BITTERSWEET

( a jay drabble )

A look through of Jay’s diary expressing how things ended up between you two. ┆ star’s note . Sorry for the messy writing i just wanted to post angst

I hate you.

I remember the first time I saw you. It was at this crazy party, with music blasting and people dancing everywhere. In the middle of the crowd, I spotted you chatting with a girl, and your smile lit up the whole room. That smile got stuck in my head, and I just wanted to see it every day.

I never thought that I’d ever fall in love, to me everyone was just a blur but you changed that. You were bright, like a star shining in the sky. You were the light of my life.

I hate how much power you had over me. I couldn't go a moment without thinking about you. Every little thing reminded me of you.

I was so in love with you, to the point I wish it never happened. Would it have been better if we never met?

My life feels empty all because of you. I hate the amount of nights you made me cry myself to sleep, I hate how you made me unable to love anyone else.

Nobody could make me forget you, it was like you were haunting my mind.

I know you can’t read this but remember when you said I was talented enough to be a guitarist? I know you’ll kill me for this but I got an offer from a big company and I rejected them.

I just couldn't pick up my guitar again after you left, every time I looked at my guitar it reminded me of you and that stupid voice of yours cheering me on.

Why did you have to leave? We were so happy. I hate myself for not fixing the messy fate we have. I wish I could have turned back time and fixed everything.

I feel so selfish for letting you leave without a fight. I despise myself for watching you slip away from my grasp so effortlessly.

I’m sorry, my love. I hope one day I can meet you again.

I’m sorry for not noticing what you were going through, I still talk to you through the sky. You look gorgeous even tho I can't physically see you.

I love you, it's a bittersweet feeling.

I’m sorry for not answering your final call when you were about to leave, I still hate myself for it.

This is my final note before I meet you again. I hope I can meet you again in the skies, I can't wait. Maybe we can finally have our happy ending, see you soon, my love.

—

As Jay finished writing his letter on the small sheet of paper, he gripped the letter in his hand with tears falling down his eyes before swallowing the final pills.

Jay falls to the ground slowly losing his consciousness, before finishing his last breath.

Maybe you two will finally have your happy endings.

Please, Please, Please | P.JS

criminal!jay x good girl!reader

warnings: angst, slight fluff, smut (mdni), multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (m&f rec.), multiple orgasms, fingering, car sex, cliffside bj, white dragon, slightly toxic!jay at the beginning, possessive, crime (obvs), mentions of robbery, theft, guns, money laundering, violence, blood, overall criminal behaviour from multiple parties, tough love, confrontation, touch her and you'll die, anything else lmk!

w.c: 34k (sorry)

synopsis: synopsis: visiting your tax fraudulent dad in prison and nothing was new, except the boy being carted in to the police station in cuffs. when you follow your connection on a reckless whim, it opens you up to a world filled with crime, love, and realisations about who you are.

a/n: hi! this was heavily anticipated and i went back and forth on this for a long time regarding making it a series or keeping it a one shot. In the end, i decided to make it just one thing. i really do hope you like it, i tried to set the pace as best i could with the little wordcount blr will give me so i am praying it's okay! anyway, enjoy! as always, reblogs, comments, etc etc are all appreciated and loved <3

“Now be a good girl for me, Y/N,” your dad gushes, his eyes tired and hand placed against the glass. He looks like half the man he was before stepping into this place.

The greyness of the prison seems to leech the colour from everything around it, leaving only the stark contrasts of shadows and light, along with his navy and white uniform. The fluorescent lights inside cast a sickly pallor on your father's face, accentuating the lines of worry and regret etched into his once confident features.

He was a self-made man, once the toast of the town, known for his business acumen and seemingly Midas touch. But behind the facade of success, he had been entangled in a web of deceit. It all began with a seemingly harmless decision to bend the rules - just a little. He had justified it to himself as a necessary measure, a way to keep the business afloat during tough times. It was just a bit of creative accounting, he had thought. But what started as a small indiscretion soon snowballed into a full-blown scheme of tax evasion.

For years, he had hidden his tracks well, moving money through a labyrinth of offshore accounts, shell companies, and falsified records. His lifestyle had grown ever more lavish, the fruits of his ill-gotten gains displayed in a sprawling mansion, luxury cars, and vacations to exotic locales. Yet, the more he accumulated, the more paranoid he became, always looking over his shoulder, fearing the day when his carefully constructed house of cards would come crashing down.

And crash it did. An anonymous tip-off to HMRC triggered an investigation that swiftly unravelled the elaborate fraud. The evidence was damning – millions of pounds in unpaid tax, laundered funds, and fraudulent claims. The trial was short and sharp, the verdict inevitable. The judge's gavel fell with finality, marking the end of his freedom and the start of his journey behind bars.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you view it, he only got five years in prison which is unheard of for someone who committed such a lavish crime with lots of money involved. So far, he has served four and a bit out of five years and is set to come home in 6 months.

However, that freedom is still a while away, and the only way you can see him now is through this thick glass panel, speaking to him through a telephone. The visitation room is grim and impersonal, with rows of metal chairs bolted to the floor, and a cacophony of muffled conversations echoing off the hard surfaces. The phone is cold in your hand, a lifeline to the man who once seemed invincible.

Your dad's prison uniform hangs loosely on his frame, the drab, coarse fabric a far cry from the tailored suits he used to wear. He shifts uncomfortably on the small stool, the shackles around his wrists clinking softly with every movement. Every visit you have with your dad, it’s always the same jargon; “Be a good girl”, “Stay out of trouble”, or, “Don’t be bad like your dad.” It’s always a useless reminder because, for 20 years of your life, you have never once gotten into bother.

From a young age, you have been the epitome of a model child. You always listen to your parents, excel in school, and never once give them cause for worry. Your teachers often remarked on your diligence and kindness, always quick to help a struggling classmate or volunteer for a school project. While other kids might have dabbled in teenage rebellion, you stayed focused, driven by an internal compass that always pointed towards doing the right thing.

You are just so scared of disappointing your father.

Even at University, you stay away from parties and stay focused on keeping your head straight, making friends with people of similar character to you - if they even are still your friends. Most of them dipped on you once your father got convicted, not wishing to be associated with a criminal’s daughter, or more importantly, a girl with no money.

Little did they know that you were very much still wealthy thanks to your dad’s extra-sneaky antics.

Now, sitting across from your father in the sterile confines of the prison, you feel a pang of sorrow mixed with frustration. His reminders to stay out of trouble feel almost insulting, a stark contrast to the reality of your life. You have always been the one to shoulder responsibilities, to pick up the pieces and move forward.

Sometimes, you wish you could just do something out of character, something others would deem reckless.

“Dad, I’ve never been in trouble,” you remind him gently, trying to hide the sting of your words. “I’ve always been a good girl, remember?” To a fault, sometimes.

He sighs, the weight of his guilt evident in his tired eyes. “I know, Y/N. I just…I worry about you. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you say firmly. “I’m not you. You made it perfectly clear the path I need to be on.”

Your words sting into his chest, but his face never shows it. You’re right anyway, you have always lived up to his impossible expectations. Instead, he nods and relents, dropping the subject altogether. Just in time, too, because the guard quickly steps in to wrap up the visit.

“Time’s up,” the guard announces, his tone brisk and indifferent.

You both hesitate for a moment, savouring the last few seconds before the separation. “I love you, Dad,” you say, your voice soft but resolute.

“I love you too, Y/N. Be strong,” he replies, his hand still pressed against the glass.

With a final nod, you place the phone back on the hook and stand up, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you as you walk away. The sound of the door buzzing open and then locking behind you is a harsh reminder of the reality you both face.

Stepping out of the visiting room, a tumult of emotions surges within you - sadness, frustration, and a lingering sense of helplessness. Each step feels heavy, as if the burdens of your father's past are pressing down on your shoulders. The overhead lights in the corridor cast a stark, cold glow, reflecting off the polished linoleum floor and intensifying the sterile atmosphere of the prison. You hate it here, trying to avoid the place as much as possible, only visiting your dad maybe once every five months.

It’s not that you don’t love him but this place isn’t built for someone like you.

As you navigate the maze of hallways to head to the exit, a sudden commotion draws your attention. Two guards are escorting a man into the facility, his wrists bound behind his back with handcuffs. He walks with a defiant swagger, despite the firm grips on his arms. His black slacks and tight-fitted black polo shirt cling to his muscular frame, giving him an air of unrefined power. His hair, meticulously gelled back, now shows signs of disarray from the rough handling, with a few rebellious strands falling across his forehead.

"Fucking calm down, I'm walking with you," he growls, his voice dripping with sarcasm and defiance. The deep timbre of his words reverberates through the corridor, causing a ripple of tension among the guards and onlookers.

You pause, momentarily taken aback by the scene unfolding before you. The man's audacity and the raw edge in his voice contrast sharply with the controlled environment of the prison, sparking an unexpected intrigue. Certain prisoners cause scenes, but never have you seen it up close, only hearing about it through the words of your father.

As the guards march him up the corridor, his dark eyes lock onto yours for a brief moment. His face is strikingly beautiful - dark eyebrows framing his symmetrical face and dangerous eyes that seem to pierce right through you. He looks more like a model than a felon, and the incongruity of his appearance in this setting sends a jolt through your system.

His gaze trails down your body as he gets closer to you, slow and deliberate, igniting a rush of heat that spreads from your cheeks to your core. His eyes linger on your curves, and you notice the way he licks his lips, a predatory smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The intensity of his attention makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you in this stark, fluorescent-lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’, how’s it going?” he asks as he passes, his tone nonchalant but menacing, the kind of menacing that makes your pulse quicken and your skin tingle.

“Move along,” one of the guards snaps, shoving him forward. But even as they push him into a room, he cranes his neck to keep you in his sight for as long as possible. His eyes burn with defiance and amusement, and he smirks, the expression filled with a dangerous charm that leaves you momentarily breathless.

The door slams shut behind him, and the spell is broken. You’re left standing in the corridor, your heart racing and your mind reeling from the unexpected encounter. The raw magnetism of his presence lingers in the air, intertwining with the myriad of emotions already churning within you.

“Ma’am, please come this way,” a guard gestures for you to step through the gated door. Numbly, you follow his direction, your mind still preoccupied with the intensity of those dark eyes.

You step through the gate, hearing the metallic clink as it locks behind you. Making your way to the front desk, you feel a strange mix of adrenaline and bewilderment coursing through you. You remove your visitor’s badge and place it on the desk, your fingers lingering on the smooth plastic for a moment.

“Who was that?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your voice betrays a hint of the curiosity you feel.

The guard behind the desk, a burly man with a no-nonsense demeanour, looks up from his paperwork. “Park Jongseong,” he replies, his tone matter-of-fact. “He's a series regular here. It's best not to catch his attention; he eats girls like you for dinner.”

You swallow hard, the guard’s words sending a shiver down your spine. “Eats girls like me for dinner?” you repeat, more to yourself than to him, the gravity of the warning sinking in.

“Yeah,” the guard nods, his expression grim. “He’s got a reputation. Charismatic, but dangerous. You don’t want to be on his radar.”

You nod, thanking the guard before turning to leave. The encounter with Park Jongseong, brief as it was, has left a deep impression. You replay the guard’s words in your mind, a cautionary tale that echoes with the reality of the world you’ve just stepped out of.

But you’re so over listening to everyone’s advice, allowing your body to rule your head for a moment. Maybe this is your chance to break free from the shackles of your life and enter a new world of freedom.

Even if it is with someone behind bars.

_____

You sit in the visiting room, the sterile environment starkly contrasting with the elegance of your outfit. You're wearing a pastel blue Versace dress, its delicate fabric clinging to your figure in all the right places, the intricate design showcasing a blend of sophistication and subtle allure. The dress features a fitted bodice with delicate lace details, the skirt flowing gracefully to just above your knees. The soft, cool hue of the dress enhances the warmth of your skin and the high neckline adds an air of modesty.

Your heartbeat feels like a defining accessory, pounding in your chest, a constant reminder of your anticipation. Normally, visiting your father doesn’t elicit such a reaction - your heart maintains a steady rhythm, the meetings imbued with sadness and routine.

But today is different. Today, you aren't here to see your father. You're waiting for the man who shared a fleeting moment with you two weeks ago, the memory of his intense gaze still fresh in your mind.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one amplifying the tension coursing through you. Your eyes keep darting to the door, waiting for it to open and reveal the man whose presence had left such an indelible mark on you. The guards move about their routines, the clinking of keys and distant echoes of conversations creating a backdrop to your restless thoughts.

This is a bad idea, probably your most foolish one, but you had to see him just once more to truly understand the leap your heart performed when you looked at him for the first time. You have never gone against your father’s wishes of staying out of trouble, but this was an itch you couldn’t ignore, the pull towards the felon all too real.

Your emotions are a chaotic cocktail of anticipation, fear, and excitement. The adrenaline rush is almost dizzying, your heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to leave, to not get involved with someone so dangerous, but the other part - the part that felt an inexplicable connection - can’t bear the thought of walking away without understanding what it is about him that draws you in so powerfully.

You glance down at your hands, noticing how they tremble slightly. You clasp them together in your lap, trying to steady yourself. The fabric of your dress feels soft and cool against your skin, a contrast to the heat coursing through your veins. You shift in your seat, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but every small sound in the room heightens your awareness, keeping you on edge.

As each second drags on, the waiting becomes almost unbearable. Doubts creep in - what if he doesn’t remember you? What if this was all just a meaningless encounter for him? But then you recall the intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, so why wouldn’t he remember you?

You tell yourself that this is more than simply gratifying a passing curiosity; it's about understanding the electrifying connection you felt. It's about breaking free, even if only for a moment, from the bounds of your usual, routine existence.

Your father’s voice echoes in your mind, warning you about the dangers of straying from the straight and narrow path. You’ve always been the good girl, the one who follows the rules, but something about Park Jongseong makes you want to throw caution to the wind. There’s a thrilling allure in the forbidden, in stepping outside your comfort zone to explore the unknown.

When the buzzer sounds around the room, you jump slightly even though you have heard that klaxon indicating the unlocking of the door numerous times over the years. But this isn’t a polite chit-chat with your dad; this is a meeting with a man whose crimes you don't know the extent of, nor how dangerous he truly is, all because you got fanny flutters.

The prisoners filter through, each one going to their respective visitors with longing and hurried speed. Then, Jongseong waltzes in, his hands cuffed in front of him. His navy, ill-fitted trousers, paired with a tight white v-neck that showcases just enough of his chest to let your imagination run wild and non-styled hair give him a dishevelled yet irresistibly handsome appearance. His dark eyes scan the room, exuding a sense of confidence and dominance.

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs over as you try to compose yourself and stop tears from escaping down your legs. Prison boys have never done anything for you, but Jongseong is on another level of attraction.

The room feels hotter, the air thicker, as your anxiety spikes like you’re playing a brutal game of emotional volleyball and you are always on the losing side. Jongseong whispers something to the guard beside him, his voice low and smooth but indecipherable. The guard glances your way, then points directly at you, making your heart race even faster, like you’re suddenly under the spotlight of an interrogation room.

Jongseong’s eyes land on you, and a smug smile spreads across his face. There's a flicker of surprise and confusion flashing across his features, but it quickly vanishes, replaced by that same predatory gleam you remember. He strides over to you with a casual arrogance, his every movement exuding confidence.

As he reaches the booth, he throws himself into the seat opposite you, the long chain connecting his hands and feet skate along the floor. He leans back, his eyes never leaving yours, the cuffs around his wrists clinking softly with the movement. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if the rest of the room has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this charged, electric moment.

Reaching for the phone, he places it against his ear and waits for you, chewing his gum leisurely, his eyebrows raised in an expectant arch. Your body remains still, paralysed by the magnetism of his presence, his pupils like black holes, sucking you into his hold. For a few beats of your heart, you can’t move, his gaze pinning you in place with an almost hypnotic intensity.

Finally, you gather the courage to lift the receiver, your hand trembling slightly as you bring it to your ear. The action feels monumental, the weight of the phone a tangible connection between you and the enigmatic man before you. As soon as you do, Jongseong smirks, leaning his elbows casually on the ledge behind the glass panel.

“Now who are you?” he inquires, devouring your appearance with trailing glances.

“...My name is Y/N,” you reply so softly he almost doesn’t catch it coming through the receiver.

"Well, Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He drawls, his voice a low, lazy murmur tinged with amusement. His eyes gleam with a mix of curiosity and wickedness, and the leer never leaves his face.

You remain silent, the words caught in your throat as you grapple with the swirl of emotions and thoughts racing through your mind. His half grin widens and he tilts his head slightly, still chewing his gum with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Okay, let me rephrase,” he says, his tone shifting to a mockingly thoughtful one. “What is a little lamb like you, requesting to see a big bad wolf like me for? Do we know each other?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and charged, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies your reaction. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat in your ears, a relentless drum that amplifies the tension between you. His words, laced with a blend of sarcasm and genuine intrigue, challenge you to respond and also hurt your chest a smidge. You have been thinking about this man who you saw for a maximum of 20 seconds for the past fortnight, dreaming about him and finding ways to get a visitor’s badge to see him and you probably haven’t passed his mind once.

Taking a deep breath, you find your voice, albeit shaky. “No…we don’t know one another,” you admit, suddenly realising the insanity of this whole ordeal. You begin to bite your lip and inwardly curse yourself for being so reckless.

“Then why are you here? ... Fuck, are you the lawyer they keep trying to pounce on me?” The sudden defensiveness in his words gets your attention, the sharpness of his voice creating a tremble in your legs. He is slowly putting his guard up the more he looks over your expensive outfit, drawing conclusions about you in his mind as he mistakes you for someone he would rather jab himself in the eye than see.

Quickly, your eyes widen, and you shake your hand up in defence. “No, no, no. I’m not a lawyer,” you explain, rushing the words out of your mouth to halt the wall he is placing between you. “I just-I want to get to know you.”

He pauses, the tension in his posture easing slightly, but his eyes remain wary. “Get to know me?” he repeats, his tone conveying scepticism and enlivened curiosity. “And why is that, darlin’?”

You swallow hard, your heart still racing and now paired with an uncomfortableness in your underwear as he calls you the endearing nickname, his accent filtering through your ears like your favourite song. “I don’t know,” you confess, looking down at your lap.

It’s pathetic, you know it, but you don’t know why. Well, you know you had to see him because your brain is insufferable and will not let you forget anything of the man’s existence, but that is all the reason you have come to see him, all it took for you to want to delve into his life. If you told him that, he would either see you as pathetic or easy prey.

“You don’t know?” he echoes back to you with a laugh, his body fully unguarded once again. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. It is at this moment that the penny drops as to who you are, his finger starting to wag as he leans back in the chair with an elated beam on his face.

“You were here when they carted me in.” The fact sits between you as it kisses a blush over your face in embarrassment, his realisation of your identity now suddenly making you wish that the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Did you like what you saw that much, you just had to come see it up close?”

Jongseong’s eyes glint with amusement, the smugness radiating off him like heat waves off asphalt. He leans back further, making himself comfortable, his chains clinking softly against the chair. His body language oozes confidence, the kind that borders on arrogance, and his grin stretches wide, revealing perfectly aligned teeth that contrast heavily with the dark intensity of his gaze.

“Look at you, all flustered,” he teases, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “I must’ve made quite an impression, huh?”

Your mind races, searching for an answer that feels as elusive as he is. He chuckles softly, the sound rich and full, vibrating through the phone line and into your very core. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, his tone almost gentle now. “Your eyes tell me everything I need to know.”

His self-belief is unshakable, a fortress built on years of navigating the rough waters of his life. The smugness in his manner is not just arrogance but a well-honed weapon, a way to keep people at bay while drawing them in. He knows the power he holds, and he wields it with a finesse that leaves you both disarmed and intrigued.

“Okay,” he leans forward again, his face so close to the glass panel that you wish it would disappear, allowing you to admire his features without the glare from the overhead lights as they dance annoyingly on the shield. “Let me tell you a few things about me. My name is Park Jongseong, although you already know that, don't you, darlin’?”

He pauses, his gaze lingering on you with a disconcerting intensity as you shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. How else could you have possibly arranged a visit with him? The question flashes across his face, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After all, as far as he knew, only family could visit him and fuck knows where they are. So how did you manage to worm your way in?

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. He nods knowingly before continuing. "I'm 22, been in and out of here about four times. I love romantic walks on the beach, and before you ask, it was car theft." The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation. His casual confession answers most of your unspoken questions, including the big one: why he was here. The revelation that he wasn’t in for something more sinister like murder eases some of your apprehension. Your heartbeat steadies and you feel a strange sense of relief mixed with the undeniable pull towards him.

The glass between you seems to distort, creating a shimmering mirage. Every word, every glance is charged with electricity. It's reckless, dangerous, but the allure is intoxicating. He studies you, his eyes drinking in your flushed cheeks and trembling lips. Leaning closer, he whispers into the phone, his voice a husky caress, "You're fucking beautiful. I could eat you alive."

The words are a cold reminder of the guard's chilling warning. Yet, instead of fear, you feel a thrill of defiance. Before you can stop yourself, you whisper back, "Why don't you?"

Surprised by your own boldness, you feel your face heat up even more. Jongseong’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of astonishment crossing his features before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “You’d like that, huh?” he asks cheekily, poking his tongue to his cheek.

He spots the cross hanging around your neck and shakes his head in disbelief. “Darlin’, you’re a good girl, I can tell. So why the fuck are you trying to play with me?”

His question hangs in the air, challenging you. You can feel his eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the unexpected boldness that had surged through you moments ago, leaves you speechless for a second.

"I..." you begin, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't know. Maybe because for once, I want to do something reckless. Something just for me."

He chuckles a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through the phone. "Oh, so you’re saying I’m just for you? That I can give you what you crave?” His voice is dripping in seduction and you are pretty sure you’re dripping on the stool you’re uncomfortably shifting on. “You’re playing with fire, little lamb. You sure you can handle the heat?"

The challenge in his tone ignites something inside you. You nod slowly, eyes locking onto his. "I'm not afraid of being burnt." You are, in fact, scared of a little heat but the thumping of your heart and the lightness of your head right now is a feeling you want to experience again and again, and you know for certain that the only person in this world that can give you this exhilaration is the criminal in front of you.

Jongseong's eyes hold a captivating potency as he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over the glass. "We'll see about that," he murmurs, a low, dangerous promise. "But be careful what you wish for, darling. Once you step into the fire, there's no turning back." His words hang heavy in the air, a tantalising mix of threat and allure.

Just then, the harsh clang of a metal object against the door shatters the intimate atmosphere. "Visiting time's over!" a guard's voice booms through the room. A wave of disappointment washes over you, a bittersweet pang as the realisation of impending separation hits you hard. Time flew by far too fast and you felt like you didn’t even get to scratch the surface of what you wanted this meeting to be

The playful arrogance in his eyes softens, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn't expected. "Hey," he begins gently, his voice a stark contrast to his usual bravado. "I'm out in three months." The words hang suspended in the air, a promise that ignites a spark of hope within you. “Wait for me, yeah?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Despite the softness, there's a flicker of his usual cockiness in his gaze, as if he already knows your answer. “Come on, you know you want to. I’m worth it.”

You nod, your throat too tight to speak. The guard’s voice booms again, and you know you have to go. The brute of a man is already making his way over to Jongseong to escort him back to his cell. Jongseong stands up, still holding the phone, and smiles a mock-innocent grin at you.

“Take care, darlin’,” he says, his voice a soft caress that sends shivers down your spine. “And don’t go fucking around while I’m gone. I’d hate to have to get done for murder.” A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, a reminder of the man he is and that he has made you his own from here on out.

His words are a blend of a promise and a threat, leaving you breathless. The guard finally reaches him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. Jongseong doesn’t resist, but his eyes stay locked on yours until the last possible moment, a smirk playing on his lips.

As the guard leads him away, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - excitement, trepidation, and a strange sense of belonging. The connection between you and Jongseong is undeniable, and the anticipation of what’s to come only heightens the tension.

You hang up the phone and stand, your legs feeling unsteady. As you make your way out of the visiting room, the reality of your decision settles over you. Jongseong has already left an indelible mark on your heart. And as much as he has claimed you, you realise with a surge of confidence that you have claimed him too.

And you’ll patiently wait as long as you have to.

_____

The sun blazes overhead, its subtle heat beating down as you sit on the hood of your car outside the prison gates. Your outfit is casual yet sexy: a form-fitting red tank top with mesh detailing paired with high-waisted denim shorts that accentuate your curves, knowing Jongseong will appreciate the effort. You’ve learned a lot about him over the past three months through your almost daily phone calls. Conversations about life, likes, dislikes, and everything in between have built a connection that transcends the barriers of the prison walls.

The memories of those short but impactful conversations play through your mind as you wait. Jongseong's deep voice details his favourite songs, the foods he craves, and the gossip around the cell blocks. You remember laughing together over his stubborn insistence that dark chocolate is superior to milk and the surprising revelation that he actually does like to walk along the beach and it wasn’t just a sarcastic comment the first day you met him.

There was that one agonising week when you couldn't reach him. The anxiety had eaten at you until you finally learned he'd been thrown into the hole for an outburst with another prisoner. The story came out later: a dispute over the weight bench had escalated until Jongseong had whacked the guy over the head with a dumbbell as a result of testing his patience. It was a reminder of the world he was still entangled in, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is in prison for a crime and that you both aren’t just long-distance lovers.

Seeing him in person had been almost impossible due to the strict visiting rules regarding family members being the only ones who could visit. But you weren’t deterred. With a little persuasion and a few hundred pounds slipped to the right people, you managed one precious visit. The memory of him that day is vivid: a busted lip, a black eye, and a new tattoo of a dagger with a dragon wrapped around it. The sight had sent your pulse racing. Despite the bruises, or perhaps because of them, he had never looked hotter. You’d been tempted to break the glass and pounce on him right then and there.

Although you still have some fear about injecting him into your peaceful life, you can’t deny the happiness you feel when he calls or the flutter in your stomach when he makes a slightly lewd comment describing exactly what he is going to do to you once he gets his hands on you.

You know you’re in for a wild ride in every sense of the word.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to wait too long because, right on time, you hear the gates open with a strained creak and yet, your heartbeats are somehow louder. The door of the gates swings open with a groan, revealing Jongseong. He's wearing the same black polo and fitted black trousers you saw him in that first day, now with an added black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The sight of him makes your heart quicken and throat close up as anxiety, both good and bad, courses through you. He looks every bit as dangerous and enticing as you remember, his stride strong and purposeful.

The closer he gets to you, the more urgent his steps become. His eyes lock onto yours with an ardour that makes your breath catch. He can’t wait to finally hold you in his arms, to feel your skin touching his. The world around you fades away, leaving only the magnetic pull between you two.

You jump down from the hood of the car, your legs slightly wobbly with excitement and nerves. Jongseong reaches you in a few long steps, chucking his duffle bag to the ground without a second thought. His hands grasp your face, fingers spreading out to cup your cheeks and jaw, his touch both firm and tender. The heat of his palms sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively lean into him, your hands finding purchase on his broad chest.

His pupils blaze with longing and something deeper, more primal. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones as he holds you in place, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence. He can’t quite believe you’re here and that he can finally know what you feel like. The air between you crackles with unspoken desire and the pent-up tension of months just out of reach.

"Fuck. Hi, darlin’," he whispers, mouth slightly open and eyes shaking. Part of him can’t fathom that you waited for him; most girls he fucks with never keep their promises to stay his, too scared to actually tag along in his life, but you did because that’s the kind of good girl you are: forever loyal and faithful.

"Hi, Jongseong," you smile softly, any fear you had now replaced with glee. The way his eyes are drinking you should scare you, the same way they did that day three months ago, but now it makes you feel wanted and desired in a way no other person has ever made you feel.

Call it the growth of character and a desperate need for the man in front of you.

Jongseong's eyes darken as he watches you wet your lips, anticipation crackling in the air between you. His gaze locks onto your mouth, and then suddenly, without giving you a moment to react, his lips crash against yours with a fervent urgency. His hands thread through your hair, fingers tangling as he tugs your head back. The motion elicits a gasp from you, and he takes full advantage, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore and conquer.

The kiss is wild, messy, and breathtaking. His tongue moves against yours with a possessive hunger, claiming every inch as if staking his territory. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mesh of his unique flavour and mint that leaves you dizzy. His lips move with a bruising intensity, sucking and biting, leaving your mouth tingling and swollen.

You moan into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, needing something to anchor yourself as the world spins around you. The force of his kiss, the way he devours you, sends a rush of heat straight to your core, making you ache with need. Every brush of his tongue against yours, every pull and nip of his lips, fans the flames of your desire higher and higher.

Jongseong's hands slide from your hair to your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel the hard planes of his chest against your softer curves, the heat of him searing through your clothes. His touch is both rough and tender, a dichotomy that leaves you craving more.

The kiss deepens, growing more frantic and desperate. It's as if he's trying to pour three months of pent-up longing and frustration into this one moment, and you respond with equal fervour. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

Never in your life have you been kissed like this. The rush and excitement tingle all over your body as his large hands dig into your skin, his fingers pressing firmly into your back, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. His tongue strokes against your own in a heated dance, each movement eliciting a new wave of desire that courses through you.

Your ex-boyfriend gave you soft pecks and gentle arm rubs, leaving you wondering if you even wanted to be with him. Those kisses were perfunctory, lacking the fire that now burns between you and Jongseong. This heated exchange, this raw, unbridled passion, makes you understand just how much you can crave a person.

Your own hands roam over his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, ignites a spark that sets your entire being ablaze. You feel like you could drown in this moment, in the intensity of his desire and the way it mirrors your own.

Jongseong breaks the kiss just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both pant heavily. His eyes are filled with a mix of lust and seduction. It makes you want to keep kissing him until your lips fall off, your mouth missing the invasion of his tongue suddenly.

As you go to lean in once again, he pulls back and shakes his head, a cocky smile plastered on his face. Your heart drops for a minute, thinking about how you might be too needy for him, too clingy. It was a constant complaint from your last boyfriend, so that insecurity bubbles up to the surface.

“No, baby,” Jongseong says, his voice low and teasing, his smile widening at your puzzled expression. “Not unless you want me to fuck you in front of the guard back there.”

Your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, embarrassment and excitement mingling to create depth to the shade. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, spotting the guard lingering a few feet away. Jongseong twists his body to give the officer a final wave, his gesture a clear, arrogant fuck-you to both authority and the system that has confined him. His smirk is one of satisfaction, and it only makes you shiver more, feeling the raw energy that radiates off him.

As the guard’s eyes follow Jongseong’s movement with disapproval and curiosity, Jongseong finally pulls his gaze back to you. His hand moves to grab his duffle bag, lifting it with effortless ease before sliding his arm over your shoulder in a possessive, almost protective manner. The touch of his arm against your skin sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you instinctively lean into his side, savouring the closeness and warmth of his body.

“Come on,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, commanding murmur, suddenly turning slightly serious despite the small smile on his face. “We gotta stop somewhere real quick.”

_____

Stepping out of the car, Jongseong takes your hand and leads you towards a diner. The building has a certain charm despite its rundown appearance. The paint is peeling in places, and the sign flickers intermittently. Only a few patrons occupy the scattered booths inside, which is slightly strange considering it’s the middle of the day and diners like this are typically occupied by teenagers and first dates.

Which is exactly why you are so excited. This is your first real date with Jongseong, and you cannot wait to get to know him on a deeper level. Although you would say you know him pretty well, all those 15-minute-a-day calls have done wonders for learning about each other, but this isn’t time-restricted or monitored by guards; this opens up the opportunity for a pure and unfiltered conversation with him.

Peering up at him, you see his relaxed manner and smile. You will never know what it is like to be locked up, but you can imagine how draining it can be - the kiss of freedom from the air must uplift his spirit.

As you walk into the diner, the chequered floor and the nostalgic aroma of coffee and fried food fill the air. The decor is dated, with vinyl booths and Formica tables, but there's a certain cosiness to it. You expect Jongseong to lead you to a booth so you can have your long-awaited date, but instead, he guides you through the diner's main area, straight towards the kitchen.

You glance around, confused. "Where are we going?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Just some business, then you'll have me all to yourself, alright?" he replies with a wink, giving your knuckles a soft kiss before continuing forward.

You follow him, weaving through the bustling kitchen. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of food on the grill, and the chatter of the chefs create a cacophony of sounds. Jongseong nods and exchanges brief greetings with a few of the cooks, who glance at you curiously before returning to their tasks. One chef, a burly man with a white apron smeared with grease, gives Jongseong a nod of recognition and jerks his head to the door coming into view.

Finally, Jongseong pushes open a heavy metal door at the back of the kitchen, revealing a starkly different environment. The room beyond is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something more acrid. It is filled with brute-looking men, one of them is counting a stack of money with deliberate precision, his thick fingers moving with practised ease, while the others eye Jongseong and you with cold, assessing gazes.

The atmosphere is tense; you feel suffocated, if not by the smoke, then by the glares you are currently receiving. Something tells you that these men and Jongseong are not on the best of terms.

The man counting the money looks up, his eyes narrowing slightly. He has a thick, muscular build, and a scar runs down the side of his face, giving him a permanently grim expression. “Park fucking Jongseong,” he chides, placing the notes down on the table beside him. “Where the fuck did you go?”

“Aw, did you miss me, Bang?” Jongseong fake pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. “I’m touched, really.”

Standing up, Bang towers over the table, his broad shoulders casting an imposing shadow. His eyes, dark and unyielding, bore into Jongseong with a mixture of contempt and curiosity.

Jongseong, however, remains unfazed. His casual demeanour contrasts sharply with the palpable hostility in the room. He releases your hand and takes a step forward, his movements deliberate and confident. “I was in the slammer for a few, you know how it is,” he says coolly, like losing months of his life to prison bars was as casual as forgetting to pick up milk from the shop run. “I’m here for my money.”

Bang scoffs a low, guttural sound that reverberates through the room. “What fucking money? you waltz back in here like I owe you something, is that it?” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging under the strain. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Jongseong’s smile doesn’t waver. “I’ve always had nerve, Bang. And you owe me for the car that put me behind bars.” He glances back at you, his eyes softening for a moment before returning to the hardened stare of his adversary.

You stand rooted to the spot, your heart pounding in your chest. The smoky air feels even thicker now, each breath a struggle. The men shift slightly, their eyes flicking between Jongseong and Bang, anticipating the next move, like they’re awaiting instructions.

You’ve seen scenarios like this play out in movies and even then do you hate the feeling it gives in your stomach, so now watching the movie play out in real life makes you feel a little nauseous because you know this can only end badly.

Bang’s lips curl into a sneer. “You’re demanding I pay you for that piece of shit car? The one with the kicked-in engine? Mate, you’re fucking delusional. That car couldn’t have even paid your pathetic bail.”

“You asked me for that specific car, I delivered, now give me my money.” Jongseong’s calm and cocky aura suddenly shifts to a dangerous one, one you hadn’t quite prepared yourself to see. Of course, you knew this side existed; you don’t survive multiple bouts in prison without developing an edge. But witnessing it firsthand is something else entirely.

His posture changes, shoulders squared and jaw set, exuding a raw, unfiltered intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink around the two men, their confrontation a silent battle of wills. The other men at the table straighten up, sensing the shift in tension, readying themselves to pounce as soon as their boss gives a signal.

This is bad.

Placing your hand on his arm, you draw his focus to you. Your eyes gleam up at him, silently conveying worry. “Jongseong, let’s just leave it, you just got out,” you plead as your head shakes in disapproval. If there was one thing you have learned from the stories Jongseong has told you, it’s that his temper is a short fuse, and with the lock on his jaw, you know he is a few seconds away from exploding.

His eyes soften momentarily as he looks at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to rein in his anger. For a brief moment, it seems like the confrontation is over. But before you can even attempt to lead him out of the room and back to your car, Bang’s voice cuts through the air, dripping with derision. “Yeah, Park, listen to your bitch before I set my men on both of you.”

The words hang in the air, a malicious echo that sends a chill down your spine. Jongseong stops dead in his tracks, his body going rigid. You feel the shift instantly, his muscles tensing under your hand.

The calm exterior he had tried to maintain shatters. Jongseong whirls around, eyes blazing with fury. “What the fuck did you just say?” he snarls, his voice low and dangerous, a stark contrast to the calm, controlled tone he had used before.

Bang smirks, leaning back in his chair, clearly relishing the reaction he’s provoked. “You heard me. I said listen to your slutty side piece before I make sure you both can’t walk again,” he repeats, his voice dripping with contempt. “Did that hit a nerve?”

Before you can react, Jongseong lunges forward, his fist connecting with Bang’s jaw with a sickening thud. The force of the punch sends Bang sprawling to the floor, the chair skidding across the room. The men around you jump to attention, but no one makes a move to intervene, their eyes wide with shock.

“You don’t ever threaten my girl like that,” Jongseong growls, standing over Bang, who is struggling to get up. “Ever.”

You can’t deny the fuzziness in your stomach when he claims you as his girl. The simple slip of the tongue somehow drowns out his outlandish actions. Bang deserved it after all.

Bang wipes a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes blazing with a mix of pain and rage. “You’re gonna regret that, Park,” he spits out, though there's an unmistakable tremor of fear in his voice now. With a snap of his fingers, his men spring into action, advancing toward Jongseong with menacing intent.

Jongseong steps back, his stance shifting into a defensive posture, muscles coiled and ready. “Darlin’, go wait in the car, I’ll be out in a minute,” he murmurs, his gaze locked onto the advancing men. His arm is outstretched to shield you, the veins in his forearm prominent as he tenses.

You hesitate, torn between the urge to stay by his side and the instinct to protect him despite his obvious capability. “But-”

“Be a good girl,” Jongseong’s voice is firm yet gentle, laced with a protective urgency. He meets your gaze with a stern but concerned look that brooks no argument. With a heavy heart and a lump in your throat, you nod reluctantly, stepping back into the kitchen.

Your eyes remain glued to him, a mix of fear and helplessness tightening in your chest. The seconds tick by slowly, each moment feeling like an eternity as Jongseong prepares to face off against men far larger and more intimidating than any security guard or gym bro you’ve ever encountered.

The room’s atmosphere thickens with tension as the men close in on Jongseong. One of them, a burly figure with arms like tree trunks, grabs hold of Jongseong, his grip like iron. Jongseong struggles against the man’s hold, his muscles straining as he fights to break free.

Another of Bang’s men seizes the opportunity, delivering a brutal punch to Jongseong’s midsection. The impact sends a sharp gasp through the air, and you watch in horror as Jongseong’s body lurches from the blow. His face contorts in pain, but he doesn’t give in, still trying to break free from the grip holding him back.

From your vantage point, you can only watch in helpless horror as the fight unfolds. Jongseong’s strength and skill are evident, but the overwhelming numbers and sheer size of his opponents make it daunting. Each punch landed on him seems to resonate with a bone-deep impact, and the grunts and shouts of the men create a chaotic symphony of violence.

The sight of Jongseong, usually so composed and confident, struggling against the odds is almost too much to bear. You want to rush in, to do something, anything to help, but the kitchen's doorway feels like an insurmountable barrier. Your heart races, your breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps as you watch the scene unfold.

Jongseong’s eyes meet yours briefly, a flicker of reassurance in their stormy depths even as he endures another punishing blow. The look he gives you is a silent promise that he will get through this, that he’s fighting not just for himself, but for both of you. He will be damned if any of these men thought for a second that it was acceptable to threaten you or lay a finger on your precious body - especially not since he has just found out how beautifully soft your skin feels on his fingertips, or how perfectly your lips mesh with his own.

With a strained grunt, Jongseong uses his legs to kick out at his assailants, creating a brief moment of respite. His body, still taut from the impacts, is hunched and battered, but his spirit remains unyielding. He turns to face you, his voice a mix of anger and desperation cutting through the cacophony. “Y/N, get the fuck out of here!” he yells, his command urgent and fierce.

Nodding frantically, you stumble back, your breath hitching as you watch Jongseong throw a sharp, decisive punch at the man who had been holding him back. The impact sends the man staggering, giving Jongseong a brief but crucial reprieve. The fight rages on around him, but for a moment, his focus is entirely on you.

You retreat through the kitchen, your mind spinning with fear and helplessness. Your only thought is to get to safety, to ensure Jongseong’s instructions are followed. You burst through the back door and into the parking lot, the air cold against your flushed skin despite the sun still blaring.

Once outside, you hurry to the car, your mind racing. The dim light of the diner’s parking lot does little to ease the anxiety curling in your stomach. You can’t help but worry about Jongseong - about what’s happening inside and whether he’ll come out unscathed.

You lean against the car, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you glance anxiously towards the diner. The minutes stretch on interminably, amplifying the knot of worry in your stomach. The tense stillness seems almost unbearable, and just as the fear of the worst begins to grip you, you see Jongseong’s figure finally emerge through the door.

He strides towards you, each step purposeful but burdened. His face is a canvas of bruises and blood, his eyebrow bleeding in a thin streak that trails down his cheek. The sight of him, battered and raw, sends a shiver of dread through you. You can barely hold back the tears as you rush forward.

“Oh my god, Jongseong-” The words tumble out, laced with a mix of relief and anguish, but they are abruptly cut off as Jongseong’s lips crash onto yours. His kiss is fierce and demanding, a raw burst of emotion that takes you completely by surprise.

His hands are strong and desperate as they frame your face, his touch scorching against your skin. The kiss is so hungry, so primal, that it eclipses the first kiss you shared, which is hard to believe if you weren’t the one on the receiving end. The intensity of it is overwhelming, the force of his need evident in every movement. He pulls you closer, his lips moving with an urgent, almost frantic rhythm.

As he deepens the kiss, his hand trails down from your face to his own throat, his fingers gripping the base of his neck. The gesture is both intimate and possessive, reminding you that he called you his girl and fought on behalf of you. The thoughts add another layer of desire from your end, the protectiveness he already has over you despite only knowing you for a hot minute makes your skin tingle with glee.

Every sensation is amplified - the rough texture of his lips against yours, the heated pulse of his touch, and the faint tremor of excitement in his frame. You can taste the salt of his sweat and the faint metallic tang of blood from his cuts mingling with the warmth of his breath. His other hand moves to your lower back, pulling you tighter against him, his body pressing firmly into yours.

Jongseong had forgotten how much of a thrill he got from fighting, the way seeing the blood splatter - from both his rival and himself - made him feel alive. It had been too long since he had a good kick like this, the prison scraps he would be part of were nothing like this, too weak and pathetic. This is the kind of adrenaline he wanted, one when he didn’t know if he would make it out alive. But he knew he had to, for your sake.

The image of you flashed in his mind as he was pummelling into the men and Bang. The thought of dragging you into this dangerous world gnaws at him, but it’s a burden he’s willing to bear. He can’t imagine asking you to walk away, even though he knows he’s pulling you into a dangerous world with wicked consequences.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath heavy and laboured. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable, an intense blend of desire and desperation. Blood smears across your cheek where his fingers had been, the sight and scent adding something raw to the moment. He never wants to see you hurt, but the blood smudged on your skin makes his blood run thinner with lust.

He gets horny when he is riled up like this, that much is evident by the way he is suddenly pushing you against the car and pressing his growing erection into your lower abdomen. The cold metal of the car against your back is a stark contrast to the heat of his body, a jarring reminder of the reality you're in, yet it only heightens the sensations coursing through you.

Jongseong's lips return to yours, more aggressive and demanding as he tries to consume you entirely. His hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, fingers digging into your skin with a need that borders on feral. The bruises on his knuckles brush against your flesh, a rough reminder of the fight he's just endured for you. His touch is searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

A low, guttural groan escapes him as he grinds his hips into yours, the friction sparking a desperate ache deep within you. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could fuse your bodies together.

His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, a plea and a promise all at once. Jongseong responds with a growl, his lips trailing down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that claim you as his. His hands roam lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you slightly, pressing you harder against the car.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he whispers into your mouth with promise. He means this both figuratively and physically. He is going to lead you down a dark path, and he can’t say he’s even the slightest bit sorry about it.

Without warning, he swings the backseat door open and tosses you in, his strength overwhelming. You barely have time to catch your breath before he's on top of you, the weight of his body pressing you into the seat, his hands moving with a desperate urgency. His lips find yours again, a hungry, demanding kiss that leaves you gasping.

The confined space of the car adds an extra layer of intensity, the heat between you palpable. Jongseong's hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, his fingers digging into your skin with a need that borders on feral. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "I need to taste you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a thrill of anticipation that leaves you trembling. He moves down your body, his lips and hands leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The car's interior feels too small, too hot, as he shifts between your legs, his eyes dark with desire as he looks up at you.

“You okay with this?” he asks, seeking consent. Your body language is enough to tell him that you want this probably as much as he does, but the thing is, he doesn’t know how much of a good girl you are. If no one else got to touch you like this, he would be ecstatic, but it also means you could want to take your time.

There is a flash in his eyes that makes your core pulse and has you nodding without thinking. “Yeah, I want this,” you whisper out, though it sounds like you’re bellowing the words through a megaphone, the desperation in your voice making sure of that.

Kissing along your stomach as his hands undo your shorts, his lips dipping lower as he pulls them off of you. “Has anyone had you before?” The tone of his voice is gritty and hoarse, swallowing his jealousy at even the thought.

Just because he would be fine with it, doesn’t mean he can’t wish to curse any man that had the audacity to think they are worthy of being with you.

Swallowing the forming saliva in your mouth, his dangerous glare into your eyes tells you that perhaps you should lie and say no, that you haven’t had past lovers. But if he caught you lying, you think the repercussions might be worse than whatever will come if you tell him the truth.

“Yes, one.”

“How many times did he have you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“How many times did he put his disgusting, unworthy mouth on you?”

Oh.

You physically shrivel up, feeling small under his intense stare and gripping hands. You can’t actually recall how many times your ex boyfriend went down on you but it can't be more than four times, claiming he didn’t see the point in it when he could just fuck you. Safe to say the sex you had with him was lacklustre.

“Not many,” you manage to whisper, feeling the heat of shame and anger rise in you. The memories of the past, the way you were neglected, seem to pale in comparison to the intensity Jongseong is offering you now. “Three times? Maybe four?”

“Well, which is it? Three or four?” he insists. His fingers dip into the band of your underwear, teasing your skin with a ghosting touch.

“Why? Does it matter?” This was absolutely the wrong follow-up question to ask because Jongseong’s eyes turn black, jaw setting into the same locked position it did earlier.

“So I know how many times I need to make you cum to wash him out of your system,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your underwear, the touch searing and electric against your skin. He pulls them down, tossing them aside with a careless flick of his wrist, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze is almost too much to bear, a raw hunger that leaves you breathless.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart with a possessiveness that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. The heat between your legs is unbearable, the need for his touch almost painful. His breath is hot against your skin as he trails kisses down your inner thigh, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Jongseong’s lips hover just above your centre, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive parts, making you shiver with need. The anticipation is excruciating, every nerve ending screaming for his touch.

“Tell me, how many?” he murmurs, holding back from diving in which is just as painful as it is for you.

“I really…I really don’t remember,” you reply honestly. No matter the number of times your ex-boyfriend was between your legs, he never made you cum anyway so that might have everything to do with the memory lapse.

Something tells you that you will remember exactly how many times Jongseong gets between your legs.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with determination. "Okay, I’ll make it five, just to be sure," he says, his voice rough with need. When his tongue finally makes contact, it’s like an electric shock, pleasure shooting through you in waves.

He works you over with a skill and intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and swirl designed to draw out your pleasure. He knows exactly where to touch, how to lick, to drive you wild. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he devours you, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You arch against him, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could never get enough. His low, satisfied growls vibrate against you, adding another layer of sensation that leaves you trembling.

"Jongseong, please," you gasp, your voice shaky and filled with need. The world narrows down to the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his hands, and the waves of pleasure crashing over you. You can feel yourself spiralling towards the edge, every touch pushing you closer and closer.

Jongseong has a tongue and mouth simply made for eating pussy, and he is showing you just how someone should be licking and slurping at your sensitive area. Not even two minutes have passed and you can already feel the pressure of your orgasm building; a new record for you. Not even when you manage to find some alone time can you make yourself cum this quickly.

His mouth is relentless, tongue flicking and swirling with a precision that has you seeing stars. He alternates between gentle laps and firm, insistent strokes, each movement designed to push you higher and higher. His lips seal around your clit, sucking and releasing in a rhythm that leaves you gasping. The heat of his mouth, the roughness of his tongue, and the sheer determination in his every move send you spiralling towards ecstasy.

When the first orgasm hits, it’s like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Jongseong holds you through it, his mouth never leaving you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re left trembling. His hands grip your hips, anchoring you to the car seat as you ride out the waves of sensation.

But he doesn’t stop. His fingers find their way inside you, curling and stroking with a skill that has you begging for breath. He adds a second finger, then a third, stretching and filling you, making you deliciously overwhelmed. His tongue continues its assault on your clit, harshly flickering in tandem with the movements of his fingers.

“Jongseong, I-” you gasp, trying to form words through the haze of pleasure.

“I know, darlin’,” he growls, his voice vibrating against your skin. “I can feel you. Don’t hold back.”

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot with unerring precision, each stroke sending shivers up your spine. His tongue dances around your clit, alternating between gentle flicks and firm, insistent licks that have you teetering on the edge. The second orgasm comes even faster, your body hypersensitive from the first. It crashes over you, leaving you gasping and moaning his name. Jongseong’s mouth is relentless, his tongue and fingers never stopping, never giving you a moment to catch your breath. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge and then pull you back, prolonging the pleasure until you’re a quivering mess beneath him.

His determination is relentless. He pushes you through the third orgasm with the same intensity, his touch never faltering. He adds another layer to the sensation, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue and fingers continue their work. Each orgasm leaves you more breathless, more spent, until you’re a quakinh mess beneath him, gripping at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from euphoria.

“I need you to scream my name,” he murmurs against your folds, his voice dark and commanding. “I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.”

It is only at that moment you remember that Jongseong is eating you out in a diner car park where anyone can look in the window and see your lewd actions, never mind hear them.

But that doesn’t stop you obeying him.

The thrust of his fingers quickens as your juices begin to fly around in your car and drip down your leather seats, your essence acting like holy water as you bless the car with your backseat serenade. Your hand grips the silver cross around your neck as you curse the Lord's name in vain, the only thing you can worship right now is a criminal’s touch.

“Jjongie,” you mewl out, losing yourself to your lust and heat, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He smirks as you create a nickname in the midst of the pleasure, loving the way it sounds falling from your tongue.

He will only ever let you call him that.

The fourth orgasm builds slowly, the pleasure mounting with every touch, every stroke. Jongseong’s fingers hit that perfect spot over and over again. His tongue dances across your clit as he makes his tongue rigid, each flick sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. You can feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in your belly, until it finally explodes, leaving you shuddering and gasping for breath.

“Jjongie, please,” you beg, your voice hoarse and broken. “I can’t take anymore.”

“Yes, you can,” he insists, his voice rough with desire. “You’re gonna give me one more. Just one more, darlin’.”

He keeps going, his mouth and fingers working together in a symphony of pleasure. The fifth orgasm is the most intense yet, your body extremely susceptible and on edge from the previous ones. He adds a fourth finger, stretching you wide, probably even wider than your ex’s cock ever did, his tongue working your clit with a precision that has you seeing venus. He uses his tongue apply pressure in ways that have you feeling every single nerve ending come alive. The pleasure builds and builds until it finally crashes over you, leaving you a quivering, trembling mess beneath him for the nth time.

