#y-net
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thakiekstahdoesart · 11 months ago
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The crew of the Atomless playing Y-Net
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springismss · 6 months ago
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ᱬ ࣪𖤐 thoughts of rockstar! sukuna turning into rockstar boyfriend! sukuna.
had this thought while listening to v.a.n earlier when working.
general swearing but this part is sfw.
f! reader. as always, reblogs/likes are always appreciated! enjoy ᱬ ࣪𖤐
part 1 word count: 1.2k | series word count: 4.9k
links: jjk masterlist | masterlist | part 2 | part 3
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rockstar! sukuna who stood pouting like a child with his arms folded, not caring to listen to what his bandmate had to say about the tickets currently being waved in his hand.
rockstar! sukuna who’s currently standing backstage at a concert for a new and upcoming band, one that shouldn’t have that many fans but judging by the crowd that was still gathering, he was wrong.
rockstar! sukuna who’s still tuning out his bandmate when they chatter on about how they got the passes thanks to connections and this new band was going to make it big, all thanks to the main star - their lead singer.
rockstar! sukuna who’s now paying attention to what’s said once he hears that the lead singer is a girl. things have just gotten interesting, it was rare to have a female in such a male-dominated space, he had to see this for himself.
rockstar! sukuna who’s not impressed when he first sees you walking past his group. you looked so shy and meek while quickly offering a “hello” and a wave. clearly the idiot was mistaken when he was yapping earlier.
rockstar! sukuna who’s eating his words soon after when he hears the sounds that come out once you open your mouth after getting the crowd going. the singing, the screaming, the growling? you were far from meek.
rockstar! sukuna who watches you carefully, the way you jump around the stage, the bright smile on your face as you enjoy the buzz around you as you continue to perform for your fans - a buzz he understands all too well.
rockstar! sukuna who finds himself tapping his foot to some of the songs your band plays, it’s totally because he’s a musician and not because he’s starting to enjoy himself.
rockstar! sukuna who finds himself clapping along with his bandmates once your set ends and the lights come back on, watching the bodies on the stage filter backstage again. the look of pure joy on your face is cute. wait did he actually think that?
rockstar! sukuna who offers a grunt when you finally take the time to talk to the group, offering a thanks for coming and watching. who doesn’t miss the way you tilt your head and smirk at him before turning your attention to his bassist. he’d strangle the fucker if he tried anything.
rockstar! sukuna who follows behind the big group back to the dressing room for a drink because, let’s face it, it’s the least you could do to thank them for coming along even when they didn’t have to.
rockstar! sukuna who finds himself alone on a couch before you plopped yourself down, offering another drink before leaning back, talking away to yourself about something he couldn’t quite hear.
rockstar! sukuna who leaves an hour or so later with the rest of his band, not before he had your personal contact details and socials in his phone - after all, he might fancy a collab one day with you.
rockstar! sukuna who turns into fanboy! sukuna for a while when he gets home, hopelessly stalking your insta to get a glimpse into your life. who found himself smirking at the picture of you and your new puppy you’d posted a day before he met you, double tapping to lock in that like. of course, it would be from his own private and personal insta and only a few special people would have that account.
rockstar! sukuna who, one night, in his semi-drunk state, might have sent you a message detailing what he would do to you if he had you alone and you were his. not caring that he was being too out there, cause fuck that shit, life is for living right?
rockstar! sukuna who nearly drops his phone at the message you sent back to him, who knew you kinda enjoyed stranger danger? he was way in over his head but he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
rockstar! sukuna who attended quite a few more of your shows after that message, thanks to bagging backstage passes from you much to his delight, not that he cared to admit that. he did have a tough guy image to uphold after all.
rockstar! sukuna who spent more time talking to you via dms before moving to texts - after all, he was adamant that arranging a collab would be easier that way, not that he wanted a more personal way to talk to you.
rockstar! sukuna who starts adding lyrics that have to do with love and crushes into his future songs, much to the amusement of his bandmates and fans, some loved the subtle changes while others hated it.
rockstar! sukuna who ends up inviting you into the studio to talk ideas and start his band's next single with your help and vocals. he was sure it would be a hit, plus he wanted to spend more time with you outside of the bands. not that he would ever care to admit that to you.
rockstar! sukuna who suddenly feels like a teenager all over again when you get closer to him, lingering touches and looks making his heart thump in his chest - he was a performer yet this is what caused him to grow clammy?
rockstar! sukuna who ends up relaxing on the sofa in the room, you sat in his lap as you hummed out a tune, jotting it down. enjoying your weight on top of him, even if it wasn’t how he’d usually like it.
rockstar! sukuna who grows bored after a while and pulls his phone out, only for you to grab it and take a selfie with him, placing a kiss on his cheek as you capture the pure bewilderment on his face. just a little something to remind him of you when all of this ended.
rockstar! sukuna who starts to find new ways of hanging out with you, when not working on a track together - may have guilt-tripped you into letting him meet your puppy because who couldn’t resist his bad boy charm?
rockstar! sukuna who ended up becoming rockstar boyfriend! sukuna before too long, proudly showing you off to the world the night after you agreed to be his, when the new song debuted and you appeared on stage, taking your place beside him with a cheerful wave to the roaring crowd.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who pulls you into him in front of the sold-out arena, planting a wanting deep kiss onto your lips before pulling away, smirking at the dazed look before announcing that you were both together, and everyone better get used to it before the combined roar of the crowd and his band kicked up, the two of you performing the song you’d created together.
rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who now uses every opportunity to show you off to the world as the girlfriend of the man who didn’t want to be seen with anyone else - may or may not have went on quite a few photo dumps on his personal insta with photos of you both and what you were up to in between performing and recording.
let’s not talk about the other folder he has on his phone of pictures of you and the two of you together just yet yeah?
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permanent tags;
@ani-net
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© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.
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himewonu · 2 months ago
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꒰ MASTERLIST ꒱ FLASH FORWARD ; yoon jeonghan
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summary the track and field team says dancing isn’t a sport, which started the whole rivalry between the two teams. but when jeonghan’s plan to sabotage the dance team’s performance turns for worst, he gets a taste of his own medicine
starring athlete! jeonghan x dancer!f reader
genre smau + a lot of written, romcom, enemies to lovers, uni au, 10% sports au, 90% dance au (but they barely dance), i stole this from my old blog
contains profanities, mentions: food poisoning, vomitting, laxatives, track bros are MENACES, as always the jokes are not nice in here, they’re canadian?? i don’t know anything about dance or track, a lot of side pairings (reminder this is all fiction)
status airing with slow updates (05 05 ‘25 - ?)
playlist | taglist is open
from rhin, i brought this back bc i like this idea so much and the plot needed a major revamp !! omg did u guys know i came up with this idea when my friend (who is a dancer) complained how schools didnt consider dancers as athletes bc dance is practically a sport to her.
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please do not spam like ! please support by reblogging <3
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪profiles
character profiles
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪chapters
i, shut up junhui
ii, dont shit ur pants now
iii, good thing you didnt overreact
iv, j*b
v, #leavethefreshmenalone ( written )
vi, ur adopted
vii, jeonghan the goat ( written )
viii, not again
ix, temu wheel spinner
x, pdc & ptt enemies to lovers ( written )
xi, type shift
xii, cute bookshelf
xiii, poor people’s water
xiv, link in bio
xv, hemmerooids
xvi, 4 against 1…
xvii, yuandalejingle
xviii, howdy partner
xix, what do you know about a JOB
xx, chopped swiss cheese
chapters to be added !
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svt masterlist .ᐟ
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rpwprpwprpwprw · 9 months ago
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kim namjoon fanfics that has a special place in my heart! part 2 recs! (namjoon masterlist)
𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝗒 , 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗑 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾.
Two Years by @jjungkookislife (husband!Namjoon x wife!Reader) completed
Accidental Kiss by @babeejeon (bestfriend!namjoon x reader) best friends to lovers au completed
Don’t push your luck by @btsgotjams27 (namjoon x reader) genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope completed
Under the mistletoe by @btsgotjams27 (namjoon x reader) genre/au: fluff | ex college rivals, co-workers, frenemies completed
Pitch Fest by @btsgotjams27 (namjoon x reader) genre/au: fluff, a lil angst (you know me) | co-workers, ex-college rivals, slight e2l completed
Sentient by @trivia-yandere (android!namjoon x reader) genre: yandere completed
Boss Me Around by @margotw10bis (boss!namjoon x assistant!reader) completed
Rough love by @sxtaep (namjoon x reader) completed
Daddy by @author-ssi (namjoon x babysitter!reader) completed
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sweetinsaniiity · 6 months ago
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Don't Lean On Me
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► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - tsundere!outcast!Yeosang x semi-stalker!reader◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - enemies-to-lovers trope, college au, heavy angst, tooth-rotting fluff, Yeosang is kind of an !asshole (in the beginning), reader fell first but he fell harder, reader is down bad for Yeosang, reader has !stalker tendencies, abandonment in the rain, eventual make up, happy ending ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-14+, kissing scene, suggestive content, threats (both harmful and non-harmful), scene where Yeosang holds your arm to kick you out, mentions of a car accident (non-graphic), no smut this time, sorry folks ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 27K words (I can explain) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - Yeosang was the campus freak. An outcast, to say the least. He didn't particularly do anything, well, except cover his face with a black mask and avoid everybody. He never takes it off and nobody has ever seen his face before. But you couldn't help but fall for him, so you follow him every single time. You get caught, however, and he threatens you to stay away from him. To add salt to the injury, you were both partnered for a project that will exempt you from the subject next semester. ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - It wasn't my intention to make this as long as it is, and again, easygoing fluff without any drama and plot-twists aren't my thing, but I really wanted to start 2025 with something sweet! Stay tuned because the next one will be EXTREMELY TOXIC. Enjoy! Title from Amity Affliction. Also, I'm really sick right now, bear with me. ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 ◄
► 𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @dove-net @keopihaus @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet @pirateeznet @hiraya-m ◄
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It was him, yet again. It was very easy to spot him as he always took the same spot where he was now at the far corner of the classroom where everybody blatantly ignored him.
But not you though. You could have burned a hole in this guy's skull with how hard you stared at him every single time you saw him. How could you not? The way his rigid posture sat straight as he tuned the world out with his earphones and the way his uninterested eyes would scan all over the room definitely caught your eye.
And you knew that everybody in the classroom did, too. But that was the thing, you weren't aloof to all the sneers and snickers they sent towards his direction.
You tapped the person sitting to your left, who just also happened to be one of your best friends, without leaving your sights on the mysterious man that already made your heart beat unknowingly. "Hey, who's that again?"
You've been in this particular class, the only class you share, but for some reason, you never did bother to ask. Until now.
Yunho glances behind him with a small frown, following the direction of where your index finger was pointing. His brows tilt up ever so slightly as you watch his face slowly transform into that of recognition.
"Kang Yeosang," he said more as a surprise rather than a statement. He turns back to look at you inquisitively. "Very smart, like, really damn smart, but that's not what a lot of people notice at first."
He was right. You were guilty as charged, though, because it was also the reason why you were suddenly interested in him. 
Yeosang wore a face mask that covered half of his face from his nose to his chin. Now, that part wasn't odd in itself since everybody wore them once in a while for whatever reason that may be, but Yeosang wore them literally everywhere. He never took them off, at least, from what you know.
But that was definitely the case. Again, you weren't privy to all the whispers that travelled in the air. Kang Yeosang literally never took the mask off of his face. Nobody has ever seen what the guy looked like.
"Don't be judgmental," you murmured, forcing your head to look forward. "Nobody does something different for absolutely no reason at all." 
"I didn't say anything like that," Yunho counters. "I do admit that it is a bit odd, but hey, whatever works. I mean, look..."
He dug something out of his coat pocket. A small, compact mirror. You raised a brow at Yunho, but he shrugs it off. He angled the mirror and then you realized what he was doing. 
"He's already good-looking with that thing on," Yunho muttered under his breath as you both looked at Yeosang. "Imagine if he actually took that mask off? There will be no pussy left for everyone in this building."
You rolled your eyes dramatically, ignoring his crass statement. What Yunho said, though, you couldn't refute. 
Even with the face mask covering almost the majority of his face, there was no denying that Yeosang was simply gorgeous. There was an itch for you to do something about the mask, but you willed them to go away. It was none of your business.
A pang hits your chest. You suddenly felt bad for him, people were just mean for no definitive reason. It shouldn't have mattered that Yeosang wanted to wear a mask, hell, even if he wore a chicken mascot costume it was still none of everybody's business.
But alas. Such is human nature.
Your class had started, and as usual, it was a bore. Still, you had to endure it for your grades. You couldn't concentrate, however, as your mind kept drifting to the mysterious man who sat at the far corner of the classroom away from prying eyes.
Against your better judgment, you swiveled your head once more to take a good look at him, but your heart leapt to your throat when you made eye contact with him. That meant he was already looking in your direction before you turned.
Your jaw slackened, your heart beating faster and faster you were afraid it would jump out of your ribcage, as you stared into his eyes. They were captivating. It was the understatement of the century. His eyes were a home for a tempest that raged without end.
In short, they were dead. At some point, you were sure that his eyes were once alive because despite the horrors that hid them, you could tell he had a beautiful soul.
A soul that you didn't have anymore, for the moment that your eyes had met his, it was over. He stole it from you just as fast as the light from his eyes was stolen, as well.
Dryness covered your entire mouth when his brow raised in question, challenging you to say something to him since you were staring at him so intently.
You were rendered frozen in your seat. Not for nothing, but he must be doing something to hypnotize you. Yeah, that was probably it, why else would you stay unmoving for the favour of staring at him?
Yeosang tilted his head in curiosity, leaning back on his seat to get comfortable. He crossed his arms, eyes not breaking their contact with yours. You gulped, even his gestures were so fascinating.
There was a world within this classroom, and the only inhabitants in it were you and Yeosang. Forget your class, it was too late for that because you'd already lost yourself in this. Nobody paid attention to the both of you, and nobody had noticed what was going on.
Not even when everybody had started standing up since class was over had distracted you. The one that did, however, was Yunho's hand wrapping around your arm to catch your attention.
You jumped at the touch, your head snapping quickly in his direction, eyes widened, clearly startled. Yunho chuckled in amusement at your expression. "You okay? You seemed pretty lost there," he asked.
You robotically turned back to answer Yunho. "Yeah, I'm good," you cleared your throat. "Just a bit distracted, boring class, you know?"
"Right," Yunho drawled, eyes squinting in suspicion. He stood up, his sling bag on his shoulder already, and smoothly picked up your tote that contained all your notes. "Anyhow. Jongho's already ordered us some brunch, we have to go."
You nodded, hesitantly standing up, watching as Yunho went ahead to the exit and started talking to another friend of his. 
When you looked back at that particular spot, you were disheartened to see that Yeosang was already gone. 
Your eyes tried to find the masked brunette, but no such luck. He must have rushed out the moment you looked away.
What a shame, you thought with an internal pout. You followed Yunho with an aimless gait through the halls, you trusted him to get you to where you needed to go because you didn't even trust yourself right now.
You've always been a sucker for the eccentric. While you didn't think Yeosang was one per se, you were just so sick of normalcy. It wasn't entirely for you.
"Right on time, lazy bums," Jongho smirked, standing up as you and Yunho both approached him. "I already paid for everything---don't even fucking think about it."
Yunho paused, mouth agape, the hand that held his wallet frozen in the air. "C'mon, dude. You can't do this every time. We just want to hang out."
Jongho sat back down, gesturing for the both of you to sit down. "Yeah, well, I asked for it, so it's a no-brainer, yes?"
Yunho rolled his eyes, temporarily accepting defeat, because you all knew none of you would win. Choi Jongho was born into a family that had conglomerates everywhere. He had the money, which you and Yunho had made clear that you didn't need, but he did it, anyway.
You inched a bit closer to Jongho and gave him a small peck on his cheeks. "Thanks, baby bear. But Yunho's right. We can pay for our stuff."
Jongho jokingly pushed you away, making you giggle softly. He hastily rubbed the spot you pecked. "Don't ever do that again," he groaned. "And stop being an ungrateful brat. I swear I need new friends."
You smiled a bit, your lips pursed with the action. It didn't reach your eyes, Jongho noticed. He raised a brow to stare at Yunho, who only shrugged.
You realized that the three of you were in a cafe near the college grounds. The ambience was nice, but you couldn't remember the last time where you just sat like this, enjoying the moment with your friends, and simply just passing time.
Your appetite had long gone, but you couldn't tell Jongho that since he'd paid for the food. You had to at least pretend you were enjoying it. At least, they were. Yunho chuckled at something Jongho said, but you didn't even hear it.'
A certain brunette flashed in your mind again. You paused, suddenly wondering what he was doing. You knew it was ridiculous, Yeosang probably thought you were ridiculous. 
You wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself in it, cringing at the fact that Yeosang probably thought that you were staring at him just to make fun of him, just like the rest. You weren't, though, but he possibly can't know that.
You were pulled out of your thoughts when the distinct clatter of utensils hit your ears. It was Jongho's doing, you frowned in confusion. 
"Alright, what the hell is wrong with you?" Jongho demanded, leaning his elbow on the table, twisting his body so he'd face you. "You've been so distracted the entire time and it's getting on my nerves."
You glanced up at him and stared at him for a good couple of seconds. He wasn't going to yield, so you couldn't keep the eye contact you started. It suddenly got difficult to swallow with how dry your throat was getting. 
"I'm just tired," you mumbled, sounding unconvincing even to yourself. "Don't worry about it."
"Oh, cut the crap," Yunho interjected, cluttering his utensils in a comical way that you couldn't help but let out a real smile. "I know why you're like this. It's Kang Yeosang, isn't it?"
You blushed beet red. You supposed to weren't discreet. The intensity in which your scalp tingles at the mention of his name was electrifying, the sensation akin to when you met eyes with each other prior to this.
Jongho's brows reached his hairline, his expression turning from curious to one of complete surprise. "Yeosang? Flower-looking dude, pale skin, about 'ye height?" Jongho gestured to his own height. "How do you know him?"
You and Yunho looked at each other before turning to Jongho in suspicion. "I have one class with him," you admitted.
"How do you know him?" Yunho questioned with scrutiny. 
Jongho hesitated. He looked between you and Yunho repeatedly for what seemed like a while, before he sighed deeply, looking around him cautiously. When he saw that the coast was clear, he leaned closer. You and Yunho did the same.
"You didn't hear this from me," he said, eyes hard. "Yeosang is, was, my childhood friend. Remember my friend that I always spoke about that always had my back?"
It clicked, and you nodded. "That's him? But you said he's very funny and talkative," you blurted out without thinking. You were genuinely flabbergasted. 
Jongho drummed his fingers on the table, a faraway look in his eyes present before he spoke again. "Something happened that made him the way he is now," he cryptically explained. "It's not my story to tell. All I ask is to not judge him."
You elbowed Yunho and sassed at him with your eyes, signaling with the 'I-told-you-so' look. He smirked, pushing your elbow away.
"Little Miss Y/N here," Yunho sarcastically gestured to you, then ruffled your hair messily. "Has a bit of a crush with your childhood friend---"
"Shut up, I definitely do not," you hissed, though it didn't have any bite to it. You didn't know it was possible for your face to be redder than it already was, but here you were.
Just then, Jongho started laughing, his voice bellowing loudly in the small confines of the cafe, earning your table stares, but you couldn't care less. His gummy smile had always been contagious, so it was no surprise when you started laughing along with him.
"It's such a shame, though," Jongho chuckled away the remnants of his laughter with a small shake of his head. "I know Yeosang even though we fell apart. You're definitely his type, down to a T."
Yunho started to laugh but nodded his head in agreement anyway. "I could see that, honestly. Mingi has a thing or two for you."
"No, he doesn't," you rolled your eyes. Song Mingi was the campus crush, and you did have a crush on him before, but that ship had long sailed and it was fleeting anyway. "What makes you say that, though, Jongie?"
"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Jongho smirked, playfully teasing you, much to your chagrin. 
You groaned. "Seriously!"
Of course, you weren't going to tell him that you were definitely curious now. You also weren't going to tell him that you were going to use this information to your advantage.
Jongho flicked your forehead lightheartedly. "He likes cute things, plain and simple," he shrugged, side-eyeing you. "That includes potential girlfriends, too."
The mischief in that Cheshire-like smile that was bigger than anything you've ever seen. You were glad he crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat, you didn’t want him in your face.
That didn't mean you weren't going to think about what he said for days, though.
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Unfortunately, you hadn't really seen Yeosang anymore after that. 
He didn't attend the once-a-week class the next week, and you couldn't attend the one the following week. You had an unlucky bout of allergy due to the pollen going around campus. All Yunho did that whole day he visited was roll his eyes at your antics.
You were hoping to cross paths with him again, even though you knew you weren't going to talk to him anyway. You just wanted to take one more peek at him before you continued on with your life.
Yeah, totally not creepy. 
"Good morning, Y/N."
You were forced out of your thoughts when a voice from behind you sounded. You were currently in front of the professors' lounge early in the morning.
"Oh! Good morning, Mr. Park, I'm so sorry to disturb you so early in the morning," you bowed deeply in the presence of  your professor. 
"It's quite alright, dear," Park Seonghwa, your professor in that one class you missed, chuckled. You couldn't help but loosen up, he really was your favourite professor and you respected him a lot. 
He opened his briefcase to get out a stack of papers. "I hope everything is fine on your end? Here, take them," he handed them to you.
You nodded, explaining that it was pollen and that it was fine now. "Wonderful," he said. "Regardless, I expect my star student in my class next week. Good day."
"Thank you, Professor," you bowed one more time before you completely walked away.
There were more notes than expected, you realized that as you riffled through them, skimming just to get a general gist from where you stopped and where you should begin to catch up.
You weren't one of those students that studied a lot, but you also weren't careless about your grades. You just wanted to get by, and you were just lucky that all your professors remember and like you well enough to give you some notes when you miss some classes.
You sighed, contemplating what to do. With all these notes, you had to concentrate on them for a day or two. Final was coming and you didn't have enough time to study the following days. 
To the library it is, you decided. Your feet were already taking you to that sacred place that you love so much. And when you entered, your mood instantly lifted.
You loved how empty the space was, yet it was extensive in nature. It was the perfect labyrinth to get trapped in; once you get inside the minds of great authors or whatnot and relive the adventures, the sorrow, and the laughter imprinted and immortalized by the writings in the pages of their books, you can never leave.
It was perfect. You approached the front desk so you could greet your friend who was working part-time to sustain his scholarship. He didn't notice you at first, but when he did, he was all smiles. 
"Well, look who we have here," he smirked, closing the book he, himself, held in his hand. "Good to see you, Y/N."
You chuckled softly so as to not break the peace. "Likewise, Kim Hongjoong," you nodded. "I need a couple of books about these for my finals..."
Hongjoong gently took the notes Professor Park gave you and scanned them quickly before doing whatever it was he needed to do on his computer. He wrote a series of numbers on the paper before handing them back to you.
"I put the aisles and shelf numbers on every book you need," he murmured, pointing them out. "Shouldn't be too difficult to find."
"Got it. I appreciate the help, Joong," you thanked him. He nodded and waved you off, dismissing you. You couldn't help but laugh under your breath.
Just like he said, the books weren't too difficult to find, and soon, you found yourself with a stack of them. You were pleased when you found that your favourite spot was free, and so, you studied away.
You lost yourself in the process, like you always did when you started, but along the way, there was an itch in your neck that was begging to be noticed.
Subconsciously, you looked up, and your world stopped along with your heart.
Yeosang, too, was busying himself with a stack of his own books. Of course, he still wore that mask on his face, but there was something different about him from the last time you had seen him.
His hair was styled up in a way that looked effortlessly good, his forehead was a bit exposed and you were able to see his eyes clearly this time even though his nose was deep in the book he held. 
He was a couple of tables away from you, isolated from everybody at the very end of the library where you knew not a lot of people went. It reminded you of the way he sat down in your class.
His presence just engulfed you, and you didn't know why. The grip you had on your book would've been suffocating had it been alive, you couldn't stop staring at Yeosang.
His brown cashmere coat perfectly complemented his physique; it made him look very masculine. His cropped out hair fitted him well, and the way he carried himself interested you so much.
The way his fingers moved to turn the pages of his book mesmerized you, brought you into a world where you wondered what it would feel like if that hand was holding yours. He wasn't even doing anything but sit down like someone would in a library, yet he simply exuded grace and elegance.
You knew then and there, that this wasn't just a fleeting crush on a man that doesn't even know your name.
Ever since then, you made an effort to go the library every single day just to peek a glance on Yeosang. Whether it was hours or minutes to an end, you didn't mind. Of course, you didn't want to be borderline creepy, there were times where you actually needed to study and so many times where you didn't realize that he had left because you were so engrossed with your work.
His schedule was simple, you learned that he'd go to the library every other day either to just read or actually study. You took note of the books he read, they were way too advanced for you. Yunho wasn't lying - this man was intelligent.
Your little crush soon turned into genuine admiration. If one would look hard enough, it was easy to say that Yeosang was one of the most hardworking people you've had the pleasure to go to university with.
And just like you, he'd get lost in his world once he got too deep, and it was when you'd take the time to study him just a bit more.
You had memorized the notes that you were given from front to back, word per word, punctuation per punctuation, but you still went to the library anyway.
There were times where Yeosang would subconsciously look forward, he would take a break from reading and stretch his neck, and you'd panic and look down, but you were sure he didn't notice you. You sure hoped he didn't, the blush on your cheeks could be seen miles away.
Hongjoong raised his brow one day when you handed him the book that you wanted to check out for a week, and you couldn't look him straight in the eye.
"The Art Of War?" Hongjoong blurted out incredulously. He sheepishly looked down when a couple of people turned to our direction with a small glare. You bit your lip when he kept staring at the book.
He leaned forward, his voice hushed, his eyes glowing with mirth, but with suspicion nonetheless. "I didn't know you were interested in Machiavellian beliefs and principles."
You weren't. In fact, you didn't give a crap or two about it. Yunho snatched the book from Hongjoong and flipped a couple of pages. "Damn, I can't even understand this," he chortled, giving the book back. "You're really gonna read this?"
You rolled your eyes in half-annoyance to cover up how red the tips of your ears were. You saw Yeosang reading the book for days before he returned it, and you just wanted to see what kind of books he read.
You wanted to know what ran in Yeosang's head as he sat there and read it and maybe, just maybe, you were absolutely insane in the head because you liked him a bit too much.
"Is it so hard to believe that I'm interested in it? Geez," you murmured, grabbing the book and hastily chucking in your purse as if doing so would make Hongjoong and Yunho forget that it existed.
"Yes," they both answered in unison.
You scoffed, offended that they actually thought so, but you couldn't really get mad at them, because it was truly unbecoming of you. You weren't really interested in how the world worked, you were a hopeless romantic, and you wanted to stay that way for a while.
"Maybe it's in the air, someone just returned that book yesterday after a week," Hongjoong scoffed, grabbing a book that you just logged into to check out anything. "Yeah, that guy, Kang Yeosang. Cool guy, a bit withdrawn, kinda weird, but cool regardless."
Yunho's eyes almost popped out of its sockets and he turned to you with the most shit-eating grin on his face. He was about to open his mouth, but before he could, you quickly reached up and covered it. It was a challenge since Yunho was a giant, but you didn't want him tattling. You wouldn't hear the end of it.
"Ah, we have classes in a couple of minutes," you laughed nervously, stomping on Yunho's foot, making him groan in pain that was muffled by your hand. "Bye, Joong!"
You left, dragging the big Jeong Yunho comically while Hongjoong watched with his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a wee little fish.
Yunho forcefully removed your hand from his face the moment you got outside, but it didn't stop him from giving you that mouth-splitting grin that you wanted to wipe off of his face. "I can expla---"
"Oh, no need," he playfully teased in a sing-songy voice. "You're already head over heels for the guy, it's remarkable---"
"Jeong Yunho, I swear to God---"
"I cannot wait to actually tell Jongho, man, I thought you'd give Mingi a chance---"
You turned around to run away from his relentless teasing, you could hear him laughing behind you. You giggled under your breath and usually you'd entertain his teasing, but you were so confused on what you felt for Yeosang lately.
The entire night was spent on you reading the book and as expected, you abhorred it. You crumpled your face in genuine skepticism, did Yeosang truly enjoy this? 
The more you turned the pages, the more pissed you got, suddenly realizing that you were doing this for a man who doesn't even give two shits about you. It was deplorable. 
After a day or two, you decided to return the book. There was no point in keeping it if you weren't interested in it anyway, but you decided to do it later. You'd sit down on your usual spot first.
To your surprise and dismay, Yeosang wasn't sitting in his usual spot. It wasn't really odd, sometimes his schedule did become sporadic, but still, your heart slowed its beating. You already felt a bit down.
But there would have been no need. Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you as you sat down at your usual spot. Before you could turn around and inspect, they leaned down, and you felt hands on your shoulders. They were firm and sure.
Shivers travelled down your spine when a deep, rich voice hit your ear as they whispered. "Machiavelli, huh?"
The voice was muffled with something, like a mask. Heat soaked up your entire face and the tips of your ears. You had forgotten to put the book away and thought it was a great idea to have it out in the open.
Or maybe, you did it on purpose hoping that Yeosang would see and pique his interest.
"Meet me at the blind spot to the left behind the staircase. If you're not there within three minutes, I will sabotage all of your projects until you graduate," he ordered gruffly, his tone gravelly and unpleasant, to be quite frank. "All of them."
A cold bucket of water could have been poured directly on your head without warning and it still wouldn't be able to bring you any type of dread like those words would ever do. It was insane.
You didn't hesitate, haphazardly throwing all your belongings hastily without any sort of order in your purse before sprinting out of the library. Today was not the day to test the validity of the whispered threat.
A record should've been awarded to you with how quick your feet had taken you were Yeosang told you to. At first, you didn't see him, but when you noticed a shadow fleeting in and out at the very corner of the staircase, you knew it was him. It was indeed a blind spot - no one would be able to see him unless they were looking for him.
The moment you stepped in that hidden area, you were roughly slammed against the adjacent wall. To say you were shocked would be an understatement.
Right away, you tried to cradle your head to halt the oncoming nausea from the sheer force, but your hands were also pinned above your head.
"What," you said rather than questioned. "W-What are you doing?"
When your eyes finally focused on what's in front of you, you couldn't help but let out a small gasp. His black mask covered his face well, but never his eyes. God, you hoped not.
You were right all along, his eyes were beautiful, especially this close. You could smell his cologne, too. Heat started to travel from your neck all the way to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on his scent.
"Cut the shit," Yeosang spat, venom coated in every syllable. His hold on your hands tightens to the point of pain. "Stop following me."
Time stopped at that very second. His voice was a lot deeper than you thought. You swallowed, Yeosang's eyes subconsciously trailing down your throat at the motion. "I-I'm not following you," you squeaked out.
"Oh?" Yeosang tilted his head. The movement would have been cute, if he didn't look angry and menacing right now. One of his hands let go to dig into your purse. He grabbed the book you were supposed to return, but couldn't. 
"You don't look like the type to read Machiavellian beliefs, princess," he gritted out. "And I mean that with full offense."
You frowned, thoroughly confused as to why Yeosang was, frankly, acting like an ass towards you. "You're a judgmental one, aren't you? What if I was?"
"Then what's his name?"
You blanched, mouth getting dry from the sudden question. Yeosang's unimpressed glare catches you off guard. You felt your heart cracking a bit.
"I'm not sure," you admitted, voice small, embarrassed to be caught red-handed in a lie. You bit your lip, looking down towards the floor to avoid his indifferent eyes.
For a moment, you both stayed like that - Yeosang pinning you, and you just staying still just to see what he was going to do. And then, he lets go, and puts his hands on either side of you on the wall with a loud thud.
"It's Niccolo," he murmured, bitterness seeping towards his voice. It made your frown grow deeper.
"N-Niccolo?"
Yeosang scoffed, rolling his eyes sarcastically at you. "Yes. Your brain stutters, too?"
That definitely stung. You didn't know what to say but, "W-What?"
"W-What?" Yeosang repeated, voice higher in pitch in an effort to mimic and mock you as if you were a degenerate. It was honestly offensive, but you were too frozen to do anything. 
"No wonder why you're so obvious, this here," he continued, his index finger tapping your temple once. "Doesn't work quite well, doesn't it?"
It was an eloquent way of saying that you were, indeed, stupid. Your manner completely transforms, it becomes rigid against him. You wanted to scoff, who knew that his angelic eyes held this much contempt in them?
Your mouth opens to defend your honour against his insults, but the same index finger touches your lips, effectively shushing you. Warmth automatically spreads through them.
"Ah, ah, ah, you have absolutely no right to talk right now," he interrupted rather rudely, his voice dropping an octave. You forced yourself not to shiver. "I mean it, Y/N. Stop fucking following me. I don't like my privacy invaded."
You couldn't stop the sigh that bubbled up your chest. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, but we could have talked this out."
He chuckled, the sound of it dark and devoid of anything that resembled emotions. "You forfeited that right since the first day. You're not as subtle as you think you are, princess."
"Don't call me that," you frowned, your hand sticking out to push his chest away, albeit weakly. "What is your damn problem?" 
"What's my problem?" Yeosang reiterates, his tone taking an angrier and more aggravated tone to it. "My problem is that you are literally tailing me at the library like I'm some sort of circus zoo animal."
He sarcastically chuckled, more to himself than towards you. "But then again, that's what everyone thinks."
You felt your heart breaking a little when he adjusted the mask he was wearing as if doing so would protect him right now when in reality, you were the one in need of protection. Behind the malice in his voice was a hurt so deep, it was impossible to ignore.
His eyes met yours again, and this time, they were ablaze. "Who put you up to this?" Yeosang snarled. "Who fucking told you to watch me? And why? So you and your stupid little friends would have a laugh and go?"
"No, that's not it, I swear," you immediately denied, shaking your head repeatedly to make a point. "I didn't mean for it to look like that, I-I promise you---"
"So why the hell are you following me? Tell me," he demanded. You yelped when he roughly lifted your chin up. "At least give me the decency of looking at me straight in the eye while you tell me why you've been watching me."
"Ow, you're hurting me," you pried his hand off of your face successfully, slightly glaring at him in the process. "It's not like that," you hesitated, gulping once more before continuing. "Is it so hard to believe that someone actually admires you, or something?"
He raised a brow in irritation. "God, you're so full of shit."
He pulls away, jutting one arm out and shoves your shoulder hard - hard enough for it to collide with the wall behind you. You were stunned at his aggression. 
"Stay the hell away from me," he growled, bending down to pick up the backpack he had that you didn't even notice. He started to emerge from the staircase towards the hallways where, surprisingly, no one was. 
He gave you one last glare, a scathing one. "If I catch you again, I won't go easy on you next time. Save your judgment for somebody else."
You scoffed, emerging from the same spot. You inevitably ended up in front of him; the hallways were narrow, unfortunately. You looked up at him, not knowing exactly what to say. It wasn't like you didn't know where he came from, he was probably creeped out by your behaviour.
But you weren't going to tell him that it was because of your crush with him, especially not now that you know he clearly doesn't like you.
"I'm dead serious, Y/N. Stay away from me," he glared. "Now, if you'll kindly fuck off..."
He moves past you, his shoulders deliberately hitting yours, causing you to stagger back a little bit. The only thing you could do from then was to look behind you as you watched him walk away.
You couldn't help but notice how confident his gait was - how sure he was of himself. You shook your head in disbelief, utterly and thoroughly confused, not knowing what to believe at this point.
Tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. The resonating voice of realization in your head made you numb, the mortification slowly trickling down your chest slowly. It tightens as the shame presents itself at the discomfort written on your face.
It wasn’t like he was wrong, because definitely had a valid point. Still, you couldn’t help the cascade of tears that started to fall from your eyes from the direct confrontation.
