𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟐𝟏

GET WELL SOON , P.SH !

﹙ 🍁 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT, BUT I WANNA MAKE IT BETTER!

PAIRING: racer ! sunghoon × orphan ! afab reader.

SYNOPSIS: You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.

WORD COUNT: 19.2K

FEAT: WONYOUNG from IVE, JAY from ENHYPEN, HANNI from NEWJEANS, + some ocs

MENTIONS OF CRIME & ACCIDENT, OVERALL FLUFF & CRACK !

MORE LIKE THIS? || MASTERLIST?

TAGLIST: @chexnluv @moonpri @wensurr @jiyeons-closet @isa942572 @jkslvsnella @woniefull @aleeza444 @capri-cuntz @vi-ri @hotteokisms @flwwon @shhth @lialaiakalaiiaia (the ones in bold couldn't be tagged)

AS YOU LAY IN THE HOSPITAL BED, the sterile scent of antiseptic in the air, your gaze drifted to the bouquet of white roses on the table beside you. A scoff slipped from your lips before you could stop it, a bitter reminder of why you were even here.

This was all his fault. Park Sunghoon.

For a second, you tried to maintain your calm, the nice person part of you struggling to hold on, but that guy—he tested all of it.

“Throw them away, please?” you asked, your voice clipped as you turned to the nurse adjusting your IV.

Before she could respond, an infuriatingly familiar voice cut through the room, smooth yet utterly exasperating. “You don't like white?”

You didn’t even need to look to know it was him. The sudden rush of irritation heated your cheeks as you whipped your head towards the door. And there he was. Park Sunghoon. Strolling in casually, hands tucked into the pockets of his expensive designer coat, as if he hadn’t ruined your entire week.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you shot back, your glare burning through him. The forced smile on your face was saccharine, dripping with the very clear message that he was definitely not welcome.

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. Of course, he had the audacity to smirk—like always. "Sadly," he drawled, clearly enjoying himself, “you gotta keep them.”

Without invitation, he sauntered over to the side of your bed, his presence filling the room, as if his wealth and arrogance alone could smother the oxygen. You watched him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over your chest in defiance.

“Just leave me alone, you rich jerk,” you spat, unable to hold back the venom in your tone. Your fists clenched beneath the thin hospital sheets, a reminder that you couldn’t even storm out of here like you wanted to. You were stuck—and it was all because of him.

His face faltered for a split second, the cockiness slipping ever so slightly as your words hit him. But like clockwork, he masked it, that composed, arrogant look sliding back into place.

It should’ve been satisfying to see the momentary flash of guilt cross his features, but it wasn’t enough. Not when your life had been flipped upside down, not when you were confined to this bed because of his mistake.

BUT HOW DID ALL OF THIS HAPPEN?

Well…

FLASHBACK!

Your eyes were stinging from the tears, and you clumsily wiped them away with the back of your hand. You weren’t exactly drunk—maybe two shots deep after an agonizingly stressful day—but it was enough to make your head spin. Why did it all have to be so sad?

Sniffling, you stumbled down the empty street, your shoes scuffing the pavement as you sobbed quietly into the night. The darkness felt overwhelming, like it was swallowing you whole, and even though your tears blurred your vision, you knew where you were heading—or at least you thought you did.

It wasn’t until you heard the loud, abrupt honk of a motorbike that you even realized you were standing in the middle of the street. You barely had time to turn your head towards the blinding lights before—BAM!

The impact wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was enough. The bike, thankfully, had slowed down, but not nearly enough to stop it from hitting you. Pain shot through your leg as you collapsed onto the cold, hard ground, the breath knocked out of your lungs.

You groaned loudly, clutching your leg, wincing at the sharp sting that radiated through your body. Meanwhile, the rider, who had also fallen, was busy steadying himself, dusting off his helmet as if he wasn’t the reason your entire life had just flashed before your eyes.

“THE HELL?!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you tried to shift your weight but immediately regretted it. The sharp pain in your leg intensified, forcing you back down onto the concrete. You gritted your teeth, tears stinging your eyes once again as you glared up at him.

The guy finally looked your way, lifting his visor to reveal his face. "Ma’am, are you okay?" he asked, his voice eerily calm, as if he hadn’t just crashed his motorcycle into you. Like it was some minor inconvenience to him.

Your blood boiled. “Okay???" you spat out, your voice a mix of disbelief and fury. "I’m literally bleeding! Are you dumb?!”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by your outburst, but remained calm. Too calm. “Alright, alright, just calm down,” he muttered, crouching down next to you, but that only made you angrier.

"Calm down?” you snapped, clenching your fists as the pain and the frustration built up inside of you. “Say that when you’re the one lying here, bleeding out!"

He flinched at your words but didn’t reply. Instead, he reached into his pocket, fumbling for his phone to call an ambulance. Meanwhile, you were still seething, glancing down at your leg where the blood was now slowly trickling down your thigh, staining your jeans. The sight of it made you dizzy, your head swimming with pain and exhaustion.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but you still had enough energy to notice him—freaking fixing his bike. He had the nerve to set it upright on its stand, making sure it was okay before coming back to check on you.

"If you even think about making this a hit and run," you rasped, your voice hoarse from both pain and anger, “I’ll haunt your entire family line.”

The guy stopped, visibly gulping as he knelt down beside you once again, clearly panicking now. "No, no, that’s not—look, the ambulance is coming, okay? Just… try to stay with me.”

Your vision blurred, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the world began to tilt. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was him leaning over, actually cleaning the blood off your thigh with his sleeve, his face a mask of panic and guilt. You didn’t know what was worse—the excruciating pain or the fact that you now hated him with every fiber of your being. Park Sunghoon.

And just like that, you passed out, your hatred for him searing into the darkness of your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness.

AND WHAT EXACTLY HAPPENED AFTER THAT?

You may wonder, but well...

Turns out, the guy—Park Sunghoon—was not just any calm, overly collected motorcyclist who’d crashed into you that night. No, he was the son of a wealthy man, one of those who didn’t have to face consequences because money speaks louder than the truth. And apparently, money really does talk, especially when you’re up against a system rigged to work in favor of the rich.

Even though Sunghoon had confessed to being at fault—had told the police it was his mistake—the tests showed otherwise. Your blood test, which revealed traces of alcohol, was enough to tip the scales in his favor. You weren’t even drunk, for heaven's sake—two shots hardly counted—but that didn’t matter. The system had already labeled you as the reckless one. Your claims of innocence? Brushed off, like dust from his expensive jacket.

It was humiliating. The police barely questioned Sunghoon. His parents swooped in like hawks, ensuring their precious son wouldn’t be held accountable for such a trivial incident, and just like that, there was no investigation, no justice. Just a quick sweep under the rug, and you were left to fester in your anger, helpless against the machine that protected people like him.

Being an orphan only made things worse. You had no guardian, no family to back you up or fight for you. Your best friend, Wonyoung, was the only one who came to your side. She tried covering your hospital bills—she had offered, insisted even—but you couldn’t let her. She needed the money more than you did, and you weren’t about to burden her with your mess. But you couldn't deny her when she showed up every day with packed lunches, smuggling in home-cooked meals like they were contraband.

On one particular afternoon, you sat in the hospital bed, poking at the warm rice she had lovingly packed in a small bento box. Wonyoung sat across from you, her eyes burning with the same hatred you felt. She stabbed at her own food, her anger simmering with every bite.

“I still can’t believe him,” she muttered, barely able to contain her frustration. “How does he get to walk away from this like it’s nothing?”

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head as you swallowed a bite of food. “Because he’s rich. Rich guys don’t face consequences, apparently.”

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”

You sighed, your gaze falling to your bandaged leg. It throbbed, a constant reminder of everything that had happened. “Join the club,” you muttered. “He hasn’t even tried to take responsibility. Not once.”

Wonyoung scoffed, glancing over at the sterile hospital room, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over everything. “How does he sleep at night? Like, seriously?”

You thought about that too. How did Park Sunghoon sleep at night? Probably on some ridiculously expensive mattress in his mansion, far away from the mess he’d left you in. You clenched your fists around the edge of your blanket, biting back the urge to cry. Not again. You were so tired of crying, of feeling powerless, of being at the mercy of someone else’s mistakes.

AND AS THE DAYS PASSED, the gnawing anxiety of being kicked out of the hospital clung to you like a dark cloud. Let's be honest—you had no money. The minute the hospital caught wind of that, you were sure they’d toss you out on the curb without a second thought. It wasn’t like you had any guardian to bail you out, no family waiting in the wings to cover the mounting costs. You were an orphan—alone, except for your best friend Wonyoung, who had already done more than she needed to.

Sitting up slightly in your bed, you glanced at the nurse as she came in to check your vitals. She seemed nice—too nice—and it was exactly that thread of hope you grasped at as you hesitantly asked, “So... when do I pay the hospital bill?”

You knew the question was pointless, knew the answer would sink like lead in your gut, but you had to ask. Maybe, just maybe, a miracle would happen.

The nurse adjusted the IV drip, giving you a small smile as she jotted something down on her clipboard. “Someone already paid for you.”

Your jaw didn’t drop—not even a little—because let’s be honest, you knew who had covered it. Sunghoon’s parents. Of course they did. Anything to wipe their son’s record clean, to make sure no trace of this incident marred the reputation of their precious heir. Rich people.

“Right.” You muttered, sinking back into the pillows, staring at the plain white ceiling. It was always the same. Pay, forget, move on. No justice, just convenient cover-ups.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension building inside you, walked out of the room. You sighed heavily, closing your eyes, hoping—praying—that it wasn’t Sunghoon or one of his parents waiting for you outside. But your luck? Yeah, it never worked in your favor.

“Enjoying your stay here?” His voice was as smooth as silk, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, Park Sunghoon, standing in the doorway with that charming smile of his. It was the kind of smile that could have melted hearts—not yours, though. Not now, not when he was the reason you were lying here, stuck in this bed, smelling nothing but disinfectant and medicine.

“Yeah, it’s great,” you bit out, rolling your eyes. “A dream vacation. Smell of medicine, broken bones, IV drips—just paradise.”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, like he wasn’t standing in front of you after nearly ruining your life. You could have thrown the flower pot sitting by your bed at him—would have if the nurse hadn’t spoken up at that exact moment.

“She has a fracture in her leg and some soft tissue damage, but with rehabilitation, she should recover in twelve to eighteen weeks,” the nurse said, looking at Sunghoon like he actually cared about your prognosis.

“Alright. I get it,” he muttered, nodding as if he was taking mental notes, and you wondered why. Why was he still here? Why did he even care? He had already done his job, hadn’t he? Paid the bills, covered the mess—so why was he still hanging around?

The nurse excused herself, flashing what you swore was a knowing smile before she left the room. “Okay, then, enjoy your time with your girlfriend,” she said as she slipped out the door.

Girlfriend?! You nearly choked on your own breath. Girlfriend?? Really?! Your eyes shot to Sunghoon, demanding an explanation as you sat up straighter, the hospital blanket clenched in your fists.

“Explain,” you hissed, glaring at him with all the hatred you could muster. Your leg ached with the movement, but you ignored it, your whole body brimming with frustration.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well... my dad wouldn’t let me get involved after the accident. But I wanted to take responsibility, and the only way I could stay connected to this without the media getting involved was to pretend you were my girlfriend. That way, it looks like I’m just... you know, paying your bills because I care.”

“Because you care?” You scoffed, your voice dripping with venom. “As expected. Rich people like you don’t actually care—you just want to clean up the mess and move on. Get the media off your back. Don’t worry about me though, Sunghoon. Just stay away from me, because if you keep hanging around, I swear, I will go insane.”

You grabbed the flower pot with one hand, aiming it directly at his face. Your knuckles whitened from the grip, the tension boiling over.

“Whoa, whoa!” Sunghoon raised his hands defensively, stepping back with a sheepish smile that only infuriated you more. “Calm down. I’m going, I’m going.”

He slipped out of the room with a smile that seemed too nonchalant, like none of this was serious to him. He disappeared into the hallway, leaving you to stew in your anger.

You let out a long string of curses under your breath, tossing the flower pot back onto the bedside table with a huff. Your head fell back against the pillow, and you closed your eyes, groaning in frustration.

Why did this guy have to be so infuriating? Every time you thought about him, your blood boiled, and now you were stuck in this mess with him as the person supposedly “taking care” of you. What a joke.

You clutched the blanket tighter, trying to shake off the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, frustration, and the suffocating feeling of helplessness.

THE NEXT DAY?

SUNGHOON WAS BACK AGAIN.

You groaned inwardly, watching him from the corner of your eye as he quietly settled into the chair beside your hospital bed. He didn't speak, just sat there, his eyes glued to you. What the hell was his deal? You were already too tired to deal with the fact that this guy, who had already caused enough trouble in your life, was now making himself a permanent fixture in your hospital room.

“Can you just go away?” you murmured, voice low and raspy, refusing to look at him directly. It was irritating enough that he was here—you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly as if he were genuinely invested in whatever non-existent conversation you were about to have. “I just... I just wanted to apologize,” he started, his tone softer than you expected. “Look, I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, didn’t want you to get this fracture—”

“Don’t bother me with your false apologies,” you cut him off, your voice sharp as your eyes narrowed in on him. There was no way you were going to sit here and let him play the nice guy when he was the reason you were stuck in this bed. As far as you were concerned, his words were as hollow as his concern.

Sunghoon flinched at your dismissal, but his face quickly returned to that neutral, unreadable expression he always wore. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a small, elegant container from his side, opened it up, and began arranging a steaming bowl of ramen. The fragrant aroma hit your nose almost instantly—rich broth, a soft-boiled egg on the side, and a hint of spice. His personal chef’s touch, no doubt. How typical.

“Here.” He pushed the bowl towards you, chopsticks in hand, offering it like it was some grand gesture of peace.

You stared at it, the smell tempting your empty stomach. But hell no were you going to eat anything he gave you. Not after everything. It felt like taking pity food, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d done something nice.

“I don’t want to eat this,” you refused coldly, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away as if the sight of it disgusted you.

Sunghoon blinked, clearly taken aback by your blunt rejection. The chopsticks hovered mid-air, the ramen dangling precariously off the ends. “Then... what are you gonna eat?” His tone wasn’t mocking, just confused—like he couldn’t fathom why anyone would refuse gourmet ramen made by a personal chef.

You bit back a sigh, feeling the frustration bubbling under your skin. “The hospital food,” you replied flatly, knowing full well you had no intention of eating it. Who in their right mind actually wanted hospital food? But you weren’t going to let him win. Even if it meant enduring that tasteless mush, you would.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, completely unfazed, and with the same calm indifference, he took a bite of the ramen himself. Leaning back in his chair, he made himself comfortable, savoring each bite like he had all the time in the world. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of his quiet chewing, and your irritation spiked.

“What the hell?” you muttered, glaring at him as he continued to eat in silence.

He glanced at you, the corner of his lips twitching as if he found this whole situation amusing. “You said you didn’t want it. So, I’m eating it.” His tone was maddeningly casual, as if the fact that you were lying there in a hospital bed while he enjoyed a meal meant absolutely nothing to him.

“I—” You started, but your words stuck in your throat. Was he doing this on purpose? You glared at him, eyes narrowing, your frustration palpable. Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him with all the strength you could muster.

It hit him square in the chest, the force of it barely making him flinch, but it was enough to get his attention.

“Just eat somewhere else!” you snapped, your voice raising a bit louder than you intended. “Not near me. You’re making me feel nauseous,” you added, feigning an exaggerated gag as you pressed your hand to your stomach, though in truth, your frustration was more mental than physical.

Sunghoon paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, his gaze flickering over to you. For a split second, you saw something in his eyes—something like amusement, or maybe even disbelief. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual blank, indifferent expression.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, pushing his chair back a few inches as if to placate you. He continued eating though, leaning further back, seemingly unbothered by your outburst.

You watched him in silence, your hands clenching the hospital blanket in frustration. How could someone be so infuriating? Every fiber of your being screamed to tell him off, to shout at him for being so... so... indifferent.

But deep down, you knew you couldn’t push him too far. As much as you hated it, this guy and his filthy rich family were the ones footing your hospital bills. Without them, you’d be in deep trouble, maybe even kicked out by now. You needed to be civil—just civil enough—to keep this uncomfortable arrangement going. But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

As Sunghoon continued eating, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Your job. What the hell were you supposed to tell your workplace? They were going to fire you for taking such a long break, weren’t they? You were already behind on rent, behind on everything. And now, because of him, you were going to lose the only shred of stability you had left.

You glanced at him again, annoyance bubbling up inside you. This was all his fault.

Every second he stayed here, pretending to be remorseful, pretending to care—it only fueled your hatred more.

After finishing up his food, Sunghoon finally stood up from the chair, and for a blissful second, you thought he was about to leave. Peace, at last.

But no. You watched in dismay as he turned toward the door, only to return moments later with another steaming bowl of food—something undoubtedly made by his annoyingly talented personal chef again. Your stomach growled involuntarily at the sight of it, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you wanted it.

Just as you were about to shoot him a glare, the nurse caring for you entered the room, pushing a small tray cart with the dreaded hospital food on it. Great. She offered a brief, polite smile as she placed the tray on your bedside table. The food looked even worse today—if that was even possible—bland and unappetizing, the kind of meal that probably hadn’t seen salt or seasoning in years.

“Here you go, sweetie. Make sure you eat something,” the nurse said warmly before quickly leaving the room, clearly unaware of the ongoing battle of wills between you and Sunghoon.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you looked over at him. He was watching you, his elbow lazily perched on the arm of the chair, his hand supporting his chin. A slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. That damn smirk. The one that made you want to throw something at him—if it weren’t for your fractured leg keeping you bedridden.

“Thank you,” you muttered halfheartedly, reluctantly picking up the plastic spoon that came with the hospital food. You took a bite of the mushy, tasteless concoction, and immediately regretted it. It was like eating wet cardboard. You fought hard not to gag, your throat tightening as the flavorless blob slid down.

Sunghoon chuckled quietly from across the room, his eyes never leaving you. “I thought you wanted hospital food?” he teased, leaning forward just a little as if to get a better look at your suffering.

You made a face, a sickened grimace pulling at your lips as soon as the nurse was out of sight. The taste was vile. And worse yet, Sunghoon seemed to be thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle.

“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his smirk widening. He knew you didn’t want the hospital food. He knew, and that only seemed to make this entire situation even more entertaining for him.

Your pride was the only thing stopping you from throwing the tray out the window and devouring the meal he brought, but your body was betraying you. Your stomach growled again, loud enough for Sunghoon to hear. He chuckled, clearly amused by your stubbornness.

Before you could protest, he moved closer, balancing the bowl of ramen on his knee as he picked up his chopsticks. With an exaggerated nonchalance, he twirled some noodles around the chopsticks and brought them to your lips.

“Here,” he said, voice soft but teasing. “Just try it.”

You stared at the chopsticks hovering in front of you, your resolve weakening. The savory scent of the ramen was intoxicating, and before you knew it, your body betrayed you once again. You leaned forward and took a bite, unable to resist the warm, perfectly seasoned noodles. The difference in taste was almost enough to make you groan in relief.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepened as he watched you chew, his eyes glinting with amusement. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue with a teasing lilt.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, and you glared at him through a mouthful of ramen. “Don’t call me that,” you muttered, voice muffled as you chewed.

“Why not?” He tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking up in playful curiosity. “You don’t like being called a good girl?”

