✶ৎ SMARTER BABY

I will slap sunghoon omg

bros before hoes ✰ p.sh smau

synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...

or in which... park y/n is an idiot with a big heart and park sunghoon is an oblivious fool [affectionate]

genre > smau + written, idol au, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, slight slow burn but not really, minimal angst, LOTS of fluff

warnings > constant and consistent cursing, probably terribly written 'angst', crack

featuring > idol!p.sh x idol!gn!reader, most of enha, bang chan of stray kids, tsuki of billlie, jooyeon of xdinary heroes, haewon of nmixx, chaeryeong of itzy, sunwoo of the boyz, wonbin & anton of riize (cameo) + wonyoung face claim in *some* places (there's only so much i can do, sorry-)

status > ongoing (150424-?)

taglist > OPEN! send an ask to be added. dms and comments will be ignored !

note > ITS FINALLY HERE 😭😭😭 i've been working on this for a while now and im SO happy to finally be able to share this with you guys!! shout out to my darling abby who beta read this and kept me motivated while planning, you're the BEST 🤕🫶

DO NOT SPAM LIKE !! | SPAM REBLOGGING IS LOVED :]

profiles > EN- | NEXUS | PRIVZ

chapters:-

prologue: bye bye akkong 01: the 'meet' cute (0.7k) 02: the announcement 03: you think i knew ??? 04: Big Reveal(s) (0.6k) 05: he likes WHO?! 06: new MCs in town 07: jungwon major L 08: let me help 09: dance dance 10: great chemistry

more tba !

©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

@rinbowaman pls he makes me go crazy

© 𝐖 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐃 do not edit/crop logo

── to all the boys i've loved before

you write a letter when you get a feeling so intense that you can’t hold it in anymore. these letters are your most inner, personal thoughts that were kept safe in a little blue box that you stored in the top of the shelf. so how is it that heeseung convinced you to fake date him, jaeyun wrote your letter back, sunoo came out to you, and jungwon stop talking to you?

the blue box is missing and so are the four letters that you stamped and wrote their addresses on. 

casting: reader as lara jean, heeseung as peter kavinsky, jake as john ambrose, sunghoon as reader's older brother, jungwon as josh sanderson, jay as greg, sunoo as lucas, ni-ki as kitty | ft... yunjin as chris, chaewon as gen

directors' note: hello everyone! we are proud to announce that @j4keluver and i are doing a collab!! we will be making a series based on netflix's "to all the boys i've loved before" series. disclaimer: this is not an accurate representation of the series, we try to incorporate many details from them. this is our version of the series :) so we hope that you enjoy reading this as much enjoyed writing it <3

₊˚⊹♡ 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝗶'𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 | wc: tbd

when you were a little girl, your mom would tell you the classic old tale bed time story of “princess and prince happy ever after.” she would talk about how lovely it is once you find “your prince,” the one who truly loves you for who you are. ever since then, you were hooked on romance novels - and finding the picture perfect boyfriend.

your older brother sunghoon, would roll his eyes at you, stating that “all men are disgusting shits and the only boy you can talk to is me.”  you would just wave him off and stick your tongue out that him, saying how he’s just mad that he hasn’t gotten a girlfriend and he mumbles a “whatever.”

the only issue with trying to find a boyfriend was that you DID NOT know how to express your intense feelings. so that’s when you started to write letter. these letters were the most intimate things you’ve probably ever written in your life besides smut on tumblr. there were four of them in total.

lee heeseung, your 7th grade crush and first kiss

sim jaeyun, your partner in model UN

kim sunoo, from homecoming

and

yang jungwon, your next door neighbor

play...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀: 𝗽.𝘀. 𝗶 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | wc: tbd

after the whole fake dating fiasco, you and heeseung seem to be doing perfect until it wasn’t.  a new problem snakes its way into you and heeseung’s relationship; jaeyun wrote back. yeah, remember the letter you wrote years ago but was sent out by your little brother who thought was doing you a massive favor? yes, that one. you had no idea THE jaeyun would write back. you really did not need this right now especially since you and heeseung are in a good place.

there was two ways you could deal with this; respond to the letter or ignore it and pretend that it doesn’t exist. the two options lead to one option for your relationship; don’t tell heeseung. it’s not that you didn’t want to but everything was so good right now. why ruin it with a letter that probably only talks about jaeyun’s acceptance into NASA as a quantum physicist… right?

play...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀: 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 | wc: tbd

your recent trip to korea made you realize two major things; you have go to start learning more korean besides duolingo and you can’t be away from heeseung too long. the countdown till graduation has started and with college decisions coming around the corner, life was falling into the perfect book ending.you knew heeseung’s dream school was stanford;  it’s always been stanford. with his good GPA, athletic abilities, and extracurricular, it’s not shock that he gets accepted. you get ready to open your letter. this was it. you guys were going to be high school sweethearts that turn into college sweethearts that turn into husband and wife.

that whole image comes crashing down when you see that you’ve been rejected and the only thing on your mind is how are you going to tell heeseung? heeseung keeps pestering you about your status until you do what you do best when nervous : lie. he’s bouncing off the walls when you tell him, it’s all he can talk about. he starts to plan how much to deposit for your shared apartment on your senior class trip to new york city !

whoopsie, how are you gonna tell him that you DIDN’T get accepted into stanford and that nyu, a college almost 3,000 miles away, is becoming your dream school?

play...

this is a work of fiction. it does not depict any of the artists in any way, shape. or form. ©luvj4key and j4keluver, all work is written by us. do not copy or repost

defiance | king!sukuna x servant!reader

master list

chapter three: the king of curses

summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine. TL;DR: sukuna's a sorcerer in this one, still ooc but not too much. mc pretty much ran away from home for being a hoe, and went to work at sukuna's shrine lol.

genre: female reader, heian era au but incredibly historically inaccurate, 18+, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, smut, so much crack, angst, mutual pining, might be seen as dubcon but she wants him lol, no he wont have two sets of arms, and no he wont have two dicks, srry srry srry

fic warnings: profanity, explicit smut, ooc, mentions of grooming, more will be added

word count: 3.6k

playlist

You were woken up by the sounds of rumbling, low buzzing, and Sukuna’s faint snoring. At first you thought all three were coming from him, but the more you came to, you realized the first two sounds were from across the room. 

Specifically from the very dark corner of his already dark room. 

You slowly lifted yourself up, rubbing your eyes and trying to focus in that direction. Two orbs— bright glowing green orbs— seemingly directed at you, shifting and occasional blinking. 

You looked back at Sukuna, who was sleeping way too peacefully for someone who had a literal intruder in their chambers. When you looked back up to the corner, the thing had moved a couple feet closer in your direction. 

“Kuna..” You wearily tried to shake the king awake, constantly looking back at the apparition that was shaped like a giant bee corpse from hell. 

It had legs, it wasn’t using them. In fact, it morphed towards you instead of walking– or running. But that didn’t matter, it would’ve been equally terrifying either way.

The rumbling noise it made was now turning into muffled shrieks as warped closer and closer and closer to you the more you acknowledged it. 

“..Kuna!” You yelped as it morphed to his side of the bed, now glaring and smiling at you.

Sukuna shot up the moment you fully hid under the covers, completely bemused by what you could possibly be whining about before dawn even broke.

At first he’s pissed, being ripped away from his sleep and all. Of course this had to happen the one fucking time he allowed a concubine to sleep with him.

His annoyance quickly fades away the moment he felt the familiar feeling of all the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. It was pretty obvious to him what it was that woke you up and scared you half to death. 

He turned his head to see the grade 1 curse was able to weasel itself into his territory. 

Weak, but gross nonetheless. He stuck out his pointer finger and gently flicked his wrist, slicing the things head off and splattering its purple blood all over the walls and floors.

He made a mental note to have Uraume clean it up later, since they were the only ones who could see them in the shrine. 

Well— aside from you, apparently. 

But he was way too tired to get into that, and made another mental note to ask you about it in the morning once the sun was actually up.

For now, he was going back to bed. He was tired from the festival, all the people that have tried to talk to him during the festival, and from his night with you— but that’s more of a fact than a complaint.

He looked back to find you still under the covers. He slightly pulled them back to find you face down on to the pillows, covering your ears— which also made him realize you probably also heard the grueling noise of it getting beheaded.

“It’s gone now,” his voice was low and raspy, clearly still half asleep. “Go back to bed,” he ordered, before he threw his arm and leg over you. 

—

“So you can see them?” He asked after he gave you a moment to wake up. 

Sukuna had woken up as interested as ever in you and stayed in bed until you finally opened your eyes. 

Uraume had already come by and cleaned the walls and floor, along with taking the corpse and tossing it to wherever they tossed them to.

“Yeah, usually they’re easy to ignore.” You admit. “But once it noticed that I could see it, I felt like it started to taunt me in a way. It wouldn’t stop getting closer and it even smiled at me.”   

“Yeah, the stronger they are the more they tend to do stuff like that.” He explained. 

He knew he shouldn’t stay in bed too long with you in the morning, but allowed himself to laze around a little longer. He could tell you were enjoying it too from the way you were caressing and tracing his chest and arms. 

A little too much actually, as you traced lower. And lower. And lower. 

“NO! That fucking tickles.” He snapped after you impulsively poked his side, making him hunch over to protect himself from you.

How you had the energy to try to fuck with him was an absolute mystery. It was way too early in the morning to laugh, yet there you were giggling away at his suffering.

“Sorry for waking you up.” You finally said after getting a hold of yourself. 

“It’s fine.” He yawned. “And you’ve always been able to see them?” The questions continued.

It piqued his curiosity, making him wonder if you came from a line of sorcerer’s or were unknowingly one yourself. He went with the former for now, most sorcerers realize they had abilities around 4-6 years old. It was least likely the latter since you were way past that age. 

“Yeah. I don’t see them often though. It’s actually my first time seeing one since coming to work here.” 

“That’s because Uraume usually takes care of them— here drink this.” Sukuna was quick to hand you the elixir that his assistant dropped off this morning. 

An elixir you were more than happy to take. Having children was normal at your age, but it was something you’d rather not do and you were glad he wasn’t pushing you to give him an heir. At least not right away.

You were still visibly disturbed as you recalled the early morning's events. He watched the wheels start to turn in your head as you tried to wrap your brain around what he could’ve possibly meant by that and what exactly he and Uraume were. 

“So are you two.. curses as well?” You tried to tie the loose ends of his slight vagueness.

“Sorcerer’s.” He corrected you. “Top of the food chain, sweetheart.” You could tell he was proud of that. 

Curse users if you wanted to get technical about it, since they used their abilities on more than just curses. But he wasn’t going to explain the whole thing to you. At least not right now, you two still had to get ready for the second day of the festival.

He briefly gave you a rundown on what a sorcerer was, and how they were able to kill curses— trying to get as much out before the servants and your ladies in waiting came to get you both ready for the day. You were still left with so many questions but ultimately decided it was enough for now and let it go. 

—

You quickly forgot about the curse as the second day of the festival went on.. along with the constant questioning from most of the concubines. Borderline annoying ones at this point since it’s clear they were trying to scope you out, but harmless nonetheless. 

“Did King Sukuna really allow you to sleep in his chambers last night?” 

How did they even know that?

“What position does he take you in?” 

Every single one.

“Which dish did you like most today?” 

You don’t care about what my favorite dish is.

“Did you know the king's favorite color is red?”

Did you know there’s seaweed stuck in your teeth?

Each question strayed further away from getting to know you and slowly moved to what Sukuna does with you and how close you were with him. 

Which was not close at all— given last night was the first time you actually spent time with him. And that was being generous with your verbiage. 

He fucked your brains out and had you sleep in bed with him. Oh, and he killed a giant bug-like apparition that was trying to kill you. 

But that was more so for him and the sleep he clearly wanted to get back to— reminding yourself that if anyone or thing were to kill you, it’d be Sukuna him-fucking-self.

But Saiga and Yumi were clearly threatened by your place there, so you did the honors of making your answers more palatable for them in order to validate their places in the king's life. 

“Yes, but it was late.”

“From the back of course!” 

“I think I enjoyed the pickled daikon and zaru soba the most.”

