and discovering parts of your town you’ve never set foot in before. If you’re not making your way through your never-ending pile of unread books, you’re creating your own stories, finally taking the time to properly outline and draft the one-line ideas you’ve had sitting in your Notes app, preparing yourself for the start of your degree. Your mind is taken up with love stories. From Romeo & Juliet to Dirty Dancing to Book Lovers, you can’t get enough of the genre. You become particularly obsessed with stories involving time travel, rewatching After Time and Lovely Runner like they contain some precious knowledge. By the end of the month, you’ve turned your life into an eight-episode TV series—a desperate girl makes a wish on a star only to discover she is fated to marry the one boy she hates most. You know you’d watch that. You send Sunoo and Kazuha the pilot, and after calling you insane numerous times but also heaping on praises, Sunoo says this: lol your going through jay withdrawals.

It shakes you so much you’re not even compelled to message back you’re*.

But he’s not wrong. The more you let yourself admit it, the more you realize how true it is: you miss Jongseong. You text once in a while, you’ve even stayed up late talking on the phone a couple of times, but you miss him, his corporeal form, having his gaze on you, having the possibility but never the courage to touch him. Every day, there’s something you want to tell him about. The cats huddling around a young neighborhood kid as he pours milk into a bowl, the clearance sale at your local library, most books for one buck only, the actor from an 90s Hong Kong film you swear has the exact same smile as him. You don’t want to bother him, so you write letters instead. Some you send, some you don’t—the ones you keep hidden in your drawer usually hint too obviously at your feelings for him. Some of them don’t just hint and contain lines of your declarations: I miss you, everything I see reminds me of you, I want to check that your bruises have healed completely even though the last trace of them faded months ago. You keep these letters a secret, even from Sunoo and Kazuha, who would never let you live down such woebegone, down bad behavior.

You do it because it feels good, getting all of your feelings out on paper. You’re a romantic at heart, so you’re prone to over-exaggeration when it comes to things like these—but everything that you write remains based in truth. You’d started with a postcard of your hometown, jokingly writing, Don’t forget where you came from. How is it over there? and he’d actually replied with a postcard of his own, filling it from top to bottom. You easily went from these small postcards to multiple pages of stream-of-consciousness-like writing. You think it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done—although you’re not sure he feels the same way, considering he still writes to the German pen pal Ms. Schumacher had assigned him in your first year of high school. No one else’s correspondence had lasted more than four months because she’d immediately forgotten to make sure you kept in touch regularly.

I ran into Jake Sim at the city library, you write one day. You’ve replied to everything in his latest letter, so you’re now catching him up on your recent adventures. He was checking out some books about Linguistics, of all things—he bought me bubble tea afterwards and told me that the injury he got last April was actually a relief. Did you know his father was a big name in soccer here? Apparently, he never wanted to be a soccer player that badly, and he wants to do Linguistics and Social Anthropology, who would’ve guessed it. He’s like Troy Bolton if High School Musical was about Humanities and not singing. Anyways, you probably don’t want me to go on and on about him, so I won’t, but we did talk about that fight you guys had back in December. He apologized for it, to you and me both, although he didn’t go into much detail — Sunoo is still the only one who’s had the balls to tell me exactly what happened, and he wasn’t even there! — and I was reticent at first, but he seemed genuine. He said he didn’t even hang out with Sunghoon or Yunjin or any of those people anymore, that it was only out of convenience really, and that he hopes starting university will be like turning over a new leaf. Well, he could be full of shit, who knows. As I sat there listening to him I wondered what it was I used to see in him. He’s nice enough, but we only spoke about him for the entire hour. He asked me no questions that weren’t “and you?” so it was a bit exhausting.

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you.

You look at your words, smiling to yourself—this is one of the times where you find yourself erring from the topic at hand, instead indulging in sappiness and nostalgia. You write about how your opinion of Jongseong has changed over these months, how it wasn’t seeing him as your husband in all those years that had really shaken things up, but rather that day in the nurse’s station, the frightening colors around his eye, his attitude like it was natural that he would get hurt like this for you. You write, Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

“I’m going to the Post Office for a package soon, Y/N. Are you done with your letter?” your mom calls from the staircase landing.

“Give me five minutes!” you call back.

You forage through your drawer for a new sheet of paper and re-write your letter, making sure to leave any compromising parts out and fold both letters into neat squares—one that will cross the seas and reach Jongseong, one that will live out its days in the darkness of your crowded drawer. You’ve run out of envelopes, so you go look for one in your parents’ office. Your mom calls out your name again, impatient to leave — if she sends her package off before twelve p.m., it will get to the receiver tomorrow, and she’s hell-bent on getting perfect five-star Vinted reviews — so you hurriedly put your letter in the envelope, close it, stamp it, and write Jongseong’s name and address on the back. The other letter you absent-mindedly throw in your drawer with the dozens of other letters in which you’d crossed the line.

A few weeks later, like an apparition, Jongseong stands before you again.

He’s tanner from months under the Washington sun, from afternoons spent at his family’s lake house, on their boat. His hair is slightly shorter and suits him even better; you don’t recognize any of the clothes he wears. He grumbles as his mother goes back-and-forth between hugging him, staring at him worriedly and reminding him to call at least twice a week while his father unpacks the trunk. “I’ll only be a thirty-minute train ride away, Mom,” he says.

He’s still Jong.

You moved in yesterday, and you’re now waiting for your new roommate, who, after five minutes of deliberating whether she should bring a jacket or not and finally decided against it, changed her mind the minute she stepped outside.

It’s been two months since you last saw him. Shortly after sending your letter, you’d gone to stay with Sunoo’s grandparents for a week, just a day before he was set to come back from Seattle. Amid packing and other preparations, you haven’t had time to see each other. Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texted you. You replied that it wasn’t a problem, you told him which dorm you’d been assigned and found out his was the one next door.

When he notices you staring, he does a double-take. You wave at him, and even from this distance, you see the blush that creeps up his neck and takes over his face as he shyly waves back. You’ve never seen him like this—he’s always been either arrogant or friendly, never… flustered. He makes a motion as if to say, I’ll text you, and heads inside the building with his parents and all of his luggage.

Indeed, he texts you some hours later while you’re sharing a piece of strawberry and matcha cake with your roommate Liz, whom you find out is half-German—Jongseong and your dad would probably love her for that simple fact. Some of the first things she’d asked you were what your astrological signs were and whether you wanted her to pull tarot cards for you when she was all done setting up her side of the room. Between that and her dyed blonde hair, you’d felt comfortable telling her all about Jongseong, the well and your dream. Unlike your skeptical and sarcastic friends, she’d nodded along to your every word, a serious expression on her face. “A sign from the universe,” she’d called it, and she gasped in excitement when his name appeared on your screen.

He sends you a link to a freshers’ week event, some potted plant sale happening on the main campus square, and asks if you’re free to go with him tomorrow. I need something to liven up that depressing room, he writes.

So that’s how you find yourselves among green plants of all shapes and sizes, searching for one that’s both low-maintenance and appealing to the eye. You’re glad that you have something to actually do—if you were just sitting at a café and having a conversation, you’re not sure you’d be able to stand the awkwardness. You’d chalked up his behavior on the day of his move-in to nerves, or to surprise upon seeing you so unexpectedly. But apparently, it wasn’t a one-time thing. He keeps clearing his throat as if he were sick with some cold, won’t look into your eyes for more than split seconds at a time, and in complete opposition to his usual confident, deliberate speech, talks in a quick and disorderly manner. And he’s either really caught a cold, or his ears have just permanently turned red. You ask him if something’s wrong a couple times, but he violently shakes his head, says, “No, what could be wrong?” then looks at you as if you might tell him what’s wrong.

When you’re alone again, you wonder what on earth could have happened over the summer that could make him change his behavior with you so radically. Did something happen in Seattle? Maybe he met someone there and doesn’t know how to tell you. Maybe you went overboard with your letters, he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, he wants to let you down easy but doesn’t know how to tell you. Or maybe—maybe you got impossibly pretty during those two months, and absence does make the heart grow fonder, as they say, and every thought you have about him, he has about you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you.

In any case, he’s hiding something.

The theory that he might want to stop being friends soon falls flat—the invitations to other freshers’ events keep coming, be it free wine & pizza taster sessions from the Wine Society, karaoke nights with the Taylor Swift Society or a shark movie marathon with the Bad Film Society, and he never turns you down when you tell him there’s something you want to visit in this new city of yours, even when the thing you want to visit in question is a bakery you have to queue in front of at seven a.m. if you want to get a pain au chocolat. In your defense, they turn out to be the best ones you and Jongseong have ever tried—although, to be fair, neither of you has been to France.

Things progressively return to normal. He’s able to make eye contact for more than three seconds again, he listens carefully and laughs along when you tell him about your week by the sea with Sunoo, he fills you in on what Heeseung’s been up to. One thing remains different, however—when you throw quips at him, he usually would’ve delighted in coming up with a better, wittier response, but now, he’ll roll his eyes at best, look at you amusedly and stay silent at worst. “Won’t you even entertain me?” you ask him once, to which he replies that you’re doing a good job entertaining yourself as is.

Instead, he becomes more earnest. As per usual you badger him with questions like Aren’t I so pretty right now? or Isn’t my outfit so cute today? to get a reaction out of him, and if during your high school days he’d either fake a puking sound or look you up and down and grumble I guess, he now smiles and simply says Yes, you are, Yes, it is. It seems impossible to keep track of his attitude: one day, he’s one thing, the next, he’s another person entirely.

It annoys you. You take his changing demeanor to mean that now that he’s a college student, he won’t indulge in your childish squabbles anymore, as though he was above all of that now, when just three months ago he was stalking your parents’ Facebooks to find unfavorable photos of you from when you were thirteen and using them as reaction pictures in your friends’ group chat. You think of your graduation day, of the box he’d given you, all done up in wrapper paper and a bow—he had filled it with every eraser he’d stolen from you over the years, he’d even gone so far as to date every single one of them, from the second of October freshman year to the twenty-eighth of November of your senior year. You didn’t count them, but there had to be at least a hundred. At the time, you’d just thought it was funny—but what if the gesture had meant something deeper than you’d realized? What if he was marking the end of something with that box? No more playing around, we’re adults now. But classes have barely started, you don’t know your way to the off-campus library, you aren’t a different person to who you were just weeks or even months earlier. Why is he acting like he is? You look at him, and you see the boy whose fault it was you had to buy a new eraser every week—who knows how many books you could’ve bought with that money. But when he turns to look at you, too, and your eyes meet, you’re suddenly assailed with the memories of that night, the kind eyes, the soft smile.

Does his future capacity to love me already exist in his heart?

Your heartbeat speeds up and you have to look away.

From your letters, it seems to be much hotter back home than in Seattle—you talk of sunburns, of afternoons spent inside with the fan on maximum speed, of ice melting instantly and watering down your Coke Zeros, whereas Jay can walk around the city pleasantly and needs to bring a jacket if he’ll be out until late after sundown. And yet, as he reads your latest letter, his skin prickles feverishly, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He’d excitedly torn the envelope open the second it arrived in the mail, heart thumping as he counted the pages, at least three more than usual — he was always happy that you wanted to talk to him at all, so the fact that you had this much to tell him sent him over the moon — but he would have never expected what was awaiting him inside.

With a smile on his face, he read your replies to the questions he’d asked you last time, your reactions to everything he told you about, the live Mariners game, the lake house, the rides on the boat. He imagined you as you sat at your desk in your room he’d only seen once, when you’d held a small party for your birthday and he, having arrived first, was honored with a tour of your house. He imagined your smile, the way you played with your hair when you focused on something, wondered whether you pondered every word before you wrote it down as he did or whether you poured your thoughts out onto the page without hesitation. His smile faltered when Jake Sim’s name appeared in your neat handwriting, but he was relieved to find out your description of him now was miles away from the one at the start of the school year.

Then you start writing about him. Him, Park Jongseong, and your words startle him so much, it’s like he’d forgotten he was the recipient of this letter in the first place.

But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you.

He’s been lying comfortably in his bed, but he sits up the moment his eyes take in these words. If there is one topic the two of you have practically never broached, it’s this exactly: your relationship, the changes it’s gone through this past year. Except for a few mentions made in jest here and there, you’ve always conveniently ignored the fact that not so long ago, you were at each other’s throats. At least, you were at his throat, and Jay let you be, let you think the hatred went both ways, when in reality all he wanted was to keep you close one way or another. To him, anything was better than indifference.

But here you are, writing about how you feel about him, not in hints, not in jokes, but actually telling him black and white what goes through your head when you think of him—in other words, everything he’s been dying to know ever since he met you and especially ever since you started warming up to him a few months ago.

I have never told you about that night because I know it’ll just be more fodder for you to endlessly tease me, and I haven’t even mentioned it in these letters that I write and don’t send. Sometimes I debate the ethics of it—if I know something about our futures, isn’t it right that you know, too? But then again, I still hesitate whether what happened was real or not. As with anything, the more time passes, the more I forget about it. What kind of cheese you’d put on the pasta, the movie that played in the background, whether the stairs were carpeted or wooded—these details have evaded me by now. All I clearly remember is your face and how I felt, seeing it then, seeing it the next day at school, ten years younger, the same exact person in what felt like a different universe. As much as I tried to deny it, I know now that it was no coincidence—I was talking about it with Sunoo and he said that sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. He’s not always a dimwit. And he’s right, the kind of love I felt from you in that dream — or not-dream — I’ve yearned for it ever since I first watched Pride & Prejudice, the 2005 film to be precise, when I was ten. But with you? That was what I couldn’t believe at first. I don’t think I need to explain why—you were there, I think you knew how I felt about you for over three years, it’s not like I tried to hide it.

Then you turned up and the sight of you was enough to bring back all the feelings from that dream. You must’ve wondered why my behavior with you switched so suddenly—well, a glimpse into marital bliss is sometimes enough for a girl to make some changes in her life. Yet I valiantly tried to convince myself that any flutter of my heart around you was due to this stupid dream, to a version of you my brain had conjured up because it was starved for affection, and you happened to be at the forefront of my mind, even if not for the right reasons. But it was no use. I had entertained the possibility that this future was really mine, and I couldn’t go back to seeing you as the boy who annoyed the living daylights out of me.

But Jong, if you weren’t you, I would’ve been confused for a week and then I would’ve gotten over it. I stayed confused for a while, and everything you did only served to confuse me further. I started to notice you more, to see you for who you were and not for the idea I had constructed of you in my head, I stopped taking note of only the things that reinforced this idea. And that changed everything.

Let’s get it out of the way: as much as I hate to admit it because it proves you right, I saw that you are indeed devastatingly handsome. It devastates me every time I have to look at that stupid, wonderful face of yours. And if aging is something you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ve seen you at 28, and let’s just say that your jaw somehow only gets more chiseled. I’ve realized that you don’t just participate in class to be a prick — except for when you contradict me in Literature, I know you only do that to piss me off, and yes, it works — but that you actually care about what we learn and that you don’t want the teacher to feel like they’re talking to a classroom full of students made out of bricks. I’ve also realized that you didn’t specifically pick German to be the one subject where you must beat me at all costs, you just actually really like German, even if I’m still undetermined as to why. And I can finally admit to myself—you are funny. Sometimes. There were so many times I had to stop myself from laughing at one of your idiotic puns because I could not bear to give you the satisfaction. That feeling when the worst person you know makes a funny joke, and all that. And as much as I’ve mocked you for it, I do actually like your laugh. I like that you’re only loud when you laugh, or sneeze, or get excited over something. You don’t scream, you don’t get angry, and I think that’s a lot for a boy fresh out of puberty. Or for any boy, really.

But above all, you’re kind, Jong. I think it’s the best thing about you. I think it’s the best thing anyone can be. I see it in your patience with Heeseung when he starts one of his rants better reserved for Reddit than real life, I see it in the way you took Sunoo and Kazuha in stride, even though they’re a bit rough around the edges sometimes, I see it in the way you guide the freshmen at the start of every year, when all anyone does is complain about them, I see it in the gentleness with which you let down the girls who confess to you, even the more persistent ones. I used to think they were crazy, but I understand them more than ever now. I also used to think that all those kindnesses meant that the ones you occasionally showed me meant nothing more than that—occasional kindnesses. You were just a nice guy, occasionally so to me. But you sort of ratted yourself out when you gave me those twenty chocolates for Valentine’s.

Or, really, what made things clearer was that fight in December. I guess I was wrong—you do get angry. I remember a thought I had at the time: just when I think I know you, you do something to shake it all up. You punched two of the star soccer players of our school in the face because they said some mean, unimportant things about me. Thinking about it now, I still don’t understand it. Was it another one of your acts of kindness?

And then I thought of those other times you helped me out. Do you remember them—the art project, the handwritten notes after my grandma passed away, you tearing Park Sunghoon a new one in the girls’ bathroom. I’m sure there are many more that I’ve dismissed simply because I did not want to see you in any other light than the one I’d decided to shine on you.

Maybe I’m rewriting the past here, but I’ve been thinking about something lately. The theme today seems to be honesty, so I’ll lay myself bare and tell you something I haven’t told anyone yet, not even myself. The more I write, the more I become aware of its truth. I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. Maybe that’s why I kept buying erasers.

I don’t have the best memory — I suspect iron deficiency, it runs in my mom’s side of the family — but I do remember this. The first time I saw you. I haven’t noticed your face changing in real time, but I’m sure I’d laugh at how much of a baby you looked back then. Although I didn’t fare much better, I’m sure. Well, you’re the one that has all these embarrassing pictures of me, you freak, so I’m sure you could tell me. Moving on…

I found you really cute. You were chatting to the person next to you, maybe it was Heeseung, I didn’t look properly—I only looked at you. Don’t laugh at me. It was the first day of high school, there was a nervous energy in the air, but you seemed happy to be there. You know I don’t have hordes of friends like you do, I don’t walk through life with people naturally gravitating towards me. I’m okay with it now, but it was something I struggled with back then. Kazuha, Sunoo and I have had each other since our elementary days, and I never needed more than that—but fifteen is the prime age for comparison, and as the weeks passed and we got used to being high schoolers, I listened to everyone sing your praises, I watched as you talked with all of our classmates, even our teachers, like you were old friends. But we sat next to each other in a couple of classes, and you wouldn't talk to me outside of partnered work. I, who wanted to be easily charmed by you like everyone else was, who thought maybe you’d help me come out of my shell. But it felt like sitting next to me was torture to you, like the boy whom I watched speak with ease to everyone else disappeared when I was around. And so — and I’m not proud of this — every smart remark in class, every joke that had the entire class roaring, every high five you gave out in the hallway, I started to despise them. And by association, I started to despise you. After that, it was easy to find fault in everything you did, my contempt was only enhanced by everyone’s admiration. But I’m not alone here. It went both ways, didn’t it? I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. I don’t blame us for how we acted, only for taking so long to get our heads out of our asses.

(I have to say, I also have a thing for hating people. Remind me to tell you about Na Jaemin and Shin Ryujin one of these days.)

Anyways, I think it’s because I had liked you so much at first that I could then seemingly hate you so much. But I never hated you, Jong, not really. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. Can I take it all back now?

Now that we’re entering university soon, I can’t help but look back on high school. This is what I want to know, but I’m not sure I’ll ever have the courage to ask you, because if your answer is the one I suspect, I don’t know how I’ll handle all the regret in my heart.

Have I been wrong about you this whole time? I thought you harbored the same negative feelings towards me as I had you since the moment you’d laid eyes on me, but all of a sudden, here you were, bloody, bandaged hand holding mine. Even with your busted eye, you looked like an angel next to all that white in the nurse’s station. I’ll never forget your words that day. Would you really not get hurt for anything else, Jong?

Your letter abruptly ends here, no concluding remarks, no wishing him a fun time in Seattle and looking forward to his next letter, no sign-off. It was as if someone cut you off before you could say everything you wanted, but then why send him this seemingly unfinished letter? It is all the more bizarre since your letters are usually meticulous: you write on every other line, it looks like you take your time with every single letter, the only disturbance in your otherwise perfect handwriting is your going back-and-forth between cursive and script s’s. But this particular letter looks rushed, your lines are sloppy, some words need to be read a few times over to be understood. What kind of state had you been in, writing these words? Jay’s heart swells, thinking that you were as moved writing as he was reading. He even looks through your letter again, wishing to find a tear stain somewhere, but there are none. Maybe he’s been watching too many of these romantic period dramas you always go on about.

