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dawngyu · 3 days ago

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RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

Sitting at parties surrounded by lovers, a silent third wheel at movie nights, the friend holding the camera at weddings—your hands are always... alone in the spaces where others are full.

Were you an error in the grand scheme? An anomaly? A glitch in the unforgiving script? Or maybe, he simply doesn’t really… exist.

That’s how you ended up here, standing beside your korean-pop-obsessed friend who practically dragged you out and swore you’d love the show. It all became a blur when your eyes met his.

He’s on stage, gripping the mic impossibly still, staring down back at you like he feels it too.

He shouldn’t be real.

warnings: red-string au, strangers to lovers, reader is two years older, normal society norms, waiting, anxiety, doubts, sasaengs, insecurities, hasty decisions, drunk-in-love beomgyu. pov switching. everything written is a work of fiction. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, explicit-descriptions, missionary, fingering, oral!fem receiving, dom beomgyu.

wc: 20k — playlist.

notes: fighting both my delulu and my demons while writing this. 😭 Might just be the fic I enjoyed writing the most—I hope you love it just as much! so glad to be part of this beautiful event. a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading this. ilysm.

1/5 part of the valentine event with talented moas! see the full masterlist here.

If fate promised you something so certain, how could you not long for it?

Since childhood, you’ve heard the stories. The way people speak in hushed voices, weaving fate into riddles, how somewhere out there, it's waiting—a single red string, unseen until the exact moment it’s meant to appear.

The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you.

You watched it happen to everyone else. From playground giggles in elementary school to whispered confessions in high school hallways, to late-night talks in college dorm rooms. You listened as your friends spoke about finding their own soulmates, the feeling—the pull, the process. It's everywhere. In the way, your parents fit together like pages of the same story. On the way your younger sister—still so new to the world found her match.

When you’re told your whole life that destiny is waiting for you, how could you not ache for it?

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

You press the shutter, capturing the way they look at each other. You lower the camera, but they don’t even notice—they’re too caught up in their own little world, whispering sentences only they’ll ever understand. They laugh, eyes soft, bodies leaning in just a little closer.

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight?

And why, no matter how long you wait, does that light never seem to find you?

There are days you curse it—this cruel design, this aching uncertain certainty. You tell yourself it would be easier not to know, to live without the quiet hope that somewhere, someone is meant to find you, or that fate had already written your name beside someone else’s.

And then there are days you fear it.

What if they don’t want to find you? What if that’s why you’re still alone? What if they got it wrong, skipped over your name, and he simply… doesn’t exist?

You're an anomaly. A glitch in the well-made script.

You lost count of how many times you wished it was never made this way. That love shouldn’t be a promise. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, you found yourself—gasping, trembling, and sobbing to your palms. The feeling of—

How can you miss someone you've never met?

You want to reach for a hand you’ve never held. You long for a voice you’ve never heard, a scent you’ve never breathed, a shadow you’ve never chased. And more than anything, you wish you had a name to whisper, to give you hope.

You swallow, forcing a smile as you turn back to the couple. "Congratulations," you say, "It’s a beautiful wedding."

"Thank you, Y/N!" Ha-rin squeals, practically glowing as she steps forward to hug you. "And thank you for being our photographer—I know you must be busy."

"You’re welcome," you reply, adjusting your camera strap. "It’s what I do, after all."

Ju-won steps in then, reaching for Ha-rin’s hand like he can’t stand even a moment of space between them. "Thank you, Y/N," he says, his eyes never straying far from his wife.

They were your high school classmates. You remember the day they met—first year, first morning, when their eyes met across the classroom, and just like that, the red string appeared. They grew together, from awkward introductions to effortless friendship, and now, here they were, husband and wife.

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

Ju-won leans in, pressing a kiss to Ha-rin’s cheek like it’s the first time, like they haven’t spent years by each other’s side. The look in their eyes is so easy, so full of love, that you have to look away.

You can't look.

"Uh, I’ll get some drinks," you say, forcing a smile that feels as out of place as you do. You don’t wait for a response. You just turn, your heels clicking against the polished floor, head spinning as you try to count how many weddings you’ve attended this year.

Or no. You’ve lost count.

Everyone you grew up with—your friends, your classmates—have already found their soulmates. Most are married now, some already raising children.

Your heels dig into your feet with each hurried step, but you don’t slow down. You just keep moving, past everyone. You know exactly where you’ll end up. The same place you always do.

Alone at the sidelines.

You grab a drink, bringing it to your lips a little too quickly, hoping the cool burn will settle the unease twisting in your stomach.

"Hey! It’s been a while!" A voice cuts calls out, familiar—but not familiar enough. You turn to see a girl skidding towards you, her face vaguely recognizable. A former classmate? A clubmate? Someone who once sat next to you in a lecture hall?

"How have you been?" she asks, taking a drink for herself.

"I’m fine, thanks," you reply, forcing an easy nod before taking another sip.

A second passes, and then another girl joins the conversation, breathless with laughter. "Beom-seok finally let me go," she teases, tilting her head toward the man across the room—her soulmate. "The guy’s obsessed."

"Of course he is," the first girl grins. "He’s your soulmate." She swirls her drink before adding, "Mine just got back from overseas. He’ll see me tomorrow once he’s in the city." And there it is again—circling back to the same topic, the one you can never take part in. You nod, offering a small smile, pretending to listen.

Because what is there to say when everyone else has something you don’t?

"Y/N?" Your name pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Did you meet yours yet?" The question hits like a slow, squeezing ache in your chest.

"No," you say, reaching for another drink. It's embarrassing that everyone knows you're empty. "I haven't."

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say."

There’s no malice in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Like she’s pointing out a statistic, saying out what’s already been made painfully clear to you. it’s the same tired reminder, the same unspoken question: what’s wrong with you?

You’re used to it by now.

"Yeah," you say, unwilling to argue. What’s the point? Your mind slips back to those reckless high school days—the days when older girls, too cool and too cruel, mocked you for not having a soulmate. You remember snapping back, pretending their words didn’t sting.

Later, the tears came on the bus ride home—carving rivers down your cheeks as you sob. Strangers offered tissues, soft words, awkward kindness, but none of it could stitch you back together. You remember your mother's words after seeing her home. To stop them from hurting you, you have to accept all of yourself.

But how do you accept the whole of you, when it doesn’t even feel like you have all of you?

From the corner of your eye, you catch the second girl nudging her. "Don’t mind her, Y/N," she says quickly. "She doesn’t always think before she talks." Then, after a beat, she adds, "Have you tried dating in the meantime? You know, while you're waiting?"

You blink at her, taken aback.

"I mean, it's not like it’s cheating, right? Since you haven’t met them yet."

You set your drink down, your fingers suddenly cold. "Why are you suggesting something you wouldn’t even do?" Your voice is calm, but it makes her shift uncomfortably. "Or did you? Does your soulmate know?"

Neither of them speaks. Guilt in their expressions. You don’t wait for an answer. You're done for tonight.

It’s time to go.

You turn away, not bothering to look back. No one needs you here—your part is done. Your role here is over. You pull out your phone, quickly typing out a polite apology to the bride before slipping it back into your pocket.

The drive home is silent, and the buzz of the engine is the only company you have. Your hands grip the wheel a little too tightly, your thoughts drifting despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. When you finally reach your small apartment, you step out, clutching yet another wedding souvenir in one hand a meaningless token of a night that wasn’t yours to celebrate.

You lock the door behind you and lean against it blinking, exhaling shakily. "I guess today wasn’t the day either," you murmur to no one in particular, wiping away the single tear that managed to escape. "What's taking you so long?"

No matter how often you whispered this question, it never hurt any less.

"What's taking you so long?"

Beomgyu groans from under the covers, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of his bed. The sudden tug of his blanket makes him blindly reach out, attempting to grab it back. "You shi—"

"Beomgyu, you're the last one. We're all almost ready to go," Soobin says, adjusting his belt in the mirror. "Look at this little child."

Beomgyu stretches with a dramatic yawn. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbles, sitting up sluggishly and blinking against the light. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, feet landing on the bedside table. Soobin shakes his head but doesn't stick around—his job is done. Beomgyu is finally awake.

Minutes later, Beomgyu trudges into the living room, hair a mess, voice still deep with sleep. "Are we eating there?"

The entire room turns to look at him.

"You woke up late, and that’s the first thing you care about?" Yeonjun teases, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Well, I didn’t eat last night," Beomgyu grumbles.

"Oh?"

"Liar," the maknae pipes up from the couch, casually applying lip balm. "You literally snuck out to eat."

"You snitch," Beomgyu gasps, feigning betrayal. "I didn’t raise you to turn on me like this!"

"You? Raise me?" Kai scoffs. "Soobin hyung’s the one who raised me, what are you talking about?"

Soobin smirks and chucks Beomgyu’s towel straight at his face. "Exactly. Now go shower, you idiot."

Laughter erupts around the room as Beomgyu groans, trudging toward the bathroom. "Shower quick, hyung," Taehyun calls out.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Beomgyu’s slightly damp hair clings to the back of his neck. He hadn’t had time to dry it properly before they rushed out of the dorm—there was no room for delays today. A broadcast for their comeback. Another promotion. His stylist would handle it in the green room anyway.

They pile into the van, the usual quiet settling over them. Despite being fully dressed and ready, exhaustion hangs heavy. One by one, his members drift off, heads resting against windows, bodies slumped in their seats. Only Kai remains awake, lost in his own world, music pulsing through his earphones. The maknae was so engrossed on his phone, obviously texting with a small smile on his face.

Beomgyu sighs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, his breath slightly fogging up the window. Today would be a long day. Rehearsals, performances, a challenge video, taping. He missed this. He missed MOAs. The rush of the stage. The high of performing. And then—

Oh.

The van slows at a red light, and his gaze drifts absentmindedly to the sidewalk. His chest tightens.

A couple walks by, laughing, hands intertwined, completely lost in their own world. The way they move together, effortlessly in sync. In love. Content. Happy. He stares longer than he should.

He can't look away.

His throat feels tight as the van lurches forward again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He blinks hard, shifting in his seat. The image stayed, pressed into the back of his mind.

All four of his members had already found theirs—their soulmates. The one they could lean on when the world became too loud. Beomgyu was happy for them, of course, he was. He remember how he was when Kai blushed when he met his soulmate recently, right after his 23rd birthday.

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

Beomgyu had been too busy his whole life, training since he was just a kid, running full speed toward a dream. His mind is busy to the point he sometimes forgets it. He does not mean to. It's just that—he never let himself dwell on it for too long. Pushing it aside became second nature, the same way he’d forget to eat when he was too busy, too distracted.

But every year, without fail, when the room dimmed and the birthday candles in front of him, his wish was always the same.

His soulmate.

It didn’t matter how many years passed or how much he achieved—when the glow of those tiny flames danced in his eyes, it was the only thing his heart whispered.

Beomgyu exhales shakily, his fingers curling into his hoodie. a quiet sigh slipping from his pouting lips.

Where are you?

The stark white walls of the hospital room loom over, mocking your awkwardness.

"There's nothing wrong with you, dear," the woman in front of you says, her lab coat lending a sense of authority to her words. Her voice is gentle, reassuring, but it barely soothes the unease twisting in your chest. "Soulmates do tend to find each other early, statistically speaking. But that’s just a pattern, not a guarantee."

You swallow hard. The lump in your throat stays put. "Is there… any chance this is a mistake?" Your voice is quieter than you intend, fragile in a way you hate. "That someone could go their whole life without one? That—" you hesitate, your chest tightening, "that I’m just… meant to be alone?"

Something flickers across her face—pity, maybe. You’re not sure. "I’ll look into it, I promise," she says after a moment. "I know twenty-six feels late, and I know it’s frustrating. But… trust in destiny a little longer. If you want, I can also recommend a therapist. I know the pressure can get to you."

Her words are meant to be comforting. They only make the weight in your chest heavier. You shake your head, managing a quiet “thank you” before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

“How was it?” Da-hee’s voice reaches you before you even look up. She’s already on her feet, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. “What did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” You sigh, walking past her. “I told you I should not do this.”

She huffs, crossing her arms as she falls into step beside you. “You never tried it,”

Your best friend doesn’t argue anymore, following you to the counter in silence. The cashier barely looks up as they say, “That consultation is $120 total, plus taxes, bringing it to $145.86. Card or cash?”

You catch Da-hee reaching for her wallet, but you gently push her hand away. “Don’t,” you murmur. “This was for me.”

You hand over your card. A quick swipe, a faint beep. And just like that, you’re down nearly $150 with nothing to show for it but a sinking feeling in your stomach.

That much money for a consultation. A conversation. No treatment, no tests, nothing tangible. Soulmate doctors are expensive. Too expensive. And health insurance? Useless. They don’t cover something as rare, as unquantifiable, as soulmate problems.

Because to them, it’s not a real sickness, proving that you are—once again—the outlier.

Perfect.

“Come on,” you say, nudging your still-guilty-looking friend. She follows you out of the hospital, quiet and pouting.

At the car, she pulls open the driver’s side door. “Let me at least drive?” she offers, voice softer now.

You chuckle at her persistence, shaking your head before tossing her the keys. “Okay.” Sliding into the passenger seat, you reach for the radio, as she pulls out of the parking lot.

"Let's hang out at your place," Da-hee says, and she grins as she sees you nod your head.

Music played softly through the speakers, blending with the casual flow of conversation. The air is light, and easy—until your car rolls past a towering black building.

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

Your brows furrow as you take it in, the sight so jarring that it silences you for a beat. The road ahead clogs with slowed traffic, people lingering to gawk at the scene.

“What the fuck?” Da-hee mutters, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes darting across the scene. The traffic slows as more people crane their necks to look. You do the same, stomach twisting at the sheer scale of it. "This is insane."

“What’s going on?” you ask, still trying to piece together the meaning behind it all.

She exhales, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lee Heeseung. An idol,” she starts. “News got out that he recently went out with his soulmate.” Her voice dips, sadness flickering across her face. “And now… now, people want him out of the group.”

Your stomach twists. “What?”

You strain to read the bold, angry messages plastered across the banners:

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

The messages feel suffocating, each one worse than the last. Then you see it—one of the trucks, its LED screen flashing an image like a public execution.

A man, young and striking, caught mid-laughter as he eats ramen with a girl beside him. She’s smiling too, her expression warm, content. The matching caps on their heads make them look like any ordinary couple, but the grainy, long-lens quality of the photo gives it away. Someone had been watching. Someone had been waiting to expose them.

Your stomach turns.

“It’s worse when so many fans are… young,” Da-hee murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most of them are stringless.” She says the last word carefully like she doesn’t want to offend you.

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

Stringless people can’t understand the soulmate bond. And when it comes to idols, that misunderstanding twists into darker. As insane as it sounds, they feel entitled. Possessive. Like their devotion should be enough. Like an idol’s life—who they love, who they belong to—should be theirs to control.

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

The car inches forward, and your eyes drift back to the scene outside. Security guards push against the surging crowd, their faces strained. The banners wave wildly, like battle flags in a war meant to punish.

You swallow hard. “I don’t get it.” You don’t know him. You don't need to know him to know the injustice of it. “Why treat him like he committed some kind of crime? He’s meant to have someone. He’s a person, not—” You gesture vaguely at the protest, frustration bubbling up. “Not their property.”

Da-hee sighs. “That’s why idols who are caught with their soulmates—especially the ones who confirm it, get cancelled. Fans turn on them. They lose everything.” She shakes her head, voice laced with exhaustion and resignation. “It’s sad that they have to hide it.”

The thought of society hating someone just for loving who they’re meant to love makes your chest feel tight. How could something meant to be beautiful turn into this?

You guess your own situation isn’t the only cruel, unfair thing in this world.

The two of you make it back to your apartment, settling in for a movie with a bowl of popcorn between you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room, a comfortable silence stretching between you—until Da-hee suddenly squeals, nearly knocking the popcorn over in the process.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, shoving the popcorn bowl off her lap as she scrambles to her feet. “OH MY GOD.” She starts stomping in place.

You glance at her, unimpressed. “I want to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.”

She just giggles and shoves her phone in front of you. “Joon bought me VVIP tickets. I’m going to die.” She pumps a fist in the air, bouncing on her toes like a kid who just won the lottery. “And there’s two. He can’t go—oh my god. Please, please, I am begging you to come with me. It’s next week! That sneaky bastard didn’t even tell me he bought them ages ago.”

You hesitate, already feeling the excuse forming on your tongue. “I don’t think—”

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “That’s a long-ass name.”

“They’re my babies,” she says, clutching her chest like she’s been personally blessed by the gods. “You’ll love the show, I promise. And maybe—you’ll be like me. While you wait for your soulmate, it’s harmless to fangirl a little. OMG, what if you become a MOA? That’s my dream. Imagine us going to cafés with photocards, buying merch, collecting albums—”

“Okay, first of all, they are grown men. Not babies.” you cut in before she spirals. You know from experience that once she starts talking about her fangirl life, she never stops. “Anyways, okay, I’ll go. But don’t expect anything.”

Da-hee lets out another excited squeal before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing way too tight.

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

It was your turn to trail behind Da-hee like a lost puppy, weaving through the sea of fans decked out in carefully coordinated outfits. Everyone is well dressed. So prepared. Keychains and accessories dangled from their bags, the sound of clinking metal filling the air.

"Look at them," Da-hee suddenly stopped, pulling out her phone. You followed her gaze to the massive banner hanging outside the arena.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

"My husbands," Da-hee sighed dreamily spinning turning to you with wide eyes. "Let's take a selfie!"

Before you could protest, she yanked you in, holding her phone high. The two of you posed—her grinning ear to ear, you looking like a reluctant daughter humoring her overexcited mom.

At the ticketing section, an attendant handed you both event wristbands and ID laces. You're about to shove yours into your pocket, but Da-hee looped it around your neck like a medal.

“So you don’t lose it,” she said firmly.

You sighed, adjusting the strap as you followed her toward a merch booth. Fans swarmed the display, eyes gleaming as they scanned the shelves stacked with albums, shirts, and accessories.

"Everyone's so hyped," you muttered, glancing around. "I can see a lot of Da-hees here."

"Of course they are," Da-hee said ignoring your last comment with a dramatic sway of her hand. She skimmed the display. "This comeback is a masterpiece."

You frowned. "What are we even doing here?"

"You need a picket." She says. "And don’t even think about saying no. I’m still heartbroken you refused the lightstick, so at least take this. We’re gonna be right at the barricades, you can’t just stand there empty-handed. Pick one."

You groaned, "Fine."

Your eyes sweep over the options, scanning each face printed on the glossy boards. You won’t say it out loud—not yet—but you’ll admit it now. They’re all… ridiculously handsome.

And one of them stands out.

Soft brown eyes. A small, almost knowing smile. Something about his face makes your breath hitch. "Uh..."

Da-hee leans in, brow furrowing. "What are you picking? Wait. Are you okay? Why are you so red—"

"I'm not," You quickly pointed at the picket, avoiding her stare like your life depended on it. "This one."

A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Oh-ho." She turns to the waiting merch seller, smiling some more.

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

You didn’t have much of a choice. But this time, your steps felt… lighter. Movements are less reluctant than when you first arrived.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the heat had finally eased, the golden glow of late afternoon settling over the pavement. Maybe it was the way MOAs—total strangers—smiled at you like you belonged, their warmth making you feel strangely at ease. Maybe it was the fact of not hearing the word soulmate even once. That you don't feel the odd one out.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the picket you now held carefully in your hands.

You didn’t know how it happened. How you went from teasing Da-hee about her obsession to clutching a piece of laminated paper like it meant something. But the more you looked around, the more you understood.

It wasn’t just about the idols printed on banners or the music playing faintly in the background. But also, it was about them. These people who glowed with excitement, who found joy in simply being here, in loving unapologetically.

You were sceptical of it at first, seeing the front of HYBE last week. The protest. But just like everything, you saw it. The good side of being a fan.

How they shined—not only because of who they adored, but because of how they adored. How happy they were to love, and to share that love with everyone around them.

And somehow, standing here among them, you felt a little brighter, too.

"Where are we going now?"

"MOAZONE," Da-hee answers without hesitation, pulling you toward yet another booth. The concert doors won’t open for another thirty minutes, but she’s on a mission. The funny thing is—she doesn’t really need to drag you anymore.

Something has settled in your bones. You’re going to see this through, stay until the last song fades. And maybe—you’ll find yourself here again next time.

"It’s a booth where you can pull a concert-exclusive photocard," she explains further, eyes shining with excitement.

You nod, letting her lead the way. The line is long. When it’s finally Da-hee’s turn, she gasps, then squeals so loudly people around her chuckle. "Yeonjun!" she cries, clutching the card to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. "I got him!"

Then, it’s your turn.

A row of face-down cards is laid out before you. You don’t think too hard about it—you just point to one.

The staff hands it over, and when you flip it, your breath catches.

"You got Beomgyu?!" Da-hee shrieks, bouncing on her toes beside you. You barely hear her. Because there he is.

Elbow propped up, chin resting on his hand, that same small, knowing smile—only this time, it’s wider.

Fucking hell.

Da-hee grabs your arm, shaking you. "Girl, you are officially a Beomgyu magnet. I'm unfriending you if don't start liking them,"

Beomgyu.

Beomgyu. His name loops in your mind, over and over. And for some reason, it fits. His name suits him.

You tried your best not to break a smile. "Come on,"

If you had told yourself a year ago that you’d be here—crammed into a packed venue, surrounded by screaming teenagers—you would’ve laughed. Hard.

And yet, here you are, laughing. Not at the absurdity of it, but with it. Caught up in the moment with Da-hee, the crowd’s energy vibrates as hundreds of voices chant their names.

“It’s soundcheck first,” Da-hee leans in, her voice barely cutting through the noise. “Then the main concert.”

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

Then, the opening notes of a song play through the speakers. The crowd erupts. “Oh my god!” Da-hee shrieks, “It’s Deja Vu!”

The five of them step onto the stage. It’s a blur—lights flashing, voices screaming. Your heart pounds against your ribs as the music swells, wrapping around you like something alive.

It’s beautiful.

A tall man—easily the tallest—moves toward your section, waving with an easy smile, deep dimples carving into his soft-looking cheeks. It reminds you of bread. The warmth of it is infectious, and before you even realise it, you're waving back, grinning at someone whose name you didn’t even know this morning.

Then, the song begins to wind down. And that’s when you see him.

Beomgyu.

His steps are slower than the others, like he’s taking his time, scanning the crowd with careful eyes. You tell yourself not to look. Not when he gets closer. Not when that strange, restless nervousness twists in your stomach. You clench your fists and stare at the ground. Why? Why does this feel so overwhelming?

Around you, voices grew. The energy shifts, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. You look up, unsure.

The mic is at his lips, his voice singing into the melody—until suddenly, he stops.

All because his eyes meet yours.

Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen.

On stage, he stands impossibly still, his fingers gripping the mic like he sees it too.

It can't be real.

“We're trending again,” Taehyun says, flopping onto Beomgyu’s hotel bed with a sigh. “What the hell?”

Beomgyu leans back against the headboard, “How much time do we have?”

Taehyun checks his watch. “Practice is in… oh. Hours.” He exhales, shaking his head in awe. “This is actually happening. A sold-out stadium, Beomgyu. Can you believe that? Remember that tiny, run-down building we used to train in? The cracked floorboards, the growing mushrooms?” He laughs, eyes distant.

“When Yeonjun used to sneak his soulmate in, trying to show off like he was already famous? As a trainee. And now—now, we’re here.”

Beomgyu snorts. “In that practice room, too. I still don’t know how his soulmate put up with that. Or how Yeonjun didn’t get kicked out.”

“Yeah. They just couldn’t let go of each other.” Taehyun laughs, shaking his head. “And I don't think Big Hit will let go of him too."

It had been one of the first rules drilled into them during training—no soulmates. No... searching. And if they already had one? They had to tell them. Have the conversation. An agreement that would turn everything into a secret.

Soulmates were inevitable, unstoppable. Beomgyu still remembers the contract in his hands, the way he read every word over and over, heart pounding. As if somewhere in the fine print, there was a clause that might hurt his soulmate. In the end, he signed.

If he ever found his soulmate, no one could know. Not until everything was over. In other words, disbandment.

"I'm missing her like crazy these days."

Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away. He just shrugs, tossing things out of his suitcase—a hoodie, a toothbrush, whatever his hands find first. He had noticed how restless Taehyun had been, the way he kept his phone glued to his hands, typing, hesitating, typing again. But what was there to say? What could he do about it?

The others were good at pretending. Hiding. The quiet hotel meetups, the stolen hours between schedules. But if Beomgyu was being honest, he could count on both hands the number of times any of the four had actually been with their soulmates since debut.

The fear of getting caught kept them all in line. Not just by the company, but by the fans. The horror stories weren’t just industry rumours—some were ancient, some recent.

If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know if I can take it. Taehyun had said that once. This career was everything. He wasn’t going to risk it. He wasn't ready. And Beomgyu understood. Everyone understood. He could already picture the protest trucks outside the company building if anyone ever slipped up.

"You heard anything from Heeseung?" Taehyun asks, his voice careful, his fingers tightening around his phone. Beomgyu knows him well enough to catch the shift—the way his mind drifts, went from missing his soulmate to remembering the latest scandal in their world.

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

"Yeah," Beomgyu says, swallowing. "He's okay, but… his soulmate is taking the worst of it."

Taehyun stills. The thought of his own soulmate being dragged into something like that—starts to burn at the back of his mind. What if it were her?

"Hey, don't overthink it," Beomgyu says because he sees it. He sees it in all of them. The quiet way they carry it, that they aren’t supposed to want. In their world, the idea that you should be free with your soulmate is just that—an idea. Or maybe worse. A peril. A risk too big to take.

He remembers Soobin crying once, blaming himself for wanting this life—this job. And how, in the end, the only person who could calm him down was his soulmate. The same person the company treated like a liability. Yet, the only one with the power to bring their leader back to himself.

The irony.

He also remembers the night he sat with his dad, asking him how he knew Mom was his. He had tilted his head, recounting their encounter, before he said one thing that stuck with him.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Beomgyu used to cringe at that. Now, he wonders if he'll ever get the chance to feel it.

“Did you see everyone? Insane.” Yeonjun says, eyes wide as they sit in the salon-like chairs. “They’ve been out there since last night.”

Kai glances at him as much as he can without moving his head, his makeup artist carefully blending eyeshadow. “Yeah, I saw them. MOAs are bundled up out there, and it’s freezing. It's worrying me.”

"I feel like I'm about to throw up. I'm nervous,"

Playing a stadium—a sold-out one, this is the dream. The one every trainee chases, the one Beomgyu used to stare at the ceiling imagining, too afraid to believe it could ever be real. And yet, here it is.

His mind pulls him back to the past. The long nights, the aching muscles, the quiet sobs muffled into his pillow. The moments of doubt, the voices—his own, the other's—telling him he wasn’t enough. He remembers how hard they worked. How hard he worked. How many times they shared one meal because they couldn't afford another one. And still, somehow, they held on.

He knows he earned this, and fought for it with everything he had. But standing here now, bathed in the price of it all, it still doesn’t feel real. He stares at his hands once his stylist is done with his eyes. There’s something else tugging at him, a strange feeling that’s been lurking since morning.

What it is, he can’t quite say.

Beomgyu's eyes sweep over the big space. The kind of big that makes his head spin if he thinks about it too much. In a few hours, this place will be much packed. He’s been—on stages just like this, under lights just as bright but somehow, it still knocks the wind out of him.

It's soundcheck. He likes it because, with the lights up, he can actually see everyone. It was one of the rare moments he could see faces. He likes it as much as the offline fan signs. They move through the set, running back and forth across the stage, but his feet keep pulling him toward one side—like an instinct.

Beomgyu likes looking at MOAs. It feels good. Familiar, almost. Sometimes, he even recognizes a face— it was a feeling like a reminder of home, a classmate from school, someone he’d seen before. And then there’s the simple joy of it all. The way someone’s face brightens up because of him. It never gets old. It never stops making him happy, too.

But then, he notices one weird thing.

It’s strange. He’s right here. He could understand if you were looking at another member—fans have their favourites, after all. But you’re not looking at anyone. You're staring at the floor?

You’re not looking at all.

He tilts his head, trying to see better—to get a curious glimpse, and suddenly, his whole world shifts. His heart slams to a stop. It’s so sudden, so overwhelming, he almost stumbles forward, yanking him toward the barricade. "What?"

And then—you move, as if you heard his thoughts.

Just the slightest turn of your head, your face lifting, eyes locking onto his. He stops breathing. His fingers go numb around the mic. Everything slows, softens, blurs at the edges until there’s nothing but this moment. Just the two of you, staring.

The closeness of Beomgyu makes the crowd shift, bodies pressing closer—but you don’t move. You just stand there—still, steady—while the rest of the world shifts around you. Like the last grain of sand in an hourglass, holding on as everything else rushes past.

He swears he would’ve stayed like that forever—frozen, staring, lost—if not for the firm hand on his shoulder. A small tug. He blinks, the spell breaking just enough for reality to slip back in.

"Beomgyu? What's wrong?" Soobin. His leader gives him a look of worry and urgency, and that’s when he hears it, the music. He closes his agape lips, and clears his throat. The song is still playing. Right. He’s supposed to be—

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. You’re just so so pretty. That’s all. Maybe it was your eyes or your hair or the way you did it. It was just fucking cute. It doesn’t mean anything. And—

His breath falters. He sees it.

He hadn’t noticed before. He had been too busy looking at you. Too caught up in the moment that he missed it entirely. Something all of the members have. Something Beomgyu had waited for his whole life.

The thread.

Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Soulmate.

You’re his. After everything—after all this time—

He finally found you.

The dressing room is a blur of movement, stylists rushing, last-minute adjustments being made, and voices overlapping but he just sits there. Staring at the floor.

He’s dressed. He’s ready. He should be used to this by now, the pre-show jitters, the nervous energy that always sits in his chest before he steps on stage. But—his soulmate is out there. Somewhere in the crowd. And the thought grips him so tight it almost hurts. What if he never sees you again? What if you’re gone before he can find you?

Your face lingers in his mind, vivid and haunting. The way the lights hit your dress, the way you looked at him—it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He was completely unprepared for it. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot what he was doing.

He’s never been shaken like that before. Not in his personal life. Not as an idol. Not in school, at the company, on stage, meeting seniors, at award shows—never.

Waiting for the music queue, he finally lifts his head.

Muscle memory takes over. His body knows what to do. He’s trained for this, conditioned for it. Every movement, every note, every expression—it’s muscle memory now. His instincts take over before his thoughts can catch up. This is his life. His career. The one thing he chose, out of everything he could have been. How many people in the world get to do this? To stand under those lights, to hear thousands of voices calling his name, to live a dream most wouldn’t even dare to chase?

Would he trade it all, just to see you again?

His feet move—before he can stop them, despite his thoughts, his heart pulls him stronger toward your section. It's a force beyond his control. When he finally sees you again, it feels like a miracle. You’re still near the barricade, still close enough that he doesn’t have to search.

He keeps up, waves, and makes faces—things for MOAs, things he’s done a thousand times before. But his mind isn’t on them. It’s on you. And you’re just standing there again, frozen in place like you don’t trust yourself to move.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice.

Got you, beautiful.

He pumps his fist in an exaggerated show of triumph, like he just won a game only the two of you are playing. He watches as your eyes go wide, and if the lights weren’t so blinding, he swears he’d see the warmth rising to your cheeks. He fists his hand, trying to hold back from reaching out to you.

He crouches, and the fans around you surge forward, eager to be seen, but you don’t move. And then, he sees it—your eyes kept flickering downward, tracing the thread again and again, like you were making sure.

Yet you see it perfectly too.

You smile—small, hesitant, like you’re not sure this is really happening. Then, as if on impulse, you lift your hand, forming a careful, uncertain hand heart.

He doesn’t even wait a second before returning it.

His eagerness made you laugh. A breathless, disbelieving kind of laugh. He can’t hear it, not over the noise of the crowd, but he sees it in the way your shoulders shake, the way your eyes crease at the corners. His chest aches.

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

He tosses a few kisses out into the air, but he gives his last kiss, the last one to you. You hesitate for only a second before sending one back. His response is instant—dramatic, ridiculous—clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him straight through the heart. He stumbles back, clutches at his clothes, so completely gone for you.

It’s meant to be a joke, but it isn’t.

Because you do have his heart, don’t you? And the strangest thing is, he doesn’t even know your name. Has never heard your voice. But right now, none of that matters. Maybe he’d stay here forever if he could, but the next song cut through the air, pulling him back to the present. His feet move, leading him away—away from you.

Before he joins the centre, just for a second, he looks back. A second to meet your eyes again, to make sure you're watching him.

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

Soobin turns, both of them standing still as stylists tug their sweat-drenched shirts off, replacing them with fresh ones.

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

He’s looking at Soobin. Waiting. Searching for the right way to ask without anyone else catching on. He doesn’t want them to hear. Doesn’t want them to know.

Not yet.

Soobin frowns slightly. “What? You've been looking distracted since earlier. Are you okay?”

“Your soulmate…” His eyes flicker down. He hesitates, searching for the right words. The right way to say this. "At—Tokyo? How did you…?"

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. How can the older forget the only time he managed to sneak his soulmate backstage? Soobin stares at Beomgyu. The latter's face is practically screaming his questions. How did you do it? How did you get them backstage? How did you make it happen?

Beomgyu has to see you. In front of him. Next to him. Because what if you disappear? What if he lets this slip through his fingers, and suddenly—you’re just gone? And what if this is his only chance?

The room moves around him—zippers, voices, fabric rustling—but all he can hear is his own ragged breathing. He moves his eyes. And there, watching him is their leader who knows him better than anyone—with that equally knowing look on his face.

"Let's talk. Just the two of us."

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

The boys just disappeared backstage, their song still ringing in your ears, but your hands won’t stop shaking. Your chest is tight, your throat burns, and there’s a sting at the corners of your eyes.

You're not a mistake. He’s here. He saw you.

His eyes, his smile. The way he moves, the faint dimple that appears when he does. The thought is too much—it makes your knees weak, and forces you to grip the barricade to keep yourself upright.

"Girl, I swear Beomgyu kept looking over here," Da-hee says, nudging you, completely oblivious to the storm unraveling in your chest. Then she catches sight of your face—at your trembling fingers, at the way you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” Her voice softens. “What’s wrong?”

The words leave your lips before you can even think. "I saw my soulmate."

Your voice shakes, barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. Her eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Oh my god—where is he? Is he a MOA? Is he—”

She doesn’t even get to finish the thought before she freezes.

It clicks.

Then, slowly, her face shifts—from confusion to shock to absolute disbelief. The finding out, then the realising. She stares at you, her mouth slightly open, her hands hovering in the air like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Oh my fucking god.” Her hands fly to her mouth, like she needs to physically stop herself from screaming. Then she grabs her hair, like that’s going to help her process this.

“Is he—is Beomgyu—” She cuts herself off, whisper-shouting now, eyes darting toward the stage, toward the place where he just was. “Is that why he kept coming back over here?”

Her grip tightens on your arm, searching your face, waiting for you to confirm what she already knows. But you can’t say anything. All you can give is a small nod.

Minutes pass. The music swells and fades, song after song drifting through the speakers.

Da-hee stays by your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering reassurances you can’t fully process. At some point, you catch her sniffling into her hands, wiping away her own tears.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of friendship, of growing up together, of knowing each other better than anyone else ever could. She’s seen every version of you—the messy, the broken, the parts of you even you struggled to accept. She’s cried with you, cried for you, carried your grief like it was her own. Even after finding her own soulmate, she never left you behind. Never made you feel like you were missing something, like you were less.

And now—now she’s the reason you’re here.

She’s the reason you met him.

You think of every birthday candle she ever closed her eyes for, every whispered wish she made on your behalf—because she believed that if two people wished for the same thing, the universe had to listen.

And maybe she was right.

It doesn’t matter if he never speaks to you. If the lights were too bright, if the crowd was too big, if he never even saw the thread at all.

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

And that means you were never a mistake. Never some error in the grand design.

He exists.

Da-hee squeezes your hands, grounding you as a woman in staff uniform approaches. Her eyes lock onto yours, scanning your face, your outfit—like she’s confirming, making sure. Then, she stops directly in front of you. “We need to check some information on your tickets.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You’re not stupid. You know what this is. You know they wouldn’t say it outright, not here, not in front of all these people.

“I—I have a friend with me,”

The staff member hesitates, studying you for a beat too long. Then she nods. “She can come with you, but she’ll have to wait in the holding room.”

You turn to Da-hee, and she’s already looking at you, her eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she forces a wobbly smile.

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

The walk was terrifying. Your hands clench tighter with every step, nails digging into your palms, but it does nothing to steady you. Every passing glance burns into your skin—people sneaking curious glances—staff members, crew, people who know exactly why you’re here.

Da-hee had to stay behind in the outer lounge. Now, it’s just you and the staff member leading you deeper into the backstage hallways. The air is thick, suffocating, and you force yourself to breathe through it.

Then she stops. A white door stands in front of you. Dressing Room is printed neatly on a sign, but the words blur as your mind spins.

She knocks. Opens it.

Panic rushes in. What if he doesn’t want this? What if he only let you come here to reject you—to tell you, to your face, that even if the universe says you’re meant to be, he doesn’t want you? What if—

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

He’s mid-step, like he’s been pacing. He removes his hands from his face, his eyes widening just slightly before he clears his throat. “Come in,” he says, voice softer than you expected. It’s meant for the staff member, but his gaze never left yours.

The staff steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. Heat crawls up your neck as you force yourself to move, hyper-aware of the way he’s watching every step.

“You have 60 minutes, Beomgyu,” she says before closing the door behind you.

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

For a moment, neither of you move. Just standing there, eyes locked, as if the world has paused just for this. To anyone else, it might look awkward—but you can't look away as he does.

Your eyes traces over his face, bare and fresh like he just washed up. The soft curve of his cheekbones, the freckles and moles scattered like constellations—proof that the universe took its time with him. Perfect in a way that makes your chest ache.

He blinks, and your eyes catch on his lashes—delicate, dark, fluttering against his skin like something out of a dream.

How can someone be made this perfect?

The question lodges itself in your throat, and before you can stop it, your vision blurs. Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away. You don’t even know if he wants this yet—

"What’s your name?" Beomgyu asks, his voice quieter than he expected. He watches the way you blink, the slight parting of your lips like you hadn’t expected him to speak first.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. The urge to reach out—to cup your face, to feel your skin—is overwhelming. But he holds himself back.

Beomgyu has never considered himself the kind of person to take the first step. But not this. Not with you. He wants to start a conversation, anything—to get you talking, to hear your voice, to know you.

"Y/N." The sound of your voice stills him. It settles in his chest, not as something new, but as something he swears he’s always known—like a song he’s heard in a dream, waiting to be remembered. His lips twitch into a small, almost dazed smile.

Your voice is so pretty, he thinks. So pretty that it hurts.

He repeats your name, slower this time, rolling it over his tongue like he’s memorizing the way it feels to say it. And when you smile—just the faintest curve of your lips—his own smile widens into a grin.

"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.

"Did you come here alone?" he asks, trying to steady himself.

"I was with a friend," you say, and his eyes flicker—just for a second—to your lips before settling back on yours. "She’s outside."

"Hm." Beomgyu nods slowly, as if letting the thought settle. Then, slowly, he reaches out—his palm open, facing up, an unspoken invitation for you to give your hand out.

Your breath catches. Hesitation flickers for just a moment before you place your hand in his. Beomgyu feels warmth creep up his neck the second your skin meets, a flush he hopes you don’t notice. His fingers curl gently around yours, testing the weight of your hand in his own.

"Come on," he says, his voice softer now. He tugs you forward—careful, gentle, afraid he's hurt you in any way if he pulls too hard. "You should sit. You must be tired from standing out there."

"I could say the same," you murmur as you both sink into the couch. Beomgyu turns slightly toward you, his knee brushing yours, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. His thumb traces absentminded circles against your skin. "You danced and ran around the stage all night," you add, tilting your head at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and a little breathless. Your eyes drift around the room—clothing racks, scattered bags, the quiet remnants of a space that had been buzzing with energy just minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired," he admits. Then, after a pause, softer this time, when you look at him again, he’s already staring. "But not anymore."

Beomgyu takes in everything—your lips, the way the light catches in your eyes, the soft of your hand in his. He doesn’t even think before he speaks, before the thought that’s been looping in his head since he first saw you finally slips past his lips.

"God, you're so beautiful."

Beomgyu watches as your cheeks flush, the warmth creeping up your skin like the slow bloom of dawn. He knew—you were his soulmate. Fates stitched together long before this moment, yet nothing could have prepared him for the way you looked right now. He never imagined that watching you blush under his words would feel this intoxicating.

"You’re the one who’s beautiful," you murmur, barely above a whisper. The words feel foreign on your tongue, yet true in a way that unsettles you. You clear your throat, trying to mask the way your heart stumbles over itself, but Beomgyu only tightens his grip on your hand.

You wonder how you even got here. This morning, you woke up with no idea that by evening, you'd be sitting across from your soulmate, flirting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He chuckles—Beomgyu has heard the word beautiful more times than he can count. It’s been thrown at him in passing, whispered through screams from fans, printed in glossy magazines. But somehow, from your lips, it sounds different.

The next few minutes passed in easy conversation. Beomgyu had already pieced together bits of your life—you were only here because Da-hee dragged you along—he’d been hoping to meet her too, if only to thank her.

He knew you worked a corporate job, that photography was your escape. That you were two years older than him, a fact that he immediately latched onto, whispering noona in a teasing lilt just to see the way you’d roll your eyes laugh and swat his arm. But the truth was, he didn’t want to call you that. It was your name he wanted to say. He felt like he’d already spent a lifetime missing it, and now that he knew it, he never wanted to stop saying it.

You had learned things about him, too. That he’d loved music since he was a kid, that he picked up a guitar before he fully understood its chords. That he was cast as a trainee before he even hit the climax of his teenage years, and that six years had passed since he debuted. Things you could have easily searched online, or you could have read every article, and watched every interview, but nothing made your heart flutter quite like the way he told his own story.

The contrast between your lives was undeniable. Maybe that’s why it took so long for fate to push you toward each other.

While you were drowning in homework, he was in a practice room, chasing a dream. While you sat through lectures and worried about exams, he was in a studio, recording songs that would echo through stadiums. While you cried over a failed job interview, he stayed up until dawn, running through choreography again and again until his legs gave out. Your society—were parallel lines moving in different directions.

But sitting here, watching him scrunch his nose in laughter, none of that seemed to matter. Two people from different worlds, felt like it had faded into one—just by being next to each other.

He hadn’t once let go of your hand for the past hour.

"No, I just—I didn’t know where else to put it, so I stuck it there." You fumble for an excuse, cheeks burning as Beomgyu grins at you. He had spotted the photocard of him tucked into the back of your phone case, and he hadn’t let it go since.

“And it was random,” you add quickly, feeling your face heat up. “You have to randomly pick it.”

The truth is, Beomgyu knows. He knows it was a random selection. He knows you’re flustered. And he loves it. Loves the way you try to explain yourself, loves hearing you ramble, loves the way your face heats up under his stare. And to be honest, if it had been another member’s face staring back at him, no matter how petty it sounded, he also knows he wouldn’t have been too thrilled about it.

He’s in deep.

"Beomgyu, it's time to go." The same staff member says, pulling you both back to reality. You didn't even hear the doors opening. Her eyes flicker to your joined hands for a second, but she doesn’t say anything—just turns and steps outside.

You glance at Beomgyu, and he’s pouting. "We’re flying to Japan tomorrow morning, Y/N."

"Oh." The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You just met your soulmate, and by morning, he’d be gone. "Okay."

You stand up, expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t move. Your hands dangle between you because he still hasn’t let go. "Beomgyu?"

"I’ll see you as soon as I get back, okay?" His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to find the right words. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable for a moment, before he finally stands. He squeezes your hands gently. "It won’t be too long."

"Alright… we have each other's numbers, so… text me."

"Just know your phone might be buzzing non-stop,"

"Got it." You roll your eyes, smiling. "I’ll survive."

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

"You’re the one doing concerts. I should be the one saying that."

He ignores your deflection, pressing on. "Sleep well. Lock your doors properly. You live alone, so it’s dangerous. Don’t go out too late. And if you do, call me, okay? Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t go out too late at all. Please—make sure you don’t—"

He doesn’t get to finish. Before he can say another word, you reach up, sliding your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. His words cut off instantly, replaced by a soft inhale—like he hadn’t breathed since he started speaking. Your heart squuezes over itself at his endless concern, spreading through your chest. Blinking rapidly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill.

For the first time tonight, Beomgyu lets go of your hand—only to wrap both arms around you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

"I’ll see you soon, Beomgyu," you murmur.

You feel him tilt his head slightly before pressing a fleeting, warm kiss to your temple. "I’ll see you soon."

Elevators terrify you. It scares you because it feels like everything could come crashing down at any second. Why would you trust something that rises so quickly—too fast?

It can't last, doesn't it?

You feel him snuggle to you more, and you chuckle, pressed against him, his scent, his arms around you, holding you safely—his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, as if whispering that the fall you fear will never come.

Elevators terrified you.

You wish you could have captured Da-hee’s face when she saw you walking over with Beomgyu beside you, his hand resting firmly on your back. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, before she shot you a knowing look.

Beomgyu offered her a quick thanks, the paper bag with your heels swinging from your hands, and you stood there in the fresh pair of sneakers he’d somehow found in your size—because he wanted to. His eyes met yours for just a second longer before he turned to leave.

The second you stepped into the parking lot, Da-hee lost it. She let out a squeal so loud you had to clamp a hand over her mouth, laughing as she practically vibrated with excitement. "What just happened?!" she whispered against your palm, her eyes sparkling.

That night, as soon as you got home, your phone rang. His name lit up the screen.

It took only a second before answering.

It was awkward at first—neither of you really knowing what to say—but before you knew it, you were talking about everything and nothing, voices laced with exhaustion but neither willing to hang up first. He was leaving in a few hours, and you had to be the one to convince him to sleep, reminding him—more than once—that he had a flight to catch.

You had just curled up in your blankets when your phone buzzed again. Dozy, you reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

Choi Beomgyu I’m sorry for making you wait. I promise we’ll make up for all the time we lost. Sleep well, beautiful.

Even as sleep pulled you under, the smile on your lips never faded.

You wake up to the relentless ringing of your doorbell. A groan slips past your lips as you burrow deeper into your blankets. It’s Sunday. No work. No alarms. Just sleep—at least, that was the plan.

The doorbell rings again.

With an exaggerated sigh, you drag yourself out of bed, doing the bare minimum to look somewhat presentable. Your hair is probably a mess, your face still puffy from sleep, but you don’t care. Whoever decided to disturb your well-earned rest better have a damn good reason.

You glance at the clock on your way out. Oh. It’s not even early—it’s almost 1 PM.

Squinting against the bright light as you crack the door open, you’re met with a sight that instantly wakes you up. A delivery man stands there, arms full, holding the biggest bouquet of red roses you’ve ever seen. The sheer number of petals is overwhelming, a deep sea of crimson spilling over the edges of his grasp.

"What—" Your brain struggles to catch up, and then it clicks. Beomgyu. He asked for your address yesterday.

"Y/N?" The man confirms, struggling under the bouquet.

Your eyes widen. "Damn, just how many are in there?"

"Three hundred and fifteen roses," he says, barely holding onto the mass of flowers. "Please sign here."

Three hundred and fifteen. You’re smiling as you take the pen from him.

You stumble slightly, still half-dazed as you carefully set the massive bouquet down, trying not to crush a single petal. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the small card nestled between the roses, your heart already beating a little too fast.

315 months of not being with you. This won’t make up for it, but I hope it makes you happy.

You inhale sharply. Your chest tightens. 315 months. He counted. Beomgyu counted the exact number of months you’ve been alive—how does he even think like this? Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. He’s ridiculous. He’s thoughtful in a way that completely undoes you.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re running. Not walking—running. Because suddenly, every second without hearing his voice feels like a second wasted.

Your fingers fumble as you dial his number, pressing the phone to your ear. It barely rings once before the line clicks open—like he had been waiting for this call all along. “Beomgyu—” your voice comes out uneven, breathless.

He chuckles softly, “So… I take it you liked it?”

It’s already 3 PM.

Somehow, you lost track of time, carefully splitting the bundle into smaller arrangements, placing them in vases around your apartment. Now, your living room and kitchen are drenched in the scent of roses—not that you’re complaining.

Beomgyu had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, talking about his morning, his voice in the background as you worked. That is, until someone called for him on the other end, reminding him he had things to do.

You sighed when the call ended. It's sunday, and his sunday is like the worst day of your week. And you're here, resting.

Now, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still clung to your skin as you stepped onto the cool tile. A shiver ran down your spine as you grabbed a towel, pressing it to your face, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of fabric softener.

Dressed in cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch, remote in one hand, a bowl of yogurt and berries resting on your lap. Television played softly as you mindlessly scrolled through channels, enjoying the quiet.

Until your phone buzzed. You unlocked it, eyes immediately landing on the message.

Nut-job Da-hee. Girl! He's extra glowy today!! OMG <link>

You tapped the link, expecting a video to pop up, but instead, it directed you to download an app. You went along with it, quickly signing in and typing out a cheeky username.

The video loaded—Soobin and Beomgyu, in a hotel room. A small table sat near the camera, cluttered with food containers and drinks. Beomgyu was on the bed, lounging comfortably but still close enough to be part of the frame.

And Da-hee wasn’t exaggerating—he looked good. The black shirt fit him just right, his dark hair falling effortlessly, lips tinted a soft pink. A phone in hand, completely unaware of just how stunning he looked.

An idea sparked in your mind.

"It's not barley tea, MOA," Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head as Soobin insists otherwise. No matter how many times their leader repeats himself, the comments keep flooding in, doubting him.

"Choi Beomgyu really traumatized you, huh?" he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"What do you mean?" Beomgyu argues, but Soobin is already moving on, reading a new comment aloud. "Barley tea is healthy,"

Just then, Beomgyu’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

My Y/N Live?

His back immediately straightens. Shit. You’re watching? He’s about to type out a response when another message pops up.

You look handsome.

Beomgyu presses a hand over his mouth, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to—

"Beomgyu, MOAs are asking what you're doing," Soobin interrupts, his eyes full of silent curiosity.

"Nothing," Beomgyu says too quickly. "Kai sent a meme." He shifts closer to the camera, Soobin right beside him. With his phone in his hands, he types a message, fully aware that Soobin is peeking at his screen. They probably look ridiculous—both of them staring down at their phones while thousands of people watch.

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

Beomgyu inhales, trying to focus as Soobin keeps talking. His fingers move instinctively.

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

Wait, stop looking at your phone. Let MOA see you? Username: 315flowersmyass.

Beomgyu chokes on a laugh. His lips curl up as he locks his phone and holds it up to the camera, as if to prove he’s done. As if to prove that he followed your words.

"So cute," he sings, the words slipping out without thought. The chat erupts, MOAs spamming hearts and messages.

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

His grin stretches wider. He closes his face on the screen. "Hi, MOA." He giggles.

This—this is cute. He’s always enjoyed going live, but now he knows you’re watching, he discovers a love for it he never even knew was possible.

The live eventually comes to an end. As soon as it does, Soobin turns to Beomgyu with a knowing smile. "I'm happy you finally found her," he says simply. Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away—just smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. Then his phone buzzes.

He checks it, and the moment he does, a gasp slips past his lips.

It’s a picture. You.

A snack is held near your face, your expression relaxed. You’re in cozy clothes, looking effortlessly beautiful, breathtaking. The picture made Beomgyu wish he could fly back to you right there and then. Over his shoulder, Soobin leans in. "Is that her?" he asks, then grins. "She's pretty."

Beomgyu doesn’t look away from his phone as his lips curl into a smile.

"She is," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"She’s here."

Ji-an’s voice pulls you from your focus. She’s standing beside your desk, phone pressed to her ear, while you scan last week’s finance report. Your eyes flick over the spreadsheet, catching an error in a formula, but before you can fix it, Ji-an calls your name. "Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. They’re at the door."

"Oh," you murmur, pushing your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose. Contacts felt like too much trouble today. "Thanks."

As you stand, a familiar warmth spreads through your chest. Outside, the delivery man hands you a bouquet—this time, white roses.

You peek at the note while walking back, the click of your heels filling the space. Your way back to your desk by the window. The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass, a vast expanse of city lights and open sky.

