ducktoo

[ducktoo]

playing the 2.5 quest makes me wanna write a tragic character so bad....

phrolova i miss you already

[ducktoo]

I remembered reading this the first time and it broke me so hard

Rei - Fragments of our memories (Repost)

Naoi Rei x Male OC

Angst

6.3k words

“I miss you more than I remember you.” ― Ocean Vuong

“Don’t stand on the swing, you’ll fall,” Kyo told Rei. 

“Don’t worry,” Rei said back, even raising her hands from the chains, “See? It’s totally fine.”

Kyo nervously ran to her, shuffling around and thinking of a way to stop her, while she was laughing and his useless attempts. “You’ll get hurt!” he screamed.

Rei just jumped off the swing, landing cleanly on the grass like a gymnast. Kyo’s heart froze for a second then he fell in relief. “You need to stop doing this.”

“Oh come on, you’re no fun,” Rei chanted while running away from her friend. Kyo got to his feet and started chasing her, making patterns in the grass. She was a little older than he was, a little shorter, and was dressed in plain neat clothes, a navy blue skirt, and a bright sky blue shirt. Kyo, in his greyish shirt, absorbed her color as much as he could.

Rei and Kyo were neighbors. When Kyo’s mum went to Rei’s household for a cup of tea with her mum, she brought him along as well and they befriended each other. 

Kyo was different from her female friends, as she could talk more freely and act as she wanted—he would not judge or get tired of her. Her friends loved to act like celebrities, going around with their little bags and carrying their pink makeup kits around, but Rei liked to run around and chat about cartoons and games.

It was on her 14th birthday that she discovered dancing and it all changed. Her interests shifted to kpop, idols, and music. Kyo was a little disoriented at first but did his best to understand them. It was in his best interest to find a common ground for their conversations. From their little chats by the park, it became more of a chase, but it was still fine.

Rei was popular in school. “Become so good they can’t ignore you,” her mom told her and so she did.

She was always surrounded and many boys had the braveness to try their luck even if a "no" was always the given answer. Kyo could only smile from behind the last row, happy about the change in her popularity. 

Then school ended and she disappeared. 

The holidays passed quietly and he got into high school. Strangely they went to the same place and the two could see each other every day but could only exchange a couple of words. Now she had friends of her own.

Rei wondered what she did. Kyo wondered what he did. 

She was a lonely person on her own. There were times when she would dip her head back in her memories and she’d only find him smiling. She wondered many times if it was going to last, that feeling of emptiness, that feeling of being lost—missing him. One time, her mom told her, “A person who values you, wouldn’t ever put themselves in a position to lose you.” Rei often asked herself, who was losing who.

-

“When was the last time I came to your house - just to play?” Rei rests her head on her palm, beside the window of the bedroom, a blue room for cats to look into. “I went to your home two days ago, your mom was there and let me in because she knows me—or thought I was looking for you—but you weren’t home.” Rei stops for a moment, to let him sigh and let her look at her nails. “I asked her where you went, and you know what she said?” She grins. “She said you were out with a girl. Really.” Rei sighs and rolls herself on the bed to look away. “You told me you missed me last week, it was only last week, you said that, but here you are.”

Outside, the cats’ rustling sounds like a disappointed humming, it goes right into the room. Kyo lays his head against the wall, raises his chin to the ceiling, and lowers his eyes to the floor. It’s your fault as well, he thinks, you’re always with your friends. He should’ve known she was going to bring this up. When they got into the house, Rei was already quiet and didn’t even greet ‘Mr. Iguchi’—how she called his dog, it was the name of a comedian they watched from time to time.

After that, they went to the room, with Rei’s gaze scratching the walls. Kyo’s eyes were tired. It was just before the evening when the flowers look a little colder and the kids come home. 

Kyo raises his eyes to look directly into Rei. “So what is the problem?” he asks.

Rei chuckles, shifting her shoulders. “What do you think it is?” she asks back. “I just find it ironic, it was your idea to hang out. You were the one that said ‘I miss you’. Did it take that little to find another one?” She holds her arm, biting into her shirt.

“Didn’t you hang out with the boys of your dancing class two weeks ago?”

“This isn’t about me,” Rei mouths. 

“It’s about us,” Kyo continues, “but I don’t think it’s going anywhere—if you don’t want to.”

Without a beat, Rei glances at Kyo. It was hateful.

“Why would I be here if I didn’t want to?” she says. 

“Maybe the guys got tired of you. I don’t know, you tell me. Did they finish the money? Or maybe hope?”

“What are you trying to say?” “Come on, Rei,” Kyo says chuckling, “why should they go out with you? They already knew where they were going to sleep that night.”

It was the first time Rei hit her friend, they must’ve been fourteen, too naive. A hand, a flash, a

reckoning. His mouth a blaze of touch.

Now that Kyo looks at her, her clothes are different from that time. Her shirt has long sleeves, her skirt is of a deep brown, coming under her knees, and a bit under there were her socks and her white sneakers. Rei flexes her hand against her side, and it trembles. She bites her lip. She scratches her nails.

Kyo’s cheek doesn’t hurt anymore.

Rei was the one in pain.

“Have you ever searched for someone in everyone you meet?” Rei says, stroking her palm against her wrinkled skirt. “But they are eyes are different and so is their hand—even though, I’ve never touched theirs. Have you ever watched yourself from the back falling away?” How could Kyo tell her their darkness was coming together? That the pages of their stories were of the same book?

“I’m sorry,” Rei says, caressing gently Kyo’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

“No, you’re too weak,” Kyo says, immediately feeling her other hand against his stomach.

“It was cold outside when I came in, grab your coat, I’ll get you some soba.” With another small ache in his belly, Kyo silently dips the soba in the sauce, silently slurping it and nodding in approval. Rei chuckles. “We’re the same.”

-

It was valentine, but both Kyo and Rei got no dates or even intended to ask someone out. Instead, they decided to go buy every chocolate they could find. Lover's chocolate tastes best, even though it leaves a bitter aftertaste, of loneliness. So they went together.

“You pay for it this time,” Kyo said.

“Fine,” Rei accepted and walked inside the shop.

He sat on the tables outside and watched Rei buy two cups of chocolate dessert, he didn’t know the names of whatever she was holding but she would tell him later. She came outside and left the sweets on the table, taking out a plastic container, she started coating the whole thing in caramel, just enough for a few strands of liquid to decorate the whipped cream on top. Sitting together, they passed each other the dessert and ate. It tasted the way you’d imagine soap opera romance to taste—overly sweet and a bit bitter. 

“This is luxury.” Rei grinned. “This is our equivalent to going to five-star restaurants. It’s even better. They are always so upright in those kinds of restaurants.” She removed the rubber band from her wrist and tied her hair in a bun.

Kyo looked at her while she moved the strands with her hands, delicate fingers. He looked at her neck, her naked nape and he blushed. He knew what it meant but he kept asking why he felt this way. Rei’s movements slowed down and everything looked so tempting. What’s wrong with me, he asked himself and looked away. Then he glanced back and saw her lips, again he looked down at the table.

While he was distracted, Rei got a cup out. It was another brownish liquid and beside you there was a bottle of water as well, to clean their palate. 

“Drink,” Rei said, her lips pouting with pride. “This is that drink I’ve been talking about, you’ll look it. No doubt about it.”

Kyo drank it nervously, with Rei's attentive gaze on him. With all the sweets they tasted that day, the drink was almost tasteless, but there was still some flavor left in it. He assumed it was good if he didn’t kill his tongue. 

Rei watched as his adam’s apple moved while he gulped. Rei gulped as well. She suddenly felt a heat, she grasped her arm and watched his jaw, his ears, his eyes. She sat uncomfortably and wondered if it was really what she thought it was. The moment was way too obvious.

“A little more,” Rei said, facing forward. “I know it’s a lot. But it’s worth it.”

Kyo clanked the cup down on the table. 

“See it was delicious wasn’t it?” Rei grinned.

“It was,” Kyo said.

They would also go around the town and enter the gadget shops. Everything was heart-shaped and red. After a while, even the slight resemblance made them puke. The town was plastered with all those kinds of things and PDA disappeared. Sometimes Kyo and Rei would just sprint part a section because it became embarrassing.

When the door opens, the lovers gave a quick glance at the two entering, concluding they were like them, and went back to eating. But they weren’t. They continue speaking so happily and merrily, while Kyo and Rei want to disappear. Everyone is either holding hands or kissing and other stupid things lovers do. 

“We can’t go outside now, it’d be weird,” said Rei.

“Should we hold hands to blend in?” Kyo suddenly suggested.

“What are you saying?” Rei exclaimed. But then she thought for a second. The idea wasn’t that bad in itself and it sounded nice, like they were…

“Just one finger,” Rei chanted and offered her pinky.

Kyo chuckled amusingly and tied his pinky with hers. They walked slowly and carefully, fearing their fingers might break. The shop was a jewelry shop. In a corner, a pair of necklaces peeks at them. Rei was the first to notice it and Kyo was the second. They had the same idea. 

“Do you have some money left?” Kyo asked, looking at his wallet. It was full this morning.

“I think we can make it,” Rei said, looking at hers. 

So they bought matching necklaces. Of course it was something as stupid as just two half-hearts completing each other but they loved it. They said it was for their friendship, to treasure it. But they both knew very well what it really meant.

-

Kyo wakes up when his body starts to hurt. The light was too bright for it to be his home. He wasn’t even on his bed. There is a breeze near his arm, it was the middle of August, and it was rare. The people race and walk. It was an airport. 

He only took a quick nap to kill the time. Kyo didn’t dream, he remembered.

He didn’t want to wake up that morning, even though they decided to meet one last time. He did it for her. Kyo was happy when she told him the news, he only came to realize later that they would never see each other again. Korea was only 900 kilometers from Japan, right next to its left side, depending on where you saw it. 

“For how long?” he asked her. 

“What do you mean for how long?” Rei said, scrunching up her nose. “I will become an idol.”

“Well, will you come back anytime soon?”

“I don’t think for some years at least,” she said. She looked away from the window with a hint of nostalgia. At that moment Kyo realized she was already in Korea. “I don’t think they’ll let me until I debut. But I will come back for sure when I’m done.” Kyo stretches his arms and cracks his back. There is the sound of weeping beside him. He gets up and looks around. It comes from a bit further away. He walks and wonders until he hears it behind the corner of a wall, it goes to the bathroom of a bar. It’s almost the sound of a cat, choking. It’s shrill and pitched. It could be a small child or a kid. 

He pushes the door. The door leaf widens. She looks up at him, lost, this Japanese girl with watery eyes. There are no kids here but them.

Under the bulb’s electric hum, quieting down all the noise from outside, Rei and Kyo spot each other through the doorway. She wipes her eyes with the palm of one hand and brushes across his waist with the other. She slips her phone back into her purse and sits at the closest sit, blinking hard. Kyo sits beside her.

“You okay, Rei?” I say, still foggy from sleep. 

“It’s alright.” She sniffles and straightens up in the chair, serious. “It’s just—well, I just keep thinking about that song you sang let me hear earlier, the uh . . .”

She squints at the floor.

“Telephone number,” I offer, “the song we used to hear in elementary.”

“That’s right.” She nods weakly. “I was sitting there with all that noise but I swear I heard it. It’s been so long since I heard that song. It reminded me of a lot of things.” She glances at him, searching, then back at the floor. 

Earlier, right after they got into the airport and checked her things, Kyo offered Rei something to let the time pass. Her parents went to look around at the shops - the prices were unreasonable, and they would just examine the things. Although, Kyo suspected they wanted to leave them alone. 

Tightly together, shoulder touching, sharing one bud for ear we listened together. After, she simply appreciated the song. He fell asleep on her shoulders after about thirty minutes of music. Kyo forgot Rei was an emotional girl.

“I’m sorry,” he says now, watching the red light pool under her eyes. “It’s a stupid song anyway. Let’s just buy some coffee or something, Rei.”

“Right,” she pauses. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. In the last few days, I’ve been always crying or sad for some reason. My feet feel like ice and the sky doesn’t look the same.” Rei paused again, peeking into his eyes. “Is it the same sky we’re looking at in Korea?”

“I don’t know,” Kyo said truthfully.

“Don’t you ever cry?” Rei asked him. Then she laughed, before saying anything. “I mean, I’m leaving, won’t you miss me?”

“I cried when you didn’t look at me,” Kyo replied.

“Mh,” Rei nodded, blushing lightly.

-

The moment Rei walked to the airplane, she stepped on his heart string. Her mum was crying, maybe her dad was too, or maybe neither was. He didn’t know whether it was him or them. Kyo was sure Rei was crying as well. Rei and Kyo had something they wanted to tell each other but didn’t. It was too late now and it was better than leaving a string tied to their fingers when it would only break.

Kyo held his necklace. 

He thought about how long trainee periods usually were. For a moment he wished she wouldn’t make it and come back but immediately shut it down, feeling guilty. Maybe it would be three years, or two, just two years…

Kyo gripped his chest. It hurt. He let out one last whisper, “Why am I so afraid to lose you, when you aren’t even mine?”

-

When autumn goes, a deadly pause closes the year and stops the days. This November there seems to be nothing to say. Night grows in November. It gets dark in November. The house was very quiet and the fog pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost howled like past spirits. It is perfect to daydream about past lovers.

This last time of the year, Kyo was so lonely, again. Sometimes, that’s just how it will be. Each year, something different. He was filled with hot coffee and so much smoke that most of the time, it was hard to see clearly. A thought has come to him recently when he opened his feed: did she forget? 

It would be the second year very soon since they separated and the sixth month since they stopped talking. It was really painful that the whole world would be able to see her and so did he, but without being able to hold her as he did.

He knew very well no one was going to call him today.

Kyo cleaned his pantry to think about something else. He has been working on himself for the past few weeks, cleaning seemed to be a good way to do something other than lie lifeless on his bed. School started again a few months ago, he had a new routine he could get used to. Did she forget?

He watched the cans and packets at the end of the cupboard. Some, he didn’t see in a very long time, and some of them expired. He looked at the can. It was red.

Somehow everything comes with an expiration date. Is there anything in the world that doesn’t?

-

Kyo called Rei once every three days. Slowly the period between the calls would stretch farther until it became two weeks. Their conversations shortened and their arguments became more shallow until it was only a ‘good luck’ or a ‘good night’. 

“You’re happy. That’s great,” it ended this time. “Bye.” Kyo put the phone down and looked outside. And when he looked up, the sky had also turned black. He was already up to his neck that night, submerged in this strange and lonely atmosphere.

He didn’t mind spending time alone, that’s what he did for most of his life, he likes his quiet days. But at night, he wishes that there was someone next to him where he lays. To hold him tight, like she used to, to say something, for the room not to be quiet. And that’s really all he’s missing in his life.

Staring at the ceiling just thinking about what they’d do. It’s been so long since he has pronounced her name. If she’d be there, would she make it come true?

Can it be called daydreaming if it’s night? 

It was all for granted. But now he’s reminiscing, falling through the cracks. It was bound to happen. He’s not surprised. They were magic. But he had no choice. She kept on coming back. She always gave him something he was needing. 

"I just hope that you're out there and you're dreaming about me too."

-

“It’s not good, dear, it’s not good.”

“I can’t let go, mom,” Rei said. “How? How can you? How can I…?” In the middle of cleaning dishes, a hand on the sink, one in the water, the phone beside her, she said, “It’s not love, it’s an obsession, you don’t even want him.” 

What do we mean when we say we want someone? Is it to want someone by your side or by theirs? Maybe we say it out of a selfish desire, and that we’d care for them, scared that they would leave with what we loved.

They say attention and love root from the same desire, that to love someone is stealing all their attention —that they lend so selflessly— and giving them yours not to feel guilty. Perhaps to break their heart is to make them selfish.

“But I love him, mom,” she said. She didn’t know she was lying.

“How are your songs doing?” her mom said. “I don’t know about charts.” Rei opened her phone and looked at the group chat of her members, saw what Yujin had said, and not yet able to understand the charts herself, said, “Yes,” anyway. It must be that way.

“That’s good to know, dear.” She sighed into the speaker, maybe it was relief. “That’s good.”

But she really loved him, Rei, Kyo. And so he did love her. So what was different—Rei loved him too.

For herself.

-

After riding their bikes for hours until the sky turned orange so that Rei would forget about her failed exam, they sat on the artificial grass hills on the river near the main street, the soft grass beneath them. Rei had just finished her ice cream. Kyo watched as she cleaned the last bit of her cone and under her lip before eating the crunchy too. 

Her sneakers grazed on the green. The city was coming to a rest, the two of them alone on the field look like two tiny dots, in a pool of warm colors. “Listen, Kyo.” From her mumbling, Rei was still munching on the cone.

“Mh?”

“Is it true? What you said yesterday.” Rei kept stroking her feet together, with the grass rustling. “That you won’t forget me? I mean,” her feet stopped, she glanced at the boy beside her, “I… will remember you… for a long time, you know?”

Kyo couldn’t tell what a long time really was. If she was thinking about moving on or she didn’t know any better words.

“Yeah,” Kyo said, not really thinking about it. “Things might happen but I will remember.”

“You aren’t sure either.” Rei giggled. Her shoulder slumped as she turned around.

Then something brushed his cheek. Started, Kyo fell on his back. Rei kissed his cheek with a small peck. The feeling and realization only came after when the lips left his skin. The softness was brief but he could still feel it. Rei ran away to the bikes. Kyo brushed his face with his hand, he thought of the future, of the sky—how it won’t ever change.

“This way, you won’t forget me.”

-

While cleaning Kyo’s closet an evening, after his mom told him he won’t leave the room until it was shining, Rei found a candy bar in an old coat. Rei gave it to him at school. She always bought the white chocolate one during breaks. Kyo was remembering. “You can take it if you wanna try,” she said. “I’ll try it later,” he said.

Rei checked the date behind the wrap and thought it was time to throw it away. 

“You know,” she said. “The date on candies goes on forever. If you take it out every once in a while and check the date you’ll think it’s good to go but if you forget it for a while then you’ll think it’s gone bad even if it has another year. If you forget about it, it expires.”

“Mh,” Kyo hummed. “So is it still good?”

“No, I threw it.”

-

The enormous vehicle was going to land at the airport of Seoul very soon. The cold rain of December darkened the cement, changing the scenery, together with its workers, colors, and people. Finally here, Kyo thought. When the airplane stopped, the ‘no smoking’ sign turned off and the speakers played pleasant music. He looked around, outside the window, and tried to calm himself down.

Kyo bowed to the hostess, and with a cute smile, she said, “Thank you for choosing us. Annyeonghi gaseyo.”

“Annyeonghi gaseyo,” he said.

When Kyo came to Korea, he was surprised at how similar it was to Japan, but he did need to get used to it. A lot of things were more difficult than he thought and there were a lot more to remember. The university welcomed him, and he found his dream there. 

Another dream he had come to chase too and he could months later. His friend happened to mention that he was going to the fan meet and they decided to buy the tickets together. Lucky for them, both won their place and set the date.

Standing in front of her, behind that glass panel, the only thing that separated them now; he truly smiled for the first time in three years. For the first time in his life, his hands were trembling in excitement, his blood was boiling inside him, and his feet were shaking. Kyo gripped his gift tight, a first edition of the manga “Astro boy”, that she loved reading when she was little. He took his time to choose it, to make sure she could remember their childhood.

Kyo had no problem talking with Yujin and Gaeul. He felt a sort of relief knowing how sweet they were — he knew Rei was in good hands — but they were just Rei’s friends for him and he didn’t feel nervous at all. However, when it was her turn, he got his breath kicked out.

Rei had lost weight. She was a bit slimmer than he remembered, notably her neck and arms changed, but her face was the same. Her cheeks were still as full and her eyes were just as lively. By the time Kyo had reached her seat, Rei had already had three ribbons and two plushies, together with all the other gifts under the table.

“Hello!” Rei greeted him. 

“Hey,” Kyo replied. He tried to squat down to come to her eye level, realized he didn’t have balance and went to his knees. Kyo was shaking terribly, every move he made was a mess. “This is the first edition of a manga, for you,” he managed to say, while still sounding comprehensible.

“Thank you,” Rei said politely. 

Then Kyo realized there was no point in being so stressed in front of his friend. 

“Name?”

“Kyo,” he said. Rei started writing, still showing no sign of recognizing him. He didn’t change much in two years though: his hair was still the same, he only grew a couple of centimeters and his weight was the same as well.

“Where are you from?” she asked. “Japan?”

“Yeah, Nagoya.” “Nagoya?!” Her eyes lit up. Kyo felt hopeful. “Wow,” she said. “The flight doesn’t take long right?”

“Uhh, no, but yeah, I’m an exchange student here. So I’ve already stayed here for a month or so.”

“That’s interesting.” Rei continued to sign the album, both glancing at the pictures and at him.

“I already miss home,” Kyo laughed.

“Ah! I really miss Nagoya,” Rei pouted. 

“When was the last time you went back?”

“I haven’t left since I came here, actually,” she said with a sly smile, memories flooding in her eyes, still nothing he could find in her pupils. “Yeah, I really want to go back. I don’t know, I just want to have fun, but these days we have worked so hard so…”

“You have done so well since your debut.”

“Thank you.” Rei glanced at the girl next to him, moving away to the next member. “Well, thank you for coming.”

Kyo stopped for a moment. His breath was left in the middle of his throat. He looked at her smiling so brightly, but his smile was slowly fading and so was his hope. “You don’t…”

“Mh?”

“Remember me?”

“Oh, you’ve been in the previous fan sign?”

“No, I’m… your friend. Your best friend. Don’t you remember? I’m Kyo.”

“No, I think you got it wrong,” Rei said with confusion, getting embarrassed. At that moment Kyo too felt embarrassed, but the worrying feeling of having remembered wrong got him by the neck. What if she actually wasn’t his friend? She looked very honest. What if he really did get it wrong? But no, she looked the exact same, she even told him the name of the group she was debuting in during their past phone calls. Was he dreaming?

“I…” Kyo couldn’t say anything else. The man behind Rei got up and gestured for him to move along, grabbing his shoulder. Kyo quickly thought of something and got a piece of paper out and wrote his number. “Put it in your phone, you’ll realize you already have it. Thank you.”

Rei took the paper and left it on the table. She looked at it, questioning what he said, and put it in her pocket. Kyo moved on with the other members but didn’t care much. That afternoon, she opened her phone, she was still unsure —was he right, she didn’t know what to do— but she had to know. So she clicked every number carefully, the contacts slowly narrowed down, she didn’t even finish writing that his name popped up, then she remembered.

She didn’t want to.

-

“I’ve never asked, what is it that you want to do?”

“Right now?” Kyo looks at the sky, tapping on her phone.

“When you grow up.”

“It’s a bit too late to grow up, Rei,” Kyo says, “you are already there. Doing it.”

“Well, we grow up at different paces right?”

“Did you get that thought only now?”

Rei thinks for a moment. “I’ve told you mine before, I want to know yours.”

“Nothing too fancy like an idol,” his phone voice sighs, “maybe a data analyst.”

“That’s nice.”

“Do you even know what it is?”

-

February 13.

It was that day of early winter when the rough wind scraped your skin and marked it with its cold fangs, just to remind you of its past strength, but the temperature was becoming more gentle. It was nearly eight in the evening. People were still walking but for going home. Kyo dressed up and walked out, as they agreed. The place was in an alley near the music shop. 

The streetlights fell away and the sidewalk twisted violently. Soon he was in the suburbs of Gangnam, the shop lights started to pop up, still dim and tired, first as slim flashes of white then thick warm gold. You could peer into the windows and see another world. From the other street, you could glance over and see wood chairs and tables, great workmanship on display, and other specialties nearby. The shops were so little you’d think dwarfs ran them.

Suddenly everyone blazed upon him. People were everywhere, walking where he didn’t know, with colors and garments dividing the alley into tiny strings of darkness. One of them walked with a small paper bag, from a jewelry shop. A couple was rushing away, hand in hand. Another boy was chasing a girl, with bags on his shoulders, beaming. 

But they all disappeared behind Kyo’s back once she arrived. The sky opened and Kyo realized he could already see the stars. Rei stood still in front of him. She had an old sweater and a smooth skirt, holding a bag on her shoulder.

“Kyo,” Rei called him. It had been three years. “Come.”

They made their way out of the district, or further in, Kyo couldn’t tell. 

“This is where I bought my guitar,” Rei said.

“Acoustic, right?”

“I left mine in Japan, it’s not like I could bring it with me, they sold cheap ones here.”

“Maybe you could write something in the future,” Kyo said, looking away at the houses. They were left aging alone in the darkest corners of the city, where the lights haven’t been changed for years since no one lived there anymore. The houses only treasured the ghosts of their past owners, forgotten.

“If we become more popular,” she said, still looking away in front of her, “they will definitely let me try.”

“You’re already popular.”

Rei’s eyes flicked in the light. She looked down at the pavement, then started walking faster. As they climbed the road up the steep hill, the sky opened up even wider, the street lights were lost behind, and the shops grew further and further apart from one another. 

They stopped on top of one of the hills, where the park started. 

“I would lie if I said I hadn’t forgotten,” Rei started. She stared at the dots of lights under the city. The vulnerability in her tone is what held him back.

“You’re smart,” she said. “You’ll do great here.” Her voice sounds unfinished. That’s when Kyo realized she was scratching her nail polish, the tendons flexed hard where she was digging. Then she bit her lip, trembling where she left her mark.

“Maybe,” Kyo said.

“They’re still fighting as always, those two.” A small giggle escapes her lips.

“Who?” He turns to her.

“Leeseo and Yujin. They just can’t get it right.” Her words roll inside her mouth, they come out distorted. “They are literally opposite in everything. They got so good at acting good on camera then go to war when it turns off.” Rei kicks into the grass and lets out a short exhausted chuckle. “I bet they are fighting over who is slowing the wi-fi down now.” Kyo smiles, just because.

“Is this place where you usually hang out? It looks like not a lot of people come here. Old people at that.” Kyo played with his finger, glancing at Rei at times. 

“Yes,” she said. 

“We can come here again,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” she said. 

“Then we can choose another place,” Kyo said, his eyes glistening. “There must be another place as quiet as this. Maybe a restaurant.”

“I don’t think we’ll meet again, Kyo,” Rei added. 

His foot slipped off the grass. “No? What do you mean?” 

“We shouldn’t talk anymore.” Rei’s fingers started bleeding. “We are very different now, Kyo. It isn’t because of who you are, but because of who I am and what we are. We made it very far, but it won’t do.” Her words trembled. “I’m greedy, you know, it won’t do. We can’t see each other anymore.”

“We made a promise. You remember. You’re kidding.” He gripped his side and breathed deeply. Sure, things have been rough for both of them, and they talked less and less, but they missed each other—he did, and she must be too. And she’d definitely never utter those words.

“They don’t last. Memory is a choice, Kyo,” Rei said, with a voice of false sympathy, the way a doctor would say it. But if she was a doctor, she would have apologized. His inside twisted. He darted a look at Rei. “Do you know how much you have made me wait?!” Kyo’s voice gasped and shouted. His throat cramped. “I have waited for you for three years. Three years! Do you know how many chances I had to forget you? I wanted to remember, yeah, but why didn’t you!”

“It just happened.”

“It can’t just happen!”

“Nothing is forever, Kyo—not love, not pain, not us.” 

“I know, I know it… but it’s you who made me believe otherwise and I truly did, every moment.”

Now her lip started bleeding, his eyes too, with tears. They fell down slowly, almost like they were holding back but his frown slipped them down to his chin, pooling under his lip. Nauseous, Kyo searched the starless sky. A plane blinked colors, a silent trace of clouds behind. He found nothing.

“We can do it over. Just strangers now,” Kyo continued, “and let’s get to know each other. Yeah? Or is it the company, the fans… Nobody knew us. Then why now. Why now.”

“It wasn’t anyone. It was just us—”

“Us? You! You, why are you… isn’t that so selfish? Don’t you feel anything? Nothing at all?” Kyo held his hand out as if asking for something. “You found someone better.”

“It’s not that,” Rei mumbled. “No one is better. But we can’t.” Kyo’s shoulder melted. His chin lowered to his chest and his hands went limp. Yes, she was leaving him now. 

Rei walked closer and grabbed his wrist.

She held his palm open, holding his necklace, and put her necklace inside—completing the heart. She closed his hand, sealing their past in it for good. His arm dangled for a moment, searching for any kind of regret on her face. 

He didn’t find any.

Kyo slowly slid his hand inside his pocket.

Rei held her breath, grabbed his face, and slowly moved closer, giving him time to move away. Kyo didn’t. She didn’t. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut and she swayed forward in anticipation as his lips met hers. He let out a little gasp, his lips tingling when Rei crushes them with hers and for a moment all he can do is blink in surprise, and Rei's hand cradled his cheek as she kissed him softly, slowly, exploring what she forgot. 

His heart was pounding so fast he thought it might beat out of his chest. Kyo couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but kiss her back. A tear slipped down his cheek and onto Rei’s hand. She got startled and pulled away. 

“It’s only fair,” Rei trembled.

Kyo simply sighed, afraid to speak, afraid that all the love he felt for her would spill out of him - in tears, in words, in touch. He touched his lips—wounded—and understood, felt, her love. It hurt.

“Sorry I’m so selfish, so greedy,” Rei said. “I hope you find someone better.”

She hesitated again, but only had enough strength to simply brush his hand, then she turned around. He stood there looking at her figure leaving him again, this time forever, his heart in his pocket and a hole in his chest.

THE END

Written, 27 October 2022 - 11 November 2022

[ducktoo]

Updated masterlist 🫶

Masterlist

Just a little masterlist for you guys

-

RECOMMEND (Top 5):

Cheeky - Yujin x M!Reader

Again - Wonyoung x M!Reader

Who…are you? - Chaewon x Reader

Until Cold Do Us Apart - Jiheon x M!Reader

How to take care of Jiwon - Liz x Reader

Full stories

Syncing Dream - Aespa x M!Reader

-

Oneshot

Aespa

First love…till not? - Giselle x Reader

DREAMCATCHER

Chase Me - Yoohyeon x Reader

Sweet - Dami X M!Reader

Fromis_9

Supersonic Rift - Nagyung x Reader

Until Cold Do Us Apart - Jiheon x M!Reader

IZ*ONE

Cold Food, Warm Heart - Kwon Eunbi x Reader

Drunken Oospie - Hyewon x M!Reader

Office Antics - Yena x Reader

So this is how it ends - Chaeyeon x Reader

Choose - Minju x Reader

Yako - Nako x Reader

Cottonball? - Hitomi x Reader

Getaway - Yuri x M!Reader

IVE

Cheeky - Yujin x M!Reader

I know - Yujin x M!Reader

Honey - Yujin x M!Reader

Again - Wonyoung x M!Reader

How to take care of Jiwon - Liz x Reader

LESSERAFIM

Frayed Heart - Sakura x Reader

Who…are you? - Chaewon x Reader

Stalking - Kazuha x Reader

Red Velvet

Love is War - Irene x Reader

No one believed you - Seulgi x M!Reader

The night I got drunk - Wendy x Reader

TWICE

OTHERS

"Tonight, I'll send the glow of a firefly to you.” - IU x Reader

Guess some things never change - Asa x M!Reader

[ducktoo]

I proofread this!!

Again (m!reader x IVE's WONYOUNG)

masterlist

Summary: After ghosting you for months, Wonyoung returns and asks for a second chance. But nothing is as simple as it used to be.

tags(?): angst, fluff, second chances, hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings, slow reconcilation

trigger warning(?): mentions of su*cide (check on your loved ones)

WONYOUNG x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~15k - big shout out to @ducktoo for their tutor-like proofreading

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The apartment was already full when you stepped inside - soft lighting, music pulsing low through the walls, voices buzzing from the kitchen to the living room. The police’d definitely knock on this door before midnight. You didn’t want to go here tonight, not really. But your friends told you that you look good - first time in months.

Clean new jacket. New shoes. New pants. You even had your hair trimmed and styled it the way you used to when you actually felt alive. 

“There he is.” Taejoon muttered as he appeared from the crowd in the living room, already shoving a beer bottle in your hands. “My boy is back.”

“I haven’t drank in forever, man.” 

“Did you drive here tonight?”

“No.”

“Then let’s drink. I miss us getting drunk together.” he said, the look he gave you had a kind of quiet relief underneath.