A thought had suddenly struck your head as you watched him walk away and disappear when he rounded the corner of the hallway - how did he even know your name?
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It wouldn’t be the last time you and Yeosang encountered each other. One way or another, you were especially hyper aware of his presence.
You stopped going to the library. You weren’t an idiot, you weren’t going to frequent a place where you know you weren’t wanted. Yeosang, however, made it a point to glare at you every single time your eyes would meet.
That in itself would have been fine, but when he started to purposely bump into your shoulders hard enough to send you reeling backwards, it became a little personal. You certainly didn’t miss his little smirk when he saw you riled up.
You actively avoided him for good. Curse you for being attracted to the eccentric. 
Today was one of those - you sat in your usual seat along with Yunho while Yeosang was in that same isolated spot he liked taking since nobody wanted to be associated with him. It was fine, it wasn’t difficult to ignore him given his little attitude towards you.
”Hey,” Yunho called softly. You raised a brow in question. “You and Yeosang got beef, or something?”
“No, not that I know of,” you frowned. “Why?”
”Because he’s been staring, or rather, shooting daggers at you the moment you sat down. He figured out your weird little habit of watching him, huh?” Yunho smirked, crossing his arms.
You grumbled a little curse in his direction, making him chuckle at your antics. You didn’t doubt what he said, though. Yeosang definitely didn’t like you and you gave him the ammunition to do so.
The commotion died down gradually when the professor entered the classroom and hushed everybody. Soon enough, you were able to tune out the prickling sensation towards the back of your neck you knew came from Yeosang’s stares.
You bunched your brows up, though, when you noticed that your professor wasn’t carrying his usual lecture materials and, instead, had a small box in his hands. It didn’t happen often with college students, but he definitely had everybody’s attention hanging in a thread successfully.
”Good day, everybody,” Professor Choi San greeted with a soft smile, his dimples deepening at the gesture, along with his eyes that laid subdued behind a pair of glasses that made him look undeniably attractive. He shakes the box that he held in one hand while he gestured to the class with the other. “Before the year ends, I’d like everybody to do a project instead of the usual examinations. It’ll be a two-person team effort.”
You automatically turned to your side and bumped your elbows at Yunho, who was already looking at you with a gleeful smile. However, that bubble soon burst when Professor Choi cleared his throat, effectively silencing the room once again. “Your partners will be randomized,” he shook the box once more to prove his point. “I’ve already picked half of the class, random as well, to pick out names inside this box.”
What the hell kind of concept is this? You couldn’t help but grimace on the inside, you knew barely anybody in this class, let alone work with somebody for a project that would determine if you will pass this class or not.
”It’s better than a written exam, yes?” Professor Choi smirked.
It was a bore. You had no interest in doing the project, but you have no choice. Surely, you didn’t want to pick a random name either. When Yunho was called, the little hope you had in partnering with him got shattered when he picked a name that wasn’t yours.
He still technically won the lottery though, because he was partnered up with Mingi. When he got back to the seat, you couldn’t help but chuckle at his excitement and relief when he showed you the paper that held Mingi’s name.
He, too, was worried he’d pick a random name even though he was a bit more extroverted than you were. “You’ll get lucky, too, I’m sure of it,” he patted your shoulders in faux comfort. “My luck extends to friends, you know?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “I can already see this project being a disaster with the two of you being together like this.”
He laughed out loud at your statement, and as if he had jinxed it, your name was suddenly called. Somebody had already picked your name. When you looked towards the front, it was by this girl you recalled seeing in multiple of your classes.
You offered her a small smile, one she returned awkwardly. She seemed nice enough to you and that’s all that mattered to you. Yunho and Jongho had told you before that you had an uncanny way of making someone like you eventually. 
“Kang Yeosang.”
Your breath hitched, deliberately straining your neck to not turn around and look at him as he walked towards the centre of the room with the Professor. 
It wasn’t just you - everybody turned silent as they all stared at the man with that confident shadow behind him. He knew everybody stared and he didn’t care, and you genuinely admired that mentality. If only you could turn back time and actually tell him that instead of watching him like a creep.
But you were pretty sure that you were the only one who stared at him with admiration. Everyone else judged him for hiding his face, and you could have sworn you felt your break a little more at that.
Finally, he puts his head inside the box and quickly pulls it out, the piece of paper in his hand crumpling with how hard he gripped it. You suddenly wished you could see his entire face to know exactly what he’s feeling.
You could hear the snickers behind you, people relieved that they had already picked a partner, or people laughing at him. They were just plain nasty, and you couldn’t take hearing them anymore.
You held your fists tights, they were almost white with how tight you were holding them. You tried tuning them out, focusing on the sight of Yeosang with Professor Choi.
You frowned, something wasn’t right. The way Yeosang’s brows furrowed. Suddenly, he looked up, eyes meeting yours. You froze, not knowing exactly why he was looking at you.
He took one more look at the paper before pocketing it. “I got L/N Y/N,” he said, clear as day, his deep voice resonating all over the vast classroom.
Your brain definitely short-circuited that day and you can’t read the future, but you were sure that this was the exact moment where you were sure that your life would turn upside down and change.
”Are you sure?” Professor Choi asked, confused, amidst all the hushed whispers that resounded all over the room. 
Redness spreads through your cheeks at all the unwanted attention. You turned to Yunho and tapped his arms cautiously “There goes my chance of being normal in school,” you murmured.
He patted your shoulders in comfort. “Professor Choi must’ve accidentally put your name twice without noticing.”
It was a legitimate cause, you’ve thought the very same thing. You couldn’t help but glance at Yeosang once more, and unbelievably, your cheeks became even hotter to the touch. You definitely wouldn’t mind partnering with him for this project.
And that’s exactly what happened. As it turns out, there was only one person left that didn’t have a partner yet. The girl who was partnered with you insisted that they be partnered, instead, and Professor Choi agreed, leaving you and Yeosang together.
You wanted to give him a piece of your mind for how he was treating you for the last few weeks, but that resolve faltered when you noticed Yeosang’s eyes from a distance. He looked hurt, and you knew why. 
He could hide under that glare or pretend that he was indifferent, but it definitely hurt him to be tossed around as if he wasn’t even in the room in the first place.
To add salt to the wound, Professor Choi instructed all partners to be seated together for the rest of the class. Yunho gave you a small peck on the cheek - platonically - before getting up and making his way towards Mingi.
”Can you guys keep that PDA bullshit somewhere else? So disrespectful to the public,” Yeosang murmured, his voice muffled by the mask, plopping down the seat where Yunho once was. “Does your boyfriend know you were stalking me?”
You scoffed, appalled at what he was trying to insinuate. “First of all, Yunho is my best friend—-”
”Yeah, that’s what they all say,” he smirked dirtily, his head swiveling towards you in a mocking move. “Then you find out they’re screwing. Tell me, are you the type of bitch who’ll give it in some random back alleyway? ”
The ringing in your ears became louder and louder, and it took you everything in your soul to not lash out in the middle of class and just grab your purse so you could smack the living daylights out of this guy.
”And what if I am? You sound bitter to me,” you challenged him, keeping your voice to a minimum, just to rile him up. You’d like to think of yourself as kind, but you are definitely not a pushover.
His brow shots up in mild surprise at your statement, clearly not expecting for you to stand up for yourself. His eyes had this unmistakable fire that contained fiery rage, and instead of standing down, you rolled your eyes at him. His eyes squint in response.
He did start this, but you wouldn’t let him finish. He was about to open his mouth and say something but you beat him to it.
”I feel bad for you,” you chuckled without any humour in it. “Nobody has shown you enough love in your life, it seems, and you don’t look like anybody who has ever given any ounce of love towards somebody else.”
Even if you meant what you had said, you immediately regretted saying it to his face directly. You bit your lip to stop the yelp that wanted to escape your throat when he gripped your arm fast.
”You don’t know a thing or two about me, princess,” he hissed, his grip on your arm tightening to a point of constriction. “You think you do, but you don’t.”
He pulled you harshly towards him. “What the hell are you doing?” You hissed back at him.
You tried to pry your arms away, but all that did was make his grip tighter. You looked around you and was displeased when nobody had noticed what was going on. Even Yunho was busy discussing with Mingi from where he was.
”Watch your damn mouth around me,” he warned you, his face dangerously close to your own. “You have no idea what I'm capable of.”
”Oh, sure. Says the guy who has a freaking face mask around his face like a little coward,” you sarcastically rebutted.
A deep chuckle hits your ears before he lets go. Nothing in particular happened after that, except for the contents of the project.
“Whoever does the best will be exempted for the rest of the year on exams and will automatically get an A,” Professor Choi bargained, much to everybody’s surprise. “You better do well.”
Damn it, you cursed internally. This project would be the challenge of a lifetime. Soon enough, class was dismissed, and you were determined to set things with Yeosang.
But apparently, he was, too. As usual, the moment class ended, Yeosang was nowhere to be seen. You were about to march off in annoyance when a hand from seemingly out of nowhere materialized and pulled you back in the now-empty classroom.
”I’ll cut this short,” he cleared his throat, as if that would do anything for you since he sounded muffled anyway. “I’ll do all the work, all you have to do is—-”
”And why would you do that?” You raised a brow in irritation, feeling what little left of your patience ebb away. “I’d have you know that I’m not half-bad in things like these.”
He grimaced, his fingers pinching his nose bridge like you were the one stuck-up one and not him. “That’s not what I’m trying to allude to here,” he sighed exasperatedly, eyes closed in deep thought. 
“Really, Yeosang? You want me to believe that?”
He went rigid, one eye opening to stare at you. You were caught off-guard by how heavy and lidded they were as he stared straight at you, unblinking. Was it something you said?
”Fine,” he muttered after what felt like an eternity. “We could do a solo performance and stuff.”
”Are you kidding me? That’s not how this works, and you know it,” you sarcastically remarked, throwing your hands up in frustration. You never thought you’d meet anybody that could make you lose your mind like this after Jongho, it was incredible. “Do you live alone?”
He squinted his eyes immediately. “Yes,” he dragged out slowly. “Why?”
”Perfect,” you murmured. You quickly dug into your pocket for your phone and handed it to him. ”Here.”
He frowned, staring at your phone as if you were offering him some sort of alien symbiote and was planning to annihilate him. You jutted your phone towards him again even firmer when he didn’t move. “Well?”
“Hold on a minute,” he blurted out, breaking character for just a second. “Why my house? This is your idea, your house should be the available one, not mine.”
“You think I want to get inside the house of somebody that clearly has distaste for me? I think the hell not,” you counteracted. “I don’t live alone. I have two roommates, one of which you accused me of screwing. I would never live it down if they saw you with me.”
”So please,” you continued, pressing the phone on his chest this time. “Take the phone, put your number in, and your house address, please.”
Yeosang snatched your phone rather rudely, glaring at you scathingly before doing as he was told anyway. You internally rolled your eyes at how ridiculous this all was. But at the same time, you were trying not to explode. Despite the circumstance, you couldn’t believe you were getting your crush’s phone number.
“If you show up randomly at my house one day, I will end you,“ he snarled menacingly, tossing your phone callously for you to catch in the air. “I mean it, you better not.”
“You’re not all that,” you scoffed, annoyed that he would just throw your phone like that. “I might turn into an asshole like you if I absorb all the bad juju you seem to be getting from somewhere.”
You didn’t mean to say it like that, and truth be told, you weren’t one to fight fire with fire - stone with boulder. But the things he’s been saying has been setting you off on your rocker, a taste of it wouldn’t hurt him.
Right?
“I wouldn’t say that just yet,” he sneered. “Famous last words, princess. Nobody knows what the future holds, do they?”
You rolled your eyes dramatically at him, opting not to question him when he led you out of the classroom, opening the door for you to go through. “Anyway, we do this my way, or I’m dropping you,” he mustered up, adjusting his mask a bit as we walked.
“I don’t care, honestly, I just want to pass,” you truthfully said. You heard him sigh irritatingly under his breath.”How do you propose we do this, then?”
“Do you have more classes today?” Yeosang asked, brows furrowed from above that mask. You shook your head in denial. He nodded in acknowledgement. “Great. Let’s head to that cafe near here. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
He began walking faster. You could barely keep up with him, Yeosang was of average height, however, his legs were long, you noticed, while yours were a poor excuse for a pair. 
“Wow,” you whistled. “I’m not even going to question why you hate me this much, but okay.”
He laughed, the baritone timbre of his voice enhancing the quality of that beautiful sound. “I don’t hate you. Hate is quite the word,” he scoffed. “It’s strong. You don’t matter enough to me for me to spend strong emotions on.”
Your steps faltered a bit. It felt like a physical blow to your chest and tendrils started to wrap around your heart, squeezing it bit by bit until it was fully constricting against your ribcage. What he said stung more than you’d like to admit.
You couldn’t concentrate when you got in the cafe and sat down. You realized that it was the same cafe you had brunch in with Jongho and Yunho. What he said was all you could think about was all you could think about, were you really that bad? 
Yeosang sat in front of you, tinkering on his phone and not paying attention to you for the time being. Not that you wanted him to, anyway, because if he did, he’d see the tears that were starting to form in your eyes.
Yeosang stood up, pocketing his phone, and walked away without even telling you, even out of courtesy and respect, and without looking in your direction. Another blow hit your chest then and there.
You took that opportunity to wipe your tears away, lifting your arm so you could use your sleeves to do so. There was no finesse in it, but you didn’t care. You felt ridiculous, but you felt bad for yourself.
Your head sprung up when something was suddenly placed on the table within your line of vision. Your brows shot up ever so slightly when you registered that it was a cup of hot, steaming, delicious chocolate. Your head snapped towards Yeosang, who just tilted his head at you.
“No ‘thank you’? Damn,” he said sarcastically, pulling on his chair and taking his place back in front of you. He leans forward, his eyes piercing straight onto yours. “Drink. I don’t want people thinking I’m abusing you or something, I’m already stigmatized as is.”
”What in the hell are you talking about?” You blurted out, tentatively reaching out, wrapping your hands around the mug. Warmth immediately spreads through them, seeping deep inside you and reaching the deepest creases of your heart. “T-thank you.”
You went rigid, your muscles tightening against your body, when Yeosang’s finger wipes a lone tear on the side of your right eye. When he pulled away, you immediately started to sip on your chocolate, cursing internally when it started to burn on your tongue, but you didn’t relent. It was a sign that you were truly alive and not dreaming at all.
”Good?” Yeosang raised his brow tentatively.
You nodded a little more enthusiastically than you’d expect yourself to do so. “What about you? I-I can get you one, if you’d like.”
“If I really wanted one, I would’ve gotten one, myself,” he scoffed. This time, you ignored how rude he was, but only for today. He lazily pointed at his face. “Plus, I have this stupid mask.”
You bit your lip, pausing before continuing. “Just take it off.”
Your heart started to pound uncontrollably at that aspect You were already infatuated with this brute with that thing on, what more if he actually took it off?
”Don’t push it, princess,” he snorted, a hint of amusement tinged in his voice. You watched as he took out his laptop from his sling bag, setting it down the table before he looked at you once more. “Shall we start?”
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You and Yeosang quickly learned a routine that worked for both of your schedules. You you had to up your meetings from once a week to four times a week just so everything was perfect. You both wanted that exception next semester.
Unfortunately for you, your crush with Yeosang worsened the more time you spent with him. He was everything you liked in somebody, and as rude as his attitude and insensitive his mouth was, you could tell that deep down, you knew that he wasn’t a bad person.
And of course, you still don’t know what he looked like; not entirely, anyway. He never slipped and took it off, not once. Whenever he’d drink something, all he had to do was slip the straw from underneath the mask and drink away, or when he ate, he would lift the mask a bit underneath as well.
It bummed you out, but you respected his choice. Besides, it’s just, well, a face. It wasn’t a deal breaker or anything. Call it an added bonus to the enigma that was Kang Yeosang.
You yelped when something hit the top of your head. Your hands immediately found their place on your scalp, frowning and giving Yeosang a small glare for having the audacity to hit you.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped, setting down the book he used to bonk your head on his lap before he crossed his arms and glared at you. “Were you even paying attention to what I was saying?”
”O-Of course I was,” you said without thinking.
“Oh? What did I say, then?”
”That I’m the bestest partner ever and that you were going to treat me for some ice cream after this?” You peered at him, exaggerating your actions because you knew that would agitate him.
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought,” he sneered, moving to grab the book again but stopping midway to take a breathe to prevent himself from potentially committing a crime.
You giggled, covering your mouth with your palms to stop the loud snorts that made you look unlady-like. “Did I hear that right? Goody two-shoes, Kang Yeosang, cursing like a sailor?”
“Yes, because you are the most irritating person I’ve had the displeasure of ever meeting,” he declared dryly. “What are you going to fucking do about it?”
This time, you didn’t even bother to cover your mouth at all and just let loose. Your laugh made your belly hurt, but it made your heart soar. You forgot the last time you just laughed and didn’t care.
”Keep it down, you’re attracting unwanted attention,” he hissed, but it didn’t have that usual intensity in it, as he looked around cautiously before he stared down the floor like he always did.
The both of you were in the campus cafeteria. You weren’t in the mood to go back to that cafe, and Yeosang wasn’t feeling it either, so the cafeteria was the only option left to go.
You weren’t privy to all the stares that were being sent in your direction, not entirely oblivious of what they’re all thinking. But mostly, they were wondering what was funny, especially because it was Yeosang with you.
”Hey,” you softly called out. He didn't meet your eye, but he nodded slightly to signify that he was listening to you. 
You tapped on his hand with your finger once before pulling away. That got his attention and he finally looked at you. “Don’t mind them, they’re idiots,” you reassured. “I think you’re really cool.”
He smirked, tilting his head in curiosity. “You don’t know squat about me, that’s some high-praise for someone who’s practically a stranger to you, little princess.”
Little princess. You swallowed the blush that threatened to warm your cheeks. “I already know what I need the most,” you shrugged, sincerity coating your voice. “You’re literally the smartest person I know, seriously, how do you do it? And I like your mentality, fuck all these people, you know?”
He stayed silent. Usually, you’d hear an insult or two from him by now, but all he did was stare at you intently, his eyes getting shrouded by an emotion you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. It wasn’t malice, and it definitely wasn’t acknowledgement, but you found that you didn’t mind this look on Yeosang. He looked freer this way.
“You remind me of someone,” he suddenly spoke up. Your curiosity peaked with how far away he suddenly looked. “He was the only one who was more annoying than you, and that’s saying a lot, if you could believe it.”
He sounded so nostalgic, and you were savouring this. If he wasn’t being an asshole, he’d have a point most of the time, because he was right, you knew virtually nothing about him. It wasn’t always where Yeosang would divulge in his personal life with you or in general.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you remarked, making him roll his eyes so far back in his head, you were surprised they didn’t get stuck in there. “Anyway, is he your friend?”
“The bestest,”  he immediately answered, sighing afterwads. You pursed your lips,  you knew that he didn’t mean to do so.
You hesitated for a bit in fear of saying something you knew he wouldn’t like. Yeosang was what you would describe as a ticking time-bomb - you just never knew what would set him off. “Did something happen between you and him?”
He seemed to realize that he was oversharing. Much to your dismay, his eyes immediately hardened, his eyes brewing a storm that permanently seemed to cause his mind turbulence.
“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, changing the topic like a tidal wave that knew no consistency. It matched that of his personality so well. “I don’t have any classes for the next few days. I got exempted from all of them.”
You scoffed in awe and disbelief before you could stop yourself. It certainly earned you a nasty glare from him. Of course, you thought. This man was literally a genius. Something tells you that boredom is the biggest reason why he hasn’t gotten himself exempted from the rest of his classes.
“What are you trying to tell me? Are you perhaps,” you smirked as nasty as he was glaring at you. “Are you perhaps telling me that you’re going to miss me?”
You were kidding - well, mostly, anyway. As expected, he growled and pushed your shoulder roughly in an attempt to wake you up from your delusional thoughts.
”I’ll miss my peace of mind, that’s what,” he rolled his eyes. “Can you be for damn real for once in your miserable life? I really want to get this stupid project done.”
For some reason, that response brought you relief more than the usual sting you’d feel in your chest. You’ve spent enough time with Yeosang to know that he didn’t mean what he said eight out of ten times. The bar was that low. But the truth was, you knew you’d malfunction if he said that he would miss you.
“Do you still have the address that I gave you?” Yeosang questioned gruffly. He was in the process of putting away all his class notes in that stylish sling bag he always had on him. 
You nodded. “I do. But wait, where are you going?”
He raised a brow. “You’re not my keeper,” he clicked his tongue, standing up and adjusting the bag on his shoulder across his chest. “I’m going home, if you must know. I need to meditate and ask the Lord for some patience for when you go to my house this week.”
You blinked, eyes widened owlishly, repeating the action over and over again just so you were sure you heard him right. Yeah, you were definitely malfunctioning as is.
”I’ll text you the details,” he turned around and began to walk away, leaving you to your seat alone - nobody wanted to sit with you and Yeosang - for your thoughts to wander and go haywire.
Sputtering, you stood up and called to him, ignoring the odd looks you received from the students around. “A-Are you sure?“
He paused from walking, not bothering to turn around. He raised his hand and waved from behind. “Bye, Y/N.”
You were dazed the entire day, not being able to concentrate on the rest of your class, your heart doing somersaults in your chest that felt too giddy for you to relax. Excitement rolled off of you in waves and all you could do was imagine what Yeosang would be like in the comfort of his own house.
But the first thing you thought of was his face. Would he remove the mask? Surely, it gets stuffy and musty wearing it the entire day, and plus, you knew how uncomfortable it could get the longer you wore it, not to mention how it could clog your skin.
Of course, the thought did cross your mind once or twice - was he wearing it because he has something to hide? You always mentally slapped yourself whenever this would cross your mind, everybody was judgmental to a certain extent, but you tried your damned hardest to not consciously do it and make an effort to always remind yourself that it isn’t good to judge people because they all have their own stories.
However, the longer you thought of this, you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t care what was under that mask. Over the month and a couple of weeks, you have come to truly enjoy Yeosang’s company a lot, regardless if he felt the same or not.
You received the awaited text the following night. A laugh bubbled up from your chest when you opened the message like a child opening up presents during Christmas. You found it adorable that his personality also seeped in through his texts. 
‘Tomorrow. Three in the afternoon. Bring your laptop, but no food since I will provide it. Be on your best behaviour, I have a dog I will not hesitate to sic on you.’
“Wow,” Yunho whistled the next day, tossing the phone back at you after reading the text message with a small chuckle. “What a douchebag.”
You replied with a dry chuckle of your own, lifting a dress you snatched from your dresser, hanger still attached and all, and laid it across the bed, beside the area where Yunho was currently sitting down. He stared at the black dress with a scoff.
”Girl, this is a study session, not a funeral,” he chortled. “Then again, if he actually has a dog, it might as well be.”
A shiver passed through you, but you gave him a stern look, anyway. “Quiet, you,” you hissed. “I don’t fucking know what to wear, I don’t want to look like a bum, but I don’t want to try too hard, either!”
“Are you trying to do that project, stupid, by the way, or are you trying to get laid?” Jongho blurted out bluntly from across Yunho, lifting the dress and inspecting it. “If you’re going for the latter, this isn’t the way to go.”
You blushed furiously, slapping your cheeks to conceal the fact, but it was already too late. You loved these two to death, but sometimes, you were just ready to not be roommates with them anymore when they both made fun of you.
“Choi Jongho, I will end you,” you seethed.
He raised his hands defensively in surrender. “Relax, tiger. Just go for a white shirt and some jeans, it’s comfortable and effective. I can tell you right now, he literally wouldn’t give a shit.”
He made it a point to raid your closet himself. “In fact,” he continued, yelping a bit when he suddenly lifted your bra and tossed it like it was bacterial. “He definitely won’t notice, trust me.”
You were mortified, but so was Yunho when said bra landed on his lap. He shrugged it off like it, too, was infectious. “Goddamn it, Y/N, clean your fucking closet,” he groaned. “But I agree. He has that thing literally on his face 24/7, I highly doubt he’ll notice anything else.”
“Here. I got this for you on your birthday, it’s high time you wear it now,” Jongho haphazardly tossed some clothes directly on your face callously. “Hurry up, it’s almost three. He won’t let you in if you’re late.”
”That’s comforting,” you remarked sarcastically. 
Luckily, in your apartment, there was a walk-in closet - perks of living with an affluent roommate like Jongho - and so, you walked in there to change in your own privacy, but you didn’t shut the door so you could still talk to the both of them as you changed. 
You noticed that Jongho had, indeed, given you a simple white shirt and some jeans, but he also handed you the hoodie he had given you. With that, you began to undress and change.
”How’s your project coming along, Yun?” You asked to fill in the silence.
”Good, actually. Mingi is really good at these things,” Yunho answered cheerfully. “We’ve decided to just do a short dance number, he’ll do a remix and I’ll choreograph for us.”
“Mingi dances?” Jongho asked in surprise. 
“Oh, I didn’t tell you guys? Mingi and I used to go to the same dance school before he moved away during high school,” he explained. “This isn’t the first time we’ve worked together, so it helps, you know?”
You were happy for Yunho, and if you were honest, even though Yeosang and you haven’t decided on what to do yet, you were pretty content in being his partner. You paused, however, a line of thought suddenly crossed your mind.
“Hey, Jjong?”
“Here,” the latter answered.
You bit your bottom lip, not really sure how to articulate the thoughts plaguing your mind into coherent words. “Do you have any idea if Yeosang is also inclined in the arts?”
The arts, meaning dancing and singing. There was a fat pause on the other side of the room. You heard Jongho sigh, the springs of your bed sinking down as he sat on it. “Yeah, he is,” he confirmed. “You’re going to find out the rest by yourself, I’m not willing to divulge the rest.”
“No, that’s all I wanted to know. He literally wouldn’t touch me with a ten-feet poll, let alone tell me the juicy details of his life,” you snorted. “Hell, I don’t even know what the guy looks like.”
Yunho made a sound, likely thinking the same thing as you were at the same time as you heard movement on the bed once more. And he asked the same question you had in your head, “Do you know what he looks like?” 
“Of course, I do,” Jongho said incredulously as if he was offended that he was even asked in the first place, until he realized the reason. “Well—“
”Wait,” you interrupted abruptly. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know, I will not disrespect his privacy unless he tells me himself.”
You were tempted, who wouldn’t be? Your big, beaming crush on the guy, alone, was enough for you to be curious to know what’s underneath, but it just felt wrong. 
They both laughed out loud the moment you opened the door to go back in the room. “Damn, you’re down bad,” Yunho slapped his thighs in amusement as he laughed even more. 
“Haha,” your voice dripped with sarcasm. You went past them to grab your things and headed towards the door. “I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Ew, I don’t want to know if you guys end up fucking or something,” Jongho gagged exaggeratingly, making Yunho laugh even harder, his entire body contorting with how hard he was laughing.
When you started driving, your brows shot up in mild surprise when you realized that Yeosang’s place was a lot closer than you thought it was. In fact, if you jacked on the gas, you could get there within ten minutes. 
Your hands gripped on the wheel the more your mind worked on itself - there was a huge possibility that you and Yeosang crossed each other’s path at one point and you just never knew. Heat pools in your tummy, he could have been one of the people you encountered everyday and you would be none the wiser because of the mask.
You arrived in no time, and you parked in an even lesser time. An impressive whistle slipped past your lips, this meant that you were on the better side of the city with how easy the accommodation was. When you looked around, every single building looked more modern and sleeker, too.
And you were right. Your mouth hung open ever so slightly when you realized that you were in the affluent area of the city. By all means, you were fortunate to grow up comfortably, but you could still never afford to live in one of the units where Yeosang apparently resided. What’s more, is that he said he lived alone.
You quickly sent a text to him that you were here and put your phone back in your pockets after that quick text. Shame crept in your bones when you looked at your outfit. Had you known that this was where you’d end up going, you would have worn that black dress because as drab as it was, it was elegant enough to fit the opulent vibe of the place. Soon enough, your phone vibrated.
‘Walk in and go straight to the receptionist. Give them my name and press ‘50’ when she leads you to the elevators. It’ll take you directly inside my unit. Don’t forget to take your filthy shoes off.'
You ignored the last statement, your jaw slacking further when you read the message over and over again. Who the hell does that? Geez, you thought incredulously, who the hell has a unit literally connected to the elevators?
But you followed his instructions, anyway. And in no time, the receptionist was leading towards said elevators. She gave you a kind smile as the doors opened and you bowed back politely. The moment you pressed the number, you leaned your back against the walls of the metal box.
It was the last floor on the very top, it made sense that it led directly in his unit. That also meant he had the penthouse. You felt your body ascend slowly, and the best thing you could do was fix your clothes and your hair to make yourself a bit more presentable.
You started to imagine what Yeosang’s space would look like, but more so, you were just curious on what a penthouse would look like since you’ve never been to one before. You scoffed under your breath, Yeosang did seem the type to live in penthouses.
You weren’t expecting anything in general, but however, the last thing you expected was a small presence waiting for you the moment the elevator dinged and the doors parted. 
There it was, with its head tilted, looking at you curiously as you cautiously stepped in Yeosang’s space. This must be the dog, but it wasn’t just a dog. 
You gulped, knees threatening to buckle under your weight, when the dog started to walk forward and sniff your feet, your legs, back to your feet. It definitely intimidated you as you tried to stay absolutely still. 
Yeosang conveniently forgot to tell you that he had a Great Dane. It was so big that if it stood on two paws, it would tower over you.
But all those worries faded away when it yelped a happy yelp and laid down on its back. Her, you found out soon enough, tail wagged back and forth in glee and excitement as her eyes looked up at you, pleading for you to lean down and give her the belly rubs she so wanted.
Who were you to say no to that? 
“Who’s the good girl?! You are, yes, you are,” you giggled incessantly, your hand rubbing on her sweet tummy while your other hand found its way behind her ear. Her happy barks reached your ears and it prompted you to rub faster.
You completely sat down on the floor and patted your thighs. ”Aww, c’mere, you sweet pup, come…”
Your landlord has strict rules against pets, which was such a shame because Jongho wouldn’t have to leave his Persian to his parents and Yunho wouldn’t be going out every so often to spend time with his Golden Retriever at his brother’s place.
”I see you met Nabi.”
You jumped out, startled at the deep, muffled voice that intruded your well-needed little pup therapy. It also startled the dog, whose head rested on your lap, and you couldn't help but feel bad. You were about to give Yeosang a piece of your mind, but when you turned around, you wanted to whine just like her, maybe a bit worse.
He still wore that mask, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. Yeosang leaned casually against the wall behind you, his hair was completely unstyled, a stark contrast to the prim and proper hair he sported on campus. 
But what really got you was his even more casual outfit, it was dangerous. He wore a body-fitting tank top, and you tried not to drool at his exposed arms and the way they absolutely flexed whenever he moved even a single inch. Your eyes traced the veins that were deliciously spread all throughout his hands all the way to his forearms.
And by God, the way his sweatpants hung alarmingly low against his hip bones. And then, his brow slowly lifted, his eyes shining in mischief. It was your cue to look away in shame, because you knew that he knew.
You didn’t say anything when he leaned down, lifting the mid-ends of his pants as he squatted down. He looked you in the eye as his hands slowly started to rub the back of Nabi’s other ear.
”That’s a good girl,” he whispered.
You didn’t even know what to say, you can’t just assume that he was doing what you thought he was actually doing. You stayed silent, not breaking eye contact with him until he stood back up and walked inside. 
“Go sit on the couch so you can settle down. You can leave your things on the coffee table,” he murmured, Nabi hot on his tail as he walked away.
If it wasn’t even more possible, your jaw dropped when you finally took in the interior of the penthouse. It was the epitome of opulence and luxury. The theme was the classic marbled black-and-white overalls, the space was neat, and if it wasn’t for the crystal chandelier hanging from above you, you would have spent more time just looking around. Not to mention, the grand staircase towards the corner that leads to the second floor. 
Yeosang stood by the kitchenette, tinkering at whatever. It was state-of-the-art, but what really made you fall in love was the huge glass window behind him that overlooked the entire city. You bet it would look stunning during nighttime.
Despite your awe, you couldn’t help but blurt out, ”Who are you?”
”Uh, Kang Yeosang,” he replied absentmindedly. Your lips quivered in an effort to not chuckle, “Anything to drink?”
“Just water,” you replied.
He scoffed, crossing his arms. “I should have specified for you to also bring your brain when you come. You didn’t come all the way here for just water.”
“Fine,” you rolled your eyes in offense. “Coffee, then?”
You expected him to say ‘no’ and tell you to, frankly, to fuck off and be serious, but your heart thumped in your chest when he immediately went to work without saying anything.
You watched him move as he grabbed a cup and set it down. It made sense now, he’s always had this elegance to him when he moved and talked, even though he was rude most of the time, and he had this air of grandeur to him that you couldn’t explain.
Your heart was close to flatlining when he wordlessly gave you the freshly made cup of coffee, and it tasted exactly like the one you always order at the cafe you and him always meet up for the project. 
“Thank you,” you whispered.
He hummed in response, setting himself down on the couch across you and relaxing into it. You took great effort to ignore his arms once more. “I think I have an idea on what to do for the project,” he said, directly to the point. “If you’re okay with it.”
You breath hitched, He’s never wanted your approval before. You stared at him expectantly and waited for him to continue. “Don’t make fun of me,” he blurted out. The way he wrung his hands together gave out his nervousness. “Maybe we could just sing a song together.”
You almost dropped the cup on the table that probably cost more than your life. You were expecting a lot of things, but you weren’t expecting that. But then again, Jongho did say Yeosang was inclined in the arts.
“Why would I make fun of that?” You asked truthfully with genuine confusion. “That sounds like a lovely idea. I was in choir until middle school, it’s good on my end.”
Yeosang didn’t say anything. He stared at you deeply, intently. His eyes held something you’ve never seen before - vulnerability. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile, one you knew he wouldn’t reciprocate, but you did it, anyway.
But he did. Even though you couldn’t see his lips, his eyes squinted at the gesture. Just about when your heart was about to give out, you just had to find out that Yeosang’s eyes smiled with him.
“Can I tell you something?” Yeosang asked, softness coating his voice, his body visibly relaxing even more from where he sat. 
“You can tell me anything,” you chirped up. “What friends are for, right?”
His eyes drooped, hooding ever so slightly before he shook his head, a deep chuckle escaping from his lips. You bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming, you believed this was the first time that he actually produced such a sound without being sarcastic or pretentious.
“You are definitely something, Y/N,” he whispered, more to himself, but you heard it. “Anyway, I know how to sing. Uhm, I was training to be an idol. I did it for years before stopping entirely.”
Your eyes widened in surprise, heat coursing through your veins at the newfound information that you also realized that Yeosang divulged by his own accord. You cleared your throat to cover the blush that spread through your cheeks and ears. You would literally kill anyone and anything to be able to witness Yeosang as an idol.
”Was? Is there a reason why you stopped?” You asked softly, trying to be as respectful as you possibly can so you wouldn’t turn him off. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel like you were trying to intrude.
He paused, sighing deeply and exhaling slowly as he closed his eyes and leaned his back down the couch, almost slouching. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled.
“Okay,” you conceded, nodding towards him.
He opened one eye, staring at you from his peripheral vision. You tried to ignore how long his lashes were even from where you were. “Just like that? You’re not going to ask me why?”
You were taken aback, beyond confused at what he was insinuating. Your heart bled for this man, just what has he gone through?
”Uhm, no, why should I? It’s disrespectful,” you supplied truthfully. “You’re not obligated to tell me, or anyone in general, anything. You don’t owe me, but I’ll lend you an ear whenever you are ready.”
He stared at you with clouded eyes. The thing with Yeosang that you liked was that he wasn’t a liar - what you see with him is what you get - but this time, you couldn’t decipher what lay beneath those enthralling eyes. The closest would be soul-searching but you’d have to be a fool to actually believe that. 
