desi2go

[desi2go]

A masterpiece 🫶🏼 I cried so much while reading it but it's soooo good!

Until I die...

Pairings: Boyfriend!Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Genre: Heavy Angst, drama, infidelity, illness.

wc: 12,7k

Summary: You loved him more than anything, even when you knew he was slowly falling out of love with you. You kept quiet through the heartbreak. Through the illness. You worked through your pain and smiled so no one would worry. But when your time began to run out, you did the only thing you could do: Leave something behind for each person you loved.

Warnings: Angst (heavy), Terminal illness/death of main character, Grief and loss, Medical descriptions (mild, non-graphic) Infidelity (Hongjoong cheats on reader) Emotional abuse/neglect from a romantic partner, Depressive thoughts/emotional pain, Bittersweet ending

a/n: Hi, lovely readers! I just want to start by saying… yes, I did cry while writing this. And yes, I do enjoy writing angst.

I know, I know—maybe I need help. Or a hug. Or both. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it (even if it broke your heart into a thousand sharp little pieces).

If you liked it, please let me know—scream in the comments, throw tissues at me, or, you know, ask me to write more angst. I’ll probably say yes and suffer through it again for you 🥲

Join my Taglist: Here

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask again, slower this time, your voice barely a whisper.

The words don’t sound real. They hang in the air like fog, thick and heavy, impossible to breathe in.

The doctor shifts forward, his eyes full of practiced sympathy.

“Your tests confirm late-stage Acute Myeloid Leukemia,” He says gently. “It’s... blood cancer, Miss Kang.”

Blood cancer.

Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. You blink once. Twice.

Blood. Cancer.

That can’t be right. You only came here because you’d been dizzy for a few days, a little fatigued. Bruising easier than usual, sure, but you thought maybe it was just anemia. Or a flu. Overwork.

Not cancer. Never cancer.

He keeps talking, though you barely hear a word.

“There are some medical options,” He continues, his tone careful. “Low-dose chemotherapy, mostly for symptom control at this stage. A possible stem cell transplant, but the success rate is low given how advanced it is. We can also refer you to hospice care to prioritize your comfort—”

His voice fades. Distant. Like he’s underwater.

Your eyes are fixed on the floor, and your hands are gripping the edges of the chair even though you can't feel them anymore.

You should be crying. You should be panicking. But your brain... it’s stuck on something else.

Three months. ATEEZ’s comeback is in three months.

You’re part of the production team. There’s producing meetings, recording timelines. You promised to check Hongjoong’s revised lyrics tomorrow—he worked so hard on that track.

You can’t die. Not now. Not when things are just getting good for them.

And Yeosang. Your brother’s birthday is next month. He’s turning twenty six. You haven’t even gotten his gift. He mentioned wanting a custom watch—it was expensive, but you were going to surprise him.

And then, of course, Hongjoong.

Your boyfriend. Nearly two years together, though lately he’s been... distant. Busy. Distracted. You haven’t even told him how sick you’ve been feeling.

You blink again. Was it really just a flu?

Your nails dig into your palms.

Cancer.

You're dying.

But all you can think about is how you’re going to fit chemo into a production meeting. How you’ll cover for your absences so no one—especially he—notices.

You don’t want to be a burden. You just want to hold onto what little you have left.

“Miss Kang?” The doctor’s voice pulls you back. You force yourself to meet his eyes.

He’s waiting—waiting for you to fall apart, maybe. Waiting for grief to flood in.

But all you say is: “Can I go now? I have a deadline.”

He hesitates “Of course. But we do recommend starting treatment as soon as possible—”

“I don't want any, don't want to be a burden.”

You stand. Your knees nearly give out, but you mask it with a quick breath and a weak smile. Your hands are trembling as you gather your things. You don't even remember putting your bag down.

As you step out into the hallway, the lights feel too bright, the world too loud. Your phone buzzes.

Joongie🖤: Studio all night. don't wait up.

You stare at the message, expression unreadable.

Cancer. Blood cancer. You’re dying.

But all you reply is: “Okay, love you.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You’re in the booth with Mingi and Seonghwa, helping them smooth out a harmony layer on the bridge. The air is dry, heavy with the static buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of the condenser mic.

You’ve run the track three times now—your eyes are tired, your head pounds, and there’s a high ringing in your ears you’ve been trying to ignore since morning.

You press the intercom “One more run, okay? Then we’ll double it and move on.”

They both nod, focused and trusting. It’s a rhythm you’ve shared for years. But just as Seonghwa hits the high note and Mingi drops into the lower octave, it happens.

A sharp sting behind your nose. Then a slow, warm trickle.

You blink.

Red.

It stains your fingers before you realize what’s happening—your hand comes away wet. The blood drips onto the soundboard, splashing across the control dial.

“Shit—” You mutter, jerking your head up.

Seonghwa is the first to notice. His expression shifts in an instant from focused to horrified. He yanks his headphones off and rushes out of the booth, pulling tissues from the stack beside the mixing desk.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” He asks, gently pressing the tissues to your face. His hands are warm and steady, but his voice is tight with concern.

“I’m fine,” You say quickly, trying to laugh but your throat is dry. “It’s probably just the heat. You know how weather messes with your sinuses sometimes.”

Seonghwa doesn’t reply right away. He just looks at you. And in that moment, you know he doesn’t buy it, not really. The little crease between his brows gives him away.

Before he can press further, the booth door creaks open. Mingi’s head pops out, brows raised.

“What happened?”

“Just a little nosebleed,” You call out, raising a hand with a thumbs-up, blood still drying on your knuckles. “Nothing major. Give me a sec and we’ll get back to the recording.”

Mingi hesitates, his gaze flicking between you and Seonghwa, who’s still crouched in front of you with stained tissues.

“You sure? You look… pale.”

“I’m always pale,” You tease with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Studio lighting hates me.”

They chuckle a little, but it’s thin. Tense. The kind of laugh you give when you want something to be normal, even though it clearly isn’t.

You clean the soundboard with a tissue, careful not to smear the blood further. Your hands are trembling just slightly, but you hope neither of them notice.

And then, just like that, you sit back down, press the intercom, and say:

“Let’s go again.”

The room is quiet for a beat. Then Mingi sighs and slips the headphones on. Seonghwa does the same, reluctantly taking his seat. He watches you for a second longer before turning away.

You don’t scream. You don’t cry. You don’t explain the pounding in your chest or the ache crawling up your legs.

You just breathe, press play, and pretend that nothing is wrong.

But you can feel their eyes on you now—careful, worried, watching.

And for the first time this week, you wonder how much longer you’ll be able to keep pretending.

⋆

It’s almost midnight when you finally step into the smaller recording studio, the familiar hum of wires and soft glow of monitor lights greeting you like an old friend.

Hongjoong is already there, seated at the mixing desk, headphones draped around his neck, scrolling through the demo layers with an expression you know too well.

Focused. Detached. Somewhere far away from you, even though you’re in the same room.

You haven’t seen him properly in days—just quick glances in hallways, brief texts about edits or schedules. It’s been weeks since he kissed you goodnight. Months since you felt like you had his full attention.

Still, tonight matters. It’s your first one-on-one session in over a week. Sure, it’s for work. But it’s him. And you’ve missed him so much it aches.

You walk in quietly, clutching your notepad and tablet. Your legs feel like lead. Your bones hurt. You would give anything to sleep, just sleep for twenty-four hours straight.

But none of that matters now. Because he’s here. And you want to be here with him.

“You’re late,” He murmurs without turning around.

You blink, caught off guard “Only by five minutes.”

He doesn’t answer. Just clicks into the instrumental and adjusts his mic levels.

You set your things down and take your place behind the desk, syncing the track. Your fingers move on instinct, but your vision blurs slightly when you glance down, the lights of the soundboard feel too bright, the colors too sharp.

“You look tired,” Hongjoong says, finally glancing at you. His tone isn’t warm. It’s not concerned. It’s just… an observation.

“I am,” You answer honestly, letting the words hang between you. You’re hoping—just hoping—he’ll soften, just a little.

Ask why. Ask what’s wrong. But he doesn’t.

He shrugs “We all are.”

Right.

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek “Let’s do a run-through, yeah?”

He nods once and heads into the booth, you hit record.

The beat pulses through the speakers, his voice layering smoothly over the base. He’s good, always has been, and this track is personal for him. You can feel it in the way he bites down on each verse, dragging emotion into the syllables.

And yet, as he sings about struggle and perseverance, about finding light in the dark, your chest burns. You wonder if he means a single word of it anymore.

The second take ends. He peeks out of the booth, resting his hands on the doorframe.

“How’s the timing?” He asks.

You try to answer, but your mouth feels dry. Your head is pounding. The room is spinning just enough to make you feel unstable.

You clear your throat “It’s good. You hit that second verse cleaner this time.”

He nods. No smile. No praise. Just a nod.

You stare at him for a second longer, heart thudding, and finally whisper, “I missed you.”

It slips out before you can stop it. Small. Vulnerable.

He blinks “What?”

You force a smile “I said the mix is almost done. Just need to level out the chorus.”

Lie. Coward’s version of the truth. He doesn’t press. Just turns away, going back to the booth.

You exhale, shakily. Look down at your hands. They're trembling again. You close your eyes and rest your head in your arms for a second, just a second, but Hongjoong’s voice through the mic pulls you back up.

“Don’t sleep on me,” He says—light, almost teasing.

But there’s no affection behind it. No warmth.

Just a reminder.

You're not his girlfriend tonight. You're the producer.

You swallow the lump in your throat and press record again.

And you wonder how it’s possible to be this close to someone you love and still feel so completely alone.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s rare to have a quiet evening, let alone a meal outside the studio. But Yeosang insisted.

“You’ve been skipping too many dinners,” He said when he called. “I’m picking you up at seven. No excuses.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue, not today. Not after another dizzy spell in the breakroom. Not after you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and barely recognized the pale, fragile version staring back.

So now, you're sitting across from him in a small Japanese restaurant, the kind you both used to visit when you were younger.

It’s warm, quiet, the kind of place that smells like miso and nostalgia. He orders for both of you—he always does—and you let him, too tired to pretend you care about the menu.

He chats about Ateez's schedules, about San’s newest obsession with cooking, about the funny disaster that was Wooyoung’s attempt at laundry this week.

You nod and laugh in the right places. But your limbs are heavy, your stomach barely handling the miso soup you’re swirling in front of you.

Then it happens. You reach for the cup of tea, and your hoodie sleeve slides up. Just a few inches.

But it’s enough.

The yellow-purple bloom of the bruise on your forearm is stark against your skin, impossible to miss.

Yeosang goes still. His eyes lock onto it, and for a moment, he doesn't say anything, just stares.

Then his voice drops, cold and quiet “What happened to your arm?”

You freeze. Quickly pull your sleeve back down.

“It’s nothing,” You say with a too-fast shrug. “I—uh—I hit it on the kitchen counter a few days ago.”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t believe you.

“In the kitchen?”

You nod “Yeah. Just… clumsy, you know?”

He leans back in his seat slowly, watching you carefully now. His jaw tightens.

“You sure that’s it?”

You blink “What else would it be?”

He doesn’t answer. But you see it. That flicker in his eyes. That horrible, fleeting thought that passes through his mind.

Did someone do this to you?

Did he?

“Yeosang,” You say quietly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” He lies, voice tight.

“Yes, you are. And I promise, no one hurt me. Especially not Hongjoong.”

You smile. It takes effort. It hurts.

He doesn’t smile back “I’m your older brother,” He says after a long silence. “If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

You nod “Of course.”

But the truth is already rotting inside you. It’s in your blood. Your bones. The way you can’t even finish a bowl of soup without feeling like you’re going to collapse.

And it’s killing you—slowly, quietly.

And you're lying to the one person who would do anything to save you.

—

The mirrors are fogged at the edges, the air thick with the rhythm of stomping feet and sharp breaths. The members of ATEEZ are halfway through the final run of their choreography when San finally calls for a break, dropping to the floor with a dramatic groan.

“Five minutes,” The choreographer calls out. “Drink water. Stretch. Don’t die.”

Yeosang wipes the sweat off his forehead, reaching for his water bottle, but his eyes keep flickering to Hongjoong—the leader sitting off in the corner, completely checked out, thumbs tapping away at his phone like the world around him doesn’t exist.

He sighs. Something’s been off for weeks—with you, with him.

The bruise on your arm flashes in his memory again. Too dark. Too fresh. Too big for a simple kitchen bump.

He swallows and turns to Seonghwa and Mingi, who are stretching nearby.

“Can I ask you guys something?” He says, keeping his voice low.

Mingi nods, looking up “What’s up?”

“It’s about my sister,” Yeosang says slowly, choosing each word. “Has she seemed… off lately to you?”

The moment the question leaves his mouth, Seonghwa stills. Mingi, too. Then Seonghwa shifts, sitting up straight.

“What do you mean by ‘off’?”

Yeosang hesitates “She had this bruise on her arm this afternoon. Big one. Said it happened in the kitchen, but... I don’t know. She’s pale. She barely touched her food. She looked like she was going to fall asleep at the table.”

Mingi makes a noise—not quite surprised, not quite confused “Dude,” He says, glancing at Seonghwa. “She had a nosebleed the other day. In the recording booth. Just started bleeding mid-take.”

“And she said it was because of the heat,” Seonghwa adds with a frown. “But I don’t know, man. She looked exhausted. Like, barely-standing, exhausted.”

Yeosang’s expression darkens “She told me she was fine. Said she was just tired.”

“She’s always tired lately,” Seonghwa murmurs. “She’s not okay.”

Mingi nods “You think something’s going on? Like… is she sick or something?”

“I don’t know,” Yeosang admits. “But I’m going to find out.”

In the silence that follows, they all glance toward Hongjoong.

Still glued to his phone. Still tapping out replies, smiling faintly at something on the screen—completely unaware of the conversation happening a few feet away.

“Should we tell him?” Mingi asks quietly.

Yeosang watches Hongjoong for a long beat. Then he shakes his head.

“He won’t care. Not right now.”

Seonghwa frowns “You think something’s going on with him too?”

Yeosang doesn’t answer. Because he already knows the truth—or at least part of it. He sees the distance.

The coldness. The way you still light up when you talk about Hongjoong, like you’re trying to convince yourself he's still the man you love. And the way Hongjoong barely even looks at you anymore.

He sees it all.

And he’s afraid of what it might mean.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The door closes behind you with a soft click.

You drop your bag by the entrance and lean against the wall, breath trembling. Your whole body aches—not the usual muscle strain or fatigue from long days. It's deeper. Like your bones are rotting from the inside out.

You peel off your hoodie slowly, wincing as the sleeve sticks to the sweat on your arms. Bruises decorate your skin like splattered ink. New ones, old ones, all unexplained.

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet.

No shoes by the door but your own. No low humming from the kitchen. No Hongjoong.

You told yourself he was busy. You keep telling yourself that.

You shuffle to the bathroom and stare at your reflection. Your skin is pale, almost gray under the fluorescent light. You look like a ghost wearing your face.

There’s blood on your upper lip. Again.

You don't even flinch this time. You just grab some tissues and press hard. Your nose is getting used to this.

Your phone buzzes on the counter. Another voicemail from the hospital. You press play.

“Hi, we’re following up on your last test results. We strongly advise reconsidering treatment options. The sooner we start, the better your chances of—”

You press delete. You already told them no.

What’s the point of prolonging what can’t be saved?

Chemo would only destroy what little normalcy you have left. The hair, the strength, the time—what’s the use if there’s no real chance? If you’ll die anyway?

You sit on the floor. Cold tiles against your back. The room spins for a second. You blink through it. You open the notes app on your phone. Not to write a letter—not yet. But you type a single sentence:

“If I die tonight, would he even notice?”

You don’t cry. You’re too tired to cry. Instead, you crawl into bed in one of Hongjoongs’ shirts, and you curl up with your sickness like it’s the only thing that hasn’t abandoned you.

You whisper into the dark “I don’t want to die like this.”

And you fall asleep with the taste of blood in your throat and nothing but silence to hold you.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s nearly 2 a.m. The building is quiet, everyone else long gone. You’re still in your small studio, slouched in your chair, eyelids burning from hours of staring at the screen. You rub your temples, lean back, and play the track again.

Your eyes narrow. It’s missing something. Hongjoong’s verse. The one he promised to send by midnight.

You glance at the clock: 2:07 a.m. With a tired sigh, you drag yourself up and out. He’s probably still in his studio, working like always. Maybe he forgot to hit send.

Maybe… you just want to see him.

You walk quietly through the hallway, your oversized hoodie sleeves covering your trembling fingers. You’re exhausted, nauseous, and your body feels like lead—but you’re used to that by now.

When you reach his studio door, your hand pauses mid-air. It’s not fully shut. A crack of light seeps out.

Then you hear it.

A sound. A laugh. A muffled moan.

Your heart stops. Slowly, too slowly, you lean closer. Maybe he’s watching something. Maybe someone left a video playing. Maybe—But when you press your eye to the crack and tilt your head—You freeze.

She’s on his lap. Arms around his neck. Lips on his throat. His hands on her hips, his head thrown back, mouth open, soft groans escaping.

Your stomach flips violently.

He whispers something. Something soft, a voice you haven't heard in weeks—the way he used to talk to you.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby. Can’t get enough of you.”

Your world tilts. You don’t scream. You don’t make a sound. You take a step back. And another. And another. You walk away before they can see you. Before he can see what he’s done.

Your hand covers your mouth, the hallway spinning around you.

You stumble back to your studio. The file’s still open. Hongjoong’s verse still missing. Like you’re missing.

You don’t cry. You don’t delete the track. You close the laptop gently, like it’s fragile.

Because if you break one thing, you might not stop.

⋆

The next day, you show up right on time. Hair brushed, hoodie clean, headphones slung around your neck.

No one would guess that you barely slept, that you spent the night curled up on the studio floor because you physically couldn’t make it home.

Hongjoong arrives ten minutes late. He barely glances at you when he walks in, phone in hand, cap low over his eyes.

You smile at him anyway. Smile. Even if it’s broken. Even if he doesn’t look at you.

“You ready to record your part today?” You ask, tapping your notes like your heart isn’t crumbling.

He nods casually, pulling out his water bottle and warming up his voice “Yeah. Just the bridge, right?”

You hum in agreement, adjusting the mic settings “Mmhm. Also… just checking, you still remember about our dinner on Friday?”

That catches his attention for a second. He looks up “Dinner?”

Your stomach knots. Your hand tightens around the pen “The one I booked a month ago. That place near the Han River? You made me promise not to cancel, even if work got heavy?”

A pause. A flicker of hesitation in his eyes “Ah… yeah. Of course I remember. I’ll be there.”

And just like that, he goes back to humming into the mic.

You nod, smiling again.

Of course he’ll be there. Of course he said that.

Because you’re still pretending. And he’s still pretending. And both of you are very good at acting.

But that Friday it wasn't what you expected to be.

You spent two hours getting ready. Even put on makeup, something you haven’t done in weeks. Your legs feel like glass, and your skin is bruising under your sweater sleeves, but you still curl your hair and pick the perfume he once said he loved.

You arrive early, of course. The restaurant is soft-lit, romantic. There’s a tiny candle flickering on the table you reserved a month ago.

You order water. You wait.

Fifteen minutes.

Thirty.

An hour.

You check your phone. No messages. No calls. No apologies.

The candle flickers lower. The server comes by for the third time and finally asks, gently:

“Would you like to order something? Or…?”

You smile at him “No, thank you. I think… I’m not really hungry anymore.”

You pay for both meals you didn’t order, just in case he shows up later.

When you get home that night, your phone finally buzzes. You’re already curled under your blanket, still wearing the clothes you picked for your date.

Joongie 🖤: "Sorry. Something came up. We’ll reschedule next month."

You stare at the screen. Your heart doesn’t break, it simply stops trying. A bitter chuckle slips from your lips.

“I’ll probably be dead next month.”

And then you roll over and close your eyes.

Alone.

—

The soft creak of the front door wakes you.

Your eyes flutter open, your body sinking deeper into the mattress before you force yourself up. Every bone protests. Your limbs feel too heavy, your joints throb. There’s a ringing in your ears again—low, constant—like a warning.

But still, you sit up. Because it’s him.

Maybe you’re foolish. Maybe you’re still waiting for the version of him who once held your hand in packed rooms, who left sleepy kisses on your forehead, who whispered “I love you” like it was sacred.

Maybe you’re just hoping he’ll look at you the same way again.

Barefoot, you walk across the cold floor. Your oversized sweater slips from one shoulder, the fabric brushing against skin that bruises too easily now. The lights in the living room are dim, but you see him.

Hongjoong. Standing near the coat rack, pulling off his hoodie with a long, tired sigh.

You stop in the doorway “Where were you?” Your voice is soft. Not angry. Just… quiet. Worn down.

He doesn’t look at you when he answers “Working.”

You glance at the clock. 3:47 a.m. You scoff—not with bitterness, but disbelief.

“It’s almost four, Hongjoong.”

That makes him turn, eyes sharp with irritation.

“I have a comeback on my fucking shoulders. Of course I’m staying late.”

The words bite, but you try to swallow it down “I know, I— I wasn’t trying to—”

“I already said sorry,” He snaps, tossing his hoodie carelessly onto the couch. “Don’t start nagging me about forgetting the damn dinner.”

“I’m not,” You murmur. “I just… didn’t think you’d actually come home tonight.”

That’s all you meant. Just that. Not an accusation. Not even a disappointment. Just honesty.

But something in him bristles like you lit a match near his fuse. He turns fully to you, and for a second, the air leaves your lungs. You smell it—faint but distinct—alcohol.

And worse, you see it: darkened skin just above his collar, smudged and uneven, red-purple hickeys that his t-shirt doesn’t fully cover.

Your heart drops to your stomach. Still… you say nothing. Because if you speak, you might scream.

“You are complaining,” He says suddenly, voice rising. “That’s all you do lately. You’re always tired, always acting like the world’s ending—”

“I’m not acting—” You breathe, voice cracking. But he doesn’t let you finish.

“We’re all tired,” He barks. “You think you’re the only one going through shit? Everyone’s stressed. Everyone’s working. But no one else is dragging it around like some pathetic excuse.”

That word—pathetic—splits something in your chest.

“I didn’t know I was an excuse to you,” You whisper.

He scoffs like you’re being dramatic “God, you’ve been so exhausting lately. You don’t even look like yourself. You’ve lost weight, you’re pale all the time, you’ve got these dark circles under your eyes. You look… sick.”

You are sick.

But he doesn’t know that. Because you never told him. Because he never asked.

“If something’s wrong with you, just say it already,” He huffs. “Stop walking around like some damn ghost expecting me to coddle you.”

You feel it in your chest now—the slow, suffocating sting of grief folding into itself.

Your voice breaks when you speak again “It’s been almost a month since we really talked. Since we existed together. I planned that night for us, Joong. I just… I miss you.”

He looks at you like he’s staring through a window. Cold. Detached.

“See? Complaining again.”

Your heart splinters. And in that moment, you understand.

He’s already gone. He left you long ago. Now he’s just looking for reasons to make it your fault. You nod, almost imperceptibly. Your throat burns, but you force your lips into a flat line.

“Okay,” You whisper. “Sorry.”

And you walk away. Back to your room. Back to the bed made just for the two of you—that’s held only one body for weeks now.

You collapse onto the mattress, curling into yourself. And this time, you don’t hold back the tears.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Three days have passed since that night.

Since the night you finally let the tears fall—not because of the war inside your blood, but because of something far more painful: losing Hongjoong.

You hadn't realized how much he meant to you until the silence between you turned permanent. You hadn't cried for your illness… but for him, you broke.

And since that night, things have only gotten worse.

The nosebleeds are more frequent now. Your bones ache just from getting dressed. Bruises blossom across your skin from the gentlest touch, like a whisper of pain stitched into every cell.

The dizziness never leaves, and somewhere deep inside, you know: You're running out of time.

So you start moving. You make a list in your head of the things that matter. The things you must do before it’s too late. And at the top of that list… is Yeosang.

Today, you drag Yeosang to the largest mall in Seoul, ignoring his annoyed sighs as he follows you across the marble floors.

He mumbles something about how the two of you should be at the company, you doing the last track’s reviews and how he should be at the dance studio.

But you wave it off with a smirk and keep pulling him along until you’re both standing in front of a luxurious watch display.

You point at the glass case and ask, “Which one do you like?”

Yeosang looks at you suspiciously, eyes narrowing slightly “Why are you asking me that?”

You grin “Just pick one.”

He frowns, shifting his weight onto one foot “You don’t have to buy me something expensive, you know. My birthday’s not even here yet, it’s in three weeks.”

“I know,” You reply, voice soft but steady. “But I want it to be ready by the exact day. It’s custom-made, so it’ll take time.”

Yeosang sighs, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips now “You’re impossible.”

Still, he looks at the collection and nods toward a sleek silver watch with delicate engraving.

“That one. It’s simple. I like it.”

You nod back, but before you can say anything else, the world sways under your feet.

Your vision goes fuzzy, the lights above blurring into streaks of white. You try to blink it away, try to steady yourself… but your body gives out before you can say a word.

Yeosang catches you before you hit the floor.

—

The rhythmic beeping of the monitor fills the hospital room, calm and cold. Yeosang sits beside your bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly as if holding himself together.

He’s been sitting like that for almost two hours now, unmoving except to occasionally glance at your pale, unconscious face.

He didn’t panic when you fainted. Not at first. He carried you to the car, drove like a madman, shouted your name again and again. But nothing prepared him for what the doctor would say.

When the door finally opens, Yeosang stands immediately. The doctor asks him to step outside, but Yeosang shakes his head and says flatly.

“Just tell me. Say it here.”

There’s a pause. Then the doctor exhales slowly “Your sister has acute lymphoblastic leukemia,” He says quietly. “Advanced stage.”

Yeosang doesn’t move. The words don’t make sense. They bounce around in his skull like static.

“No,” He mutters. “She would’ve told me. That’s not— She… she would’ve said something.”

The doctor’s expression doesn’t change “She was diagnosed two weeks ago. She refused chemotherapy, declined transplant and long-term treatments. She didn’t want to go through the medical process.”

“She didn’t want to fight?” Yeosang snaps, his voice cracking. “Why wouldn’t she fight?”

“She made it very clear she didn’t want to burden anyone, she just accepted the risks.”

Yeosang takes a sharp breath, but it doesn’t reach his lungs. He turns his eyes toward you again.

You look so small. So still. The same girl who used to sneak into his bed as a child whenever there was thunder.

The same one who’d sing off-key just to make him laugh. The one who held his hand during their parents’ worst fights and promised she’d always be there.

Now she was slipping through his fingers. And he hadn’t even noticed.

The doctor continues gently, “At this stage… it could be days. Maybe weeks. But it’s impossible to know. All I can say is… it won’t be long.”

Yeosang lowers himself into the chair again, slowly this time, as if his body can no longer hold him up.

His throat burns. His hands are shaking.

You, his little sister—the only person in the world who never asked him to be perfect, never judged him, never left—you were dying. And you didn’t even tell him.

Tears pool in his eyes, and for once, he doesn’t hide them. Doesn’t wipe them away.

He reaches out and takes your hand in his. It’s cold. But he holds it anyway, like maybe if he holds tight enough… you won’t let go.

—

You feel it before you see it—the weight of the world pressing down on your chest, your body heavy with exhaustion. Your eyelids flutter, slow and reluctant. The ceiling above you is unfamiliar… white, bright, sterile.

A hospital.

You sigh softly through your nose. So much for hiding it a little longer. Turning your head slightly, you already know who’s sitting there. You can feel him.

Yeosang.

He’s hunched forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands, shoulders trembling. Silent sobs rack through him like he’s trying to hold in a scream that’s been locked inside his ribs for too long.

You blink, the sting in your eyes not from the room’s brightness but from what you’re seeing.

Yeosang is crying.

Not angry. Not yelling. Not scolding. Just crying.

And not the kind of crying you’ve seen when a choreography goes wrong or when stress cracks him for a second. No, this is deeper. Rawer. His heart is breaking in real time.

You know exactly why. And for a second, guilt slices through you sharper than anything the illness ever has. He must’ve talked to the doctor. He knows.

You swallow, throat dry. You try to speak, but your voice is barely there.

“Yeosang…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, lifts his head, and his eyes lock onto yours like you’re a ghost he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again. And then—in one breath—he breaks.

He doesn’t say a word. He just stands and wraps his arms around you.

Carefully.

So gently, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he squeezes too hard. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and you feel the wet heat of his tears soak into your hospital gown. His hands grip your back, trembling with everything he can’t say out loud.

You freeze, caught in that fragile second between comfort and collapse.

Because this is Yeosang. Your brother. Your protector. The one who always had it together, who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. And now he’s holding you like the world has ended.

And in his eyes… maybe it has.

“I thought I had more time,” You whisper, your hand weakly brushing over his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

He still doesn’t speak, only pulls you closer, and you feel it—the ache in his breath, the sobs he still tries to swallow down even now, even here.

You try to smile “I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

A shaky breath escapes him, and you finally hear his voice—hoarse and cracked and barely above a whisper.

“Why didn’t you let me fight with you?”

That’s when your heart shatters. Because there’s no good answer to that question. Only a dozen broken excuses, that you didn’t want him to suffer, that you didn’t want to be the burden, that you didn’t want to see pity in his eyes.

That you wanted to protect him.

But now he’s holding you like he’s the one who needs saving. You lean your head against his shoulder and let yourself cry too, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” You murmur. “I didn’t want you to watch me fall apart.”

His arms tighten just enough to make your breath catch “I’d rather watch you fall apart… than lose you without even knowing you were slipping away.”

He’s never said anything so honest to you before. He’s never needed to.

And now you lie there in his arms, the beeping of machines ticking off seconds you can’t promise to survive, and think about all the things you wanted to do—all the people you have to say goodbye to.

But for now, you let yourself just be his sister.

And let him cry.

Because sometimes, even the strongest ones break.

—

It’s been nearly twenty minutes since the tears finally stopped. Yeosang still hasn’t let go of you, but his sobs have faded into soft, steady breaths against your shoulder.

You rest your cheek gently against his hair, fingers combing through the strands like you used to when he couldn’t sleep as a kid. It’s soothing, for both of you.

Neither of you says anything for a while. Then, in a voice barely more than a whisper, you murmur, "Please don’t tell anyone."

He doesn’t move. But after a second, he replies quietly, "Why not? They’re your friends. They deserve to know."

You feel your throat tighten. He’s right, in theory. But theory doesn’t count for much when you’re the one dying.

"You should at least tell Hongjoong," He adds. "He’s your boyfriend."

That word—boyfriend—makes you freeze.

Is he?

The silence in the room grows louder. Because it’s not a matter of labels. You know the truth, or at least the truth that hurts the most.

He isn’t really yours anymore.

He’s probably out right now, laughing with her, forgetting how your fingers used to trace his skin, how you used to fall asleep listening to the rhythm of his breath.

He hasn’t called. Hasn’t texted. Not once since that night.

You blink away the burn behind your eyes "Especially him," You say, quieter now. "Don’t tell him anything."

Yeosang pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are tired, still red "Why not?"

You manage a hollow smile, one that doesn't quite reach your lips. "Just don't."

"Okay," Yeosang says gently.

You shrug, gaze drifting toward the window. The world outside is still spinning, oblivious to what’s happening here.

"Thank you."

Yeosang doesn’t argue. Instead, he just nods slowly and rests his forehead against yours.

"I’ll carry it with you." He whispers.

And you close your eyes—because even if your time is running out, for now, you’re not alone.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You turn your head away, your voice no stronger than a breath.

“I don’t want to eat.”

Your fingers tremble where they clutch the blanket, but you hide them beneath the sheets, as if that will make you seem stronger than you feel.

Yeosang lets out a soft sigh, gentle but tired. You hear the quiet clink of the spoon as he places it back down on the tray.

“Sweetheart…” He says, reaching to brush a strand of hair from your forehead. “Just a little, okay? You need to eat.”

You don’t answer right away, the smell of the soup making your stomach churn.

“I don’t feel like it,” You murmur, eyes fixed on the wall across from you—anywhere but on him. “Everything tastes like metal.”

“I know,” He whispers, his voice tight with worry, “but you have to try.”

You hesitate. Then, without meeting his gaze, you sit up slightly and open your mouth. Just one bite.

He smiles weakly, bringing the spoon up “There’s my good girl.”

The warmth of the soup hits your tongue, bland and bitter, and you swallow with difficulty. It’s not the food that makes your eyes sting.

It’s the look in his.

It’s been three days since the doctors told you it was no longer safe for you to go home—not with how easily your body is giving up on you.

The dizzy spells, the nosebleeds, the bruises from brushing against doorframes… the way your bones feel like they’re crumbling from the inside out.

You wanted to protest. You had plans. You had things to finish.

But Yeosang insisted, and he hasn’t left since.

He comes early, brings you coffee even though he knows you barely sip it anymore, and forces you to take at least three bites of every meal.

After breakfast, he leaves for the company—but never without kissing your forehead like he used to when you scraped your knees as a kid.

He returns before nightfall, sometimes with books, sometimes with that sad smile he tries so hard to make look hopeful.

He sleeps on the couch in your hospital room now, no matter how many times you tell him to go home. He never listens.

And you love him for it. But the guilt, the overwhelming guilt, is a steady ache in your chest that no painkiller can touch.

Every time he walks through that door, every time he hides his puffy eyes behind a joke, every time he tucks your blanket up to your chin like he’s afraid you’ll vanish overnight…

You feel like a burden.

Like the weight of your dying is something he carries more than you do.

You glance at him now—his hands fidgeting with the spoon, his jaw clenched like he’s trying not to say something too heavy for the room.

You want to thank him. You want to tell him to stop. You want to ask him to leave before it gets worse.

But instead, you whisper, “Sorry.”

Yeosang turns his head sharply “For what?”

You shake your head slowly, sinking deeper into the pillows “For making you stay. For making you watch me like this.”

His face crumbles for a second, and then he gently places the spoon back on the tray and leans forward, taking your hand in both of his.

“Hey,” He says, voice trembling, “You’re not making me do anything. I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I’m your brother. And I love you.”

His fingers tighten around yours “You’re not a burden. You’re the only reason I’m holding it together.”

Your lips part, but the lump in your throat makes it impossible to speak.

And still… the ache doesn’t go away.

Because no matter what he says, you see it in his face. The fear. The grief. The knowing.

You’re slipping, and he knows it.

⋆

The energy in the company feels… off.

It’s subtle at first. A quiet kind of absence. Like someone turned the volume down on the whole room.

You haven’t shown up in days—no messages, no check-ins, no complaints about how overworked you are, or how the coffee always tastes like burnt water.

Just silence. A hole in the atmosphere no one seems to want to name yet.

“Did she take a sudden vacation?” Wooyoung mumbles, peering at the shared project calendar on the studio screen. “She didn’t say anything to me…”

“She didn’t say anything to anyone,” Seonghwa answers, brow furrowed as he scrolls through his texts. “I messaged her two nights ago. No reply.”

“She didn’t even complain about Mingi messing up the last track?” Wooyoung asks, suddenly alert.

Seonghwa shakes his head “Nothing.”

That alone is strange. You always replied to Seonghwa. Even just with a thumbs up or a meme. The realization settles heavily between them.

Then there’s Yeosang.

He’s here, technically. Sitting through meetings, nodding at updates, eyes staring at whatever screen is in front of him.

But he hasn’t made a single joke all week. He hasn’t even complained about the lunch orders.

And his eyes… They’re always red. Always tired. Not the ‘I slept late’ kind of tired—the kind that looks like he’s been fighting off the weight of the world.

They all noticed the bandage on his hand too. A small thing, easily missed—except he’s been picking at it, like his mind isn’t even in the same room as his body.

In the recording studio, he flubs his lines. Not once, not twice—four times. Yeosang never messes up. Never.

By the fifth take, he mumbles an apology and pulls off the headphones, muttering something about needing air before walking out.

Silence follows him.

Wooyoung exchanges a look with Seonghwa “Something’s wrong.”

Seonghwa’s jaw is tight, his voice quiet “Yeah.”

—

The company building was quiet after hours, the fluorescent lights casting a cold glow over the empty hallways.

Most of the staff had gone home, but Seonghwa was still around, sorting through choreography notes.

Wooyoung, who’d gone to grab something from the vending machine, passed by one of the practice rooms when he caught sight of a familiar figure slumped in the corner, motionless.

He paused “Yeosang?”

No answer. He pushed the door open slowly, the faint sound of choked breathing slipping through the silence.

“Yeosang?” He repeated, softer this time.

That’s when he saw him. Yeosang was sitting on the floor, back against the mirror, knees pulled up, face buried in his hands.

His shoulders were shaking, his breaths ragged, and the tears—God, the tears—were pouring silently, as if they had been held in for far too long.

Wooyoung froze, the can of soda slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor.

“Yeo…”

Seonghwa heard the noise from down the hall and came quickly. When he stepped into the room and saw the sight before him, his heart dropped.

Yeosang didn’t even lift his head. He couldn’t.

He had held it together for days—for weeks. Through the hospital visits. Through the sleepless nights. Through every forced smile he gave the others so they wouldn’t ask questions.

But the moment he was alone, the weight became too heavy. Too sharp.

“Yeo,” Wooyoung said again, crouching down, touching his shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Yeosang finally looked up, and both Seonghwa and Wooyoung felt their breath hitch. His eyes were bloodshot, cheeks damp, mouth trembling as if every word was a mountain.

“She’s dying,” He whispered.

Wooyoung blinked “What?”

Yeosang clutched his phone like a lifeline, and slowly, with shaking fingers, turned the screen toward them.

Your hospital ID. Your name. Your patient band. Your photo with that tired smile.

“She’s in the hospital,” He said, voice cracking. “It’s—it’s cancer. Blood cancer. And she didn’t tell anyone. She kept working like nothing was wrong. She didn’t even try treatment. She said she didn’t want to suffer.”

He paused, his whole body trembling.

“The doctor told me… she could go at any moment.”

The room went silent.

Wooyoung staggered back onto his heels, lips parted in shock “No… no, she’s—she was just here last week. Laughing. Messing with me in the recording studio. She can’t—she can’t be—”

“She is,” Yeosang choked out. “She is, and I—I have to watch it happen. Every day I go there and she smiles like she’s okay, like she’s not falling apart in front of me.”

Seonghwa stepped forward, heart clenched, crouching beside him. He wrapped an arm around Yeosang’s shoulders, grounding him with quiet strength.

“You’ve been going through this alone?”

“I didn’t know how to say it,” Yeosang admitted, voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to make it real.”

Wooyoung wiped at his eyes, trying to process the hurricane of grief building inside his chest. “Why didn’t she say anything to me…? I would've—”

“She didn’t want to be a burden,” Yeosang interrupted. “That’s what she told me. Can you believe that? She’s dying and she’s worried about burdening us.”

There was nothing else to say for a moment. Just silence. Just three broken hearts on a practice room floor.

Then Seonghwa pulled Yeosang into his arms fully, holding him tight as his tears returned full force. Wooyoung leaned in too, hand gripping his arm.

“You’re not alone in this,” Seonghwa whispered. “Not anymore.”

“We’ll be there,” Wooyoung added. “For both of you.”

And in the quietest part of the night, Yeosang let go.

He let it all out—the pain, the fear, the helplessness—into the hands of the only people who could understand.

Because this wasn’t just grief.

This was love. Cracked and bleeding.

And it was real.

⋆

There’s a sound tugging at you from sleep.

At first, it’s faint—like a whisper underwater. A low hum of voices and the quiet, broken rhythm of someone trying not to cry.

Then it gets sharper.

“…She’s sleeping, be quiet,” You hear Yeosang murmur, his voice strained.

“But how the hell am I supposed to—” Another voice cracks, shattering mid-sentence.

You frown softly, your eyes still closed, floating somewhere between consciousness and exhaustion. Then a sniffle. Then a choked sob. Muffled. Held in.

And you know. You know before you even open your eyes.

Slowly, you peel your lids open, vision blurry under the hospital room’s dim light. Your throat is dry. Your body aches in ways you’ve gotten used to.

But it’s not the pain that takes your breath—it’s the sight in front of you.

Three figures. Yeosang sitting at your bedside, pale and silent, his hand loosely holding yours. And just beside him, Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

Seonghwa’s eyes meet yours first, full of something that looks like mourning. As if you're already gone. His lips press into a thin line.