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

A laugh escapes before you can stop it—he's so silly. One of the things you realised recently.

"That's the fourth bouquet this month, Y/N," Ji-an muses, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I know you just met your soulmate, but flowers every week? That’s next-level sweet. I’m jealous—mine isn't really a flowers kind of person."

You return her smile, "Yeah, he's the sweetest."

It’s been a month since you met Beomgyu. A single day—that’s all you had together. And yet, in the weeks that followed, he never let distance become an excuse. Even with his tour in full swing, miles stretching endlessly between you, he still found ways to reach you. A call in the middle of the night. A voice note filled with sleepy laughter. And these flowers—his way of saying, I'm here. I'm coming back to you soon.

Ji-an leans against your desk, eyes glinting with curiosity. "So… when do we get to meet him?" she asks, wiggling her brows. "You know the drill—everyone meets everyone’s soulmate. It’s basically tradition. At least one or two quick bond drinks a year, right?"

The playful edge in her voice makes your stomach twist. Because as much as you want to laugh along, to pretend that everything is as simple as it should be… you know the truth.

They can’t meet him. Your friends, your family—none of them can. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. You don’t even know when you will see him again.

You swallow, forcing down the sudden tightness in your throat. The warmth you felt just moments ago, thinking about him, is now laced with something heavier.

"He's—he's busy," you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. You glance at the bouquet on your desk, fingers tracing the petals as if they hold an answer you don’t have. "Maybe next time."

The day finally ends, and you’re grateful Ji-an didn’t push for more.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter as you step into the elevator, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air. By the time you make it to the parking lot, exhaustion weighs on you—but then you remember.

You forgot to send a text. Pulling out your phone, you type: I’m heading home now.

The message sends, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Beomgyu is probably fast asleep by now, lost in a time zone opposite yours. He won’t see it for hours, but you text him anyway—because you can already hear his voice in your head, playful and pouty. You forgot to tell me again, he’d whine. Can you please let me know?

You’ve learned a lot from him in such a short time. How simple it is to make someone feel remembered. How easy it is to reach out. How even in the busiest moments, there’s always a second to say, I haven’t forgotten you.

Because that’s what he’s been doing for you all along.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, ready to head to your car when someone stops you. Your steps slow, brows knitting together as your scan lands on a girl—sitting right on the hood of your car.

Your car. She’s perched there like she belongs, fingers idly tracing patterns against the metal.

"Hey," you call out, keeping your voice even. "It’s not really polite to sit on someone else’s car, sweetheart."

Her head lifts, eyes locking onto yours with disdain, "Don't sweetheart me, you slut."

The venom in her words knocks the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, shock flashing through you as she stands. She’s young. Much younger than you.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

Your instincts flare—this isn’t normal. You take a step back, "Leave. Now. Before I call the police."

But she doesn’t move. Instead, she tilts her head, and smirked. "You’re Beomgyu’s soulmate, aren’t you?"

Your body locks up. How does she know? Your fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers, the thorns pressing into your palm. You want to speak, to deny, to do something, but the words won’t come.

Because you know—whatever you say next could make this worse.

She clicks her tongue, taking a slow step toward you. "Do this while I’m still being nice," she says, voice eerily light. "Stay away from him. Or I’ll destroy everything." She tilts her head again, a slow blink. "I’d rather see him ruined than with you, unnie."

She steps past you then, her shoulder knocking into yours just hard enough to make you stumble back. Your hands cold, heart hammering against your ribs. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s a few feet away.

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

Beomgyu rubs the sleep from his eyes, his fingers fumbling for his phone the moment he wakes up. Checking for your messages has become second nature—his first instinct, before he even fully shakes off sleep.

The corners of his lips curl into a soft smile as he reads your text. You remembered.

God, he misses you.

When he gets back, he’s not letting you out of his sight. He’ll beg his company if he has to—anything to steal just a little more time with you. He wants to spoil you, to show up with flowers every single day just to see that shy smile of yours. He’d buy you things you didn’t even know you needed, take pictures of you at every chance, make playlists for you, drag you into late-night game sessions just to hear you laugh and call him ridiculous. Love is effort. That’s what his parents always told him. He’d give it—all of it.

Maybe one day, he’d convince you to visit Daegu with him. Introduce you to his family, let his mom fuss over you, watch his brother tease him relentlessly. And Toto… Would you like Toto?

The thought makes him chuckle as he taps your contact and presses call. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. His smile falters.

Then, voicemail.

His brows knit together. He tries again. Straight to voicemail. The phone feels heavier in his hand now.

It’s the first time you haven’t picked up.

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

Beomgyu grips his phone, scrolling through his notifications, eyes darting to every new alert. His heart lifts for a second—only to sink just as fast when he realizes it’s not you. The screen dims in his hands, but he doesn’t put it down. He can’t.

"You still haven’t heard from her?" Soobin asked. He’s the only one still awake, eyes heavy but observant. Beomgyu hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but he’s never been good at hiding things—not to his members.

"No," Beomgyu mutters, shaking his head. His throat feels tight. "We always talk before she falls asleep."

Soobin exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. "She probably crashed as soon as she got home. Long day, maybe?" He keeps his tone easy, reassuring. "Just focus on later's concert. She’ll probably be awake by then."

Beomgyu nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, hyung."

Soobin claps a hand on his back. "Don't think about it too much."

Beomgyu did his best to push thoughts of you aside during the concert. He smiled, he sang, he danced—gave everything to the stage like he always did. But the second he was backstage, drenched in sweat and breathless from the high of performing, his hands were already reaching for his phone.

Still nothing.

Back at the hotel, Soobin and Yeonjun made sure he ate. He forced down a few bites, just enough to keep them from worrying. Now, fresh from a shower, exhaustion settles deep in his bones. His muscles ache, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but sleep won’t come.

His phone sits beside him on the bed. You’re probably asleep. He tells himself that. He should leave it alone.

But knowing doesn’t stop him from pressing call. It rings.

Once. Twice.

He’s about to give up when the line clicks.

“H-Hello?” Beomgyu stutters, his voice unsteady. No response. His heart pounds as he pulls the phone away, checking the screen just to be sure. The call is still connected. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Beomgyu.” The way you say his name makes his breath catch.

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” He hears you take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” His grip on the phone tightens.

"What is it?"

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” A pause. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

Beomgyu shoots up from where he’s sitting, running a hand through his hair, fingers pulling at the strands. He feels cold all over. His pulse pounds in his ears.

“Where is this coming from?” His voice is raw, edged dangerously close to panic. “What happened, Y/N?”

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” There’s a pause. A beat of silence that feels like a lifetime. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

His chest tightens. “Are you breaking up with me?” The words feel foreign in his mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. “Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

And then the line goes dead.

Beomgyu stares at his screen, his fingers frozen, his mind racing to process what just happened. His chest caves in, breath shaky as he stumbles back onto the bed. And then—he breaks.

His hands cover his face, shoulders trembling as it all crashes down on him. He had a feeling when you didn't answer his call. A whisper of doubt, an inkling of fear.

And now, it’s real.

4 AM, and Beomgyu still hasn’t slept. His eyes burn from exhaustion, but his mind won’t shut off. He’s been texting you, calling you—over and over—but every attempt goes straight to voicemail. At some point, your phone must have died, or worse, you turned it off.

He lies on the stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s unfamiliar. Cold. But then again, when was the last time anything in his life felt familiar? Felt like home?

His phone dings.

He scrambles for it, heartbeat hammering, but before he can check the notification, an unknown number flashes across the screen. It’s stupid to answer an unknown call at this hour. Their managers had given them talks about it. But something—something in his gut—tells him to pick up.

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

“Beomgyu.” A pause. Then— “It’s Da-hee,”

His breath catches.

“She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you,” Da-hee says, voice hushed, urgent. “But I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

"Please."

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

You take another sip of whiskey, curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest. The tears won’t stop. No matter how many times you wipe them away, they keep coming, slipping down your cheeks, burning just as much as the liquor sliding down your throat.

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

He has everything—his dream, his career, a future so bright it could swallow you whole. He has the world at his feet. And you? You’re just… you. Not worth the risk. Not worth the detour. Maybe this was always how it was supposed to be. Maybe that’s why your paths were never meant to cross in the first place. You saw the consequence, felt it when you passed the Hybe building, that heavy reminder of the impossible divide between your worlds.

It should be enough. Enough that you got to know him, enough that he even knows your name. Enough that you get to see him on a screen. It should be enough.

But is it?

“Fuck,” you choke out, voice breaking. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, as if that could stop the ache. “Just when I finally saw you… What a joke.” You shake your head, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “The universe is a fucking idiot for ever thinking we were meant to be.”

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

You blink up, vision swimming, to see Da-hee standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

“I’ve been ringing your doorbell,” she says, stepping closer. “I used the spare key—why are you crying?”

You don’t respond. You just stare at her, eyes glassy, cheeks wet. She moves toward you, eyes flickering to the near-empty glass in your hand. You’ve been drinking for hours. You already called in sick to work—there’s no way you could function like this.

"Oh, honey," She sighs, reaches for the glass, and you don’t fight it. You let it go. "What happened?"

“Fate is already taking back what it let me borrow.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. She your holds your hand.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Explain.”

You swallow hard. Your throat feels tight, like every word is fighting to stay buried. But you force them out.

“A sasaeng,” you murmur, watching as Da-hee’s eyes widen in alarm. “She found out about me. She knows everything, Da-hee. Where I live, where I work, my family—everything.” You suck in a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. “And the worst of it, she fucking said she’s going to ruin Beomgyu.”

The moment the words leave your lips, your resolve shatters. You cry—like a child finally breaking after being scolded in front of everyone, holding it all in until no one’s around to see. Da-hee pulled you into her arms as you sobbed. You cling to her, hands fisting her sweater. “I have to let him go,” you choke out. “I can’t do this to him. To them. They don’t deserve this.”

Da-hee pulls back, her hands firm on your shoulders. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can go to the police. We can tell Beomgyu—”

“And then what?” you cut in, voice hollow. “What can they really do? Stop her from telling the world? Keep every single person quiet? Even if she gets caught, the damage will already be done.”

Da-hee doesn’t answer. She just sinks onto the couch beside you, eyes shining with unshed tears, because she knows you well. She knows you too well—knows that the emotional version of you wouldn’t be able to hear her, not right now. Not until the sobs quiet down and the pain in your chest eases just a little. So, she just holds you.

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

"I don’t think it’s best to answer it right now—"

But you don’t listen to Da-hee’s warning. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the screen. You have to end this. Now. While you still have the strength. Because deep down, you know—

If you wake up tomorrow, you might not be able to let him go.

“H-Hello?” He stutters on the other line, his voice unsteady. Your breath catches in your throat. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

I miss you. How can I go on without you?

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” You hesitate.

I’m not okay. I’ve been thinking about you, only you, and how my existence could ruin everything you’ve worked for.

"What?" His inhale is sharp, laced with the beginnings of panic.

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” You pause, fingers trembling. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, desperate to believe your own words. “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

I should be replaceable. And I shouldn’t be your priority. You press a hand to your mouth, as if you can keep the words from spilling out—keep the truth from bleeding through.

“Where is this coming from? What happened, Y/N?”

My heart is breaking. And you’re too far away to hold it together.

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” You pause, swallowing. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

Please sleep. And forget about me.

“Are you breaking up with me? Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

I want you more than anything. That’s why I have to do this. If I can save you from losing everything, I’ll do it. Even if it means losing you.

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

You press the end button.

The sobs rip through you, shaking your whole body and stealing the air from your lungs. You curl in on yourself, pressing your fist to your mouth, as if that could stop the sound, as if that could stop the pain. How can love be this cruel? How can the same thing that made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so hollow?

But this is for him. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a desperate attempt to make it hurt less.

You’ll do this for him. Even if it destroys you.

Da-hee wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she looks at you—curled up in the fetal position, your body tense like you’re bracing for impact even in sleep. She managed to get you into bed, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

She’d do anything for you.

Carefully, she tiptoes to the bedside table and picks up your phone. Her heart pounds. If anyone’s watching me, I’ll beg for forgiveness later. But right now, she comes first.

She types in your usual password. 8888. Incorrect. She frowns, thinking. You changed it? Then, almost without realizing it, her fingers move on their own. 0313. The screen unlocks.

Beomgyu’s birthday.

Da-hee lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You idiot,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You love him so much, and yet you’re willing to walk away. How can you be this selfless?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she scrolls through your contacts, searching for his name. Her thumb hovers over it for only a second before she types his number on her own phone.

You’ll be furious. You might never forgive her. But if there’s even the slightest chance this stops you from making the biggest mistake of your life—she’ll take that risk.

Someone has to tell him the things that you can’t.

The line connects, and Da-hee inhales. “She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you, but I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

She’ll prepare her apology later—more than that, she hopes Beomgyu will fight for you.

"I want to go home." Beomgyu’s voice is firm, but his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His manager looks up from his laptop, brows furrowing.

The door bursts open. Soobin stumbles in, slightly out of breath—he must’ve run after him. Beomgyu doesn’t care.

Beomgyu already knows everything—Da-hee told him. Every sickening detail. And now, standing here, he has no idea how to fix this. No idol has ever come out of this unscathed. But none of that matters right now. His only priority is getting to you.

His manager sighs, already exasperated. “You’re flying back home in a few days, Beomgyu.”

“No,” he says, jaw tightening. “I mean now. I need a few days. To rest. To handle something personal.”

“You know your schedule is packed—”

“Then move everything,” Beomgyu interrupts sharply. He feels Soobin’s hand on his shoulder, hears his name spoken softly, but he shrugs it off. No one is stopping him from getting to you.

His manager sighs again, firmer this time. “We can’t do that.”

“You won’t even try?” His voice wavers between frustration and desperation. “You won’t even let the management know?”

“We can’t make last-minute changes like this.”

Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.” He clenches his fists. All his life, he’s done everything they asked. Pushed through exhaustion, smiled through sickness, showed up even when his body begged him to stop. “I won’t follow you on this,” he says, voice steady. “I can’t do this. Not this time. If you won’t let me go, I’ll still leave.”

“Beomgyu, let’s talk about this when you’re calm,” Soobin says gently, patting Beomgyu’s back. “Please.”

Beomgyu turns to him, his eyes dark with frustration. “I love MOAs, hyung. I love all of you. They gave me everything.” His voice wavers, but he pushes through. “But Y/N… she is my everything.” His breath hitches. He can't even explain it properly. How badly he needs you. “You’re lucky. All of you. Your soulmates—"

“So this is about your soulmate?” The manager exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see? She’s making you choose between her and your career.”

“No.” Beomgyu’s voice breaks, his chest tightens, and the lump in his throat is unbearable. “She’s not making me choose. She’s already choosing for me.” His next breath is shaky. “She’s leaving. Can you let your own soulmate leave?”

The room falls silent. Soobin watches him, stunned. He’d never seen Beomgyu like this before—this angry, this desperate. And the question stings the older.

Beomgyu turns away, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Explaining further is useless. He’s already said everything that matters. Nothing is going to stop him now. When he steps into the hallway, he sees Yeonjun standing there, leaning against the wall.

He’s been listening the whole time.

Yeonjun immediately reaches out, tugging at his arm. “Yah, Choi Beomgyu, come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk with everyone.” Beomgyu exhales shakily. If there's anyone he owes an explanation. It's them. His brothers.

So Beomgyu told them everything.

About the sasaeng. About the threats. About how you were walking away to protect him. About how he refused to let that happen. And just like he knew they would, the four of them listened—not as bandmates, not as colleagues, but as brothers.

No one understood him better than they did.

They didn’t tell him to reconsider. They didn’t tell him to stay. Instead, they held onto him, arms wrapped tight, as if they could shield him from the storm that was already brewing. They prayed—not for him to change his mind, but for the world to understand.

Kai was the first to break. His voice barely above a whisper, “Is it really worth it… if the world doesn’t want us to have soulmates?”

It shattered something in all of them.

Beomgyu didn’t answer—not with words. Because what kind of world was it, where love had to be hidden? Where choosing your own heart felt like a betrayal?

With the help of his members, he managed to slip through the cracks, securing a last-minute flight. Now, as he sat on the plane, adjusting his mask, pulling his cap low, he caught his own reflection in the window.

Maybe it was time. Time to stop pretending. Time to stop hiding.

Because an idol in love isn’t supposed to be shameful. Because having a soulmate shouldn’t be treated like a scandal. Because loving you would never make him love his dream any less.

He just had to believe in MOAs. In the people who gave him everything. What he has with them, he treasures so much that the thought of baring his heart isn’t impossible.

And he would.

Completely.

He would trade it all, just to see you again.

The pounding in your head hasn’t let up, a dull, relentless throb that even the hot shower couldn’t wash away. You pop an aspirin, sighing as you press your fingertips against your temples, willing the ache—and everything else—to disappear.

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

Dragging your feet toward the door, you barely think as you swing it open—then freeze.

Choi Beomgyu.

His face bare, a backpack slung over his shoulder. A car idles in your driveway, but you barely process it. Your eyes lock onto the messy strands of blonde peeking out from under his hoodie, his gaze searching yours. He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

“Y/N—” The door slams shut in his face before he can say another word.

Your breath stumbles. Your pulse pounds. The damp strands of your hair cling to your neck as you press your back against the door, fingers gripping the handle like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Shit. He fucking looks good with his new dyed hair— wait. Don't think about that. What is he doing here?

“I’m parked out front,” his voice comes through the door, muffled but you hear it. “I just want to talk.” A shaky inhale. Then softer, “Baby, I’m here. When you’re ready, just open the door.”

His footsteps retreat.

You start pacing, your heart ricocheting against your ribs. He’s here. He came all this way. After everything you stupidly said. You hurt him yet—

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

“Chinese takeout for Y/N?” The delivery guy blinks at you, holding up the bag.

“Oh.” You blush, embarrassed. You fumble for your wallet, signing the receipt with shaky hands. Your eyes keep drifting past him, toward the car still parked in front of your house.

Just like what he said. He's there.

The hours slip away unnoticed, morning fading seamlessly into afternoon. Every time you steal a glance through the curtain, he’s still there. Evening creeps in as you start making dinner. Without thinking, you plate portions for two. Your hands hesitate over the dishes, your heart heavy. When you check the clock, it’s 8 p.m. He’s been outside for twelve hours—silent, waiting.

Just like he promised. He never knocked again. Twelve hours. Your hands tremble as you turn off the stove. He must’ve just come from another gruelling day, looking like he’d stepped off a plane after hours in the air—rumpled, drained, and still without rest.

Why did you let him wait this long?

You don’t stop to think anymore. You grab your keys, shove your feet into your slippers, and head straight for his car, blinking back the tears that blur your vision.

He must see you coming because, before you even reach him, the car door swings open.

And there he is.

His hoodie is pushed back now, his hair slightly dishevelled like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. His face is drawn, exhausted. His eyes—red-rimmed, heavy, like he’s been crying for hours. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Come inside,” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. You just turn around and head back toward the door. You don’t have to look back to know he’s following.

He steps inside, his tall frame filling the space as you quietly shut the door behind him. Your apartment looks small with him around. When you turn, your eyes meet, "Beomgyu—"

You barely get his name out before he’s on you. He can't stop himself anymore. It’s how you looked outside, so effortless—your hair pinned up, the simplicity of your everyday clothes, and yet, you somehow seemed untouchable. He envisions a life with you, a routine, your soft smile waiting for him when he comes home, you looking like something angelic—his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been starved for you. His mouth moves against yours, claiming, taking.

His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slides against yours. His hands roam down, gripping, pulling, making sure you feel every bit of him. He grabs your wrists, lifting them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath ragged as he nips your sensitive skin. "I missed you," he murmurs. Another kiss—hotter, deeper, his body pressing your back against the wall. "I got fucking scared you'd never open the door."

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress.

"I get it. I know you don’t mean it—that you really believe this is for the best." His voice softens, almost breaking. He presses his crotch to yours, eyes seeking yours. "But did it ever cross your mind what I want? What I think is best for me? For us?"

“I'm sorry,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve.

"I'll always forgive you." His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. He grinds desperately to you. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word as he captures your lips again and again. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does."

You surrendered to his touch, your body softening beneath him. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, which groaned under your shifting weight. You reached for Beomgyu’s lips, catching him off guard as you kissed him with everything you had, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your middle and sending a shiver through you. But even in the haze of his taste, a heavy guilt settled in your chest. "Gyu,"

"I need you, baby. Or I'll go crazy." His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours. Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with adoration and awe as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He's on top of you, looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him.

“It's going to be okay…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers shakily reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly rubbing, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of.

"I'll fix it for us, for you." He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore. He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine.

His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste so—He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you were really gonna leave me? And I was gonna miss this?" He groans, lapping up, sucking the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles more. His cock throbs with every taste of you, the way you melt against his mouth driving him insane. He feels you slick against his chin, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t leave a single inch of you untouched by his warm, greedy mouth. It was as if your body had been crafted for his lips alone, flesh and heat meant to be devoured at his leisure.

When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long."

"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, please." His touch was gentle even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,"

“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.

"Beomgyu, I— It was selfish of me—" You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw.

“Shh, no,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head. "None of this is your fault," he murmurs. "But you have to trust me now."

All the horrors inside you dissolve with every kiss he presses to your skin, each one stripping away the fear, the doubt, the self-imposed distance. He kisses you like he’s rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if he’s memorized the map of your ruin and decided, you were always meant to be whole.

And you let him.

Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all.

It was foolish to ever believe you could ever live without him.

Waking up with Beomgyu’s arm draped over your bare waist felt like something out of a dream.

The second you tried to slip away, he pulled you right back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sleepy rough hum. His grip was loose but unwilling, like even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. He filled your morning with lazy kisses, tangled limbs, and muffled laughter, his fingers tracing over your bare skin.

You could live a lifetime like this and still never believe it was real.

Now, you sit at your vanity, dressed for work, fastening an earring as Beomgyu, fresh from the shower, tugs on a clean hoodie. He catches your eye in the mirror and grins as he walks over. “What are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.”

“Drying my hair,” you say, “I’m actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. “I know how to do this.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.” He presses a teasing kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

The warmth of the dryer was against your scalp as he carefully runs his fingers through your hair, drying it with surprising patience. His touch lingers even after the dryer clicks off, his fingers gently gathering strands of your hair.

“I used to braid my mom’s hair when I was younger,” he murmurs. “I want to do yours too.” You nod, watching him through the mirror, watching the way he looks at you with so much quiet devotion it nearly steals your breath. "It will be an honour to do this every day for you, you know."

And just like that, you fall in love all over again.

You sit in the passenger seat, your hair loosely braided—the proof that he wasn’t just bluffing. His fingers lace with yours as he drives, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin. Every time the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,”

He grins, that same cheeky, heart-stopping smile. "Love you more," he replies.

You let out a quiet breath, leaning your head against the window, watching the world blur past. But then—out of the corner of your eye—you see it.

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

Flowers that shine the brightest in the wake of the storm.

It looks out of place. You remembered last night’s rain. It had come down in furious sheets, drowning the streets, washing everything away. The pavement is still slick, puddles reflecting the grey morning sky. And yet—there it is.

Small. Alive.

In the middle of a city that never stops, where people rush past without a second glance, too busy to care about a thing so insignificant, so easily overlooked—it stands, untouched. A quiet defiance against the cruelty that tried to take it.

It looks out of place, and it's beautiful.

If something this fragile can survive and still bloom—maybe, just maybe, so can you.

"Hyung!" Beomgyu’s laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brother’s arms. They embrace, laughing like they’re kids again, the older one attempting to lift him off the ground. Behind them, his parents rush to catch up, smiles stretched wide across their faces. The house, with its endless stretch of green, looks like out of a memory—soft, a paradise.

Beomgyu turns to you then, his hand resting gently on your back. His eyes soft when he speaks.

"Mom, Dad," he says, "This is Y/N."

You bow politely, but before you can even rise fully, his mother pulls you into a hug. "I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.

When Beomgyu’s father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, it’s like looking at Beomgyu in the years to come. His hug is just as warm, just as safe.

Lunch is a blur of laughter and stories, of hands brushing, of Beomgyu sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His parents laugh along with your stories—the one about meeting his sweet members, and how Da-hee had begged to meet them in person. You describe her pale face, wide-eyed and on the verge of fainting the entire time, and how Beomgyu grew irritated every time Yeonjun jokingly flirted with you, insisting he should be your favorite.

But it’s the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how he’d been so polite, yet adorably nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to make the right impression.

His mom grins, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll have to meet them soon,” she says, already making plans in her head, as if you’ve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them you’ll be staying for the week. They are overjoyed, and Toto, takes an instant liking to you.

Beomgyu sits on the porch, it's evening now.

This deck—he’s spent years here—on this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when he’d find you. Wondering if he ever would.

His fingers tighten around the handwritten letter on his phone screen, the words waiting to be sent out into the world. His heart pounds. What if they don’t understand? What if this changes everything? What if—

Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his mom’s, his brother’s. It was the only assurance he'd ever need.

He exhales sharply, thumb hovering for only a second longer before he clicks post. It loads. He doesn’t watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.

"You’re trying to escape me, cookie?" Your voice is playful, arms crossing as you step toward him. Beomgyu only grins, shaking his head at the nickname his father gave him. He slips an arm around your shoulders as soon as you sit down, pulling you while he presses kisses on the side of your head.

"Never," His fingers find yours, a new habit of his—thumb caressing over your ring finger. His thoughts slip to the diamond ring hidden in his dorm, the one he bought after a week of meeting you. He just needs to find the right moment, the right words. Because even now, after everything, you still make him nervous. The way his heart races when you walk into a room, how everything seems to stop for a moment when you look his way.

He meets your smile with one of his own. Would he ever be this lucky in another life? To find you, to love you—not by destiny’s design, not by some divine script, but by choice?

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.

Beomgyu knows this much: no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, he will love you. Again and again, without hesitation, without end. As if loving you is written into the very fabric of his existence.

His fingers graze your cheek, and you lean into him like you were always meant to—like the universe has been bringing you back to him for centuries. Your smile reaches your eyes, soft and certain. His missing piece. The better half of him.

Beomgyu looks at you, and to him, you are something that comes after the rain—the hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when your smile is the only thing he ever wants to see.

So he leans in.

The phone sits forgotten, lighting up with messages—teary words, heartfelt congratulations, the world calling for him. But none of it matters.

Because right now, you are in his arms. Right now, he is kissing the soft of your addicting lips. And right now, that is all that ever was, all that ever is, all that ever will be.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @beombunni @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @xylatox @imlonelydontsendhelp @yunverie @baekberrie @soobabby @hyunelixbun @kejingken @blossommi @sumzysworld @tyunningstar @filmnings @channieismylove @frankghgr @missychief1404 @fatbixchwithanopinion @saejinniestar @brrytears @sbnslver @hoefororeo @pagelets @urlocal-moa @ewsnup @moagyuu @melmochii

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officialish-cdc · 2 days ago

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This is what this was targeted at, btw

😭 I got mad

Edit: I also turned off notifications before this his 300 notes. Sorry if I haven't replied to your argument- democrat or republican. I was tired of constantly watching as Republicans fought with the wrong arguments (that's not the point I made!), lied (brother where are your sources), only used insults (makes you sound dumb btw), or forgot the meanings of words (Trump is racist sorry bro)

Edit2: HELP I JUST REALIZED I NEVER FINISHED TYPING THE POST OUT 💀

To whichever Republicans need to hear this:

THE DEMOCRATS ARE NOT FUCKING LYING OR SPREADING RUMORS.

sorry to burst your bubble, but the only misinformation being shared are people who are genuinely scared because of what Trump has ALREADY done to people and their rights.

YES, he is racist. His "they are eating the cats and dogs" comment was RACIST, and caused the Haitians in Springfield to get death threats, as well as getting rid of diversity

YES, he's transphobic, stating that the "only genders are male and female" excluding both intersex and people under the nonbinary umbrella.

YES, he's a liar and a hypocrite.

IT DOESN'T MATTER IF HE "PROBABLY WON'T GO THROUGH WITH IT", HE STILL SAID IT.

AND MORE! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE SAND. IF YOU GENUINELY BELIEVE THAT THIS IS OKAY, REEVALUATE YOURSELF.

865 notes · View notes

leeknowsnot · 2 days ago

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SKZ when you suddenly call them with their full name

I am posting every entry I have written in my notes app to make it up to you guys. 😭😭😭 Anyway, happy hearts day to everyone!!

CHAN

— his eyebrows are immediately raised and he's looking at you like "Did you just call me with my full name?" with eyes wide enough for you to poke them

— you pretend you don't hear him and just continue on with talking to him and calling him Christopher

— he's immediately on your tail like a kid, asking the same question all over again you can't help but pinch yourself to stop yourself from giggling at how cute he is

— he calls you all sorts of cute nicknames to make you surrender to his cuteness

— eventually you do give up and when you start calling him back with your nickname for him, oh my God he smiles at you so cutely you could just dive into his dimples

— you are spoiled

MINHO

— definitely the type to call you back with your full name

— you challenged the wrong person, now he's gonna be the one who'll call your full name with EVERY sentence he'd say until you admit defeat iT BACKFIRED SO BAD

— evERY CHANCE HE GETS HE'S GONNA DO IT

— especially when you guys are out with friends, he's gonna call your full name WITH YOUR MIDDLE NAME people are gonna start staring

— you start ignoring him whenever he calls you your full name on purpose and oh does that annoy him eventually

— the audacity to ignore him and be annoyed with him when you were the one who started this little game, right?

— "kitten got a taste of her own medicine?"

— he's gonna punish you for being such a bad kitty wink w0nk

CHANGBIN

— his pouts are aLL OVER THE PLACE

— whoever sees him gets a free show over a man with biceps pouting like the big baby he is

— he'd feel a bit off at first but eventually gets used to it eventually cause he dares not to pick on how you want to call him

— even if it's a bit weird, he'll tolerate and learn to accept it if that's what you want

— tELL HIM IT'S JUST A PRANK HE'S TOO WHOLESOME FOR THIS WORLD 😠

— would be weirded out again trying to adjust to being called with his nickname again when you finally stop with your prank

HYUNJIN

— will give you an offended stare as if you just committed a sin

— no cuddles for u because he said you're not his gf and says he doesn't know u

— he's gonna make such a big deal abt it to the point Chan would be calling you in the middle of the night asking you if you guys fought cause Hyunjin's acting so weird, like he's so pouty and edgy

— so when you said it's only because you called him by his government name for a prank, Chan L O S E S it

— you'd find a pouty Hyunjin in the morning, complaining cause Chan gave him an earful for maging a big deal out of your prank

— he basically forgot you were the one who started it . at least he's pouty over Chan instead of you anymore

HAN

— waterworks EVERYWHERE

— how dare you make him cry

— the moment you call him Han Jisung it's over for him

— the London Bridge is falling, Eiffel Tower is collapsing, the icebergs are melting

— "Is he better than me? Is he treating you better at least?"

— sTARTS ASKING QUESTIONS THAT SOUNDS LIKE YOU LOVE SOMEONE ELSE NOW BC HE'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH AND HE THINKS YOU DESERVE BETTER

— expect him pulling all-nighters writing a sad love song

— when you explain to him that it was just a prank, he immediately bursts into tears, either in relief that you still love him or bc you messed with his feelings 💀

— how dare you make him cry pt.2

— turns the sad love song that he wrote into a body roll song

FELIX

— he immediately catches on and knows it's a popular prank trend amongst couples so he plays along

— but ofc he's still making sure it really is a prank and you're not actually mad at him

— your friends would be looking at you both weirdly and think you guys have broken up but maintained good friendship

— his friends only know you by nickname so when they saw your caller id on Felix's phone and it was your actual full name, they were having multiple question marks as to why Felix was being all so chummy and sweet with this (Y/N) on the phone

— the next time you meet them they'd be shaking while trying to tell you that Felix has been cheating on you with someone named (Y/N)

— oh my God you and Felix die from laughter

SEUNGMIN

— tbh he doesn't care

— he'd been trying to get you to stop calling him smookie poo, pookie, moochie bear, and all sorts of nicknames the past weeks so this was actually a win situation for him

— he enjoys it too much he starts frowning at you when you go back to calling him the nicknames

— "Where'd the 'Yah, Kim Seungmin' go?"

— 10 out of 10 he loves the prank, would definitely avail for more 💀

— Now he won't stop demanding you to do it again

I.N

— immediately thinks he did something wrong but he just sITS THERE PROCESSING AND STARING AT YOU WITH HIS FAKE EYES OPEN

— he'd malfunction so bad how can you do this to him

— he's already clumsy as is but bc you're making him overthink, he's unintentionally breaking and dropping stuff all over the place

— in the "is-she breaking-up-with-me/did-she-find-someone-better" lineup

— he doesn't show it tho

— he tries not to at least

— would send you all sorts of gifts; flowers, chocolates, champagne, stuffed toys, you name it—it's his love language

— he'd actually try to win you back from this "new guy"

— when you tell him it's just a prank, he doesn't talk to u for a few days and gives you the silent treatment

— i mean, you obviously had it coming

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sweetkiitsunez · 1 day ago

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❞ 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧', 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞? - synopsis: they love to torture you

❞warning: nsfw content (18+) + Dom!Michael Kaiser + Dom!Sae Itoshi + afab!reader + degrade + dubcon + double penetration + creampies + unprotective sex + threesome + slapping + possessive behavior of the two bllk men + hairpulling + toys + slightly bondge + rough sex

a/n: Happy Late Valentine's Day -- I apologize how bad it was

Inspired by @/saetiate (debating either if should tag you or not) 😭

"Take off your clothes off. Right now." The Japanese Prodigy coldly demands out of nowhere. You were pushed by Sae who is standing there coldly as he is blocking the doorway to prevent you from leaving the room.

"What? What are you talking about?" You let out an awkward sheepish chuckle, trying to figure out what he meant. Judging his tone... He never joked around as he looked... serious. You were pushed on the bed and now lying on the hotel bed. You are confused about what's going on as you have no idea what's happening with Sae's unusual behavior until you hear another chuckle coming from behind Sae. Revealing the German Prodigy wrapping his arm around Sae's shoulders.

"What's wrong? Flabbergasted? Michael chuckled, his icy blue eyes stared at you. You are trapped. You are trapped inside the hotel room as the two u-20 players are blocking your only exit. "Look at you.." The German Prodigy chuckles, he is eyeing at you, up and down.

"Don't touch me." Sae scoffs as he removes Kaiser's arm from his shoulder. "Hurry up. Take off your clothes, slut." Sae demands again, he looks at you with his piercing teal eyes, but his tone sounds more serious, slowly approaches you to the hotel deluxe queen bed you try to crawl away, but your ankle is grabbed by Sae's grips as he drags you back. Michael chuckles and closes the hotel luxury hotel door, locking it behind him.

"No! Wait! What did I do?" You quickly ask panicking as you feel Sae immediately taking off your pants, but leaving you with your underwear on.

"Ah. Ah. You seem impatient, Itoshi..." Michael let out a singy song voice, approached the hotel bed he sat on the white sheets as he pulled you. Your back is lying between his crotch and lap. You hear Sae let out a scoff, but he already took off your pants. "I believe this brat deserves a punishment for being bad with us." His light blue eyes met yours and you saw a smirk on his smile, looking down on you.

"W-What punishment...? You ask, feeling nervous, looking at the two u-20 men, pro players. Just to know that... they had bigger plans for you. They wanted to see you being tortured by them.

It didn't take long as your head was lying on his crotch. Both of your hands are tied by a red silk ribbon that is already tied into a tight knot. Unable to move, trembling and a moaning mess. The sounds of a vibrator buzz on your clit, your legs were forcibly spread by Sae as his tongue is licking and sucking your juices while holding your legs. Every time you squirm or forcibly close your legs. He will slap your sensitive pussy. Michael is holding the vibrator to your now sensitive clit, while Sae is eating you out.

"Think you can handle that much?" Michael chuckles, looking down at you. Gently brush the strands of hair out of your face. Your back arches and you are a crying mess.

"Please! Please! Oh-! Ah! N-no more...!" Letting out a heavy vocal moan, your eyes roll back your skull. You are staring at Sae as he is eating you out. Your body is holding too many overestimations as it's overwhelming and felt good too... you hate to admit that it felt good while Michael proceeds to bully your clit with a vibrator.

"She's cute..." Michael couldn't help he let out a huff and smirk, feeling a tight bulge from his pants.

"Hmph, she's ready." Sae pulls away, wiping his chin.

"Hey... don't be greedy... I wanna fuck her too." Michael pouts and stares at Sae as he takes the vibrator off your swollen pussy, you can catch as breath, but not for long.

“Do I look like I’m messing around? I don't care." Sae joins the bed and immediately pulls you on his lap as your face is facing his. You can feel his sturdy hands groping your ass.

"What's wrong? I thought you liked teasing." Michael chuckles and glares at Sae with a smirk that hasn't wiped out his face. You can feel Michael move towards you as he leans his chin on your shoulder, feeling his hot breath against your neck. Feeling the shivers down in your spin as the German Prodigy is right behind you. Being sandwiched by the u-20 pro players. Your heart is pounding in your chest as your wrists are still bonded with red silks ribbons.

"Aww, is my little meine liebe getting shy?" Michael coos, his hands slowly snaking around your naked chest, gently groping your breasts, and playing with your sensitive nipples. You couldn't help as you were trembling, holding back your moans. You wanted to be fuck by them.

"p-please..." You whimper, eyes filled with tears.

"Hm? Please what?" Michael asks with a smug look, in his face.

"Speak louder." You can feel Sae squeeze your ass. The tone of his voice sounded impatient as he had enough of you.

"p-please... ruin me..."

"Heh, glady. I’m going to fucking ruin you." Michael pushes back his back with his one hand.

"Let me show you what happens to little brats who don't follow the rules," Sae said with a scowl at you, slowly taking off his tracksuit and his boxer, revealing his hard member, almost slapping your sensitive pussy. Michael did the same as he quickly took off his tracksuit pants and boxer, his hard member hit your ass. You let out a yelp.

"...please... need it so bad..." You groan, your pussy is rubbing against the tip of their cocks.

"Someone is needy..." Michael laughs, making fun of you for being needy, making him even more craving for your warm walls.

"Stop moving, you’ll take what I give you.” Sae is tired of hearing your whines, his cock is throbbing. He is being mean.

You bonded tightly, and both of your hands rested on Sae's shoulder. You are towering Sae while he rubs the tip of his cock on your soaking, sensitive pussy.

"God, you're so wet..." Sae groans, slowly plunges his cock into your warm walls as you couldn't help, letting out a shivering moan. He is inside of you...

"Heh, she's warm..." Michael grins, his left tattooed hand slowly roams around your arched back. "Hahh... Stay still, don’t move your hips." The German prodigy slowly inserts the tip of his cock into your warm pussy, which Sae already inserted.

"Oh... fuck!" You moan even louder. You feel so full... tilting your head back, the pressure inside of you is overwhelming. They're now both inside of you. You can feel your eyes roll behind your skull as your mouth agape.

"Shit... she's tight..." Michael groans, his left hand made his way to your hair, gently pulling it.

"Idiot, you shove your dick inside her pussy." Sae scowled which made Michael let out a small snicker since he doesn't care, just wanted to fuck you stupid.

Slowly, you felt their hips buckle, they began to pound you. Sae slowly moves his hands on your waist, pulling you down on his chest. He couldn't help he groan as your nipples rubbed against his chest. Their hips begin to roll faster, changing the pace to a faster pace. The hotel room is filled with your moans, cries, and wet skin slapping.

"I can't- please I can't- Oh fuck! Ah!" The sounds of your pleading slowly turn into cries. They're destroying your pussy. Michael and Sae let out a groan and a grunt while their cocks are rubbing against each other in your warm tight walls. The tips of their cocks kept kissing your cervix as you screams and cry louder. They continue to thrust their hips against your tight fucked pussy. It feels good... so good that you are being obsessed...

Your breath becomes heavy, and the room is filled with panting and moaning at the same time. Although they are athletes, they never go easy on you as they're being rough and hard on you like you are their cocksleeves where they can put their frustration in you.

"Switch, idiot." You heard Sae click his tongue while still holding you down on his chest.

"N-not now... meine liebe needs to c-cum..." Michael's breath let out a groan. He couldn't stop thrusting his hips against yours.

"Tsk, ignorant." Sae let out a huff, badmouthing Kaiser. The blonde-haired man just laughs it off, not caring about Sae, but rather focusing on you. He wants to make you come first.

"G-gonna make you c-come...!" Michael groans with a smirk on his face. His arms caging you and Sae on the wrinkled hotel white bedsheets. Covered in both sweat and sex filled in the air, everything is too arousal and too much pressure on you.

Sae's teal eyes narrow, staring daggers at Kaiser as his sturdy hands grip tightly on your flesh ass, leaving a harsh mark on your flesh. You let out a loud yelp, feeling the burn of jealousy and being challenged by Kaiser since Sae, too wanted to make you come first.

"I'm gonna make her c-cum, first...! ngh..!" Sae grunts, trying hard to hold his moan. Your walls squeezing both of the u-20 prodigies' cocks.

“D- Did you really think that would work? cute... fuck...!” Michael let out a sarcastic chuckle, taking the challenge too.

Drooling like a heated dog, the stimulation is too much for you. They're abusing the living hell out of your puffy and already sensitive pussy. They're gonna stuff you, like some kind of fleshlight. Until they're being hammering you like a wild animal on heat. The sounds of skin slapping and moans echos in the hotel bedroom. You are screaming.

"Aww, is someone feeling dizzy?" Kaiser mocks you, untying the red silk off your wrist, revealing your redden marks from the tight red silk ribbons. He grabs both of your wrists, pulling you against his hardened cock. "Oh come on, you can do better than that."

"Look at you. Pathetic." Sae scoffs at you. His one hand grabs your face, forcing you to look at him, while he, too hammers his cock in and out of your hole. "Don't give me that look, this is your own fault."

You whimper as you shut your eyes, crying while being pounded. "...p-please... let me... c-cum!" You beg, can't hold it anymore, while burying your face between Sae's neck and shoulder. Your body trembles as Sae slaps your flesh, leaving a red hand mark.

"How could you save anyone? You can't even save yourself." Sae mocks you, while still holding you close to him. Your moans and cries in his ears are like music to him.

"Don't hold back. I want to hear all your cute little noises." Michael pouts. His left tattooed hand grabs the bundle on the back of your hair, making you pull away from Sae. He, too wants to hear your moans. Having an ego that is larger, he knows that he is making you feel good.

Sae let out a light groans, while his hips still pounding your puffy pussy. His thumb rubbing circles against your clit.

"A-Ah! N-no! 'm sensitive!" You cried, loudly.

"You're almost pretty when you're crying. It's quite an improvement. I bet you'd be gorgeous screaming, though." Kaiser said with a predator smirk on his face. His face and body are full of sweat. A drip of sweat rolls on his tattoo blue roses and thorns.

Sae didn't say anything as he is too focused on stimulating your clit. Your legs are trembling, while moaning and screaming. You knew that you're gonna come.

"...g-gonna c-come...!"

The two prodigies let out a harsh growl under their breath, and both of the men's hips snapped, releasing their semen inside your hole. You release your hard orgasm and collapse on Sae. Kaiser and Sae did indeed release their orgasm as they continue to cum inside you, making sure that you are stuffed with their semen. You let out a gasp, your body is trembling, violently from the torture.

Kaiser slowly pulls his cock out of your sensitive hole and watches some of the semen still dripping from your hole. You think the punishment is over... you hope. You hope that they are done with you. Sae slowly pulls out his cock out of your hole. The blond-haired man watches his and Sae's semen mixed together as it drips out of your swollen hole and onto the wrinkled hotel white bedsheets.

Sae wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug. Both of the football/soccer men stare at each other. Sae is annoyed. He wants to slap Kaiser's stupid smirk off his face. Your chin is resting on between Sae's neck and shoulder.

"That's it, get comfortable. You're not going anywhere." Sae spoke with a low voice as his hand gently caressed your back as he let out a soft whisper, then glared back at Kaiser with a dagger look.

Michael let out a low chuckle again, his left hand caresses through his blonde and blue gradient tips, with a smirk on his face, leaning towards your ear with a low whisper.

"Do you want them to hear you being such a slut?” Your eyes widen, quickly turning your head to Kaiser, meeting his blue eyes and a smirk on his face. Until you felt Sae kisses your neck and his hand intertwines your fingers with his.

"...This is just the beginning, meine liebe." His face is close to yours, like he is going to kiss you.

"...I won’t apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.” Sae murmurs.

#✧.*kiit write #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader smut #bllk x reader #bllk x reader smut #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader smut #sae itoshi smut #michael kaiser x reader #Michael Kaiser x reader smut #michael kaiser smut #tw: dubcon #blue lock #bllk #bllk kaiser #bllk sae #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #michael kaiser

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un-fwuit-un-fwog · 1 day ago

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HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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hwaslayer · 2 days ago

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wildfire (cs) | thirteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, we catch a lil moment with belle 🙄, crying .. lots of crying, just lots of hurt and heartache, more misunderstandings, we see a bit of parents from both sides - esp san's dynamic with his father, flashback scene with smut: oral (f. receiving), 🤠, praises, lots of sweet kisses and tender moments, some nipple play, soft and slow smut!!

—a/n: fic announcement soon!

If the texts yesterday afternoon weren't nerve-wracking enough, it was the downtime in between the texts and seeing San that had you ready to curl up in a ball out of anxiety; fetal position, rocking back and forth as an attempt to rid the feeling. San hadn't texted much after deciding the two of you should talk the following day, and you never questioned why he couldn't just see you the same night he had told you he needed to talk.

you: 😞 you didn't even look my way when you walked back into the office and i haven't heard from you all day.

you: i hate how all my papers and presentations are due this week. plus ppl have been weird, idk. i just wanna cuddle 😭

san: i'm sorry. it's just been a day.

you: that's never stopped you before... ☹️ what's wrong, san?

san: we should talk, baby.

you: oh.. okay. so let's talk tonight? i just need to finish up a few things, and i'm halfway done on most of my papers and presentations. i think they can wait a bit.

san: no, you should finish up. i've got a ton of things to catch up on so tonight won't work. can we do this tomorrow? i'll come pick you up once we're both done in the lab.

you: are you sure?

san: mhm. i'm sorry again, it really just has been kinda all over the place today.

you: it's fine, san. as long as you can promise me we're okay?

san: we will be. i'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? try to take breaks and rest well.

You accepted it, even if it felt excruciating and painfully long.

These things never turn out well, and you knew your case wasn't gonna be an exception. You were afraid for it, you were nervous and you were wondering what San might do to try and lessen the blow of whatever was coming.

He wouldn't hurt you, right?

He meant it when he said you two would be okay, right?

Even if he tried to be as reassuring, everything about it felt off and cryptic. None of it felt like sunshine and rainbows, none of it felt like the San you felt in love with. None of it felt like the giddy excitement, the comfort, the safety you had come to know and love.

You hated automatically assuming the worse, but nothing was preventing you from doing so— not even San.

Today was actually pretty uneventful, nonetheless. Despite the wait and silence from San, you felt like you managed to get by in one piece. It still felt like everyone was looking at you; like they had all known your deepest, darkest secrets. Like they had been following your every move, especially while you were with San. It still felt awful, but you had learned how to push aside because people could talk and assume— but they would never know the true story.

And who knows? Even if you tried to explain yourself, they wouldn't get it.

You didn't really owe that explanation to anyone, you think.

The only other weird part about your day was when you had tried to help Belle earlier since you had some downtime and she brushed you off completely. She had been avoiding you, and it was pretty obvious she was letting the talk get to her head. She didn't maintain eye contact with you, she didn't acknowledge you, and she didn't talk to you the way that she used to.

—FLASHBACK

You walk into the lab, passing by a few of your labmates with a tiny, toothless smile etched on your lips. There was no Sunwoo around, but there was Belle; yet, she still hadn't turned to acknowledge your presence. You had gotten through your to-do list for Sunwoo's project, leaving you with extra time to spare today. You hadn't been able to dedicate a lot of your support to Belle lately due to all those technical issues you needed to troubleshoot for your project with Sunwoo, and you figured this would be a good time to make up for it.

Unless she had other plans.

"Hey Belle!" You come to her desk, pulling the courage from deep down within you to approach her first. She looks up at you, a brow cocked up before returning her attention to her laptop. "I have some time to help—"

"No thanks, I'm good." She doesn't look at you. "Just so you know, I don't really need extra help anymore. I've got everything figured out already."

"Oh, okay." You step away from her desk, fiddling with your fingers while you stand there looking dumb. "Are you sure?" She pauses her typing before finally looking back up at you with her brows knit tightly together.

"I just said it, didn't I?"

"I-I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure since I had the time and I haven't been able to help you out as much cause of Sunwoo's project."

"Why don't you go and use your extra time with Professor Choi since you've been doing that anyway?" She gives you a look that settles in the pit of your stomach. You don't say anything to her, even as she shuts her laptop close and stands— brushing past you to get to one of the behavior rooms. You feel a bit hurt, and your other labmates aren't even paying attention to the whole thing; or, maybe they are, and they just don't wanna say anything to dig deeper into the wound.

So, you turn on your heel with your head down, returning to your desk to continue your data analysis in silence.

—END

You try to tell yourself that it doesn't really matter— that you didn't need anyone's reassurance or validation. It hurt despite not being super close to Belle, but you knew she thought of you in a different light now and that wasn't really fair. You could see how it'd look problematic on the surface, but you thought she knew you better than that.

Guess it's also your fault for assuming.

When it's time for San to pick you up at your usual pick-up spot, you grab your keys and head out— still not having changed out of your outfit for the day. You try to take slow steps to not seem too eager, but you can't help it when you see San parked in his usual spot. This time though, he isn't watching for you in the rear view mirror.

"Hey." You swing the door open and slide in. San gives you a small smile, followed by a:

"Hey." He watches as you dip forward to kiss him on the lips like you always do, and he surprisingly takes it. You were getting ready for the rejection or some kind of pull back; but, to San's own knowledge, he did it because he knew it'd be the last time he could savor it.

"You okay? Were you able to finish everything you needed to?"

"Uh, yeah. Think so." He says with a subtle chuckle before driving off.

"Are we going to your house?"

"Thought we could sit at the view and talk, if that's okay with you?" You slowly nod, keeping your eyes trained on San as he drives.

"Okay. You're scaring me, Sannie." He shakes his head.

"Please don't be."

"Then why couldn't we just talk about this like normal at your place?"

"Y/N, you trust me, right?" He quickly looks at you as he comes across a red light. You silently nod, just in time for him to drive off and continue onto the destination. "Okay, so trust me." He's still being so cryptic and distant that you don't even know how to respond. You quietly sit back in your chair and watch the surroundings pass you by, trying to settle the queasiness you feel building in your stomach.

These things never go well, and your case doesn't seem to be a one-off.

San continues to remain silent as he drives the rest of the way to the view, the music softly filling in as background noise that's enough to distract you. When he pulls into the small empty side lot and parks his car, he lets out a sigh and sits back.

"How was your day today?" He asks softly, still avoiding contact with you.

"It was okay, I guess. Better than yesterday."

"That's good."

"San." You adjust your position so you're looking directly at him, body facing him. "What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"I don't know where to start."

"You have to start somewhere." He sighs again. "You know, whatever it is, you can tell me. We can figure this out together." You raise your hand to cup his cheek, almost somewhat of a gesture to force him to look at you. And for a minute, you feel him relax under your touch. You can tell he wants to turn and kiss the palm of your hand like he usually does, but he doesn't. "Sannie—"

"We should stop this." Your mouth slightly drops even though you don't know what to say. Your eyes widen, your touch turns cold. You retreat your hand while you let the response sink, San still keeping his gaze out of the window because he truly can't dare to look at you right now.

He'll fold.

He'll forget all about this and risk everything for the both of you.

He shouldn't.

"W-what?"

"We need to stop this, Y/N." He finally looks at you and his gaze feels like an icebox. Everything feels so cold and distant, even if it's supposed to be a front; it's working, and it's fucking you up completely.

"All of a sudden? I-I thought we were fine, what happened? What did I do wrong?" He shakes his head.

"Nothing. It's not anything you did, I'm just trying to be realistic here."

"Realistic? I thought you didn't care about the outside noise?"

"We're only prolonging the inevitable, don't you get it? Everything is going to come crashing down on us whether we like it or not. No matter how hard I try to stop it, this is what it'll eventually come to." You don't really understand where he's coming from or what he's getting at, but it's too late— you feel the tears steadily streaming down your cheeks.