“No I didn’t, I don’t think the king would tell me that much about himself… haha..”

Sukuna watched as you downplayed your new role— somewhat proud (of you), somewhat frustrated (at them). He knew them well enough to know they’d harass you if you tried to act like you knew him more than they did. 

Which he was glad you didnt try to do. Yumi tried that at first in order to fit in and it failed miserably. The twins fucked with her for months and Yuna even joined along because: 

She’s kind of psychotic, like her shogun father who enjoys committing war crimes. 

She’s a child.

Were there consequences? No. It was quite entertaining for the king to watch them fight for his conditional love.

Would he still find it entertaining if they all the sudden ganged up on you? Who knows. And he doubts he’d ever find out since you played your cards right and didn’t fall for the trap. 

By the end of day two, they came to the conclusion that you were nothing more than a little toy to that man. 

A replaceable toy.

And that you may take all his nights for the rest of the week— the rest of the month even— but you’d always be the 3rd to last in place, Mariko and Yuna falling right behind you for obvious reasons. No threats here!

In fact, you did such a good job that the king decided to be extra nice to you that night— making you cum on his fingers, then his tongue, and then his fingers again with the help of his second tongue. 

Was it because deep down he wanted to prove them wrong? That you weren’t a replaceable fuck toy? He honestly didn’t even know at that point. Your moans were like music to his ears and he’d gladly listen to you all night long.

A king should never have to explain himself anyway.

It was so fucking much and you didn’t know what to do with yourself while he overstimulated and consoled you. Reminding you that your only job was to keep being a good girl and to keep cumming for him.

And you did. So much so that you were nearly delirious towards the end— breath shaking, legs shaking, tears, so many tears. 

You didn’t think you’d be so addicted to how he made you feel so soon, and he’d never think he’d become that addicted to making someone feel this way at all. 

Or maybe that was just the lust talking, he tried to justify as you fell asleep in his arms for the second night in a row.

Yeah. Maybe that was it. 

Maybe extra excitement was all that he needed these past couple of months. It’s not like he’s been getting much of that nowadays. He’s already killed off who he’s needed to kill off.. for now. 

Now everything’s calm— boring. Something that’s never settled with his soul. Never has, probably never will. 

Maybe he should take your ladies in waiting once the festival is over, release them into the forest, and hunt them down one by one. That would sure help keep him at bay.

What if he were to completely abandon that thought all together and just kick start another war instead? Nothing was more exhilarating than war.

Or should he just wait it out? 

The regions and districts were always fighting anyway. They’ll find another reason eventually. 

A reason he’ll never care about. He was never one to dabble into politics. Just tell him where to go and he’ll demolish both sides at the flick of a wrist, casualties were inevitable anyways. 

And what were they going to do about it? Punish him? Hah. 

By all means, come at him. 

Maybe it wasn’t that bad if one girl replaced these violent urges. Excitement was excitement. You were technically saving lives without even being aware of it, good girl. 

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he itched for it. He didn’t even know where the need came from. Just one day at 5 years old, he had the sudden idea to dismantle someone’s brain without even knowing what dismantle was. His innocent self did exactly just that. 

And he liked it. At 5 years old he was fortunate enough to stumble upon his true purpose in this life. 

Bringing people to their knees as he reigned absolute hell on earth.

—

The third day was the day things finally got interesting for the young king. You got ready in his chambers, as you did the day before. You asked him a couple more questions about himself, which he gladly answered.

You two didn’t talk more about what sorcery or curses were in front of the servants. He doesn’t like them knowing anything about it. It doesn’t stem from him trying to protect their feelings or anything, he just doesn’t think they should be allowed to listen in on those types of conversations or have access to that information.

The conversation never ran short though while they got you two ready side by side. But you did notice he was more stern with them being around. It was one of the many ways he kept the discipline and order around the estate. 

The last thing he needed was someone getting too comfortable and stepping out of line. It was something you needed to remind yourself too, and to not let the way he treats you behind closed doors get to your head.

He was a powerful figure in general, and didn’t mind using it to get what he wanted. To find out that he had literal powers was daunting, he was truly a monster and seemed proud of it. 

— 

Today you got a break from Yumi and the twins. You didn’t have any issues with them, even after yesterday's interrogation. You understood where they were coming from and couldn’t be too mad. But fuck— they were draining. 

You instead sat next to Mariko, who was extremely intimidating. The oldest out of all of the concubines, the wisest and most refined. She was the type of woman who could look into your eyes in the most sincere manner, and you’d still stutter. Elegant and despite the king not having sexual relations with her anymore, it made sense that he’s kept her around.

She wasn’t quick to introduce herself, but it felt genuine when she did. It’s as if she waited for you to get acclimated to the environment before going in and asking how you’ve been liking being a concubine so far. 

“It’s only been about a week since being moved to my new chambers, but it’s been nice so far.” You politely said.

“I’m glad to hear that. That’s where the king's mother used to live.” She admitted. 

“Is that so?” She smiled and nodded at your surprise. 

“She was also a very kind woman, which surprised a lot of us given who she gave birth to.” She chuckled. 

You cleared your throat in order to try to hold in a laugh. Who knew the most intimidating concubine had a sense of humor. It made you wonder what kind of conversations she had with Sukuna.

Sukuna watched as the two of you slowly got comfortable with each other, something he knew would happen since Mariko was the most mature out of all of them. He wanted your last day being forced to be with the other concubines to be somewhat peaceful. Hence why he had you sat at the edge with only Mariko sitting next to you.

He actually enjoyed the last day, up until he didn’t.

From the corner of one of his eyes he saw General Toji Zenin— who was in fact staring at you despite being accompanied by not one, but two of his wives. 

Greedy bastard. 

He was used to other men ogling at his concubines and usually took it as a compliment. 

But this was you, which made it a completely different situation in his mind. You had a whole backstory he didn’t know much about aside from the fact that you ran away to the shrine in order to seek asylum. 

Toji’s eyes weren’t filled with lust, desire, or attraction. He looked like he saw a ghost and was currently as white one. He looked like he had questions that would probably never be answered.

Scratch that— he’d never get answers if he did have questions, because he won’t ever get the chance to talk to you. 

Sukuna could promise that.

He knew of Toji very well actually, and at one point had more respect for him than most people despite never formally meeting him. At least before. 

His strength alone was comparable to an entire unit, maybe even surpassing that when you took his battle strategies into account. The man was the closest a normal human could ever get to being a monster. He was strong.

And what made this sight even more endearing was the fact that you were avoiding the generals gaze— he could fucking tell. 

Eyes shifting, playing with the hem of your clothing, obviously distracted while Mariko tells you all about her clan.

Now, Sukuna may not know much about you. But, what he does know is that you’re a fucking wildcard. Errant. Disorderly. Mischievous. 

And god help you— god help the entire fucking shrine— if you try to flirt your way out of this one.

The whole time, Toji is having a whole internal collapse after realizing that you were indeed who he thought you were. He spent months admiring you— he could point you out in a crowd full of people anytime, anywhere. 

Not only that, he was ready to marry you in a heartbeat. It would’ve saved your life of course, but he genuinely wanted you as a wife. Even if you asked him now, he would’ve much rather taken you to today's festival instead of his two wives that were accompanying him.

At first he was relieved to see that you were alive. This whole time he’d been secretly mourning over the possibility that you may have been dead— whether it was one of your brothers catching up to you or getting stranded, then starving to death in the woods. 

But that relief was quickly washed over with an overwhelming worry and fear over your life, after realizing you were now property of the morally depraved Ryomen Sukuna. 

Not only has he heard stories of him, but he’s seen the man in action years ago. A 17 year old Sukuna, way too eager to run into a battlefield– slicing, laughing, fucking levitating. Rumors about the death of his son were in the air, yet you’d never know with the smile plastered on his face while he effortlessly slaughtered thousands. 

He’d only heard tales of sorcerers at the time, and the teenager transcended whatever idea Toji had of them. An urban legend turned rational fear. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the level of power and depravity that he held.

Not before and definitely not now.

Sukuna continued to watch the tension that unfolded between you two as unfamiliar feelings arose in his chest— homicidal ones. 

Feelings that could only be soothed by the brilliance that was his meticulously refined domain, malevolent shrine.

All while an annoying merchant, that was the physical embodiment of an overly ripe plum, tried to strike a conversation with him over possibly backing his green tea business. 

Sukuna despises green tea.

And the unnatural pitch in the merchant's voice was the final straw— striking the fire that slowly formed in his chest, setting it ablaze throughout his entire being. 

Not only was Toji looking at you, but now so was the king. 

And unlike Toji who was looking at you like a wounded puppy, Sukuna was looking at you like he wanted to skin you alive.

And not only did you notice it, but so did Mariko and Uraume. They knew all too well what that look meant. 

It struck fear in the first concubine's heart because she actually grew to like you in the hour she’s gotten to speak with you. It struck dread in Uraume’s, knowing they’d most likely have to clean up what the man would eventually start. 

This was the first time you’ve ever truly felt seen by him and it wasn’t in a sweet, romantic way at all. It lacked love, it lacked empathy, it lacked anything that had to do with goodness. 

It was fucking sinister and made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

You no longer thought he was possessed by a demon, you concluded that Sukuna would simply never allow that. 

You tried to relax your breathing, you slowly stopped fiddling with your clothes, you tried to fix your demeanor and sit it up as straight as you could—

Your pathetic little attempts to get it together and act normal have all but failed. Fear had officially struck deep into your bones the longer he stared at you.

Your eyes begged for his mercy and his told you to shut the fuck up. 

And in that moment, you realized the curse that appeared in his chambers could’ve multiplied by the thousands, and they still would have never compared to Sukuna’s overwhelming intensity.

Making you truly understand his earned title, The King of Curses.

next chapter

notes: even the king himself gets jealous, jumps to conclusions, and threatens to lay out his domain <3

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TOMORROW'S ESCAPE

SYNOPSIS: set in 2030, sunghoon park has been your favorite idol for years since he saved your life. however, after a tragic accident, sunghoon ends up passing away. unable to deal with the heartbreak of losing your favorite idol, you ask the world for a chance to save sunghoon. after hearing your desperate pleas, the universe sends you back in time to when you coincidentally went to high school with him back in 2024. getting a second chance to set things right and save your favorite idol, you're ready to do just about anything to make sure he lives in the future. however, things prove to be difficult as you move through the past uncovering hidden feelings while also trying to save yourself in the process. in the end, is it truly possible to escape fate?

heavily inspired by the kdrama "lovely runner" !!

PAIRING: sunghoon x f!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, humor

FEATURING: jake of enhypen, jay of enhypen, and heeseung of enhypen

WARNINGS: mentions of cigarettes, topic of death, cursing

TAGLIST: please reply to this post or send a message to my inbox to be added !!

UPDATE SCHEDULE: every two days (or so) at 10pm est

STATUS: ongoing

STARTED: 05/19/24

ENDED: ???

PLAYLIST

PROFILES: 1 | 2 | 3

PROLOGUE

001 . . . bffr

002 . . . the old me

003 . . . strong and sturdy

004 . . . feeling good

005 . . . plz plz plz

006 . . . doxxed, swatted, and glitter bombed

007 . . . enemies to friends

008 . . . marriage or death

009 . . . just get married

010 . . . tba

A/N: tysm to @shuamorollss for making this banner for me!! and ty to everybody who's reading <3 this kdrama is my current obsession so im very excited to write this!! and PLZ IGNORE THE TIMESTAMPS!! i will adjust it from 2024 to 2030 accordingly, but the actual times and dates don't matter!! the 2023 timeline starts in MAY!!!

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

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

Match

Summary: Starting a relationship with with the girl he hated was a terrible idea.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, enemies to lovers, meandom!sunghoon, brat!reader, humiliation, degradation, swearing, Powerplay? Reader says no but means yes?

Word count: 11.3k I think 🤔

A/N: @stinkoscope you are not allowed to give me any more ideas 😤

Being an idol was lonely.

This was something that Park Sunghoon had learned the hard way. Yes, he had his fellow members, but the attention and companionship that he craved was something that six other men could never provide for him. Sure, he had millions of fans, girls that would die to get close to him. But they only knew his persona. The pretty smile and introverted charm, played up to entice young girls to swoon over him. The bulging biceps and blade sharp jawline crafted purely to increase album sales. The world knew Park Sunghoon, but they didn't know just Sunghoon.