Before you could answer, Taejoon had already clapped a hand on your shoulder and started dragging you through the crowd toward the kitchen. You were too tired to protest anyway. The kitchen counter was cluttered with half empty bottles, cups and hangover drinks. Gaeul was already sitting there, headphones around her neck, scrolling lazily on her phone. You spotted her blonde hair immediately. Her face lit up as soon as she noticed you.

“Holy shit.” she grinned. “Look who finally rose from the grave.”

You gave her a tired smile, sliding onto the stool beside her as Taejoon started ramming through the bottles. She reached over and gave your cheek a light squeeze - warm, familiar. No judgement in her eyes.

“You look good, Jihoo-ah.” she said. “Seriously, good enough to date me.”

You let out a soft huff.

“He does, right?” Taejoon cut in. “New clothes. Even fixed his hair.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Yeah, well. Been a while since I looked in a mirror.”

Taejoon rolled his eyes, unscrewing the cap of the beer bottle in your hand.

“Don’t start getting poetic on us. Drink, dumbass.”

A breath of amusement slipped out of your mouth before the beer touched your lips. The beer touched your lips, cold and bitter. Gaeul leaned in on the counter, chin resting in her palm as she looked at you.

“Did you lose weight? I swear your cheek was rounder.”

You rolled your eyes, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. 

“What is that supposed to mean, Gaeul?”

“No, I mean it.” She squinted like she was studying you. “You look sharper. Like those Japanese actors. That tired, energy-sucked-out-of-your-soul kind of hot.”

Taejoon laughed, nearly choking on his beer.

“That’s weird..”

“What?” Gaeul shrugged. “He does look like that. Many girls dig that look.”

“Damn. I guess I’m both tragic and dateable.”

“Exactly.” she said, raising her cup. “Not many can pull that off. All you need now is a cigarette and a crying scene.”

Taejoon leaned back, eyes sweeping lazily across the crowd just outside the kitchen.

“Oh shit! I think I saw Jinsu over there.” he blurted, too excited. “I’ll be back, guys.”

He disappeared quickly, leaving behind the scent of beer and mischief. Gaeul leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping in volume like it always did when things got real.

“You okay?”

“Define okay.” You took a long sip, fingers curled around the neck of the bottle.

“You don’t have to do that with me, Jihoo-ah. You know that.” she chuckled quietly. Gaeul always knew how to make you feel comfortable. Sometimes too comfortable.

“I’ve been…” you looked down at the sweating beer in your hand, thumb rubbing. “Okay, I guess.”

“Liar.” Gaeul smiled.

“...I mean, all I did the past few months was work and work.”

You laughed slightly, like you couldn't even believe your life’d been that boring. “I’d clock out and just… go home. Sit in my room. Play games until I pass out. Wake up. Repeat.”

Gaeul stayed silent, letting you go on.

“I stopped seeing people… Barely touched my guitar. I don’t think I’ve even taken a real photo in months.” You glanced over at her. “I used to care about that stuff, right?”

Gaeul tilted her head, eyes soft.

“You still do.” she said. “You just forgot for a while.”

You shrugged. “I did go to the club once though. Made out with a girl. Almost slept with her…”

“Mm.” Gaeul waited. You just looked at the ceiling, exhaling through your nose.

“But… she was in my head.” you admitted. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even touch her properly.”

A moment passed by as Gaeul took a sip and narrowed her eyes just slightly.

“You’re not the type to sleep around with strangers like that, Jihoo-ah. You’re a big softie.”

“Yeah… I guess I was trying to prove something. Or forget someone.” 

You drank again. The bitterness clung to your tongue.

“... Am I a douchebag, Kim Gaeul?” you asked suddenly, letting out a dry scoff. “Or just, a bad guy?”

Gaeul’s eyes widened as she reached out to slap you on the arm. You were too tired to react.

“No, dumbass. You’re like… the best guy I know.” She leaned in closer, voice soft but firm. “Every parent would love to have a son-in-law like you, Jihoo-ah. You ask for consent. You have a nice job. You help your friends willingly.”

Your throat tightened. A short, pathetic laugh escaped your lips.

“... Then why the fuck would she leave me, Gaeul-ah?”

You couldn’t help it anymore. The moment the words left your mouth, the dam cracked. A single tear fell, followed by another. You tried to stop them but they kept coming - stupid, silent tears that burned more from the inside. You rarely cried. Gaeul knew. She just pulled your head down to her shoulder, hand rubbing between your shoulder blades like she’d always done in uni. She didn’t tell you to stop. She just let you break down.

“I lov-”

Sniffle

“I love her.”

“I know, Jihoo-ah.” Gaeul said quietly.

“I really fuc-”

Sniffle

“I really fucking did.”

“I know you did.”

Then, you kept drinking. Gaeul let you talk about all of it - what you missed, what you couldn’t understand, the dreams that felt stupid now. And Gaeul just stayed there. Outside the kitchen, the party went on. Music, laughter, chatter. But here, it was just you and your best friend. You and the one person who never shamed you for hurting.

Your nose was stuffy. Eyes red. But your voice was too calm despite the ache in your chest.

“You know that night… my birthday?” you said, staring at the beer bottle. “I thought she would at least text. Or call. Anything.”

Gaeul didn’t say anything right away, listening was the only way she could.

“I waited like a kid on fucking Christmas.” you laughed bitterly. “Fucking hell, I was stupid, Gaeul-ah. Sitting on my bed with my phone like a dumbass.”

“You weren’t stupid.”

“When the clock hit twelve.” you said slowly, like tearing a bandaid off. “Only you texted me. You.”

“I knew you'd still be up.” her smile was small, but there - like always. “And I didn’t want you to think no one remembered.”

“You always do that.” You looked at her, your nose red, eyes almost swollen.

“Do what?”

“Show up.”

Gaeul pursed her lips, shrugging. “You’re my best friend. Of course I’m gonna show up."

You went quiet again. Somewhere behind, someone shouted. Someone sang along to the song playing from the speakers. Gaeul then gave a soft hum.

“You gonna stay here all night?”

“... Shit, I don’t know… Maybe”

“That’s okay, too. But maybe take a breather soon. Get some air.”

You nodded. Gaeul didn’t say anymore and just sipped her drink, eyes flicking toward the hallway then back to you. 

You kept drinking, just enough to dull the sharp parts in your body. Twenty minutes passed - you weren’t exactly drunk, not really. But you were tipsy enough that your limbs felt a bit lighter, your mouth a little looser now. You leaned back.

“She still lives with you?”

“Yeah.” Gaeul nodded.

“Has she said anything about me? Recently?”

“She stopped mentioning you for a while now, Jihoo-ah…” Gaeul hesitated. “She just… you know…”

“Mm.” you chuckled, sipping more beer for the next ten minutes.

“Yah… Why didn’t we date in uni, Kim Gaeul?”

She raised a brow, amused but unphased. “I don’t know. Maybe because we knew too much about each other?”

“Yeah…” you nodded then reached out to ruffle Gaeul’s hair with a small grin. She didn’t stop you. She even smiled. She knew this version of you - unraveling and bruised - and was patient with it.

“We would’ve looked good together. Better than me and that bitch, right?”

Her expression faltered for just a few seconds. Not anger or shock. Maybe a flicker of sadness? You laughed to yourself, half hearted and too bitter.

“Fuck Jang Wonyoung, right?”

Gaeul just looked at you - red eyes, flushed cheeks, the light trembling in your hand as you set down the beer bottle. When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle.

“Don’t say that, Jihoo-ah.”

The laughter died in your throat.

“She hurt you, yeah. But you don’t actually mean it.”

Yeah, I know…

You swallowed hard, the silence heavy between you now. All the noise of the party felt far away again. Her name - Wonyoung - was echoing too loud in your chest. You let out a short and awkward laugh.

“I… uh, I’m gonna step out for a second.”

Gaeul tilted her head. “Where?”

“Balcony.” you got up, grabbing your lighter from your pocket.

“Wait, you smoke?” her voice sharpened behind you.

“Umm…” you turned back.

“Since when?”

“Uni. When things got bad.”

Gaeul stood up now, fully. “You absolute dickhead.”

“What?”

“You’ve been hiding that from me? You fucking smoke and I didn’t know? What the hell, Jihoo?”

Your brows furrowed as she walked toward you, drink in hand like she might throw it at you. 

“I told you everything when I had my panic attacks, when I thought I was failing. You better not give me this ‘I didn’t want you to worry’ bullshit.”

“I didn’t want you to worry like that…” you muttered.

“Like what?”

“Like now.”

Gaeul stared at you, chest rising slightly. “Wonyoung made you quit, didn’t she?”

“Yeah… She found out. I stopped for her.”

Her jaw clenched. “But your dumbass didn’t stop for yourself.”

“I only do it sometimes now. Every few weeks. When things get bad or I’m stressed because of work.” you looked around, trying to escape from her gaze.

Gaeul shook her head, frustrated. “You’re a dick for hiding it. And for smoking.”

You didn’t know how to apologize. Instead, you stepped forward and pulled Gaeul into a hug - arms wrapping around her shoulder, her face against your chest. Gaeul stiffened a bit.

“I just need just one tonight, Gaeul-ah.” you murmured.

She didn’t return the hug and scolded you softly like always. With a soft huff, she raised her fist and thumped it against your chest. That meant something.

“Wonyoung would be disappointed in you.”

Your breath caught. Gaeul pulled away and walked off without another word, leaving you alone near the balcony with the one sentence wrecking havoc in your heart. It hurt - too much - but you stepped out to the balcony anyway.

The cigarette burned slowly between your fingers as you leaned over the railing, watching the city buzzing. The wind was cool against your skin but it did nothing to quiet the storm in your chest. 

If Wonyoung really cared, why the fuck would she leave?

You took another drag. You weren’t even sure when the tears came, again. They were just there, warm against your cheeks and mixing with the smoke. You wiped at them roughly, eyes burning. The bitterness in your throat wasn’t just from the cigarette. Then-

The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t care. Maybe it was Gaeul again.

“I’ll finish after this one, Gaeul-ah.” you muttered hoarsely, not looking back. “Just let me be for a bit, you short grandma.”

Nothing. 

And then-

“You promised me, oppa.”

Your body froze.

It couldn’t be.

You turned around slowly, almost afraid the voice had come from your head. And the moment your eyes landed on her - her face, her eyes, her presence - your grip loosened without thinking. The cigarette slipped, falling straight into your palm. The burn didn’t register, not with her standing there.

Wonyoung.

She was standing there like a memory you hadn't let yourself believe would ever walk back into your life - soft pink hoodie, the zipper undone like she knew it would drive you crazy when she stepped into your world again looking like that. Beneath it, a delicate white slip dress peeked out, hem decorated with lace. And on her feet - a pair of ballet flats, light pink with little bows - the little detail that somehow made your chest ache more than anything else.

She looked ethereal and untouchable.

And yet, none of that compared to Wonyoung herself.

The way her long hair fell over one shoulder, the faintest blush on her cheeks. Her lips parted. Her eyes locked with yours like they hadn't aged a single day, even if everything between you had cracked, shattered.

Wonyoung stood there, lips pressed together as her gaze dropped briefly to your hand. Her brows knit in an instant.

“Yah- what are you doing, oppa?” she rushed to you, voice sharp. Without hesitation, she reached out, snatching the cigarette and tossing it aside. You flinched slightly but didn’t resist when Wonyoung grabbed your wrist to inspect your palm with a deepening frown.

“It’s red…” she muttered, almost to herself. “Aish… it’s already blistering.”

Wonyoung shook her head, eyes flicking up to yours.

“Why would you hold on to it, oppa? Are you out of your mind?”

You couldn’t speak up. Wonyoung let out a tight breath, her fingers still curled gently around your wrist.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, softer this time - still angry, but worried. Really worried. You just stared at her - eyes red, throat too tight to form any words. You didn’t nod. You didn’t shake your head. You just looked at her, the way someone might look at a dream they weren’t ready to wake up from.

And Wonyoung… she looked like she understood. Her gaze softened more than it should’ve. She didn’t need to explain. She was the one who walked away. And now, seeing you like this , she looked like she didn’t know what to do. But still, she moved.

Without another word, her fingers wrapped around your wrist, careful not to touch the burn. You didn’t resist while she pulled you inside slowly, step by step, careful not to ruin the moment. A few heads turned. The low buzz of conversation, eyes looking at you and Wonyoung - surprised, confused. No one had expected to see you two side by side again, especially since you had changed drastically since she ghosted you.

“Didn’t she ghost him?”

“I thought they broke up.”

“Didn’t Jihoo keep texting her for months?”

“Wonyoung just disappeared, right? Didn’t even say a word-”

The whispers circle quietly, travelling to your ear. Wonyoung, however, didn’t flinch. Her grip stayed steady on your wrist, head held high, like she didn’t hear a thing. Or maybe she felt like she didn’t deserve to respond. Wonyoung led you straight to the room, past all the gossip, all the questions, all the eyes that tried to split you both apart. Straight to Gaeul.

“Unnie.” Wonyoung called out softly, her voice strained. “Can you get something for his hand? He…”

Her eyes flicked to yours. She didn’t finish the sentence. Gaeul’s eyes widened when she saw you - the redness in your eyes, the cigarette burn, Wonyoung’s hand still wrapped around your wrist like she was afraid to let go. Gaeul then nodded and got moving. Wonyoung guided you to sit on the counter stool, crouching in front of you. Her hand hovered over yours for a moment, as if unsure how close she was allowed to be.

“Just wait, oppa…” she murmured. “We’ll take care of it.”

Then softer.

“I didn’t know you were hurting like this.”

And your silence said everything. Wonyoung looked up at you, her brows drawn together. She finally rested her hand atop yours - light but grounding. You could feel the tremble in her fingers. She looked like she might cry. 

Gaeul returned quietly, carrying a small first aid kit in her arms. She didn’t say anything at first and just took one look at Wonyoung crouching in front of you, her hand on yours, your face a mess of exhaustion and heartbreak - and let out a soft sigh. 

“Let me see, Lee Jihoo.” she said gently, crouching beside her. Wonyoung shifted to the side but didn’t let go of your wrist. Gaeul didn’t question it at all. 

“This might sting, okay?” she murmured, opening a bottle of antiseptic. “But we’ll patch it up later.”

Something about it made your chest ache. Wonyoung’s thumb rubbed a slow circle on your skin. Neither of them asked why you’d been dead silent until now. The look in your eyes said enough.

Gaeul worked carefully, dabbing the burn carefully. The sting was sharp. Still, you didn’t flinch. Not when Wonyoung was still sitting beside you like that, not when her hand stayed so still on yours. She hadn’t let go once. The silence between the three of you was heavy. It held something fragile and unsuspended. 

Gaeul then reached for the gauze but Wonyoung gently intercepted it.

“I got it, unnie.” she said softly. 

“Okay…” Gaeul hesitated. “I’ll give you two a second then-”

Your other hand immediately shot out, grabbing her forearm before she could move. 

“Don’t leave me.” 

The three words came out softer than you intended. Barely a whisper. Your voice cracked halfway through, broken and uncertain. You weren’t sure what would happen if Gaeul left you alone with Wonyoung. Gaeul blinked, startled, caught off guard by the sudden plea.

But Wonyoung didn’t look up . Her hand remained steady, gently wrapping the gauze around yours with the same quiet focus - she’d expected this, understanding how badly you were holding it together. And so she just kept patching you up.

When it was done, Wonyoung gently taped the end of the gauze down and her fingertips lingered a second longer than necessary.

“That’s it, oppa.” she whispered.

You just stood up, slow and quiet, then stepped behind Gaeul like she was your shield. If she stayed between you two, things wouldn’t fall apart. Your head dipped, eyes on the floor. Gaeul then glanced between you and Wonyoung, then turned her head slightly so only you could hear her.

“Jihoo-ah…” she said softly. “You don’t have to say anything yet. But don’t run away either.”

You swallowed, eyes flicking just briefly at Wonyong who was still kneeling where she’d patched you up. Her hands were in her lap now, looking smaller than you remembered. Her expression wasn’t bold or confident like she used to always be.

“She’s not here to hurt you.” Gaeul added. “Just… try.”

Wonyoung stood up slowly, brushing her palms against her knee. Her voice came out quiet, almost hesitant.

“Can we talk alone, oppa?” she asked, her eyes locked on yours. “Rooftop?”

The word hung in the air, heavy with everything unsaid. You couldn’t give her an answer right away since your thoughts were too loud in your head. Your chest felt too tight. Gaeul was still in front of you, her presence was steady like always.

“...Come with me.” you said under your breath. “Please.”

She nodded once without question. Wonyoung didn’t say anything. She gave you a slight, knowing smile - not surprised that you couldn’t face her alone yet.

The wind was slightly stronger here. Seoul stretched out in blinking lights below. Gaeul stood a few step backs, giving space but still nearby - your anchor, just in case. You and Wonyoung stood near the ledge, the rough concrete brushing against your fingers. Wonyoung was the first to speak up.

“I saw you, oppa.” her voice steady, not looking at you yet. “Earlier. With unnie. You were crying.”

“I wanted to come to you then but…” she hesitated for a bit. “I just didn’t know if I should.”

She finally glanced your way, eyes not pleading - just searching. “I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear my voice.”

You swallowed, throat tight.

“...How did you know I was here tonight?”

A quiet breath escaped her lips before she admitted quietly. 

“Gaeul-unnie told me.”

Huh?

“I didn’t ask her to, oppa. I swear.” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I just… I told her I wanted to see you again. And unnie just- just told me.”

Her voice dipped even lower now. “She said if I really meant it, I shouldn’t wait any longer.”

“Why did you…” your jaw tensed. “Why di- did you leave me, Jang Wonyoung?”

There it was. It was barely above a whisper but it was enough to make Wonyoung freeze. Her lips parted slightly. She wasn’t ready for that - the raw, broken edge in your voice, the kind that only came from someone who had waited too long for the truth.

“I thought…” she breathed. “I thought I was doing the right thing, oppa…”

She didn’t sound convinced to you. She stepped closer until the tips of her shoes met yours. Her hand reached out - hesitating for a second - before curling into the front of your jacket, clutching it tight.

“I was stupid, oppa.” she said. “I didn’t know anything. I thought being with you meant… missing out on everything else. I thought I was supposed to be free.”

You stood frozen, eyes burning, throat locked up tight. Her fingers gripped harder.

“I didn’t know how to end it… so I didn’t. I was a coward, oppa.” her voice barely holding steady. Her fingers were still clenched in the front of your jacket but her gaze never left yours - shining, glassy but not crying.

“I did everything I thought I was supposed to. I went on that trip with my friends. I spent time with my family. I tried new things. It was fun at first. It really was, like I was finally free.”

Your chest rose just a little sharper.

“I didn’t cheat on you, oppa.” Wonyoung added suddenly, firmly. “I didn’t even look at anyone, oppa. I swear. I know people probably said things but none of it was true. I couldn’t even think about loving anyone else. You could ask Gaeul-unnie- She- She wouldn’t lie…”

You glanced over your shoulder.

Gaeul was still standing a few feet away, arms crossed loosely. Her eyes met yours as she nodded. Quiet and certain.

“Wonyoung’s telling the truth.” Gaeul said gently. “She never even looked at anyone.”

Wonyoung’s voice wavered now, but she pressed on.

“I thought maybe if I distracted myself enough, it’d stop hurting. That I’d get over you. That maybe… I was supposed to. But every little thing kept pulling me back. The streets we walked on. A song you used to hum without realizing. Even my mom- my mom asked about you…”

Your jaw clenched as the weight of her words started pressing down on you again. Wonyoung’s fingers curled tighter into the leather of your jacket.

“She asked if I’d been in touch with you. Said you were always so polite. So sweet. Said she missed seeing you around the house.”

Her eyes were still glistening now, but not a single tear yet. She didn’t let it. Maybe she thought she didn’t deserve to cry.

“I didn’t know how to answer her, oppa. I didn’t even know how to face myself.”

Her voice cracked at the edges. “I was the one who walked away from you. I thought I needed space to find myself. But everywhere I went, it still felt like you.”

Wonyoung lowered her gaze for a second.

“I’ve been preparing to see you again for weeks now. Everyday I told myself I’d do it. But I was scared.” she admitted. 

“I knew I was wrong, oppa. I knew I hurt you. But I couldn’t stop asking Gaeul-unnie about you. Every time. Even when I pretended I was doing fine, I still asked.”

Slowly, your eyes shifted to Gaeul. She flinched. The guilt on her face was immediate, unmistakeable. Her shoulders tensed, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“She said… you never brought me up.” your voice was quiet, broken.

Wonyoung’s breath caught. She also turned to look at Gaeul. Gaeul’s eyes then fell to the ground.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Gaeul murmured finally. “You were so heartbroken, Jihoo-ah. I thought if I told you she still cared, it would just… make things worse.” 

Without a word, Wonyoung cupped your cheeks - gentle but certain - and turned your face back to her.

“Oppa…” she whispered, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes. “Look at me.”

Your gaze het hers, wet and searching.

“I never stopped thinking about you. Not once. Even when I smiled, even when I laughed… it was always you. I kept trying to move on like I was supposed to, but nothing ever filled your space.” she exhaled shakily. “No one saw me the way you did. No one loved me like you did.”

Her hands stayed there, grounding you. “I was stupid to let you go, oppa.”

But that was it.

Something in you finally snapped - maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was everything you’d been holding in for months - but your jaw tightened and your body shook as you stepped back from her hands. 

“Fuck you…” you breathed out, the words tasted bitter in your mouth. “Why the fuck did you leave me if you loved me that much?”

You didn’t stop. It was too late for that.

“Not one text. Not one call. You just disappeared! Do you know what that did to me? You didn’t even say goodbye!”

The tears were falling freely again now, angry and helpless. You staggered back another step, raking fingers through your hair. Your breathing was uneven as you couldn’t hold it in anymore. With a strangled cry, you tipped your head back and shouted into the night sky - a raw, broken sound tore out of your chest. You thought shouting out loud could make it hurt less. Newsflash, it didn’t. Nothing did.

“Do you know what it was like waking up and not seeing you anymore?! Not seeing your name on my phone?” you spat. “Every fucking morning, I waited. I waited like an idiot thinking you’d come back. That maybe you were just fucking confused. That maybe- may- you’d realize I was enough.”

Your voice cracked again.

“I kept asking myself what I did wrong. Was I too much? Not enough? Did I hold you back that badly? Was I just some dumbass to pass time with until you found out who you really were without me?!”

You were pacing now, wiping your face with your sleeves, eyes burning red.

“I lost my mind, Wonyoung-ah. I stopped eating. I couldn’t sleep. I hated everyone because I thought the-” you stopped, chest heaving and screamed up into the night. “Fuck! I thought everyone helped you leave.”

Wonyoung flinched at your action, at the rawness in your voice. You went on.

“You were in everyone’s photos.” you went on, voice cracking. “On everybody’s goddamn stories. Except for that one person who you called your boyfriend. I texted you a thousand times, Wonyoung-ah. A billion calls. And you didn’t even pick up. You didn’t even try.”

Silence pulsed for a second before you bit the inside of your cheek, fist clenching.

“I would’ve killed myself if Gaeul hadn’t been there for me.”

Both girls went still. Wonyoung’s eyes widened, horror slowly dawning on her expression. Gaeul raised a hand to her mouth, chest tightening with guilt. 

“Jihoo-ah…”

You looked between them before settling on Gaeul. And that was when it hit you.

“...You said she didn’t care, Gaeul-ah.”

Your voice dropped low, shaky.

“You said she didn’t ask about me or anything.”

Gaeul’s face twisted, panic and shame fighting in her eyes. “I- Jihoo, I didn’t know what to do.  You were falling apart, and she was too. I thought I was protecting both of you-”

“You lied to me.” your voice was sharp like glass. 

“I begged you, Gaeul. I asked you over and over again and you looked me in the eye and just told me she’d already forgotten about me and moved on.”

Wonyoung stepped forward, reaching for your arm but dodged her touch like it was fire.

“No, no- oppa, I didn’t forget you. I never forget you.” she said quickly, breath trembling. “Unnie was trying to protect me. I was wrong. I was the one who left. Do- don’t be angry at her, oppa. Please, please don’t...”

You just stood there, chest rising and falling. Hands shaking, eyes empty.

“The two people I trusted the most…” your voice hoarse. “...lied to me. What do I have to live for anymore?”

And with that, you turned and stormed toward the door. Wonyoung moved instantly, like she could stop you. “Oppa, wait-!”

But the door slammed hard behind you. The sound echoed like a final warning. All that was left behind was silence.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You wandered the streets aimlessly. The street lights through your swollen eyes, and the night wind bit into your skin. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t know you were going and just kept walking. Eventually, you ducked into a convenience store. The clerk barely looked up as you grabbed a few cans of beer from the fridge. You paid wordlessly, hands shaking just enough to fumble the change.

A minute later, you were sitting on the cold pavement outside, back against the wall, knees drawn loosely in. One can crack open with a soft hiss, then another. You weren’t the drinking type. Never had been, but tonight felt right. You took sips between shallow breaths, eyes fixed on nothing. Your mind was loud with voices and memories you couldn’t shut off. You cried without sound - tears sliding down your face in a steady stream. Not a single sob, not a single whimper. Just a man with a broken heart, drinking warm beer under flickering lights at almost 2 in the morning, completely alone. You let the world keep moving. Everything else had already left you already. 

The quiet hum was broken by the low roll of tires over asphalt. A patrol car pulled up slowly, headlights washing over your slouched figure like a spotlight. It parked near the curb as two officers stepped out, concern painted across their expressions.

“Are you okay, sir?” one of them asked.

You turned your head to them, and somehow, you managed a crooked smile. Your eyes were still wet and red. But the smile didn’t waver.

“I need you to arrest somebody, officer.”

“Umm… who?”

You looked ahead, not at them. “The girl who left me for months and came back tonight like it was nothing.”

The officers exchanged a glance. That subtle, silent understanding only people in uniform or in pain knew. The first officer sighed and nodded. The second gave you a small laugh.

“Sit with me?” you patted on the ground beside you.

And they did. 

The night went on just like that, two strangers in uniform sitting with a heartbroken man under a convenience store light on the pavement, listening to everything he had to say.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You blinked awake against the harsh fluorescent lights, your head pounding like a drum. The bench you were lying on was cold and hard, and your jacket had slipped halfway off your shoulder sometime during the night. Your eyes darted up, squinting at the big blue sign on the wall behind the counter.

Sinchon-dong Police Station

You sat up slowly, groaning as your muscles protested. Your mouth felt like sandpaper.

“...Shit. Did I walk all the way here?” you mumbled, dragging a hand down your face.

A soft chuckle brought you back to reality. The officer behind the counter was watching you with a kind smile. “Up already?”

“...What happened?” you blinked, trying to piece everything together.

She leaned her elbow casually on the desk.

“Our patrol team found you outside a convenience store, crying while drinking. You weren’t exactly in a state to head home yourself, so they brought you here to sober up.”

Your ears instantly burned. “Ah… shit.” you muttered, covering your face.

She laughed lightly. 

“Don’t worry. It’s okay, you weren’t a troublemaker. Just… heartbroken.”

How drunk was I?

“Is your sister… miss Lee Hyunseo?”

You rubbed your eyes and nodded slowly. “Oh yes… that’s her.”

“We contacted your emergency contact.” the officer said gently. “She should be here any minute now to help you get home.”

You closed your eyes again, groaning. “Thank you, officer.”

Ten minutes went by, the glass doors slid open with a soft hiss. A soft voice came up and greeted the officer. You didn’t even look up to know it was her - your little sister.

“Oppa…” came the small voice. Soft. Worried. 

You turned your head and there she was, your little sister. Black oversized hoodie and sweatpants combo. Yep, definitely Leeseo.

You looked away, guilt swelling up in your chest. “...Leeseo-ah.”

She hurried over and grabbed your face gently with both hands. “What were you thinking, oppa?” she whispered, trying to sound angry but her voice cracked. “You scared me.”

“I’m okay now.” you gave her a weak smile.

“No, you’re not.” she said, sniffling. “You smell so bad.”

“I’ve been drinking, dummy.” a low laugh escaped you.

Leeseo smiled tearfully then offered you her hand. “Let’s get you home, stupid.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

As soon as you stepped into the apartment, you barely made it past the door before collapsing face first onto the floor. Right there, dead center of the living room like your body’d given up. Leeseo sighed, nudging your thigh lightly with her foot. 

“Seriously, oppa?” she muttered, though her voice was more fond than annoyed.

You groaned something into the floor. She crouched next to you, patting your back.

“Fine, stay there. I’ll cook something for you, oppa. You’re gonna regret all that beer in like…” she glanced at the clock. “-two hours.”

“That’s my little sister.” you smiled, still mumbling into the floor.

“You better remember that when I’m slaving over the stove for your ass, oppa.” Leeseo snorted, already heading into the kitchen.

You didn’t even move but your smile lingered - crooked, tired. It felt nice having Leeseo around. The smell of hot soup filled the apartment not long after. You sat at the table, still in yesterday’s clothes, hair a mess. But at least your stomach had stopped turning, Leeseo slid a bowl in front of you, setting down her own across the table before plopping into her seat with a satisfied sigh.

You both ate quietly for a few minutes then Leeseo spoke, her voice quieter than usual.

“...Wonyoung unnie called me last night.” she didn’t look at you. “She was crying.”

You stopped instantly.

“She said she met you. Said you were angry and that she deserved it.” She looked at you now, cheek full on one side. “I didn’t know what to say to her, oppa.”

You forced yourself to take another bite. 

“You like hanging out with her back then huh?”

Leeseo nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully before answering. 

“She was always so cool. Confident. Pretty. Wonyoung unnie treated me like I wasn’t just your sister. I felt like I could talk to her about anything.”

“Mm.”

“She never told me anything though.” Leeseo added. “Not really. I didn’t even know she left for good until you stopped talking. And then you started drinking.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, letting the warmth of the food settle in your chest.

“I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“Do you want me to tell mom that I had to pick you up from a police station?”

You smiled, cracking a small grin. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, oppa.”

You looked at her, eyes narrowing. “I’ll let you use my card for a week.”

“Hmm… I need more.” Leeseo raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Two weeks and… I’ll drive you around, go shopping if you want?”

Leeseo titled her head, pretending to think.

“Final offer. Two weeks. Free ride. Not telling mom anything if she asks about you.”

“Sold.” she finally smiled again.

“Blackmailing your own brother. You’ve really grown.”

“I learnt from the best, oppa.” she said sweetly.

You both ate in silence - warm, annoying, normal. This was exactly what you needed. The clink of the chopsticks, the faint hum of the fridge. You were almost done when Leeseo spoke again, quieter.

“Wonyoung unnie asked me something.”

“What?” you glanced at her.

“She asked if I thought… you would ever forgive her.” Leeseo’s voice was soft, almost reluctant. “She sounded like she couldn’t stop crying, oppa.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I didn’t know.” Leeseo murmured.  

You stared at the ceiling.

“She kept saying she was sorry. That she thought about you everyday. That she messed everything up.” Leeseo added, watching you carefully. “She sounded like she meant it, oppa.”

“Adult stuff, Leeseo-ah.” you muttered, pushing the bowl aside. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I am an adult, oppa. I’m almost twenty. I’m in uni now.”

You looked at her, lips twitching despite everything. “You’re still my sister.”

She huffed, crossing her arms.

“And you’re still a mess.”

“And your older brother.”

That night, you were halfway through your second bottle when someone knocked. You froze, the quiet thud of your heart was louder than the sound itself. You set the drink down and stood up slowly, dragging your feet toward the door. When you opened it, Gaeul stood there, wringing her hands.

“I came to apologize.” she said, voice low. 

“Is she with you?” your eyes scanned around.

“No, just me.” she shook her head.

You stepped aside without another word. She slipped off her shoes and stepped in. The silence between you wasn’t awkward - just heavy. You watched as Gaeul walked in, quietly surveying everything before sitting down on the edge of your couch, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” she said after a moment, eyes meeting yours. “I know what Wonyoung did. I know how long she left you waiting. I just… I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about it.”

You picked the bottle up but didn’t drink it. “So why now?”

“Because I was there when she broke down. She kept saying she couldn’t face you. That you wouldn’t want to hear her voice again.” Gaeul paused. “I still think she believes that.”

“...She might be right.” you said quietly. 

“I’m not here to change your mind, Jihoo-ah. But I thought you deserve to hear the parts you didn’t see.”

You finally sat across from her. The liquor burned in your throat this time. You didn’t even wince.

“Then tell me everything.” you said. “No filters.”

