﴾ Let Me Blow Your Mind

Can you give us skz bf when they find out a second member has a crush on the reader

ᙏ̤̫ ˘˘˘   skz reactions when another member likes you (nsfw)

𓈃 ★ CHAN

Chan wasn’t by any means possessive— at least not outwardly. He’d smile whenever the members would buddy up with you. They’re practically his family, after all. And you were the love of his life, why wouldn’t he like to see all of you get close? It’s only when he notices that Hyunjin has taken an extra liking to you. Going the extra mile to help you, laughing a little too hard at your jokes, and Chan especially noticed how his eyes would trail up and down your figure each time you turned around. Suddenly, Chan was biting his lip and narrowing his eyes. You were so obvious too… it made Chan wonder how you hadn’t noticed. Despite your oblivion seeing Hyunjin toy with you while you just smiled innocently made him want to pounce across the table at Hyunjin any chance he could.

It tipped over the edge when you wore that low cut top; the one he begged you not to wear yet you did anyway. That’s when Chan nearly lost his shit. He’d catch Hyunjin shamelessly eyeing those pretty tits of yours, the way they spilled from your top each time you bent forward. Chan was furious. So that night while Hyunjin was the only one home beside the two of you, Chan pressed you right against the door and fucked you as hard as he could. His goal was to send the message that Hyunjin could never have you. Your pretty moans slipping through the cracks of the door while he held your wrists above your head, going the extra mile by loudly boasting how you were all his.

“You’re mine— got that? No one else will ever fuck you this good. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? Tell me how good I fuck you, go on.

𓈃 ★ LEE KNOW

You could never really know what he was thinking. He was unpredictable; one day he might be the most loving, doting, perfect boyfriend out there… the next he could have you strip for him so he could bend you over his knee and spank the shit out of you. It’s the best of both worlds! It was surprisingly you who first noticed Seungmin’s lingering stare on you! You caught him staring at you one too many times for it to be a simple coincidence. The thought excited you because you knew exactly how Lee Know would react if he found out. You knew the games he played. So you decided to get a head start. Staring by returning the stares with Seungmin to fluster him, ultimately making Lee Know gawk at the two of you in utter shock. He’d bite his lips as he’d watch you pat Seungmin’s fluffy hair and place your neatly manicured hands on his knee. Lee Know caught on quick; he just didn’t bother to say anything, daring to see how far you’d go.

It was about a week into your little game when he finally snapped. The sight of your fingers swiping at something on Seungmin’s lips, swiping something away with care. Your nose so close to the younger boys— Seungmin was clearly blushing, enjoying the proximity. Meanwhile, Lee Know? No, that man was seething so he just outright said something, immediately placing a veined hand at the back of your neck and pushing you roughly against the dining table, making both you and Seungmin gasp loudly. However, your shock melted quickly into eagerness as you felt his hard-on press against your inner thigh; you also felt Seungmin’s piercing gaze as Lee Know practically growled into your ear.

“You must think you’re so clever, yeah? Taunting me like that… since you have taken such a keen interest in ‘Min, why don’t you show him how well you take me, hm?”

𓈃 ★ CHANGBIN

When Changbin first found out Chan had a crush on you, he was pouty. Adorable little lips jutting out, shimmery brown eyes fluttering each time with annoyance whenever he caught the two of you even just simply chatting. Changbin did not at all like whenever the two of you were left alone, maybe it was a bit toxic but does it matter? And it totally didn’t help that you were slightly feeding into his jealousy; always boasting about ‘Chan this’ and ‘Chan that.’ Poor boy was practically scowling whenever he even saw Chan enter the room. You teased Bin because he was cute when he was mad— you also teased him because you liked the sex you’d get out of him. The toe curling, jaw dropping quickies he’d give you each time he even felt an ounce of jealousy run cold in his veins. How his stamina seemed to grow tenfold whenever he thought you spent a little too long with Chan. Sex when Changbin was jealous, to him, was a reminder that you were his; to you it was euphoric because he was so rough and so whiny with you.

He currently had you bent like a pretzel, knees in your chest, ankles dangling beside your cheeks with his strong hand desperately gripping the pillow beside your head. This was the third time today he’d fucked you into the mattress— but it wasn’t his fault! You were pushing his buttons… this particular moment stemmed from how you had mentioned how toned and big Chan’s arms were. Changbin was quick to drag you by your elbow into the closest room, laying you on the bed and purposefully leaving the door unlocked. He hoped Chan could hear the way the headboard smacked violently against the wall; how you only moaned his name— Your Binnie! He couldn’t wait till later so he could show off the bite marks and scratches you’d left on his bicep, hoping to flex them around the dorms just for Chan to see. The entire time he would whisper to you in gentle whines how he didn’t like how Chan was looking at you. Or the way you were talking about him. Especially how you talked about his muscles. Definitely not that.

“Chan doesn’t have sh-shit on me, yeah, baby? Tryna steal— steal my girl, fuck. He can’t have you. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

𓈃 ★ HYUNJIN

Hyunjin… Let’s just say he temporarily despises whoever dares to crush on his girlfriend! Dirty looks, possessive touches, hickeys along your neck and collarbone that would be way too hard to hide with concealer. The person in question happens to be Jeongin, constantly giving the poor boy dirty looks despite the younger trying his best to avoid you for this very reason! But Hyunjin just doesn’t like knowing how he felt for you. He did not like it at all. So whenever Jeongin would come around Hyunjin was quick to drape his jacket over you and wrap a protective arm around your shoulder, maybe even bringing the two of you into a corner (though not at all hidden) just to kiss you. And he’d silently enjoy when he felt Jeongin’s jealous eyes watching as Hyunjin worked his tongue into your mouth and his hands under your shirt.

You’d tell Hyunjin to relax, although your cheeks were red and your thighs were pressing together for a bit of friction; eyeballs darting toward Jeongin who pretended to be busy with something else on the living room couch, though the apple of his cheeks were rosy and his pants seemed to be getting a tad bit uncomfortable. Hyunjin would simply scoff at you and decide to kiss down your neck instead, making sure to groan just enough to make Jeongin bite his lips. Maybe he doesn’t go the extra mile and put his fingers in your sweet little cunt like he wants to but he definitely riles you AND Jeongin enough to end this little hangout short.

“Did you see him staring at you? He’s so jealous, it’s funny… now spread your legs please, love.”

𓈃 ★ HAN

Jisung would lowkey get mad. Like? You’re clearly his girl, who do they think they are even daring to have a crush on you? So when Jisung finds out cute little Felix has a crush on you he smiles every single time he sees the poor younger boy; it’s not a nice smile either. It’s like he’s smiling to hide the pure anger he feels, his lips upturning almost creepily. It gets to the point where you softly wack his forearm and tell him to stop, red cheeks aglow from slight embarrassment. But Jisung does not give a singular shit, instead eyeing the boy longer. And god forbid you and Felix so much as make eye contact because Jisung will make it know how unhappy he is with that.

He wouldn’t try anything right then and there, nothing more than harsh squeezes of your thigh from beneath the table, maybe even snide remarks towards poor Felix. But the second the door to your shared home is closed he has you backed up against the nearest surface and is inhaling your breath like it’s his own. Lips on your neck, beneath your reddening ears, nipping at the skin like a starved man. It’s not so much as a jealousy thing as it is a dominance thing; proof that he really is yours!! That you chose him and not Felix, which only makes him smile in the kiss and slip his hand into your panties unexpectedly. The moans you let out as he fiddles with your clit only serves as further proof that he is yours, and you are most definitely his.

“Love you, my baby. Looked so pretty tonight even Felix was staring… too bad you’re mine, haha. Ah, stay still let me see your pretty face while I touch you… that’s it.”

𓈃 ★ FELIX

You were actually the one to tell him about Han’s crush on you. You heard from Hyunjin’s loud mouth that Han had been crushing on you for months; to which Felix literally giggled. He was by no means jealous, in fact he was flattered for you. Felix thought of himself as the luckiest man ever because he has someone that others want yet you chose him! It’s actually so sweet when he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, his warm, freckled skin practically melting into you as he placed his gentle hands along your jawline after hearing the news. Felix adores you, he understands why someone else would as well and he also trusts his friends to respect him and keep that shit to themselves!

The thought of another man wanting you only made Felix fall for you harder. You had options yet he was your first pick. So to show you how appreciative of that he is he’s pampering you. Spreading you out on the bed, you’re wearing that new lingerie set he bought you, lace flowers sewn into the panties with ribbons as white as snow. Felix is tender with you while he kisses you, small hands on your wrists as his messy blond hair tickles your tummy. He’s sensual and slow— not to be a tease but because he wants to make this feel special. His plump lips are grazing over your clothed pussy, hums deep enough to make your head spin. He savors every moment of this, thinking about how lucky he is that you’re his.

“Tonight is all about you, sweet girl. Promise to make you feel so good… so lucky to have you. Thank you for being with me.”

𓈃 ★ SEUNGMIN

One jealous son of a bitch. Seungmin seems to always catch other members staring at you a little too hard, seeing their eyes on you or how they licked their lips around you. But it was Lee Know who always had his eyes trained on you, watching you walk— even when you were around Seungmin! And it was pissing Seungmin off. He didn’t know if he was purposely trying to annoy Seungmin or if he was unaware; either way Seungmin was practically grinding his teeth together at the thought of Lee Know ever having a crush on you. But in a weird way Seungmin couldn’t even blame him— sure was he pissed that Lee Know even thought about you like that? Hell yeah. Was he surprised that other people found you attractive? No, not at all. Because it’s true. So in a way Seungmin related to Lee Know, chuckling at the thought after a while. And that’s how this idea had blossomed.

Seungmin had been fingering you for a little over half an hour, edging you on with a sadistic smile and his big brown eyes trained on the way your face squished at the feeling of your approaching orgasm. Your shivering hands rested on his shoulders, moans loud in the night. Seungmin left the door wide open so his roommate, Lee Know, would be able to hear every little sound you made; it worked like a fucking charm! Lee Know was sitting wide eyed in his bed just down the hall, his own bedroom door open a crack. His cock straining in his pants as the sound of Seungmin’s wet palm slapping against your swollen clit filled the room. Lee Know didn’t know whether to say something or to close the door and wish it were him pleasuring you instead. Seungmin loved that thought— so much so he had to whisper it to you, mouth right by your ear. The only thing was his “whispers” were loud enough for Lee Know to hear perfectly, every crisp syllable.

“D’ya think Minho heard you, sweetheart? Bet he wishes it was him touching you like this… bet he wants to touch you like this. He can’t reach the best parts of you like I can, baby, trust me. He doesn’t know this pretty body like I do.”

𓈃 ★ JEONGIN

Three words; jealous, whiny baby. He’s jealous, what else can I say? As soon as he hears from Chan that Changbin has a crush on you— his girlfriend —he’s seething. He immediately runs to you, whining into your arms as his weight crushes you into the bed, pouting into the soft crook of your neck, inhaling your faded perfume as he spoke. You’re feigning sympathy, asking questions you knew would tick him off, playing with his thick, conditioned hair as you did so just to tease him more, “Oh yeah? Bin likes me? How cute, how cute.” And, let me tell you, Jeongin is not amused by you at all. His bottom lip jutting out as he lifts his head and gives you the nastiest glare, big hands gripping your hands that were once in his hair. But it’s especially when Changbin comes in to ask you two what you want for dinner (though really he just wants to talk to you) that Jeongin silently loses it. Before you can even properly answer the older male Jeongin is pushing him out the room, locking the door behind him.

And now he has you laid on the mattress with your own panties pathetically shoved into your mouth as a make shift gag, holding his phone in front of your face. He’s recording, clicking his tongue and letting the camera scan up and down your sweaty, red marked body as he buries his cock between your thighs. He’s mocking you now, asking you questions with that same tone of understanding, feigning sympathy for the way his dick is splitting you open. Taunting you by saying he’ll send the video to Changbin to “prove a point,” and you’re practically sobbing from both pleasure and embarrassment! But it’s okay he won’t send it, he’ll keep it all to himself… you’re all his!

“What do you think, babe, should I send it? Think he’ll like it… no? Aw, what a shame. Shh, don’t cry, I know it feels good, shh.”

[ 𝗆．𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ] 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾：𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 ！𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 😭

현진 ─── give me more

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] solo hwang hyunjin drabble . praise kink , masturbation , use of imagination idk ♡  ― basically this is about hyunjin getting off to the thought of fans touching him and worshipping his body (all fans imagined in this are obviously legal age) i wrote this because ever since i saw these vids hyunjin has been driving me insane bye ♡ masterlist

the adrenaline still hummed in his veins, a phantom sensation lingering on his skin—the ghost of hands that had traced over his arms, his chest, his back. soft fingers, eager touches, the warmth of a thousand bodies pressing in close, their collective hunger feeding something primal inside him. hyunjin had let them, basking in the attention, in the way they reached for him like he was something divine. like he was made to be touched.

now, alone in the dim glow of his hotel room, that feeling hadn’t faded. if anything, it had settled deep, a slow, aching pulse between his legs. he exhaled, dropping onto the mattress, muscles still taut from the stage, skin too hot, too sensitive. his shirt felt suffocating. he peeled it off, letting the cool air kiss across the places where hands had been, imagining they were still there.

a slow drag of his palm down his torso, nails scratching lightly. his lips parted at the contact, a flicker of a sigh escaping. they had touched him everywhere, fingers grazing his waist, pressing against his spine, ghosting over the line of his throat. his mind twisted it into something filthier, something darker. what if those hands weren’t fleeting? what if they took, claimed, worshipped?

his breath hitched. he pushed his sweatpants lower, his cock already hard, aching with the thought. a shudder ran through him as he wrapped a hand around himself, the imagined sensation of dozens of hands making his fingers feel inadequate. he wanted more. wanted to be devoured, to be nothing but sensation under the weight of their touch.

his grip tightened, strokes rough, desperate. his head tipped back against the pillows, lips parted as he let himself sink into the fantasy—nails raking down his chest, lips pressing into his skin, the dizzying rush of being wanted so completely. he imagined the warmth of their breath against his throat, the press of lips against his pulse, murmuring words of devotion. his body tensed, his muscles coiling tight with every slow, deliberate pull of his hand.

the pleasure built quickly, a molten heat curling low in his stomach. his thighs trembled, his breath stuttering as he chased the sensation, hips lifting into his own grip. he imagined hands holding him down, keeping him still, forcing him to take it, to be utterly lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being touched, being worshipped. his own moans filled the quiet space, raw and unrestrained, his body unraveling under the weight of his own fantasy.

he could feel the pressure cresting, that intoxicating edge drawing closer, his body tightening in anticipation. his strokes turned frantic, his entire form strung taut with need, with hunger, until the tension snapped, pleasure crashing over him in waves so strong they left him shaking. his orgasm ripped through him, white-hot and all-consuming, spilling over his fingers as his breath came in ragged, broken gasps.

even now, he could still feel them. the ghosts of their touch, the remnants of his own desire. it wasn’t enough. it never was.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life @geni-627 @bbokvhs

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

Inspired by 'relight me' so feel free to skip if it's too similar! request for a 9th member sitting down the guys/or just channie if you prefer, to ask for their support/help bc she feels herself slipping back into unhealthy habits/scared to eat/feeling so icky about it, angsty angsty but they're so proud she's asking for help

hihi~ similar request to 'relight me' but just channie and reader hehe . i liked the idea of this one too . you are loved, everyone x

what you're worth - (bang chan x 9th member!reader)

pairing: bang chan x 9th member!reader

summary: you decide to tell chan about what you've been going through. his reaction isn't what you expected...

genre: super soft, really angsty, idol!au, soft channie, mentions of ed, not being able to eat, drinking water in place of food, reader is brave for opening up, chaotic binnie, hannie, and minho, mentions of eating, drinking, lighthearted stabbing joke (no skz was harmed in the making of this fic)

a/n: this is pretty much 'relight me' in a different font . div by @strangergraphics

skz masterlist

"Minho, eat your food."

"I am."

"No, you're not. Stop stabbing Jisung with your chopsticks and eat quickly. We have a dance practice to get to."

Minho groans and slouches over the table, mimicking Changbin's voice in an extremely overexaggerated, high-pitched drawl. "We have a dance practice to get to."

"Shut up."

Jisung laughs as Changbin throws a tissue at Minho, who retaliates and lifts his water bottle, threatening. "Calm down, seriously..."

You're watching as the three of them bicker from the other side of the table, head leaning on your crossed arms. Normally, you'd be the first to initiate these sorts of petty, playful arguments, but you're weighed down by a heavy, drooping tiredness. And it's not letting you do anything.

At all.

"Aren't you gonna eat, Y/n?" Jisung asks, peering around Changbin (who is currently attempting to headlock Minho). "You haven't eaten at all today."

You sigh and sit up, downing the contents of your waterbottle. Ice fills your stomach, freezing its soft lining. You feel stiff.

"I'll eat later," you say. "Promise."

You cross your fingers under the table. Jisung shrugs and looks away, wolfing down the rest of his food. Minho and Changbin, seemingly blind to the interaction, eventually pipe down and do the same.

You sigh and watch as Minho shamelessly stuffs his face, and the sight makes you smile as Jisung and Changbin do the same. At least they're eating properly. But it quickly fades, and you snap out of your thoughts just as Changbin pokes your side.

"...Hey, Y/n. You're not listening."

"O-oh," you stutter. "Sorry."

"Why did you zone out? You always listen to me," he whines.

You always listen to me.

The phrase sparks a dangerous idea in your head. It's so immediately distracting that you stand up, scraping your chair across the floor. Minho and Jisung both look up in surprise at the sudden movement.

"Where are you going?" Minho asks curiously.

"I gotta go," you say, and promptly turn away to leave.

The three members stare after you in confusion.

.

You knock on the door to Chan's studio. The hallway leading to his door is dark, and you trail a hand along the wall as you wait for the call to come in.

There's shuffling, a thump, and then the padding of footsteps as Chan comes and then opens the door. His hair is wild, half of it skewed from his headphones. One of the muffs is placed over the back of his ear so he can hear without taking them off entirely.

"Hey," he greets, unruffled by his very-much-ruffled appearance.

"Hi," you say, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Chan pauses. "Everything okay?"

You pause for a split second, mind whirring. Why are you here, anyway?

"Um..." you begin feebly, trying to compose a singular thought.

There's a a few seconds of quiet between the both of you before Chan takes your hand gently. You exhale, knowing that he knows something's wrong.

Leading you inside the studio, he sits you down on the black couch behind his desk, taking off his headphones entirely. The cold water from earlier sloshes unpleasantly inside your stomach, doing nothing to quieten the hunger pangs gnawing at your insides. Like filling up a bathtub without the plug in, it can never truly be full.

And neither can you.

You watch as Chan begins to click on files at his desk, dragging and dropping and typing things quickly before he closes down the software entirely. You rise from your seat on the couch, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Chan-"

"Sit." He pushes you back down gently with nothing more than a flick of his wrist. You sigh and try and relax into the cushions, but it's like trying to untense limbs made of rock. You shift uncomfortably as Chan turns around.

He's so much taller right now as you're sitting down; the blue glare of his screen dims slightly as the computer goes to sleep, sending a warm halo of light over the fluffiness of his unbrushed curls.

You gulp as he sits down next to you, sliding down on the couch slightly as he tilts his head to look at the panelled ceiling. The lights up there are off; the only source of illumination comes from a small table lamp in the corner.

"Something's wrong, hmm."

He says it not like a question at all; rather than something he already knows, and he's waiting for you to confirm it.

So you do.

"Yeah." You can't stop fidgeting.

A gentle smile caresses his lips, his gaze still locked on the ceiling. "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

You exhale, a low whoosh from your very core. You're in it now.

"I- I can't eat." Your voice sounds thin, dissipating as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Chan is still looking up, but he's silent for a moment. "When was the last time you ate a full meal?"

You can't answer.

He does look at you then; for the first time you see the true softness of his gaze, the way it seems to reach out and caress your jaw. Your cheeks warm from its steady intensity.

"Don't be ashamed, Y/n," is all he says.

You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you will them away. You don't want to cry in front of him.

"But I am," you say, almost inaudibly. "There's- there's something wrong with me, Chan, and I can't-"

"Hey, hey," He sits up and cups your face, heat flooding into your skin. His palms are warm and dry, slightly rough, but you relish the touch anyway. "There's nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing at all. Sometimes we just forget how much we're worth, and our habits follow."

You sniff. "I don't have a worth."

"Yes, you do." He scoots closer on the couch, folding you into his arms. "You always have had a worth, and you'll continue to have it. Sometimes you just forget it. And that's completely okay..."

You lean into his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut. "Chan..."

He continues. "See it like this," he reaches across, letting go of you slightly, and pulls the table lamp closer to him. "Tell me what you see."

You sniff again, feeling a little stupid. "A lamp."

Chan nods. "What's inside the lamp?"

"A light bulb."

He hums and reaches across to the powerpoint, trailing his fingers down the wire til they meet the plug. He rips it out of the socket, the light flickering and dying. The room dims, so much so that you can only just see the outline of Chan's hands around the cord. "Now what do you see?"

You look at him, confused through your misery. "It's still a lamp."

"And what's inside it?"

"A- a light bulb?"

Chan nods simply and sets the lamp down on the floor in front of you, still holding the cord in one hand. "No matter how we change the lamp, no matter what shape, size, colour, or texture it is, the light bulb inside remains the same.

"Even if we damage it, or forget to take care of it," he turns to you then. "I've had this lamp for three years, and I've knocked it over countless times, spilled coffee over it, scratched it, done all sorts of damage to this thing."

You can't fight a tiny smile. He really is clumsy.

"Nevertheless," Chan continues, "It's still working. It's still shining and bringing light to this room, to me. And, like I said, no matter the damage, no matter how the outside changes..." He reaches over to the powerpoint again and plugs the cord back in. Warm light floods the room once more. "The same light keeps shining."

You don't even realise how wet your cheeks are until he swipes a gentle thumb across your face. "Even if the light turns off, it's still there. Sometimes, Y/n, we just need someone to help us bring our light back."

He wraps his arms around you. "It's okay if you can't eat. You don't have to force yourself overnight. Just take it step by step. Snack a little. Have sliced fruit. Keep hydrated, and take breaks during practices. You'll find that eating comes normally once your body's system realises that's what's missing. It's nothing to do with your worth."

You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he says simply. His voice is solid, steady, as warm as the light emanating from the lamp. The oversized hoodie draped over his torso is pillowy against your wet cheeks.

Chan is still talking softly, and both of you know that you don't have to listen. All you need to do is bask in the glow of the light and his comfort. You can feel the soft, deep vibrations of his voice from within his chest, along with the steady pulsing of his heart.

You close your eyes, and relax.

a/n: man it's been so long since i wrote something (it's been a week)

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THE DESIRE OF A KING

summary: The loving king everybody knows is actually a psycho maniac in love with his maid besides being married to Queen Arielle.

pairings: yandereking!hyunjin x maid!y/n

genres/tropes: kinda cringey, angst, smut, mentions of cheating (warnings: rape; threatening to murder)

wordcount: 3129

author's note: I definitely just wrote this on the go and just didn't reread it and I'm sorry about that.. so this story might not make much sense.

The sound reached every corner of the room of the Queen's chamber as the maid on her knees cried after feeling the sting from the queen's slap burning her cheek as the palace guards had their swords pointed directly at her throat as if she were to make any wrong move they would kill her instantly.

"You little slut who dares you to sleep with my husband?!" Queen Arielle yells as she grabs the poor little maid by the neck. The maid sniffles in response and tries to stop her tears from pouring so she can answer her Queen properly.

"I- I'm sorry I didn't have a choice-" she says, which earns a scoff from Queen Arielle as let's go of the girl's neck, making her drop hard onto the wooden floor.

"You really think I would believe such nonsense as to hear from you, a poor lowly maid, that my husband the King would cheat on me purposely with something as pathetic as you?" Queen Arielle kneels down to where the maid is laying and lifts her chin to admire her face. She can admit the girl is beautiful and still has more youth than the Queen herself but far below the social status for even a low merchant to have her.

"My Queen, he forced me to sleep with him-" the maid said in fear as she began to cry again. The Queen looks at her in anger as she slaps her again and grabs her shoulders to yell at her again. "Did you not hear what I said before? my husband would never cheat on me with a poor maid like you!"