He was lonely.

He was lonely, and longing for a connection deeper than the brief brushes with the opposite sex that he was used to. But he was still Sunghoon. Which meant that despite his loneliness, he was also awfully shy and introverted. He was exceptionally bad at flirting, and pitiful when it came to holding a conversation with a pretty girl. In fact, Sunghoon couldn't hold a conversation with any girl.

Except for his self-proclaimed nemesis.

Sunghoon thought she was evil personified. Standing at almost five foot two, he could never wrap his head around how her short frame could contain so much malice. He had met her after striking an amazing brand deal with an extremely influential company. He recalled how excited he had been to sign contracts with the company.

He had taken extra care that one fateful day to sculpt every strand of hair on his head, to make sure there wasn't a speck of lint on his neat clothes. The CEO had been running just a tad late, leaving Sunghoon to sit at the long rectangular meeting table, drumming his fingers lightly against the dark mahogany wood. He was actually quite comfortable being all alone, when the giant door swung open. If Sunghoon was being honest, he didn't actually see her at first. Rather, he didn't see her face at first. Instead, he saw two giant pitchers of iced americano coffee, clearly too heavy for the tiny person holding them.

She teetered in what Sunghoon guessed were probably six inch heels, her pretty french tipped toes peeking out. He almost had no control over his eyes as they raked up her body, his long legs crossing at the ankle as he took her in. Two smooth, molten brown legs, thick thighs and hips that were struggling against the tightness of her short skirt. It was making him salivate a bit, thinking of how nice it'd be to stuff his face between those pretty thighs. He was quite taken by the way her waist dipped in, leading up to what may have been the prettiest pair of tits that he had ever had the chance to ogle at. Her face was just as pretty. Full, glossy lips, the kind that made him fantasize. About feeling them against his own, feeling them puckered against the sensitive spots on his neck, watching them suckle and shine prettily as she slobbered and gagged on his dickhead grinding into the back of her throat. A cute little button nose, that he'd enjoy kissing affectionately as he rearranged her guts, or maybe it'd tickle his tummy and he'd gently pinch it shut just a bit when he forced her mouth down to the base of his thick cock. Big round eyes, shiny, and innocent, and doll like. He wanted to watch those pretty chocolate eyes water and roll back in her head as her cunt locked around his dick. Sunghoon blushed at the tent forming in his pants, embarrassment overtaking him at the dirty thoughts playing in his head.

She had her phone between her shoulder and ear, huffing lightly at whomever was on the other end.

"Yes, I'm setting up for it right now. Where are you?" She clearly wasn't paying attention to where she was going.

Because she tripped over Sunghoon's foot in those ridiculously high heels, dumping one of the two gallons of coffee all over him. She squealed, whether in surprise at seeing him or because she tripped and spilled her coffee, Sunghoon wasn't sure but he was immediately annoyed that he found the sound cute.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I didn't see yo-"

"Clearly. Do you always go around not paying attention to anything around you?" Sunghoon was usually much better at keeping his cool, but she had totally ruined all of the work he had put into looking nice today. His white button down was soaked, his formerly perfect hair dripping all over the floor.

"Well. Who sits with their legs stretched all the way out like that? You were bound to trip someone." She was also usually much better at keeping her cool, but there was something about this gorgeous man that was already grating her nerves.

"Oh, so this is my fault? Maybe you wouldn't be so fucking clumsy if you weren't waking around in those dumbass stilts." He snapped.

"These 'dumbass stilts' cost more than your entire fucking life, you-"

"Do you know who you're talking to? If I were you, I'd shut the fuck up. Before you piss me off and get yourself fired."

"Fired?" She sounded like she had never even heard of the word.

"Fuck you." With that, she tossed the remaining pitcher on him as well.

"What the fu-"

He was cut off by the CEO entering the room. She automatically wiped the cocky grin off her face, not daring to say another word.

"What's the matter?" Sunghoon asked smugly, ringing the ice cold liquid out of his ruined shirt.

"Afraid of getting in trouble with the boss? I hope he fires you for your incompetence and lack of brain cells." He hissed. And as smug as Sunghoon was feeling, she seemed to be much smugger.

"What happened here?" The CEO inquired.

"I tripped and spilled a little coffee on him." She shrugged.

"Good grief. You'll have to forgive my granddaughter, Sunghoon. She can be a bit clumsy." Sunghoon's jaw physically dropped.

"Granddaughter?" He gasped. He made the mistake of looking at her, and it almost felt like she was telepathically telling him;

"That's right, bitch. Have fun getting me fired."

From that day onward, she made Sunghoon's life hell. His once glorious partnership was now more like torture. He hoped to just ignore her, to feign politness whenever he had to and keep to himself. It might've worked had she not been assigned to work with him throughout the entire partnership. Even though he figured it'd be best to apologize and squash any ill feelings between them, he couldn't force himself to do it. Not when she'd stick her cute little nose in the air whenever he was around. Not when she'd smile and bat her pretty eyelashes at other men, but cross her arms over her gorgeous breasts and tell him to kiss her ass. Sunghoon was just as bad. He was all smiles while the CEO was present, but as soon as he was gone, Sunghoon was telling her to go fuck herself and flipping her off.

Of course she'd be the only woman he had the nerve to talk to.

And that's what led him to talking to a matchmaker, specializing in discreet celebrity relationships, provided by Hybe. She was an older woman with stern eyes but a warm smile.

His palms were sweating, fingers tapping nervously at his thighs as he answered all of her questions about what he was looking for in a potential partner.

He felt the blood drain from his face as she began questioning his sexual preferences.

"If you don't want to tell me, it's fine. I'm not going to make you. But the more details you give me, the more accurate your match will be. And believe me, honey, I've been in this business for quite some time. I've heard it all, and I've heard it from every idol you can imagine. No need to be embarrassed."

Hearing this only made him feel slightly better. She shook her head and removed her glasses, an amused smile on her face as if she was reasoning with a kid about something trivial.

"It's OK, Sunghoon. I promise this stays between me and you. The only other person who'll know about any of this will be whomever you match with and set a date up with. And they'll only know because their preferences will be compatible with yours, ok? So don't be shy. I'll ask the question again. Do you prefer a woman who is dominant, submissive, or either?" This conversation was making him feel like he was going to faint from embarrassment.

"Submissive." He replied quietly. 'Though I am quite fond of brats,' He thought to himself.

"Ok. And what are some things that you'd consider turn ons?" If she noticed the way he gulped at her question, she didn't make it obvious.

"I like brats." He blurted. And from there he couldn't stop the word vomit. He told her everything. Every kink, every fantasy he had, he let it all out. Before he knew it, he was red in the face, hard in his jeans and desperate to fuck. He fiddled with his long fingers as he listened to her typing away at her keyboard, eyes squinting as she read over the information in her database.

"That can't be right." She mumbled, sliding her chrome frames back onto her face before typing frantically again.

"Hmm.....it is right. Guess there's a first time for everything. Well," The matchmaker started. "Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?" Sunghoon braced himself for both.

Typical.

"I'll take the bad news first."

"You've only got one match. There's only one woman in my entire system who is a similar age, has similar interests, and the same sexual preferences as you. So if things don't work out with her, then I won't say there's no hope for you, but I can't help you." She folded her hands together, watching him visibly deflate over the rim of her glasses.

"And the good news?"

"In order for this program to consider two people a match, you have to score at least 50% compatible in three different categories. Interest, personality type, and sexual preferences. Between those three categories, most of the time the people I put together are around 55 to 60% compatible. The highest score I've ever paired were 70% compatible, and they ended up happily married with children." Sunghoon huffed irritably. He was not in the mood for stories.

"Ok, but what does that have to do with me?"

"The one girl that you're compatible with...She's a 97% match for you."

Sunghoon was at a loss for words.

"97%?!"

"Yup. 97%. That's a new record for me in my matching career, it's quite exciting don't you think?" She glanced up from gazing at a chip in her manicure when he remained silent. She had to force a giggle down at the expression on his face.

"I can see you're in shock, hun. So this is what I'll do: Here is.... her contact information. I want you to get in touch with her. Now, don't go getting all shy and bashful on me. You can do it. Just remember, you're her almost perfect match. She's looking for all of the same things you are."

Sunghoon's arms felt like jelly as he gripped the piece of paper with her information on it. He listened through cotton filled ears as she told him her name, snorting as it just so happened to be the name of his literal enemy. Before she could say much else, he got a call saying that his car had arrived to take him back to his dorm. He stood almost robotically, thanking her and bowing politely before leaving her office. His brain felt too full on the elevator ride down to the car, but the cool, smooth leather seats helped him to relax. He glanced again at the contact information on the paper. He figured he may as well call whoever this girl was now because once he was back at the dorm, privacy would be a thing of the past. He typed the number in, gnawing at his lip as it rang once, twice before someone picked up.

"What the fuck do you want, Sunghoon?" Sunghoon felt every drop of blood drain from his face, and a deep pit open up in his stomach. Without thinking, he hung the phone up.

No.

Please. Anyone but her.

Sunghoon probably scared his poor driver half to death with the frustrated holler he let out. Of all people, of all three point eight billion women on this planet, his least favorite one of all was his match. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, tossing the phone to the side in anger.

Sunghoon was going to be alone forever.

He pouted childishly at the thought. But then the matchmakers words began to play back in his mind. A 97% match. He only matched with her because she had the same interests. Because their personalities would supposedly mesh well together if they could ever stop arguing. She apparently liked a lot of the same things as he did.

She apparently had the same kinks as he did.

His eyes grew wide with that realization, his dick twitching in interest. He quickly dismissed the thought as the car pulled up to his dorm building. He breathed a sigh of relief. He needed advice. He sprinted to the elevator, impatiently jabbing the button. He shifted anxiously from foot to foot as the elevator slowly crawled to his floor, bursting out of the doors before they were even all the way open. Before he knew it, he was slamming his front door shut behind him, kicking his shoes off and yelling for his friends. He found them in the kitchen eating, curious eyes watching him as he huffed breathlessly.

"So," Jungwon drawled slowly, crater-like dimples flexing as he smirked almost knowingly. "How'd it go with the matchmaker?"

As Sunghoon told them his story, he swore he could've punched each and every one of them for laughing at his misfortune.

"It's not funny, you dickheads! What am I supposed to fucking do? We hate each other!" He whined. Jay had to wipe the tears from his eyes before offering his advice.

"Sunghoon. Haven't you ever watched one of those ridiculously cheesy romance movies where the two main characters think they hate each other, but really they're in love? Because those two emotions, love and hate, are so strong that some people, some really dense, really fucking dumb people, get them confused." Jay mused.

"...So what you're saying is that I'm the main character. Because that's all I heard." He tried to hind behind his smirk, but he was inwardly having a panic attack.

"No, he's saying call her, stupid. I don't know about anybody else, but if someone told me that somewhere out there was a chick that had a personality, interests, and sexual preferences that matched mine almost perfectly, nothing could stop me from seeing her. Like nothing. So pull your head out of your ass and text her." Jake made it sound so easy.

So Sunghoon called her. Except he may've pressed *67 first to block his name from showing up on her caller ID. And he might've deepened his voice just a bit so she wouldn't recognize it was him. And he found it was much easier to set up a date with her the following night, by lying and telling her his name was Parker. Which was almost true in his opinion. His last name, Park and Parker are basically the same thing, right? As the minutes ticked by, he only got more nervous. He had to get dressed for the date three times as he couldn't stop his nervous sweating. He gave himself a final once over in the mirror, admiring the way the expensive yet simple outfit, just a black button down and slacks, clung to his lean, toned frame just right.

'Shit.' He thought to himself. 'I'd fuck me.'

With that boost of confidence, he was snagging the pretty bouquet of flowers off of his bed, bidding his friends farewell and making his way down to his waiting car. He was hit with a refreshing burst of cool air from the AC as he climbed into the back of the van. He fiddled with his watch and bracelets as he contemplated how he'd go about this entire ordeal.