Gaeul nodded. And she began.

“Wonyoung never meant to hide anything from you.” Gaeul said quietly. “At first, she just thought she was finally free. Being in a relationship for the first time makes people feel different sometimes, you know?”

“Then what was it about?” you asked, your grip tighter around the bottle,

Gaeul exhaled. “It was just about Wonyoung being Wonyoung. She’d spent so much of her life doing what people expected, what her family expected, what school expected. You were the first person she chose for herself, and she really loved you. But after a while… she panicked. Thought maybe she was losing herself, even though she never stopped caring.”

“So she left.” you said flatly.

“She drifted.” Gaeul corrected. “And by the time she realized what she was doing, it already felt too late to fix it. So… she asked me to help her last night.”

“That turned out well, huh?” 

She let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but it didn’t hold any humor.

“She didn’t expect you to forgive her right away, Jihoo-ah. She knew you’d been broken for a long time. She said she deserved that much. But…” Gaeul hesitated, glancing toward the hallway. “She still came.”

“You know it’s not that simple, Kim Gaeul.” you shook your head.

“I know. But not showing up at all would’ve been easier. Safer. She still chose you.”

You didn’t say anything for a long moment. The room was quiet, your chest heavy. Then-

“Did she really not see anyone else?”

“She didn’t.” Gaeul met your eyes, steady and clear. “You know how Wonyoung is. She’d never looked at a man like that until you walked into her life.”

You swallowed hard.

“She looked happy without me.”

“She looked like she was trying to be.” Gaeul said gently. “But it wasn’t real. I live with her, remember? I saw her on the nights she couldn’t sleep. When she’d stare at her phone for hours and never text you. When she’d cry in the shower because she thought I couldn’t hear.”

Your head hurt, so bad. From everything.

“How do I know if what you’re telling me is true? You’ve been lying to me, too.” you let out a small breathy laugh. “You said she never mentioned me.”

Gaeul looked down at her hands, shame flickered across her face.

“I did lie.” she admitted. “Because you are both my best friends. And… I thought I was protecting you both.”

You stared at her. The liquor sat hot in your chest.

“Protecting us?” you repeated. “By keeping this a secret?”

“I didn’t know what else to do… You turned into a dead person. Wonyoung couldn’t talk. And I- I was scared of losing you both.”

You didn’t respond so she went on.

“She thought about calling you so many times. I saw her write out messages and delete them. She was scared. Scared you’d hate her, that she ruined you and everything. And maybe she did.”

“She did.”

Gaeul nodded. “But she never stopped caring about you. She never saw anyone else. She never even tried.”

You looked away, jaw tight. The weight of it was starting to settle on your shoulders, heavier than before.

“Never stopped caring about me, huh…?”

“I’m done lying, Jihoo-ah. I’m sorry I lied about her not mentioning anything about you. I was stupid. I just didn’t want to see either of you get hurt again. But I ended up making it worse.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. The liquor was hitting you now - warm in your blood, sharp in your chest. It still wasn’t enough to drown out the pain.

“I thought she completely forgot about me.” you said. “Like I was just a phase or something stupid she needed to get out of her system.”

“She never forgot you.” Gaeul said. “She just… didn’t know how to come back.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment.

“Is Wonyoung still crying?”

Gaeul looked up, surprised by how soft your voice had gotten.

“She hasn’t stopped. Hasn’t stopped loving you too, you know?”

You exhaled slowly, fingers threading through your hair.

“I don’t know what to do with that. What am I supposed to do with that now?”

“If she still matters to you… she’s asking for a chance. She wants to see you in person again”

“Really?”

Gaeul nodded. “Yeah… Wonyoung asked me to find out. If you’d be willing. If there’s a day next week you’re free.”

“You’re being serious?”

“Yes. I won’t ever lie to you anymore, Jihoo-ah.” she said. “She just wants… one chance to talk. To explain, and if it’s possible… come back to you.”

You leaned back on the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“...Tell Wonyoung Friday night.”

Gaeul let out a breath she’d clearly been holding, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Okay… I will.”

A few moments passed. The air between you had lightened - just a little. Enough to breathe, at least. You talked about work. About the old group chat of you three that no one had touched in months. Gaeul laughed at something you said, and you let yourself smile for the first time that night. But then, her voice dropped again.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your eyes flicked over to her, surprised by the sudden question. Gaeul wasn’t even at you - her fingers nervously curled into the hem of her sleeve.

“Did you really mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“What you said last night… that if I hadn’t been there after Wonyoung left, you might’ve…”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “...Yeah.”

There was no point lying. Not anymore.

“I was about to do it. One night. I’d prepared everything.” you let out a shaky breath. “Then suddenly… you called me. Out of nowhere. Asking if I was okay. Like you knew exactly what I was about to do.”

Gaeul’s expression crumpled, her lips parting slightly.

“I didn’t know. I just… felt something was wrong. I couldn’t sleep.”

You nodded slowly. 

“Thank you. I’m still here thanks to you.” you laughed. “It was so dumb now that I think about it. I still have my family left… you…”

Gaeul reached over, placing a hand over yours.

“Yon only start to understand pain after it’s over, you know.”

You glanced at her, her eyes glassy.

“I just kept thinking… if the one person I gave everything to could leave like that, what was the point of anything else?”

Her grip on your hand tightened slightly. “But you still held on.”

You smiled faintly. “Barely. But yeah… I did. I had my family. I had you. And even if I didn’t want to talk about it back then, just having someone sit with me… it mattered more than I knew.”

Gaeul blinked back tears. “You matter too, you dumbass. More than you realize.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Friday night came faster than you expected. 

You sat alone at the small cafe Gaeul had told you about, the city lights blurred beyond the glass window. You arrived early, too early. 

For the past few days, your mind had been a battlefield. Part of you kept replaying every pain, every unanswered text, every moment you spent trying to forget her. That part whispered dark thoughts. What if you let Wonyoung fall for you all over again? Just to break her like she broke you? Just to make her feel the weight you carried?

You hated that part. You knew it was cruel. You knew it wasn’t you. But the thoughts kept creeping in anyway.

Would that make things even? Would it fix anything?

You leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped together. Your reflection on the window looked tired, like someone still carrying too much. And maybe you did. But when you heard soft footsteps behind you - light, hesitant - you knew. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize her. The way she moved, the way the air seemed to shift with her presence. It had always been like that.

“Oppa…”

You turned slowly, and there she was - Wonyoung. 

Wonyoung didn't dress like the girl who used to run into your arms with a smile. No. She looked like someone who practiced for this a dozen times in a mirror - blazer fitted sharp just over a crisp white button up, skirt brushing mid thigh, her long legs wrapped in grey socks that stopped just below the knees. Her usual sharpness was now hidden under elegant clothing and quiet restraint. Still so beautiful. Still impossible to look away from.

Her eyes searched yours, wide and uncertain, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to breathe yet. You didn’t say anything. She took a step closer, clutching the strap of her white bag like it was the only thing keeping her together.

“I didn’t know if you’d really come, oppa.” she said, barely above a whisper.

“I keep my promises, unlike some people.” you nodded, eyes on the ground now.

That line hit her harder than you expected. Wonyoung felt like she’d been slapped. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold herself together but her eyes simmered anyway. 

“I deserve that, oppa…” she murmured. “I know I do.”

You sighed, rubbing your palms against your mouth. 

“Sorry… uh, that was low.” your voice had softened, just a little but it was enough. 

You didn’t offer your hand. You didn’t pull out the chair like you used to, always with a gentle smile and some teasing. This time, you just nodded toward the seat across. Wonyoung hesitated. That tiny gesture - the absence of what used to be natural - stung more than she expected. But she got it. She knew why you were like this now. She knew she didn’t have the right to expect warmth from you, yet. So she sat, carefully. Her bag settled beside her, but her hands didn’t let go of each other. 

“I missed this, oppa.” she smiled. “Even if it’s different now.”

You looked at her, and for a second, you almost smiled too. Almost. But the words sat heavy in the air.

“I don’t even know what this is anymore, Wonyoung-ah. I’m not the same person, you know that.”

Her smile didn’t falter. Instead, Wonyoung tilted her head slightly, that familiar spark of hope still flickering in her eyes.

“I know.” she said gently. “But I also know people can come back to themselves. Maybe even become better. Stronger. I’ve been trying too.”

“Mm.” You let out a hum, resting your hands on the table and unsure what to say.

Then you felt it - that warm, firm feeling slipping over yours. Wonyoung reached over, her hands wrapping around yours - she’d done it a thousand times before. Like nothing had changed. 

Still, she smiled. Soft. Hopeful, like the girl she’d always been.

“I’m not asking you to forget everything, oppa.” she said, thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. “I just want a chance to prove that I’m still here. That I still love you.”

You stared down at her hands wrapped around yours. They were warm. Familiar. And it terrified you how much you still remembered the way they used to fit, how natural they felt, even now. Your jaw clenched. You were quiet for a moment too long.

“I don’t know if I can go through that again, Wonyoung-ah” you finally said. “I’m scared. I don’t know if I’d survive if… things don’t go the way you want it to. Or… you. You leaving again.”

Wonyoung’s eyes simmered, but she didn’t let go. 

“I won’t, oppa.” she said, steady despite the tears threatening to fall. “I swear, I won’t. I’m not that girl anymore, oppa. I love you too much.”

Her thumbs brushed over your knuckles again.

“I’m not here to promise you forever, oppa. Just… today. And the next. However long it takes for you to believe me again.”

She smiled despite the ache in her chest.

“I’ll wait. I’ll earn it. Whatever you need, oppa. Just tell me.”

You smiled, not knowing why. 

“I defended you a lot, you know? People kept telling me I was a dumb for still believing that you’d return one day after ghosting me for months.”

Wonyoung let out a small, breathy laugh.

“I was scared you’d hate me forever.” she admitted, voice cracking. “But then… I hoped. I hoped you’d still believe in me, even if I didn’t deserve it.”

You shook your head slowly, lips curling into something bittersweet.

“I don’t know if I believed in you… or if I just couldn’t stop loving you.”

Wonyoung blinked fast, eyes teary but her grip around your hands tightened.

“Then let me show you you weren’t wrong to hold on, oppa.”

I still love you too much.

“Even if I’m not the same person?” you asked.

“Even if you’re not the same person.” she repeated softly. “People change, oppa. But I still love you.”

Her voice was steady but you could tell her throat tightened as she spoke. The kind of quiet strength only someone who’d been hurt deeply could carry. Her fingers squeezed your hand again.

“Even if I treat you like a jerk?” you swallowed. 

Wonyoung let out a small, sad laugh. “I probably deserve it.” her voice cracking just slightly. “So yeah, oppa… Even then.”

You looked down at your joined hands, at the way hers trembled just a little but never let go.

“Even if I do the same thing you did to me?”

You hated how bitter it sounded. You didn’t want to weaponize your pain, but part of you still bled from the way Wonyoung’d vanished. Like you never mattered at all. You were sure she could hear it in your voice - that quiet fear along with resentment.

Wonyoung still for a second. For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Then slowly, she nodded.

“Then I’ll take the pain.” she said. “If that’s what it takes for you to let me stay. I’ll take it all, oppa. I know what I did. And I still came back knowing you might hate me.”

The tears finally slid down her cheek before she could stop them. But Wonyoung didn’t stop them at all. She looked at you - broken and radiant all at once. She’d lost you at one point and still chose to stand in front of you now.

You stared at her. The Wonyoung who used to cling to your arm and hum into your shoulder. The Wonyoung who used to get jealous when you talked to another woman for too long. The Wonyoung who disappeared without a word. And the Wonyoung sitting in front of you now, tears falling but hands never letting go. 

Something inside you shifted. Not quite forgiveness. But it was definitely softer than hate.

“...Okay.” you said at last, the corner of your mouth twitching into the smallest, most reluctant smile. “I guess… one chance wouldn’t hurt that much.”

Wonyoung laughed - a watery, broken sound that bubbled up as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She tried to cover her face with her hand but you were already reaching for a napkin from the tin canister beside the sugar packets. For a second, your hand hovered near her face, napkin ready. But instead of gently wiping her tears like a scene from some drama, you crumpled it into a loose ball and tossed it, slightly hard, at her forehead. She was surprised as it bounced off her forehead.

“Stop crying.” you muttered, voice low while trying out this new version of yourself - the one who didn’t get hurt anymore, the one who didn’t give in so easily. “You look pathetic.”

For a moment, Wonyoung just stared at you. Then she burst out laughing, even as more tears spilled over. Her hands dropped from her face, shoulders shaking as her sobs and laughter tangled into something messy, honest and heartbreakingly familiar.

“You’re still childish, oppa.” she sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of hand, smiling as if you hadn’t just thrown her heart in the air to see if she’d flinch. “Still the same.”

That scared you a bit, maybe Wonyoung wasn’t wrong. Maybe despite everything, some part of you still wanted to be that guy who loved her. You watched her laugh through the tears, and still somehow,  she looked just like the girl you’d never stopped loving. You reached for another napkin, slower this time. No sarcasm, no hesitation.

“Come here, baby.” you said softly. 

Her breath hitched. The word sank deep - baby. Her lip trembled, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. Her eyes welled up, the tears now came from relief, from the quiet joy of finally being seen again. 

Wonyoung leaned forward, almost shy, like this was your first date. Your hand found her cheek first, warm and familiar, cupping it gently. With the other, you dabbed softly at her tears, wiping under her eyes, along her nose, even as new ones kept falling. She let out a small sound and closed her eyes into your touch.

“I love you, oppa.” she whispered, voice breaking. “So much.”

“I know, Wonyoungie.” you said, thumb brushing the last of the tears away. “Me too.”

And for the first time in a long, long while… you let yourself believe that maybe this time, it could be different. 

After the tears dried, the atmosphere turned into something more tender. You both stayed at the cafe a while longer as the conversation shifted into safer ground - movies, harmless gossip, her shopping addiction… Wonyoung laughed more easily now, eyes still red but glowing, and you also found yourself smiling without thinking. You shared a slice of cake, she teased you for leaving her the last strawberry, and you pretended not to care when she stole the last sip of your iced americano. Your hands never quite let go. Sometimes resting quietly side by side on the table, other times tangled together beneath it. 

As the drive home began, the streets blurred by and the music hummed low in the background. 

“When you ghosted me.” you said, eyes on the road. “What did you do whenever I visited? Or when I came to hang out with Gaeul?”

Wonyoung exhaled slowly, her voice soft. “I hid… most of the time, I went up to Yujin unnie’s place.”

You frowned slightly. “Wait - Yujin lives there too?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Same building, just one floor up. Whenever you came by to see Gaeul unnie or… tried to see me, I’d grab my phone and run up to hers.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Why didn’t I think of that…?”

All those you waited for her there, wondering if she had really been gone… you had no idea Wonyoung’d been just one floor above.

“So you were really that scared of seeing me?”

Wonyoung didn’t speak right away. Then. quietly. 

“I was scared of what I’d feel if I saw you, oppa.”

“And…?”

“I felt it. Everything. All at once that night.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… me too.”

A few more seconds passed before Wonyoung spoke again.

“I used to hide whenever you came over. Just ran to Yujin unnie’s place. I could hear your voice sometimes.”

“That’s insane.” you let out a small, dry laugh.

“I know, oppa.” her smile was tight. “I’d sit on her couch with the lights off. I didn’t know to face you again so I just… hoped you would just come up sometimes.”

The ache in your chest was too familiar. Your fingers then flexed slightly around the steering wheel. 

“I thought you weren’t even home, Wonyoung-ah. I really believed you were out there, forgetting me. Having fun.”

“I wasn’t, oppa.” she said, her voice fragile. You stared through the windshield, then voice low.

“There might be times I still get angry, you know that, right?” you turned to her, slowly. “I might snap. I might say things I don’t mean.”

Wonyoung didn’t flinch. She nodded.

“I know.” her grip around the bag tightened. “And I won’t run. Not this time.”

“Mm.”

“If you need to yell… or not talk for a few hours… or just sit in silence, I’ll still stay, oppa. I won’t leave.”

You let her words hang there. 

“I can’t promise I’ll be kind every second, baby.” you whispered. “I’m still… angry. Sometimes I remember the silence or the nights I waited. It hurts so much I feel like I’m back at the start.”

“I know. I’ll take all of it. If it means you’ll let me stay close again, oppa.”

Something about the way Wonyoung looked at you - steady, unwavering - made it a little easier to breathe.

“I’m not asking you to forget, oppa.” she added. “I just… hope you’ll let me be here while you remember.”

Silence took over again. You finally pulled into your usual parking spot near the building and shifted into park. Your hand stayed on the gear shift for a moment longer than necessary.

“Umm… are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Wonyoung blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“Yup. Leeseo wants to go shopping. I promised I’d tag along so she doesn’t go broke or get kidnapped.”

“You want me to come, oppa?” her voice was soft, careful.

“If you want…”

“Yeah.” she said, voice steadier this time. “I’d like that.”

You nodded once and opened your door, stepping out to walk around to reach for the passenger side handle. Wonyoung stepped out slowly, glancing up at you with a small, knowing smile.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be as nice as you used to be, oppa?” she teased lightly, eyes shining. “Why’d you open the door for me?”

You shrugged, looking away.

“I still love you too much.”

Wonyoung froze. Her smile faltered, her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her bag. You both stood there by the car, neither wanted to end it just yet. Wonyoung spoke up, quieter now.

“I’ll… see you tomorrow, oppa.”

She turned slowly, about to walk toward the building. But you didn’t let her get far.

“Fuck it.” you muttered under your breath and reached out, grabbing her wrist. Wonyoung turned to you, startled - eyes wide, lips parted.

And you kissed her.

You didn’t plan it. You just pulled her in, one hand on her waist, the other curling gently at the back of her neck. Wonyoung made a tiny noise - shocked, breathless - but she didn’t pull away. She kissed you back like she’d been waiting all this time for permission. It wasn’t perfect - a little rushed, a little messy, the kind of kiss that tasted like past and present longing.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against hers. Wonyoung’s hands found your chest, fingers curled into your jacket like she wasn’t ready to let go. 

“I missed you so much. Do you know that?” you breathed.

Wonyoung’s eyes fluttered open, shining.

“I know, oppa. I missed you too. Every single day.” she whispered.

You closed your eyes again, like you couldn’t bear it - her voice, her hands, the way she looked  at you like she meant every word. Your thumb brushed lightly along her hip, ground yourself in the reality of her being there. Then finally.

“See you tomorrow, oppa.”

You nodded slowly, forehead still against hers. “Yeah… tomorrow.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You pulled up in front of Wonyoung’s building. Leeseo was in the passenger seat, scrolling on her phone.

“She’s coming down?” she asked, not looking up.

“Yeah.” you checked your phone again. ‘On my way down.’ Wonyoung had just texted.

Leeseo put her phone away, then turned to you with a glance.

“You okay, oppa?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t lie. You always blink like that when you lie.”

You scoffed. “I blink normally.”

Leeseo just rolled her eyes. Then Wonyoung slowly appeared as the front door to the building opened, like some casually dressed goddess. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until Leeseo squealed.

“There she is.”

Gone were the blazer and buttons up from yesterday. Today, she was all ease and quiet confident - a cropped black camisole hugged her waist, delicate hooks and eyes running down the center and tiny ruffles at the hem that made it impossible not to stare just a little too long. Her jeans sat low on her hips, somehow impossibly flattering. One scrunchie on each wrist - black and white - to help soften the boldness of her top.

Wonyoung looked like summer. Like mischief. She knew damn well this outfit would mess with your head. And judging by the glint in her eyes as she caught your gaze, she absolutely did.

Before you could say anything, Leeseo flung the passenger door open and hopped out of the car.

“UNNIEEE!”

Wonyoung didn’t have time to react before Leeseo threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly.

“I missed you so much.” Leeseo said, voice muffled against Wonyoung’s shoulder. Wonyoung slowly drew her arms up to hug Leeseo back, tighter than expected.

“I missed you too, Leeseo-yah…” her eyes were already welling up.

Then your sister pulled back. “You can sit in the front today. I’ll give you permission.”

Wonyoung laughed, wiping the corner of her eyes. “Thank you… You’re still too kind.”

You stayed silent, circling around to the passenger side. Wonyoung shifted on her feet slightly, playing with the hem of her top like she was unsure what to do. But the moment you opened the door for her, you didn't let her spiral.

"You look..." you paused, eyeing her again. From the scrunchies on her wrists to the black top and her jeans. "Really pretty, Wonyoung-ah."

Her lashes fluttered. And the way her lips tugged up told you she was holding back a smirk.

"I didn't not know." she said, trying to sound casual.

You leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

"And it's working."

And that was when she broke. Her gaze was suddenly locked to the pavement, cheeks burning pink, a shy smile bloomed on her lips. She climbed into the passenger seat quickly like she needed cover, mumbling a soft 'thank you' under her breath. Leeseo hopped in the back seat right after, humming something under her breath as if nothing had happened but you knew she saw everything.

The drive was warm. Wonyoung and Leeseo talked the entire way - about coffee spots, new songs, something about a designer pop-up store. You didn’t even try to keep up and just drove. Every now and then, Wonyoung would look your way and smile like she couldn’t believe she was sitting beside you again. You kept your eyes on the road but you smiled back - soft, real and quiet. 

When you arrive, Leeseo flung the door open first and immediately reached for Wonyoung’s hand.

“Let’s gooo, unnie! Oppa won’t scold me when I’m with you.”

Wonyoung laughed, letting Leeseo pull her out of the car. 

“Oh, so I’m your shield now?”

“You’ve always been my shield.” Leeseo grinned, swinging their hands as they started walking toward the entrance. “He goes easy on you. It’s totally unfair.”

Wonyoung glanced back over her shoulder, catching your eye as you got out of the driver seat.

“Maybe because he can’t resist me.” she teased lightly.

You just smiled. She smiled wilder. “Still works.”

Leeseo giggled and leaned closer to whisper something in Wonyoung’s ear which made both of them burst into laughter just as they stepped onto the escalator. You followed behind at a relaxed pace, watching them. Maybe things were softening in all the right places. 

Leeseo dragged Wonyoung into a store - some airy boutique filled with overpriced blouses and minimalist interior. Your little sister darted toward the accessories, immediately trying on sunglasses she absolutely didn’t need. Wonyoung moved slower. Her fingers trailed over the fabric on a nearby rack - not really shopping, just touching, like she always did. Like she needed to feel things to decide if she liked them. She paused at a simple cream colored dress and held it up to the light, tilting her head slightly to the left.

She always did that.

You stood there behind a mirror display. Watching. And then it happened.

Wonyoung found a small wrinkle on the dress - barely noticeable - and without thinking, she smoothed it out. Carefully. You remembered it all.

How she used to do the same things with your collars when you met her after classes. The way Wonyoung always noticed the small things - a loose thread, a crooked tag - and fixed them like it was second nature. And for some reason, watching her do that again now - so casually, like no time had passed at all - made your chest tighten.

She’s still her.

Still the girl who cared too much. Who noticed the little details. Who never did anything halfway - not even the way she touched fabric in a store. You looked away before she noticed.

It was already happening again.

They dragged you through at least four stores. At some point, you stopped trying to give input and just handed over your card when Leeseo shoved her picks at the cashier. 

“You promised, oppa.” she reminded you with a little grin, taking joy in bankrupting you.

“You’re lucky you’re my sister.” you muttered, signing another receipt.

“I’m lucky?” she scoffed. “You’re standing next to Wonyoung unnie again. You should be buying me lunch.”

Wonyoung giggled behind her hand, cheeks warm as she glanced away. You didn’t argue and just sighed, taking the bags when the clerk handed them over. By the end of it, your arms were full - clothing, accessories, even a skincare haul Leeseo swore she desperately needed. You followed a few steps behind as the two of them linked arm and led the way to find something to eat, still chatting like they hadn’t missed a beat.

And honestly? You didn’t mind at all. 

Lunch was at a cozy cafe on a quiet street. Leeseo picked the table - of course - and plopped into the seat across from you. Wonyoung stood there, hesitating. You glanced up, expecting her to sit next to Leeseo like always. But then.

“Unnie’s not sitting with me.” Leeseo declared, sipping her lemonade like this was some grand gesture. “You’ve been jealous all morning, so I’m returning unnie to you for now, oppa.”

“What?” your head shot up. Wonyoung was startled.

“Don’t even deny it. You’ve been walking behind us like a moody bodyguard. Sit, unnie.”

Wonyoung laughed as she slid into the seat beside you. You tried to ignore the way your shoulder brushed hers. Or how she was close enough that you could smell her perfume again. She looked at you and quietly whispered.

“Jealous, oppa?”

“Just order, baby.” you smirked.

Wonyoung giggled as Leeseo smirked into her lemonade like a proud sister.

The meal was loud and warm, with laughter over food and drinks. When the plates were cleared, Leeseo suddenly dove into one of her shopping bags with purpose.

“Unnie, look!”

She pulled out a box with a bright, playful grin and handed an identical one to Wonyoung.

“Matching Labubu haul. Let’s open them!”

Wonyoung’s eyes lit up as she held the box in her hands like it was something precious. You leaned over, glancing at the creature printed on the front and raised a brow at her.

“Wait… you fell for the Labubu propaganda too?”

Wonyoung gasped, clutching her box closer to her chest like you’d insulted her child.

“They’re cute, oppa.” she pouted. “You just don’t get it.”

Leeseo chimed in, halfway into unboxing hers. “You’re just mad you didn’t get one, oppa.”

“I’m mad you’re both enabling each other.”

“It’s called healing our inner child, oppa.” Wonyoung shot back, nose crunching as she peeled open the box.

Even though you rolled your eyes, you didn’t say a word. You watched as both of them sat forward as they unboxed in sync - giggling, comparing and complaining when they didn’t get the one they wanted. Wonyoung looked like sunshine again. And maybe, even the Labubu played a role in your journey back together. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

A month later, you and Wonyoung had quietly fallen back into your old rhythm. She was spending time at your place again - folding laundry on your couch, stealing your shirts, cooking late dinners like no time had passed. It was soft, familiar, and surprisingly easy. You didn’t talk much about the past. You and her just… moved forward. To you, it felt like breathing again. But then, a photo on her Instagram was all it took for words to go around. Just one picture - your hand barely visible in the corner of the frame as she posed with an iced coffee on your balcony. The caption was nothing. Just a few emojis. Maybe a small heart. Wonyoung probably didn’t think much.

But people noticed and the messages started coming in.

wait… are you guys back together already?

she’s bold posting that after disappearing for months lol.

you’re better than me, man. i wouldn’t take her back

have some fucking respect for urself dude

You tried to ignore it. You really did. But the words clung to you hard - even when Wonyoung was laughing in your kitchen or curled up beside you on the couch. One night, your friend Donghee started it.

“You’re seriously letting her come back like that? She ghosted you, Jihoo-ah. That’s not just a fight. That’s straight up cruel.”

You laughed it off. But later, as Wonyoung hummed quietly while brushing her teeth in your bathroom, wearing your hoodie, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. Your chest was heavy. And for the first time in weeks, you were back in your darkest months.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It was a quiet night, just the two of you on your couch, legs tangled, her playlist playing in the background. Dinner dishes were still in the sink but neither moved to clean them. The moment was too comfortable to break. Then, Wonyoung sat up a little, reaching for her bag on the floor. She dug through it carefully before pulling out an envelope. Cream colored. Thick. You recognized the texture - film prints.

She held it for a moment in her hands, then she held it to you.

“I brought these for you, oppa. I developed them a few weeks ago. They’re… from the time I was gone.”

You took the envelope without a word and slid the photos out. One by one, you looked through them. A picture of a nearly empty train platform at night. A close up of her hand holding an ice cream. Blurry ocean waves. A photo of her in a mirror. You slowly took them in. You knew every photo was Wonyoung by her hair, her hand…

Every single photo felt quiet. Lonely but still beautiful, in a way.

“I didn’t know how to explain what I was feeling back then, oppa.” she murmured, watching you as you flipped through them. “So I want to show you these instead.”

Your fingers lingered on the edges of the photos - a grainy shot of her sitting by the window, looking out to the sea, her legs pulled up close, chin tucked into her knees. Another of a half eaten sandwich on a window still, light pouring in soft and golden. 

A tiny part of you understood what she was trying to do. But a louder part - the one that never stopped remembering the nights you waited for her reply - felt something else entirely.

“You said you didn’t want to explain it.” you said, voice quiet. “You just wanted to disappear, Wonyoung-ah.”

Her breath hitched. “It wasn’t like that, oppa-”

You looked up at her, eyes sharper now. 

“Then what was it like?”

She hesitated, no words came out. You dropped the photos onto the coffee table. 

“You were gone for months. No texts. No calls. Just… silence and now you show me this?”

She flinched at your tone.

“You think I care what beach you sat on, or how the light hit your coffee cup? I would’ve every single one of these pictures for a text that said you were sorry or you would be coming back.”

She looked down at the photos, hands fidgeting.

“I didn’t know how to come back…”

“Yeah.” you muttered. “And I didn’t even know why I stayed.”

The room went quiet. You realized you'd said something you couldn’t take back. Wonyoung just gathered the photos back into the envelope slowly, one by one without a word. Her hands were shaking. You hated how much of you still wanted to reach for her. And maybe she knew it too.

Because a moment later, Wonyoung moved toward you carefully. She tucked herself against your side, resting her head against your chest. Her arms wrapped around your waist and pressed in close like she wanted to disappear inside you. 

“I’m sorry, oppa…”

You just let out a frustrated breath, hand moving on instinct to rub gently along her back. The motion was automatic - muscle memory from a time when you comforted her without a question. But something was different this time. 

You felt it. That shift. 

Wonyoung was the one apologizing. Wonyoung was the one reaching out. And for once, you weren’t the one in pain. Not the one begging. 

Now… you had the upperhand. And it felt good. Dangerously good. Like maybe Wonyoung needed you more than you needed her. You didn’t know what to do with that feeling yet. But you never let go of that thought.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It was a Saturday afternoon - slow, warm sunlight pouring through the apartment windows. Wonyoung sat at the edge of the bed, slipping her socks on. You were on your back, scrolling on your phone, head propped on a pillow.

“Yujin unnie wants to grab dinner later, oppa.” she said. “Just us. I’ll be back by ten, probably earlier.”

You didn’t look up. “Cool.”

A beat passed. 

“You’re sure you’ll be back?”

She paused, glancing up. “What, oppa?”

You finally turn your head toward her, face unreadable. 

“Just saying, Wonyoung-ah. You’ve disappeared before.”

Her mouth opened slightly. “Oppa…”

“I’m not stopping you.” you said, voice amused. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s not like I could stop you last time either.”

“That’s not fair…”

You sat up, stretching lazily. “Neither was ghosting, right baby?”

Wonyound didn’t answer. You looked at her again.

“Go. Have fun. Tell Yujin I said hi.”

Something about the way you said it - casual, but just enough  weight behind it to remind her that you hadn’t completely forgotten, that you could bring it up anytime you wanted. Wonyoung nodded slowly, grabbing her bag. At the door, she hesitated. Then she turned back, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m not that girl anymore, oppa.” she whispered.

You didn’t say anything and just watched Wonyoung go, the door closing quietly behind her. And then, sitting alone in that silence, you finally exhaled.

Damn… this feels good.

It tasted like control. You leaned back into the headboard, stretching out your legs and smiling to yourself without meaning to.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Late morning light spilled through the curtains of your apartment. Usually, that would give you a good feeling. Not today. Wonyoung was watching you a little too closely, like she was trying to read you. She was seated at the kitchen table, laptop open but untouched. Her mind was somewhere else.

“Oppa, I was thinking…” she said slowly. “I might stop by the studio later. Just to finish editing that set from last week.”

“Fine.” you didn’t look up from your phone. 

Wonyoung waited for a second. “I can stay over. If you want, oppa.”

That made you glance up.

“I didn’t ask you to, baby.”

“No, I just… thought you might like it.”

You shrugged. “If you’re already out, might as well do whatever you want. You always do.”

Your words came out smooth and controlled. You saw it - that light drop in her expression, that flicker in her eyes.

Got you, baby.

Wonyoung nodded, eyes darting away. “Okay. Maybe I’ll just come back right after.”

You finally stood and walked over to her and leaned down, kissing the top of her head.

“You’ve been good lately, Wonyoungie.” you murmured.

You knew that name was soft, familiar but cruel in its own way. Wonyoung turned in her seat to wrap her arms around your waist. Maybe she wanted to tell you not to go even though you weren’t moving.