The maid looks at her with watery eyes begging her to let her go. "please Queen Arielle-"

The Queen slaps her again and looks at her with dangerous, threatening eyes to kill. "You really think I would believe that the King would cheat on the Queen with a maid and force her to bed with him? no no no you must have but a spell on him you wretched witch," the Queen grits her teeth shaking her head as she stares her down.

"but he did-" the maid says looking up at her but Queen Arielle just laughs at her like a maniac. "Why would my husband sleep with you?" she says as she gets something out of her strap on her leg which holds a gold dagger. The maid looks back at her in fear, shaking her head. "please no-"

"Tell me why? Why did he 'force' you to have sex with him?" Queen Arielle leans towards her pressing the dagger against her neck.

The maid looks at the dagger and starts to feel her body burn. "b-because he-"

"he what?" the Queen starts to lose her patience.

"He confessed to me-" The maid exhales as the Queen gets up in anger throwing the dagger on the floor getting up as she walks paces around the room.

The guards look at the Queen gulping in fear at her sudden action of throwing the dagger across the room and then looking down at the maid there holding on to the floor so she doesn't escape they look back at their Queen and ask, "do we kill her now-"

Queen Arielle turns around with a manic expression on her face as she grabs the dagger from the floor frantically as she makes her way to the maid and smiles and nods aggressively. "yes yes we must kill her," she says holding the dagger up with shaky hands as she puts the dagger against the girl's neck.

The Queen starts to whisper to the girl. "trust me this is for the best if you die,"

the maid closes her eyes, shaking. "please please don't do this," she begs for mercy.

"oh trust me everything will be alright maybe once you're dead the king my husband," she points at herself with a smile mentioning 'my husband'. "will finally love me,"

"please exile me, throw me out of the palace just please oh please don't kill me Queen Arielle,"

The Queen hisses under her breath. "stop being a bitch and just be dead already," she says then finally as she was about to kill the girl in front of her she is met by a hand on her shoulder making her silent.

"Who told you to touch her?"

The voice so calm and collected as if his wife he was arranged to marry ever since he was born wasn't going to kill the woman of his dreams in front of him.

The Queen turns around slowly and looks at him in fear as she still holds onto the dagger. With a smile on his face he looks at her with kind eyes but less kind words as he grips hard on her shoulder if he were to grip harder it would surely break.

"My King," The Queen finally speaks up as she looks at him astonished. He was supposed to be doing his regular routine and his duties- he was supposed to be distracted today. But he's here now and knows her plans.

"H-how did you k-know?" she says looking at him.

"How did I know? A little birdie told me while I was passing laws and documents in my office," he 'smiles'. "but what are you doing?" he asked in return.

She hides the dagger behind her back and hugs him, "I was just-" before she could finish her sentence she gets pushed to the ground and left behind as the King gently grabs the poor maid's hand and lifts her up.

The Queen looks at the two in shock as she sees his hands softly and smoothly grabs the maids chin and twirls her body to see if there are any scars and bruises and with a sigh he grabs her waist and hips and rubs them to reassure her that everything is going to be fine.

As the King adverts his attention from her he looks at his wife on the floor and the guards standing around her. The King looks at the guards and commands them to leave. Leaving only him and his wife in her chamber as the door finally closes he strides towards her on the floor and grabs her neck as she cries. "How dare you try to take the only one I ever loved?!" His voice booms as he starts to choke her.

"but- but I'm supposed to be the one you love?"

he scoffs. "Our marriage is a political one. There is no love there. We just use each other for the title and status and you should know that too. We've been promised each other since birth. You should really let go of this delusional thought of me 'loving' you because you might think I do but I don't love you... but her," he points out there. "I love her with every fiber of my being and if you took her away I would have simply killed you and if she were to die? I kill myself because I can't live without her near me," he says with no doubt in his eyes as his wife cries. "So what now are you going to kill me?"

he stands up dusting himself off as he fixes his sleeves then looks down at her still on the ground crying. "No I can't kill you neither can I divorce you because that would be a bad image for me, Arielle... even though I wish too," he says now not even looking at her as he fixes his sleeves then finally leaves.

He walks out of her chamber and into the hallway searching for his maid. He looks room to room throughout the palace to finally find her in the spare bedrooms resting after such a traumatic experience. He leans against the door watching her try to rest as he looks at her in concern then knocks on the wooden side of the door to get her attention. "May I come in?"

she looks up to the door and sighs. "Your Majesty I-" before she could even finish her sentence he walks towards her and touches her face to see if she's still alright. "Love, don't worry I'll take care of you," he says with caring eyes and a loving smile as he brushes her hair with his fingers. "You have nothing to worry about," as he goes to touch her again she stops him grabbing his hand as she puts it down gently to his lap and after a long pause of silence she speaks again. "Why are you doing this?"

"doing what?" he smiles.

"holding me against my will Hyunjin," she stares at him down with an unreasonable facial expression as if she's lifeless like a paper doll.

he laughs in response to her 'ridiculous' questions as he shakes his head. "I'm not holding you against your will-"

he goes and puts a hand on her thigh and smiles at her as she again pushes it away making him frown. "Hyunjin, you threatened me that if I didn't sleep with you you would have sent me to the dungeon," she says as she continues on. "You also said the time before that if I didn't kiss you on your birthday you would kill another maid or how about the time where I couldn't take it anymore that I almost left the palace? remember you held me by my neck in your bedroom telling me if I were to leave we'll both die-"

He then grabs her by the wrist as if to warn her if she were to go on she'll face max punishment by him and face humiliation from everyone in the palace who knows her from the king's lies. "everything I do is for reason,"

"and what reason could that be?" she says as she glares at him from the bed she lays as he gives her a blank stare and gives her answer that sounds so simple it's like it's supposed to be obvious. "because I love you,"

again she sighs again and rolls her eyes. This is the answer he always gives ever since this agreement happened. In the beginning before they agreed on this contract, Hyunjin would give subtle hints to him liking y/n. like stolen glances, little touches like putting his hands on her waist to 'move' her to the side or when he would 'accidentally' bump into her and hold her by her hips to hold her. But that all soon changed when he got more intimate, wanting more physical contact with her. He got so impatient with playing this game that he was only playing with himself since y/n was too naive to understand where he was hinting at. He soon gave up and started to be direct one day at night he confessed he was in love with her and when she didn't give a response a week later he would start begging. Sometimes he would cry on his knees to her bedroom telling her that he needs her, and loves her to death. And sometimes he would get so tired of having to beg her to just love him that he drugged her one night and forced her to bed with him in his chamber while Arielle was in the other room sleeping since Hyunjin can't stand seeing her without wanting to bulge his eyes out.

Being forced to be with him that night made y/n cry. She remembered how he would hold onto her body and kiss her neck the whole night thinking what he did was for the best to make her see they were meant to be. And even after that traumatic experience he would keep on doing it. Every night when she would be getting ready for bed or finishing her chores a maid or guard would come to her and tell her that the king needed her services and by services he would mean sex. The sweet and strong King the Kingdom knows as was different from the King she knows him as just as far as threatening to kill her family and friends if she said no to him.

She wishes she could say no to him. She really wishes she could but the risk of someone she loves being in danger from her actions will hurt her too much so it's better to just endure the pain for herself and that's why she is in this position right now.

"darling?" he snaps his fingers to get her attention back to him. "Are you okay, my love?" he smiles seeing her attention back on him.

"Yes I'm fine," she says, looking away from him. He looks at her again concerned with eyebrows furrowed as he holds up her chin to look at him. "No, tell me what's wrong, love?"

"Hyunjin just leave me be-" she says as he shakes his head. "no not until you tell me what's wrong-"

she starts to lose her patience forgetting about the risk she's been trying to avoid for so long. "you want to know what's wrong?!"

"really?!" she shouts, "Hyunjin, you threatened the safety of my family and friends just to have me and I almost got killed today by your wife-"

"I saved you before she could, doesn't that deserve a little thanks?" he argues.

she groans. "I just don't want to be with you-" she says, feeling the pressure of his hand behind her neck pushing her down so she can meet him at eye level as she sees his intimidating eyes. "You don't want to be with me, fine," he says, getting up from the bed. "be an ungrateful brat,"

"How am I not wanting to be yours? A sign of me being a brat-" she says glaring at him. "because I'm a fucking king!" he yells back. "What more could a woman want? baby I'm a fucking king I can give anything your heart desires within a matter of seconds,"

"but that's not what I want,"

he squeezes his fist in anger trying to control himself. "yeah yeah I know what you want you just want to leave me right?"

"because supposedly I'm a bad person to you,"

"yeah you are," she says in all honesty.

and with that Hyunjin leaves slamming the door behind him as he strides towards his office in anger. Trying to distract himself he signs off laws and documents. He can feel his anger boil thinking about what y/n said. She doesn't want to be with him even if he's the most powerful and richest man in the world. He tries to distract himself the whole day trying not to scream and yell or throw things across the room and also to not cry and let his emotions sadden him too much. Hyunjin actually manages to distract himself a bit but as he sees across his desk that there is no more paperwork for him to do for today he walks back out of the room. And is reminded by y/n and their argument they just had.

He walks to her door and leans his head on it as he closes his eyes feeling guilty then exhales and knocks on her door. When the door opens he sees her in a nightgown with her hair down with her pretty beautiful face which reminds him exactly why he fell for her the first time her beauty and kindness.

"y/n I came here to apologize for what happened this morning,"

she wraps her arms around herself uncomfortable seeing him here. He is seen having his hands behind his back already looking like he's sorry.

"Hyunjin I'm sorry but I really just don't want to see you right now-" she says about closing the door but is met with his hand blocking it.

"You know something, I'm getting tired of your constant rejection. I've tried to being loving and trying to take things slow but you're really pissing me off," he says as he grabs her wrist harshly.

"stop your hurting me,"

"Good, maybe that'll teach you how I felt with your constant rejection," he snarls as he pushes her to her bed going on top of her as he kisses her neck.

she starts to cry remembering the night of her loss of innocence that was caused by him and started this whole mess. "please stop Hyunjin,"

"Shut up and just take it," he growls as he goes to take off her nightgown then goes to take his clothes off as well.

"Hyunjin please," she begs for him to stop as she feels her naked body shiver from the cold as she meets with his warm body.

The room is filled with silence with just the sound of their body's slapping against each other for a while as he thrusts inside her as she cries. His face goes down to kiss her neck as he whispers against her hair. "I love you baby even though you may not love me yet I only ever desire you to be in my life," he says as he continues to whisper sweet things into her ear as she continues to cry.

As they continue his thrust becomes harder as she feels something build up in her stomach. "i- I'm gonna cum~" she says as he holds her body against him harder as speeds up. "Okay baby cum for me," he says as they cum together.

He collapses on top of her in her bed as he hugs her body. He continues to try and comfort her by saying how much he loves and adores her and when he sees she doesn't respond he simply pouts as he hugs her body as he sleeps in her bed.

She doesn't want to admit it but his body hugging hers as they sleep is comforting it makes her almost forget what all he's done to her almost…

.

.

.

The sun hits her eyes when she wakes up to see Hyunjin standing in front of her bed with an unreadable expression. "wh-what's happening-" she tries to sit up but feels the restraints on her wrist.

he chuckled darkly as he leaned over the bed traps between his arms. "since you been denying me for so long I thought of using a more direct approach then before,"

"You will not be able to leave this palace and you will be accompanying me wherever I go in the palace," he smiles. "I will not let you out of my sight for even a second." he says leaning down to kiss her on the lips.

author's note: I definitely just wrote this on the go and just didn't reread it and I'm sorry about that.. I don't know should I make a part two? probably not...

Doing Something Unholy

Yang Jeongin x Reader

Word Count: 5,098

Genre: Smut, Fluff, a hint of angst

Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!

Summary: Y/N goes to confession and admits her sinful desires to Father Yang, and he happily indulges them. After their first time together, however, genuine feelings begin to develop, putting Father Yang's job at risk.

Warnings: Religious themes, Priest!Jeongin, smut (unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, Reader calls Jeongin "Father" during sex, biting, slight soft dom!Jeongin, creampie, possessive Jeongin if you squint), a tiny bit of insecurity on Reader's part, getting caught having sex, Jeongin gets fired, slight parental angst. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

Fic is under the cut.

It started on a Sunday that seemed just like countless others. You woke up early, got dressed, and went to mass. Father Yang spoke at the front of the church just like he did every week, and you struggled to pay attention. Thoughts about his cock inside of you drowned out the homily as usual. You were ashamed of the sinful thoughts you were having, but a small part of you also enjoyed them. He was younger than most of the priests that you had previously met, much more attractive, and a much better public speaker. If he wasn’t a priest, you would have started trying to get with him ages ago. You knew that it could never be, however, so you decided to try asking for his advice during confession, hoping that he could give you guidance on how to move forward.

Father Yang caught onto your interest in him shortly after it started. He would have been lying to himself if he’d said that he didn’t find himself incredibly attracted to you. Though he knew that acting on it would be wrong, he saw no harm in admiring your beauty from afar. Seeing your smile every Sunday made him weak in the knees, and your voice was like that of an angel in his eyes.

Once service ended, you waited quietly while Father Yang spoke to various members of the congregation. Watching him take an interest in what was happening within his community always made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but think of how attracted you were to him beyond his physical appearance. He had a beautiful soul, too, something that became increasingly obvious each time you saw him answer questions from church members with nothing but care and kindness. In all honesty, though, it made you feel even more guilty for thinking about him the way you did.

When the conversation he was having with an older member of the church ended, you quickly made your way to where he was standing. He smiled when he saw you, and the anxiety you felt in that moment made you feel like you were going to throw up. It was too late to go back now, though, so you quietly asked, “Father, when is the next time that you’ll be available for confession?”

“This coming Saturday. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I have some things that I need to confess to, and I’d like some advice about a personal matter.”

“Come see me next Saturday. I’ll be there all day, so no need to worry about a specific time.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“It’s no problem. Goodbye, (Y/N). Have a blessed day.”

“Thank you, Father. Goodbye.”

The following six days went by agonizingly slow as you waited to see Father Yang again. Your weeks always went slowly when he was the focus of most of your thoughts, but this time it was worse because of the added fear of how he would react when you finally confessed your desires. Would he try to help you, or would he be disgusted that you were having such sinful thoughts in the house of God?

When Saturday finally came, you almost chickened out. Now that the day had actually arrived, confessing to your desires felt all too real, and it was almost too much. In the end, though, you decided to go. After all, you needed to ask in order to be forgiven. That doesn’t mean you didn’t wait until the evening, though. Forgiveness was necessary, but it didn’t have to come at the expense of embarrassment if someone else at the church overheard you.

When you entered the church, you initially thought that it was empty. That’s probably why it startled you so much when Father Yang called your name. When he saw how scared you were, he apologized. You reassured him, clarifying that you were more nervous about the confession than you were frightened by the sudden noise. He responded by gently placing his hand on your shoulder and saying, “It’ll be alright, (Y/N). Whatever it is, I’m here to help. Let’s go.”

You walked into the confession booth as he entered the other side. Confession had always been terrifying for you. This time, however, you found yourself feeling the slightest bit hopeful. All you needed to do was confess your sins, and you could finally be forgiven. Father Yang started the confession by saying “You may begin whenever you are ready.”

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” you said as you made the sign of the cross. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a month since my last confession.”

“What sins are you here to repent of?”

“I am here to confess to sins of a sexual nature. I know that it’s wrong, but I fantasize about you when I’m alone at night.”

Father Yang was silent for what felt like an eternity before he softly asked, “What?”

“Sometimes I touch myself, and I think of you when I do.”

He was silent again as he processed your words.

“It’s terrible, I know, but I can’t seem to help myself,” you continued I was wondering if you had advice that could help me stop.”

Father Yang knew exactly what he was supposed to do in this situation. He was supposed to give you a penance for the behavior and tell you some Bible verses that he thought would be helpful. Instead, however, every ounce of self-discipline he had went away, and he said, “My advice is this: Don’t.”

This time it was your turn to be surprised, softly asking, “What?”

“Don’t stop.”

“But it’s so shameful. I shouldn’t be thinking about you in that way.”

“My sweet girl, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I think that I’d like to know more. Why don’t you touch yourself while you tell me specifically what you think about?”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t seem like a good idea. What if someone else hears?”

“There’s no one else here but us, it’s alright.”

It was exhilarating to have one of your greatest fantasies actually happen, but it was also terrifying. Still, you said, “Yes, Father,” and did exactly what you were told to do. You started by pulling down your pants and underwear. Then, you gently rubbed your clit. A small whimper escaped your mouth as you let yourself enjoy the familiar sensation.

“Tell me about your fantasies, my dear,” Father Yang instructed. “Tell me about the thoughts you have about your priest when you’re in the house of the Lord.”

“I think about your fingers inside of me when I see you make the sign of the cross,” you mumbled as you moved your hand to slowly inserted two fingers into your pussy.

“What else?”

“I think about what your cock feels like whenever I use a dildo to get off. I know it’s wrong, but it feels so good. I just can’t seem to stop myself.”

He groaned at your words, and that’s when you realized that he was touching himself on the other side of the confession booth. The thought thrilled you, and you started to move your fingers faster. You continued letting out sinful but delicious moans as you fucked yourself and thought about the effect you were having on a man of God. This was wrong, and you knew it, but you also loved every second. Especially because you got to hear how much Father Yang was enjoying himself as well.

“You have no clue what you do to me, (Y/N),” he whimpered, “Every Sunday it takes every ounce of willpower I have to not just take you in my office after mass.”

“Well why don’t you, Father?” you responded.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure. I want you to take me in any way you see fit. I wanna be yours.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he begs, “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

“Are you close, Father?”

He didn’t even get the chance to respond as he came with a strangled sob leaving his mouth. Hearing Father Yang’s orgasm brought that familiar feeling to the pit of your stomach as well, and it didn’t take long for you to come undone on the opposite side of the confession booth. As you caught your breath, you started to say, “I’m so sorry, Father. I didn’t mean–”

“My sweet girl, you have nothing to apologize for. I’ll clean the confession booth after you leave, and no one will know what happened but us.”

It took longer than you thought it would to recover from the intensity of your release, but once you did, you exited the booth to find Father Yang waiting for you. He pulled you into a hug, and you instantly felt calm. The tranquility was short lived, however, since it was replaced by excitement when he leaned closer and whispered, “Come see me after mass tomorrow, I need to feel you.”

The following day was not like any other Sunday. You still woke up early, just like before, but you dressed much nicer than you typically would for mass. It wasn’t a special occasion, so you did get a few looks from the older ladies sitting near you, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was looking pretty for your meeting with Father Yang.

You had to admit that during service, your mind wandered more than usual. Of course, you always had inappropriate thoughts during mass, but there was also the added excitement of knowing that your thoughts might soon turn into reality. To say it was difficult to be patient and focus as he spoke was an understatement. You needed him, and you needed him as soon as possible.

Once mass was over, you waited diligently for everyone to leave, despite the fact that you wanted to run to Father Yang’s office the moment he was done addressing the congregation. You waited to approach him until nearly everyone had left, though. He smiled when he saw you, and asked, “Hello, (Y/N). How are you today?”

“I’m well, Father, thank you. Would it be alright to speak to you in your office for a few minutes? I have a personal matter that I’d like your assistance with,” you replied, your voice filled with false sweetness. Father Yang knew exactly what you were doing, and he loved it.

“Of course. Just wait here for a few minutes, please. I have a few more people I still need to speak to. I’ll come find you when I’m done and show you to my office.”

“Thank you, Father.”

You sat down in a pew and waited for Father Yang to come get you. As you waited, you let your mind wander again. You wondered what would happen once you were in his office, and picturing the various possibilities only turned you on more. The thoughts were such a distraction for you that you almost didn’t notice a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ready for our discussion, (Y/N)?” Father Yang asked.

“I’m ready.”

“If you don’t want to discuss this today, we can wait to discuss it another time. It’s also ok if you don’t want to discuss it at all.”

“I’d really like to discuss today, Father. I desperately need your advice,” you said with a smile.

Father Yang grinned at your eagerness and led you to an area of the church you had never seen before. You wondered what he did when he wasn’t offering confessions or leading services, but this was absolutely not the time to ask. You weren’t sure if you would be able to focus long enough to hold a conversation about it if you did ask, anyway, given that you were too turned on to think straight.

When you finally arrived in Father Yang’s office, the first thing he asked was, “Are you sure that you want to do this?”

“I’m sure, Father. I want you.”

“Please, (Y/N). When we’re doing this, just call me Jeongin.”

“Well, in that case, I’m sure, Jeongin. I want you.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Jeongin’s lips were on yours. It was a kiss that was full of desire, but also full of anxiety. It had been a long time since either of you had kissed anyone, and the nerves about what was about to happen were intense. That didn’t stop either of you, however.

When you pulled away for air, Jeongin asked, “Would it be ok to do more?” You nodded, and he started to gently kiss your neck. The small moans that left your lips in response were like music to his ears, and he realized that he wanted to hear them every day of his life. He even considered leaving the priesthood just so he could. He’d thought about it before, but now he had a reason to seriously think about whether he really wanted to continue on the path he'd been on for most of his adult life.

Jeongin snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you whisper, “More, please.”

“Your wish is my command, angel.” The nickname made you shiver with anticipation, and Jeongin loved it. He knew that it was a sin to do what you two were doing, but he didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was you.

You pulled up your dress just enough to remove your panties, and Jeongin removed his robes. You had to admit that he was even sexier without them. When you kissed him again, this time with less nervousness, he took the opportunity to gently insert his cock into your pussy. The kiss muffled the moans that came from both of you, but not as much as you would have liked.

Once he took a moment to adjust to how you felt around him, he started thrusting. Both of you were louder than you meant to be, and you silently hoped that none of the other church staff were still in the building. If they were, they would certainly be able to hear you. Jeongin couldn’t have cared less, however. All he could think about was how good you felt around him.

“Fuck, do you see what you do to me?” he asked. “I’m a servant of God. I’m supposed to be chaste. How does it feel to know that you’re so fucking sexy not even a vow to the Lord could keep me from you?” You only moaned in response, too overwhelmed with pleasure to speak.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were moans and skin slapping skin as Jeongin fucked you. His moans were addictive, and you loved that you were the reason behind them. A small part of you loved the fact that they were coming from a priest even more. Something about a man of God turning to sin for you worked wonders for your ego.

It didn’t take much longer for Jeongin’s orgasm to approach. With a moan, he said, “I’m close, (Y/N). What do you want me to do?”

“I want it inside, please. Fill me up. I wanna be yours.”

That was all Jeongin needed to hear to still inside of you, a string of curses and moans falling from his lips as he came. His orgasm made you desperate to reach your own, so you brought a hand to your clit and started to rub small circles around it. When he noticed, he decided to help by attaching his lips to your neck once again, biting and sucking every bit of skin he could reach. The sensation was almost too much, but it ended up being just enough for your release to hit you. Hearing you moan his name as you came was enough for Jeongin to once again consider leaving the priesthood to be with you.

Jeongin held you close as you both calmed down, and he kissed you with a combination of love and lust that made your head spin. You pulled away to catch your breath, and he said, “(Y/N), I think I love you.”

You hesitated for a moment before you said, “I love you too, Jeongin. I know that this is a sin, but in all honestly, I don’t think I care.”

“I can’t find it in me to care either. Hell, I’ve even been thinking about leaving the priesthood again just so we can actually be together.”

His words made you stop in your tracks and actually process what you’d just done. You were not only responsible for a priest breaking his vow to God, but now he was considering leaving the priesthood because of the vow that you’d helped him break. The realization brought tears to your eyes, and you said, “I’m sorry, Father. I shouldn’t have led you astray.”

“Don’t apologize, angel. You know I was thinking about leaving before we did this, right? Before what happened in the confession booth, even. I haven’t told many people this, but I never really wanted to be a priest. I was pushed into it by my parents. You’ve just given me the strength to acknowledge that this isn’t what I want.”

You only started crying louder when he said that, overwhelmed with too many emotions to count. You loved Jeongin, and you wanted to be with him, but you didn’t know if leaving the priesthood was a good idea for him. Unsure of what else could be said, you whispered, “Don’t throw away the life you have because of me, Jeongin. I’m not worth that.”