He has to pace his room when he’s done reading your letter, but he feels trapped inside these four walls, so he dashes outside, saying that he’s getting some air when his relatives ask him where he’s off to in such a rush, and walks around the block five times. When he’s back in his room, he rereads your letter, eyes taking in each and every word slowly and carefully, making sure he doesn’t misread anything.

You like him. You, Y/N, like him, Jongseong, it’s a fact, it’s real, you said so yourself, you went into quite some detail about it, he can’t believe it, but it’s real, it’s written right there on the page, if anyone dares tell him he’s fooling himself, he can prove them wrong, you’re the one who said it.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips for the rest of the day, he can barely eat, he’s already full of happiness. He reads your words over and over before falling asleep, committing them to memory, dreaming about them, about you.

You. How should he respond to this? Are you even expecting a response? You seem to know he’s not impartial to you, either, although that’s an understatement.

In the following days, the thought that you hadn’t meant to send him this letter nags at him. The abrupt ending, the absence of your usual Love, Y/N. The fact that this had come out of left field—none of your previous letters had even a romantic undertone, no matter how he tried in his own to hint at his missing you, the most reference to seeing each other again you would give him was It’ll be better to show you this in real life. The act of sending letters itself didn’t feel very platonic, but you never went there, so he didn’t, either. He had secretly yearned to have you this close all these years, he would never forgive himself if he ended up chasing you away now with his over-eagerness.

You had landed on something very real in your letter: I don’t think you liked that I didn’t like you and openly showed it, so used to being everyone’s favorite person you were. I remember how you showily tried to be nice to me after that, maybe you just wanted another friend, but I didn’t let you. He cursed his fifteen-year-old self, that idiot who couldn’t even speak to a girl no matter how much he wanted to, just because she was so pretty, he was afraid of saying something stupid and messing it up before it even had a chance to start.

On days when you’d had particularly nasty or petty arguments — it could get pretty bad, at the start, before you both started maturing and realized how ridiculous you were, especially with your classmates telling you to keep it classy — he’d stay up all night, wondering why you hated him so much in the first place, what on Earth he could’ve done to warrant such vitriol. Now, finally, he knew, and he could only resent the fact that no one had invented time machines yet, so he could nip his useless ego in the bud; so he could tell younger Jay not to take it personally, that you had your reasons for disliking him, that even if you hadn’t, the world won’t end if someone doesn’t like him like everyone usually does.

Because, he hates to admit, that was what had done it for Jay. He couldn’t stand that someone — not just someone, but one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen, a girl he’d been hyping himself up to talk to every day, but never found the courage to — didn’t immediately fall for his charms. And not just that, but even showed just how much she disliked him. You looked him up-and-down with disdain, made disgusted faces at his jokes, rolled your eyes when he spoke up in class. It made him burn with anger, but he also weirdly enjoyed it—at least, you were paying attention to him. So, he amped it up. Talked louder, laughed louder, hovered around you. He even stole your erasers, wrote the date on which he’d taken them, kept them in a box on his desk that he looked at every time he studied at home. He aimed to beat you in every class you shared, even though neither of you cared that much about grades—the annoyed look on your face when he boasted about the two points he’d gotten over you was enough satisfaction.

All in all, he behaved like a child, and you reciprocated in like.

Until you didn’t.

It was a random Tuesday when something in your attitude towards him shifted. It wasn’t a complete 180, but he noticed everything about you, so even a slight change of your tone was obvious to him. You started using your nickname for him more often than his full name—he never told you, but of course he loved that you didn’t call him Jay like everyone else, that you had your own way of addressing him. It was a sign to him that the two of you had something special, even if it was on the opposite end of the spectrum of what he wanted with you.

He again spent sleepless nights wondering what had caused this change: was it something he had done, or something within you? It was a welcome change, that much was sure, but he was initially too confused to take it in stride. He’d long made peace with the fact that he’d never have you the way he really wanted, so he was fine with whatever this was—but now, you were changing, your interactions were tinged with something like shyness, the distance between you felt greater than ever. He tried to keep up his smart-ass appearances around you, but you only indulged in your old habits once in a while, as though you had grown tired of arguing with him, even of giving him the time of day.

So he resolved himself to adapting his behavior to yours. If you stared at him intently like his face was a puzzle you were trying to solve, he let you, rested his head on his palm and smiled as he stared back at you. Finally, he had an excuse to look at you without you threatening to punch him or saying a picture would last longer. He knew they did, he’d had to resort to scrolling through Sunoo’s and Kazuha’s Instagrams to find any photos of you. Yours was private and at the time, you would’ve probably cursed him out if he’d sent a follow request. If you seemed too annoyed or upset over something, he’d leave you alone, he’d do something nice to let you know you didn’t need to have your guards up at all times around him. If you seemed to silently call for a truce of hostilities, he easily complied.

Then, after a few weeks, your petty arguments resumed, but those too were different—if before they felt filled with real disdain and irritation, they now seemed to be a comfortable habit to fall back on, almost like a fun hobby. Those, too, Jay readily welcomed.

And so things changed in a direction Jay had never thought would one day be possible. You gave him no explanations, nor did he ask for any, and soon he stopped losing sleep over the why’s and the how’s and simply let himself enjoy the fact that you now had the semblance of a friendship, that he could compliment you and pass it off as amical teasing, that he could learn things about you like what you spent your weekends doing, what your relationship with your family was like, whether you were a dog or cat person, whether you wanted to visit his farm in Stardew Valley.

Unsurprisingly, this only enhanced his already pathetically strong feelings for you. He worried over how to make sure this wasn’t some sort of 30-day friendship trial you had wanted to test out. He reveled in the fact that his top university of choice was the one you had already been accepted to. He now knew what it felt like to have you smile at him, smile because of him, and he never wanted again to live in a world where this was not a daily occurrence.

He now sort of has an answer—your letter doesn’t make it very clear, it makes him think again that you really had not meant to send it, but you seem to have had a dream. A dream of him, 28-year-old him, to be precise, of your life together—he’s not sure. At this point in time, he doesn’t care much, either. Whether it was a dream or a real vision of the future that you had, all that matters is that it allowed you to see him in a new light, a light which he had hoped for years would one day appear to you, and it had changed things. And now, you liked him.

You said so yourself.

He’s at a loss for words. He can’t concentrate for long enough to put all his thoughts in order, he can’t make himself calm down and write his feelings down. He has to pack to go home, once he’s home, he’ll have to pack for university. But it’s only two weeks from now to the day you meet again, and it’ll be better to say what he wants to say in person, anyway.

Is it okay if I respond to your letter in person? I think I’ll be too busy these two coming weeks, he texts you.

And then those two weeks pass like two seconds and you’re there, a few meters away from him. All the speeches he’d prepared in his head, from grand declarations of love to laid-back admittances of Yeah, I like you too, you’re cool, I guess, they all vanish from his head. For fourteen days he’s been going through scenarios upon scenarios of your reunion, what you’d look like, what he’d say, how you’d react. But now that he can actually see you, now that he would just have to walk a few steps if he wanted to touch you, hug you, kiss you — hoping that was something you wanted to do — he freezes. He forgets how his body works, the part in his brain that’s meant to manage language ability fails him. HIs mom calls him over, urging him into his new dorm building, and all he can do is wave back at you like an idiot.

When finally he musters the courage to text you, what he hopes will be the day that starts your romantic relationship turns into the day Park Jongseong realizes how much of a loser he is. For the first hour, he can’t look at you, he can’t get through a sentence without stuttering out half of his words, he runs out of things to say in record time. All he can think of is how easy it’d be to grab one of your hands, hold it in his and walk around this stupid potted plant sale as if the two of you were two halves of a whole. He doesn’t even want a potted plant, his roommate already has five, he just wanted an excuse to see you. He steals glances at you when you’re looking elsewhere, and he notices everything about you tenfold now that he can, now that caring about you doesn’t need to be in vain any longer. He tells himself that he just needs to calm down a bit, even when you have the confirmation that the person you’re about to confess to already likes you, revealing your feelings to someone is always nerve-wracking, the two of you haven’t seen in each other in a while, he’ll talk to you once his heart gets out of his throat.

But you’re acting normal. Suspiciously so. You’re acting like you never told him you liked him, like nothing has changed between you. He rereads your letter the second he gets back to his dorm. He’s not crazy, it’s written right there, I like you, Jong. I think I have for a long time, longer than either of us thinks. He knows the words by heart now, but he checks them anyway. So why are you acting like you never said anything? Had you really not meant to send that letter? Did Jay actually intrude on your private thoughts by reading words that had never meant to be seen by another soul?

You continue to behave as you usually would around him, but if he couldn’t go back to vicious bickering when things changed the first time, he can’t go back to friendly bickering now that things — for him — have changed a second time. He doesn’t even want friendly to be in your shared vocabulary anymore.

So he stops giving in. If you make fun of him, he just stands there with an unimpressed if amused look on his face. If you pedantically correct him on something, he just nods his head and accepts it. He can tell you’re bothered by it, but he needs to show you that he doesn’t want to go on being just friends with you—he wants to compliment you without having to pass it off as teasing, he wants to stare at you with hearts in his eyes without having to look away when you catch him, he wants to spend every waking second of every day with you, he wants to hold your hand, hold you.

He could wait for things to change slowly again, but why wait when he could help things along?

It’s nine p.m. on a Saturday and you’re sneaking Jongseong into your dorm. Liz is away for the weekend, gone back home to celebrate her aunt’s birthday, so you have the room to yourselves. It took some convincing to get him to come — What if we get caught coming in, What if your T.A. sees us, What if I get reported to campus police — and so when your verbal reassurances failed to work, you resorted to blinking up at him through your lashes and that did the trick.

Jongseong was in many ways unlike any other man you’d ever met; in some other ways, he was the exact same.

Plastic bag of the tteokbokki you’d asked for in hand, he looks around the deserted hallways like someone might jump out of nowhere and beat him to a pulp at any given moment. At this time of the week, everyone’s out partying or holed up in their dorms, presumably either to rest or because of a lack of friends so early on in the semester. You grab his free hand and hurry him along to the elevator—once inside, it takes you a few seconds before you realize you’re still holding it, and you retract your hand quickly while he just smiles.

You settle yourselves on the floor—comfort is not worth getting gochujang sauce on your white sheets. You sit criss-cross in front of each other, the food between the two of you, and catch up on your first week of class in-between bites of spicy, gooey rice cakes and fish cakes. You wonder, if one day you and Jongseong are no longer friends, how long you will keep associating tteokbokki with him.

When you tell him that you and Jake share a class, Introduction to Film Studies, he gives you a look. “What’s that face for?” you ask.

“Did you guys sit next to each other?”

You chuckle. “Of course. We only knew each other in that room, it would’ve been weird not to.”

He continues to stare at you. After a while, he muses, “You’re not…?”

You halt in your tracks, rice cake at the end of your plastic fork hanging in the air, halfway between the container and your mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.” Still in love with him, interested in him again, you don’t know the exact details of Jongseong’s thought process, all you know is he has nothing to worry about—if it’s something he worries about.

When a smile slowly grows on his lips and he nods, saying, “Okay, good,” you let yourself think it might be.

Later, you’re ten minutes into a senseless blockbuster movie when he suddenly pauses it. It snaps you out of a trance—his hand was awfully close to yours, so is his shoulder, his thigh, his knee, everything, really, and you haven’t been able to concentrate on anything but the warmth radiating off his skin and the intensity with which you crave to feel it intentionally rather than accidentally. When he speaks, there’s something serious in his tone that makes you nervous. “Y/N,” he says as he turns to you, and now his face is awfully close, too. There’s still many centimeters separating you, but in this tiny, barely lit-up room, he feels closer than ever before. “Do you remember when I said I’d reply to your letter in real life?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah, that was ages ago.”

“Well, I thought I’d do it now.”

“Now?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath. “Now.”

And then those safe centimeters suddenly disappear, and Jongseong’s lips are on yours. It’s a brief, chaste kiss, so quick you wonder if it even happened when he leans back again.

“I like you, too,” he says, and your heart stops.

“W-what?” is all you can say back, eyes wide like he’s just admitted to killing someone rather than reciprocating your feelings.

His confident facade quickly crumbles. “God, this was so much cooler in my head, I-I’m sorry.” He pulls something out of his sweatpants pocket, pages folded over and over into a tiny square. As he unfolds them, you recognize your paper, your handwriting—but what do your letters have anything to do with him kissing you, of all things? “I don’t think you meant to send this. But I’m glad you did.”

He hands you the pages and your eyes skim over the words, not detecting anything out of the ordinary, until—But it got me thinking about your fight again. Reflecting on it now, I can say that it was a turning point for me in my perception of you. You remember this line, because you had made sure to strike it and everything that came afterward out when you rewrote the letter that you would actually send Jongseong. So how was he giving you this?

“I-How do you have this?” you ask, voice trembling. You feel as though your heart overflows with all kinds of emotions, and so your eyes follow, tears staining your lower lashes.

But Jongseong is not one to let you hide things from him. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” he says, warm hands coming to cup your face. “Look at me.” You have no choice but to oblige—his gaze is somehow both soft and stern, a mix of concern and determination. “Did you mean what you wrote in here?” You nod. “Then everything’s okay. You don’t know how happy I was reading this.”

The tension in your body slowly starts to fade. “Really?”

“Really. I cherish every single word in there.”

“Really?” you repeat, and he chuckles.

“Really.”

Your heartbeat speeds up as you gaze into his eyes, as you let yourself bask in the affection and endearment you find there. You can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. The letter, the kiss, his confession, your inadvertent confession, it’s all a mess in your head; so sudden, but such a long time coming at the same time. You never imagined that things would change so quickly—less than a year ago, you thought Jongseong was the most irritating person on this planet. After meeting his 28-year-old self, you thought it’d take ages for the two of you to be on such good terms. But now, just a week into your first semester of university, belly full of tteokbokki and Sprite, you like each other enough not only to be in the same room without hurling insults at each other but to actually be smiling at each other, willingly at that.

Your eyes drift down to his lips, just like in the hallway all those months ago, and the words slip out before you can stop them. They’re a mere whisper—”Kiss me again.”

Jongseong doesn’t need to be told twice. Still cupping your face, he bridges the gap between the two of you again, and this time, when your lips meet, they don’t come apart so quickly. It’s your first kiss, and it’s nothing short of magical, better than any romance novel could’ve prepared you for. His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving slowly, gingerly; as if he’s scared to take any wrong step, he lets you control the pace, follows every tilt of your head this way and that. It’s a relief that he seems to know as little about this as you do—his hands haven’t moved from your face, yours are on his knees, all you can do is focus on the movement of your lips, to think of anything else at the same time would be overwhelming.

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he suddenly says, face still so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he speaks.

“Hm?” you hum, body reeling from the kiss.

“I’ve liked you from the start,” he repeats, grinning—he looks relieved, like he’s been waiting to say these words for a long time. “I can’t believe this is happening after all these years. Or at all, really.”

“I think I did, too.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that in your letter.”

Your eyes widen and you bury your face in your hands as Jongseong laughs. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” you mumble.

He smooths over your hair with one hand, brings your face back up with the other. “Don’t worry. I won’t ever make you regret this.”

Your brain and heart are too all over the place for you to come up with a coherent answer, so you lean in and reconnect your lips to his. It’s already becoming your favorite sensation, feeling him smile into the kiss, threading your fingers in his soft hair.

Time passes delicately like this, the two of you on your single bed, in the sheets that you bought three weeks ago. A lot of it is spent kissing and learning how to fall into each other’s rhythm, but you also spend hours talking, comparing situations and how you’d experienced them. You thought his occasional acts of kindness were done out of guilt, evidence that he did have some morals; he was trying to show he cared about you. He thought you’d despised him from the moment you saw him; you reiterate in more detail than your letter what really happened, you say you wish you knew then what you know now.

“But I never hated you, Jong. I think I wanted to believe that I did, but I never actually did.”

“You glared at me everytime I walked past like I killed a member of your family.”

You groan, ashamed of yourself. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he says, chuckling, placing a kiss on your forehead. His arms are around you, your head rests atop his heart—you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life. “But it’s okay. We’re here now, and I don’t want us to have any regrets about high school. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

You tilt your head up to look at him. “I’m sure you did, stealing all my erasers.”

He lets out a hearty laugh. Clearly, he’s very proud of his feat. “Hey, I gave all of them back.”

“And what am I going to do with a hundred erasers, Jong?” you ask, laughing too, pecking his cheek aggressively—your way of punishing him for a grave deed.

“Keep them as a token of my love for you,” he says, and your breath falters at the mention of that word. “In fifty years, it’ll be a sign that I’ve liked you since the beginning, I just had a funny way of showing it.”

“Fifty years, huh?”

He grins. “Fifty, a hundred, whatever. You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

You’re both smiling so wide, you can barely manage a kiss. He trails kisses from your lips to your ear. Holding you close, he whispers, “It’s always been you, Y/N. Always and only you.”

There may be thorns on the otherwise immaculate rose that is your life, but Park Jongseong was never one of them—all along, he was a bud waiting to bloom.

The more time passes, the more you wonder whether that night you had seen in your vision will ever come. There’s been evenings similar to it—crashing the minute you came home from a long day on set, telling yourself you’d take a fifteen-minute power nap only to wake up three hours later and coming downstairs to find your husband cooking dinner, cleaning the kitchen, taking care of your son or simply watching TV, but waiting for you, always waiting for you. He seems as happy now watching you come down the stairs as he was then finding your face among all the students flocking out of lecture halls.

The details are blurry now, but many small things seem to be different from what you’d seen. He still tries to recreate your favorite meal, but it’s not pasta all'arrabbiata, it’s laksa, because your first date as an official couple was to a Malaysian restaurant, not an Italian one. He’s still the best father you know, but you have one son, not twin girls—although that offer to “give him a younger sibling to play with” is always on the table. Even the house you live in is different from the one in your dream, which has now become nothing more than a funny anecdote you share with people when they ask you the story of how you and Jongseong met.

You think of Sunoo’s words from all those years ago: Sometimes, we want something so badly, we conjure it up for ourselves. Had 18-year-old you been in such denial over her feelings for Jongseong that she’d had to convince herself a magical well had bestowed a crazy dream upon her to admit that, yes, there was something there, something other than childish hatred?

It doesn’t matter anymore. Months pass without you thinking about that well, anyway.

Tonight, you come home late from work after having had to do last-minute changes to the script for your current project, a movie that starts shooting in a few days. Jongseong texted you that he was going to bed an hour or so again, so you’re greeted by a plate of japchae covered in film paper. The post-it note stuck to it reads, I’m afraid of the repercussions of too much curry consumption on our son, so no laksa tonight my love. Hope you like it. Come to bed quick. You were starving a second ago, but you decide food can wait—other things can’t.

You tiptoe up the stairs and into your son’s room, breathing in the scent of his hair and placing a kiss there. His hair is still worryingly sparse, but if he’s anything like his dad, it’ll come in a bit later than the other kids. You always thought babies with a full head of hair were freaky, anyway. He doesn’t budge a bit, sleeping like a log—his dad is another story, shuffling in bed the moment you step into your shared bedroom. He opens his arms wide, a silent invitation.

“You’re home,” he says as you attach yourself to his body, your leg hiked up over his, your face buried in the crook of his neck, your thumb caressing the start of stubble on his cheeks.

You smile. “I am.”

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @jakeflvrz @enhastolemyheart (ask to be removed/added!)

#enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #enhypen fluff #jay fluff #enhypen fanfiction #jay fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios

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allurilove · 3 months ago

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Teenager Yandere Husband x teenager you

“What would happen if you went to the same school as him?”

Rated 16 + — regular ol’ short content !

Teen!Yandere Husband had a major scene phase starting sophomore year. It was his way of saying ‘fuck you’ to his old man, and he started to grow as his own person. He was finally able to express himself in a way his father tried to repress. His father was interested in fashion, creating multiple pieces and clothing that had made it to the runways, but he made sure teen!yandere husband looked proper. Not dressing him in the eccentric and world stopping outfits his father was known for, but the cookie cutter boy you see in those movies about snobby rich people. His dad thought his new bright hair was hideous, and when he started to cut up holes in his jeans— he got a whooping that night. That didn’t stop teen!yandere husband, it only fueled him to go all out. He had black eyeliner on his waterline, multiple rhinestone belts on his hips, and wore long striped socks with his boots. He donated all of his old polo shirts, cream white sweaters, and traded his name brand shoes for a pair of converses.