“I don’t want to lose you again. I really don’t, oppa.”

Your hand slowly settled gently on her back, fingers brushing the curve of her spine. In that moment - Wonyoung holding you, clinging to you like you were all she had left - you felt it again. That dark, quiet thrill. You felt like you’d finally got her to kneel without asking.

I could destroy you if I want to, baby.

You kissed the top of her head again, slower this time.

“You won’t lose me.” you said softly. But you didn’t say she never had.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It was Gaeul’s idea - dinner at her favorite place. The food was good, the lights were warm and the conversation had been easy for most of the night. You were sitting beside Wonyoung. Gaeul was across from you, sipping wine and catching up on work drama, her laughter easy and genuine. Everything was comfortable. Until Gaeul teased.

“Wonyoung-ah, remember when I texted you about that art show and you didn’t reply for like three days?”

Wonyoung laughed. “We live together unnie! You could just tell me-”

You cut in, casual.

“Oh, Wonyoung’s great at that. Silence is her thing.”

They both blinked. You leaned back slightly, picking at your drink with a smile.

“I mean, disappearing? She’s got it down. Like a pro.”

Wonyoung forced a small laugh. “Oppa…”

“I’m just kidding, baby.” you added smoothly, squeezing her leg under the table. 

But Gaeul was already quiet. Her eyes flickered between the two of you, confused. The topic shifted quickly - dessert orders, a funny story from her to break the ice - but Wonyoung didn’t say much after that. She smiled when she was supposed to, laughed when it was needed. But her hand didn’t come back to your hand on her knee.

And Gaeul noticed that. Later, they both stepped out to the rest room together. Gaeul leaned against the sink, arms crossed.

“You okay?”

Wonyoung nodded too quickly. “Yeah, oppa’s just been… stressed. Work’s been rough lately.”

“Wonyoung-ah. You know I’ve known him just as long as I’ve known you, if not longer. And I’ve never seen him talk to anyone like that.”

“I did hurt him, unnie.” Wonyoung whispered. “I disappeared. I don’t blame him for being upset.”

“That was the past.”

“I don’t want to lose him, unnie.”

And Gaeul understood that. But she also knew something else.

“Then talk to him. Really talk to him. Because he’s being a jerk right now, Wonyoung-ah. And I know Jihoo. The real Jihoo. He wouldn’t hurt you like this. Not unless something’s wrong.”

Wonyoung finally looked at her. Her eyes were glassy but steady.

“I don’t know how to, unnie.”

“Then make him.” Gaeul stepped closer, placed a hand gently on her arm. “You love him, right? Then don’t let this become something it’s not. Don’t let silence turn into damage.”

Wonyoung nodded slowly. But the tightness in her chest didn’t loosen.

Later that night, the apartment was dim. You were on the couch, scrolling through something mindless on your phone but your mind wasn’t on it. Not really. Wonyoung had been quiet since dinner - not sulking, just not like her usual self. She came out of the bathroom with her hair still slightly damp. She didn’t sit beside you and just stood in the living room awkwardly.

“Oppa, can we talk?”

You looked up, nodded. “What is it, baby?”

Wonyoung sat across from you this time - not tucked against your side like always. She was quiet for a second. 

“You’ve been acting differently, oppa.”

You hummed, knowing where this might go.

“I know I hurt you. I know disappearing wasn’t fair. I know you were angry.”

You leaned back, still caught in your bitterness. 

“So what? You expect everything to go back like how it was? Like I’m an idiot you could love and leave anytime you want?”

Wonyoung flinched - not from the volume but the weight behind your words. But she didn’t look away. 

“No… I don’t expect you to forget, oppa.”

You laughed under your breath. 

“You don’t get to show up and act like none of it mattered, princess.”

“I never said it didn’t matter, oppa!” her voice rose, finally - breaking. “I’ve been carrying it with me every day! Every time I walked to your place, every time I touched you, every time I smiled… I wondered if I even deserved to.”

Her eyes were red, voice trembling.

“I didn’t come back to pretend, oppa. I came back to make things right. I came back because you’re still the only person I want at the end of the day, even if it hurts.”

And then Wonyoung said it - quieter, like she hated having to admit it.

“But you keep punishing me like you want me to leave again. And I don’t know if I can survive that twice.”

That cracked something in you. You saw Wonyoung sitting in front of you - still here, even after everything you’d done just for fun, just to see how she would react. You swallowed hard.

“C’mon, baby…”

“You act like you’re over it but every time I say or do something wrong, it’s like you’re waiting for me to fail, oppa. To mess up again so you can go and hurt me.”

Wonyoung finally cried, hands clenched in her lap. She looked so small at that moment it made your chest tighten.

“Wonyoung-ah…”

But she was already wiping her face.

“I know you said you wouldn’t be as nice as before, oppa. I didn’t know that meant you’d stopped being kind.”

That killed you. Guilt - sharp and bitter - shot through you. You moved and stepped to her, ready to hold her, to fix what’d you twisted over the weeks without acknowledging how she felt. But the second you reached for her, Wonyoung flinched. She dodged you, still crying. 

That broke you even more.

“Shit…” you whispered, hands falling awkwardly to the sides. “Wonyoung-ah, I’m-”

Your voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You moved closer, slower this time and Wonyoung didn’t move away. Her body trembled as you gently wrapped your arms around her. She didn’t hug back at first. But then you felt her crumble. Her arms lifted, wrapped tightly around your neck as she let out a soft, shattering sob against your shoulder to let out everything she’d been holding in for weeks.

“I’m sorry…” you kept repeating, your voice breaking with hers. “I’m so, so sorry…”

She cried harder, her fingers gripping the back of your shirt like she needed something solid, something real. You didn’t even think and held her tighter, arms sweeping under her legs as you lifted her gently off the couch. Wonyoung didn’t resist. She buried her face deeper into your shoulder as you walked around the room, trying to ground both of you. 

“Please forgive me, Wonyoung-ah…” you said into her hair. “Please, baby. I didn’t mean to be like this. I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. I just got lost and-”

Her sobs kept coming - softer now but deeper. Weeks of pretending finally pouring out. You reached the kitchen and set her on the counter, still in your arms, not letting go. Her legs wrapped around your waist instinctively, forehead pressed to your shoulder as she clung to you.

“I don’t care if it takes time. Just don’t give up on us. I’ll do better. I swear I’ll do better.”

Wonyoung couldn’t say anything yet but her arms stayed wrapped around you. Then - after a few more breaths - her crying slowed and turned into small, shaky exhales. Her shoulders rose and fell as she steadied herself. And then.

“You jerk.”

It came out muffled against your shoulder. You pulled back to look at Wonyoung. And that was when she started lightly punching you. Closed fists, angry, hitting your chest again and again.

“You absolutely jerk.”

Hit

“I came back and I tried, oppa.”

Hit

“And you knew it, you knew- you jerk-”

Hit Hit

“But you still treated me like I was disposable. Like I was a toy-”

Hit

Your hands moved up to cup her tear streaked cheeks. And you laughed. A low, broken laugh, full of disbelief. Maybe to yourself. Or at everything.

“...I’m sorry.” you said, still smiling sadly. “You’re right. I was awful.”

Wonyoung blinked, still sniffling, her fists now resting uselessly against your chest. Then she pouted, her voice thick.

“That’s funny to you, you jerk?”

Your thumbs brushed across her chubby cheeks.

“No… Just you. Still the cutest person ever even when you’re crying and mad at me.”

For a second, you thought you saw her soften - just a little. But then, Wonyoung pushed you back by the chest. You stumbled away, confused and scared.

“Baby…”

Wonyoung didn’t answer, adjusting her seat on the counter. Then she casually kicked one leg up and drove the ball of her foot right into your crotch.

Hard

You wheezed, dropping to your knees like you’d been shot, hands flying to your crouch immediately.

“Fuck…” you hissed, eyes squeezed shut as the pain exploded through your body.

When you looked up, Wonyoung was already sliding down from the counter, her eyes still glassy from crying… but now? Now she looked smug. She stepped in front of you, tilted her head slightly and raised her middle finger with zero hesitation.

“You’re lucky I still love you too much, oppa.”

Before you could reply, she nudged you shoulder with her leg - hard enough to tip your balance and send you laying flat on the cold kitchen floor. You groaned.

“Wonyoung-ah.”

But then she stepped over you, dropped down and sat right on your stomach like a queen reclaiming her throne. You stared up at her, breath uneven. Wonyoung looked down  with her faintest smile - mischievous, proud, and still shining through the remnants of her tears.

“I’m not done with you yet, oppa.” she said, arms folded across her chest.

You let your head fall back against the floor, laughing through the pain.

“Should I be scared?”

She shrugged.

“Maybe. But I’ll kiss you later, so it evens out.”

You let out another soft hiss, still wincing. Her expression shifted slightly, concern creeping into her voice.

“Wait… does it really hurt that bad, oppa?”

You looked at her dramatically, face twisted in pain.

“Wonyoung-ah… I might not be able to have kids now.”

Realizing you were absolutely messing with her, Wonyoung smacked your shoulder.

“Yah! Don’t joke about stuff like that.”

You couldn’t help but grin at her panicked expression.

“I’m just saying… you might’ve destroyed our future.”

“What future?” she snapped, flustered now. “You’re the one who’s been acting like a dic-”

“A dick who’s madly in love with you…” you cut in smoothly, laying there, arms spread like you’d just been defeated in battle.

Wonyoung let out a groan and covered her face with both hands. “Ughh…”

But when she peeked through her fingers, you were still smiling. And even she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t, too. Wonyoung leaned down, hair falling around your face like a curtain.

“You’re still a dick, oppa.”

“I’m so sorry, Wonyoung-ah.”

She kissed you then. Right there, on the kitchen floor - soft, steady, a little salty from dried tears, maybe a little painful for you, still curled up under her. But absolutely worth it. When she pulled back, you spoke up.

“But I’m serious, baby. I might not be able to have kids now.”

“I hate you, oppa.”

“I’m serious. We might need to test it.”

Wonyoung’s face turned pink in an instant.

“Yah!”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

A week later, Gaeul and Leeseo were over - sitting on the opposite couch in your living room, sipping iced tea and eyeing you like two seasoned detectives who had already had the confession, now waiting for the suspect to crack. Wonyoung, of course, was snuggled right into your side on the couch, legs curled up, one hand resting innocently on your chest.

“So.” Her voice was sweet, too sweet for what she was doing. “I was crying in his arms, letting out all my frustrations, right?”

“Actually-”

“Don’t interrupt, oppa.” she whispered, patting your chest with fake sympathy before turning back to her audience. “Anyway… he laughed, saying ‘I’m sorry’ like he didn’t just emotionally gaslight me for over a month.”

“Oppa! Why?” Leeseo gasped, dramatically clutching her heart.

“I knew you were being weird.” Gaeul squinted at you.

“Okay, first of all-”

“Nope.” Wonyoung cut in, sitting up straighter but still leaning on you. “You don’t get a mic yet.”

Then she turned back to them.

“He used to send one word replies. Didn’t say he loved me until I said it first. Ignored my selfies for hours and I caught him staring at it when I pretended to be sleeping. And once? He closed the door behind me without even kissing me goodbye.”

You closed your eyes and sighed through your nose, already feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. Leeseo gasped again. 

“I’m telling mom, oppa.”

“I’m taking away my card if you tell mom.” you shot her a glare.

“Okay. But when she finds out on her own, I’m telling her I tried.”

Gaeul sipped her drink slowly.

“Can’t lie. I’d be mad too if a man ignored my selfies.”

“Thank you!” Wonyoung chimed, snuggling back to your side. Right after she’d just listed your greatest hits of emotional neglect in front of your little sister and best friend. You looked down at Wonyoung and saw her smiling sweetly.

“But I forgave him. Because I’m mature.”

“No. You’re in love, unnie.” Leeseo said.

“Yeah. Kinda.” Gaeul added.

You groaned, leaning your head back against the couch.

“Why did I agree to this hangout?”

Wonyoung tilted her head and whispered just for you. 

“Because you love me, oppa. Too much.”

Yeah, I really do.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

don't worry. the nut survived and they have kids running around the house a few years into the future (source: me, i wrote the damn fic)

i wrote this based on how i was ghosted by ex. also, wony really fell for the labubu propoganda. maybe they're not that bad after all...

[ducktoo]

Salute to fellow 1k writer

1k followers <3

1000 of you folks thought my rambles were worth having on your home page. Pretty sweet.

I feel a little sheepish when I take a look at my masterlist—to find three released fics. I've had to take my time with each, but I'd also like to have written more by the next milestone.

In the meantime, feel free to send me asks—about my fics, K-pop, or anything in general. I'll try my best to give you a satisfying answer.

Oh, and thank you for reading.

[ducktoo]

Guess some things never change

Babymonster's Asa X M!Reader

Note: everyone say thank you for @wonyology for their asa fic that got me into baemon. Guess I have joined the Asa cult now.

(This girl is lethal)

You’re halfway through shovelling leftover fried rice into your mouth when your phone lights up—an incoming call. You glance at the name and blink.

Asa. At 9:52PM.

You let it ring once, twice, debating whether she butt-dialed you or if she’s calling to ask you about that meme you sent earlier. Then you pick up, still chewing.

“Hello? Enami?”

“Come get me.”

You pause mid-bite. “…Eh?”

“I want to drink.”

You blink. “Water? Milk? Gatorade—”

“Soju.” Her voice is flat. Final. Like she’s been preparing to say this line for months. “I wanna try soju.”

You nearly choke. “Ya, You said you didn’t want to drink until next year.”

“I changed my mind.”

“It’s 10PM on a Tuesday—”

“I changed my mind now.”

You close your container slowly and grab your keys. “And you’re legally allowed to do this?”

“My manager said it’s fine. I’m off schedule. As long as I’m with someone responsible.”

There’s a long pause.

You sigh. “Unfortunately, that’s me.”

Despite your tone, it took you exactly 2.3 seconds to hang off the call, toss the half-folded hoodie on the couch, and start digging through your closet for something that screams “casual but responsible adult who knows how to drink responsibly and won’t let their friend pass out in a gutter.”

By the time you pull up to the dorm, Asa’s already outside. Hoodie, cap, mask, the whole stealth mission look. But her eyes—those give her away. Wide, jittery, practically sparkling in the streetlights that is very out of her character. She’s nervous. But also… excited. Like a kid about to try cotton candy for the first time. Except this cotton candy could make her blackout if she drinks it too fast.

“You look like a celebrity trying to rob a bank, Enami.”

She climbs in wordlessly but smirks. “And you look like a broke intern who got roped into driving me around.”

You glance at her. “Tsk. You’re not wrong.”

She doesn’t say much during the short ride, just keeps glancing out the window like she’s mentally preparing herself for a test. You know she’s trying to act casual, but her leg’s bouncing slightly. That never happens. Not with Asa.

She’s always in control. Of her image, her schedule, her words—and sometimes even you.

But tonight… something’s different.

-

The soju bar is tucked in the side alley of some random block you remembered from late-night food runs after company dinners—quiet, not too flashy, just busy enough not to look shady.

You guide her inside like it’s sacred ground, letting her sit first. You’re not about to let her first drinking memory be one where she burns a hole through her throat with hardcore original flavour or gags over raw oysters.

Asa looks around like she’s entered another realm. The sticky tables, clinking of glass, the smoky smell of meat and oil and… whatever that sauce is that always sticks to your fingers no matter how many napkins you use.

“It’s louder than I thought,” she says, voice barely above a whisper, even though no one’s paying attention to the two of you. “Also… kinda cozy.”

You order quickly—soju, kimchi pancake, spicy pork, and tteokbokki. All the good, greasy stuff to cushion the impending regret (and also a glass of water as precaution).

She watches you pour the first shot like it’s an ancient ritual. Her fingers are toying with the paper napkin, twisting it slowly.

“You nervous?”

She shrugs. “Not really.”

“Sure, and your foot’s shaking.”

She freezes. “It’s because it’s cold.”

“It’s July.”

“Mind your business.”

You chuckle, pouring her glass carefully. Then yours. The green bottles glint under the old fluorescent light. “You’re really doing this, huh?”

She takes the glass in her hand. “You got to try it a year ago. I want to see what the hype’s about.”

You tilt your head. “What if it’s terrible?”

She smirks, finally looking at you fully. “Then I’ll blame you.”

You clink glasses. “Fair.”

And she downs it.

Immediately, her face contorts like she’s been punched by regret. Her eyes squeeze shut, lips twitching, throat working overtime.

“Oh my god. Ugh.” She coughs once, then fans her tongue.  “Why is it sweet and also like death??” she croaks, chasing it with a gulp of water and a piece of spicy pork.

You burst into laughter.

“Why would anyone willingly drink this!?” she exclaims, slamming the glass down and reaching for the water.

“To forget how embarrassing they were in their rookie days,” you tease, sipping yours easily.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Yet here you are, choosing me for your first drink.”

She sticks out her tongue in defiance, then winces again as the aftertaste kicks in. “Remind me to dox you tomorrow.”

“Boo hoo. You’re already in my debt.”

“How?”

You lean back, stretching. “Because no one else would take you to a suspiciously greasy soju joint at 10PM, knowing full well you’re going to either cry, confess something weird, or fall asleep on the table.”

Asa looks at you, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Confess something weird?”

You raise an eyebrow. "Eh? You actually have something?"

She picks up the bottle and pours her second glass, this time with less drama. Her voice is quieter.

“Well…I guess I just… wanted it to be with you.”

You pause, your glass halfway to your lips. “Enami, your weirding me out…”

She shrugs, playing it off like it’s nothing, but her voice dips a little. “It’s a first. I didn’t want to do it with just anyone. You’re… safe. And stupid.”

“Are you praising me or dissing me now?"

“Shut up,” she mutters, cheeks going a little pink. Maybe it’s the soju. Or maybe it’s the honesty.

And that’s when it hits you.

She always has a way of getting what she wants. Of pulling you by invisible strings, wrapped around her finger and spun like candy floss. But tonight, this isn’t control. This is… her choosing you. Not because she has to. But because she wants to. Probably.

She shrugs it off quickly, popping another piece of pork into her mouth and avoiding your eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

You don’t. But your smile lingers a little longer than it should.

-

One bottle turns into two.

Two becomes three—split evenly, of course. But Asa’s tolerance is about as solid as a wet tissue, and you start noticing it around halfway through bottle two. The way her words start tumbling out quicker, how she stops blinking at regular intervals, and most importantly—how she starts talking.

A lot. Asa’s slipping.

A slight flush to her cheeks, blooming in splotches just beneath her skin. The stiffness in her shoulders began to soften. Her fingers, once fidgeting and tight, now lazily twist a chopstick wrapper between them like it's a ribbon. She’s quiet—not in a sullen way, but in the way someone gets when their thoughts start moving just a beat slower than usual.

“Okay,” she mutters, poking at the pork with her chopsticks. “So like—explain to me again why people like this?”

The edges of her voice softened. Still teasing. Still Asa. But without the deliberate bite. That performative lilt that usually kept people at arm’s length. You noticed it the way you always did — not in the things she said, but in the way she stopped measuring them.

“It’s bitter and numbs your brain.”

She stares at her glass, then at you. “So... like you, but in liquid form?”

You bark out a laugh. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

She points her chopsticks at you dramatically. “Exactly. You’re so easy to control.”

“You’re three drinks in. Calm down, puppeteer.”

“No,” she says, all wide-eyed and mock-serious, “because like… at the dorm, the members never listens to me. They pretend to. But it’s like…never.”

You blink. “Ehhhh… Surely not?”

“Rami keeps using my skincare without asking. And she thinks I don’t know? I do. She uses, like, three pumps. For one cheek.”

You try to hold in your laugh as she rant her heart out. "Do I have to sit here to hear you out?"

She ignored you. “And Rora keeps using my Spotify account to listen to those depressing piano ballads. Now my algorithm thinks I cry at 3AM every day. I don’t cry. I sulk. It’s different.”

You nod slowly. “Of course. Totally different emotional palette.”

“And Ahyeon—don’t even get me started on her ramen stash. That kid hides it in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom?”

“Yes! She thinks no one will look there. I found it, though. Who the heck hides ramen there?”

You’re wheezing now, trying to eat without choking. “Ya, you made it like it's PTSD.”

“It is.” she huffs, dramatically lifting her shot glass. “Dorm? Nah, it's a bloodbath.”

“You live with other teenage girls from hell, Enami. It’s not 'Saving Private Ryan.’”

She slams the empty glass down. “You don’t understand my pain.”

“Nah, I just endure it weekly when you spam me voice notes complaining about towel rotation.”

“It’s a serious issue,” she insists, waving her chopsticks again like a mic at an awards show. “They never wash the beige towel. The beige one. It smells terrible.”

You almost choke on your drink from laughing. “Oh my god, you’re drunk if you're complaining about that."

“Nooo,” she groans, dramatically letting her forehead fall onto the table. “I’m buzzed. There’s a difference. I googled it.”

“Did Google-chan also tell you it’s not normal to confess your entire dorm’s shenanigans after three drinks?”

She lifts her head and points a wobbly finger at you. “You said this was a safe space!”

“I said this was a soju bar. Not a confessing booth.”

She squints at you, then slowly leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “…You’re enjoying this.”

“Well duh.” you reply, chuckling. “You want me here.”

By the fifth shot, she wasn’t talking much anymore. Just resting her head against the wall of the booth, humming softly under her breath. Something half-familiar — maybe one of her group’s own songs, or something her mom used to play in the car. Her fingers still moved, idly tracing shapes on the table. Your arm. Whatever was near.

Then she’s just… staring at you. Not saying anything. Just watching. Her eyes soft, hazy, but focused in that quiet, unnerving way that makes your breath catch a little.

“What?” you ask, trying to sound casual even though your heartbeat has decided to double its pace.

“…You’re a good one,” she mumbles. “Like… the best person I could’ve had my first drink with. And….you’re kinda cute when you let me win.”

You feel that stupid flutter in your chest again. The one you keep locking behind jokes and sarcasm and poorly timed drink orders.

But before you can say anything back, she slaps the table.

“I want ice cream.”

"Eh?" You blink. “We just had food?”

“Exactly. So it's dessert time.”

She’s still swaying slightly as she stands, and you quickly stand up to catch her arm before she stumbles too hard. She leans into you with a laugh, head bumping against your shoulder. A lazy, contented kind of drunk. The kind that came with knowing you were safe — that someone would make sure you got home.

“Hey…” her tone was uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah?”

“If I ever drink with anyone else, I hope they’re not as fun as you.”

You try not to grin. You fail. “What a weirdly sweet curse, Edamane.”

“Shut the hell up and buy me ice cream.”

-

You wake up to muffled giggling.

Not a good sign.

The first thing you register is a dull ache in your back.

You squint at the unfamiliar ceiling, momentarily disoriented. The lighting is too soft, too pink—definitely not your apartment. There’s a faint scent of vanilla mixed with whatever detergent they use for idol dorms, and—Wait. Dorm?

You shift slightly, only to realize your arm is firmly locked under someone’s grip. A leg’s also slung over yours. And that someone has short dark hair, a familiar hoodie, and the deeply unbothered expression of someone who passed out without consequence.

Asa.

Dead asleep. Still clutching your hoodie like it owes her money.

You blink once. Twice.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” you whisper, trying to shift, but her grip tightens in response, like even asleep, she’s not ready to let go.

“Mmnnnhhh,” she groans and immediately wraps herself tighter around you like a python. “Warm.”

“Enami,” you hiss, nudging her shoulder. “Let go. I need circulation in my arm.”

She doesn't respond. Just sighs dreamily and buries her face into your chest.

Your whole body tenses. This is bad. Very bad. "Ya, Edamane-"

Then comes a voice. Light, teasing, far too awake for this hour.

“Oh my god. She really kidnapped him.”

You freeze. Chiquita.

“Shhh! She’s going to freak out if she sees us—”

That’s Rora, now peeking into the room over someone’s shoulder. You hear another snort. Probably Ahyeon.

Then someone—probably Ruka, from the distinct sound of her boots on the floor—goes, “I knew it. I told you all that she will get weird when she drinks.”

You groan under your breath.

And then Asa stirs. Her brow furrows as she blinks herself awake, blinking sleepily at your shirt. You feel her register the warmth. The situation. The arm. The leg.

Her eyes shoot open.

“…Why are you still here?” she croaks, voice raspy with sleep and shame.

“You wouldn’t let me leave, Enami” you mutter, deadpan. “I tried. You latched onto me like a damn cat.”

There’s a beat. A slow, silent second where Asa processes it all. The fuzzy memory of soju, the booth, the confession, the awkward lean on your shoulder… then dragging you to her room and practically chaining you down like a hostage pillow.

Her cheeks go red in record time.

And then she kicks you. Hard. Right off the bed.

You grunt as your back hits the floor, pillow thudding beside you.

“GET OUT!”

“Hey! I tried!” you protest, rubbing your side as you sit up. “I was this close to calling 911.”

The door swings open fully now, and all of BABYMONSTER floods in like sharks smelling blood in the water.

Pharita has her phone out instantly, barely hiding her laugh. “This is gold. Asa-unnie, you really slept with him?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Asa yells (which is rare). “He was supposed to drop me off, not—ugh!”

“You literally dragged him into your bed and held him hostage,” Rami says flatly, arms crossed, already sipping her morning juice box like this is just Tuesday.

“I have video,” Ahyeon adds.

Asa lets out the most undignified sound you’ve ever heard — a squeaky groan — and grabs her blanket to hide her face. Then, like she just remembered how to breathe, she scrambles up and shoves herself behind you, using your body as a human shield.

“She’s using him as a meat shield,” Ruka deadpans.

Rora snickers. “So much for ‘I don’t even like him like that.’”

“Shut up, you girls.” Asa mutters into your back.

“You know,” Chiquita pipes up, grinning. “If you like him, you can just say it. Kidnapping seems excessive.”

“I don’t like him,” Asa snaps, still refusing to show her face. “I just didn’t want him to leave while I was drunk.”

“That’s what liking someone means,” Pharita says, deadpan.

"She's not lying" You added.

"Don't even- whatever…" You feel Asa groan again against your back like she wants the Earth to swallow her whole. You’re trying really, really hard not to laugh.

Eventually, the girls begin filing out one by one, throwing in their final parting shots like siblings leaving a war zone behind.

“Next time, tell us if you're taking someone hostage.” “Use protection, please. Like a seatbelt. For your victims.” “Oppa, you need therapy.”

The door closes. Silence.

Then, Asa lets out a breath that’s somewhere between a whine and a growl and gently smacks your back. “This never happened.”

You turn to face her. “Uh, it very much happened. My ribs are bruised. And I think they solidified their conspiracy that I’m your sugar daddy now.”

Asa glares, cheeks still burning red. “If you ever bring this up again—”

“You’ll what?” you tease, leaning closer. “Kidnap me again?”

“Don’t tempt me, dumbass.”

The two of you stare at each other, tension still thick, but something’s shifted. Softer now. You’re both too aware of what happened last night. Too aware of what wasn’t just the soju talking.

You’re about to get up and sneak out with the last sliver of your dignity when her grip on your shoulders tightens.

“Ya.”

"Hm?" You glance back.

“…Stop calling me Enami.”

You blink. “Eh?”

She looks away, biting her lower lip.

“Just… call me Asa.”

The way she says it is awkward. Like she hates that she cares so much. But there’s no joke behind it this time. No teasing. No hidden manipulation. Just her, finally stepping out from behind the wall she built—even if it’s just a toe over the line. “It’s weird. Formal. You’re the only one who still does.”

“I thought you liked it when I sounded respectful.”

“I do. But not from you.”

That pulls a small smile out of you. You tilt your head. “So, what, Edamane?”

"No, you- hah…." She leaned her head against your back. “Call me Asa…please…?”

You widened your eyes at her plea. “…Asa-ah?”

She flinches slightly. “…Ew, say it less romantically.”

"Ya, what should I say when you ask me that?" You chuckled. "I wasn't even trying to-"

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You kidnapped me, Asa-ah.”

She groans and looks away, but you don’t miss the way her face softens—just slightly.

You smile. “…but Edamane is cuter, though.”

She kicked your butt again. Guess some things never change.

[ducktoo]

I swear, every fic i write, it's either the reader become a chill ass lad or a tsundere. No middle at all lol

(maybe i am a tsundere)

[ducktoo]

Between the Lines

Irene x Seulgi x male reader

word count: 15k

A sudden warmth envelops you from behind, arms sliding around your shoulders and pulling you back against a soft, firm body. You don't even have to guess. The specific mix of her flowery perfume and that little hint of vanilla is unmistakable, a scent you've associated with playful ambushes and heartfelt hugs for years. You lean your head back, still smiling, and twist in your chair to see her. And damn. Just, damn. Seulgi is glowing. It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot, but right now, it’s the only one that fits. Her reception dress, a sleek, form-fitting number covered in subtle shimmering beadwork, catches the light from the paper lanterns aboves, she looks like a human star. Her cheeks are flushed with happiness and maybe a little bit of champagne, and a few strands of her dark hair have escaped her elegant bun, framing her face in a way that’s effortlessly, breathtakingly beautiful.

The wedding was perfect. Now, the after-party is a necessary chaos.

You feel a surge of pride so strong it almost knocks the wind out of you. This is your best friend. And she looks so, so happy.

“So? What’s the verdict? Best party of the year or best party of all time?”

You reach up, your hands finding hers where they rest on your chest, and you give them a gentle squeeze. You turn more fully in your seat to face her properly, your own goofy happiness reflected in her beaming smile. “Are you kidding me? This is incredible, Seulgi. Everything is. You two looked… seriously. Up there at the altar? It was unreal. You and Irene, you both looked so beautiful I think I almost cried for real.”

Seulgi lets out a peal of laughter. “You’re more emotional than my mom, and she was sobbing before the music even started.”

“Hey, this moment means a lot to me, too,” you protest, rubbing your thumbs over her knuckles. “Watching my two best friends in the whole world get married? It’s like the finale of a movie I’ve been watching for years. This is it. The peak. There’s no way this night could possibly get any more special than it already is.”

She tilts her head, and for a split second, a look you can’t quite decipher flickers in her eyes that’s there and gone before you can even begin to process it. She leans in a little closer, her words a soft, teasing murmur just for you. “I don’t know about that. The night is still young. More things could still happen, who knows?”

You just grin back at her, completely taking it at face value. Maybe they planned a surprise fireworks display, or there’s a late-night taco truck coming. That sounds exactly like something she’d do. “Oh yeah? Well, you know me. Whatever you guys have planned, I’ll be waiting with open arms.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The way she says it is low and smooth, and the smile that spreads across her lips seems deeper, more satisfied, for reasons that fly right over your head. She gives your hands one last squeeze before letting go and straightening up. “Okay, I gotta go make the rounds. I promised Irene I’d help her hunt down her cousin for the bouquet toss. I’ll see you later?”

“Always,” you reply, watching as she navigates through the tables, stopping to laugh with a group of relatives. You turn back to your drink, a warmth spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the whiskey. You find yourself drifting, your gaze unfocused as you get lost in memories. You remember the night you first introduced them at a crowded, sticky-floored bar downtown. Seulgi, with her boundless, goofy energy, had just spilled a drink down the front of her shirt and was laughing it off, while Irene had been in the corner, looking like a porcelain doll someone had accidentally placed in a mosh pit; all quiet grace and reserved observation. They were polar opposites. Seulgi was the unstoppable force, Irene the immovable object. And yet, from that first night, you saw how they just… fit. Seulgi made Irene laugh, a real, unguarded laugh that transformed her entire face. And Irene’s calm, steady presence seemed to ground Seulgi, giving her a safe harbor in the middle of her own happy chaos. They completed each other in a way you’d never seen before. And you, you got to have a front-row seat for the whole thing. Yeah, you think, swirling the last of the amber liquid in your glass. It really, truly, doesn’t get any better than this.

—

The whiskey has done its job. Hours have bled into one another, marked only by the changing songs the DJ plays and the dwindling number of sober people. Your head is fuzzy in that pleasant, warm way, your limbs feel loose and uncoordinated, and your brain is operating on a significant delay. The main tent is still a riot of sound and light, but it’s starting to feel a bit like being in a fishbowl. You need air. Stumbling just a little as you push your chair back, you navigate your way past the dance floor and out onto the stone veranda that overlooks the hotel’s sprawling, manicured gardens. The cool night air is an instant relief, clearing some of the fog from your head. And that’s when you see her.