Then, you're sobbing into your hands and you feel pathetic. But San feels terrible, he hates this. He doesn't wanna do this but he's conflicted between right and wrong, between being selfish and letting you go. "San, why?"

"Y/N, please hear me out on this, okay?" He's barely able to answer.

"Why? You ask him again. You cry in his passenger's seat, wiping it away with your sweater sleeves. "You said I could trust you, a-and that you wouldn't hurt me because you didn't care about anyone else."

"I need you to understand that I'm doing this because I care about you."

"But, I love you." San shakes his head as tears streak his own cheeks.

"We're being too selfish." He looks at you. "I am. I'm being too selfish and I don't need this to ruin things for you more. I need to put you first—"

"Why do you get to decide what that looks like for me, San?" He doesn't respond. "So, you don't want this?" He lets out a shaky sigh. "Us?"

"That's far from how I feel and you know it."

"Why can't you just say it back? Why can't we just let this be? I don't care—" You tug on his arm and he grips your hand before shaking his head.

"Because this is already hard as it is. Y/N, listen to me." He pleads, cupping your cheeks. He finally looks deep into your eyes, his thumb gently caressing the surface. The life in his eyes are gone. The glow, the stars. Now, his eyes are dull. They're holding back. They don't show you anything. "We should stop. We need to. Namjoon and the dean are discussing your future at the school, and I need you to keep going in this program. I need you to keep going forward even if that means I can't be right there with you every step of the way. You deserve to be here and you deserve to finish this until the very end. You've worked so hard to get here, and I refuse to let them lose out on you simply because of me."

"This makes no sense to me. Why do we have to do this? We can just be more careful and plan better. We can just—"

"I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me? From Namjoon and the dean? Or are you trying to protect yourself?"

"I don't give a damn about me, Y/N!" He's a little angrier with this response but you know it isn't directed towards you. It's towards Namjoon. The dean. Yunho and Iseul. This whole fucked up situation. "I'm always gonna put you first. It's always been about you and it'll always be about you." You cry a bit harder at his answer, unsure of what to make of this entire thing. You don't know if San really means this or if he is just trying to protect you. You don't know what to do, you don't know if you should keep trusting him the same way.

You don't know if you can, and that's probably because you're blinded by all the overwhelming emotions you're feeling right now.

The both of you sit in this thick silence, your cries now filling the space while San tries to muster up the last bit of his energy to try and make you feel better— to get you to understand this better.

It's not that he wants to, he has to.

"I don't—" He swallows thickly. "I don't wanna do this but I have to. You have to understand." He says at a whisper, more tears streaming down his red-stained cheeks. "You have to understand, baby. Please." He begs. "I don't want them to do anything to you and I don't wanna jeopardize your future. Just listen to me. We have to do this." He leans forward to cup your cheeks and wipe your tears away with his thumb.

"No, we don't." You almost whine, but all San can do is shake his head and sit back in his seat.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I have to do what's best for you." His voice shakes. "I really am so sorry, sweetheart." He answers lowly, wiping his remaining tears before retreating back into his shell and showing off his cold demeanor for the remainder of his time with you. "I should get you back."

"I should've never trusted you. I should've known this was all too good to be true. You didn't care." You cry, repeating all this nonsense to try and get him to hurt the same way as you somehow. Because he'll never understand. Everything had led up to this and you were still unprepared for this. Even though you knew you'd be here at some point, nothing would have ever prepared you for the way your heart drops to your stomach; the way you feel nothing but thunder and rain.

Blue and grey.

He does, though.

In fact, he's probably hurting the most because he had to pull the trigger and let you go.

He hates it. He fucking hates it.

He's trying to drown out the rest until he gets you back to your building because he can't take it. He can't take hearing you cry anymore, he can't take hearing you say these awful things because you're angry at the moment. He hopes that you'll see where he's coming from eventually because all he's ever wanted to do was protect you and keep you safe.

All he's ever done was care about you, and you only.

All he's ever felt was love for you, and you only. You showed him what love was like again and he'll never take that for granted.

This was him showing you love. He needed to put you first.

"I care about you more than anything. I'm trying to do what's best—"

"Without involving me? Deciding for me? Yeah." You wipe away at your cheeks once more before unbuckling your seatbelt. "Whatever San, save it." You tell him before swinging the door open and stepping out. "You were just trying to protect me. I get it."

"Baby, don't be like that. Please don't make this harder than it already is. I would never intentionally hurt you. You know this." He tries to reach for your hand, but you move it away.

"You don't get to call me that anymore." You roll your eyes. "Anyway, goodluck, San." Is all you say before slamming his door shut and storming off. You begin to cry to yourself again, feeling sorry for yourself and stupid. You know deep down that San was only trying to do the right thing and that he was trying to protect you. But, right now, you're angry, you're sad, you're upset. You feel empty and betrayed and you just need to feel this out in order to let it pass.

This too shall pass.

When you head upstairs, you quickly pack up a few things, along with your laptop and other school-related necessities before locking up and heading to your car. You feel a migraine coming on, which definitely means you should take it easy and stay behind; but, all you can think about is getting to your mom and being away from school for a few days.

Nothing's better than a mother's love and comfort, even though you aren't entirely sure how she's gonna react to this, how she'll feel about San.

In the end, you don't hate him.

You can't.

You could never.

—FLASHBACK

"That was a good girl's date, wasn't it? We got massages, our nails done. Now we're eating a banana split under this nice weather." Your mom chuckles. "You need to come home more often."

"I know, I know." You scoop up a good helping of the banana split, internally conflicted on when is a good time to let your mom know about what's been going on. She would probably be surprised and scared for you, but your mom had a good way of choosing her words. She had a good way of being there for you but making her concerns known without pointing fingers or putting any blame on your actions.

"How has school been? Your friends?"

"They've been good. We've all been busy with our labs."

"Jiung's been good? You think you guys are all gonna stay in the labs you're currently rotating in?"

"He's good, yeah. And I think so, they all seem to be enjoying it."

"How about you?" You poke at the banana before scooping another helping. Your mom can already tell there's something else on your mind, but she's gonna let you take the floor and open up about it when you're ready.

Which is now.

You just don't know if she's ready.

"Uh, yeah. It's been good!" You give her a small smile. "I'm still deciding on my route, but it's been good." Pause. "There's actually something else I've been meaning to tell you."

"Okay, try me!" She chuckles. "What is it?"

"I've been seeing someone."

"Oh?" She laughs. "Well, isn't that great?! I mean, you never needed a man, okay. But, as long as they make you happy and add value to your life. I just want you happy." She laughs. "Who is he, where did you meet? Tell me everything!" You sigh and take a deep breath before starting.

"We met at school. In the lab. Because.. he's my rotation professor." You give her a look, afraid of what she'll say. She stops mid-bite and almost chokes, setting her spoon down before looking at you with knitted brows.

"Your.. what?! Y/N—"

"Mom, please. Just hear me out before you start assuming and saying things. He didn't abuse his power, I didn't throw myself on him, okay? It just happened." You immediately say and look at her with puppy eyes. "We just happened. We grew feelings for each other and just clicked really well. We've been keeping things lowkey."

"But, Y/N. Honey, I say this sincerely. What if people find out? Not that I want them to, but they will." You shrug.

"I don't know, we'll figure it out."

"H-how old is he?"

"32."

"Oh, okay. He's young."

"And handsome." You rest your chin on the palm of your hand and smile. "His name is San. Choi San. He's pretty popular in the bioengineering and neuroscience world."

"That's good." Your mom is slightly shutting down and you know it's because her thoughts are traveling at 100mph and she doesn't know what to think or do.

Or say.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I know you're worried but I'll be fine, okay? I promise. It'll all be fine." You add to break the silence and reach for her hand.

"I just don't want him to hurt you and then you lose everything you've worked so hard for over him."

"I just don't know where this is gonna take us. Things feel too overwhelming. Like.. I just don't want any talk getting into his head about us."

"It could really ruin things for the both of you, Y/N. Please be smart about your actions. Don't throw everything away because of him. That's all I ask. Just by the looks of it, I know he makes you happy and you're riding cloud nine, but you need to remember who comes first— yourself."

"I know. I hear you. I don't mean to cause any unnecessary worry or anything."

"No, you're not. Lovey, I'm your mom, I'm always gonna worry regardless. But, I trust you enough to make the right decisions and to take care of yourself. I know you'll be smart and I know you won't be completely reckless. I'm not gonna lie, this— this isn't a 'conventional' relationship and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet." She sighs and looks at you with a hint of concern in her eyes. "I'm trying hard to see this from your side, not from my side, and I think it'll take me time to get used to. In the end, I just don't want you to get hurt. I don't want people to think bad about you, and I don't want you to lose everything you've worked so hard for."

"I know, but it's all okay. I promise." You promise her, but you don't even know if you believe the promise yourself. "You can trust him." She doesn't say much, and you can tell she's trying her hardest to swallow her true emotions.

"Just becareful."

—END

San picks up the phone to call Namjoon, hands slightly trembling. He's still sitting in his car, still sitting in the same spot because it's his turn to cry and let out all his feelings. He hits the steering wheel before running a hand through his hair, second-guessing all his decisions.

Why did it have to come down to all of this? Did he really have to? How long before he folds and comes back to you?

Before he says fuck this all together and chases after you?

He keeps trying to remind himself that he needs to protect you and let this blow over. He keeps trying to remind himself that it'll all be worth it and you both will find your way back to each other again.

In time.

"San."

"It's over with." Is all he is able to say before Namjoon lets out a small sigh on the other end.

"I'm sorry, San. Look, just give this time—" Quite frankly, he doesn't wanna hear it anymore. Not today, not tomorrow, not for awhile.

"It's fine." He cute him off. "You don't have to say it. Just please make sure nothing happens to her."

"You got my word. I'll figure this out. Don't worry." San ends the call before he's digging his head into his hands and cries.

And cries.

Because now his days are going to blend back to the black and white filter he used to have on. He'll never experience that warmth, those colors, without you around.

He'll never witness where the sea meets the sky, when the sun sinks below the horizon. When dawn meets dusk.

His days will be monotone and dull, lifeless and cold. Gloomy. Days he had prayed to get past and never return to.

But, he's here again.

And somehow, this pain feels worse this time around than the first time.

—FLASHBACK

San sighs when he pulls up to his parents' house, aggressively shifting the gear to park before taking a moment to himself. He wasn't happy when his father left him a voicemail, scolding him for the rumors going around about him dating his student. He was quick to call him names and demand him to make things right before his name could be tainted in the industry. San isn't gonna lie, he's always looked up to his father. Things changed when San started making a name for himself in the academic industry, creating some kind of competitive tension between the two. Well, San never felt that way. His dad strongly did though, for whatever reason.

He never understood it. It's whatever.

What San wasn't having was the fact that his father kept calling you a little girl who only wanted to use him to work her way in and up.

He slams the door to his car, adjusting his hat and his jacket before tapping the code into the keypad on the front door.

"San, is that you?" He hears his mom's sweet voice call out to him. He smiles softly when she comes into view in the hallway, opening her arms for a hug. "Please don't mind your father, you know how he is. He's just concerned." She gives the back of his neck a reassuring massage.

"Mm, yeah. I can feel the concern especially when he starts calling me out my name."

"San." His mom gives him a look before his dad looks up from the paper he's reading on the couch, forehead crinkling when he sees his son walk in.

"Why are you here?"

"Hi to you, too." San says while his mom steps in the middle.

"Honey." She turns to his father.

"So, what was up with that voicemail?"

"Why don't you tell us what's been going on with you and your so-called girlfriend? Do you even care about yourself or what this could do to your career? You're so careless—"

"So what if I'm careless! You don't even know her so you don't have a right to do that!"

"Are you actually that stupid, San? Do you know how damaging this could be for you, for us?"

"What does this have to do with you?!" San's voice raises.

"It has everything to do with us! Everyone thinks you either forced that girl into a relationship or she threw herself on you and you stupidly took the bait!"

"Even if I said it wasn't like that, you wouldn't listen anyway!"

"Are you serious about her?"

"What makes you think I'm not? We're two grown adults who are capable of making our own decisions and knew the consequences from the very beginning."

"And you think she'll stay? Someone that young and who is just getting started with her life, basically. You think she'll stay and be there for you when times get rough?"

"Absolutely." His dad scoffs.

"Is that so? Wishful thinking. You couldn't even keep Iseul and now you're downgrading to a st—"

"Hey!" San's mom cuts off his father's statement. "That is enough from you. Don't finish that sentence."

"You have no idea what Iseul put me through!" San's tone is louder to match his father's energy. "I found somebody who genuinely and truly cares about me and who I am. That isn't enough for you? Just because she's a student, but a grown adult at that?! You can't even be happy for a second? You still find a way to be on Iseul's side even though she cheated with my bestfriend!"

"Maybe it's time you realized you pushed Iseul away. That was your own doing. And this girl? Don't come to me and make me tell you 'I told you so' when she leaves after she's gotten everything she needs from you." San's dad is fuming in front of him. "How could you be so sure things will be smooth sailing with her, hm? What makes you think this can work?"

"This is fucking bullshit, I'm not explaining myself to you. If you don't wanna be happy for me and support me, then so be it."

—END

San thinks maybe his dad was right; maybe this wasn't meant to be, and was just supposed to be another fleeting moment, another lesson.

Even though deep down, he knows it's far from it.

As he sits in his home office, he scrolls through old pictures of you and him together— you, pictures you've sent him. He feels the rush of sadness hit him like bricks, his chest almost physically hurting from the ache. He has this sudden urge to text you and call you, tell you how much he misses you.

But, he stops himself.

What if you stopped caring? What if you were so mad at him that you hated him?

He couldn't bear with it.

If only he knew how much you cried and yearned for him every night, if only he knew how much your head hurt while you laid on your mom's lap while she ran her hands through your hair— gently cooing you and shushing you to help you get some sleep.

If only he knew.

"Mom, I'm sorry." You cry and cry, laying your head on her lap as you let everything out. "You were right, I messed everything up. This was all so stupid. I'm so stupid."

"Don't say that." She shushes you and tries to coo you. "Don't ever say that again." She looks at you. "What happened?" You gather the strength to tell her everything that's been going on. How deep your relationship went with San and how well he took care of you. How you weren't always the most careful but the only reason why things blew up was because of Hae-jin, Iseul and Yunho. How Iseul and Yunho just keep trying to get in between, how Jiung even went to Professor Kim about all of this.

How San broke this off claiming he wanted to protect you and put you first.

How utterly sad and betrayed you feel.

"I'm just so tired of feeling this way. I hate how alone I feel. I hate how much I miss him. I hate how this unfolded the way it did."

"I'm so sorry, honey. You need to let things be for now, okay? I know that's not what you wanna hear, but you need to. Especially for school and yourself."

"Why does anyone care? Why does it matter?"

"People have nothing better to do, and I'm sorry it had to be those two and Jiung."

"I'm so tired, mom. When will this pass? What did I do wrong? Why did he leave so quickly?"

"Lovey. You did nothing wrong. It wasn't you at all, and it wasn't San either. The circumstances are just tough. You didn't know it would play out this way and I'm sure he has his reasons."

"What if he's just using that as an excuse? What if he really doesn't want this anymore?"

"If he really cared about you, why would he lie, Y/N? I'm sure he was doing his best to protect you both, especially you. I know it hurts right now, hun. But, maybe this is for the best." You don't wanna hear it even though your mom might be right.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe this was just telling you this could never work between you two.

No matter how hard you both tried.

San's urge to text or call doesn't lessen as the next few days go by, especially when he notices he hasn't seen any trace of you. He'll usually see you walking towards the biology building for Yunho's class or making your way to the dining hall with the girls.

If San hadn't overheard Sunwoo telling his lab mates that you were sick, he would've gone crazy.

It still doesn't help that you're feeling unwell and he can't do anything about it.

"Sunwoo." San pokes his head out of his door, causing Sunwoo to lift his head from his laptop and shift his attention towards him. "Can you meet really quickly?"

"Yeah, sure thing. Be right over!"

"Thanks." San heads back to his desk and lets out a breath, waiting for Sunwoo to come. It takes him less than 5 minutes to finally make his way into the office, rubbing his hands down his jeans. "Hey." San looks up at him. "Thanks for coming in on short notice."

"No prob! What's up, Professor Choi?"

"I wanted to talk to you really quickly because I wanted you to hear it from me directly. Starting next week, we'll be losing Y/N's support. She'll be heading to Professor Kim's lab."

"O-oh. Okay. Damn." Sunwoo ticks his head to the side. "Professor Kim with the steal." San chuckles a bit.

"Yeah." San can't even hide his sadness when he looks down at the papers beneath his hands that Sunwoo catches on and he feels bad. He still doesn't know the details and he never will, but if it's one thing he can gather right now, it's the fact that the room feels cold and empty.

It's the fact that San literally has to force himself to smile and deliver this news like all is okay and no big deal— when in fact, it fucking is.

Sunwoo feels so bad.

"So, I know she's out sick right now, but will I still get to see her before she goes? I wanna talk to her to wrap things up, too."

"When she returns, we'll make sure she has time to close loose ends with you and gather her things."

"Hm." Sunwoo nods slowly. "Okay."

"I'm sorry this came up so suddenly, but I had to make a few changes around here. We all thought she'd be a better fit with Professor Kim."

"I see. She's super smart and incredibly great at what she does, I know she'll do well in whatever she does and wherever she goes." San nods.

"Yeah, she will." He sighs. "There's another rotation student that I might bring in next quarter that might be a good fit to work with you, too. His name is Baehyuk."

"Cool. Down to meet whenever the time is right."

"Thanks, Sunwoo."

"No, thank you for always giving me some help and pushing me forward." San gives him a small smile. "Everything will work out."

"Yeah." Is all he could say in response. Because he hopes it will.

Right now, it seems like a far reach.

All San wants to do is love you, rather than hiding just how deeply in love he was with you.

—FLASHBACK

"Here, baby." He turns to hand you a plate with a smile on his face. "Think you can help me dry the last of these dishes and put 'em up?"

"Course, chef." He chuckles, watching as you tip-toe with nothing but his shirt on to reach over and place the dry dishes into the proper cabinet. You follow suit with the last three dishes, setting the towel aside while San wipes away the water droplets around the sink. "We did it, babe! All clean."

"Sure did." He laughs, caging you in against the counter to kiss you sweetly. "Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome." You giggle. "Thank you for making dinner."

"As long as you enjoyed." You nod.

"What do you wanna do for the rest of the evening?"

"Mm, we can watch a movie and fall asleep here on the couch without any worry."

"That's fun." You smile.

"Or, we can do other things that I have in mind." He brushes the hair away from your face while you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Ooh." You reply in a sing-song tone. "Care to indulge?"

"Absolutely." He says just as he swiftly carries you and wraps your legs around him. You squeal as he walks over to the couch and gently plops you down onto the soft cushions, wasting no time to attach his lips to every inch of skin he can. He slowly hovers over you, hands roaming up your shirt and tugging material along with it as he continues to move upward— exposing your cute pink panties from beneath. He sinks to his knees and pries your legs open after fixing your position to the edge of the couch. "Let me make you feel good, love."

"Yes please, Sannie. Please." You beg, watching as San slides down your panties and tosses them aside. His hands caress your thighs, giving them a good squeeze while laying open-mouth kisses along the surface. You continue to watch him, biting on your lip when he hovers over where you need him at most. He licks a stripe up your folds, causing your head to cock back against the cushion. He begins to gently kiss and suck at your heat— a satisfying, breathy moan leaving your lips as you let San relish being in between your thighs. He laps away at your clit, tonguing down your pussy as if he had been deprived of you for years.

You love/hate how good he is at this. "Babe—" You moan loudly, hips now working on their own terms against his mouth. He subtly nods as he continues to suck and lap away at your heat, tongue keeping you wet and filthy; just the way he likes it. "God, right there—" You whine, hips rolling upward and grinding against his mouth, his tongue.

You used to be so shy.

Now, you're not afraid to tell him what you want and he fucking loves it. "Oh—San— gonna—" Your statement comes out broken as you continue to work against his mouth, orgasm crashing down like a harsh wave against the shore. You grip his hair, body twitching as San continues to latch on and groan against your pussy; incredibly hard while watching the way your body surrenders all. "Fuck." You whisper, still twitching due to the aftershocks from your first orgasm of the night.

"That's my girl." He's back to kissing your thighs, hands gently rubbing up and down your leg as a way to soothe you.

"Need you." You tug him by the shirt to plant a messy kiss against his lips— shirt soon to be discarded on the floor, along with his sweats.

Now you're on his lap, slowly riding his cock just the way he likes it— the couch's throw blanket resting against the small of your back and draped along San's lap.

It's his favorite position after all.

"Mm— just like that, baby." He whispers against your lips as you continue to ride him slowly on the couch. "Just like that." He repeats. "You're my good girl, right? Just mine?" He asks lowly and you nod, letting out a sweet moan as he pinches your nipple and watches your head tilt back in pleasure. "Oh, fuck— just like that." His head rests back against the couch, feeling your walls brush against him and drag against his rock hard cock. "All mine."

"Mm'fuck, Sannie." You keep your head back, intense pleasure bubbling at the pit of your stomach. You take him slowly, deeply; his cock hitting all the right spots every time you do a 'lil tug and pull— hips carefully rolling against him.

"So fucking sexy." He groans. "God, you're everything." His lips drag against your skin, tongue swirling around your perky nipples as your hands tug on the ends of his soft, black hair. "Everything to me." He whispers as if your skin could hold all of the universe's secrets. The blanket is barely keeping up with your movements. San's hand comes up along the base of your neck, bringing you back down to envelope your lips with his.

The kiss is full of hunger.

The kiss is slow and steady.

The kiss is messy.

You break the kiss first, body slowly crumbling in his grip when you feel your high approaching quick. You moan loudly, breath ragged as you pant; hips slightly picking up the pace to push yourself further and further until you reach the edge.

"Oh—" San matches your moans. "That's it, sweetheart. Cum for me." He praises you, voice deep— tone sending vibrations all the way down to your core. "Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum all over this dick, angel." Hearing San talk the way he's talking is enough to make your coil snap. He continues to coo you as you come undone on his lap; stuttering in your movements and trembling in his grip. He places his hands on your hips, fingers digging deep into the flesh while he fucks up into you— reaching his high shortly after you with a loud groan and hiss. "Fuck, that was so good, baby." You giggle, forehead against his while his hands gently caress and your back. You leave a tender kiss against his plump lips, and he chases with a few repeated kisses before bringing you down with him on the couch. The both of you lay underneath the throw blanket, now properly covering most of your bodies while San holds you from behind. He has his propped up by an arm while you both watch the show on TV, but San finds his thoughts wandering elsewhere at some point. He begins to look around the house and notices how different it feels since you've been around.

Good different.

A space that used to he so grey, so lifeless; now has remnants of you everywhere.

Your polaroids.

Pictures of you and San in frames.

Your little stuffed animal keychains and rings thrown onto the kitchen island, or the room. Or even his desk in the office.

Your little post-it notes. Your favorite chips and snacks littered around the pantry.

You were there everywhere he turned, and he finds it's one of his biggest blessings.

Especially when you lay here on the couch with him, completely not minding the idea San proposed of just falling asleep on the couch together while sorting through movies.

You agreed so quickly and so happily.

No matter how big or small, most ideas just seemed silly in his last relationship.

But, now he has you— someone who is happy to just be with him and spend time with him. No matter how big or small the idea, the plans.

San loves you.

And he'll never take it for granted.

—END

—read 13.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

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kookooluvr · 3 days ago

Text

Teach Me How To Love - Part 6

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

word count: 13.6k

warnings: namjoon and mai's wedding, mentions of anxiety and feelings of panic, oc blames herself for her past failed relationship, jk being jk, they slow dance, hana appearance (not the last), lots of feelings, explicit sexual content; soft romantic sex, looooots of kissing, brief nipple play, oral (f. receiving), he jerks it for two seconds, unprotected sex (she's on the pill, chill out) passionate missionary sex, domestic grocery shopping, angst angst angsty ending, lots of self doubt and tears 🫣

author's note: i apologize in advance 🫥😭😭 the angst has arrived LMAOOO y'all please don't hate my girl oc, she's doing her best, okay? anyway, i'd love to hear all of your thoughts on this one, your comments and asks always make my day !!!! lots of love my angels 🫂

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @chxiosworld @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni @matryoshka-poetry @almatiarau @gukkie7 @ambiee3 @blueberriesm @milkk1400 @yuriouki @lovelovethebeatles @somehowukook @deedeeps @emily-hung @jkaxl @bhonbhon @bearchermer

find tmhtl masterlist here

Jungkook has always been a fan of weddings. Some might call him a sap and make fun of him for getting excited about seeing the bride walk down the aisle, or for tearing up at the speeches, but he really doesn't care. He loves it. He especially loves that he gets to witness two of his closest friends tie the knot in just a couple of hours.

For you on the other hand, today is a bit less joyful. That's not to say you're not happy for Namjoon and Mai, because you are. You've grown to really like his friends and you hope their marriage is filled with nothing but happiness and endless love. You're just not a big lover of weddings in general. It could just be the resentment of your failed engagement that you've tucked away in your heart that seems to be clawing its way up to the surface. To you, weddings are just a reminder of everything you've lost.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" Jihyo asks, her eyes wide as she takes in your pyjama-clad appearance through the screen of her phone. She's already dressed and ready to go in a navy floor-length gown, looking her very best to impress Taehyung, who asked her to be his plus-one.

The FaceTime call was intended for her to ask your opinion on her choice of earrings, but instead, she's caught you in the middle of an anxious spiral.

"I don't know if I can do this," you blurt out, letting out a deep sigh.

"What? Of course you can-"

"No, seriously. I haven't been to a wedding since my cousin's last year and I only stayed for an hour then left," you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip.

When you agreed to be Jungkook's date to the wedding, you were still on cloud-nine after Jeju, your rose coloured glasses still perched snugly on the bridge of your nose. Now? Now you're second guessing everything, your brain yelling at you to take ten steps back.

"Okay, just...breathe. Everything's gonna be fine," Jihyo reassures you. "I know this is out of your comfort zone, but I promise, you're gonna be okay. What happened with Sunghoon doesn't define you. You can do this. You're gonna go and you're gonna dance with Sexyboots and you're gonna have champagne and you'll look hot doing it. And I'll be there if you need me."

Her words bring your anxiety down from a 10 to a 5.

"What if I cry?"

"Then you cry, so what?" She shrugs, offering you a soft smile. "That's okay. It's a wedding, you'll just blend in with everyone else who's crying."

She's got a good point.

"What if I throw up? You know I throw up when I'm really anxious."

"Then I'll just say you had some bad Chinese food. ___, I'm not letting you back out of this."

"Why nooot?" you whine, plopping down on your bed with a huff and a roll of your eyes.

"Because I'm not going to this wedding without you. And a little itty-bitty wedding does not have the power over you to make you this stressed out. Now get your ass up and go get dressed before Jungkook gets there and sees you like this."

You know you can't argue with Jihyo when she speaks in that tone. And besides, she's right, it's just a wedding. So what if your fiancé slept with one of your friends a month before your wedding? No big deal. You just have to put on your big girl panties and go.

After another twenty minutes of trying to find an excuse not to go, and ultimately failing, you force yourself to get up and take a shower, scrubbing your skin until it hurts in an attempt to distract your brain from impending doom. You work almost robotically, doing your hair and makeup on autopilot. When you open your closet to get your dress, you catch a glimpse of that pesky white tulle peeking out from behind the rest of the clothes, as if it's mocking you.

You'll have to throw that thing away one of these days.

By the time you've zipped up your dress, there's a knock at the front door. It's him. You rush to give yourself one last glance in the mirror, making sure every hair is in place before going to get the door.

"Hey, you- woah..." Jungkook's jaw goes slack, his eyes growing in size as he drinks you in. He swallows thickly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "You look...you're...wow..."

You'd think he was overreacting if you didn't feel the same about his attire. Seeing him in his tux, with his hair styled in that way that makes his face look extra chiselled, has your face flushing and your heart racing.

"You look...wow too," you chuckle, feeling a lot lighter than you did a minute ago. "I like your suit."

"I like your dress," he murmurs, his lungs feeling like he just ran up a flight of stairs. "You're gorgeous."

You want to tell him that he's gorgeous, but instead, you roll your eyes, grab your purse and kiss an unbothered Miso goodbye before making your way out. The short trip down to his car is silent, both of you feeling some nerves, both for very different reasons.

He opens the passenger side door for you and makes his way to the driver's seat, starting the route to the venue. He puts on some music while he drives, absentmindedly tapping his fingers along the steering wheel. He can sense how busy your brain is by the way you fidget with your hands in your lap, but he isn't quite sure how to approach the matter.

"Everything okay?" he asks, quickly glancing over at you before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Mhm," you nod, staring out the window. "Weddings just make me a bit emotional."

He wouldn't call the look on your face emotional, more so anxious, but he won't call you out for it. Instead he tries to lighten the mood, stepping around the obvious tension.

"Well, you can cry on my shoulder if you want," he smiles. "Thankfully my suit is black, so no one will ever notice if you get mascara on it."

You scoff, forcing a faint smile across your lips. "Right."

He keeps glancing your way, watching you intently. He looks as if he's trying to read your thoughts, but he's not Charles Xavier and he can't do that, so he settles on making lighthearted conversation until you reach the venue.

"Y'know, I'm not the best dancer but I do hope you'll save me a dance tonight," he murmurs, subtly glancing over at you.

"Please, I have two left feet," you scoff.

"Well, I happen to have two right feet, so I guess it works out then."

The smile that tugs at the corners of your lips is too strong to fight, so you give in and let it settle across your face.

When you arrive at the wedding venue, it looks like something out of a fairytale. It's a stunning outdoor ceremony, with rows of elegant chairs for guests to be seated and decorative flower arrangements, with a few violinists seated at the entrance, waiting for their cue to begin playing. The weather is warm with a slight breeze, the seasons slowly transitioning from summer to autumn, creating just the right temperature for a wedding.

Most of the other guests are already there when the two of you arrive. You spot his friends sitting in a row behind Namjoon and Mai's family members, everyone looking their best to celebrate the happy couple. You and Jungkook make your way over, sitting next to Jihyo and Taehyung, who have apparently been flirting like horny teenagers for the past thirty minutes, according to Yoongi.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Jihyo whispers while Jungkook and his friends make their way to the front to talk to a nervous-looking Namjoon.

"I'm good," you nod, not wanting to take away from Namjoon and Mai's big day.

She can see the slight unease on your face, but this is neither the time nor the place to do a deep dive on your personal issues, so she nods and takes your word for it. She'll speak to you about it tomorrow over a pint of ice cream and some Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

"You and Taehyung seem pretty cozy," you whisper, shooting her a little grin.

"He's so sweet," she sighs. "He brought me flowers when he came to pick me up at my apartment."

"You really like him, huh?"

She nods, smiling down at her lap. "I do, yeah...and that suit he's wearing makes me wanna suck his dick real bad."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter under your breath, looking around to make sure Namjoon and Mai's parents didn't hear that.

"What about you? Are things okay with...?" She gestures towards Jungkook with her eyes.

You look over at him, watching the way he laughs at something Hoseok said, the way his nose scrunches up and his eyes squeeze shut. He's beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight, his presence filling you with a warmth that overpowers the light autumn breeze.

"Yeah," you nod, feeling a smile start to tug at the corners of your lips as he makes his way over to take his seat next to you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, picking up on your stare.

You nod, leaning a bit closer to his side. Your smile reassures him that everything is more than okay. When you're with him, you're okay.

Jihyo watches the two of you with a soft smile on her face, picking up on the instant shift in your mood. You seem happier when he's near, your smile growing wider when he whispers in your ear to tell you that he likes your hair in this style, his fingers gently brushing a few stray strands behind your ear. Jihyo knows your feelings for him go way deeper than you'd like to admit, and when Taehyung makes a flirty comment about love being in the air, she can't agree more.

An announcement is made for everyone to take their seats, signaling that the ceremony is about to start. Everyone quiets down, the violinists getting their bows ready to begin playing the opening melody. Soon, the music starts and everyone watches as Mai's father leads her down the aisle, her dress trailing behind her with every step she takes. She looks like an angel draped in lace and tulle, her smile radiant as she walks towards the love of her life.

Your vision starts to blur with unshed tears as you glance over at the groom, watching as he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. He holds himself together as best he can when he shakes Mai's father's hand in a silent promise to take care of his daughter.

Namjoon takes one look at his bride and it's like everyone and everything else fades away. He takes her hands in his and vows to cherish her and protect her, to love her until they are both nothing but dust and bones. Mai reaches out to dry his tears, promising to love him through all of life's challenges, making a vow to be his wife now and forever.

There isn't a dry eye in sight, so you don't look out of place when the tears stream down your cheeks, putting up a good fight against the layers of setting spray plastered over your makeup. It's a hard moment for you, but you push through for Namjoon and Mai, and when the ceremony ends with a tearful kiss between the happy couple, you clap and cheer, and you wish them nothing but the best.

Everyone makes their way to the reception area after the ceremony. The marquee is breathtaking, draped in soft ivory fabrics that flutter gently in the early evening breeze, with twinkling fairy lights hanging overhead, casting a warm glow. Long tables are elegantly set throughout, each adorned with crisp white table linens, floral displays and flickering candles. As guests begin to gather inside, laughter and soft jazz music fill the air, creating a warm atmosphere that adds to the beauty of the surroundings.

You take your seat next to Jungkook, sitting at a table with Jihyo, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jisoo, and their two sons, Dohyun and Moonbin. Unfortunately, they had to leave their youngest at home with Jisoo's mom because he's a bit too young for such a long night out. Seated at the next table are Jimin, Hana, Yoongi and his date, Areum, and Hoseok and his date, Eunji, along with two of Namjoon's co-workers. Everyone mingles throughout dinner, enjoying the delicious spread of food and drinks.

"They grow up so fast," Seokjin teases. "It feels like just yesterday when Joon asked her to be his girlfriend."

"I remember him being so nervous to ask her out, spamming the group chat to let us know he was gonna do it," Jungkook chuckles.

"They make a beautiful couple," you muse quietly, looking over at Namjoon and Mai at the head table, Namjoon looking at his wife with stars in his eyes. It's the same look the man to your left gives you when you're not paying attention.

"They're gonna have the best sex on their honeymoon," Taehyung mutters, stuffing a huge wedge of roasted potato into his mouth.

"Language, Tae," Jisoo chides, trying to cover Dohyun and Moonbin's ears, even though the ten-year-old and seven-year-old have already heard and are now snickering amongst themselves.

"Honeymoon sex is the best sex," Seokjin grins smugly before taking a sip of his champagne, earning a swat from his wife.

"That's enough out of you," Jisoo grumbles, shaking her head.

"What?! It's true!" Seokjin chuckles, resting his arm over the back of her chair. "How do you think we made this little guy," he grins, reaching around her back to ruffle Dohyun's hair, earning a "Gross, dad!" from their eldest son.

"Where do you think we'll have our honeymoon?" Taehyung asks Jihyo. Normally, a woman would tell him he's crazy for making a joke like that after barely two months of flirty texts and a drunk hookup on the night they met. Jihyo, however, falls right into step alongside him.

"Maybe Italy. They have nice beaches," she smiles.

"I guess I should start practicing my Italian. All I know is ciao and spaghetti."

"Wow, you're an educator?" Seokjin scoffs.

"Hey, I teach English Lit, not Italian," he shrugs.

Jihyo laughs, making a comment about getting him into a speedo on an Italian beach, to which Taehyung responds with a joke about being The Rock's body double in Baywatch, earning a cackle from Seokjin.

"You're cute," Jihyo leans in to whisper, a smile breaking out on Taehyung's face.

"You're cute," he grins.

You watch from across the table as the two throw flirty words back and forth, clearly enjoying whatever it is the two of them have going on. They seem to pair well together. She laughs at his jokes, like, actually laughs. He seems to like making her laugh, cracking jokes just to see her reaction. It's sweet.

Dessert is served and speeches follow shortly after, some friends and family members saying a few heartfelt words. Mai's maid of honour, her sister, gives a speech about having an amazing older sister to look up to, and her father makes everyone tear up with his speech about letting go of his daughter and trusting another man to love and care for her. As the best man, Seokjin gives a particularly moving speech about watching his best friend, Namjoon, fall in love, pulling a few awww's from the guests. You hear a soft sniffle coming from your left, so you glance over at Jungkook to find him wiping his eye with his thumb, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Are you crying?" you whisper, forcing down a smile.

"No, I just...the flowers are irritating my allergies," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

You smile, finding it hard to resist leaning over to plant a kiss to his pouty lips. If it weren't for all these people, you probably would, but you can't risk letting everyone in on the feelings you harbour for him. Still, the risk of being caught doesn't stop you from reaching out for his hand under the table and absentmindedly playing with his fingers until they end up intertwined with yours.

Once the speeches are over, the live band starts back up, soft jazz music filling the marquee. A few guests even make their way onto the dance floor with their significant others while Namjoon and Mai start making their rounds to talk to their friends and family members. Jungkook gets up from his seat, taking the opportunity to stretch his legs a bit.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he whispers. "I'll be right back, okay?"

You nod and watch as he walks off, occasionally greeting a few of Namjoon's relatives on the way to the bathroom. He seems to have a real way with people, Namjoon's grandmother greeting him like he's her own grandson. It's a strange feeling to see how people naturally gravitate towards him. He's charismatic in a soft-spoken, gentle kind of way. He's able to engage in conversation about basically anything. Dohyun and Moonbin call him Uncle Jungkook, the cool uncle who buys them Lego's and lets them take his cute dog on walks. He's kind, and polite, and he cries at weddings, and he radiates love. It's practically impossible not to love him, so you feel justified in your feelings when you see just how loved he is by everyone else around him.

Some of his friends make their way outside to get some fresh air, some going to get champagne at the bar area, while Jihyo gets spun around by Taehyung on the dance floor. Mai spots you sitting alone, so she makes her way over, trying not to mess up her dress when she sits down next to you.

"Hey, pretty lady," she smiles, looking even more radiant up close. "You having fun?"

"I am," you murmur, a soft smile gracing your face. "You make a beautiful bride, Mai."

Mai waves you off, playfully rolling her eyes. "Please, I cried all my makeup off."

"I think Namjoon might have cried more than you, so you're good," you tease.

She throws her head back in laughter, glancing over at her husband who seems to be having a heartfelt conversation with a few of his aunties. "Isn't it insane? I'm married to that guy."

You feel a pit start to grow in your stomach, but you smile and nod, and you make conversation to drown out the little voice in your head taunting you.

'It's all your own fault that you're not married.'

'Sunghoon was right, you prioritised your job and drove him away.'

'Jungkook won't want you when he realizes how much baggage you carry.'

"So," Mai lightly nudges your arm, pulling you out of your daze. "Where's your guy?"

The mention of Jungkook seems to soothe you. A smile threatens to break out across your face at her referring to him as your guy. Is he your guy? You want to deny it, but instead you indulge in the giddy feeling for a bit longer.

"He went to the bathroom. He should be back anytime now."

"What do you say, are you two next in line?" she teases, holding up her ring finger with a smirk on her face.

Please, as if you'd ever allow yourself to get as far as that again.

"Don't start that," you scoff, giving her a pointed look.

"Hey, I'm just saying. I saw the two of you earlier during dinner. He was practically drooling over you while you weren't looking."

"He was not."

"How long are we gonna keep doing this?" She chuckles, rolling her eyes. "You say you're just friends, then I say you're crazy because you're obviously-"

"We're obviously just two adults who get along," you shrug, feigning ignorance.

Mai watches the way you look down at your lap to avoid her eyes. She knows it's because you don't believe your own words, and she can see you clearly have more layers hiding beneath the surface.

"Look," she sighs, her tone turning softer. "I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I really like you and I think we're building a real friendship...and I can tell you might have some things holding you back from being honest with yourself."

You glance over at her, feeling naked under her gaze. She can see right through you, and you hate it. You hate that you can't run away from your baggage forever. You hate how right she is.

"___, I may not know everything and I don't mean to overstep, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong...but I see the way you look at each other. Friends don't look at or treat one another the way you do."

You can't say that she's wrong, so you don't say anything at all. You don't know how to say what you really feel. You don't know how to explain that you're so scared of getting hurt, so you don't allow yourself to indulge in the things that could end up hurting you. You want to be honest and shout out loud that you love him, that you want to be loved by him, but you find that it's easier to love him from a distance than to risk getting your heart broken again.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," she murmurs softly, offering you an apologetic smile.

You know she means well, and she hasn't said anything that isn't true. "No, no, it's, uhm...it's okay, Mai."

She excuses herself when Namjoon calls her over to join the conversation he's having with her parents, not leaving without a hug. She leans down and wraps her arms around your shoulders, whispering a soft, "Please, give him a chance," before walking off to join her husband.

You watch with a smile as Jihyo and Taehyung dance to an upbeat jazz song. He dips her as a grand finale, the song coming to an end with a saxophone and drum harmony. The band prepares for the next song as a female singer steps up to the mic, the opening melody of 'A love that will last' by Renee Olstead floating through the marquee. You're so caught up in watching the couples fill the dance floor, you almost don't notice the soft tap on your shoulder and the whisper of a velvety voice in your ear.

"I think you owe me a dance, Professor."

You glance up at Jungkook, your heart pounding in your ears. His hand is outstretched, palm up, waiting for yours.

"Jungkook," you breathe out a soft chuckle, as if he's crazy for even suggesting it.

"C'mon," he whispers, subtly cocking his head to the side. "One dance."

Your heart lurches at the thought of potentially embarrassing yourself. You haven't slow danced since your prom night, and even then, it was more of an awkward shuffle than anything remotely graceful, but the way he's looking at you has you nodding in resignation. "Okay...one dance..."

You hesitate for only a second before slipping your fingers into his. His grip is gentle, leading you to the dance floor with practiced ease. The music drifts through the marquee, a romantic melody wrapping around the two of you like a secret. His other hand finds the small of your back, and suddenly, you're closer than you expected. Jungkook sways with you, his movements effortless, like he's done this a million times in his head. His thumb brushes the back of your hand absentmindedly, a nervous habit or maybe something more. His gaze flickers down to you, dark eyes unreadable, but there's something tender about the way he looks at you, like you're more than just a habit he can't break, more than a friend. It's not the first time he's held you, not even the most intimate touch you've shared, but something about this moment feels so different.

"You really do look beautiful tonight," he murmurs, barely loud enough to hear over the music.

A warmth creeps up your spine. "You clean up pretty good yourself."

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Instead, there's something wistful in the way he looks at you, something unsaid lingering between you.

You let your head rest lightly against his chest, just for a moment, just long enough to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the layers of his suit. You breathe in his cologne, warm and familiar, a reminder of nights tangled in sheets and whispered confessions that never quite crossed the line.

Jungkook holds you like he's afraid to let go, like if he does, you'll slip through his fingers completely. There's a weight in his chest, a truth sitting heavy on his tongue, but he swallows it down.

"I remember dancing with you at that Christmas party four years ago," you muse, your voice soft, barely above a whisper.

His face breaks out into a grin. "God, we were so drunk that night."

The night everything came to be.

You breathe out a quiet chuckle before your face melts into something softer. "It didn't feel like this though."

Jungkook chuckles, a quiet, breathy sound against your ear. "No?"

You shake your head. "This is different. Feels like it actually…means something."

It slips out before you can stop it, and for a split second, neither of you move. The words hang between you. You feel Jungkook's hold tighten, just a fraction, before he exhales slowly.

"What if it always has?"

Your heart stutters.

Jungkook doesn't look at you when he says it, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, like he's scared of what he might find in your eyes. But his hand at your waist lingers, his fingers flexing like he wants to pull you even closer, like he wants you to understand something he can't bring himself to say out loud.

You don't know how to respond, so you don't. Not yet. Instead, you let the music carry you, let yourself melt into the warmth of his embrace.

Your lack of reciprocation doesn't deter him. If anything, he holds you closer, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like he's memorizing the way it feels to hold you like this. Then he leans down, just enough that his lips brush your temple in the lightest of touches. He lingers for a second too long. A second that tells you everything his words can't.

And then, just like that, the song ends.

Jungkook steps back, forcing a small smile. "I should, uh, get us some drinks," he mutters, reluctantly putting space between you.

You nod, even though something inside you screams for him to stay, because for the first time, you realize that maybe you aren't the only one who's been pretending this whole time. Well, maybe he hasn't been pretending. Maybe you've just been too afraid to look a little closer, dig a little deeper. If you had, you would've noticed how brightly the truth shines in his big brown eyes.

You stand in the middle of the dance floor and watch as he walks off in the direction of the bar, disappearing into the sea of guests. You shouldn't be disappointed. You keep him at arm's length for a reason, yet that reason is starting to seem a bit hazy at the moment.

While he goes to get you some champagne and a water for himself—because he is ever the responsible driver—you take a moment to yourself, silently exiting the marquee to get some fresh air in a more secluded spot outside. The sky is illuminated by stars and twinkling lights draped throughout the garden outside, the music faintly drifting through the air in the background.

The night air is crisp against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the crowded reception. You inhale deeply, letting the coolness settle in your lungs, trying to still the racing thoughts in your head. The way Jungkook held you, the way his voice sounded, gentle and sincere.

You shake your head to clear it. This isn't new. You and Jungkook have always blurred the lines, dancing on the edge of something deeper without ever taking the plunge. He's your secret, your safe indulgence. But tonight...it's different.

You exhale, absentmindedly rubbing your hands over your arms as if that will do anything to settle the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin. He said he'd get you a drink, and you wonder what's taking him so long. Maybe he got caught up in conversation with one of his friends or Namjoon's relatives, or maybe he's-

Your thoughts are cut off when you turn around and take a quick glance toward the marquee entrance, your stomach twisting. Jungkook stands near the bar, a glass of water in one hand, a flute of champagne in the other. But he's not alone.

Hana.

She leans in just a little too close, flashing that perfectly calculated smile of hers, the kind that makes your skin crawl. Her manicured fingers brush against his forearm as she laughs at something he said, which probably wasn't funny enough to warrant such a boisterous laugh.

You try to convince yourself it doesn't mean anything, that it's just Jungkook being Jungkook—too polite, too non-confrontational, too oblivious to the way women like Hana take an inch and twist it into a mile. But the longer you watch, the harder it gets to ignore the way she leans into him, the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the way she bats her lashes up at him. And the worst part is that he doesn't immediately pull away.

He doesn't flirt back. Surely not. But he doesn't shut her down either.

A bitter taste rises in your throat.

Maybe this is your fault. Maybe this is what happens when you pretend things don't matter when they do. When you are so incessant on keeping things casual, making sure nothing changes, that you take too long to acknowledge the truth staring right in your face.

Jungkook does mean something to you.

The idea of someone else wanting him makes something twist inside you, something hot and possessive and terrifyingly raw. You don’t even realize your fingers have curled into fists at your sides until Jungkook suddenly glances up, eyes sweeping the crowd as if searching for something. Or someone.

You.

The moment his gaze finds yours, something shifts. His expression softens, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly. Then, almost instinctively, he takes a step back from Hana, just enough to put space between them, to make his intentions clear.

Hana notices too. Her smile tightens as she follows his line of sight, her eyes narrowing when she spots you standing there. For a second, her lips part like she's about to say something, but Jungkook is already moving, leaving her behind without a second thought, heading straight for you.

Jungkook stops in front of you, holding out the flute of champagne with a faint smile. His eyes flicker over your face, searching, as if he can sense the storm brewing beneath your carefully crafted exterior.

"Thought I lost you for a second."

You force a small, hollow smile. "Well...you found me."

He studies you, eyes flickering across your face like he can see right through you. Maybe he can. So, you look away, pretending to sip your champagne even though your stomach is twisted in knots.

"Everything okay?" His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the noise in your head with ease.

You should say yes. Should flash him a smile, play it off like nothing's wrong, but the sight of Hana's hand on his arm is still burned into your mind, tangled up with memories you thought you buried long ago.

This isn't about Hana or Jungkook. It's about a different man who swore he loved you, who got down on one knee and asked you to spend forever with him, only to turn around and throw it all away.

Seven years.

You spent seven years with someone who once made you feel like the center of his world, until you weren't.

"You never made time for me."

Sunghoon's words had cut deeper than the betrayal itself, because in the end, he hadn't just broken your heart, he'd made you feel like it was your fault. Like if you had just been more for him, he wouldn't have strayed.

That is why you promised yourself that what you have with Jungkook is nothing more than convenience, that it doesn't matter if he ever falls for someone else, someone with fewer walls, someone who isn't afraid to love him the way he deserves. But standing here now, heart hammering in your chest as he watches you with quiet concern, you know with certainty that you've already broken that promise.

Jungkook stands before you, watching you with a quiet intensity. You know he's not Sunghoon, but that doesn't make it less terrifying.

You force a smile. "Yeah. Just needed some air, that's all."

Jungkook doesn't look convinced. His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing. "You sure?"

You should deflect, should change the subject, but instead, the words slip out before you can stop them. "She likes you, you know."

Jungkook blinks, momentarily caught off guard. "Huh?"

You huff a quiet, humorless laugh, tilting your glass slightly in the direction Hana had been standing. "Hana."

Jungkook follows your gaze, then shakes his head with a scoff. "Hana likes attention."

You hum, taking a sip of champagne, but the uneasy feeling lingers. Not because you think he'd entertain her, but because you know there's nothing you can do if he ever decides to go for her instead. He's not your boyfriend. You made sure of that all by yourself.

"___, I hope you know that I'm not interested in her."

You weren't looking for reassurance, not really, but hearing him say it so plainly sends a warmth through your chest that you refuse to dwell on for too long.

You shrug, feigning indifference. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Jungkook."

Jungkook scoffs, as if he expected the indifference. "Maybe not," he murmurs, looking over at you. "But I want to."

You let out a slow breath, trying to shake the weight of the moment, the way his words settle deep in your chest. When you glance at Jungkook, he's watching you, not with pity or expectation, just there, a steady presence.

So, you do what you always do when things get too real. You deflect.

"I don't know," you hum, tilting your head, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. "You seemed pretty into that conversation. Maybe I should let you get back to it."

Jungkook groans, tipping his head back dramatically. "Oh my God, stop."

You grin up at him. "What? I'm just saying, I don't wanna stand in the way."

"Please," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "There's nothing to stand in the way of."

You hum, swirling the champagne in your glass. "I don't know, Jungkook. Hana's got great hair. Seems like a solid choice."

"You have great hair."

"She's pretty," you mutter, looking back at the marquee in the distance.

Jungkook scoffs. "You're gorgeous. Now what?"

You stare at him for a second, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. He's too good at this, throwing you off, slipping in little compliments like they mean nothing. But they mean everything and he knows it.

"You're so annoying," you murmur, taking a sip of your champagne.

Jungkook grins, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. "And yet, you keep me around."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "Unfortunately."

He chuckles, then nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. "C'mon, ___, admit it. You'd be lost without me."

You raise a brow. "Lost?"

"Hopeless," he teases with a shrug. "Completely, utterly hopeless."

You huff, feigning exasperation. "I survived just fine before you, y'know."

His expression softens, just a little.

"I know," he murmurs, quieter this time. "But I like it better this way."

Your fingers tighten around your glass, heart stuttering in your chest, because damn it, so do you.

A cool breeze sweeps past, and instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm. Jungkook notices immediately. Of course he does. Without a word, he shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, his movements fluid, effortless, like it's second nature to him.

You glance up at him with wide eyes. "Aren't you going to get cold?"

"I'll survive," he shrugs, completely unfazed.

You pull the jacket tighter around yourself, the warmth of it sinking into your skin, carrying his signature scent. "You didn't have to do that."

Jungkook gives you a look. "You know I was never going to let you stand out here freezing."

Your lips twitch. "A gentleman, huh?"

"What, you didn't think I had it in me?"

"I mean… I have seen you trip over your own feet in the hallway at work."

Jungkook groans, biting back a smile. "Okay, first of all, that was years ago. Second of all, that floor was slippery, the janitor just mopped it."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Sure it was."

Jungkook lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

You grin, feeling lighter than you have all night. Maybe it's the warmth of his jacket, or the teasing glint in his eyes, or just the way that it's always been easy with him.

After a beat, Jungkook nudges your arm lightly. "You do look good in my jacket, though."

The comment is casual, offhanded, but there's something in his tone, something softer beneath the teasing that makes your stomach flip.

"Yeah?"

Jungkook hums, taking another sip of his water.