Teen!Yandere Husband enjoyed listening to My Chemical Romance, 3OH!3, and Get Scared. He had all of their latest music downloaded onto his mp3 player, and he listened to it with his girlfriend at the time. They both shared an earbud, and his arm was around her shoulders. She was just the type of girl he liked: she had those skunk extensions in her hair, long eyelashes, fishnets on her arms, and she smelled like a record store (idk if that’s a compliment). But alas, all mildly good things came to an end when he was broken up with. She wanted an alternative man by her side, and he wasn’t enough for her.

Teen!Yandere Husband started to grow out his hair junior year. He had to constantly brush his bangs out of his face, blowing at the strands whenever they poked at his eyes. He was this tall six foot two guy, bumping into people in the hallways with his wide shoulders. And he had an attitude. He didn’t apologize, just grunting out a ‘watch it’ before he stomped his way to his class. Teen!yandere husband also picked fights with anyone that tried to comment on his appearance. He knew how to throw a mean punch, and he learned it all from his great aunt. Breaking peoples noses and fingers were easier than he thought, and getting away with it was just as sweet than the thrill he felt. His father made constant excuses for teen!yandere husband, saying that it was just a phase and he was just a boy, and if that didn’t work… well a gracious donation would be sent to the school.

Teen!Yandere Husband got his dick pierced the summer before senior year. It was a risky move, his father was already on the brink of snapping at him and kicking him to the curb. But, thankfully his aunt was cool about it, and signed the paperwork. While he was at it, he got his ears and belly button done too.

Teen!Yandere Husband noticed you around senior year. He was cleaning up his ‘bad boy’ act, trying to get on people’s good side before the year ended. While he was on his apology tour, he saw you sitting at the library alone. He doesn’t remember if he had done anything horrible to you, and if he did, he would absolutely beat himself up for it. He was about to approach you, but then he suddenly remembered his appearance, and was self conscious about the way he looked. Who would love to be with a mess of a man like him? Surely, you already had people lining up to be with you.

Teen!Yandere Husband made his first move by asking you to sign his yearbook. You had made him nervous. Just your presence alone was making him sweat. He held brief eye contact with you when he asked, leaning against the white bricked wall with a blush to his cheeks. His voice soft and yet baritone, and he held up the yearbook for you to write your name in.

“Ah yeah… I think we had like one class together? With that really grumpy man that’s about to retire soon.”

You smiled, a little snort coming from you. He watched you add a little heart into your name. “You’re gonna have to be specific. That’s like half the teachers here.”

“You know,” he was totally talking out of his ass, “the teach that shakes his fist whenever he sees teens running down the halls.”

“Really? That’s odd. I never had a male teacher.”

“W-What? Oh-“ he gulped, adverting his eyes towards the ground. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and he awkwardly shifted between his weight. “Maybe I’m misremembering things.”

“If we took a class together… I definitely would have remembered.”

That left him speechless. Did you mean that in a good way?

“You’re sort of hard to forget… you kind of look like Sam Monroe from Life as a House.” you bit your lip, and your eyes took in the sight of his dark but colorful clothing. He had this scent that made him smell like fresh rain and wood.

He hadn’t seen that movie, but he was gonna guess on a whim that might’ve been your way of saying he’s … cute?

Teen!Yandere Husband got your number and followed you around all summer. He was actually shy when he got to hang out with you outside of school. Hours before he met you, he walked back and forth in front of his mirror, trying to give himself a pep talk before the hangout. He wasn’t this nervous before, and he started to fret about his appearance. He had put on his best jeans, clean shoes, and the classic sort of fancy tee. He picked you up in his red corvette, playing music from the radio incase you didn’t like what he usually listened to. He was determined to make this “hang out that’s totally not a date” perfect.

Teen!Yandere Husband casually paid for your things, and opened all the doors for you. He totally thought he was winning in the ‘gentleman’ department. He gave you compliments that teetered between the lines of flirtation, and just being friendly. He actively listened to whatever you had told him, making mental notes to bring them up in later conversations. That seemed to make you happy. You two had stopped by a carnival he coincidentally had tickets for. He tried his hardest to help you at any game, and he was pretty good at throwing darts. He happily smiled for whatever photo booth you brought him into, not once complaining when you wanted to use props.

Teen!Yandere Husband had genuinely smiled whenever he was around you. You just made life better. You were his little comedian, his best friend that’ll he never forget.

Full fics: these fics are an aged up version of yandere husband obvs, and it contains smut.

#1 #2 #3 #4 (coming soon)

Allure: this would be soo him if he were to text reader.

#Allurilove yandere writing #some references to the past fics i have made in the past #cute fluffy romance #yandere husband x you #teen!yandere husband x teen!you #teen!oc #teen!reader #teen!yandere au #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #male yandere x female reader #yandere x fem reader

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scarlettmurphy · 4 months ago

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STARCROSSED PT2 +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT.

logan and y/n — where you are completely in love with a man older then you’re father by a good century or so.. whose completely in love with another.

- content warning age gap (is legal) drinking. explicit. swearing. dirty humour. comfort (an ounce). drugs. nsfw. sick. body issues. sh. angst.. maybe happy endings?! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader. logan howlett x jean grey.

spoiler: insane yearning and angst i’m sorry im too far gone ☹️ happy ? where.

note this is part two to starcrossed, prepare for even heavier angst!🫶🏻 i didn’t realise how sad this was until i finished the chapter and realised holy shit this is long. part three is already in the works. i hope u enjoy it! make sure to read pt1. it’s a bit diff from the first one but i hope u like it still. also if you’ve seen the movie ten things i hate about u the mid bit of this might remind u of that one scene if u get me :) song: need you now by lady a cos i was listening to it and jeff buckley whilst reading this? also on the timeline im going for like xmen 2 time i think?

tags — @faceache111 @malfoys-demigod @navs-bhat @dilfismz @thisbipuff-isaswiftie @twinky-wink @thewiselionessss @thecraziestcrayon @awhoreforalotofshows @emily-b @jae48 @cxptainbuck @444st4rg1rl 🫶🏻

[i hope you like it!!]

you’d absolutely love to believe that what you heard last night wasn’t what happened but as your mind goes over the previous night as you fought yourself to stay awake during your fathers little class your brain couldn’t forget the continuous moans and little yells that you heard from a few rooms across from your own at the mansion for a good hour or two last night. you can’t help but figure out that logan most certainly found jean and just thinking about it made you feel sick. scott being the main thing on your brain after you got over the fact logan most definitely fucked jean last night.

she was a cheater. what else could you expect? your thoughts swirling in your brain causing an indescribable amount of heart ache as you kept yourself completely quiet and withdrawn from whatever was going on in this lesson, rogue clearly being able to tell you were off as she glanced at bobby giving him a look you picked up on — him shrugging his shoulders in return as you cursed your sadness for being so obvious.

just the thought of jean and logan staring at eachother hurt you but her touching him, his hands over her skin, her lips on his, his mind only on her in that moment and his gaze locked into hers as she let him take her yet again enraged you to another level it was a struggle not to jump into his mind and find out exactly what happened but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t. your brain fighting with your heart in every way as you felt sick with all those pictures of the scenario you were forming for yourself.

so from that knowledge as you sat in class you knew you needed to stop liking him for good. he didn’t like you, he was throwing it in your face. you heard it all and it hurt you too much to bare. you didn’t even wanna look at him — that single thought of contact sending you crazy. you couldn’t even bring yourself to see him today. you didn’t want too, you couldn’t. seeing jean as you passed through the kitchen earlier was enough to make you nearly cry and immediately stop that tiny breakfast you had made.

you really couldn’t deal with this. one bit. you never did well with emotional pain — physical was something you could endure, yet emotional was always something you couldn’t stomach ever since you were a little girl.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd been avoiding him like the plague. literally. whenever you saw him at the end of the halls you'd turn the other away, force a little smile and act like you had somewhere to go if you were in conversation and it had been like that for two weeks. two weeks had passed since one of your normal conversations, the friendly chats you admired in your brain and made out to be more, the little touches he'd give you that you couldn't comprehend was only a friend thing to do, the way he'd hug you.. the deep conversations, the way he'd sometimes kiss your forehead before you left for bed, watching the rain together and just joking together all something you had put in the past. that had been gone for two weeks and to say it was breaking you would be an understatement.

you could tell others has noticed the practical borderline dissociation within you since you had been a little mute recently not that it was specially due to logan (it completely all was) but you didn't want it to be obvious, you hated that it could be perceived that way so you knew you had to do something about it. who knew heartache for one that didn't love you back could destroy you this badly from the inside out?

.. and today was no different on the logan front. you saw him once today in the halls ushering something to hank — the two in bustling conversation and you made sure not to risk it by going to class, to upset over it all to deal with another short horrible conversation where you were nothing but cold to him as you tried to cut down any romantic feelings you had for him. every time you spoke now you could see the confusion and frustration in his eyes, the mental image to much to bare as you went on hiding in your room and pondering and that’s where you had been since — buried in clothing choices as you tried to stomach down the anxiety that had been growing in you over the fact it was jeans birthday party today and you would have to make an appearance after you had been a hermit since you’d got your heart broken by a guy that didn’t even know. rogue and bobby being the only two people you had really spoke too since the shut down yet their concern had been growing annoying as rogue clearly told bobby about the little crush she could’ve guessed, and got out of you when the two of you were high together a few months ago, you had on logan. bobby actually giving you little options of guys you could date to get over someone which was all you needed to hear when you realised rogue had told him as he literally mentioned hank who they knew you recently hiked with since he had been bothering you over your melancholy, yet you had left before it was a full fledge little argument.

just the thought of having to socialise with him and the others and step out of the hole you’d built for yourself to hide in irritated you especially for jean of all people’s party, your ‘smidge’ of hatred for the woman who had really been rude to you since she’d known you not because of logan, because god on that front she wins and it feels like she’s married to him despite her ties to scott, but on the power front. she knew you had powers incomparable to hers that you hardly even showcased magneto being someone who taught you many things when you were younger, your own parents being raven and charles. of course you had powers which were indescribable.

and most of the time you wanted to use it on that bitch. you were lucky she couldn’t get into your twisted mind to find that fact out.

you let out a little sigh as you decided on the black mini skirt and sweater — you finally having an excuse for the fall outfit and lack of dress because it was october which has always been your favourite season and best time of year yet this year that didn’t apply because you haven’t been hardly able to enjoy it because of isolation you’d forced yourself into.

y/n had to swallow her own self pity down as she leaned over to her perfume bottle on the drawer next to her mirror as she took in the image of her body in the skirt. her shrinking body, a scoff leaving her lips as she wasn’t happy with what she saw in the reflection. she never could be. the aroma of the perfume not masking her feelings at all as she put on some dc martens paired with black tights. the perfect little outfit yet she was sure jean would be outshining her on that front. god she didn’t even wanna imagine logan’s eyes being locked onto jean tonight, the heart ache already unbearable to comprehend as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat. that aching feeling hadn’t gone away since the start of knowing logan the way she did, maybe that was a sign from the people above about how destined it was.. or how not it was.

these muddled thoughts led her too some early drinking as if she wouldn’t be getting shitfaced later. pregaming alone which is a bit self pity full as she swallowed the burning liquor down her throat, the whiskey hitting her softly and slowly enough to give her the confidence to leave her room twenty minutes later for this party.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

the decorations were perfect, the present corner was overflowing and the students and people were everywhere. jean being clearly the popular girl from the looks of this party, as if y/n already didn’t know that, as the blasting music just made her more aware of the scenario she was in as she fought the urge to look around the room for logan as she went straight over to the bar that had been made. the party was the perfect one a girl, woman, could ask for and y/n could feel the jealously bubbling already that she bit down as she forced a friendly smile to join her lips.

walking through the dancing groups of people, there hardly even being any spaces to walk unless you wanted to bump into a coked up or insanely drunk teenager or wade. who she was lucky to get past without having to talk to yet, no matter how much she did like and enjoy his company she couldn’t deal with his jokes right now which she could guess who’d they’d be centered around, she knew he knew to some extent she was just lucky he hadn’t out rightly said it. that would be too much pity for her to deal with, that coming from wade being another level of pathetic.

the second she leant against the bar she managed to grab the busy barmaids attention giving her a soft nod and polite smile as she didn’t notice the figure beside her as she asked for a coke and vodka.

“thank god you’re showing your face — i thought i was going to have to clone you to get a good conversation.” hank rolled out his tipsiness showing as he pulled y/n into a tight hug when he was sat down on the stool. y/n letting out a low chuckle as she hugged him back nicely, his presence being a little surprise she tried not to seem so bothered about.

“hiya hank.” y/n said softly as the barmaid came over with her drink, placing it next to her. “thanks.” y/n nodded out as hank placed his hand on the stool next to him as she immediately grabbed it and took a swig.

“come! sit.” he ushered in with a drunken smile on his face, a bright one as usual, as he patted the bar stool next to him inviting her to sit and before y/n could even speak up in reply as she slid down on the stool hank bit in.

“where the hell have you been?” he abruptly said bluntly, putting a little look on his face off one that’s pissed off as y/n felt the guilt rush through her as she wrapped her fingers around the glass drowning her truth in the drink as she took a big sip off the liquor acting as if that didn’t taste appalling as she shrugged her shoulders at hanks obvious question which has an obvious answer to that she’d play off as a stupid claim if questioned about it.

“—i’ve been busy! controlling powers— small missions, and that.” y/n lied out.

hank furrowed his eyebrows at his words, giving her a knowing look before he shook his head swiftly at what she said. seeing right through her little lie he truly knew nothing much about what the truth was or not as he took a little sip of his beer.

“i know you but i’m not pushing it— rather you bite of logan’s heads rather then mine.” hank said out lowly as y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his comment as a look of confusion spread over her face at the mention of him but before she could question hank on it she was met with two hands around her waist, pulling her tightly back purposely.

“hello pretty little liars, you’re aria?” wade said loudly into her ear his drunkenness obvious as y/n scoffed, him clearly stating that because her outfit choice as he squeezed her even tighter y/n’s eyes rolling as she elbowed him playfully back as his hands on her faltered as he playfully shoved her back.

“—elsa! you made it snow yet?” y/n said back to him as she was met with the sound of his laughter as he pulled on the stool next to y/n, making the guy who was sat on it mutter a curse before wade sent him a glare and then went speed walking away clearly a boy as young as fourteen or thirteen who just got the shit scared out him for, wade’s harsh look as he sqt down on the stool as he met y/n’s gaze.

“you know i have honey.” he nodded out with a smirk as hank leaned into the twos space.

“shots anyone?” hank rolled out, fixing his glasses as wade enthusiastically said a quick yes, y/n adding to the fire. “—very much needed.” y/n drove out as wade sent her a little look of knowing yet he held back the urge to call her out on it. he was being a ‘good’ friend in his eyes anyway, he didn’t wanna hear her say things about logan when he knew a few things himself on how the other party felt.

hank calling the barmaid over as wade pulled y/n’s stool closer to his that knowing look still present on his face as he played with the knowledge he had a bit just in a little playful way.

“you seen the birthday girl yet?..gave her a gift?” wade said sarcastically knowing the two didn’t really see eye to eye on a LOT of things as y/n gave him a little glare, him having been present for many of their little disagreements.

“luckily i haven’t, as i’ve brung nothing.” y/n rumbled back as wade nudged her playfully with her words as hank grabbed the tray of shots from the barmaid— y/n’s eyes widening once she saw how many shots he had ordered. “fifteen?” y/n broke out with a raised eyebrow as hank chuckled as he took one, downing it straight away before grabbing another as wade spoke up cockily.

“who’s pants are you trying to get into?” wade rolled out, his voice sly as he grabbed two for himself as y/n leaned over and took one ready to get shitfaced, maybe that’d stop her mind from falling back onto logan every other second her longing heart internally hating this situation more and more as she yearned to see him but she bit back the urge to even look around for him. halting that urge by taking a shot.

“preferably anyone with a pulse and no dick between their legs.” hank said right as y/n took another shot, her nearly choking on the burning liquid which was a horrible mix of vodka and god knows what.

“i can tuck.” wade said lowly as this made it worse, y/n nudging wade, shaking her head as she held back her laugh as she swallowed the shot she just took. “disgusting!” she rolled out as she took another, downing it before placing the shot down on the table.

“ah! sweeties jealous.” wade spoke up sarcastically with that all familiar cocky smile on his face with that teasing glint in his eyes as he handed another shot y/n’s way as she took it gracefully as they all cheersed their glasses together. that being just one of the about eight times they did that within the next thirty to sixty minutes as y/n bit back her thoughts with copious amounts of shots and soon enough they had gone through a good four or so tray off shots and a few drinks each.

every passing minute y/n felt her mind get closer and closer to the edge as every time she felt that aching feeling grow she’d swallow it back with another sip of liquor or large shot — wades jokes passing the time and hanks yapping and her own occasional drunken chime in making her mind a mess as hank got another row of shots.

the songs and wade and hank’s voices becoming a blur in y/n’s mind as she swallowed nothing but the truth with those shots. every sip feeling like more heartache she couldn’t stop having.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/n was practically stuck too the bar stool, her eyes scanning the crowd occasionally (by occasionally around five times if not more a minute) as she looked for him. her mind lingering on a certain someone as it always tended to do the liquor just amplifying those feelings as hank spoke up.

“you know— you look like your mum.”

his words caused y/n’s attention to snap over to hank as she raised an eyebrow, wade making a little ‘oo’ in the background even if he couldn’t help but agree with his comment as he sipped on the cocktail he had ordered a few drinks previously that had just been laying there on the side. the bartender making a fuck ton of profit from these three miserables.

“very dead?” y/n said sarcastically as hank gave her a little look — clearly a little annoyed she didn’t take the comment seriously as he leaned a little closer to her.

“beautiful you idiot.” hank added out, his words making her eyebrows furrow a bit as she took in his drunken words as she gave him a little a smile — swallowing the depreciating joke she was close to making as she took a sip of her drink.

“thank you hank.” y/n nodded out calmly as wade butted in.

“—fucking hell, incoming for angry jacob twilight wannabe.” wade cursed out as y/n’s gaze moved over wade following his eyes to where he was looking, her heart feeling as if it was flipping and twisting in her chest as she watched logan walk into the bar games room as she furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of jean following him angrily. her looking perfect as ever.

yet before y/n could think another thought she locked eyes with logan from across the room — their eyes meeting as she felt a weight lift immediately onto her as she swallowed a lump that formed in her throat at just the sight of him. it felt as if time has frozen just as they looked to each other , his eyes taking everything about her in as she did the same his way.

he practically immediately walked over, more like stomped over, as he seemed clearly agitated. more then usual as his eyes dawned onto wade and hank before resting back to y/n as he stopped in his tracks in front of the seated three.

“who thought getting a teenager shitfaced was a good idea?” logan nearly growled out, giving wade a glare as y/n’s eyes lingered back on jean who saw who he was talking to and turned away her being even more pissed then him, y/n holding the urge to go into her mind and find out why as she brung her gaze onto logan after seeing jean walk off somewhere else in the room, her patience clearly wearing thin. her wanting to make a little childish comment about how she wasn’t when wade spoke up.

“gods probably.” wade rolled out in reply as logan scoffed at what he said.

“y/n.” logan said, her eyes meeting his own as she took in his appearance. her eyes lingering on the chain that was wrapped around his neck — one he told her was something jean gave him when he first became an xmen, something he hasn’t worn in months, this fact only making her feel a number of horrible thoughts as she grabbed her drink and took a mean swig. swallowing her own building self pity as she forced a fake smile logan immediately knew to be fake.

“hi.” she said swiftly after she put her drink back down on the table — his eyebrow raising a little at her hostility as he looked to wade, hank the back to her.

“uh—“ logan spoke up, trying to find the words to say as he looked at her a bit lost for words at how she was acting as he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat — feeling his frustration rise as he tried to control it, “where have you been?” he said lowly, hank raising his eyebrow at how this little conversation seemed weirdly tension filled. wade knew why, he could’ve called her little feelings for him back when she first met the guy but now he couldn’t help see how serious it was because off the way she was looking at him and how it was affecting her.

he couldn’t even brung himself to but in as he buried himself in his drink. hank doing the same.

“i’ve been busy. but i’ve been around— i saw you two days ago.” she said quickly, shifting in her seat a little as his eyes almost felt as if they burnt through her.

“you didn’t stay,” he said taking a pause as he looked at her, taking in just how intoxicated she seemed as he tried to analyse it, “like you uh- normally, do.”

his words touched a nerve on y/n as she felt that all familiar heart ache grow y/n trying to act as if the feeling inside her wasn’t killing her right now and ripping her to shreds as she kept her gaze on him, his eyes on her making her think and feel a number of things she hated.