When he finally pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with multiple layers of your arousal, he looks at you with a fierce, possessive pride. "There," he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Now you’re mine. Only mine."

He climbs up your body, his mouth finding yours in a searing kiss that tastes of you. The connection between you is electric, something beautiful. You fight the tiredness as you plaster a smile of happiness and contentment across your face, and he kisses all over your cheeks and lips, creating a line of adoration. His kisses are softer now, each one a tender promise.

As the initial rush of passion subsides, you finally take in the full extent of his injuries. His face is a canvas of bruises and cuts, each mark a testament to the fight he endured. Your fingers move gently, tracing the path of the blood streak on his eyebrow, smoothing over the swollen skin with care. The sight of him beaten like this makes your heart ache.

"Promise me you won't keep doing this?" you ask, your voice tinged with worry and desperation as you wipe the mixture of your slick and saliva from his mouth. Your eyes search his, pleading for an answer, a reassurance that he won’t put himself in harm's way again.

Instead of a verbal response, Jongseong leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one is soft, tender, and lingering. It speaks of unspoken promises and the turbulent emotions between you. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

Although you take the kiss as a sealed promise, you should know better than to trust a criminal.

_____

Walking out of your campus building, you see an unfamiliar car paired with a very familiar man waiting on the sidewalk. Jongseong leans against the sleek monochrome vehicle. He looks as confident and imposing as ever, with his hair gelled in his typical style and a fitted black T-shirt that shows off his tattoos, earning some judgmental glances from your peers.

You wave off your friends, a wide smile spreading across your face. Skipping down the stairs with glee, you bound towards him, unable to contain your excitement. The moment Jongseong spots your figure approaching, the hard stare and scowl he portrays vanish, replaced by an expression of equal joy to yours.

In the past month, you and Jongseong have grown incredibly close. Despite his semi-cold exterior and rough edges, there's a softer side to him that only you get to see. He's protective and loyal, his tough shell cracking open whenever you're around. The little things he does - like texting you as soon as he wakes up, remembering your favourite bands name, plus all the members, or listening to you read him excerpts from the book you divulge in while he works out - reveal a tenderness he rarely shows to anyone else.

Jongseong opens his arms, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist as he catches you effortlessly. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, grounding himself in your presence. The onlookers judge, whispering among themselves, but neither of you cares. Being with each other is all that matters.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes.

He grins, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his face. "Couldn't stay away from my darlin’ too long, could I?" he murmurs, his voice a blend of affection and mischief. "Thought I'd surprise you."

You chuckle, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Well, paint me shocked."

Setting you down gently, he keeps his arms wrapped around your waist, not wanting to let you go just yet. “I thought we could drive out for a bit, I need to visit my bank for a…slight withdrawal,” he explains.

You nod, eyes twinkling. It doesn't matter what the errand is; any time spent with Jongseong feels like an adventure. Over the past month, you've done everything together: hitting the gym, shopping for your dorm kitchen, and running around to the post office to send some letters. Even mundane trips to the bank like this seem exciting when he's by your side.

As you both get into the front seats, you can't help but ask the million-dollar question, "Where did you get this car?"

Jongseong's life outside has been anything but easy; his criminal record makes it difficult for him to secure a steady job. Despite this, he's always trying, often because you push him to stay on the right path. You appreciate his efforts, knowing how much he resists resorting to his old ways. At least, as far as you know.

"Just a banger from one of my mates," he replies nonchalantly, as he starts the engine. "Nothing compared to yours."

"I think it suits you," you say, glancing around the shabby interior. The car is a patchwork of bumps and scratches, with a dashboard that's seen better days and seats that are well-worn and torn in places.

"Because it's battered and dented?" he quips, a teasing note in his voice.

"No," you respond, playfully hitting him on the arm. "Because it has a certain charm about it, if you look past the scrapes and cuts."

A shy, almost boyish grin settles upon Jongseong’s face, very much out of character for him. Considering you’re admitting to seeing past his rugged appearance and guarded heart, even through the guise of the car, he can’t help but appreciate the compliment. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel as he pulls out onto the road.

You settle back into your seat, watching the world pass by outside the window. The car rattles slightly, but it feels like an extension of Jongseong himself - rough around the edges, but with a hidden depth that you can't help but admire.

The journey takes you away from the hustle and bustle of the campus, the road stretching out for miles ahead. The landscape transforms into a picturesque scene painted with warm, golden hues. Sunlight bathes the rolling fields in a soft glow, casting long shadows that dance across the green grass. Farm animals graze contentedly within the sweeping wind, their movements leisurely and peaceful. The serene beauty of the countryside envelops you, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts that often plague your mind.

As the scenery blurs by, you unlock your phone and realise you've been so caught up in sight-seeing that you hadn’t noticed how much time had passed. A slight furrow forms on your brow as you glance at the clock, wondering why on earth you are still driving.

"Your bank branch is really far away, Jongseong," you observe, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Yeah," he replies, placing a hand on your exposed leg, his touch warm and reassuring. "I guess it is, huh?"

His tone carries a weird, knowing look on his face, something that makes you sceptical but also intrigued. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes, one that you’ve come to recognise. It’s the look he gets when he’s planning something unexpected. Despite the small sliver of doubt in your mind, you decide not to question him further, choosing trust over anything else.

The road ahead twists and turns, each bend revealing more of the idyllic countryside. Birds soar in the sky, their songs adding a melodic backdrop to your journey. You find yourself relaxing into the seat, the comfort of Jongseong’s presence and the captivating landscape blending together into a perfect moment of tranquillity.

That moment is about to be severely interrupted.

Jongseong takes a sharp turn off the main road, driving down a narrow, gravelly path that leads to a run-down building in the middle of nowhere. The structure of the bank is weary and neglected, its facade chipped and the white stones which make up its exterior are now yellow with a mixture of smoke and years of tear. The windows are grimy, and the door doesn’t shut over as the hinges hold the doors askew. Weeds sprout through the cracks in the pavement, and the entire place exudes a sense of forgotten utility. You wonder who on earth decides to keep money here.

Jongseong pulls the car to a stop and gets out, jogging around to open the door for you. He helps you out with a gentle grip on your hand, his touch a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings.

You notice the tension in his shoulders, his usually composed exterior seems frayed, much like the edges of the black duffle bag he retrieves from the backseat. The bag, reminiscent of the one he had when coming out of prison, is empty save for something weighing it down slightly.

"What's that for?" you inquire, pointing to the duffle that is trapped in his tight grip.

"I'm just going to get a lot of money, that's all," he replies, smiling so innocently that it looks almost devious.

Why wouldn't he just keep it all his money in the bank in the first place? Places don't even usually take cash these days. You internally start to question, unable to suppress the growing unease. He is acting strange and suddenly, your gut isn’t feeling so happy.

Jongseong extends his hand, fingers stretched for you to interlock with his. His grip is firm, reassuring yet compelling. They are so big compared to yours that they practically swallow yours whole. As he starts to walk away, you can’t help but notice he isn’t locking the car. You know no one is around, but considering he used to steal cars for a living, you think he would know the dangers of leaving it out in the open like this.

Regardless of your apprehension, you follow him, the gravel crunching under your feet as you approach the run-down bank. Jongseong’s pace quickens, his body language a mix of urgency and confidence.

As you step inside, the air is stale, carrying the scent of mildew and old paper. The interior is dimly lit, dust particles dancing in the beams of sunlight. Surprisingly, there are people scattered in the foyer: an older couple who have to be in their late sixties and a man who exudes zero confidence, his pale complexion and silver-rimmed glasses, paired with his shrivelled frame.

The worst thing the man does is look at you for a second longer than Jongseong would like. Cracking his neck, Jongseong pulls you closer to him as he stares the man down, giving him a warning shot. Quickly, there are no eyes on you.

Jongseong is always like this, silently threatening any man who even dares to glance at you. One time, you were at the supermarket, innocently buying a bottle of wine and some Sensations chilli and lime crisps, when the clerk had the audacity to speak to you - it was just to ask if you needed help, that was too many words according to Jongseong. He had given the clerk a harsh look, his jaw clenched tightly as he pulled you closer, ensuring the man understood his silent message. The poor guy had paled, quickly ringing up your items without another word.

You glance around the run-down bank, taking in the cracked tiles and peeling wallpaper. The entire place feels like it’s on the verge of collapse. As you watch Jongseong, you notice him checking the duffle bag a few times, his eyes scanning the room with a sharp intensity. Something about his demeanour makes your stomach twist with unease.

"Jongseong, what are we actually doing here?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing anxiety.

"Darlin', I'm getting money, why else would we be here?" he laughs as if you’ve asked the dumbest question he has ever heard. His tone is light, but his eyes remain hard, focused.

You bite your lip, glancing around the room once more. The older couple is speaking softly to each other, their attention nowhere near you. The timid man with glasses is fiddling with his phone, his hands trembling slightly. Despite the seemingly mundane scene, your gut is yelling at you that something is terribly wrong and you think you know what it is.

"How are you getting the money?" you ask, the words catching in your throat. You’re scared to even pose the question due to the answer you might receive.

Jongseong doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances at you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he turns his attention back to the bag. The silence stretches uncomfortably, and you can feel the tension in the air growing thicker.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the realisation dawning on you. “Jongseong, please, tell me we’re not here to-”

“Next,” the woman calls in front of you, breaking your chain of thought.

Jongseong gently unravels your intertwined hands and steps forward to the desk. The woman behind the counter looks up with a bored and disinterested expression, her fingers tapping impatiently on the worn-out surface.

“What can I help you with today?” she asks, her tone flat and mechanical.

Jongseong smiles brightly, tilting his head slightly as he leans closer. “I need you to put all the money in the bag,” he says, his voice smooth and sweet.

The woman furrows her brow in confusion, her mouth opening to question him, but the words die in her throat as Jongseong smoothly pulls a gun from the duffle bag and presses it to her forehead. His smile never falters, remaining charming and innocent, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

You feel your stomach drop, a cold wave of fear washing over you. Your hands tremble, and your breath catches in your throat. The world around you seems to blur, the edges of your vision darkening as panic sets in. You can hardly believe what’s happening. This isn’t the Jongseong you know, the one who holds you gently and kisses you tenderly. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, a side that terrifies you.

“Jongseong,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the rushing blood in your ears.

He doesn’t look at you, his focus entirely on the woman in front of him. With a calm and steady hand, he clicks the safety off the gun. “10s and 20s in the bag, love. Quickly.”

The woman’s eyes widen in fear, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she begins to gather the bills. The crisp rustling of paper fills the charged silence, punctuated only by the faint hum of the bank’s outdated air conditioning. Her movements are jerky and hurried, every action underscored by the mounting tension in the room. Her terrified gaze flits nervously between Jongseong and the duffle bag, reflecting the same panic you feel surging within you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice another bank worker, a woman in her late forties with a spiky haircut fit to rival Shirley Carter from Eastenders, sliding her hand toward the hidden panic button beneath the desk. Jongseong’s sharp eyes catch the movement instantly. With a swift, fluid motion, he pivots the gun’s direction, the barrel now pointed at the second worker. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice cutting through the air like a razor blade.

The woman’s face drains of colour, her eyes widening in terror as she freezes mid-reach. Her fingers twitch nervously, the hand hovering inches from the button. You can see the palpable fear in her expression as her face goes slack, slowly withdrawing her hand to ensure her own safety, not daring to provoke Jongseong’s ire.

Turning back to you for a moment, Jongseong makes eye contact with you, winking in joy as if you are equally having as much fun as he is.

And the funny thing is, he can see it inside of you. Behind that fear, is a flash of thrill that even you haven’t registered. It’s something he can identify because it is the exact same look he has in his orbs when he does something that spikes his adrenaline. This is exactly why you came to him that day and the exact reason he has kept you by his side.

You’re cut from the same cloth, even if sewn to different clothes.

As the woman finishes stuffing the bills into the bag, her hands moving with a frantic speed, Jongseong maintains his disarming smile, but the menace in his eyes betrays his calm demeanour. The bag grows heavy with the weight of the cash, the rustling paper now almost rhythmic, a morbid symphony underscoring the gravity of the situation.

When the woman finally slides the bulging duffle bag across the counter, her face pale and stricken, Jongseong’s fingers close around the handle with a sense of finality. He casts one last wary glance around the bank, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a reassuring nod that feels more like a promise of survival than comfort.

“Thanks for the service, sweetheart. Really, it has been class. I’ll write you a good Yelp review, for sure,” Jongseong's voice drips with arrogance and sarcasm, an unsettling calm underlying his criminal actions. He turns to you, his eyes intense yet strangely affectionate. “Let’s go, darlin’.”

With the duffle bag in hand, he leads you towards the exit, his grip on your wrist firm yet unyielding. Your legs feel like lead as you follow him, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty space. You glance back at the bank workers, their faces a portrait of fear and confusion, and you can't shake the crushing sense of guilt that weighs on your heart. Yet, there is a strange feeling of exhilaration that beats in your chest, a rush you’ve never felt before.

The two of you step back into the bleak daylight, and Jongseong’s car waits in the same spot. Now leaving it unlocked makes sense; you need to make a quick getaway. He opens the door for you with an almost gentlemanly gesture, though his eyes are still sharp, scanning the surroundings.

You both jump into the car, the doors slamming shut simultaneously. Jongseong hits the gas, the car lurching forward with a screech of tires. The engine roars to life as he maneuvers onto the road, the world outside blurring into a frenetic swirl of colours and shapes. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, adrenaline flooding your system. It's the closest to an existential crisis you’ve ever come, the reality of what just happened clashing violently with the surreal rush of it all.

Jongseong wears a shit-eating grin, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous glee as he speeds down the highway. He runs a hand through his hair, the strands falling back into place messily. Suddenly, he slams his palm on the steering wheel a few times in sheer excitement, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “We fucking did it!” he exclaims, his voice filled with disbelief and triumph.

You look at him like he’s crazy, his entire being now radiating joy despite just committing a felony big enough to land him back in jail. Your mind races, a whirlwind of fear, excitement, and bewilderment. How could he be so thrilled, so elated, after what just happened? The exhilaration from moments ago is rapidly giving way to a gnawing anxiety, the reality of your actions sinking in.

"Pull over," you finally manage to say, your voice barely steady.

"What?" Jongseong's grin falters for a moment, confusion clouding his features.

"Pull over," you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"Do you want to get caught?" he snaps, acutely aware that the police have probably been alerted by now. His eyes dart to the rearview mirror, scanning for any signs of pursuit.

“I want to know what the fuck you think you’re doing.”

Jongseong’s jaw tightens, and any joy that was flowing through his body has now evaporated, escaping through the heavy exhale from his nostrils. His hands grip the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white, the tendons in his arms standing out starkly. The atmosphere inside the car grows heavy, thick with tension and unspoken words.

You realise instantly that you’ve crossed a line, the severity of your words sinking in as his anger radiates off him like a palpable force. The air between you crackles with electricity, the adrenaline of the heist replaced by a chilling fear of the unknown. You’re not scared of Jongseong, not really, but of the intensity of his reaction and what he might be thinking.

He hard shoulders the car to the edge of a cliff, the tires screeching as he brings the vehicle to an abrupt stop. The scenery outside is almost picturesque, the cliff overlooking a vast expanse of ocean, waves crashing against the rocks below. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows, but the serene beauty of the landscape does nothing to alleviate the suffocating tension within the car.

Jongseong's cold glare freezes you in place, his eyes dark and unyielding. "Repeat that last sentence," he demands, his voice low and menacing.

"I...I," you stammer, too overcome with slight fear to form a coherent response. It’s not Jongseong himself that scares you, but the raw intensity of his emotions and the unpredictability of the situation.

"Did you just swear at me?" he asks, his tone sharp enough to cut through the thick silence. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the flicker of hurt beneath the anger.

The fear of what he’s thinking, the consequences of your words, paralyses you. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. The reality of the situation crashes over you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“I... I didn’t mean to-”

“Get out of the car. Now.” His voice is a low, dangerous growl, leaving no room for argument.

You scramble to comply, fumbling with the door handle. Your fingers tremble as you push the door open, the heavy metal creaking in protest. As you step out, the uneven ground beneath your feet adds to your growing sense of disorientation. The wind whips through your hair and the cliff's edge looms just a few feet away, adding to your sense of vulnerability.

Is he going to leave you here? The thought is a panicked whisper in your mind, the idea of being abandoned on this desolate cliffside sending a fresh wave of fear coursing through you. But he wouldn’t do that, he is too infatuated by you to abandon you.

So you’re quaking in trepidation and adrenaline for what he has planned.

Jongseong steps out of the car with a deliberate calm, the door slamming shut behind him with a resonating thud. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, the earlier anger now replaced by something cold and calculating.

“On your knees,” he commands, his voice hard and unyielding.

You hesitate for a moment, confusion and anxiety warring within you. The words seem surreal, echoing in your mind as you try to process what’s happening. But then the steel in his eyes brooks no argument, and you realise you have no choice but to do as you’re told.

Slowly, you lower yourself to the ground, the rough gravel biting into your knees. The indignity of the position, combined with the terror of being so close to the cliff, leaves you feeling utterly exposed. You glance up at Jongseong, searching for a hint of what’s to come, but his face is a mask of icy determination.

Noticing the tremble in your lips, a soft, almost tender expression flickers across his features. He reaches down, his hand cradling one side of your face gently. “Shhh, darlin’. I’m just going to wash those dirty words out of your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively soothing.

Your heart pounds harder, anticipation and fear twisting into a knot in your stomach. You watch, wide-eyed, as he undoes his belt with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink echoing in the stillness. He pulls down the zipper, his movements controlled and precise, never breaking eye contact with you. It is only now that you know what he means by washing the dirty words out of your mouth.

Jongseong takes out his cock, thick and long, a sight you can’t quite get used to, no matter how many times you see it. Your fingers grip tightly at your skirt as you endure the rough gravel digging into your knees. Despite the discomfort, your focus is entirely on his eight-inch length, its pink tip throbbing with desire, mirroring your pulsing clit.

Seeing the light of excitement in your eyes, Jongseong smiles wickedly. What he saw back at the bank, that flicker of wanting rush and spontaneity is instilled deep within you, and what perfect way to get it out of you than making you suck his cock on the edge of a nth-drop-foot cliff.

He taps the head of his cock against your lips, his expression a blend of mock innocence and raw hunger. “You know I don’t like doing this, Y/N," he says, his tone dripping with false remorse. Jongseong doesn’t care about you swearing at him, not really; he’s just looking for an excuse to ease the horniness swimming through his blood and to bring out the real you that's hiding in the shadows.

“Unless...you want to be bad?” He tilts his head, his gaze feigning curiosity because he already knows the answer. “I saw it in your eyes, darlin’. That blood rush because you know you’re doing something bad.”

You shift slightly on your knees, licking your lips, your eyes fixated on his member. The desire to take him in your mouth is overwhelming. The fear, guilt, dread, excitement, and power mix into a heady cocktail - it creates something inside you that you have long sought after. Your life that has been so built up in the foundation of being perfect for your father is draining and mundane, which is why you were drawn so irresistibly to him. He can give you everything you crave, even through unorthodox situations like this.

Jongseong teases you, swiping his tip along your lips. As you open your mouth in eager anticipation, he pulls away just out of reach, a smirk playing on his lips as you lift your ass from your heels, chasing it like a dog with a bone before you yield.

He starts pumping his cock slowly, his eyes locked onto yours. “You can be as bad as you like, baby,” he leans down slightly, his voice a low, seductive growl. “As long as you're a good girl for me, okay?”

“Yes, Jjongie,” you nod quickly, desperate for your mouth to be filled. The anticipation, mixed with the danger of the cliff and the fear of being caught, makes your pussy ache and your heart race.

With a sudden, forceful motion, Jongseong grabs the back of your head, pulling you closer. "Open wide," he commands, his voice firm yet filled with desire. You comply, your mouth opening eagerly as he thrusts himself deep, filling you completely. He groans in pleasure as he begins to fuck your mouth with rough, passionate thrusts.

His hand rests on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sets a deliberate pace. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him in, your tongue swirling around his length, paying extra attention to his tip when it hits the edge of your lips. The heat and weight of him on your tongue send shivers down your spine, and you moan around him, the sound vibrating through his dick.

“Take it all, darlin’,” he murmurs, his grip tightening as he pushes deeper, your gag reflex kicking in. Tears spring to your eyes, but the mixture of pain and pleasure only fuels your desire. You moan around him, the vibrations making him groan louder.

Jongseong’s pace quickens, his long length hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You struggle to breathe, but the sensation of being used, of surrendering completely to his control, sends waves of heat through your body. Despite the intensity, you crave more; you can’t get enough. Every thrust, every moment of control he exerts over you, only deepens your need. You love this, even though you probably shouldn’t.

Because you have always been so compliant to him, never pushing his buttons, every time he has ever touched you has always been rough but with an overwhelming cast of softness, scared to push you too far considering your limited sexual experiences. But right now, it is pure lust and dominance taking over his body. This is your chance to show you can take it, soft or hard, as long as it’s Jongseong.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he pants, his eyes dark with lust. “So good at taking your punishment.” You nod as best as you can, his cock still buried in the back of your throat as you try your best to widen it, accommodating his girth the best you can.

His praise spurs you on, and you bob your head faster, your hand coming up to stroke the base of his cock in time with your movements. Jongseong’s breath hitches, his hands gripping your roots for support. The veins on his arms bulge with the intensity of his grip, his knuckles white.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel his cock twitching, a clear sign he's nearing climax. His eyes close momentarily, his brow furrowing, then lock onto yours again, filled with raw desire.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, his hips thrusting in sync with your movements. “I’m so close.”

His thrusts become more urgent, more forceful. You can sense the muscles in his abdomen tensing with each movement, a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten. His jaw clenches, his breathing ragged. You are lost in the moment, your body reacting instinctively, wanting to please him, to draw out his release. The sensation of his cock filling your throat, the taste, the feel - it’s intoxicating, leaving you craving more with every second.

Suddenly, he tightens his grip on your scalp, pulling you down hard onto his cock, burying himself so deep that his bell is well past your tonsils, almost hitting your voice box. The force and intrusion makes you gag, and he holds you there, deep in your oesophagus. Your eyes water, and you feel his cock pulsing as he reaches his peak.

With a guttural moan, Jongseong shudders violently, emptying himself deep within you. The hot torrent of his seed floods your throat with a sudden intensity that makes you gag, the unexpected force sending spurts through your nose. The sensation is both startling and overwhelming, the heat and discomfort mingling in a strange thrill. Your nostrils burn slightly, each breath catching the faint, musky scent of his cum, and you feel the final thick, warm fluid trickling down your throat and seeping from your nose.

Jongseong's grip on you is unyielding, his body taut with pleasure, eyes squeezed shut in an expression of raw ecstasy. His cock pulses and twitches as he drains himself completely, the final spurts leaving him trembling. Slowly, he loosens his hold, withdrawing from your mouth with a slick, wet sound, his length coated in a mixture of saliva and cum.

You gasp for air, your lungs burning as you draw in ragged breaths. The remnants of his release cling to your lips and drip from your nose, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. The myriad sensations leave you dizzy and lightheaded, but there’s an undeniable satisfaction in the aftermath of such a powerful, primal exchange. Your chest heaves as you recover, each breath a challenge, and despite the intensity, you can’t help but feel a deep, insatiable hunger for more.

Jongseong tucks his cock away before looking down at you, the white dripping down your nose, chin and onto your chest. The sight makes him tremble, an aftershock of pure adoration for the messy girl before him. "You are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs, crouching down to wipe the seed from your face. Your lazy smile spreads across your lips, a blend of bliss and contentment washing over you. The intensity of the experience leaves you feeling floaty and disoriented, but there’s an underlying sense of satisfaction and connection that warms you from within.

"Just don't swear at me again, okay, pretty? You gotta trust me," he continues, opening your mouth with his thumb and sticking his fingers in, making you clean them up. The taste of his cum lingers as you obediently suck his fingers clean, your eyes overcast with a mixture of bliss and unfamiliarity. You nod, feeling a bit contrite.

"I'm sorry. It won’t happen again, I was just...surprised. You should have told me what we were doing." You can’t help but feel a twinge of regret. It would have been nice to have a heads-up that you were committing your first crime, even if you were just an accomplice.

Jongseong sighs, understanding your point of view. He helps you stand, his hands steadying you as your legs feel like jelly. He brushes the gravel from your knees, his fingers lingering slightly as he ogles at the indents and scrapes, oddly admiring the view. There's a gentleness in his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before.

"You would never have agreed to come with me if I did tell you. I wanted you to see and feel the rush of it all," he explains, his voice filled with conviction. He leans in, kissing your lips gently, the softness of his kiss a vastly different feeling from the burning in your throat and nose. "You did, didn’t you? You understand it now."

The memory of the heist flashes vividly in your mind, the exhilarating chaos of it all. Standing side by side with Jongseong as he robbed the bank was like stepping into another world, one where every second was charged with a thrilling sense of danger and excitement. The cold metal of the gun in his hand, the authoritative bark of his commands, and the wide-eyed fear in the faces of the bank staff and customers - it was a symphony of sensations that left your heart pounding in your chest in the best possible way.

You pause, the truth sinking in. "I...I do," you admit, knowing there’s no point in denying it. The rush, the adrenaline, it’s undeniable. But the risk, the fear of losing him, it lingers in your mind. "But there are other ways to get that same rush, ones that don't risk me losing you."

For the first time, Jongseong's heart feels like it's punching his rib cage. He can’t believe the depth of your concern, the intensity of your feelings for him. "I know, but I'm not going anywhere," he promises, his voice filled with sincerity. You give him a sceptical look, worry etched into your features. "I'll be careful. You're my good luck charm, and you're never leaving my side. So, what is there to worry about?"

Jongseong's arms wrap around you, bringing you closer. His warmth envelops you, providing a soothing presence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. You cuddle into his hug, a smile pulling to the middle of your cheeks. His steady, robust heartbeat is a calming contrast to your own. The lingering taste of him, the scent of sweat and musk, it’s all becoming music to your senses.

He can't believe he has found someone so perfect for him. Someone to ground him and see his potential, even through everything. Maybe there is a part of him that wants to tone it down a little, because the fear of losing you too is something his heart doesn't want to bear thinking about.

Although the rush and excitement of breaking the law pumps the blood through his body, even just laying his eyes upon you has the same desired effect. Perhaps you could be his new rush. Jongseong had never considered another way to get his kicks because this is all he has known for so long, the window you're opening up in his mind lets him peep into what could be, rather than what he knows.

Sirens blare softly in the distance, almost acting as a backing track to your loving waltz. But you know you can’t stay standing here for long, very few roads to turn and navigate if they caught up to you. Looking up at him, you smile, oddly calm despite the circumstances around you. “Let’s go. We can book a motel.”

“Good shout. I don’t think I can wait to fuck you.”

You look puzzled, brow furrowing as you process his words. "Do you not hear the police? I mean we need to keep low."

Jongseong laughs, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. His hand traces your waist, fingers pressing gently into your skin. "Oh, I know," he says, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and desire. "But I also meant what I said."

_____

The smell of chlorine fills the air, a sharp, clean scent that immediately evokes memories of summer afternoons spent poolside. Beneath the tang of chemicals lies the faintest hint of dampness, the kind that clings to cool tiles and wets the soles of your feet. The ambient humidity wraps around you like a warm blanket, the moisture hanging heavy in the air as you take careful steps forward, your senses heightened by the darkness that surrounds you.

A blindfold is secured over your eyes, its fabric soft against your skin, blocking out the world and leaving you in a realm of anticipation. Jongseong's hands are firm yet gentle on your arms, guiding you carefully, his touch reassuring as he leads you to the unknown. His fingers occasionally rub soothing circles on your arms, grounding you, while his lips brush tenderly against your shoulder, planting a kiss that sends a shiver of warmth through your body.

"Just a bit further," he murmurs, his voice a low, comforting rumble in your ear. The sound of it makes you smile, your heart swelling with affection, but the mystery of what lies ahead keeps a slight edge of nervousness tingling in your veins.

“Jjongie,” you giggle, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in your chest. “What’s the surprise?”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. “If I tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

You laugh, but there’s a faint tremor of unease beneath your amusement. “I don’t like your surprises...” you say, trying to keep your tone light, but there’s a flicker of real concern in your voice.

Your mind drifts back to the last time Jongseong had surprised you. What was supposed to be a simple drive had turned into something much more exhilarating - and terrifying. He’d taken you on a late-night drag race, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as he floored the gas pedal. You’d ended up in his lap, your lips wrapped around him as he tried to navigate the twisting roads. The memory of him nearly crashing into a lamppost as he swerved around a corner, the car jerking violently while you were mid-act, flashes vividly in your mind. It had been thrilling, dangerous, and unforgettable, but it had also left you with a newfound wariness of his surprises.

Jongseong suddenly stops, halting your thoughts along with your steps. He releases his grip on your arms and takes a moment, his eyes scanning over the scene before him. You can sense the slight shift in his demeanour, the way his breath catches ever so slightly, as if he’s nervous, though he’s doing his best to hide it.

“Okay, are you ready?” he asks, his voice taking on a more serious tone, as if the moment ahead holds weight.

“It depends on what for,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as the tension in your chest tightens.

“Yes or no answer, darlin’,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the anticipation builds. It crawls over your skin like tiny insects, a sensation that makes you think of the creepy-crawly trials from I’m a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here. The unknown feels like it’s pressing down on you, making your heart race in your chest but in an excited, throwing-up way, not in an anxiety-inducing throwing-up way.

“Yeah...I’m ready,” you finally breathe out, your voice laced with a mix of courage and curiosity.

With that, Jongseong reaches up and slowly removes the blindfold. The world beyond the darkness gradually comes into focus as your eyes adjust to the light. You blink a few times, your vision sharpening, and then the scene before you fully reveals itself.

You find yourself standing at the edge of a beautifully lit gymnasium pool. The water is calm, its surface reflecting the soft glow of the lights that line the ceiling and walls. The pool stretches out before you, the deep blue water inviting and serene. The entire space is transformed, the usual harshness of a gymnasium replaced by an almost magical ambience. The soft glow of string lights hangs above, casting a warm, golden hue that dances across the water’s surface. Candles flicker gently along the edges, their flames steady despite the humidity, adding a touch of romance to the already enchanting atmosphere.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the sight before you. “Jjongie...” you whisper, your voice thick with a mixture of awe and emotion. A smile begins to creep across your face, slow but unstoppable, and you feel a sting in your eyes as tears threaten to spill over.

“It’s nice, right?” Jongseong asks, his voice soft, filled with an affectionate warmth as he watches your reaction.

“Nice?” you echo, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s beautiful. When did you do all of this?”

“A few hours ago, while you were getting ready,” he admits with a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck as if the effort was no big deal, though you can tell he’s pleased with himself. It actually took him well over three hours to sort everything out, and an hour of that was simply to untangle the lights he had managed to wrap himself up in.

You look at him, the adoration you feel for him filling every corner of your being. The surprise, the thoughtfulness of it all, is overwhelming in the best possible way. It’s not just about the setting he’s created, but the care and effort he’s put into making this moment special for you.

As you step further into the softly lit gymnasium, your eyes catch sight of a blanket spread out near the edge of the pool, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights. The setup is simple yet thoughtful: a wicker basket sits in the centre, along with two plates, some cutlery, and an assortment of your favourite snacks. You can't help but smile as you notice a small bag of Percy Pig sweets peeking out from the basket, their bright, cartoonish faces bringing a touch of humour to the romantic setting.

Jongseong follows your gaze, a proud grin spreading across his face when he sees you've noticed the details. “See, I got all your favourites, even those ugly pigs,” he teases, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tries to keep a straight face.

You turn to him, feigning offence. “Excuse me? Percy Pig deserves respect.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he laughs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Now, sit down before I eat them all myself.”

You both settle down on the blanket, the fabric soft beneath you as Jongseong reaches for the basket. He pulls out a bottle of cheap wine and a pair of plastic glasses he bumped from Tesco, it’s not really stealing, just an accidental 'forgot to scan it' - along with the basket, some plates, and the fairy lights that encompass the space. He did pay for the wine though, that much he can pour guilt-free.

“This is really nice, Jonseong. But how did you manage to rent out the pool after hours?”

He takes a sip of his wine, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his response. “I know a guy.”

You narrow your eyes at him, scepticism evident in your expression, but you don’t press further. “Why did you choose this place? You know, picnics are usually in parks, not next to chlorine-filled water.”

Jongseong chuckles, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “Well, duh. I know I’ve spent most of my life in prison, but I do know basic picnic etiquette.” He rolls his eyes dramatically before continuing, “I just wanted to do something different. Trying to create an original experience, you know? Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly fancy restaurant material.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, appreciating his honesty. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the stillness only broken by the gentle lapping of the water and the hum of the old but functioning AC. The ambience is peaceful, the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the pool’s surface, creating a serene atmosphere that makes you feel completely at ease.

But there’s a question that has lingered in the back of your mind for some time now, one you’ve never dared to ask. You hesitate, the words sitting heavy on your tongue, unsure if now is the right moment to bring it up. Eventually, curiosity wins out, and you break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jongseong looks at you, his expression softening. “Anything, darlin’. You know that.”

You’ve always respected his privacy, never prying into his past because, in your mind, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the person he is now, the man who’s made you feel more cherished than anyone else ever has. But he’s mentioned his past in passing, little snippets here and there, and now feels like as good a time as any to learn more.

“When did you first go to prison?” you ask, your voice tentative, almost unsure.

His reaction is immediate, his eyes widening for a split second before he quickly downs the rest of his wine, using the alcohol as Dutch courage. Jongseong usually isn’t nervous about discussing his past, knowing that the judgement and resentment from others can’t change the path he’s driven down. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t want you to see him in a different light, doesn’t want his past mistakes to taint the way you look at him now.

You see the turmoil flickering across his face, and you quickly reach out, grabbing his hand to offer comfort. “It’s okay,” you say gently, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to tell me...it was stupid of me to ask.”

He shakes his head, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself. “No, it’s not stupid. You deserve to know.” He pauses, his voice quieter when he finally speaks. “I was 16. They charged me with domestic assault.”

You feel your body tense up at his words, recoiling slightly, but before you can pull away. Though your brain doesn’t want to jump to that conclusion, it’s the first thing your mind flickers in front of your eyes.

Jongseong squeezes your hand tightly, his eyes earnest and pleading as he sees you leap to conclusions that make him feel sick. “Oh God, no, not like that, baby,” he quickly clarifies. “I would kill myself before I ever laid a hand on my partner. I couldn’t even fathom the idea.”

Relief washes over you, your muscles relaxing as you search his eyes for the truth. “Then who?”

He looks away for a moment, his jaw clenching as he struggles to find the right words. “My dad,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. “He was fucking awful, and I just snapped one day after school. The neighbours called the police, and they carted me off. Next thing you know, I’m serving two months in juvie.”

You feel a surge of anger on his behalf, your heart aching at the thought of what he must have gone through. “He deserved it, though, right?” you ask, needing to hear it from him.

“Fuck yeah, he did,” Jongseong replies, his voice seething with barely contained rage. “Fucking prick was a good for nothing low life and let him know it. After that, it was just a downhill spiral. Selling, stealing, fighting... it’s hard to get out of that life once you’re in it.”

The rawness of his words hangs heavy in the air, the weight of his past pressing down on both of you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the memories of a life he’s tried so hard to leave behind. You want to say something, anything, to make it better, but words feel inadequate. Instead, you simply hold his hand tighter, letting him know that you’re here for him, that you’re not going anywhere.

As Jongseong finishes recounting his story, you listen intently, the gravity of his words settling over you. The conversation has taken a turn for the deeply personal, exposing vulnerabilities you had only glimpsed before. His past is a labyrinth of mistakes and regrets, mirroring the tangled web that ensnares people once they slip into a life of crime. It reminds you of your father’s own downward spiral, how once he got entangled in embezzling money, every effort to escape only seemed to complicate matters further. It’s a relentless cycle, each attempt to break free only making the situation worse.

But as you gaze at Jongseong, with his defiant eyes and mischievous grin, you see a boy who, despite his reckless choices, has a core of goodness. The crimes he’s committed are not born from malice but from a life he was thrust into, a life he has never known how to escape. Maybe, just maybe, you can offer him a different path, one that leads to a better future.

“I think there’s a better life out there for you,” you say softly, your voice trembling with sincerity.

Jongseong meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that catches you off guard. He stares at you for a moment, his mind churning and eyes twinkling with realisation. “I think there is.”

A gentle smile begins to spread across your face. Despite the adrenaline-fueled adventures and the excitement of petty crimes you’ve shared with him, you’ve come to realise how much Jongseong means to you. The thrill has been exhilarating, but now it’s time to give back, to help him find the life he deserves. The life that’s not defined by theft and deceit but by something more meaningful.

“I got you something,” he says, breaking the silence with a hint of mischief in his tone.

Curiosity piques as you ask, “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice light but carrying a touch of seriousness.

You comply, and the sounds of him rummaging through the picnic basket fill your ears. The rustling of items and the faint clink of metal create a suspenseful atmosphere. There’s a brief pause, and you hear him take a slow, steady breath. The anticipation is palpable, crawling up your spine like a swarm of butterflies, each flap of their wings a reminder of the momentous occasion unfolding.

“Okay, open.”

You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to the dim glow of the fairy lights that flicker around you. Jongseong holds out a tiny white box, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope. Your heart skips a beat as you take the box from him, the weight of it feeling surprisingly significant.

“Jongseong...” you whisper, a mixture of shock and affection in your voice.

“Open it,” he urges, his eyes locked onto yours with a fervent intensity.

With trembling hands, you lift the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft cotton, are two simple yet elegant rings. The sight of them takes your breath away, the understated beauty of the rings striking a chord deep within you.

“What is-”

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jongseong interrupts, a playful glint in his eye. “I’m not proposing or anything. I love you, but I’m not letting you marry an unemployed loser who’s couch-hopping between friends’ flats. This is just to remind everyone that you’re mine.”

Your eyes widen, the significance of his words settling over you like a warm embrace. “Y-you love me?”

Jongseong looks at you as though your question is absurd. “Wasn’t it obvious? I’m literally obsessed with you.” He takes one of the rings and carefully slides it onto your finger. “I didn’t think I had to make a big song and dance about it when I show you how much I love you every day.”

The simple act of placing the ring on your finger speaks volumes. It’s not just a gesture; it’s a declaration of his feelings, one that surpasses words. Jongseong has never experienced love before, has no frame of reference, but if all those tacky magazines in the prison recreational room were correct, this is what love is supposed to feel like. It’s raw, sincere, and unfiltered.

It’s willing to become a better person for them.

“I love you too,” you say softly, the words flowing from your heart with a new depth. It’s the first time you’ve uttered those words to someone who wasn’t family, and the weight of the phrase carries a profound significance now. It’s not just about affection; it’s about a deep, abiding connection.

Jongseong’s laughter fills the air, a rich, throaty sound that resonates with joy. You tilt your head, puzzled by his sudden amusement. “What?”

“Well, duh!” he says, his tone a mix of mock arrogance and genuine affection. “You get googly-eyed every time you look at me. Even when I was getting carted off to prison, you were practically gushing over me - probably in more places than just your chest.” His gaze drops to your skirt, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh my God, shut up!” you exclaim, playfully shoving him. But as you do, his balance falters, and he tumbles backward into the pool with a splash. The cold water surges around him, and you burst into laughter at the sight of his surprised, spluttering face.

Before you can fully enjoy the moment, Jongseong’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the pool with him. The shock of the cold water envelops you, the fabric of your dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin.

“Jongseong!” you cry out, trying to push him away as you sputter and splash him. “This is Prada!” You gesture to your drenched dress, the expensive fabric now ruined.

“And this” he retorts with a grin, pinching the soggy fabric of his non-designer t-shirt, “is from the lost and found box.” He gives you a sheepish smile, but when he sees your unamused expression, he quickly adds, “Okay, okay, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It’s ￡700!” you protest, though there’s a playful undertone in your voice.

“Then I’ll steal you a new one,” he quips, his tone light but earnest.

You fix him with a serious look, though your lips twitch with a suppressed smile. “If you want me to keep this ring on,” you say, holding your hand out of the water to display the glinting band, “then you need to promise me you’ll stop stealing, and fighting, and anything else that could get you locked up.” Your voice grows more serious with each word. “I can’t lose you.”

Jongseong’s expression softens as he takes your hand in his, pressing a tender kiss to the ring before placing your hand over his heart. “Scout’s honour. For you, I’ll be on the straight and narrow. I solemnly swear that I, Park Jongseong, will never commit another crime.” His tone is light-hearted, but the sincerity in his eyes assures you that this promise is different from the ones he made before.

Just as you’re about to respond, a booming voice interrupts. “Hey! What are you two doing here?”

You both turn to see a security guard marching toward you, his face a mix of irritation and confusion. Jongseong glances at you with a sheepish grin, water dripping from his hair. “Well...starting now, I’ll commit no crimes.”

“Huh-” Before you can fully comprehend the situation, Jongseong is already dragging you out of the pool, his hand gripping yours tightly as you both scramble to your feet. You catch sight of the security guard sprinting toward you, his expression growing more determined.

“I thought you said your friend helped you out?” you huff as you run alongside him.

“Yeah, my friend called Lockpick,” Jongseong replies with a grin that reaches his eyes, bending down to pick his ring up. “Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

Despite the chaos, you find yourself mirroring his bright smile. Maybe you’ll let him commit some crimes after all - just as long as you’re along for the ride.

_____

The reflection in the mirror feels like a portal to the past, a glimpse into a version of yourself you thought you’d left behind. The long, opulent gown drapes elegantly over your frame, its intricate embroidery catching the light in a way that’s both nostalgic and unfamiliar. The diamond earrings - a gift from your father on your 16th birthday - sparkle with a cold brilliance, a stark reminder of the expectations that have always weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your hair is styled in a sleek, elegant updo, every strand meticulously in place, as if you were once again the picture-perfect daughter in his carefully curated world.

It’s been months since you last had to dress like this, stepping into a role that now feels more like a distant memory than a reality. But tonight is different. Tonight is a special occasion. It’s the night of your father’s grand welcome-back party, a lavish affair meant to reintroduce him to the world of business after years behind bars. This event is more than just a celebration; it’s a calculated move to solidify his reputation as a formidable figure in the corporate world, a moneyed tyrant who, against all odds, has maintained his iron grip on power.

Despite the scandals that would have buried anyone else, your father’s influence remains unshaken. His business partners and corporate clients still stand by his side, drawn by the promise of wealth and the unspoken agreements that bind them together. Perhaps it’s the money he’s skillfully laundered for them over the years or the secrets he’s kept buried deep, that have ensured their loyalty. The room will be filled with men in tailored suits, their faces masked with polite smiles, but beneath the surface, a web of silent transactions and mutual dependencies will be at play.

You love your father, you really do, but big soirees like this have never been your thing. Attending them always felt like a chore rather than a time of relaxation and merriment. Maybe it was because of the prestige and pressure it was being your father’s daughter, or maybe it was the constant polite smile and meaningless interactions with people you didn’t know that weighed down the atmosphere.

Either way, you had to show up for your father, just as you are now. He would be so disappointed if you missed this and you can’t bear the thought. So you will put up with the uncomfortable attire for at least a night.

The good news is, one man will be by your side the entire night, a thought that washes over you like a wave of relief. Jongseong's presence brings you an immense sense of ease, though the prospect of him meeting your father for the first time still stirs a flutter of anxiety in your chest. It has to happen eventually, and what better setting than a crowded party where distractions abound?

Jongseong isn’t a people person and he avoids interaction unless absolutely necessary. The only person he ever makes an exception for is you, which is why he agreed to accompany you tonight despite his discomfort. You know how much this evening will demand of him - being surrounded by a crowd so different from him, full of people who thrive on small talk and business banter. But he would do anything for you, simply because he loves you. And you know that no combination of words could ever fully express your gratitude for that.

As you twirl a strand of hair into place, you steal a glance at the ring on your finger, smiling at the symbolic silver. It puts some comfort into your chest even as you mentally brace yourself for whatever the night will bring. You step out of the bathroom and your eyes immediately find Jongseong. He stands in front of the free-standing mirror in your dorm room, struggling with his tie, wrapping it around and around, only to fumble with the knot.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, drawing Jongseong's attention. His head snaps up, and the frustration in his eyes melts away, replaced by a look of pure awe. His gaze softens, shimmering with admiration as he takes you in. It never seems to matter whether you're dressed in sweatpants or a £5,000 gown - Jongseong always looks at you as if you are the only person in the world.

To him, you are. The only one who truly matters, anyway.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles, his hands dropping from the black silk tie as he stands there, completely mesmerised. He takes in how the dress hugs your waist, how your hair frames your face perfectly, and he suddenly feels unworthy to even be in your presence. “You look so beautiful, darlin’. You make diamonds look dull.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you dip your head slightly, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. Slowly, you walk over to him, smiling softly. “Thank you, Jjongie. You look really handsome,” you reply, your voice earnest and full of affection. And it’s true - he looks like something out of a wet dream, the kind you've had more times than you’d ever admit. The way his fitted black trousers accentuate his frame, the crisp white shirt that contrasts so beautifully against his tanned skin, and the fresh undercut that highlights the angles of his face - all of it makes you want to forget about the party entirely and lose yourself in him.

As you reach him, you gently take the tie he was struggling with earlier and start to tie it, your fingers deftly creating a Windsor knot that could rival any royal affair. You’ve done this countless times for your father, and the thought crosses your mind of how he might be feeling as he dons a suit for the first time in five years.

Jongseong tilts his head back slightly as you loop the end of the tie through, fidgeting like a restless child. “Hold still,” you chide him with a playful roll of your eyes, amused by his toddler-like impatience.

“I fucking hate ties,” he grumbles, trying his best not to squirm as you pull the knot tight. Jongseong has never been one for formalwear; he despises suits with a passion. The only times he’s ever worn one have been for court dates and funerals, events that always seem to bring trouble in their wake. To him, the tie feels less like an accessory and more like a silk noose.

You sigh softly, nodding in understanding. “I know, baby, but please, just bear with it. Tonight is important.” Your voice is gentle, and you shoot him an apologetic glance as you finish adjusting the tie, making sure it’s perfectly in place.

Jongseong knows how much this evening means to you. He’s also noticed the subtle changes in you ever since your father regained his freedom. He’s not blind to the way you’ve become a little more reserved, a little more cautious. He wonders if it’s just the anxiety of tonight or if it’s the looming reality that your father will soon learn about your relationship with him, along with his not-so-angelic extracurricular activities. Either way, Jongseong has been extra vigilant, more protective of you than ever.

You pin the tie bar in place, stepping back to admire your handiwork with a smile. “There, not so bad, huh?”

“I feel like a circus attraction,” he mutters, resisting the urge to loosen the knot and unbutton the collar. Formalwear has never been his style, and tonight feels like he’s being paraded in front of an audience he wants nothing to do with.

You place your hands on his chest, rubbing small circles to ease the tension you can feel building beneath your palms. “I would come to see you perform every day,” you joke lightly, rising on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, making you wish they were attached to yours every second of the day.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Jongseong’s mouth as his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips, the sensation causing your carefully applied Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk lipstick to smudge and transfer onto him. The kiss grows more intense, erasing all thoughts of the party, the people, and even the daunting meeting with your father. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and nothing else matters.

But it can’t last forever, as much as you wish it could. In an ideal world, Jongseong would rip the overpriced dress off your body, and the two of you wouldn’t leave your dorm room for days. Yet, reality pulls you back, and with it, the obligations of the night. You reluctantly pull away, feeling the weight of the evening settling back into place.

Jongseong instinctively tries to follow your lips, but you step back, offering him a remorseful smile. “C’mon. We need to head downstairs. Sunghoon should be arriving to pick us up in a couple of minutes.”

At the mention of another man’s name, your boyfriend’s ears perk up, and his eyebrows knit together in suspicion. “Sunghoon?” He practically spits the name out, his jaw tightening visibly. There’s an edge to his voice, one you recognise all too well.

You roll your eyes playfully, familiar with Jongseong’s lack of enthusiasm when another man is in the same room as you. “Babe, he’s just the driver for my parents. They insisted he pick us up,” you explain, your tone gentle but firm, hoping to diffuse his growing irritation.

Jongseong’s gaze softens a fraction, though a trace of his protectiveness lingers. “I could drive us,” he offers, his voice low, the implication clear. He wants to be the one to look after you, not someone he doesn’t know.

Exhaling loudly, you shake your head and cross your arms. “If you drive us, you won’t be able to drink. Now imagine being in a room full of upper-class businessmen and not one ounce of Jack Daniels in your system?”

That gives Jongseong food for thought as he stands in silence, weighing up the pros and cons of an alcohol-free night next to pretentious laughter and fake compliments. He shivers at the thought, his body visibly shaking at the idea of sobriety.

The look on his face causes you to laugh and nod your head. “Exactly. Now come on.”

Your boyfriend loosens his tie slightly, prioritising his comfort over meeting your father’s strict expectations. The simple gesture sends a ripple of unease through you, as if the crooked tie is a symbol of everything that could go wrong tonight. You wouldn’t say you’re normally an uptight person, but moments like these set your nerves on edge, making every little detail feel like it carries immense weight.

As you pick up your handbag, you pause at the front door, bracing yourself for the conversation you know you need to have. Your heart races, fearing how Jongseong might react. “Jongseong?”

“Yeah, darlin’?” he replies, his voice softening as he senses your hesitation.

You swallow, choosing your words carefully. “Please don’t…embarrass me tonight.”

The words hang in the air, and you immediately regret how they sound. Jongseong’s expression shifts, confusion flickering across his face as he narrows his eyes. For as long as he has been yours, he’s never known you to be embarrassed by him. “When have I eve-”

“Maybe not embarrass, but…” you interrupt, realising your words came out harsher than you intended. “Just don’t be so overprotective or try to hunt down any man that looks at me or breathes next to me. I love you so much for it, but not tonight, okay? This is a big deal for my dad, and I need you two to get along.”

You see the surprise in his eyes as he processes your request. Despite your concerns, you can’t help but adore his possessive nature - the way he scowls and asserts his claim over you in front of anyone he sees as a threat. The way he reacted to Sunghoon’s name even sent a thrill through you, though you knew tonight wasn’t the time for that. You need him to dial it back, and surprisingly, he doesn’t push back.

Instead, Jongseong simply takes the Prada bag from your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. There’s a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a sign that he understands your embarrassment isn’t about him but about the high expectations your father holds.

“We’ll get along just fine, darlin’. We already have so much in common. We can swap prison stories,” he jokes, but the humour is lost on you. Your gaze hardens, stern enough that it could turn anyone to stone, and he immediately raises the hand holding your bag in mock defence.

“Okay, okay. I’ll behave,” he promises, his tone shifting to a more sincere one. “But if anyone speaks out of line about you, I’m knocking them into next Thursday.”

You sigh, the tension easing slightly as you nod in agreement. “Thank you,” you murmur, leaning in to peck his cheek in gratitude. The small gesture of affection helps to soothe the lingering anxiety, and as you walk him out the door, your heart feels a little lighter.