Your heart stumbles, but you roll your eyes, playing it cool. "Careful, Jeon. You almost sound like you're flirting with me."

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"Oh shush," you scoff, forcing down a smile.

The air feels different. The atmosphere is lighter, but charged with something else, something neither of you wants to name. Jungkook watches you, his gaze steady, thoughtful, like he's debating something in his head.

Another breeze sweeps past, and instinctively, you pull his jacket tighter around yourself. The movement makes him smile, just a little, like he finds it endearing. Then, without thinking, he reaches out. It's a small gesture, his fingers gently tugging at the lapel of his jacket, adjusting it over your shoulder, as if to make sure you're really warm enough. But the way he does it, the slow, deliberate movement, the way his fingers brush against your collarbone, sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

You glance up at him, your breath hitching. He's closer than you had realized. Close enough that you can see the way his lashes frame his dark eyes, the soft curve of his lips, the intensity in his gaze. Before you can say something about it, Jungkook moves.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Giving you everything opportunity to pull away.

He lifts a hand, fingers ghosting along your jaw, barely there, like he's afraid to break the moment. His gaze flickers to your lips, just for a second, and your breath catches in your throat.

And then he kisses you.

It's not urgent or demanding. It's careful. Considerate. Barely more than a brush of lips. It's a question, rather than a statement.

And God help you—you answer.

You let yourself sink into the feeling, let yourself feel the warmth of his lips, the steadiness of his hand on your cheek, the way everything else fades away when his lips touch yours.

It's over before you can even process it, before your mind can catch up with your heart. The night air feels cooler against your heated skin, and when you open your eyes, Jungkook is already watching you. His expression is unreadable, his breathing just the slightest bit uneven.

You swallow, your voice barely above a whisper. "What was that for?"

"I don't know," he murmurs. "Felt like the right thing to do."

It felt quite right to you too.

The rest of the evening passes in a haze of laughter and music. You make it back inside just in time for the bouquet toss, though, to your relief, you don't catch it. Taehyung looks mildly disappointed, teasing you about how he was hoping for some 'divine intervention' before Jihyo drags him away to dance.

Eventually, the celebration winds down, guests filtering out into the night. You find yourself outside again, rubbing your arms against the chill before Jungkook appears beside you, keys in hand.

"Ready to go home?" he asks, his voice low, warm.

You nod, walking back to the car.

The drive home is quiet but comfortable. Jungkook keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, fingers tapping absentmindedly. The streetlights cast golden streaks across his face, and every so often, you catch him glancing at you, like he wants to say something but keeps deciding against it.

When he pulls up in front of your apartment building, he shuts the engine off and looks over at you. It's silent, neither one of you making a move.

You hesitate for a second before reaching for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride-"

"Do you want me to walk you up?"

You meet his gaze, your heart racing. The weight of everything that happened tonight lingers between the two of you, something unspoken pressing at the edges.

"Yeah," you murmur. "I'd like that."

The elevator ride up is quiet, your pulse quickening with every passing second. When you reach your door, you fumble briefly with your keys before finally pushing it open, stepping inside. "You wanna come in for a bit?"

Jungkook leans against the doorframe, watching you. And then, after a beat, he nods and steps inside.

And just like that, you're alone together, away from the noise, away from the watchful eyes of friends and wedding guests, away from every excuse you could possibly use to avoid this moment.

You go to check on Miso, giving her some water and a treat, gently stroking her fur. She welcomes you home with a sleepy 'meow' before laying back down on her little bed in the corner of the living room. Jungkook stands in your dimly lit living room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, watching you tend to Miso with an expression you can't quite decipher. There's something softer in his gaze, something almost reverent.

You swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your heart is pounding. "Do you want something to drink?"

He shakes his head, lips tilting into a faint smirk. "No." He steps closer, gaze flickering over your face, then down to where his suit jacket hangs off your shoulders. "You gonna keep that?"

You clutch at the lapels instinctively. "I might."

His smirk widens. "Looks good on you."

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it's him, maybe it's you. All you know is that one second, there's space between you, and the next, he's cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, his lips on yours in a slow, soft kiss. It's not driven by impulse or the heat of the moment, and when Jungkook sighs against your lips, and pulls your waist closer to him, you have to break the kiss to catch your breath and steady your heartbeat.

"Do you...wanna help me out of this dress?" Your voice is almost too quiet to hear, but the smile on his face lets you know he heard you.

"It would be my pleasure," he murmurs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

It's as if time slows down as you lead him to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. The dim glow from the city outside casts soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the warmth in his dark eyes. And then, without another word, he leans in and kisses your lips. His hands slide up to cup your face, tilting your head just how he wants it.

You sigh against his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close.

His lips move down, trailing soft kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shiver, and he feels it, his smile evident against your skin.

"Still cold?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck.

You shake your head. "No."

Jungkook chuckles, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands slide down, fingertips brushing along the suit jacket around your shoulders. "Can I?"

You nod, letting him remove the jacket before his fingers find the zipper of your dress, dragging it down excruciatingly slowly. The fabric loosens, slipping down your frame, pooling at your feet in a whisper of silk.

He exhales sharply, eyes darkening as he drinks you in, your body wrapped in nothing but scraps of lace.

"God," he breathes out, subtly shaking his head. "You're..."

You look up at him with a soft smile. "I'm…?"

Jungkook chuckles, but it's low, almost breathless. "You know what you are."

"Say it anyway," you whisper.

His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "So...so beautiful."

And then he kisses you again.

It's slow, deliberate, like he's savoring every second, every soft sigh that escapes you. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you shiver at the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

Your fingers loosen his bow tie, then move onto the buttons of his dress shirt, opening them one by one. Jungkook watches you through hooded eyes, sighing as your lips move over his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his jaw. You push his shirt off shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, your lips moving down to his chest.

He gently slides his fingers into your hair and tilts your head back, kissing you once more. He sighs against your lips, his hands sliding down your sides to rest at your waist, his thumbs drawing slow circles against your skin. The feeling is intoxicating, he is intoxicating. The warmth of his body, the weight of his hands, the way he kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

You melt into him, your fingers splaying over his bare chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His lips move against yours in a way that makes your head spin, slow and deep and hypnotic.

Jungkook keeps his lips attached to yours as he leads you backwards towards your bed, gently laying you down on the mattress, his hands holding him up to hover over you. He trails kisses down the side of your neck, sucking on a few sensitive spots before reaching behind you, his hands sliding over the fabric of your bra.

"Can I?"

You nod, cupping his cheeks to pull him back in, needing him the same way you need air to breathe.

He unclasps your bra and slowly slides the lace down your shoulders, tossing it somewhere in your room for you to find tomorrow. He trails his kisses down to your collarbones and chest, his lips grazing the skin of your breasts.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, more to himself than to you.

You sigh, your fingers sliding into his hair as he swirls his tongue around a nipple, wrapping his lips around it to suck. He does the same thing to the other nipple, his lips pressing tender kisses to your breasts.

He kisses down your stomach, smiling against your skin as you spread your legs for him, your sighs growing needier.

He lets his fingers trail up your inner thighs, making their way up to your hips, pulling the soft lace away from your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours, his fingers toying with the sides of your panties.

"Can I take these off?" he asks softly, pressing a gentle kiss right above the waistband, smiling as you whimper a breathy 'yes'.

He sits up and hooks a finger into either side of your panties, slowly dragging the fabric down your legs. His gaze is soft and appreciative as he takes in the sight of you bare and spread out for him.

His eyes move from your core to your face, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips as he looks into your eyes. He slowly trails a hand up your inner thigh, his fingers trailing through your wet folds. "God, you're so pretty," he sighs, his cock twitching in his pants.

You let out a soft gasp as he leans down to press a few feather-light kisses to your folds, the streetlights shining through the blinds, reflecting in his brown eyes.

He presses a kiss to your clit, his tongue peeking out to get a taste, and it's as if a switch goes off in his brain, his hands gripping your thighs to hold them open as his tongue traces along your pussy.

You moan, your back arching off the bed as he licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, swirling his tongue to turn you into a moaning mess. You reach down to grab hold of his hair, not to tug, just to ground yourself. Your legs spread wider as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently before going back to long, determined licks.

"That feels...so good," you breathe out, glancing down at him to find his eyes on you, looking at you like he wants to make the most of this moment, the passion evident in his gaze.

He lets out a soft moan against you, his tongue and lips working in perfect rhythm to pleasure you. He can't get enough of your taste, looking like he's in a state of ecstasy. He can feel you trembling beneath his hands, your body responding to every lick and nibble.

He worships you with his mouth, taking his time, his tongue moving in circles, his hands holding you in place against his mouth. He can’t keep himself from grinding against the bed, feeling like he might explode from his pent up desire.

"Just like that," you moan, your body writhing beneath him, your back arching. "D-Don't stop..."

He can practically feel how close you are to your climax and it only spurs him on. His tongue laps through your folds before focusing solely on your clit, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds your thighs over his shoulders, preventing you from pulling away.

You hold his head in place, your muscles trembling, your moans growing louder as you get closer to the edge.

You gasp, your walls contracting repeatedly, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure starts to consume you whole. "'m gonna cum...!"

He keeps his pace, pushing your knees up to your chest to give him better access.

In a matter of seconds, your muscles completely tense up as you cum on his tongue, your moans bouncing off of your bedroom walls. He continues to slowly lick and kiss your clit until you can't take anymore.

His lips trail a slow path up your body, leaving a searing warmth in their wake. His breath is hot against your collarbone, his nose brushing against the side of your jaw before finally capturing your lips in a deep, unhurried kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"You taste like heaven," he whispers against your lips.

A bashful smile finds its way onto your face, your cheeks flushed. Your breath is still shaky, your body thrumming with heat as he kisses you. Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer, needing more. You can still feel the remnants of your high, but it's not enough.

Your hands trail down his body to start unbuttoning his pants. "Let me return the favour," you whisper in his ear, slowly pulling down his zipper.

He groans as your hand slides into the front of his boxers, gently massaging his cock, his body shuddering. His eyes close involuntarily at the feeling of your hand on him, his brain short-circuiting.

Jungkook catches your wrist before you can go any further. His grip is gentle, his dark eyes locking onto yours with something deep and unspoken. He shakes his head, a small, almost nervous smile playing at his lips.

"Not tonight."

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Why not?"

Jungkook exhales slowly, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist. His gaze softens even more, and when he speaks, his voice is quieter, almost shy.

"Because I want to make love to you, ___."

Your breath catches in your chest. He wants to make love. The two of you have never done that before. You've never allowed it. You should correct him. You should remind him of the rules, of the boundaries you set.

But when he looks at you like that, with his heart in his eyes, the words die in your throat.

Your voice is a fragile whisper, your heart beating in your ears. "Okay."

He drags the tip of his nose along your cheek, lips brushing over your skin. "Are you sure?"

You nod, breathless.

"Need to hear you say it, baby."

The endearment sends heat through your body.

"I'm sure."

He kisses your lips for the hundredth time, pouring all of his feelings into you, like he's been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You help him out of his pants and boxers, letting out a soft giggle when his foot almost gets caught in the pant leg, his body moving before his brain can process what's happening.

He sits back to get a full view of your body laid out for him, his eyes trailing from your face, down to your breasts, and lastly, your sopping pussy. He groans as he wraps his hand around his cock, giving it some slow strokes, his fist squeezing harshly. The tip has already started leaking a pearl of precum, the shaft already fully erect.

He hovers over you, his lips curling against your skin as he reaches down, guiding the head to your entrance. He pushes in slowly, filling you inch by inch, stretching you in the most delicious way.

Sinking into you feels like coming home.

Jungkook's face twists in pleasure, his breath ragged, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He holds himself up on his forearm while his free hand slides down your body to hook your leg around his hip.

He groans, his forehead falling to your shoulder. "Fuck, you feel so good," he breathes.

You slide your hands around him to hold onto his back, pulling him closer, needing him as close as possible.

The sound of your moans send shivers down his spine. He moves slowly, deeply, his hips rolling into your with deliberate, passionate strokes, sending fire up your spine. His fingers dig into the skin of your thigh, letting out a breathless whimper as he sinks in as deep as he can possibly go.

Your breath stutters, your fingers clutching at his back, feeling his muscles contract under his skin.

Jungkook kisses the junction between your neck and shoulder, his hips rolling at a practiced, steady pace. "You take me so well, baby...this pussy feels so good wrapped around me..." His voice is low, breathy. "You're so fucking perfect."

Your nails dig into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut as your emotions start welling up, a harsh lump growing in your throat.

Jungkook lifts his head, cupping your face, his eyes dark and tender as they search yours. "Look at me, ___."

You do, and it almost steals the air from your lungs, his eyes boring into yours, showing you all the feelings he's harboured for you since the day he met you.

Your hands slide up to cup his jaw, pulling his face closer. "Jungkook…"

"I know, baby," he whispers, pressing soft, tender pecks to your lips, his hips rolling with a fierce intensity. "I've got you. Always."

He presses his lips to your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead. "You're everything, ___."

The lump in your throat grows heavier, but you force it down, willing yourself not to break down completely. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to get lost in him, giving yourself over to him in a way you never have before.

You want to tell him you love him.

Those three words sit heavily on your tongue, but you can't get yourself to say them. Not now, when your emotions are this high, when you're still trembling beneath him.

It's too real, and if it's real, it has the power to ruin you.

You show him with your body instead of your words, looking up into his eyes, pulling him impossibly close. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips seeking his in a slow, lingering kiss. You pour everything into it, every unspoken word, every confession you long to make.

Jungkook kisses you back just as deeply, his hands framing your face, his touch gentle, like he already knows. Like he's willing to wait.

His thrusts grow sloppier as the pleasure builds. Your hands grip his shoulders, your chest heaving, every thrust of his hips pushing you closer to cumming. His cock throbs inside you, but he's determined to make you cum before he does.

"Come on," Jungkook whispers against your lips, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me, baby. You can do it. I'm...I'm right here."

His words send a shiver down your spine, feeling the familiar coil start to tighten in your stomach.

"I...I can't..." you gasp, the intensity of it feeling overwhelming.

"Yes, you can, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let it happen. I've got you, baby, I promise."

The pressure inside you finally bursts, and you're lost in the feeling of it, consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of it all. With a soft, breathless cry, your body finally gives in, your climax surging through you in waves, your entire body trembling as you cling to him.

Jungkook isn't far behind. He groans low in his chest, his cum painting your walls in thick white ropes, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he rides out his high.

He presses a soft kiss to your skin, his breath shallow. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs against your neck, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

Your body shakes from the aftermath, your heart pounding in your chest, but for the first time in a long time, you don't feel empty. You don't feel alone. You just feel him all around you; all consuming.

He reluctantly parts from you to freshen up in the bathroom, coming back with a warm, wet washcloth to clean you off, making sure you're fully taken care of before making his way back to bed.

The room grows quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the sound of your slowed, steady breathing. The warmth of Jungkook's body lingers between your sheets, his arm draped across your waist as he holds you close, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your stomach.

Neither of you speaks for a while, simply existing in the comfort of each other's presence. Your legs are tangled beneath the sheets, your bare skin still pressed together, and there's an intimacy in it that feels deeper than anything words could convey.

Jungkook sighs, shifting slightly to press a lazy kiss to your shoulder. "Are you okay?" His voice is softer now, like he's afraid of breaking whatever fragile thing hangs between you.

You nod against the pillow, your fingers grazing along the length of his arm. "I'm okay."

He hums in contentment, pulling you even closer, his lips brushing against your temple. "Good."

You should probably say more, clarify what tonight was, what it meant, but you can't bring yourself to speak. You simply close your eyes and let yourself melt into his warmth as he spoons you.

Jungkook shifts, resting his chin atop your head, his voice thick with sleep when he murmurs, "Stay here."

You scoff faintly. "I live here."

He chuckles, his chest vibrating against your back. "You know what I mean."

Your fingers find his, lacing together beneath the sheets, and as sleep starts to pull you under, you feel the softest brush of his lips against your hair.

"Goodnight, baby..."

Before you can think twice about how un-casual all of this is, before you can let yourself spiral, you whisper back, "Goodnight, Jungkook."

You wake up tangled in soft sheets and him, his arm draped over your waist, his breath steady against the nape of your neck. The early light filters through your window, casting a golden glow over the room.

For a while, you don't move. You just listen to the birds chirping outside and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then, as if sensing you're awake, Jungkook stirs. His arm tightens around you, his lips brushing lazily against your bare shoulder.

"Morning," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

You smile, stretching your limbs. "Morning."

He hums, nuzzling into your skin, his voice muffled. "What time is it?"

You glance at the alarm clock on your nightstand. "Almost nine."

Jungkook groans dramatically, tightening his hold on you. "Too early."

You laugh, trying—and failing—to wiggle away. "It's not that early."

"It is." His grip loosens just enough for you to turn and face him. His hair is a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he looks at you like you're the most interesting thing in the world.

"You're staring," you point out, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook smiles sleepily. "Can you blame me?"

Your face heats, and you roll your eyes. "Shut up."

He grins, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Never."

The warmth between you lingers as you stay in bed a little longer, exchanging lazy kisses, stealing moments that feel dangerously intimate. It's only when your stomach growls loudly that Jungkook finally pulls away, letting out a huff of laughter.

"Is that your way of asking for breakfast in bed?" he teases.

"I wish," you mumble. "Unfortunately, my fridge is basically empty. I was supposed to go grocery shopping today."

Jungkook sits up, stretching his arms over his head before leaning back on his hands, the sheets pooling around his waist. "Then let's go grocery shopping."

You blink up at him. "You want to come with me to the grocery store?"

"Of course," he shrugs, grinning. "What kind of man would I be if I let you carry all those bags by yourself?"

Is going grocery shopping something you should do together if you want to maintain anything remnants of boundaries? Probably not.

"What would you even wear? A tux?" you chuckle.

"I may or may not have a change of clothes in my trunk," he mumbles, giving you an almost guilty grin. "Y'know, just in case I end up spending the night at your place."

Oh well.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Fine. But you're driving."

The grocery store is surprisingly busy for a late Sunday morning, but Jungkook keeps your mood up. You watch, amused, as he inspects the produce with an intensity that makes it seem like he's solving a crime. He picks up a bell pepper and turns it over in his hands, then glances over at you.

"This is a good one," he declares.

You snort. "Oh, are you an expert?"

Jungkook nods solemnly. "Of course. I have a very refined eye for vegetables."

You shake your head, taking the pepper from him and tossing it into the cart. "Okay, vegetable connoisseur. What about fruit?"

His expression turns serious. "The fruit requires even greater precision." He steps toward the apples, picking one up and holding it to the light like a jeweler inspecting a diamond.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. "And? What's the verdict?"

He nods once. "Acceptable."

You chuckle as you grab a few more apples and place them in a bag. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously helpful you mean,” he corrects, grinning.

It's easy, this whole thing. You browse the aisles while be pushes the cart, occasionally sneaking snacks into it when you're not looking. You catch him dropping a bag of chips in and you raise an eyebrow.

"I need those?"

"Absolutely," he nods, not missing a beat.

You roll your eyes but let him put the bag in the cart. It's for him, but you'll buy it as a way to have something that belongs to him in your apartment.

"Shit, I forgot to get my cereal," you sigh, already on the other side of the store. "Can you go and get it, please? It's in aisle six."

"Sure," he nods, handing you the cart.

"Thank you," you smile, watching him walk off.

You're still smiling when you turn the corner, your heart light from the previous few hours with Jungkook. Then a voice pulls you out of your little love bubble.

"Oh my god, ___?"

You barely have time to react before you're being pulled into a hug, the nostalgic scent of her floral perfume washing over you.

"Sian?" you gasp in surprise, pulling back to get a better look at your old high school friend.

"It's been forever!" she exclaims, her eyes wide as she takes you in. "I almost didn't recognize you, it's been so long. Look at you! You look good!”

You laugh, nodding along. "I could say the same about you. How have you been?"

"I'm doing well," she smiles, resting her hand on her hip. "I recently landed this great job at a new law firm. What about you?"

"I'm a professor at Yonsei University. I teach political science."

"I guess we're really grown ups now," she laughs.

You chuckle along, feeling the truth in her words. "How are things with Minho?"

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, Minho and I broke up. Turns out he's just like every other guy," she scoffs, "Couldn't keep it in his pants."

Your stomach twists. "Oh, Sian....I'm so sorry."

She sighs, crossing her arms. "Don't be. Honestly, I should've seen it coming. I guess all men are the same in the end, aren't they?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You don't know what to say, so you offer a small, noncommittal hum.

Sian doesn't seem to notice your discomfort. She keeps going, rolling her eyes. "It's whatever. At least I found out before we got engaged. We were close to it but I guess I dodged a bullet."

Then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, "Speaking of which, have you heard? Apparently Sunghoon got married a few months ago."

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

Sian doesn't notice. She keeps talking, oblivious to the way your body has suddenly gone rigid.

"Yeah, crazy, right? I heard his wife is pregnant, too. Due in a few months, I think." She shakes her head. "Guess he finally got his act together. Good for them, I suppose."

Your fingers tighten around the shopping cart.

Your ex-fiancé, the man who cheated on you and then blamed you for it, is married. He has a wife. A baby on the way. And yet, here you are, still hesitating, still doubting.

He cheated on you. But he's faithful to her. Was it you? Were you the problem all along?

You force a small laugh at something Sian says, nodding absentmindedly, but your mind has already started spiraling.

Jungkook returns just as you wrap up your conversation, a box of your favourite cereal in hand. He gives Sian a polite nod before turning to you, grinning.

"Miss me?" he teases, but the moment he sees your face, his smile falters. "Hey...what's wrong?"

You shake your head, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Nothing. Just caught up with an old friend."

Jungkook doesn't buy it. His gaze searches yours, his brows furrowing. "You sure? You seem-"

"I said it's nothing, Jungkook," you snap before you can stop yourself, feeling guilty almost instantly.

His lips press together, the hurt flickering across his face so quickly you almost miss it.

He doesn’t push. He never does. He just nods slowly, letting the silence settle between you like an invisible wall.

"We should go," you mutter softly, already turning the cart toward the checkout without looking back.

The drive home is silent.

Jungkook doesn't say anything, but you feel his eyes flicking over at you every so often, like he's waiting for you to speak. To tell him what's wrong.

You don't.

Your thoughts have started racing and they just won't stop. You think about your past, about the seven years you wasted on a man who made you believe you weren't enough for him to remain faithful. And now he has a wife. A baby on the way. A family.

And here you are, falling into the same pattern.

Falling for Jungkook.

He's not Sunghoon, you know that, but what happens when he gets tired of waiting for you to let him in? What happens when you eventually realize you can't give him what he deserves?

It would be easier to end it now.

Before either of you get hurt.

Before you lose yourself in him completely.

The silence stretches on when you get back to your apartment. Jungkook carefully sets the grocery bags on the counter, his movements slow and calculated. He glances at you, his brows knitting together in quiet concern, but he still doesn't push, not yet.

Instead, he tries a softer approach.

"Hey." His voice is gentle, coaxing. "Wanna help me put these away?"

You should. You should do something, say something, but you can't bring yourself to move. Your arms stay crossed over your chest, your body stiff, your mind in a haze.

Jungkook watches you for a moment before sighing lightly. "Alright then," he murmurs, unpacking the bags himself.

The tension is unbearable.

He packs your groceries away, waiting for you to speak. When the silence becomes too much for him, he takes the plunge.

Jungkook exhales slowly. "___."

Your stomach tightens at the sound of your name on his lips.

"Talk to me." His voice is gentle, patient. "Please."

"There's nothing to talk about." Your voice is flat.

Jungkook tilts his head, studying you carefully. "Really? Because you've been completely silent since we left the store, barely looked at me, haven't said a word." He pauses. "That doesn't seem like nothing to me."

You press your lips together, shifting on your feet. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Okay." He nods slowly. "Then tell me and maybe I can help-"

You sigh. "Jungkook, just drop it."

He pauses.

"I just..." He pauses, looking for the right words to say. "I can tell you're upset and...I don't like seeing you like this."

The weight of his concern presses down on your chest, suffocating. You can't do this right now.

"I said I'm fine." Your voice comes out sharper than intended.

Jungkook lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You always say that."

"Why do you even care so much?"

The words hit him like a slap.

Jungkook blinks at you, taken aback by your sudden hostility. But then, something shifts in his expression, his heart physically breaking in his chest. His hands clench at his sides as he exhales through his nose.

And then, in a voice so quiet it almost doesn't reach you—

"Because I love you."

Your heart stops. Your breath stutters. Your pulse pounds violently in your ears.

Jungkook swallows, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours, practicing laying his entire soul at your feet. His eyes are glossy, his voice thick. "I love you, ___."

It's not loud. Not dramatic. Just honest.

And it terrifies you.

Jungkook takes a step closer, his eyes burning into yours. "I have loved you for such a long time...and I don't care if you try to push me away, or if you pretend like this is just sex, or if you act like what we have isn't real.” His voice wavers slightly, but his gaze doesn't. "Because I know it is."

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs.

You want to believe him. But the ugly, gnawing voice in your head tells you it's only a matter of time before he realizes you're not enough.

"You don’t love me," you whisper, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "You think you do, but you don't."

His brows draw together, his face crumpling. "How can you say that?"

You swallow, blinking back the tears in your eyes. "Because you don't even know me, Jungkook."

His face twists, letting out a bitter scoff. "That's bullshit."

"Is it?" You laugh, but it's hollow and humourless. "You only know the parts of me I let you see! The nice parts. The parts that don't scare you away." Your voice wavers. "But the rest? The ugly, damaged parts? You don't know those. That's the real me, Jungkook. You don't love her."

Jungkook’s chest rises and falls unevenly.

"Then let me. Let me know you...all of you. Let me love the good parts and the bad and everything in between. Let me love you when you're messy and broken, and on the days when you feel like you can't get out of bed. Fuck, I wanna be with you, ___. I want all of you, not just the good parts. I want the pointless fights and the makeup sex after. I want the grocery runs when we run out of your favourite cereal. I wanna drive to work in the same car and then come home and have dinner together. I wanna slow dance with you in the middle of the night in the kitchen with the refrigerator light shining over us. I wanna cuddle and hold your hand in public and tell everyone that you're my girlfriend, because for fuck's sake, ___, I love you."

He's almost breathless by the time he gets it all out.

"Please...give me the chance to love you...please."

His words leave you utterly and completely speechless. You want to allow yourself to be loved by him, but your brain won't allow you to. The thought of experiencing all of that with him and then having it inevitably ripped away is what stops you from telling him you love him too.

"Jungkook...I can't...."

"Why not?"

Because you're terrified. Because Sunghoon made the same promises and still broke them. Because you know that once Jungkook sees the worst of you, he'll leave and it'll hurt, probably worse than it did with Sunghoon.

"I just can't, okay?!" Your voice grows softer. "I can't. You'll regret it."

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "God, why won't you let yourself be loved?"

You've asked yourself that question about a million times before.

Your hands tremble at your sides, your eyes burning, your body screaming at you to run. Then you do the only thing you know how to. You push him away and hurt him before he can hurt you.

"This was never supposed to be anything more than sex," you whisper.

Jungkook stills.

"That's all this ever was, Jungkook."

Jungkook lets out a shaky scoff, but his voice cracks. "You don't mean that."

"I do." You force the words out, your voice shaking.

"Tell me you don't love me back." He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and your breath stutters at the sheer heartbreak in his eyes. "Tell me you feel nothing for me. That this," he gestures between you, "Was never more than just sex to you."

The words are on the tip of your tongue.

Tell him.

Make it easier for him to walk away.

But the truth is lodged so deep in your throat, it physically hurts. And Jungkook sees it.

His face hardens, his jaw clenching. "That's what I thought."

You have no defence, so all you can do is resort back to shutting him out. Literally.

"Just go, Jungkook. It'll just be better for both of us in the long run."

"So that's it? You're just gonna throw this all away?"

You don't respond, looking down at the ground.

His face remains strong, even as the tears begin to fall down his cheeks, and you know you're not strong enough to look at him.

He nods in resignation and silently takes a step back, his sadness written across his face. Then another step. And then he turns to get his phone and his keys and walk to the front door.

Your chest constricts. You should say something. Stop him. Tell him the truth.

But you don't. It'll just be easier this way.

It has to be.

Jungkook turns his head to look back at you, his hand on the door handle, waiting for you to stop him and tell him that you love him. But you don't.

His lips start to part, like he wants to argue, like he wants to fight for you. But he doesn't. He doesn't have it in him anymore.

"I hope one day you'll be able to love yourself the way I love you."

He walks out without another glance back, the door shutting behind him. The second he's gone, you shatter.

It's like your body has locked up, frozen in place as the weight of everything crashes down all at once. Your breath shudders, coming in uneven gasps, your chest rising and falling in jagged movements.

And then, your knees buckle. You sink to the floor, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes, as if that will somehow stop the flood of tears spilling down your cheeks.

Jungkook is gone.

You did this. You pushed him away. That's what you do. You get in your head and sabotage everything good in your life.

A sob rips through you, your shoulders shaking as you fold in on yourself. You don't know how long you stay like that, curled up on the floor, drowning in your own sorrow. Time feels meaningless when all you can hear is Jungkook's voice echoing in your head, over and over again.

He looked so wounded when he told you he loved you. So open and vulnerable. And what did you do? You shut him out. You let your own fear win. Because that's all you are now, a shell of the person you used to be. Afraid and untrusting.

Sunghoon made sure of that.

The memory of him slams into you with brutal force. His voice, his touch, the way he used to hold you at night and tell you he loved you, promising you a lifetime, only to go and stick his dick in another woman.

"I had no choice, ___. You were never around. You put everything and everyone before me."

"I needed someone who actually made me feel like a man."

"You did this to us."

His words haunt you. They never stopped haunting you, no matter how hard you try to run from them. And now, as you sit here, crying on your kitchen floor, you realize that you've been running ever since.

Every step you've taken since that night you caught him has been in fear of being that girl again. The one who gives too much of herself, the one who isn't enough, the one who ends up getting traded in.

That voice in your head tells you that Jungkook would do the same, eventually.

Maybe not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

But one day.

One day, he'd wake up and realize you aren't worth it.

You thought that if you ended it before he got the chance to see how damaged you really are, that would make it hurt less. And yet, the look on his face will forever be engraved in your brain, taunting you, reminding you of the pain you've caused him.

The sobs come harder, your entire body shaking until you can barely breathe. You press your forehead to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut.

And then you feel it, a soft nudge against your leg.

You glance down to see Miso weaving between your ankles, her big eyes looking up at you with confusion and concern. She meows softly, rubbing her head against your shin, as if she can sense that something is wrong.

A broken sob escapes your lips as you scoop her up into your arms. She doesn’t resist, only tucks herself into your chest, her purring serving as a soothing vibration against your skin.

You bury your face into her fur, fresh tears spilling over. "I'm okay, baby," you whisper, though your voice cracks with the weight of the lie. She just stays curled against you, warm and steady, like she's determined to absorb every ounce of your sadness.

You carry her to the couch, curling up with her in your lap, absentmindedly running your fingers through her soft fur. The apartment still smells like Jungkook, his cologne, his warmth, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse.

You don't know how to fix this. You don't even know if you can. But one thing is painfully, devastatingly clear.

You broke two hearts today.

< Part 5 || Part 6.5 >

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reiding-writing · 3 days ago

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who needs a valentine when we have cold!reader and Spencer kissing on the 14th

𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

spencer thinks you’re too reckless sometimes. too impulsive. you don’t exactly prove him wrong.

spencer reid x cold!reader ❅ 3.4k ❅ cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

A/N | and thus, the romance arc begins. the amount of requests for this is so funny 😭

The air is thick with tension as the team moves through the abandoned office, the only sounds the distant creak of shifting metal and the quiet shuffle of boots against concrete.

Flashlight beams slice through the dim light, illuminating dust swirling in the air. The unsub is here. You know it like you know the feeling of a storm coming—an electric charge beneath your skin, a pull in your gut.

Your grip on your gun is steady, but your pulse thrums with anticipation. You keep your breathing measured, sharp eyes scanning the shadowed corners of the room.

The others are moving carefully, methodically, sticking to protocol. Spencer had warned you earlier, voice low but insistent: “Please don’t take unnecessary risks. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

He worries too much. It’s something you’ve come to expect from him, but it gnaws at you differently than when others do it. With Spencer, it’s not condescending or dismissive—it’s genuine. He cares, and that unsettles you more than it should.

Which is exactly why you ignored him.

Movement flickers at the edge of your vision. A shadow slipping through a half-open door at the far end of the warehouse. Your instincts scream at you to move. To act. The others are too far behind; if you wait, the unsub could disappear.

You don’t hesitate.

“Going left,” you mutter into your comms, but you don’t stop to explain further. You slip through the doorway, gun raised, ignoring the sharp crackle of your earpiece as Spencer’s voice comes through.

"Wait— Don’t go in alone—”

But you’re already inside.

The room is colder than the rest of the building, the air thick with the metallic tang of rust and something else—something sharper. It’s nearly pitch dark, the only light filtering in through a broken window near the ceiling. Your heartbeat is steady, controlled, but your muscles coil tight, ready to spring.

A shift. A whisper of movement.

Then—

Pain.

A white-hot sting tears through your side before you fully register what’s happened. Your breath hitches as you stumble back, your free hand instinctively pressing to your ribs. It comes away slick with blood.

Shit.

Your body reacts before your brain catches up. You fire—once, twice—and the gunshots are deafening in the enclosed space. The figure in front of you jerks and collapses, the dull thud of their body hitting the ground barely registering through the rush of blood in your ears.

The room tilts slightly. The pain sharpens. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you, but you grit your teeth and straighten, forcing yourself to stay upright.

Then—footsteps. Fast, urgent.

A second later, Spencer bursts into the room.

“Oh my god— We need a medic in here!”

His voice is tight, breathless, as he skids to a stop in front of you. His eyes, wide with panic, dart from your face to the growing stain on your shirt. And then he’s moving, closing the distance in an instant, dropping to his knees beside you before you can so much as protest.

His hands replace yours, pressing down on the wound, and you hiss at the sharp pressure.

“Jesus, Reid,” you bite out, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge.

“It’s fine,” you grit through clenched teeth, but even you can hear the slight tremor in your voice.

“Fine?” His voice cracks, his breath coming fast, like he’s been running. “You’re bleeding, and you—God, why would you go after him alone?”

You try to roll your eyes, but the action is weaker than you intend. “He’s down, isn’t he?”

Spencer lets out a sharp breath, and you catch the way his jaw clenches, the flicker of something dark and unreadable in his eyes. His fingers press harder against your side, grounding you, keeping you here.

“You could have died—” His voice is lower now, rougher, and it makes something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

You try to scoff, to deflect. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That’s not funny.”

You freeze.

His voice is raw. Unsteady. And when you meet his eyes, you see something there that you don’t want to see—something that makes the air between you feel too heavy, too charged.

You’ve seen Spencer worried before, but this is different. This is something deeper. Something dangerous.

And for a moment, it’s just the two of you.

His hands are warm, firm but careful. He’s so close, close enough that you can see the way his throat bobs as he swallows, the slight tremor in his fingers despite the pressure he’s applying to your wound.

He’s afraid.

Not in the way most people would be. Not in the way someone fears losing a teammate.

It’s different with him.

And that realisation sends something cold through your chest.

You should push him away. Should tell him to back off, that you don’t need him fussing over you like this. But your head is light, and the pain is making you sluggish, and his hands are keeping you steady in a way that you don’t want to think too hard about.

So, for once, you don’t fight it.

Just for a moment.

Then, the rest of the team rushes in, and the fragile thing between you shatters.

—

The hotel room feels too small. Too bright. Too loud.

You shouldn’t be here—you should still be in the hospital, technically—but the second the doctor said you were stable enough for discharge, you signed the damn papers and got out of there.

You don’t do hospitals. They make you feel trapped, restless, like you’re waiting for something to go wrong. So you took the out, ignored the side-eye from the nurse, and made your way back to the hotel with nothing but a few high-grade painkillers and a warning to take it easy.

Right. Like that was going to happen.

Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, stiff and exhausted, you’re starting to regret it. Not because of the pain—you’ve had worse. Not because of the exhaustion—you can push through it.

But because Spencer won’t stop hovering.

He’s been like this since you walked through the door, tracking your every move with sharp, restless eyes. He won’t sit down, won’t even lean against the desk or the wall—he just stands there, pacing slightly, rubbing his fingers together in that nervous habit of his.

And worst of all? He hasn’t stopped talking.

"You can’t keep doing this,” he says again, voice tight. “One day, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

You sigh, forcing yourself to keep your expression blank. Here we go.

“I’m fine,” you say, each word clipped and deliberate. “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point.”

There’s something sharp in his voice now, an edge you don’t hear often. Spencer doesn’t yell—not really—but this is worse. His frustration is controlled, simmering just under the surface, and it makes your skin prickle in a way you don’t like.

“The point,” he continues, stepping closer, hands moving in short, tense gestures, “is that you ran into a room alone, without backup, without knowing what you were up against—”

“I knew enough,” you cut in, irritation flaring.

Spencer lets out a short, incredulous laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Enough? Enough that you got stabbed?”

His voice rises slightly at the end, and you swear there’s something like desperation in it.

You exhale through your nose, gripping the edge of the bed. Breathe. Keep your cool. You don’t want to fight with him.

Except, maybe you do.

Maybe it would be easier to push him away, to make him angry enough to stop looking at you like that—like you matter too much. Like you scared him.

“I got nicked.” you say, your voice flat. “That’s part of the job, Reid. We all take risks.”

“This wasn’t just a risk,” he snaps, eyes flashing with something dangerously close to anger. “It was reckless.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re not my minder, Reid.”

His jaw tightens. His whole body goes tense, like he’s holding something back.

“Then stop making me feel like I have to be—”

The words hit you harder than the knife had.

You inhale sharply, but he doesn’t give you a chance to recover.

“Do you even realise how bad it could have been?” he presses, voice lower now, but no less intense. “How bad it was?”

You clench your jaw.

“I know exactly how bad it was,” you say, quieter now, your voice cold. “I was there.”

But he won’t let it go.

He keeps talking, keeps pushing, listing every single thing that could have gone wrong, every possible outcome that ends with you bleeding out on the floor, and it��s too much.

You can’t breathe past the weight of it.

It’s overwhelming—the concern, the intensity, the way he’s looking at you like you’re something fragile. Like you’re something he can’t lose.

Like you matter.

You don’t want to hear it.

You just want him to stop.

But he just keeps talking.

His voice is insistent, sharp with frustration but frayed at the edges with something softer, something worse. He’s listing probabilities now, rattling off numbers and percentages like they’re supposed to mean something to you.

Like hearing that there was a 42.7% chance of you bleeding out before medics arrived is going to make you rethink everything.

But it’s not the numbers that get to you.

It’s him.

It’s the way his voice wavers, just slightly, like he’s fighting to keep it steady. The way his hands won’t stay still, fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with them. The way his eyes are burning into you, dark and unreadable, except for one thing:

He’s scared.

And you don’t know how to handle that.

The worry in his expression is like a weight on your chest, pressing down hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. It’s too much—his voice, his eyes, the intensity of it all. He won’t stop talking, won’t stop pushing, won’t stop caring—

And you can’t take another second of it.

So you do the one thing that will shut him up.

You kiss him.

It happens so fast, you don’t have time to process it. One second, he’s standing in front of you, mid-sentence, his mouth forming words you don’t want to hear, and then your hands are gripping his face, and your lips are on his, and—

Everything stops.

Spencer goes completely still. Not just still—frozen. His breath catches, his entire body tensing like he’s just been short-circuited.

For the first time since this whole damn argument started, there’s silence.

No words. No numbers. No probabilities.

Just you. And him. And the space where your lips meet.

For a fleeting, desperate second, you think it might actually work. That maybe this is enough to make it stop.

Then, the weight of what you just did slams into you.

Your breath stutters as reality crashes down around you, as you realise that the heat of his skin is real, that his hands have curled slightly at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You pull back abruptly, your fingers slipping from his jaw as you take a step back, your heart hammering against your ribs.

But Spencer doesn’t move.

He just—stares.

Wide-eyed. Breath uneven. Lips parted like he’s trying to form words but can’t quite find them.

Like he doesn’t quite believe it happened.

And the worst part?

You don’t know what the hell to do next.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, too loud in your ears, and every instinct in your body is screaming at you to retreat, to put the walls back up and pretend nothing happened. Pretend it was just some mistake, some impulsive thing you did in the heat of the moment.

It was just a kiss, right?

That’s what you’ll tell yourself. That’s what you have to tell yourself.

Your fingers tremble as you step back, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You can already feel the walls sliding back into place, the emotional armour rising to shield you from whatever this is. From the mess you just created.

You weren’t supposed to care this much about Spencer. You weren’t supposed to let yourself get wrapped up in him—not when your instincts always screamed at you to push people away, to keep things simple, to keep yourself safe. But now, standing here in the wake of your impulsive decision, you feel anything but safe.

And that terrifies you.

But before you can finish shoving the walls back up, before you can even start to deflect or pretend it didn’t mean anything—he moves.

It’s almost too fast, a blur of motion that catches you off guard. One second, you’re standing there, heart still hammering, and the next, Spencer is right there in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that pins you to the spot.

You barely have time to think before he closes the distance again and kisses you—again.

But this time, it’s different.

This kiss is slow, deliberate. It’s not impulsive, not reactionary, not a desperate attempt to silence the chaos between you.

This time, it’s a choice. His choice.

His lips move against yours with purpose, as though he’s trying to tell you something with every brush of his mouth, something he couldn’t say before. Something you’re too scared to hear.

And for a second, you want to pull away. You want to tell him this was a mistake, that you don’t have time for this, for the complication, for the mess that’s swirling between you both. But your body won’t listen to your mind. It won’t let you run this time.

Instead, you lean into it.

You let your hands reach for him, sliding up his chest to rest against his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath the fabric of his shirt. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a sinking feeling that you’re not pulling away because you don’t want this—you’re pulling away because you do.

Because you knew. You knew this was inevitable.

This moment, this connection, this tension between you both that’s been building for so long, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in every glance, in every touch that lingered a second too long.

You’ve both ignored it, buried it under layers of professional distance, under the constant chatter and the mission-driven focus that keeps you moving forward.

But it doesn’t work anymore.

You can’t ignore it anymore.

And as his lips press against yours, as you finally, fully allow yourself to feel what’s been there all along, you realise that there’s no going back from this.

The world feels like it’s holding its breath as you separate, suspended in the space between you both. Neither of you speaks for a long, heavy moment.

There’s a tension now, a thick, unspoken understanding that pulses between you, a thread that has always been there, but now it’s too palpable to ignore. You can’t pretend like it’s not there anymore.

His hands are still on you, a soft warmth, but not quite enough to distract from the fire that lingers in the air. His fingertips hover at your waist, just shy of touching, as though he’s afraid if he holds you too tightly, something will break—something more than the fragile tension that’s just been shattered.

You’re still so close. So close to something you’re not sure you can name.

You pull away slowly, reluctantly, when your body reminds you of the injury. It’s a sharp, jarring pain—nothing too severe, but enough to make your muscles protest, enough to make you wince and break the moment.

You’re trying to hide it, but the slight catch in your breath gives you away. Spencer’s gaze sharpens immediately, eyes flicking down to your side, where the bandage is just barely visible under your shirt.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice quieter now, as if he’s finally realising the full weight of the situation. His hand moves to your elbow, guiding you carefully down to the bed, but not without a lingering touch. His fingers brush against your skin just a little too long, a quiet caress that makes your pulse spike again.

You sit down with a soft sigh, the sharp throb in your side a welcome distraction from the mess of feelings still swirling inside you. You try to focus on your breathing, but Spencer is still standing there, just a few inches away, looking at you like you’ve just cracked the universe wide open.

Your eyes meet, and his expression is a mix of something you can’t quite place—concern, sure, but there’s something else there. Something that burns hotter, deeper, just beneath the surface.

He doesn’t speak at first. He just watches you, like he’s waiting for you to do something. Maybe waiting for you to tell him this was a mistake, or to push him away again, or to tell him it didn’t mean anything.

But you don’t say anything. Neither of you do.

And then, as if testing the weight of the silence between you, he speaks your name—just your name, soft and careful, like he’s unsure of how to even say it after everything that’s happened.

It’s barely a whisper, like he’s afraid of what will happen if he says it too loudly. Or maybe he’s just unsure of what to do with the name now that it’s hanging in the air, heavy with the implications of everything you’ve just shared.

You swallow hard, eyes flicking away from his, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself. The walls you’d worked so hard to put up feel like they’ve crumbled, but you’re too proud—or too scared—to admit it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes tracing the line of your jaw, as though trying to gauge how much of you is still the same, how much has shifted.

You don’t answer right away.

Instead, you look at him, at the softness in his expression, the way he’s waiting for you to tell him what happens next. And in that moment, it’s impossible to pretend this didn’t happen, that things are just fine, that the walls you’ve so carefully built around yourself are still in place.

Because they’re not.

This—whatever this is—is real. And it’s not going away.

So you exhale, steadying yourself, and look back at him, finally allowing yourself to face what’s there between you. “Yeah,” you say, voice quiet, but steady. “I’m okay, I’m fine—”

But whatever happens next, there’s one thing you know for sure:

You can’t pretend this didn’t happen.

Not when everything between you has shifted so suddenly, so irrevocably. Not when you’re feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been in your life, and the weight of Spencer’s gaze is both comforting and terrifying.

“I think I need to lie down,”

“Yeah—” Spencer nods a little too quickly, hesitating before helping you under the sheets. “Yeah of course, I’ll uh— come and check on you in a few hours,”

You press your lips together, the phantom sensation of his still present. “Thanks,”

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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fangel · 1 day ago

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YVE !! ♡ my angel, your feedback means more than all the stars in the sky ଘ꒰ ॣ´͈ ᵕ `͈ ॣ꒱ଓ i’m going to scream with you under the cut

starting with the synopsis alskdwlmzap i mean who doesn’t see sunghoon and #WantThat ?! i fear he wouldn’t leave a room with me in one piece

as an evil, weird, off putting girl myself i had to represent !! she was so easy to write bc i was half self-inserting during this story 😭 i love her idc ! she never did wrong !!

m*n are rotten, and i wholeheartedly agree that 100 random m*n should be sacrificed monthly. honestly, put them all in jail to start until deemed worthy of being free ! ~ the father / reverend is the true evil here. absolute terrible man (but necessary for the plot) i love how you dragged him every chance you got LMAO he deserves all the hate “it’s time for you to die” IJBOL, so real

it was hitting real close to home while writing ㅠㅠ and you’re so right - she wasn’t born resilient, she had to become resilient because of the environment she grew up in !! and omg your comments about her made me realize how sad and angsty this story is (i didn’t even think it was that depressing while writing but ohmygod it really is ajskakf)

NOT THE “it’s nice to be seen, noticed” being a theme in my works 😭 am i exposing myself ?!? (yes)

sidenote — I LOVE ALL THE LIL MEMES AND GIFS SO MUCH HAHA the debby ryan ones always get me

i live love laugh when one of the love interests is a lil scared. yes, fear me, i love you but am also out to get you (in many ways, this adds to the mystery hehe) likkkke sunghoon doesn’t know what to do with all that !! … or does he?

THANK YOU! i pride myself in my weird creativity and no it’s not weird, it just means you’re a Real One. be giddy and excited !!!

you’re freaky comments kslakdpalb #REAL

soooo much religious trauma in this story. i’m the biggest nerd when it comes to theology and religious media (i honestly don’t know why, i don’t love or hate religion and im not religious (anymore), but something about it i’m always itching to write). i think it’s perfect for wanting to write about a relationship dealing with unlearning shame and guilt etc idk ! you get it? yeah, you do

reader is 100000% projecting her feelings / trauma onto him. she doesn’t even realize that until later and how ironically she kind of was acting like her father in a way. and you’re on the money again ! she does like ruining sunghoon and having power over something but eventually realizes she likes the company much more after being alone most her life

omg ty ily for loving my ‘evil’ mc :( 🤍 she’s so complex and so very human. loved how you described her because that’s exactly how i wanted her to come across. yeah she’s a little mean but how can we blame her 😔

NO YOU ARE CORRECT !!! jake in HoP is also jake from attic angel. just them as college students (tbh i don’t remember all my details from attic angel, but i did want him to make a cameo here so yes this is my multiverse)

FATHERLESS BEHAVIOR ! i screamed. but sunghoon is sooooo cute. i had to bring the babygirl hoon agenda to light bc he’s so sweet and loser boy coded to me

YES THE TEDDY BEAR SCENE it’s actually my favorite part of the whole story 😭 because she’s finally opening up to him and being somewhat vulnerable. tender intimate moments >> anything else. I LOVE SLOW BURN, AND I MEANT IT !! before writing on this account angst and slow burn was always my go to :)) also the blood oath scene is one of my favs. it was supposed to be longer but was lazy lol

(i have to reply to the comment, sorry not sorry) but i had to gut you open to blow on the boo-boos </3 i needed that fluff to feel extra rewarding after the angst

IM SOOOO HAPPY you feel this was made for you because it was !! it really truly was. you’re more than likely a lot like me and this story was a love letter to all the people that the world made me feel small. we are seen and we can and will be loved just as tenderly as we wish regardless of how negative we feel about ourselves or what others think, etc 🤍 (i swear i have no cameras watching you!! unless.. JK)

NOT YOU CALLING ME OUT ABOUT THE ROOMS HAHA college boys are truly a mess, you got me there. i remember my guy friends dorms and it was horrid. sunghoon would never tho..

i could reply to everything you said (i totally did out loud to myself while giggling and kicking my feet with a fat grin) but i’ll end with THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO READ MY STORY AND EVEN MAKE COMMENTS WITH ALL THE PICTURES AND WHAT NOT IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME HOW YOU PUT EFFORT INTO YOUR RESPONSES. I LOVE YOU SO BAD AND ITS BC YOU I ENJOY WRITING AND SHARING MY WORK EVEN MORE <3 !!!!!!! may the most tender, kind, and warm love find you.

harvest of purity — sunghoon [ 박성훈 ]

pairing ⦂ sunghoon ⨯ fem. reader

synopsis ⦂ au in which an innocent, shy, and faithful sunghoon takes a summer job as a farmhand. he’s never indulged on his desires until the farmer’s daughter shows him a taste of sin. although riddled with guilt, he cannot deny or escape the new rousing feelings that impurify him. especially when she's set on ruining him every chance she gets.

genre ⦂ smut, slow burn romance, strangers to lovers word count ⦂ 29k tags ⦂ fluff and angst, repressed desires, innocence loss, guilt and shame, exploring relationships, falling in love, southern gothic vibes, summer au, clingy down bad sunghoon, ‘mean’ morally gray reader, both are weirdo loser freaks content advisory ⦂ mdni ! dark-ish content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content in four scenes: handjob, oral (m. rec.), dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption!kink, degradation!kink, praise!kink, switch!hoon, he whines whimpers and cries; religious themes, concepts, corruption, and criticism; manipulation, animal death, blood, intense scenes, abusive parenting, gun mention and use

note ⦂ poured my heart out. i hope you love it as much as i do. dedicated to my other evil, off-putting, and/or weird girls┊reblogs and feedback encouraged ⇀ playlist ⸝⸝ masterlist 🌾

　You’re not sure what life in your small town was like before you were born. You can imagine it’s not too different from what it is now though. The thing about old country towns is they never seem to change. Open fields and miles of farmland. Two gas stations, one grocery store, a few family owned vegetable stands or in-home produce product shops. Only one notable neighborhood where the majority of the townspeople lived if not hidden somewhere else in the countryside. And too many churches to keep track of if the abandoned ones were included in the count.

You like to think your parents were happy before you too. Hopeful and optimistic when offered to take over your uncle’s farm. Excited for the next step in their relationship after their marriage. They were the ideal family dream coming to life: high school lovers, engaged after graduation, married, a career handed to them through family with a large property of land and lovely farmhouse. All that was left was to grow that family. To have children to not only help tend the fields and animals but run around barefoot, all smiles, and wide eyed.

You were positive that it was something they wanted.

But life couldn’t have been that easy for them; it would’ve been too gratuitous of a blessing.

The day you were born, your father knew there was something greatly wrong with you. He claimed that on the day you ripped your mother open, screaming and crying, that God spoke to him for the first time. He called it divine intervention. Believing the birth of your soul was a red-herring of all that was set to come but God would show him the light, the truth: that you were nothing short of evil and needed saving.