The longer he stared, the more it morphed, transforming into something you finally understood. They were full of hope, those bright eyes shining and reflecting your faltering gaze. Yeosang was the hope that whispered of the sun. 
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing vertically at the motion. “Would you like to start over with me?” Yeosang scoots closer and juts his hand out for you to take. “Hi, I’m Kang Yeosang.”
You tilted your head, smiling through your teeth as you took his hand, squeezing it lightly as you shook it. “L/N Y/N.”
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Things were never truly the same after that. Yeosang’s mouth, as kissable as it looked, was still brutish and blunt, and you were still that blubbering mess around him whenever he’d get a bit too close for comfort, but everything has changed.
You’d keep coming back to his place and Yeosang would always invite you under the pretense of practicing for the performance, but the two of you always ended up doing something else, instead; something more fun.
There was nothing set in stone, the other day, he showed you his drone collection and even let you fly one of them since you mentioned offhandedly that you’ve never tried to before.
Needless to say, you had no talent for this. You had a heavy hand with no coordination.
”Hey, hey, if you break that, I’ll break you,” he hissed when you accidentally manoeuvered the flying robot by mistake and almost crashed it onto the nearby concrete wall.
”I-I’m sorry,” you blurted out, trying hard to set it down before you damaged it. You knew it cost a pretty penny. The both of you were currently on his balcony, fifty stories high. One wrong move could make it crash all the way down.
He sighed exasperatedly, gesturing for you to come closer. “Come here, I’ll help you.”
You were expecting him to just take the remote control away from you, but you were rendered speechless when he pulled your arm and guided you in front of him. He positioned himself comfortably behind you, his hand grabbing onto yours as he did, indeed, help you with the drone.
”The trick is to be gentle with this button,” he murmured, breath tickling the shell of your ear, his fingers guiding yours on said button.
You were surprised you didn’t disintegrate on the spot. What could have, however, was when you tried to teach Yeosang how to cook the next time. 
You didn’t start out being a good cook, but living with Jongho and Yunho taught you over the years. Yunho could burn water and Jongho always spent an exorbitant amount of money on take-outs that didn’t even offer an ounce of health in them.
“You’re literally doing well,” you cheered him on as he tried to toss the ingredients for the pasta dish you were guiding him to make for lunch. “It’s easy, isn’t it?”
”Sure,” he sneered, startling himself when the oil in the pan began to crackle. “If you’re trying to get food poisoning, it is.”
”Stop setting yourself up for failure,” you rolled your eyes. You nudged a bottle towards him, sliding it against the counter for him to take. “Here, wine. Take it.”
You snorted at the wild and confused look on his face as he tried to sauté some shrimp. “I don’t drink,” he sputtered out.
It was moments like these that prevent you from regretting how bad you two started from before. If you knew you’d always end up here, you would do it all over again without any hesitation. You laughed, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. That was another thing, skinship wasn’t lost on the both of you now.
”No, dummy,” you laughed. “It’s for the pasta. Pour a little to deglaze the pan, it’s good for flavour.”
He still looked confused, but ,nonetheless, still grabbed the bottle. It shouldn’t be difficult, right?
“W-Wait, Yeosang, do it slowly, wait—-“
But it was too late. He had managed to pour half of its content straight onto the pan, causing blue fire to rise up and almost hit both of you in the face. 
“The fuck was that? Was that normal?” Yeosang hissed, tentatively stepping back from the flames.
”Well, no, you were supposed to do it slowly—-”
”Then why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
”Because it was common sense!”
It became a routine, minus the drones - you were definitely going to break them one way or another. It was so easy to fall for this man, but it was also so easy to get your heart broken by the same man.
He even lets you take Nabi out for a walk when he’d get too tired to do so. You took that task proudly and quite seriously.
”Wouldn’t want your dad laying it out on me now,” you’d giggle while giving Nabi the ear rubs you knew she loved.
You get it, though. Nabi was one energetic pup, and on one particular day where she wore you out, you didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep on the couch, not that Yeosang minded. You knew that he didn’t mind.
Your eyes started to flutter awake, still dazed from that afternoon nap that you took, but then you realized what actually woke you up.
Everything came to you bit by bit. They say that the first thing to come and leave both in life and death was the sense of touch. It was soft, you noticed. And warm. You were laying on soft, pillowy thighs. Dazed as you were, you weren’t an all-rounder idiot; you knew it was Yeosang’s. You smile to yourself, you knew you didn’t fall asleep on his lap earlier.
But you were completely done for when you felt a hand, fingers to be specific, run slowly through your hair over and over again. You wanted to groan in contentment, no wonder Nabi likes rubs.
What truly woke you up, however, was his voice. Shivers traveled your arms all the way to your neck, you didn’t even need to strain your ears; Yeosang was singing. It was the song you’d both decided to perform, but you’d actually never heard him try and sing it before. 
It waa supposed to be a jolly tune, something awe-inspiring, but when it came from him, it sounded almost melancholic akin to a lullaby meant to reminisce rather than fill your heart with merry and joy.
He stopped, so did his fingers. “I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.
You pouted, wanting to hear more. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you rose up from his lap, your body protesting from the lack of his warmth, voice hoarse from the prolonged unuse. “How long have I been sleeping on your lap?”
He stared at you like he always did, and you wanted to know why because its intensity was strong, but it was impossible to know without asking, because in truth, you were scared to find out.
“You should just stay for the night,” he mumbled, sitting straight up, his form rigid. “I have a guest room upstairs, and frankly, I feel uncomfortable letting you drive out this late.”
Looking around, it wasn’t difficult to deduce that it was well late into the night even though your mind wasn’t all there yet. You gulped, the offer was too tempting to not consider, but you had to go. You just knew that you weren’t going to sleep properly if you stayed.
Yeosang sighed deeply, standing up straight to face you. “Let me walk you to your car, then.”
You blushed in embarrassment. He must’ve seen the hesitation on your face. “O-Oh, there’s really no need—-”
”Let me walk you to your car, at least,” he repeated, one brow arched, his voice firmer and more resolute. It left you no room for any arguments. “Here.”
A startled ‘oof’ leaves your lips when the hoodie that he threw at you hits you square in the face. He rolled his eyes dramatically when you stared at it as if it were an abomination. He snatched it back harshly.
”God, it’s like taking care of a fucking child with you. Raise your arms,” he clicked his tongue, putting his hoodie on for you, looping your arms carefully in. 
If asking to stay the night wasn’t intimate enough for you, this definitely was. When he was done, he held your hand and started guiding you outside. It would have been funny, since it looked like a parent leading their unruly child, if you didn’t feel like you were going to combust on the spot.
It felt like you were on autopilot. Even when you sat in your car, your muscles felt so rigid and robotic. When he leaned down from the outside, his head peeking at you by the window, his toned arms hanging and leaning on the roof. “Drive safe, yeah?”
”W-what about this?”
You bunched up the hoodie in an attempt to take it off, but he stopped you. “Return it next time,” he mumbled.
You nodded, and he returned it with a curt one, patting the roof of your car before he turned around and jogged back inside. You felt slightly bad, he did give you his hoodie, after all, and he only had a tank top on.
You were completely out of it when you drove home, to the point that you reached your apartment without even realizing it. A silent scream threatens to escape your mouth as you bumped your forehead on the steering wheel, there was a faint blush on your cheeks at everything that happened.
You slept on your crush’s lap, and you even got to wear his hoodie. 
You carefully closed your bedroom door so as not to disturb Jongho and Yunho, who you knew were both sleeping since it was late, and as if it was timed, your phone vibrated in your pockets. You didn’t need to look at the ID to know who it was.
“Did you get home safely?” Yeosang’s comforting voice floods your ears, effectively soothing you and making you smile.
“Mhhm,” you hummed exhaustedly, taking your pants off, but not the hoodie, and plopping down unceremoniously on your bed. “You’re worried about me, the world must be ending soon.”
He mumbled a curse so crass, it made you giggle under your breath. “If you die on the way back, who would be my source of entertainment?” Yeosang deadpanned. A shuffling sound on his end tells you that he’s also laying down on his bed. “I’ll be bored.”
“Wow. Good to know I’m nothing but your source of fun,” you scoffed.
“What can I say? Your misery feeds my fun,” he flatly said. There was a pause on the line before a small sigh sounded. “Princess?”
That nickname will always make your heart sing no matter how much time passes. You hummed in response. “Hmm?”
“Would you like to come over again tomorrow? Forget about the project for a while, I just want to watch a movie with you,” he murmured.
Your heart warmed, you’ve never heard him sound like this before. You’ve made up your mind before he even finished talking. “Only if you let me choose the movie,” you grinned.
”Deal,” he laughed. “I’ll pick you up in the afternoon, sounds good?”
“Sounds good,” you affirmed, kicking your feet up in the air repeatedly. You reckon you resembled a flopping fish out of water right now, but you could care less. You had to bite onto your fist to stop yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs.
He said goodnight and was about to hang up, when you stopped him. “Yeosang.”
He hummed, clearly off guard at the sound of his name. “You have a beautiful voice,” you whispered, referring to his singing when you woke up from your nap. “You would have been a fantastic idol.”
He chuckled. “Good night, princess.”
You hugged your phone close to your chest, a grin stretching out from your lips so wide, your mouth was starting to ache a bit, but the high and ecstasy wasn’t going to go down easily. 
Tonight, sleep came easily to you. Yeosang’s hoodie comforted you, wrapped you in the solace you didn’t know you were missing. His scent gave you the calm that you didn’t mind getting off of.
And tomorrow couldn’t have come any faster. You didn’t tell Jongho and Yunho what you were going to do - the teasing would only get worse from then on - but they did give you odd looks here and there.
“Nice hoodie,” Jongho commented out of the blue while you were waiting for Yeosang. He squints his eyes. “It looks familiar, though. Where’d you buy it?”
“I didn’t buy it,” you replied cryptically, earning you a side-glance from Yunho this time.
He was about to say something when you heard a car engine pull up directly in front  of your apartment. The three of you lived on the first floor, so that perk was there. You jumped up excitedly, hastily picking up your purse before dashing out.
”I’ll see you guys later—-” you tried to say before you got pulled back, a hand tugging your arm backwards.
”Hold the hell on, you have a date?” Yunho blurted out, a flabbergasted look on his face present. “Why am I finding this out just now?”
He gives Jongho a look, and the latter’s eyes narrow even further. Jongho’s brow raises before he stalks towards the door. “Let me size up this fucker,” he sneers, cracking his knuckles loudly.
You wiggled your arm free from Yunho to pull Jongho away from the door so you could get out. Your best friends were protective like that. 
“Get back here,” Jongho called out, opening the door wide so he could chase you down. “You can’t just—-wait.”
You were confused, Jongho’s intimidating aura slowly slips out and gives way to confusion all the way to realization. He blanched, face slightly pale as he stared at the car parked just a couple of metres away from where we stood. 
The car window was already open, and Yeosang was already staring at Jongho. He nods once before closing it once again.
“I should have known,” he mumbled, voice dejected before giving you a tight smile. “Call when you need anything.”
He quickly went inside, followed by Yunho who whispered to you the same thing. “Have fun,” he waved before he closed the door.
Yeosang didn't say anything as you both drove away. It wasn’t an awkward type of silence, but you didn’t have the need to fill it. You wanted to give him some space, the way he gripped the steering wheel repeatedly told you everything you needed to know.
Instead, you spent the entire time chastising yourself because your eyes kept traveling at his hands and his face from your peripheral vision. You chose to look out the window, his veiny arms were distracting you a little too much.
He still had the mask on his face but honestly, you didn’t care less anymore. You couldn’t help but also stare at the way he was dressed. He was in casual wear, nothing special, but the way it emphasized his toned chest yet tiny waist got you sweating even though it was quite cool inside the luxurious car he was driving.
“There’s a drive through nearby. I want to get coffee,” he finally spoke. The softness in his voice made your heart pound, it boosted the already intimate setting of being in a car with him.
”Are you going to let me pay for us?” You asked rhetorically.
”Of course,” he shrugged, and you were about to celebrate until he continued. “Of course not.”
You rolled your eyes, an exasperated groan of frustration leaving your lips. The sound makes Yeosang laugh out loud, and he was still laughing even when the drive through speaker crackled on. Cute. 
This was dangerous. You stared at him as he spoke, his deep voice rumbling. It wasn’t fair that his side profile looked this ethereal, but it also wasn’t fair that your heart was slowly giving in to its demands little by little. He didn’t even need to ask what you wanted, he just knew what you needed.
 “Thank you,” you murmured in gratitude when he handed you your iced latte. You grit your teeth when your hands brushed with his as you tried to grab the cup.
The same hand lands gently on your thigh. You thought it was just him being him and he was absentmindedly doing it, but when the searing heat from his palms didn’t relinquish any relief, you couldn’t help but smirk to hide the growing tingle in between your thighs.
”Getting comfortable there,” you said, trying very, very hard not to look at his veiny, masculine hands. It turned you on to no end.
”Does it bother you?” Yeosang asked, not bothering to look at you since he was actually driving. You gulped, the sight of him driving with one hand increased the tingling sensation down there.
“No,” you lied. “Not at all.”
He hummed, giving your thigh a soft squeeze before he resorted to just drawing random lines on it. He made a small sound of surprise. “You work out?”
You blinked repeatedly, not really understanding what he was saying at first. “What? O-Oh, I used to do gymnastics in high school,” you revealed. The activity has made your thighs and legs toned even though you haven’t done heavy routines in a while.
”Used to? How come?”
“Had a nasty concussion. Plus, college was keeping me busy, anyway.”
“Ah,” he acknowledged with a small smirk. “I knew you hit your head somewhere along the line—-”
You playfully pushed his hand away from your thigh. “You ass.”
He laughed, his deep voice rumbling through the small space of the car, and knocking into your heart, as he pulled in in the familiar section of his apartment that led to the parking lot. 
The appreciation you had for this man knew no bounds. During the walk back to his penthouse, no words needed to be said. This was how it was with him, and you didn’t mind at all. The silence was already telling enough.
“Do you like the hoodie?” Yeosang asked the moment he closed the door behind him. 
“I do,” you admitted, grinning as you rubbed Nabi’s beautiful fur, your fingers trailing to the spot behind her ears you knew brought her joy. “Hey, girl.”
”I see,” he murmured, passing you, but not before patting Nabi’s head, and walked towards the staircase. “Follow me,” he beckoned you over with a small wave of his hand.
”Where to?” You asked, following him anyway, albeit reluctantly. 
As you climbed the stairs, something you’ve never done before, let alone go near since you didn’t want to just invade Yeosang’s privacy, especially since you knew that his personal bedroom was located on the second floor of the penthouse.
You will never get used to how simply gorgeous his space was. If you thought that the first floor where his living room was located was jaw-dropping, the second floor was something out-of-this-world. You were able to see the grand chandelier even closer in this section of the penthouse.
Multiple paintings you knew weren’t just ordinary art hung around the walls, which were made out of opulent marble, the swirls of black and white giving the space an elegance you knew cannot just be replicated and duplicated just because.
”Wow,” you whispered, not able to stop yourself in awe.
”Like what you see?” Yeosang asked, his hand absentmindedly trailing over the walls as you both still walked on, you just followed him wherever he took you.
It didn’t take long, and once again, you were in for a wild ride. Soon, the overall theme of the second floor had changed from something bright, to something just a bit darker. The swirled marble of the walls gave way to something pure black, and that included all the paintings, vase, and furniture that surrounded the area. 
“Is this your room? Wow,” you remarked like a little kid in a candy store.
”No,” he shook his head, opening the door to one of the rooms. “This is just a spare bedroom, really. Nobody’s ever used it, so I just store all my old stuff in here.”
You frowned at him. “Nobody? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”
You weren’t lying when you said that. You truly found it hard to believe that he has never brought anybody in, whether it be just a couple of close friends, or even a past fling or some hookups. The last sting of thoughts brought on a horrible churning that started deep in your gut area.
”Well, considering that you were the first one I’ve ever willingly brought here, I’d say it’s not really difficult to comprehend,” he shrugged. “My, uhm, father used to own this before he bought another unit. He would use it for his business.”
You stayed silent, following him inside the bedroom, not anymore surprised to find a large theater setup occupying most of the space. This was another instance of him slowly giving you bits and pieces of his life willingly, and you wanted so badly to ask more about what his family business was, but you didn’t. You didn’t miss the way his eyes faltered when he mentioned it.
“You’re telling me you’ve never had, I don’t know,” you bit your lip. “Flings, perhaps?”
”Of course I did,” he raised an offended brow. “I’m not a eunuch, and not to brag, but I’m not that bad looking.”
You blushed. Yeosang’s part down there was the last thing you’d ever want to think about.
“But I’ve never brought them here,” he continued cryptically, his voice not leaving you any thoughts of questioning him, so you decided to let it slide. “Anyway, I’m going to get the snacks downstairs, why don’t you pick a movie?”
You nodded, getting to your feet and caught the remote that he had thrown your way with surprising reflexes. “What movies are you into?”
“I don’t give a shit, really,” he mumbled, walking away to your devices, and for once, you were glad he was walking away. The blush on your cheeks would just never leave. 
You took this opportunity to try and calm yourself as much as you possibly could. Your corrupted brain was pushing this as a possible date between you and Yeosang, and luckily, the sentient part of it kept pushing that thought back, but it was getting more and more difficult to do so. How could you not? You were in the comfort of his home, in one of his rooms, and in a place where he’s never brought anyone before. Or so he says.
You weren't surprised to find a sizable selection for the movies. He had a state-of-the-art setup, you’d be pretty surprised if he didn’t. He told you to pick whatever you liked, but you weren’t the insensitive type, you wanted him to have a say in it, too.
You were about to sit down and just wait for him to come back when your foot had accidentally gotten caught on something when you tried to sit on the bed. You tried to see what it was and your brows lifted in surprise when you realized that you had tripped on a small box.
It was conspicuously tucked away underneath the bed, but the edge of it was slightly jutted out. You didn’t think much of it, you figured that Yeosang had stored other things in here. Maybe there were other movie selections that he’d kept in here.
So when you grabbed the box and opened it, you just simply weren’t expecting what you’d find. You were gravely mistaken, there were no movies in there. You wanted to hit yourself, of course there wouldn’t be, DVDs were a thing of the past!
There was a piece of paper on top of everything. You inspected it carefully, and you realized that there was a name in it. A girl’s name. You frowned, that was the name of the girl who was picked last for the project.
You gasped, dropping the piece of paper in realization. Professor Choi did not accidentally put your name twice in that box.
You rummaged more to see what was in the box. Instead, there were photos - multiple of them. Your eyes weren’t completely taking everything in, but there were a myriad of photographs that ranged from professionally printed ones all the way to the wallet-sized polaroid prints. 
You bit your lip. You really shouldn’t be doing this, you were invading Yeosang’s privacy, and whether he said it or not, you knew that he appreciated that you didn’t pry on the things he wasn’t ready to tell you. 
You wanted badly to know more about Yeosang, but you knew this wasn’t the way to go about it. The box needed to go, and it was about to, but then, you spotted a particular photo that got your attention. You glanced at the door, and with a shaky hand, you took that photo to stare at it closer.
The lump in your throat was making it difficult for you to breathe, you were nervous, but there was no going back from this.  That wasn’t all, however, it was mostly the photo in your hand.
There were two people in the photo you were holding, one of which you’ve never seen before. He was quite handsome, you noted. He had the biggest grin on his face that made him look so young, you could barely see his face, that’s how wide he was smiling. Had the situation been different, you would have been fascinated by how much he resembled a fox.
And then, there was Yeosang. In an unfortunate coincidence, you picked up a photo where he was still covering half of his face, but this time, it wasn’t by a mask, it was his hands. This photo must have been taken mid-laughter by somebody else.
You’ve never seen him this happy before. His eyes were also smiling, but one thing that absolutely got you was that when you looked closer, you were pleasantly surprised to find a small birthmark on the side of his face. You realized that he must’ve been covering it lately with makeup.
When you turned the photo around, there was a name in there. Jung Wooyoung. And there was a note in there too, one that you knew to be Yeosang’s handwriting.
There were only four words written on it - I am so sorry.
You swallowed, clearly, you weren’t supposed to see this. You suddenly remembered Jongho’s words from before - something had happened that made him the way he was now.
Shame crept in from the bottom of your heart, you had to pretend that you didn’t see any of this, you had to put the box back the way you found it and forget that you ever saw that picture. But it was too late.
”What the fuck are you doing?”
You gasped, jumping up from where you were seated down, causing the box to fall from your lap, exposing what you were doing, which was basically snooping in on his privacy against his will and without his permission.
The snacks he was carrying was long forgotten on the floor, for he must’ve dropped it after seeing you look through the photos. 
You were devastated, but he looked even more devastated as he stood from where he was standing, staring at you with the most disappointed eyes. That was the worst part - he didn’t seem angry, not at all. He looked absolutely broken, and it was your fault.
“Y-Yeosang,” you called out, voice wavering as you felt your tears slowly forming in your eyes. “I c-can explain, please—-”
He looked down at the floor, completely avoiding eye contact with you. Only his fists were moving, they were actively shaking. He had a lump in his throat that he gulped in, albeit with difficulty.
”How could you do this to me?” Yeosang questioned, his voice laced with an unmistakable hint of pain and hurt. He lifted his head, and  heart felt like it was getting pulled out of your chest. “How could you?”
You tried walking towards, the photos on the floor long forgotten, but he raised a palm to stop you. “Yeosang,” you called out once more, your desperation seeping out from you.
”I thought you were different,” he chuckled bitterly. He pressed the heel of his palms on his eyes as if he was trying to soothe an oncoming migraine. “But it turns out, you were the worst of them all.”
Your lips quivered, of all the things he had said to you, the things he had insulted you with, this one statement stung the most, mainly because you knew it to be true. You shook your head desperately. “You know it’s not like that,” you cried, ashamed because you didn’t want to lose him, not like this. “I am so, so sorry, Yeosang, please forgive me, I know I was wrong, please.”
“Get the fuck out of my house, Y/N,” he commanded venomously, pointing a shaking finger on the direction away from the room. He exhaled a shaky breath. “I never want to see you again.”
That was when your tears started to fall from your eyes. “Don’t say that,” you sobbed. “P-Please don’t say that—“
”Y/N, you know what hurts the most right now?” Yeosang spat out, running a hand on his hair in frustration. “I could handle the daily insults I hear at campus every single day. That’s fine, I don’t owe anyone an explanation, they can say whatever they want.”
”But you,” he gritted his teeth. “I trusted you, more than I’ve ever come to trust myself,” he took a shaky breath in. “I let you in. The thing that hurts me the most is that I’ve come to care for you. I care about you, Y/N. Do you have any idea how much I want to slap myself right now?”
“You’re right, I am so sorry,” your entire body was shaking, your legs almost threatening to give out. “I’m so sorry, Yeosang, please—-”
“You made me look like an idiot,” he declared. “Get out. Please. I won’t tell you again.”
He turned around to walk away, but your impulses took action by suddenly running forward to give Yeosang a hug from behind. He freezes from the action, but all that did was make you hug him tighter.
”Please, don’t push me away, not like this,” your tears were free-falling, soaking his shirt. “I’m begging you, please.”
“Goddamn it, you have no right to do this right now,” he snapped, grabbing your hand to pry it away from himself before grabbing you by the arm and callously dragging you downstairs.
”Yeosang, stop it, stop—-”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he hissed, grabbing onto your arm tighter, so tight you were sure he’d leave marks on it hours from now, dragging you roughly, not caring if you stumbled and tripped along the way.
He pulls on his door, giving you one last look before completely pushing you out so harshly, you fell on the floor of the elevator that will lead you out. You looked up at him, fat tears still rolling down your eyes, and he looked straight at you without any emotion as he pressed down the button.
It still didn’t hit you, not until the elevator doors opened again and you realized that you were back in the parking lot. You walked out with your wobbly legs as far as it could take you before completely breaking down on the nearby wall, slumping down and hugging your legs together as you wailed your heart out.
You shouldn’t have done it. He had every right to be furious with you right now, and there was no repairing this, you had broken his trust and that’s not something that would ever be the same again even if you gained it back. 
The rain from above had begun to mix with your tears and soon enough, you were completely soaked from head to toe. You were so deep in your despair that you didn’t even realize that it had begun raining.
Yeosang’s hoodie did nothing to shield you from the bitter cold. There was only so much your body could take until you had begun shivering, and stupidly, you waited a little thinking that maybe, just maybe, Yeosang would change his mind, especially since you didn’t drive here yourself.
But you knew it was never going to happen. Shaking, you got your phone out and dialed the first number that you saw first. You were sniffling hard, your teeth chattering, sobs broken with hiccups here and there.
“Hello?” Yunho’s sweet and comforting voice came through the line.
“Y-Yunho,” you uttered in broken sobs. “C-Can you please pick me up? I need help.”
“Y/N? Are you okay? Hang on,” his frantic voice asked. “Tell me the address, do not go anywhere. I’m on my way.”
You tried your best to describe the location to him before hanging up. You were glad it was Yunho, his name was eerily close to Yeosang’s in your contact list.
You didn’t notice that car that pulled up directly in front of you, startling yourself when an arm started to help you up, handling you with such care you wanted to cry all over again.
“I got you, I got you,” he reassured, not caring if he got wet by the rain, let alone get his car soaked when you sat inside.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Yunho tried to ask, driving out of the parking lot as soon as he possibly could.
You could only shake your head, the words you wanted to tell him caught in your throat. A hoarse and grating sound from your mouth escaped, instead, your lungs wheezing for air the moment your tears started to fall again. The only thing Yunho could do was be patient, even though the sight of you sobbing your heart out squeezed his own.
It had to be bad, he thought. You were never one to cry, you and Jongho were similar in that aspect while he was the odd one out since he was very easily touched. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his foot unconsciously stepping on the gas in an attempt to get back to the apartment faster.
He got out of the car in record speed to pound on the apartment door. An annoyed, but confused, Jongho answered. “Go to my car,” he panted. Jongho was about to ask when Yunho cut him off. “It’s Y/N, it’s really bad, Jjong.”
No words need to be said. Jongho moved past him, not even bothering to put on any shoes, as he ran to his car and practically flung the door open. You felt yourself getting carried, but you didn’t bother to look up, your tears blurring your vision, anyway.
“Bathroom,” Yunho said, sighing in concern as he watched Jongho carry you in his arms. “Do it quickly, she was shivering really bad when I picked her up…”
Jongho laid you down on the tub and began filling it with water so you wouldn’t get sick from the rain while Yunho did his best to tuck your hair out of your face as much as possible and helped you out of the hoodie that was weighing your body down. Deep in your heart, you knew that you owe these two forever.
“What the hell happened?” Jongho questioned, the anger in his voice straining his own throat. “I’m going to strangle him. Did he hurt you?”
You didn’t respond, Jongho had to hold you by the shoulders and shake you a bit. “Did he fucking hurt you?”
“Jongho, cut it out, you’re scaring her,” Yunho hissed, prying the latter’s hands off of you in a rare show of his own anger. He kneeled down, gently holding your eyes with his own. “Y/N? I need you to tell us what happened.”
And so you did. It was difficult on your part because you had to retell everything that happened. The longer you talked, the more pitiful you looked - your voice was almost gone, your cheeks sullen and pale, and your eyes rimmed with reddish and purplish hues due to crying. You could see it in their faces that they agreed with the one thing you told them after - that it was, indeed, your fault. 
“You didn’t know, okay?” Jongho held your head firmly. “You didn’t know. I should’ve emphasized how fucked up he is before you approached him. ”
“Do you know what’s in the box?” Yunho asked curiously.
You hesitated before answering. “A name. Jung Wooyoung.”
Jongho froze, his hands on his head automatically pulling away as if you had burned him. It pretty much confirmed what you already had in mind - the name had something to do with why Yeosang was the way he was.
All the anger he had simmered down faster than you realized. “I see,” Jongho sighed. “That makes a lot of sense now. Wooyoung is very, very important to Yeosang.”
“Still,” Yunho murmured. “How important has this guy gotta be for him to kick her out like an asshole?”
“Very important,” Jongho deadpanned. He heaved a weighted sigh, completely slumping down on the floor beside the tub. “Wooyoung is Yeosang’s half-brother.“
That night, you already knew that you weren’t feeling the best. There was so much information in your head that you wanted to completely forget for now, but how would you do that when even your own body was reminding you about what had happened today?
If Yeosang forgave you one day, you knew you’d still live with the guilt as long as you’re alive.
You had to skip your classes the next day. As you suspected - more like expected - you had raging fever and there was no way you would be able to go anyway, Yunho guarded your door like a hound.
There was a lot of berating on his end, and admittedly, while it was fascinating to see, the sweet Jeong Yunho had disappeared for a bit when you heard an earful from him when you wouldn’t drink your medicine or eat the soup he bought.
But you had to go the day after that. There was only so much leeway Professor Park could give you without you having to take more extracurricular activities after. The project alone was daunting enough.
That was another thing. You had to tell him that this project with Yeosang might be over and that there was a huge possibility that you were opting out now before it even started.
Your phone kept vibrating in between your classes. You knew it was Yunho reminding you to take it easy. Or perhaps, it was Jongho looking for you. You were actively avoiding him because you knew you’d receive an earful too. Between the two, he was definitely more overprotective.
It was pointless, you couldn’t concentrate on anything. The pounding in your head just wasn’t going to go away in a day or two, even though you hoped it did, and your entire body just felt hot to the touch, sweat kept leaking out of your pores at an alarming rate.
You missed Yeosang already. You were so used to hanging out with him the moment you set foot on campus, and you could already hear the whispers of why you were alone while Yeosang was nowhere to be seen.
It certainly made you mad. The assumption was that you finally got sick of Yeosang and had finally opened your eyes to how weird he was. It wasn’t true at all, you wanted to scream at everyone to stop being judgmental, but you couldn’t even stand straight without toppling over.
It was getting difficult to not give in to your fever. You were walking through the hallways of the campus to get to your next class, not to actually go, but to tell your next professor that you couldn’t attend and needed to go home. You were at your limit, especially when you accidentally bumped into a girl in your class. Luckily, she wasn’t salty about it and asked you if you were okay, instead.
You wouldn’t get the opportunity to answer her. It all happened so fast, black spots were covering your vision and you felt your muscles going weak. Soon enough,  your body just gave out on you, and you came tumbling over, passing out in this girl’s arms.
Yeosang saw everything. He hadn’t meant to, he usually took a different hallway to go to his classes since this one was very crowded, but something in his mind just kept telling him to pass through this one just once. 
Nothing mattered to him at that moment. He dropped everything - his books, his coffee, his inhibitions, his anger - and ran towards you, not caring at all the stares he was getting. He didn’t care, not anymore, especially not when it came towards you.
He didn’t even realize that Jongho had gotten to you first. His childhood friend was kneeling on the floor, cradling your head to his chest, his hands tapping your cheeks in an attempt to wake you up. He didn’t care about that either.
”Wait, what in God’s name are you doing?” Jongho was thoroughly surprised when Yeosang pushed him away and grabbed your limp body towards himself. He didn’t even have time to register anything when Yeosang began to carry you in one go as if you didn’t weigh anything.
“What does it look like?” Yeosang snapped. “I’m taking her—-”
“Hell no, you are not,” Jongho gritted his teeth, grabbing onto his arm to try and stop him. His explosion had already caught on to the other students, it was embarrassing.
Yeosang tried to shrug off Jongho’s hand, but he didn’t budge and held tighter. “You are the reason she is sick, bastard,” he hissed under his breath. He was about to say more, but he was caught off guard at the way Yeosang glared at him.
There was an intense, burning rage of fire in those eyes. He’s known Yeosang all his life, yet he has never seen this much emotion in his friend’s eyes. He was a no-nonsense type of man, and the magnitude of his feelings written in those eyes, the possessiveness, he had no choice but to let go and let Yeosang carry you away.
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White lights penetrated through your eyelids even when they weren’t open. It was odd, you woke up with your eyes completely closed, but that flashing light was completely blinding you. It was unbearable.
You sat up with a groan, your hands clutching your head to soothe the pounding headache that made you want to split your head in half. The last thing you remembered was falling completely into that void, blackness swallowing you into its chasm, and then, nothing.
There was a small moment of panic that set in when you looked around and realized that you had absolutely no idea where you were. The only reason why you knew that you were back in Yeosang’s apartment was that the bed you were lying on smelled exactly like him; that sweet, musky, earthy scent that invaded your olfactory senses always brought heaven down to you.
A sudden ache clustered behind your eyes, the worst kind. It rendered you weak all over again, like your body was suddenly remembering that it was supposed to be sick. And just like that, you fell back asleep. 
But not for long. You felt something on your forehead, something wet and cold, and it was disrupting your well-needed rest. Your lips were getting parted a bit, an unconscious groan slipped past them.
“Yunho,” you mumbled, voice scratchy, throat itchy with how sore it was becoming.
Yeosang scoffed softly, his grip on the thermometre tightens ever so slightly, his other hand holding the cold towel on your forehead in place, hoping your fever would lessen, if not completely go away. 
You kept mumbling your roommates’ names, specifically Yunho’s. He knew of Yunho, he didn’t mind him, but he’d rather not hear it right now. He’ll let it pass for now, you were quite delirious, after all. It wasn’t something he couldn’t fully blame you for, it was him who was to blame for what happened to you.
His brow raised when your hand suddenly held his, the one holding the towel on your forehead. “Yuyu, cold,” you mumbled.
”Think again, princess,” his left eye twitched in annoyance, but he kept his voice as gentle as possible. 
You opened one eye so as to not overwhelm yourself with the light. Ah, how could you forget? You squeezed his hand slightly. “Yeo,” you smiled a little. “Are you still mad at me?”
“I don’t know, you tell me,” he muttered, trying hard not to squeeze your hand back with the small nickname you gave him this time. “You are in my house, in my bed, calling another man’s name. You tell me.”
You frowned when he leaned away. “Keep that thing on,” he pointed at the cloth on your forehead. “I’ll be back to get some soup.”
You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you weren’t in the mood for soup and that you just wanted to go to sleep, so just watched him walk out of the room. You had no right to complain, your heart was getting warmer in your chest at the thought of Yeosang still taking care of you even when he was mad at you.
People don’t know how pure-hearted this man was, but you knew. You knew.
When sleep was about to come knocking towards you once more, Yeosang had to tap your cheeks a bit to wake you up. He wouldn’t admit it, but it did make him feel bad, but you had to eat to replenish your energy.
“Open up,” he lifted the spoon to feed you, himself. “Don’t soil my bed.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle a little, the sound of it a bit grating in your ears. His rough-around-the-edges made you feel reassured, like he was never angry at you in the first place. You’d take this over anything any other day.
With his help, you were able to finish the soup very quickly. Here came the hard part, though - you needed to drink some medicine. Your stomach refused to take anything anymore, you didn’t want to throw up.
”Open your mouth,” Yeosang tried to push the pill in your mouth. “I don't want you dying on me.” 
Your fever is taking over your senses now, delirium setting in, and your vision is doubling. “Can I take it later? I really can’t, it’s too bitter,” you whined.
He frowned. “No. I don’t give a damn, take it before I shove it down your throat.”
He sighed exasperatedly when you weren’t letting up. He wasn’t a complete ass, he would never force you to do something you didn’t want to. 
An idea crosses his head. He bit his bottom lip apprehensively, there was one thing he could do, but was it going to be worth it? 
He took a look at your pitiful state. Drops of sweat trickled down your forehead, yet you were still shivering terribly. Your eyes opened and shut themselves repeatedly, yet they remained unfocused on anything.
One thing was for sure - you were still beautiful. The answer wasn’t lost on him.