Starting a relationship with a lie was a bad idea. Starting a relationship with the girl he hated with a lie was a terrible idea.

He groaned to himself, almost in disbelief at the situation he had gotten himself into. There was nothing he could do at this point except tell the truth and attempt to mend their already strained relationship. He figured she'd probably yell. Maybe toss another drink at him. He kind of deserved it for lying, honestly. His thoughts were cut off by the driver alerting him that they had arrived, albeit a bit late because the street had been blocked to deter any persistent paparazzi. Because of the nature of their potentially budding relationship, the entire restaurant had been rented out for their privacy, and his car would stay outside the door of the restaurant waiting for him to finish his date. The street seemed unusually empty as Sunghoon stepped out, spotting a lone person sitting at a candlelit table inside.

He watched her through the window of the restaurant, feeling like his brain had hiccuped and cleared out most of his nervousness. She was glowing in the soft candlelight, the reflection of the flames dancing across her melanated skin. She had gotten all dolled up just for him. Straightened her jet-black locks, so they cascaded down her back like ocean waves at midnight. She'd put on that pretty gloss that made his tip twitch with the need to feel the back of her throat. Sunghoon had to count backwards from ten to calm himself down. Flowers in tow, he pushed open the heavy oak door, silently cursing the tiny jingling bell. She looked up from gazing at the menu in front of her, a skinny glass of wine swirling in her hand.

"You're late, Mr. Park." She crooned, siren eyes drinking in every inch of his body.

Sunghoon's dick was more than halfway hard in his slacks.

"Are you just going to stand there gawking at me?" She leaned forward just a bit, giving him a birds eye view of the delectable cleavage spilling from her corseted top.

"Or are you going to join me?" She purred, and Sunghoon almost barked.

He crossed the room in long, confident strides, opting to sit directly across from her so he could enjoy the view.

"You knew it was me?"

"How dumb do you think I am, Sunghoon? You do know that once we matched, I got a phone call from the matchmaker, right? She called me to let me know that someone would probably be getting in touch with me about a date. And then you called, and as soon as you heard my voice you hung up... And twenty minutes later somebody named "Parker", who sounded eerily similar to you called from a blocked number asking me out on a date."

"...What gave me away, though?"

"Everything, Sunghoon! You're such an idiot." She rolled her eyes. He couldn't help but to admire her profile as she gazed out the window, arms crossed in a display of dissatisfaction.

"I got these for you." He mumbled into the thick silence, awkwardly thrusting out the expensive bouquet. Her eyes softened just a little at the sight.

They were lilies. Her favorite.

"They're really pretty, Sunghoon. Thank you." Sunghoon swore he felt a bolt of lightning shoot through him when she reached for the flowers, and her fingers brushed against his.

"So.... who saw this coming?"

"Not me." She answered quickly.

"Yeah, I never would've guessed we had anything in common. But apparently, we're 97% compatible. I don't even really believe it, to be honest." Sunghoon shrugged.

"I know. How could I have anything in common with a pretentious prick like you?" Even as she was spewing such a mean insult, her long nails were still softly caressing the flowers that Sunghoon had brought her.

"I'm pretentious? Fuck you. There's no way I could've matched so high with such a spoiled little princess." He scoffed.

So much for being civil.

"Shut up, Sunghoon. I don't even know why I'm here. Why either one of us is here. We both know we hate each other, and despite whatever stupid score we got, the two of us would never work out. So I'd appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut for the next five minutes so I can finish this glass of wine in peace and leave." She tucked a long dark stand of hair behind her ear, revealing an adorable tiny tattoo shaped like a miniscule ice skate.

"Do you skate?" Sunghoon blurted.

"What?"

"I- your tattoo. It's an ice skate." He pointed to her ear.

"Oh. Yeah, I used to, when I was a teenager. Why?"

"I used to skate when I was a teenager, too. I was pretty good."

"Good for you.... Didn't I tell you to stop talking to me?" She sassed, a perfectly arched brow raising.

"Listen. Outside of work, I don't take orders from you, sweetheart. Besides... we both know you'd prefer to be the one getting bossed around." The sight of her flustering made the entire night worth it in Sunghoon's eyes. She bit her lip, holding in her retort much to Sunghoon's delight.

"Did you think I forgot about that little part? You're my almost perfect match in every way, aren't you? So if I had to guess... I'd say you're probably a bad little brat who enjoys getting put in her place, huh? A submissive little doll that wants to be treated rough, spanked and edged, and overstimulated. I bet it burns you up knowing that I can give you exactly what you need, doesn't it?" Now that he had figured out how to unnerve her, he'd never quit.

Sunghoon didn't miss the way the pupils in her big eyes dilated, the way her chest was beginning to heave with deeper breaths. She wasn't loving the way his eyes darkened as he stood up, circling her chair as he looked at her. Like she was prey and he was the predator. He came to a halt behind her, teasingly leaning down into her space, his arms firm against the table on either side of her, caging her in from behind.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that." She warned, shakily. Sunghoon was having too much fun, finally gaining the upper hand over her.

"Or what? What're you gonna do, little girl? Hmm?" Her dilated eyes went glossy at the nickname.

"What's wrong, pretty? Are you embarrassed that I know your dirty little secrets? Poor spoiled brat. I wonder what your granddad would think if he knew. If he knew his precious granddaughter was actually a perverted slut that gets off on being used and degraded." His right hand boldly gripped her jaw, turning her head towards him fast enough to make her choke on a gasp.

"Sunghoon-"

"Daddy. You can call me 'Daddy', baby."

"Who's the perv now?" Sunghoon was more than attracted to that spark of defiance in her eyes.

"You're just as bad. You get off on torturing pretty girls and making them call you 'Daddy'. You want me to fight back. To act up. So you can discipline me, degrade me, dominate me, because it makes your puny little dick hard, you pathetic loser." His response was a chuckle.

"You really are my perfect match."

Sunghoon threw a ₩50000 note on the table to cover the cost of her single glass of wine before gripping her hand tightly in his.

"Let's go."

"Let's go where? We're not fucking, Sunghoon."

"Stop acting like a snobby bitch. I know you want it. Your pathetic little cunt is probably leaking out past your panties for me. So be a good girl and come the fuck on."

"No." Even though her tone sounded resolute, her eyes were begging him to take control.

So he did.

He swiftly grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her body into his chest. The squeal she let out ended up getting swallowed between their lips as Sunghoon gently brought them together. With her pressed so close to him, he could feel her heart racing with excitement at the feeling of his warm tongue slowly lapping at her bottom lip. She melted into him, plump lips separating to feel his wet tongue roll sensually over hers. He fucked her pretty glossy lips with his tongue, thrusting it into the recesses of her throat and listening to her breath hitch in ecstasy. He pulled away slowly, teasingly brushing his lips against hers again and again until she was whining.

"If you're a good girl, I'll give you more kisses. On your pretty lips... your pretty tits... and your pretty pussy. You want that, don't you, Doll?

"Maybe......" She confessed in a tiny voice.

"Come on, sweetheart. Admit it. You want to fuck me. Don't you?"

"You can kiss my ass, Sunghoon."

"...Get in the car, you fucking brat."

She didn't put up too much more of a fight as he dragged her out the door and into the back of the black escalade waiting for them.

"Where to sir?" His driver asked politely, and Sunghoon felt a grinch like grin take over his face as she gave him her address.

"I don't know what you're smiling for, Sunghoon. I gave him my address so I could go home. Alone." She just couldn't help bursting his bubble.

Gripping her by the back of her neck was slowly becoming Sunghoon's favorite thing, a desperate whimper escaping her as he pulled her into yet another searing kiss. The back of the van filled with the sounds of their lips smacking together and swapping spit. Sunghoon took hold of her hand and placed it on his straining bulge, eyes falling shut in pleasure. She immediately responded, gripping and stroking his length in a way that had his head falling back on his shoulders. His eyes shot back open at the feeling of her taking her hand away.

"Did I say you could stop?"

"No, but I- the partition. I was just going to close the window so your driver can't see or hear you moaning like a bitch anymore." She whispered.

"Leave the partition open. I want him to listen to you slut your pretty little throat out for me in the back of his car like the dirty fucking whore that you are." If she wasn't leaking out all over the place before, she certainly was now.

"Or maybe I should let him hear you cum all over my fingers. Let him hear your pretty moans for me, hmm?" He whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine.

"Are you dense? I told you already. We aren't fucking." The breathless lilt in her voice was giving her away.

"We'll see, brat. Clearly, you need some dick. Maybe you'll be less of a bitch after a good fuck."

She didn't trust herself to respond, instead crossing her arms and scooting as far away from him as she could get. Sunghoon was having none of it, not only scooting closer to her but gripping a thick thigh in his big hand as well. She tried to keep her gaze cast toward the window, attempting to appear unfazed. But as his hand slowly reached closer and closer to her heat, she finally broke, her fiery irises meeting his own. She tried to stop his wrist from inching up any higher, clamping her thighs together stubbornly.

"Don't."

"What's the matter, baby? Don't want me to feel how wet I'm making you?"

"I swear, if you touch me...." Her pulse was racing in excitement, her body all worked up over just a few simple touches.

"What?" He challenged. "You mean if I do this?"

He pried her thighs open with his left hand, his right making its way up to feel the wet heat radiating from her core. Sunghoon felt his pride swell ten fold at the feeling of her sopping wet panties.

He also felt her tiny palm swiftly connect with the side of his face. He gasped softly, eyes closing as the warmth from her smacking him lit a fire inside of him. The heat causing his length to begin to gently throb, an ache forming in the pit of his stomach. His lust heavy lids opened just enough for her to see the desire swirling in them.

"You're in a shitload of trouble now, brat."

She hated him. She hated him. So why couldn't she remember ever feeling this excited before in her entire life? Her thoughts were interrupted by the driver alerting them of their arrival.

Sunghoon was outside of the car, opening her door before she had a chance to blink. She took the hand he offered her, thanking the driver as she stepped out gracefully. She started towards the big iron front doors of her enormous house, glancing over her shoulder at Sunghoon.

"I felt how wet you were in the car. You plan on taking care of that all by your lonesome?" He called out to her in a soft voice. He could see her hesitate just a bit, her keys shaking as she turned them in the lock.

"I know how you feel about me. How we feel about each other. But you need me right now. Let me make you feel good, baby?"

He didn't wait for her response, boldly letting his driver know that he could leave. He stood, watching as she crossed the threshold of those giant doors, leaving them open behind her. Sunghoon didn't need any more of an invitation, jogging up the front steps and entering her dark foyer. By the time he had shut the door behind him, she was gone, leaving him to take in the breathtaking sight of her house alone. She really was a spoiled little brat living in luxury.

"Brat? Where'd you go, darling?" He could hear a muffled giggle from somewhere in the house.

"Oh? Are we playing a game? Come out, come out wherever you are...." He grinned in amusement, flipping on a light here and there to aid in his search.

"In here," She answered. Sunghoon found her in the kitchen, stirring up a drink in her hand.

"Somaek. For you." His favorite. How did she know? As he sipped his drink, he couldn't help but notice how much shorter she was without those insane heels she was always wearing.

"You're short as hell."

"Shut up. I'm not short. You're just freakishly tall."

"No," Just to piss her off, he rested his elbow on the top of her head casually. "You're definitely short." She swatted his arm away with a huff.

"I don't think I've ever seen you without those ridiculous heels on. It's kind of cute how tiny you are. I could pick you up and manhandle you any way I want to. Like this." His big hands encompassed her waist, easily lifting her up to sit on top of her massive island. He kept his grip around her waist as he leaned into her ear.

"Or I could bend you over the counter and fuck you dumb if I wanted to. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He kissed her ear gently, lips journeying down to place soft kisses into the crook of her neck.

"I don't th-think so." He pulled back to look her deep in her eyes.

"Oh, Honey. I know so."

He took his time connecting their lips this time, teasing her with soft pecks until she was squirming against the counter, his button down balled up in her fists. He relented when he felt her legs wrap around his waist impatiently, pulling him in as close as he could get. With her legs around his waist, his cock settled right against her core, the short skirt of her dress riding up to reveal a sticky dark stain on her panties. He began gently grinding into her wetness, nipping her lip as she started to grind back against him.