“—had somewhere to be.” she replied quickly, his eyebrows raising at her bluntness to her reply as he knew something was off. he sensed it, the drunkness only adding to his worry as he went to step closer when he was cut off by a voice behind him.

y/n eyes dawned on the sight off jean, a tight silver dress on showcasing her curves as her red hair flowed down by her side as she looked at logan who hadn’t even brung himself to met her gaze yet. y/n immediately being hit with a truck load of insecurities just with a glance to the older women who had the only guy she’d ever loved wrapped around her finger.

y/n’s heart feeling as if it was stepped on as she kept her gaze on him — time feeling a little slow motion.

“logan—now.” jean said harshly.

“lo- logan.” she said again, y/n not leaving logan’s gaze as he swallowed his own spit as he eventually brung his gaze over to jean.

“logan— he knows.” she said harshly, her words a little quiet as they were clearly just meant for logan’s ears yet y/n heard them. “now! come on?” she questioned out frustratedly, saying that to grip his attention as logan looked to jean then back to y/n, wade and hank watching like it was a drama.

the air felt thick with some sort of something as y/n swallows, her eyes on him as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“be careful kid, remember to slow down.” he rolled out before he turned away with jean going right to her side as y/n scoffed as he walked off turning her attention back to the barmaid — not feeling logan’s eyes burning back to her as he took a long glance her way before disappearing off with jean into the party to sort whatever was happening.

y/n rolled her eyes the second she turned her attention back over to the bar as she looked down at the bar table, swallowing her thoughts down with the rest of her vodka as she felt the others eyes on her. they sensed on the tension — it was impossible not too.

“so they’re fucking again.” hank commented lowly and cluelessly. his words being like a gut punch to y/n as she bit down on her tongue as she called back over the barmaid, leaning over and ordering a couple shots as she sat back down in her seat.

“mm, most definitely.. hell for scott.” wade ushered out lowly, feeling a sense of guilt as he saw the way y/n’s eyes fell as y/n tried to mute out their conversation in the background as she welcomed the shots with open arms as she pulled the tray closer to her as she heard wade and hank whisper behind her as they leant over to gossip about the rumours of jean and scott being over as y/n’s heart felt as if it was plummeting and beating as fast as it ever had with every shot she took. the information she was hearing just making her internal pain grow worse as she tried to drink it away every shot seemingly enhancing her hurt as the metal images she were getting hurt her brain as she felt the urge to do something about it.

her mind full of relentless unlimited thoughts that were screaming at her as she placed the last empty shot glass she had down — the shots helping limit the voices to some extent as the barmaid came over and refilled them without another word most likely sensing her anguish as y/n nodded to her with as much of a smile she could muster up as she thought back to the conversation with logan.

“we’re going to dance— you coming?” wade spoke to y/n as that brung her out her gaze with the bottom of the shot glass as she shook her head, “no—thanks,” she slurred out as hank gave her a small nod and pat on the shoulder before they disappeared of into the crowd leaving her alone after saying their be right backs— her lips immediately around another glass as she finished the rest of the drinks thay were laid out in front-of her.

y/n either needed fresh air and a sick bucket or the man she loved and craved, and she was going with the latter. her desires only heightened which was making just about everything worse due to the mess the alcohol had started to cause her brain and body.

her heart pounding as she stood up, everything going messy and spin like as she stumbled through the crowd. her mind on one thing and one thing only, one person, as she got pushed around a bit by the dancing people as she made her way out the bar room she was in. her eyes searching the place as she looked for him in every corner, in every face, every person, every laugh, every grunt and every noise. she was searching for him like she had been doing within her heart ever since she’d know the man.

yet what she didn’t expect to see when she turned the corner was him right there. logan right there in his bubble of perfection as she saw it. her eyes taking him in as she saw him in the hallway — a smile joining her lips as she started to walk over to him planning what she was going to say in her brain. how she was going to do any of this? she didn’t even know what she had planned, she just wanted to speak to him. she needed to see his smile. she missed it. she wanted to make him laugh like usual, she wanted to kiss him, feel his touch. she needed it, it was destroying her to not have him. why was she ignoring him for the past two weeks? she should just tell him. nothing bad could hap—

“mine.” she swore she could make out logan saying, her eyebrows furrowing in pure confusion as she took one little step closer to where he was as her eyes dawned on a certain red head with a killer smirk on her lips as she had a tight grip on his chain.

and with that every thought she just had was crushed within the space of five or so seconds as she heard jean’s light hearted chuckle next, her voice grating against y/n’s mind as she swallowed her own spit back down as she made sure she couldn’t be seen by them. feeling the sick feeling rising in her as she watched logan’s hands wrap around jean’s waist as she pulled him closer to her in a teasing action that broke y/n’s heart in two.

she was frozen in her tracks, watching as the one she loved was with the one he loved.

“you’re mine.” ringing in her ears as she just made out what he had said to jean as his words sent a chill through y/n’s body as she felt the tears start to boil in her eyes as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. her mouth fallen gap as she watched as he roughly had her against the door jean’s hand going down to the handle of said door as y/n watched as jean pulled him in the room with her roughly.

the door slamming behind them as she felt her beating out her chest, her breath shaky and hitched as she swallowed.

and when she heard a little squeal come from the room over the music a few seconds or minutes later, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, that’s when she knew she needed to go before she turned into a public laughing stock as she turned on her heel — shakily making her way through the crowd again, unbeknownst to the tears dropping down her cheeks as she fought her way through the dancing crowd as she tried to get the hell out of here as she thought she was fighting back her emotions, yet she really wasn’t doing too good of a job with it.

“watch it!” someone yelled out over the music to y/n as she shuffled past them quickly, stumbling out and disappearing through the back door as she made her break for it. her heart feeling broken to an extreme it hadn’t felt before which was only amplified by the alcohol as she felt her brain chemistry formed for logan be destroyed within a matter of moments. seeing it in front of her own eyes being completely different from assuming it had happened.

the fact they were doing that right now she just couldn’t and didn’t want too comprehend it. it hurting her so much she felt as if she was going to be sick, she could feel it to the extremist point that when she managed her way to the end of the courtyard where her little spot was with her childhood swing set, where she’s surprised she even remembered the whereabouts off in this state, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning down into a bush shakily.

her mouth watering, her throat burning with liquid as y/n threw up into the bush her heart pounding ridiculously as she felt the tears burning against her cheek as she didn’t even notice the feeling off two strong hands holding her hair back. her body shaking as she kept being sick, feeling the acid burn her throat as she felt a strong hand round her hair pulling it into a ponytail and another hand around her fragile body to keep her up.

her body flinching a little at the touch as the person leaned a little closer as y/n was sick some more, “it’s okay—“ a low voice ushered out as y/n couldn’t help be sick again, leaning down closer into the bush nearly tripping into it as the person held her upright. their hand snacking onto her waist as y/n leaned back into their touch. basically tripping into it as she let out a shaky breath as she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her top.

her eyes moving up onto an all familiar face and she instantly cursed in her brain as he managed to move her over to the swings, sitting her down in one of two seats as she clung to the chain of it leaning her body against it freely as she let out a little cry.

“you’re good.” scott said softly his voice low as he spoke into a comforting tone that didn’t completely soothe her as she felt the tears trail down her cheek as he kneeled down — his hands stabilising the swing that was rocking a little as he looked up at her making sure she was okay on the swing. the cold air hitting the twos faces as the moon shone down on the courtyard, the faint sound of pop music from the mansion being completely distant to both of them.

“scott.” she managed to say, him being able to tell how far gone she was by the way she slurred her words as if her crying and throwing up didn’t prove that enough. his eyes on her as he moved her hair out the way for her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she held back a little sob which wasn’t held back that well as she let out a shaky whimper.

“w-why— doesn-t he love me?” she spoke out quickly, her breath shaky and her voice high pitched as she let out little sniffles in between words, the weight of those making a sad smile tug on scott’s lips as he kept his hand on her face trying to keep her upright which was sort of impossible as he kept his comforting warm hand against her face. just trying to make her feel okay.

“—he—“ scott cut himself off before he moved closer to her, trying to keep her calm, “he does love you okay?”

y/n shook her head at scott’s words as she let out a muffled sob against her wrist, shaking her head as scott wiped the tears from her cheeks. “not like i want him to.” she rolled out in a slur, scott feeling his heart beat quicken at her little admission as if he didn’t know how she felt over him before as he moved his finger across her cheek in a soft circular motion, his hand cupping her jaw.

“hey- he does okay?” scott said quickly as he moved her jaw down so she met his eyes again, his tone soft as he moved himself to the other swing next to her — the second he was sat him moving his swing closer to her own. tangling the chains of his swing up a little in doing so.

“he does.” scott added out again, y/n not believing him at all as she swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat as she leaned herself again the hand that was cupping her face as she nearly tumbled off the swing.

her biting down on her tongue as she let out a little squeal as scott placed his hand on her back supporting and holding her up as a little chuckle left her lips as she leaned forward a little. scott not letting his hand move as worry was evident on his face as y/n turned to him a sad smile on her lips, tears still evident on her face.

“i wish.” he heard her whisper as he swallowed, his own voice breaking a little, “come on. okay? he doesn’t know what he’s missing right now.— he doesnt see you liking him.” scott said softly, giving her a little playful nudge as y/n started to lose the energy to even speak off it as she felt another tear slip down her cheek.

his words were taking the weight off her shoulders as she moved in the swing a little, scott’s comforting hand on her back which was now sort off around her waist making her sure she wasn’t going to fall as she moved a tiny bit closer to him on her swing. their swings touching a little.

“you deserve better then jean-y bitch.” she managed out lowly, scott not being able to help the chuckle that escaped his lips at how she put it as he looked out at the mansion in front of them. the moon present in his red tinted glasses.

“yeah— i’m starting to realise that.” he chuckled out as y/n gave him a drunken smile in return as she locked eyes with scott. someone she’d hardly noticed was this nice mostly due to the words logan remarked about him all the time as her smile couldn’t help but grow as she looked at him. the air softening between the two as y/n felt tiredness fall over her as she leant against the chains a little as she slowly moved her gaze over to the moon.

a few moments of silence passes before scott spoke up.

“y/n?” scott managed out trying to grab her attention as he saw he eyes wondering a bit. his eyebrows furrowing when he heard no answer in return, her silence scaring him as he nudged her.

“y/n?” he quickly said out once again, nudging her a little as he saw how limp her body was and noticed her closed eyes.

“fuck— y/n.” he ushered out quickly as he stood from his seat and went right to her side as he kneeled down, tapping her face to try and catch her attention. y/n stirring a little at his action as he stood up, pulling her up with him as he placed his hand around her waist as he tried to shake her a little which did the job as her eyes fluttered open to meet his own.

a drunken smile joining on her lips as a tear dropped down her cheek that she didn’t even notice as she chuckled a little, leaning close to him as she swayed a little.

“scott.” she said lowly as scott gave her a low chucke as she placed her arm around him drunk on, him wiping the tear of her cheek softly something he’d done a number of times since being in her presence tonight.

“okay it’s time to go sleep— im taking you to bed.” he explained softly as y/n looked at him with a little furrowed brow as he started to walk, helping her walk alongside him her hardly even able to realise she was walking as she leaned against his touch.

“you’re good.” he said calmly to her as they walked through the dark courtyard, the illuminated by the moon field of grass between them and the bustling school /xmansion being the only light to guide them. his grip on her tightening softly when she nearly tripped over her own feet, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he realised just how long of a walk it was to the mansion. him sighing as he held her upright. “nearly there.” he muffled out as y/n leaned to him.

“—‘m gonna be sick.” she quickly flushed out before throwing her head over in the other direction as scott patted her back and stopped in his tracks at her words as she was sick again — him holding the urge got to be sick too because the smell as he focused on helping her. his heart skipping a beat bit as he felt his anger growing over logan putting her in this situation where she was so drunk she was being sick or the fact that she was being sick just thinking about logan it made his blood boil as he felt his jaw clench — his eyebrows twitching as he helped her get it all out, whispering little comforts as he soothed her back.

“good girl. “ he said lowly as y/n brung her gaze into him once more him giving her a small sad smile as he placed his hand back around her waist to guide her, “cmon, bed.” he whispered out to her as they started walking again. having to go through the party definitely going to be a difficult task as scott tightened his grip around her waist as they walked past a couple people hanging around the outside area of the building as the music met y/n’s ears as once they got into the building scott called for people to move out the way as he made y/n stay close to him. her eyes wondering over everyone in her drunken haze as scott helped her over to the staircase which was through a couple wide, filled rooms.

her swearing she came across wade and hank in the corner with two twins and colossus’s doing a certain something to wade, her eyebrows furrowing at what she believed to have just seen as she shook it off as she met scott’s words.

“you need to be carried or are you okay?” scott asked as if he was babying her which sent a wave of comfort through her body as she let the question hang in her brain as she tried to form answer to it as she leaned herself against scott.

“‘u—‘i can—“

“scarlett?” logan roughly called out in a raised voice towards scott as he came over out of nowhere. scott rolling his eyes as he quickly picked y/n up, y/n being in scott’s arms as her eyes fluttered open to see logan to the side of them. scott’s jaw immediately clenching as he continued up the stairs without cracking a word to logan as he rushed after the pair. his own anger frustratingly high as he tried to control himself and stop himself from doing anything stupid.

“scott?” logan said harshly, his anger growing as he didn’t get an answer as he tried to get the man to look at him.

“lo-“ y/n slipped out, her voice muffled as she leaned into scott’s arms more as he carried her bridal style up the stairs. her realising his presence, logan’s eyes casting onto y/n and then back to scott. his eyes darkening.

“what have you done to her?!” logan rushed out, his voice cracking with worry as scott ignored his words as he made it to the top of the stairs and continued on down to where he’s pretty sure her room is.

“scott!” logan shouted again trying to get his attention as scott opened the door with his back, giving logan a harsh glare as he walked right over to the bed where he placed y/n down carefully on it. her drunken self pouring the cover over her figure as she rolled over in bed. letting out a little muffled whimper as her head laid on the pillow.

the second scott having let go off y/n he immediately turned to logan scott not giving logan another chance to talk before he connected his fist with his jaw, logan been taken aback a little as he raised an eyebrow, scott looking right at him as logan pushed him back harshly.

“what the fuck did you do?” logan cursed out quickly, scott scoffing as he held back taking his glasses off because of the fact it was a party, not logan’s funeral even despite how much he wanted it to be.

“you should ask yourself that, prick.” scott said harshly. logan’s eyebrows raising at his words as scott pushed himself past logan without another word.

logan immediately grabbing scott’s arm harshly, his claws aching to come out as he met his gaze.

“what do you mean by that?” logan said quickly, his eyes locked onto scott’s as so many questions flowed his brain. his thoughts enlaced with y/n and the worry he had for the girl as scott harshly brung his hand back to his side after shaking logan’s grip off — giving logan a stern look as he looked him up and down judgementally, “god, you are so stupid. you’d think being born in the 19th century would make you slightly smarter then a twenty nine year old.” scott scoffed out lowly, his words only angering logan more as he shoved scott against the wall.

his claws extending as he pressed them close to his throat — his threat there as scott swallowed.

“tell me.” he said harshly as scott couldn’t help a certain look cross his face. completely frustrated by logan, his heart aching for jean in this moment as he stared at what she had clearly picked over himself that enraging him yet also y/n and what she had just gone through herself. the heart ache something he could relate too and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. yet right now he would logan however.

“she saw you and jean you idiot. meaning i did too. meaning— fuck you.” scott said quickly as he clicked his visor getting the right aim, logan jumping back as scott lazered his chest. his beam going right through as a loud grunt escaped his lips as logan in immediate retaliation clawed scott in the side, scott pushing back the whimper threatening to leave his lips as logan as he got ready to take another shot at the man.

logan raising his eyebrow as the two stared eachother down, “i’ll heal,” logan rolled out his words only angering scott worse as he went to raise his glasses again as logan roughly placed his hand on his chest to stop him, his claws retracted back in.

“i wish you wouldn’t.” scott bit out harshly as logan scoffed at his words, keeping his anger limited as he rolled his eyes.

“jean only needed someone to talk too—“

“you mean fuck.” scott said out harshly, jean crossing logan’s mind as his jaw clenched his gaze darkening as he couldn’t bring himself to shake his head. not that he was thinking about scott’s feelings — right now his mind pondering on another.

scott saw how logan couldn’t even fight back with words — tutting as he pushed him back. logan’s hands falling to his side as the two didn’t break eye contact.

“you know we’re engaged.” scott spit out like venom, his words causing a look of surprise to wash over logan’s face as his mouth fell open, “well we were.” he added out.

“you were— what?” logan fumbled out, confusion written on his face as scott rolled his eyes at his reaction. not that he cared deep down, but it felt like he did right now.

“great.. she didn’t tell you. like she didn’t tell anyone,” he said lowly, “not that it makes it any better what you’ve done,” scott casted out as a few seconds finding passed as he tried to find the words which only come out anger filled, “she’s a caniving cheating bitch.” scott cursed out, logan not bringing himself to react to the words scott ushered about jean as he looked at scott.

logan was about to say something to scott when the sound of y/n’s soft little snores filled the room which made the tension even higher as scott and logan glared at eachother.

“maybe just think next time before you fuck someone else’s girl, again.” scott managed out as he pushed past logan to leave the room.

“i don’t think she’s your girl.” logan called back out before he left as scott’s jaw clenched at his words as he opened the door.

“not anymore. you can have her.” he said harshly as he paused as he knew he had to say something.

“—just think about how y/n feels, because i know hurts.” scott spoke lowly as he left without another word clearly implying a certain fact.

logans heart skipped a beat at his words as the door shut behind scott, his mind feeling as if it was in a war as the tension built in the room immediately. the air feeling thick as he swallowed his own spit not bringing himself to call something back to him as his words couldn’t even bring themselves to form right in his brain yet alone out loud.

his eyes dawned back onto the sleeping girl y/n laying there. looking so soft and innocent, completely sound asleep and his heart couldn’t help twang a little as he bit down on the inside of his cheek — many bustling thoughts cursing his brain as he wished he had never thought of them.

his mind lingering on the thought of jean and what just occurred within him and scott as he came down from the pain that was inflicted on him his chest rising rapidly to a more normal flow as he healed. as he focused his gaze on y/n as he furrowed his eyebrows over what scott had said, trying to wrap his brain around it.

logan’s eyes dawning on y/n. guilt seeping through him as he felt his heart gain that aching feeling y/n had been riddled with since the day she first realised she was in love with the man as he sat on the foot of the bed. his mind feeling melted as he placed his hand on her own his big, gruff and rough feeling hand taking the soft touch of her hand into his own grip. her hand being half if not less of his size as he soothed her. her touch being another level of comfort he didn’t recall experiencing since he was a young boy that feeling sending memories flooding through his brain he couldn’t focus on now.

feeling all the emotions boiling up he’d been fighting to push down as he looked down at her asleep body. what was all of this? she had been distant, almost rude and very cold and scott’s words were making that why question he had on his mind for the past two weeks clearer.

the implication of scott’s words hung in his mind as he looked at her. him eventually bringing himself over to the spare place next to her in the bed not wanting to leave her alone for the night too worried about how drunk she was and if anything could happen in the night.. or anyone else drunkily walking in. but he couldn’t help deep down in knowing that those were just excuses to stay within her presence. asleep or not.

carefully building a gap between the two of them as he laid down — no matter how strong the urge to hug her and comfort her was — as he let out a rough exhale as he closed his eyes.

only to open them three seconds later to look at her. his eyes not leaving her peacefully asleep body for the rest of the night.