He takes his mask off, the one that covered the majority of his face, the one he detested yet swore would never take off. He puts the pill on his tongue, grabs your face, then puts his lips against yours.
You mewled, caught off-guard by the suddenness of it, but you were far too gone to notice and care. This was a dream, it had to be. It was the only way to not lose your mind over this. You were too delirious to see his face, and you didn’t realize that you had already swallowed the pill in the heat of the moment.
He pulled away, giving you a small peck on the nose. He walked towards the door to leave, putting his mask back on in the process, but not before looking back at you one more time. It wasn’t the way he would’ve normally done things, but it helped, didn’t it?
”Yeosang, wait,” you mumbled. It came out as a weak call, but at least he heard you when he turned around. You actually didn’t know if he did, but you just hoped he did.
”What?”
“Whatever it is that’s trapping you in your own mind,” you began. You had no idea what compelled you to say it, your delirium was getting to you, but you just had to say it. “Whatever has happened to you, just know that it wasn’t your fault.”
Yeosang froze, his entire body going rigid. “Go back to sleep,” he muttered, teeth gritted. It wasn’t out of anger, it was out of concern.
”Forgive yourself, please,” you coughed one last time before your head hit the pillow to rest. “And forgive me too…”
He wouldn’t go back to that room until the next day. He clearly had a lot to think about.
He was never truly mad at you, not entirely anyway. Rather, he was terrified. He was utterly scared of you finding out the skeletons in his closet before he told you, and he was close, he was so damn close, but when you found out first, he just couldn’t help the anger that filled his veins at that moment.
You slept for another day straight with Yeosang checking in on you once in a while. He didn’t wake you up, you definitely needed that rest to recuperate your energy
Your phone would ring once in a while but Yeosang was quick to assure Yunho, if he called, that you were fine. And if Jongho called, he wouldn’t even bother picking up. He wanted to be petty, what could he say?
By the third day, you were feeling completely fine. You were able to get up on your own and finally shower after staying on the same bed with the same clothes for a couple of days. You were able to deduce that Yeosang had taken you to his other guest room, the one that didn’t have the theater system.
When you got in the bathroom, you were pleasantly surprised to find clothes already provided in there for you. You couldn’t help the beating of your heart, both in adoration with this man and in the hurt you feel for him.
You hugged your knees, huddling in the corner of the shower as your tears mixed with the cascading water from above you. You hoped that it would wash away all the wrongs you’ve done, but you knew it never worked like that. If only things were that easy.
The shower definitely made you feel better, your body was so sore from laying down for days. You needed to stretch, and so when you looked at the time, you realized that it was only seven o’clock in the morning, so you could make breakfast for you and Yeosang.
Your body was on autopilot, years of making breakfast for Jongho and Yunho has trained you for this very moment. You just hoped Yeosang liked what you made, but you would understand if he didn’t.
“Smells good.”
You screeched, jumping a couple of feet away from where you were standing, throwing the spatula you were holding in the air. There he was, standing at the foot of the stairs just watching you.
He sighed, walking and picking up the spatual to hand it over to you. You avoided eye contact with him when he got so close, you could smell him. It makes your head grow weary with dizziness.
“I’m glad the clothes fit you,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “Do you feel better?”
“I-I think so,” you replied, tucking a strand of your hair at the back of your ears, not knowing what to do now that he was directly in front of you like this.  
When you closed your eyes, you envisioned his face. Not in its entirety, however. You could perfectly see his features one by one when he removed the mask that night, but it was difficult to imagine them all together. Redness coloured your cheeks at the very thought of it. 
It wasn’t lost on him what you were thinking. The nervous ticks of your hands and the slightest shift of your body told him everything you needed to know, that you were nervous. 
You were expecting him to reply with something snide, something sarcastic, like he has always done with you. But instead, he heaved a sigh so heavy, it sounded like he was completely giving up and surrendering. “What am I going to do with you?” Yeosang said.
You frowned, looking up at him in apprehension. “W-What do you mean?”
“First, you invade my privacy by snooping around,” he said bluntly. You winced. “And then, you have the audacity to get sick. And now you’re here, making me breakfast you know I wouldn’t eat in front of you.”
You bit your lip, chewing on it nervously. You let out a small gasp when his thumb gently presses on your chin, pulling it down a little to stop you from doing so. “And then do you shit like this,” he whispered.
”I’m sorry,” you blurted out. “I’m so sorry for everything, I didn’t mean to be sick, but I’m very grateful that you took care of me.”
He smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, did you really think I’d just leave you hanging like that? Did you honestly think that you weren’t important to me enough?”
You blinked at him owlishly, your mouth opened a little as you stared comically at him. “But, you weren’t wrong,” you gulped, your vulnerability overpowering how nervous you were actually feeling right now. ”I did snoop around but I promise you I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise you—-“
”Shh,” he hushes you, pressing his thumb on your lips this time. “I know, princess, I know,“ he swallowed before continuing. “None of it was your fault, i-it’s all mine. I am so, so sorry, Y/N.”
It hurt you to see him like this, the Yeosang you knew was headstrong, upfront, and outspoken. The Yeosang in front of you right now was vulnerable, just like you, nervous, and hesitant to say what was on his mind. His eyes bore into you, they shone with endearment towards you.
His hand makes way to your cheeks, his hand cupping your face tenderly. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered, a tone I’ve never heard from him before. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
You sniffled, forcing a smile on your face. “Nah, you can’t get rid of me that easily,“ you chuckled. “I’m strong, aren’t I? Cheer up, Yeo.”
His hand itched to pull your head closer. “I’ve always liked it when you call my name like that,” he confessed, testing the waters by taking one step closer towards you. “When all you hear everywhere is ‘freak’, it sounds like a treat, you know?”
“I’m the only one who should matter,” you blurted out without thinking. “Those people don’t deserve you, they don’t deserve the smart, kind, empathetic person that you are, they just don’t.”
You saw Yeosang close his eyes slowly, his entire body trembling as he held you. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he muttered, both of his hands holding your face this time. “I don’t deserve you.”
“What? Don’t say that—-”
“I told myself to not cross this line before,” he said, walking forward, his hand pushing you backwards until you hit the countertop with your behind. “So I pushed you down a million times, but the truth was, I’d love it if you knew that you were on my mind.”
Your heart was constricting, shrinking on itself, that it hurt to even breathe. The vulnerability in his eyes was making you tear up. You purse your lips to stop yourself from tearing up then and there. “Do you remember what you told me the other night?” Yeosang asked you, his hand going behind your neck. 
You shook your head, not because you didn’t truly remember, but because you can’t even describe what you’re truly feeling right now. “You told me to forgive myself,” he murmured. “But how am I supposed to do that when I was this close to losing you because of some misunderstanding from my insecurities?”
You could feel the weight of what he was saying as something tangible. You gulped, opening your mouth those three little words you’ve always wanted to tell him, but he quickly shook his head. 
“Don’t say it,” he pleaded. “Not yet, Y/N. Not yet.”
This was it for Yeosang, it was now or never. With what he’s going to tell you, it’s either you stay or you don’t. There is no in between. He ran his hand through his hair, something you noticed he did a lot when he was frustrated, as if doing so would lessen his unraveling thoughts and feelings. 
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. He can’t do it, where did he even want to start?
It was a constant push and pull between you and Yeosang - he was good at being there without suffocating, you were good at offering your support without asking for anything in return. It infuriated him, yet intoxicated him. All he wanted was to run away when all you wanted to do was lean on him. 
But not anymore, he wasn’t going to run anymore.
“For the lack of a better word, I’m fucked up, Y/N,” he chuckled bitterly, breaking your heart into small pieces. “It wasn’t always like this, you know? I have my reasons, and I was fine being alone, but you.”
He held your hands and warmth spread all throughout your fingertips. It sent sparks down your spine. “The first time I looked at you, you didn’t even notice it. You were the only one who didn’t pay attention to me or said anything remotely stupid about this.”
He was referring to the mask. You stared at him in sadness, was the bar really that low? It wasn’t difficult to not talk about it, it wasn’t your place, and you believed everyone does what they do for a reason regardless or how unreasonable it could be. 
His eyes started to search yours. He wanted to stop breathing. It was those eyes of yours. He swallowed a lump on his throat because you always looked at him like the only thing you saw was him. It was too much for him at times, yet it was never enough at the same time.
“There are a lot of things I want to tell you, but I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. He hated how small he sounded. “I want to tell you everything, I’m just stuck in my head lately, that’s all.”
You didn’t respond immediately, what were you supposed to say to something like that? You weren’t good with things like this, and your heart twisted with hurt as you took a good look at him, he looked hopeful yet sad. Yeosang thought you looked so understanding right now, and he wanted to scream.
“You saw it when you opened the box, didn’t you?”
You tilted your head, confused at first, but you knew exactly what he was talking about. You wanted to hear it from him. “What about it?”
“I’m so stupid,” he chuckled bitterly. “I guess I was embarrassed when you found out that you weren’t going to be my original partner for the project.”
Your heart thudded in your chest. I knew it, you thought. You did have an inkling, but you didn’t want to assume anything. “I don’t know why I did it, but I don’t regret it. Deep down, I think Professor Choi knew,” he continued.
You noticed that he was slowly pulling away, you can read it in his eyes that he’s said enough. You weren’t going to let him do that.
”Yeosang,” you uttered his name with gentle care; with such grace. “You can tell me anything, alright? No matter what it is, I’m here. You have no reason to carry your burdens by yourself anymore.”
You could tell that your words hit him like a hurricane. You stared at him, the conflict in his eyes, oh, how you want to take that all away from him. You definitely wanted to tell him how you felt about him, and you just might. 
Yeosang stepped closer to you, your face almost brushing against his chest. His hand tightened their hold on your and the contact sent jolts of shivers against your scalp. He was having an internal conflict, his resolve slowly breaking down in front of you as his eyes met with yours once again. You almost couldn’t handle the softness in his eyes, it was too much, yet it was everything.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he choked out, eyes reddening. He was pulling away.
But you weren’t going to let him. “You can,” you encouraged, voice gentle yet firm. You brought his hands to your lips and gave them a small peck. “I’m not leaving, even if you push me away. I am not leaving you.”
"No, you don't understand," he counteracted. "I don't want you to lean on me, because I'm falling, and I don't want that for you."
His hands were trembling. "And don't even count on me, because I'm drowning," he gazed at you with despair. "Please don't drown with me."
That hurt more than you thought possible for your heart to take. The emotions behind it were so rough, and for the first time, you didn't know what to do. "What do you want, then?"
"To hold you in my arms," he admitted. "Because I'd let the ocean take me if I can't."
The pounding of Yeosang’s heart slowed down, and finally, he finally felt like he could breathe again. He’d always felt like he was standing on the edge of the cliff, but this time, he could see himself finally jumping towards that liberation he’d always dreamt of chasing.
”Do you trust me?” You suddenly asked him.
It didn’t even take him a second to answer. “With all my heart.”
You suddenly lifted your fingers, eyes never leaving his. The fabric of the mask he wore on his face felt smooth and heavy against your fingertips as you slowly pulled it down and pulled it away from his face. It was the symbolization of it - you were going to set him free. 
To say you were starstruck was the least of your concerns. You’ve never seen someone so astoundingly beautiful that it took your breath away. It was like being hit by lightning - so sudden and intense that you felt like you were being blown away. You took all of his features one by one - his perfect nose, his kissable lips, that adorable birthmark that was now in full view.
It certainly brought tears to your eyes. You cupped Yeosang’s face as your tears fell. “You’re beautiful,” you sobbed, more tears filling your lips as you smiled at him. “So beautiful, Yeo. So, so beautiful.”
“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes filling up with his own tears. Finally saying them felt like something broke inside him yet healed at the same time. “I wanted to tell you in a better setting, in a more graceful way, but I don’t think I can keep it all in anymore.”
It was true. The words just slipped out before he could stop himself. It hung in the air, it felt unreal, and it was suffocating because his chest tightened with a mix of fear and anxiety as he waited for your response.
Your eyes widened and for a moment, you thought your knees were going to buckle underneath you. Before you even understood it, yourself, your hands left his face to snake behind his neck and then you were leaning towards him, your lips finally meeting with his.
It was everything and more. He was surprised at first, but then his lips started to move in sync with yours. It was months of pining with one another, feelings that were left unsaid for most of the time. And now you were here, breathing each other in as if today was going to be your last.
You felt so soft and warm against him. You were everything he ever wanted and now that he had you, there was no way he was letting you go. Not again.
”I love you too,” you pulled away slightly, your faces still inches away from each other. 
He couldn’t help but chuckle, not in amusement, but in relief. For the first time, he just let himself fall. He felt a deep yearning for you, it was far more than the desire to have you for himself. It was the unadulterated love he had for you.
You bit your lips at the sound of his voice, deep and unfiltered without the mask covering it. Yeosang tentatively held your face, his head tilting, the ghost of his lips fleeting against yours. He hesitated. While he wanted nothing more than to capture your lips one more time, he wanted to ask you one last thing.
“If I kiss you again right now, that will mean you will be mine,” he whispered. 
His impatient side was taking over, but no, it was up to you. If you want him, you’ll have him.
You blushed at the implication, but you already knew what you wanted. This was why you fell for him - it wasn’t for what he looked like or what he could and could have offered you, it was his warm and considerate attitude.
Your lips brushed against his. It was meant to be sweet, a confirmation of what your answer was without even needing to spell the words out to him. 
Yeosang’s resolve broke when you parted your lips. You let out a breathy, startled cry when he plunged his tongue straight onto your mouth, and your hold on his shoulders did nothing to calm down the wild beating of your heart. He pulled you close to him as if he was scared that you were going to leave him and all you did was kiss him even deeper to prove that you wouldn’t.
He needed to hear that sweet sound again. It was supposed to be a chaste kiss,  but when he sucked on your tongue after you had teasingly bitten his bottom lip, sweetness be damned. He swallowed your quiet, whiny moans as he held you closer against him, his hand just holding your cheeks as if you were the most precious of treasures.
The both of you were startled out of the kiss when the loud beeping of the fire alarm sounded from somewhere above you.
You paled, quickly pushing Yeosang away to put the fire away from the burning pan of breakfast that you had totally both forgotten in the heat of the moment. You pouted, disheartened at the blackened eggs, or what was left of it.
Yeosang started to laugh, not believing that an egg cockblocked him. It wasn’t the sarcastic laugh you were used to nor was it that passing laugh he’d make when he was restraining himself. No, this was the tummy-tickling type. His entire face was scrunched up, his lips spread throughout his face, his eyes squinting with that unmistakable happiness, and his demeanor light and free. You loved this look on him.
“Stop making fun of me,” you pouted, laughing in between. You never realized how contagious his laughter was, and that realization led you to another thought - you are loving the new things you were learning about him.
“Just leave them,” he said, taking the pan from you to put it down the sink and pulling you plush against his toned chest. 
“Yeosang,” you whined, blushing profusely at his affectionate gestures. It was a total change from who he was just hours prior to this. “Stop, I’m embarrassed…”
When he planted a quick peck on your lips, he couldn’t help but laugh again at your even more reddened face. You were so cute in his eyes, and had he known that he would feel this happy just by being with you like this, he would’ve gotten his head out of his ass a while back.
”I’ll take you out for lunch, princess,” he bargained, holding on to your hand. It wasn’t the first time he said the pet name, but it felt entirely different this time on your ears. “There’s this place I have to take you after.”
You didn’t miss the melancholy in his eyes when he said it, but you tried your best to cheer him up. “Oh? Is this a date, Kang Yeosang?”
”What if it is?” Yeosang scoffed playfully, hugging you from the waist tighter. “Can’t I take my girl out?”
“Who said I was your girl?”
You slightly felt bad at his shocked, widened eyes. You laughed out loud, leaning towards him once more to give him a sweet peck on his cheeks. “Relax, hot stuff,” you smirked when pink tinted his cheeks. “Thank you for loving me.”
A genuine smile crossed his lips, the adoration in his eyes tripling from the words you just uttered. He leaned his forehead against yours, content and happy. “No, thank you for loving me.”
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Lunch was better than you could have ever imagined. Yeosang took you to this place that was an hour away from his apartment. Unsurprisingly, it was a high-end place, somewhere you would never have imagined you’d ever dine in.
“Yeo, I feel underdressed,” you frowned in concern, tugging at your dress that you both shopped for on a whim to suit the ambience of the fine dining spot.
”You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “The most beautiful princess.”
When you finally sat down, he kept looking around, fiddling with his suit uncomfortably. You took his hand in yours in reassurance, it was the first time he went out without his mask and you could tell that he wasn’t used to it.
If only he knew. You ate lunch slowly, not because you were trying to be posh, but because you kept stealing glances at your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. The thought almost made you choke on your food so many times.
He really was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, heck, he was even prettier than you ever will be. His features were so refined, like God took his time with him. And now, he was yours.
However, the old Yeosang you knew was still there. He glared nastily at you when you tried to split the bill when you were done eating. You sheepishly smiled at him, putting your card back in your wallet to let him pay for everything. You would make it up to him by kissing him in front of everybody in the restaurant when you were leaving.
Public display of affection wasn’t your thing, but it was so worth it to see his flustered smirk.
”Do you know why I brought you here?” Yeosang questioned, buckling your seatbelt for you like a true gentleman, curiously. 
You frowned, looking around from inside the car. You’ve never been here before and to be fair, when you told him to surprise you, he did deliver. “You’re not going to kill me and dump my body out here, aren’t you?” You teased him.
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I should,” he murmured. He laid his arm at your headrest, looking behind as he reversed the car. You gulped, he looked hot. “Seriously, Y/N? God, you’re so fucking weird.”
You chortled, the snorting sound coming from you was so embarrassing but you didn’t care. “True, but you love me,” you smirked triumphantly. 
He sniffled, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “I know,” he fake cried. “Is it too late for me to find the receipt so I can still return you to the store?”
You gasped, your mouth dropping in mock offense. “Yeosang!”
He wasn’t going to change from that apathetic friend that you had first before this, except that you had the benefit of having his love now. 
The drive was smooth-sailing. You felt like you were in cloud nine the entire time, giggling when he would smirk at you knowingly, his hand on yours the entire time while the other was on the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but notice how smooth his hands were.
Soon enough, you were driving in an area where the houses had great views and were situated in prime locations. You didn’t notice it at first, but the more you drove, the bigger the houses got. You weren’t naive, you had an idea just how wealthy Yeosang’s family was, but you were about to find out just how wealthy they actually were.
”Let’s go,” he murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt after parking directly in front of this gated house - mansion, rather. It was intimidating, the driveway, alone, was long and winding, surrounded by pretty lights and vast greenery. 
He opened your door for you, holding your hand and gently ushering you out. You gulped, if you felt underdressed earlier when you went to a fine dining restaurant, you definitely felt out of place and you haven’t even gone inside yet.
“You could’ve told me we were going here,” you frowned, your mind already getting poisoned by your own insecurities. You gestured to yourself. “I would’ve dressed better.”
Outside the gates was a small hut-looking station, presumably where the security guards were whose jobs were to filter out who entered the property and kick out whoever isn't welcome. Yeosang knocked twice on the window with his knuckles. You were fascinated when the sliding window opened quickly, seemingly like whoever was there wasn’t expecting to be disturbed when they opened their mouth to speak.
But when they saw who was knocking, they immediately shut up. “Young Master,” the guard said in surprise rather than contempt. 
Your boyfriend smiled. “Hello, Juyeon,” he waved slightly. He gestured to me. “I’m with my girl. Open the gates, do not announce my arrival. Wooyo?”
You didn’t pay attention to their conversation, your insecurities getting the best of you. You generally weren’t someone to get intimidated by opulence and the material luxury that this world could offer, but now that it was right in front of you staring you in the face, you didn’t know what to do.
You didn’t realize that the gates had opened and Yeosang was holding your hand again and leading you inside. You smiled politely at the guard, bowing slightly to each other before you turned your attention back to Yeosang.
“You’re beautiful, I told you,” he shook his head, walking forward and leading you in. “If anything, you look perfect.”
He chuckled at your confused face. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, someone important to me,” he explained, his voice taking on a sadder tone even though he tried to hide it from you. “This is my family home. I want everyone to see you for you and they will accept that because I’d hate for you to change just to fit in.”
You didn’t know squat about construction, but even to the inexperienced eye, it was easy to tell that the way the entire property was built was made up of high-quality and premium materials. You were still on the lawn and it was already boasting a large amount of space. 
“It’s called common courtesy,” you reasoned out, trying hard not to gawk at your surroundings. “I don’t want to look like I didn’t make an effort or anything.”
You faced the front door with him, pausing when he hesitated to push it open. “You’re literally fine, though I understand where you’re coming from,” he reassured me. “My parents are very kind people, trust me.”
You blanched. “Your parents?”
Now you felt totally out of place, you were about to meet his parents! “Yeo, a-are you sure about this? We’ve only been together for a day, are you sure—-”
“Princess,” he stopped you, worry in his eyes at your panicked state. It significantly calmed you down, but it didn’t stop the wild beating of your heart. “You were my friend first,” he smiled tightly at you. “I think my parents would be pleased to meet the person that helped me and was there for me whenever I needed comfort.”
Your chest warmed, his words hitting you directly in your heart. To say you were touched would be an understatement. “I did that for you?”
“In more ways than one, yeah,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair affectionately before fixing it, tucking the stray ones behind your ears gently and tenderly. “Ready?”
If the driveway and the lawn weren’t enough to impress you and make your jaw hit the floor, the interior of the house definitely did. Everything from the living room down the smallest corners of the walls screamed luxury and money, the attention to detail was impressive, especially since you grew up in a humble home.
”Holy shit, Yeosang,” you blurted out as he gave you a tour. “I knew you had money, but this is crazy.”
“Old money,” he shrugged. “Didn’t Jongho tell you we were childhood friends? My little princess can think about that for a second, hmm?”
You rolled your eyes at him, but he was right. It also didn’t stop the blush from rising up your cheeks. You would just never get used to his affectionate nature being out in the open now. 
Besides the few house workers that were delighted at the sight of Yeosang, you didn’t encounter anybody significant yet. You weren’t sure if that was a relief or not, but so far you were enjoying the tour. He showed the pool, the built-in sauna with the promise of using it with you next time, and the outdoor kitchen.
There was also a home theater, but he didn’t stay long. You figured it had something to do with how you two had a falling out a week prior. Instead, he took you to his favourite place - the wine cellar. Apparently, his father loved collecting wine from all over the world. You gulped at the mere thought of the price tag attached to them.
He smirked when he brought you to the main kitchen. Your eyes shone at the granite countertops, the marbled floors, and the custom cabinetry that held every spice and herb known to mankind. There, a kind looking woman approached you with a wide smile. Yeosang introduced her as the head chef.
”I see you got yourself a little girlfriend, Sangie,” she teased mischievously. 
Yeosang cleared his throat, rolling his eyes affectionately as he gave the head a tight hug. “It’s been a while,” he whispered with an emotion you haven’t recognized before. “Uhm, this is Y/N,“ he gestures to you after he’s pulled away. 
“Nice to meet you,” you smiled as the head chef gave you a tight hug of your own. It certainly touched you, it was such a warm gesture and you’ve never met them before, too.
”Hopefully, Yeosang has been treating you well,” she said with a knowing smile. “My, you are very pretty, dear.”
“Who’s very pretty?”
You turned to a new voice from the entrance of the grand kitchen. Judging from what you were seeing, you knew exactly who this woman was. She looked just like Yeosang, except she was much, much older. She had this elegance and grace that one couldn’t get from anywhere else except for age and the wisdom that came along with it.
You bowed in a ninety-degree angle as politely and as respectfully as you possibly can. “G-Good afternoon, Mrs. Kang, I am so sorry to intrude into your house like this!” 
You heard her amused laughter, and when you rose back up, you held back in your own laughter when you saw her hold the shell of her son’s ear and pulled it towards her cheekily. 
“You unfilial son of mine,” she started off, ignoring Yeosang’s groans of pain as she tightened her hold. “You haven’t set foot in here for a while and you dare just show up unannounced? Oh, your father will have a field day with you!”
“But it’s okay,” she giggled, your eyes widening when she held you by the arm. “Finally, you bring a beautiful girl home, oh, I thought my son was going to die a virgin forever!”
“Mum! What the hell?”
Yeosang’s mom was a chatterbox, and she was the sweetest. It made you breathe out a sigh of relief because you were slightly terrified that she’d reject your humble background compared to theirs and her son’s lifestyle growing up.
The only way Yeosang was able to drag you away was when you made a promise to her that you’d come back for tea time.
“Princess, I hope this doesn’t deter you from coming back,” he remarked sarcastically, leading you outside with his hand on your lower back. “I swear everybody here is sane.”
As if on cue, the house staff that would either pass the two of you or you would pass bowed and giggled to themselves in amusement and surprise when they saw Yeosang. You smiled awkwardly at everybody, breathing a sigh of relief when you reached the back part of the property once more, except Yeosang led you to an entirely different place.
“I think everybody is sweet and it’s quite endearing to see them like you,” you chuckled. “I get it though. It’s like they haven’t seen you in months.”
“That’s because they actually haven’t seen me in months,” he deadpanned.
You chuckled a bit, thinking that he was joking just to uplift the mood, but when you saw his facial expression remaining unchanged, your smile dropped. “W-Wait, you’re serious?”
“We’ve been technically together for a while now without the label, have you ever seen my family visit or heard a phone call?” Yeosang scoffed, pulling on your hand to stop you from walking. “We’re here.”
Your mouth parted in awe. Flowers littered your vision, they were a dancing rainbow of pretty blossoms. You’ve always dreamt of getting a house one day with a huge garden like this, you could almost detect the insatiable fragrance this garden offered, and the way the beautiful petals curled from the summer heat made you want to touch them. You could stay here and make this your sanctuary.
”But why? Was there any reason you cut contact with them? They love you, Yeo, I could see that,” you said softly, curiosity dancing in your eyes.
He lifted a finger to point at something. “That’s why,” he said. His eyes were swimming with a mixture of anxiety and longing, but when he blinked, it was gone. He offered you his hand once more. “Come along, princess. There’s someone I would like you to meet.”
You didn’t notice it at first, but there was a person on the far end of the garden. The closer you got, the more you realized that it was a man. He was obscured by all the pretty flowers, but he was there clear as day.
Your heart dropped to your feet, for the man was in a wheelchair, his entire right leg in a cast along with his right arm. Was this the reason why Yeosang chose to leave his family? You were nervous to know the answer.
He didn’t notice you at first, too busy basking underneath the sun that was beaming down on him. He had a soft, serene smile painted on his face that signified that he was truly at peace at the moment. Your brows shot up when you got closer, he was handsome. 
Finally, he looked up, and then his eyes widened. Between Yeosang’s trembling hands and the man’s widened, unsure eyes, you didn’t know what to do, exactly. The three of you were frozen in time.
“Yeosang,” he whispered, eyes hooded with emotions you couldn’t stand looking at, not because you had something against this man, but because you might end up crying if you stare too long. He tried to get up hurriedly, struggling against his restrictions, and it was when Yeosang finally broke out of his trance and rushed forward.
“Damn it, Wooyoung, what the hell is wrong with you?” Yeosang hissed, his harsh voice a contrast to the gentle way he helped the latter sit back properly on his wheelchair. “Have you lost your mind?”
You purse your lips. Ah, you thought, so this was Wooyoung. The genes in this family continue to astound you. You didn’t recognize him at first - in the photo you saw, Wooyoung had shorter hair, and right now, his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders. And he has a thorny rose tattoo that he didn’t have in the photo.
Wooyoung stared at Yeosang when he lifted his pants a little before squatting down to his level, using his hands to lean on the wheelchair for support. The fox-looking man stared at his brother with no particular expression on his face except for his teary eyes. You felt like you were intruding.
Yeosang smirked lightly, without any malice or ill-intent. “How are you, Woo?”
You weren’t expecting much, in fact, you weren’t expecting anything at all, but you sure as hell weren’t expecting your boyfriend’s face to be, for the lack of a better word, bitch-slapped so hard, it sent his head reeling to the side. The loud, cracking sound of skin hitting skin surprised you, to say the least.
“That’s for disappearing on me for months,” Wooyoung hissed, his hand still in the air.
Yeosang’s mouth was parted in shock. He slowly turned his head back to Wooyoung, his eyes widened, but he didn’t say a word. His cheek was slowly growing red and if it wasn’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at the handprint forming on the area.
After a while, Wooyoung burst out crying, leaning forward to grab Yeosang by his shirt so he could wrap his arms tightly around him. Yeosang relaxes into the hug, patting Wooyoung’s shaking body whilst rubbing onto his back soothingly like a father comforting a son. The only sound in the garden right now was Wooyoung’s silent wails and sniffles.
“How did you even know I was here?” Wooyoung wondered, sniffling, as he pulled away and took a good look at Yeosang by holding onto his face. “You look…happier.”
You blushed when he side-eyes you mischievously, winking at you subtly before turning his attention back at Yeosang. “You’re a jerk, you know that?” Wooyoung further chided, scoffing loudly at Yeosang, who rolled his eyes. “Dad is pretty pissed at you and mum was running around like a chicken without a head. You left me high and dry, bastard.”
“And you?” Yeosang raised a brow, rubbing his cheek, offended.  “What about you?”
“You tell me,”  Wooyoung pushed Yeosang’s shoulder. You wanted to giggle at how different the two brothers were. “You were having so much fun at dad’s penthouse.”
Yeosang was genuinely surprised. “How—”
“Anyway,” he grinned, turning his wheelchair manually to face you. He stretches his arm towards you and waves it to gesture to you to come closer to him. “Come, come,” he said. “I need to know the girl who removed my brother’s stick from his ass.”
“Bold of you to assume we’re together,” Yeosang scoffed, motioning for you to sit down on the nearby bench.
“Keep telling yourself that. Move along,” he turned his wheelchair once more, the wheels going over Yeosang’s foot like a bump on the road. He mumbled a small ‘oops,’ not really caring about the latter’s groan of pain as he clutched on his foot while glaring behind the former’s back intensely.
He grinned again, bringing his hand out for you to shake. “Jung Wooyoung, the better looking brother.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Yeosang rebutted. “She’s my girlfriend, dimwit.”
“L/N Y/N, the stick holder,” you smirked, bringing your own hand out to shake his. You tried hard not to stare at his cast and his injuries, though you were extra curious about them especially since Yeosang kept looking at them when he thought Wooyoung didn’t notice, and his eyes held pain.
Wooyoung laughed, surprising you with his high-pitched cackle. “Oh my God, I like her, I like her!” He repeatedly said, slapping his own thigh as he laughed. He batted his eyelashes at you. “So, what did you do to bring my brother out of his shell?”
It was when the atmosphere turned tense. Yeosang’s shoulders stiffened, his back muscles turning rigid. “I don’t think we should talk about that right now,” he murmured, sitting beside you and draping an arm across your shoulders.  “There’s so much time, Woo–”
“What, so much time for you to leave again? I won’t see you for months, hell, I might not see you again, knowing you,” Wooyoung scoffed, sighing heavily. He looked up at the sky again for minutes before setting his eyes towards Yeosang once more. “You need to let go, Sangie,” he paused, tilting his chin at me. “Does she know?”
Your curiosity was definitely piqued this time. Yeosang shook his head. “That’s why I’m here,” he sighed. He looked at you, giving you a tight smile. “I figured if you’re going to be with me, you have to know soon, anyway.”
“Is this related to why you covered your face the entire time during this semester?” You wondered absentmindedly, not expecting that it would set off another set of questions.
“Wait, what the hell does that mean?” Wooyoung blurted out in surprise. “Cover your face, how? Yeosang?”
Both of you proceeded to tell in your own experiences on how Yeosang would wear a mask to cover the bottom half of his face on campus and even around you until recently. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped lower and lower down to the floor the more you recounted your experiences, especially how Yeosang was being treated by the other students.
Wooyoung had this forlorn look on his face that got sadder and sadder the more you talked to the point that you regretted talking in the first place. He rubbed his face with his hands frustratedly. “Damn it, Sangie, I told you, I’m fine.”
Yeosang raised a brow, giving his injuries a pointed look, making Wooyoung roll his eyes. “It will heal,” he tried to console, but it wasn’t working. He turned to you, eyes laced with pain, before he sighed and spoke. “There was a car accident a couple of months ago. I was in the passenger’s seat, and Yeosang was driving.”
Hearing that felt like a dream, the sudden shock of it not fully sinking into you until Yeosang tightened his hold on your shoulder. “I like you, and you seem like a nice girl,” Wooyoung continued. “But I have to ask you this - what do you think about Yeosang?”
It definitely sparked something in you, it was an easy answer. “Everything,” you grabbed Yeosang’s hands in yours. “He’s very sweet, a bit of a jackass sometimes, but it’s a part of his personality I’m willing to work around because I’m in love with him. Anybody who doesn’t like him is lost on them, and I feel bad for them.”
Wooyoung seemed satisfied with this answer. His hand patted your free hand before he looked down. “There was this girl,” he began, voice hardening. “Long story short, she was obsessed with him. She followed him everywhere, she even broke into our house one night, I mean, this girl was crazy.”
You gasped, turning your head abruptly at Yeosang, who was avoiding eye contact. You had an idea where this was going, you didn’t want to hear the repeated heartbreak for both of them, but you had to because it will help Yeosang move on. You tightened your hold on his hand.
It made sense. It all made sense. The attitude, the melancholy, and the mask. It just made sense. His face was his downfall.
“One day, we were coming home from the arcade,” Wooyoung continued. “Next thing we know, she was trailing us from behind and trying to line herself to the car,” he shook his head bitterly. “She was drunk. One thing led to another, my side of the car hit a pole head on.”
You gasped loudly, covering your mouth with your hands. Anger coursed through your veins, its hot trail going up your brain at the pain that must’ve brought upon everybody. “As you can see, I’m still recovering. Couple of broken bones,” he pointed to his casts. “But I’m fine. I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” Yeosang gritted his teeth. “I should have been careful, I should’ve just driven faster, I should’ve,” he paused, sniffling, rubbing his eyes to stop the tears from falling. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt, Wooyoung. You lost your baseball scholarship because of me.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Wooyoung shook his head. “It’s her fault, Yeosang. It was never yours, it’s high time you stopped blaming yourself.”
Yeosang buried his head on the crook of your shoulder and neck, his other arm wrapping completely around your shoulders until he was fully hugging you for his own comfort. You and Wooyoung looked at each other and you couldn’t help but admire the man. The accident should have deterred him, but no, he still looked like a bright and cheerful person. Jung Wooyoung was stronger than anyone you know.
Wooyoung lifted his hand, trembling, wanting to reach out to his brother, but he put them back down. “You already gave up your dreams of being an idol because of this, because of that bitch,” he whispered bitterly. You were taken aback at the animosity, but you couldn’t blame him. “How much more of yourself are you going to take?”
Wetness hit your neck, but Yeosang made no sound. You respected it even though you wanted him to just let it out completely. You smoothed his hair out, whispering sweet nothings in his ear and letting him know that you were here for him. You wanted to cry with him, he has been through so much and you never knew.
“A little birdie did tell me to forgive myself,” he chuckled, sniffling a bit before chuckling lightheartedly. 
You blushed again when Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. Yeosang pulls apart from you to lean down to hug his brother. It was then that you all knew that that weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, that the ghost of his past was finally leaving him to be the person he once was slowly, but surely.
“Mum and dad had never blamed you, and neither did I,” Wooyoung closed his eyes, rubbing Yeosang’s back. “We’ll heal together, okay?”
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Campus was fascinating, to say the least. You had stayed over Yeosang’s penthouse the entire weekend. You couldn’t bear to leave him after that, but right now, you kept adjusting your sweater because makeup wasn’t enough to cover the hickeys that littered your collarbone and your chest.