Leaning against the stone balustrade, a champagne flute held loosely in one hand, is Irene. Even from a distance, she’s captivating. The moonlight catches the intricate lace of her own white dress, a more elegant and ethereal counterpart to Seulgi’s sparkling one. Her posture is perfect, her profile sharp and regal as she stares out at the distant city lights. She looks exactly like what she is: a work of art. Her beauty is of a different kind than Seulgi’s; where Seulgi is all warm, kinetic energy, Irene possesses a quiet, stunning grace that makes you feel like you should lower your volume just by being near her. She looks serene and maybe a little lonely, and your drunk, loyal heart decides that can’t be allowed. You make your way over, your steps a little unsteady on the flagstones.

“Hey, stranger.”

She turns her head, and the reserved, thoughtful expression on her face melts away into a small, genuine smile when she sees it’s you. It’s a rare, precious thing, an Irene smile, and it makes you feel like you’ve been let in on a secret. “Hey yourself. I was wondering where you’d gotten to.”

“Just… you know.” You gesture vaguely back toward the tent. “Social obligations. Telling my buddy Dave for the tenth time that no, I don’t think his ex is here. The usual stuff. You okay? Needed to escape the madness?” You lean against the railing beside her, following her gaze out to the horizon. She gives a tiny shiver, rubbing her bare arms, and without a second thought, you’re shrugging out of your blazer. It’s a little rumpled and probably smells like whiskey and whatever perfume rubbed off on you from the dozen congratulatory hugs you’ve received, but it’s warm. “Here. You look cold.”

She looks at the jacket, then at you, and her smile softens even more. “Thank you.” She slips her arms into it, pulling the lapels closed in front of her. The dark fabric is huge on her delicate frame. “That’s much better.” You both fall into a comfortable silence for a moment before you gesture to a nearby stone bench, half-hidden in an alcove of jasmine vines. “Wanna sit?” She nods, and you sit down together, the scent of the flowers thick in the air. “So, what’s on the mind of one of the beautiful brides on her wedding night? World domination? The merits of champagne versus prosecco?”

A quiet laugh escapes her, a delicate puff of sound. “Everything. Just… everything. How insane this all is. How happy I am. What comes next.”

“What does come next?” you ask, genuinely curious. “You two are gonna finally take that trip to Spain you’ve been talking about for three years, right?”

“Eventually,” she agrees, taking a small sip from her flute. “But first, the usual. Find a house somewhere a little quieter. Settle down. Start a family.”

You can picture it so clearly: Irene trying to teach a kid how to be patient, Seulgi teaching them how to climb a tree. They would be the absolute best moms. “Yes! I knew it. That’s amazing. You guys are going to be incredible parents.” Then, your alcohol-soaked brain connects a few dots in the worst possible way. “So how’s that gonna work? You gonna just, you know, try your luck on the wedding night and hope for the best? Or are you having one of those stork delivery situations?”

The look she gives you isn’t angry, but it’s sharp enough to cut through some of your drunken haze. The words are calm and level, but they carry a distinct chill. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

You immediately recoil, shamefaced. “Oh, god. Shit. Irene, I’m so sorry. That was stupid. It’s the alcohol. I’m being an idiot, seriously. I didn’t mean anything by it.” You run a hand through your hair, groaning. “Of course you guys will figure it out. You always do.”

She watches you for a second, then her expression softens, accepting your apology. “It’s okay. And yes, we will. In fact,” she says, swirling the champagne in her glass, her gaze distant again, “Seulgi and I have been thinking about some… possibilities. Ways to make it happen.”

That sounds complicated and private, and your dumb mouth has already gotten you into enough trouble. “Hey, you know what? Better if I don’t even know the details. It’s your journey. Just send me a text when I’m officially going to be an uncle, that’s all I ask.”

She smiles at that, a real smile again. “We’ll do that.” She nudges your shoulder with hers. “What about you? When are you finally going to let someone tie you down? Get married, start a family. You certainly wouldn’t have any problems with the second part.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, shrugging. “Nah. I wasn’t cut out for all that. I’d be a terrible husband. And a terrible father? Even worse.”

“That’s not true.” Irene’s reply is immediate and firm, and she turns on the bench to face you properly. Her eyes are serious. “You’re one of the kindest, smartest, and most decent men I have ever met. You’re loyal and you’re good.” She pauses, a hint of a playful smirk touching her lips. “And you’re quite handsome, you know. That girl, Park Sooyoung? From Seulgi’s office? She was asking me about you earlier.”

You just shrug again, feeling a flush creep up your neck, embarrassed by the praise. “It’s better this way. Spare her the disappointment of getting to know me and breaking the spell.”

“What are you two whispering about over here?”

Seulgi’s cheerful query breaks the moment, and you both look up to see her approaching, already beaming. Without any hesitation, she bypasses the empty space on the bench and plops herself right onto Irene’s lap, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders and stealing her champagne flute for a long sip. Irene, for her part, just settles back, looking completely content with her lapful of Seulgi.

Irene smooths a hand down Seulgi’s back. “Just talking about the future.”

“Ooh, our favorite topic,” Seulgi says, her eyes sparkling as she looks at you. “We were just saying earlier how we’re thinking about starting our family. Soon.”

“Yeah, Irene told me,” you say, a big, genuine smile returning to your face. You lean forward, putting all the sincerity you can muster into your slurred words. “And I meant what I said. You guys can count on me for anything. Babysitting, building a crib, being the goofy uncle who teaches them bad jokes. Anything. I would do anything for you two.”

Irene and Seulgi exchange a look over your head, a silent conversation that you’re not privy to. Then, at the same time, they each reach out and take one of your hands. Irene’s grip is cool and delicate, Seulgi’s is warm and firm. “We know,” Irene says, her gaze intense.

“We know we can count on you,” Seulgi finishes, and her smile is wide, but it holds that same unreadable, knowing quality as before.

A huge yawn suddenly cracks your jaw. The combination of the booze, the emotional highs of the day, and the cool night air is finally catching up to you. “I’ll be here for whatever you need,” you mumble, your eyelids feeling heavy. Just then, one of Irene’s cousins pokes her head out onto the veranda.

“There you are! They’re about to do the cake cutting!”

Seulgi groans dramatically, leaning her head back against Irene’s shoulder. “Duty calls.” They both start to get up, reluctantly releasing your hands. “You coming?” Seulgi asks.

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Nah, I think I’ll just stay out here for another minute. Enjoy the quiet before I brave the dance floor again.”

Seulgi leans down, and for a second you think she’s going to hug you, but she just adjusts the blazer on Irene’s shoulders. The words she speaks are for you, though, a low, playful murmur. “Don’t go to sleep just yet. The party isn’t over.”

“I’ll try,” you say, giving them a weak wave as they walk back toward the light and noise of the reception, hand in hand. You lean back against the cool stone, closing your eyes, feeling happy and drunk.

—

The last of the guests have finally trickled out, their happy, drunken goodbyes echoing in the grand hotel lobby. The party is officially over. All you can think about is your bed. Your body feels heavy, a pleasant, bone-deep exhaustion from a day packed with emotion, dancing, and far too much good whiskey. You manage the elevator ride up in a bit of a daze, humming one of the songs the DJ had on repeat and fumbling for your room key as you navigate the plushly carpeted, blissfully quiet hallway. You’re just about to slide the key into the lock when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, squinting at the bright screen.

It’s a message from Irene.

Hey, are you still up?

You type back, your thumbs feeling thick and clumsy.

Barely. About to crash. What’s up?

Can you come by the suite? I want to give you your blazer back.

You groan. The presidential suite is two floors up, and the thought of getting back in the elevator feels like a Herculean task right now.

Its fine just give it to me tomorrow at brunch. Go enjoy ur wedding night lol

The three dots appear instantly. She’s typing again.

No, I want you to have it now. COME NOW.

The all-caps hits you like a splash of cold water. It’s so unlike her usual calm, measured texting style. It’s a command, not a request. You let out a long, weary sigh that seems to deflate your whole body. Arguing with Irene, especially when she’s using that tone, is a battle you learned long ago you would never win.

Ok ok. On my way.

The door to the presidential suite is a heavy, dark wood affair that makes your own room’s door look like a flimsy piece of cardboard. You knock twice, the sound seeming way too loud in the silent hall. You can hear faint music from inside. A moment passes, and then her reply comes, clear and calm. “You can come in.” You turn the handle, push the door open, and step inside, already launching into a good-natured, drunken complaint. “You know, for someone who just got married, you’re awfully demanding, summoning me up here at this hour. I was having a very important meeting with my pillow, you should know…”

You stop. Your words die in your throat, your brain short-circuiting as it tries, and fails, to process what you’re seeing. The suite is enormous, all cream-colored couches and dark wood furniture, with floor-to-ceiling windows showing the glittering cityscape. The lights are dimmed, casting everything in a soft, warm glow. And right in the center of it all, on the massive, perfectly made king-sized bed, are Irene and Seulgi. And they are wearing almost nothing. Irene is in a delicate, intricate black lace piece that seems to both hide and highlight everything, looking like a dangerous, beautiful queen on her throne. Seulgi is beside her in a soft, white silk teddy that contrasts sharply with her dark hair, one knee bent, leaning back on her elbows with a lazy, confident smile. They aren’t doing anything. They’re just… waiting.

A hot flush of embarrassment creeps up your neck, and you feel the whiskey sour in your stomach. You’ve just walked in on your best friends on their wedding night. Your idiot brain finally catches up, and you instinctively start to back away, raising your hands in surrender. “Oh. Shit. My bad. So sorry. I’m just—I’m gonna go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Congrats again!” You’re fumbling for the doorknob behind you, your only thought to escape the mortifying situation you’ve created.

“Idiot.” Seulgi’s tone isn’t angry, it’s fond, but it stops you dead. “Get back here.”

You freeze with your hand on the doorknob, turning your head just enough to see them. Irene hasn’t moved a muscle, her gaze fixed on you. “Come closer,” she says, and it’s not a suggestion.

“Uh, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You guys are, you know. Busy.”

A small smirk touches Seulgi’s lips. She sits up a little straighter. “What, are you scared of us?”

The honesty blurts out of you before you can stop it. “At this point? Yeah. A little bit.”

Irene finally moves, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, the movement fluid and deliberate. “Get over here before I have to get up and pull you.”

You know she means it. With a feeling of profound dread, you let your hand fall from the doorknob and slowly, hesitantly, walk towards the bed, feeling like you’re approaching two very beautiful, very unpredictable wild animals. You stop a few feet away, unsure what to do with your hands, your body, anything. As if on cue, they each reach out, their hands finding yours. Seulgi’s is warm and strong, Irene’s is cool and delicate. They gently but firmly pull you forward, making you sit on the edge of the thick, soft mattress between them. The bed dips under your weight. You’re overwhelmed by the scent of their perfumes, the warmth radiating from their skin. Seulgi leans in close, her breath tickling your ear.

“This is where the real party happens.”

The last of your drunken fog evaporates, replaced by a sharp, ringing confusion. “What the fuck is going on? What are you two doing?”

Irene squeezes your hand, drawing your attention. Her expression is perfectly serious. “Do you remember earlier tonight? When we said we were thinking about starting a family?” You nod slowly, your throat dry. “Well,” she says, her gaze unwavering, “this is it. This is where it starts.”

It takes a second for the words to land. When they do, it’s like a physical blow. You wrench your hands from their grasp and scramble off the bed, stumbling backward until you hit a plush armchair. The implication, the sheer insanity of what she’s suggesting, hits you all at once. “No. No, no, no, absolutely not.” You shake your head, waving your hands frantically. “No way. I am not doing that.”

“Why not?” Seulgi asks, her tone genuinely curious as if she can’t possibly comprehend your objection.

“Why not?” you repeat, your pitch rising with disbelief. “Because you’re my best friends! You’re… you’re married! To each other! I was the best man, for Christ’s sake! I can’t do… that.”

“That’s exactly why it has to be you,” Irene says calmly, her logic cutting through your panic. “Because we trust you. Completely. We don’t trust anyone else in the world with something this important.” She cocks her head. “And besides… you have good genes. You’re smart, you’re healthy. That’s not an insignificant detail.”

“That is a really, really weird thing to say to me right now, Irene,” you manage, running a hand over your face.

“You promised,” Seulgi says. “Tonight. You said you’d do anything for us.”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to force your spinning thoughts into some semblance of order. You have to be the rational one here. “Okay, look. If you’re being serious about this, then… okay. But there’s a way to do this. I’ll… I can donate. We can go to a clinic, I’ll sign whatever you want. I’ll give you my sperm, or whatever. We can do it the right way.”

Irene shakes her head, a look of distaste on her face. “No. I don’t want to go through all that. The paperwork, the cold, sterile rooms, the bureaucracy. It’s impersonal. This way is easier. It’s… warmer. It’s all of us, together.”

A horrible, practical question pops into your head before you can stop it. “So… who? Who is going to…?”

“Both of us,” Seulgi answers immediately, showing they’ve clearly discussed this. “The chances of one of us getting pregnant will be higher this way.”

“I was just asking out of curiosity!” you clarify, panicked again. “I didn’t agree to anything!”

And then, in a move so unexpected it completely disarms you, they both slide off the bed and onto the floor. They kneel in front of you, Seulgi grabbing your right leg, Irene your left, looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Please,” Seulgi begins, her lower lip pushed out in a ridiculous pout. “Please, please, please do this for us.”

You can’t help it. A shocked, slightly hysterical laugh bursts out of you. You’re still a little drunk, and the situation is so profoundly absurd you can’t process it any other way. “Get up. Stop it. You guys are insane. This is completely insane.”

“It would be the perfect wedding gift,” Irene says, her voice dead serious even as she’s kneeling on the floor, clinging to your pants.

“Please,” they say in unison.

You look at Irene, a genuine question cutting through the madness. “By the way… I thought you were a lesbian?”

She gives a small shrug, a wry, determined look in her eye. “Mostly. But for this? For you? I’m willing to make a very specific, one-time exception.”

They get up, still holding your hands, pulling you to your feet. They stand close, their faces earnest and open, their expressions now stripped of all games and theatrics. “Think about it,” Irene says softly. “We want to be mothers more than anything in the world. And we want our child to have a piece of the best man we know. Someone kind, and funny, and loyal.”

“We want our baby to have a piece of you,” Seulgi finishes, her eyes shimmering. “Our family, started with our best friend.”

The emotional appeal, the raw sincerity of it, hits you right in the chest, bypassing all of your panicked objections. This isn’t just a crazy, impulsive scheme to them. They mean it. Every word. You look from Seulgi’s hopeful, pleading face to Irene’s steady, determined one. Your shoulders slump in defeat. A long, shaky sigh escapes you.

“Okay.” You clear your throat and say it again, louder. “Fine. Okay.”

The explosion of joy is immediate. They both let out triumphant whoops, their faces breaking into radiant smiles. They throw their arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug and then falling backward onto the bed in a heap of limbs and laughter. You’re sandwiched between them, their joy so infectious you almost forget the insane reality of what you’ve just agreed to.

“We love you so much!” Seulgi shouts into your shoulder.

“We love you,” Irene echoes.

And in that moment, tangled up with them, you mean it more than ever. “I love you guys, too.”

Irene lifts her head from your shoulder, her dark eyes searching yours. Seulgi does the same on the other side. And then, before you can process it, they both lean in. Irene’s lips find yours, soft and surprisingly warm. At the exact same time, Seulgi kisses the corner of your mouth, a messy, enthusiastic press. It’s overwhelming, a dizzying, confusing collision of silk and lace and the taste of champagne.

You’re lying on your back, sandwiched between them, the weight of their bodies a comforting, terrifying pressure. The scent of their perfume, the soft silk of Seulgi’s teddy, the intricate lace of Irene’s lingerie - it’s a sensory overload that has your head spinning faster than the whiskey ever did. Your brain is still screaming a frantic, high-pitched no, but your body, pressed flush against theirs, is humming a traitorous tune. You have to try, one last time, to anchor this to something you understand.

“Wait,” you manage, your words muffled by a curtain of Seulgi’s hair. You push yourself up slightly, so you can look between them. “You have to promise me. Promise me this doesn’t change things. Between us. That we’re still… us.”

Seulgi pulls back, her expression softening with genuine sincerity. “Of course. You’re our best friend. Our family. That is never, ever going to change. This doesn’t replace that; it just… adds a new layer.”

“She’s right,” Irene adds. “This is about making a family. It’s built on our friendship, not destroying it. We promise.”

Her promise is punctuated by the slow, deliberate slide of Seulgi’s hand from the small of your back, down over the curve of your ass, and onto your thigh. The touch is electric, a clear signal that the conversation part of the evening is well and truly over. Seulgi’s eyes have a mischievous, challenging glint in them. “Okay, promise made. Now, you have to promise something. Admit it. You think we’re attractive.”

“Of course I do. You’re both beautiful. You know that. But I’ve just… I’ve never thought about you like that.”

“Don’t play nice now,” Irene chides softly, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “There’s no need to be polite anymore. We’re past that.”

As if to prove her point, Seulgi’s hand continues its journey, sliding from your outer thigh inward, her palm coming to rest directly over the strained fly of your pants. You suck in a sharp breath. There’s no hiding the rigid length pressing against her palm. Her smirk widens, full of triumph. “See? For someone who has never thought about us ‘like that,’ you seem pretty excited down here.”

“It’s—it’s just a natural reaction,” you stammer, your face burning with a heat that has nothing to do with body warmth. “An involuntary physiological response.”

Seulgi lets out a delighted laugh. “Oh, I love when you get all technical.” She leans over you to speak to Irene, her tone full of bubbly excitement. “You know, Irene has never tried a real one before. Just dildos and strap-ons. This is going to be an interesting new experience for her.”

Before you can even process that piece of incredibly intimate information, Irene is already moving, her focus singular. Her nimble fingers go to the top button of your shirt. “Let’s get these off,” she says, her movements deft and practiced. “You look uncomfortable.” At the same time, Seulgi shifts, moving to the end of the bed. She grabs one of your feet, easily pulling off your shoe and then your sock before starting on the other one. Then, her hands are at your waist, unhooking the button of your pants with a decisive flick.

The feeling of being undressed by them is surreal. Irene’s fingers brush against your chest as she works her way down the buttons of your shirt, each touch sending a shiver through you. Seulgi tugs your pants down your legs, her movements efficient and surprisingly strong. Within moments, your pants and shirt are tossed onto a nearby chair. Irene leans over you, her hair tickling your skin as she presses a soft, wet kiss to the sensitive spot on your neck. Her hands begin to roam, mapping the planes of your chest, her cool fingers a stark contrast to the heat of her mouth.

“You’re so strong,” she murmurs against your skin, her hands squeezing your biceps. “All this time, and I never really noticed.” They both seem fascinated, their hands exploring your shoulders, your stomach, your arms, appreciating your body in a way that’s both clinical and deeply sensual. Irene nips gently at your earlobe, her breath hot as she whispers. “Is this okay? Your two best friends treating you like this?”

Your eyes are screwed shut. Your brain is a warzone of ‘no’ and ‘yes,’ of ‘wrong’ and ‘right,’ but your body has already surrendered. A low groan rumbles in your chest. “It’s good,” you admit. “Unfortunately, it is.”

You’re only in your boxer briefs, feeling impossibly exposed between them. Irene kneels on the bed next to Seulgi, so they’re both positioned in front of you, looking down. Then, in unison, they hook their thumbs into the elastic waistband of your underwear and slowly, deliberately, pull them down. The cool air of the hotel suite hits your exposed skin, and you feel yourself twitch, fully, shamelessly hard in front of them.

Seulgi lets out a low whistle, her eyes wide with genuine surprise and appreciation. “Whoa. Okay. I did not know you were hiding that. If I’d known about this nice cock back in college, maybe you and I would be married by now.”

“Seulgi,” Irene says, nudging her with her shoulder.

“I’m joking! I still love you baby, don't worry,” Seulgi says, her eyes still fixed on you. And then their hands are on you. It’s an immediate, overwhelming shock of sensation. Seulgi’s touch is exactly what you’d expect: confident, hungry, her fingers wrapping firmly around your base while her other hand cups you from below. But Irene’s is different. Her touch is one of pure curiosity. She traces the veins with a single, delicate finger, her touch light and questioning. She gently weighs your balls in her palm, exploring their shape and texture with the focus of a scholar examining a rare artifact. Your cock throbs in their dual grip, pulsing with a desperate, needy rhythm.

Then Irene does something that shorts out every thought in your head. She leans down, her hair falling around your thighs, and she simply… smells you. A deep, curious inhalation, as if trying to memorize your scent. At the same time, Seulgi leans in and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss directly to the swollen, weeping tip of your cock. It’s too much. A strangled noise escapes your throat. And then, it gets even more intense. Seulgi’s tongue darts out, licking at the bead of pre-cum, a sweet, possessive taste. Irene, seeming to take her cue, mirrors the action, her own tongue, tentative at first, tracing a wet line down your shaft.

You grip the bedsheets, your knuckles white, your back arching as they both lower their heads and take you into their mouths. It’s a wet, hot, chaotic collision of sensation. Seulgi is all enthusiastic suction, taking as much of you as she can, her head bobbing eagerly. Irene is more methodical, her lips soft, her tongue exploring, learning. You can feel the slight scrape of her teeth, a sign of her inexperience that’s somehow more arousing than any practiced skill. You are being worshipped, studied, and devoured all at once by your two best friends, and the last vestiges of your resistance melt away into pure, unadulterated sensation.

Your thoughts are a thick, soupy mess of whiskey and want. This is so wrong, on so many levels. It’s a violation of a decade of friendship, a line so bright you never even conceived of crossing it. And yet… it’s them. It’s Seulgi, your goofy, steadfast companion who once helped you move a couch in the pouring rain. It’s Irene, your poised, brilliant friend who proofread your college thesis three times without complaint. The overwhelming love you have for them, a deep, platonic bedrock of your life, is getting twisted up in the slick heat of their mouths, and it’s making everything a thousand times more intense.

Seulgi is a force of nature. She knows exactly what she’s doing, her mouth working on you with a practiced, powerful rhythm that has your hips bucking instinctively. She takes you deep, her throat muscles contracting, and you can feel a low, appreciative hum rumbling from her chest. Irene, on the other hand, is a study in intense concentration. Her movements are more hesitant, her lips and tongue mapping you like she’s trying to create a detailed blueprint in her mind. You can feel the occasional, accidental scrape of her teeth, a mistake that Seulgi immediately corrects without breaking her rhythm.

“Loosen your jaw a little more, baby,” Seulgi murmurs against your skin. She pulls back just enough for Irene to have more room, her own lips still circling your base. “Don’t think of it like you’re just trying to fit him in. Use your tongue. Like this.” She demonstrates, her tongue swirling around the head of your cock in a dizzying pattern that makes you see stars. Irene watches for a second, her dark eyes wide and focused, before she mimics the movement. Her technique is less fluid, more deliberate, but the effect of their combined effort is devastating.

Your hands, which had been gripping the sheets, find their way into their hair. You fist your fingers in Seulgi’s dark, silky strands, and gently cup the back of Irene’s head, your thumb stroking behind her ear. A low groan escapes you, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“Oh, he likes that,” Irene notes. She glances up at you, her cheeks flushed, her lips slick and red. “Is that right? Am I doing it right?”

“You’re doing great,” Seulgi encourages her, before turning her attention back to you. “She’s a fast learner, isn’t she?” Seulgi then shifts her focus, her mouth sliding lower, her tongue flicking against the sensitive underside of your shaft. “Don’t forget the rest of him,” she instructs Irene. “It’s a full meal.” She moves lower still, taking one of your balls fully into the heat of her mouth, sucking gently. The sensation is exquisite, a deep, tugging pull that radiates through your entire body. You let out a choked cry, your hips lifting off the bed.

Irene watches, fascinated, before she hesitantly follows suit, her lips closing around your other testicle. Her touch is softer, more reverent, her tongue carefully licking, tasting. She seems completely absorbed by the task, by the newness of it all. They continue like that for a long moment, one pleasuring the shaft while the other lavishes attention on your balls, a coordinated assault on your senses that has you trembling on the edge of reason.

“Can you believe it, baby?” Seulgi says, her words hot against your skin as she moves back up your length. “This is it. This is the magic wand that’s going to bring us our baby.”

“It’s so much… warmer than the toys,” Irene replies, full of a strange, clinical wonder as she presses her cheek against your thigh, looking up at your cock, which is still being expertly serviced by Seulgi. “It feels… alive.”

“Of course it’s alive,” Seulgi laughs. “It’s our perfect, beautiful, baby-making machine.” She takes you deep again, as if to emphasize her point. “He’s going to fill one of us up so full,” she continues. “And our perfect little baby is going to start right here. Made from your love, and my love, and this incredible cock.”

The words should be weird. They are weird. But hearing their deepest desire spoken so plainly while they have you in their mouths is pushing you closer and closer to a ledge. “Fuck,” you gasp out, your fingers tightening in their hair. “Seulgi…”

“Shhh, not yet,” she whispers, pulling off for a second. “We’re not done appreciating the gift just yet.” She looks at Irene, who seems to understand immediately. Irene pushes herself up, her eyes locking with yours. She looks determined, a perfectionist ready to ace her final exam. She takes you into her mouth again, and this time, there’s no hesitation. She mimics Seulgi’s movements with a newfound confidence, her jaw working, her tongue swirling, her throat opening to take you deeper than before.

She’s trying so hard to please you, and the sheer force of her effort is intoxicating. While Irene gives you her full, undivided attention, Seulgi’s hands are still busy, her fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs, her thumbs pressing into the muscle right where your legs meet your torso, sending sparks all through you. You are completely at their mercy, a trembling, groaning mess, caught in a feedback loop of their desire and your own exploding pleasure, the thought of release a frantic, burning need that they are expertly holding just out of your reach.

The feeling of their mouths on you is a slick, hot paradise. Your brain has officially checked out, leaving your body in the very capable hands (and mouths) of your two best friends. It’s a relentless, dual-pronged assault. Seulgi’s deep, confident suction at the base sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, while Irene’s more tentative, curious work at the head makes you twitch and tremble. This is happening. It’s really, fucking happening.

Then, Seulgi changes her approach. You feel her pull back for a second, a slick, wet pop that makes you whine in protest. But then she comes back, her lips wide, and you feel an impossible pressure as she engulfs you. Her mouth slides all the way down, the tip of your cock bumping softly against the back of her throat. She takes you completely, swallowing you whole in a move of pure, breathtaking skill. Your eyes roll back in your head.

Irene stops what she’s doing, pulling away with a gasp. “Jesus Christ, Seulgi,” she breathes. “How many dicks have you had to suck to learn how to do that?”

Seulgi pulls off you slowly, a trail of spit connecting her lips to the head of your cock. She looks at her wife with a soft, reassuring smile, completely unfazed. “Don’t you worry about that,” she says, reaching out to cup Irene’s cheek. “Your pussy is and always will be my favorite meal, baby. No dick is ever coming near it.” She leans in and gives Irene a soft, lingering kiss, a gesture of pure love and ownership that feels insanely intimate to witness. Then she turns her predatory grin back to your throbbing erection. “Now, where were we?”

They descend on you again, working together. It feels so fucking good, the combination of Seulgi’s expertise and Irene’s determined, focused effort. The pleasure is building, coiling tight and low in your gut, a frantic, unstoppable pressure. “Fuck,” you gasp, your hips starting to jerk off the mattress. “If you keep… holy shit… if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.”

Irene pulls off, looking concerned and excited. “Should we start? Is it time for the penetration?”

“Relax, baby,” Seulgi says without pausing her efforts, her words a wet slur against your skin. “No need to rush. I’m sure he’s got plenty of loads for us tonight.” She looks up at Irene. “And besides, you told me you wanted to taste it for the first time. Remember? We can’t waste this first one inside somebody. It’s for us.”

The words are like gasoline on a fire. The thought of them sharing your cum, of Irene tasting it for the first time, makes your cock throb violently.

“Hey, Irene,” Seulgi says. “Wanna see something cool?” Without waiting for an answer, she shifts her focus. Her tongue, hot and wet, darts out and flicks directly against the thin, hyper-sensitive ridge of your frenulum. An electric shock, white-hot and blinding, shoots through you from the tip of your dick to the base of your skull. You cry out, a sharp, involuntary sound.

“Is it sensitive there?” Irene asks, full of genuine curiosity as she watches your whole body arch.

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” you manage to get out, your voice cracking.

“It’s like the G-spot of the dick,” Seulgi explains, her tongue flicking against the spot again and again, a precise, torturous rhythm. “The secret button.” She looks at her wife. “Come on. Help me out.”

Irene needs no further encouragement. She leans in, and now you have two tongues, two sets of wet, slick muscles, zeroing in on that one tiny, agonizingly sensitive point. They lick and flick in perfect unison, maintaining intense eye contact with each other the entire time, as if they’re communicating in a secret language of pure filth. You can see the spit glistening on their chins, the focused, predatory look in their eyes.

“Licking him right here,” Seulgi murmurs, her tongue never ceasing its relentless assault. “It makes his cum like a fucking volcano, Irene. Watch.”

The feeling is too much, too intense, too targeted. Your vision whites out. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” you shout, and your body gives a massive, shuddering convulsion. The first thick, heavy pulse of your orgasm erupts from the tip of your cock. Irene flinches for a split second, a natural instinct, but Seulgi doesn’t stop. If anything, she gets more intense, her tongue lapping greedily at the hot jet of your cum. Seeing this, Irene’s hesitation vanishes. She dives back in, imitating her wife, their mouths and tongues working frantically as you continue to spurt.

You’re groaning loudly, helplessly, as your cum just keeps coming, thick ropes of it pumping out of you, coating their lips, their chins, their tongues. They don’t miss a drop. They lick you clean as you pulse, their faces smeared with your release. Finally, you fall back against the pillows, twitching and panting, completely and utterly drained.

They both pull back, their faces shiny, their lips glistening with your seed. Irene’s eyes are wide, her breathing heavy. She tentatively licks her lips, tasting a man’s cum for the very first time.

Seulgi watches her, a smug, satisfied smile on her face. “So? What’s the verdict?”

Irene looks from Seulgi to your wilting, messy cock, and then back to Seulgi. “It’s very hot,” she says, voice husky. “It’s… a different taste. Salty. But it’s not bad. It’s good.”

“Good,” Seulgi says. “Now watch this.” She puts a hand on the back of Irene’s neck and pulls her in. “Open up,” she commands, and Irene obeys instantly. Seulgi crashes her mouth against Irene’s, a hot, filthy, open-mouthed kiss. You have a perfect, head-on view as they swap your cum between them, their tongues tangling in a slick, messy dance. You can literally see the pearly white ropes of your own seed moving from Seulgi’s tongue to Irene’s, a shared, conquered prize. It is the most insane, most depraved, most amazing thing you have ever seen in your life.

Your softening cock gives a hard throb against your thigh, a defiant pulse of life reacting to the sheer depravity of the scene. Seulgi finally pulls away from Irene, her tongue darting out to lick a stray white smear from the corner of her wife’s lips, a final, possessive cleanup. Irene’s breathing is heavy, her gaze flicking between Seulgi’s face and your twitching dick.

“So,” Irene says. “Should we… wait for him to get hard again?”

Seulgi doesn’t take her eyes off you as she speaks to Irene. “We don’t have to wait for anything, baby. We can help him.” With the fluid grace of a panther, she rises from the floor, her body, still clad in that flimsy piece of white silk, a breathtaking sight. Irene, ever her perfect mirror, follows the movement, getting to her feet as well. They approach the bed where you’re sprawled, a willing, panting sacrifice. They gently push you back until you’re lying flat on the mattress, your arms spread wide. You are completely at their mercy.

Seulgi leans over you, her dark hair curtaining your face, and lowers her mouth to your chest. She latches onto your nipple, her mouth hot and wet, her tongue flicking against the sensitive nub before she begins to suckle, a strong, rhythmic pull that sends a bolt of lightning straight to your groin. On your other side, Irene copies the action, her technique more delicate, her lips softer, but no less effective. The dual sensations are insane. You never knew you were sensitive there, but now it feels like they’ve plugged a live wire directly into your nervous system. You groan, your head lolling to the side as their hands drift down from your chest, finding your semi-hard cock. Four hands, a collection of soft palms and curious fingers, begin to stroke you lightly, teasingly, coaxing you back to life.