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enha-cafe · 1 year ago

Text

I <3 NERDS (c.s)

PAIRING: nerd! soobin x afab! reader SUMMARY: just y/n not expecting nerd! soobin to be a sex god inspired by this very long thought with @gyuthmics WARNINGS: smut, basically no plot, afab! reader, switch! reader, dom! soobin, big dick! soobin, oral (m rec.), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (please it's soobin i can't not include it), usage of the words "slut", "baby", "good girl", snowballing, literally like one spank WORD COUNT: 1.7k

you thought playing around with the cute little nerd in your class would be funny. he was absolutely harmless, you thought, blushing whenever you made eye contact with him and always watching anime in the back of class. all you wanted was to make him your partner for the project and watch him get flustered at every moment. so now you're left wondering: is this really happening? are you really getting the best dick of your life from some guy who has openly said his favorite anime is bunny girl senpai? how did he manage to have you crying and screaming his name?

you remember how his cheeks and ears reddened when you invited him over to your place to "work on the project," when you just wanted to see how long it'd take before he'd beg for your pussy.

oh, how you've missed having someone to play with. you wore a low-cut tank and shorts, leaving little to the imagination. gently patting the spot on your bed, inviting him to sit beside you. relishing the way he stutters each time he looks to talk to you. constantly looking up at him with doe eyes, brushing your shoulder against his, and pushing your breasts into his arms. how badly you're just waiting for him to snap. look at you through those overgrown bangs and grovel for you to give him a sweet release.

he did break, just not in the way you were hoping.

it was a swift motion, with soobin taking you by the wrists and pinning you down. "well, someone is acting like a little slut today." never would you have thought this absolute nerd would have you at such a loss for words. those words make you have to take a pause and leave your mouth slightly agape. "what's wrong? cat got your tongue?" he says this, cocking his head to the side and chuckling.

you're completely lost as to who the man in front of you is; this isn't the nerd you were toying with all day. this is some sort of demon you decided to summon. "c'mon, baby, use your words. i know you want this; you've been messing with me all day. don't back out now." he says, staring into your eyes, and all you can do is let out a broken please. "that's what i like to hear," he says right before planting a kiss on your lips.

you're needy for him, and soobin can't help but chuckle. the way you try to grind down on his knee between your legs, he thinks it's cute how you're slowly becoming putty in his hands. he wants to—no, he needs to ruin you. he's having to hold himself back, and you can tell. for now, he's content with just the taste of you. moving his lips from yours to your neck, you can't help but let out a moan and squirm more. "you're absolutely insatiable; tell me what you want." you're not sure how, but he's already managed to make your head dizzy. "i need you—i need you inside me, please, soobin." you can feel him smile into your neck as you plead. "of course, baby, but i need something from you first." he says letting your wrists free and using his other hand to unbutton his jeans. "get on your knees and suck my cock like the slut you are."

you feel like a woman possessed by how quickly you get on your knees for him. staring up at him in anticipation and hoping he won't notice as you rub your thighs together. when he pulls his pants down, it almost hits you in the face, and you can't help but stare. he's huge. "soobin, you're going to break me." he nearly throws his head back and laughs, "i thought sluts like you were supposed to like big cocks. c'mon, don't be shy now. suck." his order sends a jolt of electricity down to your core.

opening your mouth, you try to take as much of him as possible, and what you can't, you wrap your hands around. bobbing your head up and down his cock, your eyes never leave him. the way his breathing becomes gradually more labored as he groans. his eyes are hungry as he looks at you. "good girl, i knew you could take me," he tells you, and you can feel your walls clench around nothing, and you can't help but moan around him. it's enough to make him curse and grab the back of your head. you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he pushes your head down. feeling his head hit the back of your throat and his cock twitch. you barely have a second before you feel hot cum spill down your throat.

soobin pulls you off his cock and places a hand under your chin. forcing you to stare up at him through those thick-rimmed glasses and overgrown fringe. he pulls you up to him and forces his lips on yours. swapping his cum between you before you finally decide to swallow it. "you're nasty," he says before giving you a light spank, making you let out a yelp. he grabs you by the hand and guides you back to the bed.

his eyes are blown with lust, and suddenly your clothes feel too hot for your skin. you're telling him to pull off your shorts as you tear your top off, and you're left in only your underwear. soobin is quick to start marking and playing with your breasts, telling you how perfect they are. feeling his right hand on your clothed core, you can't help but grind against it. he notices the way you grind on his hand and moves your panties to the side. watching how drenched you are, he decides to dip two of his long fingers inside you, and it has you reeling.

feeling his fingers inside your gummy walls is enough to have you screaming for him. he reaches places your pathetic fingers could never reach. he's so mean and fast with them too; the noises made by them are so lewd, you'd be embarrassed if you weren't enjoying it so much. you think you can't get enough of his fingers until he uses his thumb to circle your clit. the stimulation is so great that he has you chanting his name. his name is dripping like honey from your lips as you try your hardest not to cum. soobin knows you're close; how couldn't he? with your walls fluttering against his fingers and your thighs trembling. "it's okay, baby, you can let go for me," and it's almost as though that was the final piece of a puzzle. you're suddenly seeing stars, and your walls are convulsing around him as you cum.

"is that all you can take, or do you want more?" he asks you as if he doesn't already know your answer. without a second thought, you're screaming once more for him, "please, soobin, i need you inside of me—going insane—need your big cock inside me." you're so needy and desperate for him, it's borderline pathetic. "okay, let me just grab a condom," he says, going to get up, but you grab his arm, pulling him back in to stop him. "no, i need you raw." such a simple sentence, but it's enough to make his cock twitch. "you really are insatiable," and his lips dive back into yours.

as you kiss, you can feel him lining himself up with you, his large cockhead teasing your opening. moaning into the kiss and telling him to put it in already, only making him smile against your lips. when he slips into you, you swear you see heaven. the stretch like nothing you've ever felt before; he's so big, and he's already hitting you so deep. when he bottoms out, you're already grinding against him, begging him to move. soobin is more than happy to oblige, digging his fingers into your hips and slowly pulling out of you, only to ram back in.

you think he'd be rough with just that one thrust, but he continues to be hard and fast. as he thrusts his cock inside of you, you can't help but stare. he makes your head fuzzy, and all you can do is lay there and moan. feeling him lay his hand over your stomach and press down has you clenching around him, making him twitch deep inside you. "god, you're so tight, and you take me so well, like you were made for me," he says. all you can do is moan at his praises, making you teeter closer to the edge.

his groans sound like heaven, his glasses are foggy, and his fringe slightly hangs over them. you don't think you've ever seen anyone look hotter. you don't realize how long you've been staring until he says something like, "see something you like?" and in that moment, you realize you're drunk on him, and you don't ever want to get sober. he chuckles and gives you a smirk right before playing with your clit again. "i can feel the way you're clenching down on me; I know you're close." he's acting almost as if he isn't close, too. "please, soobin, i need to cum—need you to fill me up too, please, soobin." you punctuate your words by wrapping your legs around his waist.

his thrusts become sloppier, and his head falls into the crook of your neck. feeling his hot breath as he curses. "cum for me, y/n" it's not a request but an order. your legs tighten around him as you cum, locking him in as you let out loud moans while your body is wracked with pleasure. you barely get a second to recover before soobin's hot cum floods your insides. there's so much, and you don't think you've ever felt fuller than you do in this moment. after he slips out, you can feel his cum starting to dribble out of your hole.

your head is fuzzy, and you're barely coherent when soobin tells you he's going to grab something to clean you up. however, even with the burn in your legs, gasping for air, and cum spilling from your hole. you can't help but think there's no way this absolute sex god of a man is a damn nerd.

but god, you love nerds.

perma tag list: @hoonslutt @moonlighthoon @love4heejayke @jouliejihan @majestyjun @yizhoutv

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #choi soobin smut #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt drabbles #txt reactions #soobin imagines #choi soobin x reader #soobin x reader

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ybklix · 2 months ago

Text

homewrecker!

part one / PART TWO ★ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader x lee minho

✦summary: The game was fun, the secretive game of an affair with an older man using you as their toy in the hot and bright summer, so everything was perfect until someone decided to lose, involving feelings.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, bit angst, dilf hyunjin & minho, softdom!hyunjin, dom!minho, cheating, age gap, handjob, oral sex, rope play, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, creampies, deepthroat, protected piv, fingering, sex toys, gaslighting ?

₊ ⊹ word count: 16.6k

masterlist - taglist ⭑.ᐟ

playlist: sad girl by lana del rey ♡ is there someone else? by the weekend ♡ criminal by fiona apple ♡ the other woman by lana del rey ♡ cry baby by the neighbourhood ♡ illicit affairs by taylor swift ♡ say my name/cry me a river by the neighbourhood

divider by roseraris

It started as something simple at first, the idea of having you went to Hyunjin’s head and suddenly he couldn’t stop, his big problem was that he fell in love too fast. All his life the only woman he treated especially was his wife, after her no one caught his attention beyond just knowing their names and being merely kind and humanitarian until you came along. Suddenly his whole perfectly ordered life changed completely. You recognized that Hyunjin had a beautiful heart, leaving aside the fact that he cheated on his wife and it was absolutely an unforgivable act among many other misfortunes, but he was cute, kind, cared about you, showered you with expensive things, was quite the gentleman, after all he was older than you, had more experience, delighted you with so many pleasurable emotions, long panting nights and the most divine sex you could ever have, yet he was on the same level with Minho, as you could not choose with whom you liked to do it more.

You really believed that your situation with Hyunjin would be a one-time thing, something so exclusive and unique, an unforgettable experience, which it was, sex with him was like you had never experienced before, your first time was so desperate but sweet, as if both of your bodies were eager to meet, to collapse and have each other. When you ended it, you even got sad, not because of guilt, but because of the fact that maybe that could be the first and last time you would have Hyunjin, yet he took care to make it more than clear to you that he didn’t want it to be a one-time thing, subtly letting you know it between shy flirtations every time you had alone time at your sister’s house.

You never thought that, what you assumed to be a quiet summer at your sister’s husband’s house with her little stepson, would be for you a series of hot, fortuitous and indecent encounters with two married men. You were so amazed, you felt on fire every time you dressed up to see yourself with one of them, so secretly and vulgarly. And all thanks to the incredible rush of desire that filled your body, making you give oral sex to someone you should have never even seen in the first place. And you had to admit that at first you found it very hard not to fall in love with a man like Hyunjin, he had it all and was absolutely someone worth your time to meet, he was so soft spoken, his conversations were interesting, he had such a shy, tender and naive personality but something about him exuded so much confidence, it drove you crazy, he knew what he was capable of, he knew he was still young, just a little older than you, and he was in all his abilities to make you feel so good.

And after countless nights of incredible sex, little by little you sensed a feeling that you were forced to put aside, you were getting attached to Hyunjin and he was getting attached to you. It was impossible not to. You still remembered your first meeting, in that luxurious room, making you feel like a first class prostitute in a way since there was no one to fool, more than the rest of the world, you were about to have sex with Hwang Hyunjin, a married man you just met but you couldn’t avoid the immense sensations that suddenly tormented your body.

Hyunjin was out of his mind every time he was with you, as if he was a new person, he knew how incredibly wrong he was, but he wanted to have you and taste you entirely, he wanted to satisfy himself as much as he had never felt before.

You saw his adorable smile, a whole series of problems were triggered from there, he said, “I rented this room to be more comfortable, I hope you don’t mind.”

It was a freaking penthouse. You toured the place with your eyes, breathless. Of course you were fine, you were about to fuck in a king size bed with an attractive, interesting man and not in a small college dorm room with a guy your age who was almost behind in all his classes.

You were slightly nervous and smiled back at him, moving closer to him and hugging his abdomen. Hyunjin became a little nervous at your touch and you found his reaction so cute. You raised your eyes to look at him.

“That’s very nice, thank you.”

You thought the room would be a one night thing, just like that first time, but later you realized that he had rented it for a while just for your encounters, leaving you speechless.

“I want to do all the right things for you” he confessed, so sincere, caressing your face between his big hand.

The irony in doing the supposedly right thing with you by doing everything wrong. Whenever Hyunjin was with you there was no one else, he let you practice with him absolutely everything, as he knew he would take great pleasure anyway.

“I can’t wait to see it... all the good things” you replied, your cheeks growing warmer and warmer, “I think you still owe me something.”

“Ahh, yes” he replied, settling his body more comfortably between your arms and sticking closer to you, now holding your face with two of his hands, “About that…”

His hands were so warm, and the rings decorating his fingers were still the same temperature, both of you were already warm despite the cold atmosphere of the apartment and you saw his appetizing lips and handsome face move closer to you, trapping you in a kiss, the sensation descending from your mouth to your stomach, causing a tingle you had not felt in years. It felt so good. You closed your eyes, enjoying every soft rose of his plumpy lips colliding with yours, you were entering that zone so hastily, heating up your body more and wanting to get naked instantly.

Everything was sweet and tender until he gradually toned up, playing with you and introducing more of his tongue, doing it with a passion like you had never been kissed before. You were getting restless, Hyunjin knew so well what he was doing that you even felt like a first-timer at kissing, something as banal as kissing suddenly became the best sensation. You had never been touched like that, you were getting more and more excited; his soft nose caressing your face, the edges of his glasses touching your face and the play of breaths between hot and wet kisses, neither of you wanted to separate from the other, each kiss was better than the previous one, his lip control and strong jaw sent shocks and pleasurable pangs in every part of your body. You were so lost in him.

Separating slightly only for lack of air, you noticed an excited Hyunjin, leaving for a second his sweet and tender look that he always brought behind his glasses, appearing a darker and of desire under his straight and thick eyebrows, you wanted to fall before him, you were so surrendered that you couldn’t stand it anymore, you watched his chest rise and fall with intensity and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something so he did:

“Are you going to let me reward you tonight? You were really great that time, baby.”

His voice and warm breath heated every part of you, the way he moved his full lips as he spoke… you really were jealous that he wasn’t yours, wanting to show the world that he was the one man who made you so happy… and you hadn’t even fucked him, yet at that moment.

You nodded at his question, with a mischievous smile and looking him straight in the eyes and with your pupils dilated as if you were at the peak of some drug that was driving you to the clouds.

Hyunjin moved his hands down from your face to your ass, massaging and squeezing it, lifting your tight skirt up your body, finding his hand with your skin and the fabric of your panties since you weren’t wearing anything underneath but your underwear; he licked his lips, drawing you more and more into his body and you quickly got the idea to keep pleasuring him just like the first and last time you had him, at that time.

Your restless and slightly trembling hands reached for his belt, he noticed your intentions quickly and looked at you expectantly doing so raising his thick eyebrow slightly. You lowered your gaze to his already noticeable erection which surprised you every time, for your second time with him, you were still not used to the speed at which a handsome man like him reacts to you so quickly, getting aroused immediately, it seemed like a dream, one in which only you and he existed. Your pussy and heart were pounding, you wanted to have him already, just for you, moaning pleasurably in his manly voice about how much he was enjoying being with you in something so forbidden and improper. Seeing him finally, you were also unaccustomed to the large, protruding bulge, again projecting in your mind the image of his well-endowed penis and remembering the feel of his stiff, delicious cock in your mouth entwined on your tongue, your mouth salivated and every part of you reacted anxiously again mind. Hyunjin wouldn’t let that smug smile off his face, he was so engrossed in your face and your hands struggling with removing his belt, once you succeeded, you stroked his erection between his pants, rubbing your palm hard on it, to which Hyunjin reacted by closing his eyes in pleasure and biting his lip trying to hide the desperate desire he had to use his cock and stimulate it all over you, but he resisted, letting himself go and running his tongue around his cavity, mischievously once you unbuttoned the button of his pants and tentatively slipped your hand inside it to caress his member further.

“You want to taste me again, don’t you, my pretty little doll?”

You looked into his eyes again, the sweet tone in which he spoke had awakened in you even more desire. You lowered your gaze again, his huge bulge bulging in his open zipper, tight against the soft black fabric of his underwear, you thought of nothing else but the incredibly sweet and handsome Hwang Hyunjin, so willing to you with his super big boy-making machine, the thought of his cum in you drove you crazy and turned you on even more. You nodded once more at his response, impatient to do so and unable to speak, you didn’t know what to say, you wanted no other sound in the room but his own manly sounds of pleasure and heavy breaths.

“Did you really like it last time?” he said again, still in a smug tone and taking your chin gently to look into your eyes.

His gaze was darker than the last time you saw them until just seconds ago, his sweet countenance was slowly fading, watching you with pure desire; Hyunjin couldn’t remember the last time he felt absolutely absorbed by sex, with his heart outside his chest, all of him so tense, so rigid and able to fuck for hours, it was as if all his discharge was about to be released, all the unsatisfied nights about to be fulfilled in such a dirty fantasy and taking it out on you.

“Y-yes” you replied, almost breathless and slightly embarrassed that it came out that way.

Hyunjin didn’t resist, finding your response so adorable, your big eyes begging for sex and every detail of you unhinged him in seconds, moving closer to you and kissing you again, slowly catching your lips, gently, softly, still holding your face as his tongue slid nimbly into you, so artfully caressing his tongue with yours, never leaving the feel of his fleshy lips on yours, he kissed so well, you had never paid attention to the details of a good kiss until being touched by him, it was as if you had only kissed out of commitment, because it's like an automatic thing where things worked but you had never stopped to think about how much you enjoyed it, when it was being well executed, each shy but bold movement of his mouth was perfect.

The sound of both mouths colliding made you pleasantly restless. The seconds turned into long minutes as you were desperate to feel it. His other hand was resting comfortably on your lower back, and as he pulled away, you noticed his lips glistening at you.

“Then do exactly what you would like to do, princess.”

He was splendidly ecstatic and you were barely touching his erection on the fabric of his boxer briefs, but he was more than sure of the incredible and delicious experience that was about to take place and how he was going to feel.

You were desperate yet you shyly pulled his cock out of his underwear, stroking it and still looking into his eyes just the way he liked it, you began to stroke him thoroughly, masturbating him with both your hands on his pulsating organ full of energy and load to be discharged, ready to be used, you felt his exposed length, his uncovered skin so intimately being caressed by you, taking it from his glans, stroking it gently all the way down the rest of his cock, pulling and touching everything in its path as you witnessed the inevitable pleasure Hyunjin was receiving, making sweet moans of satisfaction.

Your pussy reacted harder, you needed him now as you had never needed someone before, the sensations were getting more and more intense, you bit your lip, imagining desirously the feeling of his cock filling every inch of you, but you wanted to suck him at the same time, you didn’t know what was happening to you, it was like you were ovulating but 10 times worse, maybe it was just the fact of having Hwang Hyunjin that made you like this. On the other hand, you could notice how he was willing to do all that for you…. he was letting himself be touched by you, he was on the verge of collapse, being so stimulated but it was a painfully pleasant delight, his mind was working on his triggered hormones that were taking care of his libido and arousal, but at the same time that smart, mature brain was thinking from time to time how bad that was, how much he had to stop just now… but he was already doing it, the infidelity and sin were already committed, he had already acted impulsively by renting a place to sin and commit atrocious acts behind everyone’s back… why would he stop right now if you were an extremely attractive young girl willing to please him and work on the pleasure of both, Hyunjin was in his never-ending internal war, that’s why the process was painful but extremely hot.

You could feel his needy expression, his tongue running over his lips, it was making you hotter the fact that you had that version of him, a poor and defenseless man in need of sex, looking for an easy way to free himself, it was very clear to you how easy and naive you were acting, besides wrong and inappropriate in every way but honestly you didn’t care, at the end of the day you would seek your pleasure and you would not finish until you were completely satisfied, it was going to be an unforgettable night for you, your hand was already on his cock, you already had the man yielded and surrendered to you with his soft expression on his face while you were already starting to get on your knees without wasting any time.

You slightly pulled down his clothes to finally see completely what you were about to entertain yourself with for a very sweet time and saw for a second his erect member move gracefully as you let go of holding it for a moment, to later hold it again and finally bring it closer to your mouth while every part of your body throbbed in excitement like you had never done before, this time it was stronger than that time at your sister’s house and less risky, because while the adrenaline and risk of being discovered that time did not compare to the comforting feeling of being absolutely alone without being interrupted and that after oral sex you could simply go on and on, or so you hoped, Hyunjin was so fucking eager and full of energy to continue as many rounds as necessary because just now there seemed to be no end to it.

You stuck out your tongue to slowly savor his length, playing with his tip, making smooth little circles on it, playing with your saliva and his precum, making him shudder and moan in between gasps, Hyunjin was in paradise right now, at least in the sinful and tentative pleasure filled paradise, the sensations filled his body, traveling from his sensitive cock being stimulated and spreading down his abdomen until they reached every corner of him, bristling every hair on his body, the idea of having another woman other than his wife filled him with such inexplicable pleasure, the idea of something forbidden filled his veins completely, it had been a long time since he had been sexually pleasured, no one had been given the task of satisfying him with such patience and tranquility as you were doing just now, taking your time licking his entire length, playing with the rest of his cock, with the feel of his skin in your hand, with your mouth taking it completely and caressing the softness of your cheeks and lips. He was crazy.