But it's Wooyoung who crumbles. The moment he sees your eyes flutter open, he breaks. A sob escapes his throat, and he covers his mouth with his hand as tears stream down his cheeks.

His body shakes. He turns his face away, ashamed, but it’s too late—the dam is broken.

“Woo…” You whisper, your voice barely there.

He walks toward you like a storm—fast, trembling, desperate. Then he collapses to his knees by your bed, burying his face in the side of your blanket.

“You idiot…” He cries, voice muffled. “You absolute idiot… how could you hide this from us?! From me?!”

You don't answer right away. You can't. Your heart aches more than your body, watching him fall apart like that—loud and vulnerable, the way only Wooyoung ever is.

Yeosang says nothing, but his hand grips yours tighter.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” You murmur, your voice cracked like broken porcelain.

Wooyoung lifts his head just enough to look at you. His face is blotchy and red, eyes swollen, expression unreadable at first—until the grief turns into something else: anger.

“You think we care about that?!” He snaps, voice shaking. “You think I’ve known you since middle school just to not be there when you're going through this?!”

His voice rises, but Seonghwa gently places a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Wooyoung exhales hard and leans his head back against the bed, still crying quietly.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper.

And it’s the worst part. Not the illness. Not the bruises on your skin or the ache in your bones.

The worst part is seeing the people you love grieve you while you’re still alive.

Yeosang leans forward, pressing his forehead to your hand.

“No more hiding,” He says, voice hollow. “You don’t have to be strong alone anymore.”

You let out a shaky breath and close your eyes again—not from fatigue, but to keep the tears from spilling.

Because now it’s real.

And somehow… that makes it both more painful and more comforting at once.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The next four days pass in soft, slow pieces—moments stitched together by the quiet devotion of those who now carry your secret.

Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung take turns by your side like clockwork. They don’t ask for permission—they just do.

Wooyoung bathes you gently, humming old songs to distract you from the cold water on your sore skin.

Seonghwa brings you freshly cut fruit, sits by the window, and reads aloud to you with his warm, steady voice—something about the way he does it makes you forget your body is failing.

And Yeosang, always Yeosang, feeds you when you’re too tired to lift a spoon and whispers things like, “just one more bite for me, sweetheart,” as if you’re still the little sibling who used to follow him around in your pajamas.

They do all of this without complaint. Without hesitation. Without letting you see the weight they carry.

But you see it anyway.

You see it in how Seonghwa avoids your eyes when you ask about the company. How Wooyoung’s jokes come slower, quieter. How Yeosang never lets go of your hand, even when he thinks you’re asleep.

On the second day, you ask them for a notebook and some pens. There’s no ceremony to it—just a quiet request.

“I need to write some letters,” You say, voice raspy.

They don't ask what for. They don’t need to.

Wooyoung brings you a sketchbook with thick pages and a pouch of pens in every color.

“So you can make them beautiful,” He says with a sad smile.

Each letter you write feels like another piece of your soul laid bare. You try to make them lighthearted—full of warmth, small memories, little jokes.

But they always end the same: with the words you’ve never been brave enough to say aloud.

Goodbye.

—

Meanwhile, the atmosphere at the company is growing tenser by the day. You’re not there. You’re not answering messages. No one's said why.

The boss knows you're taking “medical rest,” and the production team was told it's just temporary.

But Hongjoong isn’t buying it.

You were supposed to finish the final arrangement of the last album track. The deadline is breathing down everyone’s neck. And you—the one who usually sleeps under the mixing desk with a cold coffee and a blanket—have disappeared.

He hears whispers. He sees Yeosang come in with dark circles under his eyes, sees Wooyoung miss rehearsals for the first time in months. Seonghwa walks around like he’s carrying glass in his chest.

But no one says a word.

“Where the hell is she?”

Hongjoong snaps one afternoon, slamming his phone on the table in the production room.

“Everyone’s working their asses off and she’s just—resting?”

Yeosang freezes at the doorway. Seonghwa looks away. Wooyoung’s jaw clenches so tight it trembles.

But they say nothing. Not because they want to keep your secret. Because you asked them to.

Because you begged, “Don’t tell him. Not yet. Please.”

And so they bite their tongues. They swallow the pain. They let Hongjoong’s words slice into them without defending you.

Because the truth would shatter him.

And you're not ready to break his heart.

⋆

Your phone vibrates weakly against the metal bedside table. The screen lights up in the quiet dark, just past midnight.

Hongjoong.

You stare at the name. Your thumb hovers.

It’s been a week.

A week of silence. A week of not answering, not checking messages, not daring to reach out first—hoping, just a little, that he’d miss you.

That he’d notice your absence. That he’d call not out of obligation, but out of care.

You told yourself you wouldn’t answer. But hope is cruel, and you're too tired to fight it tonight.

You slide your thumb across the screen and whisper, “Hello?”

There’s a pause. Then—

“Where the fuck are you?”

Your breath catches. No hi, no how are you, no I miss you. Just fury, sharp and cold.

You blink, heart sinking, already wishing you hadn’t picked up “Hongjoong…” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m—I needed time. I’ve been—”

“Yeah, clearly. Taking a rest while the rest of us carry your weight?” He scoffs. “Do you think this is some kind of fucking vacation?!”

You flinch. The IV line tugs slightly against your arm as you instinctively curl in on yourself.

“I wasn’t—It’s not like that—”

“You still haven’t finished the last track. Do you know how unprofessional this is?”

He laughs bitterly, cruelly.

“If you don’t deliver by next week, I’ll tell the board you’re useless. Take a permanent rest from work. Let’s see how that feels.”

It hits like a knife.

You want to scream I’m dying. You want to scream I love you. You want to scream Please don’t do this to me—But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes blur as you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause on the other end. Then his voice softens—not with affection, but with venom too practiced.

“Stop being a burden and do your fucking work.”

Your heart cracks clean in half. The silence that follows is unbearable.

You don’t hang up. You don’t cry. You just let the line go dead when he ends it.

And then the quiet comes back. But it’s not peaceful anymore.

It’s the kind that echoes every horrible word back to you—again and again—until you’re left with nothing but the sound of your heart breaking… in a body already falling apart.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The next morning, the sunlight sneaks through the pale hospital curtains, casting soft gold over your bed. You barely feel it. Your bones ache. Your chest is still tight from last night.

But you hide it.

Yeosang is gently spooning porridge toward your lips.

“Just a little more,” He says softly, eyes tired.

He hasn’t slept well. You know he cried again—his lashes are still a little wet. You don’t ask. You just open your mouth and obey, like a good patient.

When he finally packs up to leave for the company, brushing your hair with his fingers like he used to when you were little, you smile.

“I’ll be okay,” You lie.

He hesitates “Call the nurse if you need anything.”

“I will.”

You wait until the door clicks shut before you call for the doctor.

“I need to go out for a few hours,” You say, sitting upright, your voice steadier than it should be. “Please. Just a few hours. I’ll be with a nurse. I… have things to finish.”

The doctor stares at you for a long time. You don’t offer more. You just meet his gaze with quiet determination.

Finally, he sighs “Only for a few hours. The nurse goes with you the entire time. No arguments.”

You nod "No arguments."

—

Stop 1: The Watch Store.

The clerk greets you with a warm smile, not noticing the slight tremble in your legs as you step inside.

“I’d like to pay for the custom watch I ordered online,” You say, pulling the receipt from your pocket with careful hands.

“And can you have it delivered on June 15 to this address?” You slide Yeosang’s name and home address across the counter.

The clerk nods, typing it in “Anything else?”

You hesitate, then smile faintly “Can you write a note to go with it? ‘For my favorite person: Happy Birthday, Yeosang. Love you always.’”

—

Stop 2: The Bakery.

The scent of sugar and yeast hits you like a memory—birthday mornings, surprise celebrations, shared laughs in the break room.

“I’d like to order a cake for June 13th,” You tell the girl at the counter.

She types as you speak “Message on the cake?”

You nod “Congratulations on your comeback, I’m so proud of you.”

She smiles “That’s sweet! Where should it be delivered?”

“KQ Entertainment. Lobby.”

—

Stop 3: The Funeral Home.

The room is sterile. Quiet. Almost too quiet.

The woman speaks gently as you browse “Do you… know what you’re looking for?”

You nod. A simple white coffin. Lilies. Nothing overdone.

You hand her a photo—one from your last birthday. You look healthy in it. Radiant. It’s the version of yourself you want them to remember.

“If it happens… soon,” You say quietly, “please use this photo.”

The woman places her hand over yours. You don’t flinch, just nod.

—

Stop 4: KQ Building.

You step in quietly through the side entrance. The guards recognize you, but they don’t question your pale complexion, or the nurse at your side. One of them greets you with a smile.

“You’re back,” He says. “It’s been a while.”

“Just for a bit.”

You walk slowly to the studio. No one sees you, they’re all working.

You sit in the recording room, headphones on, and finish the track Hongjoong demanded.

The lyrics blur in your mind, but the melody comes through clearly, like it had always been there—waiting.

When it’s done, you transfer the final version to a small silver USB. You stare at it for a second, then scribble something on a post-it.

“Sorry for the burden.”

You place the USB gently on Hongjoong’s desk and slip away before anyone notices you were even there.

The nurse doesn’t ask anything. She just holds the door for you as you step out into the spring air.

For the first time in weeks, you feel light. Not because anything is better. But because the end is near.

And you’re doing everything you can to leave it all behind… quietly, beautifully, on your own terms.

—

The studio is dimly lit, the same soft blue LEDs casting lazy shadows over the mixing console and shelves lined with half-finished demo CDs.

Hongjoong walks in, a coffee in one hand, the girl clinging to his other arm. She's giggling, wearing his hoodie like it's hers. Maybe it is, now.

He sets the coffee down, sighs as he slumps into his chair "Finally," He mutters, spotting the silver USB on the edge of his desk.

The small, square post-it clings to it. Your handwriting is instantly familiar—even now, he knows it better than his own.

"Sorry for the burden."

He reads it once. Then again. But his face doesn’t change.

No flicker of concern. No softness. No guilt.

"About time," He mutters, peeling the note off and tossing it into the trash without a second glance.

The girl beside him leans over his shoulder “Is that the track you needed?”

He nods, plugging the USB in “Yeah. She finally sent it in.”

There’s no thank you. No message sent. No question of where you've been or how you are.

Just a press of the spacebar. Play. Adjust. Pause. Replay. Work, as usual.

And the girl? She curls up on the studio couch, pulling out her phone, completely unaware—or perhaps uninterested—that this is a song made by someone slowly dying. Someone he once said he loved.

He doesn’t mention you. Not once. Just hums along to the melody you spent the last of your strength finishing.

The very one that will help complete their comeback.

Without you.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The hospital room is quiet, cloaked in the fading light of a late spring afternoon. The soft hum of machines fills the background, broken only by the gentle scratch of your pen against paper.

You’re finishing the last letter—the most difficult one. The one addressed to him.

‘To Hongjoong,’ You write, your hands trembling.

Tears blot the page before the ink can dry. You bite your lip to keep from sobbing, but it doesn’t help.

The words come slowly—not because you don’t know what to say, but because it hurts too much to say it.

When you finish it, you fold the letter slowly, tuck it into an envelope already addressed with your shaky handwriting. You place it on the small box next to your bed—all your letters, sealed and organized.

Wooyoung promised he’d deliver them if something happened. And you believe him.

The sun has dipped lower now, and Yeosang is gathering his things. He's dressed for filming, eyes tired, voice gentle.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” He asks for the fifth time.

You nod, smiling “Yeah.” He lingers near the bed, hesitant. “Yeosang?”

“Hm?”

“…Thank you. For loving me. For staying. For making me feel like I wasn’t dying alone. You’ve been… everything.”

He frowns, stepping closer “Hey—hey, where’s that coming from?”

You reach for his hand, your grip so much weaker than it was even days ago “Just wanted to say it… in case.”

His throat bobs “You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared.” You smile, tired but genuine. “Just remember that I love you. More than anyone in this life. You’ve made it beautiful, Yeosang.”

He bites his lip, eyes welling with emotion “You’re coming home. We’re going to beat this, okay?”

You nod, even though you both know it’s a lie.

He kisses your forehead gently, holding your hand longer than he should “I love you too,” He whispers, his voice cracking. “So much.”

Then he’s gone.

You watch the door close, and for the first time, the silence feels too big. You lean back against your pillow, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of it all settle into your bones.

No more strength. No more words.

Just you.

You don't know how much time you spend looking at the ceiling, but you let out the softest breath like a whisper no one hears.

Your hand slips from the blanket.

The monitors slow… Then stop.

You die in that room—quiet, still, surrounded by goodbye letters and the sunlight you were always chasing. No one holds your hand. No one’s there to whisper your name.

And your biggest fear comes true.

You die alone.

⋆

"Okay, take a ten-minute break, everyone!" The director calls out after the choreography for the second verse wraps.

The room exhales all at once—a chorus of panting breaths, damp hair, and bodies sinking into the floor.

Some members collapse onto the ground, others shuffle to grab water bottles, sweat clinging to their skin.

Hongjoong claps his hands with a grin, voice laced with adrenaline “This is it, guys. This comeback... it’s going to be amazing.”

Everyone nods, smiling through their exhaustion, the air buzzing with the thrill of creation.

Until—

“Excuse me,” A staff member calls out gently, stepping into the rehearsal room, holding a phone in both hands.

Her voice wavers “I’m sorry to interrupt but… Yeosang-ssi, your phone’s been ringing nonstop since the last take.”

The room stills. Yeosang, who had been toweling the sweat from his neck, turns slowly. His brows draw together in immediate concern.

“From who?” He asks, walking toward her.

She hands the phone over, and he stares at the screen.

Six missed calls. All from an unknown number.

Seonghwa shifts on the floor, his stomach tightening. He and Wooyoung lock eyes.

They know something is wrong.

Yeosang doesn’t wait. He calls back with shaking fingers. The call connects after a single ring.

“Mr. Kang?” A voice answers gently—too gently. “We’re calling from Seoul National Hospital. I’m afraid we have… very difficult news.”

Everyone around him stops moving.

Yeosang’s throat tightens “W-What happened?”

“We tried—Mr. Kang, we tried everything, but… we couldn’t save her.”

The silence that follows isn’t quiet, it’s screaming.

“We’re so sorry for your loss.”

Yeosang’s knees buckle. He drops the phone mid-sentence, a choked sound tearing from his throat as if someone reached inside him and pulled out his soul. His body hits the floor with a dull thud, hands clawing at his chest.

“No… no—no, no, no, no,” He gasps. “She—no, she was okay this afternoon, I fed her—she smiled at me—she—”

“Yeosang?” Wooyoung is already by his side, falling to his knees, grabbing his friend’s shoulders as Yeosang sobs, broken and raw.

Seonghwa picks up the phone and listens numbly as the hospital confirms the worst. His face drains of color. He doesn’t speak—only slowly lowers the phone, trembling like a leaf.

“She’s dead?” Wooyoung whispers, his voice hollow.

Yeosang doesn’t answer. He can’t. He curls into himself, the wails coming now—full, loud, gut-wrenching. The kind of crying that tears your throat open, the kind that sounds like it shouldn’t come from a human being.

Everyone in the room freezes. Even Hongjoong goes pale, stepping forward slowly.

“What’s going on?”

Seonghwa finally turns to him, red-eyed and shaking “She’s gone,” He whispers.

“What?”

“She’s dead, Hongjoong.”

And that’s when it clicks.

The song. The way Yeosang had been acting like the world was ending. The way you had disappeared without telling him anything.

Hongjoong staggers back as if slapped. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t even blink.

The words hang in the air like smoke: She’s dead.

They echo. They twist. But they don’t land.

He’s still standing in the center of the room, the choreography lights overhead casting long shadows down his face, but his eyes are unfocused, lost.

Yeosang is still crying—a broken, hoarse sound that scrapes at the walls. Wooyoung is holding him, whispering something against his temple. Seonghwa’s hands tremble at his sides as he stares at the floor.

But Hongjoong… He just blinks.

Dead? You can’t be dead.

You’re dramatic. Emotional. Reckless. But not dead.

He remembers the last call. The venom in his voice. The impatience. The threat.

He remembers not saying I love you back. Not once. Not even when you begged with silence.

He walks out of the studio like a ghost, no one stopping him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s raining.

Because of course it is. Not a torrential downpour—just the kind of quiet drizzle that clings to black umbrellas and feels like the sky is crying in your place.

The room is quiet. Almost too quiet for a funeral. Like no one dares speak in fear of breaking the spell.

The casket is closed. Sleek. White. Lined with the delicate flowers you chose yourself.

There’s a photo framed above it—the one from your last birthday. You look beautiful in it. Young. Alive. Eyes sparkling.

Too alive to be gone.

Yeosang stands beside your casket with swollen eyes and a hollow heart. He hasn’t left your side since the doors opened.

Seonghwa is next to him. Rigid. Pale. The type of grief that looks like discipline but is actually just survival.

And then there’s Wooyoung. His eyes are glassy but dry—because he’s been holding something more important than tears: A small box.

Your box.

Inside, letters.

One for each member. Sealed, with their names written in your delicate handwriting.

As the ceremony ends, he moves silently, one by one.

First to San. He presses the envelope into San’s hand and doesn’t say a word.

San reads your name on the letter and immediately breaks. His shoulders hunch forward, and he walks away before anyone sees the tears come.

Then to Mingi, who clutches the letter to his chest and nods, trying to swallow the sob threatening to escape.

To Jongho, whose eyes glisten but lips stay shut.

To Yunho, who takes it gently, fingers trembling, and whispers, “Thank you.”

To Seonghwa, who doesn’t even blink—he just holds it and whispers, “I’ll read it when I’m ready.”

To Yeosang, whose fingers brush yours one last time before taking the letter. He holds it to his lips. Doesn’t speak. Just cries again.

And finally—To Hongjoong.

Wooyoung walks up to him slowly, jaw clenched. He hesitates—just for a second—before holding the letter out.

Hongjoong doesn’t take it. He stares at the paper like it might burn him. His face remains blank.

“She wrote it for you,” Wooyoung says, quiet, almost cruel. “You should read it.”

Hongjoong lifts his eyes, slow and tired “I don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

The envelope slips from Wooyoung’s hand into Hongjoong’s. And for a long moment, Hongjoong just stares at it.

Your handwriting. Your last words.

To him.

His fingers close around it. He doesn’t cry. But his jaw locks, and his throat moves in one hard swallow.

The only thing he says is a whisper: “…I’m sorry.”

—

Later that night, the funeral is over. The sky is still weeping.

Hongjoong sits alone in his studio.

Not working. Not writing. Just sitting.

The letter sits on the table in front of him, untouched for hours. He’s been staring at it, afraid to open it, afraid to feel.

But eventually, his hand reaches out, slow and almost hesitant—like touching it might make it all real.

He breaks the seal. Your scent hits him faintly—that soft perfume you always wore—and already he’s breathless.

The paper shakes in his hands as he begins to read.

“To my love, my HongJoongie…”

That’s still how I think of you. Even after everything. Even now, even as I’m writing this with trembling fingers and bruised lungs. You’re still my Joongie.

I think I always knew.

About her.

The way your messages got shorter. How your voice lost that warmth. The way your eyes wandered, even when I was speaking. The way you smiled… just not at me anymore.

But I never asked. I didn’t want to break what was already cracking. I didn’t want to hear you say it, because then I couldn’t pretend anymore.

So I chose love. I chose you. Even when it hurt.

Hongjoong’s chest caves in.

His eyes blur. He wipes at them, but the shaking won’t stop now. He keeps reading, slower.

You were supposed to be my person. My safe place. I would’ve given everything just to be loved by you a little longer. Even if it meant swallowing all the pain. I wanted to be with you until the end, Joongie.

But the truth is…

I think you were already gone before I ever left.

He chokes. His hand flies to his mouth, like it might stop the noise rising in his throat.

But it’s too late.

A sharp sob rips from him. He bends forward, clutching the paper like it’s your hand and he can still hold on somehow.

The words blur.

But he forces himself to keep going.

You know, I used to be afraid of storms. The thunder always made me cry when I was little. But I grew out of it eventually.

I wish I could say the same about the fear of dying alone.

That one never left.

And now… I can feel it, Joongie. I can feel the end coming closer. And it’s cold. It’s terrifying. Because I think I’ll be alone when it comes. And I don’t want to be.

I don’t want to die without you.

Hongjoong breaks.

Completely.

No more holding back. No more numbness. Just grief. Ugly, gut-wrenching grief.

He collapses onto the floor, letter crumpled to his chest, sobbing like a man being ripped apart. Because he was supposed to protect you.

He was supposed to love you, stay with you, be there—through the storms, through the end.

But he let someone else into his bed while you were writing goodbye letters and choosing coffins.

He let you die alone.

And now there’s no song, no track, no apology that can bring you back.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

One Month Later

The company building is alive with quiet celebration.

It’s the day of the long-awaited comeback—photos are being taken, staff buzzing with excitement, members preparing for interviews and performances.

There are smiles.

But none of them quite reach the eyes.

Your absence is still a wound, deep and unhealed.

They all feel it — the silence where your voice used to be, the space you once filled so brightly now left hollow.

Then, somewhere between conversations and flashing lights—

“Delivery for Kang Yeosang?” A courier calls from the entrance.

Yeosang, confused, steps forward and takes the small, neatly wrapped box. His name is written in your handwriting.

There’s no mistaking it. His hands tremble. He opens it slowly.

Inside is a custom-made silver watch, the exact model he once told you about in passing—the one he never expected anyone to remember. The dial engraved with tiny, delicate script:

"For my favorite person: Happy Birthday, Yeosang. Love you always.’”

He stares at it, unable to speak. His chest tightens painfully.

Tears gather. A quiet, broken sob slips from him. Seonghwa puts a hand on his shoulder—and they don’t say anything. They don’t need to.

Across the building, another courier arrives.

“Delivery for KQ Entertainment – Congratulations Cake?”

The receptionist, puzzled, takes it.

It’s a beautiful cake—white and gold, elegant. The top reads in delicate frosting:

“Congratulations on your comeback. I’m so proud of you all.”

The members gather around it slowly, recognizing the handwriting on the card beside it before anyone speaks.

No one touches the cake. No one can move.

Wooyoung’s eyes well up first “...She planned all this,” he whispers. “Even when she knew she wouldn’t be here.”

Jongho’s jaw clenches. San turns his back to hide his tears. Mingi cries openly.

Hongjoong is the last to arrive, holding your letter in his pocket—worn and read a hundred times.

He sees the cake. He sees Yeosang clutching that watch like it’s the last thread of you left in the world.

And for the first time in days—He crumbles.

He sinks to his knees beside the table, staring at the cake, whispering your name like a prayer he didn’t deserve to speak.

Because love this deep doesn’t disappear when you die.

You gave them all a part of you to keep.

Even him.

Even the one who broke you, and it’s only now that he realizes… You were the only light any of them ever needed.

And you were gone far too soon.

Taglist: @domfikeluva @hurryupmars @a-tiny-thing @silenttrxxs @innocygnet @alliecoady98 @posseup @yothangie @a-atiny_niawoo @justconniez @niaee @0407files @maidens-world @zaynsfl4m3s @maplelilly05 @xh01bri @sannieily @nkryuki @lemonkait00 @khaskl08 @badbitch69420sworld @jilxxasu @vnxlla @lezleeferguson-120 @lunaryoongie @stayatinykatsy @milliesupremexx @unbroken-shadows @itzyejiluv @lover-ofallthingspretty @queenofdumbfuckery @johaeyeon @xopierrot @m0onchild-98 @nyx-y @daniela-f-uwu @atinyno1likeme @bbyunicornbby @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @hecateslittlewitchling @herpoetryprincess @twancingyunhao @prchiquita8 @yoonglesbabie

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All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

[desi2go]

obsessed I need part twoooooo of seungmin’s!!!!!!!!

Aww 🥰 I'm so happy to hear that 🫶🏼

I promise, part two will follow but I maybe need some time to write it since I still have to write two exams🙈

[desi2go]

What if it changed everything?

pt.1 | pt. 2

pairing: idol!Seungmin x reader

warnings: smut, angst, pregnancy, talking about abortion

summary: After a one night of pleasure with a member of the famous kpop group Stray Kids, you find out that you are pregnant. What will you do?

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

You didn't know what you were doing outside at this ungodly hour. After finishing up your rather unsuccessful study session at your university's library, you couldn't just calm your mind down. It had made it so difficult to learn, to even think properly.

Exams were coming up and your anxieties weren't really helping. No, they made it even worse.

You had hoped that the cold air on a spring night would clear your mind, shit the intrusive, loud thoughts out.

You didn't even know about what you were wrecking your brain over. It was just too much. Everything. The sudden divorce of your parents and the secret relationship of your father with another woman had turned your world upside down within seconds. And your best friend Sanha was currently going through a breakup herself, crying over her boyfriend who dumped her for another woman.

Now, you had the two of them swimming in their own problems, complaining to you about their unfair treatments.

You felt as if you needed to find solutions to their situations, like the whole weight was burdening your shoulders when you had your own troubles. With your parents not talking to each other, you had become their voice, negotiating between them.

And you? You didn't know how the hell you were going to survive the next few months. Your work place, a little book shop where you got enough money to pay for your rent, had closed suddenly, leaving you with no job and no money.

You could barely afford the college fees even with a job and your parents now had other problems to solve. And applicating at another place was difficult in a city with hundreds of poor students desperate for a little bit of money.

You hoped that the biting cold would soothe your nerves and cool your trailing thoughts just like it cooled your skin. A shiver wrecked your body as you circled your thin jacket tighter around yourself, cursing that you hadn't chosen the thicker one.

It was already way past ten pm. Most people were already at home, leaving the streets quiet and lonely. Just like you felt.

And the fresh air didn't seem to stop your mind, in fact, it made it much more worse. The quietness only fueling the nerves. To relieve some of that, you picked at your nails and chewed at your lip. Bad habits you had picked up long ago.

As you followed the path home to your small apartment, you observed the turbulence inside of the bar. It was the only thing lightening the street apart from the few traffic lights.

The clinking of glass against eachother and the loud laughter lured you inside. It was a Friday evening. So, no classes tomorrow. That meant that you could actually stay up way past your bedtime and sleep in. Very tempting.

If the quietness couldn't stop your mind, maybe the loudness would. A drink or two couldn't hurt, right?

Before actually stepping inside, you stopped yourself as you saw your reflection in the glass door. Knitting your eyebrows, you pulled at your dark grey jacket and the boring jeans.

You looked like a grandma who had been stuck at a library too long. Well, you indeed where at the library for nearly ten hours.

With a final glance, you pushed the heavy wooden door open. Immediately, the smell of beer and sweat flooded your nose.

You couldn't even remember the last time you had attended a party. That must have been ages ago. Only the mere thought of a cool glass of Lillet in your hand made your mouth water.

Yes, that was exactly what you needed. Alcohol and some good music. And maybe even a small little hook up for your nerves that could spice up your (currently nonexistent) sex life.

The muscular bartender immediately took your order and placed the pinkish fluid on the countertop with a smirk. "Here ya go, sweetheart. Looks like you really need it"

You laughed and nodded. "Oh, you can't imagine how much I need that." You nearly moaned as the sweet liquid pooled into your mouth, a faint touch of alcohol burned your throat just the way you liked.

After downing the first glass of your Longdrink, you felt the alcohol spreading in your whole body, warmth gathering in your stomach.

With a pleasant hum, you opened your hair and combed through it with your fingers, moving your foot along the beat if the music. Your body heated up and you shrugged your jacket off to cool your overheating skin.

The bartender placed another filled glass infront of you.

"Whiskey please" You flinched at the voice that seemed only centimeters away. Turning your head, you glanced at the young man sitting down on the chair beside you.

While the bartender worked, you had the opportunity to observe the black haired man more. His short hairstyle revealed a beautiful face with big boba eyes and a cute smile.

His black leather jacket only enhanced his appeal. And before you could actually stare at the mysterious stranger even more, his order was placed down and his hand wrapped around the glass while he turned to you.

"Hey" he mouthed, flashing you with his smile. With his face completely turned to you, you saw how tired he looked. Dark circles permanent under his eyes but never minimizing his beauty.

"Hi" you answered breathy, feeling gummy and red from the alcohol and maybe his attention.

"What is a gorgeous woman like you doing here all alone on a Friday night?" He asked, swirling the content of his glass before placing it on his lips and drinking. Your eyes followed the brownish liquid to his small, perfect lips.

"Drowning my thoughts and you? Rough day?" He chuckled at your assumption. His eyes sparkled sheepishly.

"You aren't wrong. I really had a hard day. And now, I'm just trying to distract my mind from the upcoming stress" he replied, ordering another round.

"I'm Seungmin by the way"

You chuckled and took his hand that he had stretched out towards you. "Nice to meet Seungmin. I'm Y/n"

"Y/n" he mouthed loudly as if he liked the way it rolled of his tongue. "I love the sound of your name" he flirted with a smirk.

Without thinking, you giggled, feeling the redness pooling into your cheeks like a stupid teenager.

"Well, thank you. Yours is really fine too." The black haired man nodded with a hum, his hand brushing yours briefly that sat on the cool wooden countertop as if it was nothing.

You liked the way he looked at you. With longing and desire, something you hadn't felt for so long since you were always busy keeping up with classes and your job. But Seungmin seemed to push the right buttons and you were convinced that he wasn't just good in flirting.

"Do you have any plans tonight, Y/n?" He questioned after drowning the second glass of whiskey. His whole body was still turned towards you on the bar stool as his hand graced yours again. But now, he actually rested his hand over yours, caressing your tender skin.

Immediately, you shook your head no. You had nothing to do other than ravishing and spend the night with him.

"I have no plans yet" you shrugged, chugging the last bit of your Lillet and letting your tongue run over your lips to wet them. You liked the way his eyes couldn't concentrate on your own and travelled down to your mouth in unvoiced desire.

"I think we both have earned a distraction from our churning thoughts, haven't we?" He whispered into your ear as his hand travelled up over your exposed arm which sent shivers along your spine in pure bliss.

Like in a trance, you nodded firmly, earning a happy smile from him.

"How about you accompany me to my apartment which is only a few houses away and we spent some time together? How does that sound?"

You gulped. You knew that there were some crazy people who lure women like you with sentences like that into misery. People who would force and rape you only to leave you behind on a dark alley like trash afterwards.

But was Seungmin really that type of guy? Well, the victims hadn't thought about their rapist as a threat first either.

While your mind reminded you about the traumatising article about a woman who had just been raped, you said fuck it. You were sick of your ever working brain with the stupids thoughts that never leave you alone.

Now, they could all quiet down. You weren't listening. Not this once.

"Sounds wonderful. Let me just pay for my drinks and we are good to go" you answered with a smile, calling the bartender over. As you searched through your purse for your credit card, Seungmin placed a hand on your shoulder, getting your attention.

You lifted your gaze. "No need. I'll pay for us" he winked at you and you immediately bowed your head, thankful for his kindness while blush crept up your cheeks.

"Thank you so much" you mumbled shyly. Seungmin brushed it off and helped you up after paying. "I can't let such a gorgeous woman pay for herself. Then, I wouldn't be a gentleman" he smirked and winked at you playfully.

You laughed amused, finding your jacket on the rack and quickly slipping it on.

"well, you are indeed a gentleman" you mused as he held the door open for you and immediately returned to your side to show you the way.

The way back to his apartment was filled with some small talk and a comfortable silence. Despite his obvious confidence in all his actions, you found out that he was actually the type of guy who rather listens than talks much.

And you definitely didn't mind that. You were quite the yapper and loved to talk. Sadly, your words often hit deaf ears since most people shut off after a while. But Seungmin?

Whenever you stopped yourself from sharing too much, he asked the right questions in the right moments. You knew this would be just a normal fling, a one night stand, absolutely nothing serious, but this little gesture warmed your heart, making him even more attractive to you. And you couldn't stop it. Maybe it was the alcohol that ran through your system or your nonexistent love life but it was sad that you were only a little fuck for him. From your observations, he was totally boyfriend coded.

Five minutes later, you found yourself in a luxurious apartment, too luxurious for a man in his early twenties. You gulped as you saw his clean living room, held in black and white.

He chuckled at your big eyes. "I'm often travelling around. That's why it looks so untouched" he brushed his hand over your exposed arm, letting goosebumps spread over your skin.

You finally let your eyes wander to him, his attractive smile and those brown eyes that sparkled sheepishly. Playfully, you winked at him, bringing your arms confidently around his neck and leaned in.

Tenderly, you brushed your lips against his neck, feeling him suck air in. "We can make it feel homely"

Almost immediately, his lips crashed against yours, pushing you against the grey wall behind you. "Absolutely love that idea" he mused before caressing your red lips with his tongue, pleading to get into your mouth.

With a moan, you opened up for him, clawing at his t-shirt to pull him closer. One of his long legs, pushed between yours and you could feel the warmth pooling into your belly.

This was exactly what you needed right now.

Him. At this moment.

You didn't need to think. You just followed your intuition, letting him take the reins so that you could just enjoy.

And you did exactly that. Enjoying.

You enjoyed how his lips felt against yours. How his hands travelled to your thighs and pushed you upwards in a sudden, practised movement that left you gasping. You enjoyed how he lifted you up like you weight nothing while your tongues collided inside of your mouth.

Loudly, you moaned into his mouth as you felt his bulge through his jeans, your heels digging into his ass to rub yourself against him in a teasing manner. The reaction was immediate. The shudder and the little rut against your body spoke words. He really needed that as much as you did.

With quick and powerful strides, he carried you deeper into the apartment, into the bedroom and let you fall onto the huge bed. The soft mattress cushioned your fall as you bounced slightly. You spread yourself out over the big, soft blanket, watching the black haired man in front of you like a hawk its prey.

Seungmin quickly got rid of his t-shirt.

And oh boy, he looked fine as hell.

His chest was slightly toned, muscles showing underneath his smooth skin as he struggled slightly to strip off his jeans. You felt how the heat gathered in your abdomen, longing for that hot man right in front of you.

Finally, he had won the war against his trousers and stood in all his glory, only dressed in his black boxers, right there. The fire in his eyes matched your own as he slowly got onto the bed like a predator sneaking up to its prey, ready to eat you.

"Let's get that off of you" he murmured, voice thick with desire. You only nodded and kissed him back while he opened the button to your jeans and helped you out of it. Soon, your top followed.

"So hot" he growled, burying his fingers in your hair and slightly pulling at it while he pushed your back down to the bed. His hands roamed your body like he owned it.

You moaned as he pushed his body over yours and made quick work of your bra that landed on the ground right next to your other clothes. His hands found your breast and kneaded them, making you mewl in pleasure.

His lips captured your own again. You clinged to him, nails in his back to keep him close, and undulate under him, body hot and desperate. He dropped his boxers, letting his hard cock swing free, and it’s impressive. You felt yourself lick your lips like a predator at the sight.

With one hand, he digged through his bedside table in search for a condom. His erection was plump and stood straight up as he slid the condom over his length, your eyes never leaving his moves. While he prepared himself, you slipped out of your panties, waiting for him.

He was back on top of you, his sheer presence pushing you down, making you flatten out against the mattress. His lips were on you, and it’s like he had reached deep up into some secret, hidden spot inside of you and flicked a switch.

With every fibre of his being, you burned. Melting into a puddle of pure want under his kiss. He shifted on top of you, and then you felt it.

His cock pressed deep inside of you, and you felt like you might come right then and there. He used his palms to prop himself up above you, and he found his steady rhythm that lit fire in your veins.

You could tell that he was trying to go slow at first, trying to let you settle, but he was just as desperate as you were. Confidently, you pressed your hips back against his, making him hiss in pleasure as he felt how tight you were, massaging his length delicately.

You taking the initiative was all the encouragement he needed. It was like he had turned a switch off and started pounding you like there is no tomorrow.

And god, you loved it.

The bedroom was filled with the sound of hips slapping against eachother, mixing with the moans and pants from both of you. His harsh movements unlocked something inside of you.

You were panting, sweating, aching your body up against his and all you could think of was getting more. More, more, more, even when you already felt filled to the brim, even when you felt completely overwhelmed by the pleasure.

His breath became ragged and uneven, his skins was heated up against yours and you could feel yourself quickly approaching that taut, sharp peak.

"I'm close" you moaned, stretching your chest against his at the dragging of his cock against your walls. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, digging into the soft skin.

"Me too" you heard him whisper in your ear as his lips kissed that sweet spot on your neck that made you see stars.

Right when you were vibrating on the edge, your whole body quaking, your thighs locked around his hips, he slammed his cock into you.

And that's all it took. You screamed, a scream that ripped out of your chest and through your whole body as you came. You were still feeling, spinning out when you felt him shudder and doing some final rocks against you as he came too. He groaned against your shoulder in pure bliss.

When you started to catch your breath, the weight of his body was warm and comfortable on top of you. You slipped your fingers into his hair and felt his heartbeat slowing down against yours. You two stayed like that for a long while, just breathing, before you sighed.

"I probably should head back to my place" you murmured, slipping from his bed and collecting your clothes from the ground you had dropped so carelessly.

Seungmin turned to his side, holding his haed up with his hand, not caring that his whole body was on display. With judging eyes, he stared at you for a moment and then to the clock on his bedside table.

"It's already two am in the morning. I'm not gonna let you walk home." He countered with finality, pushing his chin up in confidence.

Knitting your eyebrows, you replied. "And what should I do then?"

"Stay here for the night." He shrugged, giving you a playful smirk.

"Really? You're sure? I'm a total stranger" you retorted, pulling your shirt over your head.

A snort left his mouth. "I'm a total stranger too. And yet, you're here and just had sex with me"

You opened your mouth to reply but you couldn't deny that he was right. You indeed had trusted him even though you only knew his name.

Well, it looked like you didn't have any other option and if you were honest, you didn't have it within you right now to walk all the way back to your apartment in the darkness alone.

"Alright. I stay" you sighed, rolling your eyes at his teasing smirk.

❤☯❤

The next morning you woke up in warm arms that circled around your waist and kept you close. His mouth was resting on your exposed shoulder, making you shudder comfortable with every exhale. With your back pressed against his front, you must say that this position was extremely comfortable.

Seungmin was still deep asleep behind you but you just couldn't go back to sleep, being sad that this one night stand ended here.

Last night was fun. So much fun like you hadn't experienced in the last year. Finally, your mind had shot off and let your rest for the night. And now, you felt even more relaxed and recharged than ever. Maybe Sanha, your best friend, was right when she nudged you to have more fun, to make more out of your life than just studying.

After some time, you decided to check your phone. It was 10:39 am and you had 18 missed calls from your best friend. Shit, you had totally forgotten to tell her and usually, you and Sanha had breakfast together at her apartment every single Saturday.

She was definitely going to kill you. At first for not texting her where you were and then for not coming. You were so fucked.

Sannie: Y/n L/n! Answer your goddamn phone! Where the heck are you? Are you still sleeping?

Sannie: You are so late for our breakfast! Answer!

Sannie: Is everything alright? Hello? Did you turn your phone off?

Sannie: Y/n?

You felt so bad for forgetting her and your shared breakfast. And you knew with how dramatic she was that she would still complain about it years ago.

Y/n: I'm so sorry, Sannie! I totally forgot!

Immediately, she responded.

Sannie: How the heck can you forget your best friend?

Y/n: Well, I followed your advice and had some fun last night.

Sannie: WAIT! REALLY? Oh my god! Yes!

Sannie: How was it? Tell me everything! Right now!!! Come over, quickly!

Y/n: I'm still at his apartment so I can't come over right now. But it was great! I had so much fun and you were right, it really helped me destressing.

Sannie: You are still there? Oh my god! There will definitely a part two!

Y/n: I'm gonna tell as soon as I walk out of his apartment!

Sannie: You better be

Seungmin shifted behind you, causing you to drop your phone.

"Good morning" he said in his deep, raspy morning voice.

"Well, good morning to you too"

He gave you a sleepy smile before rolling off the bed and slipping into his boxers. You sighed contently and dressed yourself in your old clothes from yesterday while the black haired man walked into the kitchen.

"Do you want a coffee?" He questions as soon as you entered the room after making you look presentable in the bathroom.

You nodded your head quietly and sat down on a stool, thanking him when he placed the steaming mug in front of you.

The quiet was comfortable. But it seemed like Seungmin wanted to say something.

"You have absolutely no idea who I am, right?" He asked, brushing his hands through his tousled hair.

Confused, you shook your head no. "No? Should I?"