As they work you over, their mouths latched onto your nipples, their hands gently stroking your shaft, Seulgi’s voice, a wet murmur against your skin, cuts through the haze of pleasure. “So,” she says, as if asking what you want for dinner. “The big question. Who do you want to breed first?”

The question is so blunt, so fucking insane, that it takes you a second to even process it. You look from Seulgi’s face, her cheeks hollowed as she sucks, to Irene’s, her eyes closed in concentration. “I… fuck… I don’t know,” you stammer out. How are you supposed to choose?

“Maybe it should be Seulgi,” Irene says, her voice surprisingly clear. She pulls off your nipple, her gaze sharp and analytical. “She seems… the most excited. Practically vibrating with it.”

“I’m excited to be a mother,” Seulgi retorts, not missing a beat in her ministrations. “I’m excited to get filled up with his baby batter and feel my belly start to swell. That’s what this is all about.”

Irene lets out a short, disbelieving snort. “Okay, you hormonal slut. Whatever you say.”

Your cock, which was merely half-mast moments before, surges with blood, kicking hard against their palms until it’s standing at full, rigid attention, thick and throbbing and ready.

Seulgi feels the change instantly. A triumphant, guttural moan escapes her. “Oh, yeah. Look at that. I think he’s ready for me.” She pulls away from your chest, leaving a wet, red mark on your skin. “Okay, then. Decision made. I’ll be the first to take our magic wand for a ride.” She looks down at you. “You just stay right there. Don’t move a muscle. I want to feel every inch of you filling me up.”

She turns to her wife. “Baby, help me out of this.”

Irene is on her feet in an instant, her movements efficient. She finds the tiny, complicated clasps on the back of Seulgi’s teddy and undoes them with practiced ease. The white silk slides down Seulgi’s body, pooling at her feet, leaving her completely, gloriously naked. Irene places her hands on Seulgi’s waist and gives her one last, deep kiss. “Milk him nicely for us,” Irene whispers against her lips. “Get every last drop of that baby-making cum.”

Seulgi approaches the bed again, and the sight of her, naked and purposeful, steals the air from your lungs. She’s perfect, her body lean and strong, her skin glowing in the dim light. She climbs onto the bed, straddling your hips, her knees on either side of you. Her own cunt is glistening, a wet, rosy pout in the thatch of her dark hair. She reaches down, her fingers slick with her wetness, and wraps her hand around the base of your cock. “God, you’re so hard,” she breathes, painting your shaft with her own juices. “Perfect for breeding. Just perfect.”

She guides the thick head of your dick to her entrance, rubbing the slick tip against her swollen clit for a moment, making you both groan. “Irene, watch,” she commands. “Watch him make me a mom.” Then, bracing her hands on your chest, she begins to lower herself.

The feeling is fucking incredible. She is unbelievably, impossibly tight. You feel her wet folds stretch, her inner walls clenching around you as she takes you one slow, agonizing inch at a time. Her head is thrown back, a long, keening moan tearing from her throat, her eyes squeezed shut in a rictus of pure pleasure and pain. “Oh, fuck… you’re so big… so thick…” she pants, her knuckles white where she’s gripping your pecs. You can feel the muscles of her pussy fluttering and spasming around you as she continues her descent. Irene is kneeling on the bed right beside you, her face inches from the point of connection, her eyes wide and unblinking, watching every millimeter of your cock disappear inside her wife.

Finally, with a last, shuddering gasp, Seulgi sinks all the way down. Your entire length is sheathed inside her, her pussy gripping you like a hot, wet fist. You can feel the tip of your cock bumping against her cervix. You are completely buried inside her. She lets out a long, shaky breath, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. “There,” she whispers, looking down at you. “It’s all in. The magic wand is ready to cast its spell.”

You’re pinned to the bed, a willing sacrifice to their singular, shared purpose. With you buried deep inside her, Seulgi begins to move. It’s not a frantic, hurried pace; it’s a slow, deliberate, grinding motion, designed for maximum friction. She lifts her hips with painstaking slowness, your cock sliding out of her hot, wet depths until just the thick head remains inside, and then she sinks back down with a heavy, wet squelch that echoes in the quiet room.

Her entire body is engaged, her lean, hard abs already slick with a sheen of sweat, her thighs trembling with the effort. Every downward slide feels like she’s trying to absorb you, her tight inner walls milking your shaft relentlessly. Your hands find her waist, your fingers digging into her soft skin, holding on as if she’s the only solid thing in a world that has completely dissolved into pure sensation.

Irene watches from her spot on the bed, her expression a rapturous blend of awe and a deep, abiding love. She’s not just watching a fuck; she’s watching her wife in a moment of pure, primal bliss, and she’s mesmerized. Her eyes are glued to the point where your bodies are joined, to the sight of your thick, hard cock disappearing completely into Seulgi’s wet, swollen folds with every downward rock of her hips. “Oh, baby,” Irene breathes. “You look so beautiful like that. So fucking perfect.” She scoots closer, reaching out a hand to caress Seulgi’s sweaty stomach. “Are you enjoying it? Does he feel good deep inside you, trying to make our baby?”

Seulgi’s head lolls back, her eyes fluttering shut as she lets out a long, guttural moan that seems to be pulled from the very depths of her soul. “Yes… Oh, fuck, yes.” The words are a ragged pant. “He’s so… so full. I can feel him hitting my cervix… It’s like he’s knocking on the door, trying to plant his seed.”

Irene leans in, capturing Seulgi’s mouth in a deep, passionate kiss just as Seulgi sinks down onto you again. While they kiss, Irene’s hands slide up to cup Seulgi’s breasts, which are flushed and bouncing with her rhythm. Irene squeezes them, her thumbs rubbing hard over the beaded nipples, and Seulgi moans into the kiss, her body arching, grinding down onto you even harder.

The feeling of her tight pussy clenching around you as another wave of pleasure hits her is almost too much. Seulgi is loving every second of it, completely lost in the triple assault of your cock filling her, Irene’s mouth on hers, and Irene’s hands on her tits. Breaking the kiss, Irene takes Seulgi’s free hand in hers, their fingers lacing together. Then, she reaches for your hand, linking it with theirs, so all three of you are connected, a closed circuit of raw, procreative energy.

“That’s it,” Irene whispers. “Keep riding him like that. Take every inch of his big cock. He’s going to knock you up so good for me.”

Seulgi’s eyes snap open, locking with yours. They’re wild, dilated, and full of a terrifying, exhilarating purpose. “Did you hear that?” she pants, her rhythm picking up slightly, her pussy getting even wetter, slicking your shaft with her juices. “She wants me to take it all. She wants you to fill me up.” She grinds down hard, a delirious smile on her face. “This is how it should be. No cold clinics, no fucking needles. Just our best friend, fucking me raw on our wedding night until I’m pregnant with his baby.”

“Fuck my wife,” Irene encourages. She leans in close to your ear. “Fuck her so good for us. I want you to imagine you’re pumping your hot load right up against her cervix. I want to watch her belly swell up because of what you’re doing to her right now.”

The explicit, filthy talk is like a drug. You’re not just having sex; you’re participating in their deepest, most twisted fantasy. “I want to feel you pulsing inside me when you shoot your load,” Seulgi groans, her nails digging into your shoulders. “I want to feel our baby starting its life inside my womb, made from this perfect fuck.” She leans down, her sweaty hair brushing against your face, her lips right next to your ear. “Don’t you want that, too? Don’t you want to be the one who makes me a mother? Don’t you want to knock me up?”

You can’t speak. You can only nod, a helpless, jerky motion, your hips starting to thrust up to meet her downward grind. The sounds in the room are a symphony of depravity: the wet, slapping sound of her body hitting yours, their combined moans and gasps, and the constant, relentless stream of their breeding dirty talk, promising you, commanding you, to fill her up and turn their wedding night into the night their family truly began.

The slow, deliberate pace Seulgi had started with is a distant memory. Now, she’s riding you with a frantic, desperate energy, her hips slamming down onto yours with a wet, percussive slap that echoes off the hotel room walls. Her body is slick with sweat, her muscles taut, her head thrown back as a continuous stream of breathless moans escapes her lips. You’re no longer just a passenger; your hips are bucking up to meet her, chasing the incredible friction, burying your dick as deep as it can possibly go inside her tight, hot channel.

“Oh, fuck… yes, just like that,” she pants, her hands braced on your shoulders, her knuckles white. “Your cock feels so good, so fucking perfect inside me.” She grinds down, a circular motion that makes you see stars. “I can feel the head of your dick rubbing my g-spot with every single thrust. You’re going to fuck me pregnant tonight, I can just feel it.” Her eyes are wild, her voice a raw, pleading cry. “You’re going to fill my womb up with our baby!”

The sight of her, so completely lost to pleasure, so focused on her mission, combined with the feeling of her pussy milking you, is intoxicating. But as you look past her, you see Irene, kneeling on the bed, watching with an expression of pure, unadulterated lust. Her own hand is between her legs, her fingers rubbing furiously through the thin fabric of her lingerie. A new, demanding thought cuts through your pleasure-soaked haze. You want more. You want all of it.

“Irene.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes locking with yours.

“Come here,” you order, your hips still thrusting up into Seulgi. You gesture with your head. “Sit on my face.” The words taste like power. "None of the mommies should be left out of the fun.”

The effect is instantaneous. Both of their faces light up with identical, predatory smiles. They see it. They see that you’re finally with them, not just physically, but mentally. You’re part of the game now. “Fuck yes,” Seulgi grunts, her pace getting even harder. “Listen to him, babe. He wants to worship you, too.”

Irene needs no more encouragement. She crawls up the bed, her movements sinuous and deliberate. She positions herself over your head, and you get a perfect, intoxicating view up at her. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her lacy black panties, but she doesn’t pull them off. Instead, she just pulls the crotch gusset to the side, revealing the prize beneath. Her pussy is gorgeous, a perfect, swollen pout, glistening with her own wetness. Her clit is a hard, beaded pearl, already engorged.

“You want to taste your future baby’s other mommy?” she whispers, a sultry purr. “You think you can handle it?” She lowers herself slowly, giving you an agonizing moment to just look, to smell the heady, musky scent of her arousal, before she settles down, her wet folds pressing against your mouth.

The taste of her is electric. She’s salty, sweet, and musky all at once. You dive in, your tongue darting out to lick at her slick, swollen lips before focusing on her clit. You flick your tongue against the sensitive nub, and a sharp gasp escapes her. Above you, Seulgi screams in delight. “Yes! Eat her out! Eat my wife while you fuck me!”

Irene’s hips begin to grind against your face, a mirror of Seulgi’s movements on your cock. You open your mouth wider, sucking her clit between your lips, laving it with your tongue. She moans, a high, keening sound, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding your head in place. “Oh, god, yes, just like that,” she pants. “Get it all wet and ready for your cum. You have to breed me next, you hear me? You have to fill me up, too.”

You’re in a sensory overload, a heaven of pure filth. You can feel the hot, tight clench of Seulgi’s pussy around your dick, the relentless, pounding rhythm of her riding you. You can hear her screaming your name, begging you to put a baby in her. At the same time, you have the taste of Irene on your tongue, the feeling of her wetness dripping into your mouth, the sound of her own desperate moans as you eat her out, her own dirty talk a filthy counterpoint to her wife’s.

“Listen to her moaning for you,” Seulgi grunts, her body slapping against yours. “She’s getting so sloppy wet for her turn on your baby-making cock. Fuck, we’re going to take turns riding you all night until we’re both dripping with your seed.”

“Make me cum, please,” Irene begs, her voice cracking as you slide two fingers inside her, feeling her slick, tight heat. She’s so fucking wet. “I want to cum on your face while she’s riding your dick. Please.”

You oblige, your tongue working faster on her clit while your fingers pump into her. Seulgi feels the shift in energy, her own movements becoming more frantic. “Are you eating her out good?” she screams. “Is she as wet as I am? Fuck, I think I’m getting close just watching you.”

The scene is one of beautiful, obscene chaos. Your world has been reduced to the incredible friction of Seulgi’s pussy, the delicious taste of Irene’s, the weight of their bodies, and the sound of their voices, a constant duet of moans and gasps and filthy, desperate promises of the family you’re all making together.

Seulgi’s riding becomes a desperate, powerful piston. She’s no longer just seeking pleasure; she’s hunting it, her hips slamming down with a force that has the whole bed shaking. “Oh, fuck, he’s so deep inside me,” she screams. “Irene, can you feel how deep he is? He’s hitting my cervix with every single thrust! He’s trying to force his baby seed right into my womb!”

Below you, Irene is trembling, on the absolute ragged edge. Your tongue is a whirlwind on her clit, never stopping, never slowing, while your fingers pump a steady rhythm inside her slick channel. “Keep riding him, baby!” Irene cries out. “I’m so close! His tongue… oh god, his tongue is magic! I’m going to cum on his face, Seulgi, watch me!”

“Yes! Cum for him!” Seulgi encourages, her own pace becoming even more frantic. “Show him how wet you are for his cock! I’m right behind you, baby, I can feel my orgasm building! He’s going to make me cum so hard my eggs will just drop and catch his sperm!” She looks down at you, her eyes glazed over, a line of spit connecting her lip to her chin. “You feel that? My pussy is getting so tight around your dick! It knows your cum is coming soon! It wants to be bred!”

“Let’s cum together!” Irene shrieks, her body starting to buck and spasm against your mouth. “Let’s show him how his good little mommies feel when they orgasm! Reach for my hand, Seulgi!”

As Irene’s orgasm begins to take hold, her inner muscles clenching violently around your fingers, she reaches a trembling hand out. Seulgi, still pounding herself onto your cock, meets her halfway. Their fingers lock together, a desperate, sweaty grip, their knuckles white. They are a single entity, united in their ascent.

Irene goes first. A piercing, soul-shattering scream is torn from her throat as her whole body goes rigid. You feel the eruption as a scalding hot flood in your mouth. Her cunt convulses around your fingers, pulsing uncontrollably as she pumps her slick, musky orgasm all over your face, down your chin, into your mouth. You don’t stop, you keep your tongue on her clit, licking her through the climax, swallowing every last drop of her release. Her hips grind down, a helpless, frantic motion as she moans your name over and over, her body completely lost to the waves of pleasure you’re giving her.

The sight of her wife coming apart is the final push Seulgi needs. With a guttural roar, her own orgasm hits. Her back arches so severely she’s almost lifted off you, her pussy clenching around your hard cock in a series of violent, ecstatic spasms that threaten to pull you over the edge with her. It feels like she’s trying to milk you dry, to pull the seed from your very balls with the sheer force of her climax. “Fuck! Yes! You're putting a baby in me!” she screams. “I’m cumming on your cock! I’m cumming for our baby!”

She collapses forward, her body still shuddering, her tight, hot pussy still fluttering around your shaft. Irene goes limp above you, her breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps, her hand still locked with Seulgi’s. The only sounds in the room are their desperate panting and the wet, slick noises of their cooling bodies.

You are so, so close. The feeling of Seulgi’s post-orgasm convulsions gripping your dick is a special kind of torture. Every pulse sends a jolt of near-unbearable pleasure through you. Your own balls are tight, aching, your entire body buzzing with a need that is screaming for release. But you hold on, biting your lip, riding the aftershocks of their pleasure. You are still buried deep inside Seulgi, Irene is still sprawled across your face. You are surrounded by them, drenched in them, and still throbbing, still ready for more.

Irene lifts her head, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. A shaky sigh escapes her lips as she pushes herself up, her face flushed and beautiful, her lips swollen and still glistening. She looks down at you, her eyes full of a new, profound respect. “Fuck,” she breathes. “You are amazing with your tongue.”

Seulgi is a boneless, panting weight on top of you, her face buried in the crook of your neck. Her entire body is humming like a live wire. “I’m so tired,” she gasps, her voice muffled against your skin. “I can’t… I can’t ride anymore.” She lifts her head, her eyes dazed and unfocused, but a sliver of her determined spirit shines through. “You have to finish the work,” she commands. “It’s your turn now.”

“No problem.”

With a surge of strength, you grip Seulgi’s slick, sweaty waist. With a guttural grunt, you lift her off you, flip her over, and press her down onto the mattress in one smooth, dominant motion. The wet sound of your cock pulling out of her is obscene. She lands on her back with a soft noise looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes, her legs already falling open for you.

You don’t waste a second. You move between her thighs, grab your own thick, dripping cock, and drive back into her pussy without any preamble. She screams as you fill her again. She’s so unbelievably hot and wet, her post-orgasm cunt swollen and impossibly sensitive, clenching around you like a fist. You begin to fuck her, a hard, relentless, driving rhythm that’s all about your own building pleasure. You slam into her again and again, your balls slapping against her wet flesh, your hips grinding against hers.

“You feel that?” you growl. You pull out almost all the way and slam back in, hitting her cervix with a force that makes her cry out. “You feel how much I have for you?” You lean down, your mouth next to her ear. “You want it, don’t you? You want my cum deep inside that pretty womb of yours.”

“Yes… oh god, yes…” she babbles, her head thrashing on the pillows. The hypersensitivity of her pussy is driving her insane, every thrust sending waves of aftershock through her spent body.

“It’s not enough to want it,” you command, your pace getting faster, harder. “You have to beg for it. Beg me to fill you up. Beg me to put my baby inside you.”

“Please,” she sobs, the word torn from her. “Please, I’m begging you… cum inside me… Fill me up… I want your baby so bad… Please give me your cum!”

Irene, seeing that the moment is finally here, kneels beside the bed, her eyes wide and fervent. She becomes your cheerleader, your priestess of filth. “That’s it, Seulgi, beg him!” she urges. “Beg him to give you his hot load! He’s got so much for you, you have to earn it!” She puts her hand on your back, her touch electric. She pleads with you, for her wife. “Please, cum in her! Fill my wife’s pussy up with your seed! Drown her cervix in it! Make her pregnant for us, please!”

Their voices, Seulgi’s desperate begging and Irene’s filthy encouragement, are the final trigger. The sight of your beautiful best friend spread out beneath you, taking your pounding, her legs shaking, while your other best friend coaches her, begging for your release… it’s too much. A tidal wave of pressure builds in your balls, a feeling so intense it borders on pain. You let out a roar, a deep, animalistic sound of pure, unrestrained release.

“I’m cumming!”

You drive your hips down one last time, burying yourself as deep as you can possibly go, and your orgasm rips through you. The first massive load shoots from your cock, a hot, thick jet that you feel pump deep inside her womb. Seulgi screams as it hits her, her inner walls clenching down on you. A second, heavier load follows immediately after, flooding her completely. You groan, your teeth gritted, your whole body locked and rigid as a third and final torrent empties from your balls, ensuring she is absolutely, unequivocally full of you.

You collapse on top of her, your body trembling, your mind a complete, blissful blank. You can feel her heart hammering against your chest. Below you, Irene lets out a long, satisfied sigh, her hand still resting on your back. After a long moment, you find the strength to pull out. Your cock slides free with a wet, sloppy sound, and immediately, a thick, pearly white stream of your cum begins to leak from her swollen, gaping cunt, threatening to spill onto the pristine hotel sheets.

Before a single drop can be wasted, Irene is there. She darts forward, dips two fingers into the puddle of your seed at the entrance to Seulgi’s pussy, and gently but firmly pushes it all back inside her wife. “Nope,” Irene murmurs as she holds her fingers there for a second, a human plug. “We’re not wasting a single drop. You just stay in there and make a baby.”

Seulgi is still panting beneath you, her body a warm, pliant weight. Irene’s fingers, slick with your seed, finally pull away from Seulgi’s swollen pussy.

Seulgi lets out a weak, breathless laugh. “You know you only need one microscopic sperm to get pregnant, right?”

“Better to have too much than too little,” Irene retorts with a smug, clinical satisfaction. She crawls up your body, her movements tired but graceful. She wraps her arms around your neck, ignoring the sweat and grime, and plants a firm, proprietary kiss on your cheek. “You did an excellent job,” she murmurs.

With a groan, Seulgi rolls off you and onto the bed. She looks at her wife, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. “My turn now,” she announces, and it’s clear she’s not talking about getting fucked. She’s talking about her role as the orchestrator. She approaches Irene, who is still kneeling on the bed, and begins to work on the clasps of her black lace lingerie.

“Let’s get this off you,” she whispers, pressing soft kisses to Irene’s shoulders and neck as the fabric falls away. “You are going to be such a beautiful mommy. Your belly is going to look so perfect when it’s round and full of our baby.”

“So is yours,” Irene whispers back, eyes full of love for her wife. “We both will be.”

Once Irene is naked, Seulgi gestures to the space between them. “Come on,” she says to you. “Lie down. He’s going to need a little help getting ready for round two.” You obey, settling back against the pillows, propping yourself up on your elbows. Your dick is soft, spent, lying against your thigh. Seulgi looks at it, then at her wife. “Irene, baby. You know what to do. He needs your magic mouth.”

Irene nods, a newfound confidence in her eyes. She crawls between your legs, her gaze locked with yours. She’s learned so much in the last hour. She reaches out, her touch surprisingly sure as she takes your soft cock in her hand. “You were so good to my wife,” she says. “Now it’s my turn to be good to you.” She leans down and takes you into her mouth.

The sensation is different this time. There’s no hesitation, no learning curve. She knows what you like. Her mouth is hot and wet, her tongue immediately flicking against the most sensitive spots, her lips creating a perfect, gentle suction that coaxes you back to life. You watch, mesmerized, as she works, her cheeks hollowing, her dark hair pooling on your thighs. You can feel your cock stirring, thickening, slowly but surely hardening right there in her mouth.

Seulgi lies down on the bed next to you, her head propped on her hand, watching the spectacle with a proprietary air. She leans in, her lips brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “Look at her,” Seulgi whispers. “Isn’t she so beautiful sucking your cock? Look at how she takes it. She wants it so badly.”

“She looks so fucking hot,” you groan, your hips giving a small, involuntary buck.

“She learned from the best,” Seulgi purrs. “Me. But she’s a natural. She knows exactly how to get that magic wand ready to breed her.”

Irene continues her ministrations, her pace picking up as you get harder, until you are fully, painfully erect, throbbing in her mouth. She sucks you for a moment longer, drawing a groan from deep in your chest, before she pulls off with a wet pop. She leans down and plants a soft, loving kiss right on the weeping head of your cock, as if anointing it for its holy purpose.

Seulgi’s hand comes to rest on your chest, her expression turning serious for a moment. “Don’t hurt my girl,” she says. “She’s not used to this. It's her first time with a real cock. Go easy on her. At first, at least.”

“I promise,” you say. You turn your attention to Irene, who is looking up at you with wide, trusting eyes. You reach out and take her hand. “Come here,” you say gently, pulling her up onto the bed. You maneuver her until she’s lying on her side, facing away from you. “We’ll do this with care.”

You lie down behind her, your body spooning hers, your chest pressed against her back. The position is intimate, tender. Seulgi is right there, on Irene’s other side, stroking her hair, whispering encouragement. “That’s it, baby,” Seulgi murmurs. “He’s going to be so good to you. Just relax and let him fill you up.”

You reach down, your hand slick with Irene’s spit, and take your own cock. You guide the head to her entrance. She’s so wet, you can feel the heat radiating from her. You press forward, very, very slowly. Her pussy is tighter than Seulgi’s, a slick, almost virginal heat that greets you with a slight resistance. You push gently, steadily, entering her one painstaking inch at a time. She gasps, her fingers gripping Seulgi’s hand tighter.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re doing so good,” Seulgi coos.

You continue your slow, careful invasion until you are all the way inside her. She feels incredible, a snug, wet sheath gripping you from base to tip. You rest there for a moment, letting her body adjust to the feeling of being completely full.

“Oh, god,” she whispers. “You’re so… hot. You’re so hot inside me. It’s so different from a dildo. It feels… alive.”

Your cock is sheathed inside her, and the world seems to pause. The feeling of Irene’s pussy is a revelation. It’s a different universe from Seulgi’s. Where Seulgi was a confident, hungry heat that gripped and pulled, Irene is a shy, tight velvet that seems to be cautiously, curiously learning your shape. You can feel the delicate, sensitive texture of her inner walls, the way her muscles flutter around you in tiny, involuntary spasms. She is so, so tight. You stay completely still, letting her adjust, your chest pressed against the elegant line of her back, your arm wrapped around her waist, your hand resting on her stomach. It’s an intensely intimate position, more tender than anything else you’ve done tonight, and it makes the raw carnality of the act feel even more profound.

Irene lets out a long, shaky breath, her body melting against yours just a fraction. “It’s… so much,” she whispers. “I can feel every ridge. Every vein. It’s like… you’re a part of me.”

Seulgi leans in closer, stroking Irene’s hair back from her face. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?” she murmurs. “The perfect magic wand to make our perfect baby. Just relax and let him in, baby. Let him feel like he’s home.”

“It’s… it’s good,” Irene admits, her voice gaining a bit more strength. She shifts her hips just a fraction, a tiny, experimental movement that sends a wave of pure fire through you. “It feels good to be this full.”

You can’t help yourself. You have to move. You pull back, just an inch, the motion agonizingly slow. Irene gasps, a sharp, surprised sound. You push back in, just as slowly. “Just tell me if it’s too much,” you whisper, your lips brushing against her ear.

“No,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”

So you begin. A slow, gentle rhythm. In and out. You’re barely moving, just sliding a few inches, letting her get used to the friction, the feeling of being stretched and filled by you. Every slow thrust is a lesson for her body, teaching it your length, your thickness. With every careful movement, you can feel her muscles starting to relax, her initial tension melting away into a pliable, wet heat.

“That’s it,” Seulgi purrs from her ringside seat. “Look how she’s taking you. My girl is a natural. She was made to be bred by a cock like yours.” She places a hand on Irene’s thigh, her thumb rubbing slow circles. “Are you getting wet for him, babe? Is he making you feel like a good mommy-to-be?”

Irene doesn’t answer with words. She answers by pressing back against you, a clear, silent instruction to go deeper. You oblige, your next thrust sinking further inside her, your rhythm becoming a little stronger, a little more confident. Her breathing hitches, and a soft, mewling sound escapes her lips. It’s the sound of her resistance breaking, of her body succumbing to pure pleasure.

This is Irene, your brain marvels. The quiet one. The composed one. And you’re inside her. You’re making her make these sounds. You’re unlocking a side of her that maybe no one, not even Seulgi, has ever seen before.

You continue your slow, steady fucking, your hand moving from her stomach to cup her breast, your thumb stroking her nipple through her skin until it beads into a hard point. You lean in, whispering in her ear. “You feel so good, Irene. So fucking tight and hot. I can feel every inch of you squeezing me.”

“You’re so big,” she pants, her hips starting to meet your thrusts in a shy, tentative rhythm. “I feel like you’re splitting me in two, but… I like it. I really, really like it.”

“I told you,” Seulgi says. “I told you she’d love it. She just needed the real thing. She needed to feel a real man’s dick stretching her pussy open, getting her ready for his seed.” She leans over Irene to look you in the eye. “Don’t you think she’d look beautiful with her belly swollen up with your baby? Can’t you just picture it?”

The image flashes in your mind, unbidden and shockingly vivid: Irene, her belly round and full, looking at you with that same soft, trusting expression. It sends a fresh surge of blood to your cock, and your pace quickens, your thrusts becoming deeper, more powerful. Now, you’re fucking her. And from the way she’s crying out, a string of breathless, high-pitched moans, she’s more than ready for it. Each stroke sinking you to the hilt in her tight, wet heat.

Seulgi’s arms are wrapped around her, holding her close, her lips pressing reverent kisses to Irene’s forehead, her cheeks, her neck. Their hands are clasped tightly, a lifeline in this storm of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, look at that,” Seulgi breathes right next to Irene’s ear. Her free hand moves down, her fingers spreading across Irene’s lower belly, right above her pubic bone. “Look, you can actually see him inside you.”

Your eyes follow her hand. And she’s right. With every deep thrust you make, you can see a distinct, hard ridge pressing up against Irene’s pale skin from the inside. It’s the outline of your own cock, moving within her. The sight is so fucking obscene, so possessive, it almost makes you lose your mind. You are visibly marking her, filling her so completely that you’re changing her shape.

“She’s so petite,” Seulgi continues her worshipful commentary, her thumb stroking the hard bulge that is you. “So small and perfect. And you’re just stretching her, filling her up so completely. Does it feel good, baby? Does it feel good to have his big, hard cock rearranging your guts, getting you ready for his baby?”

“Yes,” Irene sobs, the word breaking in the middle. Her pussy clenches around you, a desperate, involuntary squeeze. “He’s so… so deep…”

“He’s trying to get to your eggs,” Seulgi says. “He’s trying to find them and cover them in his cum. You have to let him. You have to take all of his dick, all of his power.” She kisses Irene’s temple again. “That’s it, take it all, baby. Take all of his dick for me. Show him what a good girl you are. Show him you’re ready to be a mommy.”

You don’t need any more encouragement. You pull out until just the head is inside her, then drive back in with all your force, a brutal, deep thrust that makes them both cry out. You find a rhythm, a hard, punishing pace that has the bed groaning in protest. You’re fucking Irene with an abandon you didn’t know you possessed, driven by the sight of your cock bulging in her belly and the sound of Seulgi’s constant, filthy praise. Your hand continues to cup Irene’s breast, your thumb rolling her nipple relentlessly, while your other arm holds her pinned against you.

“Fuck… please…” Irene pants, her body starting to tremble with an energy that has nothing to do with the motion of your fucking. Her inner walls are fluttering around you, a sure sign she’s getting close.

“That’s it,” Seulgi urges, her voice rising in excitement. “He’s making you feel so good, isn’t he? He’s going to make you cum so hard. Let it happen, baby. Come for him. Come for our new daddy.”

The words, the sensations, the sheer intimacy of the moment all converge. Irene’s body goes rigid. Her back arches, pressing her pussy even harder onto your cock. Her hand grips Seulgi’s with bone-crushing strength. A high, keening wail tears from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. “Seulgi!” she screams, her pussy convulsing around you in a series of violent, exquisite spasms. Her orgasm is a tidal wave, her whole body shaking, her head thrown back as she comes undone.

The feeling of her climax gripping your cock is the most intense thing you have ever felt. It’s a hot, wet, spasming fist, milking you, pulling at you, begging for your own release. You’re right there, on the absolute precipice, your balls aching, your own cum a desperate, burning pressure. But you hold on, gritting your teeth, your own body trembling with the strain of holding back. You continue to fuck her through her orgasm, your deep thrusts fueling her climax, pushing her higher and higher until she’s a sobbing, shuddering mess, completely and utterly spent, her body still twitching around your impossibly hard cock.

Irene’s body is a live wire against you, her orgasm rippling through her in glorious, shuddering waves. You hold her tight, your cock still buried deep inside her, feeling every last exquisite spasm of her climax. Seulgi, ever the devoted wife, leans over and begins to pepper Irene’s face and shoulders with soft, adoring kisses. You follow her lead, your own lips finding the slick, sweaty skin of Irene’s neck, tasting her. Irene is overwhelmed, a helpless, blissful sigh escaping her as she’s cocooned between the two of you, drenched in affection and the afterglow of her own release.

“You’re so beautiful when you come apart like that,” Seulgi whispers. She kisses Irene’s lips, a tender, lingering press. After a moment, she pulls back, a wicked, familiar glint returning to her eyes. “You know,” she says. “I know how to make this even better.”

Irene, still boneless and dazed, manages a weak, “How could it possibly be better?”

“Oh, I have my ways,” Seulgi says, her grin widening. She looks from Irene’s face to yours, a silent, filthy proposition hanging in the air. “Remember that night, a few months ago, after all those margaritas? When you confessed your deepest, darkest fantasy to me? The one you were too shy to say out loud when you were sober?”

A deep blush creeps up Irene’s neck. She knows exactly what Seulgi is talking about. “Seulgi…” she warns, a weak protest.

“You said you wanted to try DP,” Seulgi announces, completely ignoring her wife’s protest. “You wanted to feel a cock in your pussy and a cock in your ass at the same time.” She gestures between you and herself. “Well, it just so happens that he has a dick. And, as luck would have it, I brought my dick. So, I think we can make this work.”

You feel your own cock, still sheathed inside Irene, give a hard, involuntary throb. Irene looks at you, her eyes wide, a flicker of fear warring with a blaze of pure, unadulterated lust. She gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. She wants it. And goddammit, you want it too. The thought of filling Irene’s pussy while Seulgi fills her ass, of the three of you connected in the most intimate, depraved way possible… it’s a fantasy you didn’t even know you had until this very second.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, the words escaping before you can stop them.