You felt that tickle in your nose as it stretched from trying to open your whole mouth so you could take his erection completely, you were already being so weak in your first seconds, tearing from your eyes, crying from your sensitive genitals desperate for action, still you found your rhythm, moving your head all over his cock in a perfect bobbing motion that made the poor needy body of that man whose mistress you turned into, slowly suffer, slowly bringing him to his orgasm. You had your fun, looking into his eyes with his manhood in your mouth filling every part of your cavity, drooling at the satisfaction of both of you and flooding the place with his gasps.

Hyunjin was a bit noisy, you thought, and you complained absolutely nothing, his moans motivated you more and more, you wanted to see him cum, you wanted to make your little mess with his cum in you, you needed it, you were so desperate to have something from him as sadly deep down you believed and recognized that it was the only thing you could get from him or someone like him, his countless sleepless nights of pleasure and eroticism.

He held your hair, gently guiding and pushing from your head as he grunted so close to his orgasm for you, he was sorry, he wanted to stop, to tell you to stop so you could let him use your pussy and start fucking you… as he feared he could never be this erect again with that same fucking Viagra quality intensity. Instead, Hyunjin started babbling, letting himself be carried away by your warm tongue and mouth taking care of something so intimate to him. Finally he threw his head back cumming in exasperation as you felt the intensity of his sex throbbing and like a good girl you waited for all his discharge on your tongue.

Hyunjin saw in a blur, he was in heaven but it still didn’t compare to the image he would have of you on your knees, surrendered to him, so he went back to his position to watch the scene of his cock collapsing and spilling all of him on your restless tongue, reaching his orgasm.

When he finished and you swallowed it all quietly, you stood up again and stared at him. You were so excited and desperate that if he touched you suddenly you could fall into a thousand pieces. You were a little bomb about to explode. Hyunjin caressed your cheek as he saw your piercing dark gaze, he couldn’t resist any longer and it was as if his fear had never happened, he became erect and hard again at his unstoppable imagination and desire to have you.

He took it upon himself to delicately clean around your mouth stained in his white semen and the small mess combined with your saliva, running his thumb over your skin to then move closer and kiss you, tasting himself, witnessing what he was capable of on that very night.

His kisses trailed down as he gently held you by your neck, you were being seduced by his gentle movements until he slowly made you get undressed, lifting your blouse and removing your bra; you had absolutely no problem with him seeing you naked, you wanted to be so vulnerable for him if only for one night. Hyunjin played with your breasts for a while, he licked and sucked your nipples until he left them sensitive while you tried not to moan so loudly, once he left your sensitive skin slightly red as a sign of being well stimulated, he smiled arrogantly, and kept lowering his mouth and warm breath that before you knew it, he was already squatting, doing exactly the same process you did with him, pulling down your skirt and panties, taking with his fleshy lips all over your pussy, kissing your mons pubis and focusing on your clit, sucking on it. You lowered your gaze, trembling and moaning to find the sweet scene of his nose colliding with the skin of your pubis, his soft black hair and his mouth trying more and more to take you completely.

Hyunjin smiled at the feel of your throbbing sex on his tongue and wanted to eat you whole, but once again he was so desperate that he wanted only to make sure how very wet and ready you were to finally get his cock ready for you. But you held on to him, getting weaker and weaker and moaning louder and louder as his tongue skillfully traced strokes through your slick, stretching more of his muscle to encompass more of you, you felt the vibration of his insides as he was savoring and tasting you completely, his whole body filled with pleasure as he tasted again the very sweet and young womanhood, to which in the process of his complete relishing, he hummed in pleasure.

Suddenly you felt the softness of his fingertips playing with your entrance, by then you knew exactly what was waiting for you, so you closed your eyes and bit your lip letting yourself go, letting that married man insert two of his fingers into you at your tight entrance because of your standing position, a gasp escaping from your lips, feeling the tension in your body grow but at the same time feeling a relief, as it was exactly what you wanted from the beginning, his long fingers sliding into you, knowing how to please you.

“Hy-yunjin” you moaned his name as you felt the tingling inside you deepening.

His fingers were long and of perfect girth, they went into you perfectly, suddenly you were full, with his mouth on your pussy and his fingers fucking you. He would part your folds with his free hand and every now and then he would stroke his sensitive cock as eating you stimulated him too much and feeling his fingers wrapped around you made him crazy, you didn’t think you could hold out that long, his tongue moved slow but his fingers were so fast and skillful they made your walls vibrate, it was a different rhythm but perfect, you were feeling so good, your nipples were getting hard and the knot in your stomach started to appear and when you were lubricating yourself more and more, moaning louder and louder, feeling orgasm near, Hyunjin withdrew his fingers from you leaving you feeling a huge emptiness for long and whining seconds, he also pulled his mouth away and laughed softly but in a teasing tone.

That was the first time he was 'spontaneous’ like that and the first time in all your encounters where he provoked you so much to the point of denying you an orgasm or stopping you from having one.

“Pretty doll, I think you’re ready to take me now, aren’t you, my good girl?” he said, still with his smile lifting his gaze and gently stroking your folds making you sigh.

You almost trembled at the sound of it. He was about to do it and it turned you on again. You nodded softly, lost in the desire in his dark brown eyes, your breath already heaving.

Hyunjin stood up again, staring at you as if to seize you, and kissed you passionately again, this time in a more desperate act and pushing your body gently until he guided you into the bedroom. Your eyes were closed, letting yourself be carried away by everything he was doing to you, but you felt him pull away from you and your legs bumped against the edge of the bed and as you fully opened your eyes you saw a restless Hyunjin gesturing for you to lie down on it.

You were impatient too, your whole vibrant body was, so agitated to finally commit the even greater sin. To top it off with the best.

He was so hot despite the pleasant temperature of the place that he was even slightly starting to sweat, so almost in a quick and reflex movement, you watched Hyunjin take off his buttoned shirt desperately, but doing it so nimbly with his long fingers and finally, you observed his lean and subtly worked body, his smooth shoulders and smooth muscular arms accompanied by noticeable veins. You slowly lay back on the bed, shyly spreading your legs as you watched his intimidating naked figure in front of you. His notorious, pink, long, and veiny cock, his smooth abs, you were at such an aroused point that every part of you was throbbing hard and you began to watch almost in slow motion Hyunjin’s steps to go to the nightstand, caress his well-foreplayed cock and put on a condom so latex-thin still letting you appreciate the details of rigid masculinity.

He was already more than ready because he knew that night you were going to be his only and when he finally approached you, the fear and excitement grew, you hadn’t thought it, but Hyunjin was huge. Every inch of his pumping sex lined up at your entrance, whose glistening, swollen pussy Hyunjin appreciated, running his fingers one last time in it to then take his cock.

His body moved closer to yours, your eyes couldn’t miss his long length but as you felt his warm, heaving breaths close, you sought to see his face.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty pussy, fuck baby, is that alright?” he whispered licking his lips so lasciviously without even waiting for an answer as his tip was sliding into you.

His slim build over yours aroused you, his voice, his dirty little comment and the fact that he was already inserting himself inside altered every function of your brain. You nodded in desperation.

“Yes, Hyunjin, yes, please” you gasped as you squealed as his cock stretched your entrance.

You squealed as you felt your walls making room for his swollen cock and arched your back in desperation as you felt him deep inside you, letting out a choked moan. Fucking your pussy was a nice way of putting it, Hyunjin was slowly tearing you apart.

Hyunjin saw your naked body in a submissive position ready to receive his cock. He luridly watched his glans entering you, your little pussy stretching as more and more went in. He groaned too at the fluffy, soft feel of your insides, still struggling to adjust to his size. Somehow he was so fucking ecstatic and proud, to see you almost sobbing and the way your face reflected surprise, pain and pleasure was almost to him artistic. Wasn’t his cock all you’d been acting a little loopy about anyway? Now you had to take it so well. So he thought.

“I'm going to move, gorgeous, okay?”

Once again you nodded and Hyunjin took pity on you, leaving his beastly carnal desires behind and that night he almost made love to you. His thrusts were slow and deep, his whole body enjoyed being in sync and closeness with you. He breathed in your scent as he pounded your pussy and rejoiced in the sound of your skins colliding and your soft moans. You didn’t expect him to do it this way, but it felt so good, it tickled deep inside you and slid deliciously into your walls, Hyunjin had incredible control in his hips as you clung to his back and smelled the sweet scent of his long dark hair.

As you joined faces, you reflexively took off his glasses, appreciating his handsome masculine face, so defined, his slanted eyes, his plump pink lips… all while he kept on ramming you, you kissed him, you couldn’t help it, it was a dream, a man really fucking you for real, not doing it desperately in senseless and frantic movements. You really didn’t expect it, you thought he would take all his frustration out on you and use you like a rag doll but no, Hyunjin wasn’t like that, even with his mistress, and another woman, he was a real gentleman, looking out for your pleasure as well.

That night you saw stars like you had never seen before, you swooned under his body, you climaxed at such a high point. You wanted to do it every day, you wanted to kiss him and see his face when you woke up and when you slept, you were so crazy that you even suddenly wanted a life together with Hyunjin. But too bad for you.

Hyunjin cum in the condom still in you after rhythmic thrusts, rubbing his naked abdomen against yours. In a delicious grunt you were never going to forget.

But that was only the encounter of many and after that, Hyunjin would take you out on dates so as not to look so desperate or so bad that only the two of you would hang out at the hotel waiting for sex, for he was still a gentleman, an unfaithful one but one who knew how to treat a woman well.

⊹　︶︶　 ୨୧　︶︶　 ⊹

However, not everything was as sweet as Hyunjin’s artwork. You began to suspect the sweet feelings Hyunjin had for you after Minho started to suspect you had someone else, someone else to have fun having sex with and filling you to the fullest, which burned with jealousy in him, as he believed you were just his, his beautiful little toy that he took away from society 3 times a week and fucked her dumb. A possession and prize for him after pretending to be a perfect husband to someone whom he believed she was gradually ceasing to love.

In Minho’s own words, grabbing you roughly by the face with his hand to make you look him in the eyes, while he was teasing you with his hard cock between your folds about to enter you, “Why would I fuck you sweetly? If I wanted to do it that way then I fuck my wife. Look at you, you’re such a little slut, fucking a married man for pleasure, following him into the fucking woods, bad little girls like you deserve a lesson.”

Every cutting, insulting word from him shouldn’t have turned you on, but it did. Maybe you liked to suffer a little and perfectly balance Hyunjin’s sweet sex, with Minho’s rough treatment.

With Minho it was different, he went straight to you after the first time you fucked, asking you if you wanted to continue doing it with him to which you shyly answered yes, with a smug smile he took you to your sister’s house after leaving you completely fucked and shaken, still on cloud nine.

And the agreement was simple, 7 days a week and being married men with families, being absent every day in their homes would look too bad, so, life gave you one more chance to take advantage of such a risky situation. Both men could not see you on what they called a family Sunday, more so for Hyunjin who used to attend church, but for Minho it was a day when he, previously, used to have fun activities with his family, taking his wife and children to small trips, encouraging happy recollections and memories to his little son, besides that it used to be a day when his wife did not work, but everything had changed, even before fucking with you and being unfaithful, Suji was not available or enthusiastic to do those little activities, yet Minho took care of both of them children and took them to fun activities in the city or out of town on his own.

So, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday were days dedicated to Hyunjin, and Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday were for Minho. You felt so bad, but so good, when you completed your first week of madness, getting pleasure from both sides every day, you were shocked at how fast your body was recovering and you were getting more and more ready and thirsty for more and more. You had a slight fear of ending up addicted to sex, but you couldn’t help it, you were so young and capable that you could just do it all the time, at least with them.

You didn’t know much about Minho, nor do you now. You didn’t know what his real intentions were beyond just sex but you were already riding in his car about to pull away from society at his cabin. He was so reserved and spoke very little, it was hard for him to get into trust with people but in your extra time, in the sweet time you treasure as your sweetest prized possession, are the memories of the little moments you spend with him after sex, where sometimes he turns tender, apologizes to you softly for being rough while whispering, among one of his things “Daddy is here to make you feel good”. The memories where he would invite you into his kitchen to join him and watch him cook as he slowly reveals details of his life.

Minho’s simplicity drove you crazy. His serious and mysterious countenance, but the fact that he is a simple man full of sexual appetite, willing to risk his life to spend a few hours with you… thrilled your naive and young heart.

The idea to go to the cabin was clearly his. At first, you found it strange but exciting. Minho had bought it to treasure it as something familiar, like a beach house, but this was more him, the Lee’s cabin. Minho bought it as a wedding gift in his third year with Suji, but she hated it slightly, claiming it was more a place for him than for her, as she was well settled and adapted to the city, the darkness of the forest at night terrified her and because of her busy job she couldn’t get out of the city that much. Minho expressed his dissatisfaction with his wife’s glamour and how it became exaggerated. Still, Suji spent some time with him there, then showed herself completely uninterested in accompanying him to what he only used to take his son to, walking him, taking him fishing, or camping.

You had so many questions, but you were saving every one of them. You didn’t want to say something that he would take it the wrong way and suddenly stop talking to you completely. One of the questions that was on your mind was… if Suji and he seemed so different, how could they even get married? Their goals seemed to be so different and every time Minho said something about her it seemed as if she hated him, but he ended up saying that’s just the way they were. The complications of marriage were so much for you, who had never fallen so hard for someone to fantasize about spending the rest of your life together with that person.

But sometimes… just sometimes, you tried to put yourself in their wives’ shoes. And you had to admit that you were a soulless fucking son of a bitch. You suffered nothing. You didn’t bear the pain or responsibility of carrying their children. You were just being “rewarded”, god knows - even if you weren’t the most religious - how much you might have to pay later for the consequences of your actions.

There was a big discrepancy between Minho and Hyunjin, but you couldn’t deny that Hyunjin let you learn so much from him, as he was always the first, and he was the first in everything, or at least in your hot and fierce encounters as you used to start your week with a full dose of him. He would let you explore his body and yours, he would let you know how exactly he liked things and where exactly he felt the most excitement; he was so sweet and it was all about effective communication to result in the most delicious pleasure for both of you.

Hyunjin would show you how to move, whispering softly and encouraging you, which made you so horny and flushed in the face from how much you were enjoying it. He would guide your hands and body where to touch, your mouth what to taste, suck, lick, and nibble subtly; skills you would later put into practice with Minho and exasperated amidst the delight of sexual activity he would babble to you, “Fuck, kitten, where did you learn that from? You do it so well.” You were more than happy to be Hyunjin’s star student.

Minho, despite being cold and distant, his intentions with you did not go beyond those attitudes, he was with you for his continuous battle of hormones and thoughts, to release in you all his pent-up frustration, but he was careful with what he did since unlike Hyunjin, Minho didn’t dare to take you out in the daylight in the city, so better both of you would step aside to enjoy your moment alone, he would take you to the small town near his home in the woods where people rarely knew him and give you the most pleasurably steamy sex.

It wasn’t something he always did in every one of your encounters but Minho liked to tie your hands, to restrict your movement as he watched your fucked face crying for more and more. So it was something he did, sometimes he dressed you in nice lingerie so he could cum on the thin pieces of cloth that minimally covered your body, or sometimes he left you absolutely naked, ordering you to stand still without moving and putting your hands back while he tightly bound your wrists in a skill he had with knots.

You moaned at the sensation of the rope squeezing and rubbing your skin as you were uncontrollably aroused. You couldn’t help it, you were slightly familiar with rope play, when certain toys were used for sex, domination, fetishes to call it a certain way, among other things, but you had never experienced it, no one had ever been so creative and open with you sexually. Until you met Minho, a very peculiar man who hid all his desires under an attractive and demure image of a simple family man. He came up to you and kissed you passionately, you enjoyed every second of it as he rarely kissed you and you felt that he had to be the one to come up and do it. You were even left wanting to feel more of his lips, innocently seeking his touch as you reached out a little for your neck once he was slowly pulling away from you, making him smile at your act.

Minho made you call him daddy when you were having sex, to obey him and now he was tying your wrists together as he put his warm hand on your shoulder gently pushing you onto the bed once he finished tying you up, making you face down.

Minho prepared the sex toy he was going to use on you, filling you with lust using your young body for his experimentation and pleasure. You watched him take a vibrator in his hand and position himself on his knees on the bed beside your naked, tied up body.

You were so fucking aroused, your pussy slick, and your heavy breathing pressing against your chest against the bed.

“Did you buy it for me, daddy?”

Talking to him like that turned him on so badly, and it seemed so dirty to you that you liked to play along.

“Of course I did, little girl. You know how much I love to play with my pretty doll.”

Minho smiled, mischievously. You observed his complexion and the large erection trapped in his pants. You bit your lip. You were beginning to lose your sanity and he still hadn‘t touched you. Until he did, pulling your legs apart and starting to run his fingers through your slick, reaching down to your sensitive spot and making you weak from his lightest touch.

“Oh, kitten, why are you so wet already? If daddy just started touching you… Tell me what you were thinking, pretty girl” Minho whispered the last sentence, pushing the loose hair away from your face so you could get a better look.

The strokes of his fingers on you became more consistent, making you moan audibly.

“About… you, daddy.”

“About me how?” he blinked with sudden fake innocence as he suddenly pinched your clit, causing you to flex your legs in response.

You looked straight into his big brown eyes, you didn’t understand how such a sweet look was wanting to torture you a little.

“About how you touch me…”

“Ahh, I see” he spoke, almost downplaying your comment, “You like it when I make you feel good?”

Minho rubbed his fingers all over your labia spreading your slick fluids one last time and massaged your ass before taking the bright pink toy.

“Come here, turn around, kitten” he ordered you softly.

Minho took you tightly by the shoulders without hurting you and with a little help from you, you turned your body, leaving your hands slightly uncomfortable behind on your lower back, with your body on top of your arms. You watched him take the vibrator and turn it on.

“Open you legs, sweetie.”

You swallowed nervously and obeyed him, giving him the full view of your exposed vulva. Minho smiled mischievously again at the sight of your exposed, glistening genitals.

“You’re so pretty, my doll” he commented in a raspy voice.

You bit your lip as you watched Minho hold the device and bring it closer to your entrance, he licked his lips as he gently inserted it, watching the chunky but small object slide easily inside you, as you instantly felt every stimulation on your walls and he settled the rest of the toy between your folds to leave another part of the device on your clit. You gasped loudly, the vibrations were so intense encompassing every part of you.

“Did I put it in you right, honey?” he asked softly to which you awed at his concern.

You nodded, trying not to squeal in excitement, but it was in vain, your walls and clit were vibrating non-stop, you were building your arousal slowly, tensing every part of your body, from your still arms under your body to your restless legs twitching at the pleasure.

Every muscle in you suddenly felt so stiff and the intimidating image of Minho were not helping you at all, you were being so ridiculously stimulated that you thought you would collapse at any moment, you were dripping in fluids, you felt them sliding into your labia majora, making a little mess on Minho’s sheet. You whimpered, building your orgasm closer and closer.

“Are you enjoying it, honey?” Minho brought his face close to yours, brushing the tip of his sharp nose with yours, “You have to tell me when you’re about to cum, okay?”

His eyes grew wide, watching you warningly and intimidating you.

“Yes, daddy” you whimpered.

You whined for yourself, the vibrator was filling your pussy and stimulating your clit and every inch of your vulva successfully, you raised your pelvis in desperation, the ties suddenly felt so infuriating. But Minho silenced your stifled moans in a savage kiss, playing with your hard nipples and squeezing your breasts. And moments later, you felt it, your fluids leaking out of you, your body getting more restless and feeling the tension in your muscles more intense, you were about to cum.

Minho felt the force of your collapsing body and pelvis twitching almost looking for a way out of the constant stimulation your body was under, so he pulled his lips away from yours and immediately when he did you whimpered:

“Daaddy, I’m abo-ut t…. please.”

You couldn’t even speak. You wanted release in your orgasm and from the bonds in your arms.

“Good girl. I think you’ve had enough for now.”

Minho pulled away from you and deftly removed the toy from inside you. Leaving you with every hair standing on end near your orgasm and an empty sensation, but still spasming from the vibrations. You moaned softly as the device slipped completely out of you and Minho tossed it already turned off to the side of the bed.

“Okay, up up up, kitten” Minho bit his inner lip, helping to support your body so you could sit up.

Once again, you let him help you, you were agitated and confused, about to cum with intensity that you weren’t thinking clearly what was next or what his next move might be, Minho tenderly caressed your face as you looked slightly tired and you knew immediately as soon as you saw his hands on the button of his jeans.