That year on the farm there was nothing but death. It only furthered your father’s harsh thinking of you. The crops and produce either died or rotted before it had the chance to grow or ripe. The animals were dropping dead from unknown illnesses. Every female livestock that gave birth passed in doing so. Barely any profits were made that year. Taxes were rising and so were the prices of nearly everything. It was a huge toll for your family, especially when raising their first child. Before you were even conscious of the situation everything was already deemed your fault.

Through the harrowing struggle, your father’s optimism turned to resentment. He claimed that bringing you to the farm was not like bringing a daughter home, but a corrosive parasite. He believed that you were the reason for the life being sucked away from their perfect farm life. So, he turned to the only thing that he could trust to save the family from your curse: God. Begging and pleading through prayers every morning and night to the sky for a better season.

He studied religion here and there before taking over his brother-in-law's farm but with the farm failing for the first time, he took a change of career paths. He was already well known among the locals, close with the church goers in the community. And somewhere along the way, he managed to start preaching himself. Nearly every christian in your town moved churches to follow where he went. Like sheep to a shepherd.

If only they knew what you did, what he was truly like behind the closed doors of your home. How his devotion was turning to violence. Day by day, becoming uglier.

While your father busied himself with his new found family, often away from home on the farm, the crops and animals began to thrive again. Slowly but surely, growing and regaining health. He would say it’s God’s doing, a small taste of His salvation.

Your early years were mostly troubled by the relationship of your parents. Too young to fully understand their disputes, drawing at the kitchen table with their yelling sounding the house. It was always about you, that much you knew. Because you watch and you listen. Quick to learn that they tried for another child but never had any success. They wanted someone else to be their baby. Something that felt more like a blessing than you. Your father constantly spitting in your mother’s face that you were the rot to the fruit of her womb. And then he would always end up leaving by slamming the door and your mother would always join you at the table with tears and a bottle of wine. You always just watched, listening in silence. Perhaps just born resilient.

Growing up was different for you compared to most of the kids in your town. You never had the opportunity to make many friends being homeschooled. The only time that was spent around others your age was kindergarten. Kindergarten was short lived because of your behavior; the teachers at school were concerned about you. How you were mean, rough, and sinister with your actions towards others. Picking on the kids you were simply interested in because of how different from you they were. Drawing pictures of gutted cattle or dead, half developed baby chicks still in their shell and giving them as gifts to the teachers. Sharing to classmates the cruelty of farm life and why it was pretty with a smile.

Your father loved to find out about this, you could see it in his eyes. The way they were wicked and screamed I told you so to your mother. You didn’t understand why it was bad or caused trouble. You were only having fun for the first time. The way the kids ran away crying or the teachers wore faces of shocked horror, it made your insides light up in joy. A new feeling—a sense of excitement. You didn’t know it was sick. And of course, it was taken from you. You were removed from school and your mother became your teacher. Your classmates became stuffed animals and the real ones in the barns. It was hard for you to find that joy you briefly felt with others.

Sometimes you had a glimpse of it again when your father would punish you. But even that you grew sick of. The mess, the stench of it all. Sticky and red, worse in the heat of summer. He drilled the sick moto for his actions into your head, “I know no punishment, only mercy.”

Father took you both to church more often after that. He had a false image to uphold afterall, one of a happy, God loving family. In his ego he had to prove that his preaching and prayers could fix you, save you. But that was only admitted at home, loud and scary to your mother. Your poor mother, weak and defensive of you, eventually waved her white flag. You wished she kept fighting for you and that she wouldn’t begin to see you the way your father did.

Childhood and adolescence was a string of questions about yourself. Never quite finding out what made you so bad to be seen as devilish when all you thought of yourself was curious. Perhaps just unlucky to be correlated with negative happenings on and off the farm, always gone without a chance of understanding. Despite it all, you knew well enough the way your parents talked and looked at you was without unconditional love.

On your 17th birthday, the family dynamic made the biggest shift to be experienced.

At this age, you had such a strong sense of independence and with the lack of parental guidance and monitoring, you would leave town when you could. Ride your bike down the long road to the bus stop at the center of town and take the bus into the city over. Your mother was generous with allowance and you saved your money well, only spending it on books or trips to the movie theater. A form of escape that allowed you to learn more about the world and all the things your parents tried to keep hidden from you. A way to learn how to be human.

So when your father was tearing your room apart in search of the same gift he re-gifts you every year, he found some things that made his stomach churn. Every year for your birthday he rewrapped the same, first ever, bible he’d given you. Funny enough that he gave you anything at all considering he never even referred to it as your day, only his day of revelation. And to his disgust, on his sacred day, he found books and journals of explicitly detailed copulation and debauchery.

He almost fainted. Stumbling over his own feet, hands shaking as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words on the pages. That was the only time you smiled on that day. Just for a second. And then a glimpse of hell broke loose.

In a rage, he destroyed everything. Your mother stood next to you in tears, telling him to stop and stop. Her hands covered her face but she saw everything through her fingers. You only watched in silence, hands balled in fists by your side. A silent hatred and anger coursed in you. He called you names that no man of God should, especially to his own daughter.

“You’re a disgraceful deviant of Satan! I should’ve known. My own day of revelation is a curse!” You watched him rip pages apart, his voice booming through the house. “Years spent praying for you and this is how you turn out?! Succumbing to nothing but a dreaming whore?!”

A part of you liked his mean words. It was so rare for him to use such colorful language.

You knew what would come next. He was going to have you ‘cleansed’. Something he always did when he discovered something new and sacrilegious of you.

But it didn’t come. Because there was no dying, old sheep on the farm at the time. He did make a promise to not forget though. A promise to have you washed in sacrificial, blessed blood on a day you least expected.

Your father left after that, leaving you and your mother behind. He moved to the city to continue his preaching at a larger church. He became known as the closest reverend to God for miles and miles. Lost in his ways, he only made visits when he needed to sort things out for the business of the farm.

You were content with his departure, yet couldn’t quite understand why your mother missed him. As far as you’ve seen, he was never kind towards either of you.

　But now, it’s several years later. And although you’re free of your father’s heavy presence and homilies, he still makes his trips to the farm. You can feel the air change whenever he does, as if you’ve gained a sixth sense for his coming. Naturally intuitive to things having spent your childhood walking on eggshells in your own home.

And today, the air feels particularly chill for summer. The breeze sweeps in through your open window. The forecast called for nothing but sunshine all week, yet there’s an angry, dark cloud hanging over your farm. A foreboding feeling shivers through you, and you know he’s going to fulfill his promise today. You sigh and slide out of bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

You spend the morning doing your usual routine. Brushing teeth, washing your face, then dressing in farm work attire. Your breakfast consists of tea and your mothers homemade strawberry scone. Next is tending to the animals. Your mother usually takes care of the crops and gardening. It’s a quiet and early morning, as most are. The both of you keep to yourselves, just doing what needs to be done day by day.

The sound of a car is heard coming down to the long dirt road and you know who it is by the sound. It’s a fancier vehicle than the one he left this property with years ago. A meaner part of you likes to think his greedy hands got into that mega church’s donations but you’re too self aware of the successful farm your family owns.

Your father parks in front of the house and your mother is quick to rush over to him, presumably with many questions: How have you been? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What brings you here so early in the month?

You roll your eyes at her desperation to cling onto the relationship that clearly ended when you were a child.

You place a hand on your hip, leaning your weight to the side that isn’t carrying the heavy bucket of chicken feed. Walking away from the coops and back towards the shed by the house, you make eye contact with your father despite only taking a glance.

He watches you with narrow eyes from the lowered window of the car he’s still sitting in, very much not listening to a word your mother is saying.

He calls your name before you can open the shed. Spinning on the heels of your boots, you turn around with raised brows of questioning.

He mouths the words sacrificial tree as he exits the car. Your mother sees this. She wears pained disappointment as she scurries away. Presumably to the barn where the sheeps and lambs are kept. She might as well be a sheep too, you think.

The bucket slips from your fingers and drops to the patchy dirt grass by your feet with a thud, spilling over in a mess that will be cleaned later.

You don’t bother giving him a nod of understanding. You just turn around and begin your walk to the tree line where the man made path is. Knowing it would take some time for his preparations, you walk to the lake that’s hidden behind the farmland.

It’s a brief walk through your familiar woods. Once at the short wooden dock, you sit down at the end, taking in the gloomy summer scenery. A light fog hugs over the water. You bring your knees to your chest, in your sitting position, and hug yourself the same way.

This is your favorite place out of all the land your family owns. It’s serene, mostly. Always quiet. You’re the only one who comes here. And it’s nice to swim with when the weather warrants it. There’s a feeling here that’s hard to feel anywhere else you find yourself. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like with someone else, but you doubt it would be as nice. Trouble has a way of following you, it seems. You frown at the thought.

It’s silent like this for a few minutes, just you trying to find a sense of calmness before the impending chastisement. Then you hear some rustling of leaves, heavy footsteps following. You don’t turn around yet, you only wait for the call of your name. Your time of tranquility is too brief. You sigh before giving yourself a squeezing hug.

“It’s time,” the reverend calls out loudly, “quickly now, we have new farmhands arriving soon.” The sound of his feet walking away is when you stand. You wave a goodbye to the foggy lake before parting ways. Your feet move unconsciously, taking to where your body knows to go.

Leaves crinkle underneath your boots and twigs snap. The trees’ branches sway in the gentle morning breezes that pass.

In the mix of the small forest, man made crosses of sticks or plywood are spaciously scattered. Like a graveyard to all your bad doings. Most small but one large. Old rotted wood that stands crooked and begging to fall over right next to the largest, strongest tree. Your eyes, that are trained to ground, move upwards the cross and then to the tree. Your father stands there with a large knife in hand. Your mother waits cautiously not too far away. Her demeanor is frightful as if this is the first time. Coward.

An old sheep hangs by its hind legs from a sturdy tree branch. Unmoving and defenseless. Big beady, dumb eyes look in all directions but you. You think it must feel the same guilt as yourself, sorry that its life purpose is to embarrass you, make you hate what you are.

“God told me to make a sacrifice to prove my faith. He guides my hand in washing your soul clean of sin. So here I am with our blessed, dying lamb.” He’s said this every time. His voice is always miserably rehearsed and preacher-esque.

You thought long ago that this was their, the lambs, only use on the farm. It’s a shame. All that devotion has made him so ugly and violent.

You make small steps closer to the lamb. It’s whining in bleat baas and mehs. Does it know what’s happening? Is it scared? You like the lambs, sheeps. Pure white, soft, and docile. They never fight back. They just take it. I doubt they need restraints. You could hold them above me just the same and they’d never resist.

“Move faster, for the love of God. Yeah, stand right there underneath like you know how to.” He instructs you, annoyed. His patience running thin as the distant sounds of a truck makes way down the dirt road to the farm property.

“Okay…” You don’t fight him, with arms crossed behind your back and a hand squeezing around your own wrist, you move closer. Maybe you’re a lamb too.

Maybe all your father really was is the executioner.

He raises the knife as he begins to speak, it slides over its cotton, white throat but does not cut, “Revelation 7:13-17 Then he told me, ‘These are those who come from the great tribulation, and they’ve washed their robes, scrubbed them clean in the blood of the Lamb. That’s why they’re standing before God’s Throne. They serve him day and night in his Temple. The One on the Throne will pitch his tent there for them: no more hunger, no more thirst, no more scorching heat. The Lamb on the Throne will shepherd them, will lead them to spring waters of Life. And God will wipe every last tear from their eyes.’” He slits its throat in a quick, harsh movement. The blood spills just as fast, squirting spurts of red before it comes pouring down onto you. “Face up,” you obey even though it brings you rage, “it ought to cleanse those unholy thoughts I know that are still in there.”

Head raised to the sky with eyes and mouth squeezed shut, you let it consume you. Warm, thick and wet washes down from your head onto your clothes then down to your feet. The smell of animal, metallic iron covers you. It’s sticking to your hair, eyebrows and lashes. You can already feel your clothes clinging to your skin in the dirtiest ways.

You stand there, drenching in the its blood. Your father speaks again, firm and slow, “Say it with me now, ‘I know no punishment, only mercy.’” All you feel is the animal’s rain of life flooding you.

You open your mouth to speak but are quick to spit and cough out the blood that manages to get into your mouth. Smack.

“I don’t have time for this,” his voice sounds like an echo, your head is ringing from the harsh swing of his hand. The skin of your cheek stings. He hits like a bitch, you think. “Say it with me now, dammit!” You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt.

You step back from under the red shower. “I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your words align with his in the perfect paced harmony you’re trained to do so. Enunciated, slow and strong, through gritted teeth.

There’s a beat of silence before the sound of your parents footsteps walking away.

Standing there in red, yet to open your eyes, you breathe out a shaky sigh of defeat. It sounds more like a growl. With the mostly clean hands you kept safely behind you, you bring them up to wipe the blood from your face. You don’t dare to look at the dead animal in front of you. Being covered in it is enough alone to make you feel sick.

You think of going back to the lake, jumping in and letting the blood wash off you there, but knowing you’d either walk back with further drenched clothes or naked didn’t seem like options you wanted to deal with either. So you just head back to the house. It’s a slower walk than need be, but you just felt like avoiding the eyes of the newcomers, hoping they’d be off in the fields or in a barn by the time you walk through. You feel numb.

You’re wrong though, by the time you’re passing the barns and coops, the group of new farmhands are already lined up outside the horses’ stable. Your mother is talking to them, although not all are paying attention. Only a few pairs of wide eyes follow you. Catching the sight of you must really shock them but you can’t blame them. Something about this makes you excited. You stop in your tracks and look around to see if your father’s car is gone. It is. The realization feels like a wave of relief and it suddenly feels brighter outside already.

You take a glance down to your disheveled appearance. Shirt, pants, and boots painted like the barns. You look back to the group, brushing the soiled hair back from your face. Some pieces stay stuck, in the early stages of drying against your skin.

It’s safe to have a little fun.

You begin a slow walk over to the group. You take a headcount and there’s five of them. Two younger men, closer to your age. The other three look a bit older, not by much but definitely older. Your mother is yet to turn around from whatever rundown she’s giving them. Too dense to even recognize that now none of them were paying any attention to her.

You creep up beside her and open with, “Hello,” your voice is louder than even you’ve heard it be in a long time. It’s nice to be heard, noticed. You usually avoided the farmhands, but this summer was going to be different. You decided this on the walk over.

Being cooped up on the farm for so long made you different, it’s obvious to anybody. Not properly socialized in your developmental years caused you to be an anomaly to the ones who did come across you. Enigmatic from far away and up close. Now isn’t the greatest example though, the situation is too clear as to why.

Your mother turns to you, gasping and jumping back slightly in the shock of your gross state and sudden introduction. “My goodness, girl, whatta ya doin’ here like this?” Her voice is hushed, clearly unsettled with the situation.

They all just stare at you, open mouthed and bewildered. You take the time to get a good look at each of them up close. Your eyes follow their faces individually down the line. And then they stop.

At the end of the line is a man more beautiful than the ones you’ve seen in the movies. You feel stuck in time, left with parted lips, staring at the man before you. And far too intently for your character. He stands tall, sharp, pale, and elegant. What is a boy like this doing here? He averts his eyes from you, clearly uncomfortable by what’s before him. He looks uneasy, shifting his weight foot to foot with his hands behind his back. His pretty eyes glance around from you to your mother to the other men and the ground. He simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find it dangerously darling of him.

You don’t even realize the small smile that takes your lips. You step closer to him and he steps back, now looking at you with wide eyes of small fear. You extend your hand to him, it’s coated in drying blood. He gulps and the sight, his adam’s apple bobbing in such a biteable neck stirs something in you. This will be far more fun than you intended.

You say your name softly for introduction and step a little closer, “Nice to meet you," you feign cuteness as much as you can, looking up at him through your blood clumped lashes. It’s clear to everyone there is something off; there’s little to no real emotion behind your voice and face.

Your mother eyes you suspiciously as you corner the handsome man, but she says nothing. Sometimes she fears you too.

He looks from your eyes to your hand, having an internal battle with himself on what to do, “Ah, I am Sunghoon... Nice to meet you too.” His politeness must be stronger than his frighteness, because he takes his hand in yours and shakes it gently. His hand is large in yours, nearly covering it entirely. You squeeze it hard, your eyes never leaving his, trapping him in the scene.

He wants to look away, to hide somewhere. The way his skin crawls tells him he’s a prey already in the mouth of a predator. And you know he’s nervous under your intense gaze because your hand feels like a lamb is still bleeding above you. His palms are sweating, and it’s nowhere near hot enough for that yet. Your smile grows to a smirk.

Although you’re wearing the lamb, having Sunghoon’s hand in yours made you feel like a wolf.

　Sunghoon’s first day of his summer job starts off duller than he imagined. The sun isn’t out this morning and it only intensifies his anxiousness, as if the grey skies reflect his inner emotions. He’s already new to the area, away from home and staying in an apartment not far from his college in the city. A private, christian school that he studied hard to get into with his friend. He wishes his best friend and roommate, Jake, was joining him in this job, but Jake already had plans to teach at a summer soccer camp for kids through their school.

He found this opportunity through the college church they attend together. A reverend from another church in the city came to visit one Sunday, handing out flyers to the young men in hopes of finding farm help. The pay is good and the bus fairs to the small town over where the farm’s located is covered. He’s never done work like it before, nevertheless was he going to let a simple offer pass him up.

Things are going smoothly to start, being told how to care for, clean, and feed the animals to crop preservation. Everyone would have their own specific roles on the farm. Sunghoon was assigned the easier of the tasks, either feeding animals or watering and fertilizing the vegetables and fruits crops. He learns there are already regular farm workers that would come throughout the week to collect produce, material, and use the machinery for the more laborious work. And if she wasn't around when needed then they could ask any of the regular employees for assistance or find her at the house.

As the farm owner is about to give details on the horses’ maintenance, a girl saunters in. And the anxious feelings become of Sunghoon all over again. His eyes are wide, taking in her appearance. The smell of the farm dissipates and putrid copper takes over. The worst part is how calm she appears, and the fact that she’s unbothered with all that she wears.

He thinks his brain short circuits, everything seeming muffled and unreal. He doesn’t even realize he introduced himself or touched her. It all was too quick and unfamiliar for him to grasp.

He watches as she walks away, back to the house that sits slightly over the hills and valleys of the property. His expression is blank, blinking slowly at the strange girl then down to his hand that’s stained red too.

“Don’t pay her no mind,” the woman speaks up, she sounds as if she’s warning them. “Just get yer work done and when everyone’s finished y’all can head back home. I won’t ask too much of ya in yer first month here, alright? That might be a different story later.” She tries to end the statements in humor with her forced laugh.

Sunghoon nods but his eyes don’t leave his dirty hand. The other men nod along too and give their ‘yes, ma’ams’ in return.

The woman continues walking them around the farm, listing rules and guidelines they must follow, along with advice and tips for the work they’ll be doing.

The day flows as easy as it can for Sunghoon. He doesn’t talk much with the other farmhands. He also doesn’t know them well enough to be comfortable in their conversations, so he just exists in awkward silence, sometimes reacting. While they can joke around and find fun in the work, his mind keeps wandering off to the girl from earlier, to you. How your empty eyes held onto his and small hand even tighter. He thinks the palm of his hand still burns from the interaction.

Around the afternoon time, Sunghoon and the guys are sitting around a picnic table near the house. The sun is beating down on them all now while they chug down water and eat their lunch. The owner was kind enough to provide their refreshments and meals. They were all thankful.

She adds that there’s a small lodge up the dirt road. It’s a little old but homey and has space with two spare bedrooms if they need to wash up or rest at any time. It was originally built for the farm workers that worked late and needed a place to stay if need be.

Once done, the boys stand up and talk about what they have left to do. The next bus back to the city isn’t running for another two hours so they speak of taking some leisure time and exploring the farm property. Meanwhile Sunghoon is still sitting, watching them huddled in conversation. He wipes some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as they begin walking towards the fields.

Sunghoon, taking what the farm owner had mentioned previously, decides that he’d like to stay inside to get away from the beating sun for a while. So he gathers his trash to throw away in the bin by the road near the house’s mailbox and begins his walk to the lodge.

Once inside he takes in the rustic, outdated furniture. It’s a little dusty and the floorboards creak beneath his feet but he finds it somewhat comforting. The living space has two couches by an old stone fireplace, a center table with board games and cards, a kitchenette, and a large dining table with enough space to seat six people.

The decor is very farmers-life-esque. From a cow print rug in the small kitchen area to the antlers mounted on the wall near the dining table. There’s scenic southern paintings hung up along with antique crosses and prints of bible verses, all adoring the faded and peeling floral wallpaper. Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Jesus healing a blind man.

He walks down the only short hall in the lodge to find the two spare bedrooms the woman had mentioned along with a bathroom. He takes this time to wash his hands thoroughly and splash some cold water on his face. With his hands resting on the sink, he stares at himself in the mirror. The cold drops of water slip down his face, jaw, and back into the sink.

In his mind he’s questioning whether or not he’s sure of this job. It’s all too different from what he knows and he can’t help but feel out of place here. With a sigh, he drops his head and watches the water slip down the sink.

He jumps slightly at the sudden sound of the front door opening and closing, not expecting the others to join him here quite yet. No noise follows the action for a moment, not even footsteps. Then there’s the sound of a click, like the door is being locked. He straightens his posture and peaks out the bathroom door, listening for their voices or any sound other than silence. It offers nothing to him so he begins to feel tense.

“Hello?” Sunghoon calls out skittishly, but there’s no response. His heart rate picks up a little and he starts to think the boys are trying to pull some sort of childish prank on him. He leaves the room and makes slow steps down the hallway to the main area of the lodging house.

As he rounds the corner he doesn’t find any of the boys there though, he just sees you. His heart jumps at the realization. Sitting on the couch, in overall shorts and nothing else. Bare legs crossed and hands against the couch by your sides as you watch him peer around the corner with apprehension. You’re just sitting there, leaning forward and waiting for him to come find you.

Cowardly, Sunghoon makes a half turn. He presses his back against the wall of the hallway as if he could hide away or disappear into it. He even closes his eyes, thinking of a quick prayer to save him from this circumstance.

“Are you pretending to be shy or are you really this cute?” Your voice is teasing, and he can hear the wicked smile in it without seeing.

Feeling caught, he just sighs and slowly makes his way to the living area. He tries not to look at you, thinking you are too revealing. So he looks everywhere else and then to large windows that give view to the farm; none of the guys are in sight. Most likely somewhere goofing off. All he can see is the fields and farm buildings standing large in the distance.

He doesn’t move and speaks softly, “I should probably go find the others-”

You speak before he can finish his attempt of an excuse, “Come sit with me.” You pat the space on the couch next to yourself. Your voice sounds welcoming but he knows there’s an undertone of mischief.

He makes a quick glance to you and sucks in a breath at the view of your body that’s exposed from your overalls. The glimpse of the curve of your breast disappearing under the denim already makes him feel like he’s seen too much of you. And he has. He’s never seen such bare skin on a girl and he’s never been alone in a room with one either.

“Come sit with me, now.” You’re more stern this time, demanding in a gentle way. Your hand makes small movements, soothing over the material of the couch like you’re warming the space for him.

He visibly swallows as he makes his hesitant steps over to you. His heart is racing and with every beat there is a question of his strength. He sits down on the same sofa but not directly next to you like you want. You smirk nonetheless and turn to face him, sitting with your legs criss-cross now.

With your elbows to your knees you hold your head in your hands, watching the side of his face. You’re again realizing how sculpted his features are. Dark thick hair on his head, eyebrows and lashes too. An array of moles sprinkle his pale face. A sharp nose that sits above pink, full lips. You wonder if he knows of his own beauty. It’s fascinating to see such a person like him in front of you.

He’s sitting with perfect posture, not relaxing into the couch. Alert like a deer that’s waiting for too sudden of movement to pounce away. His eyes just watch the table, reading through the names of the board games that lay there as a way of distracting himself. He’s awkward.

“Uhm… d-does your family own this farm?” he tries for small talk to break the silence. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he makes one quick look over to you. Luckily your overalls sit high up or he’d have a full view of your chest. He can’t help but think of the fact and it makes him shift uncomfortably.

“Do I make you nervous?” you question, seriously so. Brows pulled tight in a furrow with a straight face. You lean in even closer to him, watching for every change on his face.

“Yes,” his response is honestly quick and ends with a tight lip, like he’s holding his breath. He is yet to comprehend what is happening, still in a whirlwind of thoughts of what could—will—happen.

“Why?” Your head tilts slightly to the side, it makes him think of his roommate briefly. And man does he wish he were here to ease the tension.

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s never been in such close proximity with a girl alone before, so he just clears his throat and remains quiet after doing so.

Curiously, you bring a hand up with a pointed finger and brush the tip of it over the mole on the side of his nose. He jolts back at the sudden touch, his cheeks flushing a warm pink. His eyes now watch you with gentle confusion. He touches the same spot you did with a trembling hand.

“You have a constellation on your face. So many moles… Do you have a girlfriend?”

His face burns a little more, both from the observation and the question. He shakes his head, sitting himself further into the couch and further away from you. He can’t quite understand the situation. Are you messing with him? You seem too serious for such. Maybe you’re just weird like he initially thought. Either way he can feel his faith slipping; he is cupping holy water in hands during an earthquake.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong? Am I not pretty?” You pout to be playful with him, acting as if his actions are offending you. He takes it literally though.

“No!” his hands rest on his knees and he holds them hard, trying to find stability despite sitting down. “Y-you are… pretty,” his words grow quieter, like he’s sharing a secret. “I just don’t know you or why you want to talk to me.”

“Hm.” You lean your head back against the couch. With your eyes still on his face, you speak just as quietly, “I’m still trying to figure that out too.” After some beats of muted air you speak up again, but with more presence, “You came to work here. Why?”

“A man was handing out flyer ads at the church. I wanted a summer job.”

Is he always this direct and boring? And church, of fucking course. You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the back cushion and even closer to the man. Your knees touch the side of his body and his thigh. He looks like he’s trying to control his breathing, to feign lack of disturbance, but his face says everything you need to know.

You place a hand on his thigh and his whole body stiffens at the action. Your smirk to yourself. It’s only resting there on the top of his jeans. “You act like a girl has never touched you before.” You give him a soft squeeze and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Well? Has a girl ever touched you?”

He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he breaks, feeling overwhelmed and wrong, “and I don’t think you should be. It’s against the churches values-”

“At your age you still follow the rules?” Your hand slides lower and back up his thigh, it’s a slow and teasing motion. There’s enjoyment in how scared he’s becoming.

Sunghoon knows that this is only going to lead him down a path he swore to God not to take. And if his parents were to know that in his first year away from home in the summer since college was locked in a lodge with a promiscuous girl he’d have it handed to him. The thought of their wrath makes him shiver all the more.

“I just don’t want to sin.” His eyes close and he bites down onto his lip again. He no longer cares if a stranger sees him as a loser or prude. His virtue is being tested in real time, and he’s feared facing this battle many times in the night because even in his dreams he loses.

“I’m only touching you. How is it a sin?” The tone of your voice changes, it’s soft like the hand that moves closer to in between his thighs. Your fingertips press into his clothed skin here and there, curiously feeling him up. You just try to get a reaction out of him. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach that you don’t recognize; it’s faintly familiar.

“Your hand isn’t supposed to be… there.” He makes a strained sound, something like a low whine, as your hand ghosts over his cock.

You look down to your movements for the first time and realize he’s sporting a half chub. You snicker quietly, cupping him in your palm. “Then why are you getting hard, Sunghoon? Do you like the way I’m touching you? I bet you’ve thought about doing this before too.”

He makes another noise, a whimper. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes and accept what’s happening. He also can’t find it in himself to stop you, or get up and leave. This wasn’t just a struggle with evil’s temptation but his own biological nature. Something yet to be explored, something that’s been scratching at his ribcage for years to be fed.

There’s too much he can’t admit in this moment. Starting with how he enjoys the sound of your voice, the slight accent and dialect difference he picks up. How the way his name leaves your lips makes him want to crumble like a burning church. And how he silently likes the fact he can’t control the way his body is reacting to your hands on him.

It’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. And he is weak.

“Answer me, Sunghoon.” Your hand presses down on him, feeling the growing hardness under your palm. You give him a small squeeze, massaging over the bulge. To your surprise he feels big. Your eyebrows quirk at this and then you look back to his face. A single tear runs down his face and you find satisfaction in it. “Lying is a sin too,” you remind him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hands fist the couch cushions at his sides. He grips the material so tight that his knuckles turn pink through the pale of his skin. His chest rises and falls through slow and deep breaths.

“You shouldn’t feel sorry for something that makes you feel good.” You palm over him a few more times, drawing out little moans and whimpers from him. He’s struggling to sit still. You can even feel him try not to push his hips back up into you; if only he would admit that he wants it. He’s practically pulsing beneath you, like there’s never been such a rush of blood to his cock in his life. You sigh dramatically and pull your hand away from him, sitting back to give him space. “That’s too bad. A good dog will always be loyal, huh?”

His eyes shoot open when he feels your hand is gone. He looks at you desperately with wet eyes, a small pout to his lips. You make him feel sick for wanting to ask why you stopped, or if he did something bad for you to take away his short-lived pleasure.

You smirk at his expression, so pitifully beautiful with want. “Have you ever touched yourself?” you ask, placing your hand over his that hasn’t let go of the couch. It takes you back when he flips his hand around to hold onto yours, clingy and wretched. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. Repulsed, you react quickly and take your hand away from him at his impulsive intimacy. It makes him frown with a meek whimper.

He shakes his head slowly, looking down to his lap. “I can’t.” He knows he’s not allowed to. His father was adamant through his puberty that he mustn’t succumb to his body’s natural taste for sin. He was told that sometimes the devil had a funny way of sneaking into a man’s mind. That Satan would haunt boys in their sleep to wake them up with guilt of uncontrollable lust to be like him.

“But you like when I do it, right?” You rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. His eyes look from your face to the thin opening of your overalls where your chest can be seen from the angle. He bites down hard and nods slowly. You coo, moving your hand back to his still hard, clothed cock. “I can make it go away if you want. You want that?”

He’s battling all the repressed things he’s been too afraid to explore; fearful of the swing of his parents belt he felt once long ago after being caught in a misunderstanding. In spite of it, he nods again. “It hurts.. Please, help me.” His voice is so quiet. Even he doesn’t want to hear his own pathetic begging.

Your fingers find the zipper of his jeans then you tug it down slowly as you stare at him. “You have to pull them down for me, okay? I can’t help you with just this.”

Sunghoon freezes for a second knowing he has control over being the one to take out his own cock. Yet apprehension leaves in a breath. Then he’s pulling the clothing down to his knees with frantic haste. You didn’t expect him to take everything off so fast but there’s a sense of pride in how eager you’ve made him become in such a short time.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. His cock is as beautiful as him. Pale and raging pink, crying at the tip much like his eyes. He’s also big, bigger than you knew dicks could be. You thought they’d be ugly, gross and worm-like. But his is clean and pretty. It’s your first time seeing one in person; you wouldn’t let him know that.

You take him bare in your hands, feeling him like a foreign object. More curious of his body than in his pleasure in the moment. His body tenses then relaxes against the couch. A shaky, breathy moan leaves his lips. His eyes flutter at the contact of skin.

You squeeze him, making his moan weakly again. It’s heavy in your hand. Truly just a stick of warm flesh. A part of you wants to squeeze him as hard as you can just to see if it can break, but you withhold on hurting him for now. Not wanting to scare him too much in hopes of exploring him further through the summer.

Your hand wraps around the length as much as it can, pads of fingertips brushing over every vein and curve as you slowly move your hand up and down. When your thumb circles around his tip and flicks the leaking hole, his body lurches forward with a loud cry of a moan from him. You wonder if he’ll cum in the next few seconds of simply touching him.

“I think you’re a slut for a little pleasure, Sunghoon.” You use your palm to gather his precum, circling over the tip to smear the thick cream around. Then you drag it back down himself, wetting his cock in his own prerelease. It slides easier now, your hand. You move faster, jerking him off in lazy, inexperienced motions. Not that he would know anyways. “You gave into lust so easily, didn’t you? Must’ve wanted this for so long. Your body’s nasty, eager for it.”

In his ears, you make the nasty words sound delicious. And he wants to devour more and more, like the starved man he is. His hips snap up into your hard, sudden and rough. You wrap your free arm over his shoulders, a hand sneaking up into his hair to tug aggressively on the thick dark locks. You’re pulling his head back, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t be a whore. I’m helping you. I didn’t say fuck my hand.”

“Ahsh- I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whines, tears burning his eyes, “it, it f-feels good. I feel so good.” His head falls to lean against yours, face burying into your hair. His head makes little shakes as he begins to cry, telling himself no, no.

“Shut up...” You don’t like how close he is to you. You only like doing so to tease him, but when he does it, it makes you feel a fiery anger in your chest and belly. Uncomfortable. Smothering.

Your hand works in sloppy motions. Pumping his pulsing cock to reach his orgasm. At the tip your wrist makes flicks with your thumb, working him up further and further.

He stutters out incoherent apologies into your hair throughout his sobs of wanton, whimpering moans. Everything about his body is sensitive to the new sensations. He can’t help but move his hips up into your hand, humping the small fist that’s fucking down onto him.

Confused by the warm, tight feeling flexing of his abdomen he whines against you, “I can’t- I can’t take it. My body feels weird now. Mmph, ‘m sorry. I don’t know what’s h-happening.” His body feels volcanic, ready to burst.

You continue your movements, jerking his reflexing length until he’s cumming into your hand. It’s a heavy load of thick, creamy mess. His voice is too close to your ear as he moans a drawn out needy sound. Your face remains plain while you pump him until he’s milked dry. His body flinches and curls into yours through the aftershocks, clearly overstimulated and over-sensitive. His arms snake around your waist to pull you against him.

You stare down at your hand that was earlier covered in the blood of a lamb and now the cum of a virgin. It looks like fucking snot, you realize with repulse. Without thinking you bring your hand up and lick the strange release. Your face scowls at the unknown taste so you just wipe the rest on your overalls. “You are disgusting,” you mutter.

Sunghoon remains silent aside from his sniffles, eyes peeking through his bangs to watch what you’re doing. He still hasn’t stopped clinging to your side, as if you could save him from his first lustful sin.

You push yourself up and off the couch, his body slightly falls to the side where he was leaning on you but he catches himself. He watches you with sad, scared eyes. You stare blankly in return then look out the window to see the group of men walking around the picnic table they ate at earlier.

“Farmhands will be leaving soon. Clean yourself up in the bathroom.” You don’t spare him another look, you just walk to the front door, unlock it, and leave. You ignore the way he looked like a sad abandoned puppy. Something about it angered you in the same way he was being clingy.

You walk back to your house with a slight skip to your steps. As you step through your front door, you’re about to head upstairs to your room but stop in your tracks because your mother speaks.

“Hate him all ya want,” your mothers words slur, she speaks slowly and tired-like, “but he was a good man. He used to love me… And then you came along.” You turn to the living room on your left where your mother lays on the couch, wine glass in hand and eyes heavy lidded. “I know what yer capable of. I’ve seen the things ya do on this farm, in this home.. When ya think no one is watching.. He just might be right about you.” You glare at her now. “There is something evil in ya, child. Leave that boy outta yer wickedness.”

Her wine glass falls to the floor from her fingers and she groans, turning to her side. You stare at her for a moment before walking up to your room.

Meanwhile Sunghoon spends his next 20 minutes in a spiral of guilt and shame. He cleans himself up in the restroom like you told him to. Then waits, watching outside the window for when the boys are gathered around the truck they drove in from the bus stop to leave in. It was hard for him to get the tears to end. He fell right into sin’s lustful trap and it made him feel so- No, it only made him feel hurt. Stupid. Bad.

On his bus ride back into the city he prays. Sitting in back, alone with his indignity, and head bowed low so no one could see his red rimmed, glossy eyes. Time goes by so fast that he nearly misses his stop to get off.

He ignores his roommate when he’s home. Jake, excited and curious of Sunghoon’s first day, is left cold. Sunghoon showers for longer than usual. He scrubs so harshly at his skin he turns red; unable to feel clean no matter how much he washes. He doesn’t eat dinner because he feels he doesn’t deserve to. He gets into bed earlier than most days too. He tries to sleep but the day haunts him, keeping him awake.

He’s up all night in tears, face in his pillow with the blanket thrown over his head, trying to hide from He who watches. The begs of forgiveness seem endless.

“Dear God,” he whimpers, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He doesn’t sleep much that night because he can’t find it in himself to stop humping into his mattress in hopes to chase and achieve the feeling you gave him earlier. His hips rock his aching hard cock into the bed, anguished yet titillated. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He continues to cry, drowning in his pillow, knowing he will do it again.

　The next day on the farm is an early morning for everyone. Sunghoon sits quietly in the truck with the other summer volunteer farmharms. They talk amongst each other about the day’s schedule of duties and tasks. He struggles to keep his eyes open, head leaning against the window despite its bumps from the uneven dirt road. He thought about calling it quits on the whole job after yesterday, but couldn’t bring himself to. It’s for selfish reasons too. The ones that deepen his guilt.

The arrival to the farm is quicker than anticipated. Sunghoon forces himself to be more alert and awake, starting to pick up on the conversations between the others as he exits the parked truck.

“Do you think it’s still hanging there?” One says. “The lamb of slaughter?” Another dumbly asks with a snort. “Well yeah, dipshit. You guys think that girl did it? She was weird as hell.” A third voice chimes in, “Being covered in blood and then leaving a dead animal hanging from a tree is creepy as fuck. The lady was right, stay the hell away from her.” He laughs. The others walk away in continuous chatter, leaving Sunghoon by the truck.

Sunghoon is confused by this conversation and deeply disturbed. He doesn’t follow or press them with questions though. But it will give him much to think about for the day. He’s so exhausted from the lack of sleep, he wonders if he even heard them all correctly at all. Yeah, your whole introduction was strange but killing an animal and acting like nothing happened and then toying with him on the same day? Was all that really something a girl like you would do? He can’t say for sure because he doesn’t know you.

He goes about his morning tasks lazily. His mind is too busy with the thoughts of you. He thinks of when or if he’ll see you today. You haven’t shown around the farm all day. It’s only an hour before noon, he tries to rationalize with himself. He still ponders throughout his work. What time will you come? Will you mysteriously show up like yesterday? Will you touch him again? Will you let him feel good? Is he forgivable or going to burn in hell for wanting more?

He shakes his head to rid it of the thoughts. Perhaps he’s too hopeful. After lunch time he goes back to the farmers lodge to take a nap. At least that’s the realistic excuse he used. He struggles to even fall asleep because he’s so anxious about listening for any sound of you possibly coming back here.

His eyes, sullen and tired, just can’t stay open after half an hour of waiting. So eventually he does fall asleep. You never show up. When he wakes up from his long needed nap he somehow feels worse knowing you didn’t visit than he did committing his first sin.

The following day of work is a repeat. He doesn’t see you at all yet you occupy all of his thoughts. He thinks badly of himself for many reasons.

　On the fourth day, you finally decide it’s time to check up on the poor boy. You watched Sunghoon mope around the farm for two days and it was cute at first but you’re getting bored again. You did like how his eyes were always searching around, hopeful that every sound he heard from behind or around corners was you. Knowing you had such an effect on him made you wonder how much more you could do to him.

From the window of your room, you watch when they all arrive. Your mother greets them like she does in the mornings and gives them all tasks that need to be completed for the day. It’s Thursday which means she’ll be out for a few hours to go into town and sort out business for products: cow and goat milk processing for cheeses and soaps. At least you assume considering you overheard her phone call about such the day prior.

You spend the morning around the house, reading and snacking on fruits, waiting for your mother to leave so you can proceed with your plan. There was some effort into your appearance today. You wear a spaghetti strapped white babydoll dress, lined at the bottom with sewn embroideries. It’s simple and flows nicely above your knees when you walk. You hate it because it alludes to soft purity but at least it feels good to dress light in the summer heat. And it might make you all the more approachable to feeble Sunghoon.

After about an hour, your mother finally leaves. You give it about 10 minutes before you’re shoving on your boots and leaving the house. Some of the blood from earlier in the week still stains the brown leather; you did clean them off but clearly not to the best extent. You’re okay with that though, it seems prettier this way to you.

Looking and walking around the property, you see the scattered farmhands busy with different things. The sun isn’t kind today, it’s piercing in brightness and temperature. The sweat begins to seep from your pores in a matter of minutes, making you feel sticky. You run a hand through your tangled hair, fingers getting caught in unbrushed knots that you yank through anyways. You don’t see Sunghoon anywhere that’s directly under the sun. You continue to search around the farm, gaining a few cautious looks from the other workers. As you walk past their gazes you wear a wry smile with a tilt to your head. They look away quickly after being caught staring.

Some wandering in and out of the different barns and coops are done. He wasn’t in any of them though. You greet the animals you pass by and give pats to some of the cows. “Have you guys seen him nearby? I’m not a fan of hide and seek.” You mumble to one of the goats, scratching lightly beneath its chin while it chews away at grains and hay. It maas in return. You pull your hand back out from the stable then leave to continue the manhunt.

It’s when you’re walking by the horses’ stables that you see they’ve already been cared for, telling you that someone was here already. You glance to the smaller shed nearby, having a suspicious inkling that it's where Sunghoon is. You walk to the shed and see yourself inside. And he is. He has his back turned to you, standing at a work bench table and cleaning something off.

You walk up behind him, the sound of your footsteps being dulled by the scattered hay on the wooden floors; he doesn’t notice that you entered the space, clearly lost in his own thoughts. You tap his shoulder which makes him spin around in surprise, dropping the brushes he was cleaning.

Sunghoon’s eyes are wide at the sight of you standing so close to him. You can tell he’s lost sleep by the dark circles around his eyes and how his complexion is impossibly paler. His mouth is stuttering to find words, opening and closing.

You step closer to him and he steps back, his backside now pressing against the table. It wobbles on the uneven wooden stilts that hold it up. Reflexively, his hands reach back to hold onto the table, but he’s using it for his own stability. You simply stand there in between his legs, staring up at his face and taking in all the details that differ from the last time you saw him. He swallows, quietly watching your face in return.

“I haven’t seen you around.” Sunghoon speaks first, his voice a soft surrender. You feel his breath on your face.

“I know. I saw you though. You missed me.” You state bluntly, taking note of the little fangs he has for teeth. He probably bites good, you think, licking the back of your own teeth.

“If you saw me then why didn’t you…” he trails off into a quiet again, closing his eyes for a moment with a sigh. “I wouldn’t call it that.” His eyes open again as he feels your hands on his chest, sliding up his white tank and underneath the sleeves of his denim jacket to his shoulders. He bites down, suddenly stiff.

Ignoring his response you continue, “How can you wear this when it’s so warm out?” Your hands slide over his shoulders and down his toned arms, the jacket slips down to reveal the toned limbs. Your eyebrows raise at the sight yet your face remains relatively blank. “You’ve got muscle. Good for farm work.” Small hands continue to run over the smooth milk-like skin, learning every curve of his lean built physique. It’s not sexual, just exploratory.

Sunghoon sucks in a breath, watching you inspect him. He begins to feel flustered, relishing in the contact of skin on his. You notice his tense body and ask him if it’s okay, to which replies a raspy stutter, “Y-yeah.” Your hands slide down his arms and back up to his shoulders. Then down his chest and body to stop at the waistline of his jeans. He has a nice body; he must be athletic. You don’t care to ask in what ways. Your fingers dip into his jeans just slightly to pull him in closer to you, he gasps, his growing cock pressing against your stomach.

“Sunghoon,” You ridicule him, tsking under your breath at the pressure you feel of his arousal. “Already?” You look up at him but he can’t meet your eyes, feeling embarrassed. You play with the waistline, your fingertips running back and forth between the denim and his skin. “Is this sinning?” It’s a soft question yet mocking. He only shakes his head, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. “Do you want to?” He whimpers, slowly nodding his head. You take your hands off him, crossing your arms. “You have to tell me. Look at me and tell me.”

He looks back at you dispirited. He knows that you know what he wants. And here you are making him admit it outloud, both to you and God. “Please.” He begs quietly, hoping it only reaches your ears and not the sky’s. “I want you.”

There’s that feeling again. The lit match that falls from your throat to the gasoline of your stomach that erupts in flames. Fire to your abdomen and loins; it’s an angry feeling, sparked by his honest admit of want, and for you specifically. You watch him with narrowed eyes while mumbling, “you revolt me.”

He doesn’t reply to your venomous insult. It stings to hear the degrading words in both his heart and pants; he thinks himself disgraceful too.

You drop to your knees, hands finding place back on his jeans to undo his zipper. He stares down at you in bated breath, hands still gripping tight on the table behind him. His are pulled down slowly, purposely so. You watch him writher, body and face. “Did you do it again?” you question, looking up at him from below. He would never avow to how the sight of you on your knees alone makes him ache all the more.

He wants to tear his eyes away from you but he can’t. The image of you in your white dress on the ground before him needs to be burned into his memory. He stutters a mumble of words but you don’t catch anything, if he even said a coherent response at all. You ask again, pinching his thigh. He tries to hum over the strained noise in the back of his throat, “Yes.. I mean no! B-but I didn’t touch myself.”

You try not to giggle, biting the inside of your cheek. Knowing he wanted to feel that way again but couldn’t on his own gave you a funny sense of power over him. One of your hands traces the outline of his hard cock through his boxer briefs. “You make a mess?” He shivers at the feeling of your breath on his suffocating length. He breathes out a ‘no’ while you lick a strip over the material. “Why not? I showed you how.”

He moans softly, trying not to let his hips chase after the feeling that he’s been after for days. “You know I can’t,” he exhales. You roll your eyes, mouthing and licking at him languidly. Your hands are still half tugging at the material that keeps him hidden. A faint pool of precum quickly stains his boxers.

“Sunghoon,” you look up at him with your chin resting on the bulge. He swallows hard, acknowledging you with a hum. “You will never be free from it. The sin I let you taste will forever linger on the tip of your tongue, begging and licking to taste more in crave. No holy blessed water can possibly cleanse you even if you drown in it.”

His bottom lip pouts out with a little droning whine. He should defend himself, say that his faith is stronger than he is and that his soul is saveable by mercy. But a part of him also feels that doesn’t want to be. His eyes begin to well with tears.

“Not even a god could make you pure again,” you give him a small smile and pat his naked thigh before pulling down his underwear. His cock now free slaps his stomach to which he breathes out heavily. You grab him with both hands, giving him one last look before taking the leaking head into your mouth. Hands working on him steadily.

“T-that’s dirty!” he leans forward with a low sounding moan, his hands on your head and in your hair. Your eyes go wide at this. “Why would you put that in your mouth?!” he gasps, the warm wetness around his tip making him dizzy. “This is so vulgar, oh God, forgive me.” he cries, not pulling your mouth off of him but holding you there.

You circle your tongue around the tip and over his leaking slit, licking the beads of precum that leak out. It makes your grimace before you lean back, a wet pop as your mouth leaves. “Enough of your penitence, and take your hands off me.” It sounds like a warning to which he complies without question, only a hushed apology. He’s the one who wants to be touched anyways, not you.

You take him into your mouth again, your lips wrap around him in a painful stretch to accommodate his size. He sits heavy on your tongue that lays flat underneath, doing what you can with it. Your hands at the base work around him, jerking and squeezing him like you did before. You weren’t really sure what you were doing, mainly just mocking the actions you read about in books. It seems to be working for Sunghoon regardless because he can barely hold himself together. Whining and whimpering through fat tears, whole body shuddering from the overwhelming wet heat of your mouth.

His jaw goes slack, mouth hung open only to elicit a breathless moan. His head rolls back on his neck and his eyes flutter to a close. The feeling of your mouth wrapping around him is hot heaven. His body trembles with the new, sweeping sensation. Stomach already tight with contracting muscles. He thinks he could pass out.

Watching his face, him, discover and feel pleasurable sin is slightly euphoric to you. You’ve seen it in movies and read of it in books, but it was something you never quite fully explored yourself. There’s been a few instances that you did touch yourself; it always felt empty or like something was always missing. There’s little to no excitement when doing it alone in shameful hiding. Witnessing, causing such debauchery is different somehow. Safer in ways you didn’t dwell in thought on. You do wish he would stop crying about it, you find it pathetic of him in a provoked way.

Involuntarily, he thrusts himself down your throat with a guttural groan. You gag and cough around him, tears sting your eyes that make you squeeze them shut—refusing to let a single one dare to escape. Now it felt like a challenge. One to which you wouldn’t back down in fear of looking weak.

Your hands hold his thighs roughly, bruisingly so if you had the strength. You move his body in a small back and forth motion, encouraging him to continue his movements. You’re looking up at him with glazed over eyes and a slight nod. He chokes a sob at the sight, you on your knees not to pray but to devour him.

“Ah, I- I’m sorry. Your mouth is so wet, so warm.” He starts off with shallow thrusts, dragging his cock along your wet muscle. His hips stutter while his world seems to be crashing down. “This is so dirty. You look so dirty. And—ngh—it’s.. it’s so good. It’s so good,” he babbles, pushing himself as far down into your mouth as he can. His tip kisses the back of your throat making you gag around him. Your nails digging into the flesh of his strong legs. He can’t stop moaning and whimpering, becoming a slave to pleasure.

He watches your face. Hollowed cheeks sucking and swallowing around him, the tightness of your throat around him hugging and contracting through chokes that reverberate your body to his cock. The spit that leaks from your lips and all over him is obscene, such a sinful mess. He so badly wants to grab your head and force himself down further, but his nails dig into the wood of the table instead.

“Hm, I can’t—” he moans your name, thrusting rougher now. His whole body crumbling in on itself, chasing the feeling of release.

Then there’s the sound of footsteps and a few voices that follow. Sunghoon sucks in a deep breath, taking a fist to his mouth to bite down onto. He looks at you in fear because of the proximity of the other farmhands right outside. This only makes you smirk around him, a glint of evil in your eyes. He shakes his head hurriedly, stopping his movements—as if that would make you both disappear.

You push yourself off his cock, licking over your cracked and saliva covered lips. You bring a finger to your lips and shush him. “Be quiet or they’ll find out what a nasty whore you are. Unless you want that.” Your voice is quiet and raspy from the abuse of him fucking himself down your throat. You stare into his eyes intently before taking him back in. He glances from you to the door of the shed, his body shaking.

You slurp and suck him up, purposely loud and sloppy. A hand jerking off the base that doesn’t quite fit in your mouth. He cries quietly with his mouth open, meek and desperate sounds escape that he can’t withhold. “Please…” He’s whimpering, begging for something that he doesn’t know the context of.

“Do you think the extra feed is in this one?” A voice questions, the door being opened just a crack.

Sunghoon quickly tries to bend down for his jeans but you slap his hand away, pushing him back into the table. You grip his thighs and force yourself to take all of him down. You gag around him, eyes never leaving his panicky and fucked out face. His face silently begs for you that enough is enough but you don’t stop, because a part of you knows he doesn’t want you to either.

“It doesn’t hurt to check, does it?” The other replies with a light chuckle. “Could take a break for some shade too while we’re at it.” The door opens slowly with an agonizing creak, sunlight barely pouring.

Each passing second feels like an eternity to him. The door is still only cracked, not enough for them to see inside but it’s cutting it close. His cock twitches at the thought of being caught with his dick down the throat of the farmer’s daughter. A blazing adrenaline rushes through him.

Sunghoon can’t bear it any longer. His hands find purchase on the back of your head, pushing himself completely into your mouth. His hips stutter with a whimper on his lips as the hot cum pours down your throat. “Ah, sh- ngh!” You smack at his legs for him to release the hold, choking for air to breathe. You instinctively swallow around him, consuming his load of sin.

“You dumbass! The horses are already fed, let’s just go for a water break.” The door slams back on itself to a close. Their footsteps can be heard walking away.

Sunghoon breathes heavily, letting go of you. His body instantly relaxing back with his elbows on the table to support him. Meanwhile you fall onto your ass, a hand around your throat while you gasp for air through rough coughs. “What the fuck did I say about putting your hands on me?” You rasp before coughing again. The taste of him sits on the back of your tongue no matter how much you swallow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “we shouldn’t get caught.” He pulls his pants and boxers back up then extends a hand to you, an offering to help you stand back up.

You scoff, ignoring his hand and stand up on your own. You brush the dirt and stray strands of hay from your knees. “Whatever. We both got what we wanted.” You start to turn for the door to leave the shed with the thought of brushing your teeth in mind.