“Hey, yes you are. You are absolutely worth it. I meant it earlier when I said that I love you. I don’t want to be a priest. I want to be with you.”

You thought for a moment before you said, “As long as you swear to me that I’m not the only reason.”

“You are far from it, angel. I promise you,” he said, holding you tight as he spoke. “I don’t think I was gonna last much longer here, anyway. A lot of the older members of the congregation don’t like me much because I replaced Father Park.”

You laughed a little at his words as you relaxed into his hold. Once Jeongin was absolutely sure that you were ok, he let go just long enough to put his robes back on. As he wrapped his arms around you again, you said, “I’m really happy that we met.”

“I am too.”

 “Would you like to come back to my apartment for a bit?”

He replied, “That sounds lovely,” and the two of you walked out of the church together.

The drive to your apartment was silent, except for you occasionally cursing at fellow drivers. It was kind of mean, but Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the sudden shift in your demeanor. Just a few minutes before, you’d been incredibly sweet and gentle, telling him how much you loved him and how happy you were to have met him. Now, you were calling a driver that had cut you off a stupid prick and telling them that you hoped that their mother knew what a disappointment they were.

When you got to your apartment, however, you went right back to being the sweet girl that he knew, turning to him to say, “We’re here,” with a gentle smile on your face. The two of you got out of your car, and he followed you to your door.

Once the two of you were inside, you gave Jeongin a brief tour of your apartment, ending with your bedroom. He smiled as you showed him around your space, and he could feel himself falling for you harder. As far as he was concerned, his eternal soul could be damned. All he wanted was you, no matter how sinful the time you’d spent together so far was.

“What do you think?” you asked, plopping onto your bed.

“It’s really cozy. Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

He carefully sat next to you on your bed, and you kissed him. He kissed you back, once again adoring the feeling of your lips on his. When you finally pulled away, he smiled and said, “You are absolutely gorgeous. You know that, right?” You didn’t respond, too lost in thought to register that someone was speaking.

You would have been lying if you’d said that you weren’t concerned about the relationship that seemed to be blossoming between you and Jeongin. You wanted it to happen, and it seemed like he did too, but you couldn’t help but think about what could go wrong. What if once he left, he decided that you weren’t enough for him? What if he realized that he didn’t actually want to leave the priesthood? The idea was terrifying, and it was all that you could think about.

You didn’t even notice that a few stray tears had started to fall until you felt Jeongin’s hand on your face wiping them away. You jumped, startled by the sudden touch. He felt bad for startling you, but he couldn’t just let you cry. Pulling you close, he asked, “What’s wrong, angel?” You only started to cry harder, too overwhelmed by the emotions swirling around your brain to speak. Seeing you so upset broke Jeongin’s heart, but he didn’t really know how to help you. So, he slowly rubbed your back, whispering sweet nothings until the tears stopped.

When you were calm enough to talk again, you just said, “I’m really worried.”

“What’s got you worried, angel?”

“What if you realize that this isn’t actually what you want?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if you leave the priesthood and realize that it wasn’t actually what you wanted to do?”

“Sweetheart, I promise you that’s not going to happen. I don’t know if you remember me saying this when we were still at the church, but I was already considering it before I even realized I was attracted to you. I was pushed into this life by my parents. It was never what I actually wanted to do with my life. The only thing that you did was give me the strength to live my life the way I want to instead of how someone else wants me to.” Jeongin’s words did make you feel a bit better, but the doubt still gnawed at you.

Desperate to think about anything else, you said, “Tell me about your life before you were a priest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I wanna know everything that you’re willing to tell me.”

“Well, I grew up with two brothers. One is older, one is younger.”

“Do you get along with them?”

“Mostly. We fight sometimes, but I think that’s normal for siblings.”

“What about your parents? Do you have a good relationship with them?”

Jeongin let out a long sigh and said, “I’d like to think so, but sometimes they do make things difficult.”

You wanted to ask him what he meant, but you had a feeling that it was a touchy subject. So, you left it alone, instead listening to the stories that he told you about his childhood and teenage years. Your favorite story that he told you was about the period as a child that he took piano lessons. It wasn’t necessarily the story itself that made you so happy, though. It was more the light in Jeongin’s eyes as he told it. He seemed to have a real passion for music, and as he spoke, you found yourself desperately wanting to help him develop that passion.

Hours passed as the two of you talked about anything and everything that you could think of. As the two of you talked, Jeongin was fascinated by everything that you shared with him, from stories of your time in marching band as a teenager to the summer that you spent learning how to knit. If anyone else had taken the time to explain to him the difference between the garter stitch and the stockinette stitch, he probably wouldn’t have cared at all. Because you were the one explaining it, however, he found himself hanging on to every word.

As much as you loved spending time with Jeongin, you knew eventually your time together had to end. The time came for you to take him home when he told you that he had some business to attend to before the end of the day. As you drove, an awkward silence filled the car once again. Both of you wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but neither of you quite knew what to say.

Watching Jeongin walk back into the church once you dropped him off filled you with a sense of dread. All you wanted was to beg him to stay with you. He had a job to do, though, and you knew that, so you kept your composure until you got home.

For a few weeks, nothing else happened between you and Jeongin. You were disappointed that you hadn’t really seen him, but you also trusted that he would make time for you as soon as he could. You couldn’t help but wonder when that would be, though. On a random Sunday, however, you got your answer. Before service, Jeongin came up to you and asked, “Could I come back to your apartment with you after mass?”

“Of course, Father Yang. Is everything ok?”

“Yes, everything is fine. I’ll explain when I see you later,” he answered.

After he walked away, you found your seat and waited for mass to begin. As you took in the scene around you, you noticed that a few of the older women that sat near you were giving you dirty looks. You brushed them off, however, assuming they were simply judging the dress you wore to church. If you only knew just how wrong you were.

For the most part, the service was completely normal. As announcements began, however, a feeling of dread filled your stomach. There was no reason for alarm bells to start going off in your brain, really. There was just this feeling that something major would happen, and everything would change. You were proven right when Father Yang said, “I want to conclude this week’s announcements by informing you all that this will be my last service as your priest. It has been an honor to serve this community for as long as I have, but for personal reasons, I need to move on. Starting next week, I will be replaced by Father Lee Minho. He’s a good man, and I’m certain that he will lead you all in the right direction in your walks with God.”

“Shock” was nowhere near a strong enough word to describe what you were feeling. You were appalled that Jeongin was really throwing the life he had away. You also wondered what had happened to make it happen so quickly. You still remembered when Jeongin replaced Father Park, and Jeongin didn’t actually start for months after you started to hear the rumors that Father Park was retiring. Either something happened that sped up the process, or the process began long before you knew about it. As you remembered the dirty looks you’d gotten before mass started, you realized it was probably the former.

Mass ended, and you waited for Jeongin outside of the cathedral. You didn’t have to wait long, though, before you heard him say, “I’m so sorry about this.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Father.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m done with that life now.”

“Ok, then there’s nothing for you to apologize for, Jeongin.”

“I do need to apologize, but I’d like to talk more about that in the car if that’s ok.”

“Of course.”

The two of you walked to your car in silence, but once the two of you were in your car, Jeongin took a deep breath and started to explain.

“So, apparently we weren’t alone in the building a few weeks ago. A few of the older ladies were still in the sanctuary, and when one of them saw the two of us go to my office, she followed us. She heard everything.”

You were silent for a few minutes while you processed his words and thought about what to say in response. With a deep breath, you said, “I am so sorry, Jeongin. I didn’t mean for you to lose your job.”

“I knew it was only a matter of time, honestly. She called the bishop and told him what she’d heard, and a meeting was set up. At the meeting, I was told to either go to confession or leave. I chose to leave, and Father Lee was chosen as my replacement.” The rest of the ride was silent as you thought about what Jeongin had told you. When you pulled into your driveway, however, he added, “I hope you know that you aren’t the only reason I chose to leave.”

“I know, but I can’t help but feel guilty that it played out this way.”

“There’s nothing to feel guilty for, dear. I appreciate that you’ve been there for me while I figured this out.”

“I’ll always be here for you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said before softly kissing you.

The two of you went into your apartment, and you discussed what Jeongin’s plan was now that he was no longer a priest. To start, you asked, “Would you like to stay here until you get on your feet?”

Jeongin hesitated before he replied, “I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you. I have no clue how long it will take me to find another job.”

“You wouldn’t be a burden. I promise.”

With a sigh, Jeongin said, “Ok. Thank you so much. For everything.” Sure, he was still concerned, but he had to admit that he was excited to spend more time with you.

The next day, Jeongin called Father Lee to schedule a time to get his belongings from his former church-provided lodging, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with pride as the fact that he was finally living his life the way he wanted to. When the agreed-upon time came, you went with him and helped him to load his things into your car. Then, you drove him back to your newly shared apartment as the two of you enjoyed each other’s company and wondered what the next chapter of your lives had in store.

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this one, please like and reblog! If you'd like to read more of my work, you can find my masterlist here. If you wanna see what else I have in the works, my upcoming works list is here. If none of that catches your attention, or there's something specific that you want to see, send a request via my asks or dms! If you want to be tagged in my new fics, you can leave a comment on any of my posts, send an ask, or send a dm with the username that you'd like tagged!

Thank you again for reading. I hope you have a wonderful day!

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──── who would’ve thought you would’ve met the love of your life on the same day he was going to be fucking you into the mattress only a hour later.

( 対 ) bang chan + fem. reader wc. genre · contains! mature content. / back to library

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ one of my all time favorite chan photoshoots…

“do you not know what he’s known for?” your makeup artist asked , you sat in your chair getting your hair down. “duh he’s literally bang chan , of course i know what he's known for.” you said. “you’re a lucky bitch , other actresses are dying to do a movie with him , but he refused to do this scene with anyone but you.”

you smiled smugly into the mirror. “can’t help i’m the best.” you shrugged. “is that so?” a voice said , making you both turn to the door; the man you were talking about standing in the walkway. “you asked for me no?” he nodded. “you’re right , i did.” you could feel the tension in the room; everyone knew this would be a good shoot. “and according to yourself you’re the best , so that would make me the best right? the best only works with the best right?”

the staff removing themselves from the room , leaving you and him , with tension that could cut through skin. “you could say that i guess.” you said , he was now standing behind you, staring ahead into the mirror. “you look good.” he said. “i know.” he chuckled softly; his hands making their way to your shoulders. “you’re pretty smug baby.” he squeezed, making your heart flutter and your lower region flutter. “will you keep that same energy when you’re begging for me to let you cum later, yeah?” he whispered in your ear, his hand that was resting on your shoulder coming down to slide down the robe you wore to cover the minimum amount of clothing you were sporting. “i wore the best thing my stylist could find.”

“it’s cute baby.” he said. “too bad im gonna rip it off you in about 20 minutes.” his hand dropping and you didn’t bother to fix it , leaving the man wanting more. “i’ll leave you to it.” he stepped back, taking in your appearance in the mirror. “damn.” he whispered , making you smile. “kinda want to take you here.” he said leaving you alone in your dressing room — leaving you wanting more of him.

luckily for you; you didn’t need to wait much longer, soon they were bringing you to the set , your heels clicking on the floor as you walked with confidence, sitting down on the bed that was provided for the scene; the robe long gone, leaving you in the sexy underwear your stylist could get her hands on. “where’s chris?”

and just as if someone called on a genie , he appeared. “here i am.” that same dimple smile you saw a while ago. “great you both look great , like a real couple.” she said; his eyes were trained on you. “you hear that? we look like a real couple , that’s how good we look.” he said climbing on the bed. “you got all pretty just for me.”

“you two ready?” the director asked; pressing the button. “good luck!” she said giving the signal that the camera was rolling. luckily the scene was a softer one , you two were like a real couple… then the scene came , the one you’d been aching for since he called for you a few weeks ago.

“spread your legs let me see how wet you are for me.” it felt like he was speaking from his mind and not the script; your legs opening for him. “good fucking girl.” he slapped the inside of your thighs. “look the mess you made.” he said , his thumb grazing your clothed clit. he got as close as he could so only you could here. “remember what i said.” grabbing the waistband of your panties. “these have to go.”

you heard the sound and the feeling of the fabric tearing. “ah fuck!” you whimper, his hands gripping your thighs keeping them apart. “look at that.” he gave your pussy a slap. “she’s begging to be filled.” it didn’t even feel like the script anymore. “she’s crying for me.”

the camera right on your face as he pushed himself inside you. “ah sh-shit.” his veiny hand coming up to your throat , tightening it as he pounded into you. “you feel me?” he groaned. “right here.” he pressed on your stomach adding to the pleasure. “ye-yes fuck.” you cried out. “fuck me , please!”

he cursed as you clenched around him; your warm cunt not letting him go. “look at you -fuck- all dumb and pretty for me , good girl.” your screams and his grunts filled the set , the crew felt the chemistry much as chan did — in fact this is most chemistry he’s felt with anyone he’s ever filmed a movie with. “chan!” you screamed , his hands tangling your hair , tugging on it. “you’re gonna cum for me?” he gave you one deep thrust. “i can feel it.” the heat from the lighting burned your already hot skin. “be a good slut and cum for me.”

your legs shook as you came; a scream getting caught in your throat as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “shit , you’re tightening around me -fuck- i’m gonna cum.” he hissed , pulling out to get the perfect shot , jerking his cock off until he came on your naked chest. “shit.” he hissed , his cum painting your skin white.

the scene was cut as you tried to catch your breath. “good job both of you.” the director said. “people are gonna love this , you two are like a match made in heaven.” she gave both a thumbs up as your stylist gave you some wipes and a robe to cover your body. “you hear that? people are gonna love you.”

“they already love me.” you said. “oh that mouth , gonna get you in trouble one day.” he said. “maybe i’ll have to be the one who trains it, yeah.” he got close to your ear once again.

“maybe i’ll record it just for us it.”

©️LUVYENI

over matcha lattes ୨୧ to something more?

[ 승민‎ ] ✷ ‎  . . 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝖼𝖾 — 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌 and puppies. . ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑛erdy!seungmin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader g. fluff , humour , uni!au , classmates to lovers, skz ensemble. II,3OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ L𝒾BRARY . 𓋜 . cw. bantering , jokes , intimacy. ✦ requested. ! ࿐

yani's note ! ✿ 600 followers aaaa !!!!! also new fic layout, yes, very cutesy very demure. thank you to anon for the lovely request !! >< answering more requested fics soon <3 this might have a sequel, (which is requested by another anon, again.) !! when yn and seungmo are already dating heheheheh. hope you all like it !!! comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading <3

y/n had always been a walking ray of sunshine. the way she bounded into the university cafeteria every morning, beaming like she had a personal spotlight, made her an unmissable presence. today was no different. with her hair loosely tied into a messy ponytail and a bright yellow cardigan that made her look like spring personified, she wove through the crowd, waving at familiar faces and exchanging cheerful hellos.

"felix!" she called out, spotting her blond-haired best friend at their usual table. felix turned around with an amused grin, holding a tray piled precariously with food.

"you look like you're auditioning for a yogurt commercial,"

"and you'd be the overworked single dad in the background trying to keep me away from sugary snacks," she shot back, grabbing one of the croissants from his tray.

behind them, hyunjin sauntered in, looking like he had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. he rolled his eyes at their banter, brushing his long hair out of his face. "can you two stop flirting for two seconds? some of us are trying to exist without getting cavities."

felix and y/n gasped in mock offense simultaneously.

"hyun, i'm wounded," y/n said, clutching her chest. "this is friendship, okay? try it sometime."

"not when it looks like a rom-com b-plot," hyunjin deadpanned, sliding into his seat.

as rina and aeri joined the group, the table quickly became a hub of laughter and noise, with jokes flying left and right.

across the room, someone, was watching.

well, watching was a strong word. more like…occasionally glancing up from his laptop. he had a prime spot at the far end of the cafeteria, where he could quietly work on his assignments. most of the time, the noise didn’t bother him. but y/n’s voice had a way of cutting through every other sound—bright, melodic, and so unapologetically full of life.

"you're staring again."

jisung’s teasing voice broke through seungmin’s thoughts. he looked up to see his friend grinning at him from across the table.

"i’m not staring," seungmin said flatly, returning to his notes.

"you’re staring," jeongin chimed in, smirking as he leaned over to snag one of jisung’s fries. "it’s okay, though. we all know you have a soft spot for the sunshine girl."

seungmin shot them both a withering look. "she’s loud. that’s all."

"loud and cute," jisung added. "don’t worry, man. it’s endearing."

before seungmin could retort, y/n’s voice rang out across the cafeteria again, this time much closer.

"seungmin!"

he froze. sure enough, there she was, skipping toward their table like she had all the time in the world.

"why do you guys always sit here by yourselves?" she asked, plopping down in the seat next to him before he could say a word. her friends trailed behind her, chatting amongst themselves but clearly amused by her antics.

"because it’s quiet," seungmin replied, his tone clipped.

"not anymore," jisung whispered, earning a glare from seungmin.

y/n didn’t seem to notice the tension. she leaned over, peering at his laptop screen. "what are you working on?"

"a paper."

"what’s it about?"

seungmin sighed. "you wouldn’t understand."

"oh, come on! try me," she said, resting her chin on her hand and giving him her full attention.

"it’s about the correlation between music theory applications and cognitive development," he said, hoping to scare her off with the overly academic phrasing.

y/n blinked. then she grinned. "that’s so cool! do you think it’s true? like, do people who understand music better think differently?"

seungmin blinked, caught off guard by her genuine curiosity. "well…yes," he admitted. "there’s some evidence that it improves problem-solving skills."

"see? you can explain it in normal-person language," y/n teased, nudging his arm.

the table erupted into laughter, and seungmin fought the urge to roll his eyes. but when he glanced at y/n, her smile was so warm and sincere that he felt his annoyance melt away just a little.

maybe she wasn’t so bad.

"careful, seungmin," jisung whispered. "you might actually start enjoying her company."

"shut it."

it was an overcast morning, the kind where the sky seemed to hold its breath, and the world below carried on in muted anticipation. y/n strolled into her economics lecture, her wavy black hair bouncing slightly as she adjusted the strap of her tote bag. her signature energy had dimmed slightly today; the clouds seemed to tug at her mood, though she masked it well with her usual bright smile.

the lecture hall was buzzing with the chatter of students, most of whom were busy complaining about their upcoming projects. y/n spotted felix waving at her from their usual spot near the back, and she hurried over, plopping into the seat beside him.

“late night again?” felix teased, nudging her with his shoulder.

“guilty,” y/n admitted, stifling a yawn. “i was helping rina practice her speech. you know how she gets—everything has to be perfect.”

felix chuckled. “you’re too nice for your own good.”

before y/n could respond, the professor—a middle-aged man with a perpetually frazzled look—strode into the room, carrying a stack of papers. he set them down with a heavy sigh, silencing the room.

“all right, everyone, settle down. as you know, your mid-semester project accounts for 30% of your grade.”

groans rippled through the room, but y/n straightened in her seat, already scribbling notes.

“i’ll be assigning you partners,” the professor continued, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “the goal is to analyze a real-world economic issue and present a comprehensive report. you’ll have three weeks to complete it.”

y/n exchanged a quick glance with felix, who smirked. “bet you’ll get stuck with someone boring,” he whispered.

“or worse,” y/n whispered back, “someone who doesn’t do their share of the work.”

the professor began calling out names, pairing students at random. y/n listened intently, silently hoping she’d be paired with someone easygoing.

“…kim seungmin and y/n l/n.”

well that wasn't surprising.

her head snapped up.

“seungmin?” she repeated under her breath, her eyes darting toward the other side of the lecture hall.

sure enough, there he was, seated near the front with his usual straight-backed posture and composed expression. he didn’t even look her way, just calmly noted down her name in his notebook.

felix snickered. “good luck. maybe you’ll finally break through his ice-cold demeanor.”

y/n gave him a playful glare before gathering her things and heading down the steps toward seungmin.

as she approached, he glanced up, his dark eyes meeting hers with the faintest hint of surprise.

“hey, partner,” she said cheerfully, trying to ignore the slight knot in her stomach. “looks like we’re stuck together for this one.”

“seems so,” he replied, his tone neutral.

his face, as always, was unreadable. his neatly styled hair and pressed shirt made him look effortlessly put-together, a stark contrast to y/n’s cozy cardigan and slightly scuffed sneakers.

“do you have time to discuss this today?” she asked. “there’s this cafe near campus where—”

“i know the one,” he interrupted. “it’s fine. let’s meet there at two.”

“great!” y/n said, her smile unwavering. “i’ll see you then.”

as the economics lecture had ended, seungmin packed up his belongings with his usual efficiency, slinging his bag over his shoulder. as he stepped out into the corridor, he was immediately intercepted by jisung, who was grinning like he’d just discovered the world’s funniest secret.

“so…” jisung began, falling into step beside him.

seungmin raised an eyebrow. “so what?”

“you’re partnered with her,” jisung said, practically vibrating with glee.

“who’s her?” jeongin chimed in, suddenly appearing at seungmin’s other side.

“y/n,” jisung answered, dragging out her name dramatically.

jeongin’s eyes widened, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “the sunshine girl? the one who makes it her life’s mission to befriend everyone?”

“that’s the one,” jisung confirmed, nudging seungmin with his elbow. “how does it feel to be the chosen one?”

seungmin rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “it’s just a project. we’ll get it done, and that’s it.”

ryujin and yuna joined the group then, ryujin immediately catching onto the conversation. “what’s this about?” she asked, her sharp gaze darting between them.

“seungmin got paired with y/n for the econ project,” jeongin supplied, clearly enjoying the situation.

ryujin’s eyebrows shot up. “y/n? oh, this is going to be good.”

“why?” seungmin asked, his tone exasperated.

“because she’s basically your polar opposite,” yuna said, her voice light with amusement. “you avoid people; she attracts them. you’re all about efficiency; she probably spends half her time doodling in her notebooks.”

“you’re underestimating her,” yeji chimed in, catching up to the group. “she’s actually really smart. i’ve seen her in class—she’s not just about the bubbly personality.”

seungmin shot her a look of mild surprise but said nothing.

“still,” jisung said, grinning, “i can’t wait to see how this goes. who knows? maybe she’ll finally melt that ice-cold heart of yours.”

seungmin sighed. “can you all find something else to talk about?”

“not a chance,” jeongin said, and the group dissolved into laughter as they walked toward the campus courtyard.

meanwhile, y/n practically skipped out of the lecture hall, her usual energy returning in full force. she immediately spotted felix, hyunjin, rina, and aeri waiting for her near the lockers.

“well?” felix asked as soon as she approached. “who’s the lucky partner?”

“seungmin,” y/n announced, pulling her bag strap higher on her shoulder.

the group collectively froze.

“seungmin? kim seungmin?” hyunjin said, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“yup,” y/n replied, popping the “p” as she leaned against the locker.

“oh my god,” rina said, covering her mouth with her hand. “the seungmin like the class ace?”

“mr. perfectly composed,” aeri added, folding her arms. “how did that happen?”

y/n shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “guess the universe thought it’d be fun to put a sunshine and a storm cloud together.”

“do you think he’s annoyed?” felix asked, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“probably,” y/n said with a laugh. “but it’s not like i’m going to let that stop me.”

“i can already picture it,” hyunjin said, his tone dripping with melodrama. “you’ll be all smiles and rainbows, and he’ll sit there glaring at you like you’re the bane of his existence.”

“that’s probably accurate,” y/n admitted, giggling.

“you’re going to have to work hard to get through to him,” rina said. “he’s not exactly the easiest person to talk to.”

“challenge accepted,” y/n declared, holding up a fist in mock determination.

“just don’t overwhelm him,” aeri said, though her smile was teasing. “you have a tendency to… how do i put this… shine a little too brightly sometimes.”

“me? overwhelm someone?” y/n asked, feigning innocence.

“you’re very adamant.”

“but in the best way,” rina added.

“exactly,” y/n said, flashing them a grin. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a coffee date with mr. storm cloud.”

“good luck,” hyunjin called after her as she walked away.