“It’s cringe,” you replied shortly, swallowing the bite. “Just... feed me, dude.”

He raised an eyebrow at the casual “dude” and let out a soft snort of laughter. “Don’t ‘dude’ me,” he shot back, his tone playfully offended. He twirled more noodles around the chopsticks and held them up for you again.

You glared at him but leaned in for another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavor. Dammit, the ramen was good. Stupid rich kids and their personal chefs.

“Why can’t you be nice to me for just one second?” he asked, his voice light but with an edge of genuine curiosity.

You scoffed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Maybe because you literally got my leg fractured.”

He let out a low sigh, his face softening as he leaned back in the chair, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other still held the chopsticks. “That was a mistake.”

“A mistake that cost me my life,” you shot back, your voice laced with bitter sarcasm. You gestured to your leg, propped up awkwardly with a cast. “I can’t work. I’m stuck here. All because of you.”

He winced slightly, but it was brief, his calm expression returning just as quickly. “Yeah, but I’m paying for your bills and feeding you gourmet food. I think that counts for something.”

“Oh, wow. Thanks. I guess I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re throwing your money at the problem you caused,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He leaned in again, closer this time, his face just inches from yours as he held up the chopsticks with a piece of soft-boiled egg. “You need protein to recover,” he said with mock seriousness, as if that somehow excused everything.

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare but opened your mouth reluctantly, letting him feed you the egg. It was delicious, of course.

Your bickering continued, the tension between you palpable—part frustration, part something you didn’t want to examine too closely. As much as you hated to admit it, there was something almost... comfortable in this strange back-and-forth. Even if he was insufferable. Even if he had ruined your life. There was something about the way he teased you, the way he looked at you with that annoying smirk, that was... unsettling in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“Next time,” you muttered between bites, “just don’t call me a good girl.”

Sunghoon grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. “We’ll see.”

A WEEK HAD PASSED,

AND SOMEHOW, THIS GUY,

PARK SUNGHOON—

Had become an inescapable shadow in your life. He was always around, lingering like a ghost in the corner of your hospital room, and frankly, it was getting on your nerves. You’d half expected him to get bored and move on, but no, he was persistent. Today was no exception, as he casually strolled in, dressed far too well for someone who supposedly had nothing better to do.

As if the universe wanted to test you even more, you suddenly realized you needed to use the bathroom. Perfect. With a fractured leg and several other annoying injuries, it wasn’t exactly a simple task to just get up and go.

Your eyes flickered over to Sunghoon, who, as usual, was making himself comfortable in the chair beside your bed, scrolling through his phone like he had all the time in the world. How does he not have work? you wondered. But then again, he was rich. He probably was the boss—no one to yell at him for skipping out.

An idea popped into your head, one so devious it made you almost grin. If you were stuck in this hell because of him, then he was going to suffer for it, too.

“I need to use the washroom,” you said, your voice dripping with forced sweetness. You shot him a smile so sugary it could give someone a cavity.

He looked up from his phone, raising a single eyebrow, his expression both confused and slightly suspicious. “And why are you telling me this?” His tone was casual, but you could tell he was wondering what you were up to.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Did he really not get it?

“Well,” you said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, “because you’re going to help me get there.”

Sunghoon’s face twisted into an expression of disbelief, the confusion deepening as he stared at you. His brows furrowed, and he glanced from you to your cast, clearly trying to make sense of the situation. “Can’t you just call the nurse?” he asked, his voice filled with exasperation.

You shrugged again, acting as though the answer was obvious. “The nurse is probably busy with other patients. You’re here, so... help me.”

For a moment, Sunghoon just stared at you, realizing that this was your revenge—your small, petty way of getting back at him. You could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options, but ultimately, he sighed, knowing full well this was his fault. He couldn’t say no. Not this time.

He stood up from his chair, slipping his phone into his pocket, and walked over to you. “Fine,” he grumbled under his breath, though there was a subtle trace of amusement in his voice. “Let’s get this over with.”

You smirked, raising your arms toward him in a silent, exaggerated demand for help. He gave you a look—one that said he knew exactly what you were doing—but he bent down anyway, carefully placing his arm around your back to help you sit up.

His movements were surprisingly gentle as he shifted you, mindful of your injuries. For a moment, you almost forgot you were supposed to hate him, but the memory of your fractured leg came rushing back as you awkwardly stood, balancing on your good leg while he held you up.

“You’ve done this before, right?” you teased, leaning a bit more heavily on him than necessary.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t answer, his grip tightening around your waist as he helped you off the bed. “Just don’t fall on me,” he muttered, his voice laced with mild frustration.

You let out a small, fake gasp. “Are you afraid of a little contact, Sunghoon?” you asked, your tone dripping with mock innocence.

His jaw clenched slightly, but he ignored your jab, shifting his weight to better support you as he guided you toward the bathroom. “Gosh, why can’t you just call the nurse like a normal person?” he groaned, sounding far more exasperated now that he was actually having to deal with you.

“Because,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “this is your fault. You got me into this mess, and now you get to deal with it.”

He sighed again, clearly trying his hardest not to snap back at you. You could practically hear the patience draining out of him as he helped you into the bathroom, your body leaning heavily on his arm as you hobbled on one leg. His other hand hovered near your cast, careful not to jostle it.

Once you were inside the small bathroom, he slowly backed out, giving you space but not before shooting you a deadpan look. “You good?”

You smirked, biting back a laugh. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Sunghoon closed the door behind him with a soft click, but not before calling through the wood, “Just yell when you’re finished, Your Highness.”

Leaning against the bathroom sink, you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. Revenge tasted sweet, even if it was petty. You knew Sunghoon didn’t want to be here, playing nurse, but it felt good to trouble him—just a little.

You took your time, prolonging your stay in the bathroom for as long as possible, savoring the knowledge that Sunghoon was waiting outside. Maybe it was childish, but it made you feel a bit better, if only for a moment.

As you lingered in the bathroom, relishing in your small, mischievous victory, Sunghoon's voice rang out from the other side of the door, his tone laced with irritation.

“You done?” he called out, his voice slightly muffled through the door.

You smirked, leaning your head back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, debating whether to prolong this little game. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for you. In your attempt to stand up properly, your balance wavered. Your injured leg buckled slightly, causing you to slip, creating a loud thud that echoed off the walls.

“Oh God?! Did you break your leg again?” Sunghoon’s voice immediately shifted from annoyance to a surprising edge of concern. You could hear the door handle jiggle as he attempted to open it.

In a panic, you yelled back before he could barge in. “Don’t even try! I haven’t pulled my pants up!” Your voice wobbled between panic and embarrassment, heat rising to your cheeks despite yourself.

There was a brief pause, followed by a mixture of relief and exasperation in his tone. “Seriously?”

You could practically feel his embarrassment from behind the door as he rubbed the back of his neck, caught between wanting to help and this awkward situation. “Then pull them up!” he said, as though that solved everything. The sheer audacity of his tone made your eye twitch.

“Listen, boy,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration. “If I could pull them up, don’t you think I’d be able to walk out? I’m literally stuck on the floor. And it’s disgusting down here!”

His groan was audible through the door, no doubt paired with him running a hand over his face in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

The back-and-forth bickering continued for what felt like forever, with you calling out orders and him grumbling on the other side of the door. After what seemed like an eternity, you finally gave up trying to maintain any shred of dignity in this situation.

“Okay, I pulled them up! Now, help me get out of here,” you finally yelled, exhausted from the struggle.

Sunghoon let out a deep, exaggerated sigh of relief, one that almost made you want to smack him if it weren’t for your current predicament. “Phew, finally.” You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

The door opened, and Sunghoon stepped inside with a mix of irritation and amusement. He bent down to help you, slipping his arm around your waist once more, lifting you up with practiced ease. You let out a small huff as he guided your weight against him, his warm hand steadying you as your body adjusted to standing again.

Without another word, you wobbled toward the sink, more than ready to return to the bed, but you couldn’t just ignore the fact that your hands were still dirty. Sunghoon kept his arm around you as you leaned over the sink to wash your hands, his eyes narrowing as he observed what you were doing.

"You..." he started, trailing off, his eyes slowly widening in horror. “You haven’t washed your hands yet, have you?”

You glanced up at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously not. I fell, genius,” you muttered, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon’s face instantly paled, his eyes darting from his hands to yours, his expression shifting from shock to absolute disgust. He immediately let go of you, stepping back like you’d just told him you had the plague.

“You did NOT just touch me with unwashed hands,” he said, his voice a mix of horror and disgust as he dramatically recoiled. His hand hovered in the air, shaking slightly, before he rushed to the other side of the sink, furiously scrubbing his hands with soap, as though he were trying to rid himself of every possible germ.

Watching him panic was somehow immensely satisfying, a smug grin curling your lips as you watched him suffer in disgust. “Eww, eww, eww!” he muttered to himself as he scrubbed, his face twisted in revulsion.

“Serves you right,” you quipped, leaning back against the wall, watching him frantically rinse his hands as though his life depended on it.

“You’re disgusting,” he shot back, glaring at you through the mirror, but the corner of his mouth twitched as though he were trying hard not to smile.

"Don’t act like I planned to fall, Sunghoon,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you continued to lean on him for support, your smirk never faltering. “But seeing you in pain—this... disgust—I gotta admit, it feels kinda good.”

He shot you a look, half exasperated and half amused, running a hand through his hair. “You’re something else,” he muttered, shaking his head as he helped you back toward the bed.

As much as you wanted to hate him, there was something oddly... endearing about his reaction. The tension between the two of you simmered beneath the surface, a strange mix of frustration, amusement, and something else you refused to acknowledge.

“I know,” you said, smirking as you let him help you lie down on the bed again. “I’m the best kind of trouble.”

Sunghoon scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something that made the air between you shift. For a moment, the banter fell silent, replaced by an unspoken tension. You both looked away at the same time, the quiet hum of the hospital room filling the space where your words had been.

It wasn’t hatred, not anymore—not exactly. It was something far more complicated than that.

AGAIN,

The next week went by in a haze of frustration, playful revenge, and shared irritations. What had started as your deep-seated hatred for Sunghoon for causing your fractured leg evolved into something less easy to define. It became a bizarre game of you tormenting him with every small inconvenience, while he reluctantly dealt with the trouble, almost as if he believed he deserved it. You had no idea why he kept coming back, why he hadn't just left you to the hospital staff—yet here he was. Every day. Helping you.

And today? Today, you were bored out of your mind, sick of the sterile walls of your hospital room and the bland hospital gown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The thought of sitting in that stiff bed for another minute was unbearable. Naturally, you decided Sunghoon should suffer the consequences of your boredom too. After all, he was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Take me out for a walk,” you’d said earlier, putting on your best guilt-trip face. “It’s the weekend, you have time. I’ve been stuck here for days.”

Sunghoon, standing at the foot of your bed with an exasperated sigh, had rubbed his temples as if debating whether to throw you into the wheelchair himself or just walk out. But he didn't. With a reluctant grunt and a muttered “Fine, whatever,” he agreed, grabbing the wheelchair from the corner and helping you into it.

Now, as he pushed you down the hospital hallway, your eyes gleamed with mischief. Your fractured leg was propped up awkwardly, wrapped in thick layers of bandages, and your body was still healing, but you were reveling in making him work for it.

"The garden!" you demanded, pointing outside through the glass doors like a queen giving orders to her servant.

Sunghoon, visibly tired from both the physical effort and the mental strain of dealing with you, gave a long-suffering sigh. “You enjoy this,” he muttered, his voice barely hiding the annoyance beneath. It wasn’t a question. He knew you were having way too much fun making his life difficult.

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you leaned back in the wheelchair with a smug grin, watching the trees and flowers of the hospital garden come into view. The warm sunlight kissed your skin, a far cry from the cold hospital walls. This, oddly enough, felt freeing. And it was even better knowing Sunghoon was stuck with you through it. He owed you, after all.

As you rolled along the garden’s paths, you caught sight of something from the corner of your eye—flashes. The unmistakable click of cameras. Paparazzi.

Your smile widened. You remembered the lies Sunghoon had told the nurse—how he had casually, with that infuriating confidence, claimed you were his girlfriend to save face. He was wealthy, privileged, and undoubtedly terrified of the media catching wind of the real story—that he was the one who crashed into you and got you in this mess.

A WICKED IDEA BLOOMED IN YOUR MIND.

Without warning, you let out a loud, exaggerated sob, your shoulders shaking dramatically as you hid your face in your hands. The sound echoed across the garden, loud enough that even the photographers several feet away perked up, their lenses immediately focusing on you.

Sunghoon immediately froze, halting the wheelchair in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he moved to your side, kneeling down beside you. His eyes darted around, realizing the attention you were drawing.

But you didn’t stop. You cried even louder, your voice cracking as you spoke, “It’s because of you! You ruined me! You ruined my life!” Your words were over the top, a dramatic sob story for the cameras.

Sunghoon’s eyes went wide with panic, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He glanced over at the paparazzi, whose cameras were now flashing like crazy, capturing every tear, every quiver of your voice. “You’re kidding, right?” His voice was low, trying to keep his cool but clearly rattled.

You shot him a look through tear-filled eyes that could have won you an Oscar for Best Actress. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” you sobbed again, clutching your leg for dramatic effect. “All because you weren’t paying attention!”

He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper as he desperately tried to contain the situation. “Please, don’t do this,” he pleaded, his eyes darting nervously between you and the flashing cameras.

But you weren’t done. Oh no. You were just getting started. “I should’ve never trusted you!” you wailed, loud enough for the photographers to pick up every word.

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, panic flooding his features as the paparazzi moved closer, their cameras capturing every second of your breakdown. He looked desperate, and it was almost... satisfying. Watching him squirm under the weight of his own lies felt like sweet revenge.

You were just about to spill the whole truth—about how he’d been the one to hit you with his motorbike, how he’d been pretending you were his girlfriend to save his reputation—when Sunghoon, clearly sensing what you were about to do, suddenly placed his hand firmly over your mouth, silencing you in an instant.

Your eyes widened in shock as his palm pressed against your lips. Without saying a word, he grabbed the wheelchair handles with his other hand and started pushing you back toward the hospital entrance, ignoring the flurry of camera flashes now going wild as the paparazzi captured the scene.

You muffled against his hand, glaring at him furiously as he practically ran down the hospital pathway, steering you out of sight from the media frenzy.

He didn’t stop until you were back inside the hospital, away from prying eyes. When he finally removed his hand from your mouth, you gasped, shooting him a withering glare.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?!” you yelled, still breathless from the intensity of it all.

He turned to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration and something you couldn’t quite place. “What the hell? Are you insane?! You were going to ruin me out there!”

“I should ruin you!” you shot back, crossing your arms as best as you could in the wheelchair. “You deserve it!”

His face softened for just a split second, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Yeah, maybe I do,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But don’t think for a second I’m going to let you drag me down that easily.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden tension between you—something beyond the irritation, beyond the bickering. Something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

He turned away, gripping the wheelchair handles once more as he moved you back toward your room in silence. And as much as you hated him, you couldn’t help but feel something else too.

As Sunghoon pushed your wheelchair back into the hospital, you couldn’t help but notice the other patients scattered throughout the halls. Most were older, their faces worn with the kind of wisdom you only get from enduring the passage of time. You saw them glance your way, eyes lighting up with admiration, clearly assuming that you and Sunghoon were some kind of tragic but loving couple, destined to overcome hardship together.

Ha. As if.

There wasn’t a drop of love here. The very thought made you internally cringe. If only they knew the truth—that Sunghoon was the reason you were in this wheelchair in the first place. That this whole ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ facade was just a cover-up for his recklessness. But, no. To them, he was probably some knight in shining armor, dutifully pushing his beloved around the hospital.

You caught a glimpse of an elderly woman giving you a soft smile, and you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. This wasn’t a fairytale romance—it was a mess. A tangled, ridiculous mess.

Sunghoon finally maneuvered you back into your hospital room, the wheels of the chair squeaking as he parked it beside your bed. He bent down, his fingers curling around the handles of the wheelchair as if ready to help you out. For a brief second, you could see the faint lines of stress etched into his face, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tightly.

Before he could do anything, though, his phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. He hesitated, clearly debating whether or not to answer, but eventually muttered, “I’ll just take this real quick.”

He stepped away, answering the call with a curt, “Yeah?” His voice was low, tense. As the conversation unfolded, you heard snippets of his replies: “I know better,” and “I’m an adult,” followed by a string of sighs. You couldn’t hear the other person on the line, but you could guess. It was probably one of his parents, likely lecturing him for spending so much time around you. After all, why would the rich, polished Sunghoon waste his precious time with some girl he’d accidentally injured?

But the truth was, Sunghoon couldn’t just up and leave you. Oh no. The media was already onto you both, snapping pictures every time you were in public together. If he suddenly disappeared now, they’d think he was the kind of guy who bailed on his girlfriend just because she got injured. His reputation would plummet faster than you’d hit the ground earlier.

Still, was it the truth? That Sunghoon didn’t want to be around you?

The reality was more complicated. You couldn’t even imagine calling him a friend, let alone anything more. This was a weird, temporary arrangement—nothing else.

“I’ll be back,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, still distracted by his phone. Without a second glance in your direction, he hurried out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he disappeared.

Wait. What?

You blinked, staring at the empty space where he had been just moments ago. Did he seriously just walk out without helping you get back into bed? Your mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” you whispered to the empty room.

You waited, expecting him to come back any minute now, to walk in with that same frustrated expression and a sarcastic apology on his lips. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. Nothing.

An entire hour dragged by, and still—no Sunghoon. The nurse was nowhere to be found either, probably off on her rounds, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

The frustration boiled inside you. There was no way you were going to stay trapped in this wheelchair any longer. It wasn’t comfortable, and the bed—despite being stiff and unwelcoming—looked like heaven compared to the cold seat you were stuck in.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to do it yourself.

Carefully, you placed your hands on the armrests, trying to hoist yourself up. Your fractured leg protested immediately, the dull ache turning into a sharp pain, but you ignored it. You couldn’t afford to fall, not now. You just had to get onto the bed.

One step. Then another.

You winced as your good leg took the brunt of your weight, wobbling unsteadily. It was like trying to walk a tightrope while holding a stack of plates. Your body swayed, arms trembling as you gripped the bed frame for support. Almost there. You could feel the edge of the mattress pressing against your fingertips.

And then—your foot slipped.

With a sickening thud, you fell face-first into the mattress, your body collapsing awkwardly against the bed frame. Pain shot through your leg as you let out a sharp gasp.

“Damn it!” you cursed under your breath, your voice muffled by the bedspread. “Sunghoon, this is all your fault!”

You lay there for a moment, too stunned and too furious to move. How could he just leave you like that? The idiot was probably off taking some important call while you were stuck in this miserable situation. Your hatred for him simmered again, bubbling to the surface like boiling water ready to spill over.

With a groan, you tried to push yourself up, your muscles straining as you fought to get into a proper position on the bed. Your face burned with embarrassment and anger. All you could think about was how Sunghoon was going to get an earful when—if—he ever came back.

But, despite the frustration, there was something else gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge. Something about the way his expression had softened just before he left, like he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you. Like there was something there, beneath all the sarcastic quips and exasperated sighs.

No. You shook your head, refusing to entertain the idea. This wasn’t some cliché hospital romance where the guy who ruined your life suddenly became your savior. Sunghoon wasn’t some misunderstood prince charming. He was just... Sunghoon. Annoying, frustrating, and absolutely the last person you wanted to deal with.