After much deliberation, Yeosang had decided to ditch the mask. You assured him that whether or not he wore it would not change anything about your relationship, but all he gave you was a small smile and a reassuring peck on the lips.
“I have you now, I have no reason to wear it anymore,” he said. “Plus, it was getting difficult to wear it, anyway. I don’t know why I even started.”
One thing you were excited about, however, was being in the car with him to spend more time with him since you only had one class together. Luckily, both of your classes started in the afternoon, so you had time in the morning to go on a small date.
“Nervous?” You asked him, holding his hand as he stared out at the parking lot of the campus. “We should have taken my car, it’s a little more laidback.”
“No,” he shook his head. “I’ve been hiding who I am for a while and to be quite frank, there’s only a lot of smack talking I can take, and plus,” he smirked, opening the car door and swinging his legs out. “You’re with me. . I refuse to let you get dragged in this shit.”
You were proud of Yeosang, even though he was slightly nervous, you could tell that he was at least trying. Everyone started to stare, you two were definitely eye-catching. You weren’t the most well-known student, but everybody did recognize you for being a friend of not only Jongho and Yunho, but also Hongjoong. 
Yeosang, however, nobody has ever seen him before. You were slightly peeved, it wasn’t that much of a secret that Yeosang was definitely attractive, subjectively and objectively. His jawline was defined, his eyes brighter and more expressive now, and overall, he just looked free.
The closer you got to the crowded places, the more heads turned. Eyes after eyes following your every move, wondering who the handsome man with you was and whether he was a student or just someone you’re with. Yes, people did stare. It was hypocritical and you couldn’t help but get mad, now that Yeosang was more pleasing to their eyes, they chatter with excitement?
“Relax, princess,” Yeosang chuckled, pushing your head towards his so he could plant a small kiss on your forehead. You smirked at all the ‘aww’ and ‘damn’ in the background. “You’re like a little cat with its fur standing up.”
He opened the door to the library for you with a small chuckle and suddenly, his eyes shone with nostalgia. He smirked at you, this was where everything had started, and right now, he was silently making fun of you when you were still technically stalking him back then when you had a crush on him.
Hongjoong smiled brightly at you when you and Yeosang approached the table. “Hey, Y/N. What’s going on?”
You sheepishly gave him the book that you had borrowed from before and avoided eye contact with him when he raised his brows so high, it almost reached his hairline. Even Yeosang was trying not to laugh beside you.
“Y/N, this is the same book from months ago when you were trying to butter up to Kang Yeosang,” Hongjoong muttered, scoffing in disbelief and amusement. “Holy crap, I have to see what your penalty fee would be.”
You didn’t care. You were embarrassed to the high heavens, especially when Yeosang started to put his knuckles in his mouth to stop himself from bursting out laughing. “Yeah? I wonder how that went,” he asked, adding salt to your wounds.
“Oh, you should’ve seen her,” Hongjoong grinned. “She had such a massive crush on the guy, it was hilarious,” he shook his head before clearing his throat. “Sorry about that. Would you like to return a book or borrow one, yourself?”
“I’ll borrow the same book, if you don’t mind,” Yeosang pointed at the Machiavellian book absentmindedly. “I promise to return it on time.”
You hissed at him, actually sounding like a cat, in annoyance. Hongjoong laughed and nodded. “Of course,” he gave Yeosang the logbook and a pen like he did to you before when you borrowed the book, yourself. “I just need you to write your name here.”
“Oh, no need,” Yeosang brushed off. “My name should be in the book. Kang Yeosang.”
“Ah, I see—what?” Hongjoong said before doing a comical double-take with his eyes bulged out from its sockets. It was your turn to smirk and look at him in amusement. He looked at Yeosang up and down with a huge smile. “Holy shit, man, you look amazing! I love the coat on you.”
Yeosang was genuinely surprised. At first, he didn’t know how to react and it made you smile. He was still getting used to genuine compliments and you found it adorable. “Hongjoong was one of the people who didn’t judge you,” you supplied. 
“Thank you,” your boyfriend’s cheeks were tinted pink.
Class wasn’t any better either. Instead of sitting by the corner like he usually did, Yeosang sat beside you proudly. Those who had been there before you came had either looks of curiosity or awe. The two of you couldn’t help but giggle. Soon enough, the class started to fill up, and then Yunho came to sit beside you like he usually did.
“You,” he seethed, giving you a pointed look. You sheepishly looked back. “You went MIA on both Jongho and I, you owe us for making you worry the whole week!”
He notices who was beside me and does a double look before bowing a little. “Ah, hello, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” Yunho juts his hand out respectfully. “Jeong Yunho.”
Yeosang gives me an amused look before he smirks. “But you have seen me before, do you not remember?”
“W-well, no, I don’t think so,” Yunho frowned, his face contorting into confusion before his eyes widened like Hongjoong’s and his mouth dropped open. “Wait, hold on—”
You giggled into your hands, it was so amusing to see your friends’ reactions to Yeosang so far. Yunho’s rant got cut off when Professor Choi entered the room along with Professor Park behind him in tow. You will admit, your two professors were both attractive and you have confessed once or twice to Yeosang that you had a crush on Professor Choi at one point.
There was a third person who trailed behind them and it made you and Yunho snort in amusement. It was Jongho. He didn’t make a point to look at anybody except the professors so he didn’t notice you and Yunho.
“I have Professor Park Seonghwa with me to judge everybody’s performance with me,” Professor Choi gestures to the latter, his dimpled smile swooning everybody present. “I’m hoping for something wonderful today,” he then gestured to Jongho next. “We also have our winner from last semester judging you all.”
You had totally forgotten about that part. Jongho did a solo the other semester. It was the reason why only you and Yunho had been in this class since Jongho was exempted.
Yunho elbowed you amidst all the chatters, droning the Professors’ explanation. “Fucking hell, Y/N, that’s Yeosang?” Yunho whistled in awe. You nodded and he snorted. “I knew it, I damn well knew he’d be attractive, but holy hell, are you sure that’s him?”
“I’m pretty sure I know who my boyfriend is,” you giggled.
You almost felt bad for Yunho, who seems to be going through an internal mental crisis. “Boyfriend? Since when?” 
Coincidentally and unluckily for him, Yunho was cut off when his name and Mingi’s were called. He seemed to forget what he was inquiring about and stood up to go. Mingi passed the both of you and smirked before greeting you.
“Wish us luck,” he chuckled. He waved slightly. “What’s up, Yeosang?”
And then he went with Yunho towards the front. Your boyfriend frowned, taken aback by Mingi’s sudden greeting. “How the heck does he know?” Yeosang murmured in surprise. He had always assumed that the campus jock was a massive asshole.
“Hell, if I knew,” you shrugged. “We barely practiced for this thing, ugh. I’m saying goodbye to those benefits now.”
After the camera had been set up by Professor Park, Yunho and Mingi began to introduce themselves towards it. You had totally forgotten that this will be a recorded performance for submission and future referrence. You clutched Yeosang’s hand nervously and he squeezed back.
You weren’t surprised at Yunho’s skills. He occasionally went to a dance studio and had even dragged you and Jongho with him at one point. However, you were definitely taken aback at Mingi’s deep and raspy voice when he started rapping. What’s more is that the guy could dance too. You groaned, you and Yeosang were definitely done for.
When Yunho went back, he looked genuinely happy, and you couldn’t help but beam at him and be happy for him, too. Even Yeosang gave him a friendly pat in the back as a congratulatory gesture.
By then, it was pretty obvious that Yunho and Mingi would win and be exempted for the next semester. Not that the others weren’t good, in fact, there were a couple of close calls. Dancing and acting seemed to be the norm and since nobody except Mingi had rapped, theirs was remarkable.
“L/N Y/N? Kang Yeosang?”
When your names were called, you suddenly felt like your legs had become like lead. Jongho looked up so fast, you were surprised his neck didn’t crack from the whiplash of looking up at your direction as if he knew you were there the entire time. His hold on the pen loosened as he stared at Yeosang in bewilderment as he started to walk down with you.
“What the fuck?” Jongho mouthed at you, perplexed at what he was seeing. You shrugged and gave him a small wink.
At first, it didn’t hit everyone - especially since a handsome man was walking towards the front of the class with you and they were expecting a masked freak. You had to control your oncoming anger, it was easy to get it misplaced since you were in a position where you could give everyone a piece of your mind, but you didn’t want to embarrass Yeosang further.
“Uhm,” Professor Park cleared his throat to mask his own surprise. “You are Yeosang, correct?”
Your boyfriend nodded, showing his campus identification card. “I think so, yeah,” he joked lightheartedly. 
All hell broke loose after a small pause. Gasps of surprise, whispers and murmurs of your fellow students all talking about Yeosang, the boy who wore a mask and who everybody called weird or eccentric, but that was long gone by now. There was a small tinge of pink on his cheeks at all the attention but when he looked at you, he knew that everything was alright.
“What will you present to us?” Professor Choi tentatively asked as he started to tinker at the recording camera. He set his wise eyes on Yeosang before lowering his voice, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “We would have given you a fair grading even if you chose to wear your self-expression.”
Yeosang gave the professor a genuine smile, going forward to grab two microphones from a still puzzled Jongho. “Thank you,” he uttered. He gave you one mic before turning again. “Uhm, we're performing a song.”
Professor Choi lifts a surprised brow while Professor Park nods, glee evident on his face. “Ah, we haven’t had anybody sing for us yet,” the former supplied. 
“Are you going to be okay? I’m worried for you,” you whispered to him truthfully amidst all the murmurs that were going around the room. 
“I’m still used to this,” he reassured. “Former idol, remember?”
The moment the music started, Yeosang lost his soul into the rhythm. You guys had decided long ago that he’d sing all the main parts while you remained as harmonies. You were proud of  him and you can see that it felt good for him, his voice elevated your soul like it was your catharsis.
You were still annoyed at all the swoons he was receiving, but you decided to ignore it for now and tamped down your jealousy, not when Yeosang was releasing the emotions he’s held within himself for a while now.
But what surprised you was not only was everyone, including Yunho and Mingi, swaying to the rhythm of Yeosang voice, but someone else’s voice had joined to harmonize with you. You looked at Jongho in surprise and it was his turn to wink at you. Yeosang patted Jongho’s shoulder as the three of you filled the room with your voices.
You weren’t sure if that was okay, but everyone went along with it. Soon enough, everybody was singing along with the two of you. Yeosang’s voice faltered and your quick thinking decided to take over for a few seconds so he could contain himself. He held your hand for comfort, this meant a lot to him, but Jongho comically pulled your hands apart, his eyes widening in a ‘no’ stance.
And soon enough, it was over. Just like when Professor Park picked who your partners would be, your performance was also the last for the day. Cheers along with loud claps surrounded the entire room and Professor Choi had to calm everybody down to not disrupt the neighbouring classes, but even he was pleased with the outcome.
“I think it’s safe to say who gets the prize, isn’t it?” Professor Park cleared his throat to hide the smirk that was threatening to spread all over his face. 
It was all surreal. Another good thing happened next and Professor Park also announced that Yunho and Mingi were to be exempted as well since their performance was unique on its own. The four of you shared a wide grin with one another, and before you knew it, your classes for the whole day were also exempted, courtesy of Jongho’s smooth-talking so the four of you could hang out.
“Fuck, man, I didn’t know you could sing like that!” Mingi exclaimed as the five of you started to walk to the parking lot. Since classes were still ongoing, you were free to do and say anything you wanted. “You should be an idol, or something.”
Yeosang put his arm across your shoulder and pulled you closer.  “I should’ve, shouldn’t I?” He grinned. Then, he cleared his throat. “You guys, uh, don’t care to be associated with me, or something?”
“What do you mean?” Mingi frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Do you not like us?”
“N-No! I mean, it’s not that,” Yeosang blanched, making you snort and laugh after. Before he could explain himself, Mingi, ever the people person, slaps Yeosang’s back playfully.
But Yeosang wasn’t the one surprised, it was Mingi. “Woah.” he blurted out. “Your back muscles, you work out too?! Say, mind if I call another friend of mine? I think he’d like to hang out, too.”
You blushed at the imagery that suddenly popped in your head. Yunho gags jokingly while waving his hands in front of him. “Oh, God, I did not want to know about that in your eyes, Y/N,” he barfs. “Also, you have a number one fan now, Yeosang—”
“Sure,” you glared at Yunho before turning to Mingi. “Depends on who's the friend though—”
“Ya! Song Mingi, what the hell did you want?!”
You all turned to the loud source of the voice and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Hongjoong who was marching towards your group with a menacing look, until his eyes went to Yeosang again and he snorted in amusement.
“I will never get over what your face looks like. Are you sure you’re not a model?” Hongjoong waved. “Anyway, Mingi texted me to come here.”
Everyone looked at the gentle giant, who was rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have texted him already to come here…”
Yeosang was surprised again when Hongjoong slapped his back like an old friend does when they see them. “So where to? I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been so burnt out by this university thing,” he rolled his eyes. He sees Yeosang’s hold on you and raises a brow. “Woah, are we interrupting something?”
“Maybe,” you replied cryptically.
“Are you guys together or something?” Jongho blurted out, twirling his car keys on his finger. Leave it to Jongho to be blunt as always.
Yeosang possessively wraps an arm all over your waist from behind and plants his chin on your shoulder. You laughed sheepishly at everybody’s bulged out eyes while Yunho started cackling loudly. “It kinda just happened,” you chuckled.
Yeosang looks at Jongho, who had his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You gonna do something about it, dad?” He joked, making everyone laugh.
Jongho rolled his eyes dramatically, pinching his nose bridge. “Not only do we have to deal with all the crazy energy this group will have in the future,” he stared pointedly at an excited Mingi, who was shaking Yunho’s collar. “But we also have to deal with you two eye-fucking each other constantly. Spare me the drama, please.”
Suddenly, Jongho and Yeosang stared at each other, a million emotions written in their eyes. You nudge your boyfriend closer to Jongho, giving him a reassuring nod. He shyly rubs the back of his neck before turning to everybody.
“Uhm, I’d love to have company in my place,” he began, causing Jongho to raise a brow. “I’ll send everybody the address, it’s only a fifteen minute drive from here.”
You were proud of Yeosang since he was trying to branch out of his comfort space and trying to let people in now so he could move forward and not get stuck in the past where he was all alone. 
“You’re you again,” Jongho mumbled softly, sighing. “Can’t say I miss when you were stuck up and walked around like everybody was going to jump on you. You were a major dickhead, Sangie.”
Before Yeosang could reply, he turned to the rest of the group, who were already planning what to do and who should bring the snacks and stuff. “Uh, go ahead and drive on without us,” he gestured to himself and Jongho.
He turned to you with a small, serene smile. You could have cried, he didn’t even need to say anything, he looked so much happier from when you first met him when he threatened you at the library. “You go ahead without me, princess—”
“Princess,” Hongjoong blabbered out, his delight evident in his tone while the other started to jokingly and openly mock you both for being too sweet.
“I have a score to settle with this brute—” he tried to continue.
“I’m literally right here,” Jongho counteracted, holding his hand to his chest as if he was offended.
You hopped and kissed Yeosang in front of everybody, which resulted in a hilarious ruckus before pulling away and dragging Yunho away so you could get in the car with him. You looked back at your boyfriend, subtly giving him a thumbs, mouthing ‘I’m proud at you’ before completely turning around.
Both Yeosang and Jongho watched as everyone’s car started to peel out of the parking lot one by one underneath the red setting sun of the sky. It painted such a beautiful picture and it set the mood for what was about to come.
Yeosang had a small sense of dread woven into his nervousness. To be fair, it would have been odd if he wasn’t nervous, this was the first time he was talking to Jongho after he had pretty much ghosted him for months, disappearing on him like he did with Wooyoung.
“Listen,” he started, his anxiety through the roof. “I know you’re mad and you have the right to be, but I want you to know that I’m very sorry.”
It was now or never, his relationship with Jongho was on the line. He loved you, but he can’t just turn his back completely to the other person he grew up with. Jongho sighed, the sound of it harsh and unwelcoming.
“I am, I still am,” the latter huffed out. Yeosang hated it, but he understood why. “At least you know how to grasp the situation and you’re not in denial anymore. You piss me off so damn much, you know?”
“I understand,” he breathed out, kicking a nearby pebble off of the ground onto nowhere in particular. This was it, he thought, he had lost Jongho forever.
However, he wasn’t expecting a nudge on the shoulder and a friendly ruffle of his hair. He groaned, as self-deprecating as he was with his appearance, he hated his hair being messed  up, and Jongho knew that.
“You’re a goddamn fool,” Jongho shook his head after. He choked out a laugh from his chest. “I’m mad at you for doing this to yourself. I’m mad at you for blaming yourself even though it wasn’t your fault. I’m mad at you for letting those assholes bully you and bring you down.”
“But mostly of all,” Jongho spoke in finality. “I’m mad at you for not letting me help and be there for you when you needed it the most.” 
And with that, Jongho finally smiled, his teeth and gums all baring out like the sunshine for him to see. Finally, the last burden off of his shoulders and chest was finally being lifted away. They both laughed out loud as they both got into their cars, which were coincidentally parked next to each other.
“So, you and Y/, huh?” Jongho smirked, the playfulness that Yeosang knew him to have back on his face. How he missed it so. 
“Yeah,” he chuckled, hopping into the driver’s seat and rolling the window down so he could still talk to Jongho. “She’s changed me, you know? I mean, I could tell you all the details—”
“Spare me,” Jongho groaned, honking to stop him from talking. “I get it, but I don’t wanna know all the juicy details of your relationship. Just don’t hurt her, or you’ll get a taste of this.”
He lifted his fists up in the air, waving them around comically and causing Yeosang to laugh out loud so much, his tummy and his sides started to ache and cramp up. This was it, this was all he needed. How had he been such a fool to let all of this go? Suddenly, your face popped up in his mind, and he smiled. He vowed to make you happy, for you had given him so much without knowing and asking for anything in return.
“Where to?” Jongho asked after he turned his car on, the sound of the engine being the background noise of it all. It was so fitting.
“You know my dad’s penthouse? The one near yours?”
Jongho’s eyes bulged out. “That’s where you’ve been staying? Fuck, I should’ve known,” he shook his head. Suddenly, he turned to Yeosang with an impish smirk, the delinquency in his face palpable and hard to miss. “Like the old times?”
Yeosang didn’t get it at first, until Jongho revved his engine, smoke coming out of the exhaust at a faster rate, and he laughed, revving his own engine competitively with a grin. When they were younger, they would race each other anywhere - the streets, a dirt road, anywhere. It wasn’t legal, by all means, because they really were young at one point.
“Loser buys dinner for the entire crew?” Jongho chided, his laughter filling the air.
It was contagious and Yeosang went ahead and pressed on the gas. “Deal.”
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Dividers by: @strangergraphics
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from-izzy · 7 months ago
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SKATING WITH YOU | NCT LEE DONGHYUCK | HAECHAN
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Haechan leans his forehead to yours as your icy noses brush against each other, “Eyes on me, bubs,” he whispers.
pairing » nct lee donghyuck (haechan) x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)
trope/au » established relationship au!, holiday theme!
genre » fluffy fluff fluff!, cheeky and slightly flirty haechan, and slightly flustered reader...?, cutie boyfriend haechan, no. 1 supportive and caring haechan, reader doesn't really know how to skate and haechan helps you through it, it's all so very lovely (and i need someone to help me skate-)
word count; estimated reading time » 850; ~4 mins
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » none!
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist
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is this my last upload of the year...? we shall see!!
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“If I fall flat on my face, this will be your fault,” your threat only seems harmless to your boyfriend.
Haechan skates further away from you, lightly showing off his skills of skating backward gracefully, even adding light twirl patterns on the ice. Meanwhile, you’re left at the rink's perimeter, hands gripping for support and eyes squinting playfully at your delightful boyfriend. You have no idea why you thought it was a good idea to go skating when you have minimal experience and are the clumsiest person you know. But Haechan had to jut his lower lip, eyebrows shaped into mountains to your poor heart. How could you say no to that face? 
But, your weakness in saying no to your boyfriend has led you here. In the public ice skating arena. Back leaning onto the wall for dear life. 
It’s been thirty minutes yet you haven’t made much progress from the entrance of the rink. Maybe it’s your fear of falling or the fear of competent younger children snickering at you falling to your knees. Haechan has made a few rounds around, even entertaining others with little tricks. Watching him from afar made your heart warm as others realised how lovable your boyfriend is. Children reach for a high five, adults smiling at the small talk or encouragement he would send as he passes by. 
“Wanna hold my hand now?” Haechan skates beside you. 
You've rejected the last few offers, determined to do at least half of the oval rink by yourself; you and the wall beside you. But balancing yourself on a somewhat thin metal as your knees shake with tensed muscles is taking more energy than you expected. 
You give in, slumping your back on the wall, elbows propped up as you lean. “I just need to rest first.”
Haechan chuckles at you, making a final push on the ice to skate to you. His arms cage you between his frame, closing significant space between you both. Your eyes widen at his bold action, cheeks and neck heating at the fond eyes he’s placing upon your orbs. His eyelashes flutter prettily upon your features, a soft smile forming its way into your boyfriend’s place. The rowdy noises of the kids, metal swishing and passing behind Haechan all blur when Haechan steadies your once-leaning figure to stand with his hands securely encasing your waist. 
It’s too bad that the cold temperature has you bundled up in a few layers or else you could feel the relaxing motion of his thumb caressing your side.
Haechan leans his forehead to yours as your icy noses brush against each other, “Eyes on me, bubs,” he whispers.
As per his words, you lock your eyes with him, only closing them once or twice when you’re fully supported by him. Your forearm instinctively rests on top of his, occasionally pushing them down due to your nervousness, still afraid of slipping and toppling over Haechan, potentially hurting both of you in the process.
“Don’t worry,” he eases your mind, pressing a quick kiss on your colder lips. “You’re going to be alright,” pressing his lips to yours again, leaving them there for a bit longer. “I’m not going to let you fall,” perfectly stealing your lips once more after you hum an acknowledgement to his words. “If you fall, it’s only going to be in my arms.”
You should’ve known he would sneak in a cheesy line or two, and your laughter makes you forget your anxiousness about being on the ice. Slowly, Haechan skates backwards again, this time with you in his hold. Admittedly, this has been his plan from the very start: to have you close like this as you conquer your fear and challenge; you’re not going to complain about this either.
Haechan is a great skating teacher, pulling and guiding you out of your comfort ice. Both of you dance in the rink for an hour together. It starts with you facing him as he distracts you from paying too much attention to what your body is doing, instead prompting you to naturally let you relax into the situation. Then slowly, he takes his place next to you, his palm holding your forearm. Then, linking hands together for the final stage before he lets you go after you find the confidence to brave the environment once more. 
You almost lost your balance for a while, hunching your back to hold your knee. “You can do it!” Your boyfriend hollers encouragement behind you. Soon those words become more familiar, your proud boyfriend behind you stealing everyone’s attention at your successful solo skating. 
You did a full lap with no support from him or the wall. You leap into Haechan’s arm at the end line, Haechan littering kisses all over your face. The golden hour highlights his face, his smiling beaming further from the rays of the sun.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been such a good teacher. And you shouldn’t be so talented either!” Your eyebrows raise at his words, unsure of where he’s going, “Now, you won’t need my help anymore…”
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navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist
tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @neocity-net
@haneul-and-clouds
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seokminfilm · 3 months ago
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bf seokmin headcanons for the soul
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🤍 warnings, fluff, headcanons, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, pet names, mentions of periods/cramps, shy/soft seokmin, mentions of nudity, overall just sickeningly fluffy boyfriend seokmin headcanons
🤍 author's note, wanted to write something but couldn't think of a good plot so we're going the headcanon route instead!! saw these pictures and instantly felt like writing fluffy boyfriend headcanons so here we are 🤍
🤍 now playing, everybody wants to rule the world (tears for fears)
🤍 word count, 614 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net
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— boyfriend!seokmin who packs your lunch for work and leaves you handwritten notes telling you how much he loves & cares for you
— boyfriend!seokmin who finds pleasure in cooking for you and providing for you when you don't ask (will jump at the chance to text you and ask if you want something from the store)
— boyfriend!seokmin who loves spooning you at night if you have period cramps. he knows the exact spot where you like pressure and will spend his time massaging that spot until you're satisfied.
— boyfriend!seokmin who will send you song recommendations at the most random times of the day. no matter where you are (even if you're a few feet away from him), he will send you a song that reminds him of you or your relationship with him.
— boyfriend!seokmin who still gets shy when he takes off his clothes in front of you. no matter how much you've seen his body before, it still makes him nervous and gives him butterflies when you love on him.
— boyfriend!seokmin who sends you instagram reels he thinks you'll like, hoping that you'll laugh at them so he can hear your giggle.
— boyfriend!seokmin who dries you off after you get out of the shower. he thinks it's so intimate and loves hearing your pleased sighs; seokmin will kiss your skin as he does so.
— boyfriend!seokmin who waits for you to take the first bite of food. always wants to make sure you're happy with what you got before he starts to eat.
— boyfriend!seokmin who when jealous will cling to you 10x more than he normally does. will stay glued to your hip when suspicious of a guy, and doesn't hesitate with pda if he's bothered enough.
— boyfriend!seokmin who calls you all the sweetest pet names in the book and is constantly looking for new ones to try and get your opinion on.
—boyfriend!seokmin who loves it when you play with his hair. he will give anything to have his head in your lap while you play with his naturally curly hair, and loves it when you kiss his forehead while doing so.
— boyfriend!seokmin who has a secret pinterest board planning out his future wedding and house with you. it has all types of pictures, and he has so many dreams for your future house.
— boyfriend!seokmin who loves to have your hands on his body, whether you're holding his hand or running your fingers along his bare chest. adores when you trace his facial features with your fingers.
— boyfriend!seokmin who cannot resist the nose kisses you give him. will become a soft blushing mess when you peck the end of his nose.
— boyfriend!seokmin who will listen to your vent and spend all the time he needs to comfort you before giving you advice/reassuring you. will never rush you or force you to tell him what's bothering you; he wants you to do it on your own time!
— boyfriend!seokmin who will do your hair for you if you ask; he loves to braid your hair and brush it for you, and will not hesitate if you ask him to wash it.
— boyfriend!seokmin who considers it an honor and a privilege to be able to be your boyfriend. he never takes you for granted and always lets you know that he loves you in some way, whether it's verbally telling you, giving you silent hugs or kisses, or doing acts of service for you that will show you his adoration for you. seokmin's main goal in life is to please you and show you that he cares for you.
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h8ani · 1 year ago
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Sasuke Uchiha x Reader
Word Count - 4k
Warnings - smut, angry sex, public sex, fear of getting caught, hair pulling, angst, slight paranoia, kinda non-canon structures (its been a long time since i watched naruto tbh so disregard the village not being exactly how the anime is), oral - male receiving, face fucking, gagging, degradation, penetrative sex, fem!reader, choking, reader is described to be wearing a dress in this chapter, there’s a voyeur
A/N - Just a reminder that if you have joined my taglist and change your username please let me know! If you haven't joined I put the link down below :) But holy hell you guys I can't believe I actually finished this after almost 5 months in my drafts, but I hope you enjoy it!
taglist! - @bloodsiren @blackfire2013 @benkeibear @suyacho @kodzukein
join my taglist → here
Part One → Part Two → Part Three → Part Four
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It’s been a few days since the last time Sasuke was over. You’re used to the silence in between his visits; it’s become second nature to go days, even weeks, without seeing him, and the radio silence between each time he visits has become more common than the last. 
It doesn’t bother you. It does. You could really care less. Sasuke has been the only thing that’s been on your mind. You absolutely hate him. You feel…conflicted.
~~
Limbs tangled with one another, all you could hear were the heavy breaths that escaped both of your lips, your body rising and falling every time Sasuke took in a deep breath as you laid on top of him, his hands dancing along the skin of your back so featherlight it almost tickled. 
Neither of you had uttered a word, just basking in the feeling of touching the other’s skin; the warmth radiating off each other’s body heat brought a sense of familiarity that you couldn’t quite pinpoint just why you felt most comfortable in his arms. You mentally shook the thought away; there was no need to focus on that. Your mind had already cleared up from the sex fog he had put you under and had started to race with a million different things that you wanted to bring up to him. Why did he do what he did? When was he going to leave again? He’s going to leave right away, don’t be stupid. When were you going to see him again? Why did he leave in the first place? You wanted to bring up so much, but you couldn’t brush off this feeling that something was about to happen, as if the rainstorm you were caught up in earlier today was a warning of a disaster brewing and about to happen. 
“What’s wrong,” Sasuke spoke up, his words sounding more like a statement than a question. His eyes were trained on you, making your stomach involuntarily tighten with their intensity. He had been focusing on the multitude of expressions that had graced your face within the last minute; you were completely oblivious to his stare; somehow, he wanted to blame the sex for your lack of inattentiveness and not the fact that you may feel safe around him, no it couldn’t be that. Being distracted has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you being incompetent. Yeah, that’s it.  
Your eyes met his, and before he knew it, your eyes lit up, a small smile appeared, and a simple shake of the head erased any form of contemplation he had previously seen. “Nothing.” You quickly say, “Just thinking.” Bullshit
“About what?” He interjects, his hands that were once dancing lightly across your back were now holding your hips, gripping ever so slightly. 
“Just thinking, random thoughts, it doesn’t matter.” 
“If it doesn’t matter, then you can tell me.”
Huffing a sigh, you stare back at him, his emotionless pools of black not letting you get a read on him, yours: uncertainty. “You won’t answer me even if I ask.”
He raises and sits up, causing you to reposition yourself in an upright position as well; your eyes stay trained on him as his stare hardens, almost as if what you just said offended him somehow. His eyes glance into yours as if he needs to be wary now. “I’m not answering anything about why I’m back in the village or why I left.” He blurts out quickly, a scoff following soon after. “You know you can’t say anything about seeing me. Don’t go blabbing about it to any of your little friends, or I won’t be coming back.” His stare solidifies as your jaw drops ever so slightly; the hardened look he’s giving you makes your chest tighten, and your body rises in temperature. 
Sasuke sees your expression fall ever so slightly before you catch yourself and, in turn, sends the signature scowl he’s grown accustomed to back in his direction. Your eyes narrow while you sit up straighter, the discarded sheet on the bed now pulled tightly to your chest, and he curses at the way that made his stomach clench. He doesn’t care if you’re mad at him, but he can’t lie and say he didn’t want to ruin your two’s good momentum today. The sex was great, and he wanted to leave on what would be considered a good note for the both of you.
“I think you should go,” you say simply. You avert your glare and decide to stare at the wall instead, avoiding his eyes. “You know where the door is.” Ouch.
He rubs his face and sighs. “Look, you don’t get-”
“I don’t care, Sasuke. Like I said, it didn’t matter. So why don’t you just leave? I never saw you, and I’m not going to tell any of my “little friends.” 
You sigh and throw the blankets off you, quickly grabbing your clothes and slamming your bathroom door shut. 
Your throat tightened from the moment you got up, wanting to get away from him from the very moment he opened his stupid mouth. You take a slow, deep breath and let it out; the tightness in your throat drops to your stomach. Why would he even snap like that? What gives him the right to think he could speak like that to you? You miff another sigh out as the conflict in you bubbles up even more with the thoughts running rampant. How stupid could you be for thinking he actually could’ve been somewhat of a nice human being after today?
Your thoughts were quickly silenced by the sound of your front door opening and closing, the door shutting louder than necessary. Fucking asshole.
~~
You shake your head to rid yourself of your thoughts as you look at yourself in the mirror, you fix your hair and check over your outfit in the mirror, quickly doing a little 360 in your mirror. Everyone had decided that tonight was a good night to hang out and have some drinks as no one had any missions for tomorrow, so there was no need to worry about any impending hangovers. 
You changed into a nice dress that fell mid-thigh; it was form-fitting and casual enough that you didn’t overdress or underdress with it. You pulled your hair into a high ponytail and just enough makeup to cover any eye bags that were more prominent than usual, no less from your sleepless nights thinking about he-who-shall-not-be-named-or-thought-of. You looked yourself over in the mirror and smiled. You felt pretty tonight, and it was nice not constantly to be in work mode for once.
The stressors from work and the expectations you always got from everyone took a toll on your body more than you would have liked. You were expected to never make any mistakes and always be three steps ahead, and it was simply a lot. Was it fair? Probably not, but it was also what you got for being a perfectionist at such a young age. You gave everyone expectations where you could only rise instead of fall. If you fell, everyone would know, and you just couldn’t have that. 
You leave your apartment and make your way down to meet your friends. The air had a slight chill to it as the sun was finally setting, but something along with the chill was bothering you. You couldn’t brush off the feeling that someone was watching you. 
Your feet skid to a halt as you spin, eyes cascading along the rooftops of the buildings around you. Your breathing picks up as your heart begins beating, and you feel every thump as your anxiety spikes. You internally curse yourself for being so stupid as not to even bring a single shuriken with you. For god’s sake, you could’ve popped one in your purse just for safekeeping. The anxiety you feel is derived from being paranoid, and you have to remind yourself no one is watching you and that it’s just your own mind playing tricks on you. You take a deep breath as you hear a name call out to you; turning back around, you see Shikamaru and Choji waving you over. You speed walk over to them, swallowing down the feeling of someone’s eyes on you. Was Sasuke here again? You wouldn’t expect him to be over so soon after the fight you two had just days ago. He’s never over this soon after he leaves anyway. Usually, it takes weeks for him to come over, sometimes even months. Although his eyes being the ones you’ve felt had to have been it, there’s no other explanation.
~~
The buzz of the alcohol was finally settling in; once you got inside, you decided you needed a tiny little shot to calm your nerves and anxieties, then another once all your friends arrived and wanted to take a group shot, and now here you are ordering your third. You’re a lightweight, no shock about that, and feeling a bit dazed as you stare at the shot of alcohol sitting in front of you. You’re so zoned out, not even realizing the presence of someone taking the seat next to you at the bar table.
“You look nice tonight.” A familiar voice catches your ear, and you turn, seeing Shikamaru next to you. A sudden rush of heat hits you as you stare back at him. “Oh, T-Thank you.” You stutter out and mentally smack yourself. You divert your attention back to your shot glass, suddenly remembering how intriguing it was just two seconds ago. 
Suddenly, hearing the sound of glass scraping against the bar table, you look up and see a similar shot in Shikamaru’s hand. “Cheers?” He holds up his shot glass, waiting for you to do the same. A small chuckle leaves you as you hold yours up and clink your glass with his. “Cheers.” 
You knock back the shot, grimacing over the familiar burn down your throat and the fuzzy feeling deep in your stomach. You sigh and slump back against your seat as you look at Shikamaru. “You look nice too, I think I forgot to compliment you back.” 
He chuckles, “Thanks, I didn’t really know what to wear. I wanted to come in sweats and a hoodie, but Ino just about had a conniption when I mentioned that.”
“Oh, don’t lie, you didn’t even want to come to this.”
“And you did?”
“Well, you got me there, didn’t you?” 
Laughter fills the air around you two as you continue to talk about past missions, the latest drama you’ve heard around the village, and even as mundane as the midnight snacks you two have had, you were actually…enjoying yourself; the thought of Sasuke had been dissipated like the rain that had come and gone from the prior days. Listening to Shikamaru talk was something you found yourself rather enjoying. Still, maybe that’s just the alcohol in your veins talking. Yeah, that was definitely it. “So, what’s new with you?” Shikamaru asks, his eyes finding yours, and the sudden tightness is once again back, whether that being because the only thing that seems to be ‘new’ in your life was Sasuke and every little defiling and obscene moment between you two replayed again in your head or because you actually might be liking the attention Shikamaru is giving you the world will never know. 
“Ah, you know. Lots of training, lots of missions, lots of-”
“Staying in your apartment all day and night?”