_____

As expected, when you arrive, the scene before you looks like something straight out of Jay Gatsby’s wildest fantasies. The sprawling 13-bedroom mansion, once your childhood home, has been transformed into a shimmering spectacle of wealth. Guests are crowded around the grand entrance, their laughter and chatter spilling out onto the manicured lawn. The estate is alive with the hum of a party that promises decadence at every turn, a stark reminder of the world your father has clawed his way back into.

Despite the legal battles and the assets stripped from him, your father had been too cunning for the law. He’d anticipated the fallout, shielding the most valuable pieces of his empire under your mother’s name. The house, the cars, even some of the art that adorns the walls - they all remained untouched, legally out of reach.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the evening settle over you as you step out of the car. Jongseong is by your side in an instant, his presence a steady anchor amidst the swirl of luxury and status. His hand intertwines with yours, a silent promise that he’s with you every step of the way. Although he might be uncomfortable, his main priority is ensuring your happiness throughout the night.

As you both approach the entrance, the grandeur of the night unfolds around you. The glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the marbled floors, and the air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and cigars. The crowd parts slightly as you and Jongseong make your way inside, their eyes flicking toward you, assessing, judging, some with curiosity, others with veiled envy.

Jongseong’s grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, a small but reassuring gesture. You glance up at him, catching the faintest smirk on his lips as he surveys the scene. He’s out of his element here, but you can tell he’s already sizing up the room, assessing who’s who and what role they might play tonight. There’s an edge to him that you can’t help but feel guilty for, placing him in an environment that you know won’t accept him.

Even though his tattoos are covered and his criminal status is concealed behind the expensive suit you bought him, these people sniff out those who aren’t like them, making it known by the judgement on their faces.

Gazing around, Jongseong quickly understands why you’ve been so anxious about tonight. The reality of this world is even worse than anything he could have imagined. The opulence, the haughty faces, the way the guests carry themselves with an air of superiority - it’s suffocating. How you were raised among these people and managed to emerge with your spirit intact is beyond him, but it makes one thing abundantly clear.

“Now I know why you came begging me for a change of pace,” he whispers in your ear, his eyes never leaving the snobbish guests who seem to be measuring each other up as much as they are the room itself.

You twist your head to look at him, a curious expression on your face. “I did not beg,” you correct him, recalling your first encounter differently than he does, the memory bringing a smile to your lips.

Jongseong shrugs, a playful grin spreading across his face as he swings your bag lightly by his side. “Well, you certainly were begging the day I got out. What was it you said to me in the car?” he teases, eyes sparkling with mischief as your cheeks start to heat up at the memory. “That’s it! It was ‘Please, Jongseong, I can’t take it-’”

Your hand shoots up to cover his mouth, your eyes widening in playful horror, though a laugh escapes your lips before you can stifle it, making your attempt at scolding him lose some of its edge. “Stop it! This is what I meant by behaving,” you warn, though your tone is more amused than stern.

Jongseong chuckles against your palm, his eyes softening as he leans in to kiss it gently before lowering it from his lips. “Actually, you said not to get possessive,” he counters, still grinning. “You should have been more specific.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own smile as you meet his flirty and playful gaze. He has a way of easing your nerves even in the most tense situation.

As you share a quiet laugh with Jongseong, the warmth of the moment is interrupted by the sudden approach of a familiar figure from your past. A woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and a designer dress that practically screams old money makes her way toward you, her smile wide and fake, the kind that never quite reaches the eyes. You recognize her immediately - Emily, a girl you once called a friend before your father’s fall from grace. Her presence alone is enough to make your stomach turn, knowing the kind of person she truly is.

“Y/N! Oh my God, it’s been forever!” Emily exclaims, her voice dripping with an over-the-top enthusiasm that you know is completely fabricated. She flings her arms around you in a hug that’s more for show than anything else, the scent of her expensive perfume cloying as it invades your senses.

You force a smile, stepping back slightly as you extricate yourself from her embrace. “Emily, it’s...good to see you,” you reply, keeping your tone polite but guarded. The last thing you want is to give her any ammunition, especially not tonight.

It’s not just Jongseong that has to behave.

“I was just telling everyone how much I missed you,” she gushes, her tone oozing false sincerity as she waves her hand around, drawing attention to her perfect manicure. “I mean, it’s just been so sad without you around. How have you been? And your father - what a comeback, right?”

The mention of your father sends a pang of irritation through you, but you maintain your composure, nodding politely. “Yes, it’s been a challenging time, but he is getting through it.”

Emily doesn’t miss a beat, already shifting her focus as her eyes flicker over to Jongseong. Her smile widens, eyes sparkling with interest as she takes in his tall, imposing figure. “And who is this?” she asks, her tone dropping into something far more flirtatious. Without waiting for an introduction, she steps closer to him, batting her eyelashes in a way that’s almost comical. “You must be new around here. I’m Emily,” she purrs, her hand reaching out to lightly touch his arm.

Jongseong’s expression shifts instantly, his easygoing demeanor turning icy cold. He doesn’t flinch, but the look in his eyes makes it clear that her touch is entirely unwelcome. He slowly peels her hand off his arm, his disgust barely concealed. “Jongseong,” he says curtly, his voice devoid of any warmth or interest.

Emily’s confidence wavers, but she recovers quickly, trying to brush off his reaction as if it were nothing. “Well, Jongseong, if you ever need someone to show you around, I’d be happy to-”

“Not interested,” Jongseong cuts her off, his tone sharp enough to slice through her facade. He shifts slightly, positioning himself closer to you, making it clear that he’s not here to entertain her or anyone else.

Emily's smile falters at Jongseong’s blunt dismissal, but she’s not one to back down so easily. She adjusts her posture, regaining some of her poise as she leans in closer, clearly determined to salvage the situation. “Oh, of course,” she says with a laugh that sounds more forced than genuine. “But you know, sometimes it helps to have a fresh perspective. Someone who knows how these events work, who can help you navigate the crowd.” She casts a glance at you, her eyes flickering with something that resembles pity before she looks back at Jongseong, her flirtatious tone back in full force. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to get lost in all this chaos, right?”

Jongseong doesn’t even dignify her with a glance this time, his patience visibly wearing thin. He can feel the subtle shift in your posture, the way your hand tightens around his, signalling your growing irritation. The last thing he wants is for this interaction to ruin your night - or worse, to make you feel anything less than the incredible person you are.

He sighs softly, more to himself than anyone else, before turning his full attention to Emily, his expression hardening. “Listen,” he begins, his voice low and steely, “I don’t need anyone to navigate this place, least of all someone who doesn’t know when to back off.” He steps even closer to you, his arm slipping around your waist possessively, pulling you snugly against his side. “I’m here with my girl. She’s all the perspective I need, and she’s the only one I’m interested in listening to.”

Emily’s bravado crumbles further, her forced smile now barely holding together as she realises she’s completely outmatched. The icy edge in Jongseong’s voice leaves no room for misunderstanding - her presence is neither wanted nor tolerated. She tries to laugh it off again, but it comes out as more of a strained chuckle. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she mutters, clearly flustered, as she takes a small step back.

Jongseong doesn’t let up, his gaze still fixed on her, making sure she fully understands. “You did,” he replies bluntly, “but you can fix that by walking away.”

You watch the exchange, feeling a mix of relief and admiration for the way Jongseong handled it. He didn’t just brush Emily off - he shut her down in a way that left no room for further attempts. You can’t help the smug smile that is etching onto your face.

Emily finally seems to get the message. With one last awkward smile, she turns on her heel and hurries off into the crowd, her confidence shattered. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, the tension in your body slowly easing as she disappears from sight.

Jongseong looks down at you, his expression softening instantly as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” he asks gently, his tone a stark contrast to the icy one he’d used just moments ago.

“Yeah. Let’s go get a drink.”

“Music to my fucking ears,” he laughs, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before letting you lead the way to the kitchen. The hum of the party surrounds you, but all you can focus on is the comfort of his presence.

As you walk, Jongseong asks, “Why did she even come up to you? Didn’t you say they all turned on you once they found out what your dad had done?”

You nod, casting a glance at the sea of faces that once belonged to people you called friends. Now, they wave at you as if the last five years of cold shoulders and whispered gossip had never happened. “Yeah, but back then, they didn’t know my dad had managed to keep a massive chunk of his money. While he might not be a billionaire anymore, he’s still a millionaire - and that matters more to them than a prison sentence.”

Jongseong raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of incredulity and disgust. “So they would’ve stuck around if you’d just shown them your bank account?”

“Pretty much,” you sigh. “But Dad warned me not to flaunt the money he’d managed to save, just in case HMRC came snooping again. So when they thought our family lost everything, they ditched me without a second thought.”

You pause as the reality of it all sinks in, the bitterness of that betrayal still fresh. The socialite life was all you had known - luxury, parties, and a circle of 'friends' who thrived on status. But when your family needed support the most, they scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving you to navigate the fallout alone.

“Darlin’,” he begins, his voice low and soothing as his thumb traces slow circles over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “You’re worth more than any thick-wallet prick in here,” he assures you, his tone filled with a sincerity that makes your heart swell. And you know he means it. If you were anything like the sea of people flooding your childhood home, he would never have given you a second glance.

But Jongseong saw the real you. From the moment his eyes locked onto yours in that cold, sterile visiting room, he knew there was something deeper inside of you - a spark, a fire that refused to be dimmed by circumstance. It’s why he held you so close then, why he slipped that ring onto your finger with unwavering certainty, and why he’s fallen so madly in love with you. To him, you are the closest thing to perfection, a rare and beautiful soul in a world obsessed with superficiality.

Despite the designer clothes that drape your frame, Jongseong sees beyond the surface. He sees your heart - pure, honest, and untainted by the judgmental ways of those around you. He knows you crave something more, a life that pulses with thrill and adrenaline, and he’s vowed to give you just that until his last breath.

Reaching the bar tucked away in the back of the kitchen, Jongseong picks up two champagne glasses and hands you one. He watches the bubbles rise rapidly, a sign of the high quality, and it sparks a question in his mind.

“Can I ask something?” he begins, his tone careful.

“Sure,” you reply, your gaze still lingering on the crowd outside.

“I know your dad still has money, but how is he allowed to keep making it if he stole millions? Surely that puts him on some sort of corporate blacklist?”

Before you can respond, a deep, familiar voice cuts through the air, stopping you cold. “Well, actually, son, no one can stop you from making money other than yourself.”

Your eyes widen as you whirl around to face him. Your father stands before you, looking nothing like the man you last saw behind bars. He’s put together, polished, every bit the powerful businessman he once was. His suit is immaculate, tailored to perfection, and his cufflinks gleam, catching the light and silently broadcasting his wealth.

The transformation is startling. Gone is the weary, defeated figure you remember. In his place stands a man who looks like he’s never missed a day in the office, as though the years of scandal and incarceration were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His presence is commanding, and it’s clear that the fall from grace hasn’t stripped him of his confidence - if anything, it’s sharpened it.

Jongseong’s grip on your waist tightens subtly, a silent show of support as your father’s eyes sweep over the two of you. The tension in the room thickens, and you feel yourself shrinking under the weight of his gaze. The confidence you’ve worked so hard to build falters, replaced by a shyness and timidity that Jongseong hasn’t seen in you for a long time. It’s as if you’ve reverted to the woman you were when he first met you - uncertain, reserved, and desperate for approval.

This isn’t the version of you that Jongseong knows and loves. You’ve grown so much since then - becoming strong, confident, and unafraid to live life on your own terms. You’ve finally broken free from the need to be a good girl for your father, embracing the freedom that comes with living for yourself. But that was easier when your dad wasn’t standing right in front of you, his mere presence pulling you back into the shadows of your past.

Jongseong feels a pang of frustration as he watches you retreat into yourself. Everything he’s done - every word, every action - has been for your sake, to help you see your full potential. Even the blowjob he made you give as punishment on the cliff a few months ago was meant to ignite the spark inside you, no matter how harsh or cruel it might have seemed at the time. Because when you love someone, you want to see them thrive, to become the best version of themselves.

But as he watches your father’s influence pull you back, he realises that this whole life - the expectations, the wealth, the need for validation - holds you back from that. Your father is the anchor chaining you to a life you’ve outgrown, and Jongseong knows that as long as he’s around, you’ll never truly be free to be the person you’re meant to be. And that’s what hurts him the most - seeing the woman he loves, who’s fought so hard to break free, being dragged back into the very world she’s been subconsciously trying to escape.

“Who’s your friend?” your father asks, his tone dismissive as he deliberately reduces Jongseong’s role in your life to that of a mere acquaintance. He doesn’t even spare him a glance, focusing instead on you with a look that makes your heart race with anxiety.

“Dad, this is Park Jongseong. He’s my boyfriend, actually,” you reply, but your voice grows quieter with each word, betraying the confidence that usually defines you.

It feels like being hit with a brick as you watch your father’s mean stare shift to Jongseong, sizing him up, looking for flaws, for any reason to disapprove. The tension is suffocating, and you can’t help but feel the weight of your dad’s judgement pressing down on you.

Your father’s eyes narrow slightly, and after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he asks, “How did you two meet?”

You hesitate, suddenly realising that the truth might not be the best option. You should have thought of something more palatable, maybe something like Tinder or Hinge - anything but the truth. Your mind scrambles for a safer answer, but before you can stutter out a response, Jongseong steps in, his hand tightening on your hip as he smiles confidently.

“Prison, actually,” he says, his voice smooth and unbothered.

Your father’s expression barely changes, but the atmosphere in the room grows even heavier. “Oh? And what were you in for?” he asks, his tone as sharp as ever.

Jongseong meets your father’s gaze evenly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Now, sir, you know that’s the number one rule of prison - don’t ask a man his crime.”

Your father’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, you know mine and you seem to want to dig your nose further into my business. It’s only fair I know yours, considering you’re chasing my daughter.”

Jongseong almost laughs at the word ‘chasing’ as if he hadn’t had you wrapped around his finger from the moment your eyes first met. “Let’s just say my conviction only landed me a few months and not five years.”

You nudge Jongseong’s side sharply, panic flaring in your chest. This isn’t what you wanted. You wanted them to get along, for your father to see the man you love the way you do. But instead, it feels like they’re circling each other, sizing each other up like adversaries in a game where you’re the prize. The tension between them is thick, and you can feel the clash of their personalities reverberating through the air.

Even with the sharpness of Jongseong’s words, your father doesn’t flinch. Instead, he recovers with the kind of ruthless calm that only years of power and manipulation can teach. He steps closer, eyes narrowing as they lock onto Jongseong with cold precision.

“Is that so?” your father begins, voice low and dripping with disdain. “I’ve always believed a man’s past speaks volumes about his future. What exactly does yours say?”

Jongseong doesn’t back down, his grip on your waist firm, almost possessive. “It says I learn, I adapt, and I move forward.”

Your father’s eyes harden, his lip curling into a sneer. “Adapting is for the weak. Real men don’t make mistakes in the first place.”

Jongseong’s smile is icy, his eyes flashing with barely restrained anger. “Is that what you told yourself when you ended up behind bars? Or is that just the lie you’ve convinced everyone else to believe?”

The words hit like a punch, and for a split second, something dark and dangerous flickers in your father’s eyes. But he quickly masks it with a cruel smirk. “I’d watch who you’re speaking to, kid.”

“Oh, I am,” Jongseong replies, his voice steady but laced with venom. He leans in slightly, his gaze unwavering as he adds, “I’m just not a fan of the view, if I’m being honest.”

Your father’s wicked grin tightens, the facade of civility cracking just enough to reveal the simmering rage beneath. He steps back, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Jongseong’s defiance. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? But cleverness won’t get you far in my world. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

Jongseong doesn’t flinch, his expression hard as steel. “I’m not in your world. And I don’t want to be.”

For a moment, the tension between them is palpable, a silent battle of wills that electrifies the air around you. Your father’s gaze flicks to you, his eyes cold and calculating, as if weighing his next move. Then, just as quickly, he turns on his heel, dismissing you both with a scoff.

The confrontation leaves you seething, a turbulent mix of anger and frustration churning inside you. You turn to Jongseong, your eyes alight with fury, the fire of your indignation barely restrained. “I told you this was important to me! Why would you speak to him like that?” Your voice is sharp, quivering with raw, unfiltered emotion that has been simmering beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Jongseong meets your gaze with a hardened expression, frustration and determination reflected in his eyes. “Because, unlike you, Y/N, I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not in front of your dad.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, your eyes widening in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, your heart hammering against your ribs, the blood pounding in your ears.

Jongseong steps closer, his voice dropping to a lower, more deliberate tone, yet the weight of his words lands heavily. “Look at yourself. The moment you heard his voice, you shrank. You’re biting your lip like you did when we first met - nervous, unsure. I’m not exactly close with my own family, but I’d say you shouldn’t regress to a scared little girl just because your dad is around.”

His words strike a nerve, a pang of guilt mingling with your anger. The urge to defend yourself rises within you, but the sting of his observations cuts too deep, slicing through your defences. The bitter truth of it, undeniable as it is, leaves you reeling. The moment your father entered the room, all the strength and confidence you’ve painstakingly built crumbled, leaving you feeling vulnerable, like the uncertain girl you once were.

You open your mouth to retort, but no words come. Instead, a flood of frustration and hurt surges through you, overwhelming your capacity to respond. Your hand shakes as you grab your drink, the glass cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the burning turmoil inside. Without a second thought, you down it in one long, desperate gulp, the sharp burn of alcohol barely registering as you push past Jongseong.

Your footsteps are heavy and determined, as you weave through the crowd, making your way out of the extravagant party and up the stairs to find some solace. You hear Jongseong call after you, but you don’t turn back. His brutally honest words, coupled with your father’s oppressive presence, have left you feeling raw and exposed, your every nerve frayed.

You push open the door to your old bedroom, the wood groaning in protest as you force your way inside. The room is a ghost of your past, a time capsule of your childhood preserved in pale pink walls and delicate lace curtains. The bed, still dressed in floral sheets that once seemed so perfect, now feels foreign - too innocent. The room should have felt comforting, like a sanctuary. Instead, it feels like a cage, trapping you in a version of yourself you no longer recognise.

Jongseong is right behind you, his presence filling the doorway as he refuses to let you retreat into silence. “Don’t walk away from me, Y/N,” he says, his voice low but firm, tinged with a desperation you rarely hear from him. “This isn’t how we do things.” He will always make sure that any argument that arises between you is figured out then and there, knowing how unresolved issues lead to cracks in any relationship, and he refuses to let your father be the hole in your boat.

You whirl around to face him, anger and hurt warring within you. “Well, sorry if being called a scared little girl by my boyfriend makes me not want to speak to him,” you snap, the words dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. The accusation still stings, a wound that refuses to heal.

Jongseong steps further into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His expression is stern, but there’s a flicker of pain in his eyes, a crack in his resolve that you can’t ignore. “Then fight me on it,” he challenges, his voice rising with frustration. “But you can’t, can you? Because you know it’s true.”

You shake your head, the denial is quick and sharp. “It’s not, Jongseong. You just wouldn’t get it.”

His laugh is bitter, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. “Why? Because I’m not upper class and drinking my weight in champagne that costs more than your college tuition?” His words are laced with an edge, a defensive wall thrown up to protect himself from the hurt he feels.

You recoil, the accusation striking a chord you hadn’t expected. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then what do you mean?” he presses, his gaze unwavering. “You love me for who I am, right? Because class doesn’t matter to you, and you see me for who I am?”

“Exactly,” you reply, the word strong and meaningful. It’s the truth - you do see him, all of him, you saw him as more than his prison uniform, you saw him as more than the scum society makes him out to be, you see him as your equal, not someone below you.

Jongseong takes a step closer, his voice softening as he reaches out to you. “That’s exactly my point. I see you for everything you are, past the good girl and quiet mouse, because you’re more than that. You’re confident, powerful, your mind is so fucking strong, baby. So why on earth are you turning into someone who’s scared to even breathe too loud as soon as he steps in front of you?”

His words pierce through your defences, and you feel a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. “Because, Jongseong, he would be so fucking disappointed in me,” you confess, the admission tumbling out before you can stop it. The weight of your father’s expectations, of the life he’s tried to mould you into, hangs heavy over you. “He told me my entire life to stay out of trouble, to be a good girl, keep my nose clean, and just get through life. If he finds out I-”

You falter, the words catching in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, to admit the truth that’s been festering inside you for so long.

Jongseong doesn’t let you hide from it. “You what? Actually found someone who makes you happy and lets you breathe?” His voice is intense, but there’s an underlying gentleness to it, a plea for you to see what he sees. “Y/N, he’s trapping you, and you can’t even fucking see it. That first day you came to see me in prison, you told me you wanted to do something for you, something reckless. You want out of this life, Y/N, and he’s gonna drag you by the feet back into it. He might have gotten out of prison but he’s trapping you in one.”

His words cut through the fog of fear and doubt that’s been clouding your mind, the truth of them undeniable. The life your father envisioned for you - a life of safety, of predictability - has always felt like a gilded cage, something that kept you comfortable, but never truly alive. The past few months with Jongseong have been a whirlwind, a taste of something real, something that makes you feel like you’re actually living instead of just existing. And yet, here you are, retreating back into old patterns.

Jongseong takes another step closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. “I’m sorry but I’m not going to watch the love of my life lose herself, all to please a hypocritical prick.”

The tears that have been threatening to fall finally spill over, and you close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. He’s right. You hate the mundane, prissy life you’ve been living, the one that your father insists is the only right path for you. The past few months with Jongseong have been the most precious, the most real, moments of your life. But even as you were getting ready for tonight, you could feel yourself slipping back into those old, timid ways, the ones your father would approve of.

You open your eyes, meeting Jongseong’s gaze, and for the first time, you allow yourself to truly acknowledge the truth. The life your father wants for you isn’t the one you want for yourself. And as terrifying as that realisation is, it’s also liberating.

Your voice trembles as you finally speak, the weight of everything crashing down on you. "I’m sorry, Jongseong," you murmur, your words carrying a multitude of apologies: sorry for lashing out, sorry for dragging him to this party, sorry for trying to hide who he is from everyone downstairs who didn’t even deserve to know him, sorry for all of it.

But before you can continue, Jongseong cuts you off, his voice firm but tender. “Don’t you dare fucking apologise, darlin’.” He pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it feels like he’s trying to shield you from the world itself. His embrace is warm, strong, grounding - everything you need right now. “I just want you to be happy. It might come off as mean but if I have to thump it into your head by showing some tough love I will.”

His words are more than just a declaration; they’re a vow. A promise that he will protect your happiness at all costs, even if it means standing against your father or anyone else who threatens it. You can feel the fierce determination in the way he holds you, as if he’s ready to take on the entire world if that’s what it takes to keep you safe, to keep you smiling.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and what you see there makes your heart swell. He’s not just saying these things - he means them, every single word. “I am happy,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of conviction. The truth of it warms you from the inside out because you know that your happiness isn’t tied to the gilded expectations of your father or the superficial approval of those downstairs. It’s here, in Jongseong’s arms, in the life you’re building together.

His eyes soften at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he leans down. The moment hangs in the air, thick with unspoken emotion, and then his lips meet yours in a kiss that is tender, yet filled with all the passion and love that’s been bubbling beneath the surface. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, anchored in this shared moment of understanding and connection.

The kiss deepens, a slow, deliberate melding of lips that speaks of everything words cannot. His hand finds the clasp that is holding your hair neatly and unhooks it from your strands, his fingers threading through your hair as he draws you even closer, erasing the space between you. There’s a fervent intensity in the way he kisses you, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his love, his frustration, his devotion into this single moment. You respond in kind, your hands sliding up his chest to clutch at his shirt, needing to feel the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips.

Your heart races, matching the rhythm of his as you lose yourself in the kiss, in him. The heat between you rises, a slow burn that spreads through your body, making you dizzy with the intensity of it. Every brush of his lips against yours, every breath you share, feels electric, sending shivers down your spine.

When you finally break apart, it’s only because you both need air, but even then, he doesn’t pull away. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he exhales shakily. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze, and what you see there makes your breath hitch - a raw, unguarded love that leaves you feeling vulnerable yet more cherished than ever.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion, as if the kiss has stripped away all his defences. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

You smile widely, joy and harmony finally flowing through your body for the first time tonight. The tension that had gripped you earlier is melting away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest and settles deep in your bones. In this moment, with Jongseong’s love laid bare before you, everything else seems to fade into insignificance. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in this shared vulnerability, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly free.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly as you take in the man standing before you - the man who has seen you at your weakest, yet loves you with a fierceness that makes your heart swell. Considering how you started as a good girl, falling into the dangerous allure of a criminal, you can’t deny how far you’ve come. The path you’ve chosen has been anything but easy, but standing here now, it feels like it’s all been worth it.

Without another word, you lean in and capture his lips in another kiss, this one more deliberate, more purposeful. It’s as if you’re reaffirming the connection you share, grounding yourself in the reality of his presence. Your hands slide up to cradle his face, your thumbs gently brushing over his cheekbones as you pour every ounce of your love and desire into the kiss.

Jongseong responds immediately, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, as if he’s afraid to let go. The kiss deepens, the heat between you growing as your bodies press together, the boundaries between you blurring until all you can feel is him - his warmth, his strength, his unwavering love.

As the kiss intensifies, you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “Does doing anything for me include having sex with me on my childhood bed?”

The playful challenge in your voice brings a mischievous glint to his eyes. Jongseong smirks, his fingers tenderly wiping away the semi-dried tears on your cheeks, as if washing away the remnants of your earlier sadness. His touch is so gentle, so reverent, that it makes your heart ache with affection.

“Well,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone as he smirks down at you, “I did say anything.” There’s a teasing edge to his words, but you can see the heat in his eyes, the desire that matches your own.

He steps back slightly, his hands moving to the knot of his tie. With a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to loosen it, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of him, his dark hair slightly tousled from your earlier embrace, the way his fingers work the tie free with a practised ease, sends a thrill through you. It’s as if the act of loosening the tie is symbolic, a shedding of the constraints that have held you both back tonight.

As the tie finally slips free, Jongseong lets it fall to the floor, his smirk widening into a full, knowing smile. His gaze is filled with undeniable heat as he reaches for you again, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper against your ear.

“More than sure,” you breathe, your hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as you pull him toward the bed. The thought of being with him here, in this room filled with memories of your past, feels like a reclamation of everything you’ve fought to become.

Jongseong follows your lead, his hands never leaving your body as you guide him toward the bed. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, you sink down onto it, pulling him with you. The look in his eyes, a mix of affection, desire, and something deeper, something primal, makes your pulse quicken.

He hovers over you for a moment, his hands braced on either side of your head as he looks down at you. The air between you is charged, electric, as if every breath, every touch is heightened by the intimacy of the moment. “You’re so beautiful,’” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, and then his lips are on yours again, claiming you with a fierce, possessive hunger.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, and you begin to work them free, your movements impatient, driven by the need to feel his skin against yours. He lets out a low growl of approval as you push the fabric aside, your hands sliding over the smooth planes of his chest, tracing the contours of his body and tattoos as if memorising every line, every dip.

Jongseong’s breath hitches when your hands dip lower, and he meets your gaze with a look that is equal parts love and raw, unfiltered desire. “You really want this, darlin’?” he asks, his voice rough as his fingers brush against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Because you might not be walking straight down those fancy stairs of yours after this.”

You nod, your eyes locked onto his as you answer, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I want you. I need you.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine, Jongseong leans down to capture your lips in another searing kiss. His hands begin to work on the fastenings of your dress with a sense of urgency, his touch both gentle and insistent. He slowly unzips the back of the dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pushes the fabric down.

As the dress falls, it reveals your bare chest, and the sudden chill of the air causes your nipples to harden instantly. Jongseong’s eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight, his breath coming faster as he revels in the moment. His hands, now free of the dress, move to gently cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp softly.

Jongseong’s hands continue to explore your body, his touch electrifying as it moves from your breasts down to your waist. He pauses for a moment, eyes locked with yours, his breath heavy with desire. With a deliberate slowness that makes your pulse race, he hikes up the skirt of your dress, the fabric bunching around your hips as his hands trace the length of your thighs. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your skin tingling everywhere he touches.

As his fingers brush against the lace of your underwear, a soft gasp escapes your lips, the heat between your bodies intensifying. Jongseong’s eyes flicker with a primal hunger, but there’s still a tenderness in the way he touches you, a silent promise that he’s going to take care of you, to give you exactly what you need.

In response, your hands move with equal urgency, fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the button on his trousers. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten under your touch, the barely restrained power that lies just beneath the surface. The button comes undone with a quiet pop, and you begin to slide the zipper down, the sound barely audible over the heavy breathing that fills the room.

Jongseong lets out a low groan as you push his slacks down his hips, your hands brushing against his hardness through the thin fabric of his boxers. The sensation sends a jolt of desire through you, making you more impatient to feel him against you, inside you. You could start a new religion for his cock alone.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a newfound urgency. As his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, he teases you, drawing out the moment until you’re practically trembling with need. His touch is both gentle and demanding, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You arch into him, your hips pressing closer as he slowly slides your panties down, his hands skimming over your skin in a way that leaves you breathless. Jongseong’s mouth leaves yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“I want them to hear you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, a promise of what's to come.

“Jongseong-” your voice falters, cut off by the way his fingers dip between your thighs, tracing a slow, agonising path along your slick heat. The sound of your own gasp fills the room, and you can feel the tension winding tighter within you, ready to snap at any moment.

He smirks against your skin, a dark satisfaction in the way your body responds to his every touch, every word. "I need to hear you beg for it," he whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he pushes his fingers deeper, coaxing more desperate sounds from your lips.

Your hands find his hair, tugging him closer as you grind against his hand, needing more, needing everything. "Please, Jongseong...I need you," you manage to gasp out, the words barely coherent as pleasure overtakes your senses.

He pauses, his breath hot against your ear as he lets out a low chuckle. "I know you can do better than that, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice laced with a teasing challenge. His fingers press deeper, curling just right, as he waits for you to give him exactly what he wants.

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You moan, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of his touch. Your fingers dig into his scalp as you writhe against his hand, the building pressure almost unbearable.

"Please," you gasp, your voice trembling with need, "I need you so badly, Jongseong. I'll do anything...just, please."

His smirk widens, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he feels the intensity of your plea. "That's more like it," he growls, his voice deep and full of raw desire. He continues to work his fingers in and out of you, his rhythm slow and deliberate, keeping you on the edge.

"You’re doing so well," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against your skin. "But I want to hear you scream my name, baby. Let me hear how much you want me."

Your chest heaves with each breath, and the pressure inside you becomes almost too much to handle. You nod frantically, your voice a desperate plea as you finally give in, letting out a loud, passionate cry that fills the room. Jongseong’s eyes light up with approval, his fingers and lips moving with even more intensity, pushing you towards the edge with an insistent rhythm.

With a low growl of approval, Jongseong finally sheds the last of his clothes, his eyes locking onto yours with a hungry intensity. He positions himself at your entrance, and the first thrust is a slow, deliberate invasion that fills you completely. A moan escapes your lips, resonating through the room and mingling with the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you.

He holds himself still for a moment, savouring the way you clench around him, feeling every shiver that ripples through your body. His eyes roam over your flushed skin, admiring the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. “You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “So tight around me.”

Gradually, he begins to move, each thrust steady and deep, pushing you further into the realms of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you to match his rhythm. “That’s it,” Jongseong growls. “Feel every inch of me, darlin’. It belongs to you anyway.”

His words ignite a new fire within you, and your body responds with a frenzied energy. You feel every ridge, every curve of him, each thrust driving you wild with desire. “Jongseong,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, “more…”

His pace quickens, becoming urgent and insistent, the pleasure building to a nearly unbearable crescendo. The room is filled with the heady mix of your moans and the rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh, each noise echoing off the walls and creating a chorus of raw, primal passion.

With a sudden shift, Jongseong pulls back slightly, his hands guiding you to a new position. He flips you onto your side, his movements smooth and fast, a mixture of desire and intent in his eyes. You roll over and get a surge of anticipation as Jongseong positions himself behind you, allowing him to enter and hit you deeper than before, giving you that ‘more’ you so desperately craved.

Jongseong’s thrusts are now angled upward, hitting a spot that makes you gasp with each push. The sensation is overwhelming, a blend of deep, rhythmic pressure and the intimacy of your shared movements.

“Is this what you needed?” Jongseong asks breathlessly, his voice filled with a rough, almost primal edge as he adjusts his rhythm to match the new position. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your answer comes out as a moan, your words mingling with the sounds of your combined pleasure. “Yes, Jongseong,” you manage to gasp, “It’s so deep, so perfect.”

As he continues to thrust into you, Jongseong’s lips find your neck, his kisses soft and heated against your skin. He trails his mouth up and down your neck, each touch sending shivers down your spine. His breath is warm and tantalising, his kisses growing more insistent as he marks you with his mouth.

You can feel his tongue flicking against your skin, each kiss more urgent than the last. His teeth graze gently, then with a bit more pressure, leaving a trail of kisses and marks that grow darker with each pass. “You’re mine,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice a deep, possessive growl. “I want everyone to know.”

The sensation of his lips and teeth against your neck only heightens the pleasure you're already experiencing. Each mark is a vivid reminder of the passion that drives you both, a tangible sign of the intensity and connection you share. “Jongseong,” you gasp, feeling the combination of his thrusts and the trail of kisses that map your neck. “Please, don’t stop.”

But you mean it in every sense - don't stop fucking you, as though every thrust and every shuddering release is a lifeline. Don’t stop loving you, as though the depth of his affection and the way he holds you close is your greatest comfort. Don’t stop pushing you to be who you are, to embrace every part of yourself, to feel alive in his arms and in his gaze. You want him to keep driving you to discover and explore every hidden part of yourself, to keep challenging and encouraging you in ways you never imagined.

He responds with a low, approving growl, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed fervour. “I won’t,” he promises, his voice rough with desire and a depth of emotion that goes beyond the physical. “Never.”

As he continues to thrust into you, his movements become more intense, more urgent, as if he’s trying to convey his promise with every powerful push. The room seems to pulse with the rhythm of your shared passion, the sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls. Jongseong’s grip on your hips tightens, his touch both possessive and protective as he guides you through the waves of ecstasy.

“Feel every part of me,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of tenderness and raw need. “I’m right here, with you, always.”

The intensity of his thrusts pushes you closer to the edge, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body. His kisses become more fervent, each one a reminder of his love and his commitment. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, a steady, reassuring presence that matches the rhythm of his thrusts.

“You’re everything to me,” Jongseong says, his voice breaking slightly with the force of his emotions. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you ride the waves of pleasure he’s giving you. His words, combined with the sensation of him inside you and the way his lips leave their marks on your neck, create a powerful cocktail of intimacy and desire. “I don’t,” you manage to breathe out, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and gratitude. “I never will.”

With a final, deep thrust, Jongseong brings you both to the peak of your shared climax. Your body convulses in waves of pure, unadulterated bliss, each shudder and moan a testament to the intensity of your connection. Jongseong’s release follows closely, his groans mingling with yours as he holds you tightly, his kisses now soft and tender against your neck.

As the initial rush of pleasure begins to subside, your muscles gradually unwind, each tremor giving way to a lingering afterglow. The room is filled with the soft symphony of your synchronized breathing, the steady rise and fall of your chests in perfect harmony. Jongseong’s kisses on your neck become gentle, almost reverent, as he trails a tender path of affection across your skin.

You feel his body relax against yours, his warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of intimacy. He pulls your face to his, capturing your lips in a deep, tender kiss that steals away the breath you had only just regained. Lost in the peacefulness of him, you savour the slow, lingering connection, each touch and caress a silent expression of his affection.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Jongseong murmurs against your lips, his voice low and inviting, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod, a contented smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s do it,” you reply, your voice filled with unwavering resolve, knowing that the moment you step out of this place you once called home, you’ll never look back. He grins, playfully nudging your nose with his, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and mischief. “If Emily even looks at you again when we go down there, I might just rip her eyes out.” Jongseong is sexy all of the time but he is even sexier with a post-sex glow, so you know there are going to be some eyes on him, a pair of them just better not be hers.

Jongseong’s laughter fills the room, a deep, resonant sound that carries a note of both joy and possessiveness. He rests his head on your shoulder, planting light, affectionate kisses. “And to think, I was the one who was supposed to keep my cool and not get possessive,” he teases, his voice light and full of warmth.

“You’re not the only possessive one in this relationship, you know?” you reply with a soft smile, a hint of playfulness in your tone. “I just don’t show it as much.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening as he shifts slightly, still buried to the hilt inside you. “I think you should show it more often,” he suggests, his voice low and laced with a delicious hint of provocation. “I’d let you put a collar on me and walk me like a dog if you asked.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you giggle, your laughter mingling with his as the intimate moment stretches between you, the connection deepening with every shared breath.

Eventually, you both begin to move, your limbs heavy with the lingering remnants of passion. The atmosphere shifts as you get dressed, pulling on your clothes with deliberate slowness, savouring the last few moments of solitude before reentering the world outside this room. The extravagant party downstairs beckons, the muffled sounds of music and laughter a distant hum, reminding you of the life you’re about to leave behind.

As you descend the grand staircase, the chandelier above casts a golden glow, illuminating the room filled with elegantly dressed guests, all of whom are focused on your father as he prepares to make a speech. The moment his eyes land on you and Jongseong, he falters, his gaze narrowing as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. His jaw tightens, and though he says nothing, the tension in the room shifts, a subtle ripple that everyone seems to sense. He knows exactly what you’ve been doing.

At the bottom of the stairs, you pause, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your mind. The opulence of this life, the weight of the expectations you’ve carried for so long, all press down on you. For a brief moment, doubt gnaws at the edges of your resolve.

Sensing your hesitation, Jongseong wraps his arms around you from behind, his presence grounding you in the here and now. He presses a tender kiss to your neck, soothing the marks he left there, his lips warm and reassuring against your skin. He keeps direct eye contact with your father, an unspoken challenge in his gaze, before turning his attention back to you.

“Let’s go, darlin’.”

And that’s all the encouragement you need to leave everyone in this room behind, everyone but the man holding you close, promising to love you forever.

_____

You sit across from each other in a worn red booth, the familiarity of the setting wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The walls are adorned with faded photographs and vintage memorabilia, a tribute to a simpler time that feels worlds away from the chaos that often surrounds your lives. The table between you is cluttered with half-eaten plates of food - greasy fries, a burger with a bite taken out of it, and a tall milkshake slowly melting in its glass. It’s a scene of domesticity, of normalcy

“I’m sorry, but not even anything in prison was that disgusting,” he quips, his eyebrows raised in exaggerated horror.

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. The way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world who matters, even with your food combination choices, makes your heart swell with affection. “Come on, just try it! I promise you’ll love it,” you urge, holding out a fry that you have dipped in your milkshake, your eyes sparkling with playful challenge.

Jongseong hesitates for a moment, then leans forward and takes a tentative bite. His expression shifts from scepticism to genuine surprise as the sweet and salty combination hits his taste buds. His eyes widen, and he breaks into a grin. “See?” you say, triumphantly, as he reaches for more fries, dipping them into the ice cream and stealing them from your plate.

“Get your own, oh my God!” you protest, swatting his hand away with a laugh, though there’s no real annoyance in your voice. It’s moments like these - small, stolen snippets of happiness - that make everything else worth it. The world outside might be chaotic, but here, in this little diner, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other.

But the illusion of safety is fragile. As you’re caught up in the moment, a subtle shift in the atmosphere catches Jongseong’s attention. A police car pulls up outside, its lights off but the engine still running. You barely notice it, too wrapped up in your banter, but Jongseong stiffens, his senses on high alert. His gaze follows the officers as they exit the car with a sense of purpose, their strides firm and unyielding as they approach the entrance.

You feel a prickle of unease, a small knot forming in your stomach as you notice Jongseong’s change in demeanour. His playful smile fades, replaced by a mask of cool detachment, his eyes darkening with the familiar wariness that never quite leaves him. The joy that lit up his face moments ago vanishes, leaving behind the hardened edges of a man who’s been on the run for far too long.

The officers push through the diner’s doors, their presence commanding immediate attention. They don’t bother with the usual pretence of surveying the room; their eyes are locked on your table from the moment they step inside. Your heart races as they approach, each step closer fueling your growing sense of dread.

“Park Jongseong?” one of the officers asks, his tone clipped and authoritative, as they come to a stop in front of your booth.

Jongseong doesn’t flinch. “Who’s asking?” he replies, his voice steady, laced with a defiant edge. He’s been here before, too many times to count, but it never gets any easier. The threat of losing his freedom, of being torn away from you, is always looming, always just one misstep away.

The officer’s gaze sharpens, not missing a beat. “You’re under arrest for theft. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

Your heart skips a beat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Your mind reels back to the bank job you both pulled off, the thrill of it now tainted by the cold reality closing in around you. Jongseong remains unfazed on the surface, but you can see the flicker of realization in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly.

“Yeah? And what exactly did I steal?” Jongseong challenges, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he stands up, squaring his shoulders, ready for the confrontation. He never liked the police for obvious reasons, but what makes it worse is when they hound him like this when he has done nothing wrong.

The bank you robbed months ago would have already sent him to prison if they knew it was him, and any of the other petty crimes don’t require four policemen and a van.

The officer doesn’t back down, keeping his tone calm but firm. “Mr. L/N has reported his diamond cufflinks missing, and when we searched your place, we found them.”

Your boyfriend lets out a harsh laugh, the sound bitter and incredulous. “Yeah? First of all, you can’t search my home because I don’t have one. Second of all, you need a warrant for that, don’t you?” But even as he speaks, you can see the gears turning in his mind. If your father is behind this, as it now seems, the situation is far worse than he’d anticipated.

Your dad is far more powerful than you could ever imagine. That time in prison only gave him more contacts than enemies, and with Jongseong just another fish in a pond, they will happily throw him back to the sea with the right amount of persuasion.

Before Jongseong can react, the officer pulls out a pair of handcuffs, snapping them around his wrists with practised ease. He struggles, but it’s no use, the cuffs hold firm, and the officers aren’t about to let him go.

“Jongseong!” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice as you rush to him, placing yourself between him and the officers. Your hands cradle his face, trying to keep him grounded, to keep him from doing something reckless. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but you can see the worry etched into his features.

“It’s okay, darlin’. They’ve got nothing on me,” he says, his voice gentle, but you both know the truth: if your father is pulling the strings, there’s no telling how deep this goes. He’s trying to comfort you, to make you believe that everything will be fine, but there’s a part of him that’s not so sure.

“But-” you start, only to be silenced by the press of his lips against yours. The kiss is soft at first, a promise of return, but it quickly turns desperate, as if he’s trying to memorise the feel of you, to hold onto this moment in case it’s the last. It’s a kiss that tells you everything you need to know - he’s scared, and so are you.

You can’t lose him.

The officers pull him away, and you watch helplessly as Jongseong is dragged out of the diner and shoved into the back of the police car. His face, once full of life and laughter, is now clouded with that deadpan stare. You run out after him helplessly and fear for what will come coursing your veins.

Through the window, he mouths the words, “I love you,” and you nod, tears blurring your vision as you choke out the response, “I love you too.”

As the police car drives away, taking him with it, the world around you seems to crumble, leaving you standing alone in the diner’s driveway. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your daze. You pull it out, and your heart sinks when you see the message from your father: “Come home, princess. Be a good girl.”

The words ignite a fire in you, a seething anger that burns hotter with every passing second. You clench your fists, your eyes falling on the ring Jongseong gave you - the promise of a future together, a future you’re determined to fight for. You made a vow to him, to wait for him no matter what, to stand by his side through thick and thin. But before you can keep that promise, there’s one last obstacle you need to overcome.

Your father.

_____

2K notes View Post

silcry

8 months ago

against the world

PAIRING ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader x sim jaeyun (ft. park jongseong)

GENRES ▸ fluff, angst, psychological, horror, thriller

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, murder, descriptions of gore, unrequited love, found family, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, mc is an unreliable narrator

SUMMARY ▸ if you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting park sunghoon.

WORD COUNT ▸ 14,064 words

PLAYLIST ▸ back to black by amy winehouse • the french library by franz gordon • perfectly splendid by the newton brothers

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this fic is a rewrite of one of my first horror fics that i’ve written :') it badly needed reworking and i completely changed the ending. i hope you guys enjoy my spooky szn contribution ♡

THE TRUTH WAS, YOUR LIFE BEGAN TO FALL APART EVEN BEFORE YOU MET SIM JAEYUN.

You realized this as you woke up, face pressed against the ice-cold, concrete floor of a holding cell; when the guards dragged your uncooperative, limp body into an interrogation room; when you were face-to-face with Detective Lee Heeseung and handcuffed to a cold, metal table as he read your Miranda Rights. The handcuffs dug into the flesh of your wrists, but you only fought against them once and gave up as soon as you realized they wouldn’t give in. You just wanted to thumb away the crusted blood staining your hands and pick out the flakes under your nails.

The room was foreign to you. It was something you’d seen in movies and read in books, but you never fathomed the idea of being in an interrogation room yourself. There was a two-way glass that you aimlessly stared at, wondering who was listening in on the other end.

You couldn’t figure out just how you ended up in this situation. Everything was smooth in your memory up until your supposed arrest—a tear in the fabric of your recollection. You hardly remembered what happened on the way to the police station or when you were getting booked in. You dug your palms into your temples and then pressed against the soft flesh under your eyes, frustrated by the stunted gears in your head. As much as you begged than to click and start spinning, they remained stuck and rusted in place.

But you couldn’t ask the brooding man standing over you. You couldn’t look up into his cold, unforgiving eyes. After all, he knew you were a murderer.

“There’s no use in lying to me, Y/N,” Detective Lee said gruffly with a gaze like steel, “the prints match.”

You drummed your fingers against the table—a habit that was rooted in your anxiety. Your fingers were stained and pruned like roses, and as hard as you tried to paint the table red, it only flaked off. You were sure your heartbeat was faster than the tapping of your fingers, your mind perhaps speeding off twice as fast.

Your stomach twisted. If Jaeyun was going to prison, too, then you could no longer protect him.

There was a limit to how much he could take; you knew that being thrown in the slammer would be intolerable for him. You knew you needed to get to him immediately because Jaeyun was the guy who felt too little and too much at the same time—the guy who looked for the part of him that ran away, who self-destructed when he felt the world closing in on him.

After all, Jaeyun was a stick of trinitrotoluene lit at both ends.

You worked up the courage to look Detective Lee in the eye, which made him stiffen up, biceps flexing under his white button-up.

“Where’s Jaeyun?” you asked.

Detective Lee’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Cutting into his pale cheeks. You decided that couldn’t be a good reaction.

You continued, “He didn’t do anything, I swear. He was just there. He didn’t do anything.”

“If you cooperate with us, then you can see Jaeyun again,” the detective answered in a clipped tone. “I can sit here all day and wait.”

Cooperate. You hated that word.

You knew Detective Lee was just trying to sugarcoat your betrayal. You knew he was looking down on you, ready to push you to your limit.

But there was nothing you could do in this room. There was no way for you to escape or talk your way out of it to see Jaeyun. You knew quite well that staying silent would only prevent you from making sure your boyfriend was okay.

You had no other choice but to work with Detective Lee.

“Will you at least make sure he’s not hurt?” you inquired, to which Detective Lee agreed with a nod.

“I’ll ask again: Will you cooperate?”

You stayed silent. You despised your old habit of shutting down like this, but you couldn’t help it.

Detective Lee sighed and sat in the chair across from you so that you both were eye-level with each other. “Listen, Y/N, you’re young. This murder investigation—this is serious stuff, okay? We just need to know the full story before we jump to any conclusions and make a false arrest. Can we start from last night?”

Deep down, you understood. But it’s all too fresh—too soon. The grief had yet to settle. The recollections of blood and lifeless eyes poisoned your head; it was all you could see when you closed your eyes.

You sounded hollow when you said, “It didn’t… start from last night.”

Detective Lee acknowledged this and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “Then let’s hear it from the beginning.”

If you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting Park Sunghoon.

Your first meeting was at the age of fourteen. Moving schools was an unexpected shift in your life, and you didn't expect to find many friends at your new school. Starting new in the beginning of the year was one thing, but entering unknown territory with people already acclimated in their respective groups was another.

People flocked to comfort, and you were sure that no one would want to step out of their comfort zone to bring a stranger into their friend group.

And then Sunghoon swooped in, like an angel sent from the heavens.

Initially, he was awkward. You were both fourteen-years-old and going through the initial stages of puberty—all voice cracks and awkward intervals of growth stunts. Sunghoon was soft-spoken and didn’t have many friends when he approached and befriended you.

It started when you both found out you shared a love for novels. You spent hours talking about your favorite books, and Sunghoon shared his dream of wanting to craft the perfect story. Oftentimes, Sunghoon would share some of his writing with you, and then his eyes would sparkle upon hearing your feedback.

You two were classmates, sitting right next to each other in the back of the classroom, conveniently right next to the door. You got to know Sunghoon slowly—the same gradual feeling of starting to care for someone. You knew his boundaries, though, because you were aware that you could never be the closest to Sunghoon. He and Park Jongseong were attached at the hip, and you couldn’t lie to yourself; you felt like a third wheel in the beginning.

But there was some comfort in the security of your friendship.

“It’s you and me,” Sunghoon would tell you, “the two of us against the world.”

You knew you should have been grateful to have made friends in the first place, but you didn’t exactly know if you belonged with them. As comfortable as you felt, there was always a whisper in the back of your head, telling you that you would never be their number one.

You would never be anyone’s number one.

“I don’t understand girls,” Jongseong said one day, hands tucked behind his head as the three of you were hanging out in Sunghoon’s room. You were flipping through some comic book that Sunghoon had laying around, and you shifted uncomfortably upon hearing the question.

“You don’t have to.” Sunghoon’s eyes flitted from you, and then back to his phone. He swiped through some apps, but you could tell he wasn’t really paying attention judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes. “Girls make no sense at this age.”

Jongseong nudged you. “You have anything to say about that, Y/N?”

To be honest, you didn’t understand yourself much either. You were just starting to go through puberty, and it wasn’t ideal for a teenager as young as you to only have guy friends. You couldn’t relate to any of the girls your age, nor could you ask them if they were going through the same changes you were.

You were acquainted with several girls, of course, but you never got close enough to ask what feelings and experiences they had. You wanted to know if they were becoming as conscious of themselves and others like you were, but you kept those questions bottled up since you only had Sunghoon and Jongseong.

“Nope,” you replied. “I couldn’t tell you.”

You supposed Jongseong was having girl problems again, and it all clicked because lately, he had been hanging around a pretty girl in their class. They were cute together and clearly into each other, but you could pick up on the issue: Jongseong was on the down-low about their relationship. More importantly, he had been on the down-low about it around Sunghoon, which had to have been breaking some sort of best friend code.

Jongseong asked, “You like anyone, Hoon?”

Hoon, your brain echoed, and you imagined yourself using the name as casually as Jongseong did. It sounded awkward coming from you, though. Friends gave each other nicknames, right? What if you gave Sunghoon a nickname? How would he react?

Sunghoon flushed behind his phone screen. You could tell he wanted it to go undetected, but you caught a glimpse of his flustered expression before he was able to compose himself.

“Oh, not really,” he replied with an air of indifference. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really been looking.”

“How about you, Y/N?”