Still, as you lay there, face buried in the hospital bed, you couldn’t help but feel that gnawing frustration twisting into something else. Something far more complicated.

THE NEXT DAY PASSED IN A HAZE.

And the day after that.

And another day.

Each one crawled by, dragging itself through hours that felt like days. But Sunghoon didn’t return. Not a text, not a call, not even a shadow of his presence outside your hospital room. You didn’t want to admit it, but his absence gnawed at you. Was he sick? Had something happened? Why the hell were you even wondering about it?

You shouldn’t care.

You didn’t care.

In fact, you should be overjoyed if he had caught some miserable flu. Or—better yet—if he had gotten into trouble of his own for once. You’d be happy. Relieved, even.

Right?

Except, you weren’t. Something unsettling tugged at the back of your mind. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t said a word before disappearing. But the more you tried to push the thought away, the more it latched onto you.

And then the door to your hospital room creaked open, a slow twist of the knob announcing a presence you hadn’t expected.

In walked a woman.

Her aura screamed wealth, a kind of quiet, effortless opulence that you recognized instantly—the tailored coat, the way her silk scarf draped perfectly over her shoulders, and most notably, her glasses. You had never seen anyone wear glasses that looked like they cost more than your entire hospital stay.

She didn’t spare you much of a glance at first, too busy taking off her glasses with a dismissive flick of her wrist. But as soon as her eyes met yours, you felt the air shift. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, and instantly made you sit up straighter in bed, pressing your back against the headboard.

Was this Sunghoon’s mother?

The question popped into your mind, but the answer came without you having to ask. Her next words confirmed everything.

“So, you’re that girl,” she said, her voice clipped as her eyes flickered over you. It wasn’t even a question, more of a statement. You were that girl—the one her son had dragged into this mess. You shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but somehow managed to muster some sarcasm.

“Yeah, the girl your son fractured the leg of,” you shot back, the words leaving your mouth with a little too much venom. But, realizing this was probably not the time for jokes, you cleared your throat.

The woman didn’t look amused. Instead, she merely hummed, clearly not interested in exchanging pleasantries.

“I’m here to talk,” she said flatly, ignoring your tone entirely. Her eyes, sharp as ever, stayed fixed on you, not even bothering with an introduction. You could hear some faint commotion outside the room, likely the nurses eavesdropping, curious about the sudden appearance of such an elegant woman.

“Okay…” you replied, scratching the back of your neck nervously, your mind already racing. What could she possibly want?

Without a hint of hesitation, Sunghoon’s mother stepped closer to your bed, pulling something out of her bag—a cheque. She laid it on your blanket-covered lap with a kind of quiet authority that made it clear this wasn’t a negotiation.

“Take this,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “And leave my son.”

You blinked, staring at the cheque in disbelief. Was this really happening? It felt like a scene ripped straight out of a cheesy drama. Your mouth opened to respond, but before you could, she continued, her tone icy and business-like.

“If the media says anything, tell them the two of you broke up because of something you did.”

The words hit you like a slap. So this was it, huh? A payoff. A quick exit plan for the inconvenience you had become. Without thinking, you picked up the cheque. Shamelessly, even. You weren’t going to pretend like you weren’t curious. Your eyes widened slightly as you glanced at the amount.

It was a lot.

Enough to cover an expensive surgery. Heck, enough to completely change your life—your face, your identity. Maybe even start fresh. Your heart raced for a moment, but then a sneaky idea popped into your head. Maybe you could push this a little further.

“I can’t take this,” you muttered, putting on your best ‘reluctant’ act. You hoped it came off as genuine, like you were too noble to accept a bribe. You glanced up at her from under your lashes, waiting to see her reaction.

For a split second, her eyes narrowed, and then—without a word—she reached into her bag again, pulling out another cheque. This one was double the amount of the first.

Your internal grin nearly split your face in two.

“I’ll take it,” you replied immediately, the words leaving your mouth faster than you could process them. You grabbed the second cheque, abandoning any pretense of hesitation. This was too good to pass up. Who cared about Sunghoon? You weren’t even his girlfriend. You didn’t owe him anything, and this was way too much money to let go.

Sunghoon’s mother arched a brow, a small smirk curling at the corner of her lips. “You’re smart,” she said, her voice dripping with a patronizing kind of approval. Before you could even react, she patted your head like you were some kind of obedient puppy. The gesture made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to stay still, biting back the urge to snap at her.

With that, she turned and strode out of the room, her heels clicking against the tiled floor in a rhythm that oozed confidence and control. You watched her leave, the door closing with a soft click behind her.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the distant chatter outside the door. You glanced down at the cheques in your hands, the weight of them sinking in.

You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. This was it. After years of living in that godforsaken orphanage, of scraping by, of enduring the endless bullying—you were finally getting a break.

Who knew a fractured leg could be this profitable? If this was what came from one little accident, maybe getting hit again wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

At least you knew one thing for sure: money beats boys. Every time.

YOU EXPECTED TO NEVER SEE SUNGHOON EVER AGAIN. In fact, you had made peace with it—or, at least, you thought you had. But that didn’t stop the daily ritual that had developed between you, Wonyoung, and Hanni.

They sat on either side of your hospital bed, a swirl of indignation and venom, bitching relentlessly about the guy who had caused all of this—Sunghoon.

At least you had your friends. They were here, taking time out of their lives to be by your side, and if that wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. Wonyoung sat perched on the edge of the hospital bed, her legs crossed with effortless grace, while Hanni lounged at the foot of your bed, absently stroking your hair like you were a cat. They had barely paused for breath since they’d walked into the room, diving headfirst into their favorite topic: how much they despised Sunghoon.

"I mean, the guy just fractures your leg and disappears without so much as a note?" Wonyoung scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief as she flung her arms in the air like she wanted to strangle him. She shot you a look that said how could you have possibly put up with this idiot?

“And let’s not forget,” Hanni added, leaning forward conspiratorially as if Sunghoon might somehow hear them through the walls, “he’s probably just out there living his little rich boy life while you’re stuck in here, waiting for your leg to heal.”

She shook her head in disgust, fingers still lightly grazing your scalp. “Rich bastards are always like this,” she muttered under her breath, giving you a soft pat like she was reassuring you that you weren’t alone in your suffering.

You could feel a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, watching the two of them fuel each other’s fire. Neither of them had actually met Sunghoon, but they hated him with the burning passion of a thousand suns, and honestly, it was kind of hilarious to watch.

“I know, right? Like, how dare he?” Wonyoung continued, practically vibrating with indignation. “Does he think just because he’s rich and pretty, he can just act like that and not have any consequences?”

Her eyes narrowed, lips pulling into a thin line, as she mimicked slapping someone in the air. “If I ever see him, I swear to god I’m going to knock some sense into that stupid, spoiled—”

“Oh, please,” Hanni interrupted with a snort. “If you ever saw him, you'd probably get distracted by how disgustingly handsome he is and forget all about punching him.”

Wonyoung blinked at her, feigning innocence. “Me? Never. I’m immune to pretty boys.”

“Sure.” Hanni teased, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to your last crush.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at their bickering, the sound surprising you. It was strange how comforting their presence was, even though all they seemed to do was rip into Sunghoon. Not that you minded, of course. They were right—he deserved it. Completely.

…Right?

You listened as they went back and forth, each taking turns trashing him for his ghosting act. The more they bitched, the more venomous their words became, but somewhere deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a small, annoying tug of… something else.

Sure, you hated Sunghoon. You absolutely detested him. He had caused this whole mess, fractured your leg, and then vanished into thin air without so much as a “Sorry, hope you’re doing okay.” The guy didn’t even have the decency to send flowers. Who does that?

But… still. A part of you—a very, very tiny part—missed him. Even though he was infuriating. Even though he’d probably caused you more stress than anyone else in your life. You couldn’t shake the strange pang of absence, the way the hospital room felt oddly emptier without him awkwardly hovering around like your personal nurse. Maybe it was the fact that, for a few fleeting moments, you’d been able to annoy the hell out of him and enjoy watching him fumble over basic hospital tasks. There was a twisted kind of satisfaction in making a guy like him—a spoiled, oblivious rich boy—take care of you.

But more than that, you missed having someone to direct your frustration at. As much as you enjoyed watching Wonyoung and Hanni tear him to shreds on your behalf, it wasn’t quite the same.

“Seriously, though,” Hanni said, dragging you out of your thoughts, “I bet he’s out at some fancy restaurant right now, eating caviar or whatever rich people eat, without a single thought about you.”

Wonyoung huffed, leaning back on her elbows. “Probably. You know, I bet he’s never even eaten instant ramen. Can you imagine?”

You snorted. “Yeah, because the moment he tastes anything less than five-star cuisine, his delicate palate might collapse.”

Wonyoung laughed, but then her expression grew more serious. “It’s just messed up, though. He leaves you here to rot, and for what? Did he even like you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light. “Who knows? I think I was just a… distraction for him.”

“That’s even worse,” Hanni said, crossing her arms. “Honestly, you should’ve asked for more when his mom came by with that cheque. They owe you a hell of a lot more than just money after all this.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. “Wait, his mom came here? And gave you money?”

“Oh, right. I forgot to mention that part,” you said, suppressing a grin as you leaned back against your pillow. “Yeah, his mom basically bribed me to stay away from him. Two cheques, actually.”

Hanni’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” you replied, the grin breaking free. “Apparently, I was such a nuisance that she wanted to pay me off to disappear from Sunghoon’s life for good.”

Wonyoung let out a low whistle. “Damn. You should’ve held out for a third cheque.”

“Honestly,” Hanni added, shaking her head in disbelief. “Rich people are something else.”

You laughed, a bit more genuinely this time, as they continued to bitch about Sunghoon and his high-society family. But despite the humor and the camaraderie, there was still that nagging feeling. That tiny, irritating itch in the back of your mind.

You didn’t miss him—not exactly. But maybe, just maybe, you missed the chaos that came with him. And, unfortunately, chaos had a way of finding its way back.

You just didn’t know it yet.

“Woah, I didn’t expect you to bad bitch about me the second I disappear,” came a familiar voice from the doorway, smooth and dripping with sarcasm. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who it was. The all-too-familiar dramatic hurt expression was already imprinted in your mind—the same one Sunghoon wore whenever he wanted to be the center of attention, which was, frankly, all the time.

You snapped your head in his direction, and there he was—leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as if he hadn't just walked in unannounced, with that smug smirk plastered on his ridiculously perfect face. His brows were raised in mock disbelief, his lips twisted into an amused pout, as if he'd caught you red-handed in the act of a crime. How dare you talk about me when I’m not here? his expression screamed. But it wasn’t just that. No. Sunghoon looked… annoyingly good.

The worst part? He knew it.

Hanni and Wonyoung, who had been enthusiastically leading the charge in your anti-Sunghoon crusade just moments ago, froze mid-rant, their jaws practically hitting the floor. The air thickened with awkward tension, the kind that made your stomach do a weird flip. You glanced at your friends, fully expecting them to keep up the bitching. Surely, they wouldn’t back down now—not after all the trash-talking they’d just unleashed on his name, right? But when you turned to look at them, all you saw were wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Wait a minute. Were they… shy?

Hanni was the first to break. Her voice, usually sharp and unfiltered, faltered as she stared at Sunghoon like he had descended from the heavens. “Were we talking about him?” she whispered under her breath, as if you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes cursing his existence. She blinked, clearly taken aback by his presence. So handsome, so— you could practically hear her thoughts scrambling for coherence.

Wonyoung, on the other hand, was shamelessly gawking. Gone was the fire-breathing dragon ready to rip Sunghoon to shreds. Instead, she was wide-eyed, as if she’d never seen a human so beautiful in her life. “Uh…” She trailed off, her brain short-circuiting under his gaze. So much for being immune to pretty boys.

You huffed, rolling your eyes at their sudden change of demeanor. Traitors.

Before you could say anything, Sunghoon took a leisurely step into the room, his presence practically swallowing the space whole. “Your mom told me to stay away from you,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him in the hopes that it would somehow send him running for the hills. As if mentioning his mother would magically undo his annoying existence. “And by the way,” you added, “I’m not giving that money back. No way.”

Sunghoon’s smirk only widened, the infuriating bastard. “Well, yeah,” he said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, “she told you to stay away from me, but I’m still allowed to stay close to you. You’re not the one initiating this.” He shrugged, as if his logic was sound and you were the one being difficult.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. What? You actually had to tilt your head back to process that nonsense. Was he serious? You blinked, glanced up at the ceiling as if the answer to his ridiculous statement might be written up there, and then back at him.

He wasn’t joking.

You were about to retort—about to remind him just how absurd that sounded—when you glanced at your two supposed best friends, expecting them to jump in and tear him a new one. But instead, they were still sitting there, suddenly very preoccupied with… being shy? Their gazes darted anywhere but at Sunghoon, as if he was some untouchable, otherworldly figure they couldn’t dare criticize anymore.

You scoffed under your breath. Unbelievable.

“Well…” You tried to gather your thoughts, but before you could finish, Hanni shifted beside you—by accident, of course—and her elbow brushed against your injured leg. Pain shot through your body, and you winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Ow!”

Immediately, Sunghoon was at your side, crossing the room in a flash, his expression now serious as he kneeled beside you, his hands hovering over your injured leg. “Are you okay? Let me see.”

Your instinct was to push him away—to tell him to back off and leave you alone. The last thing you needed was him fussing over you like he actually cared. But you were injured, and Sunghoon had the upper hand—literally. His fingers gently pressed against your leg, checking to see if you were in pain, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop him. You tried to shove him off, but he was stronger, and your body wasn’t exactly in fighting shape.

“Stop—” you muttered, but your voice was weak. And, truthfully, despite how much you hated him, you let him check because… well, he was good at it. Annoyingly good.

Hanni, meanwhile, had the audacity to mutter under her breath, “Should’ve brought popcorn. This is hella interesting.” She shot you a guilty look, clearly aware that she’d caused the whole thing by bumping into your leg, but that didn’t stop her from thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding right before her eyes.

Wonyoung, who had somehow recovered from her stunned silence, leaned back and muttered, “Right.” She was watching the whole scene play out like she was stuck in the middle of some romantic comedy, her eyes darting between you and Sunghoon like she was waiting for the inevitable kiss scene.

“Weren’t you two on the #hatehim team?” you hissed, glaring at both of them as Sunghoon finally pulled back, satisfied that your leg wasn’t worse off than before.

Wonyoung blinked innocently, already gathering her things. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah,” Hanni added with a shrug, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “We’re just, uh… neutral parties.”

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, they both stood, gathered their bags, and exchanged quick looks like they had just silently agreed on something. In unison, they made their way to the door, Wonyoung gesturing for Hanni to follow her like they were in some secret mission.

“Wait—are you leaving?!” you called after them, your voice laced with disbelief.

Hanni flashed you an apologetic smile, but her feet didn’t stop moving. “We’ll see you later! Good luck!”

With that, the two of them excused themselves, slipping out of the room like nothing had happened, leaving you alone with Sunghoon. You blinked after them, incredulous. They had changed their minds way too fast. How the hell did that even happen? Just ten minutes ago, they had been ripping Sunghoon apart, and now? Now they were acting like he was some kind of romantic hero who had fallen from the stars to sweep you off your feet.

You sighed, sinking back against your pillow.

But even as you stared at the door, trying to figure out how your two best friends had suddenly betrayed you, the nagging worry crept back into your mind. The cheques. You couldn’t help but glance at Sunghoon out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he would tell his mom about this little reunion. You would kill him if the money got taken back.

And just like that, Sunghoon was once again at the center of your frustrations—always, always causing trouble.

THE FACT THAT THE SUNGHOON — the only son of Park Corporation—had re-entered your life wasn’t exactly a secret, nor did it stay hidden from the one person who mattered most: his mother. There was no way she’d let this slide. And just as you predicted, not long after Sunghoon's unexpected return, his mother showed up at your hospital room door once again, this time with backup.

And by backup, you meant Sunghoon's older cousin brother, Jay. A man whose only crime, as far as you could tell, was being related to the Park family. If Sunghoon was infuriating, Jay seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. His discomfort radiated off him like a bad cologne—too strong, and kind of pitiful. His eyes darted nervously around the room, like he was scared to make eye contact with you. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if he knew why he was there.

Mrs. Park nudged him sharply, her manicured nails digging into his arm. “Tell her,” she hissed, clearly fed up with his lack of initiative.

Jay, however, looked more like he was preparing for a high school speech than an intimidating favor-demanding confrontation. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked down at his palm, probably reciting some mental script he had prepared on the way here, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh… so…”

You raised an eyebrow. Was this really happening? The Park Corporation sent this guy? This was their best shot at trying to intimidate you? First, Sunghoon barges into your life like a hurricane, and now his cousin shows up, looking like he’s one deep breath away from fainting. Honestly, you felt bad for Mrs. Park. How did she expect these two to run a massive conglomerate? You stifled a laugh, pity almost bubbling up in your chest.

Before Jay could stumble through another word, though, the door burst open, and in walked the person you least wanted to see. Of course. Of course Sunghoon had perfect timing. He always seemed to show up when things were about to get interesting, like some messed-up alarm system that detected whenever you were about to make some extra cash off his family’s dramatics. You barely blinked before he was standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe as if he hadn’t just barged in.

“Jay,” Sunghoon muttered, his tone heavy with disappointment, “You too?”

Jay immediately straightened up, as if trying to salvage what little pride he had left. “Your mom asked me to. Trust me, I didn’t want to do this.” He stepped back, throwing his hands up as though he were surrendering to the inevitable.

Sunghoon’s mother, however, had zero patience for this nonsense. She let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her temple as if dealing with two grown men acting like toddlers was giving her a migraine. “What else could I do when my son is wasting his time on this?” She waved a hand in your direction, as though you were an unpleasant distraction from Sunghoon’s otherwise charmed life. Her voice dripped with irritation, as though you were personally responsible for ruining her perfectly laid plans.

You paused mid-bite, glancing at her with an amused smirk. She had brought her son’s cousin to what? Scare you? Threaten you into backing off? You leaned back against the pillows on your hospital bed, casually spearing another piece of the expensive meal Sunghoon had brought you earlier. A luxurious spread, by the way. How thoughtful. You chewed slowly, savoring both the food and the unfolding chaos in front of you. It was like watching a soap opera, but better, because it was real. And because you were the center of it.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, visibly annoyed by his mother’s theatrics. “This again? Seriously, Mom?” His gaze flickered toward Jay, who was doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. “You got Jay involved in this?”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Mrs. Park snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She stood in the middle of the room, clearly expecting to command the entire situation with her presence alone. “I can’t just stand by while you throw away your future on—” She glanced at you with disdain, the kind only a Park could muster. “This girl.”

You snorted, taking another bite of food. “This girl is sitting right here, you know.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked to you, briefly softening in what might have been sympathy—or maybe annoyance. Hard to tell. Either way, he turned back to his mother, exasperation bleeding into his voice. “I’m not ‘throwing away’ anything. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

His mother wasn’t having it. “You’ve been running around for days, ignoring your responsibilities for this… this situation!” She gestured dramatically toward you as if you were some scandalous tabloid headline.

You set down your fork and raised an eyebrow. “It’s cute that you think you can still control him.”

Sunghoon gave you a look that screamed you’re not helping.