He grinned. "Well, I am Seungmin of Stray Kids." Your whole face was drained out of colour and you were sure that you were whiter than the wall in the kitchen. Sanha loved that group and sometimes you even listened to their songs. But you never had made the effort to memorise the member's faces.

"Oh my god" you mumbled. Sanha won't believe you.

"And that's why I need you to sign this NDA." He placed some pieces of paper down with a pen, nudging you to read and sign it.

❤☯❤

"You will never know who I saw today!" Sanha, your best friend called out as soon as she pushed the door to your apartment open.

It was a normal Tuesday late afternoon for both of you. While you had classes up until four pm, Sanha worked at a small bakery and always came to your apartment afterwards.

Nearly five weeks ago, you had that wonderful one night stand with the black haired man and everything was normal. You went to college, studied, searched for a job. Nothing had changed.

"Who?" You answered, nibbling on the backside of your pen while your best friend for years let herself fall onto your bed behind you.

"My dear Ex! He was in the bakery with his new girlfriend!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air in agitation. "As if the breakup wasn't hard for me. And now he decided to show his new lover off at my workplace. I bet he just wanted to piss me off" she growled angrily.

Well, since you couldn't concentrate on studying anymore, you pushed yourself off your desk chair and jumped onto the bed next to her.

She huffed loudly. "Such an asshole. First he dumped you unceremoniously and now he does shit like that" you shook your head and comforted her with a welcoming hug.

Those situations weren't new since Sanha's relationship had ended so fast. Often, you found yourself comforting her for hours without end while she cried in your arms from the humiliation she had faced. So, this wasn't something new.

But today, something is different. And it hadn't to do with your best friend.

For a week you had felt a little off, almost as if you had catched a cold. Your muscles ached and sometimes, your head hurt like it was beaten with hammers.

"You know, Sannie. There are tons of other guys out there that would love to be your boyfriend. You just need to wait and find the right one" you emphasized, sitting up to brush some strands of hair behind her ear.

But the sudden movement made you feel light headed and sick. Before your best friend could answer, you lunged off the bed.

"One sec!" You exclaimed and booked it across the apartment to your bathroom, your friend trailing close behind in worry.

"What's wrong? Y/n!" She called out in terror, not having expected you to sprint.

You didn't even care to close the door behind your form. Right now, that wasn't your problem.

There was no time.

You hunched over the toilet and immediately retched and puked. Sanha had trailed in too, holding your hair out of your way while she rubbed your back soothingly.

Sighing, you braced yourself over the bowl once it was over.

What the hell?

You felt completely fine just minutes ago. So what was this?

"Is everything fine?" Your friend asked concerned. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know why I felt so nauseous from one time to the other. Maybe it was the sushi from yesterday"

She knitted her eyebrows. "Then, I would feel sick right now too." She thought, bringing you a damp wash cloth to wipe your mouth with.

What the hell was this? It couldn't be food poisoning since you ate nothing but eggs on toast this morning and nothing else that could have become bad.

Sanha sat down next to you. "Haven't you told me that you felt achy all week long?" You nodded, not knowing what she was up to.

"You and that guy five weeks ago - what was his name again?"

"Seungmin"

"Ah, right. Seungmin - did you use protection?"

You stopped in your tracks, not even breathing as you recalled what happened five weeks ago. Yes, he definitely used a condom and had taken your pill. Wait- you had forgotten it that night since you weren't home at 10 pm which was the usual time you took your pill. Fuck. Your eyes grew big.

"Did you?" Sanha added impatiently, staring at you in horror.

"Yes - I mean. We used a condom. But I remember that I didn't take my pill since I came home the next morning. Do you think the condom had a hole or was ripped? Do you think I'm pregnant?" Your whole body shook and your voice was hoarse.

No, you couldn't let your brain go there. But there was an unrelenting, nagging thought. Or... The thought alone was enough to draw up another batch of puke, and you threw yourself forward, emptying the last remains of your breakfast into the toilet.

You're seriously.... seriously...fucked.

❤☯❤

Tick, tack.

Tick, tack.

Tick, tack.

You swore if you would sit here for another hour, you were going to throw that damn clock out of the window. And the time didn't even seem to pass. It was like the time had slowed down only to mock you.

Sitting in the waiting room of the tiny hospital near your apartment wasn't the best thing you could do on a Monday morning. Technically, you were even skipping your classes but you didn't spend any mind to that. This was important. Life changing important.

You couldn't believe you were actually here. You shouldn't be here at all. And yet, here you sat, annoyed by that damn clock.

But the ongoing nausea since last week's Tuesday didn't leave any room for arguments. With every day that passed and you were still puking your guts out, especially in the morning, the chance of food poisoning grew slimmer and slimmer.

Maybe you just caught a strange cold? A new disease? Anything. You would take anything as an answer but not the one you dreaded the most at the moment.

And the way the nurse at the front desk looked at you. So pitiful and soothing was so annoying and didn't actually help. You bet that she thought how sad it was for a 22 year old to turn out pregnant when the father wasn't even here. His absence clearly told her everything she needed to know.

Your left arm hurt a bit where the nurse had drawn blood from you for the pregnancy test, a cute little plaster now covering the skin.

Nervously, you were picking at your nails, not actually focusing on the people that entered the waiting room.

As the shuffling came to an halt and the person sat down right in front of you, you cared to look up from your stress hobby.

You stilled in your actions when you realised who stared back at you just like you did. The black hair, the brown eyes and that gorgeous mouth.

It was Seungmin.

Fuck, you were truly fucked.

He recognised you as well, giving you a charming smile as he sat up with a grimace. From what you could observe, his hand was hurt judging by how he carefully held his hand up with the other

Your big eyes and your open mouth made him chuckle. "Hello again, Y/n" he greeted.

Calm down, you thought. He didn't know why you're here. You have nothing to fear. He won't find out. "It's nice to see you too, Seungmin" you replied after taking a deep breath which was difficult with how much your heart hammered against your ribcage.

"Why are you-" he started again but couldn't finish his sentence as another nurse entered the waiting room.

"Mrs. Y/n L/n, the gynecologist is ready to see you now" she waved you over with a smile. Quickly, you shot up, feeling Seungmin's hot stare on your back. Well, now, he most definitely knew or at least suspected. He was too smart not to.

You pushed the growing anxiety forcefully away when you sat down on the chair, taking deep breaths again to stop your racing heart. Come on, stay calm, you mumbled. Everything's going to turn out fine. Now focus on the right now.

Like a mantra, you repeated those words until your gynecologist entered with your case tucked carefully underneath his arm. His friendly smile brought warmth and soothing.

“I see you’re here to get a pregnancy test. Is that correct?” he said, sitting down behind the table and typed something into his computer.

You gulped and looked at your feet in shame. “Yes.”, you mumbled.

“And when was the last time you had sex?” He tapped his fingers once against the keyboard, but his eyes locked onto yours.

"six weeks ago" you answered truthfully. He hummed and wrote that piece of information down.

"Alright. I got your blood samples back and you have a high percentage of oestrogens which indicates a pregnancy. Congratulations" he stated, giving you a kind smile.

In that moment it was as if your whole world came crashing down on you. Now, that nightmare was confirmed, there was no sense of convincing yourself that you're not pregnant. To say that you were shocked was an understatement.

"I would like to do a quick ultrasound to check how the fetus is developing" with a grand gesture, he guided you to the examination table.

You gulped as you laid down, belly exposed. Your hands were clutched together over your chest and the cold gel on your belly made you shiver slightly.

He started the machine and brushed over your belly with practised movements. The screen showed the inside of your belly, well, you hoped that it was your belly since you couldn't recognise anything.

"From what I can see, the fetus looks good and is developing right"

"Is- is there already a heartbeat?" You fidgeted with your fingers, turning your head.

He hummed and pressed a few buttons. "You are six weeks pregnant and actually, we should be able to hear it" Only seconds later, the room was filled with fast and steady heartbeats. Your own heart jumped at the sound and you needed to stop yourself from cooing. This was your baby.

"Do you want a photo?" He asked and without even thinking, you nodded eagerly.

"As I assume, this pregnancy wasn't planned, right?"

Still in shock, you just nodded your head, combing through your hair in a soothing manner, at least that was what it was suppose to do.

"I'm not saying that you need to decide now. You still have time whether or not to keep the baby. I just want to give you the opportunity to choose." He explained, grabbing a bunch of brochures from his desk and placed them in front of you.

"Thank you" you mumbled, putting them in your bag after cleaning yourself with some paper towels.

Before exiting the examination room, he gave you the ultrasound photo of your little bean which you safely tucked inside of your bag, away from prying eyes. You stopped in your movements shortly as you grabbed the handle.

What if Seungmin was still sitting outside? What if he waited to confront you? But you couldn't stay here all day. Sooner or later, you needed to get out of the room.

Nervously, you poked your head out and sighed when you didn't see him right away in the waiting room which meant he had been called to the doctor already. That might leave you with enough time to get the hell out of there.

But still, you peeled into every corner or turn, just to be sure that he wasn't waiting for you in one of the hallways. On top of that, you felt like a little paranoid since every single time a person walked behind you and you heard their footsteps echoing through the long room, you quickly whipped your head around to check.

Another sigh left your lips as you exited the hospital, enjoying the warming sun. In only six weeks, the starting, early spring had developed into a much more friendlier version. For a minute you enjoyed the warmth on your skin and the smell of the prospering flowers. Then, you decided to better get going and rummaged through your bag in order to find the keys for your bike.

After another minute, you triumphantly smiled and lifted the key into the air. In your clumsiness, you let it fall to the ground. Sighing, you reached down to the ground to pick it up again but stilled as a voice called out your name from afar.

"Y/n!" You jumped slightly and quickly perked up to see who was calling out for you. In confusion, you looked around, only to find Seungmin walking, towards you from the hospital entrance. His hand was wrapped in bandages but still, he came towards you.

His face contorted in pain and you actually contemplated to jump on your bike and get the hell out of here. But you couldn't do that. You weren't an asshole.

As Seungmin came to an halt in front of you, his curious eyes observed your form. Nervously, his gaze shooting from your face to your covered belly.

Shit, he definitely knew something was up.

"Why were you in the hospital?" He asked, voice tight.

You played with the key in your hands, affectively avoiding his judging gaze.

"Yeah, I- I just had a check up" you explained evasively.

He wetted his lips with his tongue, stepping slightly closer.

"Y/n, why were you in the hospital?" His voice grew softer with each word, almost pleadingly, and his eyes searching your gaze.

You took a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest. Panic flooded your veins since you knew you couldn't postpone that conversation. He was clearly suspecting what you hided. Due to the lack answers he got from you, he sighed, his hand land on top of his big hat that concealed most of his head.

"Are you pregnant?" He whispered as if he was afraid to voice those words out loud. You gulped and finally looked him in the eyes while you gave him a sad, broken smile. Your hands were shaking from the panic in your veins.

This was the moment you had dreaded the most. How would he react? Would he want to be in the baby's life? Would he turn around as if it wasn't his business too?

You weren't even sure what you wanted to do with the new information about the growing life inside of you! Should you keep it? Yes? No? You didn't know. You mind was running on high speed with the amount of thinking you did.

"Seungmin-I" before you could dodge his question, he asked again.

"You are pregnant, right? That's why you're here" he stated, looking for the answer in your eyes. His pleading look was heartbreaking and you could see how much this affected him.

You knew there was no escape. You had to voice it out loud or he wouldn't let you get home.

"Yes. I am" you mumbled, looking down shamefully. That was the first time you were saying those words out loud and now, this whole situation became suddenly much more realistic and true.

The black haired boy ran his uninjured hand over his face while taking a deep breath. "Is it mine?" His voice broke.

"Yes" you replied quietly, too afraid to be the victim of his anger. "I wasn't sexually active before and after. Plus, the doctor said that I was six weeks along"

He nodded understandingly, taking another deep breath to stop the anxiety that flooded his veins. He was just 22 years old - how could he be fitting to be a father? But something didn't sit right in his mind.

"Wait - we used a condom. I never have intercourse without one" he stated, judging your shaking form to analyse if you were lying or not.

"Yes, but it must have ripped or had a hole." You explained truthfully since their wasn't any other possibility for you to get pregnant.

"Shit" he mumbled, gulping and massaging his neck to relieve the stress.

Despite the circumstances, you were calming down. Now, you didn't need to hide that big secret from anyone anymore. Which lifted a huge rock from your heart. Now, you had someone who could help you along the way, wether you kept the baby or not.

"I-I can't do that. I'm an idol and only 22! I-I can't be a father right now." Seungmin mumbled like a mantra. His eyes not focused on you anymore.

"I know. I'm afraid too" you soothed. You couldn't believe that you were soothing him right now, when you were the one pregnant.

"No, I-I can't deal with that right now. I-I need to go" he exclaimed, panicking and quickly stepping backwards.

"Seungmin, wait!" You answered in shock. Never you had thought that he would react that way. But you couldn't force him to stay.

You weren't his girlfriend, only some strangers who had hocked up. He had no responsibilities. A one night stand that had created new life.

You let him go. Despite your own panic, you tried to stay calm, try to think for the little bean inside you. Sure, you were frustrated about his reaction but you understood it.

With a sigh, you turned around again and tried to unlock your bike's lock with your shaking fingers. Silently you cursed yourself for thinking that he would understand and help you, at least to find a solution together. But you were wrong. He just seemed to think about himself, about his life that will change. But what about you? You were the one pregnant! You didn't even know if you could continue college!

❤☯❤

"So, what's your plan now?" Sanha asked, walking into your small living room with a bowl of popcorn in her hands. You shrugged your shoulders, sighing and spreading the prospects over the coffee table.

"I don't know. I don't know if I should keep it or get rid of it!" You exclaimed, diving into the bowl and immediately popped it into your mouth. Stress eating always helped you. Wether it was stress from exams, your parent's divorce or now the sudden pregnancy. Eating always helps.

Sanha rubbed your tense shoulders, giving you a comforting hug. " I know it's a huge decision. But you don't need to choose today. And no matter how you decide - I will help you, okay?"

You smiled at her thankfully. "I love you" you whispered, tears in your eyes.

"I love you too" It was such a good feeling to know that someone will be there for you, even though it's not the father.

"We need to do pros and cons!" Sanha exclaimed in a loud voice, jumping up from the couch and rummaging through a drawer until she found paper and a pen.

You sighed. That was going to be a long night.

❤☯❤

"Okay, stop guys!" Chan exclaimed angrily, stopping their dance practise once again. With a sigh, he shut off the music of their newest title track and turned to his members.

"What's going on Seungmin? You keep making so much mistakes today. What's on your mind that you can't even get the easiest parts right?" He wanted to know from the black haired, his voice turning softer with concern.

They all had flopped to the floor, panting and sweating since they were practicing for a few hours now.

"I fucked up, hyung, I fucked up big time" Seungmin covered his face with his hands.

"It's okay, Minnie. Tell us" Minho nudged, brushing his hair out of his face.

"I hooked up with a girl a few weeks ago"

"That's great, isn't it? You sure had a lot of fun" Hyunjin cheered, wiggling his eyebrows. Felix snorted, grinning widely, while Chan groaned, wiping the sweat from his eyes. "Oh please tell me you let her sign a NDA" he murmured, his voice threatening.

"No, of course I had her sign!" Seungmin exclaimed.

"Then what is the problem, Minnie?" Jisung wanted to know. "Was she that bad?" Hyunjin added. Vehemently, the black haired shook his head.

"Did you fell in love with your one night stand?" Jeongin teased. Well, Seungmin didn't expect that. Blinking, he felt warmth spreading over his cheeks. "That-That's not the point!"

Changbin giggled. "Don't say you have a crush on her from only seeing her once!"

"Seungmin is in love! Seungmin is in love!" Minho sing-sang playfully. The black haired sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

"She's pregnant, okay!?" He yelled over his friend's chattering, voice cracking in defeat.

For a moment, everything went silent. Everyone stared at him in disbelief, too stunned to speak as if they tried to figure out if he was joking or not.

"Is that a joke, Seungmin? Because it better is" Chan cleared his throat, trying to stay calm. Seungmin just shook his head, eyes trailing down to the floor.

"How did that happen? Why didn't you use protection?" Felix asked, brushing through Seungmin's hair to soothe him.

"My condom ripped or had a hole" he murmured, earning a deep sigh from Chan.

"Shit" Changbin whispered, hugging him from behind. "What have you two decided to do?"

The younger one just shrugged his shoulders, lip trembling from the emotions he felt. "I don't know"

Minho knitted his eyebrows. "You don't know? But you have spoken to her about that, right?"

In shame, Seungmin looked away. "I panicked after she told me and I said I couldn't do this and ran away" he admitted.

Hyunjin cleared his throat. "Well, you're an asshole"

"Honestly, I would have slapped you" Jeongin stated, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I know! I was an ass. But this whole situation overwhelmed me! I can't be a parent at 22"

"And you aren't the one who is pregnant, Seungmin. She didn't want to be in that situation either and is probably scared too." Chan replied, patting Seungmin's shoulder.

"You need to speak to her. It isn't just her fault and you both need to find a solution together" Felix exclaimed, joining into the hug.

"Thank you all" Seungmin mumbled as all the members enveloped him and now, he just needed to find you.

❤☯❤

The days blurred together after your confrontation with Seungmin. You knew that he wouldn't seek you out again but still, something deep inside you didn't loose the hope that he would suddenly stand in front of you with an apology and maybe a jar of pickles you craved at the moment.

Officially, you were now a little bit over eight weeks pregnant and the ongoing nausea tortured you more and more.

Together with Sanha, you had weighed the pros and cons of keeping the baby. If it weren't for your education and money problems, you would have chosen otherwise but now, you couldn't give the baby a good life. That's why you had decided to terminate the pregnancy.

It was a big decision and it had costed you several tissue boxes and tons of ice cream but it was better that way, especially when you didn't have anyone to help you.

Despite your inner turmoil, you had booked an appointment a week ago at a specialised clinic for the small operation. They had informed you that it wouldn't take long, only two hours and the little life within you would be gone, gone forever.

The walk to the clinic was cruel, like you would walk to a funeral. The funeral of your small little bean, like you had named the fetus. Shame washed over you when you saw the small clinic from afar. Every step made you more anxious and scared.

While your brain, the rational part of you, knew that this was the only good decision, your heart screamed at you to just turn around and walk away. Walk away from loosing your baby that couldn't even meet yet. And the worst part?

You loved kids and you always wanted some of your own. And honestly? You could imagine keeping the baby, no, you would if you could.

The uneasiness spread when you greeted the receptionist and told you to sit down.

Tick, tack.

Tick, tack.

Tick, tack.

Just like in the hospital, there was this horrible clock but this time, it didn't agitate you. No, this time, it felt like a countdown and with each second that passed, you couldn't turn around and go. It was only a few hours until the fate of your little bean would be sealed.

Anxiously, you tapped your foot against the white tiles, desperately wanting to get this over with so you couldn't back down. Inside, you felt like a coward. There were so many couples around the world who had troubles conceiving or having miscarriage. And here you were, with a healthy fetus, waiting to get rid of it.

You flinched when your name was called and quickly hurried into the small examination room.

"So, Miss Y/n. How are we feeling today?" The nice elderly woman greeted you.

"Okay, I guess" you shrugged your shoulders, sitting down for the prep talk.

"Alright. You already know that this is a minimal invasive operation and afterwards, you can go as soon as the narcosis wears off but it's safer to have someone to get you."

Distantly, you nodded since you had already asked for Sanha to get you afterwards. Without noticing, your hands glided to your abdomen as if you wanted to protect the little bean.

"So, with that being clarified, you just need to sign this allowance that you have agreed to the operation and then, a nurse will fetch you and give you a remedy that will open your cervix in approximately an hour." The elderly woman explained, sliding the allowance over the table for you to read along with a pen.

Friendly, she smiled. "Alright, you can give that to the nurse when it's signed" with that, she lead you out of the room for you to sit in the waiting area again.

Your stomach churned as you read sentence after sentence. The described procedure sounded brutal but through the narcosis, you wouldn't feel a thing and the baby, well, it wouldn't be there afterwards. That's how your shared time will end.

You felt ashamed that you chose the easiest way and you wouldn't fight for the little bean. After finishing reading, you opened the pen and were about to leave your signature underneath but as you positioned the pen on the paper, you stilled again as if an invisible force held your hand firmly.

Honestly, even if the circumstance were bad and you hadn't planned to get pregnant, you had grown quite attached to the little bean. Maybe this were your hormones talking but suddenly, the feeling of shame and guilt crashed over you more than ever before.

Tears sprang into your eyes, blurring your vision. Why couldn't you just sign that damn allowance and continue your life how it was used to be? Would that make you a bad person? No, but an extremely guilty one.

You let the pen sink. No, you couldn't do it. You just couldn't. Maybe your parents could help you with your financials and some girls in college had already a kid or were pregnant. You could do it, with a little help, it was possible.

Quickly, you grabbed your purse and placed the allowance on the receptionist's table who gave you a surprised look.

"I'm sorry but I can't" with that, you quickly turned and exited the clinic, already phone in hand to call Sanha.

Immediately, she picked up.

"Y/n? Already finished?" She asked surprised and you heard her scrambling to get going.

"No, No. I couldn't" you answered, one hand rubbing over your belly absently.

"What?"

"I couldn't. I'm keeping the baby" you whispered, reality hitting you full force and brought tears into your eyes.

"Wait. Really?" Her scrambling stopped, impatiently waiting for your answer.

"Yes" you murmured, a small smile creating on your lips.

Her reaction was immediate. "Oh my fucking god! I'm gonna be an aunt! Hell ya!" She yelled through the phone, causing you to quickly bring some distance between you and the phone.

You chuckled. "I don't know if that's a good idea" you teased, internally loving the way she reacted.

"Stop that! You know what a good auntie I'll be!" She exclaimed outraged and you could visualise her how she put her hands at her sides.

"Little bean is going to be extremely lucky" you mused.

"We need to celebrate! I'm coming over with alcohol and ice-cream!" She exclaimed happily. "Wait - no alcohol for the mama! I'll get you some ice tea instead" she corrected herself immediately.

You giggled. Mama. That's a name you need to grow used to. But actually, you couldn't wait for your baby to say it for the first time.

author's note: just wanting to say that there is nothing wrong with abortions! I can understand everyone who chooses to do one and this is just how I would probably decide for myself if I ever got pregnant unplanned!

[desi2go]

A real masterpiece 🫶🏼 absolute perfection

Hey! I absolutely love your writings!

I'm an absolute sucker for the oneshot you just posted with Wooyoung. So, here's my request:

I love the arranged marriage trope, so, could you please write a fic about Hongjoong getting into an arranged marriage with the reader? They both aren't fond of the deal their parents had made and some sort of enemies to lovers. Maybe a slow burn because I love those little interactions where they deny their feelings for eachother because they think the other one feels forced to build a somewhat good relationship to the other? Angst is a must! But please, I need a happy ending! My heart wouldn't survive another fic with the same amount of angst like in your recent post.

Anyways, thank you and feel free to change some things. I know I'll love it 🫶🏼

Strangers - Hongjoong

Pairing: Mean!Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers.

wc: 13,7K

Warnings: Angst, Emotional tension, Alcohol use, Mild toxic behaviors, Emotional avoidance.

Summary: When two strangers are forced into a marriage neither of them wanted, sparks fly—but not the romantic kind. Between awkward dinners, cold shoulders, and silent nights, they learn that pretending not to care is easier than admitting the truth.

But behind the tension, something fragile begins to bloom.

Request: Yes (Thank u for your request, hope you like it!! ♡♡)

The familiar echo of a gavel, the soft clink of champagne glasses, and the faint hum of shallow conversation filled the grand hall.

Another charity art auction.

You’d lost count of how many of these you’d attended since joining Jeong Enterprises. They were all the same—an endless parade of wealthy socialites throwing obscene amounts of money at things they didn’t understand, all for the sake of bragging rights and flashy headlines.

“Do I hear one hundred?” The auctioneer called.

“Two hundred!”

“Seven hundred!”

“One thousand!”

A tense pause. Then—

“One thousand for the lady in the corner!” The auctioneer beamed, hammer falling with flair as polite applause echoed around the room.

The woman who won smiled proudly, completely unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—that she had just dropped a small fortune on what was, quite honestly, the ugliest painting you’d ever seen.

You sighed and shifted your attention back to your drink. At least it will be over soon.

“And now, the final piece of the night,” The auctioneer announced. “A breathtaking landscape—sunset over a waterfall, oil on canvas. One of the most stunning works we’ve had this season.”

Your gaze lifted. There it was. The only painting that had caught your eye the moment you walked in—soft golden skies, water crashing gently over rocks, and the kind of quiet solitude you hadn’t felt in years.

For that painting, you would pay.

“One thousand,” You said, calm and confident.

Silence followed. You were almost sure the gavel would fall in your favor—until a voice cut through the room from the opposite side.

“One thousand five hundred.”

Your brows furrowed, you turned toward the voice.

A man stood near the back, dressed in a dark tailored suit, confidence practically radiating off him. He didn’t glance your way—he didn’t need to. His presence demanded attention.

He raised his hand lazily, as if bidding wasn’t a matter of money, but sport.

You narrowed your eyes “Two thousand.”

His gaze finally met yours. There it was—heat, challenge, and a flicker of something unreadable in his sharp, dark eyes.

“Three thousand,” He said smoothly, lips curving just slightly.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

You tilted your head, standing up straighter “Five thousand.”

He smirked, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn he was enjoying this far too much.

“Ten,” He said.

The room fell silent. You clenched your jaw. You could afford it. That wasn’t the issue, but you knew—knew—this wasn’t about the painting anymore.

It was about winning.

You.

Him.

The challenge hung in the air like a flame between gasoline.

The auctioneer cleared her throat “Ten thousand going once... going twice... Sold! To the gentleman in the back.”

A polite round of applause followed. You didn’t clap. You didn’t even look away.

He approached the painting as people began to scatter. Instead of admiring it, he turned to you.

Up close, he was even worse. Tall. Striking. Smug.

“You have good taste,” He said casually. “Shame it wasn’t enough.”

You scoffed “You just bought it to show off.”

He smiled “Maybe. Or maybe I just didn’t like the idea of losing to someone who pouts when they’re outbid.”

You blinked, insulted and impressed all at once “You don’t even care about the art.”

“And you do?” He asked, raising a brow.

You stepped closer “Yes. Not all of us are here to throw money around for fun.”

“Really?” He replied with an infuriating tilt of his head. “Then maybe next time, bring your A-game.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, the painting being rolled up behind him by the staff.

You glared at his back, your blood boiling.

“Asshole.”

You didn’t even know his name.

Not yet.

≪ °❈° ≫

“You have to be kidding me.”

Hongjoong let out a laugh, sharp and humorless, as he stared at his parents from across the long glass table. The grin tugging at his lips wasn’t amusement—it was disbelief. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded as if bracing himself from the weight of their absurdity.

“This is a joke, right? You’re trying to be funny.”

His father didn’t even blink “We’ve already discussed this.”

“No. You discussed it. I said no. Repeatedly.”

“You’ve been dodging this responsibility for years, Hongjoong,” His mother said, her tone gentle as she reached across the table to touch his arm. Her bracelets clinked softly against her wrist. “It’s time to step forward and take your place. As CEO. As a leader.”

“This isn’t about the company.” His voice was low, edged with something raw. “This is about control.”

She sighed, exchanging a glance with his father “Their daughter is smart, elegant, and from a reputable family. This alliance would benefit both of our companies.”

“Alliance,” He repeated bitterly, yanking his arm away. “That’s all this is to you, isn’t it? A transaction.”

“You're not a child anymore,” His father said firmly. “This is how the world works. Marriage is a strategy. And we expect you to do your part.”

“Yeah? Then maybe you should marry her,” Hongjoong snapped. “You seem more excited about the merger than I ever will be.”

His father’s expression hardened “You will attend the dinner on Friday. You will behave like a Kim. And you will stop acting like this is optional.”

A heavy silence followed. Hongjoong clenched his jaw, the storm in his chest crackling just beneath the surface.

He pushed his chair back and stood, pacing toward the tall window that overlooked the city. He hated how small everything looked from here. Like every decision made in these rooms towered over people’s actual lives.

His life.

His fists tightened at his sides “You’re marrying me off like I’m some pawn in a business deal.”

“You’re the heir,” His father said without flinching. “That means sacrifices.”

Hongjoong turned his head slightly, a bitter smile playing on his lips “And what if I go to this dinner and make sure she hates me?”

His father met his gaze coolly “Then you better hope she’s more mature than you.”

He wanted to scream, break something, walk out and never look back. Instead, he let out a breath and forced the heat back down.

“Fine,” He muttered, voice low and venomous. “I’ll go to the damn dinner. But don’t expect me to make it easy.”

Later that night, Hongjoong sat on the edge of his bed, flipping through his phone absentmindedly, not really seeing the screen. His mind was stuck on the same loop.

Married. To some spoiled corporate princess. Probably someone who thought charity galas and overpriced art made her cultured.

He scoffed. What was the name again? Something with a J… he didn’t care.

They’d probably sit through one awkward dinner, hate each other, and their parents would drop the plan.

He just had to be himself. That always scared people off.

But in the back of his mind, something twisted uncomfortably. That girl from the auction… Auction Girl with the sharp tongue and dagger eyes. The only one who’d dared to go head-to-head with him in a room full of sycophants.

No way. It couldn’t be her… Could it?

He shook the thought away. Didn’t matter. Whoever she was, he’d make sure she wanted out just as badly as he did.

This would never work. Not with him.

He’d make sure of it.

—

The soft clicking of your heels echoed through the marble hallway as you entered your family’s estate the next morning, still mildly seething from last night’s art auction.

That man—whoever he was—had single-handedly managed to ruin your mood, snatch your favorite painting, and do it all while wearing a stupidly attractive smirk.

You weren’t even mad about losing the auction. You were mad because he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn’t even get his name, you didn’t care to. You just hoped you’d never have to see his smug face again.

Your mother’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts “There you are. Sit, we need to talk.”

You stopped in your tracks, narrowing your eyes “That never means anything good.”

Your father set his coffee down, eyes gleaming with satisfaction “We’ve just gotten off a call with CEO Kim.”

“Kim?” You asked confused.

“Kim Enterprises,” Your mother clarified with a smile. “They’re also a very influential name in the industry. Turns out they’ve been looking for a potential wife for their youngest son as well.”

You felt a cold chill wrap around your spine.

“We suggested a dinner. They agreed. It’s set for this Friday evening.”

You blinked. Your parents looked so pleased with themselves.

“You’re serious?” You asked, disbelief curling into your voice.

“This is perfect timing,” Your father said, clearly already planning your future. “Their family is just as eager to finalize something as we are. It's good business.”

“Right. Of course,” You muttered, standing up. “God forbid I fall in love first.”

Your mother gave you a look “Don’t be dramatic. You’ll thank us later.”

°❈°

You wore your best black dress.

Not because you wanted to impress anyone—but because if your parents were going to drag you into another business proposal disguised as a dinner, you might as well look like you had control over something.

The restaurant was fancy. Too fancy. The kind of place that served food in portions so small they looked like abstract art.

You and your parents arrived early. You sat in cold silence while they chatted about wine pairings and stock prices.

Then the Kim family arrived, and your heart stopped.

Your eyes locked with his.

No fucking way…

He paused too. That smug, art-stealing, sunset-painting-snatching bastard from the auction.

Your jaw dropped an inch. Not visibly, but enough to register the sheer shock running through you.

He raised a brow, clearly as startled as you were.

“You,” You said under your breath, too low for your parents to hear.

He gave a slow, amused tilt of his head “You.”

The same cocky smirk spread across his face. God, you hated it. And hated even more how ridiculously good he looked in that suit.

“Wait…” He said after a beat, eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re the girl I’m supposed to be—”

“Unfortunately,” You cut him off with a tight smile.

Your mother blinked at the tension “Oh? You two know each other?”

“Not exactly,” You both said at the same time.

He slid into the seat directly across from you, elbows on the table like he owned it. The back-and-forth between the parents blurred into background noise as you glared at each other in silence.

“So,” He said eventually, low enough only you could hear, “Was it the painting or the defeat that still has you pouting?”

You narrowed your eyes “I wasn’t pouting. I was mourning the loss of art to someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head. “You're still mad I outbid you. Cute.”

You leaned forward, voice syrupy sweet “You’re going to regret this entire dinner.” You stabbed your salad with more force than necessary.

His smirk grew “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

As dinner went on, you traded more jabs than actual conversation. He teased you with sharp wit and a calm arrogance that made your blood boil. You, in turn, matched him jab for jab, pretending not to notice when his gaze lingered just a little too long.

As dessert was served, he leaned over just a bit and whispered, “So, future fiancée… what pet name should I start calling you? Darling? Princess? Or should we stick with auction girl?”

You turned your head slowly, gave him your iciest stare, and whispered back, “How about we start with stranger and keep it that way forever?”

He just chuckled, low and shameless.

You hated him.

God, you hated him.

And you really hated the way part of you was already wondering what kind of kiss would wipe that grin off his face.

—

The clink of cutlery and low murmur of polite conversation echoed in the overly lavish dining room. You stared down at your untouched steak, the scent of truffle oil making your stomach turn more than it usually would—probably because of the man sitting directly across from you, wearing smugness like it was designer.

Hongjoong hadn’t said much since arriving. But when he did speak, it was always with that mocking smirk, like everything around him was some great inconvenience he couldn't be bothered to entertain.

Like you were an inconvenience.

“So,” Your father began, sipping his wine with a businesslike ease. “Now that we've met, we’d like to suggest a second dinner. Something a little more… personal.”

Your eyes snapped up “Personal?” You echoed, already dreading what was coming.

“Yes,” His mother chimed in with a smile so graceful it was almost threatening. “You two need time to get to know one another. Without us around.”

“Oh,” You said flatly, barely able to feign surprise. “How modern of you.”

“A dinner. Just the two of you,” Your father confirmed, as if the decision had already been made and you’d missed your chance to object. “Before we begin making formal arrangements.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his seat with a dramatic sigh “Wow. A whole date. Are we allowed to pick our own clothes too, or do you have a stylist in mind?”

You shot him a sharp look “We could also skip dinner and just send each other resumes.”

“I’d rather not see yours,” He replied dryly, not missing a beat. “I already know you buy overpriced art and roll your eyes like it’s your full-time job.”

Your mother cleared her throat sharply, offering a tight smile “Kids, please.”

You exhaled and turned back to your plate, forcing your fork into a green bean like it was his face. You weren’t about to argue at this table, not with your parents so clearly smug about finally having their first and last alliance in motion.

“Fine,” You muttered.

Hongjoong raised a brow “Fine?”

You met his gaze with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes “Yeah. Let’s get it over with. Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise me and act like a decent human being for one night.”

His grin widened “And maybe you’ll realize not everything is about business and daddy’s approval.”

Before either of you could throw more venom across the table, your father clapped his hands together lightly.

“Perfect,” He said. “We’ll arrange the restaurant. Tomorrow night sounds good?”

Hongjoong tilted his head toward you “Your schedule free, Princess of Jeong Enterprises?”

You didn’t blink “Only because I feel bad for the staff who’ll have to deal with your personality.”

His father chuckled, clearly trying to pass it off as charming tension “They’re fiery, these two. That’s good—it means chemistry.”

You both spoke at the same time: “No, it doesn’t.”

≪ °❈° ≫

The restaurant his father picked was absurdly expensive. One of those places where the chairs were more comfortable than your bed and the menu had no prices.

The kind of place that screamed old money and power plays, and you could practically feel the deals being whispered across other tables.

You showed up in a sleek emerald dress, hair up, lips a muted wine-red. Not because you wanted to impress him—God, no—but because you were raised to never look like you lost, no matter how bad the game was rigged.

He was already there when you arrived, legs crossed, shirt unbuttoned just low enough to be criminal. A glass of wine swirled lazily in one hand, that trademark smirk stretched across his face like he’d been waiting to say something infuriating.

“You’re late,” He said as you sat.

You tossed your clutch onto the table and smiled sweetly “I had to talk myself out of setting this place on fire.”

“Romantic,” He said, raising his glass. “I like a woman with ambition.”

You rolled your eyes but grabbed the wine list anyway “Let’s try something new tonight.”

He blinked “What’s that?”

“Civility.” You looked him dead in the eye. “We’re going to get through this dinner without trading insults like we’re on some drama series.”

He leaned in slightly, intrigued “And if I slip?”

“Then I’ll pretend you didn’t. But only once.”

Hongjoong stared at you for a second, then nodded, surprisingly earnest “Alright. No jabs. Just dinner.”

The waiter arrived, and for the first time, silence fell between you—not uncomfortable, just… curious. He ordered something obscure off the menu with casual ease. You followed suit, mostly to prove you could keep up.

When the waiter left, he rested his chin on one hand and looked at you differently this time. Not as a rival or a nuisance, but as someone trying to see past the façade.

“So,” He said, lazily swirling the deep red in his glass, “Tell me something you’d never put on a résumé.”

You arched a brow “That’s your idea of small talk?”

He leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief “I already know the work you run under your father’s name. Figured I’d dig deeper.”

You narrowed your eyes, lips curling into a half-smile “Fine. I once punched a boy at a piano recital because he called me a spoiled brat.”

That got a full laugh from him. Not a mocking scoff, but a genuine, startled laugh that made his nose crinkle a little and his shoulders shake.

“Was he wrong?”

You took a calm sip of wine, gaze steady “Doesn’t matter. He cried.”

“Damn,” He grinned. “You were scary at ten.”

“Still am.”

He tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself “Alright, your turn. Ask away.”

You studied him for a beat, your tone cooling as your eyes searched his “What’s something you wouldn’t want your parents to know?”

For the first time tonight, he didn’t have an answer ready. His fingers tapped once against the stem of his glass, and then he smiled—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“…The things I do when they’re not watching.”

You paused, brow furrowed “What kind of things?”

He looked at you then—not with teasing, but with a flash of something wilder, untamed, just under the surface.

“Fun things,” He said simply. “Things that remind me I’m still my own person. Maybe one day, I’ll invite you.”

You leaned back, letting that settle. His eyes were still on you, waiting, testing.

You gave him a sweet, practiced smile “No thanks.”

He clicked his tongue, not even pretending to be wounded “Your loss, Daddy’s girl.”

“You’re still an arrogant jerk,” You said smoothly, finally cutting into your food.

“But you’re still here,” He pointed out, slicing into his steak with irritating calm.

“I’m here because it’s expected.”

“And yet,” He said, voice low, “You didn’t cancel. You didn’t storm out. You’re talking to me like I’m human.”

You glanced up at him, fork paused mid-air.

“Maybe I’m just trying to see if there’s anything human beneath the smirk,” You replied coolly.

His smile softened. Just a little “You’re better at this than I thought.”

“At what?”

“Surviving people like me.”

You didn’t respond to that. Not right away. The silence between you now was different—less combative, more... aware. He looked at you like he was waiting for something, but you weren’t going to give it to him.

Not yet.

“Let me guess,” He said, breaking the silence. “You’ll go back home tonight, pour yourself a drink, and swear this never happened.”

You leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp “And you’ll pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

He opened his mouth to reply—but the waiter arrived to clear your plates and ask about dessert. You both said no at the same time.

Hongjoong stood first, walking around the table to offer his hand. You stared at it for a beat too long before placing yours in his, more out of pride than politeness.

He didn’t let go right away.

“Careful,” He said softly. “We might start getting along.”

You pulled your hand back “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Outside, the night was cool, city lights flickering like quiet fireworks. He walked beside you, for once not trying to dominate the space.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” He offered.

You didn’t argue.

When you reached it, you turned to face him “Tell your father we did it. We played nice. Mission accomplished.”

He nodded, but didn’t move.

Then, quietly, “You really don’t want this, do you?”

The question caught you off guard—not because it was wrong, but because of how softly he asked it.

You looked at him, really looked at him. The cocky front, the designer jacket, the smirk that was always half a second away.

And under it all, someone just as trapped as you.

“No,” You said, honest for once. “I don’t.”

He nodded slowly, hands in his pockets “Same.”

For a moment, that was enough. Shared honesty in a life full of pretense.

Then he smirked again—because of course he did—and stepped back.

“See you at the next forced family gathering, Auction Girl.”

You slid into your car with a sigh, started the engine, and muttered, “Still hate him.”

But your reflection in the rearview mirror said otherwise.

°❈°

Asshole Kim: See you at 8 sharp at Aurora’s Restaurant, my threat.

Asshole Kim: Don't be late, daddy’s girl.