You faltered for a moment before you realized you had been addressed. It was a normal question; you should have expected it, but it hit you like a tornado and your mind was swirling. Dating had crossed your mind a few times, sure, you had never prepared an answer because you thought it was going to be straightforward—a simple “yeah, there’s a few cute guys in class.” But that wasn’t the case this time, and you were wondering why there wasn’t any clarity in your head.

Come on, Y/N, you urged yourself, as if you were complaining to multiple, uncooperating attendants working in your brain. Just say something—anything.

Your mind was blanking, though, and you were scared. You couldn’t quite grasp why your stomach felt like a never-ending pit, but it only worsened when you couldn’t spit some guy’s name out. You wanted to open up your skull, thoroughly examine your head, poke at the areas refusing to work, and figure out who you couldn’t just list some attractive guy in class; on top of that, you wondered why you couldn’t just flat-out refuse the statement and claim that there was no one you were interested in.

You were struck with a painful realization that there was only one person you could think of.

Sunghoon.

No, no, no, your brain and your heart screamed at each other. Get ahold of yourself.

You quickly decided that it was just a passing feeling that you needed to suppress until it went away. It was just stupid teenage hormones and puberty making you feel this way and starving you of affection that you didn’t actually need in the first place. If you didn’t get a hold over yourself, you were going to crumble and ruin the good things you had going.

You internally convinced yourself that everything was fine. There were plenty of teenagers your age who had moments of weakness like this with their guy friends. You just needed to branch out more, that was all.

Sheepishly, you replied before the boys could chew you out, “There’s no one I’m interested in right now.”

You weren’t a very good liar, but as long as Sunghoon and Jongseong were sold, you were content with how things were.

Your group expanded when you turned fifteen, and you and Sunghoon grew closer—maybe even closer than Sunghoon and Jongseong were.

You were laying down in your bed one night, breaking into sobs when you realized that you needed more than one hand to count the number of friends you had now. Your shell was broken and your world was bigger. You normally lived like your uphills were mountains and your downhills were cliffs, but, lately, the mountains were getting easier to climb and the downhills weren’t that big of a drop. You didn’t need to stop and catch your breath or worry about hurting yourself on the way down.

You never felt lonely anymore. If Sunghoon or Jongseong weren’t free, you would call Nishimura Riki to catch grasshoppers in the creek with you, or you’d go play video games with Yang Jungwon. Kim Sunoo called you nearly every night to bother you, but you didn’t mind. You liked them; they made you feel important, like you were wanted.

“Come on,” Sunghoon teased Jungwon one day as he was blushing over some girl. “What are you being so shy about?”

“It’s embarrassing!” Jungwon complained, and you giggled over how a flush of red started creeping from his ears to his cheeks. “I’m not a smooth-talker like you are, Hoon.”

Sunghoon snorted. “I’m not a smooth-talker.”

“He’s practically, like, bulletproof,” Jongseong chimed in. “We can’t tease him about anyone. He just brushes it off.”

“I’m not bulletproof,” Sunghoon argued, but anyone could see the pride behind his expression. “I’m just not interested in anyone right now.”

You thought you had finally squashed the weird, gooey feeling that arose in your chest every now and then whenever Sunghoon came close. It was primarily due to the fact that Sunghoon was a respectful individual who didn’t try to weasel his way into your personal bubble as he pleased. That was probably for the best because you were sure your brain would go haywire if Sunghoon was too close for comfort.

And then there was Sim Jaeyun.

Jaeyun entered your circle pretty easily. With his radiant personality and warm presence, it was no shocker that he was accepted by the group instantly. He possessed some odd charm that drew people to him, and you couldn’t seem to figure just how that worked. You were almost jealous of him, honestly, with how much of a social butterfly he was.

Out of all of them, Jaeyun seemed to take a particular interest in you. It drove you crazy, though, and you couldn’t figure out how to get the guy to stop teasing and messing around with you. The others couldn’t figure it out either; you just weren’t as bright and bubbly as Jaeyun was, so it was odd that he kept nagging the one person whose wavelength wasn’t on par with his.

Sometimes it was cute—endearing even—but sometimes it was just flat-out irritating.

“Hey, Y/N.” Jake grinned, and his voice was all light and airy as he approached you. “What’re you doing for the summer break?”

“Probably sleeping in, hanging out with the others, and some more sleeping,” you replied, hardly sparing him a single glance.

You were too focused on clearing out your locker of all the books and papers you had tossed in during the year. Gotta keep this, gotta throw this away, gotta return this one, you rattled off in your head, mentally preserving a reminder of your various items. But Jaeyun knew how to push your buttons and grab your attention. He never took your deflection without retaliating back. That was one of the many reasons why you found it so difficult to be around him.

“And hanging out with Sunghoon, huh? Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it’s not there?”

You closed your locker with a swift swipe of your hand, revealing Jaeyun’s smug expression. Your eyes were practically bugging out of your sockets as you stared him down. Somehow, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you refused to spell it out for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, but Jaeyun was already walking away from you. He was turned away, but you could visualize that stupid smirk of his like it was carved into your memory.

Jaeyun was smart. Too smart.

Your summer was filled with laughter, beach trips, and shy glances at Sunghoon. He drove you around places and you sat in the passenger’s seat next to him, toes curled in your shoes because you were so overjoyed. The car was always loud with music and laughter, and whenever it was silent, it was because everyone else was sleeping on each other after a long day of being outside.

You still masqueraded around, playing the role of Sunghoon’s best friend who definitely had zero romantic feelings toward him. It was quite hard when you had to pretend like your heart didn’t flutter whenever Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against yours.

“Sunghoon,” Jaeyun would complain, rousing laughter from everyone at how impatient he was, “are we there yet?”

“You’re so annoying,” Sunghoon retorted, clearly as a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh at his outburst, but it quickly died on your lips once you caught a glimpse of Jaeyun winking at you in the side mirror.

Jaeyun had a mischievous glint in his eyes when he said, “But you still love me, Hoon.”

Oh.

He was trying to make you jealous.

You fought down the urge to laugh at him. You might have been harboring a small crush, but you were never the jealous type, especially not over petty things like this. There was one little thing, however, that you couldn’t seem to shake.

For some reason, the anticipation to call Sunghoon by a nickname made you anxious. You never tested it on your tongue; it just floated around in your head. However, when you addressed him as Hoon one day, your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon responded with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun.

You grew closer to Jongseong, too. You didn’t feel like the third wheel with him and Sunghoon anymore; you felt like you were all at the same level of closeness. You and Jongseong hung out sometimes without Sunghoon, and despite a few awkward pauses in your interactions, you two warmed up quickly and you learned how to joke around with him easily.

Jongseong wasn’t all stiff and dry like you were initially afraid of; rather, he was surprisingly fun, and every time you learned something new about him, like how he adored cats but was allergic to them, you were even more amazed.

It wasn’t just Jongseong, though. You and Sunghoon grew far closer than ever before, whether that was for the better or worse.

Sunghoon only lived a street away, so it was convenient to hang out, and when you didn’t hang out with him, you two called each other. You could see him unravel in front of your eyes; he became visibly more comfortable when it was just the two of you—smiling, laughing, and bursting into laughter with tears of unrestrained happiness.

It wasn’t just the jubilant memories that tugged you two closer, though. It was also the despair.

In the first place, it was an accident that you even happened to break down in front of Sunghoon.

You two were in his room when it happened, and things were as they always had been before you sensed the calm before the storm. You joked around as usual and passed the time by playing video games. Sunghoon was perched on his usual spot in the corner of the bed. You looked over at him and realized how close you two had become as friends.

Friends. Just friends.

It was right at that moment when you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to just be Sunghoon’s best friend. You wanted to be the reason why he smiled, the one to make him blush, and the one he could share his pain and happiness with.

But your feelings were the scariest thing you’ve ever had to face, and you felt ashamed for even wanting to cross the line drawn between you and Sunghoon.

You couldn’t dare bring yourself to confess. You were almost positive that Sunghoon didn’t feel the same way, and you would be risking a fall-out in your current relationship if you admitted anything. What if Sunghoon ended up hating you? What if you lost him and all of your other friends? What if you weren’t the closest person to him anymore?

That was why you felt like Sunghoon was in another dimension, always a layer away. Always.

This was your own fault. You were the one who fell for your best friend. You were the one who did this to yourself. You broke your own heart.

You couldn’t help it when you started falling apart in front of him. It started with a broken cough that was supposed to cover up a sniffle. You were thankful for the loud battle sounds in the game that drowned out your quiet sobbing. But the video game didn’t stop Sunghoon from noticing your shaking hands gripping the controller.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”

Your voice is so shaky, so broken. Sunghoon knew you were crying before he could see or hear it.

He paused the game and put the controller down, but your eyes were still trained on the screen, hands shaking as you clutched the controller until you were white-knuckled. Sunghoon was on edge—panicked. Although, it was a different kind of panic from all the times you would be stressing over an assignment and Sunghoon would offer some lame piece of advice in return.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His tone was frantic now as he searched your face for an answer.

You smiled, although faint melancholy was tucked away in the curl of your lip. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

Your smile broke. It was so unfortunate that Park Sunghoon had to have a heart so big.

You could almost hear Jaeyun in the back of your head: Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it isn’t there?

You started crying, and it wasn’t something soft with a gradual crescendo. It was loud and all at once, like a wounded animal. Your hands shook more, and you finally dropped your controller, burying your fingers into your roots, as if tugging your hair hard enough would make it all stop, as if it would hurt more than the ache in your chest.

Sunghoon was quick to get off his bed and slide to the ground, right next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and it only made you feel ashamed. You stiffened up and shrunk back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how you tensed up at his touch. You could hear your own heartbeat, but you were pretty sure you were hyperventilating at a faster pace than the pounding in your chest. The world under you moved, bounced, so you decided to lean into Sunghoon.

The logical half of your brain informed you in a calm, clipped manner that you were having a panic attack. The other half meanwhile was screaming and shutting itself down.

Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste, you tried telling yourself, but your senses overwhelmed you completely. Your tears were blurring your vision, you couldn’t hear anything but your sobs, and your lungs felt as if they were on fire.

“Y/N, talk to me,” came the softest voice that eased the painful ringing in your ears.

“I can’t,” you stuttered out. “Not right now.”

You wish you hadn’t let it get to this point. You were completely humiliating yourself in front of Sunghoon right now. This was the one thing you couldn’t let him find out about.

Your heavy gasps grew more labored. You then curled into yourself, sweaty hands tugging and knotting at your hair. And, shit, you couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated again and again, like a broken record. The desperation in your voice was so ugly.

There was something fierce in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was ready to protect you from anything or anyone that tried to hurt you, but there was also softness in his voice. “You know, you can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I’ll hear you out. I don’t want you to suffer alone, Y/N.”

With a small smile, he added, “It’s just you and me, right? The two of us against the world.”

That only made you cry even more. You just replayed Sunghoon’s words in your head, like it was your favorite song.

“Alright.” You breathed in real deep, through the aching chest and everything. “It’s really stupid.”

“If it makes you cry this hard, it can’t be stupid.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed. “I think I like someone—someone I can’t have.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond for a moment, and it rattled your brain. He probably was wondering this underwhelming confession warranted a breakdown from you, and you couldn’t blame him. However, it was the only way you could avoid lying to your best friend without giving him the whole truth.

For a split second, you wondered if Sunghoon simply just didn’t hear you. But you didn’t want to repeat yourself; you didn’t like repeating yourself.

To your surprise, Sunghoon just smiled. “Do I know them?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were stringing together in your head to form a coherent sentence.

“Uh, well, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” Sunghoon continued. He flushed and flicked his thumb under his nose—an awkward mannerism of his that you grew to love over the years. “Actually, I think we’re in the same boat. There’s someone I like, too. Someone I can’t have.”

His words bounced in your skull. Settled. Bounced again.

“Really?” you spluttered out, and it took you a moment to recuperate from the heavy sadness that was filling your chest. You brought yourself to ask, “I mean, you’re so popular, so why don’t you just ask them out?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? Are they dating someone else?”

There was a sad smile on Sunghoon’s lips when he answered, “No, Jongseong likes her, too.”

At the age of sixteen, you realized that you couldn’t get over Sunghoon, but you could suppress your heartbreak and lingering feelings.

It physically hurt to think about how deeply ingrained your concept of friendship was with him, and the possibility that Park Sunghoon would never think of you as more than a friend. You two had shared too many experiences—worn each other’s shoes and walked miles—to ever become more than what you were.

Nothing would ever change.

You were hanging out by a creek near Jongseong’s house. It was just the two of you—no Jaeyun to poke fun at you, and no Sunghoon to distract you. It was just the two of you, and it was somehow so easy to be with Jongseong like this. You could laugh with your stomach and smile with your eyes without feeling the need to close up or shut down.

“It’s getting annoying, isn’t it?” Jongseong asked under his breath at one point. When you shot him a puzzled look, he clarified, “Sunghoon.”

You picked up on Jongseong’s annoyance toward Sunghoon over the past few weeks, but his words confirmed your suspicions now. You wondered if it was geared toward the girl they both liked—whoever she was.

You never thought to ask, mainly because you didn’t want to know. Either way, if Sunghoon wanted to share, he would’ve done so already.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, trying to grab at words and shove them together, but you genuinely didn’t know what to say.

It had always been you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. You never thought about them turning on each other. The very idea made you feel sick to your stomach.

Over the past week, you had seen Sunghoon’s indifference toward Jongseong, but you were too afraid to ask about it. Your friend group was slow to pick up on it, but you noticed the way Sunghoon would purposely avoid conversing with Jongseong, or the way Jongseong would walk quickly past him if they crossed paths. It was odd, though, because everyone knew that Sunghoon and Jongseong were the best of friends—inseparable. How could you hold onto someone for so long and just let go of them like that?

You recalled that Jongseong and Jungwon went over to talk to Sunghoon about his moody behavior, but Jongseong never told you whether the talk went well or not. You figured it just never happened because Jungwon called in sick the very next day.

You prayed that he would hurry up and get over his cold. He had been out sick all week, which checked out since everyone was getting sick around this time of the year. Jungwon would know how to get Sunghoon and Jongseong to reconcile. He was always the friend that helped everyone patch things up.

“You guys are best friends,” was all you could say. “You’ll make up in a few days, right?”

Jongseong clicked his tongue loud enough to make your skin crawl.

But you didn’t want to drop it this time, you asked, “Seriously, what happened between you guys?”

For a moment, you wondered if you should’ve brought up what Sunghoon confessed to you—about him and Jongseong liking the same girl. But this couldn’t have been about that; Sunghoon would never let a girl get between his friendships.

“Sunghoon’s hiding something dark,” Jongseong blurted out. “I don’t think I can get him out of this one.”

“Something dark? What is it?”

“I don’t really know—”

“Jongseong,” you cut in. “If you know something, then just say it. He’s my best friend, too.”

Jongseong shifted uncomfortably, restless. He was silent for a long period of time, so you just waited for him to collect his thoughts. Uneasiness bursted from the tips of your fingers and crawled under your skin. You felt the heat of the sun against your face, so you looked up and covered your eyes with a hand, blinking back red.

“If Sunghoon did something unforgivable,” he started in a murmur, “would you forgive him?”

“I don’t know,” was all you could say.

“Yeah,” Jongseong replied, his terse words nearly making you flinch. “I don’t know, either.”

The sun grew hotter against your face, and all you could see was blood red behind your eyes.

You didn’t know how exactly it started, but you slowly started to find solace in Jaeyun.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care for him a little more than the people around you. You were starting to get swayed by him—the things he said, the way he looked at you—and it scared you a little.

But Jaeyun felt safe. He felt like home.

You two called at night, sometimes. You weren’t normally one to be vulnerable in front of others, but you shed some tears in front of Jaeyun a couple of times.

The only other person you had cried in front of was Sunghoon.

“It’s kinda sad,” Jaeyun told you one day. You two were spending the afternoon studying together at his place, and you were feeling self-conscious because you were starting to regret not dressing a little cuter. “I’ve known you for a year, but we’ve only gotten close now.”

“I don’t think either of us cared about deepening our friendship back then.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You think I didn’t want to be closer? How do you think I picked up on you liking Sunghoon?”

“Because I was obvious about it?”

“No, idiot, because I like you.”

You blinked a few times until you fully processed his words. I like you, your brain repeated, and then you reprocessed the information.

No, there was an ‘idiot’ before that. Not only were you liked, but he thought you were stupid, as well.

You became painfully aware of your knees touching Jaeyun’s, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of him liking you romantically. You had never been in this position. Since your crush on Sunghoon had been one-sided for the past few years, you never expected to be on the receiving end.

“You…” you trailed off, floundering to find something to say—something that wouldn’t make you sound stupid or mean. You settled with, “You, too?”

His eyes beamed with hope. “For a year now.”

Your world was so small before. It was just you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong.

Before you could even wonder if there was space in your heart for Jaeyun, you realized that you had already let him burrow his way in there.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaeyun asked.

You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, and every once of nervousness slipped away. You always thought you could attain this level of closeness with Sunghoon, but maybe your relationship with him was just that fragile—where you could just grab the string binding you two together and snip it completely.

But it was different with Jaeyun.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling, “you can.”

And then, with Jaeyun’s breath fanning your lips, you felt Sunghoon completely dissolve from the impounding thoughts racking your brain. Right now, it was Jaeyun and only Jaeyun.

You leaned in first, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips against Jaeyun’s soft ones. It was weird, kissing for the first time, but he leaned into it instantly so that your movements were less awkward and more guided.

A fire blazed inside of you, burning hotter than imaginable. You didn’t expect Jaeyun to drive you this crazy—to crave more, to want more. You drew back before you slid your hand into his hair, although you were tempted to go further when his pillowy lips peppered soft kisses along your jawline.

But you didn’t want to go overboard or ruin anything by going too fast. You settled for leaving another chaste kiss against his lips before pulling back, and you were delighted when you saw how pleased Jaeyun was. He was practically glowing.

From then on, you and Jaeyun had a relationship that extended past something platonic, but it wasn’t like you two were official. Naturally, you ended up confiding in him over everything.

While Sunghoon still held a place in your heart as your first love, you grew to care for Jaeyun, who kindled a gentler fire in you. Sunghoon, on the other hand, left you burned and scarred.

You didn’t want to rush into a relationship, mainly because you didn’t want Jaeyun to think he was a rebound, and he respected that. So he waited for you to figure out your feelings and let your heart choose who was right for you.

You weren’t stupid, though; you knew that chasing after Sunghoon was a hopeless cause.

You and Jaeyun drifted about in a limbo-state of your relationship. You two went on a couple of dates, got to know each other at a deeper level, and spent a lot of time together. He became the person you thought about when you were falling asleep and when you woke up in the morning.

You two got along surprisingly well, and you wondered why you ever had doubts about him in the beginning. Sure, Jaeyun still got on your nerves at times, but you just found it funny after the wave of annoyance passed.

Your friends started to talk about how close you two were and frequently brought up the idea of you two dating. Of course, you always denied it, enjoying the privacy you and Jaeyun had.

But as your relationship blossomed into something more serious, you decided that you didn’t want things to stay casual any longer. So, you asked him out, and Jaeyun, being the lovesick puppy he was, accepted without a second thought.

You thought about how much had changed in your life. Sunghoon stopped hanging out with you completely, resorting to being alone most of the time. Everyone was concerned about his behavior, but after several attempts of failed confrontation, they all collectively gave up. You and Jongseong still kept an eye on him, using roundabout ways to find out how he was doing; it was the most you two could do given how little opportunity you had to talk to him.

You didn’t share many classes with Jongseong anymore, but you two were still close, even after your “two of us against the world” friendship with Sunghoon had gone to shit.

Jongseong was kind, though, and despite how he was rough around the edges, he was gentle enough.

But he knew that Sunghoon was hiding something dark, and that alone made you somewhat nervous around him.

You felt unsettled the entire day, but when your group chat started flooding with texts about Jungwon in the middle of the night, you felt an icy chill travel down your spine.

It was all over the news. The whole story about him being down with the flu was just a cover-up while authorities were looking for him.

You felt nauseous.

HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT FOUND DEAD NEAR WOODS. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

The 16-year-old boy was found dead at the scene. The parents of the deceased student have identified him as Yang Jungwon. As of now, there are no leads, but authorities have ruled the case as a homicide.

Police have asked anyone with information to contact their local police department.

You read the headline again. Over and over again until your vision was blurry and the words were convoluted. Your fingers were raw and bitten down to the nail bed by the time you were able to put your phone down so that you could just cry into your hands.

By the time you got around to reading the details, grimacing at the descriptions of mutilation done to Jungwon’s body and how his body had been decomposing for weeks now, you had to run to your toilet and dry heave everything out.

You weren’t the closest to Jungwon or anything, but imagining such a bright person meet such a horrific end wasn’t easy to process. For hours, you ignored all of the calls and texts and attempts to comfort from your parents. You stared straight at your wall—so terrified that your chest hurt and your breathing was ragged.

Later that night, when the world was quiet and dreaming, you received a text from Sunghoon.

sunghoon: Hey sunghoon: I’ve been thinking about you. Are you doing okay? sunghoon: I haven’t been a good friend lately, I’m sorry sunghoon: It’s still the two of us against the world

There was a time when those words made you feel like you were on top of the world, soaring high over the clouds.

Now, though, all you could feel was a horrible sensation of dread.

It had been months since Sunghoon and Jongseong’s falling out.

You were seventeen now, but you felt hollower as you aged. Sunghoon showed up to school and lingered within your group silently, only contributing when spoken to directly. He didn’t approach you anymore or ask to hang out after school. Actually, no one knew what he did after school. He would head straight home and then go completely off the radar.

Gone off the rails, as Sunoo called it.

You cried several nights over it. You felt like not only was your best friend slipping away from you, but Sunghoon’s disconnect from the group would soon make you pull away, too. You had Jaeyun, of course, but nothing felt the same anymore. With Jungwon dead, the group felt tense and gloomy. You all started hanging out with other people and slowly stopped responding in the group chat.

Part of you realized that Sunghoon’s detachment was because you didn’t reply to him the night Jungwon’s murder was publicized. Back then, you suspected that Sunghoon could have been behind it, judging by your conversation with Jongseong earlier. It all added up in your head, but the only thing that was stopping you from believing it fully was that you couldn’t fathom Sunghoon ever doing something so evil.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” you whispered into the phone, even though there wasn’t anyone around that you were worried about listening in. “He’s shutting me out now. Something must’ve happened to him.”

You heard Jaeyun hum and contemplate for a moment before he replied, “Maybe he just needs space.”

“I think something happened between him and Jongseong,” you admitted, “but I can’t imagine Jongseong saying anything that would make Sunghoon ignore him for this long.”

“It must’ve been serious, then.”

“But… but it’s Sunghoon; he’s”—you paused as you recalled what Jongseong once called him—“bulletproof.”

There was a pause.

“I guess that’s the problem with being bulletproof,” Jaeyun spoke gravely. “People think they can just keep shooting.”

What Jaeyun told you that night kept replaying in your head over the next week—over and over again. It hit you a little too hard, and you waited to confront Sunghoon about it. You wanted him to know that he could be vulnerable, too. But you couldn’t even speak to your best friend these days. He had been avoiding everyone like the plague.

You assumed it had something to do with Jongseong, but when you talked to him about it, he was hesitant to get into it.

“You’re the closest person to him,” you told him. Today was colder, and you rubbed your hands together for warmth as you and Jongseong stood by the gates after school. “I think if you guys sit down and talk things out, then he’ll start being himself again.”

“I was the closest person to him,” Jongseong corrected with a scoff. “Plus, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about? What about your friendship?”

You couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth. Anger roiled deep in your chest, and you were too furious to realize that Jongseong only looked dejected in response. If he wasn’t going to explain what happened, then you couldn’t understand what was eating away at their relationship.

“There is no friendship, Y/N,” he said slowly, in a voice so low that it sounded like the calm before the storm. His words made everything come to a halt, and you felt like time itself had frozen. “I suggest you let go of Sunghoon, too. You’re hanging onto someone who’s beyond help.”

“But I don’t know what you know!” you exclaimed. “I can’t let go of someone just like that, Jongseong. I need answers.”

He was quiet before he asked, “Do you remember when Sunghoon stayed over at your house once when we were fourteen?”

“When his house caught on fire?” you recalled, but the memory was sort of hazy for you. All you remembered was how you were in complete awe that Sunghoon was unscathed and unbothered by the incident.

“Yeah,” Jongseong’s voice was grim as he said, “and I bet he never told you that he was the one who started that fire on purpose.”

It was like a punch to the gut. You could only shake your head blankly, lips parted in disbelief.

He continued, “When we were fifteen, he thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught—”

No.

“—and, at sixteen, he actually did it.”

No. No.

“Jongseong,” you whispered, your voice smaller than you intended, “was it…”

“Jungwon?” He said the name so carefully, as if the world would explode into nothingness if he did. You had been gnawing at your lip so hard that you drew blood, yet that couldn’t distract you from the haunted look in Jongseong’s eyes. “Yeah, he killed Jungwon.”

You felt like you had just been doused with ice-cold water.

“I shouldn’t have brought Jungwon with me. I knew Sunghoon was gonna do it to someone, but I didn’t know…” He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath that racked his entire body. “I didn’t think it would be him. I brought Jungwon to talk him out of whatever was going on, not to…” Jongseong stopped himself again, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears that had started to fall.

It’s you and me, Sunghoon’s voice chimed in your head. The two of us against the world.

You thought your world had been shattered, but then you realized that it had actually been broken for a long time.

That night, you asked Jaeyun to come over, and he arrived at your door in record speed.

You two were sitting on your bed, controllers in hand, but the screen was off and neither of you were even in the mood to play. You must have trusted him more than anyone by now because the words started spilling with no preamble. You ended up explaining most of your conversation with Jongseong after you had Jaeyun swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell a soul.

Of course, you didn’t expect any normal person to compliantly come to terms with the fact that their friend murdered their other friend, but Jaeyun was a bit different when it came to you. Instead of accusing you of lying or denying the truth, he believed you wholeheartedly. You couldn’t tell if he was patient with you, or if he was just horrified by everything you had told him.

It had been an entire year since Jungwon had been found dead and the case closed as an unsolved murder, but your words sucker punched Jaeyun like it had just happened yesterday.

Jaeyun’s tone was urgent when he said, “We have to tell someone.” When he noticed your hesitation, he shook his head at you with a disapproving frown. “Y/N, this is serious. This is Jungwon, my best friend.”

Your mouth went dry. “I-I know, it’s just—”

Jaeyun didn’t have to cut you off. You froze right when you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Y/N.” He said your name gently, but you still flinched. You had never heard your name being called with so much despair. “If Sunghoon really murdered Jungwon, then I can’t keep this a secret.”

“Give me a few days,” you pleaded. “I just want to hear Sunghoon out. No matter what he says, I’ll come with you to testify.”

He shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “You are not going anywhere near Sunghoon—not after what he did to Jungwon.”

“Then let me ask Jong—”

“Y/N,” Jaeyun interrupted, letting his hand slide over yours. His eyes were full of concern when he asked, “How do you know you can trust Jongseong?”

Your hands started to shake.

“Y/N,” he said again, “if Jongseong took Jungwon to see Sunghoon, what do you think he did after Sunghoon killed him?”

Your pulse raced.

“If Jongseong knew about Sunghoon’s behavior for this long, why hasn’t he ever done anything?”

All this time, you thought your world had grown a little bigger ever since you met Sunghoon and Jongseong.

But you were living in a fantasy by yourself.

Not so long after your talk with Jaeyun, your phone rang. You were in the middle of finishing up your history paper when you saw the caller ID flash across your screen.

It was Sunghoon.

You didn’t even give yourself time to think about it first. You just picked up the phone immediately. It was an old habit; you saw Sunghoon and accepted the call without a second thought. You never expected Sunghoon to ever call you again, so you didn’t exactly have any practice in rejecting his calls.

“Y/N?” came the familiar voice of Park Sunghoon—gentle, but almost like he was a caged animal.

“Sunghoon?” You swallowed hard. “Uh, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, but you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. “It was supposed to be the two of us against the world.”

You frowned. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering your question, Sunghoon hesitated before saying, “We should catch up sometime. You can read part of the story I’m writing.”

You paused, and before he could ask if you were still there, you replied, “Yeah, sure.”

“Right.” Sunghoon sounded like he had more to say. You almost didn’t catch it because he was so quiet, and the last thing you heard before he hung up was a quiet, “Bye, then.”

Your deepest regret was answering your phone later that night.

It was hours after Sunghoon called you. Jongseong was more of a texter, so you were surprised when his caller ID flashed across your screen. It was definitely not a reasonable hour for a high school student to be out and about, but nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the other side of the line.

Jongseong was sobbing.

The sound chilled you to the bone. You never heard Jongseong cry, but this didn’t feel normal; this cry was frantic and mangled, like he was spiraling out of control.

“Y/N, you have to come over quickly,” Jongseong begged through broken sobs and heavy breaths. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“Jongseong, calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”

“You have my location, right? Just hurry. Please.” And he hung up.

In a daze, you called Jaeyun and asked him to pick you up.

“I really think we should just call the cops,” Jaeyun offered, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jongseong, but this sounds sketchy, Y/N.”

Pitted fear festered in your throat. You knew something was off, but you weren’t sure if you could handle losing Jongseong, too. You had gotten so used to not being alone that you were paranoid of returning to having no one.

“Call them as soon as we get there,” you said. “I just need to make sure Jongseong’s okay.”

Jaeyun pressed his lips into a thin, grim line, but he kept driving.

It was a port that Jongseong’s location directed you to, and discomfort crept into your limbs as soon as Jaeyun pulled into the area. Maybe you should’ve stayed back where it was safer and let the police handle everything, but you must have been a fool. It was just that Jongseong’s cries echoed in your head whenever you started having second thoughts.

You could hear him before you saw him.

Jongseong’s soft sobs could be heard from behind a metal storage unit, and you and Jaeyun inched closer carefully after getting out of the car. Your heart dropped to your stomach; you were dreading the worst, and when you turned the corner into the closed area Jongseong was in, you realized that the sight before you was the worst it could get.

Sunghoon’s body.

You waited for his chest to rise, but not even a shallow breath escaped his blue-tinged lips.

It took you a moment to reorient yourself and realize that Sunghoon wasn’t just passed out, he was dead.

You saw the blood pooling around him and the wounds piercing his torso, staining his white shirt, but you wanted to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. You convinced yourself that Sunghoon was going to get up any second now and start laughing, and then Jongseong would join in and tell you it was all a joke.

But that wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t fear that overtook you—not an overwhelm of emotion—it was numbness. You stared at Sunghoon’s body as he bled out onto the concrete, blood pooling into the cracks in the ground. You felt an odd sort of disconnect.

You tilted your head to see Sunghoon’s face turned to the side against the concrete. His blank eyes just stared into nothingness, and you realized that you would never get to see Sunghoon’s warm, sincere gaze ever again. You were never going to see his bright smile. You were never going to hear his contagious laugh. You were never going to read the wonderful stories he wrote.

You supposed your life was always meant to be a tragedy.

“H-Hoon?” Jaeyun choked up behind you. He was staring down at Sunghoon’s lifeless body in horror before his expression was slowly replaced with anger. “Jongseong, what the hell did you do?!”

“It was self-defense, man,” Jongseong whimpered out before his body was racked with sobs again. “He pulled a knife on me out of nowhere. I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” He exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Sunghoon.

“Come on, guys,” Jongseong pleaded. “I can’t go to fucking prison. I’m eighteen now; it’s not juvie, it’s a life sentence.” You didn’t know what he was getting at until he requested the unthinkable, “Help me get rid of the body.”

You wanted to puke. You eyed the shiny metal soaked in blood that Jongseong was clutching. You were never going to see Sunghoon again. You were never going to hang out with him over the weekend. You were never going to hear his voice again.

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “What the fuck are you gonna do when they realize he’s gone missing? You just killed someone! This is on you, Jongseong, not us!”

“Are you going to help me get rid of it or not?!” Jongseong tugged at his hair. “Just help me throw him off the dock, and we can all walk away from this.”

You watched helplessly, horror-stricken. “I… I can’t.”

“The body’s gonna float and show up somewhere,” Jaeyun countered with stony eyes. “They’re gonna catch you.”

Jongseong looked terrifyingly pale. You wondered if it was just the glow of the moon, or if he was also holding in his urge to puke. “I’ll just cut his stomach so he sinks.”

Disgusted, Jaeyun scowled. “You’re a monster.”

You watched as Jongseong tried hauling Sunghoon’s body before giving up and dragging him by the legs. You shot Jaeyun a warning look, mouthing for him to call the police before Jongseong noticed. He lingered back to do so while you followed Jongseong to plead him to stop. His arms gave out as soon as he stepped onto the planks, and he let Sunghoon’s lower half collapse onto the solid wood.

“Y/N, help me cut open his stomach,” he ordered, hardly sparing you a glance. If he did, he would have seen how horrified you were.

“Oh,” you said, voice wavering, “that’s… that—that’s his…”

“Y/N, help me.”

“Jongseong,” you begged, “please… please stop.”

He paid you no attention, though. You felt ghastly as Jongseong used a paring knife to make an incision on Sunghoon’s stomach. The smell was putrid. You screwed your eyes shut as the metallic smell of blood invaded your nostrils. Your nausea plunged into your gut, and you had to fight the pervasive urge to hurl.

A stream of Sunghoon’s blood made its way to your shoes, staining the soles.

Jongseong was cutting your old best friend open.

The dread had kept you numb for this long, but it was when reality settled in that you finally lost it. You couldn’t handle it anymore and pitched forward over the edge of the dock, throwing up until you were heaving up bile. You sobbed through it all, mournful and low, and your friend paid you no attention while he was cutting through flesh.

When Jongseong was done, he wiped at his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood. Sunghoon’s blood. You stared at him, and you had never been more terrified of him in your life.

And then you really noticed Jongseong. You noticed how Sunghoon’s blood was coated all over his hands, how he hardly had any scratches or bruises on his body, how merciless his eyes were as he stared down at his old best friend.

The realization that washed over you was frightening.

“Sunghoon didn’t actually try to kill you, did he?” you managed to warble out. “You killed him yourself.”

A deep silence from him followed—heavy and wretched. Sunghoon’s blood was so dark that it nearly looked black under the dim light, and you could only stare helplessly until Jaeyun made his way to the dock, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders.

Jongseong turned to you and Jaeyun, clutching his knife tightly. You could hardly recognize the boy in front of you. You never truly understood the term “paralyzed by fear” until you saw the crazed look in Jongseong’s eyes—cold and haunting.

Jaeyun’s eyes glistened with tears and his throat was thick with emotion when he said, “Jongseong, please—just hang on and… and we can talk this out.”

The hand gripping his knife started shaking. “You won’t tell anyone, right? You guys won’t snitch on me, right?” When there was no response from you or Jaeyun, Jongseong’s desperation grew stronger. He turned to you with his eyes big and terrified. “Y/N, come on, we’ve known each other for years. You know I—”

“Shut up!” Jaeyun yelled. His protective grip on you tightened. “Cut the bullshit, Jongseong. The police are gonna be here soon, and they’re gonna take you straight to prison once they see what you did to Hoon.”

It was like a switch flipped in him. A distant part of your mind wondered if you could get everyone out of this—somehow bring Sunghoon back and go back to your normal life—but you immediately shut down that fantasy as soon as Jongseong’s eyes darkened.

In the darkness, you could make out an amused expression on his face. His smile took on a cold edge.

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll just have to get rid of you two before the police get here, then.”

You felt like your world slowed. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears. You could tell Jongseong was walking closer to you while Jaeyun was desperately trying to tug you and get you to run, but you were frozen in place. You wanted to believe that your old friend wouldn’t actually hurt you, but then you didn’t know what to think when he raised his knife.

It had all happened so fast. Too fast.

In your brief struggle as Jongseong tried to stab you, you heard a sharp gasp that tore you from your haze, like you had just been drenched in cold water. Brutally sober. You tried to push Jongseong off of you, but he was too heavy, too limp. Jaeyun shouldered his way between you two and shoved Jongseong back, grimacing when his skull hit the wood with a thud.

You heard one last, strangled gasp from Jongseong before he stopped breathing. The last star in his eyes twinkled until it dimmed for good.

Jongseong laid flat on the dock with his knife piercing his chest.

As you heard police sirens go off in the distance, Jaeyun wrapped his arms around you before you finally broke down into his chest.

Your best friends were dead and your world was broken beyond repair.

“So, it was self-defense?” Detective Lee asked, his piercing eyes boring right into yours. “Purely accidental? You had no intention of harming Park Jongseong?”

You shook your head. “I still couldn’t process the fact that he killed Sunghoon, so I didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt me.”

You wanted to cry. You bit your chapped lip, but all you could taste was blood that you doubted was even there. You couldn’t even say Sunghoon’s name without seeing that radiant smile of his stained with deep red.

You sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve told you everything I know. Can I see Jaeyun now?”

Detective Lee eyed you for a moment. Finally, you saw some sort of sympathy in his gaze, although you felt sort of repulsed that you were being pitied in this state. The detective muttered something about him being back later, and he left the interrogation room, leaving you handcuffed to the table.

A minute passed by. Another. Several more.

You were pretty sure it had been at least an hour or two of staring at the wall, but the passage of time felt meaningless now. You could wait hours, even days, but you didn’t think you would ever be ready to confront what cruel reality awaited you.

You were so tired of everything, so exhausted that you didn’t even think about your parents until now. Were they here? Were they informed about your arrest? They must have been worried sick all night.

When the door opened, your head shot up.

“You’re free to go, Y/N,” Detective Lee said, pulling out a key to uncuff you from the table.

You were frozen. You just stared up at Detective Lee with your jaw hung open.

“I know this took awhile, but there was no security footage at the scene to confirm your story,” he elaborated. “But your stories matched up, and we found more evidence in the trunk of Jongseong’s car that he had been planning this murder.”

He helped you to your feet and escorted you out of the room. You were able to pick up everything they took from you before you were locked up in the holding cell—your keys, wallet, and your phone. Then, you were taken to the waiting room where your parents were seated at the far end.

At the sight of you, they all but leapt from their seats to rush over, hands cupping your face and arms embracing your weak, battered figure. There was so much love in their eyes, and their fear over possibly losing their daughter replaced any anger they had toward the situation. However, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you ended up getting an earful the next day.

“Mom, Dad,” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome with emotion. You were immediately aware of how weak and pathetic you felt. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” your father silenced you by rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Jaeyun’s family wanted us to let you know that he’s okay, too. They just took him home about ten minutes ago.”

You were slightly disappointed. Part of you was hoping that he would wait for you, but you figured Jaeyun’s family would have wanted to go home right away. You definitely would have felt better if you got to see your boyfriend in the flesh to make sure he was alive and well, but you weren’t going to complain now.

There was still a ghost of a smile on your lips as your parents walked you to their car. They gushed and gushed about how glad they were about you being safe and sound, and about how they never would’ve expected Jongseong of all people to end up being a murderer.

You were happy to be alive, of course, but you felt so empty.

You pulled out your phone to try and text Jaeyun, but, as you thought, it was dead.

“Mom, can I use your phone?” you asked, and you dialed Jaeyun’s number immediately as soon as she handed it to you. You had it memorized because it was a combination of numbers that was fairly easy to remember.

It rang four times, and by the fifth ring, you were scared that he wouldn’t pick up. But then, it beeped.

“Hello?” Jaeyun answered. “Who is this?”

It was like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders once you heard his voice. Despite Detective Lee informing you that Jaeyun was, indeed, alive, you felt more reassured hearing it from your boyfriend himself. You wanted to cry then and there, but you didn’t want to make your parents worry unnecessarily.

You forgot you were even supposed to respond when Jaeyun spoke again, “Is anyone there?”

“Jaeyun, it’s me,” you mumbled softly. “Y/N.”

You heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Jaeyun gave you the breakdown of how his experience went, which took a completely different turn than yours. After receiving medical attention, they brought him back to his holding cell to sleep for hardly a few hours. The detective interrogating Jaeyun tried to build trust with him, telling him they wanted to help and just needed his confession. They lied about already having evidence that he killed Jongseong, but Jaeyun denied it and told them the whole story. He was only free to leave after they cross-examined his story with yours.

“Jesus,” you whispered into the phone, breathing out a small laugh. By now, you were already parked at your house and walking to your front door. “This is so fucked up.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “but we’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, Jae. Us against the world.”

Sim Jaeyun spent nine hours being questioned by authorities.

He knew the nature of the crime that occurred was complex, and he was still reeling from the loss and betrayal that left a deep wound in his chest, but there was something that terrified him still.

It wasn’t the murderous look in Park Jongseong’s eyes, or the blood completely drained from Park Sunghoon’s face.

Rather, what scared Jaeyun the most was that he spent so long pining after you and getting to know you at a deeper level. He genuinely fell hard for you, even though you had monsters in the closet. He thought he knew almost everything about you, like how you were a terrible liar.

Yet, you had just lied about everything that went down last night for nine hours straight.

What scared Jaeyun the most was how clueless he had been about who you really were.

Truthfully, he was also in the wrong for going along with your lie. It was definitely going to bite him back one day. In the moment, though, he was far too much of a coward to go against you. Although he was able to get Jungwon the justice he deserved and allowed his family to finally be at peace with answers, Jaeyun still felt horrible. He just remembered the desperate look in your eyes as your face and hands were stained with blood, begging him to protect you.

Jaeyun’s downfall must have been that he liked you too much to say no.

It was true that Jongseong called you in a panic, begging you to show up at the port as quickly as possible, and it was true that you wanted Jaeyun to drive you there instead of calling the cops first.

Jaeyun knew deep down that you were making the wrong choice, but he had hope that you knew what you were doing. Truthfully, although he liked you a lot, he was still wary about how you felt toward Sunghoon. He just couldn’t understand how you were still unconsciously protecting him after hearing what happened to Jungwon. He knew that you wanted answers, but Jaeyun was worried about how you’d react once you got them.

The real story—the one neither of you told the detectives—never started with Park Jongseong killing Park Sunghoon.

It really started when you and Jaeyun arrived at the port to see that no one was around. It was eerily quiet, and Jaeyun was starting to regret not turning around and heading straight for the police station. When you two got out of the car, you walked several feet down the line of shipping containers before returning to Jaeyun with a confused look on your face.

“I don’t see either of them,” you said, but then your eyes grew unfocused as you stared at something—or, rather, someone—behind Jaeyun.

He turned around to see Jongseong walking over to the two of you in a calm fashion, as if he had no other care in the world. The port was relatively an open space, so he had no idea where Jongseong could have emerged from. Jaeyun rolled his neck, more frustrated than anything.

“Jongseong!” you called out.

When he neared you two, Jongseong shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, you brought your boyfriend.”

“What’s going on?” you urged. “Is it Sunghoon? Did something happen to him?”

“Wow, that hurts, Y/N.” Jongseong barked out a laugh, but nothing about his tone sounded sincere. “I call you in the middle of the night and all you can think about is Hoon? Wow. How do you feel about that, Jaeyun?”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just glowered.

Nothing about this felt right.

You stammered, “I-I just assumed—”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jongseong cut you off with little regard for your excuses. “Sorry to say this in front of your boyfriend, but imagine how I feel when the girl I’ve liked for years only cares about my best friend.”

The air went still.

Your voice was barely a whisper when you asked, “Excuse me?”

Jaeyun pursed his lips together, and, for a moment, he thought his tongue would start bleeding if he bit it any harder. Sunghoon liked the girl that Jongseong liked, and if that girl was you, then Jaeyun was worried that he already lost you. He knew for months that he would never truly have you the way he wanted. Your feelings for Sunghoon were stronger, and although Jaeyun was able to pack his insecurities into a tiny ball and shove it down his throat, it was all coming out now.

His uneasy heart shattered into a million pieces once he caught a glimpse of your expression—hopeful and longing. And it wasn’t for Jongseong; it was for Sunghoon.

“Now that’s a great expression,” came an overly-enthusiastic voice from Jaeyun’s right.

Park Sunghoon was leaning against one of the shipping containers, arms folded across his chest before he uncrossed them and made his way toward the three of you. He must have been hiding behind the containers this whole time because Jaeyun hadn’t seen him at all before.

The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Jaeyun wanted to shrink back when Sunghoon suddenly took great interest in him, keeping his eyes fixed on him instead of you or Jongseong. He used to have such bright and happy smiles, but, this time, Jaeyun almost thought his grin had been sliced into his face with a blade.

Sunghoon slung an arm over Jongseong’s shoulder. “Wow, Jae, now I really wanna see the look on your face when you’re in total despair,” he crooned, almost mocking. Jaeyun’s blood rushed in his ears when Sunghoon’s tongue swiped across one of his fangs. “You should’ve seen the look on Jungwon’s face.”

Jaeyun lunged before he could even think, but he stopped himself as soon as you held onto him, stopping him from hitting Sunghoon.

And that was when he knew he already lost you.

“Don’t,” you insisted.

“Are you serious?” he breathed out, brows knitting into a frown as he looked down at you.

Shame clung to your throat, keeping your mouth shut, but Jaeyun was more concerned now about the sharp blade pointed at his throat.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Jongseong had a paring knife pointed straight at him, and Sunghoon’s smile never faltered. They were clearly on the same side. There was a reason why Jeongseong never did anything about Sunghoon after killing Jungwon.

Jaeyun felt stupid for not putting it together earlier.

“I’d listen to your girlfriend,” Jongseong warned. His voice crawled all over him, freezing Jaeyun cold to the bone. “You might as well hear us out before you die here tonight.”

“Can’t exactly let you two run off now that you know what happened to Jungwon,” Sunghoon added.

“Jungwon was our friend,” Jaeyun hissed. “He was my best friend, you sick freak! What did you do to him? Why? He’s never… he never did anything wrong!”

“You’re right. He didn’t do anything wrong,” Sunghoon confirmed, surprisingly calm and collected. “In fact, he exceeded my expectations. It was a great performance, actually.” Jaeyun clenched his fist tight—so tight that his nails dug into his palms and drew blood—and Sunghoon took notice of this with a delighted hum. “You should’ve heard him scream, Jae. I had my doubts about him at first, but when he was begging me for his life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

You were distraught. “Sunghoon, you—”

It all happened in seconds, like a rubber band finally snapping after being stretched too thin. Jaeyun used his elbow to knock Jongseong’s arm out of the way, and he shoved Sunghoon as soon as he found an opening, driving his hands into his ribs. He heard you cry out, but Jaeyun could only see red until he was dragged back up by Jongseong, the sharp blade of the knife being pressed to his throat.

“Stop!” you cried. “Leave Jaeyun out of this! You wanted me, right? Just let him go. Please.”

“I don’t think so.” Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you. “You two already know too much, and Jongseong and I have been waiting for this finale for years.”

Your eyes had a faraway look in them for a moment before you turned your attention back to Jongseong. “You told me…”

“I told you that when we were fifteen, Sunghoon thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught,” Jongseong filled in the blanks for you, a haunting smile playing on his lips, “and I was in on it.”

Sunghoon tutted. “But you got it all wrong, Y/N. It wasn’t Jungwon’s murder that we were planning; it was yours.”

You looked up at him in horror.

Jaeyun struggled against Jongseong for a moment, face taut with unbridled anger. He just wanted to get to you. Get Sunghoon’s filthy hands off of you.

“I’m a writer. I write stories,” Sunghoon continued. “Isn’t it a great twist? Convincing my childhood best friend that I loved her all this time, only to reveal that she’s gonna die at my hands.” He scoffed. “Jungwon was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was good practice. I was too careless back then. I shouldn’t have left all those drawings and papers out like that when he came over, but now I’m gonna finish the job properly.”

Your breathing was shallow. Jaeyun could see the flood of despair racking your body with soft sobs and quick pants. Your gaze fell to the ground, and Sunghoon peered to catch a better look at you.

“Good,” he praised. “That’s what I wanna see. Wow, that’s great, Y/N. I can’t wait to see more when—”

“Get the fuck away from her!” Jaeyun yelled, grunting when Jongseong pressed the knife harder against his supple skin.

With an exaggerated flourish of his hands, Sunghoon raised both arms and backed up as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He wore an easygoing smile, yet something sinister was tucked behind the curve of his lips. Your inconsolable self stayed fixed in place, staring helplessly at your shoes.

“For the past two years, I’ve been isolating myself from the friend group for the sake of this story and its ending,” Sunghoon said. “I think I deserve a little fun right now, Jae.”

“Fuck you,” Jaeyun spat. “You deserve to go to Hell.”

Sunghoon took a step closer to Jaeyun, ducking his head so that they were at eye-level with each other. Jaeyun tried to struggle against Jongseong once more, but he froze when the knife pierced his skin. He felt something trickle down the column of his neck, and he soon realized it was his own blood.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Sunghoon mocked a pout. He lowered his voice by an octave, only for Jaeyun to hear. “Competing with a childhood friend is brave, I’ll tell you that.”

Jaeyun’s blood boiled. To his surprise, Sunghoon gestured for Jongseong to let go of him. He took the paring knife from his friend and handed it to Jaeyun.

“Take it,” Sunghoon said. “Why don’t you try killing me? You wanna get back at me, right? I killed your best friend, after all.”

Owlish, he blinked back at Sunghoon, almost absently. Jaeyun really considered it for a moment—like, really considered it. Some part of him wanted to senselessly beat Sunghoon up until he was unrecognizable, but the morally righteous side of him knew that he could never stoop to Jongseong or Sunghoon’s level.

Jaeyun took the knife by the handle, weighing it in his palm experimentally before chucking it away—far from both Sunghoon and Jongseong. Jaeyun was pretty sure he could overtake Jongseong if Sunghoon turned his back, but he wasn’t sure if Jongseong had another weapon up his sleeve. He heard the blade skid and scrape against the concrete, and he could only hope that Sunghoon and Jongseong being distracted by him would give you time to escape.

But Jeongseong immediately stopped you as soon as he saw you picking up the knife, and he let go of Jaeyun to grab ahold of you. Jaeyun tried to yank Jongseong back by the back of his shirt, but Sunghoon grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head against the metal of one of the shipping containers.

Jaeyun’s world was thrown off-balance. The ground bounced, tilted, swayed. He was so dizzy and disoriented that he couldn’t tell if his head was spinning or if he was collapsing.

The corners of his vision grew hazy with white splotches dancing around. Jaeyun tried hard to focus, making out some of the yelling that was going back and forth, but he couldn’t think at all when a newly-formed cut on his forehead was getting blood all over his face and hands.

He doubled forward, falling onto his knees. Jaeyun had to stay there for a while and ride out the intense waves of vertigo until he was stable again. When the world finally returned to its normal axis and stopped bouncing under him, Jaeyun lifted his head to see you and Jongseong screaming at each other.

And Sunghoon was on the ground.

He stumbled over, and it was as if the white noise in Jaeyun’s ears had drowned out everything in the background. He couldn’t see or focus on anything except the pained look on Sunghoon’s face as the color drained from his neck. Blood was gushing from his jugular vein, and he was digging his palm into his neck to put pressure on the wound.

“—you stabbed him!” you screamed at Jongseong. Your voice was hysterical; Jaeyun had never heard you sound so desperate, not even when he was being held at knifepoint.

“Fuck, Y/N, I wouldn’t have hurt him if you didn’t pull on my arm!” Jongseong yelled back. He sank to the ground, simultaneously dropping the knife and dropping his head between his knees.