You quirk an eyebrow up at him, lips slowly following suit. “Shikamaru Nara, are you stalking me?” An indiscernible giggle leaves your lips, which shocks not only you but also him. You can see the pink rising to his cheeks at your minor faux accusation; his eyes widen, and his hands immediately come up to defend himself. “No, I just hear Ino constantly nagging at me to hang out with her, that’s how I know. I don’t stand out of your window or anything like that. Do you know how much time and energy that takes? Do you know-”
“Shikamaru?” 
“What?”
“I was joking.”
“Oh.”
“You know, for someone with an IQ higher than a tree, you’re kinda dumb.”
“You know what…Shut up.”
~~
The air around you as you step outside drops a few degrees, causing you to shiver despite the multiple shots you had earlier. Glancing around, you notice how barren the pathways are and how barren the town seems. You glance back over your shoulder to see that Shikamaru is already on his way with his teammates, all drunk themselves, as you see them stumbling against each other. 
Your apartment isn’t far from where you are, so you, in turn, make your way down the path. Bad idea. The more you walk, the more you regret that last shot you took and every single life choice you seem to have made tonight because the line you had been walking in had slowly turned into a wave, making you plant your hand on the building beside you. “Just a little more, and I’m almost home.” You blow out a sigh before taking another step forward. Looking up, your body freezes as you see a rock fly past you and fall to the floor to your right. Your senses come to realize that someone is near as you stare at the rock. The alcohol has slowed your reflexes because you’re yanked backward, a scream bubbling up in your throat. Still, before you can release it, a hand is clasped over your mouth, and you get dragged in between the two buildings down the small alleyway.
You begin kicking back and screaming into the hand, fighting as you’re dragged back further into the small space between the two buildings, your front pressed against the wall and the chills finding their way back up your spine once you hear his voice. “How stupid could you be?” His voice is loud in your ear, hand still firm against your mouth, not allowing you to utter a word. “Walking home drunk is one thing, but what the fuck are you wearing?” He seethes. Your dress is already riding up higher on your thighs, just below your ass, due to being pressed between the wall and the man himself. It took all of one big gust of wind to blow it up or one perverted old man to ‘drop’ something of his to catch a look up your dress. The anger that welled up in his chest was undeniable as he pushed off of you and spun you around to slam you harder into the wall itself. Your eyes caught him scanning over you; his already dark eyes seemed even darker tonight. The dress you wore hugged every inch of you perfectly, and it drove him madder seeing it hiked up higher than intended, all thanks to him. One more inch, and he could see the little lace thong he knew you were wearing. He finds your eyes and tsks at the dumbfounded look you gave him; just how stupid were you? 
“Sasuke-”
“Shut up and get on your knees.” He cuts you off, hands gripping your arms and tugging you down until you plop down on your knees. The dirt underneath you digs uncomfortably into your skin. You look up, pupils dilated as you stare up at the ravenette. “Unless you want us to be caught, I suggest you not utter a single noise.” Without warning, Sasuke pushes two fingers past your lips and into your mouth, pumping the digits like they were his cock until they were soaked with your own spit. “I suggest you act right, given your circumstances.” He speaks, and your eyes narrow up at him; the urge to clamp your teeth on his fingers threatens to come to fruition, but you can’t ignore the subtle throb in between your legs. “Suck.” He says while pushing his fingers deeper and tugging his pants down with his other hand, pulling down the material along with his underwear, allowing his cock to spring out. You could feel yourself salivate just looking at him, wanting to trade his fingers for his cock against your better judgment. He presses his fingers down harder against your tongue, causing you to gag and choke on saliva; you can hear the snicker that comes from him as he watches you trying to quieten your coughing spout. 
His hand threads into your hair, messing up your almost perfect ponytail, the grip burning your scalp as he pulls you forward, knees dragging against the ground while the tip of his cock presses against your wet lips, his precum smearing across them in an almost erotic way that Sasuke doesn’t think he could last by just looking at you. 
You drop your jaw open while he pushes his cock past your lips, enveloping himself in the warmth that is your mouth. The grip on your hair grants you nothing but pain as his hips begin to move to their own rhythm, his cock hitting farther back than the last thrust. You try your best to breathe through your nose as he fucks your face to his liking; maybe if your mind weren’t so focused on Sasuke being here, cock down your throat and his eyes watching you so meticulously, you’d have the nerve to push back, make him slow down, maybe even explain why he knew you were out with your friends in the first place and not at home. 
Tugging you even tighter, Sasuke pushes your head until your nose is brushing against his stomach; your throat tightens as he effectively pushes each inch into your throat. “You feel me? Do you think that Shikamaru could ever stretch your throat out like I do? He might as well try something with you seeing how fucking drunk you were tonight.” His hips rock forward until his dick hits further back into your throat. You choke around him, drool effectually spilling past your lips and down your chin. 
Eyes squeezing shut, you sputter another cough, which turns into a gag around his length. A disapproving noise is heard from him as he pulls away, allowing you to take in deep breaths. As you open your eyes, you see him crouched down in front of you, a look one can only describe as displeasure. “How stupid could you be?” he says, slightly shaking his head before he speaks again. You’re supposed to be better than them.” 
“Better than-”
Crack!
“Naruto! You idiot!” You gasp as you hear the rest of your friends walking down and getting closer to the alleyway you were in. They must’ve just now left the bar you all were at; this isn’t good; you need to leave; they can’t see you like this. You pull farther away from Sasuke as you see them pass the opening between the two buildings, all of them stumbling and unknowingly passing you as they walk. 
Another tsk leaves his mouth as he shoves you forward; you catch yourself on your hands while grimacing at the sting that travels through the skin of your knees. You feel his hands positioning himself behind you, all while pushing your dress up to your hips and pulling your thong to the side. Suddenly feeling every bit of alcohol drain from your system, you become hyper-aware of what is really happening; you jolt forward, and before you can spin around to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, you’re yanked back by your hair, back arching to the point where you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Make sure to be quiet, or else everyone is going to see how much you love taking my cock.” A deep chuckle vibrates through him. “What would they think when seeing you on all fours in an alley? Perfect little (y/n) crying from how good my cock makes her feel; how would you ever live that down? You think Shikamaru would ever give you the slightest bit of attention after that?” 
Letting go of your hair, a knee between your thighs pushed them further apart while you balanced yourself on your hands. The itching feeling that someone could see or be watching from a distance burns brighter than the pain in your knees. The swollen tip of his cock prods your already glistening entrance; you bite down on your lip to stop any form of a whine from slipping out. You swallow down the nerves as his hand leaves your hair to slip around your throat; the silent plea that he wouldn’t make this difficult left the moment his hips slammed into yours, his hand tightening on your throat, restraining the scream that threatened to bubble out. He gave you no time to adjust, his hand leaving your throat and falling to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh so tight as he slammed into you that you knew bruises would be there by morning. 
You can’t help but glance up, fearing that any of your friends could leave the bar at any time and pass by, seeing you in the most compromising position you feel like you’ve been in. The subtle feeling that there’s a pair of eyes on the two of you grows larger while you scan around. No one has passed by the entrance, and this feeling could only be explained by you being scared of getting caught. 
Sasuke’s breathy grunts found your ears, and a pang of alarm shot right through you as he was the one making noise. The subtle sound of skin slapping skin makes you even more fearful. The coil in your stomach is already winding tight; the quieter you have to become, the more your pussy grips him. You clench around him, pussy squeezing for dear life. Your nails dig into the ground beneath you, knuckles turning white. 
“Oh, God…” You pant, dropping your head down between your shoulders. The sounds of everyone’s voices can be heard in the distance, and you try desperately to focus on anything other than the impending orgasm that’s slowly building up. 
Sasuke shifts, bringing his hand in between your legs and fingers quickly to find your clit, rubbing quick little circles. You bite down hard on your lip, the silvery taste of metallic dancing on your tongue from allowing the moan that threatened to escape. No, You won’t give him the satisfaction of making you cum, especially this fast. You grab his hand to stop his fingers and feel his hand that was once placed on your waist slide across your skin and reach back up to your throat, drawing your back flush to his chest, knees digging deeper into the gravel on the ground and seemingly reaching deeper within you, a desperate whine left your lips as your eyes faintly rolled back. “Stop me from making you cum, and I swear to god, you’re going to regret it.” He growls while tightening his grip on your throat and bringing his other hand back to your clit. His hips snapped into you even deeper while he assaulted your clit. You struggle to gasp as the coil in you snaps; your body shakes as you lean back into him more, pushing him even deeper that you swear you see stars. You spasmed as you dug your nails into the hand that held your throat while he continued to pound into you. 
He was chasing his own release, and the way he felt like you two would be caught at any moment spurred him on even more. He knew tonight was a lot, even on his standards of fucking you, but the way your pussy was fluttering around him, the deeper he got, and the rougher he became, he couldn’t stop. Your walls clenched around him, climax dragging out as your pleasure was heightened as he fucked into you; your name tumbled off of his lips before he bit into your shoulder, muffling the sinful moan he released as he came. You both fell forward, barely catching yourselves before hitting the ground, with heavy breaths syncing with one another while you catch your wit on what you two just did. 
The feeling of someone watching you never did go away. 
The angry pair of eyes attached to the redhead at the back end of the alleyway never left you two, either. 
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network: @enchantedforest-network
688 notes · View notes
eclipsaria · 5 months ago
Text
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Pairing:
Fiance! Mark x fiancee! Y/N
Warnings:
Strong angst, fluff, reader being too sensitive, takes too seriously and stubborn af
Side characters:
NCT DREAM Jeno and Jaemin
W/C:
10255
@stvrrylove @sol3chu
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NCT Dream Masterlist
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Song:
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“You’re so tired of this?” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “And you think I’m not?”
Mark runs a frustrated hand through his hair, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Oh, and you think I’m not? You always act like you’re the only one who’s struggling.”
You scoff, crossing your arms. “That’s not what I’m saying, but you never listen, do you?”
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His jaw clenches. “Maybe because you’re always picking a fight over the dumbest things!”
“That’s because you never take anything seriously!”
The argument spirals out of control so fast you’re not even sure how it started anymore. The room feels suffocating, filled with words neither of you really mean but keep throwing anyway. Mark's face is flushed with anger, and you can feel the heat rising in your own.
Then, just when you think there’s nothing left to say, he snaps.
“You know what? Just disappear from my life already.”
Silence.
The words hit harder than any yelling ever could.
Your throat tightens, but you refuse to break down in front of him. Without another word, you turn around and walk straight to your bedroom. The moment the door shuts behind you, your knees give out, and you crumble onto the floor, burying your face in your hands.
You know he didn’t mean it.
But it still hurts.
You press your forehead against your knees, your chest rising and falling unevenly as you try to steady your breathing. But no matter how much you tell yourself that Mark was just angry, that he didn’t mean it, the words loop over and over in your mind.
"Just disappear from my life already."
A choked sob escapes before you can swallow it down. You dig your fingers into the fabric of your sleeves, gripping tightly as if that will somehow hold you together.
Minutes pass. Maybe longer.
You don’t know how much time has slipped by when you hear a faint knock on your door. It’s hesitant, uncertain—nothing like the anger that filled the room earlier.
“...Hey.” Mark’s voice is quieter now, rough at the edges. “I—” He pauses, sighing heavily. “I didn’t mean that.”
You don’t answer. You can’t.
Another pause. Then, a small, almost guilty knock.
“I know you’re upset,” he continues, his tone softer. “And you have every right to be.”
You close your eyes, willing yourself to stay silent.
“I was an idiot,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
A shaky breath leaves you. You want to believe him, want to open the door, but the weight in your chest keeps you in place.
Mark doesn’t say anything else. For a moment, it seems like he’s about to leave—but then you hear him slide down against the other side of the door.
He stays there.
And for now, that’s enough.
"Just disappear from my life already."
The words refuse to leave your mind, echoing in every corner of your thoughts. No matter how many times you remind yourself that Mark apologized, that he didn’t mean it, they still feel real. Too real.
Before you know it, your body moves on its own. Slowly, silently, you rise to your feet, wiping away any remaining tears with the sleeve of your shirt. The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights outside, casting long shadows on the walls.
You walk toward the closet, pulling out your suitcase. The zipper’s soft hum fills the room as you open it, and with careful, practiced movements, you begin packing. Clothes, essentials, anything that belongs to you. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
You aren’t leaving out of anger. You aren’t storming out because of some argument.
You’re leaving because, deep down, you believe him.
Maybe he didn’t mean those words in the moment, but what if a part of him did? What if he’s just holding back out of guilt, not wanting to admit that things between you two have run their course? You don’t want to stay somewhere you’re not wanted.
You glance at the clock. A few more hours until morning.
Mark will leave for work, like always. He wouldn’t skip work for you. You’re sure of it.
By the time he realizes you’re gone, you’ll already be far away.
You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the half-packed suitcase in front of you. The room feels unbearably quiet, but inside your head, the noise is deafening.
You know Mark didn’t mean it. People say things they don’t mean when they’re angry. You’ve done it before, too. But still… the thought lingers.
Would life be better for him if you two had just never met?
If you had never walked into his life, never gotten close enough to fight like this, would he be happier? Less frustrated? Maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with all these pointless arguments. Maybe he’d be free of whatever weight you’ve unknowingly placed on his shoulders.
A bitter smile tugs at your lips.
It’s a dangerous thought. One you shouldn’t entertain. But right now, it feels impossible to ignore.
Your fingers tighten around the fabric of your shirt, the ache in your chest growing heavier.
Maybe leaving isn’t just for you. Maybe it’s for him, too.
You never sleep. You couldn’t.
No matter how many times you shut your eyes, exhaustion never wins over the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. The dim glow of the bedside clock keeps reminding you of the slow, creeping hours.
1 AM.
3 AM.
5 AM.
Before you know it, the sky begins to lighten. The soft hues of dawn filter through your window, casting everything in a pale, muted glow. Your suitcase sits by the door, ready. You should feel ready, too. But you don’t.
Then, faintly, you hear it.
A soft knock.
Mark’s voice—quiet, almost hesitant—seeps through the door. “I’ll be gone for work.”
A beat of silence.
Then, even softer, like a confession he isn’t sure you’ll hear—
“…And I love you.”
The words barely reach you before the sound of the front door opening and closing follows.
Then, the distant rumble of an engine.
And just like that—he’s gone.
But let’s just say you got out of him—where would you even go?
Your parents died two years ago. There’s no family waiting for you anywhere. No safety net to catch you.
Except for Mark.
But you don’t want to be his burden anymore.
With your suitcase in one hand and your phone in the other, you step outside, the cold morning air biting at your skin. The streets are quiet, the world still waking up, but your mind is loud. Without thinking, you dial a number.
Jaemin picks up after a few rings, his voice groggy with sleep. “...Hello?”
You hesitate for a moment before exhaling. “I need to tell you something.”
Jaemin listens as you spill everything—your fight with Mark, the words that won’t stop echoing in your head, the decision you made in the dead of night.
“So,” he murmurs, his voice laced with concern. “You want to stay at my house?”
It’s an offer. A kind one. But you already know the answer.
“No.” You swallow hard, gripping your phone tighter. “Mark will barge in the second he realizes I’m gone.”
A beat of silence. Then, your voice, quieter but firm—
“I want to live overseas and pretend I’m dead.”
Jaemin doesn’t respond right away. Maybe he’s processing your words, or maybe he’s trying to figure out how to talk you out of it. But you’re serious.
You don’t just want to leave.
You want to disappear.
The moment you hang up, you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. There’s no turning back now.
You sit on a bench near the bus stop, pulling out your phone and searching for the next available flight to America. Your fingers tremble slightly as you scroll through the options, but you force yourself to stay focused.
"One-way ticket."
You find a flight departing in a few hours. The price doesn’t matter. You click confirm without hesitation, filling in your details and making the payment. When the confirmation email arrives, you stare at it for a moment, letting the reality sink in.
You’re really doing this.
You’re leaving everything behind—Mark, this city, the life you built. And once you step onto that plane, there’s no coming back.
The bus to the airport arrives, its doors sliding open with a quiet hiss. You grip your suitcase tighter, take one last look at the empty streets, and step inside.
The bus ride is silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional announcement. You sit by the window, watching the familiar streets pass by, knowing it’ll be the last time you see them.
Mark’s voice still lingers in your mind.
"Just disappear from my life already."
It shouldn’t hurt anymore, not after you’ve made up your mind. But the ache in your chest refuses to fade.
Your phone buzzes. Jaemin.
Jaemin: Are you sure about this?
Jaemin: You don’t have to go this far.
You stare at the messages but don’t reply. What is there to say? This is the only way.
By the time you reach the airport, the sun has fully risen, painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks. You check in, go through security, and sit at your gate, gripping your boarding pass like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.
People move around you—business travelers, families, couples. Everyone has a destination, a purpose. You wonder if any of them are running away like you.
The final boarding call for your flight echoes through the speakers. You stand up, suitcase in hand, and take a deep breath.
This is it.
No turning back.
You step forward, heading toward the plane. Leaving behind the life you once knew.
You walk down the jet bridge, your footsteps steady but your heart unsteady. The closer you get to the plane, the heavier everything feels. Your suitcase, your thoughts, the weight of what you’re doing.
As you step inside, the flight attendants greet you with polite smiles, but you barely register them. You find your seat near the window, placing your bag in the overhead compartment before settling in.
Outside, the city stretches far and wide, bathed in the golden glow of morning. The place you called home for years—now just another spot on the map you’re leaving behind.
You turn your phone on airplane mode, staring at the last few notifications.
Jaemin: Call me when you land.
Jaemin: Please.
There’s nothing from Mark.
Not that you expected anything. He’s probably at work by now, unaware that you’re already gone.
You lean back in your seat, gripping the armrest as the pilot announces takeoff. The plane begins to move, rolling down the runway, picking up speed. Your fingers tighten instinctively as the wheels lift off the ground.
And just like that, you’re in the air.
The city shrinks below, buildings becoming specks, roads turning into thin lines. It feels surreal.
You should feel relieved.
But instead, as the clouds swallow the view of home, an unsettling emptiness settles deep in your chest.
The flight is long, but you don’t sleep. Your thoughts refuse to quiet down, and the hum of the plane does little to soothe the heaviness in your chest. Hours pass in a blur of in-flight meals, quiet conversations from other passengers, and the occasional turbulence that reminds you you’re really doing this.
And then, finally—
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to America.”
The announcement barely registers as the plane begins its descent. The moment the wheels hit the runway, a shiver runs through you. This is it. You’ve landed.
You step off the plane, the foreign air greeting you as you make your way through immigration and baggage claim. The airport is massive, filled with strangers speaking a language you understand but feels distant in your ears.
Your phone buzzes the second you turn it back on. A flood of messages, mostly from Jaemin.
Jaemin: Did you land safely?
Jaemin: Please don’t ignore me.
Jaemin: Mark’s looking for you.
Your breath catches.
Mark’s looking for you.
Your hands tighten around your suitcase handle. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t. But a part of you wonders—how did he find out? How is he reacting? Is he just mad? Or… does he actually regret what he said?
You don’t reply. You can’t.
Instead, you pocket your phone, gripping your passport a little tighter as you step forward, blending into the crowd of strangers.
From now on, you don’t exist.
You pull your suitcase through the bustling airport, stepping outside into a city that feels too big, too unfamiliar. The air smells different, the people move differently, and for the first time, the reality of what you’ve done starts to settle in.
You don’t belong here.
Not yet.
Pushing the thought aside, you pull out your phone and search for nearby hotels. You filter by price—not too expensive, but not run-down either. Eventually, you settle on one a little outside the city center, far from crowded areas where you might run into someone you don’t want to see.
After booking a room, you hail a taxi, giving the driver the hotel’s address. The ride is quiet, save for the faint hum of the radio. You stare out the window as the city passes by, neon lights flashing against glass buildings, unfamiliar streets weaving into each other.
By the time you arrive, exhaustion weighs heavily on you. The hotel lobby is quiet, the receptionist polite as they check you in.
“Room 408,” they say, handing you a key card.
You nod, taking the elevator up.
The moment you step inside your room, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s small but clean. A bed, a desk, a window overlooking the city.
You drop your suitcase by the door, shrugging off your jacket before sitting on the edge of the bed. The silence is deafening.
For the first time since you left, you’re alone. Truly alone.
And you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
You sigh, running a hand down your face. The hotel room is quiet—too quiet. The weight of everything presses down on you, and no matter how much you try to push it away, guilt creeps in.
Jaemin.
You’ve been ignoring his messages since you landed, but he’s probably worried sick. You left without telling anyone except him, and even then, you dropped your decision on him without warning. He doesn’t deserve to be ignored.
Pulling out your phone, you open your messages.
You: I’m fine.
You: Landed safely. Checked into a hotel.
The response is instant.
Jaemin: THANK GOD.
Jaemin: Do you have any idea how worried I was?
Jaemin: Mark’s been calling me nonstop. He went to your place and saw your stuff gone.
You freeze for a second, fingers hovering over the screen.
You expected Mark to find out eventually, but hearing that he actually looked for you—that he noticed your absence so quickly—makes your chest tighten.
Still, you can’t let that change anything.
You: Don’t tell him anything.
You: Just say you don’t know where I went.
Jaemin hesitates. You can tell by the silence.
Then—
Jaemin: Are you sure?
Jaemin: He sounded… different.
Different?
You shake your head, refusing to dwell on it.
You: It doesn’t matter.
You: Please, Jaemin.
Another pause. Then, finally—
Jaemin: ...Okay. I won’t say anything.
Jaemin: Just promise me you’ll check in with me every now and then. Let me know you’re safe.
You exhale, a small, tired smile forming despite everything.
You: I promise.
It’s the least you can do.
The hotel room is only temporary. You knew that from the start.
But now that reality is sinking in, you realize you can’t keep spending money on a hotel forever. If you’re really going to stay in America, you need a more stable place to stay. Somewhere that isn’t tied to your past life.
That’s when a name comes to mind.
Lee Jeno.
One of Mark’s long-time clients. You’ve never been close to him—not even friends, really. Your interactions were brief, just occasional nods or polite exchanges whenever he came around. Still, he knows you. And more importantly, he’s not someone Mark would immediately suspect to be involved.
Would he even let you stay with him?
You aren’t sure.
But you don’t have many options.
With a deep breath, you pull out your phone and search for his contact. It takes a moment before you find it—saved under a name you barely remember typing in.
Your fingers hover over the call button.
Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you press it.
The line rings once. Twice. Then—
“Hello?” Jeno’s voice comes through, casual but slightly confused. He wasn’t expecting your call.
You swallow, gripping the phone tighter. “Hey, it’s… me.”
A brief pause. Then, recognition. “Oh. Mark’s—” He stops himself. “Uh, what’s up?”
You take a deep breath. “I need a place to stay.”
Silence.
It stretches for a moment before Jeno speaks again, slower this time. “Wait… you’re in America?”
You nod, then realize he can’t see you. “Yeah.”
More silence. Then—
“What happened?” His voice is more serious now, as if he’s starting to piece things together.
You hesitate. “It’s… complicated.”
Jeno doesn’t push. Not yet.
Then, after a beat—
“…Where are you?”
You give him the name of the hotel.
Another pause. Then, finally, he sighs. “Alright. Stay there. I’ll come get you.”
Relief floods through you. You weren’t expecting him to agree so quickly.
“Thanks, Jeno,” you murmur.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies, voice dry but not unkind. “I have questions.”
You figured he would.
And when he arrives, you’ll have to answer them.
You sit on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at your phone screen long after the call ends.
Jeno is coming.
You don’t know what to expect—what kind of reaction he’ll have when he sees you, when he hears whatever explanation you can manage to give. He didn’t ask for details over the phone, but you know that won’t last.
He has questions.
And you… don’t know if you have answers.
The minutes crawl by. You keep glancing at the door, half-expecting him to text and say he changed his mind. But then, a notification pops up.
Jeno: I’m here.
Your heart jumps.
Grabbing your suitcase, you take one last look at the hotel room—the temporary sanctuary that kept you hidden for a short while. Then, without another thought, you step out.
The lobby is quiet. Outside, parked by the entrance, you spot him.
Jeno leans against his car, arms crossed, looking at his phone. The glow of the streetlights casts a sharp contrast on his face—calm, unreadable. But when he looks up and sees you, his brows furrow.
You swallow, tightening your grip on your suitcase as you walk over.
“…Hey,” you say, hesitant.
Jeno pushes off his car, eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure something out. “Hey,” he echoes. Then, after a beat—“You look like shit.”
A dry chuckle escapes you. “Thanks.”
He sighs, opening the trunk and gesturing for your suitcase. You lift it in, and as he shuts it, he finally asks—
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”
You hesitate. “It’s complicated.”
Jeno doesn’t react right away. Then he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”
You do.
The car is silent as he starts driving. The city lights blur past, but your mind is stuck in the past.
Jeno doesn’t press, but you can tell he’s waiting.
So, eventually, you take a deep breath and begin.
“…Mark and I had a fight.”
Jeno hums, eyes fixed on the road. “A fight bad enough for you to run away to a different country?”
You let out a shaky breath, watching the city blur past the window. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, but you can tell he’s thinking. His grip on the wheel tightens slightly. “What did he do?”
You hesitate. The words feel heavy on your tongue, like saying them out loud would make everything more real. “He told me to disappear from his life.”
Jeno exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “And you took it literally.”
You don’t reply. What else is there to say?
After a moment, Jeno glances at you. “You know he didn’t mean it, right?”
“I know.” Your voice is quiet. “But… I still left.”
Jeno taps his fingers against the wheel, seeming to weigh his next words. “So, what now? You planning on hiding here forever?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. I just… needed to be away.”
Another silence stretches between you. Then, Jeno sighs. “Alright.”
You blink, looking at him. “That’s it?”
He smirks slightly. “What, you want me to tell you you’re being dumb? You already know that.”
You huff out a weak laugh, but the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.
Jeno pulls into a quiet street, parking in front of a modest but nice-looking apartment complex. He cuts the engine and looks at you seriously.
“I don’t know what happened between you and Mark exactly, but if you’re staying with me, you need to figure out what you want.”
You nod, gripping your sleeves. “I know.”
Jeno watches you for a moment before sighing. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”
You follow him, dragging your suitcase behind you. For now, this is your new reality.
And for the first time in a while, you don’t feel completely alone.
Jeno’s apartment is neat—minimalist but lived-in. He kicks off his shoes at the entrance and gestures for you to do the same before leading you inside.
“You can take the guest room,” he says, nodding toward a door down the hall. “Bathroom’s next to it. Kitchen’s open if you need anything.”
You nod, feeling a bit out of place as you step inside. Everything feels too calm, too normal compared to the storm inside your head.
Jeno watches you for a second before sighing. “Look, I don’t know how long you plan to stay, but just… make yourself at home.”
“…Thanks, Jeno.”
He waves off your gratitude, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping onto the couch. “You hungry?”
You shake your head. Your stomach feels too tight, too unsettled to handle food right now.
“Alright,” he says, twisting the cap off his water. “Then get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
He’s not wrong.
With a quiet nod, you pick up your suitcase and head to the guest room. The space is simple but comfortable—a bed, a desk, a window overlooking the quiet street below.
You set your bag down and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don’t check it.
You already know who it’s from.
Mark.
Your fingers hover over your phone, but in the end, you place it face-down on the nightstand and lie back, staring at the ceiling.
For now, you just need to breathe.
A Few Years Later
The office is buzzing with the usual morning energy—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, conversations humming through the space. You take a sip of your coffee as you scan through emails on your computer, barely noticing when someone leans against your desk.
“Still a workaholic, I see.”
You glance up to see Jeno smirking down at you, arms crossed.
“I learned from the best,” you say, arching a brow.
He snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t blame me when you burn yourself out.”
It’s been a few years since that night in his car, since he let you stay at his place with no questions asked. What was supposed to be temporary became permanent. You found stability, and when Jeno offered you a job at his company, you took it.
Now, you’re one of his most trusted employees—handling projects, attending meetings, building a life you never thought you’d have.
Jeno tilts his head. “By the way, don’t forget the client meeting later. They asked for you specifically.”
“Got it.” You nod, typing a quick note on your schedule.
He lingers for a moment before sighing. “You’ve really settled in, huh?”
You pause, then smile faintly. “Yeah, I guess I have.”
Jeno studies you for a second, like he’s thinking about something. Then he shakes his head and straightens up. “Alright, don’t work too hard. And eat lunch today.”
“No promises.”
He gives you a pointed look before walking off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You glance at your phone. No messages. No missed calls.
Mark stopped looking for you a long time ago.
And maybe that’s for the best.
Even though that is the case, the ring on your ring finger doesn’t go away.
The engagement ring—the one Mark slipped onto your finger years ago—still sits there, untouched. You never took it off.
Not when you left. Not when you built a new life. Not even when Mark eventually stopped searching for you.
It should have lost its meaning by now.
And yet, every time your fingers brush over the band, a dull ache settles in your chest.
You wonder if Mark ever took his off.
Did he move on? Did he resent you for leaving? Or did he still hold on to the ghost of a future that never happened—just like you?
You don’t know.
And after all these years, you’re not sure if you even want to.
You couldn’t help but wear it.
Mark had chosen this ring for you after much thought—after carefully considering every detail, making sure it was perfect for you. You remember how nervous he had been when he proposed, how he had fidgeted with the box before finally getting the words out.
"Marry me."
It was supposed to be the start of forever.
And yet, here you are, in a life far removed from the one you had planned together. The ring still sits on your finger, as if it refuses to acknowledge that things have changed.
Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe it’s a form of self-inflicted pain.
But even after all these years, you can’t bring yourself to take it off.
Days turn into weeks, and the ring remains on your finger, just as the memories of Mark remain in your heart.
You tell yourself you’ve moved on. You have a stable job, a life that doesn’t revolve around him anymore. You don’t wake up expecting to hear his voice, and you don’t check your phone hoping for messages that never come.
And yet, some nights, when the city lights outside your window blur into nothingness, you find yourself tracing the ring absentmindedly. Wondering if Mark still thinks about you.
Wondering if he ever regretted telling you to disappear.
You shake your head, trying to push the thought away. It doesn’t matter anymore.
But fate, it seems, has other plans.
One afternoon, while going over documents in your office, your phone buzzes with an incoming call. You glance at the screen, expecting it to be Jeno or a client.
But the name that flashes makes your breath catch.
Mark.
Your fingers freeze over the desk. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears.
It’s been years. Years of silence. Years of pretending that chapter of your life was closed.
And now, just like that, he’s calling.
You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen.
Should you answer?
You know that even though Mark stopped looking for you—believing Jaemin’s lie that you were dead—he never truly let you go.
Because despite everything, he still kept messaging you.
Every few weeks, without fail, a message would arrive. Not asking where you were. Not begging you to come back.
Just… talking.
Like he was writing in a diary that only you could read.
"Hey… Today was one of those days. I woke up thinking I’d hear your voice, but of course, that didn’t happen. Stupid, huh?"
"Jaemin’s different now. He doesn’t laugh as much. He doesn’t even talk about you anymore. I think he’s afraid I’ll break."
"I miss you. I miss us."
"Do you think, if things had been different, we would’ve been happy?"
Each message hit like a punch to the gut.
You never replied.
You couldn’t.
But you read every single one.
And now, staring at his name flashing on your screen, you realize—
Mark never moved on.
And neither did you.
A Few Years Later
Life continued.
You built your career, became someone independent, someone who no longer needed Mark to survive. And yet, despite the years that passed, despite the distance you created, the engagement ring never left your finger.
Mark’s messages never stopped either.
Even though he believed you were dead, he never stopped talking to you through unread texts—telling you about his days, his struggles, his regrets. His love for you never wavered, even in silence.
And you never replied. Not once.
It was easier that way.
Until one day, fate decided to throw you into the one situation you had desperately avoided.
A business event. High-profile clients. And among them—Mark.
You froze the moment you saw him.
Time had changed him, but not in the way you expected. His hair was a little shorter, his suit fit him better, and there was an air of quiet maturity about him. But his eyes—the same eyes you fell in love with—looked… tired.
Empty.
And then, as if feeling your gaze, he turned.
Your breath caught.
Mark’s entire body went rigid. His eyes widened slightly, confusion flashing across his face before something deeper, something raw, settled in.
He took a step forward.
And for the first time in years, you felt like that scared person from the past—the one who ran, the one who left without looking back.
But now, there was no more running.
You inhale sharply, steadying yourself as Mark takes a step closer. His lips part slightly, his eyes searching—filled with something you can’t quite name.
Then, he speaks.
Your name.
The name you haven’t heard from his lips in years. The name you longed to hear, and yet, the name that no longer belongs to you.
You bow politely, keeping your expression neutral. You don’t know him. That’s the act you have to maintain.
So, with a small, professional smile, you extend your hand.
“Ah, I believe we haven’t met before. I’m [New Name]. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Mark stops mid-step, his breath hitching as his eyes darken with something unreadable.
A beat of silence stretches between you.
Then, barely above a whisper, he says—
“…What?”
You smile, keeping your act intact despite the way Mark’s expression shifts—confusion, disbelief, something dangerously close to heartbreak flashing in his eyes.
Before he can say another word, a familiar voice cuts through the air.
“(your new name)!”
You turn just as Jeno strides toward you, his presence grounding you in the moment. He places a hand on your shoulder, his gaze flickering to Mark for the briefest second before focusing back on you.
“We need to discuss something with the clients,” Jeno says smoothly, ever the composed businessman.
You nod, grateful for the escape. “Of course.”
Mark is still standing there, unmoving. His hands clench at his sides, his jaw tightening.
You meet his gaze one last time, offering a polite nod before stepping away with Jeno.
And even as you walk further, even as you force yourself to breathe, you can still feel Mark’s eyes burning into your back. When you're out of Mark’s earshot, he leans in, voice low.
Jeno sighs, shaking his head. “You do realize that Mark and I know each other, right?”
You tense. “I know.”
“Then you should also know that he’s not going to just let this go,” Jeno whispers. “Mark’s stubborn as hell. Once he gets an idea in his head, he won’t stop until he finds the truth.”
You swallow hard, keeping your gaze forward. “That’s why I need you to back me up. If he asks, I’m not the person he’s looking for.”
Jeno stops walking, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. You finally meet his eyes, and they’re filled with something between frustration and concern.
“Do you think lying to him is really the best choice?” Jeno asks. “After all these years, after everything, don’t you think he deserves—”
“I can’t,” you cut him off, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jeno studies you, his lips pressing into a thin line. After a moment, he sighs, letting go of your wrist.
“Fine,” he mutters. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You nod in silent gratitude before turning away, pretending your hands aren’t slightly trembling.
Because deep down, you know Jeno is right.
Mark isn’t going to let this go.
Jeno was right.
Because even though Mark didn’t belong in America, he definitely stayed longer than he should have.
His business here should have been wrapped up within a few days. A week, at most. Yet, days turned into weeks, and he still hadn’t left.
And it wasn’t just that—he started staying in the office longer.
At first, you tried to ignore it. You convinced yourself that it was just work, that it had nothing to do with you. But when you saw him lingering outside meeting rooms you were in, or passing by your office more often than necessary, the weight of his presence became impossible to brush off.
He was watching you.
Not obviously, not in a way that anyone else would notice—but you could feel it. The way his eyes lingered just a second too long when your paths crossed. The way he hesitated, as if waiting for you to slip, to acknowledge him in a way that proved you weren’t a stranger.
Mark wasn’t leaving.
And worse—he wasn’t giving up.
It starts small.
Late one evening, you step into the office elevator, exhausted from the long day. Just as the doors begin to close, a hand slips between them, forcing them open.
Mark.
Your breath hitches, but you recover quickly, schooling your expression into polite indifference. You step to the side as he enters, standing opposite you in the confined space.
Silence.
The numbers on the screen descend slowly. The air feels heavier with every floor passed.