Sunghoon, confused as to what you could’ve gotten out of helping him, just reaches for your hand. He grabs you and pulls you back to look at him. His eyes are sad, maybe even a little afraid by your haste to leave. “Y-you’re just going to leave me again?” He sounds broken by the fact.

“What?” You can’t help but breathe a laugh, “Did you expect me to do more?” You ask with raised brows.

“No! No, not like that.. But..” He swallows his pride, “I- I don’t know. Just don’t leave yet. Please.”

You blink at him, scanning his features like a robot in calculation. The pleading of his expression and his words aggravate you. A fiery burning to your insides and the skin that he touches, that he reached for. You look down to his tight grip on your hand before yanking it away. You don’t say anything more, and neither does he. He wipes his eyes from whatever salty wetness is still there.

A moment of silence solidifies your decision. You beckon him to follow you out and he does.

For the rest of his work day you remain. You try not to think about why. But subconsciously you know it’s because for the first time someone willingly wants to be by your side. At first you imagine it’s because of what you’ve done for him—gave him what any man desires: pleasure. A man falling into temptation is far too easy.

Though he doesn’t ask for more and he doesn’t bring it up. Almost like it never happened.

It seems like he really just wants to be around you. There’s little said between each other. It’s just idle farm work with company. And it’s more peaceful than you expected it to be. He didn’t touch you, question you, or do much at all to bother you in general.

Sometimes he stares at you, but you do the same to him. He even gives a sheepish smile when he catches you; it doesn’t get returned. That doesn’t bother him though. He thinks you look beautiful on the farm in your dress with dirt covered hands and hair messy from the wind. He hopes to tell you that one day but for now he stays shy, still weary and afraid.

The sun shines relentlessly unless a cloud mercifully passes by. The breeze is rare yet kind. The animals make their sounds to sing a collective song. The trees and crops sway like waving hands of hellos and goodbyes, depending on where you’re headed to or from. It’s not so bad.

　Two weeks go by. Time flies by for both you and Sunghoon. He comes to work during the week, and he spends his weekends missing you. He doesn’t know what you two are to each other, and he’s too scared to ask. There’s definitely been changes to the dynamic, however. Subtly so. You still don’t smile, or let him touch you. You roll your eyes and insult him if he’s too emotional. But you’re there.

Certainly not everyday, but most, you spend his work days with him. It’s easier to be around one another. There can be small talk, usually about the farm or the weather. Still much to be learned about on a personal level, but he’s fine with the pace of the relationship (outside of the unholy acts that are committed). Sometimes you even end up helping him. Or at least he thinks of it that way. In reality you don’t like how he does things and take over to do it yourself.

You still tease him in your cruel ways. Always ending with him in a mess because he’s easily worked up by your handsy curiosity. He caves into you every time because he can’t fight the divinity that you show him.

There are other times where you confuse him. You suggest a water break knowing he’d gone hours without hydration under the summer heat. You insist on having him take a break under a roof away from the sun when his skin gets too sweaty or red. Which is followed by a reminder that sunscreen is important if he wishes to keep his milky complexion. It’s critical statements that you provide him, but he can’t help to think it’s a weird way of showing you care.

Sure, it could be seen as you selfishly saying these things because it’s what you want for yourself, but in the back of his mind he’s very aware of how you watch and cater to him. It makes his heart jump every time and butterflies swarm his stomach. He can’t help it. The little things, the small acts of kindness—that you might not even intend—make him delusionally overthink.

On the third weekend since starting his summer job, Jake can’t help all the questions he’s been building up and dying to ask. Jake doesn’t understand what Sunghoon has been going through, especially when his moods change so drastically. At first, Sunghoon was self isolating and pouty, clearly in his own head and sulking. But then he would come home from work beaming with an afterglow to his aura. And then on the weekends he was back to his reclusive, depressed state.

Sick of being left out of Sunghoon’s inner turmoil, Jake finally pesters his friend.

“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jake stands in the doorway of Sunghoon’s room, staring at his friend who’s laying face down in his bed.

“I don’t know…” Sunghoon’s words are muffled in his pillow.

Jake walks in with a sigh and sits at the end of the bed. He playfully slaps Sunghoon’s leg. “Dude, just tell me. You’re obviously going through something. You know I can keep a secret. I won’t judge.”

Sunghoon rolls over on his back, his hands clasped together over his stomach as he stares up to the ceiling. He confides in Jake, telling his story from the beginning of when he first met you. He stutters over his words when he admits to the sinful acts he partook in with you. He tells Jake of his guilty conscience and how he enjoyed indulging in the feelings. Then he tells Jake about how he simply likes your company even without the sexual circumstances involved. How he’s mystified by your complex personality and only wishes to know you more. However, he does leave out the viciousness of your nature, since a part of him doesn’t quite believe in it.

“It seems like you’re starting to develop a crush.” Jake laughs lightly, “And if it’s about religion, don’t overthink it too much. Nobody dies completely pure.” He reassures him. “You should show her more of you. That you like her too.”

Sunghoon groans and covers his face at the terrifying suggestion. If only you were that easy to approach in such a vulnerable way. “I guess… I’ll consider it.”

The next day is Sunday. Jake and Sunghoon attend church as normal. Sunghoon participates less in his prayers and songs than usual. His mind is too preoccupied with all he has going on in life. He feels guilt and frustration.

Sunghoon, lost in his own world, fails to realize that his best friend—Jake—battles something similar internally.

You’re never as alone as you think you are if you take a better look around. Everyone is riddled with their own self disgust, guilt, or shame. How else would the churches be so full?

　Entering the fourth week of summer should feel easier than it does for Sunghoon. The work seems to be picking up regarding responsibilities. The weather is only becoming less forgivable. The peak is yet to hit, but that only means the seasonal storms are right around the corner. More care is needed in the fields and barns in terms of protection in case of unpredictable weather.

Aside from the work, Sunghoon is anxious because of you. He hasn’t seen you yet today and he feels nervous about it. Perhaps he has grown too clingy, finding close comfort in knowing you’re there with him on the farm. There’s a sense of safety when you’re in the line of sight; you make things easier for him and he enjoys the presence.

While he’s watering plants and checking the sprinklings through the fields, an older man approaches him. It’s a familiar face that he’s seen around a few times over the past month. The man waves with a smile and Sunghoon does the same.

“It’s amazing what you’ve done, boy.” The man begins, Sunghoon questions where he’s going with the start because he’s just an extra hand of help and doesn’t feel he’s accomplished or improved the farm in drastic ways. “I’ve worked here, hm, well I’ll be damned! Nearly 15 years! And I’ve never once seen that farm girl talk to anyone. Much less spend time.” the man chuckles.

“Oh!” Sunghoon blushes and hopes it’s only mistaken as feverish from the summer. He smiles small and stares down to the bundle of plants he brought with him to the farm today. He feels special knowing this much of you. “She’s something…”

“Sometimes I’d see her talk to herself and the animals.” The man pulls out a cigarette and lighter to smoke. “She’d walk around aimlessly like a ghost. Used to scare the hell outta me.” As he laughs, smoke escapes his lungs. He wheezes a little before continuing, “But now she follows and watches you like she’s worshipin’. If only she did the same with her daddy. Although with a face like yours, I can’t blame the girl.”

“Pardon? What do you mean by that?” Sunghoon, bemused, watches the man smoke and laugh between weak coughs. “She has a dad?” His last question is overroad by the man who speaks over him.

“You keep up your work, kid. I outta get back to mines too.” And then he’s walking away with a low chuckle, shaking his head to himself.

Sunghoon’s aware of your mother. He always thought it was just the two of you running things. He’s never once seen a man, your father, leave the house or so much so be around it. This gives him more to think about, especially on the fact that he still doesn't know much about you at all. You’re still an enigma to him, but he wants everything.

By the afternoon when all the guys are finishing up their break, you finally come out of the house. With the sound of the front door opening, Sunghoon is quick to straighten his posture and find your eyes. You’re already looking at him, watching him and his surroundings with no expression. His cheeks burn and he can’t help the smile forming on his lips.

Two and a half days without seeing you feels like so much longer.

He stands up from the picnic table, grabbing his newspaper wrapped bundle of greenery and shyly hiding it behind his back. He walks over to you, tripping over his feet as he approaches the porch steps to the house. You stand there in front of the door but at the top of the few stairs, arms crossed and amused.

He’s diffident, arms behind him and modestly attempting to hide how nervous he feels on the inside. His stomach is doing flips, his heart racing. On top of already sweating. He feels like he could throw up his lunch right in front of your feet. He swallows thickly before slowly bringing his hands out in front of himself.

“I,” he clears his throat, “ehem, I got these for you.” With outstretched arms, the bundle of flowers shake in his trembling hands. He suddenly feels he’s too nervous to even meet your eyes, so he watches the chipped paint wood of the front porch steps.

You just stand there, watching him with wide eyes and your heart in your throat. Your mouth is lost for words, glancing around at the few farmhands who haven’t left yet and are staring at Sunghoon’s exchange in a similar bewilderment. Some are trying to keep themselves from bursting out into laughter.

“Are you some kind of stupid?” You whisper harshly for only him to hear, snatching the flowers out of his hands. “Why the hell would you do this?” Your words like your tone are mean, but in your chest there’s a raging pounding. It’s a seething raw emotion that doesn’t know how to be dealt with. You’ve only just stepped out of the house and your body feels like it’s inside a furnace.

Sunghoon’s head shoots back up to look at you, his face and heart drop. “I-I’ve never had a girlfriend before so I wasn’t sure what to do.. This is what boyfriends do, right?” He takes a hand to scratch at the back of his head. Inner turmoil takes over and he thinks he’s fucked up. He bites at his lip, doing his best not to instantly cry in regret.

You notice this and sigh, irritated. You look from the neatly wrapped white roses and tulips and back to Sunghoon. “So you are stupid,” you mumble before taking your own bottom lip between your teeth. A part of you wants to sneer, but you spin on your heels to hide the warmth that floods your face in substitution. “I’m throwing them away,” you announce, opening the door and walking back inside your house.

Sunghoon, broken, just drops his head and turns back. A few of the farmhands are snickering from not too far away, chattering among each other and eyeing Sunghoon. He wishes God would smite him on the spot from the humiliation.

Wanting to avoid everything for a little while, he thinks of heading to the lodge to lay down in hiding. But before he can walk away, the front door of your house swings open once more. He glances back at you, meeting your eyes like he always seems to do.

“Done for the day already?” You call over to him, now leaning over the banister of the porch with crossed arms.

Sunghoon, unable to refute you, offers a weak smile and shakes his head. “No.”

He walks back over to you and you meet him halfway. You don’t say anything else. You don’t bring up the fact that he had bought you flowers or confused the odd relationship you share for dating. It’s cute in all its blind innocence, but that just goes to show you that you have more work to do with him.

You don’t think of messing with him today. He’s distinctly grown too clingy with how much time you’ve spent with him. Yet you can’t ignore him either. The two of you carry out the rest of the day’s farm work in silence. The inner fury you feel with him doesn’t seem to go away, despite how he hasn’t said much or even brushed skin with you.

You don’t know how you’re remaining pacific by his side. The rampaging of your heart strings tug like a screaming instrument just from being next to him. How he can keep walking tall, stare at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, or even smile at you is beyond what you know is capable of humans. Men like him only existed in books and movies. You wonder if he’s perhaps playing a game like you.

By the time he’s in the truck to go back to town to catch a bus into the city, you’re sitting at the lake dock. Criss crossed legs, a bouncing knee, and fingernails being ripped at by your teeth. You stare blankly at the water, hoping for that sense of serenity to encapsulate you. It never seems to come. It just feels cold.

So you decide on punishing him for making you feel this way.

You don’t leave your house for the next three days. You don’t make yourself known, heard or seen. However, you’re peeking out every window of your house to get any chance of a view of him. You hate yourself for being so curious of him in the first place. What was supposed to be good fun has only left you feeling angry. Taking his innocence was never going to heal you, or even make him like yourself. In fact, it’s making you sicker.

And on the night of the fourth Thursday, you’re laying in bed staring at your ceiling. A stuffed animal is hugged tightly to your chest. You can’t sleep and you can’t stop thinking about someone for the first time in your life. No amount of tossing and turning, counting sheep, or button presses to your distorted singing, stuffed bear made it easier.

Somehow, you ended up punishing yourself. You always had a knack for that, historically, but this time felt different. It actually kind of hurt. Being alone came naturally to you, but tonight it hits you just how lonely you’ve always been.

　Friday, the farmhands are huddled on the front porch of your house. All the animals are safely away in their designated homes thanks to their help. It started to storm in a heavy downpour only minutes ago. What started out as a dark gray gloom and windy rain quickly turned into an early flooded property, illuminated by strikes of flashing lightning and roaring thunder.

You stand dry under the protection of the porch roof by the front door. Watching and listening to your mother suggest the shaking cold, soaked men take shelter in the lodge until the sky lets up so they can head home.

Sunghoon hasn’t spared a look to you all day, but you know that he feels his eyes on you. It’s in the way he shifts awkwardly amongst the men that ignore him. How his eyes are trained low and unfocused yet always trying to move in your direction. His wet hair falls over his face, concealing his emotions you wish to dissect. He comes off as stoic but you know he wears his heart on his sleeve; how his body language speaks volumes.

Your mother pushes past you to get back inside, saying she’ll check the basement for a spare heater that the boys could use at the lodge. There’s something in you that makes you move without thinking. Suddenly a hand is tugging at the bottom of Sunghoon’s damp jacket for his attention. The material is too thin for this weather and the thought of him becoming sick crosses your mind.

“It’s warmer here,” your words, for once, came out soft. Too much so, being lost in the cracking sound of thunder. He looks at you through his bangs. The wave of alleviation from whatever he was dealing with is palpable. His eyes and body almost look relaxed. You tug him towards you once more, insinuating that he follows you.

He does. Like whatever subconscious emotion made you approach him also made him follow you in. As he steps in, he notices the indistinguishable vibes of the farmer’s lodge. It’s updated and cleaner, but similar in aesthetics. A shotgun sits leaning up against the wall by the front door. His brows furrow and eyes narrow. “Those aren’t safe to have lying around…” he mumbles.

You tug him towards the staircase to walk up, “It’s protection. Only my mother and I are here,” is mumbled back as you lead him up the wooden, creaking stairs. Your feet move light and quick, like a mouse in a home not theirs. If your mother saw you, there would be unnecessary consequences. And the possibility of your father’s involvement would only worsen such.

Sunghoon cautiously steps into your bedroom, his body tenses at the sound of you shutting and locking the door. He feels on edge, wrapping his arms around his shivering body and soaked clothes. You move around him to sit on your bed, telling him to remove his sopping attire. He does so with shaking hands, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He shyly looks around the room while using his hands to cover his manhoon.

His eyes scan over you, sitting quietly on your bed with a look of contemplation that stares past him. A wooden cross hangs on the wall above your bed, the dark wood matches the decadent bed frame. The nightstand nearby has a pile of books and journals with a low light lamp and unlit candle.

The large window has sheer white curtains drawn open and a vase on the windowsill. A glass vase filled with the flowers he gave you earlier in the week. His heart aches at the sight of the still healthy white roses and tulips, and a smile graces his lips. You liar! You kept them! Is what runs through his thoughts.

Without Sunghoon realizing, you got up to grab a towel and drape over the back of his shoulders. He’s taken aback by your ghost-like actions, but offers you a small smile of appreciation. “Thanks…”

You nod for response and glance from him to the vase of flowers he was lost in thought over. You didn’t have it in to explain yourself, mostly because you didn’t understand why you had done so either.

He dries himself off and finds a place to sit at the end of your bed. You’re on the other end with your back pressed to the headboard, watching him, counting every mole you can find on his pale canvas. The stuffed animal you sleep with is being mindlessly fumbled around in your hands.

Sunghoon turns to face you directly, he reaches a hand out, eyes shifting from your face and the winged bear. You shoot him a mean look at first, only holding it closer to yourself before your face softens to slowly extend it out to him.

He takes it with careful hands and looks down to inspect the old toy. Its cream colored fur is dirtied and matted with age. The holographic satin wings on the back have loose stitching and its halo is crooked. Across the chest of the bear reads ‘Jesus Loves Me’ but it’s obvious the sewn name Jesus has been ripped away at. One paw has a red heart embroidered saying ‘press me’. His thumb brushes over the button heart before pressing down. The bear sings in a distorted happy voice the lullaby of Jesus loves me.

“His name is Saint Michael,” you say quietly and he almost doesn’t catch it. Sunghoon can only breathe a laugh because he finds the dichotomy cute. You almost laugh too, but bite your tongue and look back to your empty hands. You don’t know it but he can see you try to fight your little smile. To him, this moment means more than anything; he’s starting to see you’re more tender than you realize. It brings him a sense of surety in knowing that he can break you like you to do him.

Silly as it may seem for a troubled girl, the bear was the only comfort you had throughout childhood. There was no kindness from your father, no solace from your mother, no guide in knowing life or love. But there was Saint Michael, the stuffed angel bear; he may not have defended you in battle but he hugged you back, and that was enough to cherish him like a deity.

Sunghoon crawls across the bed and sits himself next to you, too close for your liking, but you don’t push him away. He hands the stuffie back to you and you place it on the nightstand to face away from you. You lower yourself in the bed, shuffling under the covers of the blanket and he does the same. His skin naked bare yearns for more warmth, yours specifically.

You feel him turn on his side next to you, pressing up against you despite there being enough space on the bed. His movements are awkward and nervous like he is. You feel a certain pressure against your thigh that isn’t his bones or limbs. You spare him a glance, he doesn’t know if it’s a warning or dare.

“...Have I ruined you?” You wonder aloud, looking back to the ceiling.

“No,” he answers quickly, shaking his head against your shoulder. The way he’s missed you in his desire to touch you, hands tingling with want to snake around your waist and pull you in tight. “I think I just want you all the time now. I can’t help it, m’sorry.” He sounds ashamed in his soft mumbles.

“I’ll only keep stripping all that purity from you. Once it’s mine it’ll remain mine, you know that right?” You look back at him before brushing some of his drying hair from his eyes. He tries to lean up into the touch but your hand is taken back. “And I will pretend it’s healing all that’s missing from me. Do you really want to be mine, Sunghoon?” Your words are so gentle yet laced with threat.

“Yes,” he exhales, “I want to be yours. Let me be yours please.” It’s hushed, a secret prayer with hope. His hips push further into the skin of your leg, where the hip meets the thigh. He wouldn’t mind going to Hell if it meant more time with you.

“You beg like a needy barn animal in heat.” You use a hand to cup his face, he sighs into the hold as he eyes flutter to a close. You push your leg in between his, terribly close to his exposed and vibrating body. “So hump me like one.”

“W-what?” he stutters out before licking over his lips, his thighs squeezing around the plush of yours now trapped in his. His eyes already wet with desperate want, staring back at yours.

“Do it. Like it’s mating season and you want to claim me before anyone else.”

A cracked voice whine falls from his lips and he begins to roll his growing bulge against you. You watch as he sucks in breaths between quiet breathy moans. His pink, plump lips pursing and falling open. His eyes try to stay on your face, how close you are to him, but they fall shut sometimes in his basking of rapture. It’s a slutty sight of a faith-sickened boy.

He loves the little to no proximity that there is. His hands find place on your waist, and he’s aware of how that makes you feel, but he can’t stop it. He wants more and more of you. His hands slide up under your shirt, the feeling on your bare skin in his hands makes his body shudder. Untouched, warm flesh for his large hands to explore and learn every curve of.

Even you stiffen at his exploration, holding in your breath as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Your shirt lifts up more with his hands and the exposure is daunting like you’re revealing your insides.

The pit of your stomach lights up and you're frozen under his clutch. The pads of his fingers hold you so tight as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. His cock is raging and you can feel every pulse of blood that his heart beat floods to. He’s humping into you desperately, chasing the euphoria that he could never find on his own. Such a delicate, shy boy now driven by lust and longing.

“You’re pathetic and disgusting. You’re practically fucking me through our clothes,” you murmur while you try to push his hands down off you, but his grip won’t let up. Instead his nails dig further into you, a barely sounding broken noise escapes you from the pain. This makes his body collapse further into you, his head dropping between your shoulder and neck. His movements are sloppy and rushed.

“N-no, I’m still good. You make me feel good, I am so good,” he whines, tears beginning to fall from his eyes to your shoulder. You try to imagine his holy water is washing you clean but it only singes.

“Tell me that only I make you feel good, that you’re only good for me.”

“Only you—can only be you to make me good,” he cries against your warmth, rocking himself into you roughly. His leaking cock begins to twitch against you and his hips won’t quit their stuttered jerks.

You hum lightly and run a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He looks up at you with those desperate, wet, dark eyes and you can’t help but acknowledge how pretty he is like this. His puffy cheeks are flushed pink as the tip of his nose. “Only for me,” you mumble.

“Yes, thank you, I am yours. Yes.” His breaths are jagged and heavy. There’s a coiling in his abdomen that feels borderline explosive. You were right, he craves this feeling. It’s surreal to him how he’s gone so long without it. His arms wrap around you completely now, holding you down while his body rolls on top of yours, situated between your legs. His heart hammers against your chest; he wants to mold into you, to become a singular rot.

You squeak a gasp, being caged down by him. Your heart beats with the same veracity. One of your arms wraps around his waist to hold his back while the other holds the back of his head that hasn’t left the safety of your neck. He continuously sobs through meek moans. His hair tickles your skin like sparks while his lips brush over your jaw and neck making the tingle feel like crackling flames.

Under his weight you feel yourself slipping in both confidence and dominance, your body wanting to sink down in submission from the unknown comfort of his control. Your heart aches and you feel something you’ve never felt before. You think you’re scared of it, yet your body pulls him closer. Hand in his hair, tugging with fearful aggression. Nails piercing the skin of his shoulder blade. You’re pliant under his heavy thrusts and sounds of sin.

The rain pours harder outside with whips of harsh winds smacking the window. It’s almost like God’s wrath is screaming to be seen, to shout that He is watching.

Sunghoon’s hard cock is relentless against your core. The rough grind of him is stimulating in ways you’ve never felt before, your body sensitive and starving for more. You squeeze your eyes shut and moan within your closed mouth, hating yourself for feeling this way because it was never supposed to be about you. You are betraying yourself more than your fathers.

The sounds you try to withhold make Sunghoon weaker. He feels uncontrollable, only becoming needier and hungrier with his movements, “I can’t stop. I can’t stop.” He whines, begging for you to vocalize how you feel it too.

You feel like you’re breaking underneath him, and it feels shameful. Like every harsh word your father ever spat at you was true now that you’re a part of the experience and not just the cause. Everything is too much. It takes every ounce of strength you have to turn both of your bodies over. Now sitting up on top of his lap, you can finally breathe again, sighing in relief. He whimpers at the distance between you both but also from the view of you.

He moans your name softly as he grips your hips, pushing himself up into your clothed pussy like he’s fucking you. Your hands push down on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes with a plain expression and contrasting sharp eyes, grinding your hips back down on top of him. It’s hard to ignore the way it makes you feel, watching him fall apart beneath you as his pulsing cock fucks against you, but you manage.

“Cum for me,” you demand quietly, “make a mess and imagine it’s inside me.”

“Holy fu—ngh,” his entire body spasms and shudders with a low groan falling from his open lips. His movements slow down only to become lazier and uncoordinated. You can feel the warm wetness he spills soak through your thin pajama shorts and underwear.

“You’re right. You are good for me,” you coo softly, cupping his face and using your thumbs to wipe away the tears. Your hips circle and swivel slowly on him until his quivering cock finishes cumming.

Sunghoon has a sparkle to his wet eyes. The way the gentle praise left your lips makes him melt, and he can’t stop the flickering glance between your eyes and lips. He breathes heavily through his post clarity. Still he basks in your touch with a hopeful look in his eyes. His tongue slides over his lips before he’s leaning up towards your face, hands affixed to your waist to pull you closer to him.

This makes a wave of panic wash over you, knowing what he wants to do. You shake your head no and pull yourself away, slipping off of his lap only to turn away from him.

“None of that. It’s not what-”

And then there’s a press of lips to your cheek. Your face burns as if a hot coal was what kissed your face. Your eyes go wide, turning to see the boy sitting up next to you. He only wears a shy smile as he sees your reaction.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a week now,” he admits with a small laugh. “Not exactly there but that’s fine. I wish you would let me help you feel good too.” he whispers, looking back to the windowsill where the gifted flowers stood in their vase with the raging storm as their backdrop.

“That’s dumb and I don’t need to,” you reply, still watching him stare forward. Your chest feels painful; it’s an ache like shattered glass trying to piece together in the wrong ways. Stabbing but trying.

“I think you deserve to,” he argues. “But I understand if it’s not what you want. I was really touchy and I shouldn’t have been because you don’t seem like it. I was too caught up in the moment.” His mind goes to the mess he’s still sitting in and he feels self-conscious all over again. “Is it embarrassing how much I need you?”

You blink at him, swallowing the words that were never going to come out because you didn’t even know what they should or would be. So you settle with a simple, “No.”

You think it would kill you to admit how much you actually always wished to be wanted, needed, or loved. A bigger part of you didn’t think you were worthy of it, let alone capable. The world had such a way of saying otherwise. Until it brought Sunghoon to you; the boy who showed you feelings and experiences you never thought possible.

As if he could read your mind, he asks, “Why did you choose me out of everyone?” He falls back onto the bed, laying down and pulling the blanket over himself.

“I think you reminded me of a lamb.”

“Pardon?” His brows furrow.

You lay back down next to him, facing him like he is to you. “Pretty, white, and docile. You were so nervous when I first saw you—sometimes you still are.” You even laugh a little. “When you shook my hand I knew I could do anything to you because you’d let me.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He smiles wide, scooting closer to you.

You scoff with an eye roll, leaning further away from him. “Oh shut up, you’ve seen a mirror.”

And then it’s his turn to laugh a little. He looks at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls. It kind of hurts you to see him like this because it reminds you of your initial rotten intentions and how they’re dissipating the more you’re with him.

Time passes faster than the two of you realize. There’s light banter and easy conversations. You learn more about Sunghoon. Where he goes to school, what he studies, and who his friends are. He tells you of the sports he used to do and what he does in free time with his best friend. The more you learn about him, the more you understand his naivety and how despite what you’ve done, he won’t change. There’s something lovely about it.

You don’t have much to share about your life the way he does, at least not in the same light. But you show him your favorite books, drawings you made over the years, and share the stories of movies you found interesting. He savors the moment of you simply confiding, enjoying the more he can know about you.

The storm passes later in the evening. So caught up in borrowing time, the rain has slowed down to a simple pitter patter. The clouds dispersed and the setting sun only came through to say goodbye to the day.

The sound of the truck that the farmhands use to take back to town is heard roaring to life, signalling you and Sunghoon that it’s safe and time to head out.

Sunghoon jumps out of bed but by the time he’s shoving himself into his still damp jeans and looking out the window, the truck is already speeding down the dirt, now mud riddled road.

“They just left without me,” he breathes out. “I’m used to them leaving me out, but t-this is.. How am I going to get home?” He looks back to you with sad eyes, not the light they had earlier. He’s not shocked by their actions, but he is disappointed. A hand runs through his hair in his stress.

“Should I kill them?” Your question is brazen, body and voice eerily still in your seriousness.

“W-what?!” he whispers in shock, freezing for a moment.

“I’m joking.” You sit up and watch Sunghoon resume getting dressed. “I think you should head back to the lodge for the night. There’s a washer and dryer for your clothes. And spare food for dinner too.”

Sunghoon nods slightly, “your jokes are weird, but okay.” He looks like he’s thinking of something, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before speaking again. “Can you stay with me for the night at least?” he asks shyly.

“No,” comes out quicker than you intended. “...But I guess I can walk with you there.”

He nods again but now with his signature small dimpled smile. You almost forgot about being angry at the other farmhands for taking it away.

You have to make sure the coast is clear before leaving the house. You tiptoe down the halls and stairs, weary of where your mother is inside the house. To your luck, she’s in her usual state. She’s passed out on the couch with two empty bottles of wine on the floor. The television volume is low, playing a rerun of the reverend’s sermon; the devil himself of your childhood, preaching about how he lost his child to the otherside.

With a finger to your lips, you silently signal for Sunghoon to be quiet and to follow you out.

Once safely out of the front door, you take his hand in yours and start running for the lodge. The tall boy is behind you, so you don’t get to see the bright smile on his lips or in his eyes as you run through the light run towards the lodge.

Now standing in the front doorway of the farmer’s lodge, wet from the sky all over again and still hand in hand, Sunghoon bravely speaks up.

“I don’t like it when you disappear on me,” he breathes out shakily, honestly. “Nobody else sees me like you do,” he squeezes your hand tighter in his, feeling you begin to pull away. “Come with me into the city tomorrow. We can- I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure I want more time with you.”

His eye contact is unwavering, begging. Both of his strong hands hold onto yours. You glance from your hand then back to his pleading expression. He will always remain so sweet, no matter what you do to him.

“I felt less lonely before I met you,” you confess, eyes unblinking as you stare up at him for a long pause. “I’ll meet you here in the morning.”

In only seconds, he’s pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you so tightly as he holds you to his chest. You go stiff in his arms, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. What feels suffocating at first turns into a warmth you’ve become all too familiar with, and it was never anger. The indignation you always wear is just a hand me down from your parents; it doesn’t fit you right even though it’s comfortable.

With a shaky exhale, you wrap your arms around him too. The hug surrounds you like a blanket of unknown comfort. Your ear pressed to his chest listens to the sound of his racing heart. You can feel the pound throughout his entire body too. Every emotion held within is trying and fighting to be seen. It’s still so cold from the rain but he feels contrast, only warm. His lips press a kiss to the top of your head, making your body burn even more and your hold all the tighter.

　True to your word, you meet Sunghoon at the farmer’s lodge the next morning. He seems happier than usual. Very giddy to be spending a weekend day with you without work in the way. No distractions or excuses to leave. Just the two of you and a new day with zero obligations.

Because you had a spare bike, you both are able to peddle towards town to the bus stop together. Having made these frequent trips alone, you’re familiar with the owner of the gas station at the stop. He’s a deaf older man, and it surprises Sunghoon that you know how to sign and ask him to hold onto the bikes until you’re back. You tell Sunghoon that you learned some basics from reading a book you bought a long time ago.

Stunned, Sunghoon realizes that you went out of your way to do so for one man who watches your bike while you endure solo trips. You, the odd girl who was mean and sinful, used your money and learned a language for one man who did a simple favor. He’s learning more to admire you for by the day, and it’s crazy to him how you don’t see your own charm.

Sunghoon pays your bus fares even though you insisted on being capable of doing so yourself. Sat in the middle of the bus that’s only barely half filled, he asks if there’s anything you’d like to do for the day while in the city. Nobody has ever asked you such an effortless thing, and you like it more than you imagined. Just uncomplicated curiosity of your wishes.

“The book store. The small yellow one on main street. Maybe see a movie if anything is worth seeing.” You shrug, spewing out the usual things you do. Looking around the taken bus seats, you notice some familiar faces.

“That sounds nice,” he smiles, “our first real date! I think there’s a cafe near that book store too. Do you like coffee?”

Your cheeks burn as you stare at him in bewilderment, “you think we’re going on a date?!”

“Of course we are,” he laughs like it’s obvious and wraps an arm around your shoulder, looking out of the window. All that the town can offer him other than you passes by. “I’m a fan of americanos. You seem like you’d take your coffee black.”

“I don’t even like coffee,” you mumble, turning your attention out of the window as well. “Tea is nice though.” You add in, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hm. I can see that too,” he hums as he pulls you closer into his side.

So much can change in such little time. You’ve experienced this many times in one life. How one day can open a new door to a path otherwise not taken. Showing Sunghoon more of you has made him bloom into a larger ray of light. He seems more comfortable, and now you’ve become the awkward one.

The ride to the city doesn’t normally take this long, or at least you don’t think it does. Every second with him by your side makes the experience feel brand new. The theme of time being unreal is common with him, you’ve discovered. It’s when you’re in the bookstore and see a holiday sale that you realize it’s not even June anymore.

While Sunghoon looks for books for his upcoming college semester, you find yourself in genre sections you never really cared for before. The dark and racy ones were fun to bring home, sure. But innocent, cliche romance was always something cringey to you. Now if you change your perspective to that of research then it’s less daunting, right? Perhaps you’d make sense of all the things you’re discovering about yourself and him. Yeah, that’s convincing enough.

He teases you at the checkout counter when he sees what you picked out. Your face flushes in embarrassment and you can’t even bite back at him or defend your choices. So you smack him with the book on the way out while he laughs and makes jokes that aren’t very funny.

The two of you do manage to catch a movie. You honestly didn’t care to see one, but having to sit silently in a theater for at least an hour and half seemed like enough time for him to, hopefully, forget and drop the whole book situation. It’s a summer slasher film. A group of teens go camping and the plot is very ‘who done it’ style. Overall, it’s a fun choice. You have your turn to laugh and joke when Sunghoon gets jumpy or scared.

After the movie, you both end up at the cafe Sunghoon mentioned while on the bus. There was something painfully intimate about everything today. But especially sitting down to eat with him. Not even your mother could meet you at the table anymore.

“You seem softer today,” Sunghoon states, setting his half-drunk coffee down. “Almost nervous. Is it because we’re out together for our first date? Or just the people in general?”

You raise a brow at his brazen curiosity and observation. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” you play with your fork to move around the barely touched food in front of you. “Or maybe it’s a bit of both.”

“If you come to the city enough to know sign language for the man who watches your bike, do you like it better than the countryside?”

“Don’t know. I’m used to the quiet life, but leaving it behind and pretending it’s not there is nice too.”

“What keeps you there?”

“The scenery. The air. The lake. Being friends with the animals.” You look up from the plate to Sunghoon who is watching you like a lecture: attentive and learning. “I’m not very good with people, so I think it suits me alright.”

“You’re good with me though,” he argues softly.

“No, not really. I wish I was more like everyone else,” you inhale deeply as your eyes wander around the bustling cafe. There’s a choir of laughter, conversations, and social dynamics you would have to study to master. “If I were a good person, everything would be easier.”

“...but I like you as you are,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear, watching you shift in your seat. He doesn’t think you’re not a good person, and it hurts that you see yourself as such.

As Sunghoon speaks, there’s a chime that follows as the front door of the cafe is swung open. A disheveled man stumbles inside, heavy feet stomping the tile floor to attempt to stabilize his disorientation. The man burps obnoxiously loud, and many eyes find him with the grand entrance.

He scratches at his lengthy, unkept beard as he looks around. When his sunken eyes find you sitting at the table nearby his eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open. His hand shakes with a pointed finger in your direction, “y-you! The girl from the reverend’s sermon!” He’s loud, capturing the attention of everyone now. His sloppy movements make way towards you and Sunghoon; you feel everything within you freeze, and your heart knocks at your chest fast and hard with anxiety.

He slams his hands on the table, causing your plates and drinks to rattle. He reeks badly of alcohol and his crazed eyes never leave yours. You swallow thickly, fight or flight mode still trying to understand the situation before you. Meanwhile Sunghoon, worried and confused, slowly begins to stand up and grab your bags.

But you, you’re frozen staring at the messy man who talks of your greatest hate. Your hands tremble on the table.

“I thought the reverend made you up for stories, but my God! You’re the real living thing just like the pictures; his only sin,” he laughs boisterously in your face and you try not to gag. “I saw him a little whiles earlier, ya know,” his voice goes quieter, it’s taunting even. You wish to remain calm but your eyes tremble and a frown takes your face. “I should go find him and tell him you’re here. He really-”

Sunghoon takes your hand, practically dragging you away from the table. You almost fall from your seat, like a baby deer just learning to walk, there’s little strength to your legs.

“It’s not too late! You can be on the right side of things!” his voice ricochets off the walls of the now quiet cafe. “If I can be saved by his preaching, so can you! Look at me!” His mad laughter follows you and Sunghoon outside.

Sunghoon watches you stand on uneasy feet, zoned out staring at the sidewalk. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together that the drunken man was talking about your father. Your father being a reverend who’s not in the picture gave him much to wonder about, but now isn’t the time. He just wanted to get you somewhere away from this memory.

He crouches down in front of you. You slowly blink back to reality, now looking down at his back. You don’t want to speak so you poke his shoulder in questioning.

“Hop on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“What if I’m heavy?” you look at the bags he’s already holding, feeling that you too are a burdened weight he doesn’t need to hold.

“I’ve got good muscles, remember? Good for farm work,” he’s patient and calm with you while his eyes watch the man from outside the glass cafe windows. “Come on, baby.”

Without thinking, you end up on his back. He carries you on his back, strong arms holding your legs while yours are loosely around his neck. Your insides are a flared up hurricane but at least that allows your body to forget the empty ache you left at the cafe. With your chin hooked over his shoulder, you watch the many people and downtown stores that pass by.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly know where he’s walking, but thinks it’s best to end the day here and return you to the bus stop. He’s never seen that look on your face before—the one you had when the man was loud in your face. He didn’t like it, and he’s sure you hated it. You looked intimidated, or afraid.

“Would you kill him for me?” you watch the side of his face, “the reverend, I mean.”

He stops in his tracks and turns his head to look back at you, “w-what? I can’t kill someone… and you should joke like that.” he panics, looking around to see if someone was listening to the wild conversation and request.

“Yeah, I know. I’m fucking with you,” you look away to hide your smirk, “and only half joking.”

“Did you believe him before?” He starts walking again, but this time at a slower pace knowing the bus stop isn’t too far now.

“Who? My dad or Our Father?” There’s a use of air quotes at the end of your question.

“Both?” his head tilts.

“Neither,” you confirm. There’s a pause for thought and Sunghoon waits for you to further explain. “My relationship with both is too similar. They’ve both known me my whole life, right? Seen all of my wrong doings and in return shown wrath through unnecessary punishments called forgiveness. In what good world is tolerance violent?”

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

“Sometimes, after my mother set the table for dinner, he would knock my plate to the floor. Tell me to eat off the ground like the animal I was or starve.” Sunghoon frowns at this, coming to a slow stop when he sees the bus shelter bench. “Sometimes I had days and nights locked in the barns, but he switched it up to the basement when I was too close with the animals.” You laugh a little, but he senses the pain behind it. “I watched him kill the animals, too, only to smother me in their blood. Beatings were rare, but I think only because he despised the thought of even touching me.”

Sunghoon slowly sets you down to the ground and breathes out your name safely, taking your hands into his. He looks at you with sorrow, like he was the one who endured it with you.

“God’s orders, am I right? My father, the church goers, speak of God like they’ve seen his face and heard his voice, but they haven’t. I would’ve by now too.”

If He was really in everything, all around, why did He always turn a blind eye? Why does He pretend to not know you? It only made it harder to believe in—something that would bring you here, torture you then watch you suffer for not living how it pleases. God wants to be believed in, but so do you. Only you would never beg for compassion.

Sunghoon squeezes your hands in his, “I don’t think you should stay there. You never deserved that… even if you’re volatile and strange… because you’re also kind and caring. It’s why I like you. It’s their fault for not seeing that,” he reassures. “I haven’t been through what you have, and I can’t understand. I-I mean I can try to, ya know… it’s not like I’d leave if I didn’t.” His words begin to stumble nervously, not confident in its sympathy reaching you where needed.

You laugh nervously, trying to tug your hands away from his grip that doesn’t let up. “Okay sure whatever, this is really embarrassing now…” You swallow hard and find difficulty in meeting his eyes.

That’s all that matters, what he said to you, but you didn’t have it in you to say it. He already knows it though, smiling small and holding your hands still. Without words or excessive displays he can still see it in your eyes, the subtle comfort of acceptance.

He could never blame you for your nature. He sees your anger as you just trying to be strong all while being sad. Whether you are his lover or executioner, he would accept you as you are every time with open arms, receiving hands. Even more readily, now.

　Even more time has passed since knowing Sunghoon. Summer has never flown by so fast. The calendar doesn’t exist to you anymore. It’s only the days you see him and the days that you don’t. The season will be wrapping up in the next few weeks, but only for him. He has to return to his regular scheduled routine of pursuing education while you will stay here, on the farm. It’s rare for you to feel this emotion: fear. You are scared of losing him. And the concept is something you do your best to avoid thinking about because it makes your skin itch with anxiety. It crawls over you like something that needs to be cut out.

And then an idea hits you. Something far more deep-seated than everything else you’ve done with Sunghoon that would solidify that this summer is real and yours. Something that will always stay; a reminder that good things are possible despite how the world has made you.

It’s a damn near perfect day. The sun is so bright, and only peers down onto you both through the gaps of the trees. It’s just warm enough. Just quiet enough aside from the sound of Sunghoon’s gentle breathing and natural composition of the nature that surrounds. Rustling of leaves, chirps of birds, and scurrying of whatever life that wishes to not be seen.

You both sit criss cross at the wooden dock by the lake, simply enjoying the scenery and all it has to offer. His large knee is affixed to yours. If this was early June, you would have moved away. But now it’s a week into August and you wouldn’t have it anywhere else. Just like you always imagined, and secretly wanted, the view is nicer with someone else.

He didn’t bother asking why you never brought him here before, or why it is that you chose to now. He’s just happy that you decided to at all.

You slip a hand into your boot and pull out a pocket knife. You flick it open and do a brief inspection of the cleaned blade. The sun glints off the metal as you turn it.

“Sunghoon, do you trust me?”

His eyes flicker from your blank face to the blade. He nods slowly with a swallow, “of course.” There’s a subtle apprehension to him. You hand him the small blade and leave your palm facing up, open to him.

“Cut a diagonal line down my hand,” you point and draw a line down the middle of your palm.

“Huh, seriously?” he takes the blade confused and concerned with what you’re asking of him. “Why? I can’t hurt you.”

“Do it. Don’t think of it as hurting me, but still do it deep enough to leave a scar.”

He struggles to understand the situation, but you’re so serious and clearly waiting for him to do as you asked. He exhales deeply, taking your hand in his while the other holds the knife just above the bared skin. Hesitant and slow, the tip of the knife pressed down into your flesh. You wince a little, which makes him pause. You nod, encouraging him to continue and he does despite hating the act. He slices the palm of your hand open just as you wanted. You hate blood, but it’s not so bad when caused by him.

“Shit, it stings,” you swallow through the pain. The feel of open flesh burning and stinging. “Your turn,” you exhale while taking the knife back with your free, unharmed hand.

“My turn,” he agrees as if all logic has left him and readily displays his palm to you. Deep down, he feels guilty for hurting you, so to make it even he wants to feel the same.

Just as hesitant and careful, you create a matching wound in his hand. A deep enough, bleeding, lesion in his left hand to match your right one. He cringes at the sight and the pain before looking back to your face. Your expression is so soft yet attentive, almost awestruck.

“Even when you hurt me you’re gentle,” he remarks, watching you in amazement with a meek smile.

“I am not gentle. I have sullied you,” you remind him, your eyes attempt to glare but they’re too bright in his.

“In the softest way, why?” His voice is delicate and still like the lake that sits before you. You blink slowly at him because there are no words to be found. He continues, “I never thought of you as a bad person,” he pauses as you drop the red stained knife, unsure if he should continue at first but does regardless. “And, uhm, I’ve thought a lot about this summer. What I've learned from you. Purity is constructive—like something made to bring shame.” You don’t move, watching him. “I don’t have to be clean to be good…and your hands never made me dirty. Because they never were either.”

Like an excavator to your tall, strong built walls Sunghoon has knocked your shield down. The facade of your character is breaking down, crumbling into the broken pieces that made it. A single tear escapes your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s rare for you to cry and you’re disgusted with the reality as to why it’s now that you break. Simply falling apart from kind words.

You try to use everything in you to ignore the heat in your body, to show the anger you think you’re feeling inside. So your eyes remain sharp and strong, boring into his, as they still water. You swallow the dry lump in your throat and without a word, you take his hand into yours to join in a mix of blood.

At first, you had one goal; one similar to murder. The sparkle he had in his eyes, you wanted to eat—to make them empty—and see the world ugly and godless like you. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way, his eyes shone even brighter. You only wanted to take and take of the innocent boy, but in this moment you realize, maybe I just wanted to give him some of me.

You wipe the wet drop away from your face with haste, pretending as if it was never there. Whatever blood oath you’re making with Sunghoon allows you to feel something indescribable. You don’t know if it’s deserved, but you smile anyways. Because the indescribable feeling feels like it’s an unknown, unspoken promise.

He’s seen you smile before with insidious malice, but this time, for the first time, you are really smiling. It’s a raw expression of surfacing emotions, and he returns the emotion like the sun. He thought of you beautiful before but with your brightness finally peering through your clouds, he believes you to be heaven sent. A part of him always wanted to see you cry—usually it was him with tears in his eyes; which is funny, because he wasn’t much of a cryer himself. You just had that way of breaking him down. He knows now he does for you too. And he can tell that you’re probably the type of person who needs to cry the most.

His hand squeezes yours tighter, a grip so loving, as you bind in one. Neither of your eyes or smiles leave each other until the bleeding stops.

　A week later, Sunghoon asks you on a date. The summer fair is in town. It’s something like a festival where all the locals from towns around the city come to visit and join in on festivities from carnival games, rides, food, and uncommon entertainments. You think of being mean, denying him the acceptance of the date, but you have always wanted to go. So you said yes without your words: took his scarred hand in yours and nodded.

The evening sky is a watercolor of warm tones as the sun begins to lay down for the night. The bright lights of the fair illuminate the large open field turned carnival. There’s a sea of people here tonight, and although it makes you nervous inside, having Sunghoon by your side makes the ordeal easier to handle.

The line for the ticket booth is lengthy but it passes by. You approach the booth, standing a little behind Sunghoon who takes out his wallet to buy your entrance wristband passes and tickets. You look around at the many people: families, friends, and couples, all immersed in their own experience as the music and sounds blend in the background of conversations.

“Oh wow! You’re really handsome,” the girl at the ticket booth gawks at Sunghoon. She straightens her posture and fixes her hair from her face, “one ticke-?”

Catching this, you step forward and snatch Sunghoon’s wallet from his hands, “he already knows that. Do your job or I’ll feed you to pigs.” You slap the cash amount for what you need down onto the table top with a straight face and mean eyes.

Her eyes go wide and she hushes an apology, quickly giving you both wristbands and tickets for the evening. She even threw in extra tickets as you stared her down.

Sunghoon watches you with a flushed face, even the tips of his ears burn red at your jealous threat. You both walk off into the fair, a sheepish smile on his face as he leads you through the crowd with an arm wrapped around your back and hand to your waist.

“Was that one of your jokes too?” he grins down at you.

“Nope,” you glance at him with a small smile. You weren’t sure what came over you in the moment, but it was something internally deep, and territorial. An innate reaction to someone trying to appeal to something that belongs to you. It felt ugly and you didn’t like it.

The idea that he could possibly be taken from you was a phenomenon you’ve thought of for a while now. Knowing he has an existing life outside you, outside of this summer, that he would return you made you sick. You’re far from perfect, or the right thing for him, and he could find a safer option if he ever pleased. Pushing the thoughts away is harder than you imagine, so you cling to his side even more.

You and Sunghoon use up your spare tickets for carnival games. You toss rings around bottles, shoot water guns into the mouth of a clown frame, and throw darts at balloons. The both of you aren’t very skilled at any of the games, but it's fun enough to enjoy the time without winning a prize to show for it.

Eventually, Sunghoon does find frustration within the ‘rigged’ set up of the games. He even pulls out his wallet for cash when the tickets are gone. You’re surprised at how competitive he is; his determined nature is something that stirs your insides around. You don’t know if you’ve ever smiled so much in your life.

After 3 rounds of throwing a ball to knock over a moving target, he does manage to win. Going 3 for 3 and not missing a single shot. The excitement you feel when he succeeds takes over and you’re proud, doing little jumps in place and clapping your hands together.

“You did it! You won!” you exclaim, hugging onto his side.

He can only smile down at your joyfulness. A fire burns in his heart and he hugs you back, kissing your forehead. “All for you. Which prize do you want?”

“It’s yours, you should pick it,” you blush, elbowing his side with a shy smile while your eyes keep looking up to the stuffed white lamb with a lace ribbon around its neck and a cushion gold bell adoring the throat.

Of course, that’s the prize he ends up choosing. It might not be Saint Michael the stuffed bear, but it’s something far happier, cleaner, and softer.

The stuffed animal never leaves your hold throughout the rest of the evening. It rides the many rides you and Sunghoon do. And sits at the picnic table with you both as you share fair snacks. Popcorn and cotton candy was never so sweet for either of you. Like contentment melting on your tongues.

Cliche as ever, Sunghoon wants to end the night there with a round on the ferris wheel. The line moves quickly and when it’s your turn to step into the carriage, he takes your hand and sits you down the seat next to him.

It moves slowly and rocks back and forth with shaky movements that have you gripping the side handles. With an arm around your shoulder, he holds you close to him. The array of flickering colorful lights and people below you feels almost magical.

Taking your eyes from the heightened difference between you and the ground, you look back to the boy beside you who is already looking at you. The reflection of rainbow luminescence glistens in his eyes. It’s even prettier than the view from the top of the little world you’re in. You give him a shy smile, finding it impossible to look away.

He says your name in a whisper, taking your chin between your fingers. “Thank you for choosing to let me in.”

Confused and wide eyed, you watch him lean into your face. You gasp when his lips meet yours before returning the notion. With eyes closed, you melt into his kiss. It’s sweet as all the things you’ve experienced today because of him.

It’s also as clumsy and messy as a kiss can be for two people who’ve never done so before. However, human nature and desire take over and ease the rest for you both. Lips move over another in a gentle waltz, careful and slow.

And as if the situation couldn’t get anymore cliche, fireworks light up the sky. At first you thought it was just your imagination and all the books you’ve read flooding your consciousness, but the booming sounds and cheers of the crowd are too loud to not be real.

You pull away from him first, and he’s already wearing a shit eating grin so wide that you can’t help but roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back at him. Your face burns in both embarrassment and adrenaline from the kiss.

After that, you don’t leave the city like you should. The bus takes you both back downtown but neither you or Sunghoon feel it’s time for goodbye. So, for the first time, he takes you back to his apartment. You’ve never been to anybody else's home before, and it’s nerve wracking to say the least. The complex is large and somewhat modern, housing many of the second and third year private college students.

When you step inside, it’s quite plain but at least clean. You’re immediately greeted by a boy shorter than Sunghoon. He has a big mouth smile and shining dark eyes. His hair is shaggy but it suits him. He’s practically bouncing on his toes. You shift yourself behind Sunghoon and hold onto his shirt, hiding slightly from the excited puppy-like roommate.

“How did it go? Oh, and nice to finally meet you,” he rambles out quickly, “I’m Jake. The best friend and roommate. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shoots Sunghoon a wink before grinning back at you. He extends a hand for you to shake but you don’t reach out. Something about his eyes doesn’t sit right with you.

“She’s shy,” Sunghoon laughs a little as he guides you past Jake and towards his room. “It was fun though. I recommend going before it’s gone.”

“Ah, you got yourself a nice little angel, huh?” Jake leans over the kitchen island, watching you both. His smile falters. “I’ll have one of my own some day.” For some reason, you think of him as a secret pervert.

Sunghoon laughs his comment off and tells Jake goodnight before showing you to his room. His room is neat and as simple as a college boy’s room can be. A bed, desk, dresser, closet, and bathroom. One poster of a musician you’ve never listened to and a window with unopened blinds.

You sit yourself at the end of his bed and he sits down next to you. There’s some awkward silence as you look around, unsure of what you’re supposed to do. He feels similarly to your internal dilemma.

“I-I’ve never had-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. Of course he’s never had a girl over. And of course you’ve never been over to a boys house.

“Are you tired?” he asks, and you lie by nodding your head. So you both get ready for bed. He gives you a shirt to borrow for bed that change into in his bathroom while he changes into sweats and a t-shirt in his room.

In minutes you’re both laying in his bed under the covers and staring up at his ceiling in the dark room. Not a word is said as you both lay there wide awake and untouching. But you know he’s wanting to by the way his body is shifting and turning, inching closer with every minute movement.

And before you know it, although expected, his body is nestled closely to yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace. For the most part, he usually does keep his space. Knowing how you are when it comes to physical touch that feels too sudden or invading. But with barriers breaking down more over time, he thinks you’re learning to handle the comfort better.

“I thought you were tired?” he mumbles, head on your shoulder. His hands trace up and down your arms that are wrapped around yourself like a guard.