With a triumphant whoop, Seulgi scrambles off the bed. “Don’t you two move,” she orders, heading for her suitcase, which is sitting open on a luggage rack in the corner. She rummages through neatly folded clothes with a casualness that is utterly at odds with the situation, finally pulling out two items: a large, economy-sized bottle of lube and a black harness with a thick, realistic silicone dildo attached.

“Okay,” she says, returning to the bed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “First things first. We need to get this pretty little asshole nice and ready. It’s been a while since she took it in the ass.”

She directs Irene to move, and Irene obeys without question, rolling off you and onto her hands and knees, presenting her perfect, heart-shaped ass to her wife. The sight is breathtaking. Seulgi squirts a generous amount of lube into her palm, rubs her hands together to warm it, and then places her hands on Irene’s cheeks, spreading them gently. “She really likes to take it in the ass every now and then,” Seulgi informs you, her voice taking on a clinical, instructive tone as she begins to work the lube into Irene’s tight, puckered hole. She slides one finger in, then two, her movements slow and careful. “Especially when she’s drunk. The alcohol makes her naughtier, loosens her up.”

“Seulgi, stop talking,” Irene groans, though she’s already arching her back, pushing back against her wife’s probing fingers.

Seulgi just grins and gives her a sharp, stinging slap on the ass, the sound echoing in the room, leaving a pink handprint behind. “I’m not telling any lies,” she says cheerfully. “You love being a little slut for us.”

“You were the one who suggested anal first,” Irene retorts, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“And you were the one who agreed immediately,” Seulgi counters without missing a beat. She continues her work, her fingers sliding in and out with practiced ease, until Irene’s ass is thoroughly prepped, glistening and ready. “There we go. All slick and ready for a good fucking.”

She stands up and quickly straps on the harness, adjusting the buckles until it sits snugly on her hips. She grabs the thick, veiny dildo, giving it a few practice thrusts in the air. Then she turns to you, striking a pose, and asks in a comically deep voice, “So? What do you think? Mine’s bigger than yours.”

You can’t help it; you burst out laughing. “Just shut the fuck up and get over here.”

“Alright, alright, positions everyone,” Seulgi says, back to business. “This requires some coordination.” She points at you. “You, on your back. Irene, you’re going to straddle him. I’ll get behind you, baby.”

You lie back on the pillows, your heart hammering in your chest. Irene moves over you, her body a perfect silhouette against the city lights. She straddles your hips, her knees on either side of your waist, her wet, ready pussy hovering just inches above your waiting cock. Then, Seulgi moves into position behind her, a formidable, powerful presence with her artificial dick jutting out from her hips. The three of you are in place, a perfect, obscene triangle of flesh and intention.

You’re lying on your back, a willing foundation for their depraved architectural project. Irene is poised above you, her eyes wide with a potent cocktail of fear and feral desire. Behind her, Seulgi stands like a conquering hero, her fake dick glistening with lube. This is her fantasy as much as Irene’s.

“Okay,” Seulgi says. She places her hands on Irene’s hips, steadying her. She looks at you. “We go in together. Slow and easy. Don’t you dare rush it. I want her to feel every single millimeter.”

You nod, your throat too dry to speak. You reach up and take Irene’s hands, pulling her down slightly so she can brace herself on your shoulders. Her hands are trembling. You guide the head of your cock to her slick, waiting entrance. Behind her, Seulgi does the same, pressing the thick, purple head of the dildo against her wife’s well-lubricated asshole.

“Ready, baby?” Seulgi murmurs. Irene gives a shaky, terrified nod. “Okay. On three. One… two…”

On three, you both push forward.

A strangled scream is torn from Irene’s throat. Her body goes rigid, her back arching as she’s simultaneously impaled from both sides. Her eyes roll back in her head, and her hands grip your shoulders with painful intensity. The feeling is beyond anything you could have imagined. Her pussy, already impossibly tight, clenches down on your cock with a desperate, spasming grip as it tries to make sense of this new, overwhelming invasion. You can feel the reverberations inside her as Seulgi’s dick slides into her ass.

“Oh, god… oh, fuck…” Irene chokes out, her head thrashing from side to side. “It’s too much… I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” Seulgi grunts. She’s only halfway in. “You were made for this. My greedy little slut, wanting two cocks at once.” She thrusts her hips forward, pushing the dildo deeper into her wife’s ass. “Take it. Take both our cocks.”

You push forward as well, your own movement slow and steady, until you are both fully, deeply buried inside her. She is completely, utterly full. The sight is staggering. Your best friend, the quiet, elegant Irene, being spit-roasted by you and her own wife.

For a long moment, nobody moves. The only sound is Irene’s ragged, frantic panting as her body tries to accommodate the sheer volume of being so thoroughly stretched and filled. Then, the initial shock begins to fade from her eyes, replaced by a dawning wonder, a slow-blooming pleasure. A low, guttural moan rumbles in her chest.

“It feels…” she whispers, “so good. I’m so full.”

“That’s my girl,” Seulgi praises. She begins to move, a slow, powerful thrust of her hips. “Look at you, taking two dicks like a champ. My perfect little whore.” The degrading words are spoken with so much love, it’s a paradox that only makes the scene hotter. “You love this, don’t you? You love having both your pretty little holes stretched wide open.”

Irene doesn’t deny it. Instead, she begins to move her own hips, starting to ride you with a slow, grinding motion that matches the rhythm of Seulgi’s thrusts. “Don’t… stop,” Irene begs. “Please, don’t stop.”

And you don’t. You begin to fuck her from below, your thrusts deep and steady, a grounding rhythm against Seulgi’s harder, more punishing pace. The three of you find a tempo, Seulgi’s possessive thrusts into her ass make Irene’s pussy tighten around your cock, sending waves of pleasure through you both. Your own deep strokes make Irene grind back against Seulgi’s dildo. It’s a perfect, perverse feedback loop.

“Look at her,” Seulgi says to you, full of pride. “Taking it like she was born for it. I bet she wants us to fill her up at the same time. A load of your baby batter in her pussy,” she says, nodding at you, “and a nice, creamy load in her ass from her wife.” She leans down and kisses Irene’s shoulder. “Would you like that, slut? A pearl necklace on the inside?”

Irene can only sob in response, her body completely given over to the overwhelming sensations. She’s being used, claimed, and utterly worshipped, all at once. Her head is thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy, her body a vessel for your shared, depraved fantasy.

You are no longer being gentle. You are fucking Irene with a raw, driving power, your hips a relentless piston of flesh and need. Seulgi matches your energy, her own thrusts with the strap-on becoming harder, faster, a possessive, punishing rhythm against her wife’s asshole. Seulgi’s free hand comes up and smacks down hard on Irene’s ass cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the room, leaving a bright red print in its wake. Irene just screams, a sound that’s half pain, half pure ecstasy, and grinds back harder against both of you.

You are so fucking close, a razor’s edge away from release. The feeling of Irene’s tight, hot pussy clenching around you with every thrust, the sight of her beautiful, overwhelmed face, the sound of Seulgi’s filthy encouragement; it’s all converging into a single point of unbearable pressure in your balls.

“Oh god, it’s so good,” Irene wails. “Don’t stop… please, don’t ever stop, it’s so fucking good… I love it… I love you both…”

The pressure is becoming too much. You know you can’t hold on for much longer. “I’m going to cum.”

The announcement acts like a lightning rod. Their shared focus, which was already intense, becomes laser-sharp, zeroed in on you and the precious load you’re about to deliver. They need this. They need your seed.

“Yes!” Seulgi screams. She slaps Irene’s ass again, harder this time. “Did you hear that, you little breeding whore? He’s going to fill you up! He’s going to knock you up right now! You have to take it all! Take all of daddy’s cum!”

“Please,” Irene sobs, her eyes locking with yours, wide and pleading. “Please cum inside me. Give me your baby. Fill my womb up, please!”

Their desperation is the final push. You surge with a fresh wave of adrenaline, a dominant, possessive energy. You reach up, your hand wrapping around the back of Irene’s neck, holding her in place as you pound into her even harder, your rhythm brutal and deep. You lean down, your lips brushing her ear, the heat of your breath a stark contrast to the cool sweat on her skin. “Is that what you want?” you demand. “Do you want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes!” she screams.

“Say it, then!” Seulgi commands, punctuating the order with another loud, stinging slap to Irene’s ass. “Call her what she is! Our perfect little mommy!”

“Our slutty mommy,” you add, the words tasting like power on your tongue.

Irene rolls her eyes in a gesture of pure, ecstatic surrender. She is having the time of her fucking life, being used and praised and degraded by the two people she loves most in the world. The sight of her, so completely undone, is your undoing. The orgasm hits you with the force of a physical blow, a blinding, white-hot wave that surges from the base of your spine.

“I’m cumming!” you roar. “It’s now!”

“Give It to me!” Irene screams, arching her back to take you even deeper.

“Fill her up!” Seulgi bellows, giving one final, massive thrust with the strap-on, burying the dildo to the hilt in her wife’s ass.

And then you explode. Your hips pump uncontrollably, a frantic, repeated pounding as you shove your release as deep inside Irene’s womb as you possibly can. The first massive load shoots from you, hot and thick. Irene screams, her own orgasm triggering in perfect, earth-shattering synchrony with yours, her inner walls convulsing violently around your erupting cock. A second, heavier load follows, flooding her completely.

As you pump a third and final torrent into her, Seulgi holds her dildo deep inside, pinning her, holding her steady as she’s filled and fucked and sent soaring. Irene’s body is a conduit for all three of your combined energies, a beautiful, screaming, convulsing mess. Your cock throbs inside her, pulsing endlessly even after you’re empty, and Seulgi watches the whole thing, a look of fierce, triumphant love on her face as she sees her wife get pregnant right before her eyes.

Finally, the waves subside. You collapse onto Irene, your body trembling, your mind blissfully blank. She goes limp beneath you, her head lolling to the side, her breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps. You’re still inside her, your now-softening cock bathed in the combined heat of your cum and her pussy. You gently brush the damp strands of hair from her face, your touch tender, protective. You hug her close.

Seulgi waits a moment before slowly, carefully, pulling her dildo out of Irene’s ass. Irene moans softly into your neck as it slides free. With a sigh, Seulgi unstraps the harness and tosses it onto the floor. She crawls onto the bed, her movements tired but graceful, and wedges herself into the space beside you.

“That,” she says, “was beautiful. It was perfect.” She leans over and kisses Irene’s forehead, then turns and kisses your cheek. She settles down, lying next to you, completing the tangle of limbs. Irene is on top of you, Seulgi is beside you, the three of you a single, exhausted unit. “I love you both so much,” Seulgi whispers into the quiet room. She strokes Irene’s back. “How are you feeling, baby?”

A slow, lazy smile spreads across Irene’s face. She doesn’t even open her eyes. “I’ve never been better,” she murmurs.

Seulgi laughs, a soft, happy sound. You feel a sense of profound peace settle over you. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you start to move, intending to pull out of Irene. Her arms immediately tighten around you, her legs locking you in place.

“No,” she whispers, a hint of panic in her voice. “Not yet.” She shifts her weight, pressing down, as if to keep you from escaping. “I want to feel you inside me for a little longer. I want to keep all your cum stored up nice and warm.”

You relax, sinking back into the pillows. “Okay,” you agree, the thought of your seed being carefully incubated inside her sending a pleasant shiver through you. The girls visibly relax, their bodies melting against yours, happy and content that you’re so willing to play along with every part of their dream.

“This is… this is everything I ever wanted,” Irene says softly. “Us, you… all of us together.”

“I know,” Seulgi agrees, her hand finding yours and giving it a squeeze. “So,” she says, “place your bets. Who do you think it’ll be? Who’s the lucky mommy?”

“My money’s on you,” Irene mumbles. “He really filled you up. I saw it. It was… a lot.”

“Yeah, but he came inside you and we kept it all in there. Your pussy got the prize.” She pauses, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Unless… what if it’s both of us? What if he’s just that potent? We could have twins! One for each of us to carry.”

The idea is so insane, so utterly them, that you can’t help but laugh.

“Thank you,” Irene says suddenly. She lifts her head to look you in the eyes. “Thank you for this. For agreeing to this crazy, insane plan. For trusting us.”

“Yeah,” Seulgi adds, her own eyes full of genuine emotion. “Thank you for being our best friend. And… for being our perfect daddy.”

The weight of their words, of the whole night, settles on you, but it’s not a burden. It’s a warm, heavy blanket of love and belonging. “You don’t have to thank me,” you say. “I’d do anything for you guys. You know that.”

“We do,” Seulgi says. She yawns, a wide, jaw-cracking yawn. “You should spend the night. Don’t go back to your room.”

“The bed is big enough for the three of us,” Irene adds, already snuggling back down onto your chest. “It’ll be more enjoyable this way. We can all wake up together.”

You look at the two beautiful women tangled up with you, their mission for the night accomplished, their faces full of hope and happiness. There’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

“Okay,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around them both, pulling them closer. “I’ll stay.”

—

The text message from Seulgi arrives on a Tuesday afternoon. The past few weeks had been a strange, quiet limbo. You’d replayed the events of that insane wedding night in your head a thousand times, each memory a vivid, high-definition snapshot of lust and love and beautiful, shared madness. But you hadn’t pushed. You’d waited, giving them the space they needed to navigate the beginning of their new life together, your new, bizarre role in it still undefined. The message is short, simple, and utterly devoid of context.

Hey, you free tonight? Need you to come over. It’s important.

That’s it. No smiley faces, no explanation. Just a summons. Your heart immediately starts hammering against your ribs. Important. What kind of important? Did their families find out? Did someone get sick? Are they regretting it? Is this the conversation where they tell you it was a huge, drunken mistake and they need you to pretend it never happened? The drive to their chic, downtown apartment is a special kind of torture, your mind a frantic whirlwind of worst-case scenarios. By the time you’re standing outside their door, you’ve convinced yourself that this is the end of the most beautiful and insane chapter of your life. You take a deep breath and knock, your hand trembling slightly.

The door swings open, and they’re both there, standing side-by-side like a welcoming committee. They look… different. Not bad, just… charged. There’s a nervous, electric energy crackling in the air around them, a barely contained vibration that sets you on edge. Seulgi is wearing a simple grey sweatshirt and leggings, her hair piled into a messy bun. Irene is in an elegant, oversized cashmere sweater, looking as poised as ever, but her hands are clasped tightly in front of her, a tell-tale sign of her nerves.

“Hey,” you say. “You said it was important. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Irene says, a little too quick, a little too bright. “Come in, come in.”

They usher you into the entryway but don’t invite you to sit down. They just stand there, facing you, shifting their weight from foot to foot. The suspense is killing you.

“Okay, you’re officially scaring the shit out of me,” you say, trying for a light tone and failing miserably. “What’s going on? Are you guys breaking up? Did you burn the apartment down trying to cook? Just tell me.”

“No, nothing like that,” Seulgi says. She shares a look with Irene, a silent, lightning-fast conversation passing between them. “We just… we have something to tell you. Something to show you, actually.”

“A surprise,” Irene clarifies.

Your mind races. A surprise? Your anxiety immediately gives way to confusion. “A surprise? What, did you finally buy that ridiculously expensive espresso machine you were arguing about?”

“No,” Seulgi says, shaking her head, her smile widening.

“Did you get a cat? Please tell me you didn’t get a cat, Irene is allergic,” you guess again.

“Not a cat,” Irene confirms.

“Okay, I give up,” you say, throwing your hands up in surrender. “What is it?”

Seulgi’s expression turns serious, though the excited energy is still buzzing around her like a force field. “Close your eyes,” she says. “And hold out your hand.”

“Oh, come on, this is ridiculous,” you protest, but you do it anyway, closing your eyes and extending your hand into the space between you. You feel her take your hand, her palm warm against yours. Then, she places a small, light, plastic object into your palm. It’s long and thin. A key? A flash drive? You have no idea.

“Okay,” she says, voice trembling slightly. “You can open them.”

You open your eyes and look down at your hand. You’re holding a pregnancy test. And on its small digital screen, in clear, undeniable letters, is the word: PREGNANT.

The world goes silent. You stare at the little plastic stick, at that one, life-altering word, and your brain slowly, painstakingly, connects the dots. Your gaze drifts up from the test to their faces. They’re watching you, their expressions a mixture of terror and hope, waiting for your reaction.

“Is this…” you start. “Is this what I think it is?”

Seulgi’s face breaks into the widest, most radiant smile you have ever seen. She nods, a single, explosive movement. “If you’re thinking that our insane plan actually fucking worked,” she says with happy tears, “then yes. You’re right.”

“Oh my god!” you shout, lunging forward and pulling them both into a massive, clumsy group hug. You lift them both off the ground, spinning them around in a circle, laughing like a madman. “Holy shit! You did it! We did it!”

You finally put them down, and you’re all laughing and crying at the same time. You take a closer look at the test, as if the word might have changed. “This is incredible,” you say, shaking your head in wonder. Then, the logical question hits you. “Wait, whose is this?”

Seulgi’s smile, if possible, gets even wider. She raises her hand slowly, like a student who knows the answer to the teacher’s question. “That one,” she says full of pride, “is mine.”

“Oh my god, Seulgi!” You pull her into another tight hug, lifting her off her feet again. You hold her face in your hands. “You’re going to be a mom. A real mom. That’s… that’s insane.” You then turn to Irene and pull her into an equally enthusiastic hug. “And you’re going to be a mom! You guys are going to be parents!”

You’re buzzing, absolutely levitating with joy. You’ve never felt happiness like this. It’s pure, uncut, overwhelming. But as you pull back, you see a strange, playful look on Irene’s face. She’s watching you, a quiet smile on her lips.

“That’s wonderful news for her,” Irene says, voice calm and even, which only makes her next words more impactful. “But what about mine?”

She holds up her hand. And in it, she’s holding a second test. Another little plastic stick. And on its screen is the same impossible, beautiful word. PREGNANT.

The world stops spinning. It screeches to a dead halt. You stare at the first test in your hand, then at the second test in hers. You look at Seulgi’s beaming face, then at Irene’s serene, triumphant one. The math doesn’t add up. It can’t be. It’s not possible. But it is. Your brain finally catches up, and the only two words that can possibly encapsulate the magnitude of this moment escape your lips in a raw whisper.

“Holy. Shit.”

They burst into laughter at your reaction. “Yes,” Irene says, her eyes shimmering. “Both of us.”

“You’re… you’re both pregnant?” you ask.

“Surprise,” Seulgi says, wiping a tear from her eye. “It seems you’re a little more potent than we anticipated.”

You just stand there, dumbfounded, shaking your head, a wide, stupid grin plastered on your face. You pull them both into another hug, this one gentler, more careful. You’re hugging three people now. No, four.

“We wanted you to be the first to know,” Irene says softly, her head resting on your shoulder. “Before our parents, before anyone. We wanted to have this moment, just the three of us.”

“You made this happen,” Seulgi adds, her hand finding yours and squeezing it tight. “We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

You laugh, a real, deep belly laugh this time. “Well,” you say. “It was my absolute pleasure to help. Literally.”

They both groan and laugh, swatting at you playfully. They pull you over to the couch, and for the next hour, they talk excitedly, often over each other, about everything. They’re already looking at houses a little outside the city, with yards and extra bedrooms. They argue playfully about nursery themes; Irene wants something minimalist and neutral, Seulgi wants cartoon animals and bright colors. They talk about car seats, and strollers, and the sheer, terrifying, wonderful reality of having two babies at the same time.

“Listen,” you say, interrupting their debate. You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Okay, but for real. What am I to them? What do you want me to be?”

“That’s… a conversation we wanted to have with you,” Irene says. “We didn’t want to just decide for you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“There’s no roadmap for this, you know?” Seulgi adds, gesturing between the three of you. “We broke the map and set it on fire on your wedding night. We can’t just go online and search ‘what to call my best friend who knocked up me and my wife so we could start a family’.” She says it with a wry smile, but her eyes are completely serious. “Honestly? We don’t have a fucking clue.”

“We know we want you in their lives,” Irene states, her gaze locking with yours. “Deeply. Not as some distant uncle or just a… friend. But what we call it? What it looks like day-to-day? That’s something the three of us have to build from scratch. Together.”

You look at their faces: the fear of the unknown is still there, but it’s overshadowed by the absolute certainty of their trust in you, and yours in them. You take a deep breath, the path forward uncertain but undeniably shared.

"Okay. Then let's figure out how to be a family.”

[ducktoo]

do you write for illit?

hmmm i havent yet. what r we feeling for today?

[ducktoo]

Jeongyeon is my bias. Would love it if you use it

jeongyeongie has been on my soft spot for a while (especially on Inspector). i'll try my best XD

feel free to leave me what your feeling on the plot btw!

[ducktoo]

Blueprints Of Us (m!reader x IVE's WONYOUNG) - part V

part I - part II - part IV - part IV (finished)

Summary: A heartbroken architect. An ambitious girl. They didn't know each other existed - until the day they met in Hong Kong. What began as a pleasant encounter slowly turns into something neither of them planned: a connection, and perhaps... a new beginning.

tags(?): fluff, angst, some "dangerous" details but not over the line (i don't write smut), i don't even know man

WONYOUNG x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~16.9k

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

The first thing you registered was how cold your nose felt. The second was the weight of her leg slung across your thigh, tangled in the blanket Wonyoung clearly fought for during the night. Her hand was tucked somewhere under your shirt. She wore your t-shirt, the one she’d stolen to sleep in last night, claiming her pajamas “didn’t feel right”. Typical Wonyoung.

Outside, it was still a bit dark. 6:21AM. Barely 7. You could see the faint outline of rooftops dusted with snow, glowing blue from the streetlights. Seoul was in its winter mood - everything felt muted and a little too cold unless you were buried under a shared blanket. Wonyoung was still asleep, breathing slowly as one cheek squished against your chest, her lips slightly parted. Her hair was a bit messy, strands falling in every direction. You would've laughed if your chest wasn’t aching from how stupidly pretty she looked like that. 

Your phone buzzed somewhere under your pillow but you didn’t reach for it. Instead, you brushed your thumb along her back, slow, under the fabric of your t-shirt. Wonyoung flinched just a bit from your touch, groaned softly and nuzzled closer.

“You’re warm, oppa.” she muttered, voice hoarse.

“You clingy, baby.”

“I’m cold,” she pouted against your chest.

“You’re literally wearing my t-shirt, princess.”

“Okay.” she paused. “But emotionally cold. I need physical warmth to compensate.”

You let out a laugh.

“So dramatic in the morning.”

She poked your stomach under the blanket.

“So grumpy in the morning. Better get used to it, oppa.”

You then caught her hand gently, brought it up to your lips and kissed her knuckles. That shut Wonyoung up real fast.

“...Oppa.”

“What?”

“You can’t do boyfriend stuff this early.”

“Kinda late for warnings, Wonyoung-ah.”

Wonyoung buried her face back into your chest and groaned.

“Let’s just not get up, oppa. Call in sick. Say you caught feelings and need recovery time.”

“Barom-hyung would tell me to grow up.”

She tilted her head up to look at you. “What if I say it’s my fault?”

“Maybe he’d tell me to take a week off and stay by your side.”

“See?” Wonyoung beamed. “Smart boss.”

You looked down at her, hand playing with her cheek. “You’re warm now?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I should get up.”

“Never.” she said, closing her eyes again. “You passed your exam. I deserve more cuddles.”

You sighed then wrapped your arms around her tighter - not because she asked, but because she needed. Because in that quiet Seoul December morning, in that apartment, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you wanted to be. 

6:50AM

You had barely shifted the blanket off when Wonyoung let out a dramatic groan and reached up, arms locking tight around your neck.

“Where do you think you are going, oppa?” she mumbled.

“Making breakfast.” you said, half sitting up.

“No, you’re not.”

Wonyoung pulled herself into your lap like gravity didn’t apply to her. Her legs hooked around your waist, knees pressing into your sides and her arms clung tighter until her entire body was pressed to your front - chest to chest, cheek resting on your shoulder.

“I gotta make us breakfast, baby.”

“I’m cold.” she said, muffled.

“You have the blanket.”

“I want you, oppa.”

You tried to stand but Wonyoung didn’t budge, her legs just tightened around you like a warning. You groaned, hands automatically settling on her hips, then sliding lower to support her thighs and the ridiculous length of her legs.

“Your legs are too long, Jang Wonyoung.”

She smirked against your chest. 

“Not my fault I was built for wrapping around you, oppa.”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy walking toward the kitchen, one clingy gorgeous girlfriend still wrapped around your torso like a deluxe human scarf. Her lips brushed against your collarbone lazily, like she was also possessive while sleepy.

“Baby, you know I actually need my hands to cook, right?”

She lifted her head just enough to look at you - eyes still heavy with sleep, but her lips curved into a smug little smile.

“Multitask, architect-nim.”

You rested Wonyoung gently against the counter for half a second so you could grab a pan - only for her to pull you back in, legs tightening again. 

“Baby…” you laughed under your breath. “How am I supposed to cook like this?”

She leaned up, eyes twinkling.

“Figure it out, oppa. You’re smart. You design buildings for a living.”

You sighed, already giving in. With one arm still holding her snug against you, you reached for the pan again. Only this time, your free hand slid down instinctively, gripping the underside of her thigh and landing firmly on her butt to steady her weight. Tight. Secure. Functional. Just like how you design your buildings. Maybe a little too confident.

Wonyoung froze and tilted her head, expression loaded with judgement.

“Oppa.” she said, voice low. “Are you using this as an excuse to grab my butt?”

You didn’t even look down at Wonyoung.

“It’s something called structural support, baby. I’m an architect.”

“Structural support?” she repeated. “You’re not designing a building, you’re holding your girlfriend!”

You adjusted your grip slightly tighter, unapologetically. 

“You’re a skyscraper with legs so you need support. Like that Seocho Garak Tower East in Secho-gu.”

Wonyoung took a moment to process. She tilted her head as she tried to visualize the building - sleek, modern, all glass and curves just in the right places. Sexy in a high budget, skyline defining kind of way-

“Yah!” she smacked your shoulder, laughing. “Did you just call me tall and curvy?”

“I complimented you, in architectural terms.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, oppa.”

“And you’re mad about it because…?”

“Because you compared me to a building.”

“A beautiful one…” you said casually, reaching for the butter while still holding her body against yours with one hand. 

“Iconic. Structural integrity unmatched. Elegant. Sexy…”

Wonyoung groaned and buried her face in your neck, laughing.

“You’re so annoying in the morning, oppa.”

You grinned. “Nope. I’m professionally trained to appreciate good design.”

She slapped your chest lightly and bit her lip, trying not to smile.

“You’re so full of it.”

“And yet…” you paused, leaning down to kiss her temple. “You’re still wrapped around me like I’m the only heater in Seoul.”

Wonyoung then exhaled.

“I’m only allowing you to grab my butt like this because you’re cooking, oppa.”

You looked down at her with a smirk. “So it’s a conditional privilege?”

“Exactly. So use it wisely, architect-nim. One wrong squeeze and you’re done.”

You laughed and shifted your grip lightly but still respectful.

“Got it, princess. Grab with honor. Squeeze with consent.”

She snorted. “You’re lucky I love you, oppa.”

“Okay. And you want to brush your teeth also in this position or what?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The space smelled like fresh paint and saw dust, mixed with the faint scent of leftover eucalyptus from that one bouquet Wonyoung refused to throw away. The place was almost done. Shelves were installed, the counter was being lacquered tomorrow and the lighting fixtures were already humming softly overhead. The vision she along with Hyewon and Yena’d dreamed about was nearly a reality. You pushed the door open, letting in a gust of winter air and snow with you. The inside was warmer - just enough to melt the cold from your skin. You spotted Wonyoung immediately.

Wonyoung was kneeling on the floor sorting through a box of display jars. Hyewon was by the window wrestling with curtain rods and Yena was… doing some Yena thing. You dropped your bags near the entrance and called out.

“What chaos am I facing today?”

Wonyoung looked up, eyes lighting up instantly. “Oppa!”

She stood - a bit wobbly from sitting too long - and skipped over, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“You came!” she mumbled against your chest.

“I brought drinks. And help, if you guys need.” you offered, holding the takeout tray up.

Yena spoke from across the room. “I only care about the drink, oppa.”

You grinned and set the tray on the table before leaning in to kiss Wonyoung’s temple as she stole the cup labeled with her name.

“You shouldn’t be working after work.” she said softly, glancing up at you with 

You shrugged. “I’d rather be here.”

“Ooh, a domestic man.” Hyewon snorted, twisting something into the wall and pretending not to be jealous. “Someone wife him up already.”

Wonyoung raised her eyebrows like she was already doing exactly that then tugged at your jacket.

“Come with me, oppa. I need help in the storage room.”

“What’s in there?”

“A warzone. And too many vases.”

Yena called out. “Don’t go, oppa. It’s cursed back there. You’ll never return.”

You followed your girlfriend anyway, chuckling as you ducked past the curtain that separated the back room from the main space. It was a bit dusty and stacked from floor to ceiling with boxes, bubble wrapped glassware, and unused display pieces. Wonyoung clicked on the light, shook the drink in her hand and looked at you with the most innocent expression.

“I want the tall shelf moved against that wall. And those baskets sorted by size. And the flower foam unpacked and labeled.”

You stared at Wonyoung, disbelief on your face.

“You said I shouldn’t work after going here from work, baby.”

She smiled. Sweet. Deadly. 

“I meant your real job, oppa.” she lied, sipping her drink again. “This is your side job. With me.”

You squinted at her. “You’re evil, baby.”

Wonyoung grinned, stepping in closer, her voice low and dripping with fake innocence.

“I’ll cuddle you so hard and kiss you until you forget your name, oppa.”

You stared. “Keep talking…”

“Mmm.” she then dragged a box toward you with her foot. “I’ll even give you a massage on your back.”

You picked the box up without breaking eye contact. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing, Wonyoung-ah.”

“I do.” she said sweetly. “And you love me for it, oppa.”

About thirty minutes of unfair work later, the curtain rustled as Wonyoung peeked into the room again, sipping the last of her drink after she’d just sentenced you to unpaid manual labor. You were crouched in the corner, taking some rest after labeling everything, stacking baskets like those Pinterest boards. The tall shelf was perfectly aligned against the wall. It looked professional.

She blinked. “You actually finished, oppa?”

You stood up with a groan and cracked your neck.

“I have a literal architecture degree. I can sort baskets and stuff, baby.”

Wonyoung stepped in, glancing around. “Wow… it’s actually nice.”

“Maybe a thank you would be nice.”

She stepped closer to you, casually cupped your face and kissed you on the lips. It was soft, quick and just smug enough to count as gratitude and manipulation.

“Thank you.” she said sweetly and immediately grabbed your wrist.

“Now come help me with the espresso machine, oppa.”

“Again?” you groan, dragging your feet behind her.

Wonyoung didn’t even look back.

“It’s the last thing. I promise, baby.”

“I love how you’ve started calling me baby too.”

She glanced over her shoulder with a smirk.

“You call me that a hundred times a day, oppa. I’m just matching your energy.”

You scoffed. “No, you’re weaponizing it.”

Wonyoung hummed, knowing how powerful she was. 

“Because if I say it, you get all soft and do whatever I ask.”

“You make me sound so easy”.

“Aren’t you, baby?” Wonyoung said, batting her lashes as she tugged you along by the wrist.

You laughed under your breath, mainly because she was right and you hated that it worked every single time. Just as the two of you emerged from the back, still mid argument, Yena glanced up from where she was.

“Get a room, you two.” Yena said flatly.

“We have one.” Wonyoung replied without missing a beat. “But right now, he’s helping me move the espresso machine.”

“Are you trying to show him off?” Hyewon asked, raising an eyebrow from across the room.

“Absolutely, unnie.”

“Not so subtle now, huh?” you said.

“Duh.” Wonyoung then dragged you to the counter. “You’re good looking, you’re useful and you do things in silence.”

“She just called you her pet, oppa.” Yena snorted.

You looked at Hyewon and Yena. “Is no one gonna protect my dignity here?”

Wonyoung casually patted your chest like what Yena just said was a confirmed fact.

“What dignity, baby?”

You blinked at her.

“Wow.”

Yena cackled. “You love it here, oppa.”