The sight was miserable to watch. Jongseong wailed loud and mournful until he couldn’t take it anymore, doubling over so that he could throw up until nothing but bile was coming out. When it seemed as though he had nothing else to heave out of his stomach, Jongseong sat up for a brief moment. You and Jaeyun watched as his eyes rolled back almost instantly, falling onto his back and hitting his skull against the concrete. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him, and you two didn’t have long until he was conscious again.

Jaeyun turned his attention back to Sunghoon, watching his life bleed out of his body slowly. For some reason, an odd disconnect came over Jaeyun, and he bent down to help apply pressure over Sunghoon’s wound. At first, Sunghoon gritted his teeth, but even he knew when to accept help when it was needed.

Sim Jaeyun was pretty sure he was broken beyond belief by now, but it was impossible for him to ignore someone who was dying right before him.

Even if he murdered Jungwon.

“Y/N, we need to get him to a—”

Jaeyun cut himself off when he looked up at you to see that your expression had changed. Something was different. You looked like numbness had seeped into your body, coiling around your heart until you couldn’t feel anything. The way you looked down at Jongseong, clutching his knife tightly, made Jaeyun worry.

“Y/N,” Jaeyun said again—slower, “whatever you’re thinking… please put it down.”

It didn’t seem like you were listening, though. Almost as if your body and brain were at two different places.

“Y/N—” Jaeyun shuddered when you brought the knife down, driving it straight into Jongseong’s chest.

Jaeyun’s stomach lurched. He watched as Jongseong struggled for his life, hardly conscious as you repeatedly stabbed him over and over again until Jaeyun was yelling at you to stop. He was sure he would never be able to close his eyes again without hearing Jongesong’s blood-curdling screams and seeing Sunghoon’s face drained of color.

“Wow,” Sunghoon choked out. One last amused look crossed his face before it fell apart painfully. “I told you, Jae, there’s no competing with a childhood best friend.” Jaeyun flushed with anger, but it dissolved quickly when he realized Sunghoon’s breathing got slower, shallower. The look on his face was one of someone accepting their untimely death. “Thanks for the show, though.”

In his arms, Sunghoon took his last breath and went still.

It wasn’t grief that Jaeyun felt. It was something far greater.

“Jaeyun, I—I didn’t mean to,” you sobbed out, shakily holding up your bloodstained hands. “It was self-defense! I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me, and then he… he killed Sunghoon. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” You exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just stared at you in disbelief.

“Come on, Jae,” you pleaded. Oh, so it was Jae now. “You have to help me get rid of their bodies. I can’t go to prison!”

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “Y/N, they’re dead! We have to tell the police everything. I mean, what are you gonna do when your prints match?”

Your lips pressed together in a grim line. “Your prints are on the knife, too.”

Were you blackmailing him? Jaeyun couldn’t believe what he was hearing from you. He never expected you, of all people, to be the one to throw him under the bus like this. He had trusted you with his life before, and you threw it all away in seconds.

“Are you going to help me or not?” You looked toward the dock over the water. It was a good enough distance for you to drag Sunghoon and Jongseong’s bodies over to, but Jaeyun sure as hell didn’t want to get involved. “Just help me throw them in the water, and we can both walk away from this, Jae. We can go back to our lives, okay?”

He shook his head sadly. You just sounded like a stranger to him.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, tears stinging his eyes, “please stop this. You have to turn yourself in.”

But his resolve was shaky. Jaeyun knew that he would still be booked once they found his prints at the scene, and there was no telling what you would do to protect yourself. By now, Jaeyun wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow pushed the crime onto him.

“Jae, listen to me,” you insisted. Your eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and Jaeyun couldn’t help but think you looked a little crazed. “We can both get out of this, but you have to help me out here. We’re gonna tell them that Jongseong killed Sunghoon before we got here, and then he chased us until we ended up stabbing him out of self-defense. I mean, that’s all this was, anyway! It was self-defense!”

A distant part of Jaeyun’s mind wondered what happened to you. He wondered if you had always been this way, perhaps keeping it tucked away. In the end, you were still trying to protect Sunghoon in your own way. You were still trying to protect some fragment of his golden image.

“It’s you and me,” you whispered, kneeling down by your boyfriend’s side until you were cupping his face with your hands, staining his cheeks with Jongseong’s blood, “the two of us against the world.”

Just hours ago, Sim Jaeyun looked at you like you were his entire world.

And now, with your bloodstained hands holding his face, there was unmistakable fear behind his eyes as he looked up at you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you made it all the way to the end !! i would lovee for you to guys to share what you thought, but just to point a few things out, jake's pov was the unfiltered version of what went down that night. the dialogue from mc is similar to jongseong's because while she painted him out to be the villain in the end to protect sunghoon, it was really her who said those things. originally this had a happier ending but i'm a lot more satisifed with this one actually. i hope you guys liked it !! <3 also i am deciding against using my permanent tag list this time because i haven't used it in a year and don't know if anyone exactly signed up to read horror 🧎‍♀️

1K notes View Post

silcry

1 month ago

This is so good 😭

♪ — 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦? lando norris x best friend! reader ( angst ) fic summary . . . like others before you, like it's a curse, if you start out as friends, you don't finish off as friends (5k words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

2013

The three of you sat perched on a wooden platform overlooking the track, swinging your legs as the older kids raced below. The sky was a deep orange, the sun slowly dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows across the asphalt.

It smelled like fuel, burnt rubber, and the sweet vanilla ice cream sandwiches melting in your hands.

Lando, as usual, was the one talking the most. “One day, we’re gonna be better than all of them.” He gestured to the racers speeding past. “Like, properly better. F1 better.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him as you took another bite of your ice cream sandwich. “Bold of you to assume you’ll even fit in an F1 car,” you teased. “They already have you Velcroed to your kart seat because you used to fly out. What’s the plan? Glue?”

Lando scoffed, turning to you with an exaggerated look of offense. “Excuse you, I was small and aerodynamic.”

“You were a human paperclip.”

“At least I didn’t spin every time the wind hit me wrong.”

Before you could fire back, Max, who had been sitting in between you both, sighed dramatically and shoved his half-eaten ice cream sandwich straight into both your faces.

Cold, sticky vanilla smeared across your cheek. You gasped, jerking back as Lando let out a high-pitched noise of protest.

Max, completely unfazed, continued eating what was left of his ice cream. “Shut up, both of you,” he said, as if he hadn’t just committed an act of war.

You and Lando turned to each other, ice cream dripping from your faces, then back to Max.

“Oh, you’re dead,” Lando declared.

Max barely had time to react before the two of you launched at him, sticky hands smearing the rest of your desserts across his hair, his cheeks, anywhere you could reach.

The three of you tumbled onto the platform in a mess of laughter, shoving, and half-hearted kicks.

It was one of those moments you never thought you’d lose.

2018

Lando’s house felt warm, filled with the kind of easy comfort that only years of friendship could build. You were sprawled on his couch, Max sitting cross-legged on the floor, a half-finished bag of crisps between you. It felt just like old times—no pressures, no media, no cutthroat competition. Just the three of you.

And then Lando dropped the bombshell.

“I got the seat.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

Lando grinned, bouncing slightly where he sat. “McLaren. Next year. I’m gonna be a Formula 1 driver.”

For a second, there was silence. Then—chaos.

“NO. WAY!” Max shot up, grabbing Lando in a chokehold-hug, shaking him back and forth. “YOU’RE LYING.”

“Mate, I literally just said it, why would I—”

You barely let Lando finish before launching yourself at him too, arms wrapping tightly around both of them. “HOLY SHIT! LANDO, YOU’RE IN FORMULA 1!”

Lando laughed, his voice almost breathless from the force of your excitement. “I KNOW!”

The three of you clung to each other, giddy and weightless, like kids in a candy store.

When you finally let go, you turned to Max, determination flashing in your eyes. “We have to catch up, Max. We can’t let Lando enjoy the dream alone.”

Max smirked, nudging you. “Yeah, he’ll get a big head otherwise.”

Lando groaned, already regretting letting you two in his house. “Oh, great. Here we go.”

And just like that, the celebration turned into a roast session.

“Do you think they’re giving you a booster seat for the car?” you mused, tapping your chin.

Max snapped his fingers. “What about pedal extenders? Are those FIA-approved?”

“Oh, shut up,” Lando whined, throwing a pillow at both of you.

The night ended with all three of you curled up in sleeping bags on Lando’s living room floor, talking about what the future would look like. You laughed until your stomachs hurt, teasing and reminiscing, the weight of reality kept at bay for just a little longer.

By the time you got home the next morning, the high of the night before had faded into something colder, heavier—anxiety creeping up your back like the Other Mother from Coraline, whispering in your ear that time was ticking.

The metals of your dream clawed at your spine, a warning, a reminder—it’s now or never.

Lando had his McLaren seat. George had Williams. Alex had Red Bull.

And you?

You refused to let it end here. You refused to be left behind.

So you wasted no time. You spent the next few months fighting tooth and nail—getting on every call, talking to every team, pushing harder in every F2 race until your body ached from the effort. You couldn’t let up, couldn’t breathe, not until you had something.

And in the end, it paid off.

Sauber.

A vacant seat after Charles moved up to Ferrari. A chance. A shot.

The first thing you did? You invited Lando and Max to your diner—the same childhood spot where the three of you had spent countless nights in sticky vinyl booths, inhaling burgers and fries, talking about the future like it was already written for you.

They were messy eaters, as always. Lando had ketchup smeared at the corner of his mouth, and Max had a fry halfway to his lips when you slid a piece of paper across the table.

Your contract.

For a second, there was silence. The paper sat between them, your name printed at the bottom in ink that had barely dried.

Then—

“NO. FUCKING. WAY.”

Lando let out a yell so loud the entire diner turned to stare. Max, mouth still full of fries, made a sound between a choke and a cheer.

Then they both launched at you, pulling you into a hug across the table, fries and drinks nearly toppling over as they shouted over each other.

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT—”

“OH MY GOD, YOU LEGEND—”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS—”

“We’re actually doing it,” you gasped between laughter, arms still tangled around them. “We’re actually going to be in F1 together.”

And that’s how you got kicked out of the diner.

Well, technically, Lando stood on top of a chair and yelled something about "generational talent," which got you all thrown out, but still. Worth it.

As the three of you walked out into the night air, still giggling and breathless, you and Lando turned to Max.

“Your turn,” you said in unison.

Max hesitated. He looked at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, guys… I’m still in Formula Renault. It’s gonna take much longer for me.”

You and Lando deflated.

“But…” you started, searching for the words.

Lando took over. “That doesn’t mean you won’t get there.” He clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You can’t give up. You belong with us.”

Max forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

And maybe, at the time, you really thought it was true.

2019

The three of you stood at the edge of the paddock, the sun hanging low in the morning sky, painting the track in golden light. You and Lando were already in your race suits, helmets tucked under your arms, while Max—still very much retired—rocked a team-neutral hoodie and his signature smirk.

“I have an idea,” Lando said, rubbing his hands together. “Rock, paper, scissors. Best of one. Winner gets Max in their garage for Sunday. Loser has him for quali.”

You snorted. “Like he’s some prize?”

“I am a prize, actually,” Max deadpanned, crossing his arms.

You ignored him and held out your fist. “Alright, Norris. Let’s do this.”

Lando did the same, and Max counted you down. “Three… two… one…”

You threw out scissors.

Lando threw paper.

A slow grin spread across your face. “Oh, this is so satisfying.”

Lando groaned dramatically, shoving his helmet onto his head. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” you sang, already stepping backward toward your garage, wiggling your fingers in a smug wave. “See you on Sunday, boys.”

Max clapped Lando on the back. “Can’t believe you choked that, mate.”

Lando grumbled something under his breath, dragging his feet toward McLaren.

On race day, Max stood in your garage, arms crossed as he watched the screens, tracking your every move on the circuit. Every lap, every turn, every scrap for position. You weren’t in the points yet, but you were fighting.

And then—P11. Just one spot away.

Lando finished P12, right behind you.

It wasn’t a podium. It wasn’t even points.

But it didn’t matter.

When you parked your car in parc fermé, your hands were still shaking from adrenaline. Lando’s McLaren pulled in right beside yours, and the moment he climbed out, he made a beeline for you, shoving your shoulder.

“You beat me.”

You smirked, shoving him back. “I did beat you.”

Lando gasped, feigning betrayal. “You’re not supposed to rub it in!”

“You’d rub it in!”

“Well, yeah, but—”

You both dissolved into laughter, playfully pushing at each other until your arms were tangled together, until it turned into a hug—one filled with giddy relief and the sheer overwhelming feeling of we did it.

Max watched from the sidelines, shaking his head with a small smile. “Bunch of idiots,” he muttered under his breath. But there was pride in his eyes.

The three of you had dreamed about this since you were kids.

And now?

Now it was real.

By the time Abu Dhabi rolled around, you and Lando had both finished your rookie seasons with points under your belts.

Sure, Lando ended up 11th in the standings while you finished just behind in 12th, but neither of you cared. If anything, it made things more fun—an unspoken rivalry that never turned bitter, just fueled your banter.

“You only finished ahead of me ‘cause McLaren’s faster,” you teased as you kicked your feet up on the restaurant booth, stealing a fry from Lando’s plate.

He scoffed, snatching it back before you could pop it in your mouth. “And you only finished one place behind me because I let you.”

Max let out a laugh from across the table, nearly choking on his drink. “Yeah, right,” he said, nudging Lando. “You were sweating every time she was in your mirrors.”

“I was not sweating—”

“Mate, I was in your garage for half the season. You were definitely sweating.”

Lando rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, knowing he was outnumbered. Instead, he grabbed a handful of his fries and chucked them at Max.

That was enough to start an all-out war.

Max launched a piece of his burger at Lando’s face. You flicked a spoonful of ketchup at Max’s hoodie. Lando retaliated by shoving a napkin full of salt in your lap, making you yelp and nearly knock over your drink. The three of you were loud and messy and probably two seconds away from getting kicked out.

It felt exactly like karting days—where there were no points, no contracts, no expectations. Just the three of you, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

Sure, Lando had bonded with Carlos that year, and you had somehow managed to crack Kimi Räikkönen’s icy exterior enough to make him chuckle a few times—a massive badge of honor, in your opinion. But no matter how many new friends you made in the paddock, at the end of the day, the three of you always ended up here.

Together.

2020

You sat at the dinner table, arms crossed on the surface, head resting against them. You hadn’t moved in a while. The glow from the kitchen light made the tear tracks on your face glisten, but you weren’t crying anymore.

Lando sat a few meters away on the couch, silent. He was never silent. But now, he was staring blankly at the floor, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked, like if he loosened his grip, he might break too.

Max had quit racing. Dropped out of F3.

He had said it so easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he hadn’t spent over a decade chasing this dream with you and Lando, pushing through the grind of karting, junior formulas, training, race weekends, victories, and heartbreaks—all of it.

And now he was walking away. Just like that.

“I think I just need a break,” Max had said, voice steady, unreadable. “For my own sake.”

You understood. Of course, you did. You and Lando both did. Racing wasn’t just about driving fast. It was politics and pressure and expectations. It was eating, breathing, living the sport and leaving no room for anything else. And sometimes, it broke you before you even got to where you wanted to be.

Max had burned out before he could even get the chance.

And the worst part was, you felt like it was your fault.

You had been the one pushing him. Encouraging him to move up, hurry up, because you and Lando had made it, and he had to, too. It was supposed to be the three of you, like always. And in trying to keep him from being left behind, you had unknowingly pushed him over the edge.

But you didn’t say that.

Instead, you had hugged him. Tight. Like you could somehow hold everything together just by keeping him close.

“I respect your decision,” you had whispered against his shoulder, voice thick, tears in your eyes.

The crash was hard. Not in the physical sense—sure, the impact rattled you, and climbing out of the car with gravel stuck in every crevice of your suit was a pain, but it wasn’t that bad. You had worse in junior formulas.

What was bad was watching your best-ever result slip through your fingers.

P5. It was right there.

But Carlos had oversteered, lost control, and taken you with him into the gravel trap. The second you felt the hit, you knew it was over.

You had swallowed down the frustration when the engineer came on the radio. Your voice had been clipped, measured. “Yeah. I’m okay.” And then you climbed out, gave a wave to the crowd, and started the long walk back.

But the sting didn’t really settle in until you got back to your driver room. Until you sat on the little couch, helmet off, hands on your knees, staring at the ground as the DNF fully registered.

And it burned even worse when you heard that Lando had gone straight to Carlos.

Comforting him.

Lando—your Lando—was in the McLaren garage, talking to his teammate, making sure he was alright. And you?

You were here. Alone.

Waiting.

For a second, you thought, Maybe he just hasn’t gotten the chance yet. Maybe he’d text. Maybe he’d pop into your garage later, like he always did. Maybe—

Your phone vibrated. You snatched it up, pulse kicking up in anticipation.

It wasn’t Lando.

It was Max. "Shitty luck today. You okay?"

And then your mom. "I saw the crash, sweetheart. Call me when you can."

And then—Lando’s mom.

Your throat tightened.

You responded to Max first. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just pissed."

Three dots. He was typing. "Understandable. Want me to insult Carlos for you?"

A wet laugh bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t quite make it out. You swallowed hard. "Please."

Max sent back a voice note that was mostly just an annoyed rant about Carlos, and karma coming back to bite him in the ass. It helped a little.

You sat there for a long time, staring at your phone, waiting for a message from Lando. But it never came.

2021

The leaves are starting to rust at the edges. The paddock smells like oil, fresh tire rubber, and something a little sweet—like nostalgia fermenting in the heat.

The announcement had dropped that morning. Yn Ln to Ferrari, 2022. Your face, glowing in red, on every screen. Headlines scream legacy, potential, fire-in-her-veins. You’re still driving for Sauber, for now. But the future is coming in scarlet.

You walk the paddock with practiced calm. Smile. Wave. Say thank you. Cameras flash. People nod. But you’re searching. Just one face.

You find Max first.

He’s leaning on the fence by the media pens, sunglasses too big for his face, grin even bigger. “Ferrari, huh?” he says, pulling you into a hug. “About time, you fast little shit.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Never. I’m retiring, not dead.” He pulls back, his eyes soft behind the joke. “Seriously. I’m proud of you.”

You don’t realize how much you needed that until it lands.

You talk for a bit—he asks about the simulator work, if your uncle cried yet, what kind of pasta Ferrari serves in hospitality. You ask how he is, really. He shrugs like it’s nothing, but you see the tightness in his jaw. Max has always been good at hiding the cracks. You’ve always been better at spotting them.

Eventually, he nods over his shoulder. “Have you seen him?”

Your smile falters.

“No,” you say. “Not yet.”

He just hums. Doesn’t push. That’s Max. He always knows when not to.

It’s later, past sunset, when you find Lando. He’s sitting on the steps behind the McLaren garage, fiddling with a wristband, head low. The air smells like spilled rubber and something burnt. Maybe it’s just your nerves.

You stop a few paces away, sipping slowly from a mug. Steam curls upward—thick with chocolate and memory.

“Hey,” you say softly.

He doesn’t look up. “Hey.”

“I thought you’d come find me.”

“I’m busy,” he mutters. “Media. Strategy meetings. Debrief.”

You nod, even though you walked past McLaren hospitality earlier. It was quiet as a tomb—untouched catering trays, muted highlights looping endlessly on big screens.

“You saw the news?”

“Whole world saw the news.”

You take another sip. Your fingers curl tighter around the ceramic. Red light from the garages catches on the rim, lighting up the faded black scrawl like a bruise.

Eventually, Lando glances up.

His eyes find the mug. Something shifts in him.

“You still have that?” he asks, voice low, barely above the hum of the lights.

You blink. Look down at it like it hasn’t been cradled between your palms for the last three years.

“Of course I do,” you say. Soft. Like it should’ve been obvious.

He looks away again, jaw tightening. “Congrats,” he says, flat. Like a press release. Like a stranger.

“Thanks.”

Silence blooms between you—slow, heavy, awful. The kind that sinks teeth into soft places.

You shift on your feet, suddenly too aware of all the hairline fractures running through this moment. “Are we okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just lets the question hang in the air, trembling between you like a fraying rope. Too many missed calls. Too many left-on-reads. Too many almosts.

A gust of wind tugs at your jacket. The paddock hums behind you, oblivious.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say eventually. Your voice doesn’t shake. Not out loud.

You turn before he can say anything else. You don’t finish your drink.

The mug in your hand feels heavier than ever.

And he doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t even say goodbye.

Round five. Miami. Tight corners. Bad timing. Worse luck. And then the world tilts sideways.

You don’t even know who clipped who first. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. Maybe the track just didn’t want to play nice that day. But the second it happens—carbon shards, dust clouds, radio static—you know.

You know it’s Lando.

And he’s livid.

He’s out of the car before you even fully process the impact. Helmet half-off, fury full-throttle. You see him stomping across the run-off, shouting over the marshals like you murdered his race on purpose.

“You can’t even follow a damn line!” “Fucking rookie move!” “What were you even looking at?!”

You’re still strapped in. Still staring ahead. Still trying to breathe past the adrenaline choking your throat. Your hands are trembling on the steering wheel. Your visor’s fogged from the heat and the sudden shock and the way his words hit like gravel through glass.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t check if you're okay. Not even a glance. Just pure, unfiltered anger, flung like shrapnel in your direction as they start pulling him back, tugging at his fireproofs like maybe he's the one in danger here.

You're not crying. Not yet. Not really. But something inside you feels loose. Wobbly. Like a tooth that's been knocked but not pulled. You're still in the damn car.

Still hearing the crunch on loop.

Still feeling the snap of the impact reverberating through your bones.

Still wondering if maybe it was your fault. If you ruined everything. If Ferrari’s going to rethink the whole thing now. If this is what everyone means when they whisper “too young, too fast, not ready.”

Eventually someone helps you out. Gentle hands. Calm voice. A blur. You don’t catch their name.

You don’t even realize your leg’s scraped until you see the blood on your suit.

Lando’s already gone.

2024

It starts in papaya.

Bright, blinding. The colour of summer and stupid hope. Of grins cracked too wide and champagne caught in lashes. Of him. Lando’s first win. Confetti cannons, arms raised, the world roaring his name like they always knew he could do it. Maybe they did.

You watch from the shadows of your garage. Your race suit still half-zipped, sweat cooling sticky on your back, hands curled in your lap like you forgot how to unclench. You watch the replays loop, over and over—Lando crossing the line, Lando screaming on the radio, Lando collapsing into his engineer’s arms like a boy who finally got his dream back after all the nightmares.

Your heart does that stupid thing again. That lurch. That slow roll in your chest like it’s reacting late to something it shouldn't care about.

You tell yourself it’s hunger. Low blood sugar. The kind of headache you get when you haven’t drunk enough water and your teammate’s spraying champagne three podium steps above your finish.

But it’s not that.

It’s the echo. This track. The one where you both crashed two years ago, where everything spilled out in smoke and sharp words and silence that never healed right. You remember the screech, the impact, the things he said—still crusted into the back of your mind like dried blood. Now he’s got a trophy, and you’ve got a lonely P5 and the ghost of something that used to be important.

Charles got P3. Your garage is down in parc fermé, hands in the air, hugging Charles like they’ve waited their whole lives for a glimpse of this kind of red victory. But you’re not there.

You stay back. Sit alone on a garage stool that’s slightly too cold, unzipping your suit just enough to breathe. Your gloves are still on. You haven’t even taken your helmet off yet.

It’s your day.

Ferrari in full blaze. Glory in red, engines singing. You did it.

First win. First star. First everything.

The moment swells, huge and holy. You don’t even feel the weight of it until you're in the cooldown room, back pressed to the wall, legs out, laughing into the still-hot air, Max's voice in your ear, full blast.

“I TOLD YOU! I BLOODY TOLD YOU!” You laugh so hard you drop the cap they gave you, joy curling up your spine like steam from the pavement. You're sticky with triumph, breathless with it.

Then the door swings open.

Lando. P2 hat in his hand, face unreadable.

He sees you, the phone still in your hand. “Is that Max?”

You nod. Smile. Hold it out without thinking, thinking maybe he wants to say join in, maybe the past can stay in the past today. You think he’ll grin and shout something stupid like he used to. That he'll be proud. That he’ll be proud of you.

He takes the phone.

And his voice stays flat.

He talks about his own race. The setup. The tyre deg. The strategy error on lap thirty-nine. Max says something back, cheerful and half-mocking, and Lando hands the phone back without another word. Doesn’t even look you in the eye.

The fizz in your blood dulls. Something inside flickers out. You sit there holding the phone to your chest like it’s a shield. Like it can still protect you from the fact that he didn’t care—not really. That your victory didn’t matter if it wasn’t his.

You stand on the podium together, the three of you. The air is heavy with bubbles and praise and burnt rubber.

He doesn’t spray you with champagne.

Doesn’t even turn your way.

You look up. Try to find the taste of triumph on your tongue. Try to taste what you’ve been chasing your whole damn life.

But all you get is the sharp sting of carbonated bitterness.

And the ache of something that used to be a friendship, now fizzed flat in your throat.

It’s the final race

Lando’s on pole. You’re right beside him. Red to his orange. Ferrari to his McLaren. Fire to his flame. The cameras catch it like it’s poetry—the two of you lined up, side by side, history written in every glare off your visors. You don’t look at him, not before lights out. Not even during the anthem. But your heart is beating like it knows something your brain won’t admit: that this is the one. The big one. The decider. Title fight. Winner takes it all.

The race is war. Brutal. A symphony of tire squeals and tight corners and elbows that don’t ask permission. You fight like hell, like the whole year’s been leading to this exact lap, this exact second, wheel to wheel with the boy who once swore he'd never fight you like this. The same boy who told you you deserved the world, now slicing across your front wing like he’d rather take you out than let you through. Every overtake is a punch to the ribs. Every radio call is static. It’s rage and glory and god, you think you might be crying under the helmet but there's no time to tell.

And in the end, it's him.

McLaren wins. He wins.

You lose.

The moment he crosses the line, the world explodes. Orange smoke, fists in the air, the kind of euphoria you used to dream about when you were kids racing on sims. Zach hoists him like a trophy himself, arms wrapped around Lando like he’s just watched his son conquer the gods. There’s champagne, there’s screaming, there’s the way the cameras chase him as if he is the sun.

You stand behind the barrier. Alone. Helmet still on. Your radio crackles in your ear but you don’t hear it. Your hands are still gripping the wheel in your mind, still tight, still aching. Your whole body is shaking and you don’t know if it’s adrenaline or heartbreak, but your eyes are burning. Everything inside you is burning.

You want to be happy for him. You do. You know what this means to him. You know how long he’s waited for this moment. You know every sacrifice he's made, every time he came second, every time he bit his tongue while others were crowned. You want to scream with him. You want to run and jump into that pile of mechanics, be lifted like you’re weightless. You want to feel like this mattered, even if it wasn’t your win.

But all you feel is the silence that comes after the music stops. All you feel is how no one is looking for you. All you feel is the absence of his eyes finding yours. The way he doesn’t search for you through the chaos. The way he doesn’t even check if you’re okay.

All you feel is alone.

You’re holding a half-finished bottle of water, and the ache in your throat is so real it makes you want to choke on it. It's not the kind of thirst you can quench, no matter how much you drink. It’s heavier than that. You’re still trying to swallow it all down when you hear someone shout from the hallway, “Hold the door!” So you do.

It’s him.

Lando.

He slows when he sees you standing there, frozen, the soft hiss of the elevator’s hum cutting through the silence. He stops short, eyes narrowing, like he wasn’t expecting you, like he thought he could just breeze past without noticing how broken the air is between you two.

“If I’d known it was you…” he murmurs to himself, almost too quiet, stepping in anyway, “…I’d have waited.”

But the words hang like smoke. You don’t breathe them in. You don’t move. There’s a moment of nothingness. No one speaks. The numbers above blink slowly, too slow, their yellow light slicing the quiet.

You can’t take it anymore. Your fingers clutch the water bottle like it might disappear if you don’t hold it tight enough. You don’t look at him. Not right away. But you feel the weight of his gaze pulling on you. Tugging at the jagged edges inside your chest.

"Are we still friends?" you ask, your voice so soft it almost doesn’t sound like it belongs to you. It’s like you’re praying, begging for something you know you can’t have.

Lando doesn’t answer right away. The hum of the elevator becomes too loud. Too big. It rattles your nerves.

Then, quiet as the night. "No."

The word lands between you two, heavy and final. You don’t move. You can’t. You don’t know what hurts more—the way his voice cracked the truth or the way it stung like acid.

You stare at the numbers above. They flicker. The 9th floor. Your floor’s the 13th. You press the button anyway, stopping the elevator dead in its tracks.

The doors slide open. It’s not your floor. But you don’t care. You step out without hesitation, without another word, like the weight of the world was too much for the small, cramped space of the elevator. You’d rather walk twenty flights, climb each one, than let him see you break. Than let him watch as your heart splinters into pieces you can’t put back together.

You don’t look back. Not once. Even though you know he’s standing there, frozen in the open doors.

It’s better this way.

315 notes View Post

silcry

1 year ago

I will kms this is too cute, it's 5:13 am rn omd 😭

୨ৎ — With Love, Sunghoon

pairing: non-idol!sunghoon x fem-reader

synopsis: Almost is sometimes never enough, Sunghoon needed a tutor and Y/N needed the extra credit. What happens when two failed lovers meet again after years of running away and misunderstandings?

w/c: 23.3K :o

tags: teacher x teacher, first love, baby baby (?) angst, sunghoon kinda a dick, then he turns into a loser LOL, lots of gussy gussy fluff at the end, niki and jungwon cameo as hoon’s gremlins. And yes hoon blonde obsession.

a/n: oh em gee, its been MONTHS. been so busy with irl stuff and other responsibilities I've neglected dazed-hee </3. BUT pls expect more content to come out soon because I am stressed and writing helps me destress HAHAHA. ending is not how I would like but I honestly did not want to scrap this fic and start a new ): this is little fic was supposed to be a present for my hoon girlie @hoonvrs AND IT STILL IS! i hope everyone enjoys and pls lml what you think! ALSO With Love Series going on mini break bc I have so so many ideas I want to write about I can't be limited to this series ASDAKJSD

likes & reblogs are encouraged thank you!!

“So class I’m happy to say you don’t have any homework this weekend.” You sighed, placing all the files you went through from the past hour on the side as the class cheered lightly, some even clapping at the thought of a free weekend mixed with fun and more studying..

“But—” you interjected, biting back a small smile as some of them instantly stopped cheering; some even holding in groans while you pointed at the calendar on the wall.

“Don’t be surprised if you walk into class Monday with a quiz on your desk about cell biology and functions.” You hastily announced, a slight grin on your face finally hearing the groans and complaints travel through the room, quickly turning around you began cleaning the whiteboard while bidding goodbye to your students.

“Hey be happy it wasn’t a real pop quiz— and I told you what unit it’s going to be about!” You reasoned out loud in the hall, smiling at some of the girls in your class who argued it was guys in the back doing most of the complaining. Compared to the other teachers you felt like you were quite lenient with the students, making class and learning as interactive and fun as possible. Being one of the youngest teachers you made it your job to sympathize with the students since you were in their position not that long ago.

“Ah wait–” You called out, grabbing onto two sneaky individuals hiding behind the girls on the way out.

“I need you two to stay back for an hour of tutoring starting next week. If you don’t you won’t have a passing grade for eligibility.” You warned.

“Ms.Kim please our coach moved practice to after school hours and he’s been really strict about being there.” the boy plead, his eyes glistening brightly looking down at you.

“Well Jungwon maybe we shouldn’t have failed the last unit exam and for you Niki— start doing corrections you’ll earn half your points back.” You nodded toward the other who was sulking softly. You knew the pressures and tight schedules student-athletes went through and you honestly felt bad, the two weren’t even doing terribly you just wanted to make sure they had leisure with their grades when it came to eligibility check.

“What about I have a talk with your Coach and have him push back practice by an hour or something, I’m only doing this for the two of you; trust me I know what it feels like.” You sighed patting their shoulders as they nodded to your offer. Heading to the faculty room you were greeted by other teachers finishing up for the day, you weren’t sure who this new coach was but practice usually took place early mornings. Partly so it doesn’t run into afterschool activities and studying sessions but also because the weather was more favorable most of the time.

“Ms.Kim, how are you today?” Your boss greeted you by the printer, greeting her back with a smile you saw the way some of the female coworkers were actively glancing out the window, chatting amongst each other with shy grins painting their lips.

“I’m doing good Mrs.Go, just printing out a few practice sheets for tutoring starting soon.”

The older lady nodded at you with a warm smile, when you first got the job a little over two years ago Ms.Go stepped up as the new principal from her vice position. You’ve always felt welcomed because of her and she always had nothing but good and encouraging things to say to and about you.

“I’m glad you’ve found your pacing with the students, I get nothing but compliments from them and their parents— keep up the good work.” she rubbed your shoulder softly bidding you goodbye. Shaking out a small sigh you stood tapping the table as the beeping of the machine printed what felt like endless amounts of pages.

“Oh my god he’s so good-looking.”

“Did you see when he was running with the students earlier?”

“I heard he’s the new literature teacher who’s also coaching the basketball team.”

Gathering your things you acknowledged your coworker's excited expressions; curiosity overtaking as you made your way to the window to see what all the fuss was about, all you could see were the student-athletes running back inside towards the gym. A flash of blonde catches your eye before forcing yourself to peel away knowing there were lots to do and students to expect soon.

Seeing a few students greet you on the way back to class had your shoulders high in pride at the familiar faces of kids you’ve tutored before. Many of them respected you as a teacher but also saw you as a friend— well most.

“Ms.Kim!” turning at the group of boys your brow raised as a few of them offered to help carry the stack of papers you were gripping back to class, their shoulders bumping against each other to gain your attention which only prompted a short scoff under your breath. Being one of the younger teachers you also noticed the uncanny amount of attention you received from students, girls asking for advice about dating and what to look forward to in college while the boys were being— well boys.

“Coach is looking for you guys, something about wanting to run another lap.” cutting between them you were glad Jungwon showed up when he did, brows furrowed slightly at some of them murmuring lowly to each other. After everyone left the boy greeted you with a dimple, one you saw frequently in class from what you recalled.

“I talked to Coach and I don’t think he’s willing to push back practice.” You heard him sigh, placing the stack of paper he insisted to carry on your desk as you pushed your fingers into the back of your dress pants.

“Well I would love to talk to your Coach, he knows if you and Niki don’t qualify for eligibility you won’t be able to play till the next check, right?” Your voice confused with shock seeing the boy nod with a conflicted expression on his face.

“Where’s Niki?” You asked softly sitting at your desk checking the time on your wristwatch knowing students were going to show up anytime soon.

“He’s distracting Coach Park while I’m here.”

“Well tell Coach Park, when he’s done with practice to come to my class.” You ordered him, filing some notes in the file cabinet before standing up heading to the lab stations. With a nod Jungwon left swiftly, his sneakers squeaking against the tile floor as you leaned against the table, appreciating the evening sun seeping through the tall windows lining the class walls with your eyes closed.

A knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts realizing some of your students came for their quick tutoring session. “Alright, should we get started?” You greeted them, a feeling of sentiment washed over you.

It was bittersweet in a way.

“Ms.Kim we’re almost done with the worksheet!”

“Okay once you’re done just leave it on my desk and you three are free to leave.” You nodded, going back to the rows of beakers and test tubes you were prepping for the planned lab on Monday. You’ve always loved science, being a biochemist double major in college, you’re practically a pro at handling bunsen burners and microscopes. You weren’t sure when you decided to be a teacher and to be completely fair, you’ve never thought to be one when asked about your future endeavors as a kid.

But maybe it was from the multiple classmates you’ve tutored as a side job and extra credit, you found you had a talent for working with others and teaching them what you’ve mastered best. The satisfaction of seeing others click with the information and concepts you present always made you proud, proud that they could grasp complex ideas, and proud that you were an influence and part of the reason why. Nostalgia overtook your thoughts recalling back about your college days, from friends to strangers and those in between.

Brushing your fingers against the clear tubes absentmindedly, a bitter smile took your lips— almosts were never enough sometimes. It was nearing five in the evening and you were finishing the final touches to each station carefully, making sure all the lab equipment was properly placed for the students, by now the ones who came have left and you were here alone in your thoughts.

“I heard you wanted to speak with me about something?” You heard someone call from the door, slightly muffled as you were quickly packing up the mess you made from preparations into the table cabinets below.

“Yeah actually, it’s about your afternoon practices—” You replied slightly vexed, none of the other coaches have changed their practice hours so you weren’t sure why the basketball team in particular did.

“I won’t be able to change or push back practice since that’s the only time that works for us.” huffing out a sigh you quickly set the extra box of test tubes back into their protective cases in the lower cabinets.

“Okay well, you know if your athletes don’t qualify for eligibility they won’t be able to play correct?” confused as to why you weren’t getting a response you stood up with a huff. Your eyes widened while your words jumbled to get out, realizing who the new coach was and who you were talking to.

It’s been a while, years to be exact since you last had eyes on him. He was blonde now, and it fit him well; just as tall as you remember taking in the way he was leaning against the door frame with his hands shoved in track pants. His slightly raised shoulders and wide eyes told you he was just as surprised to see you, a stoic expression overtaking his shocked one when he straightened his posture.

He was exactly the same as he was before, but so different.

“Sunghoon?” his name became foreign to you over time, like a bitter fruit you bit into and wished to forget. A wave of emotions swirled across your face you were sure of it. His eyes flickered around the classroom and a small sigh could be heard through the thick tension that had formed between you two.

“Looks like you’re doing well,” he mumbled jingling the keys in his pockets as he watched your frown deepen further.

“I’m not changing practice times Y/N, don’t ask me again.” his voice was firm and cold, you saw the way his eyes flickered over you once more before turning to leave.

After your brief conversation with Sunghoon, he left you standing there questioning if what just happened— really happened. With both of your hands gripping the table behind you, the sound of him making his way through the hall confirmed that it was indeed Sunghoon.

Park Sunghoon whom you fell in love with in college, Park Sunghoon who also broke your heart as well. It was him. He was the new coach that is already causing trouble the same way he did back then in your mundane life.

“Alright and the enzymes only react during the active site, get it?” Tapping your pen against the desk you sighed out of relief seeing your classmate nod enthusiastically finally understanding the unit concepts from the past lectures. It was warm, with the University library lined with large windows you wouldn’t be able to get a good nap here without the bright sun bearing down on your back, that’s why people nap in the reserved study rooms instead.

“So if the enzymes are heated or enter a different pH environment what happens then?” You asked carefully— there was no hope for the kid but for extra credit, your professor offered you to tutor students. You could only hope a higher being blessed you with the ability to input knowledge into these empty vessels because fuck; how were people this bad at studying?

“They become unnaturalized?” She answered unconfidently, eyes lighting up seeing how your head tilted giving her a slight sound of approval. It was wrong but at least it was close.

“Close, denatured,” closing the workbook you nodded slightly acknowledging this was a lot better than when you first began tutoring her. “Keep studying like this and you’ll be caught up before the final in no time.” You smiled softly as she quickly packed her things.

Oh, the things you did for extra credit, from extra lab hours to volunteer research assignments you needed every single point you could gain to balance out the fact you had no extracurricular and social hours to back up your pretty GPA.

“Thank you Y/N it feels so good to finally understand what’s going on in class.” she gratefully thanked you, gripping the extra workbooks you recommended to her enthusiastically. With a smile, you bid her goodbye before peering back down at your laptop to see what you had next— a meeting with your professor.

“I must say the classmates you are tutoring have been improving quite a bit, slowly but surely.” Your professor said looking at his notes with a satisfied nod. It was true, it started with your friend Naeun who was failing before despite passing with flying colors now. You now tutored kids who weren’t even from your own lecture, some in different years even.

“If there are any other students you need me to tutor I’ll be more than happy to take them during my free time.” You added quickly, rubbing your palms against your jeans to mask the shake in your leg from his peripheral.

Before he could answer, a knock on the door caused you to turn as a rather tall boy came in with a guitar case in one hand and a packet of papers in the other. With his hair messily put together he looked like every other boy in your class, but the moment his eyes met yours you quickly shifted back into your seat; trying your best to avoid the heat running through your face.

“Professor Lee I’m here to talk about my exam..” he announced demeaningly. You could only watch as the older male stood up, pulling the boy to sit beside you in the empty seat while you shifted looking at the grade on his recent exam.

Yikes.

“Sunghoon this is Y/N she’s in your lecture and also one of my tutors.” you reluctantly nodded toward him in acknowledgment as he did the same. “She’s one of my best students and I’m asking her to tutor you in hopes it’ll bring your grade up so you can pass the class.” With wide eyes, you glanced at Sunghoon, a hand rubbing the nape of his neck assuming he was weighing out the options he didn’t really have.

“And you know you need to pass the class to graduate Sunghoon, I advise you to do your best with Y/N or you’ll run into big trouble once finals come.” He sighed, gathering his things while glancing at the clock on the wall. While bidding the two of you goodbye, you faintly heard him whisper to the boy a small ‘be nice to her’ before the door closed shut. Picking up your bag you pulled your phone out looking at your rather busy calendar for an open spot in your schedule.

“I’m free every Tuesday Wednesday and Friday in the late afternoon, just pick two days and let me know before next week. Or you could tell Professor Lee and he’ll relay the info to me.” you could only give him a shy smile despite him sitting there blinking at you. With an awkward nod, you gave him one last forced grin before making your way toward the door.

“Wait!” His sudden exclamation startled you slightly, a quizzical stare greeting him while your fingers were already grazing the cold door handle.

“Where are you going right now?” He briefly asked, adjusting the grip on his guitar case while stuffing his exam back into his backpack.

“The library.”

“I’ll come with.”

Your solo studying session today suddenly turned into a plus one, watching as your new friend pull his things from his bag, you failed to hold the slight snicker earning his curiosity. Shrugging at his raised brow, you opened your laptop pulling out a practice workbook with a smile.

“Could’ve fooled me with that study setup if you never told me you were failing Biology.” You nodded at his set of pencils and eraser neatly placed in front of him, his frown turning into a grin knowing you were right, unfortunately.

“Listen I’m good at everything but science, it might be hard to imagine but I’m a TA for my English professor.” he boasted proudly, sitting up in his seat as you smiled humming in acknowledgment.

“Oh and to answer your question from earlier, I’m able to do Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I just finished an important project so I should be available a lot more often now.” He politely added, taking in your gaze as you nodded slowly before turning back to your workbook.

After an hour of studying you noticed Sunghoon was actually quite diligent, not getting distracted by his phone nor did he daze into space even you’d catch yourself doing at times. If this was your conclusion then you weren’t sure where his problem was that had him failing— terribly.

“That’s wrong.” You softly stopped him, pointing at the question he’s been working on for the past couple of minutes after seeing the frustrated expression overtake his face promptly.

“I’m not good with genetics, I get the whole structure and basic….stuff, but once it gets to this I get lost.” He admitted running his fingers through his hair. Peeling your gaze away from the mole beside his jaw you coughed before opening up your notes.

“From what I see you're making it way more difficult than it should be—” You started, pulling your chair beside his before sliding your tablet across the table with a holistic breakdown of the concepts you took notes on for the genetics unit. After a few minutes of explaining and correcting his question, you allowed him to scroll through your notes a little longer, grinning at the fascinated look in his eye as he complimented the way your notes looked.

“I can send you the notes later if you like them that much.” You chuckled, scooting your chair back after feeling his elbow graze your own, a little too close you figured. Hearing no response your eyes naturally found his again realizing he was looking between you and the space now in between. Once he realized you were waiting for a response, he pushed your tablet toward you quickly, his pen tapping against the table softly with a nod.

“Please if you don’t mind, I don’t know how you have time to do them like that they’re really nice.” He complimented, checking his phone before handing it to you with the contacts app opened. “Well I don’t do much of anything else so I have a lot of time to spare.” You snickered.

“Oh come on, nothing? Like nothing seriously?” He asked you again, holding back a wide grin noting your name displayed on the screen along with your number. “Why do I look like I do a lot of stuff?” You questioned, his nod surprising you somewhat.

“Yeah I mean, our classmates always say how fun and nice you are to be around so I just assumed,” he explained truthfully, from what he’s heard, a lot of your classmates had nothing but good things to say to you.

“I only go out with a few of my close friends from time to time but seeing that you pretty much—” glancing at his duffle bag you assumed was for whatever club he was a part of and his guitar case beside it; you could tell he was a busy man. “ —you literally do everything, it could look like not much for you.” You smiled genuinely.

“Well trust me when I say I rather have a few things to focus on over this,” he emphasized, nodding toward all his things, earning a wholehearted laugh from you quickly disagreeing.

“Yeah? I really wish I could put myself out there like that, I’m tutoring to make up for the fact I don’t do anything else but study.” You shook your head, playing with the pen between your fingers with your gaze set on the sunlighy shining on the table.

“Well I wish I didn’t do all of–”

“Don’t lie.” You cut him off, turning towards him quickly causing the both of you to laugh softly, your lips turned into a grin as you forcefully peeled your gaze away from his dimple that caught your eye. Sunghoon could only admire you from the side, smugly grinning at how you’d get so shy from meeting his gaze while your fingers busied themselves playing with the pages from your notebook.

He understood why all the guys on the team wanted you as their tutor, what was better than a pretty girl spending her evening with you in the library or cafe? Your cute flustered expression when he smiled at you or when he caught you smiling back, it all made sense to him. Sunghoon made a mental note to inform the others you weren’t looking for any more tutees, and he only hoped they will believe him.

When he was called into the professor's office he really thought it was the end for him, with graduation around the corner and a science class holding him back from sweet victory; nervousness was an understatement. Shitting his pants would’ve been a better way to describe the feeling pooling in his gut when he saw a big red 43 plastered on the recent unit exam. But when he saw your small confused face peering up at him he knew he lucked out this time.

You were known to take kids who look like they don’t have a single thought behind their eyes and tutor them into high B passing students. He was sure anyone else tutoring him would’ve helped with an extra brain processing his mistakes, but he was glad it was you.

Third week of tutoring and you noted Sunghoon worked hard— and worked harder when he knew there was a reward for his accomplishments. A coffee stop before class or a meal before practice, you kept your promise and rewarded him for the commitment you knew he put in. What started as a reward for his improving quiz grades turned into what you felt was a normalized occurrence.

‘Wanna grab a meal from the cafeteria? I’ll drop you off after.’

‘Let’s meet before class for a bit, I want to see you.’

‘Are you free later today? We should go watch that new movie you were talking about.’

He explained it was just the athlete in him addicted to the dopamine he got when he succeeded, specifically doing good in class; but you argued it was just a way for him to trick you to agree into doing things he wanted. Hell he didn’t even know how dopamine worked up until last week’s study session.

“Sunghoon you can literally ask for anything else, I’ll even buy you dinner again just not this.” You sighed, holding up the singular ticket he presented you as his wish for earning a 90 on his exam; the highest he’s received yet.

“Y/N you said I can ask for whatever I wanted.” he pointed out, tapping the back of your seat with his fingers watching you groan at the thought of attending this weekend.

“This is seriously what you want?” watching his court nod your lips pressed in a tight line before sighing in defeat. A promise is a promise, and you were one to keep promises.

“Fine just please study this well for the next exam coming up.” You didn’t earn a response, but the cheeky dimple and upturned brows told you that if studying well meant pulling you to do things like attending his game to support him— Sunghoon promised to turn into Einstien. He’ll be reborn as Issac Newton himself if that’s what it took.

“Oh and—” turning back to him your eyes widened slightly feeling his fingers graze against your back, a simple action you still haven’t grown used to lately. “Sunghoon, no.” you refused shaking your head wholeheartedly, seeing him pull out a jersey from his duffle bag with a smirk on his face as he laughed to himself.

“You didn’t even let me explain.” He reasoned, eyes twinkling watching you continue to disagree, mumbling about how ridiculous this was since you already agreed to even go in the first place.

“Y/N how weird would it be to show up and not show off who you’re supporting?” He hummed, pushing his jersey from last year over to your side. “Hoon I think people are gonna think it’s weird regardless.” You whispered, knowing the type of people he was around would already view it odd you came in the first place. Sunghoon was someone you thought you’d only admire from afar, his likable personality and seemingly good looks made a memorable first impression not only on you but apparently to every living— breathing eligible girl on campus.

The looks and whispers anyone with a working brain would dread were to be expected if you walked into that stadium with his jersey, you were already getting looks from simply walking with him to class.

Sunghoon was just someone you weren’t supposed to mingle with, as crazy as it sounded; opposites weren’t supposed to attract. There were plenty of girls in his social circle you knew were interested in him— it just felt wrong, scary even that you and Sunghoon were this close.

“Hey…don’t think like that,” He reassured you, brushing a few strands of hair away while you stared at him, admiring the pinches of electricity shifting across your cheek when his fingertips grazed against your skin. In the many weeks you and Sunghoon have hung out, you realized he was a lot different from what you assumed.

He was sensitive; you concluded that when he received his first quiz two weeks after your first session. His grade wasn’t— what the two of you were aiming for, and it was evident in his expression how disappointed he was in himself. After your constant reassurance that learning was about process and progress; not instant results, you grew to appreciate his soft grin and high shoulders that were filled with confidence and motivation.

But he was also very attentive, even on days you didn’t feel your best Sunghoon was always understanding without having to say anything. And you were grateful, you tend to hold back and push through with plans even when you didn’t feel in the best shape, especially for your tutees. Sunghoon didn’t jest around much on days he saw you weren’t responding how you usually did, and he still managed to find time to ask if you were okay. Cheering you up in ways that had your cheeks flushing and heart racing.

It was like skinship came naturally for the two of you, what started off as friendly nudges and taps on the arm shifted to his hand casually drawing lines on your back, your fingers tracing the veins on his arm or your shoulders casually touching while sitting beside one another. Things just felt comfortable with him, you realized that the one day the two of you were at his apartment, the library was starting to become a distraction but looking back— you weren’t sure if his place was much better.

While working on genomes and thermodynamics the two of you often shared snacks with one another, however when your eyes caught his pink lips around your bottle of coke you realized then and there that you and Sunghoon were more than tutor and tutee, more than friends. He made that known when you felt the same pink lips press a kiss on your temples after bidding you goodbye, making sure you made it inside your condo before he left, a small pep in his step noted while catching one last glimpse at him.

“Just think about it, hm?” he nodded toward you, bottom lip pulled between his teeth watching you roll your eyes before stuffing the jersey in your bag, ushering him to continue studying much to his resistance.

“So are you gonna wear his jersey?” your friend sang with a smirk ghosting her lips, watching you hastily fix your hair in the mirror that she quickly helped you with not that long ago, fixing the top you picked to avoid that exact question purposely. It was the day of his game and you were already running slightly (really) behind schedule from a last-minute tutoring session you were asked to do despite making sure to state this weekend— you were unavailable.

The game started a couple of minutes ago and it would take almost thirty minutes for you to get to the arena.

“Do I look good?” You asked her nervously, palms clammy against your jeans realizing what you got yourself into.

“You look cute babe, Sunghoon is gonna miss every three-pointer with you in the crowd.” She joked, yelping in response when a dry shampoo bottle was thrown her way. “Naeun I’m serious, people are already gonna look at me weird for being there— the least you can do is make sure nothing is stuck between my teeth.” You whined, checking yourself in the mirror again out of pure paranoia.