Mrs. Park glared at her son, then at you, her lips pressing into a thin line. “This isn’t about control,” she said icily, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “It’s about ensuring you don’t ruin your life over some impulsive decision.”

Jay, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. He kept glancing between the three of you, clearly regretting every single decision that led him here. He took a step back, slowly edging toward the door, clearly hoping no one would notice him escaping.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you said, your voice teasing but firm, “You’re part of this mess now, Jay.”

His eyes widened in mild panic. “I—I don’t—”

But before he could defend himself, Sunghoon’s mother cut in, “Jay, tell her.” She prodded him again, practically pushing him into the spotlight.

Jay rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around the room like he was looking for an exit. “Uh, look, I… I don’t really want to do this, but…” He paused, throwing an apologetic look your way, “Can you just… maybe think about backing off? Just… consider it? For me?” His voice was pleading, clearly not cut out for this whole intimidation thing.

Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this entire situation was giving him a migraine. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His mother snapped. “You’re wasting your time. There are other priorities for someone in your position.”

Sunghoon’s patience was clearly wearing thin, his jaw tightening as he responded. “You keep saying that. But you’re not listening to me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, low and quiet, as you continued to enjoy the spectacle. The three of them—Sunghoon, his mom, and Jay—bickering like some dysfunctional family sitcom, while you sat back, fully immersed in your gourmet meal.

“This is better than TV,” you muttered to yourself, watching as they tried to one-up each other.

Mrs. Park shot you a death glare, but you just smiled back innocently, because really, what was she going to do? Take your meal away?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward you again, and for a moment, there was a hint of something softer in his expression. Frustration, maybe. Or something that bordered on concern. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jay, finally finding his courage, jumped in again.

“You know,” Jay said, sounding more desperate than threatening, “this would all be easier if we just… moved on. You know?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Easier for who?”

Jay hesitated, clearly realizing he was in over his head. His shoulders slumped, clearly realizing that he wasn’t getting out of this alive—figuratively, at least. His eyes darted back and forth between you and Sunghoon, probably weighing whether it was safer to keep talking or to just bolt. He ended up choosing the safer route: silence.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was far from done. His gaze sharpened as he turned toward his mother, who was glaring at him with the ferocity only a woman scorned by her own son could muster.

“I’m serious, Mom,” Sunghoon said, voice tense but controlled. “You can’t keep barging into my life like this. It’s not going to work.”

Mrs. Park scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I barged into your life? Are you kidding me, Sunghoon? You’re the one who keeps throwing everything away for… for her,” she spat, pointing an accusing finger in your direction.

You almost choked on your food but managed to swallow it down, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, hey. Don’t drag me into this. I’m just eating.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked back to you for a moment, his expression softening. It was brief, but there was something almost apologetic in his eyes before he looked back at his mother.

“Whatever you think is going on here, it’s not what you think,” Sunghoon said, his voice taut with frustration. “I’m not ‘throwing anything away.’”

Mrs. Park’s jaw tightened, her nostrils flaring as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re wasting your time, Sunghoon. You should be focusing on the company, your future, not this… whatever this is.”

She waved a dismissive hand in your direction, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. You weren’t exactly a fan of being treated like some pesky side project Sunghoon needed to get rid of, but the whole situation was too ridiculous to take seriously.

“So, what,” you said, leaning back in your bed, eyes flicking between the three of them, “You’re all here to—what? Threaten me? Make me back off? Because I gotta be honest, this isn’t working.” You gestured toward Jay, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, and Mrs. Park, who was glaring daggers at you.

Sunghoon’s mother took a step forward, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I’m not here to play games with you, girl. I’m here to ensure my son’s future. You’re nothing but a distraction.”

“Ouch,” you muttered, feigning hurt. “You really know how to make someone feel special.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated with the whole ordeal. “Mom, you’re not helping. Just… stop, okay?”

“Helping?” Mrs. Park echoed incredulously, as though the very idea was laughable. “You think I’m not helping by trying to save your future from her?”

You were starting to get a little irritated, even if the whole situation was more laughable than threatening. “Look, I don’t know what fantasy land you’re living in, but Sunghoon is the one who came to me. Not the other way around. If you’re so worried about his future, maybe start with him.”

Sunghoon gave you a look that said please stop fanning the flames, but you were past caring at this point. You’d had enough of this woman coming into your life and treating you like you were some common gold-digger. She didn’t know the half of it.

His mother, however, seemed immune to reason. She shot her son a glare. “You’re throwing your life away, Sunghoon. I raised you better than this.”

And finally, something in Sunghoon snapped. His usually calm demeanor cracked as he stepped forward, his voice low and sharp. “No, what you did was control my entire life. And guess what? I’m done. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t need you micromanaging every decision I make.”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting this outburst. Even Jay looked taken aback, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest. This was getting good.

“Sunghoon—”

“No, Mom. Stop,” Sunghoon cut her off, his voice unwavering. “You’re not doing this because you care about me. You’re doing this because you care about your image. About the company’s image.”

His mother recoiled as though she’d been slapped, her perfectly manicured nails curling into fists at her sides. “How dare you—”

“How dare I?” Sunghoon laughed bitterly. “You’ve been treating me like a business deal my whole life, Mom. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

The room fell silent, the tension so thick you could practically feel it pressing down on your chest. Sunghoon’s mother stood frozen in place, her face a mixture of fury and shock.

Jay, sensing the growing hostility, started inching toward the door again, but before he could make his grand escape, Mrs. Park turned to him, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Jay, we’re leaving.”

Jay practically tripped over his own feet in his eagerness to comply. He glanced at you briefly—an apologetic look that almost said sorry for the drama—before scurrying out of the room behind his aunt.

Mrs. Park paused in the doorway, turning to throw one last glare in your direction. “This isn’t over.”

You raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly taking another bite of your meal. “Looking forward to round two.”

She glared, and with a sharp turn, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the room, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than the bickering that had just taken place.

For a moment, neither you nor Sunghoon spoke. He stood there, still reeling from the argument, his jaw clenched, shoulders tense. You swallowed the last bite of your meal, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you glanced up at him.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence with a wry smile, “that was fun.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond at first, his eyes focused on the floor, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair again. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “For what?”

“For all of… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the door where his mother and cousin had exited. “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m used to it. Your mom’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Sunghoon muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, humorless smile.

A beat of silence passed between you, the tension slowly dissolving now that the storm had passed. But there was still something unspoken lingering in the air, something that felt heavier than the drama with his mother.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “So… what now?”

Sunghoon hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at you. For the first time, there was no sarcasm, no playful banter. Just the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw. “But I do know one thing.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his tone firm, his eyes locked on yours. “No matter what she says. No matter what anyone says.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice, but you kept your expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away. “That sounds like a lot of trouble for nothing.”

Sunghoon stood by the edge of your hospital bed, arms crossed over his chest, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the room as the dim light from the ceiling flickered slightly. His gaze was a mix of disbelief and frustration, but there was an edge of something softer, something unreadable, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or get defensive at your latest jab.

"Anyways, aren't you the heir?" You muttered, the words slipping out casually as you fiddled with the blanket, your tone attempting to sound neutral. But deep down, you knew exactly what you were doing. Trying to reason with Mrs. Park—despite her endless insults—wasn’t out of some newfound respect for her. No, this was a survival tactic. Sunghoon might equal trouble, but his mother? She was the gateway to all those fat cheques. You knew better than to entirely burn that bridge, even if it was hanging by a thread.

Sunghoon raised a brow at you, clearly not expecting the sudden change in direction. "You think she's worried about me?" he scoffed, almost incredulous.

You shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to meet his gaze for too long. "I just think… maybe she's concerned about your future," you muttered, your words laced with an attempt to seem logical, though your true motive lay elsewhere. You tugged the hospital blanket tighter around your legs, which still ached from the accident. A small price to pay for someone like him smashing into you.

He leaned against the wall, his stance casual but his expression anything but. "Future?" Sunghoon repeated, almost bitterly. He huffed before muttering under his breath, "I'm a racer."

You nearly choked on your own breath at that. A racer. The very notion of it was absurd, especially given how he ended up here with you in the hospital in the first place.

"No wonder she's worried." The words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice barely audible, but loud enough for him to catch. You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, noticing how his expression morphed from mild irritation to downright disbelief.

“What do you mean, ‘no wonder she’s worried’?” He demanded, straightening up, arms uncrossing as he took a step closer to you, like you’d just accused him of being some criminal mastermind.

You didn’t even try to stifle the small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "Come on, Sunghoon. Let’s be real for a second. You're not exactly... the best driver." You gestured lazily towards your leg, which was propped up in a cast. “Even on a motorbike, you managed to get my leg broken.”

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in the way he rolled his eyes, muttering, “Shut up,” under his breath, though the edges of his lips twitched upwards for a second. He hated that you had a point. But there was no real venom in his words, just mild annoyance, the kind that came from knowing someone had you cornered.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze drifting from you to the small bouquet of flowers on the side table, then back to you. His posture screamed discomfort, as if he wasn’t used to being in such close proximity to his own vulnerability. After a long pause, he finally asked the question you’d been dodging for a while now, his voice dipping into something almost concerned. “But why were you drunk, though? I mean, they found alcohol in your tests that day."

Your breath hitched for a moment, but you quickly waved it off, eyes flicking away to avoid his gaze. "I just had a bad day, okay?" The words came out a little too quickly, a little too defensive, and you knew it wasn’t the full story. But the last thing you wanted was to dive into your own mess, especially not with him.

Sunghoon didn’t push further, his gaze softening slightly, but he wasn't one to leave a conversation dangling for too long. “Why were you speeding, though?” You shot back, raising an eyebrow in return. If he was going to dig into your mess, you had every right to poke at his.

The corner of his mouth twitched nervously as he chuckled, his usual bravado faltering for a split second. You knew something was up. Sunghoon never got nervous. Not like this.

"Well..." he started, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, his eyes darting away from you, unable to maintain eye contact for too long.

“Well?" You pressed, folding your arms across your chest as you waited for whatever ridiculous excuse he had to offer.

Sunghoon let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "My dad saw me riding," he muttered. "So I was kinda in a hurry."

For a second, you just stared at him, blinking in disbelief. "That’s it?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief. "Your dad saw you riding, and that made you speed? You didn't even bother to stop when you crashed into me?”

He fidgeted slightly, clearly uncomfortable under your scrutinizing gaze, but he shrugged helplessly. "I didn’t see you, okay? I was too busy trying to avoid him."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, sinking back into your pillows with a sigh. “That's it? And here I thought you were doing drug deals or something.”

The sarcasm in your voice was unmistakable, though you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous this whole situation had turned out to be. For someone who was supposedly the heir to a powerful corporation, Sunghoon had a way of complicating the most straightforward situations.

He blinked at you in disbelief, the tips of his ears turning red. "What? Drug dealing? Really?" he muttered, crossing his arms again as he leaned against the bed frame, clearly not impressed by your comment. But his reaction only made you grin wider.

You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean, with how secretive you’ve been acting, who could blame me for assuming the worst?”

Sunghoon huffed, shaking his head in mild exasperation, though the ghost of a smile lingered on his face. "Trust me, my life is complicated enough without any of that.”

“Complicated, huh?” you echoed, your gaze drifting toward him. His posture had relaxed slightly, but there was still an air of frustration hanging between the two of you. You could tell there was more to the story, more that he wasn’t saying.

But you weren’t one to push, not when you had your own secrets buried deep.

You let the conversation die down after that, the room filled with a quiet sort of tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Sunghoon stayed by your side, despite everything, leaning against the frame of your bed as his eyes softened, watching you finish your meal with quiet focus. And for a moment, the tension between you eased, like the storm had passed, leaving behind a fragile calm.

But even in the silence, you couldn’t help but notice the small gestures—the way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the bedpost, the way his gaze lingered a little too long on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. There was something between you two, a line that neither of you wanted to cross, yet both kept flirting with.

And for the first time, the thought of it didn't scare you.

THE NEXT MORNING,

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the sterile white walls of the hospital room. The monotonous hum of the machines, the occasional beep from the heart monitor, and the muted footsteps of nurses outside became the background symphony of your stay. You blinked your eyes open slowly, your body stiff from yet another restless night, and as your vision adjusted, the familiar dull ache in your leg grounded you back into the reality you’d been living for the past few days.

BUT TODAY, SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT.

As you shifted slightly, careful not to agitate the cast on your leg, your gaze fell to the chair beside your bed. There he was—Park Sunghoon, slouched in the chair with his head resting against the armrest, his mouth slightly parted as soft, steady breaths escaped his lips. His long legs were sprawled out in front of him, one arm draped lazily across his stomach while the other rested close to yours, mere inches from the side of your bed. The sight was enough to make your breath hitch.

He’d stayed. Again.

For days, he had made this hospital room his second home, despite the biting remarks and the cold distance that had defined your relationship thus far. As if it was some kind of duty he couldn’t escape, some obligation he had to fulfill for the sake of his reputation or his family. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. There’s no way he actually cares.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder, especially in moments like this, when his face was stripped of its usual bravado, his guard completely down. He looked… peaceful. Innocent, even.

“If I didn’t know you were doing this for your reputation,” you murmured softly, barely above a whisper, “I would’ve thought you loved me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and laced with something unspoken, something you weren’t quite ready to confront. You didn’t mean for him to hear it—he was asleep, after all—but there was a strange comfort in voicing the thought aloud, even if only to yourself.

You found yourself leaning a little closer, the distance between your bed and the chair barely enough to separate you two. Your fingers moved almost of their own accord, hesitating at first, before gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was warm under your touch, soft despite the cold exterior he often portrayed. Your heart gave a nervous flutter as your finger ghosted over the delicate curve of his cheek, down to the bridge of his nose, and finally stopping at his lips.

Your breath caught as you stared at them—soft, slightly parted, and so close. There was something about this moment that felt dangerously intimate, a line you weren’t sure you should be crossing. But before you could pull away, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and firm, halting your retreat.

Your heart stilled, the world suddenly reduced to the quiet space between the two of you. Sunghoon's eyes fluttered open slowly, his lashes casting faint shadows across his cheeks. He blinked once, twice, before his sleepy gaze focused on you, still hazy with the remnants of sleep. His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, but not enough to hurt—just enough to keep you from escaping.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and raspy from sleep, the kind of voice that sent shivers down your spine. His words hung in the air, thick with confusion but also curiosity, as if he wasn’t entirely sure whether to be offended or amused.

Your mind scrambled for an explanation, anything to diffuse the tension suddenly filling the room. "There was a mosquito," you blurted out, your voice barely steady, attempting to sound casual as you tugged on your wrist, but he didn’t let go.

His brow arched in suspicion, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "A mosquito… on my lips?” he questioned, the incredulity in his tone barely masked by amusement. He pushed himself up from the chair, his hand still holding yours, and in a fluid motion, he was leaning over the side of the bed, closer—much closer—than he had any right to be.

The proximity was suffocating. You could feel his breath fan across your face, warm and steady, each exhale sending a fresh wave of heat across your skin. His dark eyes, still half-lidded with sleep, were locked onto yours, and for a split second, you forgot how to breathe. The space between you was so small, so intimate, you could practically hear the rapid beat of your own heart pounding in your ears.

Your face flushed crimson, the heat crawling up your neck as if you’d been caught doing something far worse than tracing his face. You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert, every muscle tensing under his intense gaze. "There… was something in my eye," you stammered, quickly averting your gaze as you finally pulled your hand away from his grip, your fingers trembling slightly as they found refuge behind your palms. You could feel the burn of embarrassment creeping up, your hands covering your face as if that could somehow hide the fact that you were blushing furiously.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed by your flustered state. He stood there for a moment longer, watching you with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something unreadable. He straightened up, stretching his arms above his head lazily, as if the moment that just passed was nothing more than a casual conversation.

But you knew better. There was something unspoken between you two, something that neither of you were ready to admit, but it lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

"Something in your eye, huh?" he murmured, a teasing lilt to his voice as he glanced down at you, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead with a casual familiarity that sent another wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

You peeked through your fingers, still hiding most of your face as you mumbled, "Shut up."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, the tension in the air eased, replaced by something lighter, something teasing but… comfortable.

But even as he turned away, walking towards the window to stretch his legs, the ghost of his touch still lingered on your skin, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—there was more to Sunghoon’s presence by your side than just reputation.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily as the midday sun spilled golden light into the hospital room, brightening the sterile white space that had become your temporary home. You sat on the edge of the bed, the nurse’s soft, encouraging voice still echoing in your ears after she had just removed your cast. The air felt electric with anticipation; you could finally walk again!

Sunghoon hovered by your side, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied you. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, but the seriousness behind it was unmistakable. You nodded enthusiastically, your heart racing with excitement. It felt like a monumental moment—like the first step of many to reclaiming your independence.

With the adrenaline coursing through you, you stood up, a determined grin stretching across your face. But as you took your first step, everything shifted dramatically. Your foot wobbled, and before you knew it, you were tumbling forward, hitting the floor with a thud that echoed around the room.

“Ugh!” you groaned, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you lay there, staring up at the fluorescent lights.

Sunghoon rushed forward, worry etched across his features, but before he could say anything, Wonyoung and Hanni burst into laughter, their giggles ringing like chimes through the room.

“Oh my god! Did you really just fall?” Hanni wheezed, nearly doubling over as she struggled to regain her composure.

“Looks like someone needs a little more practice!” Wonyoung added, her laughter infectious as she bent down to help you up, her hands extending towards you.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at yourself as they pulled you back to your feet. “Thanks, guys,” you mumbled, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

As they waved goodbye, still chuckling, Sunghoon remained behind, a bemused expression on his face. “That was quite the entrance,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall, a playful glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” you retorted, trying to brush off your embarrassment as you plopped back onto the bed, sulking a little. “I’m still getting used to this.”

“Come on, you can’t let a little tumble discourage you!” Sunghoon grinned, stepping closer with a theatrical flourish. “I, Park Sunghoon, will be your walking coach! Let’s do this!” He mimicked a sports announcer, waving his arms as if hyping up a crowd. “And by the end of this session, you will be the champion of walking!”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. “I don’t need a coach. I just need to not fall again.”

“Too late for that! You’ve already set the bar pretty low,” he teased, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But don’t worry; I’ll help you reach new heights, or at least keep you from faceplanting again.”

With that, he extended his hand towards you, a gesture of encouragement. You hesitated for a moment, your heart fluttering as you met his gaze, but the absurdity of the situation was too much to resist. Taking a deep breath, you grasped his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Okay, Mr. Walking Coach. Show me the way,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He positioned himself next to you, his grip firm yet gentle. “First lesson: Keep your center of gravity low. Think like a ninja! Light on your feet!”

You couldn’t help but snort at his ridiculousness, the tension of your earlier fall dissipating as you stood next to him. “Ninja? Really? You think I’m going to be stealthy when I can barely stand?”

“Exactly! You’re going to be a stealthy ninja who, like a graceful gazelle, glides across the floor!” he exclaimed, his arms gesturing dramatically as he took a step back to give you space.

With his comedic antics distracting you from your nerves, you took a tentative step forward, wobbling a bit but managing to keep your balance. “See? Look at me! I’m practically a gazelle!” you proclaimed with mock bravado, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

“Gorgeous! Absolutely majestic!” Sunghoon exclaimed, feigning applause as you took another step. “But you know, a gazelle might want to avoid falling on its face. You should really work on that.”