“I lied,” you whisper. Your eyes can’t look at him yet, so they remain aimless to the ceiling. Some moonlight slips through his cracked window blinds, giving you enough view of the spinning ceiling fan.

“I had fun today. Mostly because you did. I like seeing you happy,” he smiles after kissing your shoulder that’s exposed in the neckline of his shirt too big for you. “And… I liked when you kissed me back,” his voice is quiet and shy-like.

“Do you want to do it again?” Your eyes shift to him and you can barely see the warm flush to his cheeks. He’s cute.

Taken aback at first, he just blinks at you with a parted mouth. Then he nods his head slowly, licking over his lips.

You turn over onto your side to face him and his hands don’t leave your waist. Unsure of what to do with your own, you wrap them around his neck. Good thing they sit behind him and it’s dark in the room because it would kill you for him to notice the slight tremor in your fingers.

With a scarily racing heart and stiff, trembling body you surge forward to kiss him. His lips are quick to capture yours. Soft and pillow-like, they mold into yours in waves. What starts off as clumsy and unskilled turns into hunger. Something desperate and needy. His grip feels bruising to your hips but in a nice way. In a way you want it to hurt more.

His nails digging further into your flesh to keep you impossibly close make your lips gasp, or maybe it’s the lack of air, or just both. And instinctively his tongue is licking its way past your lips and into your mouth. He kisses you like he’s starved for it. His wet tongue drags over yours, and your teeth, then as far as it can inside of you. He whimpers, pressing his already hard cock to you as he licks and kisses you open.

Your stomach has never burned this way before, and you feel the hot sensation all over then down to your core that aches like it’s hungry too. You feel disgusted by yourself but can’t fight the hum you make as you devour him right back. You’re getting wetter every second he’s in your mouth.

This time, he pulls away first. Panting for air and staring at you with glazed over dark eyes. He licks over his wet lips again, savoring the taste of you on himself. He bites down onto it and a part of you wishes it was you he sunk his teeth in.

“Can I do what I did last time?” he breathes out, his hips involuntarily jerking up against you at the thought alone.

While trying to act like you’re not catching your breath too, you say quietly, “do whatever you want.”

He kisses you again but with more desperation. You try to do the same but you can feel your heart and your head preparing for battle. The way he’s feeling you up and grinding himself on you is in no way unwanted, and that’s part of the reason you’re struggling to maintain presence.

It’s so much happening so quickly, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t imagine this happening eventually. Sex was inevitable. The way his body yearns to be one with yours makes you feel special almost. He’s already engraved into you but in his mind he has to be inside of you and it hurts so badly how you think the same.

But is the last thing that keeps him pure really yours to take? You’ve stripped so much away from him for all the wrong reasons before and now it feels strange. You are no good and that’s all he is.

The only thing keeping you here, in the moment, is him. His exploratory and gentle yet rough hands, his body grinding into you, his lips that can’t leave yours or your skin for even a second, and the weak wanting sounds that leave them.

“I need more, please. I want- I need to feel good with you. Please,” he’s whining into your ear. Then pressing kisses along your jaw and neck that are all so tender, slow, and deliberate. Large hands caress you like you’re breakable, as if not already just a body of fragmented pieces made whole and called a person.

Your still shaking hand reaches down between your two bodies and slips past his sweats. He had the nerve to go commando and you wish you could tease him, but you can’t. You’re lucky you’re even here right now and breathing his air. Your hand wraps around his aching length and gives him a few tugs to which he’s quick to moan. He kicks off his sweatpants while you bring him closer to you. The plush of your thighs trap him; he whimpers against the soft heat of your flesh.

Your hips grind up into him once, showing him what he should do too. He’s slow to start, rocking himself between your thighs. Slutty and hopeless sounds leave him in a string of his want. His leaking hard cock is so close to your core. Only the thin layer of your underwear keeps him from feeling your clear need for him too.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you bury your head to his shoulder. You can feel the pulse of his aching desire rubbing and grinding against you. It makes you shiver in sensitivity and cower further into his neck. You don’t bite down onto your lip, but his neck. There’s a sting to your eyes because you hate it—the wet warmth that pools out of you. Your sin sticks to your underwear and your skin like the red raining life of all the animals you made leave the earth; your haunting subconscious correlates with your growing pleasure.

You know you’re not religious yet every time Sunghoon touches you there’s a divinity to it and it makes your hands want to join in prayer to thank the universe for sending someone like him to you. Because his hands roam your body as if they have in every world; as if there is not one timeline where you have not been made for him. Like you were carved from his rib every time.

Your body smolders in that angry way it always did whenever Sunghoon got too close to you. Whenever his words were too kind, his touch too gentle, or god forbid when he just smiled at you. That fire is just the divine nature of your relationship, lighting up everywhere he touches and leaving flames in the wake. You thought it was your body rejecting his purity, but you were only denying the likeness. He made you feel good. And in the most ironic way possible. You just didn’t think you deserved it.

Yet an anguished moan leaves you, rumbling against his skin as you bite down harder. Regardless of it all, he is yours right now.

The feeling of your sinking teeth in him, the sounds you’re now making, and the damp heat between your legs he can’t stop chasing all makes his head spin. He bites down onto you just the same and it only makes you moan louder.

“Please,” he’s whining again through the bite. His voice a needy tremble while his hips stutter and thrust between your legs that only squeeze tighter together. The way the fat of your legs hug his raging cock through his desperate grinds makes him chase more and more for that feeling he just can’t seem to reach. The crying tip kisses and pushes up then past your leaking folds every time. It drives you both insane.

If your body is the fiery lake of creation's deepest pit, then he is the cleanest ocean of earth’s highest point. If anyone could extinguish you, and possibly make you feel whole, it was Sunghoon.

This is the most horrifying reality you’ve come face to face with. Not just intimacy, but a stronger driving emotion. You have to open yourself, rip open your chest and bare your beating heart in all its naked vulnerability. Let it scream out I like being with you. You have allowed this person into your world that nobody else has dared to step foot in. To see you in such ugly ways yet still extend their arms for you. It’s a terrifying level of closeness that you’ve never once experienced and you don’t know what to do with. You’re beyond perplexed by what he’s done to you, in both terror and awe.

You pull back from Sunghoon and he pauses everything for a moment to look at you, noticing your wet eyes. Before he can ask what’s wrong you reach down and slip off your underwear. You shift your body and maneuver him as best you can until he’s on top of you. Rattled with concealed embarrassment you remove his shirt and toss it somewhere to the floor, and he does the same.

You take a deep breath and reach back down to his cock, lining it up with your pussy. You blink and swallow away all the things trying to stop you from allowing yourself him. Pliant beneath him, you grab his shoulders and pull him down to you for a quick kiss. Foreheads now pressed together with lips ghosting over the others, you tell him, “I hate you.”

Sunghoon only smiles down at you before kissing you once more. With his arms caged around you, he slowly pushes himself forward. The fat tip of his cock fails to go through you, only sliding up and past the wet folds. He whines feeling the warm slick coat the head; his entire body shudders. He nearly cums from that alone.

He looks at you confused, and nod once while trying to shift your hips around for a better angle. It’s not like you to be so quiet during things like this. It only tells him that for once, you’re nervous about new things the way he was.

So he tries again, this time a little rougher. He thrusts his hips forward, the tip pushing past the tight walls but still barely in. You whimper at the intrusion and the feeling of you being stretched open. Your hands squeeze hold onto his biceps for purchase.

The tight sensation of your pussy squeezing his tip feels otherworldly to him. He can’t help but need to sink deeper into you. His cock pushes in further at an agonizing pace until he’s as deep as he can possibly go. His arms shake while he tries to maintain his strength and keep himself from collapsing onto you completely. The wet walls that surround him flutter and try to pull him further inside, making him feel lightheaded. His moans are so needy it’s almost like he’s crying from the feeling.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you whimper. Having Sunghoon completely inside of you feels so full. You’re stuffed with him and it hurts so good. “You gotta move, Hoon. Feels like you’re splitting me open.”

“You're so tight, mm.” His hips stutter from your words alone and he whimpers again. He pulls himself out halfway while your gummy walls kiss around him in an attempt to suck him back to be filled again. He begins to rock himself in and out of you. It’s inexperienced and awkward, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Doing what feels best for him and what seems to be the best for you too.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you,” you whisper harshly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. It all burns while feeling like heaven. Never have you been so full, held so gently, or seen than this summer. You bite back the breaking moans and whimpers. You claw at his skin. You even begin to cry when your hips can’t stop chasing his thrusts.

“I love you too,” he whispers back. A kiss is pressed to your forehead as his cock pistons you. Sunghoon is smart enough to know you’re a liar. Your mean words that used to hurt him, he now understands. You’re not really a bad person. And you don’t hate him. You were just really damaged and if he’s damned for trying to heal that then he’s fine with that too.

“I mean it,” your body shudders, feeling his tip pound so far and deep in places inside you that you didn’t know reachable. His fat cock drags out and forces through your tight hole, making you cream all over him more and more. The sounds that leave your body, the sounds your bodies are making, it’s so obscene. Fighting off the disgust and focusing on how he makes you feel is war. It’s so hard for you to win.

“No you don’t,” he shifts himself to sit on his knees, taking your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He leans forward and kisses both of your cheeks before fucking himself into you again, only harder and faster than before.

“Ngh,” you moan again through broken sobs, blinking away the tears as you stare up at him. “I’m t-trying to.”

“I know, baby.” he mumbles before capturing your wobbling lips into a searing kiss. “It’s okay, haah, don’t cry. You’re good. You’re so good for me,” he says against your wet lips. You can only sniffle and try to turn your head away from him in your embarrassment. “No, no.” he takes your chin with his thumb and finger, forcing you to look back at him. His thrusts never letting up during his care. “Look at me. You’re so good to me.” He reminds you over and over. “We’re so good together. I’m yours. you’re mine.”

“Say it again,” you sniffle through little sounds of sin. Your hand finds a place on his cheek, and your thumb rubs over his lips that wear a smile.

“You’re so good, good for me. We are so good together. I am yours. And you are mine,” he says softly. His eyes are so filled with love, and if you could see your reflection in his then you would know yours are too. “Say you’re good, baby, it’s okay.”

“I’m good,” you sob through your whimpers, “I’m yours.”

To Sunghoon, the idea of sex was always sacred. Something that’s only done and shared between lovers bound by marriage of the church. But now, he thinks differently. He knows that there is no shame in him loving you now or years later. And he was more than happy to make love to you all night until you believed it too.

　Perhaps there was a thing such as divine intervention and if God’s timing was alway right, he knew how to be evil with it too. Because the next day, when Sunghoon takes you home, he’s met with your maker.

Your mother, aware of the frequent trips you’ve been making and how close you’ve grown to the summer farmhand boy, is quick to make a call to your father the night you don’t return home. It wasn’t necessarily because she cared for your well being. You’re more than capable of handling yourself. But it was an excuse to try and get him to come back. Only it doesn’t go how she wanted.

When you see the reverend’s car parked in front of your house, your heart drops. Sunghoon picks up on your tension, He sees how you go blank at the sight and slowly turn back into the empty girl he met months ago. He tries to hold your hand but your fingers can’t move, can’t return the embrace.

When the reverend walks out of the house with his infamous weapon of sacrificial forgiveness, you know what to do. Your body moves on its own, leaving Sunghoon to reach out for you that walks towards the woods. He goes to follow you and the desolate man that stalks behind, but your mother stops him. She’s hysterical as she drags him towards your house saying, “it’s going to be okay.” But she’s crying.

Once out of their sight, the reverend takes you by the hair. He yanks your head around, pulling you towards that cursed tree. He’s uncharacteristically rough and your scalp screams for a release but you don’t show it. You don’t even look at the man. Not even when he’s tossing your body to the ground.

“So you’re whoring around with my employees now, huh? Was ruining this farm not enough for you?” His words mean nothing to you. You dust off the dirt and go to stand again, but he kicks you back down. You tsk under your breath as he speaks again, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done. Seen you leave my barns with red hands and smile. Cut heads off chickens like an anatomy project. Is he next? That church boy?”

Now you look up to glare at him. Seeing the reverend was aggravating enough, but to say something about Sunghoon was infuriating to you. “I am not a killer. You are! And those animals were already dead.” You spit at his black leather church shoes.

“Oh, you disgusting little devient,” he laughs lowly, untying the rope from the tree. “Your cruelty shouldn’t bring you joy. Sick and twisted, I should’ve dealt with you sooner regardless of what your drunk bitch mother protested. I can save the boy when you’re gone.”

“What?” you shuffle backwards from him, angry and confused as he stalks closer to you until you’re backed against the tree. “All those things I did was because of you. Your righteousness made me rotten!” Your hands shake, gripping at the dirt ground for anything to make the fear stop. You glance up to the empty tree branch then the rope in his hands. Where is the lamb? You think briefly before it hits you. “You’re crazy,” you whisper, “I will not be your martyr… not now what I’m finally-”

“Condemn me to Hell for all I care,” he crouches down in front of you, “This is the last time I’ll be a killer.” He throws the rope to your lap and tells you to tether yourself.

“Why do you hate me?” The words scratch at your throat. When you were younger, you did want the reverend to hate you. It was when he noticed you most, and it’s all you really knew. But now you’re older, and his disdain never made sense.

You can’t bring yourself to move even if you wanted to. Was this His plan? To allow you one good thing in life before ending it? Was ruining Sunghoon your final sin?

The rope shakes with your fingers as you stare down at it. The twine of the rope burns over the palm of your hand where Sunghoon carved his promise. Your throat feels dry, tight and suffocating; choking on everything you’ve ever done. And your eyes still puffy from the night before well with tears all over again.

“I just do,” he thinks of slicing your neck open right there. So fuck tying you down, you were always secretly another lamb anyways. He raises his knife and the metal sits cold under your chin as he lifts your head up to look back at him.

“Okay…” you swallow.

Your eyes squeeze shut and so does your mouth, as you raise your head to the sky with an exposed throat. Why isn’t this easy? Unlike the animals, you do know what’s coming. And it’s scary. Scary not because of death, but because you aren’t ready. You haven’t told Sunghoon goodbye or that you love him back. And the thought of him finding something in this world to hate, is such an ugly feeling to die with.

And then there’s a loud noise. A booming bang, followed by unsteady feet falling back and the ground rumbling with a thud.

You open your eyes and your father is on his back clutching his abdomen. He coughs and gasps before raising his hand. It’s dripping in deep red. And you can’t help but smile with tears in your eyes as you exhale a jagged breath.

You turn your head and Sunghoon stands there with the shotgun in hand, open mouthed and wide eyed.

“Sunghoon!” you scramble to your feet and run over to him, taking the gun from his hands as he’s frozen in shock.

“H-he was going to- he was about to hurt you. I had to-!” he stutters, his eyes already crying and hands shaking, still feeling the weight and recoil of the gun.

“It’s okay,” you coo softly. “Just- go back to the house and I’ll be right there, okay?” You rush out. Still in shock and dazed, he blindly trusts you and does as you say.

When he’s no longer close by, you walk over to the reverend with a blank face. You stare down at him as he tries to crawl away, dirty and bleeding. The smile you make doesn’t reach your eyes.

You point the gun back down at him, and place your foot over the shot wound Sunghoon created. The man gasps and tries to swat at your leg but you only press the gun further into his face, making him surrender.

“Divine intervention, huh? Say it with me now. I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your voice is quiet, calm, and mocking of his tone. With the barrel to his forehead, you watch him writhe in pain and cough up a little blood.

“Go to Hell,” he spits his words like venom.

“If you say it, I’ll let you live. But if you show your face to me or Sunghoon again, I’ll shoot you right between the eyes.” Your foot presses down harder. You can feel that angry little girl inside of you jumping with joy.. Knowing his God demands to be bled for, and making him know the sacrificial suffering, well it feels good to say the least. “Say it. With me. Now.” Each word pronounced with the growing applied pressure to his shot wound. And then he begs for forgiveness. He’s never seen you smile the way you did when he was below you with those words. Empty eyes were never so alive for him either. He cries and chants ‘I know no punishment, only mercy’ over and over. It was like the most beautiful hymn.

　There wasn’t much to be said about that day. Sunghoon and you just pretend you shared a nightmare. Neither of you talked about it. It was just another thing that tied you together.

Sitting there in the peak of summer’s heat. A day before Sunghoon returns to college classes. Birds chirp. The leaves of the tall trees thistle in the light breezes that pass by. Sunghoon sits criss crossed and while you have your feet hanging off the edge of the dock, kicking in the water.

“I’m sorry,” you break the silence. Shocked, he looks over to you. He never would have expected you to apologize for anything. “I was selfish when I approached you. I wanted to take all that goodness out of you and keep it for myself. I thought I wanted to hurt you, but after sharing all this time with you, I realized I was wrong. It’s weird to say it out loud,” you laugh small, awkward, “but I really am sorry. I love you more than even I know.” You stare down to your feet in the water that has gone still. A tear falls from your eye, and down to your cheek.

“I know. I love you too,” he wraps an arm around your waist. “But now the same sins bind us.” You hiccup silently and turn to look up at him. “Harvest all of my purity, farmer’s daughter.”

For the first time, you really laugh. It’s bright and loud like the big smile he’s seeing for the first time on his favorite face. It’s morning sunlight that whispers through trees to kiss the forest floor. Birds that sing songs of hope to awake life into a new day. Nostalgic, expansive days of childhood where the concept of time doesn’t exist. To him, you look like the epitome of summer; he doesn’t want this season to end.

You were never the lamb. Or the wolf. Not an animal at all. Nothing like the ones you grew up with. You were just a girl, scared and alone. But not anymore. Because it’s your last day on this farm, and tomorrow is the first with only Sunghoon.

“Your humor is poetry.” you continue to laugh until tears prick your eyes all over again. You love it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny.” he looks away shyly, blushing. It only makes your giggle more, but you stop to press a kiss to his cheek. He blushes harder.

“I’ll keep doing it, harvesting all of your purity, for as long as you’re good.” you say with a smile.

“Do you promise? I am always good, especially with you, so it could be a long while.” He bumps your shoulder playfully with a laugh.

You take his scarred hand in yours and you laugh like he did, pure and true, “I do.”

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ tysm for reading, ⌗unlearn shame ⌇ taglist @tinycatharsis @simjaexy @leehsngs @511rkive @beomluvrr @jjongsaengzz @slvtella @jaerisdiction @kkamismom12 @rayofsunshineeee @nshmrarki @m3wkledreamy @hanjisbeloved @filmnings @stercul1a @hooniesfvngs @moriwori @sleepyhoon

#﹙ 🧾 ﹚— feedback 𐙚‧₊˚♡#tinycatharsis #you ALWAYS get it !!!#i’m so happy you’re able and here to read my stories #i send you so much love

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iamhereforfunnzies · 1 day ago

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I'm thinking that blind readers are developing their clicking to the point that they can ride a bike in the busy street of Gotham. And with how traffic is bad and how people don't respect the rules- haha Bruce having a heart attack.

Also think it will be cool if the Reader is in blind school and the Batfam found how the Reader acts more muter and relaxed around people who treat them like a person. It'd make them realize some things.

Also imagine if Reader and their friends made their version of Mores code, where they speak it in clicks and write it in brile.

Funny enough I imagine it was Jason who actually saw you ride your bike as he was also ridding his bike he had give you a Second look.

Like what the fuck. He snitched to Bruce and he wouldn’t have believed him if he didn’t check Gothams traffic light camera. He became even more overbearing now always personally driving you to school.

He started notice how your personality shifts every time your friends are near by. “CAN YOU NOT I WANT TO GO GET ICE CREAM IS THAT DO WRONG-“ a girl calls for you. “(NAME)! Something wrong?” Your face changed to a cute smile.”Omg hi girl just talking with my Dada” you say sweetly as Bruce cannot comprehend that you called him Dada you haven’t called him that since you were 4.

This cause him to always drag your friends everywhere just to see you behave. Since all of them are mostly blind it’s adorable to him how all of you interact and worst part. Your friends ADORE HIM. Like they see him (hahaha) as a kicked cat trailing behind you , even if he is a bit much.

Bruce see’a your friends as puppies that he hold everyone leashes to make sure no one is lost. If he could he would adopt all your friends.

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONG I WILL BE ANSWERING MY INBOX😭😭❤️❤️💕

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #anon ask #neglected reader #yandere jason todd #blind reader

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akawifeyy · 11 hours ago

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SO AMERICAN | smau (OP81)

description: you might not be australian, but oscar piastri loves you just the same.

tropes: yapper x listener, he falls first and harder, celebrity actress!fem!reader (you’re the daughter of matt damon, please tell me you all know who he is)

face claim: addison rae

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: sorry for the long wait between posts, i'm not feeling the best right now and i've also had a jam-packed schedule. but anyways! here you go! this is based on ♪ so american / olivia rodrigo, which is one of my fave songs of all time :)

@ f1gossip: The daughter of Matt Damon, Y/N, is reportedly dating McLaren's F1 driver, Oscar Piastri. Thoughts?

tagged: @ f1, @ f1yaps, @ f1talk

comments (5862):

@ user1: she's so pretty omg 😭

-> @ user2: First thought was, "She's everything, and he's just Ken." Y/N is absolutely gorgeous.

@ user3: even though i've been an oscar girlie since day 1, i support this. if this is real, i wish them the best of luck <3

@ f1yaps: Has a hot new WAG entered the villa? Only time will tell

@ yourusername: howdy, cota 🤠 had a great time

tagged: @ f1, @ mattdamon, @ yourbffusername

@ user4: prettiest cowgirl there is 🤎

@ oscarpiastri: It was nice meeting you!

-> @ yourusername: ditto! hoping to buy tickets for las vegas :)

@ user5: Why is Oscar lowkey lurking in the comments... 🤨

-> @ user6: read @ f1gossip's most recent post

@ yn.updates: during an interview for her upcoming movie, "riptide", y/n was asked about the gossip concerning her and mclaren f1 driver oscar piastri. with a big smile, she replied, "he seems like a great guy, but let's be for real. i've met him one time. let's not get too far ahead, please!"

tagged: @ yourusername, @ oscarpiastri, @ f1, & 2 more

comments (1257):

@ user7: That dress is stunning 😩

@ user8: they'd be cute together as a couple ngl. i'd love to see more of them

-> @ user8: but, they deserve their privacy

@ user9: ynoscar is adorable ❤️❤️

Text messages between Oscar and Y/N (2025):

@ yourusername: las vegas was a hit! congrats to the papaya boys, p2 and p3

tagged: @ f1, @ mclaren, @ oscarpiastri, @ landonorris

comments (9374):

@ yourbffusername: super cool! miss you xoxo

-> @ yourusername: miss you too, i'll be back home soon 💗

@ user10: Twinklaren tagged!!

@ oscarpiastri: Thanks for coming!

-> @ yourusername: of course, i wouldn't miss it for the world 😁

comments (539):

@ user5: Have any of you seen Oscar's most recent Insta story?

-> @ user11: the way i ran to check and SCREAMED 😳

-> @ user5: IK, they are so evil for soft-launching, they're torturing us. *Sobs*

Oscar's Instagram Story:

comments (7521):

@ yourusername: might not be good at legos but it was still fun being with you!

@ user12: ADORABLE 🥰

@ user8: how does it feel to live my dream 😞

Press Conference Interview Excerpt with Oscar (2025):

Interviewer: Congratulations on your podium in Qatar, Oscar! We noticed a special someone was missing, would you like to tell us more about them?

Oscar (smiling): If the special someone is Y/N Damon, you wouldn't be wrong. She means a lot to me, and I'm very lucky to be with her. Anyways, she sadly wasn't able to make it because she is back in America for the time being. She's about to have her red carpet debut for her movie, "Riptide"! I saw a few clips from it and she does a flawless job.

Interviewer: Is this an acknowledgement of the relationship between the two of you?

Oscar: Yeah.

Interviewer: How long have the two of you been together?

Oscar: A few weeks after COTA.

Interviewer: Well, best of luck to the new couple!

Text messages between Oscar and Y/N (2025):

@ oscarpiastri: What a way to end 2025! See you all next year

tagged: @ landonorris, @ f1, @ mclaren, @ yourusername

comments (4898):

@ user13: ahhh omg y/n mention!! 🥹

-> @ user14: They're so cute

-> @ user9: best couple in a long time

@ landonorris: Always glad to be with you, mate

-> @ oscarpiastri: 2026 three-peat is on its way!

@ yourusername: so so proud of you 🥳

-> @ oscarpiastri: Thank you, I'm proud of you too. Can't wait to be with you again 😘

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #op81 #op81 x reader #oscar piastri #formula one #f1 fic #f1 writer #f1 fanfic #f1 smau

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tonysbed · 3 days ago

Text

Secrets I keep | Part 16

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

warnings: again, the internet is cruel. Max gets into his head, mental health issues?? self doubt, crying, mention of cheating

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

“Alright, I’m leaving then! I’ll see you in a few days” You say, coming trough the door into the living room, where max was sitting on the couch. It had been a few good weeks since the whole incident and you were both cooled down from the drama.

Lando hadn’t really come to his senses, but you unblocked him. Your dad had a talk with him, that resulted in nothing.

“Alright. Be careful and text me” He gets up from his place and hugs you, kissing the top of your head “I will, don’t worry” You kiss him and smile “I gotta go now before I miss my flight or something!”

You look at your phone “And they’re here! Okay, gotta go. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! I love you” “Won’t do, I love you too” Max watches you leave the apartment with a suitcase, and sighs.

He still hadn’t voiced his concerns about Franco. Not to think wrong, franco was a super nice bloke but he was flirty and you two just got along a little to well for his liking.

But how would you know? You only had eyes for max, franco was not interesting for you. But that is something that Max has to get in his head first..

You slid into the backseat. Kika turned around to look at you “Ready?” You smile “A tour through the headquarters of tractors? Sure!” Pierre glared at you through the mirror “Do you want to walk?” He grumbled “Pierre!” Kika slapped his arm “What? She said I’m driving a tractor!”

Kika rolled her eyes smiling and pierre dropped it.

norris.yn

liked by franciscagomez, pierregasly, maxfewtrell and 36 others

norris.yn she’s everything and he’s… there

pierregasly why am I always catching strays

franciscagomez 🙂‍↕️😘

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂

charlesleclerc oh pierre 🤦‍♂️

maxfewtrell always tired 😂

pierregasly of your girlfriend? Always

franciscagomez Pierre.

pierregasly What? She’s always stealing you

norris.yn she deserves more than you

pierregasly see??

maxfewtrell I choose peace and ignore it.

You three arrived at the Alpine headquarters and as you neared the entrance you saw a figure enthusiastically talk with Paul, who just looked like he was being tortured.

As you got closer, Paul spotted you three and sighed in relief “Thank god. Now he can talk your ear off. I really like you Franco, but it’s to fucking early” Paul says, yawning.

You chuckle as Franco huffed “Mean” He crossed his arms but smiled at you “You’re alive! You weren’t at the paddock, your brother acts as if you aren’t his sister and you don’t post anymore!” He throws his arms up in the air.

“Have you seen what happened?” You chuckled “Yeah I know” “Don’t you follow her on here new account?” Pierre asked “Uh..new account?” Franco looks puzzled at the frenchman and then at you.

“Yeah, I made one just for friends, no strangers, no privacy invasion, just us” You say smiling. Franco nods, pulls out his phone and hands it to you.

You type in his code, which kika raised an eyebrow at and request your account from his. You hand it back to him and accept the request.

“Ah, yes you have been alive!” He laughs. You nod and laugh. Pierre and Kika start to make their way inside, and you two follow them.

norris.yn

liked by pierregasly, kellypiquet, francocolapinto and 46 others

norris.yn @/ jackdoohan, pls get better soon, they’re crazy

jackdoohan I will try my best 😂

norris.yn pls hurry up 😭😂

franciscagomez we’re not that bad 🤔

pierregasly …

paulaaron you love us, really

francocolapinto now why would you post this? my my

norris.yn you’ll live

max grimaced at his phone. This is exactly what he feared could happen. But before he could continue his thought train, another notification popped up on his phone.

It was a gossip page that had tagged him. That was never good but he clicked on it, and immediately regretted it.

f1gossip

f1gossip Franco Colapinto was spotten near the Alpine Headquarters with Yn Norris. Mclarens number one drivers sister. Has she moved on from her boyfriend Max Fewtrell?

user oh my god. She’s disgusting

user what a bitch

user max isn’t even allowed to be mad, he did the same

user are we gonna ignore that Pierre, Paul and Kika were also with them??

user 🤢

user franco noooo

You sigh as you put the phone down. Kika tilts her head at you “What did he say?” “He’s being weird” Franco raised an eyebrow “About me? I swear, I know you guys are a thing! I don’t want anything from you” Franco raised his hands in surrender.

You chuckle “I know that. Something tells me tho that this is not based on todays events.” You look at Kika with a knowing look. She presses her lips together.

“Do we have to understand this?” Pierre asked confused “Are you a woman?” She asked him with an raised eyebrow “No?” “Then you won’t get it.”

“I’ll guess it’s an early leave for me” You sigh “Nooo, can’t he be weird alone for a few more days?” Paul pouts “I’d rather resolve this as soon as possible. I know how much Max can get into his own head because of the media. I’ve seen it with him, and i’ve seen it with Lando. I know what It does to people”

“Especially something like this” Pierre says, his voice now serious but calm. Kika nods “Of that is what you think is better for the two of you, that’s okay. We can do this another time. Maybe even bring max that time” Kika says, Pierre nodding along “Definitely”

You smile “Thanks guys. I guess I’ll see what flight will get me back the fastest” You pull out your phone again “Is he in monaco again?” Kika chuckled “Yep. He’s at my apartment” She nods “Obviously.”

While you were planning your trip home, Max was laying in your bed. His eyes fixed on the side you claimed as yours the first time he had officially slept over as your boyfriend.

He smiled a bit at the memory, which was quickly soured away by the pictures of you and franco flashing in his mind. He knew you would never do such things, he knew that Kika, Pierre and Paul had been there but in moments like these, his mind wasn’t quiet.

It screamed at him. Screamed he’d get hurt again, or more by the one person that could actually hurt him deeply.

He shakes his head. You wouldn’t.

Are you sure? You’re not even a racing driver.

She loves me for me.

does she now? why would you be enough

Max sat up and got up to go into the bathroom. He looked into the reflection of the big mirror. His eyes were red from crying, but not too bad that he couldn’t pass it off as sleepiness.

He splashed water in his face and sighed. His mind was playing tricks on him that only you could outplay. You were outplaying tricks you didn’t even know about.

He let his head hang and sighed again.

He turned off the light and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. In moments like these, he would’ve called lando. Something he had also cost her.

She would’ve never argued about Daniel with Lando if it wasn’t for him. It was all his fault.

It was later in the day when you had finally arrived back in monaco. You sighed as you pulled out your keys but before you could put the keys in, the door swung open.

Max looked backwards into the apartment, his suitcase in hand. He closed the door and finally turned around to look at you.

you both stare at each other for a moment. You look between his suitcase and him “Uhm..where you leaving?” You ask confused.

“I..uh” Max didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected you back so soon. What in christs name-

“Why are you back already?” “That doesn’t matter right now. Did something happen?” Max’s jaw clenched and he looked away.

A knot forms in your stomach “Please don’t tell me this is about the Franco thing” You say quietly. Max still doesn’t meet your eyes. You abandon your suitcase for a moment and unlock the door.

You point for him to go back inside. Before he could protest, you shake your head “We’re talking about this. Inside. With your suitcase.”

You sat down on the couch, turned to Max, while he was faced forward, hands fidgeting.

“Max, please talk to me about this. I already told you, I would never..Franco isn’t..He doesn’t even fit into my life” You say, still looking at him.

“I know” He says quietly “Well apparently you don’t. You wanted to leave why exactly? To tell me what? You didn’t call, you didn’t text” His head turns to the kitchen.

You can see the island from the couch. There is a vase of your favourite flowers and a letter perched up against.

“I knew you would try to stop me” He says quietly. Now he had made you speechless. You look at him in shock.

“You..so” You take a deep breath “So this is it?” You ask, not entirely sure what you’re even saying. Max finally looks at you. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

You clenched your jaw “why?” You whisper, biting back tears. Max weighs his options. You would try to convince him to stay, when he would tell you the truth. But he would only hurt you further.

His mind kept screaming to go, his heart was aching, and crying out your name, longing for your love. He knew you’d be better off without him. He had to go.

“You wouldn’t understand” “Then make me understand. Let me try to fix this! Us!”

“There is no us. Not anymore. There should’ve never been an us”

The words lie heavy in the room. You stare at him. You can only watch as he gets up, takes his suitcase and takes one last look at you.

This is it, she’ll be free of you.

Alexandra could barely understand what you were saying over the phone as she rushed out the door, Charles closely behind, having to drive her over to you.

She tried to calm you down, with no success. The only thing she understood was “Franco, Max, broke up” And the last one was what made her stomach turn.

She opened your door with her spare key, rushing inside, finding you curled up on the couch.

“Hey, hey.” She took you into her arms. Her arms tighten around you as your sobs got heavier and more pained. Charles looks worried, wording the name ‘Kelly’. Alex nods, hoping Kelly would get more out of you, knowing you two knew each other longer.

Kelly arrived sooner than Alex expected, and Charles left, telling Alex to call if she needed anything.

alexandrasaintmleux added to their story

[cap: @/kellypiquet our new master chef 👩‍🍳 🍝❤️

reply’s:

charlesleclerc how is she holding up?

she’s okay for now. Calmed her down but his story doesn’t make sense. It’s quite confusing and just really out of the blue.

charlesleclerc hm..you want me to play detective?

pls do

charlesleclerc no problem mom amor❤️

❤️

user isn’t that yn’s kitchen??

so uhm.. yeah. Here’s a good handful of angst and Max’s head full of chaos 😬 Ups

Happy Valentine or whatever

#formula one imagine #lando norris x sister!reader #max fewtrell imagine #max fewtrell x you #norris!reader #daniel ricciardo imagine

62 notes · View notes

xylatox · 1 day ago

Text

Loving you is forever, a Lee Heeseung fic by Kiki :) I'm so excited to finally read it!!

(I reblogged this on the wrong account for a sec lmfao oops)

I just wanna say, her daughter's names being Heejin and having the same starting syllables as Heeseung is so cute whether it was intentional or not. And her nickname being Bambi:(((( I bet she has boba eyes like her dad, this is so cute:((

karina is your best friend, sister even, you have known each other since you were little, even though she was only a few months older than you she was often that older sister you never had, guiding you through new experiences together and you just wished that when you grew up together, you realized sooner that she was also navigating those new experiences alongside you.— already loving the sisterly bond she has with Karina despite not being blood related. Reader staying in Seattle 👀 I wonder what's her relationship with Jay lol, I can't help but think about it.

Omg they're cousins😭 that is so cute, I already love the calm and chaotic duo vibes they have going on thats so heartwarming.—when you got in trouble for getting a C- on your chemistry exam, jay vouched for you and said that the chemistry teacher at your high school was sexist and punished all the girls in the class. — LMFAO😭😭😭 no but if a teacher ever did this that's actually insane. I love seeing all the memories reader and Jay have shoeing how deep their relationship is, it's so cute.

His relationship with his niece is so cute too like, the nicknames🥹🥹 I'm softly.—“yes… bambi. it’s her favorite movie so i nicknamed her bambi…” you respond, trying to avoid his stare. “no other reason?” he asks and you shoot him a glare. “alright alright. i’ll drop it. it’s a cute nickname anyway.” he confesses and you mutter a small thank you, thankful that he’s not prying any longer. — Jay and I on the same wavelength frfr.

Getting the history between reader and Hee:(((( omg, I'm so sad and the fact that only Jay knows Hee is the dad ahhhh :((

she looks up at you with her big doe eyes and for a second you see the uncanny resemblance of her and her father. “mama, who is my dad?” the question comes as a shock to you because although she had asked before, she’s never let the absence of her father trouble her the way it has now. your mouth slightly opens at her question but you quickly recollect yourself so she doesn’t notice your demeanor falter, afraid that your expression could cause her more worry if she was to realize how you reacted to her question. — going to cry my eyes out, poor baby :(((((

even if it made him feel crazy because love makes you do crazy things. — Hee is so in love with her I'll sob.—you were truly the girl of his dreams and now that you were back; he wasn’t going to let you go so easily like last time. — we love a man who's dedicated. It makes me wonder if reader was afraid or misunderstood things causing her to leave :((( seeing how he dealt with things when she left breaks my heart sm.

you were a bit upset, especially because jay was the one that knew what happened with everything out of all of the people in your life. you made sure to bring this up to your cousin when you had the chance, keeping in mind that jay would get a piece of your mind about this. — reader is so cute, but I definitely think confrontation is best and getting clarity and closure.

“are you ok, yn?” heeseung asked and his voice sounded muffled to you and as he scooted closer, the image of heeseung in your vision blurred and doubled like he was a mirage. you were starting to get light headed and that was when you knew that you were going to faint, the anxiety had taken over your brain and before you knew it your eyes were fluttering closed and heeseung was catching you in his arms before your body could fall over onto the coffee table. — wait omg, this is such a real response, like, I didn't know it happened to others but my anxiety attacks are the exact same way😭

Now the full backstory is known:((( I understand reader's perspective and I absolutely don't blame her for thinking she's a rebound, that's so sad no :( it's just a big misunderstanding, but it will take time to deal with that too but I love that she invited him to Heejin's birthday.

“you know.. not to be a conspiracy theorist but doesn’t heejin look like.. heeseung?” winter asks, whispering to sunghoon as she walks a bit closer to him. “no, i see it too. also, the nickname? we used to say heeseung looks like a baby deer all the time when we were in college and yn nicknamed her daughter bambi?” sunghoon adds and winter looks at him like he’s just spilled the deepest secret one can hold. — it absolutely took them long enough to realize it imo😭

Heejin calling Heeseung dad by mistake and him not even knowing its his child yet, my heart can't take it.

Omg, I absolutely loved the ending, I loved how they resolved their misunderstandings and just became a completed family. Their dynamic is so cute and I'm so glad they got their happy ending.

loving you is forever ⋆˚ʚɞ

pairing: lee heeseung x reader 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ♡

synopsis: after a one night stand leaves you with a lasting memory of the boy you left behind in the name of your daughter, heejin. you finally decide that it was time to move back home to south korea after living abroad for the last 5 years. reuniting with your old friends was everything you could've wished for as they welcomed you and your daughter; but you don't think you could ever prepare yourself to face the father of your child.

warnings: profanity, kissing, suggestive, mentions of hooking up/one night stands, drinking, characters are in their late 20s, absent father!heeseung (but its not his fault) implying that they didn't use a condom (wrap it up!!), overall 18+

genre: single mom!reader x heeseung, old friends to lovers, kind of exes to lovers, one night stand, angst, romance, drama, hurt/comfort, slow burn-ish

wc: 16558 (idk what happened i swear i blanked out writing this)

hoonieyun notes: she's finally here djfkd it took so long to finish this because i didn't want to rush it and feel like i just had to get it done to get it done. i really hope you all enjoyed this piece of work, i loved writing it and i just want to say: happy valentine's day!! you are all so deserving to be loved and surrounded by those who love you <3

the days of being in seoul, south korea felt just like yesterday when you were a college student awake at 3am eating a hot bowl of ramen after a long night of studying. ramen was your favorite thing back then but as you’ve gotten older, the days of being a broke college student turned into meticulous routine based days where all your focus went to raising your daughter, heejin.

ramen was your favorite, past tense.

you cut the habit of eating ramen so often because you needed to choose healthier options for yourself, setting an example for your daughter that although convenient and inexpensive, eating instant ramen so often wasn’t the healthiest for you.

even though you were her mom, your daughter taught you a lot and you were constantly learning as you grew together. she taught you new habits that made living better like learning to take it easy and lounging around the house with your favorite snacks while watching your favorite show was the best way to clear your head and relax.

you also learned that your previous lifestyle of putting others over yourself was something that would stay with you as you’d do anything for your daughter even if it meant that you sacrifice things that are meant for you if it means that your daughter would have what she wanted.

the air when stepping outside of the airport is crisp, the snow has melted into a thin layer of water coating the ground and it’s slightly cold but nothing a puffer coat couldn’t fix. you looked over to your daughter who was fiddling with the zipper on her own puffer coat, “bambi, you have to keep your jacket on or you’ll get sick.” you softly tell your daughter as you crouch down to her level, zipping her coat back up and adjusting the hood of her hoodie that she had layered under. she pouts to herself but ultimately knows better than to argue because she knows mom is right and because she hates being sick.

when heejin was 4 years old, she had gotten a cold for the first time and although she enjoyed being at home cuddled up under a fuzzy blanket with her favorite plush toy; she hated having a runny nose and being forced to take the yucky medicine, her words not yours– although you agree.

your phone rings and karina’s contact photo lights up on the screen, “hi, yn! i’m here, what pick-up area are you at?” she asks on the other end of the phone, slightly louder than usual so you assume she’s yelling into her car’s built in phone call feature to avoid having to drive with her phone in her hand. you tell her that you’re at arrivals 12 and soon enough you can see karina driving up to you and heejin in her silver suv. karina is your best friend, sister even, you have known each other since you were little, even though she was only a few months older than you she was often that older sister you never had, guiding you through new experiences together and you just wished that when you grew up together, you realized sooner that she was also navigating those new experiences alongside you.

“yn!! it’s been so long!!!” karina cheers as she steps out of her car, rounding the vehicle to give you a warm hug, rocking the two of you side to side as you wrap your own arms around her. “been too long.” she says, emphasizing the words like you were away for a long time. in a lot of ways you were. 5 years is a lot of time away from someone but to you those 5 years went by so much faster.

“is this heejin?” she asks, crouching down to your daughter so she can greet the child. “hi heejin, im aunt karina but you can call me rina, ok?” she says, softly shaking heejin’s small hand with two fingers. “hi auntie rina!” heejin says happily, throwing her hands into the air with a smile.

your daughter was probably the most cheerful and joyful child you’ve ever met. she never threw fits, rarely cried after the age of 2, and was very social with strangers. flashing her cute smile that would instantly melt stranger’s hearts garnering you a, “such a cute baby!” every time they’d see her.

karina stands back up straight and helps you pack your luggage into her trunk, “is this all you brought?” she asks and you explain that you didn’t want to pack too many things because moving with a lot of belongings would make it difficult. you had only flown with 4 suitcases and had 2 boxes shipped over from your old home. opting to only take what truly was important and other material things could simply just be repurchased.

you and karina share another hug before strapping your daughter into her carseat and taking a seat into the passenger side of the car. you and karina catch up like no time has passed, acting like you two were only separated for a few days when in reality it was 5 years. of course the two of you spoke on the phone every now and then while you were abroad but the time difference interfered.

“how was seattle? do you miss it already?” she asks and you have to think about the question. do you miss seattle? or were you happy to be back.

“i'm not sure to be honest. i don’t think ive been away long enough to miss it yet.” you simply say and she nods, “well i know you must’ve seoul. i know we missed you.” she says, glancing over to you

you smile at her remark and tell her that you’ve missed korea and her a lot. those 5 years in seattle went by fast because of your daughter but being away from all of your friends and even your parents was tough. you stayed with your aunt and uncle who lived in seattle who so kindly opened their home for you and 2 years after giving birth to heejin, you had enough saved up to get the two of you a small but perfect 1 bedroom apartment. it was enough for the two of you but to your daughter it was like she was living in a castle; and that’s all that mattered– knowing your daughter was happy.

“you ok?” karina asks and you’re brought back to reality. “yeah, just reminiscing i guess.” you respond and karina chuckles.

“don’t tell me you’re already thinking about going back? you can’t leave just yet, i’m not letting you go.” karina retorts and the two of you burst out into laughter. you reassure her that you weren’t going to leave korea any time soon and that you’d have ample amount of time together to catch up and make so many more memories.

“plus, i’ve got 5 years to catch up with my favorite niece. right, heejin?” she asks, looking over to your daughter in the rearview mirror. “yes aunty rina!” heejin says cheerfully. you laugh at them both and give karina a funny look, “she’s your only niece dude.” you say and karina shrugs, “and? she’s still my favorite!”.

the rest of the car ride is filled with more chit chatting and laughing, happy that the two of you are finally reunited and that you weren’t separated by thousands of miles. soon enough karina is pulling up to your home and she’s quite impressed. while living in the states you had saved enough money to purchase a beautiful home here in seoul.

it’s not the biggest but it has everything you need for you and your daughter. it has 2 rooms and 2 bathrooms, an office space for your work, a big living room with enough space for your daughter to run around in and a backyard for the same reasons. you were happy to have gotten to this point in your life and you were so happy to have a life like this with your daughter.

karina doesn’t stay long after dropping you off, only staying to help you bring in your things, and do a small tour of your home. “i promise i’ll come back tomorrow! i’ve just got some things i need to finish for work.” she explains and you let her know that it’s fine and thank her endlessly for picking up you and your daughter from the airport. you and heejin wave her goodbye as she drives away.

you walk back inside still carrying heejin on your hip. “alright, bambi. it’s just you and me, and our new home.” you say softly and heejin smiles at you.

“just you and me mama!” she says and it makes you smile as you nuzzle your nose with hers.

⋆˚ʚɞ

the next few days are filled with unpacking boxes, waiting for deliveries of furniture and food, and exploring the neighborhood and town. your car was delivered on your 2nd day back in seoul so thankfully you didn’t have to wait around at home or feel guilty of asking karina to drive you around places since she had her own fair share of responsibilities.

your other friends have asked you when they could come visit, especially your cousin; jay– who said, “i can’t believe you let karina see my niece and she’s not even blood!” when he found out karina met your daughter before your cousin.

karina was like your sister but jay was actually blood. jay is your cousin on your mom’s side and you had stayed with his parents while living in seattle until you were able to get a place of your own. he’s a few years younger than you but he was always the wiser of the two of you; he was like the angel on the shoulder of life while you were the devil– however you weren’t evil… just chaotic.

you, jay, and karina all grew up together so you all had a bond that's unbreakable. people often made comments about how jay was the gentleman he is because of all the women he grew up around and you’d agree. he was the kindest and most mature boy you know and even when he loosened up a bit and got chaotic like you, he was always the level-headed and mature jongseong at the end of the day.

when you would sneak out with boys in high school, jay would cover for you.

when you got in trouble for getting a C- on your chemistry exam, jay vouched for you and said that the chemistry teacher at your high school was sexist and punished all the girls in the class.

when you found out you were pregnant, jay was the first person you called and was right by your side every step of the way up until you were boarding the plane to seattle.

jay was your rock and you wished he was your brother but a cousin would suffice just as long as he was always there for you.

you’re about 90% moving into your new home, the last thing that needs to be completed was just tossing out all of the trash and recycling that has accumulated from all of the items you bought or takeout that you’ve been getting so you didn’t have to worry about cooking for the first week of moving back.

you’ve invited jay over for dinner after he’s insisted on cooking dinner for you and your daughter, claiming that he wants to make a good impression on his niece so he wasn’t necessarily going to take no as an answer, and honestly– a home cooked meal by jay sounded nice. he was a great cook, excellent even, you? not so much.

you knew how to cook a variety of things but most of it was out of convenience so that you weren’t always eating takeout. your daughter was simple when it came to her taste buds and favorite foods, 80% of the time she just wants to eat chicken and thankfully she doesn’t complain much about having to eat vegetables. however, never brussel sprouts. she hates brussel sprouts.

it’s around 5PM when you’ve finished putting all of your trash bags outside, giving you just a half hour to freshen up your daughter and you before jay would be arriving. he felt apologetic for not being able to help you move in but you told him that he had nothing to feel sorry for and that you knew he had a busy schedule ever since he took over his dad’s company at the beginning of the year. jay’s dad owned a construction company in seoul and although jay had different passions like music and fashion, he was the type of child to never refuse his parent’s wishes and eventually accepted that he would become the owner when he grew up so there was no point in arguing with his dad.

he was an only child so it was hard not to feel bad for him and see that he had so many things he wanted to do for his life but was often shortsighted and left responsible for whatever his parents wanted because he was their only child.

that was probably why you often felt like you needed to bring jay out of shell and loosen up a bit. being so caught up with the responsibilities he had at home, you wanted to make sure that he still had fun as a teenager because his life as an adult was already planned out for him.

when jay turned 16 you spent all of your christmas money on a guitar he had been talking about for months. jay rarely cried but you remember the pure joy and gratitude in his eyes when he unwrapped the box and saw the familiar leather case he had seen so many times at the guitar shop. you swore you could see his eyes glow from excitement when he unclasped the guitar case and finally saw the instrument on the inside. the fender eric clapton stratocaster electric guitar shined onto his face and you’d never forget the smile on his face as he set aside the guitar next to him so he could get up and give you a hug. telling you how grateful he was and that no one would know how much that gift meant to him besides you.

after changing yourself and your daughter into a fresh pair of clothes, jay was ringing your doorbell. he barely greets you when you answer the door, placing the bags of ingredients into your arms when you open them for a hug and instead he runs into your home to scoop up his niece into his arms.

“jinjin!” jay says as he carries her above his head. a nickname they both came up with whenever they’d facetime.

“uncle jayjay!” she says, giggling at him as he gently tossed her into the air and hugged each other. “yeah i’m here too y’know!” you say, narrowing your eyes at your cousin as you put the bag of groceries down onto your kitchen counter.

“yn-ieee!!” jay says, setting your daughter down onto the counter next to the groceries and giving you a hug of your own. “been so long cousin!” he says and you hum in agreement.

“well it’s not like you couldn’t come visit me in seattle!” you say teasingly and jay rolls his eyes, “oh, please! you wouldn’t even let me no matter how hard i tried– plus you know how busy i got after dad passed over the company.” he says and although he didn’t mean it in that way, you felt a slight tinge of guilt.

“i know, i know jong, just teasing. i missed you.” you say, hugging him again but this time ruffling his hair like you used to do when you were younger.

“so what’s on the menu today, chef?” you ask as you help him unpack the groceries.

“yeah, uncle. jinjin hungry!” your daughter says and you and your cousin laugh at your daughter’s remark. as she’s gotten older and has begun watching toddler shows, she’s picked up on their habits of speaking in 3rd person.

“well, jinjin. uncle jayjay is going to make you ravioli and meatballs. sound good?” he asks, staring at your daughter with a box of ravioli pasta in his hand.

“ravioli?” she asks and jay nods.

“right, you’re 5; you don’t know what that is.” he mutters and you just chuckle.

“come on, heejin. why don’t we set up the table while uncle cooks, hmm?” you ask and she nods eagerly– always excited to be a part of the activity in some way or another just as long as she’s included.

“i want the pink plate!” heejin says as she raises her arms so you could pick her up off the counter and set her on the ground. while you and heejin were at ikea shopping for home supplies, she saw a pink plate with the face of a pig on the top and the tail on the bottom and just had to have it. and honestly, your daughter looked so cute looking at it that you couldn’t say no. as a matter of fact, the plate wasn’t even very expensive and it was cute so it wasn’t a hard decision to say yes.

jay doesn’t take long to finish cooking dinner; knowing to choose something quick and easy to make so that he could feed the two of you and so he could have ample time to hang out with his niece.

needless to say, heejin loved the ravioli and was completely baffled at how they got the cheese inside of the pasta– constantly asking jay how they did it as if it was some sort of magical spell to create a ravioli.

after dinner is over and your daughter insists on dessert, the three of you enjoy some ice cream even though it’s still winter and with jay’s help in convincing you because “ice cream tastes good in every season”. you offered to wash the dishes since jay cooked you dinner and although he insisted on washing the dishes, you told him that it was okay since he could spend more time with his niece instead– to which he didn’t argue.

the rest of the night was filled with giggles as jay got to hang out with his niece outside of a phone screen. learning so much about her and how similar he was to you. he even got the opportunity to put her to bed when she got sleepy after watching bambi, her favorite movie.

“bambi, huh?” he asks after the two of you quietly slip out of her bedroom.

“yes… bambi. it’s her favorite movie so i nicknamed her bambi…” you respond, trying to avoid his stare.

“no other reason?” he asks and you shoot him a glare. “alright alright. i’ll drop it. it’s a cute nickname anyway.” he confesses and you mutter a small thank you, thankful that he’s not prying any longer.

“i know, she’s cute like a baby deer, what can i say?”

you and jay find your way into the kitchen, putting away the dishes from the dishwasher and beginning a new topic of conversation.

“does everyone know you’re back?” jay asks genuinely, not intending to allude to a certain person from your past.