“Y/N the only reason why they’ll be looking at you is because the Y/N is there for Park Sunghoon, so go! You’re late already.”

“Your seat is in row 4, enjoy! Go Cougs!” Awkwardly grabbing the ticket you were greeted by rows and rows of students cheering for the ongoing game, it was almost halftime and the team was a little under fifteen points. Excusing yourself through the crowd— you realized where exactly Sunghoon’s extra ticket landed you.

Maneuvering through, you did your best to ignore the glances from some of the girls you recognized, they were people who frequently hung around the team; people whose crowd you weren’t a part of. Gratefully you weren’t seated beside any of them but figured this was the guest section for the team, you saw both students and family seated in the area.

“Oh? Are you here for Sunghoon hyung?” A voice pulled you from your observation, glancing down you noted a younger boy looking up at you; dressed in your school colors with a sticker decorating his rather full cheek— a slushy in one hand and a pretzel in the other. He was cute, his wide eyes waiting for your answer as you smiled at how adorable he looked.

“What made it obvious?” You asked him in a whisper, giggling slightly when his eyes crinkled in a smile pointing back at you.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon’s sudden voice made you snap your gaze to the court, your eyes meeting his almost instantly. Breathing was human nature, a biological process of the body responding to your blood oxygen levels with an automatic retort that you’re born with instantly; yet somehow when you see Sunghoon every now and then, you forget how to breathe sometimes.

The few strands of hair sticking against his temples distract you from his absolutely dazzling smile and shining eyes that grew in size making you smile shyly. Glancing down, you coughed awkwardly, feeling his jersey's smooth fabric against your fingers. Before heading out the door, the white jersey caught your eye and had you changing in the livingroom before leaving.

You were here for Sunghoon and you wanted him to feel like you were too, and by the deep dimple showcasing on his face, you knew you made the right decision.

Raising your brow— you quirked your head towards the scoreboard, you didn’t need to say anything because Sunghoon knew exactly what you meant from your expression alone.

‘You invited me to your game just to lose?’ snickering at the way drops of sweat shook from the tips of his hair, you scoffed watching his shoulders raise proudly when a few of his teammates noted your presence in the crowd. You were never one to be interested in sports, but after another quarter into the game; you were one of the many that were standing in your seat, watching the tick of the clock count down and the score narrow with each pass on the court.

“Sunghoon..” You whispered, fingers clutching in anxiety noting the clock hitting the twenty-second mark, he needed to shoot a three-pointer for the team to finally take the lead and ultimately win the game. With his eyes darting across the court Sunghoon has never felt this much pressure in his whole entire life. The game was whatever, he had plenty more games to play and win, but the past few months have been hell for him.

With graduation around the corner, he didn’t really have any more time to ‘play’ on the court, plans after graduation? No clue. Did he have enough credits to actually graduate? Another problem at a later time. Was the girl he’s been dying to ask out finally warming up to him? Well...

Meeting you has been one of the best if not the best thing that has happened to him in a while, not only were you practically carrying him to the graduation finish line, you seemed to make even the unexpected— exciting, comforting even. Things just got more bearable for him since you’ve been around.

Even now with the whole fate of the game twirling between his fingers, he couldn’t help but smile knowing you were there in the crowd, there for him. The moment he saw you sitting in his jersey he knew these feelings weren’t just mere lingering feelings that come and go, what a plot twist you were.

“Sunghoon!” Your voice always caught his attention, even now in a crowd of roaring support or those who wished for the opposite, it was like he could only hear you. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he first walked into the professor's office that one day, but he wouldn’t wish for it any other way.

“Sunghoon shoot the fucking ball?!” Blinking at your unexpected exclamation his body automatically did what he did best, react in stressful situations— muscle memory from what he recalled you teaching him. With the sound of the ball rolling around the rim, Sunghoon could only let out a sigh of relief when the roar from the student section doubled, quadrupled even after the basketball bounced on the court after scoring the final basket.

They fucking won.

Jumping from excitement you finally understood why people attend games in person, the experience was so different, exhilarating. It was like regardless of who you were, everyone was there cheering for the same thing, even the girls who were looking at you earlier were cheering with you, bright smiles filled with pride and joy despite how indifferent they were to you earlier.

In the midst of the crowd, you made your way through the bodies of people making sure to say goodbye to the small boy who accompanied you during the game. You were grateful he made sure to explain the rules of the court— it only made things easier to catch on. Gasping in shock, you felt someone grab your wrist stopping you hastily, Sunghoon.

“Congrats on winning Hoon!” You cheered, smiling widely as other students and teammates congratulated him with pats on the back and chants of victory. “It’s hard not to when someone yelling at me from the stands, ‘Sunghoon shoot the fucking ball!’ ” he mocked jokingly, his fingers finding the slim of your wrist after you brought your hands up to push his shoulder. With your eyes glued on each other, you couldn’t help but grin softly as you felt his fingers melt down your wrist and between your own. Even with the chaos around the two of you, with him, things felt like the way they should be.

A comfort you never felt with anyone else in midst of what used to be unfamiliarity. You found yourself following Sunghoon to the celebration after, your laughs filling the night sky as the two of you sat on the rooftop of the science building; looking over a lit-up field filled with Uni students drinking in victory. The cool breeze tickled your lashes as you took in the smell of flowers and plants that lined the railings and wooden pergola that was decorated with string lights. You’ve been here a few times for a couple of labs and projects, legs dangling over the side admiring the sound of distant music from the field afar.

“You take all girls you talk to here after your games?” rolling the bottle of beer between your palms, you raised a brow when he hesitated, his dark ones furrowed as a contemplating hum left his lips. Gapping you slid over slightly, mumbling in disbelief ignoring his chuckle promising he was just joking.

“You might be like…the third?” He continued, scratching the nape of his neck watching your eyes double in size before you nodded to his honest answer. “So, who was it?” You asked nonchalantly.

“To be honest I don’t think Sieun counts if she was my lab partner last semester, right?” he sighed, attempting to grab your hand only to be pushed away quickly. Sunghoon loved this part of you, trying your best to hide the relief in your eyes by shaking off the hand he purposely placed on your shoulder. It was cute, your slightly upset expression and groans accompanied by puffed-out cheeks, he loved it all.

“Sieun?” You repeated, recognizing her as a classmate from your past Chemistry course. You didn’t notice but his eyes were trailing across your shoulders that rose absentmindedly from realization, taking the chance to move closer his lips bit back a smile— glad that your eyes were finally looking up at him.

Turning away with a cough, you were able to catch yourself before falling right into his little charm, if it wasn’t Sieun there was still another girl who was here before you he hasn’t mentioned. It seemed stupid really, what were you expecting— someone like Sunghoon had girls waiting for him around the corner at every class, he was different from you. It was stupid for you to ask the question knowing you weren’t going to like the answer.

“I guess Professor Oh doesn’t count either— she was the one who lead us up here for the whole experiment and all.” he finally stated, with a sly smile his chuckle rang in your ear watching you realize he was messing with you the whole time. Much to your horror you were glad that was the truth.

With your legs swinging over the side, you flinched slightly when the breeze blew against your skin. It was pretty chilly that night and in a rush you forgot to grab the jacket you had laid out on the couch. The sound of Sunghoon shuffling pulled you back into the moment as you watched him shrug off his varsity jacket, placing it over your shoulders much to your dismay.

Muttering a small ‘thanks’, you giggled when Sunghoon nudged your side with his elbow, making it annoyingly obvious he wasn’t going to move away anytime soon, you were used to this, his little antics that always had you smiling to the point the apples of your cheeks ached. “Thanks for coming today Y/N— I mean it really.” he softly muttered meeting your eyes that smiled back at him.

“Of course, I came— I told you I keep promises.” You whispered back, your smiling fading slowly feeling his finger slowly grab onto yours.

“So if you promise to keep coming to my games…you will?” he challenged, gripping your hand softly as you nodded firmly.

“And you promise we’ll keep studying together, even after the next exam?”

“Only if you want to Hoon.”

“Then can you promise—” he paused; bringing your intertwined fingers up to his lips, the glint in his eye shining brighter than the string lights that could be mistaken as fireflies above you. It was a feeling you’ve never felt before, you wonder at times if meeting Sunghoon in these circumstances was a coincidence, maybe if you weren’t so different from him you wouldn’t think this was all a mistake. But in moments like this, when it was just the two of you in each other’s ambiance and warmth you hoped those mistakes only took you to the right place— with Sunghoon.

“Promise we’ll stay like this.” his words echoing as the two of you sat gazing at each other intently, his thumb rubbing circles around your skin as you nodded softly with a small smile. How strange was this you thought, sitting here with him felt like a dream— but you were wide awake. Feeling him lean in slightly; your fingers gripped his as the warmth of his sigh cascaded across your cheek, his bangs tickling your forehead feeling his nose brushed against yours softly. Inhaling softly you gasp when his lip touched yours ever so gently, his mole you’ve only glanced at when he wasn’t looking was staring right at you.

“Yo Sunghoon! You going to that party later this week?” A sudden voice surprised you from down below, pulling away quickly you chugged a gulp of beer eyeing the frat symbol on the jacket the boy was wearing. “Yeah, it’s Jay’s birthday, right? Think I promised a friend I was going.” he huffed out, slightly unamused from the disruption leaning on the side with one hand.

“Hey Y/N…” the guy greeted, his smile hinting a teasing tone before walking away quickly back towards the field. “You should come this weekend it’ll be fun, promise?” You heard him whisper, his lip brushing the shell of your ear softly and you had no choice but to nod.

And you truly wished you didn’t.

The weekend came in a blink of an eye and you found yourself surrounded by classmates you’ve seen around but never got the chance to mingle with. You would’ve never guessed you’d be asking Naeun for help picking an outfit for tonight but you found yourself not believing in a lot of things when it came to Sunghoon.

“Waiting for me?” You heard someone say from behind, his familiar warmth spreading across your back as a smile made its way to your lips. “Sunghoon.” You whispered, turning to embrace him as you admired his styled-up hair and simple grin.

All sense of insecurity washed away feeling him pull you in a hug, greeting his friends passing by with a bright smile as you held your drink over his shoulders; a red cup in one hand while the other patted him softly. You couldn’t help but laugh feeling him turn you in different directions to say hello to everyone greeting him. He was here with you, and he made sure to make that painfully obvious.

Since that night on the rooftop, neither you nor Sunghoon addressed the almost kiss the two of you shared—embarrassment on your part and your gut, more like Naeun’s input, told you it was gonna happen tonight…something was. At this point, it’s been a few months since you and Sunghoon have grown close, and your feelings have grown over time and so have his affections around you.

Sunghoon wasn’t afraid to make it known you were with him, whether it be holding your hand as the two of you walked on campus or stopping by classes to pick you up after lectures. He’s made a home in your apartment and you could only wonder where things would lead for the two of you if he just popped the question.

“Sunghoon the girl you showed up with just ran out.” You heard his friend whisper, his eyes suddenly darting around before pulling out his phone. You knew Sunghoon came with a friend, and you couldn’t help but worry as well seeing how panicked he was scrolling through his contacts. You’ve seen her around before, a music major— you guessed the two of them knew each other from a class or club.

“Hey can you stay here and wait for me? I’ll make it quick I promise baby.” You heard him hastily whisper, leaving you standing there nodding absentmindedly as he made his way through the crowd.

When twenty minutes turned into an hour, you found yourself sitting on the couch, checking your phone in hopes of seeing his name pop up asking where you were in the unfamiliar place. Your heart immediately jumped feeling the buzz of your notification ignoring the way the people around you were wondering why you were suddenly sitting alone, silently alone after socializing with others not that long ago.

“Naeun?” You answered quietly, digging your fingers into the fabric of the couch as you tried to tune out the mix of music and voices you couldn’t seem to understand from around you.

“I’m at the party waiting for Sunghoon but—” You flinched; yelping when someone jumped over you— laughing a hasty ‘sorry’. You reassured her you were fine but by the way your voice was trembling, she knew you were lying.

Biting your lip you could hear her concern laced voice asking you again if you were okay. Naeun offered to come along but you assured her Sunghoon would take care of you, Sunghoon would be here for you, Sunghoon—-

“Hey you’re here with Park right?” an unfamiliar voice pulled you away from call, a faint ‘I’m on my way’ brushing past your ears. Nodding, your eyes widened in realization it was Sunghoon’s friend from earlier. Naeun had hung up long ago and despite ignoring the male trying to pull you into a conversation, your mind couldn’t help but drift wondering where Sunghoon disappeared off to.

“I’m honestly surprised Sunghoon kept you around for how long he did.” Snapping your attention back to the man, your furrowed brows were enough to tell him he finally piqued your interest. “Sunghoon left a while ago with some girl, she wasn’t the one who he showed up with but he seemed pretty happy to leave.” The male shrugged, your head shaking in disbelief taking another look at your phone still cleared of notifications.

“No he said he was coming right back— he promised.” You argued softly, tensing when you felt him throw an arm over your shoulder before a red cup disrupted your view.

You weren’t sure how many cups you’d had since then, the colored lights blurring together while your cheek was leaned against whoever the fuck was closest to you. Naeun was nowhere to be seen and you could feel the alcohol hitting your system harder than it ever had before. Sunghoon still wasn’t here, you didn’t want to believe he left you here for another girl— but with no text and no sign of him anywhere, maybe it was true. His friend from earlier seemed to have disappeared as well, your last memory of him was asking you to take another shot before someone else piqued his interest.

“Y/N. Y/N stand up.” Shaking your head you threw your arm over the familiar girl who mumbled to whoever was next to you in annoyance.

“Sunghoon—”

“He’s not coming let’s go.” You heard her firmly say, dragging you carefully out of the house with your feet tripping over themselves down the stairs. Catching a brief view of the clock you realized it’s been four hours since Sunghoon said he’d be back.

“Naeun let go he’s coming back!”

“Y/N he’s not! I asked around while looking for you and they said he fucking left a while ago, he’s not coming so snap out of it.” she struggled to say, her teeth gritting together from dragging you to sit on the curbside watching the realization settle in your eyes he really did leave with someone else—when he promised.

You were prepared for this, sort of, someone like Sunghoon was just never made to be with someone like you, it was too good to be true.

You ready for this,or so you thought, the utter realization that maybe this was all fun and games for him until he got bored and moved onto the next.

You expected this, though you wished for it to never happen, yet somehow it still hurt.

“He promised.” You whispered, a tear escaping down your cheek as Naeun stood there in pity, slowly engulfed in the cloud of grief overtaking your eyes and mind— and all she could do was hope the pain would go away, or so she promised, but since that night you weren’t too sure about promises anymore.

“Ms Kim!”

“I’m so sorry, is everyone done with the quiz?” You asked while standing from your desk, smiling at the students who nodded in unison as you collected the sheets of paper passed to the front in stacks. You’ve had a rough weekend, on top of preparing for the upcoming faculty meeting you were still processing the reality that Sunghoon was indeed the new teacher in the literature department—and the new coach. With the bell ringing you dismissed everyone who seemed to be in high spirits after hearing that you weren’t assigning any homework for today.

Sitting back down you hummed in acknowledgment seeing both Jungwon and Niki by your desk, the coffee you had earlier cold in your palms grinning at the both of them shifting in their place nervously. After your talk with Sunghoon last week, the boys told you he was adamant about practice hours— being that stubborn you didn’t expect anything less.

“So can I expect to see the two of you later for tutoring? Or am I going to stop by practice to pull the both of you out myself?” Arduously looking at the two boys, you knew the answer was the latter; by their tight smiles, they didn’t have much of a choice.

You were hoping— slightly hoping Sunghoon had it in him to not be an asshole making you walk all the way to the gym where practice was being held, especially not in your stilettos. He’s always been this way, the first couple of days the two of you studied together you concluded he wasn’t much of a listener nor much of a compromiser.

And when it was time to start after school tutoring, you could only tap your heel as it’s been ten minutes since you were scheduled to start.

“Mother fucker.” You hushed under your breath, shooting up in your chair hastily, you did your best to ignore the looks from your students waiting for tutoring to start at their desks. With your heels clicking against the tiles you quickly found your way to the gym, the sound of whistles and basketballs bouncing against the gym floor echoed through the opened doors as you walked in.

It was a familiar feeling, quite familiar noting Sunghoon from across the court with a clipboard in one hand and a whistle in the other. You weren’t sure what overcame you, but you found yourself bee-lining towards the blonde— his brow quirked up from your sudden appearance.

Switching practice times was something Sunghoon just— felt like doing, well not really. Seeing you here was one of the last cursed encounters he expected to face after the last time the two of you met eyes years ago.

When your widened eyes greeted him that evening, something instantly sparked in him, nostalgia? He wasn’t sure if it was the good or bad kind yet— it felt surreal in a way. The one girl he wished he met sooner back in college was the science teacher at the new high school he was transferred to for the spring semester.

You were different, so different from the last time he’d seen you. Your usual smile that warmed his heart back then was now replaced with an unfamiliar one, a tired gaze that seemed so distant from the ones that used to look up at him in affection. Your hair was longer than before and it was weird to see you dressed in business attire when he only remembered your casual ones.

And then it hit him—it has been a while.

He liked to believe things stayed how they were before, he hoped they did— and maybe they were.

“I told you to change practice hours, how are you a literature teacher who lacks comprehension skills?”

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he was wrong about something.

Practice was going well today, the students were finally back into a healthy energetic mindset after weeks of exams. He was aware of the eligibility rule and your request but seeing how tired most of them were, he knew it was important to let his athletes have that extra three hours of sleep. As a former student-athlete, Sunghoon knew how important it was for rest and recovery, he’ll do what he has to do to ensure his students got just that.

“You said I lack comprehension skills?” he huffed amused, his eyes on your figure recovering from walking across campus, your face visibly flushed from being winded and irritated.

“Ms.Kim this is a closed practice, does that mean you lack common courtesy to follow rules?” he argued back, roughly shoving the clipboard to the assistant without hesitation– earning a surprised grunt from the poor man.

You could practically feel your eye twitch watching the smug look overtake his features, enjoying the frustration seething from your eyes in real time.

“Maybe don’t leave the gym doors open next time if it’s a closed practice, plus Coach Lee let me in.” You grinned phonily, your upturned smile dropping instantly pushing past him as your eyes scanned the court for Niki and Jungwon. Many of the students greeted you politely despite being in the midst of drills and training. Calling their names they immediately ran towards you, a conflicted expression painting their face as a whistle was blown directly behind you.

Flinching you were greeted with a now annoyed Sunghoon eyeing the two boys behind you who were ready to leave with their things.

“Move and I’m not going to repeat myself, Mr.Park.” You exhaled tremulously, your words not really reaching his ears after noticing exactly how close you were after turning to face him.

“Don’t disrupt my practice again or I promise you’ll be dealing with a lot more than conflicting hours,” he whispered, his brows furrowing at the way your pupils wavered softly. You almost scoffed really, here you were face to face to Park Sunghoon after a long time.

You had every right and opportunity to confront him, yell at him even; asking why he left that night and why he never bothered to call or text after. The two of you after that party went back to how you were before— strangers.

Instead here you were merely inches away staring at the mole beside his nose you remember clearly. His minty breath fanned your lashes after the huffed out a sigh of disbelief. He could have ended up at any other high school, why did it have to be here?

“I don’t think you’re someone who should be making promises Sunghoon.” You sneered in a whisper, his eyes widening slightly before dropping the silver whistle from his lips. Scoffing softly you called for the two to follow you and thankfully, they did. With your heels clicking against the court, you did your best to ignore the burning sensation spreading through your chest, nodding at the students bidding you goodbye with a smile.

“I guess your talk with Coach didn’t go well the other day.” You heard Jungwon whisper, a small chuckle to lighten the mood which you appreciated. “Let’s just say Coach Park and I know each other well.” opening the door to the class with a huff, you apologized to the other kids with a smile.

“We can come every other day— if that’s okay,” Niki suggested, setting his bag on the floor taking a seat next to his teammate.

“Is he going to allow you to come every other day?” You asked with a raised brow, seeing the both of them nod genuinely you heaved a sigh and smiled softly. And to your surprise, they did come every other day, you haven’t seen Sunghoon since then, and thankfully so.

Making sure to ignore him in the faculty lounge during lunches— you even committed to coming early hours in the morning to print all your things just to avoid him in the storage units. It’s been exactly four days since your heated argument with him— Naeun saying it was fate when you mentioned it to her over the phone.

“Fate my asshole.” you cursed, gripping your shoulder bag as you got off the terminal making your way to work. It was the day of the faculty meeting you’ve dreaded while preparing for— Ms.Go appointed you as the new head of the science department at the last meeting and not many people were too fond of that. Greeting your other colleagues your eyes trailed over those who were smiling while greeting you a hello. Some were your friends and seniors you looked up to while others were just those who respected you and your efforts for your job.

“Someone is sitting here—from my department.” Blinking at the women your gaze settled on her hand blocking the chair you were going to pull out to sit in. That was a lie, you knew it was. With good people also came the ones who weren’t that nice when the news dropped that you were appointed to the new position. Nodding an apology you couldn’t help but chew on your bottom noting the only other seat left unoccupied.

Slowly setting your bag on the floor you pulled out all the paperwork needed for the meeting starting soon, ignoring the obvious stare on your right as you huffed out a sigh. Not able to ignore it any longer you gave the blonde a curt nod, brows furrowing as he didn’t acknowledge your greeting at all.

“Oh? Y/N!” A familiar voice caused you to look up from your files, grinning at the familiar smile walking back to his seat with a cup of coffee.

“Coach Lee!” You snickered softly, eyeing the extra cup of coffee he pushed towards you trying to ignore the looks from some of the older ladies down the table. Jeno was another Coach at the school for the soccer team who was also head of the math department. Being similar in age the two of you got along as assistants when you first started.

“Thank you..” giving him a soft whisper, you admired the swirls of creme floating on top of the expresso, a sigh escaping from you feeling the warmth spread between your fingers. After a couple of savoring sips, you paused as something—more like someone, was bothering you. You could only watch as Sunghoon glanced between you and the cup of coffee between your palms. His dark brows in a stern frown before scoffing and fixing his tie; it was the first time you had a good look at Sunghoon outside of his baggy sports attire after so long.

His tall nose and pushed-up hair perfectly enhanced his face while the white dress shirt snugged nicely against his shoulders. He had grown into his features, that boyish charm now replaced with a cold stare and small frown.

What was his problem? It wasn’t like you wanted to sit here in the first place, sneering slightly you took one last sip; purposefully glaring at him when your eye caught his gaze once again.

“Are you ready for the presentation? I know it’s your first one since becoming the head of your department.” You heard Jeno ask you, nodding you smiled glancing at all the paperwork you were able to compress into a ten-fifteen-minute presentation.

“I’m not going to lie I had some trouble since there’s so much to talk about but— I think I did good.” You nodded, catching his smile as he pulled out his own set of notes. “Well, you ever need my help you can always ask me, you know my hours and my email.” With a thankful nod, your smile dropped hearing someone scoff beside you— a little too loudly you noted, glancing at the blonde with an irritated glint.

Before you could ask him what his problem was Ms. Go entered the room as everyone stood to greet her respectfully. As she caught your figure her smile widened in acknowledgment that you knew many people took note of, with everyone taking their seats you could feel your palms grow clammy as each department presented one by one. Jeno’s bright smile and convincing talk about changing the math curriculum passed quicker than you expected which meant one thing, it was your turn soon— next actually.

“Ms.Kim you’re up.”

Heaving out a shaky ‘yes’ your legs felt like jelly as you gathered all your notes, glancing at the other teachers in your department giving you an encouraging smile as you passed them walking to the front. The sound of your heels clicking against the floor seemed to be the only thing echoing in your thoughts as the gazes and judgmental stares seemed to have filled your vision making you visibly tense. It was true, there were many teachers here with way more years of experience and opinions but Ms.Go and the board choose you for a reason— that’s what you kept telling yourself. After a brief introduction, you noted Ms.Go’s intent gaze causing you to stutter slightly.

“After working with the students and seeing the science program here, I have some changes that I believe would be beneficial.” Despite the scoffs heard from a few, you could feel the relief wash over you as Ms.Go nodded writing down some notes. “Looking at the curriculum a lot of the lesson plans are very outdated and don’t tend to the needs of the students now— I suggest we change our approach on what we expect from the kids. Things have changed in the new age which makes it only appropriate to change how we teach as well.”

“And we trust the kids in your hands why?” Trying your best to hold back the frown leaking through your stiff smile you turned to Ms.Jung who was part of the literature and linguistics department, honesty you were expecting this type of question to come up somewhere in your presentation. However, when some of your other colleagues began dabbling in the conversation, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at the amount of unwanted opinions directed towards you and the other teachers in your department.

“Why would I take your word when I’ve been doing this for as long you’ve been alive.” Ms.Jung scoffed– her face clearly satisfied by the mess she caused making you look down in embarrassment.

“What type of meeting is this if no one listens to what is being presented.” The sudden silence was caused by Sunghoon’s slightly irritated tone, his brows in a deep frown while tapping his pen against the desk in a steady beat.

“Who do you think you’re talking to young man? I heard you’re new here and that’s how you treat your seniors—”

“What kind of seniors treats their younger colleagues that way? Ms.Kim is obviously really passionate and good at her job if she’s the science department leader… I think she knows better than anyone here what to do with the students,” he interjected, observing the way Ms.Jung looked taken aback by his sudden comment, a smug look casting over his face.

“It’s true since Ms.Kim became one of the main teachers— our science sector has seen tremendous amounts of improvement in overall scores and individual performances.” Ms.Go added with a nod, a small genuine smile making its way to your face with a humble nod.

“Working with Ms.Kim I trust her enough to listen— I hope everyone can as well.” Surprised, you gave Jeno a grateful grin before you continued your presentation, your eyes catching Sunghoon’s deepen frown making you look away confused every once in a while. He was the one who helped you in the first place so why did he look so upset?

However, you were unaware that his frown wasn’t directed towards you— but instead to Jeno who added a comment earlier he considered unnecessary, very unnecessary.

After the meeting ended you searched for Sunghoon who already made his way out of the faculty room. You wanted to thank him for deescalating the situation earlier but he never gave you a second glance the moment you sat down again beside him. Making your way through the crowd, your eye searched for the blonde male making his way down the hall before pausing at your voice calling for him.

“Hey.” You huffed fixing the bag on your shoulder, awkwardly glancing down to his hand gripping his own bag beside him. The cold air blowing from the conditioner made you shiver, you didn’t realize but your voice came out a lot softer than you expected. “I just wanted to say thank you— for earlier you know.” You could only watch as Sunghoon stared down at you, his head nodding in acknowledgment before turning away slowly.

“Wait!” You didn’t know what prompted you to grab his blazer, maybe it was the way you haven’t heard his voice in so long, but all you wanted was to savor this moment with him a little longer.

“I’ll buy you a coffee, my treat.” the offer quickly slipping from your lips.

“This wasn’t what I was thinking.” You heard him scoff beside you, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed as you mixed coffee and some milk from the faculty vending machine. With a grin you shrugged your shoulders, ripping some sugar packets before whisking with a spoon, a drink that you often had going through hell and back since working here.

“Well Coach Lee and I would whip this up for each other ever since the both of us started as assistants, it’s my treat so be grateful at least.” You mumbled, throwing away all the trash while admiring the way the coffee swirled from the momentum of your mixing. His expression still cold as he pulled his phone from his pocket ignoring your statement.

You didn’t know why but this was making you slightly annoyed— hurt even. The two of you were colleagues now and you were doing your best to extend an olive branch despite what happened in the past. The least he could do was—

Your eyes widen slightly at an unfamiliar scent mixed with the bitterness of the coffee, lashes fluttering as you felt his arm brush your chest faintly. Grabbing the cup of coffee from your grasp, you could only watch as Sunghoon took a sip from the drink, his furrowed brows relaxing softly seeing you look up to him in a daze.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to drink it— jeez.” Taking another long sip, your lips lifted slightly seeing him finish the drink in one go.

“The coffee isn’t going to run away from you Mr. Park slow down.” You huffed, picking up your bag before making your way to the door; a slight warmth spreading throughout your chest hearing him call out your name as you didn’t bother turning back.

Since then none of the other teachers have bothered you in and out of the faculty meetings, you weren’t sure if it was because of Sunghoon or the fact they’ve accepted your new position— but it was one less thing to worry about. And to your surprise since your little barista session, the two of you kept it respectful and greeted each other whether it be passing in the halls or coincidentally seeing each other in the storage room; it was better than acting like each other’s existence didn’t matter because deep down— you at least knew it did.

“Right, so you need to move all the pH variables to this side and—” While helping some of the kids, you were interrupted by the sound of your door opening hastily. Immediately fixing your posture, your eyes widened at the sight of Sunghoon standing at the doorway with Niki and Jungwon. His gaze looked around the room almost in embarrassment with his hands shoved in his track pants. It was the first time he was in your class after your first encounter at the start of the month.

“I forgot it was your day with the kids— here.” You heard him say, pushing the two who were still dressed in their athletic clothing as he huffed a cough from your soft greeting towards the both of them.

“Well they’re doing really well recently so I wouldn’t have minded the two of them staying with you.” Pushing your hands into your back pockets, you stood next to Sunghoon after giving Jungwon a small pat on the back with a sigh. With the first big game against the rival school coming soon— you understood the need for practice on the court.

“If I didn’t know what both of you were talking about I’d assume it was about co-parenting,” Niki mumbled throwing his bag on the floor after you failed to greet him the same way you did Jungwon. Hearing a few snickers from the other students you quickly denied his statement, blinking rapidly as you moved away from an equally flustered Sunghoon who was mentioning extra laps around the track if Niki didn’t get to work.

After a few minutes of settling everyone in their seats, you noted Sunghoon still by the door, “Are you not going to return to practice?” You asked him, watching his eyes flicker back to you after gazing into space again.

“Oh— my assistant has it covered, the boys are just doing a practice game so I don’t really need to be there.” He nodded ruffling his track pants quietly. With a nod you motioned for him to have a seat at the lab tables if he wished to.

“Well you’re welcome to stay if you want to, I’m just going to go over a few topics before assigning practice worksheets.” You told him with a grin. Sunghoon obviously took the opportunity to stay as for the past couple of days; he purposely changed his route around campus to find more opportunities to run into you.

It’s just been—- so long. Hearing your voice again somehow pulled him back into this warm serenity he’s been missing for years. Your soft laugh that rang like wedding bells in his ear resurfaced drowned out thoughts and emotions that kept him up during the night and distracted him during the day. Things didn’t end the way he wished—nor did they end the way he thought they would.

He should’ve never asked you to go to that damn party, the two of you were fine before that whole hell hole. Sunghoon trusted you— trusted you when it came to tutoring him to his full potential and trusted you to be honest when it came to if his hair looked weird in the morning. But he never thought he had to question his trust when it came to your feelings towards him.

One minute he left to go find a friend who was light years braver than him when it came to words of love and confession— and the next he came back to you with another person; another man. An acquaintance, one who never really had good things to say about him. To see you leaning against him with your face cradled into his neck sharing shots together, made his stomach drop.

Dread? Sorrow? Regret?

What else was there to say, he hadn’t asked to you be his girlfriend officially yet since he was so scared.

Of rejection? No. Commitment? No, so what was it?

There he was, standing in the midst of the party seeing you slip away from his fingers in what felt like seconds, and he never looked back.

Pride? Prejudice? He was sure the english novel that was apart of his assignment at the time persuaded the labels listed but things seemed better off this way. He never reached out and you didn’t either— apart of him hoped you did, but seeing you pass him on campus reassured him that maybe he was expecting too much; and he did.

Years later despite what happened, he couldn’t help but feel a part of him yearn for that fulfillment again. To feel your hands cradling his face, your voice warming him in love and solace. But he concluded since those days being someone who feels too deeply— is just too exhausting.

“Woah—” Sunghoon mumbled out of his daze, your hand slamming slightly on the lab table startled him as the students left one by one as it’s been almost an hour since tutoring started. “Tutoring is over, you can leave now Coach Park.” holding back a grin, you couldn’t help but snicker at his flustered expression, something you haven’t seen in a while. Sunghoon stood hastily— embarrassed as his two athletes were glancing at him with slight snickers.

“Hey! Be ready for practice tomorrow, on time or I’m adding two extra sets to each workout.” Despite Niki and Jungwon’s teasing gaze towards him as they left— ones you didn’t notice, Sunghoon couldn’t help but shift in place seeing you struggle to put all the chairs on top of the tables for evening cleaning.

Moving to help you, the sound of the clock ticking and chairs scratching against the tile floor filled the unfamiliar silence that surrounded you btoh— unfamiliar in a way where for the first time in a while for you and him; the silence didn’t have to hurt anymore.

“Are you heading home soon?” You heard him ask beside you, glancing out the window with the sun setting in the distance; you let out a tired sigh with a nod.

“Okay I’ll go grab my things and walk you to the lot, meet me in front.” Before you could deny his request he was already out your door in a blink. A small snicker escaped your lips as you swiftly went to gather your things, you weren’t sure what was going through that little mind of his at the moment, but a part of you was glad he wasn’t acting like the two of you were complete strangers.

“Is your car this way?” you heard him ask, the two of you meeting outside your hall before walking to the front of the school.

“Uh— I’m actually taking the bus, my car is still in the dealer because the breaks were acting up last month.” running a hand through your hair you thanked him softly for walking you this far until you felt him grab ahold of your forearm.

“Then I’ll just take you home it’s probably on the way—”

“No! I’ll probably stop by to get dinner, it’s fine really you don’t have to.” You reassured him, doing your best to pull away from his grasp that only tightened the more you resisted.

“Then let’s just catch up.” His suggestion makes you pause in shock, “I should probably eat dinner too.” How could you say no, he was looking at you with those hopeful eyes again, a glint of excitement in them when you unconsciously nodded to his offer.

“Auntie can we have two bowls please!” you called out— greeting the workers you saw often at the local noodle shop with a smile sitting down across Sunghoon, you thanked the waiter who was placing drinks infront of the both of you.

“You seem to come here often, is it that good?” His light-hearted comment caused you to chuckle as you passed him the utensils from the box.

“Once you eat what I ordered you won’t question my taste again.” Slightly glaring at him your cheeks immediately lifted as his laugh filled the booth.

“That’s what you said about that one pizza place on campus— I’m sure you remember the fish bones underneath the cheese.” he pointed out, his foot tapping yours slightly as your lips puckered at the memory of Sunghoon pulling out a few fish bones from his slice of pizza.

It was one of your weekend dates where you offered to find a place for dinner, despite it being one of the worst meals you’ve had during college it was a sweet memory the two of you cherished.

“And there wasn’t even fish on the menu.” with your expression in a scrunch, a smile broke onto your face as Sunghoon’s dimple was full display, recalling the utter horror the both of you shared realizing the crunches on your pizza weren’t dried onions.

“Okay this does look good…”Gawking at the bowl of hot noodles in front of him, Sunghoon couldn’t help but dig in as you nodded watching him sip the broth; savoring the taste and warmth of each spoonful.

You and Sunghoon did have many cherishing moments together. Figured as time went by you could push down these memories and hopefully, they would fade away the same way your happiness did with each passing month. Maybe the storm brewing in your heart could wash away any traces of him you had left in your mind, but of course, those prayers went unanswered.

You hoped it was one of those instances where you missed the memories more than the person, but deep down you knew that wasn’t true. Just a mental coping mechanism to convince yourself the closure you never got wasn’t the one thing you needed to move on with what happened.

Why? Self-depreciation perhaps, emotions do that to a person. Maybe it clicked that you simply refused to let go of the memories— feelings you felt when things were good till they weren’t as it was a reminder that what you had was a good thing that should’ve never ended.

But maybe it needed to.

“You were right this place is pretty good.” He huffed a chuckle, watching your eyes travel back to your bowl as you scoffed slightly.

“Niki and Jungwon don’t have to come every other day anymore, they should be fine with eligibility just send them when you can.” You nodded finishing the last of your meal, Sunghoon sat watching you quietly as you hummed with each bite. You kept your habits over the years, fingers pushing your hair behind your ears ever so often to the way your eyes were unable to meet his when you spoke or caught his gaze by accident, it was all the same.

“And I know I’ve said this already but seriously thank you—for speaking up during the meeting,” pausing your eyes met his as the soft music within the restaurant feathered your words of appreciation.

“They haven’t bothered me since which takes so much stress off of me.” With a small laugh, you expected him to follow, but your expression falls short when you noted his contemplating eyes gazing down with a frown.

With the two of you here in the moment, despite the cordial decency you wanted to keep, Sunghoon couldn’t help but wish to know the truth. In the few months it took for the two of you to grow close, there was always the unknown if you would be more than friends. After being accustomed to your minuscule characteristics and habits, something never truly settled right with him about what happened.

You just weren’t that type of person.

If things never worked out between the both of you it would’ve been because a few reasons, but none of them being what he saw that night. Your slight aggression towards him now after the obvious change of attitude from that night told him maybe things weren’t the way it seemed.

“Stop thanking me, just take it as a very delayed thank you for helping me graduate.” He huffed out, making sure to keep the cordial atmosphere you tried so hard to create during work despite the curiosity brewing inside him.

“Speaking of graduation, did you miss the ceremony? I don’t remember seeing you when I went for friends who were in the same major.” he finally spit out—his question obviously making you freeze, you weren’t expecting him to bring up anything from back then.

But Sunghoon was always full of surprises.

“Uh— yeah I, actually attended an overseas internship so that required me to leave a few days before the ceremony.” Picking the vegetables in your bowl, you could practically feel his gaze burning holes into you. Sunghoon knew you were lying, but he wasn’t going to let you know that.

“Are you sure it didn’t have anything to deal with what happened?” your jaw tensed as you set down the pair of chopsticks bringing your eyes to meet his.

“And what exactly are you referring to Sunghoon?” voice tinted with anger taking in the solemn expression that suddenly overtook his face.

“Are you recalling to the fact I was in between what I wanted to do with my major so I took an extra semester to graduate or the fact the both of us just— went back to pretending like we were strangers?” You didn’t know what snapped inside you, past anger and resentment like skeletons in a closet finally acknowledged for the first time; in a long time.

“Strangers?” Sunghoon scoffed, trailing his eyes away from you to the empty booth beside you two in exasperation. “You think what happened was something that happened for the fuck of it? Is that all it was to you?” his tone cold looking back at you.

Confusion? Indignation? You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly blossomed when your eyes met, but something made his eyes turn cold as the realization settled that you weren’t the only one hurting. Eyes that once looked at you with warmth and tenderness now looked at you in vexation.

“You made a promise you couldn’t keep then left taking no responsibility like the coward you were.” slamming the money you found to cover the bill on the table, you stood from your seat in a hurry. You did your best to make things seem as if the two of you shared nothing more than a few classes back in college; normal— so why the hell did he have to show up in your life again when you were starting to realize what’s coming will be better than what was gone.

“Wait Y/N let’s just talk—”

“There’s nothing to talk about Sunghoon! You made things painfully clear that night so please just… pretend like we don’t know each other.” And with a frown you left, this whole acting normal bit was bullshit to begin with. Sitting back down in the booth Sunghoon couldn’t help but curse as the sight of your back leaving the shop quickly seemed a little too familiar.

Instead of clarity, he left with more questions to fill his thoughts at night.

“And you’re saying he was basically hinted you were the reason things didn’t work out.” Naeun pointed out; brows raised in revelation as the both of you were seated in your living room, cans of beer lining the coffee table alongside bags of snacks she prepared after asking her to come over. After your small altercation with Sunghoon last night you really needed another opinion on the situation— and a drink.

“Well, he didn’t say it but it felt like he was insinuating it— I don’t know! Either way, I saw what I saw and heard what I heard, and you did too.” whining slightly you took one last gulp from the nearly empty can before crushing it within your palm. You thought it was ridiculous how Sunghoon had the impudence to turn this around on you, but what would be the reason?

“Y/N just ignore him, it’s not worth thinking about it this much… I say you distract yourself with that cute coworker you’ve been friends with.” she chuckled passing you another can which you accepted with a frown.

“You mean Jeno?”

“Well— you said he was your type and the two of you get along well, I say why not.” she shrugged, nodding to the beat of the music playing from your speaker you let out a sigh of… consideration.

It was true, the both of you always got along well, both in the work setting and away. Maybe you were too busy with forwarding your career, but you never thought about getting involved romantically with anyone else, that’s what you told yourself.

And there was truth to it, in the years since you’ve accomplished a lot in your line of work. Aspirations became reachable goals, and you were finally at a point in your career which you considered stable for your age and experience. You wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t try to to talk to other men in these few years, but they just never worked out, they weren’t—

“Sunghoon is going to be a part of the school festival committee with you?” Blinking out from your daze, you nodded bringing your knees to your chest. “You make it sound like it’s just the two of us.” Chuckling slightly you popped open another can of beer to refresh the lingering bitterness on your tongue.

“But yes, the Science and Literature department are paired up for the festival. I’ll just do my best to ignore him but I’ll be hard if he keeps being confrontational.”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Nodding at her softly you gave her a hug thanking her for coming over to make you feel better.

“Go— your clingy boyfriend is about to call me again asking if you’re coming home.” With a smile she flicked you off before bidding you goodbye quietly in the hall outside of your condo.

Naeun always found you and Sunghoon odd, how such contrasting individuals were able to grow so fond of one another, adapt to each other so quickly and willingly. You were kind at heart with a mind that was filled with never-ending dreams while he was someone who lived in the moment with a dubious reserved mind. You’d think two people of similar nature would get along much better, but once she met her own lover in her grad years, she understood that wasn’t the case.

“Yeah can I get one americano with milk please.” Glancing up from her phone, Naeun had to glance again to make sure what she saw— more like who, wasn’t who she thought it was. Naeun was here to have a drink before meeting with her boyfriend for a date to end the weekend, and the last person she expected to see was the guy her best friend was reviling last night.

“Park Sunghoon what are you doing here?” being just as shocked as she was, Sunghoon gave her an amused nod before walking over with his receipt. “She wasn’t lying when she said you were back huh, what are you doing getting coffee this afternoon.” Acknowledging his backpack she let out a hum when he told her he was here to fish a few assignments he had for upcoming lesson plans.

Shifting on his feet, Sunghoon offered for them to take a seat recognizing that glint in Naeun’s glare that he knew well from before— she had questions, and he could guess about who.

“Did you know Y/N worked there before coming?” Being thrown off by the sudden question, Sunghoon couldn’t help but choke a bit on his coffee. Americano with milk and sugar, a staple he grew to love after you made him a slightly different version a while back at work.

“If I knew she was here I wouldn’t have taken the offer.” With a raised brow Naeun couldn’t help but scoff slightly.

“Wow you really do have the uttermost audacity.” leaning back in her chair as Sunghoon stared at her in confusion.

“Listen I know you’re friends so you’d defend her despite anything and I’m not demeaning you for that—”

“And what would I be defending her for? Giving you a chance when other people were making her feel like she shouldn’t have? You broke her heart Sunghoon, embarrassed her in front of people who didn’t even know her.” Rolling her eyes Naeun was growing frustrated looking at the way his upset expression turned confused.

“Don’t act stupid Sunghoon people saw and told Y/N, people even told me that you left with some girl that night and never came back.” Sitting in silence, Naeun couldn’t help but cross her arms at the sudden quietude overcoming the table, the silent noise in the background filling the empty ambiance between the two.

“Are you finally remembering now? Because I had to show up and pull Y/N off some—”

“Wait. Who told you that, who told her that? I told Y/N I was going to look for a friend— but I never left… she knows that.” A shift in his voice was clearly acknowledged by Naeun as she sat up in her seat shaking her head.

“I don’t know it was some guy she kept saying was your friend when I found her; drunk and delirious might I add, but she trusted you.” Disappointment laced her tone while Sunghoon looked away, thoughts running miles she could see, his eyes darting from the busy sidewalk outside back to the blending of coffee beans at the counter.

“I went to go talk to a friend— who I ended up not being able to find, then I came back and she was with an acquaintance I knew…he was all over her and I don’t know.” rubbing the paper cover over his cup, Sunghoon felt the weight shifting off his shoulders being able to finally talk to someone about what happened. But when Naeun didn’t respond; he couldn’t help but look up only to be met with bundled-up tissue paper thrown at him.

“You think she would really do that to you Sunghoon? She liked you, way too much for that to happen.” Hissing through her teeth Naeun couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh, not at Sunghoon— but to you as well. What type of misunderstanding led to two different views of what happened?

Running his fingers through his hair Sunghoon couldn’t help but grimace at her response. “Naeun that guy she was with was someone who showed interest in her before, he was a teammate of mine and I don’t know—”

“Well that would explain why he told people you left with someone else. I found her leaning against someone else for support because that asshole got her drunk and then left to god knows where.” With his eyes doubling in size, he couldn’t exactly explain the feeling traveling through him as he chugged the last of his coffee in one go. Foolishness? He knew better than to think you would do that, a mix of internal and external variables engrained him with a different memory than what happened.

But was it wrong for him to feel slightly hopeful?

Cursing was the only thing Sunghoon could do sitting with this new information as Naeun finally understood the grasp of how big the misunderstanding was.

“Is she at home now?” His question caused her gaze to snap toward him with a nod. “Then I should go talk to her about this—this mistake.” Stopping him quickly, Sunghoon knew it was imprudent to confront you at the moment, with what happened a few days ago he could conclude you probably wanted nothing else to do with him.

“Well you see, I might or might not have encouraged her to move on and forget about you and everything that happened.” Sheepishly scratching her cheek, she rolled her eyes as Sunghoon reassured her it was nothing to be sorry for.

“And I may or may not have told her to take a chance with the cute Coach from the math department.”

“Oh.”

Naeun couldn’t help the guilt taking over her expression as Sunghoon sat down slowly with a slight frown, realization hitting him that she meant Jeno.

So you were considering Jeno all this time.

“Trust me when I say it was just a suggestion, she seemed conflicted about it first just… try to talk to her when you can, I promise she’ll listen.”

Well, she lied.

Every chance he took to talk to you never seemed to work out for him, from seeing you in the staff lounge to the storage units and printing stations— you were ignoring him, and he knew that.

Somehow you always finished lunch when it was his turn to have a break or you managed to print all your paperwork magically when he showed up to the storage units after calculating your routes in between classes. It was hopeless.

“Coach!”

“Yeah sorry, um you two not going to tutoring today?” Tapping his fingers on the clipboard, Sunghoon could only watch as Jungwon shook his head with a grin knowing he caught his coach dazing off— again.

“Nope! Ms.Kim said we’re all good with eligibility.”

“He’s only asking because he wants to walk us to class again… right Coach Park?” Grabbing Niki by his jersey, Sunghoon couldn’t help but pull him into a headlock as the younger boy laughed at the teasing. He wasn’t sure when kids suddenly became aware of feelings; especially his, but if you asked the boys they would’ve said it was obvious from the way his eyes followed you when you were around. Or the way his head turns immediately at the mention of your name by staff or students.

But if you asked Niki thinks its obvious from the way he always volunteers to walk them to tutoring, your tutoring.

“Sunghoon!” Letting go of Niki he turned to see Jeno greeting him coming in from the outside field with the soccer team. Being the main coaches on campus it was expected the both of them would see each other often— unfortunately for him, as the idea that you were somehow considering on pursuing something with Jeno did not sit well with him. Sending him a nod, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes as the boys greeted their ‘favorite’ math teacher.

“It’s not that hard to do math you know, I could help the two of you if you need it.” He sighed nonchalantly, crossing his arms as the two scoffed at him chugging their water bottles. “No offense Coach Park but why would we ask you if we have a math teacher who’s willing to tutor us?” Shaking his head Niki walked away leaving Sunghoon gawking, the whistle falling from between his lips as Jungwon shifted on his toes awkwardly.

“Coach it’s true, plus Mr.Lee is super nice don’t worry! I always see him with Ms.Kim in the morning before class starts— yeah hold up!” Grinning at his teammates he gave Sunghoon one last knowing grin before running off to the others.

“What do they know about being super nice?” He mumbled, blowing the whistle while motioning towards his assistant coach to go through with another round of cardio.

It was funny really.

“Do you know today’s date?” Glancing between you working on a few notes and the other teachers talking about their plans for the upcoming school festival, he was grateful for agreeing to participate. Despite being one of the only people in his department to take charge of the role, Sunghoon truly was here to find a chance to talk to you— even if it meant asking for today’s date.

Seeing you weren’t paying much attention to him, he made sure to clear his throat a little louder this time.

“What’s today’s date?”

“It’s the twentieth…” Dropping his pen on the table, his jaw clenched hearing Jeno answer instead, his tone slightly annoyed at Sunghoon asking you the same question repreatedly.

“I wasn’t asking you.” He mumbled quietly, causing the latter to roll his eyes as he stated the date for Sunghoon to acknowledge again.

He didn’t care.

“What’s today’s date?” Sunghoon asked again, this time directly asking you with a tint of hope in his voice.

“O-oh it’s the twentieth.” You told him with a small smile, going back to answering questions some of the other teachers had about preparation time and supplies. With a successful smug, Sunghoon glanced over at Jeno who shook his head out of bewilderment.

He found this to be an improvement, hell this was the first thing you’ve said to him since the dinner from over a week ago. “Do you need help with this?” You heard him ask, before you could answer Sunghoon was already grabbing the boxes you were carrying back to the paperwork room.

“Yeah, you can just leave them here.” You pointed out, an awkward grin on your lips knowing the last time you spoke to him wasn’t the friendliest.

“Hey I’m sorry about last time, I shouldn’t have blown up on you the way I did so I apologize—”

“No you shouldn’t apologize I sort of antagonized you so I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” He interjected, bringing his hands up in an attempt to stop you from interrupting him with a small huff.

“Sunghoon I just don’t want us to be fighting anymore, it’s been so long we should both just get over it— I’m ready to forget about it if you are.” thinking it was the best solution you huffed softly seeing Sunghoon slowly nod shoving his hands in his pockets with a slight frown.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Seeing him slowly bring his gaze up to yours, you released a relieved sigh as he nodded quietly.

“Yeah I really do Y/N.” With a small smile, you nodded as the sound of other teachers down the hall interrupted the two of you.

“Great because I’m gonna need a lot of help for the upcoming festival.” You pointed out, standing beside him letting the other staff walk into the room past you with a grin.

“And I’ll be there to help you, always.” You heard him mumble beside you, heart fluttering lightly as your fingers gripped the fabric of your pants.

You weren’t sure if your olive branch was going to do much in effort when it came to Sunghoon but— the two of you were now on good terms, really good terms to say.

Maybe it was the effort of meeting up before or after school to brainstorm ideas for the festival but apart of you felt somewhat displeased. It was stupid really, you were upset when he was too caught up in the past with what happened, but now you were slightly displeased at the fact he was willing to forget everything just like that.

Complicated— you knew.

The sudden knock against the wood door made you flinch lightly from your desk as the sight of Sunghoon made you grin. After a few hours of grading papers, you didn’t notice the setting sun and quiet halls. Sunghoon has been coming either before or after school to discuss plans and set up ideas for the festival, when you learned he out of everyone signed up to run his department, a part of you grew in excitement.

Seeing him at your door right now made you realize that, whether the halls and classes were empty in the bright early mornings or late in the setting sun, part of you felt a bit of self-sorrow.