You shot him a glare, but a smile broke through your facade. “You’re such an idiot.”

“That’s why I’m here!” he laughed, inching closer again, still holding your hand to steady you. “Now, let’s go for round two. This time, no falling!”

With a deep breath, you focused on your balance, your heart racing not just from the thrill of standing but from the way his warm hand felt enveloping yours. You took another step, then another, Sunghoon’s encouraging words ringing in your ears, his steady presence anchoring you.

But with every shaky movement, reality set in. You were acutely aware of the gulf between the two of you—the wealth and expectations that surrounded his life, the disparity that loomed like a shadow over this moment of laughter and lightness. He was an heir, bound for greatness, while you felt like a mere accident in his world.

“Just a few more steps,” he encouraged, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he sensed your hesitation. “You’re doing great!”

With his support, you managed to make a few shaky strides, laughter bubbling up with each unsteady movement. “Maybe I’ll actually be able to walk out of here after all,” you joked, feeling lighter with each step.

“See? I told you! You’re going to be my ninja walking prodigy!” he laughed, his eyes bright with excitement.

But as the moment drew on, a bittersweet realization sank in. Once you were well enough to leave, his part in your story would fade into the background like a forgotten dream. You could already picture it—a world where he resumed his life, his responsibilities, leaving you behind like a chapter closed.

Yet here you were, the two of you intertwined in this moment, laughing and learning how to walk again, and for a fleeting second, you wished it could last just a little bit longer.

THE DAY HAD FINALLY COME,

THE ONE YOU DREADED MORE THAN ANYTHING.

Weeks had passed, and despite all the mental notes you made to remind yourself that this was temporary, you couldn’t shake the attachment you’d developed to Sunghoon. Maybe it was the routine, maybe it was the fact that he had been there every step of the way while you healed, or maybe, it was something else entirely—something more dangerous.

You watched from a distance as Sunghoon handled your final hospital bill. The cold sterility of the hospital didn’t bother you as much as the thought of walking out of it without him by your side. He paid the fees like he had promised from the start, his sleek credit card effortlessly handling the expenses that you knew would have financially crippled you otherwise.

You tried to convince yourself that this attachment, this gnawing feeling of loss before he even left, was simply because you had spent too much time with him. After all, you practically lived together for months. But even telling yourself that over and over again didn’t stop the sting behind your eyes, the prickling of tears that threatened to spill.

You took a deep breath and wiped them away quickly, just as you saw him walking towards you, his tall figure cutting through the hospital corridor with ease. His face was calm as usual, though his eyes held a quietness that made your chest tighten. You forced a smile, the same one you always gave him, but this time, it carried a weight of sadness you couldn’t shake.

At least Mrs. Park wasn’t here. You couldn’t imagine how much worse you’d feel with her scrutinizing every little move, every interaction, like she was tallying it up in some invisible ledger. But in this quiet space, where it was just you and Sunghoon, you started to believe that maybe… just maybe, he was worth more than the money she flaunted, more than the reputation you helped him protect.

He smiled back at you, but even that felt distant, as if the finality of this moment weighed on him too. His hand rested casually on your shoulder, the same way it had for the past few weeks, a gesture of familiarity that was once just for show in front of others, but now… now it felt different.

As you walked out of the hospital together, the flashing of cameras and the swarm of paparazzi waiting outside hit you like a tidal wave. They were here, of course they were. The media had been all over this—your fake relationship, the story of his girlfriend who nursed him back to health after an accident. None of them knew the truth. None of them knew that the only reason you were here was because of a fractured leg caused by that same accident. It had all been to protect him from public backlash, to clean up his image, to shield him from the criticism that would have followed.

But now, as his hand lingered on your shoulder longer than necessary, as he guided you through the crowd, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t fake at all. Not anymore.

The car ride back was filled with a silence that felt almost suffocating. You stared out of the window, watching the city blur by, your heart heavy with the realization that this was it. Your leg had healed, the bills were paid, and now Sunghoon was going to disappear from your life just as quickly as he had entered it.

You sighed, the sadness in your chest growing. This was it. The end of whatever this was, of whatever you had convinced yourself wasn’t real.

The car came to a stop at a quiet street, far from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. It wasn’t your home, not really—just the rented apartment you could barely afford. But it was where you were headed, and it was the place where Sunghoon would say goodbye.

You couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped your lips, filled with an aching sadness that even you couldn’t fully comprehend. It felt almost comedic, like the setup for some bad joke. The rich boy, the poor girl, the fake relationship—they always ended like this, right?

“You seem to not enjoy getting better,” Sunghoon’s voice broke the silence, his words light, almost teasing, but you could hear the undercurrent of something more.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, not even bothering to hide your emotions anymore. What was the point? “How could I enjoy it when it meant you would go away?” The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered, before you had a chance to stop them.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. The soft hum of the engine faded into the background as he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to understand the weight of your words.

And then, in one swift movement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ll always be there,” he whispered, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “Wherever you are, in bad shape or sick, I’ll be there.”

“Why?” You barely recognized your own voice, so soft, so vulnerable, as if you were afraid of the answer.

His lips were so close now, his breath fanning across your skin, the space between you shrinking to almost nothing. He paused, giving you a chance to pull away, but when you didn’t, when you stayed frozen in place, his lips brushed against yours. It was barely a kiss, just the softest touch, like a promise not yet fully spoken.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Even when you get sick, I’ll be there. Waiting for you… to get well soon.”

His words were like a balm to your aching heart, but also a dagger to the fear you’d been holding inside. You felt a wave of emotions crash over you—relief, confusion, frustration, but above all, hope.

And just like that, everything between you shifted.

© senascoop | tumblr

⌗ sunny days ﹙ sim jaeyun ﹚

sum : jake is hopelessly in love with you. he tells himself he’ll never be able to tell you. but that changes when he finds out you feel the same way. so now, finally, he’ll be able to take you on a beautiful first date that he’s always dreamed of.

includes : jake x reader, mutual pining, jake is down bad and nervous, 2k words, tooth rotting fluff, small comedy, Heeseung and Sunghoon cameo

It was a sunny day outside, the prominence of spring being in full effect during this time of year.

Jake loved spring, he loved the smell of the flowers, and how nature just looked so lively. But what made his spring perfect this year was you.

You reminded him just of it. Your beauty, the equivalent of a freshly picked flower. The kind that he’d see when he would walk past a small flower shop. The sun couldn’t even compare to how bright you were when you’d smile.

It was weird, how you had such an impact on him, and never once have you guys spoken. He would envy his friends for having a steady friendship with you.

It was even weirder that Jake was infatuated with you, given that you guys had never interacted. But that’s just the effect you had on him.

Jake was like his favorite season, spring.

And like a flower, his love blossomed.

Jake sat in class, his most boring class of all, English. All the professor would do was talk and talk, he couldn’t blame the many kids who fell asleep during it, it was a morning class anyways. His chin is resting on his palm, swinging his pencil in his hand. Until he can hear small sorry’s and excuse me’s.

“Hey is it okay if I sit here?” Jake turns to the culprit and freezes.

It’s you.

Your hair is in a messy bun, and you quite literally look like you just woke up. He’s dumbfounded that you uttered words to him. You stand there awkwardly as students begin to stare at you for blocking the board. He finally snaps out of it, a small blush on his face.

“Yea! Yea of course.” He says muttered out. You whisper a thank you, setting your stuff out and getting your laptop out. That is of course until you notice it’s dead. Nice.

You groan, you didn’t even bring your bag with you. So, feeling a little ashamed you turn to him, tapping his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, do you have a piece of paper I can borrow.” Your lip is pulled between your teeth and Jake can’t help but think you look so cute. He blinks, malfunctioning once again.

“Um, yeah, here.” He hands it to you and your hand grazes his, immediately making his heart beat faster than it already was. Jake needed to calm down, he wasn’t a teenager anymore, so he needed to stop acting like it.

“Thank you.” You whisper again, leaning in so your guy's shoulders brush one another. Jake doesn’t know what comes over him but he’s whispering back.

“I’m Jake.” And you giggle, covering your smile.

“I know.” His head snaps towards you, blinking once again. Okay, maybe the teenage puppy love antics could wait because oh my god you knew his name?

“I’m Y/n.” You look up at him, and his eyes soften.

He lets out a small laugh, “I know.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon sigh for the umpteenth time after Jake mentions your guy's little interaction.

“Dude she knew my name! She knows who I am!” Jake was thrilled, his cute toothy smile on full display.

“You told us a million times we get it.” Heeseung sighs, and Jake pouts.

“You guys don’t understand.” He sulks, recalling your cute giggle.

"Ask for her number or something. Stop being a pussy." Jake's jaw drops, slowly turning to his friends.

"I can't just ask for it, what if she thinks I'm weird." He bites his lip feeling nervous at the mere thought of it.

"I think you're just overthinking it. You're a hot dude, why would she say no to you." Heeseung says with a wiggle of his brows.

"Relax he's not as hot as me." Sunghoon rolls his eyes and both boys deadpanning.

The next time you have English, you scout the room for Jake. Finding him sat in a corner you pull the seat next to him. Once again Jake is awestruck but he recovers quickly this time.

"Hi." You whisper and he smiles.

"Hi." He whispers back.

He notices you have a bag this time and you move to grab something. You pull out a piece of paper, sliding it to him.

"Thanks for letting me borrow a piece of paper." You mumble and he's amused, his toothy smile making an appearance, causing yours to widen.

"You didn't have to give me one back." He looks at you and you swear your heart skips a beat.

"Just returning the favor." You twiddle with your fingers. Jake smiles at your antics and you both go back to paying attention to the lecture.

However he's distracted, Heeseung’s words plaguing his mind. "Just ask for her number."

This might've been the stupidest thing he's ever done before, not even his high school self pulled a stunt like this.

With the piece of paper you handed him, he's scribbling on it, his hand a little shaky. When he's done he hands it back to you, you look at him but he's already looking back at the board, messing with his lip. You grab the folded paper and open it up.

It read, "I was wondering (small doodle) if I could have your number?" Then right below it, a yes with a happy face and a box. Then a no with a terrible drawing of someone crying and a box next to it.

You stare at it with pure amusement, never in your years of living have you received, something like this. Yes, boys have asked for your number but it'd always be upfront or through other people, so you'd be lying if you thought it wasn't cheesy. But it was also cute and you liked cute things, especially Jake.

You can’t help but giggle, and it makes Jake sweat. You tap on him and he slowly turns, you motion for his phone and he stares at you, not one thought in his head.

“Jake?” He wasn’t even standing up but he could feel himself lose feeling in his legs. He snaps out of it and shakily hands you his phone.

You quickly type in your number, clicking on the photo, and you take a silly picture, making Jake smile from his seat. You hand it back to him and just like that, your lecture is over.

“Text me yeah? Make sure you tell me it’s you.” You smile at him, grabbing your belongings, and making sure to tuck the small paper in your bag. Jake nods mumbling an uh huh and you smile at his dumbfounded face.

It had been a week since you gave him your number. Jake bursts through the doors of the cafeteria, jogging to his friends. Sunghoon and Heeseung share a look and focus their attention back on Jake.

“I did it! I actually did it!” He fistbumps the sky, smiling brightly.

“Did what?” Sunghoon says, munching on his sandwich.

“I got her number.” He almost chokes mid bite, the both of them snapping their head at him.

“You did?!” They yelled in unison. Jake happily nods, ignoring the lame way he asked for it.

“See what did I tell you!” Heeseung slaps his back but Sunghoon looks behind them, smirking.

“Hey Y/n.” He waves and Jake freezes, eyes wide as he stares at Heeseung. Heeseung jerks his head towards you but Jake shakes his head.

“Oh, hey guys! What ya up to?” You smile, waving back. Sunghoon gets up grabbing his things.

“Oh nothing much actually, Jake was just telling us how he was gonna ask you out on a date.” Jake could he feel his soul leave his body and of course, Heeseung plays along.

“Yea, see you later.”

Jake stares dumbfounded at his friends as they walk away. He turns slowly to face you and you look shocked, blinking up at him. He gulps, planning out different ways in his mind how he was gonna make his friends pay.

“You were gonna ask me what now?” You say a small smirk grazing your lips.

Jake lets out a nervous laugh, “O-Oh uh, I don’t know what they were talking about, they’re weird aren’t they? Hey, I’ll text you later okay?-” He says rushed out trying to walk away but your words stop him.

“Aw that sucks, so you weren’t gonna ask me?” Your doe eyes looking up at him do nothing but make him more nervous.

“Well I mean, is that okay?” He nervously says, biting his lip.

“I’d love to.” You smile and he buffers.

“A-Actually?” You giggle.

“Yes actually, text me okay? I gotta head to class.” You say with a small wave walking away.

Although he scored a date with you, it was now time to brainstorm the most perfect date for you.

In all honesty, Jake was stressed. You guys had been texting back and forth and he couldn’t have been more happy. He did end up telling Heeseung and Sunghoon how much he hated them for doing that to him, but also how much he loved them because now he had a date with you.

Bipolar much?

Back to his plan, it wouldn’t be bad for a little walk in the park, right? He was planning to take you to the spot his friends would visit all the time during the spring. However, this time he’d take you instead. Even if it was a first date, this place held a special place in his heart, you didn’t have to know that but he’d love to share it with you.

He doesn’t spoil things too much, only telling you to wear something summery and comfortable.

When he picks you up, he stares at you for a good minute not saying anything. You were wearing a white flowy dress, the more you looked at him the more you could see his eyes sparkle.

“Jake?”

He whispers a sorry, leading you to his car and opening the door for you. As he begins to drive he mumbles.

“You look really pretty.” Drumming his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Thank you, now wanna tell me where you’re taking me.”

He glances at you and shakes his head, turning up the music. You stare at him amused, rolling your eyes playfully you left it at that. The drive was a little far but the view was amazing.

“We’re here, you don’t mind walking a bit right?” He says almost a little nervous. You shake your head and he smiles brightly, you noticed that small things made Jake happy and it is adorable.

He quickly grabs the basket, opening the door for you again. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. You stare at him and his hand.

“You know so you won’t get hurt?” He awkwardly laughs and you intertwine your hands with him.

As you both walked, Jake talked. It gave you time to observe him, how his lips were softly pointed at the ends, and how expressive he was when he talked. Moved his hand that was intertwined with yours and the other with the basket. He stops abruptly, giving him a confused look you’re about to say something but he beats you to it.

“Do you trust me?” He says, his cute smile in full display.

“No.” You say and he immediately pouts. “I’m joking.” You giggle and he sulks.

“You’re mean, but I’m gonna cover your eyes okay?” You nod and he gently covers your eyes, the other on the small of your back to guide you carefully.

“Ok, you can open your eyes.” He says softly and you gasp at the sight before you.

It’s a field of flowers, a small hill with a huge cherry blossom tree not too far from you guys. You can faintly see a blanket on the grass.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out. It was beautiful but before you could actually bask in the whole view, Jake is nudging you.

“Last one up the hill is a loser.” He takes off in a sprint and you yell for him.

“Jake!” You don’t say anything else chasing after him. You can hear his laugh in the distance as you both run through the flower field, smiles on both of your faces.

“Looks like you’re the loser.” He laughs, catching his breath.

“You cheated.” You say in the same state as well. You both sit down and he pulls out drinks, pouring one for you.

“This place is honestly beautiful Jake. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” You gush, playing with the glass. He mentally cheers, turning to you with a small smile.

“This place uh, reminds me a lot of you.” He whispers and you gaze at him curiously.

“Really?” You ask shyly and he nods.

“I know we’ve never really talked but I’ve always admired you from afar, you’re just so beautiful and I know you’re even prettier on the inside.” He smiles and your brows pull together.

With his heart full of you and love in the air, he confesses. “S-Sorry if that’s a lot to take in but uh, I like you a lot.” He fiddles with his lip. He’s unsure of your silence but when he looks up you’re fondly smiling at him.

The birds chirped above you, small petals falling around the both of you. Jake truly was in love, and being with you right here and now was all he needed to see to fully know he wanted you as his.

Before any doubtful words can come out of Jake’s mouth you peck his cheek, reckoning him still.

“I like you too Jake.”

wte masterlist

tagging : @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams

© 2023 aakomii — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REFRAIN FROM PLAGIARIZING, SHARING MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS

jake ver of "bro she's busy" ........ please 🙏🏽

bro she’s busy

- jake texts

enhypen texts masterlist

ur wish is my command! heeseung vers coming soon too dw it’s on my list ^^

---

In another universe

synopsis ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 You swore the next time you saw Sunghoon you would cuss him out and turn a cold shoulder. But when he suddenly appears at your apartment door one night, drunk and desperate, you find yourself faltering

now playing ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 difficult - gracie abrams, anaheim -niki, hope ur okay - olivia rodrigo

warnings ˎˊ˗ cursing, crying, fighting, kissing, mentions of hoon being emotionally unavailable, mentions of breaking up, heavyyyy angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of being drunk, mentions of children, open ending, use of the word masochist once, pet names

genre ⭑.ᐟ hurt to ??

pairings: non-idol ex!sunghoon x female reader

wc ᵎᵎ 1.28k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 fun fact this was actually based off a convo i had with my ex!!!!!! 😁😁😁 so! hit kinda close to home guys! anyways angst is actually so fun to write i won't even lie...

You had just finished taking a shower when you heard a few gentle and quiet knocks coming from your door, barely audible but loud enough for you to hear them. Hand still intertwined in your wet hair in an attempt to dry it, you peered out the peephole to check who was disturbing you at this hour. 

Fuck. 

Out of all the people you didn’t want to see, Park Sunghoon was at the top of that list. Yet there he stood, eyes heavy and lidded, hair a mess, and gaze averted on the floor, yet you could tell his eyes were plagued with desperation. And even though you so badly wanted to ignore him standing out there hopelessly, a small part of you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you had done that. 

Keeping the door ajar you squeezed your head between the gap, his eyes immediately darted to your own. Fuck, you shouldn’t have done this. You knew you shouldn’t have done this because the moment his eyes met yours you felt the all-so-familiar sense of longing overcoming your soul, the sense of longing you’d been trying to fight off for 6 months; all for it to come crashing down on you again. Well, there goes half a year's worth of healing. 

“Sunghoon? What are you doing here?” 

“YN, I uh- I didn’t think you’d open up…” shit. His breath reeked of alcohol, of course, the only time he’d come to see you would be when he was drunk. 

“Are you drunk Sunghoon?” your words lingered with bitterness as they left your tongue 

“Just- just a bit…can I come in?” his eyes were still pleading, and that accompanied by the shaking of his voice would’ve been enough to break you. But you refused to let him do that again. 

“Sunghoon you’re drunk you really should just go home-” your hands fumbled at the doorknob as you tried to gently shut the door, but Sunghoon was quicker than you it seemed. 

“Please,” his hand reaching towards your own, “I’ll be good.” fuck. 

You hated how easily you faltered under his words, his gaze, his touch. You hated it so badly, yet you allowed yourself to do so every. single. time.

Begrudgingly you opened the door fully to let him drunkenly stumble in, collapsing at the end of your bed. A scene all too familiar that haunted you in your sleep. You swore you would never let Sunghoon back into your life, that the next time you saw him you would spit insults in his face and stand your ground, yet with one touch of the wrist the defences you raised for yourself seemed to be built upon sand. 