“yeah, karina and ningning know. i spoke to jake and hoon yesterday and i told them i’d come up with a day they could all come over for dinner.” you explain.

you had a close friend group going into college. you, karina, and jay all grew up together and early during college you had met ningning, jake, sunghoon, and another… friend.

the seven of you were inseparable and were always together despite having completely different college majors. you, ningning, and karina all moved in together for the last half of your college career while the guys did the same. you’re all older now and have all of your own lives but most of them kept in touch with you after you decided to move away all of a sudden.

opting to not ask questions out of respect but always making sure to check up on you every once in a while.

“should i reopen the groupchat? haven’t seen the silly seven back together in a while.” and just as fast as the words leave his mouth, jay regrets it just as fast. he notices you tense up a bit as you’re putting some dishes away into the cupboard and he realizes he’s made a mistake bringing up your original seven friend group. a certain member becomes a tainted memory inside of your heart that you wished to not remember but are forced to remember in the most endearing and loving way.

someone you wished you could leave in the past but you’re glad you chose not to as the memory continues to live through your daughter.

“um, i’ll let you know. i’ve got some things i need to finish up before i start reuniting fully with everyone– plus i still need to get heejin caught up on all of her medical stuff for school so…” you begin to say and jay catches on.

“ahh, don’t worry about it! just got a bit excited to see everyone back together again. i’ll look forward to it when it comes.” jay says, softly rubbing your back and offering you a smile that you return.

“thanks jay…” you mutter quietly as you try to avoid his gaze.

⋆˚ʚɞ

after three weeks of being back home in korea, you’ve finally gotten somewhat of a routine down as you’ve settled into your new home and neighborhood. you’ve got pretty accustomed to being back in korea and although it’s only been five years since the last time you were here; a lot has changed within those five years.

you’d wake up on weekdays around 6am to get your day started, making breakfast and your daughter's school lunch before you woke her up at 7am to get her ready for school. she hadn’t started school yet back in the states so you wanted to ensure that you enrolled her into school once you had settled into your home.

she was surprisingly excited to start school and make new friends. her favorite part of kindergarten so far was break time when she and her classmates would spend 30 minutes a day at the playground. she’d come home with unruly hair opposite of the sleek bun or pigtails she had previously had when you dropped her off.

when your daughter was at school you’d spend the day cleaning around the home, finishing up the last parts of your move that had to do with papers and legal stuff, and would spend the rest of the time before your daughter got off school to run errands like going to the market or getting used to driving around your neighborhood.

it's about an hour before your daughter is off of school so you decide to quickly freshen up before heading over to pick her up.

today, you had plans to have an early dinner with karina as you hadn’t seen her since you had gotten there so it was due time to catch up now that you’ve settled in for the most part.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“where are we going, mama?” heejin asks as you help her into her car seat. “getting dinner with auntie rina, remember?” you remind your daughter and she cheers, excited that she gets to see her auntie rina again.

“why are we eating early? i want chicken!” she says and you just chuckle at her. “ok, i’ll get you chicken, ok?” you say, kissing your thumb and putting it towards her and your daughter does the same, connecting your thumbs, at the same time the two of you turn your hands 180 degrees with your thumbs pointing downwards so that your hands make the shape of a heart.

it was a small gesture the two of you did, a small way to be connected with your daughter through a special handshake between mother and daughter.

⋆˚ʚɞ

dinner was filled with laughter as you watched your daughter and karina bond over chicken, your daughter having the time of her life with all of the different flavors of chicken; her favorite being the cheese flavored one.

“so, when are we getting the gang back together?” karina asks as she places another piece of chicken on heejin’s plate, the both of you watching your daughter pick up the piece of chicken and munch on it like her life depended on it. you tried to tiptoe around her question, afraid that it would only lead to the inevitable that you were constantly postponing.

karina waves her hand in front of your face as she realizes you’ve somewhat spaced out and reiterates her question, “um.. i’m not sure. i really want to see everyone but you know..” your voice getting quiet at the end of your sentence as you realize only jay, your cousin, knew who heejin’s father was.

your friends knew of your longtime crush on heeseung when you were all in college and all somewhat knew that you’ve avoided him because of some reason that you haven’t told them. there were theories amongst the friends of why you no longer spoke to heeseung but only jay knew the reason. your friends didn’t want to pry but curiosity always filled their minds whenever they would think about you or see the photos you posted online of you and your daughter. with all of the theories they came up with, no one seemed to put together the most obvious reason and you’d rather keep that way.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want any of them to know, you just weren’t ready for them to know and aren’t entirely sure when you’d be ready. karina noticed your shift in behavior with her question and chose to ask any more questions. the rest of the dinner was karina giving you suggestions on things you and your daughter could do like activities, sports and extracurriculars, and whatnot.

“i’ll see you soon, ok?” karina says while giving your daughter a warm hug. the two of you bid each other goodbye and go your separate ways. karina’s question weighs on your mind heavily as you drive home, thinking about how long you could keep this a secret from your friends and also hide the fact that you were back in town from heeseung who just seemed to constantly be on your mind since you’ve arrived back in korea.

a part of you wanted to see him, you missed him so much, the way he made you laugh, the way he knew you so well that he used to always bring you breakfast during your 8am lectures because you loved to sleep in until the last minute so you never ate breakfast, the way he knew when you were sad, the way he knew you were uncomfortable, everything.

he knew you so well but that night, that unfortunate night, it seemed that he was the person that knew you the least in the world.

⋆˚ʚɞ

a few days after your dinner with karina and some encouragement from jay, you finally decided to send out invites to all of your friends to come over for dinner. your place was getting to a point where it was feeling like home and you wanted your daughter to meet some of the most important people in your life. you obviously weren’t going to invite heeseung but you thought about it and you quickly found yourself shutting down that idea.

“hi guys! please let me know if you’re free this saturday around 6pm! i’d love for all of you to come over for dinner and meet heejin! if it’s okay could you all bring a small dish? heejin isn’t picky but she is allergic to fish so keep that in mind. she’s very excited to meet her uncles and aunties!”

karina: i’m always free for you! minjeong: i’ll bring the chicken hehe jake: lets goo!! can’t wait to meet little yn! sunghoon: i already know i’m gonna be her favorite uncle jay: yeah right i’m her favorite already, nice try bro

all of their responses made you smile and for once you weren’t stricken with the anxiety of the past and how all of this could crumble down onto you– but you were dedicated to not letting that happen. you missed your friends dearly and being surrounded by your loved ones you haven’t seen in years was long overdue.

⋆˚ʚɞ

friday rolls around a lot sooner than you expected, which you didn’t mind because it was all you were looking forward to after spending the weekdays trying your best not to spiral. you were constantly thinking about what would happen if they brought up heeseung or if he miraculously showed up unannounced and uninvited. you made several dishes as the main course and set up your kitchen so that everyone could eat buffet style.

there were rolls of kimbap that your daughter helped you prepare, tofu stew simmering low on the stove to keep it warm, and other food that you knew your friends and your daughter loved.

as the day went by and the time that your friends would all slowly start arriving would come, you noticed that heejin seemed to be antsy. like something was bothering her, she was constantly squirming around unable to find a comfortable seat at the dinner table, the couch, or even her favorite bean bag chair designed to look like a peach. she was fidgeting with the hem of her dress so much to the point that she had pulled a loose thread, causing the dress to tear. you were more worried than upset, it was just a piece of fabric it didn’t matter if it broke, although you did keep a mental note not to buy from that store again; so you sat her down to talk about it.

“bambi.. what’s wrong?” you asked her as you helped her change into new clothes, something she had chosen and although it was more casual than the previous attire she had on; she was way more comfortable in it. she shook her head with a pout, indicating she either didn’t want to talk about it or that there wasn’t anything wrong– and considering her actions moments ago, it was the latter.

“you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong but just know mommy is here for you ok? i don’t want my little bambi to be sad or upset and feel like she can’t talk to mom about her problems..” you told her softly, fixing her hair as it had gotten slightly messed up while you dressed your daughter. heejin was everything to you, she was your life and blood, she was your light and you’d be damned if you ever made your daughter feel like she couldn’t fully be herself or come to her own mother to help her fix her problems.

even though heejin was still young, you made sure to make an emphasis on communication with your daughter, teaching her to articulate her feelings and emotions in a way that was healthy to her and those around her– and for the most part, she did that. she often told you if she was uncomfortable or if she was feeling upset about something as small as her socks making her feel itchy– but right now; she wasn’t communicating to you why she was acting the way she was and it left you stumped.

you weren’t necessarily sure how to go about it. you didn’t want to pressure your daughter to tell you what was wrong but the mother inside of you couldn’t continue without knowing what was bothering your daughter and how you could alleviate her troubles. “are you ok, heejin?” you ask and she once again shakes her head.

“can you tell mom what’s bothering you?” you asked, lightly patting your daughter's head as you finished doing her hair.

you so desperately wanted to comfort your daughter, tell her everything you knew about her father and how he lived only miles away; but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. it may seem selfish, and it was, but you simply weren’t ready to have that conversation with your daughter. even if it broke your heart to see her pleading eyes begging you for a single crumb of information on her dad, you couldn’t do it. it caused you an immense amount of pain to deny your daughter something she seemed to want so badly.

“bambi, why the sudden interest?” you ask and she goes on to explain that when she was waiting to get picked up from school that day, she saw all of her classmates getting picked up by their dads and it got her thinking of her own, more specifically, the absence of her own father.

your heart broke even more at her words but you chose to give her the answer that you’ve given her several other times she asked in the past.

“bambi, your papa may not be here but he’s always in your heart, ok?” and you were glad that it provided her some form of comfort because it seemed like she knew you were going to say that so she closed her eyes and gently placed her small hand over her heart. it was moments like this that made you question yourself as a mother. denying your daughter from someone who was half of her all because of your own selfish intention and pain that you aren’t able to heal from.

the two of you share another tender moment as you engulf your daughter into your arms for a warm embrace and try your best to get her to smile, which was fairly easy as your daughter was very ticklish.

just in time, your doorbell rings indicating that some of your friends have arrived so you decide to carry your daughter to your front door to greet everyone. you gently rub her back to further soothe her worries, hoping that the emotional and vulnerable moment the two of you just shared didn’t cause her anymore worries despite the fact that she still had that longing look in her eyes. waiting for the day she could get the answer she was looking for and the day she’d get to meet her dad.

⋆˚ʚɞ

you’re carrying your daughter in your arms as you open the door to welcome your friends and all of their eyes light up at the sight of you and your daughter. one by one they file inside of your home with a dish in their hands, greeting you and heejin with bright warm smiles. you return with a smile of your own as heejin waves at the strangers entering your home who she will grow to learn are the aunts and uncles that would love her and support her as she grows older.

once everyone has gotten inside, you point to where they could all settle the dishes they brought and soon enough you’re setting heejin down to introduce her to everyone.

“heejin, you know auntie karina and uncle jay, right?” you ask her while you crouch down to her, she nods her head in agreement, slightly shy as she still doesn’t know the several other people in the room.

“this is uncle jake, he has a really big puppy, you like puppies right?” and once again she’s nodding but this time with a smile as she gets excited at the mention of a dog. when heejin started to learn how to speak, one of the first words she spoke was “dog” and would later on constantly ask you to get her dog when she learned how to form full sentences.

“heejin, i’ll introduce you to my dog, ok?” jake says with a smile and she cheers, happy that she finally gets to play with a dog since you wouldn’t let her get one of her own.

“this one is auntie minjeong, can you say hi to her?” you ask and heejin shyly waves her hand and when minjeong waves back and asks if she can have a high five, heejin gives her one excitedly as you’ve taught her that high fives were a gesture of encouragement and sharing a high five with a friend was a good thing so she instantly felt happy when minjeong asked for one, already identifying her auntie minjeong as a friend.

lastly, you point to sunghoon, “that’s uncle sunghoon, you like the snow right? uncle sunghoon is really good at ice skating.” you explain and her eyes and mouth widen at the thought of ice skating. “ice skating? do you make snow angels?” she asks and it causes the lot of you to laugh; to which sunghoon nods and tells her that he’ll teach her how to make some of her own.

introductions go very well and heejin is calling everyone auntie and uncle in no time, opening up and breaking out of her shyness once she chats with your best friends some more as she tries all of the food they’ve brought.

“yn, all this food is amazing by the way but you should’ve let us help more or at least bring more food so you didn’t have to cook so much!” minjeong says as she’s putting away her dish into your sink.

“yeah, yn. this is delicious but next time let us take care of all of it okay? we’ll be sure to bring all the food that heejin likes. heejin, what’s your favorite food?” jake asks her and she cutely raises the chicken wing in her hand and shouts chicken and once again the room is filled with laughter because of your daughter’s cuteness. you were so happy to see your daughter being accepted by everyone, not necessarily because you thought they wouldn’t but because for the time that you’ve been gone; you were afraid that this drastic change in your life would affect the dynamic between you and your friends.

but it didn’t.

at least not completely.

jake is slurping on his noodles when he suddenly says, “yo, heeseung brought me these noodles one time; it was so good we should all go some time.” and at the mention of heeseung’s name you’re almost frozen in your spot at the table.

the room is instantly silent when they notice your attitude shift after hearing heeseung’s name. no one besides jay really knows what happened between the two of you and even then you’ve left out certain details from the story because you couldn’t bear to relive the pain from that night just so that someone could fully understand why you did what you did.

sunghoon shoves jake lightly at his careless action and he soon realizes why the room had fallen silent, he glances over at you with an apologetic look followed by a string of apologies, “i’m so sorry, yn. i shouldn’t have brought him up- i wasn’t thinking.” jake says and you shake your head explaining that it was okay and that he had nothing to apologize for.

“it’s fine, jake. he and i just don’t talk anymore.” you leave it at that and everyone chooses not to pry because it was truly none of their business.

before the night ends you all take a group photo with heejin in the middle, you decided to have her sit on your shoulders as your friends crowd around her with warm smiles that could be felt through the photo. you were so happy to see the happiness radiate through the image that you didn’t necessarily care that all of your friends were quick to post that photo, the possibility of heeseung seeing it nowhere in your mind because you were more focused on the love that your friends were giving you and your daughter.

you bid goodbye to your friends but not before you pack them their own little containers with leftovers because it was way more than what you and your daughter could finish alone. heejin happily waved goodbye to her aunties and uncles and had long forgotten about the sad moment the two of you shared before this dinner.

she was so happy to meet them and to her they were all just her friends. your friends are equally as happy to meet your daughter and be a part of her life and yours again.

⋆˚ʚɞ

on the other side of the city, heeseung is scrolling through his social media alone in his bed when he scrolls past the group photo you all took on several accounts. a pang of jealousy budding in his chest as he sees you in the center, happily carrying your daughter on your shoulders.

heeseung couldn’t help but feel left out but all he could think about was why you hadn’t let him know you were back in town after disappearing for the last five years?

so, he does what he thinks is right and opens the groupchat he has with the boys.

“yo, you guys free tomorrow? wanna grab lunch?” heeseung taps into his phone and presses send and in a few minutes, sunghoon, jay, and jake are all responding to heeseung’s text.

they all coordinate a plan to have lunch the next day. heeseung plans to let it come naturally, bring you up as smoothly as he can without coming off like he wanted to hang out with the guys just to find out information about you.

but he knew deep down that he was going to get the information he needed one way or the other.

even if it made him feel crazy because love makes you do crazy things.

⋆˚ʚɞ

when the next day rolls around and heeseung is making his way to lunch, he realizes that his dreams that night were filled with one thing: you.

he dreamt about all the ways he wanted to make up for lost time, he dreamt of past memories, he dreamt of you and he slept soundly knowing that you were so happy in his dreams. only hoping that he could make you as happy in real life like how you were in his dreams.

you were truly the girl of his dreams and now that you were back; he wasn’t going to let you go so easily like last time.

“whats up guys!” heeseung says as he walks over to the guys who had gotten a table for the four of them. they were all browsing the menu when heeseung arrived and they all did their usual greetings, asking how one another was and all of the normal things.

they soon order food and jay could tell that heeseung was a bit antsy, sending glances over to jake and sunghoon with a gesture to look at heeseung and they do; realizing his leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and he was chewing on his nails– something that he’s never done in the past.

heeseung could no longer wait, he just had to ask about you even if it made the air between all of them awkward. “so..” he begins and jay cuts him off before he could finish.

“heeseung, i know you’re going to ask about yn.” jay says and heeseung stops in the middle of his sentence, his mouth slightly ajar as those words leave jay’s mouth. he’s shocked that they knew, was he being less subtle than he thought? or was he just that predictable.

heeseung and you were inseparable when you were younger, you couldn’t take one without the other coming along, the true meaning of a package deal. but when you left, heeseung was left with so many questions, none of which could be answered by you as you cut off communication with him completely.

the rest of lunch consists of the guys informing heeseung about you, small details that they thought you’d be comfortable with sharing with heeseung, and although heeseung wanted to learn more; he was happy to learn anything new about you since you’ve been gone for the last five years.

they could tell that heeseung’s love for you never died or diminished in any way possible. when you first left, heeseung was a wreck and if they didn’t think he loved you then; his reaction to you leaving solidified that. he didn’t sleep, he cried almost everyday and he would try to write you letters even when he didn’t have an address to send them to.

it wasn’t until about a year after you had left that heeseung started to somewhat go back to normal. he stopped moping around and he returned to the heeseung all of your friends once knew. but deep down, he and all your friends knew that he would never be the same without you in his life. he threw himself into his work and other priorities to distract himself so he didn’t have to think about you but in the end, it always came back to you.

he’d be walking on the street and would pass by your favorite restaurant and he’d think about you.

a song would play and he’d be reminded about all of the times you two would dance and sing along to it.

he’d see a cloud shaped like an animal in the sky and would remember all of the times you two would spend hours laying on the grass and spotting clouds shaped like whatever your mind could identify it as.

everything he saw reminded him of you and although it hurt him to think about you, thinking about you was the only thing keeping you close to him when you were unknowingly so far away.

when the four of them part ways from lunch, jay pulls heeseung aside for a quick chat before he leaves, “hey, i shouldn’t tell you this but…” jay says, whispering something to heeseung and sending him a text. heeseung’s eyes widen at the text and he’s instantly bringing jay into a hug, thanking him for whatever it was jay had told him.

“yeah, yeah.. don’t make me regret this, she is my cousin; i’ll beat your ass if you fuck this up.” he warns and although he was slightly joking; jay was speaking with some truth because he knew how much all of this affected two people that were so important in his life.

heeseung slept with a smile on his face later that night, not only because he was excited to be able to see you in his dreams again, but also because of what he had planned for tomorrow morning.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“heejin! let’s go, bambi!” you call for your daughter as you slide your shoes on. heejin appears with her backpack dragging behind her, taking a seat next to you so she can put her shoes on to which you help her. you’re about to bring her to school, glancing at the clock near your front door when you realize you’ve only got 20 minutes to get her there.

when you open the door, however, you’re met with a face that you hadn’t prepared yourself to see, at least not for a long time from now.

“heeseung?” you ask as you look at him, standing at your front door with a smile on his face, flowers in his hand, and eyes as bright as they were when the two of you first met.

“hi, yn.. long time no see.” heeseung responds, a sheepish grin on his face as he’s finally able to see you for the first time in five years. “sorry, i need to take heejin to school.” you explain, slightly moving him out of the way to lock the door and make your way to your car.

“let me take you?” he offers and although a part of you wants to deny, you know that heeseung has always been stubborn and that if you were to try to decline; the two of you would just be going back and forth and before you know it, heejin would be late to school.

so, you reluctantly accept his offer; quickly grabbing her carseat from your car and setting her up in the back of heeseung’s car. “mama, who is he?” heejin asks and you explain that he’s just a friend. “how come he didn’t come to dinner?” heejin continues with another question and you answer with something dismissive and tell her he was just busy.

“ready to go? don’t want her to be late.” heeseung says and you look over at him and he’s still got that smile on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing and was happy that you were going along with it. you give him a tight lipped smile as you place a kiss onto heejin’s forehead before taking your seat at the front passenger seat next to heeseung.

in the past whenever you two were in a car it would always be you in the front next to him because he trusted you the most with directions and music but mostly because he loved being able to see you next to him. it was such a simple and innocent thing to be so close to you even if you were just sitting next to him but it never failed to make his heart race whenever you would look over at him, catching him staring at you when he needed to be focusing on the road.

you’d tease him by saying, “eyes on the road” and talk about how you’ll crash if he keeps staring at you and he’d just respond by saying he would never hurt you or do anything that would put you in pain.

heeseung tried to keep that promise and broke it without even knowing that he did.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“bye heejin, have a good day ok?” you send your daughter off to school, watching her small figure skip away as she waves and greets the friends she sees as she walks into school. “she’s adorable.” heeseung says as you turn towards him. a part of you slightly forgetting that he was there because all of your focus was set on your daughter.

“thanks.” you mutter, barely above a whisper.

“wanna grab breakfast? my treat.” heeseung asks, a cheesy grin on his face as if he’s using his smile as a way to convince you to say yes; it worked… just a little bit.

“fine.” you say while rolling your eyes, a part of you only saying yes because you had nothing better to do and he was the one that drove. the car ride was silent, filled with awkward tension as you couldn’t get comfortable in your seat knowing that you haven’t seen heeseung in five years and had no idea where this was going to go. would everything be the way it was before you left? or would it be filled with boiling tension that would eventually blow up.

heeseung was fiddling with the steering wheel, tapping on the leather of the wheel, messing around with the car compartments, and constantly clearing his throat to drown out the silence that was so loud.

“so… how’ve you been?” heeseung asks, slightly looking over at you as if he was suddenly nervous to make eye contact, fearing for how you’d react.

“okay.. yeah i’ve been ok.” keeping your answer short so that you didn’t end up saying more than you wanted. you weren’t sure how comfortable you’d become with heeseung, someone who you once would’ve associated with the word “comfort” now was more closely aligned with “unknown”.

“thats- thats good..” heeseung stutters.

he doesn’t ask any further questions after he’s taken notice that you weren’t inclined for small talk or maybe just talking to him in general. which he couldn’t blame you for, you haven’t seen each other in five years and he understood that things were a lot different than before.

you and heeseung used to be able to talk about anything and everything, whenever one of you or both would be stressed; you’d just talk for hours about anything to distract yourselves from whatever was troubling your minds. one time the two of you had even spent 63 hours on facetime, uninterrupted because you were both away from each other for the first time and couldn’t stand being that far away.

the two of you were only separated for a weekend but it was too long for either of you.

“order anything you want, ok?” heeseung says as he looks at the menu, browsing for what he wants to eat. you mirror his actions but you lift the menu a bit higher to cover your face because you were a bit shy. you didn’t know how to act around heeseung anymore and felt like shielding yourself away from.

“are you two ready to order?” the waitress asks and quickly jots down your order, coming back momentarily to drop off your drinks and returning about 20 minutes later with the food you had ordered. heeseung had ordered ramen for breakfast, it came on a small personal burner so that it remained hot as he ate. you slightly smile to yourself, trying your best to hide it because this habit of heeseung hasn't changed in that aspect.

heeseung always loved ramen, it's his favorite.

you had just gotten rice with some grilled meat and a fried egg, something simple but delicious. heeseung is busy slurping on his noodles when you decide to break the silence, “how did you find me, heeseung?” you ask, causing heeseung to choke a bit on his food at the random question.

he quickly apologizes, grabbing a tissue to wipe his mouth before responding, “oh, yeah about that. don’t be mad but jay told me. it’s not his fault though, i practically begged him.” heeseung says, eye widening as if to prevent you from getting upset that jay had given heeseung your address without permission.

the rest of the breakfast was filled with the same awkward tension as you two ate your food in silence, every once in a while asking each other questions for some small talk but nothing that the two of you talked about did anything to cut through the awkwardness. when you and heeseung finished eating, he kept his word about taking care of the bill, and although you wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t, it was nice because it felt just like old times.

back in college, when you and heeseung were little broke college kids; he always paid no matter what it was. a late night snack? heeseung paid. you were craving boba? heeseung paid. it was your birthday? heeseung paid. even when it wasn’t food, heeseung paid because he loved taking care of you even in small matters like paying for your things.

a sign you should’ve seen sooner that heeseung saw you as more than just a friend.

“thanks for breakfast and dropping off heejin at school. have a good day, heeseung.” you say while exiting his car. you’re startled by heeseung’s sudden action when he shouts when and runs out of the car and around to your side, you give him a confused look from inside of the car as you watch him. heeseung closes your door and reopens it for you, “madam.” he says, while gesturing with his hand and a slight bow.

you couldn’t help but laugh but when heeseung raises his head to look at you, your expression instantly changes because you didn’t want to give heeseung the satisfaction that you found it amusing. you were still upset at heeseung for something of the past and although it’s been harbored inside of you for years on end, you couldn’t help but feel it slowly rising back to the top ever since you had returned to korea.

heeseung walks slowly behind you as you make your way to the front door like a lost puppy and when you get to unlocking your door, he clears his throat, gaining your attention.

“look… i know we haven’t spoken or seen each other in years, but i’m not going to act like it wasn’t the hardest five years of my life. you kind of just disappeared without explanation and when i tried to reach out… i didn’t hear back.

i had even asked our friends and they didn’t have anything to tell me, i mean- i knew jay would’ve known because he’s your cousin but he didn’t tell me anything.

can we please just talk?” heeseung was rambling and you felt bad because you could tell he was a bit anxious and probably rehearsed this in his head.

“yn.. i missed you so much and i tried to practice what i wanted to say to you when i saw you again but i’ve just thrown that all out the window.

say something..? please?” and you could feel yourself slowly falling back into that old familiar place. the one where you could look into heeseung’s eyes and you could tell how he was really feeling even if he tried to mask it with his rambling.

“heeseung, why don’t you come inside and then we can talk… not out here..” you said with a chuckle and heeseung eagerly nods, a smile on his lips at the invitation into your home, a stepping stone back into your life.

you don’t know where this conversation was going earlier and now that it’s almost been two hours since you saw heeseung again, you still didn’t know what to expect.

“can i get you something to drink?” you ask and he lets you know that water is fine so after a few minutes, you return to find heeseung standing in your living room, admiring the photos you framed of yourself and your daughter.

“you guys look so happy.” heeseung comments as he joins you on the couch, setting the two cups of water in front of the two of you. “heeseung.. i don’t know what to say to be honest. there’s a lot i’ve wanted to say to you and over the last five years, i’ve only wanted to say more.

i didn’t mean to disappear i just-”

“then why? why did you leave?” heeseung says, interrupting you and his eyes have transitioned into one that expressed that he was pleading, begging, and waiting for an answer from you. an answer that he had been waiting for since the day you left.

on the other hand, you were too. you had so many questions for heeseung but you knew that you couldn’t get answers without having to answer any of heeseung’s questions. you weren’t sure how to answer heeseung. you wanted to be honest and tell him the full truth but you didn’t even know if you were ready to face that.

it was five years ago but now, sitting in front of heeseung as he looked at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to relive those moments where you felt the most alone, unwanted, and misunderstood person in the world.

you stuttered to answer and the longer you thought about the more complicated it became in your head. your breathing started to become heavy and your eyes were constantly blinking. you couldn’t look at heeseung any longer because it made you feel uneasy and nauseous, the anxiety of this moment having built up inside of you for so long that now that it was all happening, it was corroding the stability you had worked so hard to build in your head.

heeseung catches you instantly when you notice your body start to go limp, rocking back and forth. he wasn’t sure what happened but something must’ve been bothering you so much that you had fainted in his arms. heeseung tries his best to gently position you onto your couch in a comfortable position, moving your legs into place and softly setting your head on the armrest with a pillow propped up under.

he admired your sleeping figure and if it wasn’t for the fact that you had fainted, he probably would’ve found this moment cute. it reminded him of the first time heeseung had realized he liked you more than he thought he did. the two of you had gotten very drunk one night after failing your economics exam and you had a habit of getting sleepy when drinking.

you were in the middle of talking when your head started to get wobbly and your eyelids had become heavy and before you knew it; you were falling asleep next to heeseung; your head softly landing on his shoulder like a makeshift pillow. he found it cute and he still does.

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago

you had been texting with heeseung all night, he had been going through something and although you wanted to know what it was; you settled on just making him feel better. like a good friend would do. your crush on heeseung has something your friends had known about for a while and although you’ve wanted to confess your feelings to him for a while now, you were too afraid of ruining your friendship and it potentially affecting your whole friend group.

heeseung was currently on his way to your dorm and it was like you were waiting for a blind date. you fidget with the tassel on your throw pillow as you wait for him on your bed, running through the different scenarios in your head of what’s been bothering him.

he was fine the last few days but today something had shifted; heeseung felt like he was carrying something heavy on his mind and it was showing. he had sent you a string of messages that represented someone on the verge of a crash out and all you could do was worry for him, eventually inviting him over so you could talk and find a way to make him feel better.

to which heeseung accepted instantly as if that was what he was waiting for.

after a few minutes, a knock on your door softly echoes throughout your dorm as you’re just about to text heeseung if he was alright. “hee-” you say, getting cut off when heeseung storms into your room, breathing unsteady as if he had run over to you.

“what’s wrong, are you ok?” you ask, worry settled onto your face as you shut the door behind you.

heeseung is standing facing away as he tries to catch his breath, unsure of how to talk to you about what has been weighing on his mind heavily. a reality that he’s finally chosen to come to terms with despite thinking it was all his delusions until recently.

“hee?” you ask again and he whips around to face you, your expression softening when you see that it looks like he hasn’t slept and looks absolutely exhausted. his eyes were red, cheeks a bit sunken, and the shadows around his eyes were more prominent. he looked like he’s so emotionally and physically drained you couldn’t help but rush over to him, cupping his face in worry– rubbing his cheek with your thumb and you could feel heeseung melt into your hand.

his eyes flutter closed as he breathes a sigh of relief; like your touch alone was enough to soothe his mind even though the reason for his distress partially had something to do with you. you guide heeseung to your bed and you can’t help but frown at his appearance, you didn’t know how long this has been going on but it seems that it was enough to reflect on his face.

“hee? are you ok?” you ask and he finally takes a deep breath before responding, “yn.. i just want you to know that i don’t want any of this to change us.. and i hope we’ll be okay after this but-” heeseung begins.

“heeseung you’re scaring me..” you whisper, anxiety building inside of you as heeseung tries to avoid eye contact with you.

“just- please listen.. i don’t want you to think of me any differently after i say this but…

i think i love you.”

and when those five words leave heeseung’s lips, everything goes silent.

you’ve been wanting to hear heeseung say those words for so long, wishing that he would reciprocate your feelings, confess his love to you the way you’ve been too afraid to confess to him, and now that he has; you didn’t know what to do or say.

heeseung was finally able to look into your eyes, looking for an answer because the silence after his confession had him thinking that he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“please, say something..” he whispers, voice trembling like he’d be in tears at any moment.

“hee… i just-” when you try to respond even though you weren’t sure what to say, heeseung brings his hands to your face and brings it closer to his; “please tell me you feel the same way or else i might go insane.” he whispers, his lips just a few inches away from yours.

heeseung’s gaze trails from your eyes down your face and lands to your lips, heeseung absentmindedly licks his own as if it were a physical reaction to seeing yours. “i do heeseung-” you begin but before you could finish your sentence; his lips are on yours.

the dryness of his lips instantly disappears as your two lips dance with his. a kiss that both of you had been longing for since you two have first met, like there was tension between the two of you that could only be relieved with one another. everyone in the room could feel it but neither of you ever wanted to confront that no matter how badly you wanted to.

heeseung pulls away for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath; “i’m sorry, i should’ve asked but i just couldn’t wait any longer..” heeseung murmurs, his bedroom eyes glued onto yours as you try to gather your thoughts. you had been waiting to share this moment with heeseung for so long but for some reason it wasn’t like how you’d dreamt.

“heeseung, this is wrong.. what about your girl-” you’re about to bring up heeseung’s girlfriend but he just shakes his head. “you’re the one i want.. it’s always been you” he says, connecting your lips once again, the kiss being just as passionate and filled with hunger like you’re both deprived of the other.

your dorm was soon filled with you and heeseung’s pleasure, a craving that was finally satisfied after so many years; finally having you in his arms. you never thought this day would come and although you thought that it would never come; you were going to cherish this moment with heeseung.

the next few days felt like a dream. you and heeseung were inseparable and it’s everything you had hoped for when you used to think about how your life would be after confessing to heeseung about how you truly felt.

only for him to confess first, leaving you shocked that he felt the same way.

the conversation after that night in your dorm room was a bit awkward but the two of you quickly learned to laugh it off and move forward with your relationship. you had agreed that you’d keep this between yourselves for now because you were unsure of how it would affect the dynamic of your friend group. you even held off from telling jay, your cousin, who you told everything to.

it was hard for the first few weeks to hide your relationship with heeseung because whenever all of you were together, you wanted nothing more than to hold his hand or sit on his lap, the tension from before being converted to secret longing glances and smiles that you two would try to hide from your friends.

the good lasted for only a few months, until the fateful day that would change your life forever. you had woken up feeling like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of you while you were sleeping. you were fatigued, nauseous, and spent the morning hunched over your toilet as you threw up your dinner from the night before.

you weren’t sure why your body was suddenly feeling unwell so you made a trip to the pharmacy to grab some medicine, browsing the aisles to see what would help with your symptoms, and that was when your eyes landed on the sleek white box towards the end of the shelf.

“pregnancy test: accurate results in just under 10 minutes” it read on the box in bright blue font. there was no way that could be the cause of your distress, you didn’t have sex with anyone else besides.. heeseung… that night.. three months ago.

your mind starts to spiral as you think about the possibility that you could be pregnant with heeseung’s child as that night replays in your head– now just remembering that the idea of a condom was absent from both of your minds as you were both in the heat of the moment, exploring one another’s bodies.

frantically grabbing a few boxes, you make your way to the cash register but are stopped in your tracks when a voice calls out to you; “yn?” and when you turn around it’s heeseung’s ex-girlfriend.

the conversation with her was short but awkward. she just wanted to clear the air, letting you know that she had no animosity towards you or heeseung and that she wished you two the best. which confused you because you certainly didn’t tell her and know that heeseung wouldn’t have told her without discussing with you first. when you asked her to clarify, her explanation only heightens the mental distress you were currently in.

“heeseung and i broke up a few months ago and i just figured you two would be together by now..” was all she said before walking away.

the night that heeseung confessed his love to you and where you had shared one of the most intimate moments two people could experience together; also happened to be the same night that heeseung broke up with his girlfriend.

leading you to believe that it was the only reason he felt so inclined to be with you. like you were just some rebound that heeseung knew would be waiting for him like a lost puppy who had been left at home all day, knowing that if he called out to you– you’d come running to him.

you were a rebound.

did he even mean anything he had said to you or was it all just a way to get you to play along with his desires? did he even know you felt that way about him? and he used it as a way to get what he wanted?

you felt disgusted knowing that the moment you shared with heeseung that you had been waiting for was merely just a way for him to get over his ex-girlfriend. a second option that he knew he could fall back on but not in the same way that he would’ve been supported by his friends who he could fall back on during a hard time, but more so like you were just a stepping stone and a temporary fix for the despair he was in that night.

using you to forget his ex if it meant that he would feel better at your expense.

it feels like the ten minutes that you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready was the longest ten minutes of your life. “less than ten minutes, my ass” you scoffed as the clock showed it’s been ten minutes and the results weren’t being shown through the small indicator window yet.

your head falls back in annoyance and to your surprise, the next time you look at the test, a giant plus sign is clearer than day. you swallowed the dryness in your throat, throwing the test into the garbage and ripping open into the two other boxes you bought to test again.

refusing to believe that the first one was accurate, like it was a fluke, a false positive, anything to convince yourself that this was not happening.

but it was.

⋆˚ʚɞ

when you wake up, about an hour later, you almost don’t recognize where you are until you realize you’re wrapped up in a blanket on your bed. you remember being on the couch but don’t recall how you ended up on your bed. you sluggishly roll out of your bed, eyes half open as you scratch your head and make your way to the living room; only to find heeseung sleeping soundly on your couch.

shock shoots through you as the memories of what happened before you fainted return to your mind, remembering that you and heeseung had reunited after not seeing one another for the last five years when he showed up unannounced at your front door.

you slowly walk over to him, momentarily admiring his peaceful face as he snoozed on your couch, clutching onto the small pillow with his arms. “i know you’re staring at me.” heeseung murmurs, opening one eye to look at you; a grin on his face when he sees the annoyed look on yours.

“what are you still doing here?” you ask, crossing your arms and tilting your head to one side as you questioned him. “wow, already kicking me out? if we were in college you would’ve begged me to stay while you tried to convince your roommate to leave.” he says, sitting up straight with the same playful smile on his lips.

“okay, if you’re gonna stay then i guess we need to have this talk don’t we?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try to muster up the courage to have this conversation after it led you to faint just an hour prior. you take a seat next to heeseung, much like how the two of you were positioned earlier and the night when he showed up at your dorm, both of you sitting on your bed; looking into each other’s eyes as if you were the only two people that existed.

holding one another so closely like at any given moment one of you would be torn away from the other. only if heeseung knew that you would be torn away from him months after, maybe he wouldn’t have made the decision he did that night.

but that night was nothing that he’d ever regret.

“so.. where do i begin.. you say trying to think of how you wanted to start–

that night, when we hooked up in my dorm room; i know why you showed up. when you told me that you loved me it was everything that i could’ve hoped for. i feel like i started to fall for you the day we first met and every day since then i fell for you even more but i just thought that i wasn’t someone that you could ever love.

so, even though it hurt me, i settled with being okay with just being friends; because it was better than not having you in my life at all.

but when you told me you loved me that night, i was the happiest girl in the world. until i wasn’t. i felt like the few months that we were dating was the happiest moments of my life, obviously not compared to now because i have my daughter, but i’ll cherish those moments forever because it truly made me so happy to be with you–”

“then why did you leave?” heeseung pleads, begging for an answer as you somewhat tiptoe around it. “a few months later, i ran into your ex while i was in the store and i found out that the two of you had broken up the same night we hooked up…” heeseung was now shaking his head in denial at what he was hearing.

“heeseung, you used me as a rebound for your breakup– no, yn. that’s not true. i promise i would never do that to you.” heeseung whines, shaking his head in frustration that you’ve harbored this misunderstanding about him for the last five years which drove you away from him.

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago, two days before moving away

“why have you been so distant?” heeseung asks, his doe eyes looking at you as he pleads for your attention, lights reflecting in his eyes that made it look like he was tearing up, and he was trying his best not to cry in front of the girl he’s loved for so long.

you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, this battle inside of you that you’ve been going through on whether or not you wanted to tell heeseung the life changing news, your oversized hoodie covering up the secret you have.

“heeseung, i just don’t think we can do this anymore.” was the only thing you could say before having to do the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

walk away from the boy you’ve loved for so long.

heeseung didn’t know what he had done that led you to breakup with him but he held onto this idea that you hated him ever since. he respected you enough to let you walk away from him even though it took every ounce of strength inside of him to not run after you and engulf you in his arms. he would’ve begged you to stay if he could, but he didn’t.

not running after you and fighting for your love was his biggest regret.

two days later, he’d find out from jay that you left the country and although he begged and begged jay to let him know where you moved to, how to reach you, and to help him get in contact with you; jay respected you too much after learning what led you to leave to just set you back by allowing heeseung to waltz right back into your life.

jay tried his best to not let his judgement of heeseung be clouded by what you told him, but he couldn’t help but feel empathy towards you. his cousin who’s life was going to change drastically because of his best friend and all he could do was support you from afar even if it meant helping you move into his childhood home where jay’s parents would be there for you to help you throughout the whole thing.

⋆˚ʚɞ

“heeseung, this is all too much for me right now. i want to have this conversation, i’ve thought about it every day for the last five years, but i don’t think i’d ever be ready for it.

i think you should leave.”

and as much as heeseung wanted to stay, beg for you to let him stay and talk it out, but he respected you too much to fight with you.

so just like that night, he walked away even if he didn’t want to.

you sighed as you closed the door behind heeseung, peeking into the small window beside your front door to watch him leave, shoulders low and head hunched over as he walked to his car. you close your eyes and exhale before swinging the door back open and calling for heeseung, “heeseung!” you shout and he’s instantly whipping around at the sound of your voice.

“heejin’s birthday is in two weeks, you’re invited if you’d like to come.” and heeseung’s attitude changes, a bright smile spreading onto his face as your words ring like church bells in his ears.

“i’ll be there.” he says before waving goodbye and driving off.

a small smile tugging on your lips as you tried your best not to feel like that young girl you once were whenever you’d get shy around heeseung.

⋆˚ʚɞ

the next two weeks is filled with heeseung’s endless attempts to make his way into your everyday routine whether it was showing up again unannounced to take heejin to school, to which she’d never deny because heeseung always brought her the juice box she really likes, or if it was him asking you if you needed help with anything for heejin’s birthday.

heeseung was going to find his way back into your life even if he annoyed you– but all you had in your mind was her birthday despite heeseung’s attempts to occupy your every waking thought.

the build up for heejin’s birthday was filled with excitement and anxiety as you tried to make her 6th birthday something special because it would be her first birthday in korea. in the past, her birthdays in seattle was mostly just you and her, sometimes your parents would fly in town to visit but not often.

and now that you’re back in korea and surrounded by so many people that loved you; you were going to make sure this birthday was something that she remembers. her birthday was in just 24 hours and everything was set in place.

it was somewhat difficult to keep everything hidden from her because she was one curious girl and was constantly rambling about what she wanted for her birthday, unicorns, rainbows, the color pink, a cake that was chocolate but also vanilla and had strawberries, the color pink, a pinata that was shaped like bunny or maybe a unicorn, and oh, did i mention.. pink?

pink was her favorite color and it showed with every since thing she always picked out for herself was pink.

at midnight when the clock indicated that it was finally her birthday, you snuck into her room as she slept soundly with a small cupcake and a number six candle in the center. you gently walked over to her and softly sang happy birthday, waking her up and her eyes instantly widened at the sight of you.

She was smiling from ear to ear and clapping her hands together in joy. “happy birthday my sweet bambi.” you said after singing happy birthday, softly patting her head as she makes a wish and blows out the candle.

“thank you mama.” her small voice coming out just above a whisper. “sleep now, okay? you have a big day tomorrow.” booping her nose as she enthusiastically goes back to bed, eager to fall back asleep and wake up the next morning to her big day.

birthday preparations started earlier for you as you made sure to do some last minute cleaning and organizing for the party. setting out all of the stuff in your backyard with the help of jay and your parents. your mom busied your daughter so that she wasn’t running around and to stop her from looking through every single thing at her party.

she was so happy, a type of happiness you wished would stay with her forever.

soon after, the preparations were complete and heejin was dressed in a sparkly pink dress, one that she had picked up several weeks in advance when the two of you were shopping together on a mommy and daughter date.

your friends, sunghoon, jay, jake, karina, and winter had shown up with gifts that made your daughter smile so bright. her classmates had shown up, excited to celebrate heejin on her big day– you watched from the side as you took in all of it. some of the people you loved most in one place to celebrate the person you loved most.

seeing your daughter happy made you happy and that was all you could wish for.

you took a gander at all of the people enjoying the party when a knock at your front door catches your attention. you jog over to the door and are met with heeseung, a cheesy grin on his face as he carries several boxes in his arms, peering from behind it to reveal himself.

“i hope i’m not too late?” he says and you just chuckle, telling him that the party was just beginning. you invite him inside, instructing him to set her gifts onto the table in the far side of the kitchen as the two of you join everyone in the backyard.

you can hear gasps coming from your friends as they see you and heeseung standing together, a sight that none of them thought they’d see so soon. “yo! heeseung, you made it man.” jake says, standing up to shake his friend’s hug as everyone follows to do the same.

karina and winter send you a teasing glance, the two of them pointing to you and heeseung like you were all kids teasing their friend when their crush walks by, earning them an eye roll as you laugh it off.

“where’s the birthday girl?” heeseung asks, still holding onto a small gift as he walks back to you. you pointed at heejin who was playing tag with her friends; unafraid to get rowdy with the little boys in her class. “heejin, bambi! come here, you’ve got a gift.” you shout and she comes running as she hears the word gift.

heeseung crouches down to her size and hands her the gift, “happy birthday heejin.” he says with a soft smile, one that heejin returns. hugging him to thank him, “can i open it mama?” she asks and you gesture her to ask heeseung since it was his gift– earning an eager nod from heeseung who encouraged her to open it.

heejin tears into the small box, a gasp escaping from her tiny mouth as she sees the box, the gift wrap revealing a soft brown deer plushie with a pink bow and blushing cheeks. she jumps up and down in excitement, her arms wrapping around heeseung’s neck to show her appreciation for the gift. seeing heeseung hug her back pulls at your heartstrings as you watch all of it unfold, an image in your head that you thought you’d never see.

your daughter and her father sharing a tender moment with an embrace.

⋆˚ʚɞ

the party dies down once the sun has set and most of the guests have gone. the only people left were your parents, winter and sunghoon, and heeseung. your friends had offered to stay back to help you clean and because your mother was your mother, she wasn’t going to let you clean up alone even if you had your friends to help.

heejin was in the living room with bright eyes as she looked at all of the gifts she had received, several gifts of stuffed animals, toys, clothes, and other presents that a small child would appreciate. “okay, bambi let’s get ready for bed. you can play with all of your toys tomorrow, ok?” and heejin nods, grabbing the deer plushie that heeseung got her and taking it with her as you help her get ready for bed.

heeseung notices you and heejin walking away and excuses himself from your mother to which she just nods and tells him it’s okay and she’ll take care of the rest of the chores in the kitchen. heeseung parted with a small bow as he makes his way to what he assumes is heejin’s room.

winter and sunghoon on the other are glancing at each other, having confirmation with just their eyes as they watch heeseung run after you.

sunghoon and winter send each other knowing glances as they both arrive at a revelation.

“hey, you guys alright?” heeseung asks while popping his head into heejins room with a soft knock. you tell him that you’re just her ready for bed when you wave him inside. “thank you for the gift, she loves it a lot. i’ve been looking for that thing for months and i can’t believe you were able to find it.” you tell him and heeseung chuckles.

“it’s no big deal” he responds and you ask him about how he knew to get that for her. “she talks about it whenever i drive her to school, she also mentioned that her mommy calls her bambi and i figured it would make the perfect gift.” he explains, making it a point to reference the bambi part as he knew that was also a nickname he had within your friend group, one that you started.

you hoped that you weren’t too obvious with that but chose not to dwell much longer on the nickname as it could just be coincidence– although it wasn’t.

“thank you for the bambi!” heejin says as she walks back into the room in her pajamas. heeseung pats her small head as she climbs into her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you ask her about her day– heejin rambling on about her favorite parts of the day which just turned out to be every single aspect of her party.

you smiled at her as she went on and on, “but my favorite is the bambi.” she says while stretching her arms out with the plushie in her hands and then bringing it into her arms for a hug. “thank you dad.” heejin says and it catches you and heeseung off guard– heejin herself doesn’t even realize what she’s said as she gets cozy in bed.

there was a sense of awkwardness between the two of you at the comment by your daughter and it causes heeseung to start questioning things and putting puzzle pieces together. the possibility that he could’ve been heejin’s dad hadn’t crossed his mind once and now that it’s been brought up; it’s all he was thinking about.

“goodnight, baby.” you say before placing a kiss onto heejin’s forehead and as you’re about to leave; she calls out to you. “mama, can you sing me a lullaby?” she asks and even though you were exhausted, you weren’t going to say no to your daughter.

“can i?” heeseung asks and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no when heejin looked so excited, so you nod and heeseung takes a seat on the bed next to heejin who was still hugging the deer plushie.

heeseung then begins to sing a song to your daughter. you haven’t heard his voice in so long, the melodic trill of his vocals, a symphonic honey like sound that lulled your daughter to sleep in no time, her soft snores mixing with heeseung’s beautiful singing.

when the two of you were certain that she was sound asleep, you carefully walked out of her room and shut the door as softly as you could. as you try to walk back to finish some cleaning, heeseung holds onto your hand and whips you back around to look at him, his gaze filled with love and the same type of longing that has lingered inside of him for years on end.

“can we talk?” heeseung says and you nod, letting him know to continue.

“i know that i hurt you when i made it feel like you were just a rebound, but that couldn’t have been more wrong. it was always you, i’ve always loved you and i would always choose you. my ex and i were constantly fighting throughout that week and the day i came running to you was when we broke up but i never told you why…

we broke up because she realized how much i loved you in comparison to her and it wasn’t fair that whenever i was with her, all i could think about was you.

i’ve loved you since the day i met you and i just never had the courage to say that, but i would write your name in the sand again and again after the waves have swept it away if it means that my love for you is shared across the seas.”

tears streaming down your eyes as heeseung’s hands gently cup your face, his thumb wiping your face of your tears. heeseung brings you into his arms for an embrace and when he feels your arms wrap around him, he breathes a sigh of relief knowing that he was finally able to get that off of his chest.

something that he’s had weighing on him for so long and was so happy to finally profess his love for you. the girl he loves and will always love.

when you pull away from him with a sniffle, heeseung wipes your tears again as you lock eyes, “is she mine?” he asks in reference and you nod, finally telling heeseung the secret that you’ve held for the last five years.

tears sting heeseung’s eyes at the information and he holds you even tighter in his arms when he hears the news. he couldn’t believe that the beautiful girl he just sang to sleep was his daughter. joy was an understatement to describe the emotion that he was feeling. the type of love only a family could share where they’d do everything to keep the family together and happy.

you and heeseung spend the night sharing stories of what you’ve missed in each other’s lives in the time that you were gone. tears, laughter, and tender touches shared between the two of you as you do your best to rebuild your relationship from scratch.

“thank you for giving me another chance.” heeseung whispers as you lay in his arms, the moonlight shining onto your faces, leaving a small white cast into the room.

“thank you for not giving up on me.” you respond, heeseung placing a small kiss onto your temple before you both drift off to sleep. a type of joy and delight radiating from your bodies that neither of you have felt in so long. something you would have only gotten from one another.

⋆˚ʚɞ

you’re awoken to the smell of grilled meat wafting throughout your home, your nose dragging you to the living room to find heejin and heeseung in the kitchen cooking together. “what do we have here?” you ask and they turn to look at you, “mama! he’s teaching me how to make pancakes and bacon.” she says, running over to you and hugging your legs. you pick her up and walk back to heeseung who was setting the last pancake onto the plate.

“let’s eat.” he says and you all sit at the table together and enjoy breakfast like a family for the first time. a moment that you’ve always wanted to share as a whole family and now that you’ve finally been able to share the truth with heeseung, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“heejin, i have something to tell you, ok?” you tell her and she’s looking up at you with her big doe eyes, identical to heeseung’s who was shyly sitting to the side. “remember when you asked me where your papa is?” and heejin nods, a small pout on her lips.

“bambi, heeseung is your papa.” and you’ve never seen heejin move so fast before as she’s jumping out of her chair and into heeseung’s arms to which he welcomes her, hugging his daughter with so much love that you could feel it coming off of them. heeseung extends one of his arms to invite you over and as tears fall from your eyes once again, you join in on your first ever family hug.

you didn’t know when this day would come and you were elated that it came sooner after you had been running from it for the last five years. the happiest moment of your life with the family you’ve created could’ve never happened if you didn’t face heeseung and allowed for him to bare his soul and heart to you. something you should’ve never been afraid of.

heeseung waited for you every single day, thinking about the day that you’d come back to him and when you’d finally be his. to his surprise, you gave him a beautiful daughter that, although he has a lot of time to make up for, was so happy that he wasn’t too late to watch her grow and be a part of her life.

no matter how hard you tried to run from having to face this hardship, heeseung was thousands of miles away back in korea waiting for you with only love in his mind. wanting nothing more than to have you back in his life and to never let you go like he had done the first time.

the image of your broken face replayed in his mind every night when he slept, thinking about the pain he must’ve put you through without knowing the full capacity of what you had to experience alone. he wished he was there by your side through every single step, holding your hand in the delivery room, taking photos of you as your stomach grew, witnessing his daughter’s first steps and first word, everything.

but now that he was back, he was going to make sure that he didn’t miss anything else.

you and your daughter instantly became the most important people in his life, knowing that he’d love the both of you endlessly, unconditionally, and forever.

forever.

something that he’d always associate with you because you are his forever and now, so is your daughter.

love should be forever and you were forever going to be loved by him. it was like love and forever was synonymous with you because to heeseung, loving you is forever.

⋆˚ʚɞ

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

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all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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