You had scoffed when you read that message, and something deep inside you told you to not show up and stay at home, but here you were.

The rooftop restaurant was all soft lights and quiet jazz, perched high enough above the city that it felt like you could breathe a little easier.

The sky was still holding onto the last blush of twilight, stars shyly blinking through the haze. A warm breeze carried the scent of gardenias and grilled seafood, the kind of detail Hongjoong’s money could definitely afford.

You checked your phone again, he was twenty-seven minutes late.

You crossed your legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them again in the opposite direction. The waiter had already come by twice asking if you’d like to start with a drink or an appetizer. The third time, you just nodded and asked for sparkling water.

Maybe he was stuck in traffic. Maybe something came up, but deep down, you knew.

You knew he wouldn't come.

Still, you waited. Like a fool in heels and a dress you didn’t even like that much.

At 8:44, your phone buzzed.

Asshole Kim: Rain’s coming. Hope you brought an umbrella, auction girl.

You stared at the message.

No apology. No explanation.

Not even a proper excuse.

You looked up at the sky just as a low rumble echoed across the city. The first drop hit your shoulder a minute later. Then another, and another.

By the time you finally waved the waiter over and said, “Forget it,” your dress was damp and your pride was soaked straight through.

You ordered a cocktail anyway, because if you were going to cry later, you wanted to do it with a damn lemon twist in hand.

He is going to regret it.

—

“Whoa, why does my princess look like she’s plotting a murder?”

You halted at the top of the stairs, eyes narrowing at the familiar voice drifting from the kitchen. There, standing by the counter with a grin too amused for your mood, was your brother—tall, annoyingly handsome, and dressed like he had just walked off a magazine cover.

A sigh escaped you before your feet moved on their own, rushing down the steps and straight into his arms. You buried your face in his chest, his cologne warm and nostalgic.

“I hate him,” You muttered against the fabric of his shirt, your voice muffled.

Yunho chuckled, wrapping his arms around you protectively, one hand gently patting your damp hair.

“I’m sorry Mom and Dad are forcing you into this mess. If I hadn’t chosen to be an actor,” He grumbled, “This would’ve been my mess.”

“Don’t say that,” You added quickly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “This is your dream, Yunho. I’m proud of you for chasing it. And I’m happy at least one of us gets to do what they love.”

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face “Yeah, but I was supposed to be the heir. The one dealing with business meetings and arranged marriages and... this whole circus. Not you.”

“I grew up knowing this would be my future,” You said, voice quiet, resigned. “Doesn’t mean I want it. But it’s not your fault.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Anyway,” You said, forcing a smile, “I didn’t even know you were coming. I thought you were in pre-production for your next project?”

“I was. Dad forced me to take two weeks off before the shoot.”

You arched an eyebrow “Let me guess. To attend the fake wedding?”

He smirked “Bingo.”

“Well,” You sighed, linking your arm with his as you both leaned against the kitchen island, “At least I’ll have your emotional support until Jongho and Yeosang get back from their trip.”

“Do they know about any of this?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting to tell them in person. I want to see their reactions.”

You both laughed, the first real laugh you’d had all day. But of course, peace didn’t last long.

The clicking of heels and the smooth hum of your father’s voice announced their arrival before they even entered the room.

“Ah, there you are,” Your mother said, striding in with all the grace of a queen who knew the kingdom bowed to her whims. “Perfect timing.”

Your father followed, adjusting the cuffs of his custom suit “There’s a meeting with the Kims tomorrow. We’ll be discussing the ceremony theme, preliminary guest lists, and potential photographers.”

Yunho glanced at you “That sounds… thrilling.”

Your smile dropped “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” Your father replied. “This is not just a wedding. This is an alliance. Every detail matters.”

You folded your arms “And I assume I don’t get a say in anything?”

“Of course you do,” Your mother said lightly. “You’ll be there, won’t you?”

Yunho muttered under his breath, “This is worse than one of my historical dramas.”

“Get well dressed,” Your mother said, already turning away. “You must give good impressions.”

As they disappeared down the hall, Yunho glanced at you with a raised brow.

“Want me to fake a car accident? We could postpone the meeting a few days.”

You snorted “Tempting.”

“Just say the word.”

You shook your head, but your smile was genuine this time “Thanks, Yunho. For being here.”

“Always.”

≪ °❈° ≫

The Kims arrived at the private lounge your father had reserved inside one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. The floor-to-ceiling windows displayed a postcard view of the skyline, the room was lined with velvet chairs and gold-accented decor—but all of it felt as cold and artificial as the smile you wore.

You sat stiffly beside Yunho, legs crossed, arms folded, heart simmering. Across the table, Hongjoong leaned back like he owned the world, dressed like he hadn't just stood you up the night before.

His eyes flicked to you once, casually. Yunho noticed your tightening grip on the menu.

Your father began speaking, something about floral palettes and venues, and his voice was just white noise as you locked eyes with the boy you were supposed to marry.

You smiled sweetly. Too sweetly.

“So…” You said, cutting into the conversation like a blade. “Before we get into seating arrangements and centerpieces, maybe we should talk about how your charming son invited me to a rooftop dinner last night… and never showed up.”

The room went still. Even the waiter paused mid-pour.

Hongjoong tilted his head, lips curling ever so slightly “Did you enjoy the view at least?”

“Not as much as you enjoyed whatever the hell you were doing,” You snapped. “Though I imagine your friends made great company.”

—

Bass thumped against the walls of the neon-lit club, making the floors vibrate and the air heavy with heat, sweat, and music. Bottles lined the VIP table, glowing under pulsing lights, half-empty and tilted dangerously.

The usual chaos of a Saturday night was in full bloom—and at the center of it all sat Hongjoong, grinning, sprawled out like a king on his throne.

He had one arm thrown around a girl in a red mini dress and another girl twirling strands of his hair between her fingers while laughing at something he hadn’t even said.

Smoke curled from the cigarette in his hand, held between elegant fingers like it belonged in a painting.

“Hyung, I swear you’ve collected more girls in one night than I have in my whole damn life,” Mingi laughed, tipping his drink toward him.

San laughed too, sitting across the booth, cheeks already red from whatever was in his cup.

“He’s just trying to say goodbye to bachelor life in style.”

Wooyoung leaned in with a wicked grin “That, or he’s testing how far he can go before his fiancée murders him.”

“Fiancée?” Hongjoong snorted, dragging lazily from his cigarette. “She’s not my wife yet.”

Just then, a girl straddled his lap and kissed him like she had something to prove. He let her, and didn’t stop her.

Seonghwa, sitting a little apart from the chaos, frowned over the rim of his drink. After a moment, he set it down and leaned closer, voice low and cutting through the noise.

“You’re pushing it, Hongjoong.”

“Pushing what?” He asked lazily, still reclined, still amused.

Seonghwa didn’t smile “You’re engaged. You left her alone at a restaurant you invited her to. What are you doing?”

Hongjoong flicked ash into a tray, lips curving just slightly “Teaching her how this works.”

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened “She didn’t ask for this arrangement either, and you know it. She’s trying. You’re just—what? Acting out? Throwing a tantrum because this isn’t your choice?”

“I’m just having fun,” Hongjoong said with a shrug. “Not like she was expecting anything real.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, Joong,” Seonghwa snapped, the nickname laced with disappointment. “You can’t play around like this when there are real consequences. Especially not when her family’s name is involved.”

For a moment, something flickered behind Hongjoong’s eyes.

Then he smiled again, sharp and slow “She’ll get over it.”

Seonghwa sat back, shaking his head, clearly done “One day you’re going to look back and realize you were the villain in someone’s story.”

Hongjoong tossed back the rest of his drink and nodded toward the crowd “Let me be the villain, then. At least I’ll look good doing it.”

And with that, he disappeared into the lights again—laughing, smoking, and kissing someone else.

—

Hongjoong smirked at the memories of last night.

Mrs. Kim stiffened beside her husband “Hongjoong. Tell me you didn’t—”

“I did,” He said plainly, no remorse, no excuses.

You heard your mother inhale sharply. Your father, ever the diplomat, simply leaned back with narrowed eyes. But it was Yunho who spoke next.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His tone was sharp, unfiltered, and utterly protective. “You humiliated her. You knew this wasn’t something she asked for, and you still chose to make it worse?”

“She’ll survive,” Hongjoong said, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.

You pushed your chair back, rising to your feet “You’re right. I will survive. Because I know exactly who I’m dealing with now.”

Mrs. Kim looked mortified “Hongjoong, apologize. Now.”

He didn’t even flinch “For what? We’re not in love. This is business, remember?”

Your hands curled into tight fists at your sides, your jaw tightening with the effort it took not to scream. Yunho stood, his expression unreadable as he moved to your side.

“Maybe next time,” Yunho said coolly, his gaze pinned on Hongjoong like a blade, “Try not to burn the whole deal down before the engagement photoshoot.”

Your father cleared his throat, his voice clipped with restrained irritation “Which is happening in three days. I trust you’ll be there, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. He simply leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking like this entire arrangement bored him more than anything else.

≪ °❈° ≫

You stood under the soft glow of a cloudy afternoon, the sky threatening another downpour. The venue was exquisite—a garden lined with flowering cherry trees and elegant arches draped in white silk. Photographers bustled around the set, assistants adjusting the lighting and props.

You adjusted the bodice of your dress, a soft white gown that made you feel… almost like a bride. It wasn’t quite your wedding dress, but it was close enough to sting.

Still, if your face was going to be plastered on magazines, newspapers, and god-knows how many social media posts, you might as well look breathtaking.

You did it for your family. For the image. For the legacy they all seemed so obsessed with.

He arrived late, of course. And without even glancing your way, he walked onto the set, shrugging off his coat like he hadn’t left you standing alone in a restaurant just nights ago, like he hadn’t humiliated you with girls on his lap and cigarettes on his breath.

“Can we get this over with?” He muttered.

You turned away before the cameras started, took a breath, and pulled on your best smile.

Fake it. Perfect it. Make it look effortless.

The photographer directed you both “Hold her waist, Mr. Kim. Closer—yes, like that. Tilt your head toward him, miss. Look at him like you’re in love.”

You did it. You looked at him. Your fingers didn’t even shake as you rested them on his chest.

He didn’t look at you. He didn’t even try.

Photo after photo, pose after pose—you gave your best. Smiled, leaned in, touched him, even giggled once for the sake of it. But he was stiff, barely touching you, staring into the distance like none of it mattered.

And that’s when it cracked.

The frustration bubbled up—quiet, but scalding. Not because you loved him. Not because you wanted this.

But because you were trying, and he wasn’t.

“You could at least pretend,” You muttered under your breath as they reset the camera.

“I am pretending,” He replied without even looking.

You turned away, blinking quickly, lips pressed tight.

Then—suddenly—he looked at you.

For the first time, really looked.

The light caught you just right, haloing you in soft gold. Your hair frames your face, your dress hugging you like it was made for no one else. The way you held yourself—poised, unbothered, radiant—it hit him like a punch.

Something shifted in his eyes. It was small, quick—but there.

The silence stretched between you.

“What?” You asked, your voice sharper than intended.

He blinked, expression neutral again “Nothing.”

But his stare lingered a second longer.

For a moment, something in Hongjoong softened—barely noticeable, but it was there. He didn't speak again, but his posture relaxed, his hand on your waist finally settling like he meant it.

The photographer noticed immediately "Perfect—right there. Hold it. That’s beautiful," The man said, camera clicking rapidly. “Miss, tilt your head just a little. Yes. Mr. Kim, look at her like you mean it.”

He did. Not a fake, plastered smile. Not his usual smirk, but something different—curious, sharp, and unsure.

And that’s when the pictures started coming out good.

Really good.

For the rest of the shoot, Hongjoong stayed quiet. He did what he was told, stopped resisting your touch, and even leaned in slightly during the “candid” walking shots. The photographers were thrilled. Your parents looked relieved. Mrs. Kim dabbed her eyes like it was her actual wedding day.

But you? You felt tired.

Emotionally wrung out. Because none of it was real.

—

Later that night you were in his head.

Hongjoong threw his jacket onto the couch and collapsed onto it like gravity hit harder than usual. His hair was a mess from running his hands through it too much. A cigarette dangled between his fingers—unlit.

Across the room, his phone buzzed with texts from Seonghwa.

Hwa: You should’ve tried harder today. She looked like she was doing all the work.

Hwa: You’re lucky she’s the one keeping this ship afloat.

Hwa: Seriously, Hongjoong. You didn’t see her in that dress?

But he had, he saw you.

And that was the problem.

Your voice from earlier echoed in his mind: ‘You could at least pretend.’

At first, he thought you were just playing your part—perfect daughter, perfect bride, good at faking the dream everyone wanted you to sell.

But something about today… The way you tried. The way you held it together with grace while he crumbled under his own indifference. The way you looked at him even though he didn’t deserve it.

He lit the cigarette, and stared out the window for a long time.

°❈°

Your phone buzzed and rang like it had a personal vendetta against your sleep.

Groaning, you blindly reached for it on your nightstand, smacking everything in your path until your hand finally landed on the vibrating device.

You didn’t even get a word out before a furious voice barked through the speaker.

“When were you planning to tell me you're getting fucking married?!”

Your eyes blinked open, heavy and unfocused “Jongho… What?”

“You heard me,” He snapped. “There are literally thousands of articles with headlines like, ‘Kim and Jeong Enterprises Unite in Marriage Deal of the Decade.’ I had to find out with the rest of the damn internet!”

You shot upright in bed, heart slamming into your ribs “Wait—what?!”

“Oh, don’t act clueless,” He growled, frustration dripping from every syllable. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know this was going public today.”

You scrambled for your laptop, heart thudding as it booted up “I—No, they said the press release would be later. I thought I had more time—”

But the second you typed your name into the search bar, the truth slammed into your face. Your engagement was everywhere. Articles, paparazzi photos, those damn photos from the rooftop shoot, all carefully curated and flawlessly edited.

The dress. The smiles. The ring.

All of it plastered across glossy sites like it was the love story of the century.

You felt sick “No fucking way…” You whispered.

“Yeosang’s freaking out, by the way,” Jongho added coldly. “And I’m mad enough that the first thing I’m gonna do when I land is kick your ass.”

“Jongho, I swear I was going to tell you. I wanted to do it when you both came back. I didn’t know the release was this soon—I didn’t even know they’d picked a date.”

There was a pause. You could hear his deep breathing through the line, probably pacing, trying to calm down.

“…We’re coming back in three days,” He said finally. “And when we do, I want every single detail—from the second they dropped this on you to why in God’s name you’re marrying Kim fucking Hongjoong.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples “Trust me. I’d love someone to explain that to me, too.”

As if the universe wasn’t done spitting on your day, your phone lit up again—this time with a text from your mother:

Mom: Final wedding arrangements this afternoon. Meeting at the Kim estate. Wear something elegant, dear.’

And just below it, another message from Mrs. Kim:

Mrs. Kim: We’ve decided to move things up. The ceremony will be in seven days.

Seven. Days.

You stared at the screen.

“You still there?” Jongho asked.

You swallowed the rising panic “Yeah… I’m here.”

“You okay?”

You looked at the dress in one of the photos—smiling beside a man who barely acknowledged you in real life—and forced your voice to stay steady.

“…I will be.”

°❈°

The smell of stale alcohol and too-sweet perfume clung to every corner of Hongjoong’s apartment. Clothes littered the expensive marble floor like confetti after a parade, and the low groans of hungover men filled the air like background noise to a very specific kind of regret.

Hongjoong stood shirtless in front of the massive living room window, sipping an iced Americano with one hand, the other scrolling lazily through his phone.

“You’re trending again,” Seonghwa’s voice cut through the haze.

He was the only one who hadn’t drunk himself into oblivion the night before, which meant he had taken it upon himself to cook eggs no one asked for while judgmentally sipping tea.

Hongjoong didn’t look up “Am I? What’s it for this time—my devilish charm or my perfect jawline?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow “Try your engagement.”

At that, Hongjoong finally glanced over, taking the phone Seonghwa was holding out. The headline stared back at him in bold:

‘Business Royalty: Kim Hongjoong and Jeong Heiress to Tie the Knot in a Power Marriage’

‘Photos Released of the Couple's Stunning Rooftop Shoot’

Underneath it—your face, radiant in that white dress. The soft wind catching your hair just right. Your eyes, poised and hopeful despite everything.

And next to you? Hongjoong, looking like he couldn’t be bothered to fake a smile.

Wooyoung stumbled in wearing nothing but someone else’s hoodie, holding his head.

“Why is it so damn bright in here? And why do I hear wedding bells in my hangover?”

“Because our boy here,” Seonghwa said dryly, “Forgot he’s not just a party prince anymore.”

San and Mingi emerged from opposite ends of the apartment, each accompanied by barely-dressed women who looked equally disoriented.

“Did I miss something?” San asked, scratching his head.

“We’re famous,” Wooyoung said, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “Again. Except this time because Joongie’s getting married.”

Mingi blinked “Wait, like… married married? I thought you were going to cancel it like the others.”

Hongjoong dropped into an armchair with a sigh, throwing his head back and letting out a lazy chuckle.

“Relax, it’s not like it’s real.”

Seonghwa’s stare sharpened “It is real, whether you want it to be or not. That girl in the photo? She showed up. She did her part. You barely even tried.”

Hongjoong waved him off “It’s just a bunch of photos, Hwa.”

“No,” Seonghwa snapped. “It’s someone’s life. And if you keep treating her like she’s disposable, this whole deal is going to collapse.”

“Why do you even care?” Hongjoong muttered, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“Because I’m not a child,” Seonghwa bit back. “And because you’re acting like one. If you're so dead-set on hating this arrangement, fine. But at least stop embarrassing her every step of the way.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the room.

Then one of the girls—half-dressed and yawning—wandered by, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, clearly overhearing none of it.

Hongjoong looked back down at the article.

His eyes lingered, just for a second, on your smile.

The one he hadn’t even tried to earn.

≪ °❈° ≫

The grand parlor of the Kim estate was as cold and sterile as ever—pristine white walls, tall glass windows, and staff that hovered like ghosts. You sat on the long velvet couch, your back straight despite how much you wanted to scream.

Across from you, Hongjoong lounged like he had nothing better to do—legs spread, one arm thrown over the back of the chair, chewing on gum like a delinquent dragged to Sunday mass. His black shirt was half unbuttoned, sunglasses still on indoors, and he hadn’t said a word since the meeting started.

Mrs. Kim exchanged a look with your mother, that tight, polished smile women like them had mastered over the years—the one that said we will not have scandal.

“I trust everything is in order for the final fitting,” Your mother said with forced calm.

“We’ll have the stylists arrive tomorrow,” Mrs. Kim replied. “The ceremony will be simple and elegant. Intimate.”

Your father, meanwhile, was going over numbers with Mr. Kim in the corner like this was nothing but a corporate merger—which, to them, it was.

And Hongjoong? He yawned, loudly.

You snapped “Can I speak to you? Alone.”

Everyone looked up, startled, but you didn’t wait for a reply. You stood and walked out to the hallway, heels echoing with purpose. After a long pause, Hongjoong followed, dragging his feet like a child called to the principal’s office.

The second the door closed behind him, you turned.

“You don’t want to do this?” You hissed, eyes blazing. “Guess what—me neither. But at least I’m not acting like a fucking child.”

He scoffed, removing his sunglasses “Wow. Did someone spike your tea this morning, Princess?”

You took a step forward, chest tight with frustration “Stop this. Grow the hell up. You’re going to be the CEO of Kim Enterprises the second we sign that marriage certificate. Start acting like it.”

He blinked at you. You weren’t sure if it was shock or amusement behind those eyes, but for once, he didn’t have a witty comeback.

You took a breath “I don’t care if you hate me. I don’t care if you hate this arrangement. But you will stop making me look like an idiot in front of our families. I’m doing my part. Do yours.”

He studied you for a beat. And for the first time, maybe ever, there was no smugness in his expression. Just something unreadable.

“…Fine,” He muttered eventually, voice low. “I’ll behave.”

You didn’t thank him. You just turned and walked back inside.

°❈°

Three days later, your room was filled with takeout boxes, the smell of fried chicken, and the comforting chaos of your best friends.

Jongho flopped onto your couch, Yeosang perched on the arm like he always did, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“You have thirty seconds before I start screaming again,” Jongho said, mouth full of rice.

You took a deep breath, hands nervously fidgeting in your lap “It’s a fake marriage.”

Both boys stared.

“Our parents are merging companies. The marriage makes the deal more appealing. We sign the papers, attend a few public events, play the happy couple, and when the time is right… we get divorced quietly.”

Yeosang’s jaw clenched “And you just… agreed to this?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” You said bitterly. “If I didn’t go along with it, everything my parents built—including the parts I built—would collapse. They backed me into a corner.”

Jongho looked like he was going to explode “And Hongjoong? That arrogant bastard—he’s okay with all of this?”

You scoffed “He’s worse than okay. He doesn’t give a damn about anything but keeping his position. He acts like I’m the inconvenience. Like I’m the joke.”

Yeosang reached over and gently squeezed your hand “You’re not a joke,” He said. “You’re being used.”

“I know,” You whispered. “But I’m also not a victim. I’m going to play their game. And I’m going to win.”

Jongho wiped his mouth and leaned back “We’re here now. We’ve got your back. Just say the word if he steps out of line again.”

You smiled softly.

“Thanks. I might need you both sooner than you think.”

°❈°

The ballroom shimmered in gold and ivory. Chandeliers sparkled above, string quartets played softly in the background, and every step echoed on polished marble floors.

Your engagement party—lavish, glittering, perfect on paper.

You stood near the entrance, your white satin dress hugging your figure like it had been sewn onto your skin. Elegant, timeless. A picture of grace.

Hongjoong arrived fashionably late, of course.

His grey tuxedo was sharp, no tie, shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint rebellion. But for once… he looked the part. He walked beside you, greeting your guests with polite nods, hand occasionally brushing yours in a way that might look romantic to outsiders.

You were stunned—he was actually trying tonight.

And then your eyes met his friends. Seonghwa greeted you first, a soft smile on his lips and warm, graceful hands offering yours a gentle shake.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” He said sincerely. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You smiled back “Same here. You’re the one who’s always trying to keep Hongjoong in line, right?”

Seonghwa chuckled “Trying being the keyword.”

Behind him were San, Wooyoung and Mingi—loud, teasing, chaotic energy that made the room spin in a different way. They immediately began bantering with Jongho and Yeosang, the atmosphere lightening as drinks flowed.

Everything seemed to be going… well.

Until it wasn’t.

You stood with Hongjoong at the edge of the dance floor, pretending to laugh at some executive’s dull story. The fake smile on your face ached. You turned to him and muttered under your breath:

“I’m surprised. You’re actually behaving tonight.”

He took a sip of champagne, eyes glinting “Don’t get used to it. I’d still rather be spending the night with a random girl than stuck here with you at this fake-ass party.”

You blinked. One second passed. Two. And then you smiled—sharp, saccharine. You leaned in, just close enough for only him to hear.

“Well, I’d much rather be marrying Park Seonghwa than you.”

The words hit their target like a bullet. Hongjoong froze, jaw tightening ever so slightly. He laughed under his breath, too forced, too tight.

“Good one.” But his eyes didn’t match his smirk.

He didn’t say anything else for a while—not to you, not to anyone. His attention shifted constantly, drink after drink disappearing a little too fast.

And when Seonghwa asked you for a dance—gentle, respectful, with none of the mocking edge Hongjoong always wore—Hongjoong didn’t say a word.

But his eyes followed every step. Every turn. Every smile you gave that wasn’t for him.

He hated it.

Later that night, when everyone was distracted and the lights were softer, you felt a hand at your lower back.

“Don’t flirt with my friends,” Hongjoong muttered, his voice a quiet growl against your ear. “You might make me jealous.”

You turned, brows raised, lips parted in faux surprise “Might?”

He stared down at you, something dangerous brewing behind his usual indifference.

And that’s when the slow burn really began.

≪ °❈° ≫

Your friends and older brother didn’t take no for an answer.

“No sulking,” Yeosang warned. “You’re getting married in two days, we are dragging you out.”

“And you're going to wear something hot,” Jongho added, tossing you a barely-there black dress.

“Also,” Yunho chimed in with a wink, “I’m getting us into that club.”

You groaned but relented. Maybe letting loose for one night wouldn’t kill you.

The place was loud, neon, packed wall to wall with pulsing energy. The music was deep, sensual—bass heavy and addicting. Lights flickered across bodies moving in sync.

You were in the middle of the lower dance floor with your best friends, laughing, letting yourself relax as the drinks hit just right.

For the first time in weeks… you felt good.

—

Upstairs, in the VIP section. Hongjoong leaned back into the plush leather couch, a girl draped over his lap. She laughed, running her fingers through his hair, her lipstick smudged on his jaw.

Wooyoung was pouring another round of shots, San hyping the DJ like his life depended on it. Seonghwa, as usual, looked vaguely disappointed by everything around him.

“Man, you’re really living it up before the wedding,” San teased, clinking his glass against Hongjoong’s.

Hongjoong shrugged, kissing the girl again, lazily “It’s not like it’s real.”

“You’re going to regret this,” Seonghwa said, his tone half-serious, half-exhausted.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes “Please.”

But then—

“Yo.” Wooyoung leaned forward, squinting toward the dance floor below. “Isn’t that your fiancée?”

Hongjoong didn’t even turn at first “So?”

“She’s dancing,” San added, his grin wide. “Looking good, by the way.”

Still nothing.

“Some dude just asked her to dance,” Wooyoung sing-songed. “Ohhh. She said yes.”

Hongjoong’s head snapped up. He leaned forward, eyes locking on the moving crowd—until he found you.

You were laughing, your head tossed back, hair wild, hips swaying with the music and the boy who had his hands a little too close to your waist.

Something hot, sharp, and completely irrational stabbed through his chest. Without a word, Hongjoong shoved the girl off his lap.

“Hey!” She protested.

He didn’t even look at her.

Down the stairs. Through the crowd. Straight to you.

Your back was turned, too caught up in the music and fun to notice him—until he was there. He grabbed your wrist, not harsh, but firm enough to make you spin around.

“Having fun?” He asked, voice low, biting.

You blinked, surprised—and then annoyed “Yeah. I was. What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze flicked to the guy you were dancing with.

“Get lost.”

The poor boy looked confused, but one look at Hongjoong’s expression and he backed away fast.

You yanked your wrist free “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He stepped closer “You’re really out here letting some stranger put his hands on you?”

You scoffed “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt your make-out session upstairs?”

“I wasn’t—” He started, then stopped, clearly caught.

You shook your head “Unbelievable.”

“You’re mine—” He snapped before catching himself, the words hanging between you.

You narrowed your eyes “Yours?”

The music kept thumping, bodies moved around you, but suddenly the whole world narrowed to just the two of you.

“I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Hongjoong said, quieter now, rough around the edges.

You crossed your arms “Get used to it. This marriage might be fake, but I’m still a real woman—and I can dance with whoever I want.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, just stared at you like he was seeing something for the first time. Really seeing you.

And for one second, it felt like maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t as fake as you both kept pretending it was.

≪ °❈° ≫

The sky was a perfect canvas that morning—painted in soft pastel pinks and golds, like even the universe decided to cooperate for your wedding day.

You stood in front of the mirror in your suite, the final touches of your makeup being fixed, the lace of your gown hugging your figure like it was sewn by the stars themselves.

The veil, light as air, shimmered under the chandelier’s light. You looked breathtaking. And for once… you allowed yourself to enjoy it.

You weren't in love. But you were here.

Maybe that was enough for today.

“Holy shit,” Yunho said from the doorway, eyes wide, voice low in awe. “You look like you walked straight out of a dream.”

You smiled softly “Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a nightmare.”

He came closer, placing his hands on your shoulders “Whatever happens out there, know you’re doing great. You deserve a little magic, even if it’s fake.”

Meanwhile, across the venue, Hongjoong was anything but calm.

In his sleek black tux, hair slicked back with that perfect careless precision, he leaned against the balcony railing of his suite, a cigarette lit between his fingers though he wasn’t even smoking it.

Seonghwa watched him from the couch “You good?”

“I hate this,” Hongjoong muttered.

“The wedding?”

“Everything.”

“You saw her?”

A beat. Then, “Yeah.”

“And?”

Hongjoong took a drag, jaw clenched “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Seonghwa’s brow lifted “So…?”

“So I don’t want anyone else seeing her like that. Not in that dress. Not with that smile.”

Seonghwa smirked “You’re jealous of people looking at your wife? You chose this arrangement, remember?”

“I didn’t choose to feel like this.”

But he didn’t let the conversation go further. He threw the cigarette over the edge and walked out before Seonghwa could say I told you so.

—

The ceremony was flawless.

Rows of carefully picked guests lined the outdoor aisle. Flowers bloomed in soft pastels across ivory arches. Music floated through the garden air.

When you walked down the aisle, the gasps were loud enough to hush the wind.

And Hongjoong… he forgot how to breathe.

He hated how you looked at him with those soft eyes. He hated how proud your parents looked. He hated how perfect this wedding was. Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

You stood beside him, your hand brushing his as the officiant began to speak. And for a moment—just one—he looked at you like a man who could fall.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

He hesitated. You turned your face toward him, chin tilted up just slightly.

And when he kissed you—it wasn’t rough, or mocking, or cold.

It was soft.

Warm.

Too warm.

He pulled away too fast, like he’d been burned.

Later, during the reception, as you laughed with some guests, your laughter echoing under the twinkling lights strung across the venue, Hongjoong sat at your shared table watching you.

He sipped his champagne, eyes dark and unreadable.

“She really is something,” Wooyoung said, plopping down beside him. “You married a damn goddess.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Because he didn’t want to admit it—not to Wooyoung, not to Seonghwa, not even to himself—but the warmth spreading in his chest every time you smiled?

It was getting harder and harder to ignore.

—

The wedding was over.

The champagne had stopped flowing, the guests had left in glittering cars, and the night had finally gone quiet—except for the weight of expectation that clung to the air like thick velvet.

You stepped into the new house—your house now. A modern architectural dream gifted by your parents and his, sleek in marble and dark wood, cold as hell.

It didn't feel like home. Not even close.

The door clicked shut behind you, the echo sounding louder than you expected. Hongjoong entered a moment later, loosening the buttons of his shirt collar, jacket thrown carelessly over one arm.

“Home sweet home,” He muttered, his tone unreadable.

You didn’t answer, walking slowly into the space. You weren’t sure where you were going. Everything smelled new—like money and varnish and too many expectations.

Then, your steps stopped. You blinked.

There it was. Hanging in the living room.

The painting.

The exact same one you two had fought over the day you met—the one he stole out from under your nose at the gallery auction, the one that led to your first clash of pride and glares.

Your voice came out quieter than expected “You brought it here.”

He shrugged, not looking at you “It’s mine.”

You scoffed “So is this marriage. Doesn’t mean you actually want it.”

His jaw ticked “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” You turned to face him fully, arms crossed. “We’re married, Hongjoong. Might as well talk like it.”

He looked at you, something bitter swimming behind his dark eyes.

“Are you really this cold?” He asked suddenly. “You haven’t even flinched. You wore the dress, you kissed me in front of everyone, and now you're just—what? Fine with everything?”

You blinked “Would you prefer me to be crying in a corner?”

“No,” He said quickly. “I just… I thought you’d care a little more.”

“That I don’t care,” You said slowly, stepping closer, “Doesn’t mean I’m not exhausted.”

He laughed under his breath, humorless “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re a spoiled brat who’s mad because I don’t beg for your attention like the girls at the club.”

His jaw clenched again. The tension in the room crackled.

Then, he looked away “We should get some rest.”

“Right,” You said, your voice sharp. “Separate rooms, of course.”

But you didn’t move, and neither did he.

Finally, after a long silence, he spoke again—quieter this time.

“You looked beautiful today,” He said without looking at you. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You swallowed hard “Too bad you didn’t act like it meant anything.”

He looked at you then. And for the first time, something vulnerable cracked through his usual smug expression.

“I didn’t want it to,” He admitted. “But it did.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

And maybe he saw that your silence meant more than words could say, because he turned, walking away before you could reply, leaving you alone in the middle of the room, beneath the painting you both once fought over—now hanging over the cold marble of your shared house.

°❈°

Day Three.

The house was still too big. Too quiet.

You stood in the sleek, stainless-steel kitchen with a cup of tea in hand, watching the eggs sizzle in the pan. It wasn’t out of some wifely sense of duty—you were just hungry and annoyed and bored.

The silence was interrupted only by the sound of bare feet dragging on the polished floor.

Hongjoong walked in, shirtless, hair messy, a frown already etched into his face.

You didn’t say good morning.

He didn’t either.

He glanced at the breakfast you were making “You didn’t make any for me?”

You blinked at him “You weren’t here last night. I didn’t think you’d be here this morning.”

His eyes narrowed a bit, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed a bottle of water and walked away without another word.

Day Five.

Dinner was even worse.

You were eating alone again.

Hongjoong had texted—"out with the guys, don’t wait up"—and you’d barely resisted the urge to throw your phone into the soup.

You stared across the long dining table at the empty chair and asked yourself, not for the first time, why am I even trying?

And then, the night you’d had enough arrived.

Day Ten.

2:13 AM.

The front door creaked open, followed by the heavy sound of Hongjoong’s boots stumbling across the entrance hall.

You were already sitting on the couch in the dark, arms crossed over your chest, jaw clenched.

The lights flicked on.

He flinched “…You’re up,” He said, his voice hoarse, reeking of alcohol and perfume.

You stood slowly, walking toward him “Your mother called.”

His face changed “Shit.”

“Yes,” You snapped. “Shit. She wanted to remind her beloved son that next weekend is the Celebration Party for the new CEO-to-be, and that he should show up with his wife.”

Hongjoong winced “Right…”

“Not ‘right.’ You’re going. I’m going. And for once in your life, Hongjoong, you will behave.”

His gaze sharpened “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

“Then stop acting like one!” You exploded. “I didn’t want this marriage either, but I’m not out every night pretending it doesn’t exist!”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. For a second, he looked genuinely conflicted.

You stepped closer, your voice trembling slightly but firm “You don’t want to come home to me? Fine. You hate this arrangement? Me too. But guess what? It’s real now. The press, our parents, the public—they all think it’s real. So stop dragging me down just because you’re scared of admitting this is your life now.”

He stared at you. You saw it—the cracks forming behind the mask. Something messy and raw and real brewing just under his skin.

But as always, he pulled the curtain back down.

“Noted,” He said coldly, and brushed past you on the way to the stairs.

But that night, as you sat in the empty living room again, you heard his footsteps stop in the hallway.

He didn’t come back down.

But he didn’t go to his room either.

He just… stood there.

Like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to be so far from you.

≪ °❈° ≫

Everything glittered. The chandelier above was all diamonds and power. Music pulsed softly through the massive hall, every guest dressed in designer and dripping with old money confidence.

And then there was you. You stood at Hongjoong’s side in a black velvet gown that hugged your body like it had been sewn for it.

You looked the part. You played the part. A vision of calm, grace, and elegance.

But you were boiling inside.

Because of course, the moment you stepped into the party, Hongjoong had been swept away by daddy’s girls. Heiresses with shiny hair and sharper claws, all cooing over him like he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring—like you weren’t standing right there.

And the worst part? He let them.

Laughing softly at their jokes, leaning in too close, drinking their compliments like they were champagne.

You felt a rush of something hot in your chest—humiliation, frustration, and something dangerously close to jealousy.

You walked toward him, your heels clicking like gunshots on the marble floor, just as one of the girls reached up to adjust the collar of his suit.

He didn’t stop her.

Didn’t even blink.

“Enjoying the attention, husband?” You said sweetly, voice dripping in acid.

Hongjoong turned, clearly caught off guard—but not enough to look guilty.

You didn’t wait for an answer.

You smiled politely at the girls and slipped your arm around his “I hope we’re not forgetting that this party is to celebrate your future—and that includes your wife.”

The girls tittered awkwardly and backed off with murmured excuses. You dropped your arm the second they were gone, your voice a sharp whisper against his shoulder.

“You don’t get to act like that anymore.”

“What? I didn’t even do anything,” He said lazily, sipping from his drink.

“That’s the problem!” You snapped. “You did nothing. While they touched you and flirted with you and pretended I didn’t exist!”

His jaw ticked.

“I’m not some jealous teenager,” You hissed. “But if you ever humiliate me like that in public again, Hongjoong, so help me—”

“What?” He cut in, eyes dark. “You’ll get the marriage annulled? Run away? Go cry to Seonghwa again?”

The name landed like a slap. Your breath caught in your throat.

You glared at him, shaking with fury “You don’t get to bring him into this.”

“Why not?” He said, voice low and dangerous. “You used him to piss me off at the engagement party, didn’t you?”

You stared at him “So it did piss you off.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. It was all over his face.

You took a step back, lifting your chin “Then maybe you should’ve acted like you gave a damn tonight.”

And with that, you walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

But what you didn’t see… Was the way Hongjoong’s fingers curled into fists.

The way his eyes followed you with something almost bitter, almost regretful.

The way he didn’t smile for the rest of the night.

°❈°

You were curled up on the couch in a hoodie and shorts, flipping through your phone. You hadn’t spoken much to Hongjoong since the party. Just cold, careful silence. And the tension had built up like storm clouds in a glass house.

The front door slammed.

You barely looked up “I was wondering when you’d remember you live here,” You muttered.

Hongjoong’s voice echoed down the hallway, sharp and dark “Don’t start.”

You stood up “Oh, I’m starting?”

He walked in, still in his suit, hair tousled from the night air—or maybe from the party he stayed at without you.

“You disappeared from the party,” He said, tone accusatory.

You folded your arms “Because I got tired of watching my husband play bachelor in front of everyone.”

“I wasn’t—”

“If you want to play with girls,” You snapped, stepping toward him, “Go to a fucking motel where no one can see you. Don’t embarrass me like that again.”

His jaw clenched “You think I’m trying to embarrass you?”

You didn’t answer. You were already turning your back.

“Don’t walk away from me,” He growled.

But you did, and that was when it snapped.

He stormed forward, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around—and before you could open your mouth again, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was fire.

Possessive. Hungry. Deep.

You gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t stop—and neither did you.

Your fingers fisted in his shirt as he pulled you closer like he hated how much he needed to.

And he did need to.

Everything about it felt like a mistake you both wanted to make. His hands gripping your waist, your heart hammering in your chest. You kissed him back, furious and aching and overwhelmed—and god, it felt good.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless.

His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. His voice came out raw.

“Don’t talk like that again.”

You blinked, stunned.

“Because I don’t want anyone else but you.”

He left you standing there, lips swollen, knees weak, your heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

And now… nothing was simple anymore.

—

The next morning, the smell of coffee floated through the house. The sound of gentle clinking came from the kitchen—your soft footsteps, the clatter of a spoon, the fridge opening and closing.

Hongjoong stood at the top of the stairs, staring down like a man about to walk into war. His hair was still a mess from last night. He hadn’t slept much.

How could he? Not after that kiss. Not after the way you had clung to him like you needed him—and the way he had kissed you like he couldn’t breathe without it.

He walked into the kitchen, expecting… something. A fight. An awkward silence. Maybe a stolen glance.

But instead?

You looked up, met his eyes, and offered the faintest smile “Coffee?”

He blinked “…What?”

“I made some.” You lifted the pot, calm as can be. “Want a cup?”

He stepped forward slowly “You’re acting like… nothing happened.”

You poured him a cup anyway and slid it across the counter “Nothing did happen.”

His fingers curled around the cup, jaw tight “Are you serious?”

You shrugged, sipping your own coffee like it didn’t taste like guilt and tension “You kissed me. It was probably the alcohol. Don’t worry about it.”

He stared at you like you’d just stabbed him “I wasn’t drunk,” He said.

You gave a soft, bitter laugh “You don’t have to explain, Hongjoong. It’s not like this marriage is real.”

That hit something raw.

He slammed the cup down “When are you going to stop pretending this doesn’t affect you?”

Your head tilted slightly, surprised by the outburst—but you didn’t back down.

“When you stop pretending that you don’t affect me.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Hongjoong took a step closer, eyes locked on yours, voice low and tight “You kissed me back.”

“I know.”

“So what now? You act like it didn’t happen?”

You turned away, placing your cup in the sink with gentle care.

“Because it’s safer that way.”

That broke something in him.