Seating yourself at the edge of your bed you allowed yourself to gingerly run your fingers through his hair, you missed this. However, that was all the more reason why you shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be allowing yourself to hurt again, just at the expense of a few fleeting moments of serenity. 

“Why are you here drunk Sunghoon?” 

“I,” he propped himself up, allowing him to stare into your glossy eyes, “I don’t really know. I got kinda drunk and- fuck I couldn’t stop thinking about you love.”

Love, fuck you hated how naturally it rolled off his tongue. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Sorry…” he mumbled hazily, “Don’t you miss it though?”

You did. “No.”

“Well I do, I miss you YN. I miss all of this, your hugs, your voice, your touch, your anger. Fuck, I miss being scolded by you after drinking actually, it’s weird right, maybe I’m a masochist.” he said with a small grin

“Hoonie come on-” Hoonie, you didn’t even mean to say it yet the words seemed to come out of you like it was an instinct. 

“I missed that too,” he cut in as his hand slowly drew circles around your knuckles, “Shit YN I missed you so much” his eyes slowly started to well up with tears, a few threatening to drip down. You hated how your heart still held a soft spot for him, but you hated seeing him cry even more. 

“Hoon don’t cry.” your hands reached over to cup his face, fuck if this was all so wrong why did it feel so right. Like your hand belonged there. 

“YN- fuck,” now he really was crying “I really do love you.”

Do, present tense. “Just because you loved me doesn’t mean I felt loved by you” 

The memories you tried so hard to repress suddenly flooded all back to you, the arguments, the sleepless nights, the cold glares. The reason you broke up in the first place. You tried your hardest to forget that night, the shouts between you two that filled up your apartment, the way his words pierced through your heart like a spear, the way he walked out so easily. All to just walk back into your heart like he owned the place. Fuck he did own your heart though, he never stopped owning it. 

“I’m sorry YN. I’m so so sorry, I should’ve been better. I can be better. Please, I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. I won’t shut you out anymore, fuck I never should’ve. I just- please, I can’t keep living without you. I haven’t been living without you-” he was practically sobbing now. “Please YN, I mean it.”

You wiped away the tears running down his cheeks, seeming to not notice how your eyes were stinging with tears as well. “Hoonie I miss you too but, we can’t keep hurting each other like this. We aren’t good for each other” 

“We were good YN. It was so so good, I just fucked it up. Please give me a chance, I can be better.” 

Your brain told you to block out his words; and deny everything that was coming out of his mouth, but your heart seemed to overpower those commands. “It wasn’t just you Hoonie, I could’ve been better too-” 

“No you were perfect.” he blurted out cutting you off, “I never stopped loving you. Can’t we just, start over?” desperation was an understatement to describe him, god he was a pleading mess. 

You could practically hear your own heart-shattering. “I never stopped loving you either Hoonie. But you’re drunk right now, let’s just talk about this in the morning ‘kay?” 

“Okay but, can I please sleep here?” 

No, he shouldn’t. “Sure hoon”

Sunghoon made his way to the top of your bed, arm reaching out signalling you to come over. A signal you regretfully accepted. You nested yourself between his arms, breathing in his cologne while his chin rested on the top of your head. You hated this, fuck you hated how natural this felt. You hated how easily you could melt into his touch, his words, his scent. You hated how badly you loved it. 

“I love you, my YN” his breath slightly hitched before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

You tried ignoring the lump in your throat but it was no use, the next words that came out of your mouth were swallowed with sniffles and quiet sobs “I love you too hoonie”

Maybe in another universe, you two could’ve talked everything out. Maybe you two could have reconciled and lived happily together again. Maybe the 4 years of dating didn’t disappear in one night. Maybe you two could’ve gotten married like he said. Maybe you lived in a nice 2-bedroom house in the countryside, dogs running around the yard whilst you both basked in the sunlight. Maybe you would have actually had the child you fantasised about. 

Maybe, just maybe, Sunghoon would’ve been there when you woke up the next morning.

perm taglist! (send an ask to be added) @floweryang @cupidhoons @msauthor

---

dancing with the devil. preview

pairing : fuckbuddy!jake x afab!reader

genre : angst, smut, hurt no comfort, totga

warnings : heartbreak, mature and sexual themes, drinking, smoking weed, usage of profanity (a lot!), jake can be a dick, morally gray characterization, just hear me out it’s a ride of emotions

taglist : OPEN! leave a comment or ask

IN WHICH, you want more and he can’t give it to you.

wc : 1.5k ??? idk sorry LOL (estimated 15-20k)

reblogs are super appreciated 💝

THE BASS SHOOK YOUR BODY, reverberating in your chest as you navigated through the sea of bodies in the crowded living room. You were shocked as to how hundreds of university students could fit in a shitty basement suite, but who were you to complain? Lights illuminated the crowd in hues of the most vibrant of colours, casting large shadows against the walls. You had never been one for loud, crowded places, but tonight was different.

Tonight? You were on a mission.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face amidst the chaos. And then, you saw him.

Ah, Jake Sim. The very (and only) reason you even thought of, let alone decided to go to a party. It’s not like you didn’t drink or didn’t have any friends, quite the contrary. You just never found any interest in mingling with sweaty bodies for hours just to stumble home and wake up with a raging headache. All of that is thrown out the window, anyway. You’re already here, faced with the purpose of your arrival.

You and Jake have a somewhat complicated relationship. You’ve known of each other since middle school, and even became apart same friend group for all four years of high school.

But you weren’t friends with Jake.

No, no you weren’t allowed to be friends with Jake.

Park Sunghoon, your now ex-boyfriend and current best friend of Jake absolutely hated the idea of you getting close to him. You never understood why he hated the idea of you and Jake being close; you never got the chance to even talk to the guy, let alone give Sunghoon a reason to forbid a friendship. You were quick to assume maybe he just didn’t like you being around guys, which was even quicker to be ruled out as a possibility. You were friends with every other one of his best friends except Jake.

Jake jumped at the chance to talk to you the second he heard the front door of his and Sunghoon’s shared apartment slam shut; the second he saw his best friend standing with his head hanging low in the middle of their shared space. He knew that was it. You guys were done and he yearned for you both but God, was he excited. He knew Sunghoon messed up when he didn’t tell you he was leaving to study abroad until days before his departure. He knew you were going to break up when he saw your face shift through all kinds of confusing emotions when he told you he was leaving. He knew this was his chance to finally get you.

It’s no surprise to anyone that Jake found you extremely attractive. Hell, he found you more beautiful than anyone, anything he’s ever seen. He sees more than just physical perfection; he sees the essence of everything he’s ever longed for. Your eyes hold a universe of secrets and desires, each flicker of emotion a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of your soul. Your smile is like the first light of dawn, it dances across your lips, a melody of joy and mischief that leaves him breathless.

He remembers how surprised you were when he first texted you out of the blue, even if it was a simple

hey

ik this is so outta no where 😭

but

how are you doing?

He remembers how surprised he was when you started responding to him in longer sentences. He remembers when your conversations prolonged for hours. He remembers when you confided in him on your problems. He remembers you told him when something good happened, and most of all? He remembers when you finally agreed to go to a party.

But not just any party, no. No, Jake had much more planned.

Sometimes he feels bad for himself. Sunghoon was being selfish and kept you away from him for the past four years? Jake thought Sunghoon was the luckiest motherfucker alive for having you as his girlfriend. He envied that Sunghoon would be able to call you his, he would be able to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close to his body around everyone, he would be able to kiss your plush lips that he could only dream of tasting, he would be able to hear you would moan out his name and chant it like a mantra. At the same time, Jake understood why Sunghoon kept you from him.

Sunghoon knew the way Jake looked at you.

He never said it, he didn’t want to confront it, so he dealt with it how he could to keep both your love and his friend in his life.

It’s funny how time can be so cruel.

It was inevitable that you started to slowly fall for Jaks as time went on. He filled the void that his best friend left in your heart. He was there for you and was objective with his opinion, he was soft yet stern with his words, he made your bad days good and your good days better, he made you feel new heights of joy, and he was exactly what you needed. You wanted Jake and there was nothing you could do about it; you were falling before you could catch yourself. You were unsure with if what you felt for Jake was right, if Sunghoon would be upset if he knew you guys talked- Wait, did he even know you guys talked?

Yet, you found yourself excited and void of any feelings of uncertainty when you saw Jake sporting a toothy smile on his face as he took another sip of God knows what in his cup.

He stood out like a scorching flame in the darkness of an abyss, his golden hair catching the hues of neon casting the room as he laughed with his friends. There was something so captivating about him, something that made everything around him glow, something that drew you in despite your better judgment.

With a deep breath, you pushed your way through the compact crowd, determined to make your move before doubt could take hold of you and push you away from this scenario. As you approached him, your heart pounded in your chest, the sound drowned out by the pulsing music. You could feel the second he saw you, the heat of his gaze burning your skin as you drew nearer, anticipation mingling with nerves in the pit of your stomach.

When you finally reached him, he looked down at you with the same grin. It sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps coated your skin, so much so you couldn’t tell if you were cold or if this was just the effect he had on you.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teased, his voice low and husky, yet loud enough to reach your ears over the deafening music.

You laughed, trying to ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he pulled you into a warm embrace. His arms looped loosely around your waist after pulling out of the hug, you swear your skin was burning under his touch

You could smell the alcohol radiating on his body. Alcohol. That’s what you needed.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed the red cup in his hand and downed the rest of what he had left. You felt the fiery burn flow through your body and veins- why the fuck is this so strong?

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a vulnerability that you had never seen before. A dark gaze that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

God, Jake could cum to the image of you downing his drink.

"Couldn't stay away, could I?" you shot back, your tone playful despite the rapid beat of your heart.

"I'm glad you came," he said, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, “didn’t think you would.”

“Yeah?” you respond, Jake looks at you with a slight shrug before grinning

“Yeah, but you did,” he tightened the hold on your body and pulled you closer to his body, your arms found home looped around his neck, “for me.”

You felt the warmth spreading to your face after his last sentence. You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the fact he made you so flustered.

“It’s okay though,” he leaned in closer to your face, lips centimetres apart, “I came here for you.”

He was about to kiss you, you’re sure. You could feel his breath ghosting your lips, but then he loosened his grip on you and back away. Before you could question if you did something wrong, he grabbed a hold of your hand and pulled you into the crowd, seemingly forgetting about his friends the second you arrived.

All that mattered to him was that you were here, in front of him, and he wasn’t going to let anything keep him away from you again.

“Sorry princess, my favourite song is playing and I need to dance,” you laughed in his face in disbelief. He mirrored the smile that you had.

Happiness looks good on you, he thought.

You were swept up in the whirlwind of the night, lost in a haze of laughter and music and stolen glances. But even as you danced with Jake all night, you couldn't shake this odd feeling that beneath the surface, there was something darker lurking, waiting to pull you under.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. After all, tonight was about forgetting, about losing yourself in the chaos of the night and pretending, if only for a little while, that everything was okay, that this is your new normal.

adie yaps : sooooo do u guys like this lol … im lowk proud of it i’m kinda liking now it’s turning out so far but rereading some of this is making me 😵‍💫 bc i hate how i worded so much of it but idk how to make it better so Uhhhh im just gonna hope it gets better with time and not touch this until i feel motivation for it bc Lord i wanna write this story so baddd ..

Paranoid | CS55 (Patreon)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: situationship!carlos x merc!admin!reader (with a sprinkle of reader x lewis) ― Warning: curse words; family issues (it is mentioned that the reader was abandoned by her father), jealousy, slightly toxic!cs55, mentions of cheating, mentions of the Louis to Ferrari deal. angsty, jealousy, toxic dynamic; fem!reader (she/her); 1k8 words. ― Summary: Carlos always got what he wanted. He was handsome and smart. Someone else's life never seemed better, and Carlos never saw himself as a jealous person, until Lewis got the seat and the girl.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

preview

If you asked Carlos Sainz if he was a jealous person he would deny it.

Just like if you asked Yn if she would ever get involved with someone from her line of work she would answer negatively.

But as it happens, fate likes to play with people, and it decided to play them two.

...

She was friendly, but there was a clear line drawn between them. 

To Yn in those lines, the sentence “never dare to get involved with a coworker” loomed. 

Carlos would find any excuse to get to the Merc garage unnoticed and “accidentally” bump into Yn and he was so set on at least making his feelings known that Yn couldn’t run anymore. For some reason, he always knew when she was around, and he got her number from a McLaren mechanic who just so happened to be her friend. She got tired, mainly because she was just as attracted to him but she refused to break down that wall, to step over the line she drew around herself ever since she started to understand the world.

...

“YOU’RE PARANOID!” She screamed when Carlos hinted that she was having an affair. “You know damn well my reluctance to get involved with coworkers, and even so, I’m your girlfriend, I wouldn’t cheat on you! Don’t you trust me?!” 

Carlos walked around the living room running his hands on his dark hair messing with the strands and even getting some from the roots with the force he was pulling them. 

“I do trust you, I just don’t trust him!” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He grunted, finally coming to a stop a few feet from her, “You can’t blame me, you keep working overtime when it comes to him, he texts you outside of working hours and…”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah* as usual a shout out to my coffee emoji anon for proofreading this <3

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

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megumi's daycare teacher adores you. you're always on time for pickup, and megumi physically lights up when he sees you, no matter how much he likes to deny it. he's quick to walk, or waddle, into your arms as you press a kiss to both cheeks and ask how his day was. she thinks you and him are the epitome of a good monther-son relationship.

so imagine her surprise when you say, “oh and tomorrow, i can't pick megs up. my husband will come get him, his name is toji, you can't miss him.”

she'd never met your husband before. it got her wondering, what was he like? was he as kind and affectionate as you were? perhaps megumi was the same around him?

“...why are you here?”

her mouth falls open. was that any way to speak to his father? why was he so openly hostile? she thought hoped that your husband was like you, not your total opposite!

he was tall, heads above her with dark hair and matching dark eyes. he's intimidating, muscles flexing under his shirt as he folds his arms and smirk decorated with a scar. she sees the resemblance between him and megumi. that was definitely his daddy.

she's sweating buckets; standing between a father who looks like kills for a living and a son that's sulking because his mother wasn't there was not for the weak.

“to pick ya up.” toji answers with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

she blinks. it seemed normal?

“where's mama?”

“workin'.”

“until when?”

“'til later.”

“that's not a time.”

“it is to me.”

megumi's pout deepens, his brows furrowing at his father's avoidance of the question. the daycare teacher swears she catches toji's eyes soften as he changes his answer, “'til eight.”

the two adults watch the cogs turn in the toddler's head.

“....'kay. i'll go with you, then.”

toji scoffs affectionately, “quit actin' like yer being kidnapped.”

this time, she swears megumi smiles before he huffs and sticks his nose up, begrudgingly allowing himself to be hoisted up into the arms of his father, who gives her a quick nod as he walks away.

what an odd father-son relationship.

˒˓

you're there to pick megumi up the following day, and boy does he look happy about it. he speed-walks to your side, reaching up to hold onto your pointer finger.

“i'm glad it's you and not dad,” megumi says, chubby cheeks emphasised by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

you look down from your conversation with yuji's dad and, only having heard the latter half of his sentence, respond, “your father? he's in the car, honey.”

and the daycare teacher swears on everything holy that she heard three-year-old megumi curse under his breath.

but that is hopefully just her imagination.

Your relationship with Sukuna was on its last legs. You tried to make things work, but he was as difficult as it could get, and mean. After a particularly terrible fight, the two of you made up, and you began to hope again. Later that night, his friends called, inviting him to the club. You told him you weren’t comfortable with it. He agreed to stay, even tucking you into bed.

But once you fell asleep, he snuck out.

Things went downhill from there.

Sukuna and his friends drank heavily, and soon he was caught up in the chaos—laughing, dancing, and losing control. While you slept, his friends began posting videos online: Sukuna receiving a lap dance, drunk and kissing another girl, clearly high and out of his mind.

When you woke up, you reached over to find his side of the bed cold and empty. You thought he had left early for work. But then your phone started blowing up with messages from friends and strangers alike. Your heart pounded as you unlocked it and opened Instagram, only to see the posts.

One after another, each post felt like a knife to your chest—Sukuna smiling lazily, his hands on another woman, his lips brushing hers. You could see the flashing lights, hear the blaring music, and feel the sting of betrayal in every picture and clip. Your fingers trembled, and your vision blurred with tears as you watched in disbelief.

The room felt like it was spinning. You tried to steady yourself, but the weight of it all was crushing. How could he do this to you, especially after you had been so open, so vulnerable about your feelings? After he had promised to stay?

You had told him, in the heat of making up, that this was his last chance. You were clear: if he messed up again, you were packing your things and going back to the States. He had looked you in the eyes and promised. And yet, he still went and did this.

Meanwhile, Sukuna was still sleeping, his head pounding and the room spinning. He didn’t remember a damned thing the night before. He remembered sneaking out, thinking he’d make it back before sunrise, slip back into bed, and act like nothing happened. You were just being too dramatic, he thought. You’d told him how you didn’t like his friends, that they hated you and were trying to break the two of you up. He’d laughed it off as paranoia. Crazy talk.

He vaguely remembered drinking a shot—just one—and after that, things got hazy. He didn’t believe for a second that his friends would spike his drink.

No, they’d never do that… right?

But now, as he blinked his eyes open, he realized something was very wrong. Next to him was a woman he didn’t recognize, definitely not you. The sunlight was streaming through the window, and panic shot through his body like a jolt of electricity. His heart raced as he sat up, the events of the night before still a foggy blur.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered under his breath, his mind starting to piece together the fragments. You two had just made up—how could he have been so reckless?

Sukuna fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking. The screen lit up, showing the time: 12:46. His heart sank even further. He really had messed up this time. The battery was about to die, a thin red line warning him he had little time left. He glanced around, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar room.

What confused him most was that he was still in his clothes from the night before. A small relief—at least he hadn’t slept with the woman next to him. But that didn’t matter much, did it? He was still in bed with another woman, a stranger, and that alone was enough to shatter whatever trust you had left in him.

His head throbbed with a dull, pounding pain, a mix of alcohol and regret. He desperately needed water, but his feet felt glued to the floor. As he forced himself to sit up, the room seemed to spin around him. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the fog of the hangover, but his mind remained a jumbled mess.

He checked his phone again, scrolling through the flood of messages, but your name wasn’t among them. No missed calls, no texts, no messages. Just silence.

It took you two hours to get yourself to function properly. When something traumatic happened, you had this tendency to just shut down. No crying, no shouting—just silence. You couldn’t even talk right now. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall, your mind numb. The pain was so immense that it felt like nothing at all, a hollow void where your heart should be.

Slowly, you got up, moving like you were underwater, every step heavy and disjointed. You made your way to the bedroom closet and grabbed a suitcase, your hands moving on autopilot. You began packing everything you owned in this place, methodically folding clothes, stacking books, gathering small, personal items that had once made this space feel like home. Now, every object felt like a weight dragging you down.

You didn’t remember much from those moments, only flashes of despair and confusion. Your mind was clouded, a fog of grief settling over you. All you knew was that you wanted to disappear, to somehow escape the unbearable ache in your chest.

How could this happen? Why? The questions repeated in your mind, over and over, like a broken record. Were you not enough? Was he cheating this whole time?

Your thoughts spiraled into a dark place, each one more suffocating than the last. The silence of the room pressed in around you, amplifying every doubt, every fear. You felt lost in a sea of uncertainty, desperately searching for something to hold onto, but finding nothing but emptiness.