"Sunghoon." She sighed, a squeak escaping her lips as he dug his slender fingers into her waist.

"What's my name?" He warned.

"Park Sunghoon." She tittered defiantly.

"You'll learn, baby. Even if it takes me all night to teach you. You'll learn....." He yanked her off of the counter, pushing her to her knees on the cold marble floor. She watched with doe eyes as he unbuckled his belt, tossing it aside before unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks.

"That my name...." He pushed his slacks and boxers down just enough for his hard length to spring free. He was big. Much bigger than she had been expecting. Long and fat, with three juicy veins bulging enticingly. His pink tip was already coated in precum, leaking profusely in anticipation. At the sight of his dick, her mouth began to water, mind hyperfixating on the need to feel and taste him in her mouth.

"... is Daddy."

He gave her no time to mentally prepare herself, gripping a handful of her thick locks in one hand as the other held her jaw open. He felt warm breath hit the tip of his dick before her full lips were closing around his head and suckling slowly. He let out a hot, drawn out moan at the feeling, fucking his thick head in and out of her lips. She hummed back in approval, the vibration sending a harsh shiver down his spine. He used his grip on her hair to pull her deeper onto his cock, panting as she made it almost halfway before gagging harshly.

"Gagging already? I'm not even halfway in yet. What was it you said back at the restaurant? Something about me having a puny dick? Does it still feel puny now?" He teased, pushing just far enough to make her gag again. She gurbled around his length, making him laugh menacingly.

"Didn't your parent ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

She gagged again as he thrust just a little too deep down her throat, tears filling her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. He pinched her nose shut, pushing in as deep as she'd let him, only letting her breathe when he saw her eyes start to roll back a bit.

"Look at you. You put up such a fight, but now you're gagging and sucking my dick like a whore. You've probably been soaking your panties since the day we met, dreaming about this."

Sunghoon was quite taken with the sight in front of him. Her mascara left streaks of black running down her face, her lips slick with spit and precum.

"I want you to suck me in as deep as you can. Wanna feel how good your throat game is."

She held on to his hips, head nuzzling closer to him as she took his length down her throat. When the warm tip of her nose met his groin, she swallowed, making his eyes nearly cross at the feeling of her contracting around his length.

"Good girl." He moaned, unable to stop himself from rutting into her face. He could feel the drag of her uvula over the rim of his dick, causing him to shudder. His head fell back onto his shoulders, hips picking up speed as he fucked her face. She continued to gag harshly around him, pulling off of his length as she coughed and gasped for air.

"Still think my dick is puny?" He taunted, looking down his nose at her as she attempted a normal breathing pattern. She felt herself growing impossibly wetter as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside and allowing her to ogle at his defined abs and pecs.

"Teeny tiny. Itty bitty dick." She rasped, voice hoarse from his girthy length pulverizing her throat.

"If it's so tiny, then come deep throat me again."

She obliged, completely unprepared for the way Sunghoon trapped her head between the counter and his hips, pistoning away into her mouth. She sputtered around his length, attempting to suck and swallow in rhythm with his thrusting. She was already embarrassed at the mess of wetness that he was going to discover between her thighs, her slickness dripping more profusely at the sound of his grunts and moans.

"Are you gonna be a good brat for me? And swallow up every drop of cum I give you? Hmm?" He grunted.

She nodded, the feeling of her head bobbing up and down, making his balls tighten with the need to cum.

"You want it? I'll give it to you if you want it in your mouth, baby. Give you this big fucking load right down your nasty slut throat. Fill your tummy with my nut." His voice cracked and slurred, clearly on the cusp of orgasm.

"Mhmmmm." She moaned, the vibration of her voice combined with the wet spongey texture of the back of her throat sending him over the edge.

He tugged her forward a final time, a gruff cry escaping him as he painted the inside of her mouth white with his cum. She could feel every pulse, every ache, every throb as he spilled in her mouth, shaking from his climax. She took every last drop just as he had asked of her, enjoying the feeling of his warm, gooey cum filling every available nook and cranny in her mouth. He pulled her off of his length with a pop, tugging her to her feet as he tried to come down from his high.

"Bed-bedroom?" He stuttered, still dazed. She grasped his hand, leading him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to what he presumed was her room. It was over the top, dramatic and expensive and definitely her.

"Turn around." She turned, holding her hair up as he slid the zipper to her dress down slowly. It hit the ground with a soft thud, the material pooling around her ankles. He was pleasantly surprised to see she was wearing only a skimpy pair of panties. His lips connected with the crook of her neck once again, his rough hands coming around her body to squeeze and kneed at her tits. He pinched at her sensitive nipples, grinning at the helpless little yelp she let out. He walked her forward towards the bed, never once disconnecting his lips from her neck as he viciously tore her panties.

"Hey! Those were expensive, dickwad!" The room rang with the sound of his palm meeting her ass.

"Dickwad? Is that what you're supposed to call me?" Her brain turned into mush as his hand crept around her front and rubbed over the folds of her cunt. She leaned her head back on his shoulder, straining to meet his eyes. His dim, lusty eyes stoked the fire blazing in the pit of her stomach.

"N-no?"

"What are you supposed to call me, brat?" His fingers dipped between her folds, rolling lightly over her clit.

"Daddy." She moaned, attempting to rock her hips into his palm.

"That's right, little girl. Daddy. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I fucking h-hate you."

Maybe Sunghoon should've gone to seek psychiatric help instead of romantic help. Because surely there was something wrong with his brain for finding her disdain for him so sexy.

"You hate me?" Every hair on her body was standing at attention at the noticeably deeper octave in his voice. He pushed her onto the bed roughly, drinking in the sight of her splayed across the sheets, his for the taking. He pushed her legs wide open, eyes locked with hers as her warm thighs emanated a soothing warmth to the sides of his face.

"You let me in your house, though. You got on your knees and let me fuck your pretty little face. You swallowed every drop of my cum like a dick drunk whore. You hate me.... but your little pussy is so wet for me. Tell me how you hate me again, brat."

"I-fuck!" Her sentence was cut off at the feeling of Sunghoon's pretty lips ghosting over clit.

"Go on. I'm listening." He taunted, waiting for her to speak.

"I hate-shit!" He lightly sucked her swollen bud into his mouth, milking it between his pink lips. She squirmed beneath him, shivering as he sucked deeper against her clit before letting go with an audacious pop. The eye contact was beginning to be to intense for her, her lids falling shut as he lapped at the wetness spilling from her.

"So fucking wet. Is this all because of me? I knew you wanted me." He laughed quietly.

"It's not funny, you a-asshole! You're ma-making me so fucking s-sensitive." She moaned, breath catching in her throat as he began kissing all over her quivering bud.

"Damn. For such a bitter woman, your pussy tastes so fucking sweet."

"Shut. The fuck. Up." She gasped, hips stuttering beneath his face.

"I don't think I will. You're so fucking pretty, all wet and sensitive and needy for me. I can't wait to fuck you, brat. Can't wait to feel your pretty little cunt milking my dick."

She was slowly becoming wetter and wetter from the sight in front of her. Of Sunghoon grinding his stiffening dick into her silk sheets, rough hands gripping her waist. His face buried between her thighs, brows creased in concentration as he tongued at the hood of her clit. Sharp eyes, switching between watching her every move and fluttering shut in appreciation of the sweet taste on his tongue. She whimpered as she tentatively ran her fingers through his locks, gripping his roots in a tight fist. The feeling of her fingers in his hair caused him to look up, a moan escaping his throat at her hardened nipples and tiny cries.

"That feels so fucking good." She breathed, her thighs tremoring in anticipation. Her jaw dropped in disbelief as Sunghoon's smirking face dipped even lower, sloppily licking over her tight asshole.

"Sunghoon!" She gasped in shock.

"I'm not buying your little prude act, sweetheart. Not when you're dripping all over the place. Feel good?" She covered her face and nodded shyly, and Sunghoon thought he could've died from how cute the sight was.

"I like playing with your cute little asshole, baby. Maybe one day you'll let me fuck it?" He goaded.

"Your ti-tiny dick wouldn't last thirty se-seconds in my ass." She moaned.

"Weren't you just choking and gagging a minute ago?"

He doubled down in his efforts, sucking harshly against her clit, eager to be inside of her. The sound of her loud cries and ragged, breathless whining was music to his ears. She was babbling out nonsense, empty minded as she unconciously locked her legs around his head, rutting desperately into his mouth.

"Close! Wanna cum so bad. Please, please, please?" She begged, back arching deeply off the bed as her body began to shake.

"Cum in Daddy's mouth, slut."

She hummed a satisfied moan before flooding his mouth with her juices. He watched her from below, dick getting impossibly harder as her eyes went hazy with pleasure, plump lips separating to release the prettiest cries he had ever heard. She tugged the hell out of his roots, forcing his tongue against her clit as she shamelessly ground her wet slit into his mouth. He took it all in stride, sucking and licking wherever he could as she slowly came back down. She pushed his head away with a whine as he kept kissing all over her sensitive clit. He crawled up her body, leaving blooming hickeys here and there as she attempted to catch her breath. When he reached her lips, she was surprised at the tenderness he kissed her with, her stomach erupting in butterflies.

"Was it good, baby?" He mumbled against her lips.

"So good, Daddy." She sighed back, wrapping her short legs around his waist. He groaned at the feeling of his dick nuzzling through her wetness, her sticky lips coating his shaft in her cum. He buried his head into the crook of her neck, low whines escaping him as he began grinding into her slit.

"Fuck. 'M gonna fuck you so good. Have this pretty pussy gushing for me all night long." He whispered, nipping roughly at her ear.

"You're all talk." She just didn't know when to quit.

"Yeah? Let's see if I'm all talk, or if you spend the rest of tonight screaming and cumming on my dick." She felt him reach down, lining his tip up with her still sensitive entrance. He pulled back to look into her eyes, beyond pleased to see the same urgency reflecting back.

He pushed his wide head against the tight hole of her entrance, a choked whimper getting caught in his throat as his tip stretched her little opening. Her brows furrowed, lips falling open in a loud whine as his head sunk in, already feeling full and close and too fucking good. Sunghoon's low chuckle filled the room as her eyes rolled back in her head, and her cunt locked tight around his tip. She jerked beneath him, cumming at just the feeling of his head sinking into her.

"Cumming already? I knew you needed some dick. What a fucking slut." He plunged deeper, despite her quivering walls, getting just about halfway in when she came to.

"Fuck, wait! Wait! Feels too fucking good!" She squealed, pushing at his chest.

He ignored her senseless begging, pushing the rest of his length in to the hilt, causing tears of pleasurable overstimulation to spring to her eyes.

"Oh.......fuck." Her lust drunken eyes lazily connected with his intense gaze, and for a minute, Sunghoon thought he was falling in love.

"You ok, pretty?" At some point, she had broken out into a sweat, her once straight locks starting to turn back into coils.

"Big." She whimpered.

"Big? I thought you said my dick was tiny." He grinned meanly.

"So. Big." He gave a tiny thrust at that, reeling at how tight she was gripping him.

"Shit. Try to relax, brat. You're gripping me so fucking tight."

"I'm, I....s-sorry, Daddy." She stuttered, gripping his shoulder in her little hands.

"It's OK, babydoll. Just relax."

She did her best to do just that. But the way he was looking at her, the feeling of his hard dick inside of her was making her cunt cream and quiver and tighten in arousal. Sunghoon could feel it all, and he was becoming so impatient. He leaned down to kiss her lightly, resting his lips against hers as he rocked into her heat. And once he started, he found it so addicting that he couldn't stop, his own brain growing foggy as sticky slaps echoed around in her room. He could hear the wet puddle of her cunt squelching and oozing against his groin, could feel her slick making a mess all over him, wetness dripping down his balls. It was all making him feel so dirty.

"Fuck," He grunted. "Wet. So fucking wet."

Her nails were digging into his back now, engraving him with long welps and scratches that only aided in his arousal. She was well and truly dick drunk, tears rolling down her face as he fucked her. She panted hotly, allowing Sunghoon to spit into her open mouth. She swallowed his spit with a moan before opening her mouth and begging for more.