“I hate this,” He whispered, almost to himself. “I hate that I’m the one losing sleep. That I’m the one thinking about you. That I care, and you just…”

“I care too,” You cut in, voice trembling just for a second. “But if I let myself feel it, if I let myself want this marriage…”

You met his eyes again.

“I’ll fall. And I don’t know if you’ll catch me.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback.

And that silence? That was worse than any shouting match. Because in that moment, both of you realized—This wasn’t just a contract anymore.

It was something dangerous.

Something real.

—

Later that evening, Hongjoong was at a rooftop bar with his usual group. The skyline glowed behind them, drinks in hand, laughter echoing off the walls.

Except he wasn’t laughing. He hadn’t touched his whiskey. Just swirled it around like it might have answers floating at the bottom.

Seonghwa, seated across from him, narrowed his eyes “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hongjoong,” San said, leaning in with a raised brow. “You’ve been staring at your glass for ten minutes and the girl who’s been eyeing you hasn’t gotten a single look.”

Hongjoong didn’t even glance at her.

“It’s the wife, huh?” Mingi grinned teasingly, but then froze when Seonghwa shot him a look.

Hongjoong’s jaw ticked.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He ran a hand through his hair “I don’t know, man.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow “Do you like her?”

“It’s not that simple,” He muttered.

“It kind of is,” Wooyoung said, sipping his drink. “You like her, but you’re scared shitless that she doesn’t feel the same. Or worse, she does and you’ll mess it up.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

Because the memory of you that morning—soft in the sunlight, strong in your silence, brave in your restraint—was burned into his mind like a damn tattoo.

°❈°

The house was quiet again that night.

You lay in bed, curled under the soft sheets of the room that was supposed to be shared, yet still felt like it was yours alone.

Hongjoong’s side was empty. He was out with friends again.

You turned on your side and stared at the painting on the opposite wall—the one you fought about the first day you met. The one he refused to give up. Now hanging in your shared home.

You hated that you noticed the way his fingers lingered when he brushed past you in the hallway. You hated that your eyes found him across the room even when you didn’t mean to.

You hated that you remembered the way he looked at you in that wedding dress—and how it made your breath catch in your throat.

But most of all? You hated how you wanted him to come home.

Not as your husband.

Not as your partner in a deal.

But just... him.

And that terrified you more than anything.

—

The sound of the front door clicking open at nearly 2 a.m. breaks the silence of the house. You’re curled up on the living room couch in your robe, a blanket over your legs, pretending to read but mostly just waiting.

Again.

You don’t look up as you hear the keys drop in the bowl by the door. Hongjoong mutters a tired “I’m home,” like that’s supposed to be enough.

“Three nights this week,” You say quietly, still flipping the page even though you haven’t read a single word. “Do your friends really need you that much?”

He pauses in the hallway “It was just a few drinks.”

You close the book with a snap “That’s not the point.”

Hongjoong exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair like you’re the one being unreasonable.

“I thought you wanted me to keep things normal. I’m trying, alright? This isn’t easy for me either.”

“No, you’re not trying.” You rise slowly from the couch, eyes narrowing.

“You keep saying you care. That the marriage matters. That I matter. And then you disappear. You flirt with other women. You ignore me in this house like I’m not even here. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

His jaw clenches. You see it. The flicker in his eyes. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“Why do you keep doing this?” You ask, voice trembling now, but not weak. “Why do you keep confusing me? Do you care, or do you not?”

He doesn’t answer. He just stands there, staring at you like you’re an equation he can’t solve.

You grab your book from the couch “I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the couch if you want. Or out. Or wherever the fuck you actually want to be.”

You leave him standing in the hallway, and for the first time since the marriage began, you don’t look back to see if he follows.

The bedroom is dim when you step inside, the only light coming from the hallway and the soft glow of the lamp on your nightstand. You shut the door gently, the click of it sounding far louder than it should in the quiet house.

Your heart is still pounding, more from exhaustion than rage now. You toss the book onto the bed, but you don’t sit. You just stand there. Still. Silent.

And then you move.

Not on impulse, not in anger—but with clarity.

You grab your suitcase from the closet. You know exactly where it is. You’ve thought about this before. Thought about how long you could keep living like this—married but alone. Needed but unwanted.

Clothes go in one after the other. Not many. Just enough.

A place where he isn’t.

You fold a sweater with shaking hands, trying to breathe. Trying to hold onto the last thread of dignity you have left before it unravels completely.

In the living room, Hongjoong still hasn’t sat down.

He’s standing where you left him, staring at nothing. The silence presses into his chest like a weight. Your words echo—louder than anything else in his head.

“Why do you keep confusing me? Do you care, or do you not?”

He sinks onto the couch slowly, eyes unfocused. He doesn’t want to feel anything for you. He’s tried so hard not to. But you keep slipping through the cracks in his armor, and now you’re everywhere.

In the house.

In his thoughts.

In his life.

And suddenly he’s terrified. Not of the marriage. Not even of the feelings. But of what happens if you leave.

He gets up. Fast. He doesn’t even think. He reaches your bedroom door and pushes it open—Only to find you kneeling by the suitcase.

Packing.

You don’t look up right away. You just freeze.

His voice is barely above a whisper “What are you doing?”

“Packing.”

A beat.

“Why?”

You pause, hands frozen around the strap of a dress. Then you finally say it.

“Because I’m tired, Hongjoong. I’m tired of pretending this marriage doesn’t affect me. I’m tired of pretending you don’t affect me.”

Silence. He doesn’t move. You still don’t turn.

“You said you cared. That this marriage mattered to you,” You whisper, voice steady. “But you go out every night, avoid me every day, and act like being near me is a punishment. So what’s the truth?”

“Don’t do this,” He says—soft, panicked.

You finally look at him “I’m done waiting for the version of you who stays.”

That’s when he snaps. He rushes across the room, slamming the suitcase closed.

“You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care?”

“I think you don’t show it.”

“I don’t know how!” He bursts, voice cracking. “I don’t know how to be a husband—I never planned to be one!”

“But then you came in and ruined everything. And now I don’t want anyone else in this house. I don’t want anyone else next to me at night. I don’t want to see you leave.”

Your breath hitches.

“And that scares the shit out of me,” He finishes, softer now. “Because if you leave, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel this again.”

You stare at him—really stare. No defense, no arrogance. Just raw honesty. Something you didn’t think he was capable of.

You slowly open the suitcase again, grab a shirt... and toss it at him.

His brow furrows “What the hell?”

“If you’re going to beg me to stay,” You murmur, “You better help me unpack.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you. Then a slow, disbelieving smile curves his lips—genuine, warm, and a little stunned.

And for the first time since the wedding...

Hongjoong finally stays.

≪ °❈° ≫

The morning after the fight, the house is quiet—but not heavy. There’s a strange lightness in the air, like a storm has passed and left the windows just a little open.

You wake up to the faint clatter of dishes. For a second, you think you’re dreaming. But when you pad into the kitchen, there he is—barefoot, hair a mess, sleeves rolled up, completely focused on the frying pan like it holds the secrets of the universe.

He doesn’t notice you right away. He’s muttering under his breath—something about how long eggs are supposed to take. You cross your arms and lean against the doorframe, watching him for a beat longer than you should.

“Didn’t know we were having breakfast,” You say softly.

He jumps a little, nearly drops the spatula “Shit—uh, yeah. I was trying to… y’know, be decent.”

You raise a brow, amused “Is this your way of apologizing?”

His ears go red “I mean, yeah. That, and… I didn’t want to leave again. Not today.”

You walk over slowly, eyeing the slightly charred toast and too-pale eggs. You poke at a piece with your fork.

“This is terrible,” You declare.

“I told you it’s not easy,” He groans, dragging a hand through his hair.

But you smile. Not a smirk. A real smile. And when you sit down, he does too—on the other side of the table, close, but not too close. Like you’re still learning the distance between strangers and lovers.

The morning passes in shared glances and quiet bites, and then in the living room, he shifts beside you on the couch. The TV is on, but neither of you are really watching.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” You say, your voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

“I’m not,” He replies. “I think… I just don’t know how to be soft with someone I actually care about.”

Your heart twists at that. You turn toward him slowly “Then let’s learn.”

He hesitates for half a second—then lifts his hand, brushing your hair behind your ear. The movement is tentative, unsure. But his eyes don’t leave yours.

And then… he leans in.

The kiss is soft—softer than anything he's done before. It doesn’t rush. It lingers. His lips tremble just a little, like he still can't believe you're kissing him back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and for the first time, there's no walls between you.

“Let’s try this,” He whispers, “for real.”

You nod, your smile brushing his mouth “Okay. From the beginning.”

≪ °❈° ≫

Taglist: @domfikeluva @hurryupmars @a-tiny-thing @silenttrxxs @innocygnet @alliecoady98 @posseup @yothangie @a-atiny_niawoo @justconniez @niaee @0407files @maidens-world @zaynsfl4m3s @maplelilly05 @xh01bri @sannieily @nkryuki @lemonkait00 @khaskl08 @badbitch69420sworld @jilxxasu @vnxlla @lezleeferguson-120 @lunaryoongie @stayatinykatsy @milliesupremexx @unbroken-shadows @itzyejiluv @nyx-y @lover-ofallthingspretty @queenofdumbfuckery @johaeyeon @xopierrot @m0onchild-98

≪ °❈° ≫

All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

[desi2go]

Hey guys, you need to read that masterpiece🙏🏼 it's soooooo good

Maybe, in another life...

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Tragedy.

wc: 10,2 k

Warnings: Angst & Emotional Distress, Arranged Marriage, Themes of Love & Loss, Bittersweet Ending.

Summary: "Even if we can’t be together in the end, I’m glad you were part of my life." A love that lasted six years, only to be torn apart by duty and expectations. You and Wooyoung fight against fate, but when love isn’t enough, what’s left?

a/n: This is just a little thing that I wrote a while ago and I just wanted to share it with y'all, I hope you like it!

Next week I will upload a new series so stay tuned!! ♡♡

Permanent Taglist

October, 2019

The classroom buzzed with the usual mix of chatter, laughter, and the occasional clatter of chairs as students settled into their seats. You sat at your desk near the window, absently twirling a pen while gazing outside.

The autumn breeze swayed the golden leaves, and you let your thoughts drift until the scrape of a chair nearby brought you back to the present.

"Hey." A voice interrupted, hesitant yet oddly cheerful.

You turned to see a boy—tall, with tousled hair, a pretty mole under his eye, and a crooked grin that seemed almost too charming for its own good. He was clutching a textbook awkwardly.

"Hey." You replied, raising an eyebrow.

You've seen this guy before, you're in the same class, but being transferred to this school recently, you've never exchanged words with him.

"I think I’m... completely lost." He held up the book, pointing at the open page. "Are we supposed to be on this? Or... this?"

He flipped to another page, looking genuinely perplexed—or maybe just playing it up.

You smirked "The book is upside down."

"Oh," He said, blinking. "Right. I knew that."

"Sure you did," You teased, leaning closer to glance at the book. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Honestly?" He grinned, shrugging one shoulder. "Your phone number or the answers of the exercise, the option you prefer."

"Wow," You said, feigning awe. "You’re either hopeless or a genius in disguise."

"Why not both?" He grinned wider, unashamed.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling "Here, let me help before you embarrass yourself any further."

As you leaned in to guide him through the exercise, you caught a whiff of his cologne—light, citrusy, and unexpectedly nice. He listened—or at least pretended to—but his gaze lingered on you more than the book.

From the first day you arrived his gaze was always on you, your beauty was incomparable.

And he really wanted to try his luck with you.

"I’m Wooyoung, by the way," He said after a moment, sticking out his hand. "Figured I should introduce myself since I’m stealing your time."

"YN," You replied, shaking his hand briefly. "And you’re not stealing anything, just borrowing."

"Borrowing," Wooyoung echoed. "I like that. Borrowing implies I’ll have to return the favor."

"Not unless you manage to pass this class." You shot back with a smirk.

He laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained "Then I’ll just have to stick around you until I do."

✧

January, 2021

The park was alive with color that day—emerald grass stretching far and wide, dotted with vibrant wildflowers and families enjoying the crisp spring air.

You sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket, balancing a sandwich in one hand and fending off Wooyoung’s exaggerated attempts to steal a bite with the other.

“Woo!” You laughed, swatting at his hand. “You have your own!”

“But yours tastes better,” He teased, giving you a playful pout before collapsing dramatically onto the blanket beside you. “Everything you touch turns magical.”

“Oh, please,” You rolled your eyes while smiling. “You’re just lazy.”

“And you’re gorgeous.” He retorted, turning his head to grin up at you.

You threw a grape at him, which he caught in his mouth with impressive ease, earning a soft gasp from a nearby child who’d been watching.

Wooyoung sat up with mock grandeur, raising his arms as if he’d just performed a magic trick.

“Thank you, thank you.”

You shook her head, chuckling “You’re such an idiot.”

“And you love it.” He shot back, nudging your shoulder.

You didn’t deny it.

After your playful antics slowed, Wooyoung suddenly grew quieter. You were unwrapping a slice of cake when you noticed him rummaging through his backpack with an unusual intensity.

“What are you searching for?” You asked, leaning closer.

“Nothing.” He replied, too quickly.

Then, with a triumphant grin, he pulled out a small velvet box.

You froze “... What’s that?”

His grin widened as he opened the box to reveal a delicate silver ring with a blue butterfly at its center. The sunlight caught the gem, making it glimmer like it held a piece of the sky.

“It’s for you.” Wooyoung said simply, his voice softer now.

“Wooyoung…” Your voice caught in your throat as you looked at him.

He took your hand, his fingers warm and slightly trembling.

“YN, I know we’re young, and maybe people think I’m crazy, but I don’t care what anyone says. You’re the one for me. You make me laugh, you make me better, and you make me so damn happy.”

He swallowed, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I don’t need to know everything about the future, but one thing I do know is this. You’re going to be my wife someday.”

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears “Wooyoung, this is…”

“Say yes,” He cut in, a playful smile returning “Or, you know, at least agree to keep the ring until you’re ready to say yes.”

You laughed through your tears and nodded, slipping the ring onto your finger.

“Yes. Of course, yes.”

Wooyoung whooped, pulling you into a tight hug before peppering your face with kisses, making you laugh even harder.

You spent the rest of the afternoon lying under the shade of a tree, your head on his chest, and your fingers playing with the blue butterfly that now adorned your hand.

✧

July, 2023

The grand living room of Jung’s family home exudes elegance—polished marble floors, an oversized chandelier that sparkled with cold precision, and an air of formality that made Wooyoung feel like he was suffocating.

He sat stiffly on the couch, his parents across from him, their expressions stern.

“We need to talk.” His father said, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Wooyoung leaned back, crossing his arms “Sounds serious.”

“It is,” His mother replied, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle on her designer dress. “It’s about... YN.”

His posture straightened “What about her?”

His father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose “Wooyoung, you’re young, and it’s natural to be infatuated at your age, but you need to think about your future.”

“I do think about my future. And YN’s part of it.” He shot back, his tone firm.

His mother’s lips pursed into a thin line “Honey, be reasonable. YN is a sweet girl, but she comes from a humble background. She doesn’t have the status or connections to stand beside someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Wooyoung repeated, incredulous. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m better than her because of money?”

“It’s not about being better,” His father interjected, his voice steady but sharp. “It’s about practicality. Your future wife needs to be someone who can complement your position—someone who understands the demands of our world and has the resources to support it.”

Wooyoung laughed, though there was no humor in it.

“So, it’s not enough that she loves me? That she’s kind and smart and makes me happier than I’ve ever been? You’d rather I marry someone who fits into your idea of a perfect business deal?”

His mother’s eyes softened slightly, but her resolve didn’t waver “We only want what’s best for you.”

“YN is what’s best for me,” His voice raised. “She’s more than a ‘sweet girl.’ She’s hardworking, loyal, and she doesn’t care about all this status nonsense. She loves me for who I am, not for the family name or the money. How many people in your world can say the same?”

His father frowned, but Wooyoung continued before either parent could interrupt.

“I know you don’t approve of her, but I’m not going to let you decide who I love. YN is my choice. And if you can’t accept her, that’s your problem, not mine.”

The room fell silent, tension thick in the air. His mother exchanged a glance with his father, her expression conflicted.

“We’re only trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection,” He replied, standing. “I need you to trust me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the room, his heart pounding. As he stepped outside into the cool evening air, he pulled out his phone and dialed your number.

“Hey, babe.” Your voice came through, light and warm.

“Hey, baby.” He said, his own voice softening. “I just needed to hear you. You’re everything to me, YN.”

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Present

It had been six years since you and Wooyoung began your relationship, six years filled with laughter, love, and the kind of moments that made life brighter.

Wooyoung had always been the cheerful, mischievous boy who could light up any room, and that playful charm was part of what had captured your heart from the start.

Your relationship had its share of ups and downs, but the challenges were never between you. The love you shared was strong, unwavering.

The hard times always came from the outside—specifically, from Wooyoung’s parents.

You still remembered the first time Wooyoung had introduced you to his family. The tension in the air had been impossible to ignore, and the subtle but unmistakable looks of disapproval on Mr. and Mrs. Jung’s faces had spoken volumes.

From the moment you stepped into their lavish home, it was clear they didn’t see you as someone worthy of their son.

The differences between their worlds were undeniable. Wooyoung had grown up in wealth and privilege, surrounded by people who measured worth in status and connections.

You, on the other hand, came from a modest background, where kindness and hard work mattered more than designer labels or family names.

But those differences had never mattered to Wooyoung. He loved you for who you were, your genuine heart, strength, and the way you made him feel like he could be himself.

Unfortunately, his parents didn’t share his perspective.

From the beginning, Mr. and Mrs. Jung had made it clear they disapproved. They insisted Wooyoung needed someone of "equal standing," someone who could match the prestige of their family name.

You, they believed, were too ordinary.

But through it all, Wooyoung had never wavered in his devotion to you. No matter how hard his parents tried to interfere, he stood by your side, determined to show them that love wasn’t about status or wealth.

However; his parents never accepted that love.

“Excuse me, what?!” Wooyoung asks in shock at the words of his parents.

What that fuck did he just hear?

“The youngest daughter of the Lee family, Lee Haneul, will come to dinner, so you can get to know each other.” His father repeats again.

“Not that, what you said before that.” He asks again and the older man rolls his eyes.

“Mr. Lee and I came to the conclusion that it would be great if our families were united, so you would marry his daughter.”

"What?! Why me and not one of my brothers?" Wooyoung comes back to questions exasperated, this has to be a fucking joke.

His mother sighs, touching her templates “Woo, your older brother has a girlfriend and Kyungmin is nine years old.”

“And!? I also have a girlfriend and Kyungmin will grow up someday.”

“Wooyoung, stop complaining and do what we tell you.” His father scolds him.

Wooyoung looks at them in disbelief, and then exclaims an ‘ahh’ nodding, now he understands.

“I see, you're going to force me to marry that girl to get away from YN, right? That’s why you’re asking me and not the eldest son of the family.”

He laughs without desire, he doesn't deny it, it was an excellent move.

“Do you really hate her enough to arrange a fucking marriage for me with a stranger?”

“Wooyoung..” His mother starts but he interrupts her.

“No. I really don't want to hear the same old nonsense. I'm sick of this.”

Without further ado, he turns around to go to the exit, he does not want to see them for the moment. However, before he leaves the door he manages to hear his father's harsh words.

"Dinner is at eight, don't be childish and be punctual, Wooyoung."

Go to hell.

✧

“When are you going to tell her?” San asks, looking at his best friend who's pulling his hair in frustration.

“I don't know, man.”

"Man, I suspected something like this was going to happen." The eldest sighs, patting him on the back in affection. "It always happens in rich families like ours."

“Fuck!” Wooyoung complains like a little boy throwing a tantrum. “Why do these things always have to happen to me?”

“Don't know, Woo. But let's be positive and plan something to avoid that marriage.”

"The only person I'm going to marry is YN... I cannot allow myself to break my promise." He nods to himself and San smiles at his friend's determination.

He knows everything they have been through thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Jung.

"That's right, Woo."

✧

“When are you going to tell him?” Jongho asks out of his amazement.

You laugh at his expression and take the test from his hands to put it away.

"I don't know." You shrug your shoulders with a smile on your lips.

You look at the test again, 'positive-3 weeks' and smile like a fool. You have been feeling sick for several weeks now and your period was not coming, so you decided to take a pregnancy test to confirm your suspicions.

Wooyoung loves children and you're not afraid to tell him, but your in-laws do scare you.

So you need to get psyched up before you say it.

"Uh... Well, don't take long to tell him." Your friend murmurs with a small smile. "I'm sure Wooyoung is going to be very happy."

“I hope so.”

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Wooyoung pushes open the café door, the bell above jingling softly. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, but it does nothing to calm the tight knot in his stomach.

His eyes scan the room, and there you are, sitting by the window, bathed in golden sunlight. You're scrolling through your phone, your lips curving into a soft smile.

For a moment, Wooyoung just stands there, watching you. He wants to freeze this moment, to block out everything else and just exist here, with you.

You look up and spot him, your face lighting up.

“Hey!” You call, waving him over.

Woo smiles, though it feels strained, and walks to the table. He leans down to kiss your forehead before sliding into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” You tease, voice playful. “Got caught up planning another prank?”

He forces a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck “Something like that.”

You raise an eyebrow, setting your phone down “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” He says too quickly, grabbing the menu even though he already knows what he’s going to order. “Just... a lot on my mind.”

You tilt your head, studying him “Woo, you’re not a good liar. What’s going on?”

He hesitates, his fingers tightening around the edge of the menu “It’s just my parents,” He says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sigh and reach for your coffee “What is it this time?”

Wooyoung shifts uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze “They’re just... being them, you know? All about expectations and what they think I should do.”

“Is this about us again?”

He shrugs, trying to play it off “It’s always about something.”

“Wooyoung, you don’t have to dance around it. Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

Wooyoung looks down at the table, his thoughts racing. He wants to tell you everything, to unload the frustration and the fear that’s been eating at him. But the words stick in his throat. He can’t bring himself to say it—not yet.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” He forces a smile. “Let’s not talk about them. I’m here with you now, and that’s what matters.”

You study him for a moment, your brow furrowed like you know he’s holding something back. But you don't press since you're also hiding something from him.

“Okay, but if it ever gets to be too much, you know I’m here, right?”

He nods, his chest tightening “Yeah. I know, love.”

For the rest of the date, they keep the conversation light. You talk about your day, avoiding mentioning what you discovered today, instead you tell him about a funny customer you dealt with at work, and Wooyoung listens, laughing in the right places.

But in the back of his mind, the weight of what he hasn’t told you lingers, heavy and unrelenting.

✧

The dining room in the Jung household is as grand as ever—too grand, Wooyoung thinks as he stands outside the door, dreading what’s inside. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow on the elaborate table settings, but all he feels is the weight of the moment.

He checks his watch. Twenty minutes late. Maybe they’ve already started. He sighs and pushes the door open.

“There you are.” His father’s voice cuts through the room like a blade. Mr. Jung’s face hardens as he looks at his son. “You’re late.”

Wooyoung doesn’t apologize. He walks to the table, his steps deliberately slow, and slides into the empty seat across from the girl. She’s dressed to perfection, her posture straight, a composed smile on her face.

“I was busy.” He says simply, reaching for the glass of water in front of him.

His mother narrows her eyes “Busy with what? You knew how important this dinner was.”

Wooyoung takes a deliberate sip of water before answering “I was doing something important with my girlfriend.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Mrs. Jung sets down her fork with a sharp clink, her lips pressed into a thin line “Wooyoung, this is neither the time nor the place for your... antics.”

“It’s the truth.” He says, his tone calm but firm.

Across the table, the girl’s smile tightens. Haneul clears her throat and speaks, her voice smooth and composed.

“I don’t mind waiting, Mrs. Jung. It’s perfectly understandable that Wooyoung might be... distracted.”

Wooyoung’s jaw tightens as he looks at her. She’s playing along, but there’s a spark in her eyes that unnerves him—a determination that feels more like a challenge.

“Haneul, I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of this,” He says, his tone clipped. “I’m sure you didn’t ask for this any more than I did.”

The girl tilts her head, her smile never wavering “Actually, I think this arrangement makes perfect sense. Our families share the same values, and I think we’d make an excellent team.”

Wooyoung stiffens “Team?”

“Yes, marriage isn’t just about feelings, Wooyoung. It’s about partnership, legacy, and building something meaningful. I understand that your... current relationship feels important to you, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good.”

His hands ball into fists under the table “My girlfriend isn’t a ‘sacrifice.’ She’s the woman I love.”

“And love,” His father interjects sharply. “Doesn’t pay the bills or secure the future.”

“It’s not just about love,” She says, her gaze locking with Wooyoung’s. “It’s about compatibility and understanding. And I understand you, Wooyoung. Probably better than she ever could.”

He stares at her, anger flaring in his chest “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough to see that you’re capable of so much more than throwing away your future for... temporary feelings,” Haneul replies, her tone still calm but with an edge of steel.

“That’s enough, both of you,” Mrs. Jung says, her voice sharp. “Wooyoung, you will stop this nonsense and start acting like an adult. This dinner is about securing your future, not indulging your childish fantasies.”

Wooyoung pushes his chair back, the screech of wood against tile echoing in the room “If acting like an adult means giving up YN, then I’d rather be a child.” He stands, his gaze sweeping over his parents and Haneul. “I’m done here.”

As he turns to leave, Haneul’s voice follows him, calm but resolute.

“I’m not giving up on this, Wooyoung. You might think you have a choice, but in the end, you’ll see that I’m right.”

Wooyoung doesn’t look back. He storms out of the dining room, his heart pounding. As he heads up the stairs, the weight of their words presses down on him, but the thought of you—your smile, your laugh—gives him the strength to keep walking.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

The restaurant is luxurious, the kind of place where the waitstaff move silently and the air smells faintly of roses and fresh linen.

Wooyoung sits stiffly at the table, his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the untouched plate in front of him.

Across from him, Haneul sits poised, her chin held high, and a faint smile on her lips. She doesn’t seem bothered by his obvious disdain.

“This was unnecessary,” He mutters, breaking the silence. “Your parents didn’t have to set this up.”

Haneul raises an eyebrow, taking a sip from her glass of wine “They’re just being considerate. They wanted us to have a chance to talk—properly.”

“We don’t need to talk. There’s nothing to say.”

Haneul sets her glass down with deliberate care, her eyes locking on his.

“Oh, there’s plenty to say. You just don’t want to hear it.”

He scoffs, leaning back in his chair “What is there to say, Haneul? That I’m supposed to marry you because our parents think it’s a good idea? That I’m supposed to just forget about YN and pretend like this is normal?”

Haneul’s smile doesn’t falter, but her tone sharpens “This isn’t about pretending, Wooyoung. It’s about reality. You can’t run from it forever.”

“I’m not running,” He snaps, his voice rising. “I’m fighting for the life I want, not the one you and our parents are trying to force on me.”

“And what life is that?” Haneul challenges, leaning forward slightly. “A life with a girl who doesn’t understand what it means to be part of this world? Do you even realize what you’re giving up?”

Wooyoung glares at her, his hands clenching into fists on the table “What I’m giving up? I’d rather give up this fake, suffocating life than my girlfriend.”

Haneul lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so naive, Wooyoung. You think love is enough? It’s not. Not in our world. You’re clinging to a fantasy while everyone else is dealing with reality.”

“I’d rather have a fantasy with my girlfriend than a fucking reality with you.” He bites back.

Haneul’s eyes flash, and for the first time, her calm facade cracks “You’re acting like a child. You think you can just stomp your feet and get your way? Grow up, Wooyoung.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you.”

“No, you need someone to remind you what’s at stake,” Haneul snaps, her voice rising. “You think this is about me wanting to marry you because of some stupid crush? This is about our families, our futures, and everything we’ve worked for. I’m not like you, Wooyoung—I think about the big picture. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to marry you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

He stares at her, his anger flaring again “You don’t get it, do you? No matter what you or my parents do, you’ll never have my heart. It belongs to YN, and it always will.”

Haneul leans back in her chair, her expression composed once more “I don’t need your heart, Wooyoung. I need your name. And trust me, I’ll get it.”

The waiter approaches, awkwardly placing the next course on the table as the tension simmers between them.

Wooyoung doesn’t touch his food. Instead, he grabs his jacket and stands abruptly.

“This dinner’s over.”

“Walk away if you want,” Haneul says calmly, her voice following him as he storms out. “But you don’t have a choice.”

Wooyoung doesn’t respond. The heavy door of the restaurant closes behind him, but her words echo in his mind, sharp and unyielding.

✧

Wooyoung stands in the doorway, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his posture tense. You notice the slight sadness in his eyes before he even says anything.

The moment you speak, your voice soft and full of concern, you see it—the vulnerability he’s trying to hide.

“Babe?” You say again, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just steps forward, closing the distance between you, and pulls you into a tight embrace. His head rests against your shoulder, and he lets out a slow breath, his hands trembling slightly as they wrap around you.

Your heart races, sensing something’s wrong. You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, trying to read him.

“Woo, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head slightly, as if fighting off whatever emotions are rising within him.

“I’m fine.” He mutters, though the words don’t quite match the storm brewing inside him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Your hand reaches up to brush a lock of hair from his face. “I can tell something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He stares at you, struggling. There’s so much he wants to say, but the words don’t come. His heart aches at the thought of losing you, but the reality of his parents’ pressure crushes down on him.

The arrangement, the future—he doesn’t want to drag you into it. He wants to protect you from the mess he’s in.

After a long pause, he speaks again, his voice quiet, almost inaudible “It’s just... everything feels so overwhelming.”

He swallows hard, trying to push down the fear that rises in his chest.

“I don’t want to burden you with it, love. I’ll fix it.”

You gently place your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing the lines of his jaw.

“You don’t have to fix everything on your own. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He nods, but the weight of the situation makes him hesitate. If he tells you now, it will make everything real—and he’s not ready for that.

Not yet.

“I’ll handle it, love,” He pulls you close again. “I’ll fix it, I swear.”

You don't push any further, but the concern doesn’t leave your eyes “I’m here, Woo. Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, holding you tightly “I know, love.”

But deep down, he isn’t sure if he can ever truly solve this on his own. The thought of losing you to the weight of his family’s expectations makes his chest ache, but he’s not ready to face that reality—not yet.

After a moment you sit in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the hum of the city outside and the soft beat of their hearts. Eventually, you shift to face him, your legs tucked beneath you as you gazes at him with a smile.

“Wanna just forget about everything tonight?” You ask, voice playful yet tender. “Let’s just be us, no stress, no worries.”

Wooyoung’s heart feels lighter at the suggestion. He nods, pulling you into his arms as you cuddle close. Your warmth envelops him, and for a fleeting moment, he forgets about the weight of his responsibilities, the future that looms over him.

He holds you close, his fingers running through your hair as you share a peaceful silence. You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips—slow, lingering, and full of everything unspoken between you. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his.

“Everything will be okay, Wooyoung,” You whisper, as if trying to reassure him, even though you don't know exactly what’s bothering him. “I believe in us.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring your words, the feeling of you in his arms. Your love is his anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

And though the storm is coming, tonight, in this moment, he lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can weather it together.

For now, it’s enough.

You spend the rest of the evening in the quiet intimacy of each other’s presence, no words needed, just the warmth of your shared space.

The night stretches on lazily as you eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

“What?” Wooyoung asks, his voice trembling slightly, the shock settling in.

He stands frozen, his heart pounding against his chest. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. His parents exchange a look, and then his father speaks, his tone cold and stern.

"As you heard, my son, the wedding will be held next week. The preparations have already begun."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His mind races, and his stomach churns.

This cannot be true!

“Next week?” He repeats, his voice faltering.

The room feels like it’s closing in on him. His mother’s attempt to soothe him only makes it worse.

“I’m sorry for this, dear,” She says, her voice laced with what might be pity or disappointment. “But you have to settle down, and you have to leave YN behind. You have to put the Jung surname up.”

Each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into him. His mind is screaming,

No. I won’t let this happen.

But the words don’t come out. Instead, what comes out is pure fury “This is bullshit, fuck this stupidity.”

His fists clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He’s not going to stand here and take it, he won’t.

Without another word, he turns on his heel and heads for the door. He can hear his parents calling after him—his father’s voice sharp, his mother’s desperate.

But Wooyoung doesn’t care. He doesn’t even pause.

What he needs right now is to be in YN’s arms, to feel her warmth and her safety. She’s the only thing that matters right now. He can’t think about anything else.

But as he opens the front door, the last thing he expects is to find the Lee family standing there. Haneul is at the center, her triumphant smile enough to make Wooyoung’s blood boil.

“Hello, Wooyoung. Can we come in?”

Mrs. Lee asks, her voice sweet, but there’s a certain coldness to it that grates on his nerves. She’s not just being polite. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Haneul steps forward, the smugness in her expression making his stomach twist.

“We have things to talk about, Jung Wooyoung.”

At the sound of his full name, his temper spikes. He feels the weight of the world pressing down on him as if this whole situation has finally reached its breaking point.

Without thinking, Wooyoung closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a frustrated sigh.

Fuck.

The door looms in front of him like a barrier between his old life and the life he doesn’t want. He feels trapped—trapped in his family’s expectations, trapped by the weight of an arranged marriage, trapped by the smug smiles of the Lee family.

His thoughts are a blur, and the last thing he wants to do right now is talk to them. But with his parents behind him, there’s no way out.

The door opens wider, and he steps aside reluctantly, trying his best to mask his fury.

“Fine,” He mutters under his breath. “Come in.”

He knows there’s no escaping this. Not yet. Not until he figures out how to fight for YN.

As the Lee family steps inside, the air seems to thicken with the tension Wooyoung is trying desperately to ignore. Mrs. Lee is all smiles, her voice smooth and charming as she talks to his parents about the wedding plans.

“We were thinking about having the wedding at the Ritz,” Mrs. Lee says, adjusting her coat, as if the decision is already final. “A grand affair, of course. We’ll invite about two hundred guests, and the menu—oh, it will be exquisite! We’ve already spoken to the chef.”

Wooyoung’s father nods in agreement, his face a mask of satisfaction “Yes, we need it to be a perfect event. It’ll be the talk of the city.”

Mrs. Lee smiles approvingly, and then her attention shifts to Wooyoung, who’s standing near the door, doing everything he can to keep his emotions in check.

His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, but the moment his eyes meet hers, she doesn’t miss the subtle challenge in his gaze.

"Don’t worry, Wooyoung,” She says, as if reading his thoughts. “Everything is being taken care of. You don’t have to worry about the details. All you need to do is show up.”

Wooyoung feels like he might suffocate. He’s already exhausted, mentally and emotionally, and now they’re talking about food and guests as though he’s not even in the room.

It’s as if his thoughts, his feelings, don’t matter.

“Cake!” Mrs. Lee suddenly exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she looks to his mother. “We’re thinking of a three-tiered design—something elegant and modern, don’t you think? Something with a champagne flavor and gold accents. We can’t have anything too gaudy, of course.”

His mother smiles, nodding along “I agree, it should be sophisticated, but not too much. Let’s stick with the classics.”

Wooyoung wants to scream. He’s about to lose it. The details are endless, the food, the cake, the guest list. He wants to break free of it all, but he can’t move. He feels like he’s in a cage. The tension in his chest is unbearable.

“They’ll talk about this wedding for years,” His father adds, his tone satisfied. “It’ll set the standard for all future weddings in high society.”

Wooyoung’s stomach turns. It’s just a show, a way for them to solidify their power.

And through it all, he can’t stop thinking about YN. He was supposed to be with her today, to forget all of this, even if just for a moment. They’d planned a quiet dinner together, a small escape from the reality that was pressing down on him.

But now, thanks to the sudden appearance of the Lee family, he can’t keep that promise. He’d texted YN earlier, but now he knows she’ll be waiting for him, wondering where he is. He can already hear her voice in his head, filled with concern.

His grip tightens on the back of a chair, and he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. I’ll make it up to her, he promises silently, but the thought of his family’s expectations gnaws at him.

“We’ve decided on a date, too,” Mr. Lee says, taking a seat at the table, looking over at Wooyoung with an almost predatory grin.

“The wedding will be next Saturday. The dress fittings for Haneul have already begun. We’ve already chosen the designers, and they’re perfect for our family’s image.”

Haneul, sitting primly next to her parents, looks at him, a soft smile playing on her lips as if she knows exactly how he’s feeling. She’s enjoying this.

Wooyoung feels his patience slipping away, his vision blurring at the edges. This is a nightmare. He’s being suffocated by expectations, and there’s no way out. His thoughts spiral, and the only thing that keeps him from losing it is the thought of YN, waiting for him.

“You’ve been so quiet, Wooyoung,” Mrs. Lee says, noticing his silence. “Is everything alright? You look a bit… tense.”

No shit, Wooyoung thinks bitterly, but he forces a smile.

“I’m fine. Just… a lot on my mind.”

The tension in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Haneul’s eyes narrow slightly, but she hides it behind another smile.

“Well, everything will be fine once the wedding’s over,” She says, her voice sugary sweet. “We’ll be a perfect match, Wooyoung.”

The words feel like a slap to his face, but he says nothing. He can’t. All he can do is sit there, listening to them drone on about flowers, seating arrangements, and the best caterers in town.

Each word is like another heavy weight pressing down on him.

And all Wooyoung wants to do is escape.

God, YN, I’m so sorry.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

You sit at your usual spot—a quiet little café tucked away in a street filled with warm lights and the hum of life passing by.

The place held years of memories, whispers of love exchanged over cups of coffee, stolen kisses between bites of cake, and laughter that once felt endless.

You have arrived early, excitement bubbling in your chest. You want to see him, to hold him, to forget about the world outside and just exist in the bubble you had created for yourselves.

But as the minutes pass, that excitement slowly turns into unease. Your fingers tap anxiously against the ceramic cup in front of you.

You glance at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time.

No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

Your heart sinks. Wooyoung wasn’t the type to be late—at least, not without telling you. You try to shake off the creeping feeling in your chest, trying to reason with yourself.

Maybe he got held up at home. Maybe he lost track of time. Maybe—

No.

Deep down, you know something is wrong.

You force yourself to stay, clinging to hope. With every person that walks through the door, your heart leaps, only to plummet when it isn't him.

The sounds of laughter and conversation around you blurs, drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

You stare out the window, watching as cars pass by, as couples walk hand in hand, lost in their own little worlds.

More time passes. Too much time.

You swallow hard, trying to fight back the sting of tears. It isn’t just about tonight—it’s everything. The way Wooyoung has seemed distant lately, the way his voice wavered when you spoke, the baby…

You had felt it, the weight of something unspoken pressing between you two.

And now, it’s suffocating you.

Maybe San knows where he is, maybe San could tell you what is going on with your boyfriend… yeah, maybe you should go to his apartment and ask him.

Yeah, it's a good idea.

You put some cash on the table to pay and immediately you grab your stuff, you need to talk with San.

—

"Hey, YN! What brings you here?" San asks when he opens the door to his apartment.

It's after eight o'clock at night, and it seems a little strange that you're here.

With an embarrassed smile, you greet him "Hi, Sannie. By any chance Wooyoung is with you? Since yesterday he has not answered my messages and calls."

The best thing you could think of was to go to his best friend's house to ask about him.

"He's been behaving strangely for days, I notice he's worried about something, do you know what's wrong with him?" You ask in the hope that San will tell you something.

San scratches his head in frustration, damn it Wooyoung. How is he supposed to tell his best friend's girlfriend that Woo has been like this because he's getting married in a week?

"Sorry YN, but I'm not the one to tell you that." He says with pity. "How about you go to his house?"

You press your lips with a grimace, you don't think that's the best idea if his parents are there.

"Okay, Sannie. Thank you."

San only offers you a light smile but his chest aches because of your pitiful situation.

✧

The days without hearing from Woo have stretched into a painful silence. Each time you check your phone, there’s nothing.

Your messages and calls go unanswered, and it feels like he’s slipping further and further away.

You can’t stand this distance, not when you have no idea why he’s shutting you out. You know something’s wrong. You can feel it in the way he’s been avoiding you, like he's carrying a burden he doesn’t want to share with you.

And every second without him feels like a quiet ache, a hollow space inside you that won’t go away.

You try calling San today, but his words only leave you more confused.

“Sorry, YN, but I’m not the one to tell you that.” His pitying look is enough to tell you he knows more than he’s letting on.

What the fuck is going on?

Desperate for answers, you decide to track Wooyoung down yourself. At the last minute, he finally texts you.

Woo♡: Meet me at the cafe. We need to talk.