Then—
"You remind me of someone," Mark suddenly says, voice quiet but steady.
You don't flinch. You don't react. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, feigning curiosity. "Oh?"
Mark’s gaze lingers on you, searching for something—anything. "Yeah," he exhales. "But I guess that would be impossible."
The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Without another word, you step out, leaving him behind.
You’re in the office break room when he appears again.
You don't acknowledge him as you stir your coffee, keeping your focus on the swirling liquid.
But Mark? Mark doesn’t look away.
"You take it the same way," he muses.
You pause for only a fraction of a second before taking a sip. "Excuse me?"
"Your coffee," Mark clarifies, leaning against the counter. "Black, two sugars. Just like—" He stops himself, swallowing his words.
Just like her.
Just like you.
You merely hum in response, placing your cup down. "Lots of people take their coffee like this," you say smoothly. "Maybe you’re overthinking."
Mark watches you, lips pressing into a thin line. “Maybe.”
You turn to leave, but as you pass him, he mutters under his breath—
"But I doubt it."
Your fingers tighten around your cup. But you don’t stop walking.
A company dinner. Business associates mingling, glasses clinking. You’re seated across from Mark at the table, forced to endure his presence as Jeno discusses partnerships.
Then it happens.
"Can you pass the salt, Y/N?"
Your blood runs cold.
The chatter around you continues, but to you, it all fades into the background.
Your hand, halfway to the salt shaker, freezes. Your throat goes dry.
Slowly, you lift your gaze.
Mark is staring directly at you. His expression unreadable, but his eyes?
His eyes tell you he knows.
And this time, he’s waiting for you to deny it. To prove him wrong.
You force a small, confused smile. "I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else," you say lightly, sliding the salt shaker toward him.
Mark doesn't break eye contact. Doesn’t even blink.
Then, lips curling slightly, he takes the salt.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "Maybe I have."
But the way he says it?
You know he doesn't believe that at all.
A few days later, Mark finally left.
No announcement. No goodbyes. One moment he was there, lingering in the same spaces as you, watching you with quiet suspicion, and the next—he was gone.
When you overheard Jeno mentioning that Mark had returned to Korea, you felt a weight lift off your chest.
Relief. A deep, consuming relief.
You could finally breathe again.
No more stolen glances. No more quiet confrontations. No more feeling like you were seconds away from being exposed.
One randome day, the door to your office swung open with force, slamming against the wall. You barely had time to look up before Jeno stormed in, his face tight with urgency.
“Come with me. Now.”
His voice left no room for argument.
Without hesitation, you pushed back your chair and followed him, your heels clicking against the polished floor. The air between you felt tense, thick with unspoken words. As soon as you stepped into the elevator, you finally spoke.
“What’s going on?”
Jeno sighed heavily, rubbing a hand down his face before looking at you with frustration and something else—something close to desperation.
“Mark is raging again.”
Your brows furrowed. “Raging?”
Jeno’s lips pressed into a thin line as he let out another sigh. “Whenever Mark has a meeting, even if one person calls out your name—whether it’s intentional or not—he destroys the company in one day.”
The words hit you like a sudden downpour, cold and unexpected.
You stared at Jeno, trying to process what he just said. Mark? Losing control at the mere mention of your name? You had been gone for years, living under a new identity, convinced that Mark had moved on. But now, this—this was something you never expected.
“Wait,” you started slowly, voice steady despite the turmoil rising inside you. “You said again?”
Jeno didn’t answer right away. He exhaled, pressing a button on the elevator panel, watching the numbers change as if it would buy him more time to gather his thoughts. Then, he finally spoke.
“Ever since the year you left, he changed. Too much—in a bad way.” Jeno turned to face you fully, his eyes filled with a seriousness that made your stomach drop. “No one can stop him.” A pause. A weighty silence. Then, he added, “I guess no one except you.”
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open.
But you couldn’t move.
Because for the first time in years, you were being forced to face the one thing you tried so desperately to leave behind.
You finally snapped out of your shock, your brows furrowing deeply as you followed Jeno through the building’s exit.
“Where exactly are we going?” you demanded, quickening your pace to match his.
Jeno remained silent, his grip tightening on his phone as he approached the sleek black car waiting at the curb. Without answering, he slid into the backseat.
But you didn’t move.
Your feet stayed firmly planted on the pavement, hands curling into fists at your sides. Something wasn’t right about this.
Jeno must’ve realized you weren’t following because he exhaled sharply before stepping back out of the car. He shut the door behind him, standing a few feet away from you with an exhausted expression.
“I need you to stop him,” he said, voice steady but carrying an edge of urgency. “As I said before, I can only guess that you appearing in front of him will make him lose his temper... or whatever he’s doing right now.”
Your jaw clenched.
Furious. That was the only word to describe what you felt.
Because how dare Jeno drag you into this?
You had spent years reconstructing your life, pretending Mark didn’t exist, pretending your past was dead and buried. You had chosen to disappear, to let him believe you were gone forever.
And yet, here Jeno was, standing in front of you, asking you to tear apart everything you worked so hard to build.
You took a slow breath, trying to keep your voice even. “And if I say no?”
Jeno didn’t even blink. “Then you’ll just be delaying the inevitable.”
The weight of his words settled over you like a crushing force.
Because deep down, you knew he was right.
You shook your head, your voice firm. “Mark already treats me as another person, Jeno. He doesn’t know who I am anymore.” You took a step back, as if putting distance between you and this situation would make it easier to refuse. “If I just show up in front of him now, it might mess up everything.”
Jeno exhaled sharply, tilting his head up toward the sky for a moment before looking back at you. His jaw was tight, his patience thinning. “And what exactly is ‘everything’ to you?”
Your lips parted, but no words came out.
Because what was everything? Your job? The new life you had built? The identity you carefully crafted to make sure Mark would never find you?
Jeno scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “You think staying hidden has solved anything? Look around, look at what’s happening. He’s still breaking things, still losing control at the thought of you. You didn’t erase yourself from his life—you just left behind a ghost.”
His words hit you hard, digging into wounds you thought had long since healed.
You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “That’s not my fault,” you muttered, though even to yourself, your voice sounded weak.
“I never said it was.” Jeno’s tone softened, just slightly. “But whether you like it or not, you’re the only one who can stop this.”
Silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions.
You could feel your pulse in your throat, your mind racing. If you did this, if you stepped into Mark’s life again, you might lose everything you worked for.
But if you didn’t…
In your mind, you knew you shouldn’t go.
You had spent years running, carefully constructing a life where Mark Lee was nothing but a distant memory. Returning now—after all this time, after all the pain—was a mistake.
But your heart said otherwise.
Because despite everything, despite the years of pretending and the walls you built around yourself, the thought of seeing Mark again made something deep inside you ache.
And so, here you were.
Sitting in the backseat of a car beside Jeno, the city lights flashing by as you headed toward the airport. The weight of what you were about to do sat heavy in your chest.
You were going back.
Back to Korea.
Back to the place where you were supposed to be dead.
Back to where everything started.
Jeno didn’t say much during the ride, but his presence was grounding, a silent reminder that this was real. That you were about to face the one thing you had spent years avoiding.
As the car pulled up to the airport, you exhaled slowly, trying to quiet the pounding of your heart.
There was no turning back now.
The airport buzzed with the usual chaos—passengers rushing to their gates, the low hum of announcements echoing through the terminal, the distant sound of luggage wheels rolling across polished floors. But none of it registered in your mind.
Your focus remained on the boarding pass in your hand. One-way ticket to Korea.
Jeno walked beside you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, his expression unreadable. He had barely spoken since you left your office, only offering you silent glances as if he knew words wouldn’t help.
Because what could he say?
You were willingly stepping back into a life you had abandoned.
Back to Mark.
Back to the man who had once been your whole world—the man you had broken, the man who still, after all this time, carried your ghost with him.
The thought made your fingers tighten around your ticket.
You shouldn’t be doing this. You had spent years convincing yourself that leaving was for the best, that Mark would heal, that time would erase the love you once shared. But Jeno’s words kept replaying in your mind.
"You didn’t erase yourself. You just left behind a ghost."
You exhaled sharply, pushing away the hesitation threatening to consume you.
As you approached the gate, Jeno finally spoke.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—like he knew what your answer would be.
You swallowed hard. “I know.”
But even as you said it, your feet didn’t stop moving.
Because the truth was, you had already made your choice.
The moment you stepped into Mark’s office, you felt the shift in the air.
The tension was suffocating.
Your eyes immediately landed on him—Mark, standing at his desk, his expression twisted in anger as he glared down at an employee. His voice, sharp and unwavering, cut through the silence of the room.
“I don’t care what your excuse is,” he snapped, his hands pressed against the desk. “One more mistake, and you’re done here. Do you understand?”
The employee—who looked no older than his mid-twenties—nodded frantically, his face pale as he stammered out an apology before practically running out of the room.
You stood frozen in place, unable to process what you had just witnessed.
Mark… wasn’t like this.
At least, not the Mark you knew.
The Mark you once loved was patient, kind, the type of person who would offer guidance instead of threats. But the man standing before you now—the one with cold, hardened eyes and a suffocating presence—felt like a stranger wearing his skin.
Mark let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before finally looking up.
And that was when he saw you.
His entire body stiffened. His eyes widened, and for a split second, raw emotion flickered across his face. Shock. Confusion. Hope.
Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.
Mark's sharp gaze locked onto yours, his voice low but shaking with restrained emotion.
"Who really are you?"
Your breath hitched.
"Because you actually drive me crazy," he continued, stepping closer. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, as if holding himself back. "You look exactly like my dead wife, but you are not. You act like my dead wife, but you are not… It’s confusing me."
The room felt colder, the distance between you and him shrinking, yet an invisible wall separated you.
Your lips parted, but no words came out. What were you supposed to say?
That you were his so-called dead wife? That you had run away, abandoned everything—including him—just to escape the pain?
Mark let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Every damn time I think I’m over it, you show up again. In my head. In my dreams. And now, right in front of me.” His eyes were darker than you remembered—filled with exhaustion, torment. "Why do you exist? Are you here to haunt me?"
Your heart twisted painfully.
You did this to him.
You left, thinking it would make things better, but all you did was destroy him.
“I…” Your voice came out weaker than you intended. “I’m not—”
Mark exhaled sharply, cutting you off. "Stop lying." His tone was low, dangerous. "You're not her, right? Then prove it."
His gaze burned into yours, waiting for an answer.
But could you really lie to his face again?
You took a shaky breath, your hands clenched at your sides. There was no point in lying anymore. No point in running.
So you told him everything.
From the moment you left.
From the night you packed your bags and walked out of his life, leaving only a ghost behind.
From the years you spent pretending to be someone else, convincing yourself it was for the best.
From the pain of knowing he would never move on because you had never truly left him.
You told him about Jaemin. About Jeno. About how you watched from afar, how you read every message he sent to the number he thought belonged to a dead woman.
And through it all, Mark stood there, silent.
His face was unreadable, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
You finished with a whisper. “I never stopped loving you, Mark. But I thought… maybe you’d be better off without me.”
The words hung in the air.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, suddenly—
Mark’s hands shot out, gripping both of your arms tightly.
“You thought what?” His voice was raw, filled with an emotion you couldn’t decipher. His fingers tightened, almost shaking. “You thought I’d be better off?”
His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breaths uneven. His grip was firm, but not painful—just desperate.
His anger burned hot, but underneath it, there was something else.
Something breaking.
“You ruined me,” he whispered harshly. “You broke me, and you thought I’d be fine?” His voice cracked, and suddenly, the fury drained from his face.
His hands trembled. His shoulders slumped.
And then—
Tears.
Silent at first, but then his entire body shook.
He let out a quiet sob, his forehead falling against your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you, holding you so tightly it hurt.
“I thought I lost you forever,” he choked out. His grip tightened, as if letting go meant losing you again. “I looked everywhere… I never stopped looking. I never—” His voice broke again, another sob escaping.
You froze for a moment before your hands hesitantly came up, resting against his back.
“…I’m here,” you whispered.
And for the first time in years, Mark clung to you like he was afraid you would disappear all over again.
Mark’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, he held you even tighter, as if the moment he let go, you’d vanish into thin air again. His body trembled, his cries muffled against your shoulder.
“I—” His voice broke between sobs. “I missed so many Valentine’s Days with you.”
You felt his fingers dig slightly into your back, desperate, aching.
“I bought you gifts every year,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a mess. “Roses. Chocolates. Even wrote stupid letters I never sent. But you weren’t there to receive them.” He let out a breathless, bitter laugh. “I left them at your—at our old place. Just in case you ever came back.”
Your heart clenched painfully.
Mark’s voice was hoarse, thick with emotion. “Do you know how many times I sat alone at a restaurant on February 14th, pretending you were across from me? How many times I imagined what it’d be like if you never left?”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
You had thought leaving would set him free.
But instead, it had chained him to a version of you that no longer existed.
“I hated you,” he admitted in a whisper. “But I loved you more.”
Your breath hitched.
Mark pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes were red, his face wet with tears, his expression so open, so vulnerable, that it shattered whatever was left of your resolve.
“You’re real, right?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “You’re really here?”
You nodded.
Mark let out a shaky breath, his thumbs brushing your skin gently, as if afraid you’d disappear.
“I can’t lose you again,” he murmured. “Not after this.”
You inhaled deeply, your heart still racing from everything that had just happened. Mark’s hands were still cradling your face, his touch hesitant, like he was afraid you’d slip away again.
But this time, you wouldn’t run.
Slowly, you turned your gaze toward Jeno, who had been silently watching from a few steps away. He hadn’t said a word since you and Mark had broken down in front of each other, letting the past finally catch up to you both.
You searched Jeno’s face for any sign of protest—any hint that he wanted to pull you away from this mess.
Instead, he simply smiled.
With a knowing look, he lifted his hand and made a small shooing motion, as if to say, Go. This is where you belong.
A soft chuckle escaped your lips, a mixture of relief and gratitude filling your chest.
You smiled back at him, nodding. Thank you.
Jeno gave you one last nod before turning around, walking away without another word. He had done his part—now, the rest was up to you.
You turned back to Mark, who was watching you anxiously, waiting for your answer.
And then, you spoke the words that changed everything.
“I’m staying.”
Mark’s breath hitched, his grip on you tightening for a second before he let out a shaky exhale.
“You mean it?” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
You nodded.
This time, when Mark pulled you into his arms again, it wasn’t out of desperation.
It was out of relief. Out of love.
Valentine’s Day was approaching—a day that once held only bittersweet memories, but now, it had a chance to mean something again.
Mark had proposed to you years ago, sealing a promise of forever. But that forever had been put on pause when you left. Now that you were back, you wanted to be the one to ask this time.
If he had been strong enough to wait for you, then you would be strong enough to ask him to take that step forward again.
To finally get married.
With Jeno’s and Jaemin's help (because, of course, they had to be involved in this), you planned a quiet yet meaningful proposal. Mark wasn’t one for grand gestures—what mattered was the sincerity behind it.
So, you chose a place that meant something to both of you: the old café where you had shared countless dates, quiet mornings, and late-night talks. The same place where Mark had first held your hand, nervous yet determined.
On the evening of February 14th, you told him you had made dinner plans. But instead of a restaurant, you led him to the café, now reserved just for the two of you.
Mark looked around, eyes widening as he recognized the place. “Wait… why here?”
You simply smiled, guiding him inside. “Just trust me.”
The lights were dimmed, candles flickering softly on the table. A small bouquet of roses sat at the center—just like the ones he had left for you every Valentine’s Day when he thought you were gone.
Mark turned to you, brows furrowed in confusion, but you could see the glimmer of emotion in his eyes.
And then, before he could ask another question—
You got down on one knee.
Mark froze.
His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening in shock as he stared down at you.
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking.
“You once asked me to be yours forever,” you began, voice soft but firm. “And I should have said yes sooner. I should have never left. But despite everything, you waited. You loved me even when I wasn’t there. And I—” You swallowed, your heart pounding. “I don’t want to waste any more time. I don’t want another Valentine’s Day to pass without knowing that you’re mine in every way possible.”
You pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal the simple but elegant band inside.
“Mark Lee,” you whispered, your eyes locking onto his. “Will you marry me?”
For a moment, Mark didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
And then, just like before, tears filled his eyes.
A choked laugh escaped him, followed by a watery smile as he crouched down, pulling you up into his arms.
“You idiot,” he murmured against your hair, voice shaking. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”
You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.
As he pulled back just enough to kiss you—soft, deep, and full of years’ worth of love—you realized something.
As Mark held you close, the world outside seemed to blur and fade away, leaving only the two of you. The past, with its pain and misunderstandings, had slowly unraveled into something more beautiful—a second chance.
You had your faults.
Yes, Mark had made his mistakes too—saying things in anger that no one should ever hear. But you couldn’t deny that you had your share of blame. You had been the one to walk away. You had been the one to leave without a word, thinking it was for the best, but all it did was push you both into a spiral of lost time. You had abandoned him when he needed you most.
And now, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all.
It was childish. Immature.
But in your heart, you knew one thing for sure: You were lucky that Mark never stopped loving you.
“Hey,” he whispered, pulling you even closer. “You don’t have to feel guilty. I’m not perfect either, you know.”
You sighed, lifting your head from his chest to meet his gaze. “I know, but... I am. I made all the wrong decisions back then. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
Mark smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “The past is gone. All that matters now is that you’re here. With me.”
You blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “I don’t deserve you.”
He shook his head gently. “You’re wrong. You don’t need to be perfect. I love you the way you are. I always have.”
And in that moment, you knew—this was your home. Mark, with all his flaws, and you, with yours, were finally in the right place. Together.
As he kissed you again, you realized something else too: No matter how much you had messed up, no matter how long it took to get here, Mark had chosen to love you. And that was more than enough.
You were finally home, and this time, you weren’t going anywhere.
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loserlvrss · 1 year ago
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𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 ✉✉ fem.reader x 𝐉i-𝐒ung
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박지성DRABBLE fluff .ᐟ 771HUN cw. ⋮ some kissing and cursing. メ 紀要 baking cookies w/ ji •ﻌ• GLiTCHMODE
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“Jisung! Oh my god, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
The man looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed, “It’s just a spoon…”
“well, yes—Let me do it. I Can’t have my little baby getting hurt.” You pushed him away from the countertop, taking the wood spoon from his hand without protest. Jisung was slightly shocked at your seriousness, hand hanging in the air. However, he let you carry out whatever was justified inside your head, giggling quietly.
He replied matter-of-factly, “You’re younger than me, Y/n, and much shorter.” But, you didn’t care about his truthful words. You liked to tease Jisung because he was always so easy to make blush.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, i love you too. Now, can you read the next instruction please?”
You looked to your big bowl of blended sugar, butter, eggs and vanilla, then to the smaller one of flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.
“It says to start mixing in the flour gradually.” He summarized while looking awfully focused, lips pouted, "Then we can cut out shapes."
“Okay!” You turned to him, “Can you pour a little in while I mix it together? I’ll tell you when to add more.”
He took the bowl within his large hands, watching as you began to mix the two contents little by little. You thought it was adorable how concentrated he was for you, knowing that he wasn’t the best cook or baker out there—he tried his best to do as the recipe said so they’d turn out decent and make you happy...and honestly, he just wanted to prompt a decorating competition once they had cooled.
"Add the rest, Ji."
Your boyfriend did as you said, turning the bowl over so that the rest of the contents spilled out. You huffed a quiet laugh when some of it scattered on the counter, Jisung trying to right the wrong by scooping it up with his hands.
He looked at you apologetically, "Don't worry about it, baby." You began, pushing your finger into the contents and then swiping it across his nose. He was shocked at first but, then he smiled, just as you intended. "We need some flour on the counter anyways to roll them out."
He mimicked your actions, swiping his finger through the excess, grabbing you by your cheeks and then pressing it against your nose gently. He smiled so sweetly at you, you found it hard to not do the same.
You gave him a look as he stated, "Now we're even." Letting you go back to stirring the mixture.
"You're not even competitive, Ji." You mumbled the last bit, "Besides, I'd let you win." But he heard you loud and clear. And, it sparked that non-competitiveness; that was really just playfulness disguised.
The next couple of seconds went by too quick for you to even comprehend but, as if your eyes were closed, Jisung had gotten a pinch of flour out of jar and tossed it in your direction. It scattered across your face, falling to your chest. Maybe he couldn’t believe it either as his eyes grew, your features straight and scrunched up.
His hand remained in the air when your eyes did finally open; caught red handed like he wasn’t the only other person in your kitchen—and the bowl sure as hell didn’t do that to you.
You let the spoon fall against the edge of the glass, fully turning to face the man at your side, “Jisung…”
He became flustered, apologizing while using his flour-filled fingers to wipe your cheeks. Your boyfriend paused when your feigned anger broke, a giggle escaping your lips like a hiccup.
You grabbed some flour, a smile on your face as you backed the man against the counter, trapping him. He looked curiously, seemingly accepting his fate.
You brushed your hands together, pushing them against his black shirt and leaving handprints over his chest that caused you both to laugh. Then, you grabbed his cheeks, pulling him down to your level. But, just before you met, you stopped, lips centimeters apart.
You admired his closed eyes, features tinted pink like he had blush on, and slightly parted lips. You both knew that you could pull him apart by his seams, and that he’d gladly let you.
Jisung moved first, closing the gap easily. He gripped your waist, pressing your lower back to get you as close as he could. You knew there’d probably be a couple flour-fingerprints against your leggings but, you honestly found it funny, cracking a smile against his lips.
He broke away, slightly winded and still holding you close, “Can we finish? I want to cut out a meummwonbom shape.”
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© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.
taglist : @kstrucknet @neocity-net @jenaissite @mystarsohee @seomisaho @jihyokat @oc3anfloor @markyoursupplier127 @atzlordz @cyjzzl
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meadowfics · 2 months ago
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the economist
husband!the salesman x banker!reader
reader works for the games as the normal, everyday banker who assists the unknowing winner with their prize
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warnings: rushed writing. I used the actors name for the recruiter, since he has no canon name. this is not a representation of the actor himself.
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the bank is quiet today.
however, your mind is not. it is full of anticipation. you sit at your desk, a polished mahogany thing that smells faintly of lemon cleaner, and shuffle papers that don’t need shuffling.
your role as a financial advisor is simple on paper.
you guide clients, manage accounts, offer sage advice about investments.
however, your real job. aka the one that matters, comes once a year when the winner of the annual island games walks through those glass doors, clutching a card with a number too big to comprehend.
45.6 billion won.
you’re the one who helps them make sense of it, who smiles and nods and tells them the smart decisions they can make with their money.
you’re good at it.
you pretend like you don't know, or work for the games.
you're great at pretending to be a normal banker.
you’ve always been good at it.
you lean back in your chair, glancing at the clock. it’s late afternoon, and the winner hasn’t shown up yet.
you’re not worried. they always come eventually dazed and hollow-eyed like they’ve seen something they can’t unsee. well, they did but anyways... you’ve learned to read them, to know when to push and when to let them sit in silence.
the frontman’s orders are clear.
'help them do the right thing. make them believe they can forget the blood, the screams, and the way the games made them strip down to something desperate without exposing that you work for us.'
you’re their lifeline to a new beginning, and you take pride in that.
at home, things are different but no less calculated.
your husband, gong yoo, waits for you. you see him now as you take your shoes off by the door.
he stands by the espresso machine in your sleek apartment, the one you bought with the kind of money most people only dream of. he’s probably already made coffee, even though it’s seven pm.
he does that when he knows you’ve had a big day. only today is a big day.
the winner came in this morning, and you know he’ll want to hear every detail.
before this you locked up the bank and headed home, the city lights blurring past your car window. seoul is alive tonight. it was full with people who have no idea what happens in the shadows.
you’re used to keeping secrets.
it’s part of the deal when you’re married to the recruiter, the man who hands out cards to the desperate, luring them into the games with a smile and a promise.
you don’t judge him for it.
you love him, and he loves you.
it’s a strange kind of love, built on silences and the thrill of being part of something bigger than yourselves.
at home you catch your husband's dark eyes catching the light as he turns to you.
he’s still in his suit, the one he wears when he’s out playing recruiter, though the tie is loosened, and his hair is slightly mussed.
he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters, and your heart does that familiar flip.
“coffee?” he asks, holding up a mug. gongyoo's voice is smooth.
“you know me too well,” you say, taking it.
the warmth seeps into your hands, grounding you.
you take a sip, and it’s perfect.. it is strong, and a little bitter.
just the way you like it.
he watches you, his head tilted slightly.
“so,” he says, drawing out the word, “who was it?”
you smile, because this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the moment you’ve been waiting for.
every year, you come home with a name, a story, and every year, he listens like it’s the first time even thought he recruited the person to play the game.
you set the mug down and lean against the counter next to him, close enough that your shoulder brushes his.
“seong gi-hun,” you say.
your husband's eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment, he just stares at you.
suddenly he laughs, a sharp, disbelieving sound.
“player 456? the horse gambler? really?”
you nod, grinning, “really."
“no way.” he runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head, “i thought for sure it’d be someone like cho sang-woo. guy had that cold, calculated thing going on in the market, or even that thug, what’s his name....jang deok-su? he seemed like the type to claw his way to the top.”
“right?” you laugh, and it feels good.
you’re just two people talking about a game, as if it does not end in death, “i was so sure sang-woo had it in the bag. he was smart, ruthless. but his childhood friend gi-hun… he’s messy, and actually has faith in people. i didn’t see him coming.”
gong yoo leans closer with his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “tell me everything.”
so you do.
you tell him how gi-hun walked into the bank this morning, his hands shaking as he handed you the card with the account details. how his eyes darted around, like he expected someone to jump out and take it all away.
you tell him how you sat him down, offered him tea, spoke in that calm, practiced tone you’ve perfected over the years. you told him he could buy a house, travel the world, invest in things for himself and his daughter, or start a business again.
you told him gi-hun was free now, that the money was his to shape his future.
he listened, but you could see it in his eyes...he wasn’t hearing you.
not really.
the games were still there, carved into his mind.
“he kept muttering about a promise,” you say, swirling the coffee in your mug, “something about his daughter. i didn’t push. the frontman says not to dig too deep.”
gong yoo snorts, “smart. last thing you need is a winner who can’t let go.”
you nod, but there’s a flicker of something in your chest, a tiny crack in the armor you wear.
you push it down.
you’re good at that, too.
“he’ll be fine,” you say, more to yourself than to him, “they always are, eventually. i set him up with a solid plan for low-risk investments, and a trust fund for his daughter. he’ll move on.”
gong yoo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“you’re too good at this,” he says, “they’re lucky to have you.”
you lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment, “and i’m lucky to have you.”
he pulls you closer, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him. this is your life...coffee at seven pm, secrets shared over the hum of the city, a love that thrives in the spaces between the games.
you don’t talk about the 455 players you never got the chance to meet. you don’t talk about the cards your husband hands out to them, or the way you guide the eventual winner toward a life they’ll never fully live.
you don’t need to.
you both understand.
what you don’t know, what neither of you know, is that seong gi-hun isn’t like the others.
he’s not going to buy a house, or travel the world, or forget.
he’s sitting in a cheap motel he just bought as of right now, staring at the card you gave him with your name and number printed neatly on it.
gi-hun is thinking about the games, about the people he lost, about the system that chewed them up and spit him out.
he’s thinking about you, the kind banker who smiled and promised him a new life.
he’s thinking about your husband, the man who handed him a card in a subway station and changed everything.
gi-hun is coming for you both.
masterlist
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thatsbelievable · 4 months ago
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springismss · 4 months ago
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ᱬ⛧ jealousy, jealousy ~ dabi
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sum: just some jealous! dabi thoughts.
pairing: dabi x girlfriend! reader
content: 18+ - mdni below cut. jealousy p in v, language, teasing, dirty talk, cream pie, orgasm denial, possessive talk, implied/suggested multiple rounds, slight choking, bruising/marking, reader gets called doll/princess/baby/good girl, general NSFW content.
a/n: oh look, a post that's not a jjk fandom one, oops. regaining my love for this burnt boi, holy fuck. on a side note, an old request from my wattpad days, with a fresh feel. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!
word count: 1.9k
links: bnha/mha masterlist | jealousy, jealousy masterlist | masterlist
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jealous! dabi who doesn’t show any kind of emotion at any point to anyone. it’s scarily complex to read him at times, however, there is one exception to that - you.
jealous! dabi who, when you’re talking to someone, will stand nearby and listen to what you have to say to the lowlife. he knows you don’t have anything to hide from him, he’s just a little insecure about who he is and how he looks at the best of times.
jealous! dabi who’s in a touch-what’s-mine-and-i’ll-kill-you mood 99.9% of the time he’s awake. he won’t hesitate to use his quirk on whoever dares enter your personal space, ask best friend! toga, she was on the receiving end of a near-miss hit from his flames. in her defence, you were going through a rough moment and she was only trying to cheer you up.
jealous! dabi who overhears a mutual villain friend talking to you one night. who hears that he thinks “you look fine” and that he’ll “take you somewhere more comfortable”. the somewhat uncomfortable giggle you let out at the words made him nearly incinerate the pair of you before he caught the look of disgust on your face.
jealous! dabi who decides enough is enough as he steps forward into the light, just in time to see you try and push away the man as he grabs your arm. he knew you’d had enough of this wannabe’s bullshit.
jealous! dabi who joins you by your side in seconds, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer to him, fingers digging into your hip, much to your amusement. you knew that he was pissed and things weren’t going to end well. judging by that look, he was trying hard to control the flames he wanted to throw out.
jealous! dabi who, once he hears the lowlife talking, tuts in annoyance. “ahhh, dabi, fancy seeing you here. i was just about to ask this beauty to keep me company for the night”. who may or may not have gotten a little too flame-happy when he stepped forward, gripping onto the others' top.
jealous! dabi who turns you to and bends over slightly, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you try to kick him in the stomach. you were more than capable of walking back yourself but of course, he had to throw a hissy fit and had the nerve to lug you around until he found a more private place for you both. well as private as it could be out in public.
jealous! dabi who, while walking, takes time to tease your cunt through your panties smirking smugly when you not only moan but also cuss him out. “dabi, i swear i’ll fucking~”. with a quick retort of “fucking me you mean, doll”. you could punch him.
jealous! dabi who drops you to your feet when he settles on a place, pinning you against the wall as he sinks two fingers, knuckles deep, into your cunt. savouring the look of embarrassment and pleasure that flashes on your face as you bite back a moan. he only takes a few moments before he’s helping you jump up only to sink you down on his cock, savouring the way you clamp around him as you finally moan out his name, legs wrapping around him pushing him deeper into you.
jealous! dabi who, on other days when someone dares enter your personal space, will tease you relentlessly with lingering touches and words that make you rub your legs together. telling you exactly how he’s going to fuck you into every surface he can until you're sobbing from the pleasure only he can give you. who’ll walk away to leave you alone with your now active thoughts and flustered appearance.
jealous! dabi who, when he’s had enough of the other lowlifes, won’t give you a moment to breathe between ripping that mind-blowing orgasm thanks to his mouth from you to sinking his cock past the ring of resistance, practically moulding your already tight walls to his shape. “don't think you got the message last time, so i guess i’m just going to have to get it through your skull again, doll”.
jealous! dabi who mutters out other sentences like “who do you belong to?". "who’s the only one making you feel this good". "i’m the only one who gets to fuck you and talk to you like that, understand, baby?".
jealous! dabi who’s rough when he fucks you but when he’s in these moods, he’s the extreme side of rough. you lose feeling in your legs and you’ll have trouble walking for the next few days. at least you’ll be away from prying eyes while you are.
jealous! dabi who makes you blush when he talks to you mid fuck, despite him already pistoning into you like a man possessed. “no one else can, shit, stretch your pussy this good", "f-fuck, you grip me perfectly, “does my cock feel, h-ah, good buried deep in your cunt?".
jealous! dabi who, regardless of your current position, likes to wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze slightly, knocking the breath out of you for a moment as he forces you to look at him, tears of pleasure fall down your cheeks as you grip his forearm.
jealous! dabi who can’t help but hiss out more possessive sentences as he folds you in half, legs dangling in front of your face as you whimper from the sudden change of position. "you’re mine, got that? i’m the only one who can fuck you like this". "i’m the only one who gets to be in your cunt, marking you in a way no other man can”.
jealous! dabi whose favourite thing is orgasm denial when he's in this mood. who loves making you beg for it. he won’t let you crumble to your beautiful euphoria, unless you're a sobbing mess underneath him, shaking from the force then he might make an exception.
jealous! dabi who loves the feeling of your pussy being incredibly wet for him at times like that. the way your slick covers not only the outside of your cunt and your thighs but his cock and thighs as well. knows that when he finally lets you come, you’ll squirt a little more over him and drip onto the bed as well.
jealous! dabi who smirks down at you as you dares you to “beg me to let you come, princess. beg me to fill you full of nothing but me”. who can feel the soaked walls of your cunt pulsate at his voice, silently begging him to let you feel your euphoria before you manage out a string of incoherent words, much to his amusement. “i know you can do better than that, doll”.
jealous! dabi who makes more of a point by stopping his thrusting, moving his hand from your neck and placing them both by your head, caging you beneath him. “come on baby, tell me how much you want me to fill you up with my cum, to having it dripping down your thighs for everyone to see who you belong to”.
jealous! dabi who can be more hands-on than usual, not in the sense of leaving black and blue marks across your skin, but red marks. on your thighs, back, neck and chest. bites and scratches to show everyone out there who fucks you to the point of no return. who you belong to regardless of what they may try.
jealous! dabi who rants as he pushes his cock back into your walls in a harsh rhythm, stating that he thinks "you like to make me jealous so i can destroy your insides” because “why else would you let those fuckers anywhere near you?”.
jealous! dabi who uses the excuse of being jealous so he can bury himself inside you as rough as he physically can muster because he doesn’t dare do it daily. sure he fucks you hard but not as harsh as he does when he’s jealous.
jealous! dabi who loves the way you mewl and cry out for him to let you come, you couldn’t take much more and you were slowly losing your sanity. who gives a countdown until you can let go. if he thinks you’re going to ruin that, he’ll stop his thrusts and pull out with your moans of frustration sounding in the room.
jealous! dabi who’ll make you suffer for a few moments before pushing his cock back into you again, daring you to let go with a smug “did i say you could come yet?”.
jealous! dabi who’ll, when you mutter out a quick “no” and “p-please, dabi, i c-can’t hold on”, give your thighs or ass, sometimes both, a few harsh slaps to get his point across. who loves feeling you quivering beneath him when he knows you won't last much longer. beginning his countdown once more, only to draw it out as painfully slow as he can.
jealous! dabi who’ll, when he finally reaches one, thrusts harshly into you once more, cock head hitting against your cervix as he lets out an almost primal growl, ropes of thick cum spurting out to fill you to the point of feeling so full. who savours the feeling of your cunt milking him, your own euphoria making your eyes roll and jaw slack as you come along with him, squirting on his thighs as well. “good girl”.
jealous! dabi who’ll take his time pulling out of you, smirking at the sight of his seed spilling out of your puffy pussy and running down to the sheets. a proud growl if he knows your own slick is mixed in there.
jealous! dabi who’ll pull you closer to him when he lays down beside you, gripping ahold of you tightly to make sure you’re not planning on going anywhere. not that you could anyway.
jealous! dabi who’s actually scared! dabi once everything is said and done.
scared! dabi who’ll place uncharacteristically soft kisses on your face, lips and neck, taking the time to apologise for being too rough with you. who finds himself relaxing to the patterns you draw on his chest, on his smooth and rough scared skin as you rest your head above his heart, humming along to the drumming rhythm.
scared! dabi who doesn’t want you to leave him, because one thing that followed him around for most of his life, is the feeling of being forgotten and tossed aside. who gets overly jealous because he wants to be the only man you have your attention on at any given time.
scared! dabi who closes his eyes at your touches, listening to your words of assurance and love as you promise you’re not leaving, the only way you’ll leave him is if you were dead. who feels overwhelmed when he’s vulnerable, wanting to know he’s not alone.
scared! dabi who’ll always feel like that young boy he once was. who was given up on at an early age so he learnt to harden his heart to anyone and everyone he came in contact with.
scared! dabi who thanks whatever being out there you came into his life, showing him that not everyone was the same. who thanks his lucky stars that you gave him your time and broke those walls down one small step at a time.
scared! dabi who doesn’t always fuck you rough, despite what everyone thinks and how he looks. who’ll always spend days after fucking into you harshly making sure you’re okay in his own ways. who’ll always be gentle with you when you both end up wrapped around each other in bed next.
scared! dabi who’s come to learn that while he doesn’t like it sometimes, jealous! dabi will always be a part of him and a part you’ll love regardless.