“you’re going to need it!” felix added, laughing.

the air in the cafe was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the dreary gray of the day outside. golden light spilled through the large glass windows, painting soft highlights on the oak furniture and the framed watercolor prints lining the walls. the hum of a coffee machine harmonized with the low murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of ceramic cups.

seungmin sat near the window, his usual spot, with his arms folded and a faintly bored expression on his face. the green hue of his matcha latte swirled lazily in the mug in front of him, its foam dusted with a delicate sprinkle of matcha powder. his laptop was open, the screen already filled with meticulously organized notes for their project.

he glanced at his watch, exhaling quietly. she was late.

by two minutes.

before he could think too much about it, the cafe door opened with a cheerful chime, letting in a rush of cool air and the familiar sound of her voice.

“there you are!” y/n called, her energy somehow brighter than the café’s lighting. she waved at him, her tote bag bouncing against her side as she weaved through the tables to reach him.

“you’re late,” seungmin said flatly as she slid into the seat across from him.

“by like, two minutes,” she countered, flashing him a grin that could disarm a storm.

y/n dropped her tote bag onto the floor and leaned forward, her gaze falling on the mug in front of him. “is that a matcha latte?”

“...yes?”

her eyes widened, and she clasped her hands together dramatically. “i did not peg you as a matcha person. you just became ten times more interesting.”

seungmin raised an eyebrow, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. “and what exactly did you peg me as?”

“black coffee,” she said instantly, as if it were obvious. “you know, something bitter and unapproachable.”

“i don’t know whether to be offended or impressed by how specific that was,” he said dryly.

“take it as a compliment,” she said, waving her hand. “anyway, i’m getting one too. be right back!”

before seungmin could respond, she was already bouncing toward the counter, her black, wavy hair swishing behind her. he watched as she gestured animatedly while ordering, her voice carrying faintly over the café’s soft playlist.

when she returned, she was balancing a matcha latte in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. she set them down with a flourish, her eyes sparkling.

“now we match,” she said, nodding at their identical drinks.

seungmin stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “do you ever run out of energy?”

“nope!” she chirped, taking a sip of her latte. “i thrive on optimism, caffeine, and sheer determination.”

he gave her a look that bordered on disbelief. “that explains a lot.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, leaning forward with mock offense.

“it means,” he began, leaning back in his chair, “that you’re probably the kind of person who volunteers for everything, stays up too late, and takes on way more than you can handle.”

y/n blinked at him, caught off guard by how accurate he was.

“before you ask, let’s just say you’re not exactly subtle,”

“well,” she said, recovering quickly, “you’re not exactly a mystery, either.”

“oh?” he said, crossing his arms. “do tell.”

“you’re the guy who avoids people but secretly observes everything,” she said, counting off on her fingers. “you’re the top of our class, duh—overachiever, for sure—but you act like you don’t care about grades. and you definitely judge people silently.”

he stared at her, one corner of his mouth twitching. “not bad.”

“see? i’m not subtle, but i’m perceptive,” she said triumphantly, taking another sip of her latte.

seungmin sighed, shaking his head. “this is going to be a long three weeks.”

“oh, come on,” she said, grinning. “admit it. you’re at least a little glad we’re working together.”

“i’d rather drink bitter, unapproachable black coffee for three weeks straight,” he deadpanned.

y/n burst out laughing, drawing a few amused glances from the other tables. “you’re funny when you’re grumpy, you know that?”

“i’m not grumpy,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

“sure you’re not,” she teased, pulling out her notebook and flipping it open. “okay, mr. matcha-latte-is-my-personality, let’s get to work.”

for the next hour, they hashed out ideas for their project, their conversation an entertaining mix of intellectual debate and playful banter. y/n’s colorful pens danced across the pages of her notebook, while seungmin’s precise typing filled the spaces in between.

“wait,” y/n said suddenly, tapping her pen against her chin. “what if we include a survey? like, ask people why they prefer local coffee shops over big chains?”

seungmin looked at her, slightly impressed despite himself. “that’s actually… a good idea.”

“see?” she said, beaming. “teamwork makes the dream work.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t disagree.

as they packed up their things, y/n looked at him thoughtfully. “you know, you’re not as scary as people think.”

“and you’re more tolerable than i expected,” he replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“aw, was that a compliment?” she teased, walking beside him toward the door.

“don’t push your luck,” he said, holding the door open for her.

such a gentleman.

the next day, seungmin found himself back at the same corner table of the cafe, his laptop open, and his fingers resting lightly on the keyboard. he had arrived early again, and his usual matcha latte sat in its familiar spot, the faint green foam already starting to lose its swirl.

he glanced at his watch, fully expecting her to be a few minutes late again. sure enough, the door chimed exactly three minutes past the hour, and there she was.

“three minutes late,” seungmin remarked without looking up from his screen.

“consistent, aren’t i?” y/n chirped, setting her bag down with a thud and sliding into her seat across from him. her hair was loosely tied back today, a few stray curls framing her face.

seungmin’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “consistently late isn’t something to be proud of.”

“agree to disagree,” she replied, pulling out her notebook and a handful of pens that were, unsurprisingly, color-coded.

her latte arrived shortly after, along with a croissant she ordered, and she immediately broke off a piece, offering it to him. “want some?”

“no.”

“suit yourself,” she said, popping the piece into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “so, where were we?”

“market analysis,” seungmin said, his tone all business as he turned his laptop to show her the data he had compiled.

the next hour passed in a surprisingly productive rhythm: y/n sketching out ideas with colorful diagrams and annotations, and seungmin structuring their findings into coherent sections. but, as always, their conversation veered off course every now and then.

“why are you so into matcha, anyway?” y/n asked at one point, leaning her chin on her hand.

seungmin paused, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. “it’s subtle. balanced. not overly sweet.”

“so, basically the opposite of me,” she quipped with a grin.

“exactly,” he said without missing a beat.

y/n laughed, the sound light and contagious. “you know, you’re a lot funnier than people give you credit for.”

“maybe people just don’t pay attention,” he replied, smirking slightly.

“or maybe you’re secretly a comedian and no one’s cracked the code yet,” she said, scribbling something in her notebook.

seungmin glanced at her notebook. “are you doodling again?”

“it’s brainstorming,” she said defensively, holding up the page. it was covered in little clouds and stars alongside bullet points about their project.

he sighed, though there was no real annoyance in it. “i don’t know how your brain works.”

“and yet,” she said with a wink, “here we are. perfectly balanced, like your precious matcha.”

the cafe became their unofficial meeting spot, the hum of the espresso machines and the chatter of students forming a familiar backdrop to their study sessions.

each day followed a similar pattern. seungmin would arrive early, his notes already meticulously organized. y/n would burst in a few minutes late, full of energy and carrying an ever-changing assortment of pastries.

their conversations became less about the project and more about each other as the days passed.

“you were in the debate club in high school?” y/n asked one day, wide-eyed.

“briefly,” seungmin admitted, not looking up from his laptop.

“i can totally see it,” she said, nodding. “all calm and logical, probably tearing your opponents apart with facts and wit.”

“is that your way of saying i’m argumentative?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“no, it’s my way of saying you’re scary smart,” she said, grinning.

he didn’t respond, but she noticed the faintest hint of color rise to his cheeks.

another day, y/n told him about her childhood. “i used to write letters to random people in the neighborhood,” she said, laughing at the memory. “just little notes, you know? telling them to have a great day or sharing a joke. my mom thought i was nuts.”

“that tracks,” seungmin said dryly, though there was a soft smile tugging at his lips.

by the end of the first week, their dynamic had settled into an easy rhythm. y/n’s chatter filled the spaces seungmin left, and his quick, witty remarks kept her on her toes.

one evening, as the cafe began to empty out, y/n looked at him thoughtfully. “you know, i think we’re not as different as we seem.”

seungmin glanced up, curious. “how so?”

“you act all cold and distant, but you’re actually super thoughtful,” she said, pointing her pen at him. “and i might seem like i’m all over the place, but i actually work really hard to make things perfect.”

he considered her words for a moment, then nodded. “maybe you’re right.”

“of course i am,” she said, smiling.

the usual morning buzz of the café wrapped around y/n as she entered, her tote bag slung over her shoulder. the golden glow of the hanging lights reflected off her black curls as she scanned the room, finding their usual spot by the window empty. for once, she had beaten seungmin here.

sliding into the seat that was unofficially hers now, she set her things down and strolled to the counter. today, she had a plan.

“i’ll have a caramel macchiato,” she said brightly to the barista, “and—oh, a matcha latte as well. to go with it.”

the barista smiled, tapping the order into the screen. y/n hummed along with the soft café music as she waited, glancing toward the door every now and then. the matcha latte wasn’t for her—it was for him.

the drinks arrived quickly, and y/n carried them back to the table, placing the matcha latte on his side of the table with a satisfied nod. she had barely taken a sip of her macchiato when the café door chimed, and seungmin walked in.

he paused when he saw her sitting there, looking unusually early, sipping her drink and doodling in the margins of her notebook. his gaze flickered to the matcha latte already waiting on the table.

“you’re early,” he said as he approached, his voice as calm and measured as always.

“surprise,” she said cheerfully, lifting her drink in a mock toast. “and i got you this.” she nodded toward the matcha latte.

seungmin blinked, momentarily thrown off. he stared at the latte, then back at her. “you got me a matcha latte?”

“yep. extra foam, no sugar. that’s how you like it, right?” she said, her tone breezy.

his lips parted slightly in surprise, and for a split second, she thought he might actually smile. “you noticed that?”

y/n shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the rush of pride she felt. “well, we’ve been meeting here for over a week. i’d have to be pretty oblivious not to notice.”

seungmin slid into his seat, his expression carefully neutral. but the faintest trace of warmth flickered in his eyes as he picked up the cup. “thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” she said, grinning. “see? i can be thoughtful too.”

he rolled his eyes but took a sip, the familiar flavor calming him more than he cared to admit. “don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late,” she teased, leaning her chin on her hand.

they had just begun discussing their final outline when the café door opened again, letting in a gust of cool air and a burst of familiar voices.

“hey, isn’t that y/n?” ryujin’s voice rang out, loud enough to turn a few heads. she was flanked by yuna and yeji, with jisung and jeongin trailing behind. minho followed at a leisurely pace, his hands shoved into his pockets.

y/n waved them over, her face lighting up. “guys!”

seungmin groaned under his breath, already bracing himself for the chaos about to ensue.

ryujin reached the table first, her sharp eyes immediately landing on seungmin. “well, well. didn’t expect to see you here with y/n.”

“we’re working on a project,” seungmin said flatly, glancing at her with mild annoyance.

“sure you are,” ryujin said, smirking as she slid into the seat beside y/n.

yuna and yeji sat down on the other side of y/n, while jisung and jeongin squeezed into the remaining space. minho stayed standing, leaning casually against the back of seungmin’s chair.

“is that a matcha latte?” jisung asked, pointing at seungmin’s cup.

seungmin raised an eyebrow. “yes. is that a problem?”

“not at all,” jisung said with a grin. “just didn’t think you’d be into something so…trendy.”

“trendy?” seungmin repeated, his tone incredulous.

“leave him alone,” y/n interjected, swatting jisung lightly on the arm. “matcha is great, and seungmin has good taste.”

seungmin glanced at her, surprised by her defense. “thanks…i guess.”

the group erupted into teasing laughter, and seungmin groaned again, this time louder. “this is exactly why i don’t hang out with you people.”

“oh, come on, seungmin,” ryujin said, nudging his shoulder. “you secretly love us.”

“i really don’t,” he said, deadpan.

but even as the banter continued, y/n noticed the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. it was fleeting, barely there—but it was enough.

as the conversation swirled around them, y/n leaned closer to him, her voice low enough for only him to hear. “see? it’s not so bad having company.”

he shot her a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. “you’re exhausting.”

“and yet, here you are,” she said with a wink.

seungmin didn’t reply, but he took another sip of his matcha latte, the warmth of the drink matching the faint warmth in his chest. maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad after all.

the study session had gone by surprisingly smoothly, the usual mix of bickering and banter lightening the load of the project. the rest of their friends had left the café an hour ago, leaving y/n and seungmin to finish up the last few points of their outline in relative peace.

“so,” y/n began, stretching her arms over her head, “are we done for today?”

seungmin glanced at his notes, then at her. “i think so. unless you want to go over the market strategy again.”

“i’d rather not,” she said with a laugh, leaning back in her chair.

he closed his laptop with a soft click and stood up, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “then we’re done.”

as they stepped out of the café, the late afternoon sunlight cast a warm, golden glow over the campus. the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves, and the streets were alive with the chatter of students heading to their next destination.

“wanna take a walk?” y/n asked suddenly, looking up at him.

seungmin hesitated for a moment before nodding. “sure.”

they strolled along the tree-lined paths, the leaves crunching softly under their shoes. y/n swung her bag idly by her side, her energy a little more subdued than usual.

seungmin noticed her glancing at her phone every few minutes, her brows furrowing slightly each time. he didn’t say anything at first, but as the minutes ticked by, her unease became harder to ignore.

“you’ve been checking your phone a lot,” he said finally, his tone casual but pointed.

y/n looked up, startled. “oh, it’s nothing.”

“doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, studying her carefully.

she hesitated, biting her lip. “it’s really not a big deal. just… a thing.”

seungmin raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. instead, he changed the subject. “you know, for someone who’s always so cheery, you’re not great at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

y/n let out a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “guess i’m not as subtle as i thought.”

“nope,” he said, smirking slightly.

they continued walking, the conversation drifting to lighter topics. y/n told him about the time she tried to bake cookies and accidentally used salt instead of sugar, while seungmin recounted the disastrous group project he’d been part of in high school.

at one point, they stopped by a small fountain in the center of campus, the water sparkling in the golden light. y/n leaned against the edge, her face tilted up toward the sky.

“you ever think about how weird life is?” she said suddenly, her voice soft.

seungmin looked at her, surprised by the shift in her tone. “weird how?”

“like…how people come and go. how things change so fast, and you don’t even realize it until it’s already happened,” she said, her fingers trailing absently along the edge of the fountain.

he didn’t respond immediately, letting her words hang in the air. “yeah,” he said finally. “but that’s just how it is. you can’t control it.”

“i know,” she said, sighing. “it’s just…sometimes i wish things could stay the same, you know?”

seungmin watched her for a moment, the soft sunlight catching in her hair, turning it into a halo of dark curls. he didn’t know what was going on in her head, but for some reason, he found himself wanting to figure it out.

“you’re not as complicated as you think you are,” he said, breaking the silence.

y/n turned to him, blinking. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he shrugged. “you’re easy to read. you care too much, you worry too much, and you’re too nice for your own good.”

she stared at him for a moment, then smiled. “is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“take it however you want,” he said, smirking.

as the evening wore on, they found themselves back near the café, the warm glow of the windows spilling onto the sidewalk.

“thanks for hanging out,” y/n said as they stopped outside.

“didn’t have much of a choice,” seungmin replied, though there was no edge to his tone.

y/n laughed, the sound light and genuine. “you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be, you know.”

“don’t push your luck,” he said, but his lips quirked up in the faintest of smiles.

as they parted ways, y/n glanced at her phone one last time, her smile faltering slightly. seungmin noticed, his chest tightening with a feeling he didn’t quite understand.

he didn’t ask, not yet. but something about her quiet moments of worry lingered in his mind long after she was gone.

the morning sun cast a soft glow over the campus, but y/n barely noticed it. her fingers twitched against her phone screen, unlocking it for the hundredth time that morning. nothing. no updates.

she exhaled, locking it again, stuffing it into her coat pocket as her legs carried her to the usual meeting spot—a bench under the giant oak tree near the university fountain. felix, hyunjin, rina, and aeri were already there, their laughter blending into the murmur of passing students.

“hey, superstar,” felix greeted, his dimpled smile in place. “finally decided to grace us with your presence?”

y/n forced a smile, but hyunjin narrowed his eyes immediately. “you didn’t sleep well, did you?”

she waved him off. “i’m fine.”

aeri crossed her arms. “liar. you’ve been checking your phone like your life depends on it.”

rina sighed, her voice gentler. “still no news?”

y/n shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek. “i just.. i just hope things work out.”

felix leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “you should stop worrying so much. it’s not like you can do anything more.”

“i could,” y/n mumbled, picking at her sleeve.

hyunjin clicked his tongue. “y/n. you did everything you could. more than anyone else would.”

“but that doesn’t mean it’s enough.” her voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of something much heavier.

aeri’s expression softened. “we know how much this means to you. but stressing yourself out isn’t going to change anything.”

y/n stayed silent, staring at her shoes.

the group lapsed into silence for a moment, the usual morning energy dimmed by the unspoken understanding hanging between them.

then, suddenly—

“okay, enough doom and gloom,” felix announced, standing up dramatically. “we have classes to suffer through, and y/n, you have a reputation to maintain as our radiant ball of sunshine.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped her.

hyunjin threw an arm around her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “see? there’s the smile. let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

she hummed noncommittally, but as they all walked to class together, her fingers still itched to check her phone again.

meanwhile.

seungmin had barely sat down at their usual cafeteria table when jisung slid into the seat beside him with all the grace of an overly excited squirrel.

“so,” jisung started, grinning. “how’s your little study buddy?”

seungmin exhaled sharply through his nose, already regretting every life choice that had led him here. “no.”

jeongin, sitting across from them, leaned forward, clearly entertained. “what do you mean, ‘no’? we didn’t even say anything yet.”

“you don’t have to,” seungmin deadpanned, stabbing at his rice with his chopsticks.

ryujin, yuna, and yeji all exchanged looks before turning to him in unison. ryujin smirked. “so. how’s y/n?”

seungmin chewed slowly, staring blankly at his tray like the answers to life’s problems were hidden somewhere between his kimchi and his soup. “fine.”

jisung gasped, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “fine? that’s all we get? kim seungmin, the master of unnecessary detail and sarcasm, is suddenly giving us fine?”

yeji leaned in. “what’s she like when she studies? still yapping?”

“she never stops talking,” seungmin muttered, rubbing his temple.

yuna giggled. “sounds like you had so much fun.”

“ecstatic.”

jeongin raised an eyebrow. “but you keep showing up.”

seungmin clicked his tongue, irritated. “because we have a project. unlike you clowns, i care about my grades.”

jisung dramatically wiped a fake tear. “we’re clowns, but you chose to sit here.”

minho, who had been silently eating until now, finally spoke up. “so, you actually like hanging out with her, huh?”

the entire table went silent.

seungmin paused mid-bite, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “i tolerate her.”

jeongin snorted. “that’s seungmin for i-actually-enjoy-her-company.”

“i do not—”

“oh my god, guys,” jisung gasped, eyes widening as if he had just discovered the meaning of life. “what if he is the one who talks more when they’re together? what if he’s the one who yaps?”

the table erupted into laughter while seungmin sat there, unimpressed, arms crossed.

“be serious,” seungmin said flatly. “me? talkative?”

ryujin leaned her chin on her hand, grinning. “well, y/n does have a way of getting people to open up.”

seungmin scoffed, looking back down at his food. “yeah, well. doesn’t mean anything.”

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. “sure, sure. but if you ever start writing your songs about her, let us know.”

minho smirked. “or if you suddenly develop a taste for matcha lattes.”

seungmin groaned, dropping his chopsticks onto his tray. “i hate all of you.”

but even as his friends laughed and teased, he couldn’t stop the brief thought that flickered in his mind—

y/n had ordered a matcha latte for him yesterday.

and, annoyingly enough, it had tasted just a little bit better than usual.

the golden glow of the setting sun stretched across the city, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. the air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves, freshly brewed coffee from nearby shops, and the faintest whiff of something sweet—perhaps a bakery down the street, or maybe just the anticipation curling in y/n’s stomach.

she adjusted the tote bag slung over her shoulder, her fingers tightening around the straps as she, hyunjin, and felix approached the same, familiar place.

the soft jingling of the bell above the glass door greeted them as they stepped inside, the warmth of the small space wrapping around them like a hug.

the scent of pet shampoo and fresh kibble mixed with the quiet murmurs of staff and the occasional soft barks from the kennels. y/n immediately scanned the room, her heart squeezing as her eyes landed on a familiar golden figure curled up in the corner.

“star,” she breathed, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

the golden retriever perked up at the sound of her voice, his deep brown eyes lighting up as he scrambled to his feet, tail thumping wildly against the floor. his scarred eyebrow lifted slightly, his head tilting as if in disbelief before he rushed toward the gate of his enclosure, whining softly.

felix chuckled beside her. “that’s one hell of a welcome.”

hyunjin smirked. “almost makes me jealous.”

y/n shot them a look before crouching down, slipping her fingers through the gaps in the bars to brush against the soft fur of star’s head. “hi, baby,” she cooed, her voice dropping into that sweet, affectionate tone she only ever used for him. “did you miss me?”

star pressed his nose against her fingers, letting out a low, contented whimper as his tail wagged even harder.

a familiar voice spoke up from behind the counter. “you know, i think he waits for you every day.”

y/n looked up to see hana, one of the adoption center staff, smiling at her from behind the desk. she was leaning against it, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with knowing eyes.

y/n straightened up, brushing her hands on her jeans. “any news?”

hana’s smile faded slightly, and she sighed, shaking her head. “not yet. a few people came in, but they were looking for younger pups. star's still waiting.”

y/n bit her lip, glancing down at the dog who was still pressed against the gate, big brown eyes watching her intently.

her chest ached.

felix noticed, nudging her shoulder. “hey, it’s only been a little while. he’s gonna find the perfect home.”

y/n nodded, but she didn’t respond. instead, she reached into her tote bag, pulling out a small packet of homemade dog treats wrapped neatly in brown paper. she unwrapped it carefully and slipped one through the bars, watching as star took it gently from her fingers.

“you made him more treats?” hyunjin asked, amused.

she gave him a look. “of course. he deserves them.”

hana chuckled. “you’re probably spoiling him more than his future owner will.”

y/n only smiled, watching star nibble on the treat, his tail wagging slower now, more content than excited. she reached forward again, scratching behind his ears, her fingers brushing lightly against the scar above his eye.

she hated that scar. hated the reminder of what he had been through before he ended up here. hated that someone had hurt him enough to leave marks on his body.

star suddenly licked her fingers, snapping her out of her thoughts. she blinked, then let out a soft laugh.

“thanks, baby,” she murmured, rubbing his head. “guess i needed that.”

felix and hyunjin exchanged a glance but said nothing.

after a moment, y/n sighed, straightening up. “i’ll come back tomorrow.”

hana smiled. “i’m sure he’ll be waiting.”

y/n looked back down at star one last time before stepping away. but as she turned toward the door, she felt it—that nagging, sinking feeling that sat deep in her chest, whispering words she didn’t want to hear.

what if no one ever comes for him?

the streetlights flickered on as the sun dipped lower, washing the city in gold and deepening shades of blue. cars rumbled past, the occasional honk slicing through the air, but to y/n, everything felt muted—like a muffled symphony playing in the background of her mind.

she walked between the two, her steps a little slower than usual, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her oversized cardigan. she wasn’t talking as much, and that was rare.

felix noticed first. “you’re quiet,” he murmured, glancing at her from the side.

y/n hummed, eyes fixed on the pavement. “just thinking.”

hyunjin sighed. “about star.”

she didn’t answer right away. instead, she kicked a small pebble on the sidewalk, watching as it bounced ahead of them before rolling to a stop. then, softly—“he’s been there for so long.”

felix’s lips pressed into a thin line. “he’ll find a home.”

y/n exhaled slowly, hugging herself. “what if he doesn’t?”

hyunjin nudged her shoulder. “you don’t know that.”

“i don’t not know that either.”

the three of them fell silent for a few beats, the sounds of the city filling the space between them. a warm breeze tousled y/n’s hair, but it did little to chase away the weight settling in her chest.

“he’s such a good pup,” she murmured. “so kind, so sweet. and he’s still waiting for someone.”

hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “yeah, because the right person hasn’t come yet.”

y/n swallowed, shaking her head. “i wish i could take him back.”

felix reached over, squeezing her arm gently. “we know.”

her throat tightened, but she forced a smile. “why am i like this? why do i care so much?”

“because you’re you,” felix said simply. “you love things deeply. it’s who you are.”

hyunjin smirked. “it’s a little pathetic, honestly.”

y/n scoffed, shoving his arm.

but the teasing had done its job—her shoulders had relaxed just a little.

they turned a corner, nearing the familiar street where the café sat. the warm glow of its windows spilled onto the pavement, the sight usually filling y/n with comfort. but today, it only reminded her that she was late.