Your heart leaps in your chest as you immediately prepare to go. This is your chance to finally speak to him, to understand what’s been going on.

But when you pick up the small box you’ve prepared—a simple gift, a pregnancy test wrapped in a soft baby cloth, you hesitate.

You’ve known for a few weeks now, and you feel the weight of the secret pressing down on you. But you’re not sure if this is the right time to tell him.

The uncertainty only makes the situation worse.

You get to the cafe early, waiting in the corner of the room. The familiar warmth of the place does little to settle your nerves. Every passing minute feels like an eternity.

You want to hold on to the hope that this meeting will clear things up, that Wooyoung will finally explain everything.

When he walks in, you almost don’t recognize him. There’s a tiredness in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. His usual confident stride is slower, more burdened, and the weight of whatever he’s been dealing with is clear on his face.

When he sees you, he gives you a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Love…” He calls you like it’s a question, like he’s unsure of what to say next.

You smile back, trying to keep things light, but your stomach is twisting with anxiety.

“Woo, it’s good to see you,” You say softly, your voice catching a little.

He sits down across from you, running a hand through his hair, clearly restless. There’s something different about him today, something that feels... off.

“You’ve been acting strange lately,” You start, trying to get him to open up. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts. I was worried.”

He winces, like your words are a physical blow “I know. I’m sorry, baby. It’s just... I’ve been dealing with some stuff. And I didn’t know how to explain it to you.”

The tension in the air thickens as he looks away, staring at his hands. You want to reach out and hold him, but something is stopping you—something that makes you afraid of what he might say next.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” You try to keep your voice steady, but it shakes with the fear that you’re about to lose him.

He looks up at you then, his gaze meeting yours for the first time. His eyes are filled with guilt, regret, and something else—something you can’t quite place.

“YN, there’s something I need to tell you…”

You feel your heart race. Me too.

“I—I’ve been forced into an arranged marriage,” he finally says, his words coming out in a rush, like he’s afraid to say them. “My parents, they’ve been making all these plans behind my back... and now it’s happening. In two days.”

The world seems to stop as his words sink in. An arranged marriage? Your mind goes blank for a moment, unable to process what he’s just told you. The shock of it all hits you like a wave, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“W-what?” You manage to whisper.

The shock of his words still lingers in the air, leaving a heavy silence between you. Your heart feels like it’s breaking into pieces, but you fight to keep your composure, not wanting to overwhelm him more than he already is.

You’ve always been there for Wooyoung, in all the highs and lows, but this... this feels like a crushing blow that you didn’t expect.

The man you love is about to marry someone else, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

But something else is weighing on you, too, something you’ve kept hidden in the hopes that the right moment would come. And now, as he stares at you with those heartbroken eyes, you feel the weight of the little secret you’ve been carrying.

The box with the pregnancy test rests in your bag, and for a brief moment, you wonder if it’s the right time to tell him. You can’t shake the thought that it’s not.

Not now. Not when his world is falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your stomach churns with uncertainty. Should I tell him?

You draw in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Woo... I know this is hard for you,” You whisper, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the café. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here for you.”

His eyes flicker with gratitude, but there’s a weight behind them that speaks volumes. He’s trying so hard to hold it together, but you can see the cracks.

You want to reach in and fix everything for him, to take away all the pain, but you know that you can’t.

For a moment, you think about your pregnancy, the little life inside you. You want to tell him. You want him to know that there’s more to your relationship than just the heartbreak, that there’s hope, even in the darkness.

But you hesitate. How can I tell him this now?

You look at him, his eyes searching yours, waiting for you to say something, to offer him the comfort he needs. And you feel your heart ache even more.

“Love, I don’t know what to do anymore,” He admits, his voice cracking as he looks down at his hands. “I feel like I’m losing everything... and I don’t want to lose you too. But I don’t have a choice. I have to do this. I have to marry that girl.”

I’m losing you too, Woo.

The thought lingers in your mind, but you swallow it down. Instead, you say the only thing you can think of.

“If this is something you have to do, then I’ll support you. I just want you to be happy.” You force a smile, but it feels fragile, like it might shatter any second.

He smiles weakly back, his eyes filled with a sadness that seems too much for him to carry. And in that moment, you wonder if he knows what you’re holding back, what you’ve been keeping to yourself.

“I don’t want this, I never wanted this. I want you. But now…” He shakes his head, unable to finish the thought.

You hesitate again, glancing down at your bag where the pregnancy test rests. You wonder if it’s better to just tell him now, to let him know the truth.

But what if it’s too much for him? What if it makes things worse?

You take a deep breath, your fingers trembling as they move to the edge of the bag. For a moment, you just hold it there, unsure of what to do. You could pull it out. You could tell him everything.

But the fear of pushing him away, of making things harder for him than they already are, holds you back.

“I love you, Wooyoung,” You whisper instead, your voice filled with the weight of everything unsaid. “No matter what happens, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“I love you, too.”

You watch his eyes soften, the weight of your words sinking in. For a moment, it feels like the world around you disappears, and there’s just the two of you. But in the back of your mind, you know the truth:

You’re not just here for him now, you’re here for something bigger than this, something you can’t ignore for much longer.

But for now, you let the silence settle between you. You let the moment stretch out, knowing that there will be another time, another moment when you can share your secret.

Because right now, it doesn’t feel like the right moment.

Right now, he needs your love, your support, and your strength more than ever. And if you tell him, you’re not sure if he’ll be able to handle both the weight of his family’s expectations and the weight of the future you’re both trying to build.

You squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. There’s no easy way to fix this. But for now, you’ll support him the only way you can.

By being there.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of everything you both know but refuse to say. The quiet hum of the café surrounds you, but in this moment, it feels like you and Wooyoung exist in your own world—a world on the verge of breaking.

His hand is still in yours, warm but trembling slightly, as if he’s afraid to let go.

“Let’s go,” He says softly. “Just for tonight.”

You nod because you know exactly what he means.

Just for tonight, you want to forget the world outside. Forget the expectations, the heartbreak, the inevitable goodbye that lingers just out of reach.

Just for tonight, you want to pretend that nothing is changing.

The walk back to your apartment is quiet, but Wooyoung never lets go of your hand. His grip is tight, as if holding onto you will somehow stop time, as if it will keep you from slipping away.

When you step inside, the warmth of your home wraps around you, but it doesn’t offer the comfort it usually does. The atmosphere is different—charged, desperate. He stands in the middle of the room, looking around like he’s trying to memorize every detail, as if this will be the last time he ever gets to see it.

You swallow hard and step closer, resting a hand on his chest “Wooyoung…”

He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply at your touch, before his arms wrap around you, pulling you against him.

“I don’t want to leave you,” He murmurs into your hair.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall “Then don’t.”

His hold tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. You both know the answer.

This is the end.

But if this is your last night together, you don’t want to spend it crying. You don’t want it to be filled with sorrow and regret.

You want to remember this—him—as the boy you’ve loved for six years.

So you reach up, your fingers gently tracing along his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. His eyes are heavy with emotion, dark and unreadable.

And then, without another word, you press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow at first, hesitant, as if you’re both afraid of what comes next. But then Wooyoung’s hands slide into your hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss with a desperation that makes your knees weak.

He kisses you like he’s trying to imprint the memory of you into his very soul, like he’s trying to hold onto every second before it slips away.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, in the familiarity of his touch. His lips move against yours with a kind of ache, like a silent plea—don’t forget me.

You pull him with you toward the bedroom, and he follows without hesitation.

The night unfolds slowly, gently. There’s no rush, no urgency—only whispered touches, lingering kisses, hands exploring like they’re memorizing every curve, every scar, every breath. He moves as if he’s worshipping you, as if he’s trying to carve the memory of you into his heart.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you whisper his back just as reverently.

In that moment, there are no arranged marriages, no forced goodbyes, no broken promises. There is only you and Wooyoung, tangled together beneath the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the window.

And when it’s over, when his breathing evens out and his fingers remain laced with yours, you feel it—the quiet heartbreak settling between you.

You turn onto your side, tracing the outline of his face as he lies next to you. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles, but it’s the saddest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Promise me,” He whispers, voice hoarse from exhaustion and emotion.

You blink, brushing his hair from his forehead “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll be happy,” He says, squeezing your hand. “Even if I’m not there.”

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to nod “Only if you promise the same.”

He hesitates, then leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead “I promise.”

Neither of you sleep much that night.

Because when morning comes, Wooyoung will leave.

And for the first time in six years, you won’t be waiting for him to come back.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

The ceremony is a blur.

It’s like Wooyoung is watching someone else’s life unfold before him, the soft chatter of the guests, the click of cameras, the music playing in the background, and Haneul, standing next to him in her beautiful dress.

But it’s not her he’s thinking about. It’s not the guests or the vows being exchanged. It’s you.

Always you.

He stares at Haneul, but his mind is elsewhere, far away, with the girl he has loved for six years. His heart aches in ways he can’t even describe.

Why? Why does it have to be like this?

Wooyoung can’t stop the thoughts swirling in his head—He never wanted this. He never wanted to hurt you. But here he is, in a room full of people, marrying someone else.

He thinks back to all the times you shared, all the quiet moments with you. The way you would smile at him like he was your whole world, the way you made him feel like everything was going to be okay, no matter what.

You had this way of making life feel simple, even when everything around him was so complicated.

But now... now he’s standing there, saying vows to another woman. Vows he promised he would never say to anyone but you. And Wooyoung knows it’s not just the pressure from his parents that makes him do this.

It’s because he feels like he has no choice.

It’s because he’s been taught that family, tradition, and status are more important than love.

As the ceremony continues, his eyes flicker to the door, half-expecting you to come rushing in, to call everything off.

Wooyoung knows you won’t. He knows you can’t. You’re too strong for that. But a part of him wishes, desperately, that you would.

Finally, the ceremony ends, and Wooyoung can hear the soft murmur of the guests as they begin to congratulate them. He shakes hands, forces a smile, and takes Haneul’s hand, though it feels foreign to him. They walk together, but it feels like he’s walking away from the only life he’s ever wanted.

A life with you, and only you.

The reception is just as hollow. There’s no joy in Wooyoung’s chest, no happiness in his smile, only emptiness. He feels like a ghost moving through the motions, pretending to enjoy the laughter and the music.

But inside, He is screaming for the one person who’s not here.

Love, I’m so sorry.

Suddenly, San approaches him. He’s holding something in his hands—a small box. He gives him a look that says everything Wooyoung needs to know.

San knows. San knows how his best friend feels, and maybe he knows the cost of this marriage—the one he didn’t want, but couldn’t stop.

San doesn’t say anything at first, just presses the box into Wooyoung’s hands with a heavy sigh. Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, wondering what this could be, but his fingers shake as he opens it.

Inside is a pregnancy test. A small, clear message that shatters his heart completely.

Six weeks...

Tears sting Wooyoung’s eyes as he pulls out a letter. Your handwriting, your words. His chest tightens, and sits down at a small table, alone, as the world continues to swirl around him.

Wooyoung unfolds the letter slowly, reading your final words.

“Woo,

I know this is hard. I know you’re not in control of all this. I’ve watched you struggle, and I know you’ve had to make impossible choices. I want you to know that I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want you to be happy. I’ll always love you, no matter what.

Even if we can’t be together in the end, I’m glad you were part of my life.

I will love you till the end.”

Wooyoung feels like the ground is slipping from beneath him. His heart cracks, pieces of it falling away, and he tries to hold them together, but it’s impossible.

You knew. You knew he couldn’t be with you.

You knew he was trapped.

The letter falls from his hands, and he reaches for the test again, mind reeling. She’s pregnant. And he never gave you the chance to tell him.

He left you behind.

Wooyoung closes his eyes and remembers everything—your laugh, your smile, the way you would hold him when everything felt like it was falling apart.

And now you’re gone.

You had chosen to let him go, to let him live the life he was forced into, and he can’t even tell you that he’s sorry.

He can’t even tell you that, despite everything, he has never stopped loving you.

Wooyoung grips the pregnancy test in his trembling hands, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The sounds of the wedding reception around him fade into nothing—distant laughter, the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation—all of it turns into static in his ears.

YN is pregnant.

His YN.

A sharp pang shoots through his chest, a feeling so unbearable that for a moment, he forgets to breathe. His fingers tighten around the letter as if by holding onto it, he can hold onto you, but the truth is suffocating.

You let him go.

You walked away, and he let it happen.

The weight of it crashes down on him all at once, and suddenly, nothing else matters—not the extravagant hall filled with hundreds of guests, not the whispers of their families, not even the woman standing beside him.

All he can think about is you, sitting alone somewhere, carrying his child, believing that he chose this life over you.

His feet move before his mind can catch up.

He turns, pushing past the guests, the chairs, the decorated floral archways. He needs to find her. He needs to fix this.

"Wooyoung?" Haneul’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and knowing.

His steps falter, but he doesn’t stop.

“Where are you going?” She demands, and when he doesn’t answer, her hand grips his wrist, holding him back.

“Let me go,” He breathes, barely containing the storm raging inside him.

She doesn’t. Instead, her fingers tighten, her expression unreadable “Don’t make a scene.”

“A scene?” He lets out a bitter laugh, chest rising and falling erratically. “You think I care about that right now?”

Haneul’s gaze flickers to the small box still clutched in his other hand. Understanding dawns in her eyes, and for a second, something like sympathy flashes across her face.

But then it’s gone, replaced by cold calculation.

“You can’t leave,” She says, her voice eerily calm. “Not now.”

“I have to—”

“No, you don’t.”

He yanks his arm back, but her grip is stronger than he expects.

“Think,” She hisses, stepping closer, lowering her voice so only he can hear.

“You walk out of here, and you lose everything. Your family. Your name. Your future. And what will you do then? Run to her? Do you really think you can give her what she needs?”

His jaw clenches “I can try.”

Haneul lets out a slow breath, her expression tightening “It’s too late, Wooyoung. You’re tied to me now.”

Those words feel like a blade to his chest.

Too late.

No.

It can’t be.

But deep down, he knows she’s right.

His hands shake as he looks down at the letter one more time. The words blur together, but he can still see the last line clearly.

"Even if we can’t be together in the end, I’m glad you were part of my life."

His breath shudders.

You meant it as a goodbye.

You have made your choice.

And now, standing in the middle of a life he never wanted, Wooyoung is forced to make his.

The ache in his chest is unbearable as he slowly closes the box, tucking it away inside his jacket. He swallows back the scream threatening to claw its way out of him and lifts his head, meeting Haneul’s gaze with hollow eyes.

His fingers unclench. His posture straightens.

And just like that, Jung Wooyoung—the boy who once dreamed of love, of happiness, of a life with you—ceases to exist.

°⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Taglist: @domfikeluva @hurryupmars @a-tiny-thing @silenttrxxs @innocygnet @alliecoady98 @posseup @yothangie @a-atiny_niawoo @justconniez @niaee @0407files @maidens-world @zaynsfl4m3s @maplelilly05 @xh01bri @sannieily @nkryuki @lemonkait00 @khaskl08 @badbitch69420sworld @jilxxasu @vnxlla @lezleeferguson-120 @lunaryoongie @stayatinykatsy @milliesupremexx @unbroken-shadows @itzyejiluv @nyx-y @lover-ofallthingspretty @queenofdumbfuckery @johaeyeon @xopierrot @m0onchild-98

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All rights reserved ♡bunny-hwa. Do not copy or translate my work.

[desi2go]

First words

pairing: dad!Mingi x mom!reader

warnings: fluff

summary: Your sweet little daughter speaks her first words.

The television flickered softly in the background, casting a muted glow across the living room. Mingi sank deeper into the couch, the wheight of hours spent practising singing and dancing clinging to his limbs like gravity itself had grown heavier. His body ached in familiar ways.

He was grateful that his schedule allowed to be home early, it was only 5:30 pm, an advantage when you have a baby that you actually want to see and spend time with. Sadly, he can't be always here this early, especially when they have concerts and tours. But now, comeback completed and already working on the next and the tour had come to an end not long ago, he was glad to spend this extra time with you, his beautiful wife for already two years and your ten month old baby.

Across the room, laughter bubbled like windchimes. You sat cross-legged on a fluffy carpet in the middle of the room, the baby propped up in your lap and steadied by your legs that held your daughter up.

You both had just finished bathing 'little peaches', how Mingi liked to call your daughter. He came up with this name in the hospital, just after you had given birth to the precious little human in an exhausting twelve hours process and he held her for the very first time after she had been checked up by the doctors and cleaned. You still remembered his wide smile as he cradled the 6,5 pounds small baby safely in his arms, rocking from side to side.

"Hello, my little peaches" he had murmured, nuzzling his nose into her rosy cheek, her skin so tender that he was afraid that she would shatter at just a small touch.

Right now, Saejin, her actual name you had chosen for her, meaning 'wisdom and truth' as well as 'beautiful treasure', was swatting her cute little hands at a rattle with pure, chaotic joy. Her cheeks flushed red with excitement, her eyes that reminded you so much on her father's sparkling like she knew that the world belonged to her now.

Mingi's tender stare switched between the TV and his two favourite people. He was so lucky to have such a beautiful wife that mostly cared for your daughter even when he unfortunately couldn't be present due to a world tour. It was cruel for him to be thousands of kilometres away from you but you had reassured that you didn't mind and nearly forced him out of your shared appartment. Sure, sometimes you hated your decision but luckily, Saejin was truly an angle, well mostly.

Her laughter danced through the room as you swayed the rattle from left to right. Absimently, you grabbed your phone to record the cute interaction, your phone gallery full of similiar videos.

Saejin's little tuft of dark brown hair stucked up into the air in small, untameable locks, a gift from you. Apart from the curls, she was a carbon copy of his father. You had seen baby photos of Mingi and you swore that he looked exactly like her. But you didn't mind at all.

As you pressed record, you hummed lowly as you let her catch the rattle and she waved it around herself in a clumsy manner, making you laugh.

"Are you going to be a musician just like dada?" you asked her, propping your phone up on a cushion so that you two were shown on camera. You carefully grabbed her tiny hands with yours, rocking the rattle in a steady beat. As she let the toy go and it fell on the rug, you grinned.

"No, right? You're going to be just like your mama. Mama knew it!" you giggled, caressing her tender skin and giving her a big smooch on the cheek, making her laugh highly and squirm.

"Well, can my little Saejin say mama?" you questions, looking her deep into the eyes which curiously stared back at you.

"Say mama" you exclaimed slowly, emphazising the syllables. With her ten months, she sometimes made small noises already, babbling that weren't really words but really close. It was just a matter of time before she would fill the apartment with her talking. And you were sure she will be as loud as your lovely husband.

"Say mama. Mama" you repeated again, playing with her fingers.

"Mama" she slowly mouthed, the word different from what she usually babbles.

Your mouth clapped open, squealing in joy and pressing her small body against your chest as you rocked both of you from side to side, making her giggle. Your chest filled with pride since her first real word ever was mama. Mama! She really said Mama! This was the best moment of your life, you swore!

You could die from the cuteness how she stumbled over the syllables. Despite her difficulties, she really said Mama!

Meanwhile, Mingi had just listened with one ear to your little antics while following the news. Nonetheless, he picked up the delicate word his little peaches had voiced with her high-pitched voice.

Immediately, his head whipped to you, mouth wide open and eyes big. He was so shocked. Never in his life he would have guessed that Saejin would so soon form real words. He pointed at her in disbelief.

"Did-Did she just?" he questioned and you nodded eagerly, your chest swelling with pride.

"She said her first word! Mama!" you squealed, kissing her cheeks. "Say Mama, Saejin. Mama" you tried again, smile from ear to ear as she once again stumbled over the word.

"Yes! You are a natural, Saejin! Such a smart girl, huh?" Mingi was still too stunned to answer. He was excited to experience such a milestone with his little peaches but honestly, he wanted so desperately for her first word to be Dada. He would be so happy just to hear her mumble it once. Once!

While you began preparing your daughter's bottle of milk a little while later, Mingi had switched places with you, watching his baby play with blocks that she mostly drooled on while she nibbled on them.

Giddily, he lifted her up and into his lap, cooing at her fondly when she immediately held his t-shirt with her small fists.

"Hey, my little peaches. Dada wants to hear you speak. Can you say Dada?" he exclaimed, heart beating fast as he impatiently awaited her answer.

But instead of mouthing the word, she fussed a little, a tiny hand reaching up to reach his dark brown hair that had just the same colour as hers.

He catched it in the air, holding her hand desperately. "Concentrate, peaches. Say Dada!" he tried again but there was still no answer. Disappointedly, he pouted, his shoulders hanging.

You watched him amused from the kitchen, shaking your head with a grin. "Dada" he sounded out once more, not loosing his hope. Saejin layed her head to the side, eyes sparkling in a childish manner.

"Mama" his little peaches answers after a few seconds, leaving her dada devasted and sulking in defeat.

You laughed as you reentered the living room with the warm bottle, brushing through your daughter's hair before giving Mingi the milk to let him feed his baby.

"She's mocking me" he complained, a big pout visible while feeding Saejin.

You snorted, taking place on the couch. "I don't think a ten month old baby can bully you, Mings"

"Either way. I'm really disappointed in you, young lady" he spoke, the last part directly to his little peaches as if he had caught her smoking cigarettes.

"Just say Dada!" he exclaimed wailing, almost sounding like a real baby himself. Instead of answering, she nibbled on her index finger, giving her dad a sweet, toothless smile. Frustrated, he cried out, wiping over his eyes in sadness.

"Don't you love your Dada?" he exclaimed, pointing dramatically at her. However, he couldn't hide his pained smile when she wrapped her entire hand around his one finger, not minding the drool that now sticked to his skin.

Even an hour later while making Saejin ready for bed, he tried to get her to say Dada. But she didn't budge, much to Mingi's dismay.

Little did he know that only two days later, his precious little peaches will call him Dada for the first time, leaving him beaming in joy.

[desi2go]

Sore muscles

pairing: Changbin x reader

warnings: fluff

Summary: what happens when Binnie comes home sore from a trainings session?

author's note: hey guys! I'm back (well I hope so). Sorry that I didn't post anything in the last months but my life is so busy right now that I sadly won't be able to post regularly. (But I'll try to update my story on ao3 whenever I have time!)

The door creaked open, dragging out the sound like it could sense his exhaustion, and you immediately heard the telltale signs of his struggle before you even saw him. There was the slow, uneven scuff of sneakers against the wooden floor, the sound of something heavy—his gym bag, no doubt—dropping to the ground with a dull, defeated thud. Then came a low, pained exhale, almost a groan, the kind someone makes when every breath feels like it takes effort. When he finally stepped into view, you barely recognized him.

His hoodie clung to his shoulders, damp with sweat, and his hair was plastered against his forehead in messy, dark strands. His normally bright, playful eyes were dulled with fatigue, and his jaw was tight, like he was gritting his teeth just to stay upright. Even the way he stood was different—his broad shoulders were hunched, his posture sagging as if gravity itself had decided to turn against him.

With judging eyes, you observed your boyfriend who leaned against the wall, his gym shorts were rumpled. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, even more, darkened with the efforts of the night. Honestly, he looked like he just survived a war, not a training session.

"Whoa" you said, closing your book and placing it on the table after sitting up straight on the couch. "You look... rough. Are you okay, babe?"

Changbin didn't answer at first, his eyes briefly roaming over your form before he balanced himself with pressing a hand on the wall. He exhaled slowly. "I bet you won't take a yes for an answer?" Trying to joke failed miserably, his grin only coming out crooked and his voice gravelly.

You stood up, crossing the room to meet him in where he tried so desperately to stay on his feet. "You walk like an old man" you judged him, eyes pinched together. "And I feel like one" he muttered quietly as he bent down slightly to untie his sneakers. Well, he at least tried, stopping in his tracks when he winced from the motion.

"What the hell did you do?" You mumbled worried, dropping to your knees to untie the shoes yourself before tossing them to the other pairs. "Today's training was insane. Chris recommend me the new coach. But oh boy, he is the pure evil, I swear." Changbin explained as he stumbled slightly when he wanted to walk to the couch.

"I didn't even know it was possible for my legs to hurt this much" You curled your fingers around his muscular forearm, guiding your boyfriend before he could topple over again. Every muscle felt like they were rock-hard, not from tension but from exhaustion, like they had been overworked to the point of rebellion.

"Sit down" you said firmly, leaving no room to argue. "I should-"

"Sit, please. Let me take care of you" you interrupted him, your tone soft yet brooking no argument. Sighing heavily, he let himself fall on the soft padding of the couch, nearly collapsing on top of it with a groan that sounded half relieved and half in agony.

He leaned back, closing his eyes eyes, head lolling to the side on a cushion. "I will be back, okay? I'm going to run you a bath" you pressed a quick peck on his damp forehead and headed to the bathroom in order to fill the tub.

While the hot water splashed into it, you dropped some soothing bathing oil in.

Meanwhile, you fetched him new clothes from the bedroom. It didn't take long for the tub to fill, so, you quickly headed back to the living area before your boyfriend fell asleep right then and there in his stinky clothes.

He layed there just like you had left him ten minutes prior, having not even changed his position in any way. Just his steady breathing told you that he was still alive. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open. He looked cute and even though you wanted him to get as much sleep as possible, you shock him awake carefully.

Your hand cupped his cheek, caressing his soft skin. "Babe, wake up. We need to get you all cleaned up before you can sleep" you coaxed. He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes slowly fluttering open. Yawning, he stumbled with your help to the bathroom.

Carefully you helped him out of his clothes, peeling every piece off after the other. You pecked his cheek and went to throw the dirty clothes in the washing machine while he let himself fall into the tub with a sigh, soothing warmth enveloping his strained body. Changbin could practically feel how every little knot undid and his whole body went lax.

On your way back, you fetched him some water from the kitchen that you placed in his hands with a smile. Carefully, he took it with both hands, wincing even at the small motion. With a wash cloth, you spread water over his broad shoulders and neck and afterwards rubbed the remaining sweat off with shampoo.

The whole time, Changbin observed you through half closed eyes, fighting to stay awake. Yet, his gaze was always holding your form passionately. A trace of gratefulness in there. "I can't believe the new coach pushed you so much, even though you have dance practise tomorrow" you mumbled rather to yourself than him, anger bubbling inside of you.

Changbin lifted a hand out of the water and placed it on your arm. "It's okay. I said to him that he shouldn't go light on me just because I'm an idol. The training was good, just really exhausting." He explained, tracing his fingers over your skin. You sighed. "Just don't overdo it, okay? I don't want you injured"

He nodded and pursed his lips, indicating that he wanted a kiss from you. Rolling with your eyes, you pressed your lips together for a sweet peck. "Alright. Let's get you in bed for your massage" you declared, taking his hands and helping him out of the cooling water.

With one of your fluffiest towels, you dried him. "I feel like an old grandpa" he chuckled. You snorted. "I don't care. I love my sweet old boyfriend" you wiggled with your eyebrows. Grabbing the message oil, you followed him into the bedroom. The dim, amber glow from the bedside lamp casted flickering shadows across the room, highlighting the curve of his exposed back as he layed sprawled across the bed. In the air mingledthe subtle sweetness of your massage oil you had just uncapped.

With a gentle tilt, you let a thin stream of the golden liquid trickle onto his shoulder blades, watching as it pooled in the dips of his muscles before slowly gliding down his back. He shivered at the sensation, his skin reacting to the cool contrast against his warm body. Gently, you smoothed the oil across his shoulders with slow, deliberate strokes. You massaged him often, given his hard training sessions, he was often sore and you loved to help him relieve some of the pain with kneading the knots away.

Pressing your palms flat against his upper back, you let the warmth of your hands seep into his skin before you began kneading in slow, circular motions. His body was tight, muscles knotted from overexertion, but under your touch, he gradually began to unravel. Your thumbs pressed deep into the tension points along his traps, rolling out the stiffness with practiced precision that had come over time.

A deep, guttural sigh escaped him, his body sinking further into the mattress. "God, you’re so good at this."

You chuckled softly, leaning in just enough that your breath ghosted over his ear. "I know."

Your hands moved lower, gliding effortlessly down his spine, fingers tracing the ridges of each vertebra before pressing into the firm muscles of his lower back. Changbin flinched slightly at first, a reaction to the tenderness there, but you soothed him with slow, steady pressure, coaxing the tension away with each pass of youe hands. "Why do you always have to overdo it?" you murmured, working your way down towards his hips.

His lips curved into a lazy smile against the pillow. "Maybe because I know that you will fix me after"

You smirked, pouring a little more oil into youe palm before moving to his arms, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his biceps and forearms. His body was all strength—firm, defined, yet completely pliant under your touch. You loved feeling the way he reacted, the way his breathing hitched when you found a particularly sore spot, the way his fingers twitched when you massaged his hands.

When you reached his legs, you both shifted until you straddled his thighs to get better leverage. He made a soft sound of contentment as you began working on his hamstrings, thumbs pressing deeply into the tight muscles, kneading away the ache with slow, methodical movements.

"That’s the spot," he groaned, gripping the sheets. Biting your lip as you worked, a grin was displayed on your lips. You didn't rush, instead, you took your time on every single knot, enjoying the way he melted beneath you. Your hands traveled down to his calves, rolling and squeezing, until every last bit of tension had faded. By the time you finished, his body was completely relaxed, his breathing slow and deep. You leaned forward, your lips pressing softly against the nape of his neck. "Feeling better?" His response was a drowsy hum, his fingers reaching out to blindly grasp yours. "Mmm… you’re a lifesaver."

You curled up beside him, draping an arm over his waist as you whispered, "Get some sleep."

With a content sigh, he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces, warmth radiating between you as sleep claimed you both.

☾☆☽

The next morning rolled by faster than you had expected. Changbin needed to leave for work early and since you were a pretty light sleeper, you heard his alarm go on. Grumbling, you rolled to your boyfriend's side, cuddling further into his embrace.

His hand traced patterns on your back. "Good morning baby" his low and raspy morning voice send tingles through your whole body. "Sorry my alarm woke you" he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"it's okay" you mumbled against his chest, remaining in this position for some time until he really needed to get up in order to arrive in time. You stayed in bed for a bit while Changbin went into the bathroom, still notably stiff from yesterday's workout session and still walking like an old man. You heard water running and then louder noises that made you perk up.

When he swore multiple time that you could even hear over the steady noise of the running water, you decided to check on him since that definitely wasn't usual for him. Slowly, you poked your head in. He was standing in front of the sink, his razor clutching in one hand while his whole lower part of his face was covered in shaving foam.

As he tried to move the razor up to his face, he winced, his muscles clearly stiff and sore. And maybe even a small strain hiding underneath the mass of his muscles. "Should I help you?" You asked in a gentle voice, careful not to spook him while leaning against the door frame.

His gaze immediately shifted towards you, letting his hand fall to the side. "You don't need to help me. Go back to bed baby. You need the sleep" he tried to coax.

You observed him with a judging look. "You're sure? I heard you swear. It's okay to ask for help. I'd love to take care of you" you soothed, taking the last few steps towards you and grabbed the razor. "Come on. Sit" you nudged him to the toilet where he sat down on the lid.

"You don't need to do that, you know?" He whispered as you leaned in, fully concentrated. "I know but I want to"

Carefully, you positioned the razor and shaved slowly. The way he watched every of your movements closely had you chuckling as you cleaned it with water.

"what? Afraid that I cut you?" You grabbed his chin and tilted his head to get better access. His eyes sparkled with adoration. "Never. I trust you wholly" he whispered, shutting his eyes as you reapplied the razor.

"You better be" you murmured, cleaning the little stubbles from the razor with the water in the sink.

"You're sure you can attend practise? Your arms seemed still pretty sore and I think they might even be strained." You argued, placing the razor on his cheek and pulling it down carefully, never once lifting your gaze from the razor.

"Well, I need to attend. The others will be disappointed and I can't lack in dancing" he answered, his hand playing with the hem of your sleep shirt.

"They will survive surely without you. Plus, I have already texted Chan yesterday night before sleeping. It's totally fine" you wiggled your eyebrows as you saw his impressed look on his face.

"I have nothing to say in it, right?" He smirked crookedly, eyes sparkling with adoration. You laughed mischievously.

"Nope, absolutely not. You will spend the day with me even if I have to chain you to the bed"

He snorted, shaking his head after you had placed the razor down and cleaning his face with a fluffy towel.

"Maybe I should remind you of your place, baby" he murmured seducingly, voice dropping as he flirted with you. His hand kneaded the skin on your hips, pinching it from time to time in a mocking manner.

You giggled, pecking his sweet lips. "Tempting, very tempting" you sing-sang, butterflies swirling in your stomach as he manhandled you as best as he could with his strained muscles, leading your lips on his for a hard and longing kiss. When his sore muscles had subsided, you were going to have a lot of fun.

[desi2go]

Christmas Scavenger Hunt

pairing: Jisung x reader

words: 4,3k

warnings: fluff, christmas

summary: You and Jisung share a magical holiday experience when Jisung plans a scavenger hunt filled with clues tied to your most cherished memories.

author's note: Hey guys! It's been a while since I posted something. Anyways, I'm back! I had so much fun writing this and btw it's for the StayblrHolidayEvent. I hope you enjoy it <3 Merry Christmas to yall!

-> @stayblrofficial

The first snow of December had come earlier than expected this year, layering the little town in a soft, powdery white. Everything felt quieter, more magical – the world had slowed down just enough to let her breathe. As you walked briskly through the streets towards Parchment Palace, the small independent bookstore where you worked. Your breath was foggy in the frosty air, twinkling lights lined the lampposts and wreaths decorated the storefronts with pops of red ribbon. You absolutely loved Christmas. It had always been your favourite time of year with hot chocolate, the smell of pine and cinnamon as well as Christmas movies you had watched a hundred times without getting bored. By now, you could quote every Christmas related movie that was ever produced. This year, though, felt different. There was something – or rather, someone – that made your cheeks warm even in the winter chill.

Jisung.

It had been only four months since you and Jisung started seeing each other. Four months of easy laughter, long conversations and quiet meaningful moments. He wasn’t the most outgoing guy due to his social anxieties, but he had this gentle, thoughtful way about him. Like he always noticed things others didn’t. You liked that about him, you liked a lot about him, actually.

The bell above Parchment Palace jingled as you stepped inside, the familiar smell of paper and vanilla candles greeted you. Sofia, your cheerful coworker and oldest friend, looked up from the counter and grinned widely. “Morning Y/n” she said, brushing her curly hair out of her face. “Someone’s looking extra giddy today” You rolled your eyes, a smile still spreading over your lips. “I’m just excited about Christmas”

She smirked, wiggling with her eyebrows. “You mean you’re excited about Christmas with Jisung” At her suggestion, you fought the blush that crept up your cheeks. “Maybe”

Sofia chuckled, holding up a small envelope that she waved through the air. “Speaking of, this was mysteriously dropped off for you earlier. No return address, no name. Just To Y/n. Care to explain?” You reached out after hanging up your jacket. “It’s from Jisung, isn’t it?” you murmured while Sofia urged you to find it out, observing the letter behind your back. Your heart skipped as your fingers brushed over the neatly folded paper. As you opened it, you immediately recognised Jisung’s handwriting, slightly messy but unmistakably his.

A little clue to start your day: Find where we first sat with coffee for two. There’s something there only for you to see.

Your lips parted in disbelief, rereading the few lines over and over again. “He’s sending me on a scavenger hunt?” Sofia clapped her hands together in excitement. “He is such a keeper. Honestly, he is making all the other boys look bad” You could hardly contain your joy as you shoved the note securely into your bag. “I can’t believe he actually did this” Sofia laughed, pushing you towards the door and holding your jacket in the other. “I will manage alone here. Go, you have got a mystery to solve”

❄❄❄❄❄

You stepped out of the bookstore into the crisp, snow-kissed morning. The streets were still bustling with holiday shoppers, their arms full of bags, red and green scarves tight against the cold. You tugged your own scarf closer around the neck, the note Jisung had left still snug in your bag. You couldn’t stop smiling. A scavenger hunt. He really planned a scavenger hunt. Jisung wasn’t the flashy or over-the-top like the romantic leads in Christmas movies you loved so dearly, but he had his own charm and this? This was exactly the kind of thing that would melt your heart. Thoughtful and so personal. It already felt like the best Christmas you had ever had, and it hadn’t even arrived yet.

The Blissful Brews was just around the corner, nestled between an old record store and a boutique that sold handmade jewellery. In that old record store worked Jisung. There, you had crossed paths for the first time as you bought your favourite albums and accidentally ran into him. You still remembered how his coffee had drenched your blouse and his deep apologies. The Blissful Brews was the kind of coffee shop that locals loved – warm and small enough that you could find someone you knew sitting in the corner with a steaming mug. The windows were fogged over from the warmth inside and the soft music spilled out as you pushed through the door. Rich espresso mingled with the sweetness of cinnamon and sugar – one of your favourite smells in the world, second only to fresh books and old paper. You paused for a moment near the entrance to take it all in. Everything about this place reminded you of Jisung. The first time you really met (well, if you don’t consider the little accident) and you were so nervous. He had invited you to a coffee as an apology. At that time, you didn’t know that he soon will cross the line between friendship and love.

Now, standing in the familiar warmth of the café, you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. They both had been incredibly nervous, and the first few minutes were awkward as you had ordered. But this issue was overcome pretty quickly, and you were engaged in a deep conversation for hours. “Can I help you?” the young barista asked, leaning on the counter and eyeing her with an amused expression. You turned to observe the man that had dyed his hair in an unusual pinkish colour. You greeted him, telling him that you searched for an envelope. Of course, he knew you. He was the one that took your orders. Raising his eyebrows, he smiled. “A scavenger hunt clue, maybe?” You blinked, surprised. “Jisung told you?” The barista smirked sheepishly. “He may have come in last night and left something for you. That boy is so sweet” He gestured towards the back of the shop. Of course, why didn’t you think about it earlier? It was obvious that Jisung would have hidden at your table – the small two-seater tucked near the huge window where you had sat on your first unofficial date.

Your boots clicked softly against the wooden floor as you made your way to it, the hum of conversation and the faint clatter of cups filling the air. Your heart did a little flip when you saw a piece of paper carefully taped to the back of one of the chairs. He really did plan this whole thing, you thought. The handwriting was unmistakably Jisung’s, looking like he had been scribbling quickly.

Clue Two: Remember the big storm where you got soaked? You laughed at me ‘til you nearly choked. Go where we took cover and found some cheer, You will find your next clue there.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that memory. It had been one of your earlier dates, back in late September. The weather had been cold but clear when you walked around the town. Jisung, as always, had insisted on walking you back home after the successful date – even though it was a good twenty-minute trip, and his own apartment was on the other side of the town. Halfway through, the first droplets of rain started to fall that had been signalized by the dark clouds and the stormy wind. Small and cold, the water absorbed by your thin jacket. “Oh no” you had muttered, looking up at the ominous grey clouds overhead. Jisung, always the optimist, had grinned. “Maybe it will just be a drizzle” he commented.

Well, it wasn’t. Within moments, the rain had come down in buckets, soaking both of you to the bone, clothes clinging to your wet skin. You remembered standing there in the middle of the street, your hair plastered to your face, water running down your jacket in rivulets. And Jisung stared at you helplessly like he was trying to think of something heroic to do. “Umbrella?” he had stammered. “Too late for that” you said, giggling while you brushed your hair out of your face. Jisung had looked at you like you were slightly insane but the smile permanent on his lips. He had tugged you to a small shop, taking shelter there. The quirky little clothing shop near your apartment where he had bought you a fluffy, deep blue hoodie with a funny picture on it to keep you warm. So far, it was one of your favourite hoodies, creating a great memento of your date.

Now standing in that same clothing store, the second clue clutched in your hand, you searched through the cozy, cluttered shop filled with all different kinds and seizes of clothes in multiple colours. The old shopkeeper, looked up with a knowing smile. The smile of the grey-haired lady was kind and warm. “Ah Y/n” she greeted you, folding new clothes and putting them away on of the racks. “Jisung mentioned you would be coming by” You blinked. “He told you about this?”

Her laughter spread the whole shop. “Of course. That lovesick boy spent nearly an hour here yesterday, making sure that everything was perfect” You followed her to the counter as she pulled out a big paper bag. As soon as you opened it, your gaze locked on a red hoodie, decorated with small white snowflakes. You chuckled at the parallel to your past date. On top sat another note.

Here, my love, is clue three: Our bench in the park, Where we shared our first kiss. A memory I hold, sweet and kind, Go back there now and you will find the next clue.