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permanent tags;
@ani-net
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© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.
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cherry-zip · 5 months ago
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─ 𝜗𝜚 NJM .ᐟ Pink or Revenge
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› content ┆ nail tech Jaemin x fem reader, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 2.6k. ⌁ summary ┆Jaemin, your flirty nail tech, did your nails last week for a Valentine's Day date with your boyfriend. Today, on Valentine's Eve, you're back for a revenge set, and Jaemin might take this as an opportunity.
✧ happy valentine's day ✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated!
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The soft chime of the doorbell jingled softly as you stepped into the nail salon, the familiar faint scent of lavender and citrus wafting through the air. The serene atmosphere of the salon was always comforting, a place where you could relax and let go of the stress of the world. You smiled and waved at the receptionist, who greeted you with a warm smile, before you made your way to the back of the salon where your favorite nail tech, Jaemin, worked.
He was leaning back in his chair, inspecting what seemed like new polishes under the light with a focused look. The moment he saw you, that signature mischievous grin appeared on his face. His eyes sparkled as he took in your presence, and you could practically hear the playful tone in his voice before he even spoke.
“Well, well, look who it is. Back for another round of pampering,” Jaemin drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with playful charm. “What’s the occasion this time? Last week, you were all about pink for your hot date. Let me guess, something’s changed?”
You rolled your eyes and chuckled, sitting down in the plush chair as Jaemin slid over to you. He was always so sassy, always teasing you, and it was honestly half the reason you came back so often. That, and his impeccable skills. Jaemin’s nails were always on point, and he was an artist when it came to designs. But right now, you weren’t in the mood for a cute Valentine’s Day set. No, this time, you were preparing for something else entirely.
“Well,” you started, leaning forward with a mischievous smile. “Let’s just say... I need a revenge set. I need something to take my frustration out on.”
Jaemin’s eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued, and he raised an eyebrow as he slid on his gloves. “Revenge? Oh, this sounds juicy. Do tell.”
You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you launched into your story.
“So, I had a date planned for Valentine’s Day with my boyfriend right.. well ex, all sweet and cute, right? I even got my nails done by you in that cute pink set, all ready to impress.” You paused for dramatic effect, leaning back in your chair. “And then, out of nowhere, he cancels. Just like that. With no explanation. The nerve of him. He says he's too ‘busy’ to meet up, but I think he’s just playing me. He’s been doing this way more frequently these past weeks. Typical.”
Jaemin’s grin only grew wider, as if he was enjoying your drama more than he should. He pulled out a set of tools and started preparing for the manicure, but his attention was fully on you now.
You looked down at his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. It was reassuring, but at the same time, it made your heart race a little faster than it should. Jaemin had a way of making everything feel... good. He made you feel seen. And maybe that’s why, even though you were here to get your nails done, there was something else you couldn't quite shake off. Something in the way he made you feel like the center of attention.
“Ah, now you’re speaking my language. A revenge set, huh? I can totally get behind that. But, princess,” he said, his tone turning smooth and sultry, “I think I can give you a little more than just some killer nails. How about a little bit of... a Valentine’s Day date?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “A... date? With you?”
Jaemin's eyes glinted with mischief as he nodded. “Why not? I mean, I’m already taking care of your nails, making you look fine as hell. What’s a little extra time spent with me? Plus, I know exactly how to make that boy jealous. Trust me, after one night with me, he’ll be begging for you back.”
Your pulse quickened, though you tried to play it cool. Jaemin had always been a flirt, but this was something else. His confidence was almost... irresistible.
“So, what are you thinking?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.
Jaemin smirked as he began removing your old nail set, his fingers brushing against your hands with practiced ease. “Well, babe, you don’t just want to get your nails done. You want to make a statement. You want him to regret ever messing with you. You need to look absolutely stunning—like you’re having the best time of your life while he's sulking at home. And then, after I finish, we’ll go out, have dinner, and show him exactly what he’s missing. I can make sure of that.” He flashed you that signature confident smile that always made your heart flutter.
You bit your lip. There was no denying the allure of Jaemin's proposal. Part of you wanted to stay mad at your ex, to make him regret what he did, but another part of you couldn't resist the idea of spending an evening with Jaemin. There was something about his playful nature and the way he made everything seem so effortless. The playful banter was one thing, but the way his eyes held yours now was different. It felt... intentional.
“And what exactly do you have in mind?” you asked, leaning in, intrigued.
“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart," Jaemin purred as he gently pushed your hands into a soaking bowl. “I’ve got a few ideas in mind. Something that’ll make him wish he was the one sitting across from you on Valentine’s Day. Well, let’s just say we’re going bold today. You want something dramatic, something that screams ‘I’m not your second choice.’ I’m thinking dark reds, sleek black accents, maybe a touch of gold to give it that little extra flair.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, your nerves easing as you settled back in the chair. Jaemin always had that effect on you. He made you feel good, like you were special—even if it was just for the duration of your time together. “That sounds exactly like what I need.”
As he worked, the conversation shifted. He asked about your ex, about the date that never happened, and you found yourself telling him more than you thought you would. Jaemin listened intently, his sharp eyes studying your expressions and your words with a mix of amusement and understanding. He had this uncanny ability to get under your skin but in the best way possible.
Jaemin flashed a grin, his eyes twinkling. "Good choice. Trust me, when you walk out of here, no one will be able to take their eyes off you. Especially not your ex."
Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of him. Jaemin was right. This wasn’t just about nails anymore. It was about reclaiming your power, and your confidence. And maybe, just maybe, Jaemin was helping you see that you deserved better than the guy who had just thrown you away.
As Jaemin began preparing the base coat, you couldn't help but notice how focused he was. His movements were precise, yet fluid, his hands graceful as he worked. There was something hypnotic about the way he handled his tools, the way his fingers moved with practiced ease over your nails.
“So,” he said, leaning over you as he carefully painted your nails, “tell me, what exactly did he say when he canceled?”
You sighed dramatically. “He said he had to ‘work late,’ but I have access to his schedule. He had no meetings, nothing going on whatsoever. He was just... too lazy to go out with me.” You scoffed. “Typical again.”
Jaemin’s fingers paused mid-motion. He raised an eyebrow and gave you a sly grin. “That sounds... suspicious. Maybe he found someone else.”
“Ugh, don’t even,” you groaned, pushing back in your chair. “You’re probably right. It doesn’t help that he’s always a little too ‘friendly’ with the girls at the bar.”
“Maybe he’s not worth your time, then,” Jaemin said, his voice suddenly soft. He looked up at you, his expression more sincere now. “I get it. You wanted to feel like he was worth it. But babe, you're worth more than just looking cute. You deserve to look amazing. Like a goddess. Like someone who knows what they want and isn’t afraid to go after it. You deserve someone who treats you like a queen. Not someone who cancels on you at the last minute.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his words. There was a tenderness in his voice that was surprising, almost protective. You hadn’t expected it from the usually flirty Jaemin.
“You really think so?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.
Jaemin’s eyes softened as he nodded, the teasing grin replaced with something more genuine. “Of course. And maybe, if you’re open to it, I could be that someone.”
Your heart skipped a beat. It was a simple comment, but coming from him, it hit differently. He’d always been a flirt, but this was more... earnest. Your mind raced, trying to process the idea of Jaemin in a different light—someone more than just your nail tech, more than just a flirt.
“Well,” you said, trying to regain your composure, “I guess I could think about it. But you know, you might be too much of a heartbreaker for me.”
Jaemin smirked, though you noticed a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “A heartbreaker, huh? I’ll have to change that then.”
A shiver ran down your spine at the way Jaemin spoke—so sure, so confident. But it wasn’t just about the nails anymore. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the way he made you believe in yourself again. Maybe it was his words, or maybe it was just the way he looked at you. Either way, you were starting to feel something you hadn’t expected to feel—something that had nothing to do with the revenge set you came in for.
Jaemin continued working in silence for a while, his fingers moving skillfully over your nails as he carefully applied the dark red polish. The deep shade shimmered in the light, the perfect base for the black accents he added next, followed by delicate strokes of gold glitter. With every layer, you felt a sense of anticipation building within you. Jaemin was right—this wasn’t just about nails. It was about making a statement. About owning your story.
Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Jaemin pulled back, admiring his work. He was silent for a moment, taking in the way the deep red shimmered in the light, how the black accents were bold but not overbearing, and the gold glitter that gave it that final touch of elegance. It didn’t take long before you were admiring your hands too, completely in awe of the intricate design.
Jaemin stepped back and let out a low whistle, clearly proud of his work. “Look at you, all set for revenge. Those are some killer nails. What do you think?”
You gazed at your nails again, unable to hide your satisfaction. The colors were bold and dramatic, a mixture of deep reds, blacks, and gold accents that shimmered under the light. It was the perfect blend of sexy, fierce, and unapologetic. They weren’t just nails - they were a declaration. Exactly what you needed. “I love them,” you said, your voice full of awe. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "You really know how to make a girl feel like a queen."
"You are a queen, babe," Jaemin said, his voice sincere and warm. "And I’m just here to help you remember that."
You swallowed, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. There was no denying that Jaemin had this effect on you, this way of making you feel more than you were—more than what you had let yourself believe. You had come in here for a set of nails, but what you were walking away with was something far more valuable: a reminder of your own strength, your own beauty, your own power.
Jaemin’s grin returned, now more playful. “Told you I’ve got skills. Now, about that date...”
You took a deep breath, but you couldn’t resist the idea of Jaemin’s proposal. “Fine,” you said, deciding to give in. “Let’s go.”
Jaemin’s eyes lit up, and without another word, he led you out of the salon. As you both stepped out into the cool evening air, Jaemin gave you a sly look. “You know, I’m thinking somewhere a little fancy. Something that’ll make your ex want to crawl out of his hole.”
You laughed, feeling a rush of excitement. “Oh, I’m so ready for this.”
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The drive to the rooftop bar was short, but the anticipation was almost unbearable. Jaemin kept glancing at you, his eyes glinting with mischief.
When you arrived, the night sky stretched above you, the city lights twinkling like stars. The rooftop was chic and intimate, the perfect place to be seen and not noticed—if you wanted. But tonight, you were ready to be noticed. Ready to show your ex exactly what he’d lost. And Jaemin? He seemed like the perfect companion for your revenge.
He led you to a cozy corner with a view of the skyline. “This is our spot for the night,” he said, a little too smug for your liking. But you didn’t mind. There was something magnetic about him tonight, something that made you feel more alive than you had in weeks.
As Jaemin ordered the drinks, you couldn’t help but feel the chemistry between you both intensify. He’d been your nail tech, your confidant, and your flirtatious companion. But tonight, it felt like there was more to him. And maybe more to you than just the need for revenge.
The drinks arrived, and the conversation flowed easily—banter, laughter, and teasing—until Jaemin leaned in closer. “So... do you think he’s watching?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure he is. He’s probably stalking my social media.”
Jaemin smirked, his hand grazing yours in a deliberate, slow motion. “Well, if he’s watching, I’m glad he’s seeing you with someone who knows how to treat you right.”
You didn’t know what surprised you more: the fact that Jaemin was openly admitting he was interested or the fact that you didn’t mind at all.
The night wore on, filled with laughter, drinks, and quiet moments of connection that were more intimate than you had expected. By the time you left, the first hint of dawn was breaking, casting a soft glow over the city.
Jaemin walked you to your car, his presence a comforting, warm contrast to the chilly air. “So, how’d it feel? Making him jealous?” Jaemin asked, his voice low and soft.
You smiled up at him, feeling content. “It felt... good. But honestly, I’m glad I came out with you.”
Jaemin’s smile softened, and for the first time tonight, there was no teasing in his eyes—just a quiet sincerity. “Maybe next time, it won’t be about revenge.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized just how much you were looking forward to what came next.
“Maybe,” you whispered.
And for the first time, you didn’t mind the idea of having someone like Jaemin in your life—revenge or not.
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✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › anonymous review form
@ credits┆big thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta & proof reading ☆彡
❀ a/n┆ yes, this is real. I am finally writing about Jaemin so I hope you like it
☘︎ taglist: @zozojella, @shinysobi, @kyeomofhearts, @hisnowbie2
‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip" 🎀 ⋅ ˚✮
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from-izzy · 9 months ago
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[00:05] | NCT MARK LEE
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"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."
pairing » nct mark lee x gn!reader (fast proofread once - lmk if i missed anything!)
trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!
genre » maximum hurt and comfort because i need someone to do this for me AND IT'S EXAM SEASON FOR MEJSDKFJHDF, mwork is a fluffy boyfriend in these angst times, mark holding you tight and telling you that everything is fine, boyfriend mark lee concerned for your wellbeing, mark letting you rest against his chest
word count, estimated reading time » 1707, ~6 mins
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader is stressed with academics, reader hasn't slept in a while, mark implied to be physically bigger and taller
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist🤍 'especially to you...'
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HEYYYY HIIII! double update in a month which is very rare for me now 😭 and thanks for beta-ing a long time ago @sohnric !!
i def still love writing but life commitments can get heavy sometimes 🥹 and with that, this one is for everyone who is in exam prep or just having a hard time academically but also just anyone who needs comfort right now! good luck on your studies and commitments everyone! you can do this!! 🫂
with that being said, my first exam is tomorrow and i am tired-
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Literally from the side, you hear the door creaking open, the click of its button free from the metal that houses it on its frame. As always, you choose to ignore it even though your heart drops slightly closer to your stomach. You don't dare to tear your eyes away from the document on your screen, choosing to look at the scorching white with your tired, slightly red eyes.
He called out for you but the only thing he's greeted with is your fingers rapidly against your keyboard. Mark is no longer surprised by your dismissive actions, sighing when it seems like the rhythm becomes faster. 
Slowly, he approaches your study area, a folded finger rubbing against his eyes in an attempt to blink the tiredness away even if it's just for a little bit. When he's close enough to see what you're working on, he can't help but feel proud of your progress. The title of the document takes him back to just a few days ago when you were crying to sleep in his arms, telling him about how you have no idea and that you have hit a wall in the upcoming assignment that seems to be due so soon. 
In reality, it isn't due for two more months, but it's the weighting of the assignment that has you pondering if you can really bear the burden of sleeping when forty per cent of your grade depends on this one paper.
But seeing your hair messy with an overused coffee cup not too far away from the edge of the table, he isn't sure if he would just rather see you cry yourself to sleep or see the obvious dark shadows surrounding your eyes. What he does know right now though, is that you should just rest your whole body after depriving yourself of a whole twenty-four hours with no sleep—slightly more than that now actually.
Mark arrives behind you, the front of his oversized shirt hitting the backseat of your study chair. His arms fall onto your shoulders, slowly massaging your tension away.
"Dinner?" He tests the topic first, genuinely not knowing if you have eaten today as he was busy outside the house.
You respond with a hum, "I promise, I had it." The typing didn't cease as you continued to speak to him, "Go back to bed, Markie."
If only you could turn back to see the face he makes at your dismissive answer. "Can't," he answers simply for now. "Not when I know that you’re out here tired and sleepless."
You know that this is his way of pulling you away from the technology that is keeping you up but you decide to stand your ground, "Just a bit more."
"That's what you've been saying the past half day, bubs." 
The specific timeframe is what made your fingers freeze and you tuck all your fingers into your palm except for two, scrolling up towards the start of the document. Reality suddenly sinks into you when it doesn't feel like you scrolled up a lot, but the grey bar on the right side of the screen shows that you reached the top of the document. The wave of exhaustion finally hits and your eyelids suddenly fall instantly. Mark immediately encircles his arms around you, pulling your back to rest against his chest.
It doesn't take him another second to realise that you're silently sobbing in his arms, upper body trembling in shame and disappointment with how time has passed yet no real effort is physically seen to the real world. Mark presses multiple kisses on the top of your head, tightening his hold and whispering words of comfort. 
"Mark..." You decide to bury your eyes into Mark's arms, the salty liquid trickling down the safety of his arms. "It feels like time is mocking me right now..."
You've always felt this way. Indeed, time will never wait for anyone or anything, yet as humans, it's ironic that we always wait for the right time. It's annoying and it's infuriating to see the long hand of the clock easily circle while you just sit still and watch it happen. 
Mark pulls away only slightly, pulling your seated body out from the table so that he can spin you around to physically put your work behind you. He then kneels in front of you, his hands enveloping yours on top of your lap. 
He doesn't say anything at first and doesn't even dare to fully let go of you even when he wipes your tears away from your cheeks. Mark just offers you a smile with the crease between his eyebrows evident, letting you cry out your feelings a little bit more.
"You're doing so well," he affirms his thoughts out loud. "You don't give yourself enough credit for that, so I'm here to remind you every time."
And he does. 
Mark Lee has always been great at that even when you were both still friends. You were worried that he only did it when you were both still in the flirting stages too, but four years with Mark Lee and he still says the words sincerely and truthfully. In your darkest times, that's all that you need.
Your legs push your bottoms to the edge of the seat and you practically slump into Mark's embrace as you push the seat rolling away behind you. Your arms swing around Mark's neck for stability, hiding your cries in the crook of his neck. 
"I'm tired, Mark..." suddenly the ground felt wobbly, your knees giving out to keep your posture somewhat upright in his hold, “and I feel so dumb.”
Mark quickly refutes with a series of firm shaking of his head, craning his neck just slightly enough to kiss the trail that your tears leave on the apple of your cheeks. You whimper against the touch of his lips and you hate that you’re worrying the person who has proven to you over and over again that he loves you to the moon and back. His black hair fell over his eyes but it’s not hidden enough for you to miss the reassuring glimpse that his orbs gazed you with. 
"Your past achievements prove you otherwise as well and I promise you that you’re not.”
And he really means that. 
Your tiredness is physically shown further by the way you slump over his figure on the floor. Your knee isn't even supporting you on the ground anymore, slipping you further away from him as the fabric of your longer pants helps you slide on the polished floor to bring you closer to your boyfriend.
Mark supports your weight against his, untucking his legs from under him and spreading them beside your figure. Slowly and gently, he turns you around and sits you properly on the squared patterns. Similar to before, he makes you rest your head against where his heart beats calmly while he leans backwards slightly so that you're more comfortable in his arms around your middle. Your fingers stiffly grip his forearm, mind still clouded by the next paragraph of your work and Mark picks this up. 
His eyes drift up to the black font against the white electronic paper. "Tell me the next one." Referring to the idea of your work. 
He does this often, repeating the main ideas of your work so that he can store them inside his long-term memory. This way, he can tell it to you tomorrow. His love transcends forgetfulness, his mind jotting down all the main points so that you don't have to go back to doing work without sleep inside your system any longer. Mark gently sways his upper body and the weight of your eyelids becomes more apparent from the hum he lets out. 
"But I just don't think I deserve to rest." It feels like the world is too active for you to do so. "I feel like I'm behind all the time."
"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."
That's all the validation you need. You just needed to hear someone say, with a mellow voice and the beating of their heart that contrasts your erratic ones, that it's alright for you to rest, even if it's for a while. The affirmation that you're doing well is gratefully received, but you just needed someone to tell you that your eyelids can fall for the next few hours on a well-deserved mattress, in a safe place.
Next, your voice box finally releases the tension to the air and Mark Lee alternates between kisses to the side of your face and whispers to the shell of your ear all the words that would make the tension around your body fade.
That's the thing about Mark Lee. He would let you cry it out audibly, not like the ones you would bury your entire face to your pillow, suffocating and gasping for air as you tried to keep the weight on your shoulders to yourself when you were still living alone.
The tears from your eyes are valid and so did the sobs that did the same from your lips. The world blurs due to the remnants of some of the stubborn ones that didn't drop to your tear-stricken cheeks—but it's fine because Mark would always turn his head to you, the side of his fingers brushing on your lower lid, careful to not hurt the orbs that he finds love and security in.
Mark still holds you close throughout the whole time, eventually seeing how your chest gradually decreases its frequency in taking deep breaths. 
Exhausted and spent, you managed to whisper, "Thanks, Mark." It's croaked and easy to miss if it wasn't for the proximity that you're both sharing.
"Always." His palm rests on your jawline and he softly turns your head, your ear now on his chest. Mark lands a quick peck on your now slightly upturned lips, "I love you."
"I love you more."
Sleeping is easier for him now that the other side of the mattress is occupied and that he can feel your warmth directly on his skin in a well-deserved resting position.
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navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'
tags: @neocity-net @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @haneul-and-clouds
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h8ani · 2 years ago
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Sasuke Uchiha x Reader
Word Count - 3.3k
Warnings - fem!reader, slight overstimulation, fingering, oral (female receiving)
A/N - after months of having this in my notebook I finally finished it T.T I just wanna say thank you to everyone for liking part 1 & 2 of this and I hope you enjoy this just as much! I didn't expect to make multiple parts for this but I lowkey already have ideas for more parts if anyone is enjoying it enough to want more!
taglist! - @kkittycries @blackfire2013 @benkeibear @suyacho
join my taglist → here
Part One → Part Two → Part Three → Part Four
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The door of your apartment slams as you trudge in, the sloshing of your shoes, soaked with the rain from the downpour that just drenched you outside. You dart for the couch, grabbing the closest pillow and quickly shoving your face into it and letting out a scream that would have alerted the neighbors in some way if it wasn’t muffled.
All day something has gone wrong, if it wasn’t one thing it was surely the next. It’s as if the gods above were playing games with you just to see how much you could handle before you undoubtedly snapped. 
Waking up late wouldn’t have been such a bother if it wasn’t for the meeting with the Hokage you had. You had a performance review about the latest mission you were just on and no shock to you, it brought up how bad of a screw-up you must’ve been because all that was said was everything you did wrong. You were reprimanded for that along with your tardiness to the meeting, on top of that you never ate breakfast because of the rush you were in. Deciding after the meeting ramen would be the perfect meal to drown in your sorrows and finally get something in your system, only to realize that being in such a rush you absentmindedly forgot your coin purse. Deciding to finally leave and go back home, Mother Nature wanted to make sure you got there quickly and started a downpour just for you. Being soaked from head to toe was something every girl just needed, and so, here you are. 
The frustration building inside of you makes every inch of your body feel like it might explode, tears threaten to spill past your bottom lashes and onto your cheeks but you refuse to cry and give in to the absolute shit show of a day you’ve endured. Your throat constricts while you take a deep breath, as you exhale the subtle sound of your doorknob twisting is heard, the door opens slightly, and before you can think your fingers fumble with your kunai, quickly throwing it and seeing it lodge into the wall next to the door. 
Sasuke walks in to stop as he sees you, glancing at the kunai and then back at you. His eyes scan your body, seeing you sopping wet with a puddle of water soaking your once dry carpet, you were frowning at him and your eyes were slightly red even as you blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “Bad day?” He comes inside, locking the door once it's been shut. 
“Yeah, you could say that.” Your voice was small yet still croaked as you spoke. He nods, not saying anything more as he makes his way towards you, hands gripping your wrist and tugging you back towards your room. Immediately you start to pull your wrist back albeit weakly. “Not that kinda bad day.” 
“I figured as much.” He shrugs his jacket off and tosses it on your bed, if you had the energy you’d scoff at how he’s making it seem as if this was his room. 
“No I mean-”
“Can you shut up for a second?” He interjects while waving a hand in your direction, ignoring the glare you shoot at him as he walks to your bathroom. He disappears for a moment until you hear the shower turn on. Once again making himself feel at home. You open your mouth to call to him when he reappears, hand beckoning you over.
Against your better judgment, you move towards him, feet seemingly having a mind of their own, and follow him into your bathroom. The steam that was already filling the small bathroom gave you a warm hug of warmth, not realizing how cold you were from the rain. A content sigh leaves your lips accepting the new damp warmth you felt. 
“Wanna tell me what got you like this?” He asks while pulling his shirt off and dropping it at your feet. Confusion crosses your features as he continues to undress in front of you, the heat from the steam leaving and going straight to your face, you jerk your head away from him as you mumble a half ass answer about how it’s raining outside. You hear the rest of his clothes fall against the tile floor as he discards them all, quickly kicking them to the side so your wet ones don’t drip on his. 
“How are you not wet? The weather outside is awful.” You ask, head still turned away to not look at him, still unsure as to why he decided to strip. It’s not like you haven’t seen him but the close proximity and eye contact are still something you weren’t used to. 
“It’s called an umbrella, the clouds were dark, and it was obvious it was going to rain. You’d have to be blind to not see that.” You snap your head to glare at him which turned to sudden wide eyes as he was fully naked in front of you. Your eyes wander from his chest down to his toned stomach and venture further until- “Eyes up here.” He smirks when he sees the flush of your face. 
“Why am I even in here?” 
“We’re going to shower, you need to relax.”
“I- we- huh?” You stutter out, the gears in your head coming to a halt while you look at him as if a second head grew out of his neck. Sasuke rolls his eyes and slips his fingers under the bottom of your top and tugs it off and over your head, it drops to the floor with a loud splat sound from the rainwater soaked in it. 
“I said you needed to relax, now shut up, stop asking questions, and take your pants off.”
“God you’re such a-”
“Yeah whatever, just hurry up before the hot water runs out.” 
Once again, against your better judgment, you listen to him, your clothes are off and discarded with your shirt, a small pool of water creating around it. Soon you’re stepping into your shower first, the heat of the water relaxing your sore and aching body and warming you up in an instant. You audibly sigh and allow your eyes to close just feeling the water beat and fall down your chest like a steady stream. 
Sasuke is soon after you, hands finding a place on your waist, the subtle squeeze making your body freeze up as if the water had turned frigid. “Relax, Jesus it’s just me.” Sasuke says, you can feel the huff of his breath on the back of your neck which does nothing to calm you down. 
Relax? It’s just me? That’s exactly the reason why you couldn’t, the sole fact that if you two weren’t fucking then what was the point of being here? What was the point of this? This was too nice for him, too intimate. 
His hands slide from your waist up to your shoulders and feel his thumbs press down and slowly rub, easily bringing you back from your thoughts. “You’re tense.”
“When am I not?” You joke, amusement evident as it was so obvious you’ve never been a relaxed person. The expectations are always so high for you even from such a young age, even now with so many responsibilities on your plate the urge to sleep and ignore it all is so heavy. 
Sasuke doesn’t respond, thumbs pushing down deeper into your muscles massaging out all of the tenseness you have. You lean back against his chest, eyes shutting once again and letting a sigh escape your lips. His hands go down your back keeping the pressure to work out the rest of your body. “Fuck..” You whimper.
“There we go..” His fingers dig into your lower back finding the place where you melt into him, you lean your head back against his shoulder and sigh contentedly. 
“Thank you for this.” You say quietly, barely heard over the stream of water coming from your shower head. It was a soft moment, both of you two never uttering anything other than foul comments to one another, always making sure the next word hurt more than the last, yet here you were; eyes closed and guard down against the chest of someone you couldn’t stand to look at when you were kids. 
“Shut up.” His chest rises as he scoffs before dipping down to kiss your shoulder. “You looked a mess when I got here.” 
Ignoring his comment, you bend forward to turn the heat up higher, you soon turn around to face him, his hair is damp and his cheeks are flushed from the steamy air. He didn’t have his signature grimace that always laid upon his face, being this close where the tension wasn’t filled with anger was…different. 
His hands made their way back to your waist, squeezing the soft plush of your skin. The air; although thick with vapor, was brittle as a crisp autumn leaf, so fragile it could break if you breathed, and if it didn't snap you felt like you just might. Neither of you speaks, you fumble with your fingers, unsure if you should lay them on him as he has his on you. 
Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his hand slid to the back of your neck tugging you closer, a quiet “Come here.” leaving his lips before he was on yours. 
Unknowing if it’s because of the intimacy of being in the shower together and the vulnerability it gave off, but the kiss emitted every little bit of exposure you felt. His hands held onto you tightly while yours lay upon his chest. Collectively, a sigh left you both; unspoken words left between you both and died on each other's tongue.
~~ 
You feel the cool sheets against your warm skin as you plop yourself on your bed, the fluffy pajama bottoms you now have on bringing an added level of cozy you oh so needed to your day. You finally felt relaxed; cold, damp clothes soon forgotten as well as the ravenette who stood behind you. Your mind was mulled over with the sudden leisure that you couldn’t stop the squeal that escaped you when Sasuke’s cold hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you down the length of your bed. You turn to look at him when his lips come crashing into your own, soft lips pressing hard while you melt into his touch, kissing Sasuke has started to feel familiar, a comfort in kissing his lips and knowing how the other works. 
One of his hands comes up to take place at your throat, slightly squeezing to elicit a small whimper from you. Just like you feeling familiarity in his lips he feels the same in knowing just how you’d react, feeling just as if he knows a part of you. His hand slips to the back of your neck pulling you closer, tongue slipping in and claiming your mouth for his own. His kisses become hungrier, more passionate. Fingers tilting your chin up so your throat is now exposed, he leaves wet open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and descends further down your neck. You become putty to his mouth as he finds your sweet spot, another whine leaves your lips only igniting him further.
His hands leave your neck and grip onto your waist pulling you to him and grinding your hips into his erection. Every whine and whimper that leaves your mouth sends every impulse in him into overdrive. “Still having a bad day?” He breathes out, lips ghosting over the sensitive mark he just created.
“It could be better.” You giggle, legs instinctively pulling him even closer to your clothed core. He smirks against the skin of your neck while hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pajama bottoms, you lift your hips allowing him to tug them off. He shifts himself down until he’s on his knees at the foot of your bed, he tugs you down to the edge of your bed until he’s at eye level with your already glistening core. Strong hands push your thighs until they’re pressed against your chest, a low growl reverberating in his chest. You’re this wet just from a few simple kisses, how pathetic. 
His head dips down and licks through your slick, lips attaching to your clit and sucking causing your hips to buck in his mouth. He chuckles, the vibration pulsing your entire lower half as your hand shoots to his still-damp hair, your fingers thread and slightly tug while he circles his tongue. A quiet moan leaves your lips causing his eyes to shoot up and look at you, he sees your eyes closed; his tongue relieving you of all your stressors from the day. The small whimpers you let out only make his gaze darker, hungrier for you. 
“I know you can be louder than that.” He says as he pulls back. Finally, you look down at him and see his black eyes boring into you, he sees your eyes glossy and lips slightly parted, he hasn’t even made you cum yet and you’re already like this, but that doesn’t stop the pout that forms on your face. Your hand tightens its grip on his hair and tugs his face closer to your heat. 
“Keep going-”
“Be louder, I want to hear you.” His words are demanding, making you jut your lip out in a pout once more. “Be louder or I’ll leave.” You huff a breath and look away from him only to feel a quick slap to your thigh causing you to yelp and snap your head right back to him. No words being said between the both of you but you know it was a threat. His head dips back down sinking further as he keeps his eyes trained on yours while running his tongue through your slick core, his thumb putting just the right amount of pressure to evoke a slurry of curse words from your mouth. Your hips move and grind against his tongue, your hand tugging roughly at his hair causing him to groan into you. Thumb now leaves your clit and quickly replaces it with his mouth, his skillful tongue circling and flicking, having you clench down on nothing. Your whimpers turn to moans and now his name is the only thing you’re able to say. 
You orgasm without warning, fingers tightening even more in his locks while your thighs trap him. A choked-out moan is heard loudly in his ears, another groan vibrates your body as he laps up all of your juices, his skillful tongue sending shivers up your spine as he doesn’t pull away while you ride your high. 
Once the oversensitivity set in you squirm in his grip, legs planting down to try and push away from him but his arms quickly hook under your thighs and spread you wider for him, giving him even more access to your pussy. His lips suck harshly around your clit extracting a high pitch squeal from you. “Sasuke!” Your once woven fingers in his hair were now pushing him away, the oversensitivity having tears prick your waterline, it was beginning to feel too much, too much pleasure building up right after you just came. 
Sasuke was eating you like he was starved, the lewd and wet sounds coming from where his mouth connected with your pussy were all that could be heard. The coil in your stomach begins to tighten again and your legs tremble, a silent indicator you were so close only minutes after your first orgasm. 
As if he could read your mind and body so easily, Sasuke pushes two fingers in and pumps them at a quick pace, curling them as he does so. You’re shaking, his fingers hitting your g-spot again and again and again-
Your eyes roll back while you cum, your body tensing up and your head being thrown and pressed back into your mattress as you moan loudly. Once your body loosens up and legs go limp he finally pulls away. 
The bed dips down as he climbs up your body, a cheeky smile plastered on his face when he sees the fucked out look on yours, a sense of pride filling his chest up to know he got you like this just from his tongue alone. Your eyes settled on his, trailing down to see his lips and chin coated in your slick. 
Your chest rises with heavy breaths, eyes weary as you slowly blink up at him, the subtle tint of your face changing when catching his own eyes already looking down at yours. 
His eyes scan your face, seeing how you divert your own away from him while trying to regain your breath. It’s funny, he did all the work and you’re the one out of breath. Sasuke fits himself more comfortably in between your legs, laying more of his weight on you as you both just relax in silence. 
He can’t help but look at you in a different light, when he first came over months ago he didn’t know what got ahold of him. He was the last person you wanted to see and vice versa, but that didn’t stop him from barging in, he was always watching the village in one way or another, whether it was from word of mouth by someone or when he could sneak away, somehow whenever the latter happened you were always one of the first people he happened to catch sight of. 
It was annoying. 
He felt the irritation run up his neck when he saw you, the way you’d walk almost as if your nose was in the air, thinking you were better than him, better than everyone around you. Just seeing you from a distance he couldn’t stand, it’s like the same little girl he remembered back then was still in his head, glaring at him and calling him all the insults under the sun whenever he jabbed at you, but when he finally saw you he couldn’t help but be a little happy to see that same signature scowl that appeared on your face. 
That first night he didn’t even come to fuck you, that was the last thing that he would have thought would happen, but when push literally came to shove against that damn wall his body took over, all the pent-up frustrations between you two over the years hitting the breaking point. 
He can’t lie and say nothing has changed since he started coming over more frequently. He wasn’t supposed to be sneaking back into the village, he wasn’t meant to be seeing you so much, having moments like this. It’s easier to say he doesn’t give a damn about you, that it’s just the sex that keeps bringing him back, but when he does something so out of character as he did today he can’t help but feel like he should’ve just fucked you and left; pushed your bad day to the side, ignore your borderline broken figure and used you to his liking. He’s no nurturer, far from it yet he still worked your sore muscles out and had you cum till you were dizzy. 
“This won’t happen again.” He thinks to himself. He can’t come back, he won’t. This will be the last time you see him and he sees you. The last time he feels your soft skin against him, fingers dancing across his back and playing with the hair while you both calm down. The last time you see his eyes staring back at you, different emotions each time and never knowing which one it is. 
He’s convinced himself of it, never again.
But when you bat your pretty little eyes like you’re doing right now he can’t help but mentally curse himself as he finds himself leaning down to press his lips against yours. 
He knows he’s going to come back.
He knows it and he can’t help but hate you for it. 
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networks: @enchantedforest-network / @bitchcraftinc / @ghostqueue
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