97% Compatible, Sunghoon's ass.

Sunghoon didn't think she could possibly get any more perfect for him if she tried.

"You're pussy is so fucking tight and wet. I thought you hated me, brat. Why's your cunt so wet if you hate me, baby?"

"Stop.....t-teasing!" She cried, tears of arousal and humiliation springing to her eyes.

He was antagonizing her. Teasing and bullying her in a way that shouldn't have made her feel like she was going to cum again, her walls strangling his length in preparation. Sunghoon wasn't dumb. He could feel the way she gushed and tightened around him as he teased her, a depraved grin spreading across his face.

"Are you gonna fucking cum again, brat? Go ahead, slut. I know you want to. Be my good little brat, and let me feel this tight little pussy cream all over my dick."

She covered her face shyly again, in direct contradiction to the way her hips were bucking in ecstasy. Sunghoon brought his thumb down to rub harsh circles into her aching clit, moaning at the feeling of her going over the edge. She bit her lip in an attempt to suppress a cry as she came again on his dick. Sunghoon watched her tight little cunt quiver around his dick, a creamy white ring of her juices dripping from the base of his cock. He thrusted shallowly, just enough to work her through her orgasm.

"Good girl."

"Fuck...off."

"You should be thanking me right now. For putting up with your bratty ass and giving you exactly what you need. You've probably never been fucked this good." He laughed cockily.

"You should be thanking me. Your goofy ass couldn't even talk to another woman. You're lucky I'm fucking you."

"Whatever." He scoffed, knowing she was right. The victorious smirk on her face pissed him off, though. It made him pull out of her heat, flipping her over to rest on her stomach. He stuffed a pillow beneath her hips, straddling her thighs from behind.

"You know what, brat? You're gonna learn some fucking manners today. When I tell you to say thank you, you say fucking thank you. I was gonna go easy on you tonight. But that bad ass mouth got you in trouble."

"What're you gonna do, Daddy? Spank me?" She asked sarcastically.

She was somehow still taken off guard when he did just that. He watched in a love stricken trance as her fat little ass jiggled and rippled under the force of his palm.

"Behave."

He spread the soft cheeks of her ass open, grinning as she hid her face in the sheets in embarrassment. Without much warning, he was sliding back into her tight hole, picking up a rather brutal pace. Because of the pillow he had stuffed beneath her hips, he was fucking into her at the perfect angle to decimate her g-spot. She was immediately seeing stars, biting into the sheets beneath her.

"Sung...Sunghoon! Fuck!"

"Yeah? Am I hitting my brat's special spot?"

"Fuck, yes!"

"You like that, pretty? That shit feels so fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Yes! Please! Daddy! Feels s'fucking good!" She was drooling into the sheets below her, the rhythmic sound of Sunghoon's hips meeting her ass filling the room.

"I know it does, baby. Can my good girl say thank you now?"

"Thank you!" She squealed, unwilling to risk him stopping.

"That's all you had to do from the start, Princess." She ignored him in favor of focusing on the way his head was crushing her g-spot. The feeling was foreign to her, and the sudden realization of needing to pee startled her.

"Sunghooooon. S...top. I have t-to-"

"Stop? Why would I stop when you're seconds away from squirting?" Even as he was speaking, he slowed his pace down to a crawl, fucking into her with harsh, slow thrusts.

"Please," She whimpered, turning her head so that she could see his eyes. The sight of her red, watery orbs, disheveled locks, and spit slick lips was making his heart palpitate. "Help me, Daddy."

"Oh, now you need Daddy's help?" He asked condescendingly. "Weren't you just telling me to fuck off?"

"Please," She begged. "Please, Daddy?" She didn't even know what she was begging for.

But Sunghoon seemed to understand perfectly, getting a firm hold of her hips as he increased his pace. It was once again all too much for her. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she gushed and squirted all over her sheets. She shook and trembled and gasped, her thighs wet from her orgasm. She was thankful when his harsh thrusts slowed to a halt, allowing her to regain her barings. And as good as it felt, she almost wished it didn't happen as Sunghoon's big head inflated even more.

"I bet no one else has ever made you feel this good. I bet I'm the only man to ever make you squirt and drool and scream like that. Aren't I?" She wished she could smack the stupid smug look off of his face.

"How have you not cum yet?" He let her flip over onto her back beneath him, dragging him down to rest his body on top of hers.

"I have amazing stamina." He mumbled, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Obviously. I definitely didn't think you'd be able to last this long without succumbing to the awesome power of my pussy." The feeling of him laughing against her lips made her feel warm inside.

"Trust me, brat. I'm not going to be able to resist too much longer."

She hummed back in response, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him passionately. If you asked Sunghoon, he'd never admit it, but the feeling of her tugging gently at his roots, her tongue sensually massaging his own, was making him feel weak in the knees. She reach between them, taking his still wet cock in her hand and jerking it slowly. She felt his smooth lips weaken against hers, his body turning into putty as she stroked him.

"Fuck." He hissed.

"You like that, Hoon?" His tip twitch against her fingers at the nickname.

"Mhmm." He moaned, head rolling back as he lazily rutted into her hands.

"Fuck, baby. Your little hands feel so good stroking my cock." He grunted.

"Mmm. I bet you've been dreaming of this. Arguing with me during the day and touching yourself at night while you think about me. It's kind of pathetic, honestly."

"Shut the fuck up." He gasped.

"You know, all night, you've been teasing me about wanting you. But I know you want me just as bad, don't you? You say you hate me too, but you've been dying to cum inside of me, haven't you?" His eyes rolled as she gripped him a little tighter, stroked him a little faster.

"Yes! Fuck!"

"Then do it, Sunghoon."

He didn't waste another second, hooking her thick thighs over his shoulders and bottoming out in a single thrust. He was shivering, shaking in anticipation as he clumsily fucked her.

"Fuck, so good." He sighed, turning his head to leave hickeys all over her thighs.

"Pussy is so fucking good, Dollface. So fucking good. Just for me, huh? So fucking good, I want to keep it all for myself, baby." He kissed her hungrily, hips picking up speed.

He gently caressed the side of her face, holding her jaw as he stared into her eyes with just a bit too much adoration.

"You want me all for yourself? What are you in love or something? You're so obsessed with me." She scoffed, feigning disgust.

"I should've fucking gagged you."

Her giggle was turning into his favorite sound. Especially when it turned into a whimper, her tiny fingers grasping his wrist. He watched through clouded eyes as she turned her head to kiss the palm that was caressing her face, her lips puckering against all five fingertips. She leaned her cheek back into his palm with a sigh, locking eyes with him again. She stared into his glassy, shiny brown orbs, entranced by the thick mist of lust reflecting back at her.

"Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Sunghoon." He gasped at the unexpected compliment.

"Pretty?"

"Mhmm. So pretty when you look at me like that. I think I can cum again, looking into those pretty eyes. All fucked out and dazed." Sunghoon felt a blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Are you blushing? After everything we've said and done, you're blushing because I said you have pretty eyes?"

"I really should've gagged you."

Sunghoon decided he was done talking. His balls were absolutely aching in need, his dick twitching with desire. He pushed her knees against her chest, swearing loudly at how much tighter she felt like this. She seemed to share his same sentiment, crying out at the change in position.

"Keep fucking me just like that, Hoon. I'm close again."

"Again? Your dick starved little cunt is so fucking greedy. How many times have you cum for me tonight, slut?"

"It's not my fault! It's your stupid p-perfect dick."

"Well I'm gonna make you cum again all over this perfect dick, brat." He wiggled a hand between her clenched thighs to toy with her clit. At the feeling of his long fingers slipping through her slick and sliding against her clit, pinching and flicking it she felt her umpteenth climax of the night approach.

"I think...'m gonna cum...agai-." She was practically drooling and milking his dick for all it was worth before she could finish her sentence.

If the sight of her trembling in his arms wasn't enough for him, the feeling of her pussy sucking and swallowing him was more than enough to finish him off.

He groaned, attempting to warn her. To let her know he was cumming. To ask if it was still okay for him to cum inside. But the part of his brain that was responsible for speaking had clearly been shut off, a series of grunts and whines into her ear replacing his words. In fact, most of his thoughts had been reduced to nothing, the need to cum taking over completely.

Sunghoon felt so hot. So overwhelmingly hot. And so fucking close. What had started as a warm glow in the pit of his stomach had turned into a raging fire, threatening to consume every inch of him. He was dizzy, lightheaded with pleasure as he rutted shakily into her.

"Fuck, making me feel so good. Pussy is making me feel....so fucking good." He whispered airily. He smashed his lips against hers in a sloppy kiss, pulling back only to watch the string of their combined saliva drip between their lips.

The room was slightly spinning, his weak arms collapsing to rest on his elbows as he neared his demise. She was so fucking pretty, totally destroyed by him. At some point in the night her mascara had created streaks of black down her face, her lips slick with his spit. Her hair was a wild mess of dark curls and coils, her neatly straightened locks a distant memory.

"P...pretty." He slurred.

There was a woozy feeling bubbling in his stomach, an orgasm so strong he was almost unsure whether he was ready or not to experience it. That woozy feeling grew in his stomach, more and more, until he could feel himself right there on the edge. He hung there in a pleasurable limbo, stretching it out as long as he could stand. A drunken whimper filled the air as he felt himself slowly tip over.

His orgasm wrecked him.

For all of the teasing and taunting he had done throughout the night, antagonizing her for falling apart on his dick, it came back at him tenfold. His eyes rolled back in his head, toes curling as a helpless scream reverberated off of the walls. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't force his hips to fuck through it, pitiful sobs escaping him as his swollen head twitched and began to spew into her warm wet cavern. He moaned, and cried, and screamed her name, his pretty fucked out face contorting in bliss. She showed no mercy, clenching harshly around him and laughing evilly at his bliss filled state.

"Who's screaming now, Sunghoon?"

"Oh!....... Shit!" He dazed breathlessly.

He was rendered almost completely speechless, shuddering in her hold. He knew somewhere in his subconscious that she was teasing him, but the euphoria he felt as his dick continued to pulsate and twitch and pump her full stopped him from caring. He was filled with tremors, his big frame shuddering pathetically as he fell limp on top of her. Sunghoon moaned weakly as his cock let out a final few weak spurts inside of her.

"Fuck....I....fuck, I can't feel my legs." He panted, eliciting a full bodied laugh from the woman lying beneath him. She tugged at his hair until his head was sitting up enough so she could kiss him. She felt him twitch inside of her when she nipped at his bottom lips.

"Was it good, Daddy?"

"Too fucking good, Dollface. I'm afraid I might just have to keep your annoying ass."

"You'll have to keep me? You'll be lucky if I ever go out with you again. We hate each other, Sunghoon."

And for some reason, when she said it this time, it felt different. It made him uneasy. But he pushed it down in favor of cuddling into her warm, bare chest and drifting to sleep.

As time went on, however, it only got harder for him to keep pushing that uneasiness down. Despite what she had said, they had become nearly inseparable since that night. She had quickly become Sunghoon's favorite person, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He played it casual whenever he was with her, but everyone; his friends, his family, hell, even his boss knew.

Sunghoon was totally smitten.

They could see it in his love struck, puppy eyes whenever he mentioned her. In the way he'd put so much time and effort into getting himself ready to go see her. In the way he'd purchase little gifts for her, expensive little gifts, just to see a smile on her pretty face.

Soon, Sunghoon could no longer go more than a day or two without basking in her presence. Some times they were engaging in some light banter, arguing over something ridiculous, resulting in them fucking on the nearest surface. And other nights they spent in a comfortable silence as flakes of snow littered the outside world, his head in her lap as she stroked her fingers through his overgrown bangs, lulling him to sleep.

Sunghoon was more than smitten.

But she, on the other hand, was much more reserved. Whenever he'd get a bit too close, his eyes just a bit too starry, his touch a bit too possessive, she'd shut down. Sunghoon had no clue why or if he had done something wrong. It all came to a head when he'd been rushing to get over to her house and had mistakenly grabbed a gold chain that belonged to Jake instead of his own. It wouldn't have been a problem, had the necklace not been engraved with the name of Jake's girlfriend.