It reminded you of the way you were back in college, waiting for each other after classes with exciting smiles and playful hands. If things stayed the way they were, would the two of you have made it this far? Even if the exciting smiles turned into tired ones, and warm hugs replaced the playful ones— you could only leave it up to your imagination.

“Hey.” You whispered, his coming figure making you drop your pen softly. Eyes widening you scoffed as Sunghoon placed a cup of warm coffee on your desk. “I figured you needed a quick coffee break seeing how you’re still working this late.” He sighed, sitting ontop of one of the desk in front of you.

“You came earlier?” His hum was enough to let you know he did as you were busy in your own world to be bother any further. “Isn’t this the coffee combo I made you before?” Your voice slightly amused as he nodded with a chuckle.

“Yeah it’s been my go-to since you made me one— I guess you just know exactly what I like.”

“So I think the class came to a consensus on their final ideas for the festival.” Changing the subject quickly, you failed to realize Sunghoon caught the sight of your eyes wavering, flustered.

“Oh yeah? What did they choose, our class came down to one as well.” Blinking quickly you did your best to remain calm as Sunghoon made his way around your desk beside you, his cologne tickling your nose while trying to ignore the obvious sound of your chair squeaking from scooting back slightly.

“I-I think they all agreed to do a snack booth.” You replied, focusing your gaze across the room to the lab tables, an attempt to prevent your cheeks from heating up in embarrassment. “The kids chose a photobooth, I think that’s a good combination for our section.” He commented earning a nod from you.

The feeling of something fluttering against your hair made you to flinch until the calluses of Sunghoon’s fingers caressing a few strands of hair came into view.

“Stop overworking yourself.” he whispered.

“I’m not Sunghoon I’m just behind on a few assignments is all.” You reasoned, leaning back into your seat as his fingers continued to play through your loose strands of hair. Being alone for so long, you often forget what it’s like to have someone asking you from time to time to slow down.

But to Sunghoon it was just one of your habits he knew you couldn’t get rid of, meticulous and compassionate to what you put your mind to, that was what he loved about you. But he knew it was important to put a limit on that habit. He knew you didn’t like people critiquing your work style as it was what you were used to— a small detail he noted back when you grew frustrated at the professor for telling you to take a break.

“Okay I believe you.” He sighed in a whisper, fingers still brushing the side of your face before continuing.

“Just remember to rest from time to time… sleep can’t wait but graded assignments can.” he reasoned making you giggle slightly at how unserious he was with a nod.

“The kids wanted me to let you know they’re expecting to see you at the game this Friday— especially Niki.” he brought up, leaning an arm against the head of your chair as you looked up at him confused. You haven’t been to any of the school games on campus, to be fair any games really since back in college when you went to support Sunghoon.

“I think it’ll be important for them that their favorite teacher is there so think about it.” you heard him say, he knew you had a soft spot for the boys and they had one for you.

And so here you were, after days of debating whether you were going to show up or not, you found yourself standing in your classroom overlooking the line of supporters outside the entrance to the gym.

The moment you step foot onto the court, you noticed the home side of the bleachers were lined with hand-painted posters and school-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling of the gym, visible around the poles of the bleachers and floor of the gym. The loud cheering from the student section and low percussion from the band brought a smile to your face, it felt familiar yet so unfamiliar.

“Ms. Kim?” Smiling at the flushed boy you waved at him as he called over for the taller one with a grin.

“You made it! I didn’t think you were coming,” Niki exclaimed with a towel wrapped around his neck.

“Of course I came! You know I have some basketball knowledge up my sleeve.” you winked as two of them laughed feeling you pat them on the shoulder in encouragement. You recognized many students from class and coworkers with anticipating expressions, being one of the biggest games this season the energy was high, high in excitement and pressure.

Trailing your eyes across the gym, it was a surprise to see so many people from the enemy team seated on the opposite side, school colors contrasting against each other as the tension grew on the court. Before you knew it, a grin ghosted on your face as your wondering gaze paused on Sunghoon; dressed in his suit with his clipboard in hand and a pen in the other. His brows were pulled into a frown behind his styled locks looking across the court to the other coach with a scowl, typical competitive Sunghoon.

You didn’t know what but something made you nervous, maybe it was because haven’t been in this type of environment in so long? Or maybe you were feeling the the stress from all the players on the sideline.

The moment his eyes met yours, it was like seeing him for the first time again at his game.

Nostalgia, you were nervous because you knew coming here would’ve made you reminisce on all the good times you had with him those years ago.

You were shown nostalgia was the hearts way of reminding you of what you once loved, what you once cherished. It wasn’t like someone told you, you learned to acknowledge it over the years.

Through your favorite song that oftened played on the radio station you two enjoyed, Goodnight Radio. Photos and scents… nostalgia seemed to have always traveled to you, leaving a bittersweet feeling as sometimes happy memories make you sad–- despite the intended meaning of those words.

You gave him a shy smile, Sunghoon’s grin widening as he nodded in acknowledgement ignoring the looks of Niki and Jungwon glancing between you two. Finding your seat amongst the students, you were happy most of them greeted you with enthusiasm, partly shocked to see you here in the first place.

“I’m surprised to see you here. Not really since I knew you’d come.” Sunghoon called out to you from the benches, yelling over the loud crowd in excitement as the band performance was coming to an end. You knew how important this was for Sunghoon, coming from a background where he was once in their position— this was a big game for him.

Sure, you knew it would reflect on him as this was his first game as the coach, but you knew how important it was to him to win, for the team and for himself.

“And who would I be not coming to support my students?” You yelled back, his smirk widening as he flung his clipboard towards the assistant coach who flinched, you figured he’d be used to that by now. His cheeky grin complimented his smiling eyes and it made you realize this was were Sunghoon belonged, on the court where he always called home.

As the game continued, you knew it was going to be an even game— with the team leading alongside a new coach, it was expected for a few mistake calls here and there. But being against a long time rival defending their wining title, everyone was tense throughout the first half. With the crowd growing weary you could see the stress seeping through Sunghoons stern expression.

You couldn’t help but dismay your feelings aside noting Sunghoon motioning Niki in with a frown, he’s been missing all his shots and making many out of play moves costing the team points and fouls. Flopping on the bench, the boy was told to calm down by Sunghoon who went back to strategizing with the team with a tight frown on his face.

With his head hung low and chest heaving— you stood up making your way down to the benches, away from the rest of the team where Niki was sitting.

“Niki.” Whispering to him, you heart melted seeing his upset expression under the towel draped around his head. He reminded you a lot of your brother back then, passionate and driven by the game but also very emotional in the heat of the moment; that could lead to some bumps in the road— you knew better than anyone growing up with it.

“Ms. Kim I keep messing it up for the team.” You heard him groan, his fingers tightly intertwined trying to blur out the loud crowd from all around.

“It’s not just your fault Niki, like you said it’s a team… you win as a team you lose as a team—and you mess up as a team.” Nodding slowly you grinned seeing him losen the tight grip on his fingers.

“You know Sunghoon only benched you because you were getting upset, not because you’re bad. The last thing he wants is for you to put the blame all on yourself….but he shouldn’t have made that three pointer call if you want to point fingers.” You chuckled, grateful to see his smile again despite the sweat lining his hair. You noted the way his eyes flickered back to the group of players— huddled together as Sunghoon was desperately trying to keep his team together.

____________

“You guys we can still win the game we just need to calm down and rethink our strats.” Sunghoon couldn’t help but feel anxious at the sight of the scoreboard before them, they were ten points down and one of his best players is sitting out for the rest of the quarter for his own sake. He knew how they felt, the pressure to perform well and to win against one of the biggest rivals this year, he saw himself in many of the players on his team.

But instead of forcing them to go through the burden and anger he grew familiar with, he knew it was the right thing to do seeing how upset Niki was getting both on and off the court.

“Coach we need Niki— he’s usually the one leading all the plays down the court, it’s gonna be hard to get past their defense.” Jungwon breathlessly stated.

“ I know but I’m not gonna force him to play when he’s spiraling, we’re just gonna have to play around not having him in the formation.” From his peripheral, his eyes caught your figure rushing back into the crowd— sitting amongst the other students and supporters with a heartfelt expression.

“Coach Park!”

Seeing Niki rush over, he was surprised to see a smile plastered across his flushed face.

“I can play Coach, I’m good.” despite his reassurance Sunghoon was still skeptical noting he wasn’t this spirited a few minutes ago. “Niki I’m not sure if—”

“Coach I didn’t come to play today just to lose.” he made sure to emphasize, and it all clicked for him— a familiar phrase that rang in his ear like bells.

‘I didn’t come just to see you lose.’

It was a joke you’ve always said to him before his games to shake the nerves off his shoulders, even through the wins and losses he knew you were there to support him regardless of the results, and a part of him missed that. It was just something that ticked his heart a bit from the memories.

Bringing his gaze to yours, despite the rather obvious intent to look away— you knew Sunghoon understood your intent; he needed to give Niki the reassurance you gave him.

“Okay, I believe in you but you gotta believe in yourself kid—all of you do.” grinning at the team, Sunghoon felt relieved to see everyone jump in excitement despite the fatigue that overtook their faces not long before this. With less than a quarter left, he knew this was the last push both physically and mentally for the boys— with the whistle blowing the sound of the crowd grew both in excitement once again.

Niki was in a whole different state of mind compared to before the timeout, with both him and Jungwon finally on the same page; gaining points back was easy. However, with the other team being the best of the best, the score was still close— too close. With the clock ticking down and the difference being two points, either the team had to score a three-pointer or prevent the rival team from tieing.

“Niki go, run!” you suddenly exclaimed, ignoring the looks from those around as you could see the thoughts running through his mind faster than his feet were. With his fingers gripping the ball, you could feel your own gripping your pants. This was it. The adrenaline, the rush, the quick silence as everyone held their breath down to the last millisecond.

This was what you missed.

A wide smile made its way to your face, seeing Niki and Jungwon jumping in both happiness and exhaustion as the students ran to the court to celebrate with them— you could only smile.

They won, despite being the underdogs; they won fair and square. Nodding in satisfaction, you gave both of them a proud thumbs up as the both of them kept waving towards you in the crowd. If you were a little younger you would’ve found yourself down there with them.

But despite the happy occasion, it felt bittersweet. You were happy, so happy for the team but you didn’t want the neglected feelings you’ve tried so hard to push away overtake the joyousness you should be feeling.

What should you be feeling?

What were you feeling?

“Y/N!” Turning towards a familiar voice, your heart shunk realizing why the dread you’ve been feeling for the past couple weeks have been eating you up inside.

“We did it! They did it.” Sunghoon grinned down towards you in joy.

You noticed it that one evening— you could still see the Sunghoon you met in college, filled with drive and passion both in basketball and life. He wanted to do a lot of things, visit a lot of places, and accomplish a lot of things. You’ve never admitted it but, it tore you up inside wondering if he ever wanted you to be a part of that.

Has he been well since then?

Did he still think of you the way you thought of him?

Were over-easy eggs with a pinch of salt and garlic still his favorite?

What you and he had, is it gone— forever? You never admitted it, but he always lingered in the back of your mind without effort.

“What’s wrong?” You heard him ask you, shaking your head you held back a small cry trying to pass it off as being emotional for the boys. Your response was hushed out by the loud crowd while your eyes trailed to focus on something else other than Sunghoon who recongized that small glint in your gaze.

“Well I think we can thank you for talking some sense into Niki.” he blurted out, making you shake your head in defiance still admiring the confetti falling from above with a small smile. Sunghoon couldn’t help but admire the way your glossy eyes shimmered from the silver confetti falling above, they looked like the stars he used name in his head while stargazing with you on the campus lawn.

“I owe you one— after this actually if that’s okay.”

What you didn’t expect was Sunghoon secretly picking you up after the game behind the school. With kids celebrating in the main parking lot and on the field, the last thing you wanted was for a rumor to start about the science teacher and coach leaving with each other after the game.

“Sorry did you wait long?” he whispered unlocking the door for you, shaking your head with a chuckle you slid in leaving your things in the backseat swiftly.

“Are you picking a place to eat this time?” you grinned softly, his laugh echoing lightly throughout the car as he quickly pulled out of the parking lot passing by familiar faces you’ve seen in the halls.

“Well it wouldn’t be much of a treat if you did all the work— did anyone see you?” He asked, eyeing you from his peripheral with a finger tapping the wheel.

“No only a few teachers left through the back but other than that just Jeno.” you hummed.

“Jeno?” he whispered, grip tightening on the wheel slightly making you bite back a grin unconsciously. “Mhm, he even asked if I needed any help going to where I needed to go.” you sighed nonchalantly, his occasional glances turning into full head turns— waiting for you to continue.

“Did you tell him you were taking the bus?” His perplexed tone makes you giggle slightly as you continue to admire the colorful lights blending outside of the window. Sunghoon could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat waiting for your response, with your head turned the other way he wasn’t sure what to think.

“Nope I told him I was going with you,” A smile broke across his face after realization hit him that you had no problem telling Jeno who you were with, and it was with him— silly he figured but it made his ego swell and cheeks heat.

“Hey eyes on the road sir.” You playfully reminded him, pushing a finger into his dimple softly causing him to clear his throat in embarrassment —coughing nonchalantly to hide his giddiness.

After pulling into the destination, Sunghoon held a hand out to grab as you confusingly looked at him and then the empty parking lot you were standing in.

“I was planning on taking you to a nice restaurant worth half of my paycheck but I figured you would’ve liked this a lot better.” he grinned cheekily, closing the trunk with a bag of take-out in one hand and alcohol in the other. Leading you up the stairs, your eyes widened slightly taking in the bright city skyline and busy traffic.

“It’s not the prettiest but I think it’s still pretty.” He sighed, straightening a small towel he took from the locker room on one of the cemented platforms for you to sit on.

“No Sunghoon it’s beautiful.” You whispered in a hush, leaning against the cemented edge with your elbows admiring the breeze from this high up, “Seriously.” you weren’t sure why but the view brought a content smile to your lips, after working nonstop for quite a while— you sometimes forget you step back and enjoy the moment. You learned to find the small and ordinary things beautiful, the lining car lights twinkling in the distance to the cicadas singing in the breeze.

Things will continue on in the world whether you comply to that idea or not, and it’s okay.

After perfecting his set up Sunghoon was glad you weren’t too picky about the setting, but you never were. Seeing you stare out to the view in fascination was a reason why he loved experiencing new things with you, not only was he getting to experience something new— but he was able to see you do as well. He loved it.

“Yeah— it really is beautiful.” He repeated, your head turning at his agreeance only to see his gaze on you. The tip of his nose slightly red from the cold while his eyes were filled with solace as he looked down at you.

Your heart was doing that thing again….

“Um, so did you decide on takeout? How’d you find the place?” You managed to let out, walking towards the small setup Sunghoon laid out as he rushed over to make sure the towel was still flat for you to sit on. “Y-yeah the boys said it was pretty good so I thought maybe we should try it.” He explained, motioning towards the pack of beer that you excitedly opened up.

“The boys did?” kids were trendy these days and that could mean one of two things— it was gonna be really good, or just really hyped up. Surprisingly it was pretty good, Sunghoon could be a picky eater from what you remember but he was fully enjoying himself—that could also be from the alcohol.

By now you were a few shots in, a couple of beer cans opened and a whole box of fried chicken finished. With the cold breeze brushing against your hot cheeks you couldn’t help but glance at Sunghoon from time to time secretly. His styled hair was now messed up slightly from the wind and his cheeks were slightly flushed from the alcohol.

“Sunghoon.” You softly called out, eyes slightly hazed from the can of beer you chugged down wondering if this was a good idea to talk unsober. His low hum sent shivers down your spine as you stared off in the distance towards the twinkling city lights.

Sunghoon was buzzed, he knew he needed to sober up soon to take you home but the thought of you next to him somehow made him anxious— leading to one too many shots.

Maybe it was the way you were picking at the empty can between your fingers, or the blank stare off in the distance; he couldn’t tell what you were thinking and it made him wonder. Your somehow sad expression when he found you after the game made him realize one thing, with this time apart he didn’t know how you’ve been at all.

Were you and your mom still on bad terms? You’ve confided to him one night after he found you crying to yourself when you thought he was asleep, despite how well and proud you presented yourself at school; you never felt good enough which broke his heart. You were sensitive, he knew that— a person who’d rather show off only your happy and good sides despite how polar opposite you might’ve felt.

“Do you regret it?” your small voice broke his thoughts, Sunghoon wasn’t sure if he heard right, the feeling of his heart suddenly dropping along with your solemn expression showed him you were speaking as yourself right now, not as the respective Ms.Kim, not YN from college but you right now in the moment.

“Regret what?”

With a shaky sigh, you shook your head trying to mask the slight tremor in your voice.

“I-I don’t know, everything?” You managed to let out, despite everything that happened, you had more good memories to grieve over than the bad—hardly any. Sunghoon was quiet for a while, and it made the thoughts in your mind run for miles wondering why.

Maybe he did regret it.

With your mouth gaping slightly the words ‘forget it-–it’s a stupid question’ were at the tip of your tongue. But a part of you knew it wasn’t stupid, it was just closure.

“You know sometimes I think about it.” He sighed, his voice low from the unexpected question.

“Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean you weren’t one of the best things that happened to me Y/N.” you unknowingly let out a shaky sigh, of relief? Content? You were happy to confirm what Sunghoon felt wasn’t a silly fling you tried to convince yourself he saw you as.

Acceptance? With the words ‘we didn’t work out’ solidifying your long-time question of what happened, you were somehow at the same time struggling to accept that this was how things happened.

We just didn’t work out, despite for how bad you wanted things to— they didn’t.

“Me too—” it was the alcohol. Had to be the alcohol from the way your eyes found his, looking at you with a besotted gaze as warm as the feeling pitting inside.

“You were mine too.”

Unable to process what happened next, all you could feel was Sunghoon’s nose brushing against yours while your eyes fluttered on their own.

His fingertips brushing through your hair and against your jaw had you gasping slightly— had to be the alcohol. The feeling of warmth radiating off his lips had your heart ticking to death, lips so soft you could remember your first shared kiss with Sunghoon under your covers that one night.

His blazer that was on your lap was slipping as the feeling of his chest brushing against yours made you melt inside— it most definitely the alcohol.

“I regret it.” Your eyes immediately widened, freezing in place not understanding the meaning behind the sudden change in his answer.

“Fuck I regret it so much Y/N.” he pulled away, running a hand through his locks as your hand slowly falls down on your lap, heart beating loudly from the mix of liquor and your emotions.

“But you just said you didn’t…” you couldn’t help but notice your voice coming out softly from shock and fear— fear of your worst nightmare coming true. You didn’t realize but a small drop of sadness touched the palm of your hand, a tear. Sunghoon immediately cupped your cheeks whipping them away despite you telling him to let go.

“No Y/N I meant I regret not reaching out to you after that night at the stupid party— I fucked up.” Your brows furrowed slightly not understanding his confession.

“I accidentally ran into Naeun a while ago and she told me, everything.” he emphasized, bringing the blazer that was no longer near you back to your lap in a hurry.

“I was stupid, I was lost, and I ruined everything.” he softly told you, his eyes downcasted towards your hands with remnants of tears that you collected in the past minutes.

“Did you know her?” his questioning gaze led you to clarify the question further.

“Did you know the girl you left with that night?” You whispered, playing with your fingers while the wind blew through your hair across your tear-stained skin.

“What? No Y/N there was no girl… there was never another girl—ever.” He emphasized, turning to you quickly brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I just went outside to see if my friend left and went around the block a few times before talking to Jay…” he explained, hoping you remembered his college friends from that night that could vouch for him.

Glancing towards Sunghoon your brows furrowed slightly trying to connect the dots, with his soft gaze taking in your reaction you immediately turned to face him as well.

“And when I came back you were together with Kyungmin—” he cursed slightly his eyes looking into the distance with his brows pulled together. The name was unfamiliar, but you exactly who he was talking about.

“Sunghoon no— I” you denied, shaking your head expressing that you certainly weren’t together with Kyungmin.

“I know.” he muffled, taking your hand in his before pulling to sit close, the heat from his arm radiating off onto you slightly making it painfully obvious about how close he was to you. Chewing the inside of your cheek, the urge to tell him that you missed him fell at the tip of your tongue—much to your surprise he beat you to it. Bringing your enclasped hands together, a small peck was placed in the center of your dorsal palm, your skin burning with butterflies as a small smile made it’s way to your lips.

“I missed you so much.” He whispered, his eyes meeting yours filled with solace and sorrow— the moonlight perfectly highlighting the tip of his nose and the darkness of his pupils.

“I missed you too Hoon.” your small voice making him sigh into your palm almost in content.

“Missed you too much.” You added seeing his gaze travel across your face made your throat tighten— breathing hitched as the pink of his cheeks and the deep color of his lips became more visible with each passing second.

No matter what happened you realized after meeting Sunghoon again after all these years— you will always find your way back to eachother, back to the person who was meant to have your heart. That’s just how things worked for the both of you.

Two souls such as yourself don’t find eachother by accident or coincidence.

You could say goodbye to everyone else but not Sunghoon, never Sunghoon. Not when his brown eyes were gazing like you owned his world. His lips pecking your cheek softly as you felt your heart burst in love and jolity.

And that feeling of love and jolity continued with each moment of intimacy shared between you two after that night. The secret kisses under the blanket at your condo as he stays the night after only wanting to drop you off after work— to the secret kisses inbetween classes behind the printer in the faculty room and underneath your lab tables.

His slender pinky that would hook onto yours underneath the table during faculty meeting were your favorite, it was quit obvious by the smile ghosting on your lips absentmindedly while Sunghoon swung your intertwined pinkies across his lap. With the festival coming up soon, alot of these sweet moments were limited as the both of you not only had the ending semester work to complete but also responsibilities with the school festival.

But Sunghoon never failed to call you after work, whether you were preparing dinner or getting ready for bed; the chime of your ringtone always brought a smile to your tired expression.

“Ms.Kim where do you want us to place these chairs?” Twirling the pen between your fingers you motioned for your students to carry the stack of chairs towards the otherside of the court yard. With the festival happening later tonight there were still plenty of tasked to be done and last minute details to perfect before you could call it a day. When hours became one, you were basically running around campus like a crazed chicken to find the missing signs that were needed to complete your photobooth stand.

“Shoot where the hell did I place the signs.” you mumbled, swiftly going to your class that was filled with supplies and crafts done by the students. It was a festive time for the students, exams were over and the holidays were coming up; with the new year came new things to look forward to and the festival was the cherry on top.

“Ow!” You cursed, holding onto your knee that accidentally bumped one of the desk as you rushed to the missing signs that you were looking for.

“Y/N?” Your eyes instantly darted towards the door seeing an equally disheveled Sunghoon with a box of snacks by his foot, you figured he came up to the class to get supplies as well.

“Hoon!” you exclaimed softly, getting up from your position noting that despite looking disheveled— Sunghoon was still so handsome.

“That’s gonna leave a bruise.” he snickered, eyeing the size of your christmas sweater the two of you decided to secretly match with. The memory alone made him smile, the one you initially wanted was out of stock and the next option was two times the size of what you would usually buy. But you looked adorable; slightly flushed from running around, hair was pushed behind the backs of your ears by the headband you were wearing.

“My little reindeer is so cute.” he cheesed, poking your antlers as you looked up to him with a sparkling glimmer in your eyes. Feeling him pull you into his embrace, your arms immediately circled around his wasit, face buried into the wool of his santa sweater as you felt him kiss the top of your crown, whispering a small I missed you inbetween kisses that eventually landed around your face.

“Everyone did a pretty good job setting up for the festival.” You hummed, looking outside of the window at the twinkling colored lights from down below and the line of people waiting for the festival to begin.

“Well if it wasn’t for you always on our asses–”

“Sunghoon!” You exclaimed softly, pushing him away as he apologized with a chuckle—reaching to pull you back into his embrace. With your arms leaning against the window, you couldn’t help but smile in silence, silence that was no more filled with pain or acted like a void, it was silence of appreciation.

“This is kind of familiar don’t you think?” you heard him say beside you, his elbow slightly touching yours against the window as the two of you looked off into the courtyard, a small giggle leaving your lips as he made fun of Jeno for tripping over a few boxes from behind.

Looking up you realized what he meant from his comment as your smile softened at the warm twinkling bulb lights you decorated along the upper rim of your windows.

“Yeah instead this time Jake won’t interrupt us right?” You teased feeling him wrap an arm around your frame trapping you against the window. Leaning down he hummed a thought, his warm breath tickling the apples of your cheeks— the flashes of his friend interrupting his first kiss with you making him chuckle from the thought alone.

“I don’t know wanna try?” Slapping his chest lightly, you couldn’t help but look away shyly, bitting the bottom of your lip at how flustered he was able to make you. Using his free hand, Sunghoon brought your face to look at his again, his fingers tracing the lines of your features while his eyes took in every inch of your face. The two of you gazed at each other again in silence, not saying anything; but it was the kind of nothing that meant and told you all you needed to know once again.

Sunghoon had a place in your heart you knew was always going to be there.

“Ms.Kim WOAH–”

Niki.

Pushing Sunghoon away with all your might, you couldn’t help but apologize softly at his taken aback expression as his stumbled back against the lab tables. Clearing his throat as Jungwon and Niki both came rushing in with other students who seemed to have caught the two of you by the window.

“Y-you were looking for these right? I found them lets go!” grabbing the posters you couldn’t help but curse as the students began talking over you, understanding the situation a little more as Sunghoon smuggly grinned not denying any of the accusations, rubbing the nape of his neck as he took in your flustered expression.

“Okay okay, I hope everyone here can keep a secret right?” he announced gaining everyone’s attention. Small sounds of disbelief and annoyance echoed throughout the quiet classroom, some of them scoffing at the idea of keep this big of a secret while others were still in shock about their two favorite teachers caught almost kissing.

“If you do I’ll sneak everyone here a breakfast sandwhich for the first day of school after winter break.” he sighed in defeat, grinning in relief as everyone collectively cheered and agreed as one. You quickly told everyone to go down towards the courtyard, as the lines of people began to fill going towards different booths and activities.

“And make sure no one finds out! Actually you can tell Coach Lee I don’t really care.” Sunghoon stated, earning a few chuckles from the students and a glare from you. Shoving the posters towards Jungwon, his dimple came into view as his fond eyes traveled between the you and Sunghoon; a small ‘your secret is safe with me’ making you grin halfheartedly.

While the room grew quiet, you couldn’t help but snicker slightly as Niki came running back, passing Sunghoon a poster you assumed was a draft or one that was messed up before it was finished. The two of you stood there looking at each other knowing you were caught red handed by your students, gosh this was bad if the board found out. You couldn’t help but notice his grin brightening as you began to freak out at the fact you and Sunghoon almost made out in front of your own kids.

You were getting fired. Demoted at best, but most definitely fired. This would ruin all the plains you had lining up for your career— THIS was gonna ruin your reputation and—

“Y/N.” pausing mid rant you looked at him and couldn’t help the warmth that spread throughout your chest as your shoulders relaxed almost immediately.

Of course Niki gave him that one specifically. The cutout poster that had a mistletoe drawn just above his head, small hearts and snowflakes lining the borders with the words ‘I like you, from my head to my mistletoe’ written on the bottom. Your laugh echoing through the class as Sunghoon quickly embraced you placing kisses around your face.

In moments like this is when you realized you were grateful for Sunghoon in more ways than one. When you picture yourself being happy, there are many things that come to mind. Traveling the world to places that have always been on your bucketlist, learning how to cook michelin star dishes that you’ve had at restaurants, you wanted to raise a puppy on your own and even thought about going back to school to get your doctoral degree in science.

Those were all things you want to do, things you wanted to do with Sunghoon. You weren’t going to make him your sole reason of happiness that’s a little silly, but you smiled more when you were with him, and you realized he understood you more than anyone else has. He made your ordinary moments feel magical and was the kind of person who pushes you to be better, he was your best friend.

In between kisses and embraces Sunghoon never failed to let you know he loved you both in tone and in silence, and he never failed to show you a different side of living that was of course filled with love.

Because that was just who Sunghoon was, someone filled — With Love.

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silcry

1 year ago

BAE SMTH IS WRONG I CANT SEE U IN MY NOTIFS NO MORE 😭😭😭 I had to come and stalk your page to see if you were alive and saw you reblohged my post, like I was scared your account got deleted again 😭😭😭😭 BABY COME BACK YOU CAN BLAME IT ALL ON ME, I WAS WRONG AND I JUST CANT LIVE WITHOUT YOU 😭😭😭😭😭

TUMBLR JUST HATES ME ISTG I CANT EVEN COMMENT ANYMORE 💔

No bc watch my account get deleted again atp I’m so used to tumblr bs 🥰

IM BACK AND I WONT EVER LEAVE ML 💔 AS IF I CAN LIVE WITHOUT YOU, I NEED DIA CRAZINESS DAILY 🤪

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silcry

10 months ago

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money.

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty.

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over.

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice.

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house.

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples.

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior.

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms.

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts.

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away.

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of.

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly.

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you.

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic.

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care.

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein.

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.”

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right?

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us.

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well.

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice.

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you.

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them.

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss.

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor.

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table.

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you.

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy.

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style.

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly.

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax.

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?”

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn.

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

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silcry

1 year ago

Wait I have a neck too so does that mean that milana likes me aswell 😍😍

︲还是你〢 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔

╱ ❛ 𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖨𝖲 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝖳𝖮 𝖬𝖤? … 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖠𝖭𝖲𝖶𝖤𝖱

𝖨𝖲 𝖠𝖫𝖶𝖠𝖸𝖲 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ❜ ╲

˚　　 ★₊˚﹟💐' 　,　　　　　.

﹙ context. SET DURiNG ‘ORANGE BLOOD’ ERA ; SEE MiLA iN ‘ORANGE BLOOD’ TRAiLER﹚

' ˚. ✦ ˑ ִֶ ┆ now playing … ❝ 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 ❞

━━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗑 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˚ . ┃ SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGED. Mila would dare say that the boys were one such thing — and so was she. Not in the sense that they were stagnant, but in the sense that their hearts were steady in their passion, their kindness, and their unfaltering love. One year, two years, three years going on to four… And after all this time, they were still them.

So it was no surprise that Mila could accurately predict their reaction to her role in the trailer for their new comeback.

The board meeting for ‘Orange Blood’ was one that Mila looked forward to as much as she did any meeting discussing the future of the group. Though their schedules were busy with their upcoming Fate Tour, there was no denying the anticipation of releasing new songs, and the relief of knowing they were still very much in the race. (She considered herself fortunate that they weren’t one of the mistreated artists she’d often heard of, whose comebacks ranged around once a year — if at all.)

The concept was an unexpectedly bright and hopeful one compared to ‘Dark Blood’. Or perhaps, ‘nostalgic’ was the better word — yes, indeed, nostalgia was a perfect word for the concept. And all members of Enhypen were pleased with the proposed title track, B-sides (including Mila and Kiara’s subunit song, ‘Sweet Juice’), and overall aesthetic of the new album. It seemed as if it would be a carefree and fun era free of the drama of its predecessor.

Except, of course, that wasn’t exactly the case.

When the time came for the discussion of the concept trailer, the air of nostalgia surrounding ‘Orange Blood’ instead became replaced by déjà vu.

“Mila has a special part to play,” the director of the concept trailer said. “If you remember from the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer, she was the only one of you nine who survived everything.”

“Right!” Sunoo exclaimed excitedly. “It was one of the things all the Engenes kept making theories about.”

Mila smiled. Amidst all the drama of her jealousy for Sunghoon, Jay and the boys’ interactions with Park Jiwon, she didn’t give much attention to her own role as she should have. But it was still a very intriguing point in the concept trailer for all who watched it.

The director nodded. “That goes to say that means she won’t be with the rest of you for the majority of the trailer.”

A wave of surprise washed over the Enhypen members. Their eyes widened collectively, giving the impression of nine bewildered children who had just learnt Santa wasn’t real.

“And before you ask— yes, she’s still going to be in the trailer. She’ll just have different scenes from everyone else.” Mila smiled when the tension in the others’ shoulders relaxed. She knew they would be the first to jump to her defence if, for some reason, she was excluded.

“After being separated, their paths are obviously going different ways. While Mila is still unaware, you boys and Kiara will be reincarnated as humans…”

The director began to explain the first part of the trailer, which consisted of the boys being taken out of the ocean by Jiwon, followed by the next couple of scenes. Mila became sceptical at one particular scene involving Sunoo’s neck being bitten, but figured it wouldn’t be anything new — after all, Jay had his neck bitten in the trailer for ‘Dark Blood’. (She didn’t want to admit she was a little bothered by it… though she would ignore that feeling for now.)

Then it came to the part where Mila would make her appearance.

“Now, after all this, we finally see what Mila has been up to this entire time. And since she no longer has her friends with her, she is living a pretty lonely life.”

The others made noises of sympathy.

“…But then she finds a handsome young man who falls in love with her, and they live happily with each other as a seemingly loving couple—”

The sound of Kiara choking on her water echoed through the now silent room.

“What’s wrong?” The director asked cluelessly as he observed the group’s reactions. He blinked when he received no response. “Was it something I said?”

Kiara was alternating between laughing, struggling to swallow her water, and shaking her head in denial. Mila supposed it was good that at least one of them seemed amused by the situation — because the other eight of them were certainly not.

Sunghoon — who had been lost in his own daydream the whole time as he stared at a random spot on the table in front of him — suddenly snapped his head towards the director, eyebrows raised and eyes wide as if he had heard something incredibly offensive.

Sunoo’s jaw dropped in a slacked ‘oh’, while he side-eyed Mila beside him, and then slowly looked back towards the director, looking a lot like he did in his iconic reaction towards Seon in the first episode of I-Land.

Jungwon, whose eyes looked devoid of all life, said, “No… Not at all. Please — do go on.”

If his words could convince anyone that he was fine, they would have to be both blind and deaf— because anyone could hear the soulless conviction he spoke with, or the obviously forced smile on his face.

Mila glanced at him before smiling at the director and drawing his attention to her. “So, I’m guessing my scenes will be with the actor then?”

The director cleared his throat. “Well, like I was saying — Mila, you’re looking for love to fill the gap left behind by seeing the others die, and you decide to court this young man as a way of moving on. So your scenes together will be pretty romantic.”

Mila blinked. “I see…”

That was probably the last thing the boys wanted to hear. And honestly, she didn’t feel too comfortable with the idea of acting romantically with another male, even if it was for work. It was awkward to try and replicate the chemistry of two lovers with someone that wasn’t the boys — let alone someone she hadn’t met.

Heeseung had visibly tensed, before rolling his shoulders to avoid seeming too affected. However, the way he pursed his lips and sat forward in his seat gave him away.

Jake’s eyebrows raised as he licked the inside of his cheek, fidgeting nervously by cracking his knuckles while he declined back in his chair. He didn’t take his eyes, instead staring at the sheet of paper in front of him.

Jay hadn’t said or done anything of note, but the set in his jaw and the subtle flex of his hand ok the table served as enough of a sign.

At that moment, Mila felt a hand on her knee, and looked beside her to see Riki with a carefully stoic expression. The only sign that he was bothered was the gentle squeeze he gave her.

Mila discretely reached out under the table to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

Looking for a way to comfort them, she asked, “But we won’t be overly touchy, will we? I mean — we won’t be kissing or anything.”

The director laughed, as if Mila had told him a funny joke. “Of course not! We’d never ask you to do such a thing.”

The boys took this as a good sign, and the air around them immediately became more relaxed. Mila smiled. She thought that would be the end of it until the director continued.

“You’ll just be very close to each other, instead — oh, and you might have to bite his neck.”

Mila, the boys, Kiara, and the manager who had just bought in coffee for the nine of them fell quiet. No one said a word as the director beamed innocently. They were too stunned to speak.

“I’M SURE IT WON’T BE THAT BAD.”

Mila didn’t know who she was trying to convince, but it didn’t seem like it worked on any of the boys — or herself, for that matter. As soon as they had gotten back to the dorms from the meeting, the boys were spread across the living room with silly expressions. (Kiara had, as usual, disappeared to visit the TXT dorms as soon as she could.)

“It will be just like you and Jiwon in the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer,” Mila said, “It’s all professional.”

“But you still got jealous,” Sunoo pointed out.

Mila scrunched her nose. “You really had to bring that back up…”

Heeseung laughed and pinched her cheek. “Don’t mind us, we’re just jealous that you get to act all romantic with someone else. But at the end of the day, we know it’s part of our job. We’ll be okay.”

Jake laughed. “This kinda feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

There was a silent agreement among everyone. Some things really didn’t change…

“Anyway, it doesn’t really make sense for us to mope about it when nothing has happened yet,” Jungwon claimed. “I don’t know about you, but I just wanna appreciate now first.” With that, the leader stood up and held his arms out towards Mila. “Come here.”

Mila giggled and launched herself into his arms. The younger immediately wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head, inhaling her scent. He closed his eyes and the other members chuckled around them.

“Hey, don’t forget me!” Jake said, before adding himself to the hug.

The others followed soon after, crowding around together in the middle of the living room.

“To be honest, I think I’d rather not be there to watch you film,” Jay said quietly. The first day of Mila’s filming happened to be the last day of filming for the boys, so they would all be on set with her when she would be filming with the actor. “I don’t think I’d be able to control my emotions…”

Mila hummed. “I get it. You can’t help it. But at the end of the day, I’m always only yours.” She smiled slyly. “And if you ever feel like reminding, you can always try and sneak a kiss on set.”

“Ayyyyy,” the boys chorused.

Sunghoon chuckled and patted the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”

“You mean ‘our’ girl, right?” Sunoo asked with a raised eyebrow. Everyone laughed, causing Sunoo to smile. With a smug expression, he said, “Well, just for the record— I’m the only one here who gets to film a scene with Mimi. And we get to hug.”

“That’s not fair!” Riki whined. “Why do you only get to film a scene with her?”

Sunoo shrugged sassily. “I guess we’re just destined to be together.”

“Then what about the rest of us?” Jay asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You tell me,” Sunoo said. “I was her first boyfriend and her first kiss, you know. You guys were just add-ons to our relationship.”

“What are you saying?!” Riki exclaimed. “I was the closest to her during I-Land. All of you tried to vote her out of I-Land in the first elimination.”

“I didn’t!” Sunghoon protested with a raised hand. “I liked her better than all of you.”

“Yeah, well, me and Mila were like—!” (Jake crossed his index and middle finger.) “—THIS!”

Heeseung crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I was her first love. So technically, I beat all of you.”

“Are you sure you want to bring THAT up, Hyung?” Jungwon asked the older male with a glint in his eyes. “You know how that went down…”

The others gasped in shock at the young leader’s bold attack. Mila laughed, watching the way Sunoo dramatically put both hands over his mouth with wide eyes.

As bickering started to ensue between the members, Mila shook her head in fond exasperation. She didn’t say anything as they made shots at each other, instead choosing to enjoy watching their bonding moment.

There was something beautiful about these little moments they shared together. The moments that — while fleeting, and easily faded from memory — showed just how well they melded together. How much they belonged.

And she wished more than anything that they would be just as they always had. That this thing they had would never change.

Mila smiled as she rested her chin on her hand. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Later on that night, Kiara — who had been asked for lyrical input for one of the side tracks of the album — had thought to ask Mila for some ideas. She would be one of the few people who knew just how profound the younger female’s thoughts could be, even on the smallest of topics.

“What do you think about the saying, ‘Some things never change?” Kiara had asked.

“I think even though humans change, there are some things they are so connected to that they can’t do things any differently,” Mila said to her.

Ironically enough, Mila’s sentiment was the exact antithesis of the ephemerality romanticised in ‘Orange Blood’. There was no guessing what Mila could be thinking — she always managed to surprise people with her unpredictability. But it was for that reason that Kiara admired her mind so much.

“For example, you and Yeonjunnie-oppa love each other a lot, right? And whether it’s today or tomorrow, if there’s ever a time where you’re not together, you’ll still miss each other. No matter how many times you do it, it doesn’t hurt any less. And as long as you guys love each other, nothing will change, because your reactions and emotions come from the same place each and every time — in this case, your feelings for each other.”

Kiara blinked. She stared for a few seconds before she broke out of her awed state and started nodding.

“Okay… Damn.” She lowered her head as she stared at the paper in front of her, on which she had scribbled notes onto for inspiration. “I like that… I like that a lot.”

Mila beamed. “Is that enough to help you out? Or do you want some more to go off?”

Kiara looked at the younger female with a glint in her eye. Mila tilted her head in confusion, as Kiara smiled — the type one would give their student when they accomplished something significant in their studies.

“How about this?” Kiara asked. “I think you have a better grasp of this than me — so what about you write down lyrics for this that you can pitch to the PD? I don’t think I resonate with this song as much as you do, so it’s for the best. And I feel like you have a lot of good ideas for it.”

Mila furrowed her eyebrows. “But I’ve never written lyrics before… And what if he doesn’t like them?” Mila shook her head. “It would be better if you wrote them.”

Kiara kissed her teeth. “Yah. Aren’t you the one who always says to Engenes that there’s no harm in trying? If you don’t have anything, that’s fine. I’ll just hand in something. But if you do, then why not share it? I’m just saying, it’s not like you to throw away a chance before trying.”

Mila couldn’t deny the logic of Kiara’s words. She would be a hypocrite if she didn’t the didn’t do as she always said — and that wasn’t a standard she wanted to hold herself to. She nodded.

“Fine,” she said with a determined smile. “I’ll give it a try… Just don’t expect too much, okay?“

Kiara laughed. “Okay, okay.”

As she stared at the computer in front of Kiara, where the demo of the track was playing, Mila found her eyes settling on the title, letting it ingrain itself into her brain like a tattoo.

‘Still Monster’, huh?

IT WAS LATE IN THE NIGHT.

Mila found herself at the kitchen table, eating a snack as she scribbled mindlessly on the notepad in front of her. She had her AirPods in, repeatedly playing the demo of ‘Still Monster’ as she wrote whatever came to mind. It had been a day since she was given the task of writing some lyrics for ‘Still Monster’, and ideas flooded her brain like a river — the struggle, however, was finding a way to express them all.

“Noona?” Mila looked up from her notepad for the first time in the past few minutes to see Riki standing there, half-asleep as he rubbed at his eyes sleepily. “What are you doing?”

Mila smiled, internally cooing at how adorable he looked. “I’m just writing something…”

Riki tilted his head curiously. He slowly padded his way over to the table and pulled out a seat next to Mila. Mila watched as he rested his head on her shoulder, while groggily reading the contents of Mila’s notepad.

“‘Still Monster’? That’s one of our tracks, isn’t it?” Riki asked.

Mila hummed. She hadn’t told the boys about it yet because she didn’t want to disappoint them if the pitching didn’t go well, so she decided to keep it to herself until she received good feedback.

But Riki had always been someone she let her guard down with. It was one of the reasons she called him her ‘Peter Pan’: if she was Wendy, he was the one around whom she could always be carefree. As much as they bickered, as much as they fought, as long as it was him, she knew she didn’t have to fear being judged.

“I’m writing some lyrics for it.” She sighed. “But as you can see it’s not really going anywhere at the moment.”

There was a few seconds of silence, before Riki suddenly shot up in his seat. “You’re writing a song?!” he asked, his eyes wide with awe. “That’s amazing!”

Mila laughed as she brushed his hair away from his face. “Thank you… But like I said, it’s not really going anywhere at the moment. I have ideas — I just don’t know how to put them into words.”

Riki tilted his head. “Why not? You’re usually good at talking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mila narrowed her eyes playfully. “Are you saying I’m too talkative?”

Riki shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s not that… I just mean, you always know what to say.” Riki lowered his head, once again resting it on Mila’s shoulder. The strands of his hair tickled her neck, causing her to giggle when he nuzzled his cheek against her. “Remember during I-Land, when I was feeling down after I kept losing battles?”

Mila hummed and nodded. Those days weren’t ones he often reminisced on, but she knew they stuck with them even today — because how could it not? All of them, in some way, were affected by the wreck that was I-Land. Even if they didn’t show it. And for Mila and Riki — who had left everything behind to move to a foreign country where nothing was guaranteed — that trauma only increased twofold.

When the two of them were in Ground, losing chance after chance to go back into I-Land, they had finally reached their breaking point. And by the time the last test of Part One had begun to air, they had to do everything in their power to make sure they would be debuting.

“Do you remember what you said to me when I told you I didn’t think I was good enough?” Riki let out a small chuckle. His hand made its way to Mila’s, his fingers intertwining with hers like two pieces of a puzzle. “You said that people who always see ways to improve will never stop getting better. So, I was good enough — but part of me knew I was meant to be so much more.”

Mila let a smile break through. “That was such a long time ago… You still remember that?”

Riki nodded. “Of course,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I was so close to giving up, but as soon as you said that I realised I didn’t want to stop there.” He sighed as he breathed in Mila’s comforting scent. “You always said the right thing to make me feel better when I was sad… It didn’t matter if your Korean was still kinda bad—”

“Yah!” Mila let out a strangled laugh in her surprise, slapping Riki’s shoulder indignantly.

Riki laughed, before catching Mila’s hand in his own and placing a soft kiss on the back of it as an apology. “I’m just saying — it’s the message that I remember the most, not the words.”

Mila blinked. “That… actually makes a lot of sense.” She looked down at Riki with feigned shock. “When did you become so smart?”

Riki scoffed. “You didn’t even know how to order anything other than jjajangmyeon from restaurants until I taught you — and you’ve been living in Korea for longer than I have.”

Mila gasped. But before Mila could say anything, Riki looked up at her through his lashes. His eyes were like pools of pure water, containing nothing but clear international and sincerity. Mila faltered, watching the way his eyes held hers, the space between them both too far and too close for her heart to handle.

“Just write whatever comes to you. If it’s from you, there’s no way it won’t be beautiful.”

Mila smiled. And without another second wasted, she pressed her lips to his.

That night, the lyrics came as effortlessly to her as breathing. And at the centre of it all was them — the ones who, like the stars in the night sky, brought the light into her otherwise pitch black night.

“These lyrics are really good!” The producer praised as he looked over the final draft that Mila presented to them. “We’ll change some of it to fit the vampire concept — but otherwise it’s perfect.” The producer smiled. “I didn’t know you were this good at writing lyrics.”

Mila smiled. “Thank you… But I had help.”

I owe Riki some bunggeoppang.

The producer shook his head with a chuckle. “Regardless, this is a very good result. If you keep up the good work, you could even be doing songwriting on the side. Good work.”

Mila smiled sheepishly at the praise.

“We’ll make sure to add your name to the credits. After some tweaking, it should be ready for the boys to record the vocals.”

Mila nodded. Since it was a subunit song for the boys — the same way Mila and Kiara had their own subunit — she unfortunately wouldn’t be able to be able to sing it herself. But somehow, Mila didn’t mind it so much. After all, there was something about the boys singing a song that she wrote for them that made her feel giddy inside. The fact that she also asked Riki to keep quiet (in case the feedback wasn’t good) also meant it would be a surprise to them.

She hummed as she left the producer’s office, looking like a giddy high school girl as she walked through the halls, greeting staff with a smile.

Mila couldn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction when they found out. Maybe she would even play a little prank on them, and wait until after everything to reveal the secret…

Mila giggled mischeviously. She was just full of good ideas, wasn’t she?

THE FIRST DAY OF MILA’S FILMING FINALLY CAME, and it couldn’t have been any sooner. The past few days, she had to watch the boys leave without her to go filming, and she had become the personification of a drowned puppy as a result.

Enhypen had already finished recording the singles for the album and the choreography, so the next step was to film the concept trailer. Since she was the only one who didn’t have a role in the first few days of filming, she would stay behind for them — something which she obviously didn’t take well to. The whole time while the boys were preparing to leave, she would follow them around the house with a cloud of gloom hovering over her head.

“Has anyone seen my charger?” Jay asked, while searching through his things.

Mila pouted from behind him and raised a finger to point to the door. “It’s in the living room, on the coffee table.”

“Ah— thanks, Angel.” Jay patted her on the head and left the room to find his charger. Mila sighed and trailed behind him, tugging on the ends of her (or rather, Sunghoon’s) shirt. When Jay found his charger, he packed it in his bag and put his hands on his hips. “Okay, that’s all for me. I’m done now.”

“Same here!” Jake replied as he slung his bag over his shoulder and placed a cap on his head.

Mila continued to sulk silently as the boys announced their readiness one by one. And when they got ready to leave the dorm, she stood at the door, giving each of them a hug before they walked out.

“See you later,” she said sadly as she wrapped her arms around Sunoo’s waist. “Love you…”

Sunoo laughed as he returned her hug, the sound like chiming bells with its gentle tone. He gently stroked the back of her head while pressing his lips to her forehead. And with a caress of her cheek, he pulled away while smiling, eyes dripping with honey.

“Love you too, Byeol-ah. Don’t miss us too much, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“That’s right.” Jungwon latched onto Mila’s waist in a side hug. He rested his cheek against her shoulder and closed his eyes as Mila reached up to pay his head. “We’ll bring snacks with us.”

Mila nodded weakly, sparing a small smile. “Okay…”

Heeseung pressed a firm kiss against her cheek, making a slight smacking noise as he parted. “Love you saurrrr much.”

With that, Mila burst out into laughter.

The other boys gave her sweet goodbye kisses as they walked out the door, before eventually Mila was left alone. And the only thing she could say was sigh and trudge her way to her bed, where she would lie down scrolling through social media to see Engenes’ reactions to her new red hair.

And that process continued until today, the final day of the boys’ and Kiara’s filming, before Mila would film her parts, along with her scene with Sunoo. Since they were relatively simple scenes, they would be able to finish in one day. (According to the director, that was.)

They look like they’re having fun…

Mila smiled as she watched Kiara and the boys running through the field of flowers. Since all the scenes with Sooha were already shot, Park Jiwon wasn’t on the set today, so Mila didn’t get the chance to greet her.

Mila wouldn’t admit that she still thought a lot about the potential bite scene between Jiwon and Sunoo after reading over the script so many times. But in the end, the girl had proven to be very hardworking and talented. It was hard not to like her.

That’s too bad, Mila thought. Maybe next time.

With that Mila smiled and continued to get ready with the help of her staff.

Mila had just finished changing into her dress — a long, white number with spaghetti straps — when she ran into the assistant director, who was standing with someone she had never met before. He was tall and handsome, as well as rather young (he didn’t look much older than herself), and was standing before a makeup artist who seemed to be placing finishing touches on his face.

Mila immediately connected the dots and realised that he was, in fact, the actor she would be partnered with for the trailer.

“Ah, Mila!” The assistant director smiled when he took note of Mila standing there. Mila bowed as he ushered her to come closer. “Just the girl I was looking for! Come here for a second!”

Mila hiked up her skirt and made her way over. By now, the actor finished having his makeup done and made eye contact with Mila when he turned around. The two subconsciously bowed their heads in greeting, while the assistant director smiled and nodded in approval.

“You wanted to see me?” Mila asked.

The assistant said, “That’s right. I wanted to introduce you.” He gestured to the younger man beside him. “This is Park Hajoon, he’s been a model and actor under Hybe for the past two years. He’ll be your partner for today. Hajoon, you know Mila already. Greet your senior.”

Hajoon bowed to show respect before smiling widely. “Nice to meet you, Sunbaenim. I’ve been a big fan of yours since I-Land. I’m looking forward to today.”