❄❄❄❄❄

As you stepped back out into the cold, the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky, you couldn’t stop the giddy excitement bubbling inside you. Every little detail Jisung had included so far – the places, the memories, the clues – was so perfectly. Your boots crunched against the freshly fallen snow as you walked quickly towards the park. The streets were busier now, families wandering hand-in-hand, and the shop windows glowing warmly in the gathering dusk. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, your breath misting in the cold air. The park wasn’t far from the clothing shop and soon, you found yourself standing at the entrance, the large trees stood brave in the falling snow, their branches dusted with snow.

The benches – especially the one you were looking for – were a small island in the white. You scanned the park, looking for the familiar sight. There it was, your bench. The bench where Jisung finally made you, his girlfriend. It was tucked beneath an old oak tree, the powdery snow gathering slowly on the wooden slats. The tree’s branches stretched overhead, and you could almost hear your memories of your past visits. The easy conversations, the quiet moments where you had leaned your head against his shoulder. And then, the kiss happened and symbolised the beginning of your relationship. He had seemed so nervous, his gaze wandering over your face, from time to time locking on your lips, not sure if he was allowed to lean in and capture them. You didn’t act differently.

Honestly, he had won your heart over at your fist unofficial date. As you told him about your day, your own eyes travelled over his soft, pillowy lips, imagining how it would be to kiss him. Eventually, he took all his courage and pressed his lips firmly on yours. Before you could even react, your mind still trying to understand what happened, he retracted. As he brushed through his hair in panic, stuttering apologies, you shook yourself out of your trance and grabbed the collar of his jacket. Swiftly, you pulled him towards you again, his voice was overflowing while you silenced him skilfully. This time, you lead the kiss and quickly, he recovered from the shock and reciprocated the tender gesture.

You reached the bench, smiling to yourself as you saw the small package, wrapped simply in brown paper and a beautiful red bow. Bending down, you brushed the thin layer of snow from the package and untied the bow as well as the paper. A big mug caught your eye, pulling it out from underneath the carefully wrapped papers to ensure that it won’t break.

You turned it to inspect the motif, heart fluttering in your chest as soon as your gaze fell on the photo printed on it. It wasn’t just any photo, no, it showed you two, his cheeks squished against yours tightly. You took it right here on the bench a few weeks prior on a date. Both of your smiles were bright, eyes sparkling with joy and adoration. Your chest tightened, touched by the thoughtful gesture as you pulled the mug close to your heart. This would be your favourite mug from now on. Inside, folded carefully, was the next clue. You pulled it out with a mixture of excitement and curiosity, unfolding it gently as if it were something fragile. Jisung’s handwriting filled the page.

Clue Four: It’s time for the final stop on our trip, Come warm up your hand and take a sip, Come Home where the heart will be, Find me, my love, and you will see.

Your heart leapt. Home. It was a simple word, but it meant so much to you. Your home had always been your apartment – your cozy little space filled with tons of books where you had lived since you moved into this town. But with Jisung, it had started to feel like more than just an apartment. As the weather was colder and rainy, you had spent much time there together, arguing over which Christmas movie to watch, cooking dinner side by side and wrapping presents for family and friends.

Slowly, over the last few months, it had become a place where you could imagine a future, a future with him. With this scavenger hunt, he wasn’t trying to be someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t flashy and didn’t plan some over-the-top romantic gesture straight out of a movie. What he had done was so much better – he had paid attention to the small, quiet moments you had shared. The memories that felt uniquely yours.

You read the note again, realizing what the clue actually meant. Jisung was waiting for you. “Home” you murmured to yourself, your breath fogging in the cold air. You felt a flutter of anticipation deep in your chest as you made your way back down the snowy path toward the street, eager to reach your apartment, to see what Jisung had planned next. The walk was quick, but it felt like an eternity. Each step seemed to pull your closer to something that had always been just out of reach – a feeling of belonging. With Jisung.

❄❄❄❄❄

When you reached your apartment building, it felt like the final puzzle piece was clicking into place. The familiar steps that led to the entrance, the little lobby with its mismatched furniture and the clattering sounds of neighbours going about their daily routines – all of it was comforting. It was home. Now, there was the promise of something even more special waiting inside. You climbed the stairs to the floor, your boots clicking softly on the old wooden steps. The snow outside created a thin layer of frost now thick enough to blanket everything in white. But inside, the warmth from her apartment was waiting – just like Jisung. When you reached the door, something was different.

The dim hallway light flickered above your head, casting soft shadows on the walls. But what really caught her attention was the way the hallway smelled. It wasn’t the usual scent of fresh air or coffee from the neighbours down the hall. This time, there was something warmer, sweeter in the air. Curious, you approached your door and paused, your hand resting lightly on the doorknob. The faintest glow of light slipped through the crack beneath the door, casting a soft, inviting warmth into the otherwise dark hallway.

You opened the door slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you stepped inside, observing your apartment in search of Jisung. There, in the middle of the living room, was the most unexpected sight – a blanket fort. An actual blanket fort. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or cry at how utterly this was. Soft blankets and throws were draped over every available surface, creating a small cozy cocoon in the centre of your living room. Christmas lights twinkled across the top, casting a soft glow. There were pillows scattered everywhere, some piled high inside the fort, others lining the floor like a cushiony path. It was like a childhood dream, but somehow even better – because this time, you had Jisung.

The small Christmas tree you two had bought together last week (well, he helped you with finding the perfect one since you couldn’t decide which one to get and brought it to your apartment since the tree was too heavy for you to lift). Despite your bickering that he should let you help at least with holding it up too, he wanted to do it alone, claiming that it was his job as your boyfriend. You had decorated the Christmas tree together, in the background played your favourite playlist to which you both sang loudly, hanging the handmade ornaments and paper snowflakes on the twigs.

Your heart swelled with pride as you took it all in, trying to figure out how you could get so lucky to have such a thoughtful boyfriend. And then, you heard him in the kitchen, he seemed to be preparing something but as he realised you were home, he stalked into the living area. Two steaming mugs in his hand, your favourites you recognised, His eyes displayed fondness when he observed you, smiling brightly.

“Hey, my love” he greeted you, placing the mugs onto the small couch table before turning to you again. You stepped closer, your feet light on the carpet as you walked towards him, his smile got playful. Hands on your hips, you tried to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. “So, this is the big finale? A blanket fort? You had me running all over town for this?” A mischievous smile appeared on his lips. “Hey now, this is a masterpiece. I spent hour building and rebuilding it until we both can fit inside. It’s the crown jewel of the scavenger hunt” he exclaimed, fully convinced with his grand idea. You raised your eyebrows, judging his so-called masterpiece. You must say that he did a really good job at building it.

“I must admit, it looks nice” you told him your decision, smiling fondly. “Did you plan all of this?” He nodded proudly, pulling you inside and placed a mug into your hands. As you analysed it further, you realised it was a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and colourful sprinkles. Just how you liked it. The interior of the fort was cozy and intimate, pillows scattered across the floor, and the twinkling lights above gave the space a dreamy glow. You let out a breath you didn’t knew you were holding. “This is … incredible. This whole journey was wonderful.” you whispered. Jisung shifted, his comfortable scent wafting surrounded you, he smelled like home – your home.

“No need to thank me. Even though we are only four months into our relationship, I wanted to do something special. Because in this short time, my life has changed drastically. You became the centre of my life, my love.” he explained, pulling your hand into his, heating your cold fingers as he caressed the skin lightly. His gaze was soft, full of love when he continued.

“And I wanted you to feel how much everything I experienced with you means to me, every single memory we made together. How much you mean to me” You looked at him, your eyes shining while the weight of his words sank in. “I noticed” you stated quietly. “The café where we had our ‘unofficial’ date. The clothing store when we were surprised by the sudden rain. The bench where we shared so many memories, our first kiss included. You didn’t just send me running around town, Ji. You sent me through us”. Your boyfriend leaned back on his elbows, his gaze softening.

“That was the idea” he admitted. “Sometimes we get caught up in the present, in everything happening around us. And I just wanted to take you back – to remind us of all the moments that brought us here”. Your other hand traced the edge of one of the blankets as you took a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly. “It worked. Every step of the way, I felt it – how much thought, how much love you put into this. I’ve never had anything like this before, Jisung. It’s overwhelming, in the best way” The tears you fought to keep in, slowly escaped and rolled over your cheeks as you sobbed because of how much you adored this man next to you and the weight of not only his words but also his actions.

He cooed at you fondly, cupping your face with his hands, brushing the tears away while placing a sweet peck on your forehead. “Don’t cry. You know I can’t stand it when you cry” Soothingly he rocked you, humming to help you calm down. You smiled at him, puffy eyes but you promised that this were happy tears. “This” you said finally “is more than I ever could ask for” You leaned into him, resting your head against Jisung’s shoulder.

“I know that it’s not Christmas Day. But I have another gift for you” he stated, reaching into his hoodie pocket and pulling out a small, wrapped package. “I thought the fort was the grand finale?” You asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. He placed it gracefully into your open palm, his expression playful but tinges with something deeper. “You could describe it as an addition. Go on, open it”

You tore into the wrapping carefully, your fingers grazing the brown paper and the simple red ribbon. Inside was a small wooden box, its surface smooth and polished. Your breath caught as you opened it, revealing an assortment of trinkets nestled inside. There was a ticket stub from your first movie date, the corner slightly torn where he had fidgeted with it nervously. A pressed leave from the time you had from the time you spent in the park with a picnic as the weather wasn’t that bad, even for autumn. Several other things from past dates were laying in the box. The memories flooded back in vivid detail. “You kept all of this?” your voice broke again as tears welled up. He chuckled, his gaze steady. “Of course. I wanted to remember it all – the moments that made me realize how much you mean to me”

You swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat that made it difficult to speak. “I don’t even know what to say. This … This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me”. He smiled widely, pecking your forehead once again. “Thank you so much, Ji” “I’m glad, because you mean the world to me, Y/n. And I think there’s one more thing we’re missing to make this moment perfect” He brushed a hair strand out of your face, his touch lingering for a memory before his gaze dropped to your lips. “What’s that?” You smiled widely, already knowing what he is up to. After four months, you had figured out what he meant with that but you tagged along.

“This” The fondness in his eyes made your heart stutter and you couldn’t help but lean closer to him, capturing his lips with your own in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft, pillowy even, and you could even taste the chocolate from the hot chocolate that he had sipped on before. The kiss was filled with promises that only love could carry, the rest of the world melting away, leaving only the two of you and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where you were meant to be. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against Jisung’s, your eyes shining with joy while your boyfriend tightened his arms around you in a protective manner.

Comfortably, you leaned back and cuddled further into his embrace and the blankets that were like a fuzzy cocoon, enveloping you in warmth. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else for the rest of your life. “We have got so much more to add to this box”.

[desi2go]

Christmas Scavenger Hunt

pairing: Jisung x reader

words: 4,3k

warnings: fluff, christmas

summary: You and Jisung share a magical holiday experience when Jisung plans a scavenger hunt filled with clues tied to your most cherished memories.

author's note: Hey guys! It's been a while since I posted something. Anyways, I'm back! I had so much fun writing this and btw it's for the StayblrHolidayEvent. I hope you enjoy it <3 Merry Christmas to yall!

-> @stayblrofficial

The first snow of December had come earlier than expected this year, layering the little town in a soft, powdery white. Everything felt quieter, more magical – the world had slowed down just enough to let her breathe. As you walked briskly through the streets towards Parchment Palace, the small independent bookstore where you worked. Your breath was foggy in the frosty air, twinkling lights lined the lampposts and wreaths decorated the storefronts with pops of red ribbon. You absolutely loved Christmas. It had always been your favourite time of year with hot chocolate, the smell of pine and cinnamon as well as Christmas movies you had watched a hundred times without getting bored. By now, you could quote every Christmas related movie that was ever produced. This year, though, felt different. There was something – or rather, someone – that made your cheeks warm even in the winter chill.

Jisung.

It had been only four months since you and Jisung started seeing each other. Four months of easy laughter, long conversations and quiet meaningful moments. He wasn’t the most outgoing guy due to his social anxieties, but he had this gentle, thoughtful way about him. Like he always noticed things others didn’t. You liked that about him, you liked a lot about him, actually.

The bell above Parchment Palace jingled as you stepped inside, the familiar smell of paper and vanilla candles greeted you. Sofia, your cheerful coworker and oldest friend, looked up from the counter and grinned widely. “Morning Y/n” she said, brushing her curly hair out of her face. “Someone’s looking extra giddy today” You rolled your eyes, a smile still spreading over your lips. “I’m just excited about Christmas”

She smirked, wiggling with her eyebrows. “You mean you’re excited about Christmas with Jisung” At her suggestion, you fought the blush that crept up your cheeks. “Maybe”

Sofia chuckled, holding up a small envelope that she waved through the air. “Speaking of, this was mysteriously dropped off for you earlier. No return address, no name. Just To Y/n. Care to explain?” You reached out after hanging up your jacket. “It’s from Jisung, isn’t it?” you murmured while Sofia urged you to find it out, observing the letter behind your back. Your heart skipped as your fingers brushed over the neatly folded paper. As you opened it, you immediately recognised Jisung’s handwriting, slightly messy but unmistakably his.

A little clue to start your day: Find where we first sat with coffee for two. There’s something there only for you to see.

Your lips parted in disbelief, rereading the few lines over and over again. “He’s sending me on a scavenger hunt?” Sofia clapped her hands together in excitement. “He is such a keeper. Honestly, he is making all the other boys look bad” You could hardly contain your joy as you shoved the note securely into your bag. “I can’t believe he actually did this” Sofia laughed, pushing you towards the door and holding your jacket in the other. “I will manage alone here. Go, you have got a mystery to solve”

❄❄❄❄❄

You stepped out of the bookstore into the crisp, snow-kissed morning. The streets were still bustling with holiday shoppers, their arms full of bags, red and green scarves tight against the cold. You tugged your own scarf closer around the neck, the note Jisung had left still snug in your bag. You couldn’t stop smiling. A scavenger hunt. He really planned a scavenger hunt. Jisung wasn’t the flashy or over-the-top like the romantic leads in Christmas movies you loved so dearly, but he had his own charm and this? This was exactly the kind of thing that would melt your heart. Thoughtful and so personal. It already felt like the best Christmas you had ever had, and it hadn’t even arrived yet.

The Blissful Brews was just around the corner, nestled between an old record store and a boutique that sold handmade jewellery. In that old record store worked Jisung. There, you had crossed paths for the first time as you bought your favourite albums and accidentally ran into him. You still remembered how his coffee had drenched your blouse and his deep apologies. The Blissful Brews was the kind of coffee shop that locals loved – warm and small enough that you could find someone you knew sitting in the corner with a steaming mug. The windows were fogged over from the warmth inside and the soft music spilled out as you pushed through the door. Rich espresso mingled with the sweetness of cinnamon and sugar – one of your favourite smells in the world, second only to fresh books and old paper. You paused for a moment near the entrance to take it all in. Everything about this place reminded you of Jisung. The first time you really met (well, if you don’t consider the little accident) and you were so nervous. He had invited you to a coffee as an apology. At that time, you didn’t know that he soon will cross the line between friendship and love.

Now, standing in the familiar warmth of the café, you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. They both had been incredibly nervous, and the first few minutes were awkward as you had ordered. But this issue was overcome pretty quickly, and you were engaged in a deep conversation for hours. “Can I help you?” the young barista asked, leaning on the counter and eyeing her with an amused expression. You turned to observe the man that had dyed his hair in an unusual pinkish colour. You greeted him, telling him that you searched for an envelope. Of course, he knew you. He was the one that took your orders. Raising his eyebrows, he smiled. “A scavenger hunt clue, maybe?” You blinked, surprised. “Jisung told you?” The barista smirked sheepishly. “He may have come in last night and left something for you. That boy is so sweet” He gestured towards the back of the shop. Of course, why didn’t you think about it earlier? It was obvious that Jisung would have hidden at your table – the small two-seater tucked near the huge window where you had sat on your first unofficial date.

Your boots clicked softly against the wooden floor as you made your way to it, the hum of conversation and the faint clatter of cups filling the air. Your heart did a little flip when you saw a piece of paper carefully taped to the back of one of the chairs. He really did plan this whole thing, you thought. The handwriting was unmistakably Jisung’s, looking like he had been scribbling quickly.

Clue Two: Remember the big storm where you got soaked? You laughed at me ‘til you nearly choked. Go where we took cover and found some cheer, You will find your next clue there.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that memory. It had been one of your earlier dates, back in late September. The weather had been cold but clear when you walked around the town. Jisung, as always, had insisted on walking you back home after the successful date – even though it was a good twenty-minute trip, and his own apartment was on the other side of the town. Halfway through, the first droplets of rain started to fall that had been signalized by the dark clouds and the stormy wind. Small and cold, the water absorbed by your thin jacket. “Oh no” you had muttered, looking up at the ominous grey clouds overhead. Jisung, always the optimist, had grinned. “Maybe it will just be a drizzle” he commented.

Well, it wasn’t. Within moments, the rain had come down in buckets, soaking both of you to the bone, clothes clinging to your wet skin. You remembered standing there in the middle of the street, your hair plastered to your face, water running down your jacket in rivulets. And Jisung stared at you helplessly like he was trying to think of something heroic to do. “Umbrella?” he had stammered. “Too late for that” you said, giggling while you brushed your hair out of your face. Jisung had looked at you like you were slightly insane but the smile permanent on his lips. He had tugged you to a small shop, taking shelter there. The quirky little clothing shop near your apartment where he had bought you a fluffy, deep blue hoodie with a funny picture on it to keep you warm. So far, it was one of your favourite hoodies, creating a great memento of your date.

Now standing in that same clothing store, the second clue clutched in your hand, you searched through the cozy, cluttered shop filled with all different kinds and seizes of clothes in multiple colours. The old shopkeeper, looked up with a knowing smile. The smile of the grey-haired lady was kind and warm. “Ah Y/n” she greeted you, folding new clothes and putting them away on of the racks. “Jisung mentioned you would be coming by” You blinked. “He told you about this?”

Her laughter spread the whole shop. “Of course. That lovesick boy spent nearly an hour here yesterday, making sure that everything was perfect” You followed her to the counter as she pulled out a big paper bag. As soon as you opened it, your gaze locked on a red hoodie, decorated with small white snowflakes. You chuckled at the parallel to your past date. On top sat another note.

Here, my love, is clue three: Our bench in the park, Where we shared our first kiss. A memory I hold, sweet and kind, Go back there now and you will find the next clue.

❄❄❄❄❄

As you stepped back out into the cold, the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky, you couldn’t stop the giddy excitement bubbling inside you. Every little detail Jisung had included so far – the places, the memories, the clues – was so perfectly. Your boots crunched against the freshly fallen snow as you walked quickly towards the park. The streets were busier now, families wandering hand-in-hand, and the shop windows glowing warmly in the gathering dusk. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, your breath misting in the cold air. The park wasn’t far from the clothing shop and soon, you found yourself standing at the entrance, the large trees stood brave in the falling snow, their branches dusted with snow.

The benches – especially the one you were looking for – were a small island in the white. You scanned the park, looking for the familiar sight. There it was, your bench. The bench where Jisung finally made you, his girlfriend. It was tucked beneath an old oak tree, the powdery snow gathering slowly on the wooden slats. The tree’s branches stretched overhead, and you could almost hear your memories of your past visits. The easy conversations, the quiet moments where you had leaned your head against his shoulder. And then, the kiss happened and symbolised the beginning of your relationship. He had seemed so nervous, his gaze wandering over your face, from time to time locking on your lips, not sure if he was allowed to lean in and capture them. You didn’t act differently.

Honestly, he had won your heart over at your fist unofficial date. As you told him about your day, your own eyes travelled over his soft, pillowy lips, imagining how it would be to kiss him. Eventually, he took all his courage and pressed his lips firmly on yours. Before you could even react, your mind still trying to understand what happened, he retracted. As he brushed through his hair in panic, stuttering apologies, you shook yourself out of your trance and grabbed the collar of his jacket. Swiftly, you pulled him towards you again, his voice was overflowing while you silenced him skilfully. This time, you lead the kiss and quickly, he recovered from the shock and reciprocated the tender gesture.

You reached the bench, smiling to yourself as you saw the small package, wrapped simply in brown paper and a beautiful red bow. Bending down, you brushed the thin layer of snow from the package and untied the bow as well as the paper. A big mug caught your eye, pulling it out from underneath the carefully wrapped papers to ensure that it won’t break.

You turned it to inspect the motif, heart fluttering in your chest as soon as your gaze fell on the photo printed on it. It wasn’t just any photo, no, it showed you two, his cheeks squished against yours tightly. You took it right here on the bench a few weeks prior on a date. Both of your smiles were bright, eyes sparkling with joy and adoration. Your chest tightened, touched by the thoughtful gesture as you pulled the mug close to your heart. This would be your favourite mug from now on. Inside, folded carefully, was the next clue. You pulled it out with a mixture of excitement and curiosity, unfolding it gently as if it were something fragile. Jisung’s handwriting filled the page.

Clue Four: It’s time for the final stop on our trip, Come warm up your hand and take a sip, Come Home where the heart will be, Find me, my love, and you will see.

Your heart leapt. Home. It was a simple word, but it meant so much to you. Your home had always been your apartment – your cozy little space filled with tons of books where you had lived since you moved into this town. But with Jisung, it had started to feel like more than just an apartment. As the weather was colder and rainy, you had spent much time there together, arguing over which Christmas movie to watch, cooking dinner side by side and wrapping presents for family and friends.

Slowly, over the last few months, it had become a place where you could imagine a future, a future with him. With this scavenger hunt, he wasn’t trying to be someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t flashy and didn’t plan some over-the-top romantic gesture straight out of a movie. What he had done was so much better – he had paid attention to the small, quiet moments you had shared. The memories that felt uniquely yours.

You read the note again, realizing what the clue actually meant. Jisung was waiting for you. “Home” you murmured to yourself, your breath fogging in the cold air. You felt a flutter of anticipation deep in your chest as you made your way back down the snowy path toward the street, eager to reach your apartment, to see what Jisung had planned next. The walk was quick, but it felt like an eternity. Each step seemed to pull your closer to something that had always been just out of reach – a feeling of belonging. With Jisung.

❄❄❄❄❄

When you reached your apartment building, it felt like the final puzzle piece was clicking into place. The familiar steps that led to the entrance, the little lobby with its mismatched furniture and the clattering sounds of neighbours going about their daily routines – all of it was comforting. It was home. Now, there was the promise of something even more special waiting inside. You climbed the stairs to the floor, your boots clicking softly on the old wooden steps. The snow outside created a thin layer of frost now thick enough to blanket everything in white. But inside, the warmth from her apartment was waiting – just like Jisung. When you reached the door, something was different.

The dim hallway light flickered above your head, casting soft shadows on the walls. But what really caught her attention was the way the hallway smelled. It wasn’t the usual scent of fresh air or coffee from the neighbours down the hall. This time, there was something warmer, sweeter in the air. Curious, you approached your door and paused, your hand resting lightly on the doorknob. The faintest glow of light slipped through the crack beneath the door, casting a soft, inviting warmth into the otherwise dark hallway.

You opened the door slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you stepped inside, observing your apartment in search of Jisung. There, in the middle of the living room, was the most unexpected sight – a blanket fort. An actual blanket fort. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or cry at how utterly this was. Soft blankets and throws were draped over every available surface, creating a small cozy cocoon in the centre of your living room. Christmas lights twinkled across the top, casting a soft glow. There were pillows scattered everywhere, some piled high inside the fort, others lining the floor like a cushiony path. It was like a childhood dream, but somehow even better – because this time, you had Jisung.

The small Christmas tree you two had bought together last week (well, he helped you with finding the perfect one since you couldn’t decide which one to get and brought it to your apartment since the tree was too heavy for you to lift). Despite your bickering that he should let you help at least with holding it up too, he wanted to do it alone, claiming that it was his job as your boyfriend. You had decorated the Christmas tree together, in the background played your favourite playlist to which you both sang loudly, hanging the handmade ornaments and paper snowflakes on the twigs.

Your heart swelled with pride as you took it all in, trying to figure out how you could get so lucky to have such a thoughtful boyfriend. And then, you heard him in the kitchen, he seemed to be preparing something but as he realised you were home, he stalked into the living area. Two steaming mugs in his hand, your favourites you recognised, His eyes displayed fondness when he observed you, smiling brightly.

“Hey, my love” he greeted you, placing the mugs onto the small couch table before turning to you again. You stepped closer, your feet light on the carpet as you walked towards him, his smile got playful. Hands on your hips, you tried to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. “So, this is the big finale? A blanket fort? You had me running all over town for this?” A mischievous smile appeared on his lips. “Hey now, this is a masterpiece. I spent hour building and rebuilding it until we both can fit inside. It’s the crown jewel of the scavenger hunt” he exclaimed, fully convinced with his grand idea. You raised your eyebrows, judging his so-called masterpiece. You must say that he did a really good job at building it.

“I must admit, it looks nice” you told him your decision, smiling fondly. “Did you plan all of this?” He nodded proudly, pulling you inside and placed a mug into your hands. As you analysed it further, you realised it was a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and colourful sprinkles. Just how you liked it. The interior of the fort was cozy and intimate, pillows scattered across the floor, and the twinkling lights above gave the space a dreamy glow. You let out a breath you didn’t knew you were holding. “This is … incredible. This whole journey was wonderful.” you whispered. Jisung shifted, his comfortable scent wafting surrounded you, he smelled like home – your home.

“No need to thank me. Even though we are only four months into our relationship, I wanted to do something special. Because in this short time, my life has changed drastically. You became the centre of my life, my love.” he explained, pulling your hand into his, heating your cold fingers as he caressed the skin lightly. His gaze was soft, full of love when he continued.

“And I wanted you to feel how much everything I experienced with you means to me, every single memory we made together. How much you mean to me” You looked at him, your eyes shining while the weight of his words sank in. “I noticed” you stated quietly. “The café where we had our ‘unofficial’ date. The clothing store when we were surprised by the sudden rain. The bench where we shared so many memories, our first kiss included. You didn’t just send me running around town, Ji. You sent me through us”. Your boyfriend leaned back on his elbows, his gaze softening.

“That was the idea” he admitted. “Sometimes we get caught up in the present, in everything happening around us. And I just wanted to take you back – to remind us of all the moments that brought us here”. Your other hand traced the edge of one of the blankets as you took a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly. “It worked. Every step of the way, I felt it – how much thought, how much love you put into this. I’ve never had anything like this before, Jisung. It’s overwhelming, in the best way” The tears you fought to keep in, slowly escaped and rolled over your cheeks as you sobbed because of how much you adored this man next to you and the weight of not only his words but also his actions.

He cooed at you fondly, cupping your face with his hands, brushing the tears away while placing a sweet peck on your forehead. “Don’t cry. You know I can’t stand it when you cry” Soothingly he rocked you, humming to help you calm down. You smiled at him, puffy eyes but you promised that this were happy tears. “This” you said finally “is more than I ever could ask for” You leaned into him, resting your head against Jisung’s shoulder.

“I know that it’s not Christmas Day. But I have another gift for you” he stated, reaching into his hoodie pocket and pulling out a small, wrapped package. “I thought the fort was the grand finale?” You asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. He placed it gracefully into your open palm, his expression playful but tinges with something deeper. “You could describe it as an addition. Go on, open it”

You tore into the wrapping carefully, your fingers grazing the brown paper and the simple red ribbon. Inside was a small wooden box, its surface smooth and polished. Your breath caught as you opened it, revealing an assortment of trinkets nestled inside. There was a ticket stub from your first movie date, the corner slightly torn where he had fidgeted with it nervously. A pressed leave from the time you had from the time you spent in the park with a picnic as the weather wasn’t that bad, even for autumn. Several other things from past dates were laying in the box. The memories flooded back in vivid detail. “You kept all of this?” your voice broke again as tears welled up. He chuckled, his gaze steady. “Of course. I wanted to remember it all – the moments that made me realize how much you mean to me”

You swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat that made it difficult to speak. “I don’t even know what to say. This … This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me”. He smiled widely, pecking your forehead once again. “Thank you so much, Ji” “I’m glad, because you mean the world to me, Y/n. And I think there’s one more thing we’re missing to make this moment perfect” He brushed a hair strand out of your face, his touch lingering for a memory before his gaze dropped to your lips. “What’s that?” You smiled widely, already knowing what he is up to. After four months, you had figured out what he meant with that but you tagged along.

“This” The fondness in his eyes made your heart stutter and you couldn’t help but lean closer to him, capturing his lips with your own in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft, pillowy even, and you could even taste the chocolate from the hot chocolate that he had sipped on before. The kiss was filled with promises that only love could carry, the rest of the world melting away, leaving only the two of you and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where you were meant to be. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against Jisung’s, your eyes shining with joy while your boyfriend tightened his arms around you in a protective manner.

Comfortably, you leaned back and cuddled further into his embrace and the blankets that were like a fuzzy cocoon, enveloping you in warmth. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else for the rest of your life. “We have got so much more to add to this box”.

[desi2go]

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝕂𝕚𝕕𝕤

𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏

Lonely Night pt. 1 ⎢ pt. 2 Idol Chan x reader warnings: angst, fluff

Dancing through the night Idol Chan x reader warnings: fluff

Head Nuzzles warnings: fluff

Date on ice warnings: fluff

Importance dad Chan x mother reader warnings: angst, fluff summary: Having a child with an idol wasn't easy...

Prince and Princess pt. 1 ⎢ pt. 2 Prince Chan x princess reader warnings: forced marriage, royalty au, strangers to lovers, angst summary: When your parents engaged you with the prince of the neighbouring country, you flee. On your way you meet a handsome man...

Period cramps werewolf Chan x reader warnings: fluff

Somnia warning: fluff

First times warnings: fluff

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘

Case 143 pt. 1 ⎢ pt. 2 ⎢ pt. 3 warnings: werewolf au / soulmate au, fluff, angst

Moonlight werewolf Minho x vampire reader warnings: fluff

Sleep deprived Idol Minho x reader warnings: fluff

One photoshoot away from love Minho x Idol reader warnings: fluff

First Times warnings: fluff

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒃𝒊𝒏

Fluffy mornings warnings: fluff

Princess Changbin x mother reader warnings: fluff

Beneath the city lights mafia Changbin x reader warnings: angst with a happy ending, weapons, blood, death

𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒏

Sick days sick Hyunjin x reader warnings: fluff

A tiny bee warnings: fluff

Royal Kiss Hyunjin x model reader warnings: fluff

Beneath the Surface: Love in the Shadows of Duty Hyunjin x assitant / manager reader warnings: angst with happy end

𝑱𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈

All in student Jisung x reader warnings: fluff, college au

Humming dad Jisung x mother reader warnings: fluff

About the night two months ago warnings: best friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, angst, comfort and fluff summary: You didn't plan on getting pregnant and not from a one-night-stand. And most definitely not from your best friend. Yet, here you are, pregnant, without a plan how your life will go on and how you will tell Jisung.

Under the wide sky warnings: fluff

𝑭𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙

Game night Idol Felix x reader warnings: fluff

Lifting your bump Felix x pregnant reader warnings: fluff

Artemis werewolf Felix x huntress reader warnings: slight angst, fluff, blood and weapons summary: You were a huntress, trained by the Artemis' nymphs to hunt werewolves. However, you weren't prepared to find your mate this way.

First little crush warnings: fluff

𝑺𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏

Flowers from the prince pt. 1 ⎢ pt. 2 prince Seungmin x guard reader warnings: fluff, forbidden romance, angst, blood, injuries summary: After working as a soldier at the border, you were finally transferred to the palace. You should protect the prince from everything that could be a harm...

Chaotic duo warnings: best friends to lovers, fluff

𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏

A pirate and the sea pirate Jeongin x reader warnings: death, angst, fluff summary: You were the daughter of a sailesman and after your father's death , you were held captive by pirates. Luckily, you meet a young pirate that will change your life forever.

Goodbye, Jeongin warnings: angst, cheating

𝒐𝒕𝟖

Realzing they fell in love warnings: fluff

What do the perfect dates look like? warnings: fluff

Proposing to you Hyung line ⎢ Maknae line Warnings fluff

Jealousy, Jealousy Hyung line ⎢ Maknae line

𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

First Times Chan ⎢ Lee Know ⎢ Changbin ⎢ Hyunjin ⎢ Jisung ⎢ Felix ⎢ Seungmin ⎢ Jeongin

𝔸𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕫

𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏g

Stealing the fate prince Hongjoong x lady of the court reader warnings: smut, angst, fluff, arranged marriage

𝑺𝒂𝒏

Love a cowboy cowboy San x reader mostly fluff, some angst summary: You moved from the city into the wild west. On a bull riding competition, you meet San, a cowboy, not knowing that in the future you will cross ways with him more often...

for more stories, you can visit my ao3 acc -> desi_ToGo

[desi2go]

First times - Lee Know

pairing: Minho x reader

warning: fluff

summary: How were your first times with him?

author's note: Happy birthday Minho! I hope you had such a wonderful day 🫶🏼💙

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

You never meant to be there. You were supposed to be on an airplane, returning back home to Seoul after a joyful week in Seattle. But instead, your flight has been delayed due to a technical problem. You didn't mind, actually liking this city in Washington. So, didn't waste any time after you had brought your luggage back into a hotel room that the airline provided for you and walked through the city, determined to spent the last evening where you could enjoy the last sunlight of the day.

As you leaned against the safety window of the sky view observatory, you watched the sky turn into various colours. Different shades of red, orange, yellow and pink painted the sky like a canvas. You loved the view over the city. Next to you, a boy group of eight watched the sunset, talking in korean.

It was funny to you that even here in America, you would meet people from home. Well, maybe they follow you. You chuckled as they joked around, filling the huge room with laughter and happiness. But you noticed that one of them seemed to hate the height, he didn't even try to look down and after some minutes, settled down to sit on a bench far away from the windows.

Sadly, a black mask covered his face but his eyes were focused, sharp like an eagle. His fluffy black hair was perfectly styled. You didn't know what drew you to him but you couldn't stop yourself from buying two muffins from the shop and sitting down right next to him. He looked startled at first, especially when you offered him one of the muffins.

"Not fond of heights, right?" you asked while smirking, placing the cupcake on his palm as he observed you confused.

"You're korean?" his soft voice was dripping with confusion. You laughed and nodded, taking a bite from your sweet treat. "I'm on vacation and you?" you added.

Carefully, he pulled the mask down to eat it as well. "That's nice. We're here for work" you nodded impressed, enjoying the sun that fell on your face.

His eyes never left your face as if he was still trying to make out your intention. "What's your name?" he asked curiously.

"Y/n"

"Well, nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm Minho" you loved the way how he pronounced your name, letting a chill down your spine.

It was crazy how you could talk to a stranger for only some minutes and still have the feeling like you knew eachother for years. you both kept talking and talking. You adored his humor and his from time to time cocky answers. Conversing with him seemed easy and flawless, the time passed so quickly and the staff had to shoo you away to close the observatory.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊

After your first meeting in America, you exchanged numbers. Since then, your phone was constantly ringing with messages from him. Not that you hated it, no, you loved the attention he gave you. It made you feel special and adored like you hadn't in a long time. It was funny that both of you came from Seoul actually and never met each other there. Of course, the city was huge with millions of inhabitants but how high were the chances that you two would meet outside of Korea?

Your texting turned into late night calls nearly every evening. For hours you could talk and you were over the moon when he finally asked you if you would wanna go out with him. You loved how his cheeks changed their colour into a beautiful red and the sweetest, shy smile on his lips. How could you say no?

You were nervous when he wouldn't even say where you two would be going. "It's a surprise, dummy" he responded as you pouted and tried to coax him into telling you with your big puppy eyes. But he stayed strong, just telling you that you should wear something warm.

It was cold, the autumn on its peak and you actually loved this season. The spooky season where the nature would turn into the prettiest colours.

In the afternoon, he stood in front of your door, picking your up for your first date. He laughed when he saw how much layers you had on, put taking your hand in his as you pouted slightly. "You look like a marshmellow"

"That's not nice! I just get cold pretty easy" you grunted, looking down on you, your body completely drowning in the mass of fabric.

"But you know I love marshmellows" he whispered into your ear, making you red as you slapped his arm lightly.

After an hour of driving, you finally parked outside of Seoul in front of a farm. The whole area was filled with different types of pumpkins and you clapped your hands in excitement as you saw families and couples picking pumpkins from the patch and carving them.

You grabbed Minho's arm and headed straight to the pumpkins. Each one individual in their shape and colour.

"Do you want to carve one?" Minho asked you and you nodded fastly. He chuckled at how cute you were and helped picking out one for and one for him. He got the tools from one of the farm helpers and within the next two hours, both of you carved your own pumpkin into the desired shape.

You laughed as you watched Minho struggling with cutting the face into his, making his smile super big and funny. And when he showed you the final result, you couldn't help but laugh at how hilarious the face was.

"I think I have managed well. That's you by the way" he commented, a smirk present on his face. You pouted but grew red when he gave you a kiss on your cheek. "But I think in reality you are even more beautiful"

𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉

Every meeting was a blast, you collected tons of memories together and it didn't took long before he asked you to be his girlfriend. It was predictable, well, to his members.

Seungmin called him a "tame kitty cat" whenever he caught Minho talking to you, earning a scowl. But even though he liked to tease his friend, he was the first who urged Minho to finally ask you to be his girlfriend.

You thought it was just a regular date when Minho texted you in the morning. When he stood in front of your door this evening and you saw the light blush on his cheeks, you guessed it was from the cold weather not from the fact that he was nervous. It was almost christmas, just two weeks until Santa clause would visit you.

Minho told you that you should dress up warm and when he parked with his car near the christmas market. The air was filled with laughter and the sweet smell of mulled wine. The darkness was lit up with hundreds of fairylights.

You were excited to see what the small booths sold. You grabbed Minho's hand and pulled him towards the entrance. His hand was warm in yours.

You two bought a cup of mulled wine and roasted almonds, your favourite.

When you two reached the central of the market, decorated by a huge christmas tree filled with fairylights and baubles in different shapes and colours. Minho's arm circled around you waist as you listened to the choir on the small platform in front of the tree.

Gently, he pressed a hot kiss on your cheek, everything else being covered by your scarf or your hat. He knew that it was time for the important question.

"Y/n, I wanted to give you something" Curious, you turned fully to him, observing him while he rummaged through his jacket's pocket, searching for the little velvety box. He didn't hesitante and presented you the box. You gasped and took it into your shaking hands.

As you opened it, a beautiful necklace was revealed. Its design so simple but even more breath taking. As you gently pulled it out of the small box, you noticed the small pendant, a sun with a small cristal in the middle.

"Thank you so much!" you squealed and leaned into him, brushing your scarf down to give him a tender kiss on the lips.

He laughed, taking the necklace from you to put it on. "I'm happy you like it. It should symbolise our first meeting in the observatory. When the sun went down, you shone even brighter" he admitted, cheeks red like a tomato.

"Aww. That's so sweet! I love it"

"And I love you, Y/n. So, I wanted to ask you if you want to be my girlfriend?"

Your eyes went wide and the prettiest smile he had ever seen decorated you face. "Of course! I love you too"

first night together

In the same night, you decided to let him sleep at your apartment. He was your boyfriend now, you couldn't believe it. Plus, it was far too late to drive home, you argued. And you just wanted to cuddle your love.

You two layed spread out on your bed, watching a romantic christmas film, pointing out the similarities between you and the film. Minho laughed about a lame pick up line the male protagonist said.

"I can't believe he said that! That's so embarassing!" he exclaimed, hiding in your hair. You giggled, playing with his fingers.

"I think it's cute" you answered.

"Cute? His behaviour is so predictable" he mumbled.

"Isn't every christmas movie like that?"

"Yeah, sadly. They are always the same." he admitted.

"But at least the men are hot" you explained with a smirk, munching on a burned almond you purchased at the market.

"Excuse you? You have a boyfriend!" he shrieked, pulling his head out of your hair.

"I know, I know. But even you can't deny that they are-" you couldn't even finish your sentence as he threw himself over you, crushing under his weight while he tickled you.

"Yah. I'm your boyfriend! You should find me hot!" You giggled and trying to wiggle out of his wrath. His face was just centimetres away from you, watching yours with a loving gaze.

"Who said that I didn't think you're hot?" you questioned when he finally stopped, circling his neck with your arms to pull him down more.

wedding

For him it was clear from the first moment that he laid eyes on you that you were the one. It was just a matter of time before Minho would ask you THE question.