She was kissing on Sunghoon's neck, his large hands rubbing on her thigh when he felt her suddenly freeze.

"Who the fuck is this?" She spit venomously, tugging at the chain around his neck.

"Huh?" He asked dumbly.

"You're in my fucking house, letting me kiss all over you with another girl's name around your neck?" She pushed him away, storming into the kitchen, attempting to put as much distance between them as possible. It was only when Sunghoon glanced down and read the tag around his neck that he understood.

"Wait, let me explain, baby-"

"Don't you fucking baby me! Actually, just forget it. We're not together, so you don't owe me any kind of loyalty. I think you should leave now."

"What? No, I'm not leaving. Just calm down, Doll. Let me explain."

"I really don't even want to hear it, to be honest."

"There's no one else, Pretty. This necklace isn't even mine, I was rushing out of the house so I could come see you, and I must have grabbed it by mistake."

"You're telling me this for what reason?" She stubbornly crossed her arms.

"Because you're upset. Or surprised maybe at the thought of me being capable of talking to a girl that isn't you." He took the stupid necklace off, chucking it irritably onto the counter.

"I think it'd be more surprising that you actually found someone that can stand being in the same room as you for more than thirty seconds."

Sunghoon lowered his head, nipping lightly at his bottom lip.

"Uncalled for."

"Sorry."

"Why do you get so testy at the thought of me with another woman, huh?" He already knew the answer, but he'd grown tired of chasing after her with little to no results.

"I don't. I have no clue what you're talking about." He followed her as she hastily left the room once again.

"You most certainly do. Why do you get so jealous and upset when you know.....I'm your's. We may not officially be together. But l'm your's, baby. You know that already."

"You are not mine."

"I am."

"Sunghoon, we hate each oth-"

"No, we don't! We don't hate each other. At all. We haven't for the last six months. For the last six months that we've spent in each other's beds, meeting each other's family, practically living together. We haven't hated each other for a long time, sweetheart. So what's your next excuse?"

"We can't just go from hating each other to...not hating each other just like that. It doesn't work like that in real life, Sunghoon."

"It did for us."

"Just forget it. Whether she's your girlfriend or not really doesn't have anything to do with me."

"How could you say that?! When you know how I feel about you. How you feel about me! You can't continue to just bury your head in the sand and ignore the fact that we've fallen in love." The pain in his eyes was tearing her apart.

"Don't say that!"

"Why?!"

"Because l'm scared!"

A heavy silenced hung in the room for what seemed like hours before she broke it.

"I'm scared, Sunghoon. What if this doesn't work and I lose the guy that I care so much about and my best friend all at the same time?"

"It's okay to be afraid. But ignoring what's happening between us is not going to help. It won't be perfect all of the time. We're gonna get mad at each other. Argue, just like we're doing right now. I'll probably make you want to tear your hair out sometimes. But I promise you, l'm gonna love you through every single second of it. You'll never lose me. Ever. But you have to start by trusting me, love. Do you think you can do that? Am I worth the risk to you?" She was nodding her head before he could finish speaking, burying her teary eyes in his chest.

"I love you." It was the first time she had heard the words from him, and it only made her cry harder.

"I love you, too," She sniffled. He wiped her eyes lovingly, shaking his head as more tears replaced the ones he wiped away.

"You're such a crybaby." He kissed the top of her head, rocking her back and forth as she whined in embarrassment.

"I'm not a crybaby." She sniffed, looking up at him with watery red eyes.

"You are. But that's ok. You're my crybaby."

As he tucked her head back into his chest, he silently thanked the matchmaker for setting them up. Even though she was a brat. And annoying. And she got on his nerves sometimes. But he really, really did love her. He could see his future with her. Marriage with her. Babies with her.

His 97% 100% match.

A/N: girl. No this is not edited, and no it's not gon kill you. If you see something....ignore it?

Oh and @baekbeaut (I think it was you) here's your tag 🫶🏾

---

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

CHAPTER EIGHT - THE SAND STONE.

WORDS - 4,319.

RATING - G+.

SUMMARY - with troubles with her new ability to teleport, suiren finds herself in a sandy abyss that holds the sand stone that could help her complete the capture of all the magical stones; unaware that a greater surprise waited for her to come back home.

feedback would be appreciated!

previous chapter - chapter seven.

The day Sakura had wanted, had come, Suiren’s team had accompanied the family for a morning brunch and currently Sakura had been thrown compliments on her cooking; she had stood by the end of the table with her hands on her hips and she had worn her favourite yellow apron that had complimented the colour scheme the lady was known for.

She had a short smile on her face that mirrored the gratefulness that had been directed from the people who sat around the expensive table, her eyes briskly examined each head before she made way to bring more food onto the appliance. “Thank you, I’m glad that we’re able to officially meet each other, our schedules were so busy I never thought this day would come,” Sakura said---the moment she sat herself at the head of the table, Sensei Ren respectfully nodded his head towards her.

“I’m glad that I finally get to properly meet you, Lady Uchiha, Suiren takes so much after you,” Sensei Ren said and comforted, Sakura’s smile stretched.

“Oh,” she laughed. “Suiren takes after her father much more,” she replied and instantly, the woman had felt graceless energy rise upon them, and in quick remorse, the lady had diverted her gaze to the hot fare beneath her.

“How did the mission go?” Suiren questioned in hopes to direct the conversation into a different route.

Suiren had been told that Team Thirteen had travelled to the Hidden Sand, also known as Sunagakure, [the Village Hidden in the Sand], she wasn’t told much more, thus she had waited for her team-mates to return so she could listen to all the details.

“There were terrorists blowing up places,” Raiden said.

“Don’t the Sand Village have Ninjas to take care of that?” Suiren asked and as Raiden had shrugged his shoulders just as inquisitive as Suiren he resumed eating his food.

“Hokage-sama probably gave it to us because he didn’t want to make us feel like we had to level down to baby missions due to what happened,” Akane snorted and quickly Suiren had shot her a look.

Sarcastic, she had sent Akane a flat smile. “Well, I’m sorry,” Suiren apologised.

With a winning look on her face Akane winked at her. “There were talks of the Sand Stone,” Akane said, “that’s probably what they were looking for.”

“The Sand Stone?” Suiren repeated and immediately everyone turned to look at her. “If they were the looking for the Sand Stone, that must mean they were Prism Members.”

“No,” Raiden shook his head, “they looked different than the ones we saw before in the Prism Tower.”

“What if the Prism Group is much bigger than we think?” Sarada suggested and before the short-haired girl continued with her explanation, Sakura stepped in.

She had a look on her face that showed she did not want the topic of the Prism to cloud brunch time and immediately the entire group acknowledged it. “Please,” Sakura pleaded, “let’s focus on our food and the happiness we feel right now,” the woman smiled and without any hesitation, everyone had followed through.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

Himawari had taken after both her mother and father, with the bright blue eyes and two whiskers on both sides of her cheeks she had sometimes looked uncanny, Himawari, the ten-year-old sister of Boruto, had always been known to be a kind girl, a tolerable version of her loud-mouthed brother, the two looked similar, but between the two, Himawari was the sibling who took after her mother’s dark hair colour.

Currently, Suiren had sat in their living room, it was only the two of them in the building, Hinata, the Uzumaki matriarch had gone out for a chore, and Boruto had been with his teammates while Lord Hokage had business in the Hokage Mansion. Suiren had sat on their sofa, comfortably her body had been laid against the couch while Himawari sat beside her, the young girl could tell that Suiren hadn’t necessarily been interested with what had been on the screen and just followed along because it was what Himawari wanted to watch.

As thoughtful as she was, Himawari glanced towards the shirt Suiren had worn and noted that she had a Starfire shirt on. “I like your shirt,” Himawari smiled, the young girl had been known for her love for the famous band, while her brother had hated it, it was more reason for the little girl to blast the group’s music.

“Thank you,” Suiren smiled as she looked down at the clothing piece, she returned her solid gaze into the direction of the Uzumaki girl, “do you know them?”

“Do I know them?” Himawari echoed, “I love them! My favourite song is Illusion,” she explained, “the memory of you, is the only thing I have in my mind,” she began to sing; her bright eyes fixed for Suiren to continue the song, awkward, Suiren sat up and pulled her legs against her chest.

“Maybe it was the colour of your eyes, maybe it was the way your forehead wrinkled to frown, either way you had me wrapped around,” Suiren continued and happy the young girl resumed to sing along to her favourite song, her body language hyper and giddy.

Humoured, Suiren wrapped her arms around her legs curious to why a young girl like her knew such a depressing song. “Do you like sad music?” Suiren asked and with a shrug, Himawari returned her sight to the show.

“If I like a song, I’ll listen to it,” she hummed and fascinated, Suiren raised the both of her eyebrows.

As the circumstance had returned to the both of their eyes glued on the screen, Suiren had suddenly been captivated by the frames on the tables, the picture frames that displayed a happy family, as much as a confident girl Suiren displayed herself to be, the long-haired girl couldn’t help but feel, jealous. Envious of their captured moments that included them having a picnic, appearing at a festival or having fun at home.

“We’re not as happy as you think,” Himawari muttered and shocked Suiren snapped her head towards Himawari who had now fixed her gaze on the Uchiha.

“What do you mean?” Suiren asked, “at least your father is here.”

“I know,” Himawari agreed, “he’s just a really busy person, and it hurts Boruto so much to the point it gets him angry.”

Humoured, Suiren laughed through her nose. “I remember, like how he paints on the Hokage faces as an act of rebellion,” Suiren brought up which had made Himawari laugh as well.

“You must miss your dad,” Himawari said and for such a young girl to empathise with her and comprehend that the lack of a father presence can hurt deeply, no matter how much she could deny it, a sob had tried to release from the back of her throat but Suiren had hastily captured it.

As she held back a tear, Suiren covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, this doesn’t really happen,” Suiren quickly apologised and hastily, the green-eyed girl stood to her feet while Himawari shadowed her movements.

“I’m so sorry,” Himawari sadly apologised and Suiren shook her head.

“It’s not your fault,” Suiren replied, “I just need to use the bathroom,” Suiren said and shortly after, the girl had escaped to the restroom, she had planned to throw cold water against her face, it was what she had needed, mayhap it was someone who was outside of her situation that spoke about his absence, but Suiren had felt her body heat with sadness, but there was a coldness in her feet that had made her figure tremble.

She took in a deep breath as she twisted the tap loose and shortly after the sound of water slapping against ceramic appliance occurred, as she cupped water with both of her palms Suiren eventually threw the icy temperature against her face before she looked into the mirror.

Her features the same but there had been a uniqueness with her pupils, dilated to the point that she could barely see the green-ness she was aware of, thus, she leaned closer to get a better look and suddenly everything around her had changed, instead of the bathroom she had entered---she had been admist a sandy area.

Confused, Suiren turned around, between the light flow of sand that carried and flew around her, quiet choir-like hums occurred, which had Suiren fleshed with anxiety. She had restricted herself to speak, to not alert anything or anyone that could attempt to hurt her.

A spike of sand had slowly begun to rise from the ground and each second the sand had rose, the humming noise had increased. Confused, Suiren furrowed her eyebrows, suspicious to what it had been. Had it been the Sand Stone? Was she in Sunagakure?

Curious, Suiren pulled herself closer to the sand spike, willing to learn the answer but the choir-sound had erratically increased, which had caused Suiren to clasp her ears at the ear-damage, and over-whelmed, she had screamed.

“Stop it!” She shouted and eyes screwed shut, Suiren cowered her body as the noise began to over-take her, as she began to feel like she had been dragged down the noisy pits of hell, the girl had suddenly been yanked backwards by a magical force that had her returned to the bathroom and in the same position she was in---ere she had been pulled into the sandy abyss.

Aside from the sound of running water, the noise that had come from Himawari who had repeatedly knocked on the door had aided Suiren to return to reality. Exasperated, Suiren quickly turned off the tap water and briskly wiped her face with a clean towel before she twisted her body in direction of the sealed door. “I’m coming!” Suiren called out as she put the face towel back, the long-haired girl had taken one more look at the still mirror ere she exited the toilet.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

Tired, Suiren had lazily walked towards home with the lunch box given to her by aunt Hinata, as much as she had fun being around Himawari, she had been refreshed with how hyper-active the young girl could be, she had remembered telling it to Lady Hinata who had laughed and said she had gotten that trait from her father.