Mila flashed a friendly smile. “Oh, really? Nice to meet you too; I’m lucky to have such a dedicated fan. Let’s work hard together, okay?”

Hajoon beamed enthusiastically, his eyes lit up in clear admiration. Mila lowered her head, avoiding looking into his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel bashful — every time she met a fan who looked at her with the same respect that Hajoon did, she never really knew how to react.

The assistant director chuckled and pat the younger male on the shoulder. “Well, since you’re familiar now, why don’t you two start discussing your scene together while the others wrap up their final scene?”

Mila nodded. “Okay, sounds good to me.” She turned to Hajoon with a smile and gestured to the tent not far away. “Shall we?”

“Yes, Sunbaenim!” he responded passionately.

Mila laughed. If he kept up the energy for the entirety of the shoot, he would be able to rival Mila for the title of the set moodmaker. And she couldn’t have that, could she?

“Let’s go!” Mila exclaimed equally as enthusiastically.

With that, the two laughed and walked away. They arrived at the tent, where the staff had already set chairs out for Mila and the rest of the group to rest in when the others were done with their shoot. But Mila and Hajoon would be leaving as soon as they were finished to head towards a cottage not far from where they currently had their equipment set up.

“How much experience do you have with acting?” Mila asked as she read through the script.

“I’ve had small roles in web dramas before,” he replied.

Mila ‘ooh’ed. “That’s impressive.” Hajoon lowered his head and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “In that case, we should be done in under three takes, right?”

Mila said it as a joke. She definitely wasn’t expecting Hajoon to suddenly get all fired up, eyes burning with determination as he held up a fist. “Respectfully, Sunbaenim — but I believe we can do it one!”

Mila’s eyes widened. He really was a bold one, wasn’t he? But that wasn’t a bad thing — not at all. She admired that sort of confidence more than anything. So, at that moment she knew she had gotten lucky with her partner.

“I like it! Okay, let’s aim for one take then!” she said with a smile. Mila then put the script on the table between them and pointed to an outlined scene, where Hajoon would be standing over Mila as she awoke from a nightmare. “For this scene here, I was thinking….”

And just like that, the two became absorbed in their work.

“IS THAT THE GUY?”

The remaining members of Enhypen had just finished filming their final scene together for the trailer and were heading back to the tent while the staff prepared the equipment for moving. They had originally been in high springs, considering they finally finished — but some certain members were immediately cast into a bitter mood as they spotted Mila waiting for them under the tent with an unfamiliar male.

The two of them were peering over paper together, their heads almost touching as they conversed with each other, unaware of the eyes on them.

Sunghoon was the first to propose who the unknown male was. Immediately, the others followed with dejected realisation that he was in fact the man who would be filming very romantic scenes with their girlfriend.

Jungwon pouted as he continued to walk towards them. “Come on,” he said to the others. “We should greet him.”

Regardless of their own feelings, the man hadn’t done anything wrong, so there was no reason to host any animosity toward him. Not to mention, when the positions were switched during the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer, Mila was also expected to be polite with Jiwon, even knowing that the latter would be biting Jay’s neck and very nearly sharing a kiss with Sunghoon.

“Now I know why Mila was so bitter about the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer,” Jake said as he watched Mila and her partner look at each other.

The latter lifted a hand as if to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Logically, Jake already knew it was to practise a scene in the script. But it still irked him nonetheless when he watched the unnamed actor tenderly stroke Mila’s hair, the way he often did.

Jay clenched his jaw. “He’s barely done anything, and I already feel defensive.”

“Why don’t you guys smile a little?” Kiara said with an amused smile. “You can’t scare the poor boy away.”

“Why not?” Heeseung immediately replied. With his doe eyes, one would think he was genuinely asking — though his co-members knew better.

Kiara rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You guys…”

At that moment, as if sensing them approaching, Mila looked up from the script she was sharing with her partner. The boys could practically picture bunny ears standing to attention on the top of her head. Her eyes brightened in recognition and a wide smile crossed her face as she waved enthusiastically.

The boys immediately fixed smiles on their faces, not wanting to worry Mila with their feelings when she was preparing for work. They joined both her and her partner under the tent, causing them both to stand to their feet.

“Congrats on finishing!” Mila applauded the boys with genuine pride. “I was watching you before — you did good. I think the shots will come out nicely.”

The boys become visibly lightened at the praise.

Heeseung reached out and patted Mila’s head, smiling softly at her. “Thank you,” he cooed, eyes full of adoration as Mila giggled under his touch.

The mood completely broke when Sunoo looked at the male beside Mila and said, “I don’t think we’ve met properly.”

Taking the cue, the male actor bowed formally towards the members with a smile. As soon as he straightened his back, he introduced himself confidently. “My name is Park Hajoon. I’m a model and actor under Hybe. It’s nice to meet you all.”

Jungwon was the first to greet him back. “Nice to meet you.”

The other followed suit, leaving Mila to smile brightly on the side. So far, she would say they were doing very well in putting aside their personal feelings — it looked like they didn’t have to worry about much at all. She cleared her throat as she gestured to the script.

“We were just practising for our scene together,” she announced. “Hajoon here thinks we can get it done in one take.”

“That’s good,” Sunghoon immediately responded. By his logic, one take meant that they would be done as soon as possible, meaning that he, Mila, and the other members would be free to go back to the dorms sooner. Hopefully he would be able to steal Mila for some cuddles before the others got to her…

“How’s it going so far?” Jay asked. “Anything you’re struggling with?”

Instead of Mila, Hajoon was the one who replied.

“Not at all,” he said happily. “Mila-sunbaenim is really good at acting, so we already have a good idea of what we’re supposed to be doing.” Hajoon held a thumbs up as he smiled at Mila. “She’s really awesome.”

Sunoo eyed Hajoon suspiciously. He could pinpoint admiration when he saw it, and from the way this Hajoon person looked at Mila, the youngest knew for a fact that he held a lot of it for Mila — and dare he say, perhaps a little more than that…

Mila noticed this and explained, “Hajoon here has been a fan of mine since I-Land. Isn’t that great?”

“Ah, really?” Kiara asked with wide eyes. “Wah, how cute! You must be really happy to be working beside someone you’ve been a fan of for so long, right?” Kiara’s eyes had a hint of sly calculation when Hajoon nodded enthusiastically. She then asked, “What do you think? Is she prettier in person?”

Jake and Jay, who were standing next to Kiara, immediately threw a glare towards the older female, who grinned smugly. The others had their attention pointed towards the male in question, who had suddenly turned redder than a tomato under the sudden scrutiny of everyone.

Mila’s eyes widened as Hajoon dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Eung… She’s really beautiful.”

Kiara laughed light-heartedly and patted the flustered Hajoon on the shoulder. “Well, you’re lucky to be able to act as her boyfriend for one day. Make sure to cherish it while it lasts.”

“Ah— o-okay,” Hajoon stuttered out, turning even redder than before. And this of course, did not go unnoticed.

Kiara hummed, pleased by his reaction. With that, the elder female sauntered off towards her seat, escaping the inevitable fallout that would follow her controversial statement. As soon as she was gone, Hajoon found himself under the scrutiny of seven males who eyed him as if they were predators and he was a rival who appeared randomly in the wilderness.

He supposed he expected this. After all, having followed Mila’s journey for so long, he also got to know her members fairly well. And anyone who knew Enhypen knew that to get to the Princess, they would have to get past her seven knights first.

“So…” Heeseung crossed his arms over his chest. “You must be really happy that you get to act as Mila’s lover, right?”

Before Hajoon could reply, Mila rolled her eyes and gently tugged in Heeseung’s arms to uncross them. “Oppa, stop. You’re intimidating him. People might think you’re having a power-trip over your juniors!”

For good measure, Mila added a pout and used her eyes to plead at him. And just like always, Heeseung’s resolve immediately faltered.

“Okay, okay…” Heeseung turned to Hajoon. The latter immediately noticed that the light in Heeseung’s eyes from when he was looking upon Mila immediately flickered out as soon as they landed on him. Nonetheless, the elder offered a civil smile. “Sorry about that. I’m not trying to scare you.”

“That’s right.” Jungwon immediately followed up the elder’s statement with his own excuses. “The older members just worry a lot — don’t mind them.”

Despite the reassuring words he spoke, the smile on his face didn’t quite reach them.

Hajoon nodded and cleared his throat. “No, it’s okay! I already know that you’re quite protective — but don’t worry, I don’t plan on taking advantage of my role in the trailer today to satisfy my own selfishness. I admire Mila-sunbaenim a lot, but I respect her enough to maintain a professional boundary. I’m here to do my job and nothing more.”

Jay would be the first to admit he was pretty impressed with the actor’s initiative. He was sceptical at first of his obvious infatuation with Mila (call it a man’s intuition), but he did feel a little better seeing his conviction.

The rest of the boys — though some more begrudging than the others — would agree: Even if they were still very much jealous, they could tell the actor was sincere and had a pure soul. There was no reason to dislike him. They slowly started to lose some tension in their bodies.

“Okay, now that we got that cleared up, do you mind giving me and Hajoon some peace and quiet?”

Mila crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow, challenging the boys to keep them any longer from doing their job. The boys, being wise, immediately heeded the silent warning in her voice, which was perhaps the most polite form of ‘Play nice’ that they would get from her if they didn’t act right away.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Mila sighed as the boys scurried away. Shaking her head, she immediately gestured for Hajoon to take a seat. “Sorry about them, they can be a bit much.”

Hajoon shook his head. “No, it’s fine. If anything, I find it sweet that they openly show how much they care about you.”

Mila failed to hold back a smile as she replayed the boys’ reactions to Hajoon’s admiration for her. Even if she didn’t admit it, she did feel a bit giddy seeing them act so protective of her — even if she had to scold them a bit for being too intimidating.

“You know — you’re not wrong there…”

NOT TO BE OVERLY DRAMATIC, but Jungwon felt as if he was kicked in the stomach.

The staff had moved all the equipment to the cottage set for Mila and Hajoon’s scene together, with the cameramen and director being inside to film while the other Enhypen members and staff remained camped outside with monitoring screens. The scene between Mila and Hajoon was only a couple of seconds long, and so wasn’t prolonged agony by any means — but it didn’t make it any less painful to watch.

Jay, Jake and Sunghoon were smart enough not to watch it at all — however the others found themselves huddled around the monitoring screen, eyes fixated on the scene playing out before them.

Jungwon pouted as Hajoon caressed Mila’s face tenderly, the same way he would when they were in the privacy of their homes. (It was at times like this when he wished they didn’t have to hide their relationship from the public eye — so that he could unapologetically show off just how much he loved her.) Mila looked up at Hajoon with glassy eyes, letting him wipe freshly fallen tears from her face with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

At that moment, Heeseung wordlessly turned around and left, leaving the three youngest members alone in front of the scene. Jungwon bit his lip as Hajoon leaned down, his face impossibly close to Mila’s. Riki scoffed, before turning away and following after the eldest of the group. And just like that, only Sunoo and Jungwon remained.

Hajoon’s eyes flickered down to Mila’s lips. Almost reflexively, Jungwon’s hand clenched into a fist. He didn’t even know why he was still standing there — and yet he couldn’t look away, either, even as Mila’s lips slowly drifted towards the crook of Hajoon’s neck.

“CUT!”

The sound of the director’s voice couldn’t have been anything but intervention from the universe — otherwise how could he have known to stop the scene as soon as Jungwon had reached his limit?

“They have pretty good chemistry…”

Jungwon turned to Sunoo in confusion. When he did, he was surprised to see the expression on his face — nothing like the ray of sunshine that fans knew him to be, but one that resembled the sly fox hidden beneath his sweet smiles. Sharp eyes, and a cool expression, complete with a sharp twist of his lips.

Jungwon blinked, but didn’t get to say anything as Sunoo walked away. This hyung…

Jungwon shook his head and turned to the cottage, where he could just make out Mila and Hajoon bowing to the staff through the window. He immediately ran towards the currently empty gazebo, awaiting the moment when Mila would walk out. And as soon as she appeared, he threw himself onto her, pulling her into a hidden corner from prying eyes and clinging onto her like she would disappear if he didn’t.

“Oh— Wonie?” Mila laughed as soon as she realised who had unexpectedly jumped on her, a fond smile breaking out onto her face as she reciprocated the younger male’s hug. “What’s this all of a sudden?”

Jungwon didn’t respond, instead opting to bury his face deeper into her hair. He was too embarrassed to admit he was feeling this jealous over something meaningless, so he could only stay silent and hope Mila didn’t think of him as too clingy when he did.

Mila hummed. “Are you feeling jealous, by any chance?”

Jungwon felt his face heat up at being caught so quickly. But then again, Mila had always been the perceptive type. He gave a nod, causing Mila to giggle softly. Her fingers made their way to the top of Jungwon’s head, threading their way through his soft hair and filling Jungwon’s being with comfort.

“It’s okay to feel that way, Wonie,” she said gently. “When it’s just the two of us, you don’t have to be pressured to feel like a leader, remember? You don’t need to hide how you feel.”

“I know that, but…” Jungwon’s hands travelled down Mila’s sides before they settled around her waist. Jungwon frowned as he pulled away, before eating his forehead against Mila. “Can I have a kiss, please?”

Mila’s eyes widened. “A kiss?”

Jungwon hummed. “You said if I needed reminding that you were still mine, I could steal kisses from you on set… There’s no one here — so it should be fine, right?”

Mila blinked. “It’s fine…”

“Then kiss me,” Jungwon whispered, his eyes glassy and vulnerable as they stared into hers. Mila swallowed nervously as they travelled downwards, landing on her parted lips. Jungwon’s hands tightened their grip on her, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. “I think I’ll go crazy if you don’t…”

Mila didn’t have to be told twice. As if possessed by his command, she pulled him down by the neck, so that his lips would find hers. The moment they met was like the collision of stars, forming something far brighter, far hotter than what they were on their own, consuming all others around them until there was nothing but the two of them left.

Milan’s hands wandered to Jungwon’s shoulders, smoothing down the length of them with trembling touch. She let out a stuttering breath when his lips parted from hers, taking in a gulp of fresh air — only to come crashing back towards hers once more. This time, more fiercely than before. His hands tightened their grip on their waist for a final time, before he parted for the final time, painting softly for air.

Jungwon let the final tendrils of the flame within him simmer down so that only ashes of his bitterness remained, completely doused by the sweetness of Mila’s mouth. Her face was flushed as she gazed up at him, eyes glazed over, as if lost in a trance — and Jungwon didn’t know if that was her own feelings, or if he was just looking at the reflection of his own eyes. For even if he couldn’t see his own face at that moment, he knew he had fallen far deeper than she had.

“‘How dare you, baby? My heart craves you…” Mila’s eyes widened as Jungwon began to softly sing all-too familiar words, his smooth and sultry voice sending a rush of electricity through her veins. “Even though I’m still a monster…”

“That’s…”

Jungwon chuckled softly. “It’s from one of our songs. ‘Still Monster.’ I don’t know why I thought of it all of a sudden… For some reason it just reminded me of you.”

Mila’s inhaled sharply, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. “Sing more for me,” she whispered. “What else about it reminds you of me?”

Jungwon began to smirk, an all-too familiar glint in the depths of his Cheshire eyes. His hand wonders down the beck of her neck, fingers brushing gently against her pulse. And with a voice all too alluring, he began to sing.

“‘The purity of her neck makes me crazy,’” he began, “‘Throws me into a desire I cannot cope with…”

Just like that, Mila’s lips collided with his once more.

IT WAS TIME FOR MILA AND SUNOO TO FILM THE FINAL SCENE OF THE CONCEPT TRAILER. The moment which Sunoo had been anxiously anticipating — and admittedly, so was Mila.

She hadn’t gotten to see the others after her small rendezvous with Jungwon, and had to go straight into filming again before the sun went down. By now, she had finished filming the opening part of their scene, where Mila was running towards the remains of the burning house, and was now standing there, awaiting the next scene — where Mila would sense Sunoo standing behind her and run up to him to hug him.

As the two waited for the camera crew to get ready for filming, they stood side by side, chatting carefreely.

“You did a good job filming with Hajoon earlier,” Sunoo suddenly said, with a petty undertone in his voice. “It was reallyyyyy believable.”

Mila scoffed. “Yah, are you being petty right now?”

Sunoo raised his eyebrows. “No. Why would I? It’s not like I had to watch you act so lovingly with some other man and make it look so real. I have no reason to be petty.”

Mila huffed and turned her head away, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “I’m not the one who had some woman’s lips on my neck,” she muttered.

She didn’t want to think about it too much, but she knew that the scene between Jiwon and Sunoo would likely bother her when she eventually watched it. But she already had a dash of bitterness about it after hearing Kiara’s account of the scene, which supposedly was very intense. So Mila figured why not get the pettiness out of her before then. After all, Sunoo was the one who started it.

“What was that?” Sunoo asked.

“Nothing,” Mila replied.

Before anyone could say anything, the director suddenly called for everyone to get into positions. Mila turned away and walked to her starting position, leaving Sunoo to narrow his eyes at her from behind.

He had heard exactly what Mila had said — he just didn’t know it was that big of a deal for her. After all, it was nowhere near the level of what Jay and Sunghoon had with Jiwon in the previous concept trailer. But then again, Mila had always been somewhat possessive in her own way — even if she didn’t admit it.

Sunoo let out a small chuckle as he watched her stamp her way to her spot. Even if she was acting a little bratty, he still found her cute. And what sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t comfort her?

Better yet: What sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t upstage the performance between Mila and Hajoon with his own? After all, he couldn’t have anyone thinking a random male was a better fit for Mila than him, could he? His pride as a man wouldn’t let that happen. He formulated his own plan in his head and gave himself a satisfied smile when he decided what to do.

Not long after, the director finally signalled for the filming to begin.

Mila turned around to face Sunoo and had a shocked expression on her face. Sunoo internally admired her acting as her shock morphed into unadulterated joy, a wide smile breaking out on her face as he held out a bouquet of flowers. The familiar chime of Mila’s laughter flooded Sunoo’s ears as she ran towards him, before throwing herself into his arms.

The next part came as naturally as it could have. One could say, Mila and Sunoo didn’t need a script for it. Sunoo lowered his head to bury his nose into her hair. His hand with the bouquet wrapped around her waist while the other found its way to the back of her head.

That was supposed to be it. But of course, it wasn’t. Sunoo’s lips brushed against the shell of Mila’s ear, causing the girl’s figure to freeze in his arms.

Wait, Mila thought. This isn’t part of the script.

Mila stood there frozen as she felt Sunoo’s lips travel down to her earlobe, and then further until it found itself on the bare skin of Mila’s neck. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as his plush lips sneakily found the most sensitive part of her neck — a spot he was very familiar with. Her pulse quickened, and her face started to feel when she suddenly felt his lips part, as if ready to kiss the spot then and there.

The other members, who were watching from the monitor screen a distance away, were immediately taken aback when Sunoo looked at the camera with a sharp glare. He looked like a fox warning anyone who came close to stay away from both him and the woman in his arms — challenging and possessive.

The staff could only watch in awe at the electricity in the air. The tension between the two young people whose seemingly unidentified embrace became something more possessive — more carnal. And at that moment they accepted that, as expected, the chemistry between members of the same group was unmatched…

“AAAAND CUT!” The director yelled.

Mila barely heard his voice, or the following praises that he yelled at Mila and Sunoo, claiming that they were ‘perfect’ together. Instead, she could only shakily part from the hug between her and Sunoo, before searching his face for some sign of what had happened.

She didn’t know what she expected. But it wasn’t for Sunoo to unshaded as she smirked casually at her.

“Still jealous of Jiwon?” he asked teasingly.

Mila swallowed and shook her head. Every time she saw Sunoo like this — so assertive and, dare she say, masculine — she was never able to form words. Just his presence alone made her speechless. “N-no…”

After all, Jiwon wasn’t the woman who felt Sunoo’s lips on her neck in front of so many spectators. She would be foolish to still hold any jealousy towards

the female after that bold display on Sunoo’s end.

“Man, this is so not fair!” Jake complained as he watched the pair stare into each other’s eyes, unplaced by the amount of people around them.

“I want to film a scene with Mila,” Sunghoon said sulkily.

“Next time we choose a concept we should ask about the concept trailers first,” Riki added. “Why does only Sunoo-hyung get to film with her?”

“YAH!” Jay yelled. His voice was loud enough that it carried to where Sunoo and Mila were standing together, causing them to break apart in surprise. “The shoot is over — stop hugging each other already!”

Sunoo and Mila shared a look. Their laughter was so loud the others could hear it perfectly, despite the distance between them.

THAT NIGHT, the members of Enhypen congratulated themselves on a job well done.

They still had a few more things to do for their comeback, but at the very least, they had made it through the concept trailer… Even if it was just barely. They (minus Kiara) had gathered in the living room to both enjoy each other’s company and to rid themselves of the bitterness from today’s shoot. Namely, their jealousy towards Mila and Hajoon’s scenes together.

“I’m so glad that’s over with,” Jake said. “I don’t ever want to see that kind of thing again. Never again, man.”

Mila laughed. “It wasn’t THAT bad.”

“‘Wasn’t THAT bad?’” Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. “The two of you looked like you would have kissed if the director didn’t say ‘cut’.”

Mila tilted her head. “I thought you didn’t watch me while filming?”

“He wasn’t,” Heeseung replied. “But later on, he asked the cameraman if he could watch the scene again, because he wanted to see how bad it was. His logic was that if he didn’t see it in real time, he could control his emotions better — but he still got jealous.”

“You’re one to talk, hyung.” Sunoo crossed his legs on the couch. “You’re the one who scared Hajoon the most.”

The other boys immediately nodded in agreement, convicting the eldest member for his actions.

“But you know… I was kind of embarrassed today,” Jay admitted. “Even though I know it doesn’t mean anything, I still get jealous over it.” Jay sighed. “I wish I had better control over my feelings… Then things would be easier for all of us.”

A thick silence fell over the eight of them. None of them knew what to say, but it was clear that Jay wasn’t alone in his feelings. If Mila was honest, she herself had thought similar things before. And it was because of that she was able to find the words to comfort him.

“Me too,” she said. All eyes turned to her. “We’re only human, so it’s natural that we can’t control how we feel…” She smiled. “That’s why I wrote those lyrics.”

The boys became puzzled. Only Riki — who was there with her though the whole process — knew what she was talking about and smiled conspiratorially. He had been wondering when she was going to tell the others about her contribution. It seemed that she was saving it for this moment.

In truth, Mila had a feeling the boys would react this way. That they would struggle to come to terms with the fact that, for some reason, they were reliving the same memories over and over again. And so, she thought that perhaps this would give them comfort in some way.

“‘It’s as if nothing happened, you look at me with shadowless eyes…’” The boys’ (with the exception of Riki) eyes widened as Mila sang the opening lyrics to ‘Still Monster’. Realisation slowly sank in as she continued to sing, “‘I’m the one who’s been forgive countless times, but I’m still a monster…””

Mila laughed at the shocked expressions on their faces. She shared a smile with Riki before ending her serenade there.

“Obviously the lyrics are a bit more dramatic to suit the concept… but the meaning is practically the same,” she said.

“You wrote that?” Jake asked in awe. “For us?”

“Angel, why didn’t you say anything?” Jay added with a wide smile, amazement and pride all to clear on his features. “That’s amazing!”

Mila smiled sheepishly as the boys began to shower her with praises.

“I didn’t know you could write lyrics… Good job,” Sunghoon said as he patted Mila’s hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Heeseung smiled. “We all are.” He then hummed as he remembers the lyrics to the song, now seeing each line in a new light. “So that’s what they meant… If I knew it then, I probably would have given a better performance.”

Mila laughed. “I doubt you could have done better than you already did. But anyway— those lyrics were basically my feelings about you guys… I mess up a lot, and sometimes I let my emotions get the better of me. But each time you help me become better. And by the end of it, I know that you’re the only ones I’d want to be with.”

“‘What is love to me? Teaching love…’”

Sunoo began part of the chorus, immediately followed by the others who joined in.

“‘In the end, the answer is always, only you.’”

Mila laughed as realisation spread over their faces. “So? What do you think?” she asked. “Do you know what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Awwww, Baby…” Jake sprung into Mila and pulled her into his chest, smothering her with love. “I’m not jealous anymore! I’m just really happy…”

Heeseung giggled like a giddy lovesick teenager. “I’ve never had someone write a song about me.”

“Me too!” Sunoo was beaming so widely, his eyes became descents.

“You did so good, Angel,” Jay praised. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Riki gave Mila a smug look that said, ‘Told you so.’ Mila laughed and shook her head, causing both Riki and Jungwon (who was next to him) to smile at her with all the fondness and adoration that a man could afford their lover.

Sunghoon, who was still in awe, was zoned out, staring blankly at a distant spot in the wall. After a few seconds, Jay lightly nudged his shoulder, completely breaking his trance.

“Yah, are you still there?” Jay asked.

“Huh?” Sunghoon shook his head. “Uh, yeah… I’m just still in shock. It’s hard to believe you wrote it for us… I’m touched. I think I might cry.”

Everyone laughed. Jay roughly pat Sunghoon on the back, and the previous tension in the air became infinitely lightened. After the revelation of Mila’s hidden talents, the boys — curious about hr work — continued to barrage her with questions, while simultaneously praising her to the heavens and back.

But one question in particular had Mila incapable of responding coherently.

“Wait a minute…” Jungwon tilted his head. “Does that mean you also wrote that line?”

Mila hummed. “Which one?”

Jungwon smirked. “You know… The one I sang to you before: ‘The purity of your neck—’”

“Ah!” Mila suddenly shot in from her seat was standing completely still as seven curious eyes turned to her. “No— you see— the thing is… they had to adjust the lyrics a bit to fit the vampire concept! So they… Well… Uh…”

“Ayyyyy,” Sunghoon teased. “Don’t tell me…”

“Wait so you have a thing for our necks?” Jake asked with a tilted head.

“NO!” Mila shouted.

Sunoo raised his eyebrow. “But then what about the lyrics, then?”

“You know, now that I think about it…” Jay pretended to be in deep thought, stroking his chin like a sage would his beard. “She does seem to like neck kisses a lot—“

Mila’s face almost exploded from how hot it was. “SHUT UP AND LET ME EXPLAIN!”

The room was filled with laughter as the busy observed Mila’s flustered state. And really — what else did she expect from them? Of course they had to tease her right after giving her so many compliments….

Indeed, some things never changed.

TAGLiST !

@lanamoonroh @3amstarlight @nikitopia @one16core @onlyuyu @xinikons @clar-iii @shinrjj @nee-issaire @elizalabs3 @lol6sposts @cyberpunksunwoo @woonkies @alaezasmystery235 @haechansbbg @wonsctz @euniceruiz11 @curly-fr13s

DiA READERS

ahhh it’s so good to be back 😭 sorry for the wait guys but finally a full length chapter for you guys after my very long break🤭 (a very long chapter too— almost 10k wowza 🤯) i figured that we had so many hyung like focused fics that the maknae line should have time to shine - which is why this one focused a lot on their interactions with mila 😌 the ending was a bit meh bc i ran out of brain juice so sorry about that — but hopefully you enjoyed it nonetheless!! 🫶🫶🫶

but thank you guys for all your patience though the break and for being sl understanding! love you guys sm you’re the best readers na author could ask for and my break just made me appreciate you all the more MWAH MWAH MWAH 🩷🩷🩷

P.S. obv mila didn’t actually write still monster and credit goes to the actually writer, but let’s pretend 😆 also! for the anonnie who made this request for manly sunoo - hope this satisfied the requirements! 🫶

197 notes View Post

silcry

7 months ago

Through Their Eyes ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Summary: lando and yn’s relationship through other people’s eyes

𝄞 ln x reader 𓇢𓆸

𝄞 fluff 𓇢𓆸

masterlist ☾☼

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

carlos

carlos had known lando since he was nineteen. being teammates with him made carlos realise that they had a lot of common interests, and their sense of humour matched, and in the blink of an eye, lando had become one of carlos' best friends. there wasn't a day that went by without carlos or lando talking to each other, and there wasn't a day that went by without the two learning something new about each other.

carlos prided himself on the fact that he could read lando pretty well. y/n was lando's age and had joined mclaren as part of their hospitality intern. she was not supposed to have much interaction with the drivers, especially considering that she was an intern. her main jobs on some days was to make coffee runs.

fortunately, the coffee runs were what brought lando and y/n closer.

"coffee for you, mr sainz, and coffee for you, mr norris," she had said when she put two cups down in front of them.

carlos had watched as lando was about to make a joke but seemed lost as he stared at the woman and then back at the cup, and back at the woman.

he decided to be a good friend in that moment and save the awestruck boy, "unfortunately, lando doesn't have coffee. he only likes milk. he's still a little boy,"

y/n had laughed, and carlos had watched again with a smirk as lando stared at her with the biggest smile on his face. "i'll be back with a glass of milk then,"

it had become a running joke between the three of them, and soon she had started accompanying them to races as well. in the two years that she had interned with mclaren, she had spoken to almost driver on the grid, and carlos had watched how y/n and lando had slowly become friends. though, friends would be a more appropriate word instead of saying 'lando followed her around and just stood behind her, lost in his daydreams while she spoke to the drivers'.

carlos had watched how lando was always including her in conversations where she stood near the wall, how he pushed her to give her opinion. he had watched how lando slowly helped her build her confidence as she began to become more sure of herself and her abilities.

carlos had also watched how she was always the first one to tell lando that he had done a good job. she sat with him whenever he reviewed all the places he went wrong and had to be better at. she helped him understand the right places for making jokes, and the kind of jokes. he had watched how y/n had slowly helped build lando's confidence.

carlos and lando had a similar humour, but he found very quickly that lando and y/n's humour were exactly the same. they had inside jokes and eyes that laughed every time they looked at each other. they had soft touches and fingers that always grasped the air in the end.

the night of one of the races, when people had left, and only a few were remaining, carlos had been looking for lando to tell him about the golfing range that they could try out during the two weekends they had free. he had walked around looking his friend, even calling out his name. eventually, he found him sitting on the curb of the track with y/n.

they had their masks off, and were sitting close to each other. considering that they were the only two people around, carlos had not reminded the two to wear their masks.

the two had been laughing and giggling and leaning, and carlos walked a little closer to listen to what they were talking about.

"what'cha gonna do for the next two weeks?" lando had asked. it was quiet, and they were quieter, but carlos could still hear them.

"actually, i've been so excited to tell you about it! so, you know how i joined mclaren as an intern, and well, i'm still at a beginner level because i told you that i didn't want to do this forever?" she had seemed excited.

lando had only nodded, still staring at her. it made carlos wonder if lando was actually listening to what was being said.

"so, i've been doing some research, because i finally figured out what i'm going to do with my life. my parents only let me do this because i was interested in formula one, and i wanted a break after high school. though, admittedly, the break was supposed to be just a gap year, ended up being two-three years, but that's fine-"

y/n was cut off, because lando had finally gotten the courage and kissed her. carlos' mouth fell open. lando had confided in him about his crush on y/n, but carlos knew long before that. hell, carlos had known from the very first moment possible.

she had kissed him back, and carlos turned around with a smile on his face as he gave them some privacy.

just as he was leaving, he heard y/n's voice sounding heartbroken, and stopped short.

"lan, i'm going back to university. that's what i wanted to tell you."

"what?"

"i was talking to the drivers the other day about their childhood and what they faced, what you went through. max with his dad, lewis with the bullying, all of that. i realised then that i wanted to study child psychology. i want to be a child psychologist."

"oh. so, when are you leaving?"

"i gave my resignation letter this morning. i found a good university in london too. i applied a while back, and i got in."

"you got in."

"i got in, lan!" she was trying to be excited, carlos knew.

"that's amazing, y/n, congratulations,"

carlos turned around to peek, just a little bit, and saw the two embracing. he watched as lando tried to hide his tears, and y/n, who couldn't stop smiling. he watched as lando found his eyes, and carlos didn't know what to do in that moment.

"it doesn't have to change anything. i mean, i know i won't be there for race weekends and at the mtc and stuff, but i'm here for you." y/n said.

the two pulled back. y/n frowned at the tears on lando's face, and gently wiped them off. carlos feared what was going to happen to their friendship now.

"and, i mean, if the kiss wasn't a fluke, i'd like it again. and maybe every time i see you next?" y/n said, smiling, hoping, and carlos sighed in relief. yeah, the kids were going to be okay.

he could hear lando laughing as he walked back inside. lando was going to marry y/n, carlos could bet his life on it.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

daniel

when daniel had joined mclaren, there was one thing that he saw and was sure of right from the first day: no one could handle lando norris like y/n y/l/n.

he had spoken to her, and was good acquaintances with her. he knew that she had been working with mclaren for a year. lando and y/n seemed to be better friends than lando and carlos were, and that was a tough duo to break.

daniel felt awkward with lando at first. the two had barely anything in common, and combine it with their ten year age gap, it felt almost impossible to bond with the boy over something. both of them felt awkward at first, and both of them knew it.

y/n was perceptive, though, daniel had to agree. she had forced lando and daniel into a room and gave them an hour. that did wonders for the new teammates, because by the end of it, they had become so much more comfortable with each other and just couldn't stop laughing.

that was when daniel started noticing more about lando and y/n's friendship. the way that she was always the first one there to congratulate him, and the last person he saw before he left the garage for a race. the way that he always looked for her, even when he was working.

at first, daniel couldn't understand the impact that a young 20 year old woman could have on a young 20 year old man. their lives were just starting, yet somehow, with them, it felt like their lives had reached the stage of contentment with each other.

when lando first launched quadrant, daniel had watched how y/n had surprised him with wearing the merch and proudly showing it off. he had watched and smiled at how lando had gotten so excited, he had picked her up as he cheered, "you're wearing quadrant! you're wearing my merch!"

she was there for all of the races at first, in the mclaren uniform. daniel had watched how she would talk to him before every race. daniel didn't know what they were talking about, but it always had a laugh and it always ended up with a hug. he honestly thought that y/n was a witch, with the way she could calm down the hyperactive boy. no one that daniel had seen had that effect on lando the way y/n did.

and then, after a point, y/n stopped coming to races. and, daniel wondered if lando and her had had a falling out. he didn't know if he should approach his teammate about it, because it could be a sensitive topic.

two races gone by, and y/n hadn't come. lando had looked upset during those weekends, and he always disappeared right before the race and right after. after one particular race, daniel decided to suck it up and ask.

"why doesn't y/n come anymore?" he blurted out. it wasn't the way he wanted to go about it.

lando smiled softly, and daniel wasn't sure what that smile meant, "she quit. she went back to studying. goes to a university in london."

daniel didn't know that.

"are you guys still in touch?" daniel tried to be as casual as possible, but he wasn't sure if he was doing a good job.

lando's smile got bigger, and daniel took it as a good sign, "yeah, we're in touch. we talk before and after races, and pretty much any time that we're free,"

"that's good to hear," the conversation had ended there.

daniel now knew what his teammate did before and after races when he disappeared.

the silverstone race was when he had finally seen y/n again. lando hadn't seen her yet, and y/n had looked jittery. spotting her, daniel approached her.

"hey, i haven't seen you in so long!" daniel exclaimed.

the two hugged briefly, "oh my god, it's so good to see you! i've just been so busy with uni. finally a race that i could attend,"

"missed us, did you?" daniel teased.

"so so so much," y/n said, and the two laughed.

daniel watched from over y/n's head as lando, who had initially been talking to one of his mechanics pause and turn around, as if he had heard her laugh. daniel continued his conversation with y/n, while also watching lando's reaction. he was looking around, a frown on his face. if daniel had to compare lando's reaction to something, it would be to a dog who could suddenly sniff his favourite treat from somewhere.

just as y/n was about to say something, daniel watched lando finally spotting her in her ln4 merch, before practically screaming, "y/n!"

y/n turned, her eyes lighting up, and lando ran from the other side, dodging people. daniel took a few steps back, wanting to give the two friends some space.

lando's arms had immediately wrapped around her waist, and he picked her up. his face was buried in her neck, and all he said was her name. okay, friends definitely did not hug like that.

pulling back from the hug, lando kissed her. daniel's mouth fell open in shock. y/n had kissed him back, before she pulled away, laughing. lando put her down on the floor again, and pressed kisses all over her face, whispering in between, "you're here, you're here, you're actually here, i'm so happy right now,"

noticing a cameraman approaching, daniel softly said, "cameras, guys,"

taking a deep breath, lando took a step back, folding his arms, "thanks, dan,"

"no problem. now, wanna tell me what's going on here?" his teasing tone only made the two grin bigger.

"we started dating my last night in mclaren," y/n said softly.

"i bet lando cried. finally kissed a girl, didn't you?"

"i did actually cry," lando said, and the three laughed.

kyle, lando's mechanic called out, and daniel bid goodbyes to lando and y/n. he turned heading back, looking back just once to see lando's arm across y/n's shoulders, and y/n's arm circling his waist as they walked to where kyle was.

daniel hadn't seen lando look that happy since y/n had stopped coming for races. something about him had changed. he looked more confident and pleased. he looked as if he could hold the world on his shoulders if he wanted to.

his confidence was seen on the track as well. despite losing two places, lando was happier than most, and daniel knew that just the presence of y/n could have that effect on him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

max f

max remembered the day lando had called him, excited to tell him about a girl he had met and how carlos, she, and lando had joked around, and how beautiful her laugh was.

he remembered the blush on lando's cheeks and how excited he was. he denied liking her at that time, but no one ever called their best friend to talk about a woman for forty five minutes just to later claim that he didn't have a crush on her.

max had been apprehensive of the woman at first. lando was new to formula one, and he was bound to get famous. from what lando had told max, she was an intern, the same age as them. lando was a trusting fellow, and max felt the need to look out for his friend.

the first time lando had introduced y/n and max to each other, the two were just friends. though, the first meeting proved that max had no reason to be worried. y/n was quick with her witty responses like lando always was. she put up a good fight every time. their banter was entertaining, and y/n knew just how to keep lando on his toes.

they understood each other quite well too. max remembered when after a particularly bad race, the two were on a facetime call, where lando was explaining all that he could have done better, and max giving his inputs. their conversation had been interrupted when a knock on lando's hotel room was heard.

"might be carlos," lando had mumbled, before leaving max on his bed, staring at the ceiling. max could still hear everything, though.

"carlos, i don't feel like-" he heard lando's voice cut off.

"surprise!" a woman's voice, y/n's, was heard.

"what are you doing here?" lando had asked.

"well, i read somewhere that cookies and brownies fixed everything. but, i couldn't find enough ingredients for one particular thing, so i made brookies!" her voice was louder, and max assumed that she had entered the room.

suddenly he saw her face pop up on the phone, "hi max!"

"hey, y/n!" max waved at her.

"you baked me something?"

"uh huh. your flight isn't till nine, and i thought that i could help you pack since you're terrible at it, and max, you and me could listen to music and dance around and eat brookies!"

they had done exactly that, y/n and lando trying their best to include max in all their conversations as well. they jumped around, laughed, and ate brookies throughout. max yelled at lando to save some for him, but lando had pretended to not hear, and then y/n had promised to make more for him. lando was smiling again, and even though max knew that he still felt bitter about the race, it had distracted him.

it was silent for a few seconds, only the music playing, when max checked what was going on. he stopped himself from saying anything when he saw lando and y/n locked in a hug. his face was buried in her neck, and her fingers were in his hair. max didn't know what either of them were saying, but lando had a tight grip on her, his knuckles turning white, and y/n just held him.

max knew their relationship would change soon.

and it had.

after the two had gotten together, lando began coming to london more often, even if it was to spend time with y/n. he invited y/n everywhere, whether they went for quadrant shoots, or meeting new people for new business partnerships.

she would come with her textbooks and her laptop, insisting on studying while they did their thing. for the most part, she did study. during the plane ride to wherever they were going, lando and y/n would sit side by side, sharing wired earphones, listening to music while y/n studied. lando would usually stare at her, or play with her hair. during shoots, y/n would be just as enthusiastic as lando, always pushing him for new ideas.

she trusted him insanely too. any time he would drive at a speed that even scared him, max had seen the way y/n would be carefree, throwing her arms in the air and enjoying the wind.

y/n would even help out with designing lando's helmets. the two had a connection that max didn't understand that well. they brought out the best in each other and knew just how to handle the worst too.

max had seen lando more worried about whether y/n had eaten during exam season than he generally was about himself. max had seen lando care for something other than racing and quadrant. it was new and refreshing, and max knew it was a forever kind of deal.

it always was a forever kind of deal with lando and y/n.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

alex and george

alex and george had sort-of grown up with lando. they had raced each other in f2, and had become quick friends. lando used to look upto alex and george, and the boys knew about it.

they had known lando well when he was a young boy, had seen the way he drove, the way he acted, the way he was in general. they had seen his cocky attitude, and as much of a show he put up in front of the media, they knew that he looked upto almost driver that were on the grid as he tried to make a place for himself in between them.

they had seen how low his confidence was, despite being outgoing and getting along with almost everyone he met. he had been their topic of conversation many times, with the two trying to figure out how they could be there for their friend.

it had helped that lando had found a true friend in carlos, and then daniel. it had changed lando, a positive change that both, alex and george were incredibly happy to see. he still blamed himself after races, but carlos, a veteran, reassuring lando had had a greater effect than george and alex. the two men understood why. they had the same amount of experience in formula one as lando, so trying to convince him that he had done a good job wasn't as effective.

lando had really changed, though, after he met y/n. y/n was outgoing, like lando, and she could talk a mile a minute. she seemed to really give max competition when it came to yapping. but, the best thing that she ever did was make lando smile more often. george and alex were grateful for that.

y/n had a way of correcting lando or telling him new information without making him feel dumb. george and alex knew how insecure lando was for never finishing his schooling, unlike oscar. it was a shock to alex and george when lando told them random facts throughout the day. it was a good kind of shock, but a shock nonetheless. they knew almost immediately that it was the work of y/n.

lando had always been humble. online, he was arrogant. but, he knew what he needed to work on, he knew everything he could about his, and he always wanted to know more. george and alex had often teased him about leaving the last on saturdays after the qualifying session.

but, y/n had stayed with him, had encouraged him, and had showed him that even if he failed, he was still good enough. y/n showed him that even if he lost ten positions, he was still good enough as a driver, and as a racer. he deserved to be in f1, something that a lot of people, including george and alex agreed on.

over the years, lando had gotten good at saying what was expected of him. it was often things that he would go and directly tell people to their faces, but always play it off with the media. lando never forgot to remind alex and george how much he respected them, even if they told them in private. they knew that that was lando's way of making sure that they knew he was being sincere.

the world didn't understand it as much, and the media loved to twist all of their words. so, y/n helped him understand. and, y/n helped him grow. and, even though lando was always a good person, y/n made him better everyday.

alex and george often spoke about the difference five years, six years had made in lando. and they could agree that lando was still the same person, but just a little more grown up and a little more focused. it was his own doing, with some help from y/n.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

max v

padel with lando was one of his favourite things to do. lando was competitive, and he made jokes, and he was arrogant and deprecating, and somehow all of it just fit well.

they had a weekend free before the next race, and what better way could there have been than to participate in another sport with the same person who was the contender for the world driver's championship?

they had played for hours, and after the two had completely exhausted themselves, lando invited max over to his apartment for lunch. agreeing, max texted kelly about his lunch plans with lando, and the two drove to lando's apartment their individual cars.

parking, the two went up the elevator, laughing and giggling and gossiping on their way over. just as lando was about to unlock his front door, he paused and turned to max.

"my girlfriend is a little mad at me right now. i kinda paid off part of her university tuition and i didn't tell her, and now she found out, and i'm basically-"

"-fucked. you're basically fucked."

lando opened his mouth to retaliate, but agreed with max. he was fucked.

unlocking the door, lando called out, "babe, we're home!"

y/n appeared from the hallway, "hi, max! how was padel?"

max watched as lando moved towards her with his arms open, almost like a routine of when he comes back home, but y/n dodged his hands and stepped away. lando looked like a puppy who had gotten kicked, and as much as max wanted to laugh at the expression, he did feel a little bad for his friend.

"hey! um, padel was good. i beat lando, 5 games out of 8," he said.

y/n laughed, "that's wonderful. i'll get your lunch set up, so why don't you relax?"

she still hadn't said a word to lando, and as she turned to head towards the kitchen, he watched as lando followed her like a dog on a leash.

max settled on the couch, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. he tried not to listen, to not eavesdrop on his friend's very private conversation. but they were loud, so technically, it wasn't his fault.

"baby, i'm sorry, i was trying to help!" lando's urgent voice could be heard. he was speaking softly, but in the quiet house, it was still loud enough for max to hear.

"helping means washing the dishes or getting me supplies for my exams! helping does not mean paying off my tuition!" y/n's hushed whisper came next. she was angry.

"but, why can't i just pay for the tuition? i've got the money, you and i are going to end up married anyways! what's mine is yours!" max had to admit, this was probably the first time he had heard lando so sure on marrying someone.

"exactly! you've got the money. not me. lando, i need to be able to survive on my own, and my tuition is my problem. not yours."

"you are surviving on your own! just 'cause i'm here doesn't mean that you can't lean on me for stuff!"

max heard y/n let out a groan of frustration, "i'm not as rich as you are, lando. i'm not a celebrity or a model, i don't have the money. i'm studying to be a child psychologist. this is my future, and my college, including my tuition fees, is my responsibility."

"yeah, well, you are my future. so, you're my responsibility, and that includes your college and your tuition fees and literally everything else in the world." max smiled. maybe lando would not have to sleep on the couch tonight.

it was quiet for a few seconds, the only sound came from the sizzling of the pan.

"darling, i'm sorry i paid your tuition fees without asking or telling you first. you were stressed out about it the other day, and you were telling me how you would have to take extra shifts at the diner, and i just thought that if i have the money for it, why can't i just get rid of that stress of yours? i really just wanted to help, nothing else." lando's voice was soft, and max strained his ears to listen.

"i feel like i'm taking advantage of you," y/n whispered softly. why were they talking so quietly? max couldn't hear a thing properly.

"advantage of me? love, no. you deserve so much more than what i can offer you. i hate that i have to be away for so long because of my job, but you've never complained and you've always supported me. sometimes i'm scared that i'm not showing you just how much i love you,"

"that's why you paid off my tuition. 'cause you wanted to prove that you love me, but you couldn't figure out how to open your mouth and say it to me,"

lando laughed. that was a good sign. it was silent again. maybe they were hugging? max wished he had a visual as well. and some popcorn.

"forgive me?" lando asked softly.

"only if you have ramen with me tonight, and watch tangled with me again,"

he expected lando to groan. he had listened to lando rant about how the movie was ingrained in his brain and how the songs were stuck in his head constantly because of his girlfriend's obsession with the movie.

"deal. i love you," lando said.

"i love you more,"

"not possible,"

"watch me,"

max smiled. lando was not sleeping on the couch tonight, that's for sure.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

oscar

there was time before the first practice race was supposed to start. oscar sat on his side of the garage, but was quickly getting bored. the mechanics and the race engineers were talking and discussing, and oscar really tried to listen to them and participate in the conversation, but all he wanted to do was go out and drive.

sighing, oscar decided to find lando. if there was anyone who could distract him, it was lando. moving over to his garage, oscar looked for lando, and found him standing with his race engineer, will. the two were in deep conversation about something. lando's shoulders were tense, and his fingers were digging into his arms as he had them crossed across his chest.

oscar sighed. he probably shouldn't disturb him, then. it looked like they were talking about something important, and it's not like oscar had anything specific in mind when he came to find lando. he just wanted a distraction and laugh about something, anything.

just as he turned to go back to his side of the garage again, oscar saw y/n. he smiled, and was about to walk over to her so that he could at least strike a conversation with her.

oscar and y/n were good friends. they had a lot of similar interests and often spoke or hung out outside of lando. lily and y/n also got along really well, and that was just another pro in his list.

just as he was about to go talk to y/n, he stopped short, as he watched her open her bag and rummage through it. the paddock pass was hanging from her neck, and the orange cap she wore almost made her invisible to the media.

finally pulling out, what he assumed was a fan, he watched as y/n weaved her way through the crowd and stood behind lando, who was still in a deep conversation with will.

oscar worried for a second. he knew lando well, and he knew y/n well. he knew that lando hated to be disturbed when he was working or when he was focused on something, especially if it was related to improving his performance. he also knew that while y/n always meant well, sometimes, she couldn't figure out the right timings for things. while oscar knew that lando would not yell at her or anything, he still worried that lando would accidentally say something in the heat of the moment that he would regret later, but it would inevitably hurt y/n. she was sensitive and she felt too much for everyone. he didn't want y/n to be hurt.

he stayed still, though. he wasn't sure if it was his place to interfere. it wasn't his relationship, and he was friends with both of them. so, he stayed where he was, and he watched.

he watched as y/n stood behind lando. he watched as will noticed her, smiling just slightly, before turning his attention back to lando. he watched as lando didn't seem to notice that.

he moved a little closer, just so he could make out a little bit of what they were saying.

he watched as y/n started fanning lando, a mischievous grin on her face. he watched as lando's shoulders sagged in relief from the cool air, and then watched him tense up. he watched as lando turned around, wanting to find out where the cool air was coming from, and was met with y/n and her fan.

the couple were laughing now, and lando hooked an arm around her waist and trapped her against him. oscar could see both of y/n's arms against lando's chest as she leaned back to look at him, her hand still clutching the fan.

he watched as the two spoke, far too softly for oscar to hear them. but he saw the smiles on their faces, and the love in their eyes. the fans called him oscar "heart eyes" piastri whenever he looked at lando. if the fans saw lando and y/n right now, "heart eyes" would be an understatement.

he watched as lando pressed a kiss to her lips, and he watched as y/n tucked herself against his chest. he watched as lando and will got back to their conversation. lando's hands were running up and down her back, and oscar watched as lando's shoulders relaxed, and how he wasn't grinding his teeth anymore, and how all the tension that he seemed to keep in his body almost all the time melted away.

in that moment, oscar realised that the things he knew about his teammate/friend and his friend, they knew it better. they knew each other better, and they were stronger like that.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

i may have messed up the timeline a bit somewhere in the start. but, this is one of my favourites that i've ever written! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

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silcry

8 months ago

the sprint commentary from nico is precisely why i refuse to learn more about brocedes because the crumbs i do know are already enough to devastate me. because yes, nico might have spent that entire sprint trying to send telepathic signals to lewis on how he could improve so he could win. yes, every other word out of his mouth might have been about how he knows lewis can be more agressive than that, how he knows lewis and knows he can do better. but that's all commentary, that's still technically part of his job description.

but what do you mean lewis still sends christmas presents to nico's daughters every year?? what do you mean lewis, when talking about the first time he visited monaco said that it wasn't for a a gp, it was because 'a f- ...someone i know- ...a friend of mine invited me'??? the friend in question? a 13 year old nico. what do you mean that now, 25 years later, they live in the same apartment building in monaco???? what do you mean nico said 'he's still my best friend at heart'????? what do you mean lewis, when asked if he was a better driver now then he was in 2016, completely unprompted said 'yes, and better teammate' and then the camera cut to nico wHO WAS ON THE BROADCAST THAT WEEKEND AND HE JUST LOOKED DEVASTATED??????

the childhood best friends -> teammates -> enemies -> strangers -> whatever the fuck it is they've got going on now is just too strong and it would pull me in too deep and i would never escape.

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