“crap,” she muttered, checking her phone. “seungmin’s probably gonna be pissed.”

felix snorted. “when is he not pissed?”

“you should walk in and act like nothing happened, just to see his reaction.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small chuckle that slipped out.

felix gave her one last reassuring squeeze before they reached the café. “you gonna be okay?”

y/n nodded, inhaling deeply before flashing them a grin—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “yeah. go home before you guys start acting like overprotective mums.”

hyunjin gave her a look. “too late.”

she laughed softly, waving them off before stepping into the café.

but even as the bell jingled overhead, announcing her arrival, and the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapped around her like a familiar embrace—

her heart was still with a golden-furred boy, waiting for a home.

the café was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. the scent of espresso and vanilla swirled around y/n as she stepped inside, but tonight, the usual coziness of the place did little to lift the weight pressing down on her shoulders.

the space buzzed with quiet conversations, the occasional scrape of a chair against the wooden floor, and the low hum of indie music filtering through the speakers. a couple of students sat by the windows, heads buried in textbooks, while others scrolled through laptops, half-empty cups of coffee beside them.

and there, by their usual table in the corner—was seungmin.

he sat with his arms crossed, a glass of water in front of him, its ice long since melted and glass covered with tiny droplets. his phone rested on the table, face-down, but the second he heard the door’s bell chime, his head lifted. his gaze found hers almost immediately.

a sharp glance. then, a slow raise of his brows.

y/n gulped. oh boy.

she hurried over, pulling the chair out with a quiet scrape and plopping down with an apologetic smile. “hey—”

“you’re late.”

the two words were flat, unimpressed, dripping with that classic seungmin deadpan tone.

y/n winced. “i know, i know—i’m so sorry. i lost track of time.”

seungmin exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “you always lose track of time.”

y/n bit her lip, fingers toying with the hem of her sleeve. usually, she’d fire back with some kind of playful retort. usually, she’d tease him about how he was so dramatic. usually, she’d flash a grin and brush it off.

but tonight, she just muttered a quiet, “yeah… i guess i do.”

seungmin blinked, caught slightly off guard. he had been expecting her usual antics, not this quiet, subdued version of her. his gaze flickered over her face—she wasn’t meeting his eyes, instead staring at the table, her fingers still fidgeting.

something was off.

he leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed. “alright. spill it.”

y/n finally looked up. “huh?”

“you’re too quiet,” seungmin said simply. “it’s weird. i don’t like it.”

y/n huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “you’re acting like me not talking is a crime.”

“it is,” seungmin deadpanned. “you talk so much that i’m convinced if you ever stop, the universe will collapse in on itself.”

y/n let out a soft chuckle. “well, lucky for the universe, i’m still here.”

seungmin narrowed his eyes, scanning her expression. the laugh had been small, but it wasn’t real. and that wasn’t lucky for the universe—it was concerning.

something was definitely wrong.

but seungmin wasn’t the type to pry. at least, not directly.

instead, he reached for his matcha latte, taking a slow sip before saying, “you’re late by twenty-five minutes, by the way.”

y/n groaned, slumping against the table. “i know. i already said sorry.”

seungmin hummed. “i had to sit here. alone. staring at the wall. like some abandoned, unloved creature.”

y/n peeked up at him. “so you feel loved in my company?”

“i ordered water, alone, y/n.” seungmin shook his head, sighing. “do you understand how humiliating that was? the barista asked, ‘are you waiting for someone?’ and i had to say, ‘yeah, but she’s twenty-five minutes late and probably forgot i exist.’”

y/n groaned again, burying her face in her arms. “stop making me feel worse.”

“oh, i’m just getting started.” seungmin leaned in. “twenty-five minutes of my life that i will never get back.”

y/n lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “i should’ve been later.”

seungmin smirked. “you wouldn’t dare.”

she let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. “why, is it because you'll miss me so much?”

“here we are.” seungmin gestured between them. “trapped in this academic partnership of doom.”

y/n rolled her eyes, finally sitting up straight. “fine. i’m making it up to you.”

“oh?”

y/n lifted her hand, signaling the passing barista. “two matcha lattes, please.”

the barista nodded, jotting it down. “same as always?”

y/n glanced at seungmin’s half-empty water before nodding. “yeah. same.”

seungmin stared at her for a second longer, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

he looked away, suddenly very focused on the condensation on his cup. “you’re still late.”

y/n grinned, finally—finally—looking a little like herself again. “yeah, but you’re not mad anymore.”

seungmin scoffed. “i was never mad.”

“even better.”

the matcha latte arrived a few minutes later, and y/n pushed it toward him with a triumphant look. “peace offering.”

seungmin rolled his eyes but took the cup anyway, sipping it slowly. the warmth spread through him, though he wasn’t sure if it was just from the drink anymore.

he glanced at y/n again. she still seemed a little distant—her fingers tapping idly against the table, her eyes unfocused at times. but she was trying. she was here.

and for now, that was enough.

the dorm was warm, buzzing with laughter and the easy comfort of friends who had long since learned how to exist in each other’s spaces. the soft hum of music played in the background, barely audible over the sound of hyunjin dramatically retelling some ridiculous story from his dance class, complete with exaggerated gestures and poorly executed sound effects.

"i swear, i almost died," hyunjin declared, sprawled across y/n’s bed like a lifeless corpse.

felix snorted, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "you tripped over your own foot, dude."

"it was sabotage!" hyunjin shot up, jabbing a finger in the air. "jeongin pushed me!"

rina, lying upside down on the couch, waved a dismissive hand. "jeongin literally isn't even in dance."

"then it was minho," hyunjin insisted, brows furrowed like he was solving the biggest mystery of his life. "he has it out for me."

aeri rolled her eyes. "everyone has it out for you because you’re annoying."

hyunjin gasped, clutching his chest. "how dare—"

"she’s not wrong," felix muttered under his breath.

"okay, okay," y/n giggled, lying comfortably on the floor with her legs propped up against the couch. "next story before hyunjin starts fake crying again."

felix grinned, eyes twinkling mischievously. "oh, i have one—"

but before he could even begin, y/n’s phone buzzed.

a single text.

from hana.

her heart stuttered. for a second, she just stared at the screen, her brain struggling to process what she was reading.

hey, y/n!just a heads up—there’s someone interested in star! they’re about 90% sure about adopting him, and they’ll be coming back tomorrow to make a final decision! :)

y/n’s breath caught.

the words blurred together, her brain tripping over itself to comprehend them. someone was interested. someone wanted star. he could actually, finally, hopefully have a home.

her fingers trembled as they hovered over the screen.

this was good. this was amazing.

so why did it feel like her heart had suddenly stopped?

"uh… y/n?"

she blinked.

four pairs of eyes were locked on her, concern etched across their faces.

"what happened?" felix asked, sitting up.

"you just froze,"

"dude, you looked like you saw a ghost."

y/n opened her mouth. then closed it. then opened it again—only to stay silent.

hyunjin waved a hand in front of her face. "did she get cursed or something?"

and just like that, it hit her.

excitement, relief, joy—everything crashed into her all at once.

her face lit up, and she jumped to her feet so suddenly that she almost knocked over the coffee table. "oh my god."

hyunjin flinched. "jesus—"

"what?!" aeri demanded, grabbing her wrist.

y/n practically bounced on her feet, barely able to contain herself. "someone’s interested in star!!"

the room fell silent for half a second—then erupted.

"no way!" felix shot up, eyes wide.

"are you serious?" hyunjin nearly knocked over a pillow in his excitement.

y/n nodded wildly, hands shaking with pure, unfiltered joy. "yes—yes—yes—hana just texted me! they’re not fully sure yet, but they’re 90% sure!!"

rina gasped. "that’s so close—"

"and precise.."

aeri covered her mouth. "oh my god, y/n!"

and then, suddenly, it was all too much.

tears pricked at the corners of her eyes before she could stop them, her vision going blurry as she let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "i—i'm just—so happy—"

felix reached over, wrapping her in a tight hug. "oh, y/n," he murmured. "that’s amazing."

aeri and rina piled in next, squishing her between them, and before she knew it, hyunjin tackled the group too, his arms nearly choking the life out of all of them.

"group hug!" hyunjin declared.

"hyunjin—"

"can’t breathe—"

"worth it!"

laughter bubbled up between them, the warmth of their shared happiness filling every corner of the room.

y/n sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she pulled back. "i just—" she took a deep breath, voice trembling with excitement. "i really hope it works out. i just want him to have a home."

felix squeezed her hand. "he will."

hyunjin nodded, a rare moment of sincerity in his usually dramatic demeanor. "and if it doesn’t, we’ll figure something out. together."

y/n’s heart swelled.

for a moment, she just looked at them—at felix’s soft, knowing smile, at hyunjin’s reassuring nod, at aeri and rina’s equally teary eyes.

her family.

her people.

the streets were alive with the kind of lazy energy only a weekend morning could bring—bustling yet unhurried, kissed by golden sunlight filtering through the trees. cafés spilled over with students nursing their first coffees of the day, a soft hum of chatter filling the air. the crisp autumn breeze carried the scent of freshly baked bread from a bakery down the street, mingling with the faint aroma of brewing coffee from their usual café.

but amidst it all, y/n’s voice was the loudest thing in the universe.

“i have to tell them everything about star,” she declared, walking ahead of the group with an urgency that made it look like she was on a life-or-death mission.

“i need to make sure they know his likes, dislikes—what makes him happy, what makes him sad—oh my god, what if they don’t get him the right treats—”

“are we sure she’s not the one being put up for adoption?”

“i heard that, felix.”

aeri chuckled, shoving her hands into the pockets of her oversized hoodie. “yeah, yeah. tell us, y/n. what else does star like?”

y/n didn’t even need to be asked twice.

“he loves belly rubs,” she continued, voice animated. “and he’s not very picky about food, but he does this little head tilt when he really likes something, and it’s the cutest thing ever—”

rina cooed. “that sounds so cute—”

“it is,” y/n stressed, turning to walk backward as she spoke, her arms flailing in exaggerated enthusiasm.

“and he’s so well-behaved. like, when i tell him to sit, he actually listens—unless he’s too excited, then he just kind of vibrates in place—”

hyunjin snorted. “so basically, he’s you.”

i do not vibrate in place!”

“you kinda do.”

“i mean,” aeri chimed in, barely holding back her laughter. “look at you right now.”

and okay, fine. maybe they had a point.

because if she were to take an honest look at herself, she was bouncing on her feet slightly, practically vibrating with excitement.

but in her defense, this was a big deal.

she turned back around with a huff. “whatever. the point is—he loves people. he’s such a good boy. but he hates loud noises—like thunder? oh my god, you should’ve seen him last time. i thought my heart was gonna break.”

the group collectively awed.

rina pouted. “poor baby.”

y/n nodded solemnly. “and he’s super smart! like, he knows when i’m sad, and he just leans against me like a little weighted blanket—”

felix grinned. “again. just like you.”

“i swear to god, lee felix—”

laughter erupted through the group, bouncing off the city walls as they continued down the street, the adoption center now coming into view.

hyunjin slung an arm around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close for a second before dramatically ruffling her hair. “you’re really gonna cry, huh?”

y/n scoffed, but her lips twitched upward. “me? cry? never.”

aeri smirked. “uh-huh. sure.”

rina grinned. “we’ll see about that.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but truthfully?

she wasn’t so sure they were wrong.

the adoption center was just a few steps away now, its familiar glass doors reflecting the bright morning light. y/n’s feet slowed, just slightly, and for the first time since they left, her voice wavered.

“i’ll miss him.”

it was quiet—soft. almost lost in the weekend bustle of the city.

felix, walking beside her, immediately noticed. his teasing expression faded into something gentler, something understanding. “yeah,” he said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “i know.”

hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “you really love that dog, huh?”

y/n let out a small laugh, but it was thinner now, fragile. “of course,” she admitted.

aeri and rina exchanged a glance before moving closer, their presence warm, comforting. rina linked their arms together. “hey,” she said softly, “he’s gonna find a really good home.”

y/n nodded, swallowing. “i know.”

and she did know. she knew this was what she wanted—for star to be safe, to be happy. but still. the idea of walking into that adoption center today and possibly realizing that she’d seen him for the last time?

it hurt.

felix draped an arm over her shoulder, squeezing. “we’re here,” he murmured as they reached the doors. “ready?”

y/n inhaled, exhaled. then, she nodded.

“yeah.”

but the moment she stepped inside and saw him—his golden fur catching the sunlight, his tail wagging the second he saw her—she knew.

she was so not ready.

the adoption center was quiet—eerily so. it was one of those rare slow mornings, the usual chatter of visitors absent, leaving only the distant hum of traffic outside and the occasional bark from the kennels. the air smelled faintly of wood shavings and the subtle sweetness of pet shampoo, the kind that lingered in fur like a soft embrace.

but none of that mattered.

because the moment y/n stepped inside, he was all she could see.

“star!”

the golden retriever perked up instantly at the sound of her voice, his floppy ears twitching before he launched himself toward her with uncontainable excitement. his tail wagged wildly, his whole body practically vibrating as he reached her.

y/n barely had a second to prepare before she was tackled—star standing on his hind legs, paws pressed against her as he buried his face into her neck.

“oh my god—you menace—” y/n laughed, stumbling slightly but hugging him nonetheless, burying her face into his fur. he smelled warm, familiar, like something safe. “did you miss me? huh? did you miss me, baby?”

star whined, licking her cheek in rapid, enthusiastic swipes.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

felix snickered from behind. “he’s actually insane about you.”

hyunjin nodded. “i mean, i get it. you do vibrate like he does.”

y/n shot them both a glare but was too busy giggling as star flopped onto his back, belly fully exposed. “ugh, fine,” she sighed dramatically, crouching down. “you win. belly rubs for you, your majesty.”

star's tail thumped against the floor excitedly as she ran her hands through his fur, tracing small patterns over his stomach. he exhaled happily, stretching his legs as if to demand 'more, human.'

“god,” aeri mused. “imagine being loved this much.”

rina smirked. “maybe if you rolled over and asked nicely—”

aeri shoved her.

“ooh, i ship!” hyunjin and felix said in unison.

meanwhile, hana leaned against the counter with a soft smile. “you got here just in time,” she said. “the guy who showed interest might be coming soon.”

y/n froze for half a second before she forced herself to keep scratching behind star's ears.

“oh,” she said, voice light, casual. “right. that’s—good.”

felix and hyunjin exchanged a glance.

“you okay?” hyunjin asked.

y/n smiled at star, watching as his eyes fluttered shut in pure bliss.

“i’m okay,” she murmured. “i just wanna enjoy this for a little longer.”

hyunjin and felix didn’t push. instead, they sat down nearby, letting her have her moment.

because even though she was smiling, they knew.

this was going to be really hard for her.

a little while later, the girl and the pup had retreated to the playroom. it was warm, filled with the scent of fresh pinewood shavings and soft blankets. the room was lined with plush beds, shelves of toys, and the occasional scratching post—even though star had zero interest in anything but y/n.

she sat cross-legged on the padded floor, giggling as the golden retriever nuzzled into her, his weight nearly knocking her over. “star, you clingy little baby,” she cooed, rubbing his ears as his tail wagged violently, his entire body practically humming with joy.

y/n flopped onto her back with a sigh, her fingers threading through his golden fur as he settled beside her, curling against her like he always did.

a small, selfish part of her wanted to keep him like this forever.

but that wasn’t fair, was it?

she exhaled, staring at the ceiling. “you’re gonna find a home today,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “i just know it.”

she smiled, squeezing his paw gently.

“and i hope they love you as much as i do.”

meanwhile, outside the playroom, hyunjin, felix, aeri, rina, and hana were hanging around the front desk when the adoption center’s door swung open. the bell chimed softly as two familiar figures strolled in—jisung, looking completely at home, and seungmin, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, looking his usual mildly unimpressed self.

felix blinked. “oh?”

hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “what are you guys doing here?”

jisung grinned. “oh, you know—just a casual weekend visit to an animal shelter. felt like staring at some cats.”

rina narrowed her eyes. “is that true, or did you just get dragged here by seungmin?”

jisung groaned. “fine, yeah, i got dragged here.” he sighed dramatically before jabbing a thumb toward his best friend. “he’s actually the one adopting today.”

felix and hyunjin’s heads tilted slightly. “oh?”

aeri’s eyes lit up. “wait—seungmin, you’re getting a pet?”

seungmin shrugged. “yeah.”

rina smirked. “let me guess. a cat.”

jisung snorted. “oh, no. this dude? a cat?” he shook his head. “nah, he’s adopting a dog.”

felix hummed. “nice. what kind?”

seungmin’s gaze flickered toward hana, who had started flipping through adoption papers. “golden retriever,” he said simply. “his name’s star. anyway, where's the staff lady?”

the moment the words left his mouth, a wave of silence crashed over the group.

hyunjin and felix both froze.

aeri and rina's jaws slightly dropped.

hana finally returned from the back, greeting seungmin with a smile, “ah, you're here! guys, he's the one who's adopting st-”

even jisung, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, blinked in confusion.

“what?” he asked.

before anyone could answer, the door to the playroom creaked open.

and out stepped y/n, her arms wrapped around star—his golden fur glowing in the light, his tail wagging happily.

she took one step forward before her gaze landed on seungmin.

seungmin, who was already staring right back at her.

both of them squinted.

“…what are you doing here?” they asked at the same time.

jisung blinked, glancing between them. “okay, what’s happening right now—”

and then it clicked.

y/n’s eyes widened, flickering to her friends—felix, hyunjin, and rina watching the scene unfold with barely contained amusement.

“you—” she turned back to seungmin. “you’re adopting star?”

seungmin nodded, not entirely sure why she looked so shocked. “yeah?”

the room was silent for a beat.

then—

“oh my god,” y/n practically shrieked.

before seungmin could react, she launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a bone-crushing hug.

seungmin stiffened, eyes widening. “what the hell—”

but she was already bouncing, gripping his hoodie with sheer, uncontrollable joy.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god— seungmin.” she shook him, eyes shining. “you’re really adopting him??”

seungmin, still reeling, cleared his throat. “uh… yeah?”

“oh my god.”

y/n squealed, actually jumping up and down as she rapid-fired through a list of things—

“okay, okay, listen, he’s so good but sometimes he’s picky with food—he loves belly rubs but only in the morning—he doesn’t like loud noises but he loves music, i think he likes indie-rock?—oh and he’s so soft so you have to use this one dog shampoo, i’ll send you the link—oh my god, seungmin, if you forget to feed him i will end you—”

seungmin blinked, still trying to process what was happening.

meanwhile, felix and hyunjin were both howling with laughter.

“she’s so gone for that dog,” felix wheezed, wiping a tear.

“seungmin, she’s been obsessed with star,” hyunjin explained to him, still laughing. “she found him on the street months ago, brought him here herself, and has been visiting him every single day—”

“—which is why she’s been all moody lately,” rina added, grinning. “she was worried he wouldn’t find a home soon.”

seungmin slowly turned his gaze back to y/n, who was still yapping away, her hands gripping his sleeves like she was scared he’d disappear.

something inside him… softened.

she was so happy.

like—genuinely happy. practically glowing with excitement, her eyes bright, her entire body buzzing like an overcharged battery.

and it was because of him.

he cleared his throat. “okay, damn,” he muttered. “didn’t know i was winning a nobel prize for adopting a dog.”

y/n gasped. “it’s star, you ungrateful—”

jisung grinned, nudging seungmin’s shoulder. “looks like you did a good thing, min.”

seungmin exhaled, letting a small, amused smile slip.

yeah.

he had a feeling he really did.

hana leaned against the adoption center’s front desk, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold before her.

seungmin stood beside her, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, observing y/n bounce around like she had just won the lottery.

he was still processing it all.

she had really been this attached to this dog?

y/n was currently kneeling on the floor, hugging the golden retriever tightly, her fingers buried in his soft fur as she giggled, pressing kisses to the top of his head. star, for his part, was practically melting into her, his tail wagging violently, paws twitching in excitement.

hana let out a small chuckle. “she’s over the moon.”

seungmin huffed a small laugh, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “yeah, no kidding.”

hana turned to him, her expression amused but also… grateful. “seriously, though. thanks for this, seungmin.”

he glanced at her. “for what?”

she smiled knowingly, tilting her head toward y/n. “for that.”

seungmin followed her gaze.

y/n was beaming, her entire body radiating happiness as she continued to hug star, her face buried in his fur.

it was a rare kind of joy. the kind that made people forget about everything else. the kind that made time slow down for just a little while.

and for some reason…

he kind of liked that he was partially the reason behind it.

hana’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “she was really worried, you know?”

seungmin frowned slightly. “about what?”

hana gave him a look. “star.”

he blinked.

“she’s been coming here every day after class,” hana continued, her voice soft but full of meaning. “bringing treats, playing with him, making sure he wasn’t lonely. she didn’t talk about it much, but we all knew. she was so scared he’d never find a home.”

seungmin’s lips parted slightly.

“she’s been checking her phone constantly the past few days, waiting for an update. i swear, she probably manifested you into this place.” hana smirked. “and now look at her.”

seungmin glanced at y/n again.

she was now rubbing star’s belly, grinning ear to ear, still completely lost in her own little world.

his fingers curled slightly in his pockets.

…had she really been worrying this much?

and he hadn’t even noticed much?

hana’s voice broke through his thoughts again, softer this time. “so yeah. thanks, seungmin. i don’t think you realize just how much this means to her.”

he swallowed, clearing his throat. “it’s just a dog,” he muttered.

hana raised an eyebrow. “maybe to you.”

seungmin exhaled, shaking his head. “you’re making it sound like i saved a life or something.”

hana just smiled knowingly. “maybe you did.”

meanwhile, a few feet away, y/n was bouncing on her heels, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.

“seungmin, you’re the best,” she gushed, turning to him. “seriously. i don’t even know how to thank you.”

seungmin quirked an eyebrow. “you’ve already thanked me, like, ten times.”

she gasped. “not enough.”

she suddenly grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly as she stared at him, eyes sparkling. “thank you, seungmin. i swear i could kiss you right now.”

the guy choked. “what?”

felix, who had been drinking from a soda can, almost spit it out.

y/n didn’t even realize what she had just said, too caught up in her own excitement.

“i mean—not literally— i mean, i could—i mean—you get it,” she flailed, laughing nervously.

seungmin just stared.

jisung grinned. “dude, this is the first time i’ve ever seen you speechless.”

“i hate all of you,” seungmin muttered, pulling his hands away as he rubbed the back of his neck, ears ever so slightly red.

but then—

y/n clapped her hands together. “wait.”

seungmin braced himself. “what now?”

her eyes shone as she grabbed his arm. “okay, listen—so star loves sleeping on soft blankets, so please buy him those, and oh my god, he loves head pats—especially before sleeping—”

seungmin sighed. “here we go again.”

felix snickered. “good luck, bro.”

hyunjin clapped his shoulder. “you signed up for this.”

aeri beamed. “welcome to the rest of your life, seungmin.”

and all seungmin could do was exhale as y/n continued to speak, her happiness so loud, so vibrant, so unbelievably contagious—

that, for once, he didn’t actually mind.

“is your little girlfriend going to come visit us and the pup daily now?” jisung had murmured.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts

!! please let me know under this post, or this one, if i forgot you in the taglist, my inactivity made me lose track, i'm really sorry !!

Hey stayblr, I've been thinking of ways we can unite to help Palestine in the current genocide. With Israel closing borders again, no aid is allowed in and local organizations on the ground urgently need our help. So, i thought of rallying to raise donations for Palestine, big or small, as every dollar counts and can truly make a difference.

Initial target : 4000 dollars ✅

‼️ FINAL TARGET: 5000 dollars.

To be split between Care for Gaza, UNRWA and Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.

We’ll raise the target goal according to our progress!

update as of 12/07/2024- [10:00 a.m.] : 4435.29 dollars !!

For transparency, donations will be received through my Kofi, with daily updates on our progress. Here are the links to UNRWA’s, Careforgaza’s and PCRF’s work in Gaza!

Palestinians are saying that this is the worst phase of the genocide yet. They need as much of our help as we can give them, so please, let’s all stand together for this.

If you cannot donate

- please reblog and share around!