He proposed to you on a shared vacation. You two had decided to go back to Seattle together after three years to remember the old times, especially the first time you met. On your last day, you visited the observatory again. While you jumped from one window to another, he was shaking with anxiety from his proposal and the height. He really wanted to propose to you here. And when the sun went down, he took a deep breath and walked with you to one of the windows even though his heart was going to kill him, and went down on one knee.

Of course you said yes and just some months later it was time for your wedding. You had decided to pick a date in autumn as a memory of your first date. In Addition, your venue was rustic and created such a beautiful atmosphere.

Before the actual wedding you two had decided to do a "first look" together without many other persons, just you and him. What he didn't know, it was actually Han who would surprise him there. Minho was lead to you with a scarf over his eyes, blind to what he would see in just a minute. In front of him stood Han, dressed in a wedding dress that he had burrowed, stuggling to hold his laugh in.

Gently, he took Minho's hand and caressed it while you died from laughing in the back, hiding from your husband-to-be's eyes.

"I can't wait to finally see you my love" Minho whispered before he pulled the scarf from his eyes. His face was instantly red and nearly dropped to the floor, laughing like hell.

"What do you think, my love? Am I not beautiful?" Jisung joked, swaying back and forth in his dress.

Minho cried tears of laughter. "Absolutely, bro. But where is my bride?"

You came out of your hiding place, giggling. "I'm here"

His eyes widened as he saw you in that beautiful dress (much more beautiful than hid best friend but he wouldn't dare to say that out loud).

first child

Minho and you had talked shortly after the wedding what you wanted for the future. It was important to you that both of you knew what the other wanted. Especially when it comes to children.

You both agreed that you would wait a few years. And when the time came, two years into marriage, you were open to becoming pregnant. You didn't want to force it. But fortunately, you didn't need to wait long to announce to your beloved that you were pregnant.

Minho was over the moon and the moment you revealed the big news, he was already up and baby proofing the house.

When you were eight months pregnant, you went into labour and Minho panicked, immediately driving you to the hospital. You were both anxious, fearing that something was wrong.

Labour was the most painful moment in your entire life but also the most beautiful. After ten hours of pain and contractions, your little son was born. He was premature and the doctors checked him several times to reassure that he could breathe on his own.

After that, all the tension broke off from you and you cried as you observed Minho cradling his baby in his arms to bring him over to you. Through the whole examination, after he was sure that you were fine, he watched the doctors and his son with eagle eyes. His protectiveness rising high.

"Look my love! We created such a beautiful boy"

[desi2go]

Beneath the Surface: Love in the Shadows of Duty

pairing: Hyunjin x assistant/manager! reader

warnings: angst, but comfort in the end

Being an assistant for JYP isn't easy, especially when you were assigned for the boy group Stray Kids since they were a chaotic bunch of people. But after some time, you grew fond of them. You and your coworker did everything for them. You planned their schedule, communication with other groups from different labels and so on.

That meant that you were around them all the time, checking if everyone was on time and provided support for choosing their outfits, hair and makeup. There was always so much to do.

You must admit that you liked them even though they drove you crazy at first when they showed up late for practicings or meetings with the management. But eventually, you had become friends during the time you worked together and even had contact apart from the company.

You were close to Han as he somehow developed into your best friend and Hyunjin since both of you loved painting and everything that had something to do with art.

Whenever you stayed with the group after your shift ended, whether in the practise room or in their dorm, the atmosphere was chill and filled with jokes and laughter. Somehow you had become a part of their group and Seungmin even teasingly called you their "mother" wherefore he earned a light hit on his neck from Chan. But it was okay for you since you were at some point. You checked if they ate enough, supporting them and always having an open ear for their concerns.

Jisung told you some evening when you spend time together at your apartment that he caught Hyunjin staring, emphazising that it seemed longin which you found hilarious since you were friends and there was nothing wrong with looking at you. But indirectly, you noticed it afterwards, whenever you met that he really observed you. However, you didn't want to interpret too much since it could get your hopes up. Yes, you must admit that you kind of caught feelings for him during the time you worked for them and were friends. He was just a really good listener and always made you laugh with his dramatic expressions. And you both bonded over art after all.

But something that made you stop from being with him and eventually asking him out was that neither you or him were allowed to date eachother. So, you tried to enjoy the time you had with him as friends even if you wanted to be more.

And you were happy with that but something changed when you were checking at the group that was in the middle of a dance practise. Hyunjin was sweaty which was in fact nothing extraordinary or uncommon but he panted and seemed paler than usual. His footsteps were messy and that was definitely not normal for him. He was one of the best dancers in Stray Kids with an unnormal amount of body control.

You stopped the music and walked over to him while he was leaning against the wall for support, trying to catch his breath. Since he was leaning down a bit, you didn't need to strech your arm to lay your hand on his forehead. He was burning up and was most definitely not fine. He tried to argue with you but something he has learned during the time you were his assistant was that you were stict and wouldn't accept a no if it meant risking the health of an idol.

You hauled him to the dorms and forbid him to stop resting for the day at least. The way he smiled at you so fondly made your heart swell and a tingly feeling roamed through your stomach. You pressed a light kiss on his forehead even though you knew that you couldn't actually allow yourself that. But you couldn't help yourself.

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

For the following day, he rested and when he came back, you greeted him in the hallway with a big smile, happy that he was back to his strength, but he just shot you a short look and nodded as an acknowlegdement. You just burned a hole at his back, asking yourself if that really had happened. Did he really avoided or even ignored you? What in the cheesecake was wrong with him? Two days ago he smiled at you fondly when you were taking care of him, leaning against your shoulder on the way out of the practise room.

You tried figuring this out all day, even the other members noticed the change between you two. But nobody wanted to ask one of you, not wanting to interfere in a business that wasn't theirs. Only Jisung asked you at the end of the day, sitting on the couch in your office and eating the last of your cookies that you tried to hide from him since he always ate everything like a black hole when he visited your office which was everyday, leaving you starving.

"What's up between you and Hyunjin? Spill the tea" he mumbled with a full mouth of cookies which made you wonder why you even made the effort to hide those if he will find them anyways.

You sighed, turning you chair in his direction. "Actually, I don't know. He just ignores me for whatever reason"

Jisung knitted his eyebrows. "Really? You guys didn't fight... or fucked?" he added slowly.

"What- No! Why do you think we fucked, Ji?" you exclaimed with a high voice.

Jisung grinned as soon as he saw your red face. "Because you both keep eyefucking eachother for months now" he stated, wiggling with his eyebrows and you considered choking him with the cookies.

"That's definitely not true!" you yelled embaressed, your face red like a tomato. "And why the cheesecake does he ignore me all of the sudden if we 'eyefuck' eachother?" you added, emphazising the word with your hands.

"I don't know yet" he told you, grinning deabolically from ear to ear.

"Han Jisung, what do what to do?" you questioned, fearing that he already planned something.

"You will find out soon" he just answered, jumping from the couch and leaving you alone again. In his hands the boy of cookies.

"Idiot, doesn't even give back the cookies..." you mumbled defeated under your breath, hoping that his plan wasn't going to backfire on you.

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

The next day, you drove with the whole group to an interview, right beside you was your coworker. He had already sensed that something saddened you and tried to cheer you up the whole day even in the car ride from the company to the place where the interview would be.

He spoke with the interviewer while you checked on the boys while the stylists worked on their hair and makeup. Everything went smoothly as you talked to Chan about the content of this. It was important and even though you already had told him some days before, you liked to sum it up again.

You were pleased with the way they presented themselves in front of the camera but you just couldn't take your eyes off of Hyunjin who still avoided you as much as he could. However, your coworker wouldn't let you get down again, poking your side playfully causing you to giggle quietly as you pushed his hands away. He wasn't aware of why you were so down but liked how he supported you nevertheless.

The entire time, you felt Hyunjin's eyes staring at you with a fiery gaze. It was kind of creepy and you noticed after some time that he wasn't actually observing you, no, your coworker. When looks could kill, he would be six feet under. It made you confused. Why should he stare at him like that? Was he jealous? Could that be? It was just so frustrating that he was seemingly irritated with you spending a good amount of time with your coworker when he didn't even speak to you. But he can be jealous for a long time, maybe then, he will approach you again.

The interview went smoothly, the boys presented themselves great like always. Even though not only Jisung noticed how distracted Hyunjin was. It was annoying that he didn't listen to the host carefully and when he was asked, the question must be repeated.

"Hyunjin, you seem a bit distracted. Where are you lookin at all the time?" the hosts exclaimed, a friendly grin on his face. So even he noticed the lack of attention. Nervously, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, hoping that he doesn't say the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking" he replied with an angelic smile, turning now towards the interviewer.

"He was staring at you" your coworker mumbled with a smirk, leaning closer to your ear. "I noticed"

"I didn't see you two talking to each other. Is that why you are so sad? Did you have a fight?" sometimes you hated that he was so good at oberserving his environment. It makes hiding the tense atmosphere so much more difficult.

"Don't know" you just replied, shrugging your shoulders. "He just stopped speaking with you?" he exclaimed, voice pitched and angered. You nodded, drawing your attention back to the interview.

"What an ass" your coworker mumbled and you couldn't hold in the laugh that escaped. Quickly, you slapped your hand over your mouth to hold any other noise in. It was quiet so it didn't crash the interview but Hyunjin still seemed to notice. In his eyes was a blazing fire, burning everything that crossed his path. Your coworker didn't seem to mind, just grinning ear to ear teasingly at the other man like he just had won a trophy. It was clear that he challenged Hyunjin to do something against it. But at least your mood was lightened for the day.

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

Days passed and Hyunjin still didn't talk to you, just for work related things and even then, just short and monotone. And it just angered you more because you had tried to many times to speak to him, trying to figure out what in the cheesecake happened. But at some point you just gave up. And as soon as Hyunjin and you were in the same room, the atmosphere was static and uncomfortable. You dreaded to meet up with the group apart from work since you didn't want it to affect the groups dynamics. Even tough they invited you, you declined always.

You even stopped seeing Jisung since you didn't want him to get between the fronts. He should have a good relationship to Hyunjin. That was way more important than staying in good contact with you. He needed to perform with him after all and a fight between them wouldn't help.

You still spoke to Ji when you met him at work but you minimized all interactions with him apart from that, telling him that you didn't want him to get in trouble for something he isn't causing. But you should have been smarter. When Jisung had a plan in mind, he will be realising it at all costs, so, you shouldn't have believed him when he promised that he wasn't going to do anything.

As the days dragged on, you often found yourself in your coworker's company. It seemed to be his task to make you less lonely. And it worked at some point. You realised that you both had so much in common. It wasn't like the connection you had shared with Hyunjin but it was good and you liked it. However, your feelings for Hyunjin didn't minimize. They stayed and stayed. You couldn't do anything against it.

You should have grown suspicious when Jisung asked you to help him. It wasn't something uncommon but what the cheesecake did he want from the spare room? There wasn't much in it. But you didn't think, just fishing your key out of your pocket and opening the door for him. You didn't expect him to push your body in and instantly locking the door.

Shocked you banged against the door, yelling at Ji to let you out. The person on the other side just laughed wholeheartingly. "You will thank me later!" you just heard him shout as he ran away. Irritated, you searched for your key, being reminded that he has them. You sighed and sat down on one of the boxes filled with accessories and many other things that has been collected over the years.

A few moments later the door opened again and you didn't even need to look to tell that it was definitely Hyunjin who was pushed by the one that called himself your best friend.

"Han Jisung! Let me out you dork!" he shouted angrily but his group member didn't even answer, just giggling and walking away.

Hyunjin sighed, turning around and then stopping in his movements as soon as he noticed you. His eyes went wide and his body stiff.

"Y-Y/n!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "Did he lock you in too?"

"Obviously?" you answered, leaning back against the wall with crossed arms.

"Of course he did" he mumbled, sitting down on another box against the wall directly facing you.

"When do you think that he will let us out?"

You chuckled sarcastically. Of course he speaks with you now, now when he doesn't has another choice. You rolled your eyes. "So you speak with me now?" you asked, voice thick with anger. His actions annoyed you.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh don't try to act all innocent now. I cared for you when you were sick and then, you couldn't even stand to be in the same room" you stated.

Hyunjin swallowed slowly, eyes searching for an escape.

"That's not true" he whispered, eyes observing the ground.

"Is that so? Then why did you avoid me? Tell me" you demanded, nearly shouting and standing up to let some rage out that roamed within you.

"Because I can't get away from you!" he jumps up too, chest heaving and rubbing over his face with his hands.

"So you're disgusted by my presence?" you screamed, heart clinching at the thought. Maybe he hated you all along and was just too nice to stop you and now finally had the courage to tell you.

"That's not what I meant, Y/n!" he exclaimed.

"Of course not. I-" you couldn't finish your sentence when Hyunjin overcame the last distance between you, a small step and he stood in front of you, his chest touching yours. And in one swift motion, he grabbed the back of your head, pulling at your hair, and pressed his lips on yours, hard and fierce. There was no softness, just the hot lips that moved over yours at a quick pace, capturing them without intending to ever let them go. His hot breath caressed your cheeks as you slowly, gave into the kiss, repeating his motions and relaxing into his big, warm body.

After some time, you both broke off the kiss, still feeling the touch ghosting over your swollen lips. He leaned his forehead against yours, catching his breath while observing your face for the tiniest flash of regret but it never came.

"I love you, Y/n. And I tried to stay away because I don't want to hurt you" he told you in between some fast breaths, the one hand still tangled in your soft hair. "You know that we can't date each other. So, I tried to keep me from falling for you. But now I realise that it's too late. I already fell hard for you" With the other hand, he brushed a some hair behind your ear.

"jinnie. I thoguth I did something wrong" you confessed, pressing yourself further into his embrace.

"You did nothing wrong, my love" you preened at the new nickname and hoped will hear it in the future more often. "Now, would you like to go on a date with me so that I can make you fall for me?" he asked, smiling and blushing like crazy.

You giggled and cupped his face. "I already fell hard far you, you idiot" With that, you kissed him again. "But I'm your idiot" Hyunjin added in between the kisses.

The door creaks and slowly opened. Jisung's head popped through the gap, grinning like crazy. "I assume everything went well according to the sounds of you eating each other" he just said and Hyunjin pecked your lips, leaving you confused as you watched him bolting to the door. "If you don't mind, love, I need to skin someone alive for locking us in"

You shook you head with a smile, watching those grown ass men running through the hallway. Jisung screaming like a menace, pleading for you to stop your crazy boyfriend but you rather just watched Hyunjin tackle him to the ground and poking him, making the other one laugh and shouting to stop tickling.

[desi2go]

Hi guys!

I thought about writing the first times with every member, like a little series 🫶🏼

Would you be interested?

First times

pairing: Channie x reader

warning: fluff

summary: How were your first times with him?

author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHANNIE!!!!! I love you so much and I hope you have a great day <3<3<3<3<3

𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤

You never thought that you would meet the love of your life on the beach. You and your friends were on vacation in Australia, enjoying the beautiful beach in the warmth of the sun. There were so many people, laying next to each other due to the limited space but it still was relaxing.

You were just reading a book while sunbathing and trying to get a good tan, your friends swam in the warm water, leaving you alone on your towel. Suddenly, a ball hit you, bouncing over you onto your friend's towel. You looked around for the culprit, expecting it to be a child but instead, three men stood a few metres away. They pushed each other forward and when they caught your staring, they pointed at each other, claiming that it was the other ones fault.

You rolled amused with your eyes, not believing that grown up men could act like children. Two of them, one with long blonde and the one with short black hair, pushed their friend forward with force, letting him stumble.

The message was clear, he should get the ball back from you. You fished it from your friend's towel and waited for him to step up to you.

He was beautiful, his black hair hidden by a black base cap but his face was gorgeous. Those brown eyes looked like delicious chocolate and the smile that formed on his face made you blush.

You held the ball out while he stood in front of you, rubbing his back.

"Thank you" he exclaimed, taking the ball and already turning.

"You're welcome" you responded. But the good looking man stopped in his tracks when he saw his friends making signals with their hands. You figured out that the blonde was signing phone and the other acted like he wrote something, pointing to you.

The man with the base cap sighned. "I hate you guys sometimes" he mumbled, heading towards you again while blushing and hiding his face under the cap.

"Already back?" you asked amused, watching him with a smirk. "Yes. Can I have your number perhaps?" he questioned, becoming a blushing mess.

You chuckled. "Did your friends tell you that?"

He laughed. "No, they just encouraged me. I'm Chan by the way"

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊

You texted on a daily basis, getting to know him very well and you found out that he was an idol. Since you were from south korea too, you didn't think that this would be an obstacle for your relationship. Before he would go back to korea, he wanted to show you Sydney on a personal trip.

The whole day, he showed you around, poiting to the hidden spots and attractions that a normal tourist wouldn't see. It was fun to spend time with him, easy and without uncomfortable silences.

He was a true gentlemen, opening doors for you and even paying your ice cream. You laughed a lot and you must admit that you already adored his. His gentle gaze would always be on you, letting you feel safe and secure in his proximity.

When the sun was replaced by the moon and stars, he lead you to a small restaurant. You sat down in front of it, the soft light of fairylights luminated his face, emphazising all his beautiful features.

Chan told you that this was his favourite restaurant and he couldn't even deny it anymore when the waiter greeted him with his name, making you laugh. He recommended you some things and after getting your order, he even let you try his meal. You couldn't even remember if a man before him had fed you once, but he did, blowing on his fork to cool it down and then placing it in your mouth carefully.

His ears were red but the smile on his face was hypnoticing. You could watch this man for your entire life.

𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉

As soon as you were back in south korea, he took you out on more dates and you were sure that he was the person you wanted to spend your life with.

It was just that you feared for asking him if he wanted to be your boyfriend. You were just insecure how to approach this, afraid that it might be too soon for his liking but all your doubt were destroyed when he asked you instead.

It was on one of your dates. He had picked you up at your apartment and brought you to the park a little outside from Seoul where you could be alone. You both had planned to do a picknick to enjoy one of the last summer days before the cold winter would come.

You spread the blanket and placed the food down, talking about everything. While you laid down, he fed you some strawberries that were dipped into chocolate, reminding you of his eye colour.

You had noticed from the beginning that he acted different than usual, he seemed nervous. But you trusted him to tell you what was on his mind.

His hand caressed your cheek and you closed your eyes, eating the strawberries from time to time. He cleared his throat, not responding to a question you had asked.

"Okay Channie, tell me what is up with you today. You seem nervous" you expressed, opening your eyes to take his form in.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He spoke fastly, leaving you speachless. You definitely didn't expected that.

You chuckled. "That bothered you so much?" He nodded hesitantly, clearly panicking that you would say no.

"Of course Channie, I love you" you pushed yourself up from his lap, pressing your lips on his own.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗

Saying that you weren't nervous at all was wrong, completely wrong. You knew that it was just Channie, your Channie, and you didn't need to be so tense but this felt like a big step in your relationship.

You were officially together now and even if it sounded unbelievable, you hadn't spend a night together yet. You didn't mind since both of you wanted to take things slow.

Now, you stood in front of his apartment with a bag in hand, pressing his doorbell. He opened immeadiatly as if he had waited impatiently for you on the other side. He pressed a loving kiss on your lips and taking the bag from you in the same moment.

"Hello love" he greeted, pulling you out of the cold hallway. It wasn't the first time being in his apartment and you liked his way of decorating from the first moment.

"Hey Channie" you responded, getting rid of your shoes and jacket while he placed the bag into his bedroom. "I just started cooking" he told you, leading you into the kitchen where the food was already cooking.

You laughed a lot while you observed your boyfriend since he forced you to sit down instead of letting you help.

After dinner, you two layed down on his couch to watch a movie, your head an his shoulder while he played with a strand of your hair. You felt him pressing his nose into your hair and you laughed when you heard him inhale deeply. "What? I love your smell" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around you.

Afterwards, you headed to bed after getting ready together. He didn't even give you the chance to bring some sort of distance between you or letting you even lay down for a second before he was already pulling you into his arms again, leaving you squealing and giggling.

"Come here! I need my cuddles!" he demanded, giving you a light bite on your shoulder. "As if you weren't cuddling me all the time" you stated, brushing a few hair strands out of his face.

"They are never enough, never"

𝖜𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌

Chan's proposal was something you hadn't expected. Well, yes at some point in the future yes but you were surprised when the love of your life suddenly kneeled in front of you, a beautiful and well-chosen ring in his hand. Of course you said yes! I mean how could you not?

The preparation of the wedding let the time pass so fast. You chose the perfect venue in Australia on the beach you had met years ago and your wedding dress was breathtaking and you couldn't wait to see Chan's reaction.

When you walked down the aisle, you were so nervous but yet so excited. With a beautiful bouquet in hand, you headed to your future, to your beloved husband. He looked absolutely gorgeous in his black suit and as soon as his eyes found yours, a stunning smile decorated his face.

Your farther gave you into Chan's arms and got back to his seat. During the whole ceremony, your lover's eyes never left yours and his fingers caressed your hands. Soon, you both said yes and exchanged your rings that you had chosen. Your wedding band was silver with a white stone and on the inside, hidden from the outside, were your initials engraved.

Chan gently pressed his lips on yours, your hands finding its way in his hair.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉

You and Chan were married for over a year now and you knew that he wanted kids and you must admit that you imagined being a mother too. And after settling into marriage you felt that it was the right time to try for a baby.

Chan was excited and couldn't wait until you were pregnant. Just some months later, you found out that you were indeed with child and on the first doctor's appointment, Chan cried as soon as he saw the cell that is your baby.

During the whole pregnancy, he was so nervous and affectionate. Whenever he found time, he would caress your bump or lay on your stomach to tell you and your baby about his day.

As your bump grew, he was cautious about everything. You couldn't even do laundry without him jumping up and taking over, claiming that you needed to rest.

When you went into labour, he stayed by your side during the whole process. His hand never left yours and he drove to the hospital, even when you tightened your hold with each contraction.

After hours of labour, you heard your baby's first cries and it felt like all the pain faded away. The only thing you could concentrate on, was to hold your baby. Chan kissed your forehead in joy, complimenting you how great you did this. In his own eyes were tears as they laid the beautiful baby girl in your arms.

Tenderly, he caressed his finger over the smooth skin and oh lord - he was smitten. He felt nervous when you suggested to hold his girl but he agreed and listened to the instructions the nurse gave him. He undressed his chest because newborns liked the skin to skin contact to hold their temperature and to control their breathing.

He laughed in joy as he held his little one finally after months of waiting, the smile never left his lips again.

[desi2go]

One photoshoot away from love

pairing: Minho x idol! reader

warnings: fluff

request: So reader is also a kpop idol but she's like only in the industry for 2-2.5 years. She's in a girl group and recently announced as global embassador of a luxury brand. This one time she would feature on magazine cover with one of stray kids' members and that member his her bias. The magazine cover is a success and their fan loving it and they get shipped together. And because she said he's her bias, that stray kids member said he gonna write her a song and he did and the internet kinda blow up.

Music. Music was alsways home. Something you could turn to when there was no way out. When everything terrified you or it seemed impossible to reach your dreams.

Music was your safe haven from a really young age. Just as a five year old toddler, you sang to all the songs in the radio even if you didn't even understood all the lyrics. You even bothered your parents to let you take lessons with a vocal coach for weeks until they finally agreed. Eventually, they seemed glad that you loved singing so much and happily supported you. You improved really fast and your angelic voice seemed to enchant everyone at every single performance at school.

Whenever someone asked you what you wanted to be when you grow up, the answer was clear. "I want to be a singer!" They all laughed at you, smiling and patting your head like they didn't even think that you could actually become one. For them it was just a dream, soon to be forgotten once you hit puberty and the reality, but you weren't joking. And you trained every day for it.

Around the age of ten, you started hearing some music from kpop groups and it was the first time you actually considered to audition at a company when you were old enough. They would give you training and support you when you were good enough. So, you convinced your parents to let you take some dance lessons too so that your chances for an acception would be higher.

Dancing was something you really enjoyed even though it wouldn't replace singing but it brought you even closer to the melody and the rhythm. You felt even more connected with the lyrics and the music all in all.

At the age of sixteen, you decided to give it a try. Several companies had announced auditions and you figured it would be the best time to try it. What could go wrong? You had trained for this moment your whole life and you couldn't be better prepared.

The auditions went really well and soon your held your acceptance in your hand to be a trainee at SM entertainment. Your parents were so proud of you and you loved the time as a trainee even though it was so difficult to balance school and training but you enjoyed the time. You learned so much in that tie and your singing as well as your dancing improved.

During your monthly presentations, your trainers noted your effort and improvement and after three years, you finally debuted in a girl group with four more girl you had met as a trainee. You were placed as one of the vocalists and visuals.

After debut, your group seemed to gain more and more attention from the fans and you must admit that you enjoyed to perform, the energy flowed through you carrying you like a wave.

Nearly three years after debut, it wasn't uncommon for you to have photoshootings for model magazines or other brands. But as soon as the message came that you would be the global ambassador of one of the most well-known luxury brand, you were shocked. This wasn't something that happenend all the time. And the brand was Gucci and they actually planned you to be on the magazine cover.

Just one week before the shooting, you received the message that you would model with Lee Know from Stray Kids. Since you loved Kpop since being a child, you knew pretty well who Lee Know was. I mean, how could you not? His group was really famous for their vibing songs and their chaotic behaviour.

And you were thrilled to meet him face to face. He was like a role model to you. When the other members of your group received the message, they were happy for you and urged to know who your bias in Stray Kids was, knowing damn well that you enjoyed listening to Kpop.

"Come on! You can't just keep it a secret! We won't tell anyone!" One member shouted, clapping excited with her hands.

"No. That's my secret" you claimed, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"I bet it's Lee Know" another stated and you tried to keep your face from burning up. How right she was...

The maknae noticed your shy behaviour. "HA! It is!" she laughed as you blushed and hid your face in your hands. Sometimes you hated them.

"That's so cool! You must tell us every little detail as soon as you're back" another demanded and you quickly escaped their hold to get to the location for the photoshoot.

During the whole drive, you were nervous and you bit your lip to get you to concentrate. You were an idol for god's sake, so act like one! But your hands got clammy when you stepped out of the car, following your manager inside the location.

You were already used to the turmoil with the manager and assitants running around. An assistant from Gucci greeted you with a bow and lead you to the dressing room. Precisely, she helped you change into a beautiful black dress that ended just above your knees, showing your long soft legs. It was made for you.

The soft faric hugged your body like a second skin, bringing your waist out and your chest. You felt like a queen. It exposed your shoulders and closed lowly around your neck, leaving space for a beautiful necklace.

The shoes were a dream in black, making you even taller and graceful. In Addition, your hair was styled in soft defined waves, falling over your shoulders. The makeup stylist worked on your face in the meantime. She applied foundation and a glowy highlighter as well as a brown eyeshadow that complimented your eyes and made them sparkle even more. The red lipstick brought the attention to your rounded lips, the only thing that had a colour so that it would glow in the photos.

After an hour, they had finished their work satisfied and the assistant lead you to the actual photo location. You felt the nervousness pumping through your veins as you greeted the photographer and the rest of the staff. Just moments later, Lee Know walked through the same door with a charming smile and a low bow to greet everyone.

He looked stunning in the black suit with the white chemise that exposed a bit of skin, leaving everything to your imagination. His hair was styled classy and showed off his beautiful eyes.

"Nice to meet you Y/n" he greeted you with a smile, taking your hand to shake it while he bowed deep. You replied in the same gesture. "Nice to meet you too. I'm honoured to work with you"

He smiled and patted your hand without anyone noticing. "I look forward to work with you"

Internally, you were freaking out like a teenager crushing over meeting her role model. You felt the blush on your cheeks and tried everything to keep it low.

The photographer explained to you both how you should express yourself on the photos even stating what poses he wanted to see.

You swallowed and moved yourself in front of the white background with Minho following. You started with simple things, leaning your back against each other while staring at the camera with a dashing smile. His back was warm and you felt the muscles under his clothes, soft but at the same time strong.

The other pose showed strength and intimacy. Minho was sitting tall behind you, leaning slightly forward to show more of his skin that was exposed by the open bottoms of his chemise. His right arm rested on his knee, giving him a composed and thoughtful look. His facial expression is confident with his gaze directed to the photographer.

You were seated in front of him, leaning forward as well with your body slightly angled towards the camera. Your elbow was resting on your knee, emphazising your long legs and your hand supported lazily your head.

The photographer liked those photos and during the shooting, both you and Minho laughed a lot, connecting really fast when you told him that you had a cat too.

You two shared some funny cat stories and grew more comfortable around the other.

The photographer suggested more intimacy in the photos. In this image, you two posed intimately close. He stood behind you, your faces close together as he rested his head over your shoulder. You chose a soft and serene gaze to pierce through the camera. you felt one of Minho's hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your physical proximity showed a subtle mixure of tenderness and resilience.

The photographer was pleased with the outcome and thanked you for working so well. Even after finishing the shooting, you couldn't stop speaking with him. He was so kind-hearted and funny, inspiring you. And soon, you were back your dorms, sad that the experience was over.

Some weeks later, the magazine was published with you and Minho on the cover. It was an understatement to say that the fans went wild. Social media was full of images of the photoshooting and nearly everyone shipped you both, making you blush.

When you went live one evening to speak to your fans, you read often the question if you and Minho were a pair. You declined and even more messages followed, asking you different things about Minho. Sadly, you couldn't give many answers and when they questioned who your bias was, you admitted shy that he was it.

The fans went wild again and you were now completely sure that Minho knew about your secret crush on him.

Chan from Stray Kids announced in one of his livestreams that Minho had been working on an own song since his photoshoot for Gucci and fans spaculated that it had something to do with you.

Weeks when the hype went down a bit, Minho released a single. At first, due to training you couldn't listen to it but when fans went wild again, claiming that he definitely wrote it for you, you needed to hear it.

It was a love ballad and you loved the melody and rhythm at the first notes. His soft voice told a story about a girl he met. In the song, he described her as beautiful, the deep red lips that attracted him like it was essential for surviving.

I saw you there, in that moment of light A vision in black, like the stars in the night Your deep red lips whispered things you didn’t say And I stood frozen, as the world slipped away

You didn’t know it, but you captured my soul Every glance you gave me made me lose control The camera was flashing, but all I could see Was the way you moved, like a shadow's melody

You're the midnight that I can't forget Wrapped in a mystery I haven't solved yet The way you move, like whispers in the air A perfect storm that I can’t help but stare In the silence, your elegance stays Draped in the night, in a world of shades

Your smile was soft, like a hidden sunrise But there was fire burning deep in your eyes You moved like a dream, as the lights hit your face And I knew I was lost, caught up in your grace

I kept my distance, but inside I screamed You walked through my life like a midnight dream I wanted to tell you, but how could I dare To let you know that I was falling right there

You're the midnight that I can't forget Wrapped in a mystery I haven't solved yet The way you move, like whispers in the air A perfect storm that I can’t help but stare In the silence, your elegance stays Draped in the night, in a world of shades

Maybe one day, you'll hear this song In the quiet of night, when the world feels wrong And maybe you’ll wonder who it was for But I’ll just stay silent, forever wanting more

You're the midnight that I can't forget Wrapped in a mystery I haven't solved yet The way you move, like whispers in the air A perfect storm that I can’t help but stare In the silence, your elegance stays Draped in the night, in a world of shades

In the shadows, I’ll keep you near A secret flame, forever clear You’ll always be a part of me This hidden love, my melody...

You coudln't stop the smile forming on your lips. "Vision in black" was definitely a metaphor for a black dress and the red lipstick hinted that this song was adressed to you. Tears formed in your eyes at the intimacy of the song.

Just seconds later, a message plopped up on your phone. A message on instagram from Minho.

<<Hoped you liked my song>> he had texted with a cat emoji and a smile formed on your lips as you answered quick.

[desi2go]

Haiiii, I have a request for youuu!

So reader is also a kpop idol but she's like only in the industry for 2-2.5 years. She's in a girl group and recently announced as global embassador of a luxury brand. This one time she would feature on magazine cover with one of stray kids' members and that member his her bias. The magazine cover is a success and their fan loving it and they get shipped together. And because she said he's her bias, that stray kids member said he gonna write her a song and he did and the internet kinda blow up.

Thank uuu!

sorry for the late reply!

I'll start working on it asap🫶🏼

[desi2go]

First times

pairing: Channie x reader

warning: fluff

summary: How were your first times with him?

author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHANNIE!!!!! I love you so much and I hope you have a great day <3<3<3<3<3

𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤

You never thought that you would meet the love of your life on the beach. You and your friends were on vacation in Australia, enjoying the beautiful beach in the warmth of the sun. There were so many people, laying next to each other due to the limited space but it still was relaxing.

You were just reading a book while sunbathing and trying to get a good tan, your friends swam in the warm water, leaving you alone on your towel. Suddenly, a ball hit you, bouncing over you onto your friend's towel. You looked around for the culprit, expecting it to be a child but instead, three men stood a few metres away. They pushed each other forward and when they caught your staring, they pointed at each other, claiming that it was the other ones fault.

You rolled amused with your eyes, not believing that grown up men could act like children. Two of them, one with long blonde and the one with short black hair, pushed their friend forward with force, letting him stumble.

The message was clear, he should get the ball back from you. You fished it from your friend's towel and waited for him to step up to you.

He was beautiful, his black hair hidden by a black base cap but his face was gorgeous. Those brown eyes looked like delicious chocolate and the smile that formed on his face made you blush.

You held the ball out while he stood in front of you, rubbing his back.

"Thank you" he exclaimed, taking the ball and already turning.

"You're welcome" you responded. But the good looking man stopped in his tracks when he saw his friends making signals with their hands. You figured out that the blonde was signing phone and the other acted like he wrote something, pointing to you.

The man with the base cap sighned. "I hate you guys sometimes" he mumbled, heading towards you again while blushing and hiding his face under the cap.

"Already back?" you asked amused, watching him with a smirk. "Yes. Can I have your number perhaps?" he questioned, becoming a blushing mess.

You chuckled. "Did your friends tell you that?"

He laughed. "No, they just encouraged me. I'm Chan by the way"

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊

You texted on a daily basis, getting to know him very well and you found out that he was an idol. Since you were from south korea too, you didn't think that this would be an obstacle for your relationship. Before he would go back to korea, he wanted to show you Sydney on a personal trip.

The whole day, he showed you around, poiting to the hidden spots and attractions that a normal tourist wouldn't see. It was fun to spend time with him, easy and without uncomfortable silences.

He was a true gentlemen, opening doors for you and even paying your ice cream. You laughed a lot and you must admit that you already adored his. His gentle gaze would always be on you, letting you feel safe and secure in his proximity.

When the sun was replaced by the moon and stars, he lead you to a small restaurant. You sat down in front of it, the soft light of fairylights luminated his face, emphazising all his beautiful features.

Chan told you that this was his favourite restaurant and he couldn't even deny it anymore when the waiter greeted him with his name, making you laugh. He recommended you some things and after getting your order, he even let you try his meal. You couldn't even remember if a man before him had fed you once, but he did, blowing on his fork to cool it down and then placing it in your mouth carefully.

His ears were red but the smile on his face was hypnoticing. You could watch this man for your entire life.

𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉

As soon as you were back in south korea, he took you out on more dates and you were sure that he was the person you wanted to spend your life with.

It was just that you feared for asking him if he wanted to be your boyfriend. You were just insecure how to approach this, afraid that it might be too soon for his liking but all your doubt were destroyed when he asked you instead.

It was on one of your dates. He had picked you up at your apartment and brought you to the park a little outside from Seoul where you could be alone. You both had planned to do a picknick to enjoy one of the last summer days before the cold winter would come.

You spread the blanket and placed the food down, talking about everything. While you laid down, he fed you some strawberries that were dipped into chocolate, reminding you of his eye colour.

You had noticed from the beginning that he acted different than usual, he seemed nervous. But you trusted him to tell you what was on his mind.

His hand caressed your cheek and you closed your eyes, eating the strawberries from time to time. He cleared his throat, not responding to a question you had asked.

"Okay Channie, tell me what is up with you today. You seem nervous" you expressed, opening your eyes to take his form in.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He spoke fastly, leaving you speachless. You definitely didn't expected that.

You chuckled. "That bothered you so much?" He nodded hesitantly, clearly panicking that you would say no.

"Of course Channie, I love you" you pushed yourself up from his lap, pressing your lips on his own.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗

Saying that you weren't nervous at all was wrong, completely wrong. You knew that it was just Channie, your Channie, and you didn't need to be so tense but this felt like a big step in your relationship.

You were officially together now and even if it sounded unbelievable, you hadn't spend a night together yet. You didn't mind since both of you wanted to take things slow.

Now, you stood in front of his apartment with a bag in hand, pressing his doorbell. He opened immeadiatly as if he had waited impatiently for you on the other side. He pressed a loving kiss on your lips and taking the bag from you in the same moment.

"Hello love" he greeted, pulling you out of the cold hallway. It wasn't the first time being in his apartment and you liked his way of decorating from the first moment.

"Hey Channie" you responded, getting rid of your shoes and jacket while he placed the bag into his bedroom. "I just started cooking" he told you, leading you into the kitchen where the food was already cooking.

You laughed a lot while you observed your boyfriend since he forced you to sit down instead of letting you help.

After dinner, you two layed down on his couch to watch a movie, your head an his shoulder while he played with a strand of your hair. You felt him pressing his nose into your hair and you laughed when you heard him inhale deeply. "What? I love your smell" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around you.

Afterwards, you headed to bed after getting ready together. He didn't even give you the chance to bring some sort of distance between you or letting you even lay down for a second before he was already pulling you into his arms again, leaving you squealing and giggling.

"Come here! I need my cuddles!" he demanded, giving you a light bite on your shoulder. "As if you weren't cuddling me all the time" you stated, brushing a few hair strands out of his face.

"They are never enough, never"

𝖜𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌

Chan's proposal was something you hadn't expected. Well, yes at some point in the future yes but you were surprised when the love of your life suddenly kneeled in front of you, a beautiful and well-chosen ring in his hand. Of course you said yes! I mean how could you not?

The preparation of the wedding let the time pass so fast. You chose the perfect venue in Australia on the beach you had met years ago and your wedding dress was breathtaking and you couldn't wait to see Chan's reaction.

When you walked down the aisle, you were so nervous but yet so excited. With a beautiful bouquet in hand, you headed to your future, to your beloved husband. He looked absolutely gorgeous in his black suit and as soon as his eyes found yours, a stunning smile decorated his face.

Your farther gave you into Chan's arms and got back to his seat. During the whole ceremony, your lover's eyes never left yours and his fingers caressed your hands. Soon, you both said yes and exchanged your rings that you had chosen. Your wedding band was silver with a white stone and on the inside, hidden from the outside, were your initials engraved.

Chan gently pressed his lips on yours, your hands finding its way in his hair.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉

You and Chan were married for over a year now and you knew that he wanted kids and you must admit that you imagined being a mother too. And after settling into marriage you felt that it was the right time to try for a baby.

Chan was excited and couldn't wait until you were pregnant. Just some months later, you found out that you were indeed with child and on the first doctor's appointment, Chan cried as soon as he saw the cell that is your baby.

During the whole pregnancy, he was so nervous and affectionate. Whenever he found time, he would caress your bump or lay on your stomach to tell you and your baby about his day.

As your bump grew, he was cautious about everything. You couldn't even do laundry without him jumping up and taking over, claiming that you needed to rest.

When you went into labour, he stayed by your side during the whole process. His hand never left yours and he drove to the hospital, even when you tightened your hold with each contraction.

After hours of labour, you heard your baby's first cries and it felt like all the pain faded away. The only thing you could concentrate on, was to hold your baby. Chan kissed your forehead in joy, complimenting you how great you did this. In his own eyes were tears as they laid the beautiful baby girl in your arms.

Tenderly, he caressed his finger over the smooth skin and oh lord - he was smitten. He felt nervous when you suggested to hold his girl but he agreed and listened to the instructions the nurse gave him. He undressed his chest because newborns liked the skin to skin contact to hold their temperature and to control their breathing.

He laughed in joy as he held his little one finally after months of waiting, the smile never left his lips again.

[desi2go]

Thank you for tagging me 💙

Here's mine 🫶🏼

@justsomekpopstuff tagged me in this but the other post is miles long

Sacrifices: @beenbaanbuun @coffee-addict-kitten @wooyoungisbaby @halavibe @hwakakeri @hongjoongsgoat @sillyspero