You came back to your senses as you saw Minho’s well erect and rigid cock pointed directly at your face.

He grabbed it almost from its base, to direct his glans to your face and spread his glistening precum on your lips.

“Come on, little girl, get daddy’s cock ready with your pretty little mouth before you take it. Open wide.”

You tasted his cock and Minho almost pushed it all in one gentle thrust leaving you breathless. You looked into his eyes, in a pleading way. Everything inside you burned with lust, every time you were with Minho you couldn’t help but feel like a little toy for the purpose of his own pleasure, it was almost as if you ceased to be human and desire consumed you completely.

Your eyes began to water, you were losing your breath, your stability and your mouth was dripping as the inside of your cheeks and palate remembered every vein of his thick cock gently entering your throat. Minho watched you expectantly, holding your jaw and the back of your head. He moaned at the sensation of your cavity surrounding his cock, the softness of your palate and the graze of your teeth as his length gradually filled your throat. The veins in his neck became present, he was truly enjoying it and when he felt he had touched a sweet spot in you, he began to move fucking your tight mouth and throat.

You cried out in desperation and moved your agitated torso, unable to hold onto his thighs because of your tied hands, he was in complete control of you. You felt your heart pounding intensely, shortening your breath.

Minho wiped away your tears, ramming you thirteen more times until he left your organ aching and pulled out of you, with a cocky grin. You breathed again.

“Lick it, kitten.”

He asked you, your jaw and throat were sore, but you did your best to run your tongue along his pumping length.

“You’re behaving so well, now face down again, pretty baby, get your little pussy ready for daddy.”

You were slightly exhausted but with every muscle in your pussy throbbing, you were so eager for an orgasm.

“Arch your back and lift your ass, good kitty.”

You did exactly his every command, with all your muscles tense, you couldn’t see anything, your cheek was glued to the bed but you perfectly felt his thick cock stretch your entrance as he sought to penetrate you.

You whimpered again, Minho exasperated relieved to have his hard cock between your walls, deep inside you, it was like his reward after a long day. He thought how good you felt and that all the sizzling foreplay was something he couldn’t do with his wife, but that’s what you were there for. To enjoy some very long lasting sex full of provocation.

Minho started ramming you deep and bestially, babbling almost furiously how much he was enjoying it, holding onto your hips, moving every inch of your insides in a wild pounding and bumping of skin on skin. You were so weak, if you could barely support yourself on your knees and arch your back properly.

“Don’t you love when daddy fucks you hard like a fucking slut, huh? Oh fuckkk, I’m gonna cum inside your pussy, baby.”

You moaned louder as you felt his deep thrusts and his warm cum spurt out of him inside you followed by his deep gasps and heavy breathing and unexpectedly, your walls squeezed his limb, finally releasing you in your long awaited orgasm. You were breathless. Full of…

“Full of daddy’s cum, my kitty” spoke Minho proudly, sliding his length from you.

You were tired, that you wanted to relax your back, but Minho’s hands kept holding your hips, to see the spectacle of your used and quivering orifice covered in his white cum. When he had filled with his dirty show and mark on you, he let your body fade away and untied your hands.

“Aren’t you perfect? You’re so young and sweet, you never seem to get filled.”

You felt the release and circulation of your upper limbs again. You smiled happily. You had enjoyed it too much.

Minho carried you lightly, turning your body again. You watched him lewdly again, you felt less submissive once you could use your hands and noticed how well erect his penis was again, he undressed his body quickly, bringing his strong frame close to yours.

You loved the difference between the two men, Hyunjin was leaner, but Minho had smooth and noticeable pecs and stronger arms. You were aroused again.

“Fuck, baby girl, I need you again” he moaned, stroking his cock and bringing his face close to yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, stroking his straight dark hair. You looked up at him, more boldly with a cocky grin.

“I need you too again, daddy. I want you to cum all over me.”

Sex with Minho was so dirty, rough, irresponsible and unapologetically.

But Minho’s perspectives and intentions changed completely once he began to suspect that you were hiding something, he felt it initially but tried not to take it importance, he knew there was a little secret in you of which he wasn’t entirely sure what it could be about, but he found out one Wednesday afternoon when he was so particularly needy and needed to take it out on someone of which that person was you. All that Wednesday he kept thinking about you, it had been a long and heavy day that, although he didn’t like to confess it that way, he urgently needed to be in your arms, he fantasized hard about what kind of activity and process he could control and subdue you, testing your pleasure and a little of your young body’s stamina, just as he loved it.

It was one evening, about to get dark while you were frantically making out with Hyunjin in his car facing some random alley, on your way when Hyunjin came to pick you up at one of your secret spots, a random library where you lied to your sister that you had to go for certain college supplies. You both couldn’t resist and he stopped the car to start kissing and touching you, almost to the point of starting to have sex there, you were enjoying it, the feeling of his desperate lips against yours and his restless hand seeking to stimulate your clit under your skirt, of which you had decided to play a little dirty today, not wearing underwear for your lover.

“Mmm, baby, please don't do this me… you're not wearing panties? Why…?” whispered Hyunjin drunk in your kisses, still with his eyes closed and near your lips, surprised not to feel any fabric covering your pussy, other than the soft skin of your public mound.

You smiled guiltily and felt his finger caress your clit. Hyunjin’s erection throbbed in the firm denim of his jeans. You couldn’t help it, you loved how incredibly big Hyunjin looked, without needing to be hard, so you stroked his bulge.

“You were all the time waiting for me with nothing under your skirt? You’re a very very bad girl…” he whispered again, catching your lips and grabbing your neck, nothing short of taking you and fucking you in his car.

The tension was growing more and more, his tongue was getting more and more naughty in your cavity… but to your bad luck, you forgot to silence your phone, so the thunderous sound of a message notification slowly drove you away.

First it was a message. You didn’t care but the sound became insistent. Hyunjin moved away from you slowly, returning to his place as a driver and moving his hand away under your skirt. You pouted.

Hyunjin closed his eyes deeply and shook his head, returning to his sanity of not being able to fuck you in broad daylight in an alley that was public road.

“You must answer, it seems to be important.”

“It’s nothing, I just forgot to put it on silent, Hyunjin, plea-” you leaned in again to kiss him, not taking your hand off his erection, but another notification sound interrupted you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I can’t fuck you here anyway… Let me buy you some dinner first, okay?” he told you sweetly, taking the wheel and pulling your hand away from his cock and leaning over to give you a soft, tender kiss on the cheek.

You nodded resignedly, watching him sweetly and Hyunjin started the car. You took out your phone without a problem, but you almost turned pale when you read what it was about. 10 messages from Lee Minho. You looked at Hyunjin in fright, but he didn’t seem to notice your nervous expression as he kept driving so attractively and calmly.

You opened the chat with curiosity, that Minho was not usually so insistent.

Where are you? I want to see you Now Are you at chan’s house? I’ll pick you up Wear something nice😉 It’s gonna be a long night Why don’t you answer? I want to see you Can you today?

That day you answered him that you couldn’t. Minho called you instantly, but you ignored each of his calls, the next day was so bad for you, he wanted to know what you were doing, asking you like a normal person, but you lied slightly nervous that you had some night courses at the university and you couldn’t see him. But Minho still suspected something and that made him uneasy. He took the moment to spank you and remind you how available you must be whenever daddy needed you, but even with the hardest smack you couldn’t tell him you were with Hyunjin.

That Wednesday was also not particularly sweet for Hyunjin once he arrived home as nervousness and guilt consumed him like never before. Hyunjin was comfortably buttoning his loose silk pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed ready to sleep, he had taken a long shower even though he had already done it at your apartment, but if he didn’t it would be suspicious since he was supposed to have come in extremely tired from overtime at his job where he had accepted a program where he educated newbies and stayed extra hours to plan the activities they could do… a lot of bullshit, he had the time of his life eating you whole and tasting every part of you. So in that intimate moment for him with the water pouring over his body, where he thought about you all the time even as he closed his eyes, all he saw was you, he was a mess because of you, you made him smile like a fool without realizing, that if he barely remembered he was about to sleep in the same bed with his wife.

But his smile was gently wiped off his face when he felt his wife hug him from behind, surprising him. Yeji felt the softness of Hyunjin’s pajamas and settled her face on his shoulder.

“You must be so tired… you work so hard, how many weeks has it been already since you’ve been staying late?” she spoke softly kissing his neck.

Instead of thinking about how many days he had been lying to her and dating you, he thought about when was the last time Yeji had come close to touching him, in a more daring way. Hyunjin knew her too well, knew the intentions of her hands caressing his chest and the tone in which she spoke.

He remained unresponsive to her. Still with so many thoughts suddenly, he had the slight feeling that even being his wife, her touching him felt so wrong.

“I have to tell you something I found out,” she said again.

Hyunjin’s body tensed as he recognized the seriousness in her tone and he turned his body to look at her, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.

Yeji had had such a peculiar afternoon and she had to tell her husband. Hyunjin saw her, her serious countenance suddenly formed a smile, confusing him.

“I didn’t want to tell you but… I went shopping today and the employees kept telling me if I wanted another pair… that you had already been there, shopping.”

Hyunjin’s heart stopped for a second. He was thankful that everything he gave you was a surprise gift and that he never took you to the stores, his guilty mind put together in seconds the scenario of his wife going shopping and the gossiping employees telling her that he usually takes another woman. Hyunjin got scared and reflected it softly on his face to which Yeji noticed it, so she ran her hand along his arm, innocently thinking that he got nervous after discovering a surprise for her.

“It’s okay, I’m very grateful, honey… but had second thoughts. You work too hard and we can save the money, I think the kids will need it more than I need another pair of fancy shoes.”

Hyunjin sketched a smile, his heart racing and feeling like the worst man in the world, like a criminal on trial pressed for his crimes. He watched his wife’s sweet smile.

“Ah, I see, so… do I return everything?” he replied nervously.

“I don’t want you to feel bad, honey, but it was seriously a lot of expensive stuff, I was impressed.”

And none of it was for her. Yeji approached him still with a smile. It seemed strange at first… but her brain connected the dots that her husband was so busy that he even stopped giving her his little details like the weekly bouquet of flowers he used to give her, so he wanted to reward her in an ostentatious way.

“It’s okay, darling I understand” Hyunjin answered her still agitated but relieved, trying to ignore her dangerous and seductive closeness.

“Although… the limited edition Versace bag? Really, baby? For me? There was only one in the country. Mmm, maybe I can keep just that one. Thanks.”

Hyunjin almost trembled, yes he had acquired it, but for you. He was about to give it to you for your date on Friday, but at least he would have a chance to give it to his wife and not look entirely like a villain. He let out a nervous smile, he had already imagined the sparkle in your eyes when you opened the gift, which now could no longer belong to you.

She moved closer to him, pressing a kiss to his unmoving lips as he didn’t reciprocate her first move.

“But… I haven’t seen any of those things here, where do you have them, huh, Hwang Hyunjin? Since when did you get so good at hiding things?”

The irony of her sentence made him flinch, he was so surprised and scared that he couldn’t react to the fact that his wife was doing her best to touch and provoke him.

“When was the last time you fucked me? I need you, Hyunjin” she whispered seductively in his ear, her arms around his shoulders.

“Yoojin is sleeping” he replied quickly like a robot, almost automatically, motionless, surprised and without even the slightest reaction to his wife’s soft kisses on his neck.

Hyunjin stared at his son’s crib unfazed by Yeji’s attempt at sex.

“Then we’ll be very quiet…” she whispered, panting and excited.

He let himself be carried away, feeling absolutely nothing and thinking about you, thinking about how he had to be more careful… or whether stopping seeing you would be the best option, he thought about the love he had for Yeji, about every single detail that kept him in love for more than 10 years… but why suddenly he couldn’t get you out of his head. Hyunjin knew it, he was falling in love with the wrong person.

Hyunjin dropped his body on the bed, his head on the pillows as Yeji settled on his cock and moving on it. But Hyunjin was so lost, his mind was gone and for some reason he couldn’t get hard.

“I love how big you are” moaned his wife as she felt his soft cock rubbing against her pussy.

Hyunjin thought with a smile at how often you used to tell him that too and how it boosted his ego. He continued to kiss her, following everything almost on automatic without the slightest feeling and after a while of constant motions, a frustrated and aroused Yeji moaned:

“Mmm…. Hyunjin, baby… why aren’t you getting hard? Don’t you want to… do it?”

Her sentence made him see her eyes for the first time, she sounded so disappointed and her small face reflected concern.

“You must be tired, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to force you…” she said again, stopping moving.

She was about to take herself off, but Hyunjin quickly grabbed her hips.

“Yes, I must be tired, but let’s try, honey. I need you.”

He lied, nothing about her was getting him aroused. So he psyched himself up, thinking of everything in order to get hard and the image of your young body couldn’t miss in his mind. It worked like magic, he was so erect all of a sudden that his wife smiled in satisfaction. She acted fast, pulling down the soft fabric of his pajamas and pushed aside the thin fabric of her panties, lifting up her silk nightgown and letting herself fall on her husband’s cock. Hyunjin let out a stifled moan as he suddenly felt her insides around his hard cock. And with all the pain in the world, he took his wife’s body, enjoying her movements on him, but fantasizing that it was about you. That it was you, being able to fuck him at any time without restraint.

Hyunjin cum in her after Yeji rode him just the way he liked it, in the most perfect way since she knew so well how to take his cock, Hyunjin had missed that so much… but sadly he was already consumed by something else that he almost came to gaspingly babbling your name.

She smiled, happy, still with his limb in her and gently collapsed her body on Hyunjin’s chest, feeling his heaving chest. Hyunjin began to stroke her hair, thinking and thinking about how much he shouldn’t have to think about you, why you couldn’t leave his mind for even a second. He was being consumed, this time he couldn’t even feel guilty, he was ceasing to be human, he thought.

“I didn’t know whether to tell you since he’s your friend, but…” Yeji started to speak softly, catching Hyunjin’s attention who had his forearm behind his head to rest on it and was looking up at the ceiling, gone, sex with her had been so different from how he remembered it, “Have you talked to Kim Seungmin lately?”

“Seungmin? No. What’s wrong?”

“Well, I have, I had because I decided to switch classes, a 23 year old yoga instructor, she started at 22 and was reserved and quiet, she was a nice girl but, apparently Seungmin and her are now in a relationship, which is fucked up because his wife was in that class and he used to drive her and pick her up. The girls and I assumed that they must have known each other there”

Hyunjin opened his eyes in fright and could only say “Ah…”

Yeji felt her husband’s chest vibrate as he spoke and instead of controlling his heartbeat, it seemed to speed up.

“Isn’t it fucked up? That little bitch, homewrecker. Anyways, Hayoon is heartbroken… I can’t even imagine, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“About…?” questioned Hyunjin, almost breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Infidelities. It’s just that they looked so happy, we went to their wedding, remember? How come they decide to leave everything for someone younger? At least they didn’t have kids. Like Chan and Sana and that girl…”

“Chan was divorced when he met Missy” Hyunjin quickly replied, almost defending him.

Yeji looked up, settling her head to look directly at Hyunjin.

“Yeah but, she never wanted a divorce in the first place, who assures you that he didn’t meet her while he was married… that makes me so uneasy.”

Hyunjin looked into her eyes again. He knew exactly that it affected her and had to distract her to make her divert her thoughts and not have even the slightest suspicion that he was unfaithful because he was very clear that he wasn’t going to let you go.

⊹　︶︶　 ୨୧　︶︶　 ⊹

Minho’s problem was that he was too curious and in his craziest thoughts came the idea that filled him with rage, that you had someone else, that cheating and lying was something so natural for you because of the circumstances in which he knew you; so Minho had two options for you, you saw a guy your age, or you saw Chan. Crazy, but his brain worked fast at the idea that Chan was an older, attractive man just as he was, plus you were often involved with him…. Minho could not believe the cynicism in your body if the theory that you were sleeping with Chan was true because, if Minho’s wife was a complete stranger to you… but Chan, Minho was not mentally ready to face the truth if the truth was that you did not feel even the slightest regret for cheating on your own sister. You would lose the respect he had for you if he ever confirmed it.

Minho acted fast that Friday, two days after slightly suspecting it, as he overthought in his house with his foot twitching nervously.

“Suho, don’t you want to visit Chase?” suddenly blurted Minho to his son, who tenderly colored something.

His big brown eyes lit up at the sound of his little friend’s name.

“Really daddy? Yes!”

And in quick strides, carrying Suho in his arms, Minho was already with a racing heart ringing his friend’s doorbell. He put Suho down and waited for an answer.

If you weren’t lying, you would be at the house, since you had awkwardly told him the day before that you wouldn’t be doing anything and that you wanted to spend time with Missy. Besides it was 6pm and it was very common for Chan to already be at home at that time… although he didn’t see his car anywhere.

Minho was… extremely alert to every detail. With his eyes wide open so as not to miss anything. He was acting impulsively but something in his gut told him something was up.

Missy attended, giving him a warm smile at the sight of her husband’s friend and his young son.

“Oh, Minho, Suho, hi.”

“Hey, Missy. Suho wanted to see Chase and… I have to go out for a moment, do you mind if…”

“Daddy but you told me if I could…” spoke Suho innocently about to reveal his father.

“Is Chase here?” interrupted Minho suddenly, gently holding his son’s small shoulders.

Missy looked at them strangely, but smiled.

“Sure, he can stay. Suho come on in, Chase and I were just watching a movie.”

“Okay! Bye daddy!” exclaimed the happy little guy, giving a little bow before almost running inside to find his friend.

Missy sketched a smile at Minho once they were alone face to face, she reacted quickly and felt she was being rude so she was going to invite him in but Minho, with his big eyes full of feigned innocence stepped forward.

“Seriously I hope it’s no bother, I have to go out for a while and Suho couldn’t accompany me. Suji went to her mother’s house with Minji.”

“Oh no, not at all. They are very well behaved kids” she smiled.

Minho returned her an automatic smile, raising his high cheekbones, noticeable for miles that it was fake. To which Missy noticed how strange his behavior was, but Chan used to tell her that’s how Minho used to be.

“But it shouldn’t be tiresome, your sister is here, right?”

Minho asked carefully, ready to hear an answer.

“Y/n? Oh no, lately she’s going to college for some summer courses she took at the last minute.”

Minho’s blood almost rushed out of his body. The lie. It was the lie. The excuse you used to say when you were seeing him… why would you use it another day? What were you hiding? Minho clenched his fist, it was starting to bother him that you were acting behind his back and more so if it was about what he already suspected.

“Oh really…?” he tried to hide his anger, “And Chan is here?”

“No” she made pursed her lips, ”He’ll be late because he has something from work.”

Minho gave a half smile, raising his eyebrows, incredulous at how crazy it sounded, neither of them were home, god that could only mean one thing to him and suddenly his body burned with fury.

“Ahm, are you sure I can leave the boys here with you?”

She smiled softly, “Of course, Mr….. L… Minho. They’re good kids, Chan will be here in a few hours.”

“And Y/n?” blurted out Minho suddenly to which Missy raised an eyebrow.

“She’s sleeping over at the college dorm.”

Minho nodded, desperate to act, “Okay, thanks, I’ll be back in a few hours for Suho.”

And just as she closed the door on him and he walked out of the Bahng’s property to go to his own and quickly grab his car, in an impulsive act he dialed Chan.

Every second of waiting was torture for him, until he picked up.

“Hey, mat-”

“Where are you now?” interrupted Minho.

It took for Chan two seconds to process his friend’s tone.

“Almost across town, working on a case. Do you want to meet us…?”

“Where exactly?” he interrupted again.

Minho licked his lips impatiently, his brow furrowed and his breathing warm and heavy.

Chan gave him the address somewhat quizzically, “Why? Is something wrong?”

Minho ignored him and thought about how long he could make it from his house to where Chan was.

“I’ll go over there.”

And Minho hung up, starting the car furiously with his hands clenching the steering wheel. He wanted to confront his friend first if it was true, he knew him, he would know when he was lying.

And on the way, he called you. Who you were getting ready for your date with Hyunjin at his apartment. You were comfortably putting on your makeup when you read the name of the contact and your breath shortened. You decided to answer out of curiosity, since Minho wasn’t calling you regularly, plus Hyunjin was taking a shower to get ready as well.

“Yes?” you answered nervously and hesitantly.

“Where are you now?”

You noticed the beaten and annoyed tone in his voice, giving you chills.

“I’m with some friends” you lied naturally.

Minho let out an airy chuckle in disbelief and scoffing.