The long-haired girl had been happy that she had been able to return back home but the second she had perceived that the place she had once known as home had been left completely destroyed, heartbroken and confused the girl had let out her second scream; while from the corner of her eyes she had seen a recognisable short-haired woman quickly running towards her.

Shizune.

Who was known to be Suiren’s god-mother, Tsunade’s apprentice alongside her mother Sakura, she had served Tsunade when she became the Fifth Hokage and served the Sixth and Seventh as well. “Suiren!” Shizune called, the sounds of her heels loud as she had hastily made way towards the young girl.

“Auntie Shizune?” Suiren questioned, over-whelmed by the unfortunate events she had walked into, Suiren had felt her mind swirl into a panicked state as she wondered of the whereabouts of her mother and sister. She had pondered if they were in danger and were in need for help, but her mother and Sarada were known to be strong women, so Suiren had forced herself to keep faith.

Yet, the apologetic look on Shizune’s face had Suiren’s lip quiver in fear and once again, Suiren’s eyes went wide but Shizune placed a hand on Suiren’s shoulder with a look of comfort. “What happened, isn’t what you think it is,” Shizune said and in relief, Suiren loudly sighed as she placed a hand against where her heart was, while an awkward dry chuckled had emerged from the back of her throat, she had almost felt herself tear up at the thought of her little family gone.

“We know how bad your mother’s temper is,” Shizune said, “Sarada challenged the legitimacy of your mother being the birth mother of the two of you,” she then explained, “and it led to that happening,” she had then awkwardly smiled as she twisted her gaze to the damaged home.

Once more, Suiren dropped her shoulders, disappointed in both her mother and sister. “Your belongings have been taken to the apartment your family will be staying in for a while during the time we build the new Uchiha home.”

Upset, Suiren crossed her arms as she allowed Shizune to take her to her new building, which would be in an apartment complex, for her, it would be a huge change, depending on the size of the apartment, Suiren was used to areas that carried a lot of space. However, as much as Suiren had been annoyed of the broken home she had walked into, which had unironically symbolised the state of her little family, Suiren couldn’t help herself but focus on what Shizune had informed her. “Sarada questioned our mother if she was our true mother?” The young girl muttered, offended herself, Suiren placed her hand against her chest aware of the humoured look that Shizune carried.

“Are they at the new house?” Suiren asked.

Shizune turned to look away with a troubled look on her face. “They’re a bit pre-occupied with something.”

Confused, Suiren perked her right eyebrow. “Of what?” She questioned, hands on her hips a little annoyed that she was left out.

“I cannot tell you,” Shizune forwardly responded. “They don’t wat you to interfere with what is going on.”

Offended, Suiren gently clicked her tongue as she continued to follow Shizune down the direction of her new home. Aware that the moment her mother and sister return to her, they’d be in for profound questioning.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

The moment Suiren had entered the apartment, she had claimed the second biggest bedroom, truthfully, the little girl had wanted the biggest bedroom but had to be reminded that the largest bedroom has to be for her parents which had left and opening for Suiren to say, “parents without the s.”

Shizune had then kindly aided the girl to become comfortable in her new home before she left, and after everything had been finished, Suiren had unpacked the food she had been given by Lady Hinata and began with her fare. The table she ate on had been simple, which had made Suiren consider telling her mother they’ll need to go shopping soon.

As she had eaten the microwaved food, she had remembered how Boruto would always boast about his mother’s cooking, which she herself had considered impeccable. Yet, as much as Suiren had wanted to enjoy the fare she had been disturbed with low whispers that had begun to cloud her mind.

She had recognised the voice, but couldn’t put her finger on who the voice belonged to. Bothered, Suiren raked her fingers through her hair as she had forced herself to chew on the food, but the taste had slowly begun to make her sick, along with her senses over-whelming her---her vision began to blur. Suiren had thought it could’ve been because of the low blood sugar gene she had received from her mother, but this commodity felt different.

Ill, Suiren had placed her hand against her heart, lightly terrified of the unknown root of the situation, but as much as she had wanted to be aware of what was happening, the girl had fell against the floor and had unconsciously embraced the darkness that had speedily taken her to a new realm.

She had immediately recognised it when she woke up, and had deemed the area to be darker and colder than usual. As she had shuddered, Suiren had firmly hugged herself, first, to warm herself, second, to protect herself. In search of the boy, the girl had carefully walked around the atmosphere but he was nowhere to be found.

Tired, Suiren had neared herself to the spot she’d always go to sit down but the second the girl had reached the area, deep shudders and whimpers had emerged into the dark space. Alert, Suiren briskly perked her head up, suspicious, she had followed the sound and had finally found the poor boy who had shaken in fear, he had cowered his body, long fingers in his dark hair as he whispered and cried a bunch of muddled words as little specks of tears dropped against the cold ground.

His voice shook, in a state of fear the boy had almost lowered his body until Suiren had decided to reach to touch him, thus, immediately, the boy had smacked his hand away from her, alert. “Don’t touch me!” He loudly screamed, paranoid of the pressure around him, the second he saw a recognisable figure jump back due to his hasty violence, the boy quickly twisted his body towards her surprised.

“I’m sorry,” Suiren apologised, hand over the hand he had touched, the girl’s wide eyes had slowly and calmly returned to normal as he eventually recognised who she was.

“Why are you here?” He breathed and just as perplexed as the boy, Suiren shook head.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but I want you to calm down.”

Exasperated, the boy turned away from her. “I can’t,” he responded and without fear, Suiren reached for his arm, aware that she could get an ill response she had still put her bravery forward and pulled the boy to where she was going to sit.

The place had been colder than before and the young girl had been aware that the temperature had reflected the commodity of his emotions and to stop that from happening, Suiren had pulled the boy to sit down next to her. Unsure, the boy had allowed the long-haired girl to do what she had wanted to him, slightly apprised that Suiren had not wanted to hurt him.

She had then chuckled. “It’s so fucking cold,” she whispered and he hadn’t said anything thus she had returned to focus on her palms as she gently leaned the side of her body against his. One hand horizontally on top of the other, Suiren had calmly focused on what she had wanted to do.

Gently, a calm flame had evoked from her palms, a pretty orange flame with fire tints and specks had smoothly warmed the two teenagers who had immediately calmed down due to the glow. Surprised, the boy had softly sat up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. “How did you do that without incantation?” He curiously inquired and calm, Suiren had gently hushed him as she continued to allow the fire to heat the both of them and as time smoothly passed, the boy could feel himself eventually calm down.

Unaware, Suiren had leaned her head against his chest comfortable by the safe hearth that had now radiated from his skin. Mild, the boy had gently pressed the nub of his chin against the top of her head as he silently watched how the flame had smoothly danced against her palms.

“What happened?” The girl calmly asked and still secretive, the boy pursed his lips together unsure if he should tell her or not.

Used to his mysterious behaviour, Suiren remained calm and joined to watch the warm view that had lived on the face of her hands until the male had eventually spoke. “I’m an experiment for someone.”

Stunned, Suiren looked up at him, her dark green eyes currently in lock with his usual ice-like grey orbs, though, forthwith, there had been a difference to the coldness of his eyes, it was as if the ice had finally begun to melt. Empathetic, Suiren knitted down her eyebrows as her eyes encouraged him to continue speaking, yet, with the small sentence he had told her, the girl had comprehended why he was so hostile. “I’m sorry,” she politely whispered.

He sneered as he pulled away from her, compared to the different nights she had appeared in his dreams, this current time, the boy had sat closer to her than usual, he was at arm’s length and had looked at the cold stony floor in deep thought. With her lips pressed into a thin line, she had hoped that they were going to have a more comfortable and emotional conversation, yet, Suiren had speculated that mayhap she had trust in him too much. As she had stopped using her flame, she had become aware that the atmosphere was colder compared to when she had entered.

“I come here almost every time I go to sleep,” Suiren said, “don’t be afraid to open up to me, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I’ve heard of that before,” he snapped and dryly humoured, Suiren raised the both of her eyebrows, as she had considered that there would be no more progression between the two of them, she had pulled herself up to her feet.

Aware that the boy had watched her every move, Suiren had dusted the light dust and dirt off herself as she prepared herself to exit the realm.

“Kawaki,” the boy finally said and confused, Suiren twisted her perception towards his direction. “My name is Kawaki,” before Suiren could react anymore, the mind portal she had already created to take her back home had been formed, and the only kickback Kawaki saw on her face was the dazed expression that she had worn before she had been taken away.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

Startled, Suiren loudly gasped as she had returned to reality, she had placed her hand against the hearth of her throat and had become aware that she had been back to the position she was in before she had collapsed. She had still been alone and the food she had barely eaten had sat cold.

Uncomfortable, Suiren pulled herself off her feet to wash her hands and face, and the minute she had been in the bathroom, the girl had heard the front door open, and alert, Suiren head had perked up in autopilot, aware that she had recognised two of the chakra energies that had entered the home, but there was something different about the extra one that had joined them.

Confused, Suiren strolled to the lightly sealed bathroom door---while the voices of her mother and sister had seeped through the corridor, Suiren had exited the bathroom, ready to drill the two women on their latest adventure, but the moment her eyes had landed on the two women, Suiren’s eyes examined the masculine figure who bored a cloak over his body, eyes dark like Sarada’s and a gentle look on his face that had held years of history and wisdom that flicked a memory in Suiren’s brain.

She had paused as the trio had finally figured that Suiren had stood in the corridor that led to the main bathroom, the soft light that had Suiren under a warm spotlight, had revealed the still and dazed look Suiren had on her face---while she had observed the shocked expression the tall man had worn on his. Suiren had known that her mother and sister had left the village but she didn’t know that they’d return with the man she had reticently longed for a long time.

Her father.

“What the fuck happened?” Suiren questioned and angrily, Sakura furrowed her eyebrows.

“Language!”

Defensive, Suiren raised up her hands, self-righteous in her demeanour, “I’m sorry I didn’t expect my dad who I haven’t seen or heard from for a very, very long time to just casually walk through the door!” Suiren said and each word she had pronounced had jumped an octave that had represented her anger and alarm.

Awkwardly, her father, Sasuke had turned to look at his wife who had then closed the door behind them. “Something happened that had caused your father to return,” Sakura said, tired, she had kicked off her sandals, aware that Suiren hadn’t planned to drop her temper anytime soon, the pink-haired woman had silently wished she didn’t have the anger she had that passed onto her twin daughters.

“Oh right, so Sarada left to find our father because she thought you weren’t our mother?” Suiren said as she slowly began to lose her confidence, as much as she had wanted to display herself as someone assertive, her father could see the over-whelmed scrutiny his youngest daughter had on her face.

The moment he noticed the expression on Suiren’s face he took the initiative to calm the essence of the conversation. “We should all calm down; we can sit down and talk about it---”

“I don’t want to,” Suiren seethed, “you don’t get to come here and decide to have a family talk while being MIA for multiple of years---”

“Suiren,” Sarada sadly reached out, empathetic with Suiren’s irate emotions, but too ruffled Suiren shook her head.

She had no intentions of feeling calm over this, she herself had been surprised that her twin had been placid and harmonious when she walked into the apartment, when it was Sarada who had been the most emotional between the two of them. “No!” Suiren called out. “You three can talk amongst yourself, I’ll be in my room.”

Thus, without second thought, Suiren had angrily stormed into her bedroom as she had then flung herself against her bed after she had closed her door. She had sulked against her pillow, Suiren had wished he hadn’t come on such an erratic moment, but deep within she had always known that she had wanted her father back, but on the other hand, she had always ignored the angry commodity she had directed towards him and on the random night that he had come back, those feelings had spilled on autopilot.

masterlist

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: HUH? poison!heeseung actually getting a chap where he's NOT a possessive weirdo??🤭 so next chap's gonna be a little filler and chapter ten is gonna be a written one and ofc finally the housewarming party let's GO, lmk what you guys think might happen; feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!! and tysm for everything babies 🧸💗)

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