- stream hind’s hall (all proceeds will be donated to unrwa!

here are the receipts of our 1800$ donation to UNRWA, 1000$ donation to Careforgaza (to their paypal acc), and 1000$ donation to PCRF.

THE BREAK UP BUSINESS — EP. 1

[ an advent calendar series ]

— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —

[ abstract ]: He breaks up relationships, professionally. Lee Minho is the man people call when they wanna end things with their (not so) better half but don’t have the guts to do it. But this Christmas time everything changes, when he receives an offer from his former best friend and college roommate who needs desperate help to break up with his fiancée—you. However, this complicates everything. After all, you’ve been the only person that’s ever made Minho believe that true love might actually exist. So, what happens when you take the delivered message about the break up not so well and Minho—feeling guilty—offers you a place to stay, all while pushing away the feelings he’s had for you for years?

[ general ]: minho + fem reader, childhood friends/enemies → lovers, non idol au, best friend’s ex, demisexual reader, angst + fluff + smut, sunshine x grumpy, she falls first but he falls harder

[ warning ]: break up, mention of infidelity

[ words ]: 2.6K

[ note ]: here’s the first part for my advent calendar series! I hope you guys enjoy. The huge excitement when I announced my story made me so happy (but also nervous ngl) so: enjoy! And let me know what you thought about the first episode by commenting, reblogging or sending an ask my way 🩵

[ !! ]: the beautiful dividers are from @saradika-graphics

Minho decides to not hit the snooze button yet another time, when the alarm starts ringing once more. What a start of the week. He desperately would have needed another hour of having his eyes closed but there’s no minute left for that.

Sitting upright on his king sized bed, he swings his feet to the ground and gets up. When he finally blinks a few times and takes in his surroundings, he notices the red leather purse that’s placed on his huge sofa in his studio apartment.

”You’re still here, Tanya?” he asks, hearing his own voice echo into the distance.

There she is, already freshly styled and in a new outfit, reaching for her bag, “What do you mean, Min?”

She looks confused. Like she usually does when Minho asks weird questions like this. They’ve been dating for some time, so why is he speaking as if he wants to get rid of her?

“I’ve got a work appointment in less than an hour. I should get going. I wasn’t aware you’d stay here for so long,” he tries to save his ass but only makes it worse.

The blonde woman scoffs, “So, what? Am I an inconvenience for you? Good morning to you too, Lee.”

She grabs her jacket, already on the way to the door.

“Shit—wait, that’s not what I meant. It came off weirdly, I’m sorry. You mean so much to me,” Minho replies, running after her, as he reaches for Tanya’s hand.

She raises one of her eyebrows. “How much?”

“Very much,” he instantly replies. Because that’s the truth. At least he thinks so. He enjoys spending time with that woman, so why make such a huge fuss about it? Isn’t that all that counts?

“So much that you still haven’t introduced me to any of your friends, huh?”

Ouch. Right. 

“I’ve explained it to you…” he says, sounding like a broken record to the woman whose hand he’s gripping onto right now.

“Yeah, Minho. And I’ve been patient,” Tanya starts again. “For way too long. I can’t do this situationship type of thing. You’re a great guy and I thought it was worth it to give it a try despite your commitment issues–“

“I don’t have–“

She sighs, “Are you lying to yourself now?”

“Sorry,” he says, his voice dropping quiet.

“That’s all you ever say, Minho. That you’re sorry. But your actions don’t show it. Last night was the last chance I gave you,” she explains to him.

He looks at her bewildered, not quite getting it. Now Minho is the confused one. “Last chance? I wasn’t even aware of that.”

Tanya chuckles, “That’s always what it’s like with you men. You didn’t see it coming.” She takes a deep breath. There’s no bad blood there, but she’s tired of it. “I’m not mad at you—maybe a bit, for wasting my time. Which is why I have to go. But I hope if you find the woman that’s worth fighting for so that you will man up and do so.”

“Tanya– wait!”

“Don’t. Have a nice day,” is what she says, her voice gentle, before Minho hears his front door close.

Fucking hell. What a start of the week. It’s only Monday. Minho pushes the sadness and all his feelings away, as he’s done for the past 26 years. Even though he just ended something that could have become so serious if he didn’t have those commitment issues. He’s gotta get himself together—there are a bunch of customers waiting for him, ready to get what they ordered.

So, that’s the irony, to explain a bit of context here. Minho basically has turned his weakness into his passion and career. Similar to Batman—but whereas the rich superhero saves the city, Minho basically destroys it. Okay. That’s a bit harsh. He only breaks hearts, professionally.

What does that mean?

Well, Minho works for a company that does the dirty jobs no one wants to do. They’re the ones you call when you—for whatever reason—aren’t able to end a relationship on your own. Minho will do it for you—visit your (still) significant other, deliver that message to them, offer a bit of empathy, and go to the next appointment.

He’s been doing this for a little over two years now, after he’s decided to start all over again and it’s going great. Minho is the most successful in his team, ending a couple of relationships per day. Seoul is a big city and there seem to be a lot of unhappy people that would rather have someone else send those awful news than do it themselves.

Jokes aside—there are situations in which it’s better for safety reasons to call a professional like Minho. The Break Up Business (they could have been a little more creative there) will also do the aftercare. A huge basket full of chocolate, awful romantic movies on DVDs (retro), tissues and whatever one asks for to get them through the next stage of their life.

It’s already noon and time for his lunch break, when Minho has saved a woman out of the claws of her possessive (now ex) boyfriend, called out a serial cheater and ended a relationship between two more couples that just didn’t know how to communicate.

When he’s done with his caesar salad and the iced americano, he receives a call from his boss.

“What is it?” he asks, listening to the man at the other side of the speaker.

“I’ve got another spontaneous job for you. I’ll send you the address, alright?”

That’s also how it’s gonna be sometimes. Usually, Minho meets the part of the relationship who wants to end things first, discussing everything with them. However, from time to time, there might be a job that one of his colleagues has already started and for schedule reasons he needs to finish it. It’s less work but also a bit more complicated to really get into a case this way. But he's gonna ace it anyway.

Minho takes a quick glimpse at the information and data his boss sent him, when he notices something. Weird. He’s heard of that street before. He remembers that his former best friend thought about moving there and even visited an apartment for sale.

Why is he remembering this?

Well, Minho has always compared himself to Hyunwoo ever since they became roommates in college. The slightly older one used to be way more charismatic, bringing home women after women, while still succeeding and being year’s best in school.

Minho has never had issues with that life—he’s kind of become this way nowadays too, having strangers sleeping in his bed over and over again—but a very certain detail makes his stomach do a little twist.

Chill the fuck out. It’s just the same street. This doesn’t mean that Hyunwoo is the customer.

Until he reads further.

Customer: Choi Hyunwoo

Fucking hell. The thing is—it wouldn’t be much of an issue if his former roommate didn’t start a relationship with a very certain someone. A person whose heart  Minho does not want to break. After all, they destroyed his own little feelings years ago, without even knowing.

You.

The only woman he’s ever loved, cherished, imagined a serious future with. Until she decided to go out with his roommate instead because Minho was too much of a coward to be straightforward and honest when he knew he had the chance.

Shit. First Tanya breaks up with him and now a person from season 3 of his life returns to season 5. This can’t be real. And it’s only Monday.

And when Minho reads further, all his assumptions turn out to be true.

Partner: Y/L/N Y/N

He can’t do this. He can’t deliver a message of heartbreak to you. But Minho also has never cancelled a job offer. This would look very bad and he knows his boss has high expectations especially when it comes to him.

Minho knew this was gonna come back and bite him in the ass one day.

When he reaches your apartment building, luckily the door downstairs is opened, so he can just crawl up the stairs and get ready for his misery. The irony yet again. You are the one who’s gonna have their life changed in less than a minute and Minho is projecting it onto himself. But it’s the first time it feels as if he’s actually breaking up with someone and not just delivering a message.

The door swings open and he notices your smile fade away the second you see him. Gosh. You look even prettier than two ago when he last saw you. You’ve got your hair and nails done all prettily, wearing one of those illegally tight skirts that would make him go crazy even back in college.

Minho and you have known each other for a long time, getting way back to middle school, which makes his emotional attachment to you worse. Especially since that man has commitment issues and this is a foreign terrain for him.

“W-What do you want?” you ask. No hello, no greetings. But he doesn’t blame you. After all, you ended things on not so good terms.

“I’m…” he begins, his words getting caught in his throat. Shit. This has never happened to him. He’s so utterly nervous. “Can I come in?”

“Why?” you ask, looking at him confused, “Hyunwoo is at work, he won’t be back until the evening hours.”

Yeah I know. I read his case file. He’s already got someone else to stay the night with that’s been going on for some months but I’m gonna spare you the details.

“It’s… not related to him,” Minho lies.

And then, suddenly, your whole demeanour shifts.

“Shit. Did something happen? Something with your mum?”

Fuck. The fact that you’re instantly getting worried about his family makes him feel like an even bigger asshole. Why the hell is he doing this to you?

But it’s his job. He’s got no choice.

“Can I come inside?” he asks, ignoring your questions.

“S-Sure.” You let him in and tell him to sit down on the couch in the huge living room. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“It’s fine, thanks,” he declines.

Your apartment is beautiful, although a little pretentious but he knows Hyunwoo’s taste a lot.

“So, what’s with mum?” you ask now, referring to his mother. But you’re close to her too—after all she’s best friends with your mum—since Minho and you have known each other for over ten years.

“Nothing. I’m here for something else,” he admits.

“W-What is it then? Minho, you’re starting to scare me…”

He throws his head back, showing off his adam’s apple and it does something unholy to you that you’re way too ashamed to admit.

“I’m here because of Hyunwoo,” he confesses.

“I told you he isn’t there,” you state, looking at him confused. God, can all women stop looking at him like this?

“I know. I’m delivering a message from him,” he starts again.

“What are you now? A pigeon? I don’t understand this,” you try to handle the situation with humour.

“I work for a company called The Break Up Business and people call us if t-they want to end their relationship. I’m here to tell you that Choi Hyunwoo doesn’t want to be with you anymore,” he runs over his own words, blurting them out as fast as he can. Usually, he’s much more charismatic with that.

“What? Are you kidding me? It’s not even April Fools day,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry.”

You scoff, “No, you’re not, Minho. You’ve actually never been sorry for anything in your life. I know you too well for this.”

Ouch. That hurt. Although you might be right.

He reaches for a package that’s placed beside him, “I can offer you a basket filled with–“

“Shove that up your ass, Lee.” You laugh in his face because what else are you supposed to do?  “Why the hell are you the one delivering that message? Why can’t Hyunwoo end things like an adult with me?”

You’re not gonna break my heart again. I’m over you. That’s why I started dating your roommate in the first place.

“Fucking shit, six months before the wedding. What a prick,” you sigh, speaking to yourself but you know that Minho is still listening. It’s probably part of his job. What a weird career path he’s chosen there. He might as well have ended up on a reality TV show instead.

“We offer–“ he starts but immediately gets interrupted.

“I don’t care, Minho. I’m not in a state to function right now, as you can see. I’m sure you’re familiar with these things, regarding you’re doing this professionally. I didn’t know you’d become so low.”

Ouch. That was personal. That was some hidden resentment that’s bubbling up like a volcano from within. But Minho is used to way worse reactions—objects being thrown his way, being yelled at until his ears hurt, having to call the police in a few cases.

“I understand that you’re angry. You’ve got every right to be,” is what he says—a typical customer service phrase that won’t get him in any legal trouble but serve the bare minimum of fake-empathy.

“Did he even give a reason?”

He realises now—that’s the first time you’re actually asking for details on the break up. So far, you’ve complained about Minho talking to you or Hyunwoo’s timing but not the situation itself.

“He did. He’s found someone else,” Minho states, telling you what he’s read in the case file.

“Cool. Cool. Cool. Yeah, no doubt. Kinda saw that coming, but I’ve always been blind I guess,“ you say, pushing your glasses a little higher on your nose.

“Again, I am really sorry. If you ever need help or someone to talk to–“

“That someone is definitely not you,” you spit back.

Minho takes a deep breath, pressing the palms of his hands together. “We have professionals. Here’s a list of phone numbers and mail addresses you can contact,” he says, handing you a piece of paper.

“Okay,” is all that makes it past your lips. “Can you please go now? I need to pack my shit and see where I’ll be staying the night.”

“Right,” he says, handing you another sheet, “we’ve booked a hotel room for you. You can stay there for the next night and then you’re asked to leave the apartment since it’s under Choi Hyunwoo’s name.”

Minho sounds like a robot.

He’s never thought he’d break your heart some day. But Minho is blatantly unaware of the fact this isn’t the first time this has happened. After all, you wouldn’t be in a position like this if he made the right decisions a few years ago.

“I’ll… I’ll see you again tomorrow, for another appointment regarding the moving out process,” your former childhood frenemy informs you.

“You’re gonna be there too? So your company does everything to ruin people’s lives?”

Nothing new for Minho and you. After all, he’s the one who was constantly picking fights and annoying you during middle and high school, then became friends with you in college just to walk out of your life again. You’re used to it by now.

“We will help you find a place to stay. You don’t have to take that offer. But we’re here,” he explains.

“Oh, I will. You’re the one who put me in this situation so you’re gonna find a solution for me.”

And perhaps there’s a slight chance that you want him to stay in your life for a day longer now that he’s back.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Minho announces, before he leaves the apartment.

When he’s out the door, he feels tears pricking on his lower lashline. Fuck. He should have just told his boss to give that case to someone else.

But on the bright side—he’s got you back. You’re single. He’s single.

What if–

Shit, slow down. You wouldn’t give him a chance anyway, right?

© leeknowsallyoursecrets 2024 — copying, stealing or translating my work is prohibited

✧ Still Yours | H. Jisung

♡ Pairing: Han Jisung × Chubby!Reader

✧ Word Count: 12,208 words | Reading Time: 45-ish mins

900+ Followers Special ♡

✦ Trope: Second Chance Romance | Ex-Classmates to Lovers | Slow Burn | Popular Jock x Bullied Girl | Non-Idol AU

✧ Warnings: Bullying (verbal abuse, fat-shaming), mentions of physical abuse, toxic family, emotional trauma, drinking, mild suggestiveness, language, angst with comfort, NO PROOF READING WAS DONE

♡ Synopsis: Back in high school, she was the chubby outcast—bullied, bruised, and abandoned—while Han Jisung was the untouchable jock who broke hearts and ignored them all… except hers. When life pulled them apart after a brutal misunderstanding, she vowed never to look back. Now, eight years later, she's a successful engineer—independent and guarded. But when fate throws them back together in the most unexpected boardroom, Jisung sees a second chance. And this time, he’s not letting go without a fight. ♡

✦ Author’s Note: For the ones who loved in silence and healed in shadows. This one’s for you. You are seen, and you are enough. ⋆彡

You were a walking paradox, a vibrant ember struggling to glow beneath a thick layer of societal soot. Chubby, they called you, their voices often laced with a disdain that never seemed to dull, each syllable a tiny pinprick against your already tender skin.

Yet, the softness of your frame held a surprising resilience, your cheeks often flushed with a healthy color that belied their cruel pronouncements, a testament to a spirit that refused to be entirely extinguished. Kindness flowed through you like an unseen current, a gentle offering of smiles even to the very faces that contorted with mockery at your approach, a quiet rebellion against the negativity that surrounded you.

And your mind? It was a sharp, agile thing, devouring knowledge with an insatiable hunger, your intelligence a quiet fire that burned brightly in the hushed corners of the library, a stark contrast to the dim view others seemed to have of you. You found solace in the intricate logic of mathematics, the sprawling narratives of classic literature, worlds where your physical form held no bearing on your worth.

But despite these inherent strengths, an invisible weight clung to you, a suffocating shroud woven from the stinging barbs of your classmates. "Hey, look, it's the walking sofa!" someone would bellow down the hallway, their friends erupting in laughter that felt like a physical shove, each jeer chipping away at the fragile foundation of your self-esteem.

"Bet she uses a GPS to find her own feet," another would sneer, their words echoing the insidious voice of self-doubt that sometimes whispered in your own head, a constant reminder of your perceived inadequacy. You learned to flinch inwardly, to brace yourself for the inevitable sting, to become as small and unobtrusive as possible, a shadow trying desperately to blend into the background noise of the school, your gaze fixed on the worn linoleum floor.

Your world had fractured years ago, the sharp edges never quite fitting back together after the sudden, gaping loss of your father. He had been your anchor, a warm, comforting presence whose booming laughter still echoed faintly in the quiet corners of your memory, a phantom sound that sometimes brought a bittersweet ache to your chest.

Now, he was a faded photograph on your bedside table, a silent observer of your increasingly solitary existence, a bittersweet reminder of a love that felt both impossibly distant and achingly present. Your mother, lost in her own labyrinth of grief, eventually found a fragile sort of peace in the arms of another man.

His arrival brought a polite, almost sterile atmosphere to your home, a subtle distance that grew between you and the woman who had once been your sun and moon. "He's a good man," she'd said once, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth you remembered, her eyes focused on some distant point. "He'll take care of us." But 'us' never truly included you in the same way anymore; you felt like a tolerated guest in a life that had moved on without you.

The real chill, however, the bone-deep, relentless cold, emanated from your aunt. After your mother's remarriage, you were sent to live with her, a woman whose lips seemed permanently pursed in disapproval, whose voice was a constant, low hum of criticism that eroded your spirit.

Her house was a place where joy seemed to wither and die, where every corner held the unspoken accusation of your inadequacy. "Are you going back for seconds?" she'd snap, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as you reached for another small portion of dinner. "Honestly, child, have you no self-control?

You'll never find a nice boy looking like that. You'll be alone forever." Meals were silent, tense affairs, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware and her pointed sighs. Chores were endless, thankless, and any small spark of happiness you managed to ignite was quickly doused by her sharp tongue and colder-than-ice gaze.

"Don't slouch," she'd bark across the living room, her voice like the crack of a whip. "Sit up straight. You look like a sack of potatoes. Honestly, the way you carry yourself…" Your home life became a toxic swamp of neglect and emotional abuse, a secret shame you carried like a lead weight in your stomach, a burden that made your steps heavy and your spirit weary.

"Honestly," she'd mutter under her breath as you did the dishes, the clatter of plates a poor substitute for conversation, "your mother always said you were a clumsy one. Just like her."

Across the bustling, often chaotic landscape of your high school moved Han Jisung. He was a figure carved from a different kind of coldness – a detached, almost arrogant aura that seemed to ripple outwards, creating a respectful distance.

A star athlete, his movements on the basketball court fluid and mesmerizing, he was the undisputed object of countless girls' affections. Their whispered yearnings followed him down the hallways like a persistent, hopeful breeze. "Did you see the way Jisung looked at me during practice?" you'd overhear one girl sigh to her friend, her voice dreamy.

"I swear, he totally wants to ask me to the homecoming dance." Yet, he remained aloof, a polite but firm "I'm not interested" the standard response to any lingering glances or hesitant advances. "Sorry," he'd say, his voice cool but not unkind, his gaze already drifting away, "I'm just really focused on the upcoming tournament. Got to keep my head in the game."

His eyes, sharp and intelligent, often held a distant amusement, a subtle disdain for the petty dramas and hormonal surges that defined the high school experience. "Honestly," he once said to his friend, a slight smirk playing on his lips as a group of girls giggled nearby, their attention clearly fixed on him, "they're all so… transparent." He was a world away from your own, a dazzling supernova you never dared to gaze at directly, knowing you were a mere speck of dust in his radiant orbit.

Yet, unbeknownst to you, in those fleeting moments between classes, or during the forced proximity of shared assemblies, his gaze would sometimes flick towards you. It wasn't a look of mockery or pity, but something… else. A quiet, almost clinical observation.

He noticed the way your shoulders would instinctively hunch when a group of popular kids approached, their laughter echoing in the confined space, the barely perceptible flinch in your eyes when the school bell shrieked through the corridors, the determined set of your jaw as you navigated the crowded lunchroom, your tray held like a fragile shield against the judging eyes.

He saw the way your fingers, often ink-stained from hours spent lost in the pages of a book, your refuge from the harsh realities of your life, would nervously twist the hem of your oversized sweater. Once, during a particularly brutal round of hallway taunts aimed your way, the words like sharp stones thrown with intent, he had paused, his usual easy stride faltering for a split second before he continued on, his expression unreadable, a flicker of something unidentifiable in his dark eyes.

One particularly bleak, rain-swept afternoon, the meager grocery money, carefully counted out and clutched in your sweaty palm, the lifeline that would hopefully stave off your aunt's wrath for another week, was snatched from you just outside the familiar fluorescent glow of the convenience store.

A gaggle of giggling, impeccably dressed girls, their faces bright with a casual cruelty that chilled you to the bone, had surrounded you like a pack of predators. "Well, well, well, look what we have here," the ringleader had sneered, her perfectly manicured nails reaching for your trembling hand.

"Going on a little snack run, tubby? Maybe stocking up for winter hibernation?" "Leave me alone," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible above the drumming rain, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"Oh, are you going to cry?" another one taunted, her eyes glinting with malicious amusement. "Maybe a few tears will wash away some of that… extra baggage." "What's this, enough for a diet soda?" the first girl said, snatching the crumpled bills from your grasp.

"Maybe you should try skipping a few meals, fatty," another added, their laughter echoing the hollowness that had become a constant companion in your stomach. "Yeah," a third chimed in, her voice dripping with false concern, "think of it as us doing you a favor. Helping you reach your… goals."

"Just give it back," you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes, blurring their cruel faces. "It's all I have. My aunt…" They just laughed harder, their cruelty a sharp, physical pain. "Too slow," the ringleader said, tucking the money into her designer bag with a smug smile. "Maybe next time you'll learn to run faster. Or maybe just stay home."

Fear, cold and sharp as shards of glass, pierced through you, rendering your legs heavy and unresponsive. Home, usually a place of quiet dread, now loomed like a monstrous shadow in the downpour. Without the groceries, without the flimsy excuse of running an errand, the prospect of facing your aunt's wrath was unbearable.

"Where have you been?" she'd likely snap, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, her voice laced with impatience. "And where are the groceries I asked for? Don't tell me you've dawdled again." You could already hear the accusations, the bitter recriminations, the inevitable lecture about your worthlessness.

You found yourself huddled beneath the inadequate shelter of a dusty shop awning, the relentless rain plastering strands of hair to your forehead, tears blurring your vision as they mingled with the raindrops tracing paths down your cheeks. "Great," you muttered to yourself, the despair a heavy weight in your chest.

"Just great. Now what?" You were stranded, caught in the cruel intersection of teenage malice and a desolate home life, with nowhere safe to turn. "What am I going to do?" you whispered into the storm, the question a pathetic plea carried away by the wind.

Then, through the grey curtain of rain, a figure emerged. Tall and lean, with the unmistakable swagger of the school's star athlete, Han Jisung paused beside you. His expensive black umbrella, large enough to shelter two, dripped steadily at the edges, a stark contrast to the cheap, flimsy one you usually carried.

He didn't say a word, didn't offer a platitude or a condescending remark. He simply extended the umbrella towards you, the silent gesture a stark contrast to the cacophony of cruel words you had just endured. For a fleeting moment, your fingers brushed against his as you hesitantly took the offered shelter, a surprising jolt of warmth in the pervasive cold.

He turned and walked away, disappearing back into the downpour as quickly and silently as he had appeared. "Hey," you called out after him, a confused question forming on your lips, a desperate need to understand his unexpected kindness, but he was already gone, swallowed by the rain.

Confused, a strange cocktail of gratitude and bewilderment churning within you, you watched his retreating figure. Why would he do that? you wondered, clutching the smooth handle of the umbrella, its expensive fabric a stark contrast to your own worn coat.

Just as you began to think it had been a fleeting act of detached charity, a moment of pity from someone who existed in a completely different stratosphere, he reappeared. This time, he held a small, clear plastic bag clutched in his hand. He stopped directly in front of you.

"Here," he said, his voice surprisingly quiet, almost a murmur, his gaze flicking around as if he didn't want to be seen. He wordlessly pressed the bag into your hand. Inside, nestled against the damp plastic, were crisp twenty-dollar bills.