You paused for a moment, standing still in the middle of the room, clutching a shirt to your chest. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything, but no sound came out. All that filled you was a deep, aching void that left you feeling more alone than ever before.

Just as you finished packing, the door opened, but you didn't flinch. Your fingers continued scrolling through your phone, searching for flight tickets. You didn’t care where it would take you—anywhere but here.

Sukuna stepped inside, his expression a mix of confusion and panic. You didn’t look up. Your face remained calm, almost eerily so, as if you were in a trance. You kept scrolling, your focus entirely on the screen, like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice tight with panic. But you said nothing.

Your face was expressionless, your eyes fixed on your phone. He moved closer, desperate now. “Please,” he continued, “can’t we just… talk?”

Finally, you paused, letting out a slow, controlled breath. But you didn’t look at him. Your silence was deafening, more unnerving than any yelling or screaming could have been.

He swallowed hard, sensing the change, feeling the weight of your silence pressing down on him. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he tried again. "I don’t even remember what happened. I think I was drugged or something..." His voice grew softer, almost pleading now.

You continued to tap the screen, the sound of your fingers the only noise in the room. You found a flight and pressed "book," moving methodically, as if this was just another task on a list. Your calmness was unnerving, like the quiet before a storm.

“Y/N… please,” Sukuna whispered, taking another step forward, but your detachment made him falter.

You finally glanced up at him, your expression unreadable, your voice steady and calm. “I'm leaving,” you said quietly, as if stating a simple fact.

He blinked, stunned by the flatness of your tone. There was no anger, no emotion—just a cold, stark finality. “But… we can work this out,” he stammered, “right?”

You looked back at your phone, as if he were no longer even there. You were done listening, done hoping, done believing. His words were just noise now, meaningless in the face of everything he had broken.

Sukuna was a big man, another reason you had fallen in love with him. Being with him had made you feel so safe, so happy. But when you reached for your suitcase, he finally broke.

He snatched it out of your hand. "No, no, you're not leaving me," he insisted, his voice frantic. "Look, please just listen. I know I lied to you and snuck out, but I swear I would never cheat on you."

You stood still, watching him, his large frame towering over you, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. But your heart felt like ice. You could see the panic in his eyes, hear the tremor in his voice, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

His hands gripped the suitcase so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Please," he begged again, "just… don’t go."

For a moment, you almost felt something—a flicker of the love you used to feel. But it was gone as quickly as it came. “Let go,” your voice is calm and steady.

“No, look, I would do anything,” he blurted out, his voice rising with desperation. “Okay, I see now why you don’t like my friends. I’ll cut them out. I won’t ever talk to another girl again. Just… anything. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please.”

He was a mess, still hungover, his head pounding, his hands trembling. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep it together, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked so close to breaking down completely.

Why did he make this mistake? Why did he let himself slip up so badly? You had given him a chance, and he had blown it in mere hours. The realization seemed to dawn on him, his face twisting with guilt and regret. His shoulders sagged, and his voice broke. "I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his tone raw with fear.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Whatever he was offering now felt hollow, too little, too late. Your heart felt heavy, but your mind was made up.

"Let go," you repeated, firmer this time, your eyes locking onto his.

Sukuna's hand fell away from the suitcase as if it weighed a ton, his breath hitching. He wanted to fight, to argue, but the defeat in your eyes left him lost. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, his voice almost inaudible, choking on his own words.

But all you did was nod, a small, almost imperceptible nod, and turn toward the door.

He stood there, his whole world crumbling, as you walked away.

Nct x Mila will be the death of me

𝕾𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗟𝗦, 𝓗𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 ❳ 𑁍 𓄹 𝙴𝙽

概括 › 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ﹕─┈ A friendly clip of MiLA and NCT DREAM go viral for not-so platonic reasons — and the ENHYPEN boys are not-so thrilled about it.

﹟ 𝘄𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝘀 ፡ ፡ dating rumours, jealousy/possessiveness, not proofread, make out sessions between [ ˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗ ] borders (you can skip if you feel uncomfortable)

✩ 𝗻𝗼𝗍𝖾𝗌 ᵕ̈ ིྀ ! 💍nonnie inspired me with this and this ask so shout out to you 😘 dont know how i feel about this chapter but wanted to post it in case anyone does enjoy it… might take it down later for editing but we’ll see how it goes 🤧

part i. | part ii.

MILA WAS NO STRANGER TO SCANDALS. She had been centre of a few since debut. There was the scandal about her supposedly bullying her members, the one about her apparently copying Kiara, and that one time people accused her mother of rigging the results of I-Land so that she could debut… No matter how hard she tried to be the model idol, things didn’t always work out. No one in the industry was safe.

One of Mila’s greatest accomplishments had been that she had yet to be involved in a dating scandal with another idol — a feat in this generation of Kpop, where netizens would speculate about romantic relationships between idols for simply exchanging eye contact for more than five seconds. And while she had the few ships here and there, nothing reached to a height as it did with, say, Karina and Heeseung.

But of course, there was a first time for everything.

“I’m getting ready to head off now, Oppa,” Mila called out. Pulling her satchel over body and picking another bag full of food off from the table, she prepared to leave the Enhypen dorms.

She was on her way to the SM Building for two reasons: the first was to have lunch with Aespa, and the second was to do with the bag of food she was carrying. The food in the bag that she was carrying was homemade Chinese cuisine she made for none other than her friends in NCT — Chenle and Renjun — who were part of the group’s China line, and whom she had asked to film a TikTok for ‘Sweet Venom’ together before she had lunch with the Aespa.

Mila got along well enough with the two of them at first. For a while, they weren’t really her friends as much as they were kind and gentle seniors. They looked out for her as elder artists and a shared kinship over their motherland; and she would greet them politely whenever they crossed paths at music shows or award ceremonies. Yet there wasn’t any sort of lasting bond between them.

It wasn’t until one day when Mila had offered to make some Chinese cuisine and drop it off for them — like she was doing today — and had unintentionally broken down the wall that was between them. All of a sudden, it was like she was pulled into their bubble and made one of their people. Like a baby bird taken under their wing.

“Are you sure you’re warm?” Jay asked.

Jay ran a hand through his tussled hair after giving Mila a gentle kiss on the forehead as a greeting. Since it was still early in the morning on a day off, the others were still asleep of groggy with sleep. And so, only Mila — who had to get ready and be presentable in time to leave — was fully awake.

Mila nodded. It tended to get chilly on the early hours of the morning, and Jay knew she was sensitive to colder weather. But Mila had opted to wear a warm turtleneck and a fluffy jacket over the top, so she didn’t need to worry. “Warm as a toastie.”

At that moment, Heeseung had stumbled out of his room, looking like he might topple over and fall asleep at any second now. He rubbed his eyes, pouting as he saw Mila standing in the kitchen with her bags, ready to go. “You’re leaving already?”

“Why did you get up? You should get some sleep,” Mila said.

“I wanted to see you off.” Heeseung wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. He leant back and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, a light smacking sound resonating as he parted. Patting her head, he smiled at her. “Have a good day, okay?”

Mila nodded with an eye-crinkling smile. “I will.”

Mila turned to Jay and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Say good morning to the others for me,” she said, as Jay stroked the top of her head and hummed in agreement. “Sorry I couldn’t help with breakfast this morning.”

Jay smiled softly. “No, it’s okay. You just have a good time out today. Don’t worry about anything else.” Jay held both her cheeks in his hand and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, sending a wave of butterflies off in her stomach. “I love you, Angel.”

“I love you more,” Mila replied instantly. She then reached out and tugged Heeseung closer so that she was hugging both Jay and him. “Love you both so much.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Love you too, baby.”

With that, the two elder members bid farewell to the girl as she skipped out of the door, before waving one last time, and following her manager to the car. Jay closed the door behind her as she left, and then the two went right back to sleep, to make the most out of this seemingly quiet day. Little did they know at the time about the buzz that would find its way to their quaint little dorm.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

MILA HAD A STRANGE relationship with SM Entertainment. Briefly, she remembered an encounter she had when she was at a dance competition back home in China, at the younger age of twelve. At the time, she met a beautiful woman there, who approached Mila’s mother and handed her a card with an all-too familiar logo. She claimed to be a scout from SM Entertainment, and said that Mila had the makings of an idol.

At the time, Mila had turned them down because of a lack of interest. And it wasn’t until later that Mila would learn that her dream was, in fact, to be the idol that scout saw her being.

When Mila thought about it, it seemed SM was the first to recognise her potential. And it was strange to think about the possibility of her debuting under SM in another world — especially when she had made so many friends there.

“Renjun-gē, I’m at the company now.” Mila shut the door of her van as she hopped out, her cellphone held up to her ear in one hand as the other carried the bag of food she prepared. From the other side of the line, there was a bunch of voices overlapping each other, causing Mila to tilt her head. “Are the others with you?”

While she had originally asked only Renjun and Chenle to do a TikTok with her, surprisingly enough their company suggested having the whole group film together with her — and her alone. Mila was confused but didn’t question it, seeing as Be:Lift gave permission for it. She didn’t know why, but she started to have an inkling that publicity through interactions was one of the reasons. Similar to the way Heeseung and Sunghoon had done a TikTok with Karina and Winter not too long ago.

However, Mila had yet to be on a familiar basis with the other NCT Dream members. Since they were in different generations — despite being close in age — and were her seniors in the industry by many years, they didn’t really have many reasons to become friends. But from what Renjun often said about them and what she saw of them in their content, they seemed like a fun group of people to be with. And Mila was nothing if not eager to form new connections.

“Yeah, we’re all in the practice room,” Renjun replied. He then suddenly told Mila to wait for a few seconds and yelled, “All of you be quiet! I can’t hear!” in Korean, before switching back to Chinese as he apologised to Mila. “Sorry. They’re being rowdy again.”

At that exact moment, Mila could hear Chenle’s distinctive voice yelling in the speaker, “Hi, Mila!” only to be followed by loud screams that reminded Mila of a distressed dolphin. Mila laughed. “It’s okay,” she told him while laughing, “Me and my manager are going to enter now. See you soon.”

With that, Mila entered the SM Building, and made her way to the practice room floors. And that was how Mila and her manager ended up at one of the dance practice rooms, filled with a rowdy bunch of males who didn’t realise she was there until she was almost hit in the face by a stray shoe.

Mila instinctively ducked and covered her head as the shoe hit the ceiling with a ‘thwack,’ before falling to the floor in front of her. Looking startled and confused, she uncovered her head looked up to see Lee Haechan in front of her with both hands over his mouth and wide eyes.

“Oh, sorry,” he said awkwardly.

At that moment someone in the background had stumbled out from the closet, which was originally being held closed by a startled-looking Na Jaemin. Mark Lee’s head was darting around everywhere as he struggled to find his balance.

“Where did my shoe—!” Mark stopped mid-sentence when Jeno cleared his throat, and the older male froze like a mannequin when he made eye contact with a sheepish Mila. “…Go…?”

Park Jisung scratched the back of his neck and awkwardly turned to Chenle, who was holding his stomach from laughing at the events that unfolded. Renjun face palmed in the background. Mila smiled hesitantly, before offering a polite bow.

“Hello, sunbaenims.”

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

MILA WOULDN’T HAVE GUESSED from first impressions that NCT Dream were made up mostly of introverts. But somehow — as if abiding by the law of “opposites attract” — it had made things easier for Mila to get along with them, despite their initial awkwardness.

“Wah, this looks good!” Chenle said as finally looked inside the bag of dishes Mila prepared for them. (Once the Dream managers arrived at the practice room, a few minutes after Mila, they went straight into the professional business of today’s agenda, leaving little time for Mila and the Chinese boy to catch up. “Thanks a lot, Mila! You’re the best! The WayV hyungs will be so jealous.”

Mila shook her hands in denial and smiled as Chenle walked off to show off Mila’s gifts to Renjun. She smiled and turned to the three members standing with her: Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung.

Because there were so many people in the one TikTok, they would be doing several different groupings with Mila in a single take: starting with the maknae line (Chenle and Jisung), then Mila and the 00-line (Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, and Haechan) and then her and Mark. There were bound to be some mistakes, so the TikTok didn’t end in just one attempt. But rather than feel annoyed, Mila quite enjoyed the chance she got to interact with the seniors.

“By the way, how old are you?” Jaemin asked suddenly. Mila hummed and lowered her drink bottle as she looked at the male, who reminded her somewhat of Sunghoon for reasons she couldn’t quite pin down. (Later she would realise it was because they were both handsome but very chaotic,l introverts, who seemed quiet at first, but were far from it.) “Is Jisung older than you?”

Mila nodded as she made eye contact with the youngest of the group. While it was true that he was older — and the same age as Enhypen’s 02z — Mila couldn’t help but see him in the same light as one might regard a baby chick. Something about him didn’t radiate the same air of maturity (or dare she say, sexiness?) that Jake, Jay and Sunghoon did.

“That’s right,” she replied, as if she herself had forgotten about that fact. “I’m a year younger. Born in 2003.”

“Wah.” Jisung had a shocked expression on his face, while his hyungs laughed at him. It was no secret that the once youngest idol to debut was awkward when meeting others younger than him. But this time in particular, he seemed even shyer than usual. “I can’t believe it…”

“Oh, so we’re all your oppas? You’re the youngest one here?” Jeno asked with a shocked expression. He had been maybe the easiest to get along with — not because the others were difficult, but simply for his smile, which reminded her of the warm eye-smile of Sunoo, and instantly made her feel comfortable. Mila smiled and nodded at his question. “What about in your group? Are you the maknae.”

“I’m the youngest girl, but there are three other members who are younger than me,” Mila explained. “Our maknae, Ni-Ki, was born in 2005. Our oldest, Heeseungie-oppa, is the same age as Chenle-oppa.”

“What about me?” As if on cue, Chenle walked into the frame. “Oh, by the way— I was just telling Renjun-hyung, and we think you’re the only ‘E’ type here.”

“Right!” Mila said, before clicking her fingers. “I was just thinking about how I heard from someone before that almost all of you are ‘I’.” She then gasped. “Wait, this is an important question: Are you guys ‘F’ or ‘T’?”

“I’m a ‘T’,” Jisung replied. Mila made an “oh” expression and nodded slowly, causing the others to laugh. Meanwhile, Jisung blinked in confusion. The first thing he thought of was Eunchae’s viral ‘Anti-T’ meme, and wondered if Mila was the same. “Why? Do you not like ‘T’?”

Mila shook her head vigorously. “No!” she denied vehemently. “I really like ‘T’!”

“Oh, that’s me.” Mark suddenly joined in with a raised his hand. He and the members of Dream — Haechan, Renjun, and Mark — walked over to join the smaller group after returning from their bathroom break. “I’m a ‘T’, too,” he clarified.

Mila turned and said, with an utmost serious expression, “Then I like you.”

Mark froze and opened his mouth. But no words came out, and he stood there like a gaping fish, unable to respond to Mila’s words — which suspiciously sounded like a confession, though they were anything but. It wasn’t that he felt she meant it in that way, or that he necessarily wished for her to, but that it was so sudden he was taken off guard. He couldn’t help but be flustered.

The other Dreamies laughed from around him, and his face turned a bright shade of pink. Coughing into his fist, Mark turned around to hide his blush.

Mila, on the other hand, paid no attention to it. She instantly made her way over to her manager when the older woman called her over to look at the last take they did of the TikTok. Slowly the others made their way over, and they all watched the footage on Mila’s manager’s phone.

“Wait,” Mila said as she squinted, “Do I really look like that?”

“Like what?” Haechan asked. “Do you mean the shape of your hair? Or your facial expression.”

Mila burst out laughing. “No, what I mean is— why does my face look a little puffy?” Mila squished her cheeks as she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. “Or is it just me? Do I look like that?”

The boys loooed between the screen and Mila and shook their heads. Jaemin in particular — who was leaning down next to her — took a not-so discrete scan of her entire face, before smiling kindly at the girl. “No,” he reassured. “You look better in real life.”

Mila looked at him before laughing, half in shock and half because she didn’t know what a proper response was. For someone who received a lot of compliments, it was sure difficult to know how to respond to them. However, she was saved from the awkwardness as the others laughed along with her, creating a cheerful, friendly atmosphere.

Looking back, she might not have been as careless as she was if she knew what would happen later on. But she couldn’t have known that the entirety of their interactions together were caught on camera. Nor did she know they would be posted as Behind The Scenes shoots, for the rest of the world to see — and to speculate about.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

‘GOOD WORK TODAY.’

Mila smiled as she read the new message she received in her group chat with the NCT Dream members. Briefly, she considered the thought of introducing Kiara and the Dream members — and she smiled wickedly at the thought of giving the elder female’s boyfriend reason to be jealous. After all, Kiara was a big fan of Mark’s before she debuted…

Mila was cut off from her thoughts when she spotted Aespa heading towards her. After singing a quick ‘Thank you’ with an emoticon, Mila quickly shut off her phone and greeted the older girls with a smile and warm hugs. For the next few hours, Mila left her phone untouched and simple enjoyed the presence of the Aespa girls as they enjoyed their brunch and caught up on all the latest gossip.

Mila just didn’t realise she would be one of those topics.

“Oh—” NingNing paused mid-sip of her drink. She had pulled her phone out to bring up a TikTok to show Mila, only to be surprised by what she saw. NingNing turned to Mila with a surprised expression. “Mimi-yah, you and NCT Dream-sunbaenims are trending.”

Mila hummed calmly. She had expected this to happen after all. “I guess the TikTok got uploaded.”

Karina furrowed her eyebrows and leaned over, before her mouth parted in shock. “No, Mimi-yah… It’s not just the TikTok.”

Karina took the phone from NingNing, and held it up so Mila could see the screen. From either sides of her, Giselle and Winter leaned in closer to get a better look. Mila’s jaw dropped as she saw the one thing she didn’t expect to be uploaded — her interactions with the NCT Dream members. Specifically, the ones that were easy to twist and misunderstand.

“Then I like you, too.” Mila’s face in the clipped video on the TikTok NingNing found made her cringe at how easy it was to misinterpret out of context. That clip was then followed by the clip of Jaemina looking her up and down and telling her, “No. You look better in real life.”

Mila paled. It took a few seconds for adrenaline to kick in, and then all of a sudden, she was fumbling for her phone. The first thing she did was open her phone and check her group chat messages with the boys, and sighed heavily when she saw a bunch of spammed messages from them.

Mila was looking forward to this lunch for a long time. But as soon as Jay said ‘we need you,’ nothing else matter. She was halfway through reading the word ‘need’ before she was packing her bag and bidding farewell to Aespa, before sprinting her way to the lobby, where she had texted her manager to meet her.

The last thing Mila wanted was not to be there when her men needed her reassurance the most. She didn’t care if she had to drag her manager by the wrist like a scene in a Kdrama — all that mattered was getting back to them. (And preferably before Sunghoon got his hands on any of her plushies.)

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

MILA WASN’T SURPRISED TO see Heeseung standing there at the car park, waiting for her. If she knew him well enough, she would say that he used his matthyung card to make the others stay inside while he quickly got some alone time with her before they inevitably started to bicker about the trending tag.

He had his arms crossed over his chest as he stood tall, stance wide. Mila quickly bid farewell to her manager — who decided to let Mila and Heeseung go off to the dorms alone — and ran up to Heeseung before throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Oppa,” she said sincerely. “I didn’t mean for it to happen…”

Looking up at Heeseung, Mila frowned as she looked into his eyes, trying to find something. It wasn’t usual for him to be this quiet around her, so she worried that the clips got to him more than she expected. Now that she thought about it, he was unusually quiet on the group chat as well…

“Are you okay?”