“When are you done being with them? Or where are you, I want to see you.”

His words were so cutting somehow.

“I can’t today… I’ll sleep over with them…”

“Then you prefer your cute sleepover? Let’s see each other or I’ll end this, I want you now. Not tomorrow. Now.”

You blinked in confusion, trying to process his insistence, you were about to respond, you really couldn’t. Hyunjin had been planning this outing with you for a while now and you didn’t want to disappoint him or lie to him too much. And suddenly you saw him enter the room with a towel around his waist and his hair slightly wet.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

And you hung up, ignoring him and smiling at Hyunjin. He looked so good, looking for his clothes half-naked with a white towel covering his penis, which part of his body was marked on the fabric. You could take him there right now, but you didn’t want to ruin your makeup and time was running out for both of you.

Yeji forgot everything as soon as he gave her the bag she wanted. That Friday Hyunjin had an art exhibition of some acquaintances, but at the same time it was his wife’s grandmother’s birthday, so like the tender woman she was, she told him he could attend the gallery and she would visit her family with the kids on the weekend. Hyunjin took the opportunity, inviting you, going incognito and under the facade of being a student working in his company that at the same time you were also persuading a position in art. So everything would be so secret, you couldn’t hold hands or kiss in public but one of the things that turned you on so much was doing it hidden from everyone.

Minho on the other hand cursed, feeling useless not being able to do anything more to see you. He kept calling you, but you kept ignoring him again, he wanted to teach you a very good lesson but in the meantime, he arrived at the place where Chan was. And there was no trace of you. Minho questioned him, gently implying that you were a very attractive young woman, but Chan was modest and respectful about it. Minho inspected every part of the place, without giving Chan a single explanation, and as the necessary time passed, he immediately left looking for you in the hotels near the area. But nothing. His frustration grew… he thought for a second that maybe you were telling the truth… but it was hard to believe and even more so with the concept he had of you. Minho knew something was going on. If not Chan, then who? He was going crazy, about to cry with frustration and hatred, he had never felt like this in his life, he felt pathetic, looking for you everywhere, asking for a young, pretty girl with your characteristics, like a complete desperate madman.

And in the torment of his thoughts, Minho stopped his car and pulled over. He had nowhere to go. He didn’t have the slightest idea where you could be and you kept ignoring him. He was so upset and frustrated that, he did what he never thought he would do, tears began to fall from his face as the broad raindrops hit his car hard. Minho sobbed, despising every inch of himself, guilty. Thinking of Suji’s bright smile and the life he had built with her. Of all the times he would get jealous when she had to act in a romantic role and she would in the most genuine, sweetest way tell him it was just work and he was the true love of her life. Why would he do that to her? Just for a little sex? He didn’t hate you this time. He released his frustration by crying, his sobs getting lost in the sound of the falling rain.

He felt stranded. Wondering what the fuck was he doing? What would having you lead him to? That this was all his fault, that you were a promiscuous young woman in search of pleasure, that soon you would get bored of him and leave him, making him cry more, because, deep down he didn’t want that to happen. He loved Suji with all his being… but the feeling was now strange and foggy and no matter how much he thought about it… he wasn’t willing to leave you. He loved you too. He felt cheated and betrayed, it was driving him mad that there could be someone else in your life, making him feel like a damn narcissist and sociopath. Him being able to live the double life, but not letting you do it.

And he cried again, tears wetting his manly face as the rain left certain revelations in its wake… like the fact that he always cared about you but repressed absolutely everything, played hard to stop facing reality and not feel like an animal, a real discord, but he liked you, loved you, your presence was so sweet and innocent, like fresh air after an exhausting day living the adult life. He knew that his heinous acts had no excuse and no forgiveness… but then… what was there supposed to be? He didn’t want to lose you. He didn’t want you to have someone else. He just wanted to know the truth.

You on the other hand had a nice night, by Hyunjin’s side, but distant. There were times when you were happy… and times when you felt like the other woman, like when they happily asked about his wife and kids and you were… literally nobody to them.

On the road you were somewhat pensive, fantasizing the perfect life next to Hyunjin, but it made you extremely sad that his life was already made. He had already built it, a house, his children, a steady job and you… you were nothing to him but a toy which he liked to show off discreetly since… you were nothing to him in the public eye, a toy which he used for his pleasure. That hurt you quite a bit coming from Hyunjin, because there was something about him so sweet that you loved, but you thought that after all… he wasn’t as sweet as you thought and you were just being brainwashed.

In your madness… you asked him about his children, if they were cute and sociable kids… Making Hyunjin’s heart almost burst out of his chest, implying that you were willing to know more about his life. Hyunjin unlike Minho, he considered himself absolutely lost in you and admitted it. He liked you so purely, he wanted to know everything about you, he wanted the perfect life with you.

And he convinced himself in his sick brain that… it was just the hard time when you met, but you were destined. You instantly retracted, thinking that you must also think it was just for pleasure.

But you couldn’t help but not get attached to the men who had you often and pretended to love you and take care of your body.

⊹ ︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶ ⊹

The next day, it was Minho himself who cancelled you seeing each other; upsetting you a bit because you remembered a little about his annoying comment in that it would be the last time you would see each other.

Minho didn’t accept his feelings. And he felt completely pathetic for crying, especially crying for you, so he decided to… walk away.

So, he wanted to relax a bit, asking to see his friends, which he did. Having a few cold beers while they talked, but as much as he wanted to hide it, the great feeling of anguish in him had a name and it was yours. He just couldn’t get the fact that you had someone out of his head and already drunk, he started saying nonsensical things.

“Hey, Chan, are you sure Y/n doesn’t have a boyfriend? That girl…”

“What about Y/n?” blurted out Hyunjin, earning the stares of the other men and Minho looking at him with narrowed eyes, “She’s a nice girl” excused Hyunjin as he felt everyone’s stares.

“Well, you never know man, she’s a young woman” Chan replied interrupting, “Why the curiosity?”

Minho didn’t react and didn’t know what to say. But Hyunjin interjected them.

“Guys, I really have to go. It’s Saturday, I should be with Yeji.”

His friends thought him cute for his comment since Hyunjin had confessed to have some issues with his wife and his friends encouraged him to fight for his marriage, them not knowing that the background of the comment was so she wouldn’t suspect that he had another woman, so he spent the days he didn’t see you with her.

“Can you drive?” asked Chan worriedly.

“Yes, I’m fine” he replied more relaxed.

The party was over once Hyunjin left. He returned home, still slightly dizzy but once he took a cold shower, the drunkenness left his adult body and he couldn’t help but think of the most delicious shower sex he could have ever had, which he had with you yesterday. He needed you. Now. And not just sexually, he wanted to hold you until you fell asleep on his chest like he loved, he wanted to see you when you woke up, when you slept, he wanted to support you in everything, to be with you while you did something from college, to learn to cook together… why couldn’t he have that life with you.

Hyunjin walked with slow steps out of the bathroom, already wearing his pajamas and saw Yeji’s silhouette on the bed. He couldn’t keep doing that to her. He was already in love with someone else and he couldn’t pretend anymore, he sighed, nervously, thinking that if she was asleep… he would tell her tomorrow, but to his surprise, she was awake.

Yeji leaned back against the backrest and gave him a smile.

“Mmm, you’re a little early this time, it’s barely midnight. Come to bed.”

She had barely arrived from her grandmother’s house in the afternoon and barely saw her husband, so she wanted to be in his arms. But Hyunjin didn’t want that anymore.

Hyunjin approached the bed, with no expression on his face, almost confusing Yeji.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking into her eyes.

“Hyun…”

“Yeji. We should get a divorce.”

Hyunjin plucked up the courage to tell her, he couldn’t stand the fact that you felt sad that you had to hide from everyone and just be a mistress.

She looked at him gently confused and then terrified, her world suddenly came crashing down.

Hyunjin was ready to share his life with you because being with him implied so many things, he was ready to tell you that he loves you.

⊹ ︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶ ⊹

For Minho, the sedative effect of the alcohol didn’t last long either, he was anxious again, insecurities and urges attacked him again. At least he wanted to know the truth. He wanted to know who was occupying a place in your heart or in your body, he needed it to know, he was desperate.

So, he didn’t enter his home, he stayed in front of Chan’s house, not caring that he also just arrived. Minho called you.

You were enjoying your Saturday, with the bedroom curtain open and watching movies on your laptop that you had forgotten it was getting late. It was already Sunday.

You were ready for bed, you had made yourself comfortable and decided to relax a bit, because if you didn’t stay distracted your mind was bouncing like a ping pong head from one man to another… and almost as if you manifested it, Lee Minho appeared as a call on your phone.

You blinked in confusion, as he sounded serious about telling you that he didn’t want to see you the last time he called you….

“Hello…?” you replied.

“Come out, now. I’m outside your house. I need to see you.”

Your skin bristled, he sounded so serious, sad and genuine. He had never used the word need. You looked towards the window, it was starting to rain heavily. Minho’s patience ran out.

“Get out. Now.”

“But it’s raining…”

“So? You won’t walk far, I’m waiting for you in my car.”

“It’s late…”

“Why do you keep bringing up excuses not to see me?” he blurted out annoyed, then sighed, as he noticed how insistent he was being, “Just come out, I need to see you. Missy will understand you ran away to see some douchebag your age, you’re young, for god’s sake. I’ll wait for you.”

Minho hung up, leaving you confused. You bit your lip nervously and grabbed the first oversized hoodie you could find, the umbrellas were at the entrance and you would exit out the back. So you slipped on some sneakers and covered yourself with the hoodie from the rain, sneaking out and creeping out the back, until you rounded the house and almost running in the dark, you spotted through the rain Minho’s truck, climbing in quickly, soaking wet.

Minho almost smiled at the sight of you… but remembered, he was there to confront you. And he wouldn’t be gentle with you about it, he never was.

“Sorry, I’m wet” you said, taking off your hood and looking at him.

Minho looked handsome as always, but he looked like he had been out somewhere, dressing up and smelling nicely. And there you were, almost at 1 a.m. riding in Minho’s car, without even thinking about it, because you recognized that…. Minho could do a lot of things against you. Because you liked him too much, maybe a little more than Hyunjin, because there was something about him that attracted you to him fatally. But he didn’t seem to care about you at all, hurting deep inside you. Oh, but you had no idea how unhinged Lee Minho was becoming.

Minho had his hands on the steering wheel, looked straight ahead and then slowly looked at you, at first all normal except for his discomfort… but something about the hoodie you were wearing seemed so familiar. His mind instantly visualized Hyunjin seeing that black hoodie; Minho frowned, finding it ridiculous that it looked exactly like a hoodie his friend had that he remembered perfectly because he had borrowed it from him once a few months ago, but Minho had washed it and returned it to him, only Hyunjin’s had his initials embroidered on the left sleeve, H. H. in white because Hyunjin explained to him that Yeji had some of her children’s clothes embroidered and the hoodie got lost there, so she asked them to put H.H. on it as a cute little joke.

Minho examined you incredulously, his heart beginning to race… wondering if by any chance… Hyunjin and you…

He couldn’t believe it, he almost laughed at the insanity of his thought, that it was a stupid black hoodie, still, almost panicking, he looked down just to check and there was the answer to all his questions, the two damn letters of his best friend embroidered on the left sleeve.

Minho raised his gaze quickly, catching your eyes, his big eyes almost trembling in stress and suddenly became bright, almost on the verge of tears. Minho averted his gaze quickly, so obvious that something suddenly happened, worrying you and leaving you confused.

He felt so betrayed, it was his karma; his breathing shortened and his sight didn’t linger on anything specific as he was busy connecting the confusing dots that could indicate that all this time you were Hyunjin’s lover too. Minho thought, destroyed, about Hyunjin confessing to be having problems with Yeji, you wearing his hoodie, Hyunjin being unavailable on certain days…. Minho could hardly believe it. You were the little home wrecker who interfered between Hyunjin and Yeji. He never saw it coming from Hyunjin.

“Is something wrong…?” you whispered softly since you noticed Minho completely gone.

He softly denied, “No” he stammered.

His mind kept thinking that it was one of his best friends who tasted you every day so well, that you played so well with him as much as you liked to play with him. You couldn’t find the right words to say as it was quite obvious that it looked as if something was going on and you started to be concerned.

“Minho…”

Minho ignored you completely and started the car, not knowing exactly what he was doing.

“You had something to tell me…? Are we going somewhere?”

He ignored you again and drove on in the heavy rain, you were starting to get a little upset.

Minho didn’t know what to do or why he was even driving… what was he supposed to tell you now that he could face you and knew the whole truth.

“I think it’s raining a lot, we can stay here for a while…”

Minho stopped short, startling you and causing your body to go forward from the sudden movement. He turned to look at you and a wave of sadness and anger washed over him.

“Hyunjin? Really?” he mumbled in annoyance, piercing you with his gaze.

You almost sighed in astonishment, wondering if you had heard correctly.

“It wasn’t enough for you to fuck up my life now you went and fucked up Hyunjin’s too!” he shouted, his voice rising higher and higher, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Hyunjin knows that you fuck me too? You thought you could live in your fantasy by fucking two men, what were you thinking, stupid kid?!”

Minho yelled at you, annoyed, claiming thing after thing you were trying to process. Your heart pounded and you felt so intimidated by his eyes getting bigger and the vein in his neck standing out as he yelled at you.

So he knew… how? you thought. Your breath hitched and you felt the sudden pallor of your body. Your voice cracked instantly, if you spoke you were going to stutter, you were a mess all of a sudden, thinking why was it making him so angry anyway?

“You’re not going to say anything?!” he shouted again, tightening his grip on the steering wheel, “How can you look me in the eyes after what you’ve done? Or do you even feel anything at all?”

It was funny… that the coldest person would suddenly talk about emotions.

“Minho…” you tried to say, you were scared but a part of you felt like you didn’t owe him any explanation.

He sighed, frustrated running his hand over his face.

“You really were a fucking whore, shit, all this time I was telling you as a joke, but… two men at once?” he laughed mockingly, “You didn’t answer my question. Hyunjin knows you’re fucking me too?”

He railed with hatred his every word and turned to look at you in a way he had never done before, you felt judged and dirty, that your eyes were starting to water.

“No…” you replied with your voice breaking on the verge of tears.

Why it was so difficult for you. As much as you denied it and lived in your illusion trying to convince yourself that you only used them for sex, you were a naive young girl, that with time and the fact of seeing them often, sharing small moments together, you came to involve feelings, you came to love them passionately, you got to arrive at your sister’s house with a knot in your throat every time one of them left you blocks behind the house so they wouldn’t see them, you got to feel pathetic while crying because of the confusion and addiction of wanting to keep seeing them, even when the only way to do it was to get sexually involved with you, because you wanted the warmth of their bodies close to you. But none of them were yours.

Minho watched as you began to cry and something bigger to him came over him, it was anger, sadness and pity, you had him all messed up.

“Don’t cry” he said coldly.

His cold tone detonated your crying more. You had it all with Hyunjin, you didn’t understand why you punished yourself so much by loving Minho and his cold personality… but you felt so stupid to think you had it all, you had nothing, they were men with their lives made, you were nothing but a brat attending college, you had nothing but hours of them where they used you for sex, you had nothing but a passionate fake love because you weren’t sure what or how they were feeling. And that was exactly what you didn’t want to involve, feelings, you didn’t want to think about them, you didn’t want them inside you, you wanted a good time with them. Sometimes you wished you were a machine with no feelings, that it was exactly what you thought you were for them, but every time you felt like that was what you were for them, your world became miserable. You didn’t know what to think of all the sweet moments and details of Hyunjin and your unexpected closeness and trust with Minho that was just now breaking down.

The cruel reality of many things you were avoiding was hitting you hard just now.

“Fuck, don’t cry, don’t play the victim… everyone here is guilty” Minho mumbled again as you stopped seeing him clearly because tears were filling your eyes, “I guess you’re happy with whatever you wanted to achieve, you know Hyunjin is getting divorced? That’s what you wanted? You fucking homewrecker!”

“What?” you sobbed in confusion, the ending echoed in every part of you and you were shocked at his comment as you wiped your tears in vain because they wouldn’t stop coming out.

You were shocked wondering if Hyunjin was about to give up everything to be with you and the thought terrified you. Missy would hate you, Chan would hate you, Minho would hate you, you would have no one but Hyunjin, you loved him, but you hadn’t wanted to face that reality. You thought about him and if the sudden news that you were also sleeping with Minho would affect him just as intensely, and and the top of all, you felt so lonely and cold, crying in front of the man you loved without him having even the slightest reaction to you… you understood it all, Minho never really cared about you, you thought; so why was he complaining about you… had it hurt his ego?

Minho lied, exaggerating his comment just to make you feel worse because he was still a bit bitter, he didn’t have the slightest idea if Hyunjin was getting divorced… and if he was about to do it in order to be with you it was a trigger to cut friendship, he would never forgive either of you if you ended up together. The advantage was… Hyunjin didn’t know that you were with Minho, or at least Minho thought so as an advantage, but Minho’s big problem was that he loved you, but he wasn’t willing to leave Suji or his life with his children for you… he still didn’t assimilate that truth. He didn’t want his children to be separated from their mother -or father, as he was the one guilty-, he didn’t want to create a drama among all his circle of acquaintances… but… if you confessed to him right there and then, that he was the one you chose, you would touch his deepest point and he would leave everything just to be with you, Minho knew he would do it no matter how tough a man he acted.

You didn’t want to hurt anyone and you were slowly destroying everything in your path.

Minho was still upset and as much as it hurt him to see you cry, he wanted to release all his anger.

“Ah, Y/N, what were you thinking, huh? How did you think this was all going to end? Did you think we were going to be happy and have a fucking threesome? Get out of your fucking bubble, say something, now. You’re nothing but a mistake I wish I’d never made. The worst part is, I was stupid enough to think you cared” he blurted out, not measuring how very hurtful it might have sounded to you.

“I have nothing to apologize for all… this… this… wasn’t just my fault.”

“No shit. It was ours for falling for someone like you.”

This time you looked away from Minho, unable to believe that you still loved him and all you wanted was a hug from him, or how you held on to the hoodie, feeling Hyunjin’s scent and missing him like never before because you knew he would say the sweetest things.

“Besides I don’t understand why you’re so upset? If it was always just about the sex, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t react happily to the possibility of more sex and a fucking threesome, isn’t that all I’m here for?” you defended yourself, with your voice shaking.

The tension was felt in Minho’s rain-confined car. He was so upset… but not upset enough to ask you to leave and not to see you, he still wanted to see your eyes glistening with tears and your fragile body sobbing and begging to be touched, purely… but something in him stopped him, he couldn’t admit, how much he loved you and that he just wanted you to stay away from Hyunjin, or any other man.

“It’s not just sex…” he whispered, drawing the attention of your sobbing body, “At least not for me and I don’t think so of Hyunjin either… if he ever finds out, you’re going to break his heart.”

You wiped away your tears which were slowly ceasing and looked at him in confusion because he suddenly looked relaxed and his gaze softened on you. You understood Minho less and less.

“Just… you have to leave Hyunjin” he said more seriously.

You nodded, not because you listened to him, but because leaving them both would be the best option. You had no future with either of them no matter how much you loved them, they would all end up hating you. Tomorrow you would find a way to look for Hyunjin, to end your little game that was going to extremes.

“And I have to leave you too” you whispered.

Minho closed his eyes deeply and pressed his lips together, as it was something he didn’t want to hear. He sighed, looking out towards the rain falling on his window. He muttered, almost to himself

“I trusted you. Hell, I loved you. But all along, you were sleeping with my best friend. I didn’t lose you-I lost everything.”

Your eyes traveled quickly all over his silhouette, on his perfect sculpted profile, his long eyelashes and jet-black hair slightly illuminated by a single lamppost from outside. Your heart pounded again, not sure if you heard right… but there was no sound, other than of the drops hitting his car.

“What…?” you whispered, feeling your world spinning, you didn’t want him to say it, you’d hate him if he did… that after all he did.

“I love you. What are we going to do?”

Minho turned to look at you, again his piercing gaze searching your eyes, but something about him looked so soft. You hated him. You thought he was manipulating you, that he didn’t know what he was saying… that you loved him too.

But the softness of Hyunjin’s hoodie reached your bristling skin. You froze and decided not to give him satisfaction for the first time since you met him, you wouldn’t let him know that you loved him too, because you loved Hyunjin too, and you couldn’t keep either of them.

You recognized that the great damage was already done and all thanks to you and for being, as he had said before, a homewrecker.

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