His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes flickered over your face briefly, a fleeting acknowledgment of your distress. He simply nodded, a curt, almost imperceptible movement of his head. "Take it," he added, his gaze direct for a fleeting second, a hint of something unreadable in their depths. And then he turned and walked away again, melting back into the rainy afternoon, leaving you standing beneath his expensive umbrella, the unexpected kindness a heavy, almost unbelievable weight in your hand.

Your lips parted in stunned silence, a soft, disbelieving "thank you" escaping into the drumming rain, a whisper lost in the downpour. The twenty dollars felt like more than just money; it felt like a lifeline, a tiny, unexpected crack of light in the overwhelming darkness.

"Thank you," you repeated, a little louder this time, clutching the bag tightly, even though he was already gone. The warmth of the unexpected gesture spread through the chill of the rain, a small seed of hope planted in the barren landscape of your day. You wondered, just for a moment, if maybe, just maybe, you weren't entirely invisible after all.

The sleek, black umbrella, a stark contrast to the cheap, floral one you usually carried, became an unspoken, tangible link between your vastly different orbits. It stood sentinel in your locker, a silent testament to an act of unexpected kindness that replayed in your mind like a recurring dream.

The twenty dollars, carefully and sparingly used to replenish your stolen grocery money, felt like more than just currency; it was a symbol of a hand reaching out in the darkness, a small spark of hope in the overwhelming gloom. A hesitant "thank you" the next day in the crowded hallway, your voice barely a rustle of sound, was met with a curt nod from Jisung, his usual guarded expression firmly in place, his gaze already sweeping over the bustling student body. But something had subtly shifted, a nearly imperceptible crack in the icy façade he usually presented to the world.

It began with shared study sessions in the hushed sanctuary of the library. He never explicitly invited you, never uttered a direct request. Instead, he would simply appear at your usual corner table, a formidable stack of advanced calculus textbooks and meticulously organized notes in hand.

You, initially wary of his continued presence, found a surprising, almost unsettling comfort in his focused silence. He possessed an unexpected patience when you wrestled with a particularly convoluted equation, explaining complex concepts with a quiet clarity that your often-impatient teachers lacked.

"Think of it like this," he'd say, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched diagrams on scrap paper, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the quiet hum of the library. You, in turn, would sometimes help him navigate the labyrinthine prose of English literature, your insightful interpretations of symbolism and theme offering a perspective he, with his more analytical mind, hadn't considered.

"That's… actually a really interesting way to look at it," he'd admit, a flicker of genuine intellectual curiosity in his dark eyes. These sessions were mostly silent, punctuated by the rustling of turning pages and the soft scratching of pens against paper, but a fragile, unspoken camaraderie began to bloom in the shared pursuit of knowledge, a quiet understanding passing between you over highlighted passages and solved problems.

Then came the late-night texts, the glow of your phone screen illuminating your face in the darkness of your small room. It started with a simple, utilitarian "Need help with the assignment?" from his number, a question that sent a jolt of surprised apprehension through you.

Hesitantly, you replied with a terse "Maybe," and soon, short, academic queries about formulas and literary devices morphed into slightly longer exchanges about favorite books (his surprisingly leaning towards classic sci-fi, yours towards poignant coming-of-age stories), obscure indie music, and even, occasionally, fleeting, carefully worded glimpses into the mundane details of your respective days.

His texts were often clipped, punctuated by emojis that seemed oddly out of character for the school's notoriously aloof jock – a surprisingly expressive thumbs-up, a thoughtful pondering face – but there was a consistency to them, a quiet checking-in that you found yourself looking forward to, a small beacon in the often-lonely expanse of your evenings.

He stumbled upon your deep-seated passion for retro video games during one of your brief study breaks in the library, when you were idly scrolling through an old emulator on your battered phone, a nostalgic smile softening your features as pixelated spaceships whizzed across the screen.

To your surprise, a flicker of recognition crossed his usually impassive face. "That's 'Galactic Gladiators', right?" he'd asked, leaning closer, a genuine spark of interest momentarily eclipsing his usual reserve. "My older brother used to be obsessed with that game. I remember watching him play for hours."

This shared, unexpected connection, a bridge built on 8-bit nostalgia, led to clandestine gaming sessions at his sprawling, modern home on weekends. His house, with its sleek furniture and panoramic city views, was a stark, almost intimidating contrast to your cramped, perpetually shadowed one, but in the dimly lit, surprisingly comfortable game room, surrounded by the hypnotic glow of multiple screens and the cheerful cacophony of digital sound effects, you found a strange, unexpected sense of belonging.

He was surprisingly competitive, his fingers flying across the controller with practiced ease, but never condescending, and your laughter, a sound you rarely heard yourself make, would sometimes bubble up and fill the room, a light, joyful sound that felt foreign yet wonderfully liberating. "Nice move!" he'd grudgingly admit after you executed a particularly skillful maneuver, a rare smile gracing his lips.

Throughout these increasingly frequent interactions, Jisung remained a keen, almost unnervingly perceptive, silent observer. He noticed the almost imperceptible tremor in your hands when someone raised their voice, even in a casual classroom discussion.

He saw the fleeting shadow of anxiety that flickered in your eyes when he accidentally brushed your arm in the crowded hallway. He learned your instinctive aversion to sudden loud noises, the way your gaze would dart nervously towards any raised hand in a classroom, as if anticipating a blow.

He pieced together the fragmented clues of your unspoken traumas, the subtle anxieties that clung to you like a second skin, an invisible weight you carried in the slump of your shoulders. He never pried, never asked directly about your strained home life or the cruelties you endured within the school's social hierarchy, but his awareness grew, a quiet understanding that seemed to settle in his dark eyes whenever he looked at you, a silent acknowledgment of the battles you fought unseen.

One particularly unpleasant afternoon, as you were walking home from school, clutching your backpack straps tightly, a group of boisterous guys from the basketball team, emboldened by their perceived social superiority, started making crude, insensitive remarks.

"Hey, look, it's Beauty and the Beast!" one of them jeered, his voice dripping with a nasty sarcasm that made your stomach clench. "Guess who's Beauty?" another one chimed in, eliciting a round of snickers. You froze, your face flushing crimson with shame, your instinct to disappear into the nearest crack in the sidewalk overwhelming.

Before you could shrink away and endure their taunts in silence, Jisung, who had been walking a few discreet steps behind you, his presence unnoticed until that moment, moved with a sudden, terrifying speed. He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, grabbing the loudest offender by the collar of his expensive sports jacket, his knuckles white with barely suppressed fury.

"Shut your fucking mouth," Jisung growled, his usual cool, detached demeanor replaced by a raw, furious intensity you had never witnessed before, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. The other guys, initially amused, backed away, their laughter dying in their throats, surprised and intimidated by his violent outburst. Jisung shoved the guy away, his eyes blazing with a protective anger.

"Don't you ever talk about her like that again. Do you understand me?" The guy, visibly shaken and surprised by the ferocity of Jisung's reaction, mumbled a hasty apology and hurried away with his equally stunned friends. Jisung turned to you, his chest heaving slightly, his expression softening infinitesimally, a hint of genuine concern in his dark eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. You could only nod mutely, your breath caught in your throat, the unexpected, fierce defense leaving you both shaken and strangely… protected, a warmth spreading through the cold knot of shame in your chest.

But the incident, as such things often do in the hothouse environment of high school, had significant repercussions. Whispers followed Jisung down the hallways now, laced with a different, more salacious kind of speculation. "Did you see him go after her like that?" someone murmured, their eyes wide with gossip.

"He's totally obsessed with that… chubby girl. What does he even see in her?" The rumors spread like wildfire, fueled by the public display of Jisung's anger and your continued, albeit still somewhat hesitant, proximity. "Jisung's into fatties," one particularly cruel comment, delivered with a deliberate, cutting edge, reached his ears in the crowded cafeteria during lunch.

The words, meant to be a public humiliation aimed at both of you, hit a raw nerve, igniting a fury within him that you had only glimpsed before. In a flash, Jisung was on his feet, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were bone-white.

He strode purposefully towards the group of guys who had been snickering, his eyes dark with a barely controlled rage. He grabbed the one who had spoken by the front of his shirt and slammed him against a nearby table, sending trays clattering and food scattering across the linoleum floor.

"Listen here, you piece of shit," Jisung snarled, his voice dangerously low but carrying through the stunned silence of the suddenly hushed cafeteria. "She isn't fat. She is chubby, and being chubby isn't inherently bad. She looks absolutely beautiful.

There is a fundamental difference between ignorance and deliberate malice. Educate yourself, you fucker." He punctuated his furious words with a sharp, brutal punch to the guy's jaw before his stunned friends could react and pull him away. The cafeteria buzzed with shocked whispers and a newfound, albeit grudging and often resentful, respect for Jisung's fierce, albeit violent, defense of you.

The rumors, however, persisted, twisting the narrative into something you increasingly dreaded. "Rich brat Jisung dating the school outcast," they whispered, their voices laced with a mixture of disbelief and disdain. "Probably just a phase. He'll get bored of her eventually and go back to the pretty, skinny girls."

These whispers, amplified by the dramatic incident in the cafeteria, inevitably reached the venomous ears of your aunt. The subtle shift in Jisung's behavior, the undeniable attention he was now paying you, confirmed her worst, most cynical suspicions.

"So," she hissed one evening as you were silently washing dishes after a particularly grueling day at school and an even more grueling dinner with her, her eyes narrowed with a predatory suspicion, "that rich boy has his claws in you now, hasn't he?" You flinched at the venom in her tone, the familiar sting of her judgment.

"He's just… a friend, Aunt," you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tremor that ran through you. Her hand shot out with surprising speed, catching you across the face, the sharp crack echoing in the small, cramped kitchen. The physical pain was a familiar ache, but the accusation that followed cut far deeper. "Don't lie to me, you little gold digger!" she spat, her grip tightening on your arm like a vise.

"I knew it. I always knew you were after something. Trying to latch onto his money, aren't you? Just like your good-for-nothing mother!" Her words were like a toxic poison, seeping into the fragile sense of hope that had begun to tentatively bloom within you, twisting the unexpected kindness into something ugly and manipulative. The physical pain was nothing compared to the crushing weight of her accusations, her bitter, distorted perception of your burgeoning connection with Jisung.

The relentless rumors, your aunt's brutal abuse and her vile accusations, the gnawing fear of what others were saying about Jisung because of his association with you – it all became an unbearable weight, crushing the fragile shoots of hope that had dared to emerge.

The unexpected bridge you had started to build with Jisung felt like it was crumbling beneath your feet, the whispers and judgments like relentless waves eroding the foundation. In a desperate, self-preservationist attempt to protect yourself, to retreat back into the familiar, albeit agonizing, solitude, you made a drastic, heart-wrenching decision.

With trembling fingers, tears blurring your vision, you blocked Jisung's number on your old phone, severing the digital lifeline that had offered a sliver of connection. You deleted your text conversations, erasing the late-night exchanges that had brought you a fleeting sense of belonging, the digital echoes of his unexpected kindness now too painful to bear.

You started avoiding the library during your usual study times, the quiet corners now feeling like painful, empty reminders of his focused presence. When he tried to approach you in the crowded hallways, his usual aloofness replaced with a bewildered concern, his brow furrowed with worry and a silent question in his dark eyes, you would turn away, your heart aching with a silent scream of despair trapped in your throat, your gaze fixed resolutely on the opposite wall.

The umbrellas and game nights became distant, bittersweet memories, shrouded in a self-imposed silence, a shield you erected to protect your already battered heart from a world that seemed determined to misunderstand and hurt you.

The fragile connection, barely formed, snapped under the immense weight of fear, misunderstanding, and the crushing reality of your own deeply ingrained insecurities, leaving you alone again in the echoing silence of your own making, the black umbrella a stark, painful reminder of what could have been.

--

Eight years. An epoch in the fleeting landscape of youth, a span long enough for the seasons to cycle countless times, painting the world in vibrant hues of spring and summer, then stripping it bare with the stark beauty of autumn and winter.

Enough time for fledgling cities to evolve into sprawling, gleaming metropolises of steel and glass, their skylines perpetually reaching for the heavens, monuments to human ambition and progress.

And certainly enough time for the tentative bud of a high school connection, once so fragile and fraught with misunderstanding, to wither into a distant, almost dreamlike memory, its sharp edges softened by the relentless passage of time, its significance fading into the hazy recesses of the past, like a forgotten melody played on a broken instrument, its notes barely audible.

You were no longer the shrinking, self-conscious teenager haunted by the cruel whispers that echoed in the crowded hallways and the oppressive silence of a toxic home, a ghost in your own life. You had painstakingly, meticulously built a new life for yourself, brick by emotional brick, each one laid with the mortar of hard work, unwavering determination, and a fierce, almost defiant independence that had blossomed in the fertile ground of necessity, a shield against the vulnerabilities of the past.

The late nights spent poring over textbooks, the quiet dedication to mastering complex algorithms and intricate lines of code, the relentless pursuit of knowledge in the digital realm, had finally translated into a thriving career as a successful IT engineer in your early twenties.

You commanded respect in boardrooms, your innovative solutions were sought after by colleagues and superiors alike, and your code was elegant, efficient, a testament to the sharp, analytical mind that had always been your secret strength, a weapon against the insecurities that once threatened to consume you.

Your personal life, however, remained a carefully constructed fortress, its walls high and its gates firmly locked, guarded by years of ingrained caution and a deep-seated wariness of vulnerability. You lived alone in a sleek, minimalist apartment perched high above the city's relentless pulse, a sanctuary of your own making where silence was a welcome companion and your personal space was your own inviolable domain, a stark contrast to the chaotic, unpredictable environment of your adolescence. The panoramic city views from your floor-to-ceiling windows served as a constant reminder of how far you had come, a testament to your resilience.

Close friends were a concept that felt foreign, almost unnecessary, a potential source of pain you had learned to avoid, the risk of emotional entanglement outweighing the promise of genuine connection. The scars of the past ran deep, invisible but persistent, leaving you emotionally guarded, wary of any hint of intimacy, and proficient at maintaining a polite, professional distance from everyone you encountered. Trust was a precious currency you hoarded carefully, rarely spending it, its value inflated by the painful lessons etched into the fabric of your youth, lessons you had no intention of repeating.

One crisp autumn afternoon, the air carrying the melancholic scent of fallen leaves swirling in the city's canyons and the sharp, invigorating promise of a coming winter, you were hurrying down a busy downtown street during your lunch break. A mental checklist of errands – dry cleaning, a quick stop at the independent bookstore you frequented for its comforting smell of old paper and ink, and perhaps a decent cup of artisanal coffee from that new place around the corner – ran through your mind with the precision of a well-written algorithm, each task prioritized and scheduled.

Lost in the intricate logic of a particularly challenging debugging task you'd been wrestling with all morning, your mind still tracing the elusive error in the cascading lines of code, a phantom bug that seemed to shift and evade your every attempt to squash it, you rounded a sharp corner near a bustling, trendy coffee shop and collided with someone.

The unexpected impact sent a jolt through you and your sleek, state-of-the-art smartphone skittering across the textured pavement, its screen momentarily flashing a distorted image of your focused concentration before going dark, a small tragedy in your otherwise meticulously managed day.

"Oh, excuse me! I am so incredibly sorry," you murmured automatically, bending down to retrieve your device, your initial annoyance momentarily overshadowed by the awkwardness of the unexpected physical contact and the immediate fear of a cracked screen, a costly inconvenience in your otherwise meticulously ordered life.

As you straightened up, your eyes traveled upwards, drawn to the man you had bumped into. He was taller now, the lean frame of his youth filled out with a more mature breadth across his shoulders, the boyish angularity of his face softened by the passage of time into a subtly handsome countenance, etched with the faintest lines of experience around his eyes, lines that hinted at late nights and weighty decisions, a roadmap of the years that had passed.

Wire-framed glasses, a sophisticated touch you wouldn't have pictured on the often casually dressed teenager you remembered, perched on the bridge of his nose, framing intelligent, familiar eyes that widened almost imperceptibly in surprise, a fleeting flicker of recognition dancing within their depths, a spark that ignited a dormant ember within you, sending a surprising warmth through the chill autumn air.

His once meticulously styled, almost severe haircut now fell in a deliberately messy wave across his forehead, giving him a more approachable, less rigidly perfect appearance, a hint of artistic disarray that somehow softened the sharp edges of his undeniable success.

He wore an impeccably tailored wool coat, the dark charcoal fabric hinting at considerable expense and understated power, and held a steaming paper cup in one hand, the rich, dark aroma of freshly brewed, high-end espresso wafting in the cool air, a scent that somehow felt both vaguely familiar and entirely new, a marker of his evolved world.

A jolt of recognition, sharp and unexpected, shot through you, followed by a disorienting wave of a peculiar, almost unsettling familiarity that tugged at the frayed edges of your carefully constructed present, pulling you back to a time you had consciously tried to bury beneath layers of achievement and self-reliance. It couldn't be… could it possibly be? Han Jisung.

Older, undeniably more polished, radiating an aura of quiet confidence and understated power you hadn't witnessed in his teenage years, but the intense gaze that locked with yours, the almost imperceptible quirk of his lips as he registered your presence, was undeniably him.

Your immediate instinct was to disappear, to melt back into the anonymity of the lunchtime crowd, to pretend you hadn't seen him, hadn't felt that disconcerting flicker of recognition that sent a shiver down your spine, a ghost of a past you thought you had outrun finally catching up.

You offered a quick, generic "So sorry," and began to sidestep him, your mind racing, trying to reconcile the aloof, often sharp-edged teenager you remembered with the sophisticated, almost enigmatic man standing before you, a man who exuded an air of quiet authority and effortless charm.

"[Your Name]?" His voice, deeper now, a smooth baritone that resonated in a way the adolescent timbre never had, cutting through the surrounding cacophony of city noise like a familiar melody played on a new instrument, a familiar cadence that pulled at the frayed edges of a long-dormant memory. He said your full name, the way he used to all those years ago during those stolen, quiet moments in the library, a sound that sent a faint, unexpected tremor through you, a vibration that stirred something long dormant within your carefully guarded heart.

You froze, your carefully constructed composure momentarily faltering, the practiced indifference you wore like armor cracking under the unexpected weight of the encounter. You reluctantly met his gaze, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach, a strange mix of apprehension and a hesitant flicker of something akin to… curiosity? "Jisung?" you replied, the name feeling foreign and yet strangely resonant on your tongue after so many years of deliberate disuse, a whisper from a life you thought you had left behind.

A hesitant, almost shy smile touched his lips, a far cry from the cool detachment and occasional sardonic smirk you remembered from high school. "It's been a while," he said, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made you feel strangely exposed, as if he could see past the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself, peering into the guarded spaces you rarely allowed anyone to glimpse. "You look… well. Successful."

Before you could formulate a polite refusal or an awkward attempt at small talk about the unpredictable autumn weather or the latest traffic snarl that had plagued your morning commute, he gestured vaguely towards the curb with his free hand. "My car's just around the corner. I'm actually heading in your general direction, I think, towards the financial district. Let me give you a ride back to your office. Save you the walk."

Suspicion, a familiar and unwelcome companion, immediately flared within you, its icy tendrils wrapping around your apprehension. Why? After all this time, after the abrupt and painful way your fragile connection had ended, leaving you feeling abandoned and misunderstood? What could he possibly want after eight long years of silence, years you had spent meticulously rebuilding your life without him, brick by painstaking brick?

You hesitated, weighing the awkwardness of accepting his unexpected offer against the even greater awkwardness of a prolonged conversation on a busy street, the risk of dredging up memories you had worked so diligently to bury beneath layers of professional success and emotional detachment.

There was a strange pull, however, an undeniable flicker of curiosity that you couldn't entirely ignore, a nagging question about the man he had become, the path his life had taken in the years since you last saw him. Against your better judgment, a small, almost imperceptible nod escaped you. "Okay," you said, your voice betraying a hint of your inner turmoil, the single word hanging in the air between you, heavy with unspoken history.

He led you not to a typical, anonymous sedan, but to a breathtakingly beautiful Pagani, its sleek, aerodynamic lines a testament to both artistry and engineering prowess, its low, guttural growl a subtle promise of immense power that vibrated through the very pavement beneath your feet.

The car turned heads as you approached, its presence a silent statement of wealth and refined taste, a world away from the battered jalopies that cluttered the high school parking lot of your memory. The passenger door swung open with a soft, almost theatrical whir, revealing luxurious leather seats that enveloped you in their rich embrace as you hesitantly settled inside, the scent of supple leather and something subtly, intoxicatingly expensive filling your senses, a stark contrast to the worn fabric of your old school backpack and the faint scent of your aunt's harsh cleaning supplies that still sometimes clung to your clothes.

The drive was short, punctuated by a strained, polite conversation about the unseasonably warm autumn weather and the general state of the city's ever-congested traffic, the mundane topics a flimsy shield against the unspoken questions that hung heavy in the air between you.

As he smoothly pulled up to your modern office building, its glass façade reflecting the crisp blue sky and the bustling energy of the city, a monument to your hard-won success, he mentioned the name of his investment firm, a brief, almost casual remark dropped into the otherwise stilted conversation as if discussing the morning's headlines. "Stratagem Capital," he said as you reached for the cool, brushed metal of the door handle, your fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second, a sudden premonition settling in your stomach.

"We're actually scheduled to have a rather important meeting with your company next week. Regarding a potential significant investment opportunity."

A sudden, chilling realization washed over you, cold and sharp as glacial ice, stealing your breath and sending a tremor of disbelief through you. "Stratagem Capital?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, the name echoing in the sudden silence of the car, a sound that resonated with an unexpected, almost ominous significance.

Your company, a promising tech startup you had poured your heart and soul into for the past few years, a testament to your resilience and your brilliance, had been working tirelessly for months, preparing meticulously crafted presentations, crunching complex financial projections that represented your team's collective hopes and dreams, pouring every ounce of energy and fragile optimism into securing a crucial investment that could catapult your small firm to the next level, finally allowing your innovative ideas to truly take flight and disrupt the industry.

The lead investor's name had been circulated amongst the senior staff, a prominent and highly respected figure in the tech industry, a name that carried significant weight, but in the whirlwind of deadlines and preparations, you hadn't paid it much attention beyond the professional implications, the potential for growth and validation.

You looked at Jisung, really looked at him, the tailored coat that spoke of power, the air of quiet confidence that radiated from him, the casual mention of multi-million dollar investments as if it were everyday conversation. The aloof, sometimes volatile jock of your past had metamorphosed into a powerful, influential man, a titan in the very industry you were striving to conquer.

And he was the investor. The key to your company's future, the man whose decision could make or break everything you had worked so hard to achieve, the man who now held your professional destiny in his hands. The unexpected, almost cruelly ironic twist hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken history, unresolved emotions, and the immense weight of a potentially very complicated, and possibly very high-stakes, future.

The past and the present had collided with a force that left you reeling, the comfortable distance you had cultivated shattered by the unexpected reappearance of a ghost from your past, a ghost who now held the keys to your future.

--

The meeting with Stratagem Capital the following week proceeded with an almost unnerving smoothness. You, as the lead engineer on the project, presented your team's innovative work with a calm professionalism that belied the turmoil churning within you. You fielded questions with clarity and precision, your deep understanding of the technology shining through.

Jisung, seated at the head of the table, listened intently, his gaze steady and focused, occasionally interjecting with insightful queries that demonstrated a genuine interest in your company's vision. There was a detached air to his professionalism, a stark contrast to the unexpected ride you had shared, making it almost seem like that encounter had been a figment of your imagination.

Yet, the occasional flicker of something familiar in his eyes, a brief, almost imperceptible softening of his expression when your gazes met, hinted at the complicated history that lay beneath the surface.

Weeks drifted by in a strange state of limbo. The investment from Stratagem Capital was still under consideration, a looming decision that hung over your company like a delicate balance. In the meantime, you found yourself running into Jisung with surprising frequency.

A silent acknowledgment in the building lobby, a shared elevator ride where neither of you spoke, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of the past. Occasionally, their paths would cross outside the office, and he would offer you a ride home, a proposition you initially met with hesitant suspicion.

The first few times, the drives were stiff and awkward. Polite inquiries about work and the city filled the silence, careful conversations that skirted around the eight years of absence and the abrupt end of your high school connection.

You remained guarded, observing him with a cautious eye, trying to decipher his intentions. Was this mere politeness, a byproduct of your professional entanglement? Or was there something more beneath the surface?