Heeseung didn’t say anything, simply caressing her cheek, and then letting his hand fall to her wrist. “Let’s go,” he said softly. And without another word, he gently pulled her along behind him as he made his way to the elevator. She could feel the tension in his shoulders as if it were her own. And while she wasn’t intimidated by him in any way (he was Heeseung, after all), she couldn’t help but feel a little helpless seeing him this quiet.

As the elevator door opened, Heeseung placed a hand on her lower back, before gently ushering her in. He didn’t say a word to her, only pursing his lips as he nonchalantly pressed the button to the floor to their rooms. It was silent, save for the sound of the mechanisms of the lift in operation.

Mila bit her lip nervously. “Oppa—”

[ ˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗ ]

Mila didn’t get a chance to finish before Heeseung had backed her up against the wall of the elevator, her lips colliding with hers. She gasped at the sudden contact, her fingers subconsciously reaching up to grasp his shoulders, while his arms came up to cage her in on both sides of her head. Yet, she didn’t feel trapped — only comforted by the closeness of his body to hers.

Yes, this was the Heeseung she came to know. The one who craved touch more than space; the one who would breathe in her kisses, even if it meant losing air. From the way his mouth fitted against hers — latching on like it was the bridge directly to her heart, mind and soul — to the way his hand reached up to cup her jaw, as if doing so meant holding the cusp of the world… All of it was so Heeseung, Mila didn’t know what to do without it.

He didn’t say a word, but she understood him anyway.

I love you, he said with his kisses. I’m yours, he admitted with a sigh. And you’re mine, screamed his touch.

She tugged on the strands of his hair, standing right up on her tip toes, and he hummed approvingly into her mouth, before pushing his body right up against hers. Her heart was erratic against his chest, and his grip was firm on her skin. Deep and passionate were his kisses, making her knees weak and her stomach flutter.

Then all too soon, it was over. He pulled away as if someone had been dragging him away by the collar. Hesitant. He sighed the moment his eyes met hers, before flickering down to her swollen lips. The flames in his dark orbs flickered out and he swiped a thumb against her bottom lip.

[ ˗ˏˋ ★ˎˊ˗ ]

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I just… After I saw all that… I really needed you.”

“And you have me,” Mila said with a smile, reaching up to cup Heeseung’s face, before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed, melting instantly under her affectionate actions. “You always will. I’m right here.”

Heeseung smiled gently before turning to kiss the inside of her hand, just as the elevator door dinged. “I wanted to be selfish and steal you away for a little bit… But we should talk properly with the others.”

Mila laughed. “We definitely should.”

With that, the two walked into the dorms, hand in hand, where the others awaited them impatiently in the living room, as if they had a million things to say.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

“I’M HOME.”

Mila laughed helplessly as she was met with the sight of Riki side-eyeing her from where he sat on the couch, his expression set in stone. She bit back a smile at the endearing sight of him and the rest of her boyfriends sulking in the middle of the dorms.

“Did you have fun?” he asked deeply, his voice reverberating through the silent air of the living room. Unsurprisingly, there was a colourful range of reactions to the clips — but they all had the same undertone of envious green. “You and your friends were cute.”

Mila smiled and took off her shoes. Without a word, she walked over and sat beside the younger before hugging his arm, pulling his hand onto her lap. “You’re cuter.”

Riki huffed and turned away, but the way he laced his fingers through Mila’s was enough to tell her that she succeeded in lowering his guard. From beside Riki, Jake faced Mila with his enticing lips pulled into a frown. “Why are you only complimenting him? I’m a ‘T’, too.”

Mila smiled. She knew where he was going with the last statement, but letting him bait her anyway, to enable his sulking. If not to get it out of his system, then so she could spoil him later. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“‘I really like ‘T’!” Sunoo imitated Mila’s voice, reciting her words from earlier. He then gasped dramatically and said, in the same high-pitched voice, “‘Oh, you’re ‘T’, too? Then I like you.’” Sunoo scoffed. “Seriously, why don’t you just confess your love to them while you’re at it.”

While he knew Mila’s words were taken out of context, he still felt slightly offended that she only mentioned liking ‘T’ types, when he himself was an ‘F’. So he thought he would give her minor grievance out of pettiness — though not in a way that would cause her to feel guilty.

Mila burst out laughing. She reached over and pulled Sunoo’s hand into her lap while he pouted, turning his head away in a similarly haughty manner to Riki. Mila smiled. “You know what I meant by that.”

“Still, there’s the, ‘You look better in real life,’” Jay said, a sneer on his face to show how strongly he felt while watching that particular scene. Sitting in his chair with his legs spread and his chin rested on his fist, he looked at Mila with an unreadable expression. “I don’t like the way he looked at you, Angel.”

“You were so pretty today, too,” Sunghoon added, his eyes trialing over her form head to toe. “And they got to compliment you and see you all dolled up before I did…”

Mila bit her lip. “Even if he looked at me in any way that wasn’t friendly, I wouldn’t care. I don’t really mind what others think about how I look,” she said. Then, with a slight blush, she added, “I mean— I’ve gotten used to be calling ‘pretty’… But I only get flustered when it’s from one of you.”

“Really?” Sunghoon was standing with his arms crossed against the wall, his biceps bulging against the material of his shirt in a way that momentarily stole Mila’s focus. He smirked slightly at the sight of her distracted gaze, before raising an eyebrow tauntingly. She pursed her lip as he regarded her with his intense gaze. “What else, Princess?”

Jungwon scoffed. “Can you not do foreplay in the middle of the living room? We’re right here, you know.”

“Whatever.” Jay threw his hands up in the air, before leaning back in his chair as if he were unbothered by everything around him. (He wasn’t.) “It’s not like you wanted for this to happen. All I know is that I’m not going anywhere near TikTok for the next month.“ Jay paused and then held up his arms towards Mila. “Come here. I want to hold my girl.”

Mila smiled. Riki and Sunoo, who were still giving her the silent treatment, let out little laughs of their own, their shoulders shaking as they tried their best not to break character. After giving last squeeze to both their hands, she kissed the both of them on the cheeks. Then Mila stood to walk over to Jay so she could comfort him — only to be pulled down into Jake’s lap as she passed by.

“There,” Jake said. “That’s much better.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, ignoring the glare from Jay. Jake then nuzzled his nose into Mila’s neck, humming contently as he inhaled the scent of her perfume. “Bet they didn’t get to hold you like this, huh?”

Mila shook her head vigorously. “Of course not.” She turned around and faced Jake with sincere eyes. “I don’t want to be held by anyone but you.”

Jake chuckled. “That’s right…” He closed his eyes as he placed a chaste kiss on her neck. When he spoke again, his voice came out muffled, as if he were drunk on her scent. “That’s our girl.”

Jungwon sighed from beside Jake. The young leader gave Jake an unimpressed glare. And though he whined, the same male relented and released his hold. Jungwon immediately pounced on the chance and pulled Mila towards him, nuzzling her the same way Jake did.

“It was so annoying,” he said. “People kept calling you guys cute together and everything… I wanted to hit them through the screen.” He frowned as he rested his chin on her shoulder, eyes lidded as they were trained on her lips. “You’re ours.”

Mila cooed as she cupped the younger’s cheek, pressing soft kisses to his dimple.

“That’s right,” she said. “I know it sucks, I get how it feels. But know that I’m not interested in anything anyone else has to say. You’re the only ones I want and ever will want. That hasn’t changed.”

She smiled as she looked around the room.

“The NCT Dream-sunbaenims will be good friends, but that’s all they are or will ever be. I’m younger than their maknae, who they treat as a baby — they probably see me as their younger sister, if anything. They’re far from falling in love with me. And as for me… Well, you know I love you.” She then recited one of her favourite quotes: “‘And if I loved you any less, I might be able to talk about it more.’”

There was a sweet pause on the sitting room, as the tension faded way. Heeseung smiled as he took a seat next to Jay, after having observed everything from the entry. It seemed Mila could take care of everything fine. Then again, that was to be expected.

“I’m really sorry that you had to see this go trending for that reason…” Mila frowned. “I didn’t know they would post those clips, considering how easy it would be for shippers to take it out of context.”

“No, don’t apologise,” Heeseung said softly. “We know it’s not your fault, and I still don’t know why the company let that be posted… But we love your smile, and how you make others smile too. Don’t lose that for anyone. Not even if you think it’s to protect our feelings.”

“If you’re ever scared about what we might think,” Jay added, “Then don’t be. Even if we get jealous, we just wanted you to be happy.”

“Hyung’s right,” Riki said with a smile, breaking his vow of silence against her. “I think it would be sadder if we saw you go viral for looking sad. I’d rather see you smiling, even if it’s not with us.”

Mila blinked, her chest feeling warm. She as just grateful that the boys didn’t blame her — but that they also didn’t expect her to change the way she interacted with other people for the sake of the public’s opinions. She giggled.

“Same goes for you,” she said. “Let me spoil you when you need it. Right now, just let me know what you need. This is about you and how you feel.”

“Well I still haven’t gotten to hold you,” Jay said, looking at Jungwon, who pretended not to hear him as he held onto Mila in a possessive grip, too busy placing chaste kisses on her neck to talk.

“And I still haven’t gotten my kiss.” Sunghoon pouted at Mila, and then suddenly turned to Jay. “Your plushie is going to be the first to go.”

Heeseung tried (in vain) to calm them down. “Okay, let’s leave the plushies out of this.”

Sunoo turned to Heeseung with suspicious eye. “By the way, Hyung, what did you talk about before you got back with Byeol? It was really unfair that you got to her first — I think we should cut down your cuddle time with her to make things even.”

“I dibs the extra hours!” Riki said, raising his hand.

“Why would you get them?” Jake asked incredulously. “No way in hell, man.”

Mila laughed. As she watched the the boys bicker, she started to plot mischievously about how to turn around the situation in their favour. She knew the company wouldn’t take any action against them, either, as long as there was a positive response from fans. So a little more ship moments wouldn’t hurt, right? What was a little teasing for fans?

(Just a few days later, NCT Dream and Mila’s interactions were blown out of the trending list by Mila and the boys’ most recent, incredibly cute, incredibly suspicious ship moments.)

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GOOD LUCK, BABE!

pairings: charles leclerc x reader (romantic/platonic).

summary: friendships don’t always survive, you and charles would know.

warnings: cheating towards the end. no smut but a makeout session. sorry alex 💔

author’s note: the brocedes au that me and anon wanted. i’m trying something new btw. let me know how u feel about it.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

you never imagined yourself in the same room as charles. not willingly anyways. yet, when you received the invitation with his handwritten note asking you to come. you knew you couldn’t say no. you had spent so much of your childhood discussing the future. he wanted a family. three kids, a dog and a gorgeous wife that loved him. you wanted a career. the glory, the accolades and the fans that loved you.

he made you promise one day that you’d be at his wedding. you were fifteen at the ice cream shop that he’d always drag you too. you had snuck out without arthur in order to have an extra scoop after charles’ dad had paid for the ice cream you’d had earlier. he looked over at you, eyes serious and asked you to be his best man — (“best woman, best girl. it doesn’t matter. i just want you next to me. i’m serious yn.” he took a lick of his ice cream and the seriousness melted away when he left a smudge on his nose.)

you didn’t break promises easily.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

however, when arthur came running up to you, asking you to follow him. when your relationship with charles disintegrated, you never lost touch with arthur. he was like a little brother to you. you would very rarely meet him for brunch in whatever city you happened to both be in. so when he asked you to follow him, you did willingly.

“where are we going?” you ask, as he pulls you along by your right hand. “usually, whenever you don’t give me context it means you’re doing something bad. is this something bad leclerc?”

“when am i ever doing something bad?” he looks over his shoulder and gives you a wink. you roll your eyes. he plants you in front of a room and nods at it. you stare at him blankly.

“okay? i’m not a mind reader arthur.”

“i need you to help me look for something.” he nods at the room. “in there.”

“you can do it yourself.” you turn to leave before he runs in front of you and stops you.

“listen. i don’t care if you had that weird breakup with my brother,” you start to protest that it wasn’t a breakup but he stops you. “but you didn’t need to cut me off too. you were a part of my life too. you abandoned me too.”

“i don’t ask you for anything yn but i need your help. i’m looking for my silver cufflinks. i need them.” he raised his cuffs to show you the distinct lack of cufflinks. “please. i’m begging you. i wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

you didn’t expect to come here to be blackmailed and guilt tripped but it was working. you avoided everything leclerc. even his family, especially his family if you were being honest. they went from being your second family to nothing at all.

“okay.” you nod. “i’ll get your cufflinks.”

arthur smiles and opens the door for you to walk in. it’s someone’s hotel room. either arthur’s or a friend’s. it’s messy and you sigh. it’ll be hard finding them in this mess but you start carding through clothes.

“yn?”

you know that voice anywhere. you turn around and it’s charles. he’s half dressed in his wedding suit, his crisp white shirt half unbuttoned. his hair is still messy as if he’s ran his hand through nervously multiple times. you smile with no teeth and move to open the door. it’s locked.

“arthur leclerc! open this fucking door!” you seethe. you bang against the door and hear his voice through the material.

“not until you fucking talk! i’ll be back in half an hour.” you hear his footsteps walk away. you turn to charles who smiles sheepishly at you.

“tea?”

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liked by messyass1, messyass2 and 1,737,883 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: it seems all the rumours are true. sworn enemies f1 drivers charles leclerc and yn yln have seemed to call a truce to celebrate his wedding to art historian alexandra saint mleux. she was seen wearing a dark green vivienne westwood gown as she celebrated the couple’s nuptials.

what do we think about the rekindling of this flame, ham1ltons?

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user1: CHARLESYN IN THE SAME ROOM NO ARGUING NO FIGHTS WE CHEERED!!

user2: i wish we had pictures of her. she always eats her outfits.

-> user3: wtf how does she digest them?

-> user2: figure of speech babe <3

user4: did she have a date??

-> user5: her longtime boyfriend!!

user6: they worked it out on the remix

-> user7: so FERRARI ❤️

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charles makes you the tea. he doesn’t finish buttoning his shirt as he pours it into a mug for you. he remembered how you liked it - two sugars and a splash of milk. you stay silent but nod gratefully.

it’s been so long since you’ve been alone with him. you’re not the same wide eyed kid but neither is he. he’s getting married and you’re giving him the silent treatment. he sits on the edge of his bed awkwardly. tapping his thigh with a single finger.

“thank you for coming,” he says. “i didn’t think you would.”

“the handwritten invitation was a nice choice,” you sip your tea. “personal. did everyone else like it?”

“only yours was,” he coughs into his elbow. “handwritten, i mean. only yours.”

that’s news to you but you don’t have time to ponder what that means before he speaks again.

“i’ve thought for the longest time on what i’d say to you if i got the chance. everything. how sorry i was, how sorry i am, how much i hated you and how much you meant to me. you were my best friend yn. my best friend. no one has even come close to what you were for me.” he chuckles as he presses his palms into his eyes. “who else could i talk to besides you?”

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(insert a tiktok edit of the two of you throughout your careers. the song playing over it is the song ‘chemtrails over the country club’ by lana del ray specifically the lyrics ‘nobody’s son/nobody’s daughter’. it gets 167k likes.)

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

“do you still hate me?” charles looks at you under his lashes.

“of course i do. you hurt me.”

“you hurt me. but i don’t hate you.” charles fidgets in his seat. he stretches his hands to place them on his knees. you sip your tea. “do you remember when i asked you to be my best woman?”

you nod.

“i didn’t mean that. i wanted you to be my wife.”

you would choke on your tea if you didn’t know that information but charles wasn’t subtle. yet it was a case of missed opportunities. you didn’t like him then and he didn’t like you now.

“i couldn’t hate you yn. god knows i tried. it hurts me knowing that you hate me as i could never hate you. i said all that shit because i was hurt and angry. you said i was a shitty driver. that i wouldn’t have won without ferrari’s strategies which we both know are shit-“

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you still cared about my opinion.” you interrupt. your voice still has a defensive edge to it. he just shrugs.

“i’ll always care about your opinion.”

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CHARLESYNNIES TWITTER GC (est.2017)

user1: editing yn to l’amour de ma vie by billie eilish (extended version) rn 😋

user2: what part?

user1: listen from 2:15 till 2:56!!

user3: THATS GONNA EATT OMGGGG

user4: wish we could edit the wedding appearance of the two of them omggg.

user5: when i get off my lazy ass and finish my edit of them to ‘the girl so confusing’ remix

user6: do y’all think they’re talking at the wedding?

user7: babe do you know yn? she’s probably at the very corner of the reception right now. she’ll take a pic with every other leclerc besides charles and probably leave before dinner is served.

user8: you’re so real. yn would NEVER talk to charles let alone be alone with him. i hate it but it’s the truth.

user9: plus charles is probably busy with the wedding.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

you never considered yourself to be a bad person but making out with your ex best friend/teammate literally a few hours before he’s about to get married? that’s a bitch move.

you try to think about his fiancée. she’s probably getting ready excitedly with her family and friends. thinking about being the future mrs leclerc while you’re two minutes away from committing adultery on both of your partners.

you pull apart from charles. he looks at you with wide eyes.

“we can’t fucking do this. we’re awful people,” you sit up. “my fucking lipgloss is all over your mouth.”

“i look good in pink. it’ll be fine.” he wipes it off.

“you have a fiancée. you’re getting married.”

“tell me the word and i’ll call it off. just for you.” he looks at you. “i’m quitting f1 after this year anyways. i’m not attempting to go for the second championship. i don’t want it.”

“how do you not want it?”

“we have different priorities but i won’t be a f1 driver anymore. you always said you couldn’t date a driver. i’ve grown now. i’m fine being in your shadow. i love it. i want it.”

he looks at you as serious as he did when he asked you to be his best woman all those years ago.

“what do you want yn?”

you bite your lip, and think.

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CHARLESYNNIES TWITTER GC (est.2017)

user7: i’m hoping we get at least a picture. just one.

user4: i would DIE!!! imagine!!!

user3: charlesynnies suffer every day and everyone else wins.

user2: i think yn is right there with charles. maybe dancing.

user1: he always said she’d be at his wedding. he was right. i think there is still love there.

user5: FINISHED MY FUCK ASS EDIT PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT ON TIKTOK BESTIES

user6: okay i wrote a little fic for ao3. it’s called ‘wait until you like me again’!! it’s domestic charlesyn as they are forced to work everything out. kinda angsty but really smutty.

user1: spamming u both charlesynnies are the best idc <3

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liked by ham1ltonshaderoom, landonorris and 1,827,983 others.

charles_leclerc: say hello to mr and mrs leclerc 💍

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

view all 287,929 comments

yourusername: happy for you 💕

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

INTERVIEW WITH CHARLES LECLERC

interviewer — so is it true? you’re renewing your ferrari contract?

charles (laughing) — it is true. racing is my life. this is it for me. it’d take something big to take me away from it.

interviewer: you all heard it here first!

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— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @aliciaablueprint @lennnooshh @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @theblueblub @marshmummy @23victoria @ourlifeforchaos @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @tsireyasgf @landososcar @yongi-lee @maxlarens @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr (charles specific tags will be added to the comments!)

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