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a fragile sense of familiarity began to seep back into your interactions. The silences during the car rides became less strained, occasionally punctuated by a shared observation about a news report or a wry comment about the city's unpredictable traffic.

You found yourself, on a couple of particularly late nights at the office, accepting his offer of a ride without the initial surge of suspicion. There was a strange comfort in the shared journey, a sense of unexpected ease that surprised you.

Unbeknownst to you, Jisung had been meticulously piecing together the fragments of the past, recalling details from your brief time in high school. He remembered your quiet enthusiasm for a particular indie game, the way your eyes lit up when discussing a certain author, and, most surprisingly, he remembered your birthday.

A date that had somehow lodged itself in the recesses of his memory, a small, insignificant detail from a lifetime ago. As your birthday approached, he found himself making plans, a quiet dinner at a restaurant with a discreet, elegant ambiance, the perfect setting to finally ask you out, to see if the fragile connection rekindled by chance could blossom into something more.

Then, one afternoon, as you were leaving the office, he saw you standing outside, laughing with a male coworker. Your head was thrown back, your face radiant with genuine amusement, a carefree expression he hadn't witnessed on you in all the years he had known you, even in your brief moments of joy in high school.

A sharp, unexpected pang of jealousy, unfamiliar and unwelcome, clenched in his chest. The easy camaraderie you shared with this colleague, the effortless joy in your expression, stirred something possessive within him, a feeling he hadn't anticipated.

That evening, as you were packing up your things, preparing for the quiet solitude of your apartment, Jisung was waiting for you in the lobby. Instead of his usual quiet offer of a ride, he stood near the reception desk, his presence drawing the attention of several of your colleagues who were also leaving for the day.

He waited until your eyes met his across the bustling space, and then, his voice carrying with a newfound confidence that echoed through the lobby, he addressed you publicly. "Ms. [Your Last Name]," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, his gaze holding yours. "Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tomorrow night?"

All eyes in the lobby turned to you, a mixture of curiosity and speculation in their gazes. Caught completely off guard by the public invitation, a blush creeping up your neck, you felt a wave of awkwardness wash over you. The memories of the high school rumors, the sting of your aunt's accusations, flashed through your mind.

Yet, there was also a strange pull, a reluctant curiosity to see where this unexpected turn of events might lead. Under the scrutiny of your colleagues, their hushed whispers filling the sudden silence, you managed a hesitant, "Yes, Mr. Han. I would." The agreement felt both inevitable and incredibly awkward, a step back into a past you had tried so hard to leave behind, under the watchful eyes of your present.

-

A nervous energy, a fluttering anticipation you hadn't permitted yourself to feel in years, stirred within the carefully guarded chambers of your heart as you prepared for the unexpected dinner. You stood before your closet, a meticulously curated collection of professional attire in understated hues that spoke of competence and control, and sought something that felt both comfortable and hinted at the special occasion, a subtle rebellion against your usual reserved style, a quiet acknowledgment of the significance of the evening.

Your gaze finally settled on a cherry red top, a vibrant splash of color that always seemed to inject a bit of defiant joy into your spirit, a bold statement against the muted tones that often mirrored your inner landscape. You paired it with a denim skort, a touch of casual familiarity amidst the potential formality of the evening, a grounding element that reminded you of the woman you were beneath the polished exterior you presented to the world.

To elevate the look, you chose a pair of sleek cherry red heels, adding a confident lift to your stride and a subtle statement of intent, a silent assertion of your own worth. Finally, you adorned yourself with delicate gold jewelry – a slender necklace that rested at your collarbone, catching the light with a subtle shimmer that drew attention to the graceful curve of your neck, and elegant stud earrings that framed your face with a touch of understated grace, adding a hint of warmth to your otherwise cool demeanor.

The reflection staring back was a woman you had painstakingly built, piece by painstaking piece, strong and independent, a far cry from the invisible, shrinking girl of your past, a testament to your resilience and unwavering spirit.

A sharp, insistent knock echoed through the quiet of your apartment, a sound that both quickened your pulse and filled you with a sense of nervous anticipation. Taking a deep breath, a silent promise to yourself to simply relax and enjoy the evening, regardless of where it might lead, you opened the door to find Jisung standing there.

The black satin shirt he wore accentuated the broad expanse of his shoulders, the fabric catching the soft hallway light with a subtle, almost liquid sheen that hinted at a quiet luxury. The wire-framed glasses added an unexpected intellectual air to his already handsome features, making his sharp, intelligent eyes seem even more thoughtful and perceptive, and you couldn't help but notice how undeniably fine he looked, a refined elegance that was both familiar, a ghost of the intense, sometimes volatile boy you once knew, and entirely new, a testament to the years that had sculpted him into this composed, intriguing man.

The ride to the restaurant was initially filled with a nervous tension, a subtle undercurrent of awkwardness that mirrored your earlier encounters, the silence punctuated by the gentle hum of the Pagani's engine.

Polite conversation filled the gaps, careful inquiries about the day's events and the surprisingly mild autumn weather, neither of you quite venturing into the deeper, more turbulent waters of your shared history or the uncertain territory of the present.

You found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the composed man beside you, radiating an air of quiet confidence, with the memory of the intense, sometimes volatile teenager who had defended you in the crowded school cafeteria.

The restaurant was perched on a rooftop, offering a breathtaking panorama of the city lights twinkling below like a million scattered diamonds on a velvet cloth. The ambiance was sophisticated and intimate, soft jazz music drifting through the air, the murmur of hushed conversations a gentle hum that created a sense of secluded elegance, a world away from the noisy chaos of your high school days.

The initial awkwardness during dinner slowly began to dissipate as the conversation drifted towards lighter topics – shared observations about the dazzling city skyline, a brief, surprisingly engaging discussion about a thought-provoking documentary you had both recently watched, revealing unexpected common interests that bridged the years.

Then, as the dessert arrived, a delicate chocolate torte adorned with a single, flickering candle, casting a warm glow on his face, Jisung's eyes met yours with a soft intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Happy birthday, [Your Name]," he said, his voice a low, warm murmur that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, a simple acknowledgment that held a weight of unspoken understanding.

He then presented you with a small, exquisitely wrapped box, the paper a deep, rich burgundy tied with a silver ribbon, the weight of it surprisingly substantial in your hand. Inside, nestled in soft, black velvet, was a heavy crystal perfume bottle, its facets catching the candlelight.

You lifted it, your breath catching in your throat. The delicate, floral and slightly musky scent that wafted upwards was instantly, achingly familiar, a nostalgic echo of your high school days, a fragrance you hadn't encountered in years, a scent that held within it the ghost of a younger, more vulnerable you.

And then you saw it – your name, [Your Name], elegantly and intricately carved into the smooth, cool glass of the bottle, a personal touch that resonated with a profound intimacy. A wave of emotion washed over you, a poignant mix of profound surprise and an unexpected tenderness that resonated deep within your carefully guarded heart.

He remembered. He remembered the small, seemingly insignificant detail of your favorite scent from a lifetime ago, a scent that evoked bittersweet memories of a time when simple pleasures held a greater significance, a time before the weight of the world had settled so heavily on your shoulders.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, a raw vulnerability exposed that you rarely allowed anyone to witness, a crack in the carefully constructed facade of your independence.

"Jisung," you began, your voice trembling slightly, the carefully constructed walls around your heart momentarily crumbling under the weight of his unexpected thoughtfulness and the poignant memories the perfume evoked. "This is… this is incredibly thoughtful. More than I could have ever expected. Thank you."

You paused, gathering your courage to voice the deeper turmoil that had plagued you for so long, the insecurities that still whispered in the quiet corners of your mind. "But… I need to be honest with you. I… I don't love myself. Not really. Not in the way someone should. And if I don't love myself, how can I possibly let anyone else truly love me? I'm… I'm afraid of that. Afraid of being hurt again, afraid of not being enough."

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with years of unspoken pain, ingrained insecurity, and the deep-seated fear of repeating the hurts of the past, a truth you had carried like a secret burden.

He reached across the table, his larger hand gently covering yours, his touch warm and grounding, a silent reassurance that transcended words.

His gaze was earnest, unwavering, filled with a quiet understanding that surprised you with its depth, a knowing look that seemed to see past your carefully constructed defenses. "Then I'll wait," he said softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, his eyes conveying a patience you hadn't anticipated, a steadfastness that offered a glimmer of hope.

"I'll wait until you do, [Your Name]. Because I know, deep down, the incredible woman you are, the strength and resilience you possess. And I believe you'll see it too, eventually. And when you do, whenever that may be, I'll still be here." His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, an unexpected promise of unwavering support and a profound belief in you that resonated deep within your heart, planting a tiny seed of hope in the barren landscape of your self-doubt, a fragile promise of a future you hadn't dared to imagine.

--

The rooftop dinner, bathed in the soft glow of city lights and punctuated by the raw vulnerability you had dared to share, marked a subtle but significant shift in the long, unspoken narrative between you and Jisung. The confession, the hesitant unveiling of your deepest insecurities, hung in the air not as a source of awkwardness or a point of retreat, but as a fragile, newly forged bridge spanning the chasm of years and misunderstandings.

In the weeks that followed, slow, deliberate progress began, like the tentative unfurling of a tightly closed bloom. A simple goodnight text evolved into a brief, thoughtful exchange the next day. A casual inquiry about the challenges of your workday led to a late-night phone call, the comfortable silence that occasionally fell between you gradually replacing the nervous tension and unspoken anxieties of the past.

He didn't push, didn't make demands or issue expectations. He simply offered his quiet, unwavering presence, a steady anchor in the sometimes-turbulent waters of your emotions, a silent reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

He would text a simple "How was your day?" or share an interesting article he thought you might find engaging, a small gesture that spoke volumes about his attentiveness. Occasionally, he would suggest a late-night study session, the pretense of academic pursuit now a comfortable backdrop for shared interests – a complex documentary that sparked a fascinating debate, a classic novel you had always intended to read but never found the time for, its pages becoming a shared landscape of discovery.

Slowly, tentatively, you began to lower the carefully constructed walls around your heart, brick by painstaking brick. You found a surprising comfort in his quiet understanding, the way he listened without judgment, his responses thoughtful and genuine, reflecting a depth of empathy you hadn't encountered before.

He learned your rhythms, the days you needed space to navigate the lingering shadows of your past, the evenings you might welcome a gentle distraction, a shared meal, or a quiet conversation. He even started suggesting you cook together at his spacious, modern apartment, his sleek kitchen a stark and welcoming contrast to the cramped, often tense atmosphere of the kitchen of your childhood.

These evenings were filled with a comfortable domesticity, the shared task of preparing a meal, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the simmering of sauces, becoming a silent language of growing intimacy and trust.

A year spun by, marked by the subtle shifts in the seasons and the more profound shifts within yourself. Jisung's unwavering patience and quiet, steadfast support had become an integral and comforting presence in your life, a constant source of gentle encouragement.

You found yourself laughing more freely, the sound echoing in your apartment without the familiar tinge of self-consciousness. Your steps felt lighter, your shoulders less burdened. The sharp edges of your emotional guardedness began to soften, replaced by a tentative sense of self-acceptance, a growing understanding of your own inherent worth.

You started looking at your reflection with a kinder, more forgiving eye, the critical voice within slowly quieting its relentless judgment. While the journey to fully loving yourself was an ongoing process, a path you were still navigating, you were undeniably more confident, more emotionally stable, the foundations of your well-being feeling stronger and more resilient than they ever had before.

Then, finally, came the day of the project launch, the culmination of months of intense work, sleepless nights, and unwavering dedication, the very project upon which Stratagem Capital's significant investment hinged. The atmosphere in the office was electric with a palpable mixture of nervous anticipation and focused energy, the air thick with the unspoken hopes and fears of your entire team.

You, as the lead engineer and the driving force behind the innovation, presented the final product with a quiet confidence that belied the subtle tremor of excitement within you, your voice steady and clear as you navigated the intricate technical details, your passion for the project shining through.

Everything went smoothly, the system performing flawlessly, its elegant functionality and groundbreaking capabilities impressing the stakeholders. A collective sigh of relief and a wave of triumphant exhaustion washed over your team as the launch was officially declared a resounding success, a testament to your collective hard work and vision.

That evening, a simple text message from Jisung arrived on your phone, the familiar name on the screen sending a warmth spreading through you: "Stratagem party tonight. Nexus. Consider it a celebration of a job well done."

It was a casual invitation, understated in its wording, but the underlying warmth and a hint of personal invitation were unmistakable, a quiet acknowledgment of your shared journey and your individual triumph. Hesitantly, a sense of nervous excitement fluttering in your stomach, you decided to go.

-

The invitation to Nexus arrived with a subtly possessive addendum from Jisung, delivered via a late-night text that vibrated with an unspoken intimacy: "Wear black. It suits you, highlights the fire in your eyes, and makes those cherry lips look like they're begging for a taste."

Trusting his quiet confidence and the undeniably suggestive compliment, you chose a sleek black dress. Its simple elegance skimmed your curves like a whispered promise, a silent statement of newfound comfort and a daring hint of burgeoning sensuality in your own skin.

The fabric flowed around you like liquid night, a stark contrast to the vibrant, almost defiant red of your birthday dinner, yet equally, if not more, captivating, a subtle promise of the woman you were slowly, deliberately unleashing.

At the club, "Nexus," Jisung's sleek and exclusive domain, the celebratory atmosphere was thick with the intoxicating blend of pulsating music, unrestrained laughter, and the expensive, heady aroma of designer perfume and celebratory spirits.

Your colleagues, flushed with the heady success of the project launch, their usual professional reserve dissolving with each shared bottle of champagne, were in high spirits, their inhibitions lowered to a dangerous degree. You found yourself drawn into their revelry, the offered glasses of the effervescent liquid, each accompanied by increasingly suggestive toasts to your team's brilliance and your own pivotal role, proving utterly irresistible in the face of their insistent camaraderie and playful shoves.

Your notoriously low tolerance for alcohol, a delicate secret you rarely shared, meant the celebratory drinks went to your head with thrilling speed, the edges of the room beginning to soften and sway, the bass of the music vibrating deep within your core, a physical manifestation of the delicious unraveling of your carefully controlled senses, igniting a reckless, intoxicating warmth that spread through your veins.

Soon, a giddy laughter, a sound that had been long suppressed beneath layers of self-consciousness and ingrained caution, bubbled up from within you, a lightness you hadn't experienced with such uninhibited abandon in years.

Encouraged by your tipsy colleagues, their cheers and suggestive winks egging you on, you found yourself on the dance floor, moving with a fluid, uninhibited grace that surprised even yourself, a joyous, almost primal release of pent-up tension and newfound confidence.

Through the shimmering haze of alcohol and flashing lights, your gaze locked with Jisung's across the crowded room.

He was watching you from the edge of the dance floor, leaning against a polished chrome pillar, a soft, almost possessive smile playing on his lips, his gaze dark, intense, and utterly unwavering, a silent observer who seemed to find a quiet amusement and a palpable, smoldering desire in your uncharacteristic abandon.

His eyes held a dark, knowing gleam that sent a shiver of raw anticipation dancing down your spine.

A sudden, deliciously wicked impulse, fueled by the alcohol's intoxicating loosening grip on your inhibitions and a burgeoning, undeniable, almost desperate affection for the man who watched you with such quiet intensity, overtook you with a thrilling recklessness.

With a playful shout that was almost a husky invitation, you weaved through the dancing crowd, a black-clad siren navigating the throng with an unexpected agility, reached Jisung, and, with a boldness that made your own heart pound, yanked him down by the collar of his dark, subtly shimmering silk shirt.

Your cherry-red lips crashed onto his in a kiss that was anything but demure, a rush of giddy affection, uninhibited desire, and a playful, teasing exploration of the boundaries that had long separated you. Your hands tangled in the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until your bodies were pressed together, the kiss a heady mix of champagne-fueled impulsiveness and a genuine longing that had been slowly simmering beneath the surface for months, now boiling over.

You nipped playfully at his lower lip before deepening the kiss, your tongue darting out to tease his, a silent, brazen dare in your slightly inebriated state that made his breath hitch and a low groan rumble in his chest.

You punctuated the bold move by gently biting down on his lower lip, a playful yet possessive gesture, before tugging lightly, drawing a surprised, yet undeniably pleased, sound from him.

He recoiled slightly, a flicker of surprise widening his dark eyes before a gentle, yet firm, hand cupped your cheek, stilling your impulsive actions, his thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear with a tender possessiveness that sent a delicious thrill spiraling through you.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your swollen lips, a note of amused concern and a definite, husky undercurrent of arousal lacing his tone.

"Easy there, Ms. Y/L/N. Those cherry lips are getting a little… demanding, and you're swaying like a particularly lovely willow tree in a strong breeze. Though, I must admit," his gaze dropped to your lips, a dark heat flickering in his eyes, a predatory gleam that made your pulse quicken, "it's a rather… persuasive argument."

He carefully, yet reluctantly, disentangled himself, his arm remaining possessively around your waist, his touch a steady anchor in your suddenly unsteady world.

Gently but firmly, he steered you away from the pulsating crowd, his concern evident in his steady, unwavering gaze, though a hint of reluctant longing and a definite spark of desire still lingered in their depths.

He helped you into the cool, luxurious embrace of his Pagani, the soft leather a welcome contrast to the sudden heat that flushed your skin.

The ride back to your apartment was quiet, punctuated only by your occasional giggles and his soft, reassuring murmurs, his hand resting lightly on your thigh, his fingers occasionally flexing as if fighting a fierce internal battle against the urge to explore further.

As you fumbled with your door, the city lights blurring through the alcohol-induced haze, Jisung patiently guided your unsteady hand to the keypad.

You punched in the code '14092000', the familiar sequence a jumbled mess in your slightly inebriated mind, the numbers swimming before your eyes. Then, as the lock clicked open, the realization hit you with the force of a sudden downpour, a wave of unexpected warmth flooding through the alcoholic haze.

The numbers… they were his birthday. A small, intimate detail he had entrusted to you, a silent gesture of trust that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings and the quiet intimacy you now shared, a secret language whispered in digits that now felt like a key to something much deeper.

Once inside your apartment, the lingering effects of the alcohol made you clumsy and endearingly unsteady, your movements a little too dramatic, your laughter a little too loud, each step a playful sway that threatened to send you tumbling.

As Jisung guided you towards your bedroom, his hand a firm, reassuring presence on your back, a wave of affection, amplified by the alcohol and the heady emotions of the evening, washed over you with an almost overwhelming intensity.

You turned to him, your movements slightly exaggerated, a playful glint in your eyes that hinted at mischief and a burgeoning, almost desperate desire. Reaching out, you tugged gently on his hand, pulling him down onto the edge of your bed with a soft giggle that bordered on a husky sigh.

You then proceeded to crawl onto the mattress, straddling his lap, your black dress riding up your thighs with a scandalous disregard for propriety, snuggling on top of him, your head resting comfortably against his chest, the steady, reassuring beat of his heart a comforting rhythm beneath your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair, pulling him closer until your lips were mere inches apart, your breath mingling. "Jisung," you mumbled, your words slightly slurred but filled with a genuine warmth that radiated through you, "I think… no, I know… I love you. You're… you're so good to me. And you smell absolutely intoxicating," you added with a tipsy giggle, nuzzling closer and pressing a lingering, deliberately provocative kiss to the sensitive skin of his neck, your cherry-red lips leaving a faint, fleeting imprint.

You then repeated the playful bite on his lower lip, tugging gently and watching his eyes darken with a mixture of amusement and something far more primal.

A soft chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against your ear, a sound filled with a tender amusement and a palpable, tightly leashed desire that made his muscles tense beneath you. He gently stroked your hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands, his voice a heart-fluttering whisper against your temple, filled with a tender amusement and a quiet longing that mirrored your own, tinged with a hint of reluctant control.

"And I, [Your Name]," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his arms tightening around your waist for a fleeting, possessive moment before relaxing, his gaze dark and intense as he looked down at you, his eyes lingering on your parted lips, then drifting down to where your hips subtly pressed against his.

"Am willing to wait until those beautiful, slightly tipsy words hold the same crystal clarity as the stars we saw painting the night sky. But darling," his voice dropped to a husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch that hinted at a barely suppressed hunger, "the waiting is becoming… an exquisite form of torture, especially with those tempting little nibbles."

He held you close, a silent battle raging within him, resisting the undeniable pull of the moment, respecting the vulnerability of your inebriated state, his own desire held firmly in check by a deeper, more profound affection and a gentlemanly restraint that spoke volumes about the depth of his character, even as his body betrayed a different, urgent story.

-- Next Morning

Sunlight stabbed at your eyelids, a brutal assault after the night's champagne-fueled escapades. A dull throb hammered behind your eyes, each pulse echoing the questionable decisions of the previous evening. You groaned, turning your face into the pillow, the lingering scent of expensive cologne a faint, comforting anchor in the sea of your queasy stomach. Slowly, reluctantly, you pried your eyes open, the unfamiliar surroundings of your bedroom coming into focus.

Then, the tantalizing aroma of sizzling bacon and something sweet, like pancakes, wafted from the kitchen, cutting through the fog of your hangover. You pushed yourself up, the black dress from the night before a crumpled heap on the floor. Padding barefoot towards the source of the enticing smell, you found Jisung standing at your stove, effortlessly flipping pancakes, a comfortable domesticity radiating from him that made your heart do a little flip of its own, despite your pounding head.

He turned as you entered, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Morning, sleepyhead," he greeted, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "Slept well? You were quite… enthusiastic last night. Though, I must say," he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, his gaze lingering on your slightly disheveled state, "you have a surprising stamina for someone who claims a low tolerance. You seemed to enjoy our… deep and slow… activities. And if I recall correctly, there were some rather insistent requests for… more."

Panic flared in your chest, hot and sharp. Had you? The memories of last night were fragmented, a blurry montage of laughter, flashing lights, and a reckless boldness you barely recognized. Your cheeks flushed crimson. "We… we didn't… have… sex?" you stammered, your voice thick with sleep and dawning horror.

His smirk widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Relax, agassi," he chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. "Just teasing. Though your attempts to straddle me were… memorable. And your whispered demands were… certainly noted. I got you safely tucked in. All innocent, I assure you. Mostly."

Relief washed over you in a dizzying wave, leaving you slightly breathless and acutely aware of the lingering heat in your cheeks. He moved towards you, his hands reaching out to frame your face, his thumbs gently stroking your temples. "Though," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips, a familiar heat returning to his eyes, "that kiss in the club… and those little nibbles… those were definitely real. And rather… persuasive. You seemed to have a particular fondness for my lower lip."

Your brow furrowed, a wave of mortification washing over you. "I… I don't really remember…" you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks burning hotter.

He closed the distance between you, his gaze intense. He reached out, gently taking your hand, and walked you backwards until your spine met the cool surface of the wall. He placed a hand on either side of your head, effectively pinning you, a playful dominance in his stance. Leaning in close, his breath ghosting over your lips, he teased, "Those kisses were quite something, my tipsy darling. And those little bites… rather… possessive. Should I show you how you did it?"

To his surprise, instead of a denial, a hesitant nod escaped you, a flicker of curiosity overriding your embarrassment.

His eyes darkened, a spark of something primal igniting within them. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against yours, a tantalizing prelude. Then, you surged forward, your hands tangling in his hair, your mouth crashing onto his with a desperate, sober longing. This kiss was different, grounded in a clarity that the previous night lacked, a heartfelt confession in every touch. When you finally broke apart, your breath catching in your throat, you looked into his eyes, the hangover momentarily forgotten. "Jisung," you said, your voice clear and steady, the words carrying the weight of a year of quiet understanding and burgeoning love. "I do love you. I really do."

His gaze softened, a profound tenderness replacing the teasing glint. Without a word, he swept you off your feet, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, and carried you to the kitchen counter, gently placing you on the cool surface amidst the tantalizing aroma of breakfast. His lips found yours again, this time with a fierce tenderness, a claiming kiss that spoke of shared desire and a love that had been patiently waiting. Hands explored, soft moans escaped your lips, the scent of bacon and pancakes mingling with the raw heat of your bodies. Finally, breathless and flushed, you broke apart, foreheads touching.

Han's voice, a low, husky whisper against your ear, sent a shiver down your spine. "I love you more, my love."

-- The End