You let out the deepest sigh of your entire post grad life and got to work again. An hour passed. Then another. Somehow, you were still there with Wonyoung as Hyewon and Yena had gone home 20 minutes earlier - sleeves rolled, hand slightly bruised, espresso machine installed, half the decoration rearranged twice because “the lighting was off”. By the time you finally slumped onto the little loveseat near the window, it was almost midnight. The city outside was quiet. Snow dusted the sidewalk in soft streaks. Wonyoung sat beside you, legs tucked up, sipping the hot chocolate she made for you. She had just worked you to the bone for almost four hours straight. She then turned to you when you leaned back, eyes fluttering shut. Her gaze dropped and froze when she saw the faint bruise along your hand. Her whole energy changed in an instant.

She reached for your hand instantly, brushing her thumb over the spot.

“You should’ve told me when it hurt, oppa…”

You peeked one eye open, smirking.

“You were too busy yelling at me about symmetry and spotlight angles.”

Her face fell immediately, all the sass and bossy energy from earlier melted off her features - replaced by quiet guilt that hit her like a punch to the gut.

“I didn’t mean it, oppa.” she said softly. “I didn’t think I was actually pushing you that hard…”

You didn’t let Wonyoung finish. You wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in until she was against your chest.

“Hey.” you rested your chin on top of her head.

“It’s okay. I’m doing it for you.” you murmured. “It’s your dream. And if it means I carry some boxes or take a few bruises, I’ll do it. Everytime.”

Wonyoung let out the softest breath - it sounded like she was holding back tears but didn’t want to make a scene.

“...Still, tell me next time, oppa. I don’t want to hurt you, even if I’m excited.”

You smiled into her hair. “Deal.”

Wonyoung mumbled. “Good. Because you’re mine, oppa. Not disposable.”

You let out a quiet laugh.

“Maybe you could apologize by giving me that massage and cuddling me to death when we get home. You promised.”

“Of course, I promised.” she pouted.

You nodded, dead serious.

“I’ve been emotionally manipulated, physically overworked, and I got a battle wound.”

Wonyoung giggled softly, then kissed your jaw.

“Fine, oppa. I’ll cuddle you until you beg me to let go.”

“Sounds like heaven.”

She stretched, then stood up slowly, hand holding yours.

“Come on, architect-nim. Let’s lock up.”

You groaned as you stood, your back cracking like bubble wrap.

“I better get that deadly massage. I’m serious, baby.”

“You’ll get kisses every ten minutes, oppa.” she said, grabbing your jacket off the rack. She shook it out, then slipped it over your shoulders and tugged the zipper up all the way.

“And a hot pack. And maybe… maybe, I’ll feed you snacks in bed.”

“Now that’s true love.”

Before she could reach for her own things, you grabbed her gloves from the stool by the door.

“Gimme your hands, baby.”

She held them out obediently, palms up and you slid the gloves on for her - slow, careful, tugging each finger into place like she was fragile. Her nose scrunched a little.

“You’re babying me now?”

“It’s only fair. You baby me tonight, I baby you forever.” 

Then you paused. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. So you leaned in to cup her face in both hands and rubbed her cheeks gently with your palms to warm them up. Her lips parted slightly at your action, then you leaned in to kiss her - right there in the quiet shop entrance, just a breath of snow drifting past the glass. Slow and warm. 

“Let’s go home. It’s late.”

Wonyoung looked up at you - glowing and full of warmth - before turning to hit the lights. You helped her close up the studio until the place was bathed in a soft mix of streetlight and moonlight. And then the door clicked shut behind you. 

The street outside was nearly empty, snow falling light and slow like something out of a drama. Your boots crunched against it as you walked, one arm over her shoulders, her body close to yours under the purple puffer jacket. You two didn’t talk much on the way home. The vibe was nice and romantic. You looked down at her as she leaned into you, hair brushing your chin.

I love you so much.

You were in love with Wonyoung, with her cute chaos and elegant charm, her soft apologies and shameless flirting. With the way she worked you to the bone and still made you feel like the luckiest man in the world too. So you held her tighter. 

Two lovers, walking home just shy of midnight.

Hands warm, hearts warmer.

After quick bowls of ramyeon, shared rice crackers on the couch and warm showers, it was somehow 2AM. That’s how you ended up here: face down on the bed, shirtless, barely alive. And Wonyoung? Wonyoung was perched on your lower back, wearing one of your oversized t-shirts. Her legs were on your sides, hair tied up. Her phone rested on the edge of the bed, some massage tutorial playing at half volume.

“Okay…” she mumbled, tapping the screen to rewind. “They said circular motion here…”

You groaned as she pushed her palms into your shoulder blades - surprisingly firm for someone who spent most of her days arranging delicate petals and yelling about shelf placement.

“Oh wait- okay… that’s actually… fuck, that’s good.” you mumbled into the pillow.

Wonyoung giggled, smug as hell.

“Language, oppa. You’re in my care now.”

You grunted. “You swear sometimes too.”

“Barely.” she replied, in that annoyingly innocent and lovely tone that made you want to roll over just to glare at her - if you had the energy to move at all right now.

“Likes that makes you morally superior, baby.”

“It does.” she said, proudly. She then shifted to press into a spot just under your shoulder blade and made you shiver. Full body, involuntary. Wonyoung definitely felt it. It was so obvious she had to gloat.

“Do you think I’m that weak now, oppa?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

“No… I take back everything I ever said about you bei- being weak…”

Wonyoung grinned, palms circling slowly over the same spot. 

“That’s what I thought. People who do floral works have strong arms, baby. I lift vases and buckets of water all day.”

“Hot.” 

Wonyoung laughed proudly. That one word gave her the courage to lean forward until her chest pressed against your back, lips brushing your ear as she whispered.

“If you think that’s hot, oppa… wait until I’m on top of you and not massaging.”

You froze. From how fast your heart stopped, how much that one sentence sent heat crawling up your neck. Your breath caught, your fingers curled slightly into the sheets. And for once tonight, you forgot how to speak. There was an obvious pause before your voice came out as you tried to drag it up from the pit of your throat.

“Don’t do that to me, baby.”

You could feel Wonyoung smiling on your back, slow and satisfied. She leaned even closer, chest pressed more firmly against you, arms curling loosely around your shoulder.

“What exactly do I do to you, oppa?”

You clenched your hands in the sheets. 

“You’re the one who said I was strong, oppa.” she kissed your neck lightly. “I’m just using my power to heal you right now.”

You let out a breath - shaky and helpless. No words. You couldn’t say anything to her, not when your brain was static and your heart was trying to escape from your ribs. And then Wonyoung went quiet for a second, choosing her words wisely.

“You know I’ve never done this before, oppa.”

Your body tensed just slightly as her tone had changed, but not out of worry.

“Not like this… Not sitting on someone's back and teasing the hell out of them while also kind of wanting to kiss every inch of their back.” she said.

“I’ve never felt like I could. Before you, oppa.”

That got you. You turned your head a little to catch the side of her face, flushed, eyes focused on your spine since she couldn’t meet your gaze yet. Wonyoung then exhaled through her nose.

“You make me feel safe enough to be annoying and clingy.”

Even though your chest ached with how real she was being, a smile was tugging at your lips.

“You know I love you, Wonyoung-ah.” you murmured.

“I always thought if I got like this with someone, they’d think I was too much. Or dramatic. Or needy. But you-” her voice dipped. “You just act like it’s normal, oppa.”

You reached back, blindly, until you found her wrist. Your thumb brushed over her skin softly.

“It is normal with the right person, baby.” and then.

“I love when you’re annoying and clingy.”

That earned you a shaky laugh from Wonyoung.

“I wasn’t fishing for a comment, oppa.”

“Didn’t say you were.” You smiled into the pillow. Then came a pause as her hand slowly traced slowly all over your back - no tricks, no teasing. Maybe that touch was her way of saying ‘You’re mine’ without needing to speak. Then, quietly.

“I think I want to be with you for the rest of my life, oppa.”

You stopped breathing. It wasn’t dramatic or planned. Wonyoung just said it like she’d already decided. Maybe the truth had been sitting in her chest for weeks, maybe a few months and it slipped out in a moment she felt safest. You stayed still, not wanting to miss a second of this. Everything about this. The sincerity of her voice, the warmth of her touch…

“You mean that?” your voice was barely there now.

She nodded against your back. “Mmm.”

“You feel like home, oppa. I didn’t know it could feel like this with someone.”

That did something to you. It cracked something open deep down - something had been locked up for a long time, and Wonyoung’d just walked into your life and gently broke it wide open. Instead of fear, all you could feel was peace and her love.

“I want that too.” you said softly. “I promise I will try my best for you, Wonyoung.”

The bedroom was now filled with a soft and thick feeling. Her hand never stopped moving on your back, like she was tracing the weight of those words into your skin. Then, barely above a whisper.

“You already are, oppa.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. Nothing but warmth in your body now. Her body on yours, her breath against your neck, her love wrapping around you like a second blanket. Until she decided to ruin it.

SMACK.

“OW! Wonyoung-ah- seriously?”

“Flip over!” she demanded, already bouncing off your back and standing on the floor. Pure cuteness and chaos in her voice. 

“Enough emotional intimacy for one night, oppa. Time for deadly cuddles.”

“You hit me so hard, baby.” you muttered but still rolled over slowly. “I’m losing feeling in my spine.”

“You’re about to lose all feeling once I latch onto you like a koala in mating season.” Wonyoung said it completely seriously. With no shame. And you had the audacity to fall even harder for her. She climbed back on top like she owned the bed and your soul, yanked the blanket over the both of you and immediately wrapped herself around you.

“You better not move, oppa.” she mumbled against your collarbone. “I’m in position and too comfy now.”

Your hand instinctively slid up and down her back, her skin warm under your touch.

“You didn’t even give me time to wear my shirt. It’s winter, Wonyoungie.”

“Exactly~” she nuzzled deeper into your chest. “It’s winter.”

“Baby.”

“Oppa~”

Uh oh.

You heard the danger in her tone. 

“It’s Saturday.” she continued, voice soft and layered with fake innocence. 

“The studio’s closed for now. You’re not working. You basically study everyday already. So why would you prep for that boring architect test thing tomorrow when you could stay in bed and warm me like a good boy?”

Your brain short circuited.

“Good boy?” you repeated.

“Mm.” Wonyoung hummed sweetly, tracing a finger along your collarbone. “My good boy stays right here and keeps me warm and gives me kisses when I ask.”

“I’m a grown man.” but you were malfunctioning. Your protest was weak.

“And yet you’re still under my command, oppa.” she tilted her head. She then slowly moved forward, lips barely brushing your ear, her voice honeyed and low as she continued to attack.

“Just admit it, oppa.” she whispered. “You’d rather stay here all day and let me suffocate you with affection than stare at blueprints or designs… Or your nerdy architect stuff.”

You were defeated. Exhausted. But hey, very much in love.

“Fine… you win.”

“I always win, oppa.”

“I take the day off. Happy?”

Wonyoung beamed, pulling the blanket tighter around the both of you.

“Estatic. Now hush and cuddle me like you mean it.”

You let out a breath, let her bury her freezing feet between your legs and pulled her in closer. Her head was tucked under your chin, hand resting over your chest as she claimed her territory.

“Don’t call me ‘good boy’ again. That’s dangerous.” you mumbled into her hair.

“I call you whatever I want, oppa.” she whispered back with her smug grin. You knew you were done for, without a doubt.

You blinked awake to an empty bed. No warmth by your side. No Wonyoung draped across your chest. No mumbling or sleep kicks. It was quiet. The clock read 8:12AM. You groaned into the pillow, reaching across the sheets for Wonyoung’s warmth. Still warm. Still faintly smelling like her shampoo. No sight of her. But then the bedroom door swung open. There she was.

Jang Wonyoung.

In a black body hugging dress, lips glossy, hair cascading down her shoulders in effortless waves like she was about to do a Vogue cover shoot in your shared apartment. She stood framed in the doorway looking like she hadn’t just destroyed you both physically and emotionally last night.

“Wake up, oppa~” her voice was bright, bossy and way too casual from someone who dressed like that for breakfast.

“Brush your teeth. We have movies to watch and breakfast to eat.”

You sat up slowly, squinting at the sudden presence and your girlfriend  standing in the doorway.

“Damn…” you mumbled, voice rough from sleep “Why do you look like that, baby?”

Wonyoung smiled, one hand on her hip which allowed the dress to hug every curve like it was made only for her. 

“Like what, oppa?”

“Like- fuck…” your voice cracked slightly as you sat up straighter, rubbing the back of your neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her lips curved, pleased but trying to play it cool.

“I know. But I like to hear it from you.”

Then she casually walked over to your side of the bed. Bunny slippers on her feet, hips swaying, the black dress hugging her in all the right places like sin disguised as breakfast. Her hair caught the morning light just right.

Oh my fucking…

You pushed the blanket off and sat up slowly, still shirtless and barely conscious but instantly weak for her. You instinctively leaned in, reaching for her waist, wanting nothing more than to pull Wonyoung in and bury your face in her stomach. Just to ground yourself and breathe her in. But the second your arms brushed her sides, she pressed one palm flat against your forehead and held you back like a misbehaving dog.

“Nope.” her tone was sweet but lethal. You blinked at that, confused and offended. Wonyoung just smiled, lips all glossy and powerful.

“Brush your teeth and wash your face first, oppa. Then you can hug me.”

“Just one hug, Wonyoungie.” you said. You were still a bit asleep and completely love drunk. You were way too weak for Wonyoung to be standing there in that dress. So, naturally, you leaned forward again - arms stretching toward her waist like your soul needed contact.

Smack.

Her palm met your forehead in a light, warning tap. It didn’t hurt but enough to put you in your place. Your head tilted back slightly from the light impact as you looked at your girlfriend, stunned. Wonyoung stared down at you, attitude shifting suddenly. Her sweetness was still there - buried under a new layer of firm, unshakable authority. Her hands went to her hips, eyes narrowing.

“Oppa.” she said, loud and clear. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Okay…” your voice came out soft. Obedient. A little terrified.

She raised an eyebrow, satisfied. 

“Good~”

Then she spun around, her slippers tapping confidently as she walked out of the room after asserting her dominance. And maybe you should’ve let it go. Maybe. But no. The mischief hit you fast. You smirked, leaning off the bed as your eyes followed the curve of her hips in that damn black dress. Too good and dangerous. Your hand then rose just slightly to aim for a harmless, barely there smack on her butt - just enough to make your presence known. Equal parts flirty and payback, right? She denied you affection and threatened your sanity before breakfast, it was only fair. But Wonyoung stopped mid step and turned back calmly, glaring at you. Her eyes then found your raised hand midair, caught red handed in mischief. Her glossy lips pressed into the faintest smirk. You were busted.

“...Hi?”

Her eyebrow lifted, enough to warn you. The tiny, terrifying arch sent a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t even try it, oppa.” she said. Dead serious.

“Okay.” your voice cracked a little as you dropped your hand down. But Wonyoung wasn’t done. She narrowed her eyes and stepped back closer to you.

“I swear, oppa. If you touch me before you’re clean-” she leaned in slightly. “-you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

You didn’t argue. Shower. Toothbrush. Face wash. The bathroom tiles were icy against your feet, but thankfully the water was still a bit warm - just enough to survive the Seoul winter without crying. You showered like your life depended on it. When you finally stepped out, all dried and dressed in the comfiest sweater you could find, you padded to the living room. Breakfast - toast, eggs and a cute little bowl of strawberries - was already waiting on the coffee table. Wonyoung was sitting on the couch, flipping through movie options with a coffee mug in hand. Her legs were folded beneath her, skin glowing. You cleared your throat. She looked up.

“Can I please hug you now?”

Wonyoung blinked. Then her lips curved into something between a smile and a smirk - sweat, pleased but still holding power.

“Did you brush, oppa?”

“Yes.”

“Face?”

“Washed.”

“Shower?”

“With your eucalyptus body wash. I’m the cleanest man in the whole world right now.”

She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. She then took a slow slip of her coffee and then put her legs down with flair, crossing one leg over the other as she stared at you like a queen who was considering whether to pardon a criminal.

“Let me smell.”

You stepped forward cautiously and leaned down toward Wonyoung on the couch, angling your neck so she could check it herself. You expected a quick sniff, enough for her to say “okay” and open her arms. But no. Wonyoung leaned in slowly, lips curving into a smirk. Her hand came up to rest on your chest - not pushing you away or pulling you in closer. It just rested there to control the moment. And then, she pressed her nose tight into your neck. It wasn’t soft or subtle. It was a full inhale, right against your skin - hot breath and the scent of her lip gloss lingering just below your ear. Goosebumps spread like wildfires across your back and arms. You actually shivered.

“Wonyoung-ah…” you breathed out. She didn’t flinch but even nuzzled closer. 

“Mm.” she murmured. “You really did use my body wash.”

“Yeah. I- uh… I did.”

She leaned back finally, eyes half lidded and pleased beyond reason. Her lips glistened with that damn gloss and her voice dropped to a smug whisper.

“You smell like eucalyptus and submission, oppa.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

Wonyoung smiled and opened her arms. “Come here, you whipped idiot.”

You crashed straight onto the couch, face falling right into her lap. You buried your face into the soft fabric of her dress, right against her stomach, arms wrapping tightly around her waist like Wonyoung was the safest place on earth. Your actions caught her off guard for a second. Then she eventually melted. Her hand slid into your hair automatically, nails gently scratching your scalp as you clung to her.

“Oppa.” she laughed under her breath. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You tortured me by making me wait forever."

“It was only thirty minutes, baby.”

“Forever.”

She giggled, the sound soft and wicked. She knew exactly how powerful she was and planned to use it until you were nothing but a puddle in her lap. Her fingers continued to comb through your hair. Her other hand calmly reached for her coffee again and sipped it before speaking.

“I really have you wrapped around my finger, right oppa?”

You didn’t deny it. Laying there, head buried against her stomach, arms draped around her waist, you just sighed.

“Like a ribbon.” you muttered.

“Mm.” Wonyoung slid her hand under your chin and tilted your face up. Before you could react, she leaned down and kissed you on the lips - warm, soft, tasting like coffee. 

“And you love it so much, oppa.” she whispered. You just groaned into her mouth and nodded, fully defeated.

Eventually, you both shifted - plates were pulled onto your laps, coffee mugs safely placed on the table. The movie started playing quietly in the background, some lighthearted romance you barely registered because you were stupidly basking in how stupidly happy you felt. At some point, you ended up in her lap again - obviously. Wonyoung had one arm draped across your shoulders, the other reaching into the bowl of strawberries on the table. She picked one, twirled it gently between her fingers for a second then dangled it just above your lips.

“Open.” she commended, already grinning. You tilted your chin up and parted your lips - obedient, too in love to care. She popped the strawberry into your mouth with a pleasant hum then brushed her fingers along your cheek with ridiculous delicacy.

“Good boy.” she said casually.

You paused mid chew. “Baby, you gotta stop calling me that.”

Wonyoung turned her head slowly, a knowing smile spreading across her lips as she picked another strawberry from the bowl. 

“Why?” she asked, pretending she didn’t have a single clue on what kind of effect she had on you. “You don’t like it, oppa?”

“I like it too much.” you admitted, slumping further into her lap. “It short circuits my brain.”

She pouted in fake sympathy, twirling the next strawberry in her fingers like a cat with a mouse.

“Mmm. Poor baby. All soft and squishy just because I praised you a little.”

“Wonyoung-ah.”

“Oppa.”

You look up at her, exasperated. Wonyoung raised the strawberry to your lips again.

“Now open.”

You groaned but still obeyed. She popped it in your mouth and smiled. After a moment, her hand slid from your shoulder to your jaw, thumb playing with your chin. She tilted your face up and leaned down, resting her forehead against yours.

“But you really are my good boy, oppa.” she whispered. You knew you were done for.

“I need some rest.”

“You are already resting.” she giggled and kissed your forehead. “On my lap.”

And that’s where you stayed for a while, the outside world was nothing more than a snowy hum beyond the curtains. Eventually, the day drifted forward as morning turned into afternoon. Wonyoung then had to get up, brushing a kiss to your temple with a whisper of ‘I have some arrangements to prep, oppa’. You, of course, followed. You wanted to be on her lap for the rest of the day but instead, ended up sitting on a stool in the corner of her little work area. Your phone but in your hand, thumb lazily scrolling, but your eyes? Fully on Wonyoung. 

She was standing at her work table, trimming the ends of a bouquet with clean precision. Her hands moved like muscle memory across bunches of fresh rose, lavender, baby’s breath and ranunculus. Her focus, her calm, her grace - all of it did something to you. You’d seen Wonyoung do this a hundred times - but something felt different this time? Maybe it was the way she stood. Maybe it was the way she wore that dress. Or maybe it was just Wonyoung. 

You played a random playlist on your phone, low and lazy, just to fill the quiet. Then, as if the universe was in on your feelings, ‘Flowers’ by Johnny Stimson came on. The soft bassline. The lyrics. The vibe.

You can open up to me

Show me what's inside

Mother nature made us to intertwine

She shifted slightly on her feet, the black dress then pulled taut across her hips. You lost the ability to breathe normally. Your fingers tapped against your knee, pretending to scroll on your phone. But your eyes were watching the way she moved - the care, the skill, the control. Everything Wonyoung did was controlled. And everything about you was unraveling. You stood up.

Lavender elixir so

Full of pheromones

Gimme one taste and you're gone

You walked over to her. Wonyoung didn’t flinch - she just kept trimming stems like you weren’t about to lose your mind. You slipped behind her, hands gently sliding around her waist, resting low on her stomach. She took no time to relax into your touch, head lightly leaning against your shoulder.

“You’re still wearing the dress.” you mumbled, lips grazing the edge of her ear.

“Mmm.”

“And you expect me not to do anything?”

Wonyoung smiled, but her eyes were focused.

“You haven’t done anything, oppa.”

You kissed her cheeks. Once. Then lower, her jaw. Then the side of her neck, barely brushing your lips there.

What if I can't get you out of my thoughts?

What if my seasons don't change?

What if you forget to forget me not

And we fade away?

The lyrics filled the air, sinking into your skin the same way she did - subtly, then all at once. You felt her breath catch, just enough. 

“You smell nice.” you whispered, fingertips grazing the fabric over her waist. Wonyoung finally set the scissors down. She turned around to face you. Her face was unreadable as something was brewing underneath.

“Don’t tempt me, oppa.” she whispered.

You leaned in. “Too late.”

Her hands slid into your sweater, gripping the front of it as you kissed her - this time slower, deeper, a kiss that curled your toes and left no room for second thoughts. You pulled Wonyoung flushed against you, the table behind her nudging the base of her spine as you devoured her mouth.

You're my little flower

Blooming in the night

Only for an hour

The northern lights

The lyrics played in the background like a confession neither of you could say out loud just yet. But it was felt. All of it. Her hands curled tighter into your sweater. Your fingertips danced down her back, slowly tracing the shape of her waist again-

And that’s when she pulled back. Lips parted. Breath trembling. Eyes glazed with everything she was feeling but couldn’t say.

My Casablanca sweetheart

Nectar so divine

Baby, you're the best part of my life

You swore the air shifted when she looked at you like that. The moment hung there, delicate and electric. Wonyoung’s voice was soft. Barely above a whisper.

“You always kiss me like it’s the last time, oppa.”

“I mean, every time I kiss you feels important.”

Wonyoung stared at you for a beat, lashes fluttering. Then, with a breath that felt heavier than it should’ve been, she reached up and pressed her hand gently to your chest.

“Sit down.”

“...What?”

“I have to finish this, oppa.” she said, laughing through the tension, voice still shook lightly. “Before I scold you again.”

“C’mon, Wonyoungie.”

She smiled sweetly, turning back to her bouquet, snipping stems like nothing had happened. “I’m protecting you, oppa. From me.”

There was absolutely nothing you could say to that. You just sat down, knees feeling like pudding. 

The rest of the day felt like something out of a dream you never wanted to wake up from. She worked. You helped. She kissed your cheek when you passed her the right vase. You played her favorite songs on low volume as Wonyoung was deep in her work like a Renaissance muse - your muse.

Dinner was something simple. Delivery, because neither of you could be bothered to cook after all that emotional cardio. You ate on the floor, in front of the couch as Wonyoung leaned her head on your shoulder, both of you wrapped in a big blanket. There were quiet laughs, shared bites, forehead kisses between jokes.

By the time you and her made it to bed, the world outside had gone still. You were laying there - soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow, blankets heavy and comforting. Wonyoung curled into your side, face pressed to your shoulder, fingers trailing lightly over your chest. That’s when you turned your head slightly and asked.

“What’s gotten in you, baby? You’ve been different, today and last night.”

Wonyoung went quiet for a bit to think about it. Then she mumbled, shy but smiling.

“Maybe I just love you so much I couldn’t hide it anymore, oppa.”

Really?

You pulled her closer.

“...Maybe keep it not hiding then, baby.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

From December to early and mid February, your relationship with Wonyoung turned quietly serious even as your lives got even heavier. You were preparing for the last stage of the architecture license exam - which meant longer nights bent over drafting boards, wrist sores from holding a pencil for hours… People had warned you it was brutal. You knew how crazy it was. But it still managed to hit you harder than you ever expected. 

Wonyoung didn’t just witness it - she adapted to it. She brought heat packs when your hands were cramped, massaged your shoulders while reading flower order lists, cooked when you forgot to eat. She even dropped by your workplace with lunch on the roughest days, always smiling like it wasn’t a big deal. Everybody there was jealous. Of course they were. She fitted into your mornings, stealing bites of your toast, reminding you to blink when you stared too hard at lines. At night, you’d come home to Wonyoung humming while she worked on her floral studio dream, cheeks flushed from the cold. You owed Wonyoung. A lot.

Despite the weight of it all, you still made time to live. Christmas was spent with her family, warm and familiar. Her parents showered the two of you with gifts. Wonyoung never left your side, not even when her cousins grilled her about your future wedding. She just smiled and held your hand tighter. New Year’s Eve was quieter, just the two of you kissing on the rooftop of your shared apartment with thick jackets while the Seoul skyline lit up with fireworks. 

Then 설날* came, and you introduced Wonyoung to your parents. It was your turn after all. She wore a soft toned hanbok, bowed respectfully and called your mom ‘eomoni’ with no hesitation or difficulties. Even though she offered to help, your parents wouldn’t let her step inside the kitchen - insisting their ‘precious future daughter-in-law’ should just sit and rest. She even made your relatives laugh and didn’t even flinch when your aunts cornered her with questions. By the end of the night, your mom pulled Wonyoung aside, held her hands tightly and said ‘You’re a blessing to our son’. And your mom wasn’t wrong at all. Not one bit.

*설날/seollal: Korean new year.

One day, the snow hit harder than usual. You’d heard it all over the news - record low temperature, public transport stalling, several small businesses forced to close for a few days. You texted Wonyoung during lunch, asked if she was staying warm. No answer. When you came home from work, jacket still dusted in snow, you found her on the couch - curled up, knees to her chest, sleeves pulled over her hands. Her eyes were red. She’d been crying. Your heart sank.

“Wonyoung-ah?” you called gently, moving toward her. Wonyoung didn’t look up at first. Just shook her head like she didn’t want to talk about it. But when you knelt in front of her, her eyes finally met yours - glassy, full of frustration and exhaustion. 

“They pushed the inspection again, oppa.” she said. “Everything’s delayed until March.”

Wonyoung’s voice cracked just enough to split something open inside your chest. 

“I know it’s not that big of a deal but-” she continued, trying to convince herself. “But I had everything prepared. I had it timed for orders, I sent emails, I made schedules, I-” her breath hitched.

“I work so hard, oppa.” she whispered, her lips trembling. “I gave it everything- I was so close…”

You didn’t wait. You scooped her into your arms before she could even fold in on herself, lifting her gently and sitting down with her on your lap. Her body curled into yours instantly, like she’d been waiting for permission to fall apart. Wonyoung buried her face in your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your neck so tight it nearly choked you but you didn’t care. Her entire body was shaking now. Harsh, quiet sobs punched out of her chest. You held her through it all, one hand smoothing over her back, the other cradling the back of her head. Wonyoung was fragile, precious.

After a while, her sobs started to soften. It was still there, still aching but quieter. She shifted just enough to up at you, eyes swollen and glassy, nose a little red. 

“I really thought I could do it, oppa… I thought I could prove to everyone I wasn’t just all talk.”

You brushed your thumb across her cheek, gently wiping away the wetness there.

“You already did, Wonyoung-ah.” you said softly. “You are doing it. Delays don’t erase the work.”

She blinked, tears pooling again. “But it feels like I failed.”

You let out a soft sigh, brushing the tears away with your knuckle as you looked at her - eyes puffy, lips trembling, so heartbreakingly beautiful even in her lowest moments.

How are you still so beautiful?

“Wonyoung-ah… I face the same shit at work too.” you said. 

“Designs get pushed back, clients ghost, a lot of them are obnoxious, permits take months. One time I worked three straight nights for a client who changed their mind after the deadline, remember?”

Wonyoung shifted, blinking up at you through glassy eyes.

“You were there for me, weren’t you?”

She stayed silent but nodded.

“If I hadn’t met you, I would’ve quit architecture and become a dog walker in Gangnam.” you said dramatically. “Or like, join a cult and scam people on the street.”

That finally did it - a tiny laugh burst out of her, choked a bit by the remnants of her crying. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, embarrassed. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, embarrassed. 

“There it is!” you whispered. “That’s my girl.”

She immediately buried her face in your chest again, hiding. 

“Stop it, oppa.” she mumbled. “I look so gross right now.”

You laughed, tightening your arms around her, lips brushing the top of her head as you whispered.

“You don’t. Not even a little.”

She groaned into your chest. “My face is puffy, oppa.”

“Still the most beautiful girl I know.”

“My nose is red.”

“Cute.”

“My make up is ruined.”

“Hot.”

Wonyoung squinted at you, a look of sadness and disbelief on her face. “Hot?”

You nodded, completely serious. “Devastating hot.”

She let out a half sob, half laugh sound and smacked your chest weakly. “You’re such a liar, oppa.”

You caught her hand before she could pull it away and brought it to your lips for a soft kiss. 

“You know I never lie about you, Wonyoung-ah.” you murmured. “Especially not about how beautiful you are.”

That shut her up again. Wonyoung knew if she said anything back instantly, she’d cry even harder. So instead, she just melted into you, arms wrapping around your waist again. You leaned your chin against the top of her head, pulling her close like she was made to fit there.

“I’ve got you, Wonyoung-ah. For as long as you need.”

That night, you didn’t let her lift a finger. You cooked while Wonyoung sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a sulking princess. She kept trying to help but you gave her that look every time and she finally gave up with a small pout. You even massaged her shoulders after, forced her to drink warm tea and stayed by her side all night. It was all good again, for a while. But as March loomed ahead, so did the weight of reality.

Her floral studio opening was finally opening - design books finalized, stock delivered, invitations prepped and promotions starting to roll out. And you? You were a few weeks from the last stage of the architecture license exam - the hardest thing you’d ever prepared for. Real hand drafted design work, timed constraints, performance pressures… It demanded everything.

And suddenly, everything felt too full. The space you two once treated like your treasure was overflowing with flower buckets and tracing papers. Everything from two different professions were spilling into each other, no clean lines, no negative space. Two passionate people. Two overachievers. Two deadlines clashing in the same apartment. The arguments weren’t big. Just… sharper.

Like when Wonyoung moved your drafting weights off the table and you found them on the kitchen counter, buried under her wrapping paper. Or when you forgot to screw the cap back on floral tape and it dried overnight. She didn’t yell at you. She just sighed and kissed you, saying it was fine. But that long, slow kind of sigh made your chest feel too small. 

There were times you’d both laugh it off. Many times. Except when it didn’t.

-

One night, you were hunched over the dining table again - your third sketch of the day was already half erased, smudges climbed up your wrist like bruises. The sharpener had jammed. The ruler was gone. Again.

“Have you seen my ruler, Wonyoungie?” you asked, not even bothering to look up.

Wonyoung didn’t answer at first. You heard a soft clink. She was in the corner, trimming stems into a metal bowl.

“You left it on the bed, oppa.” 

You blinked.

“Why would I leave it there?”

She didn’t turn around. “I don’t know. Maybe you were measuring in your dreams, oppa.”

You paused, pencil mid air. The sarcasm didn’t hit cute this time. You stared at the half done section in front of you, jaw tight.

“Okay…” you said, voice flat. Wonyoung finally turned over. She was wearing one of your old sweatshirts, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her eyes met yours across the room - the usual spark wasn’t there.

“I was joking.” she said, quieter this time. “You’re kinda tense lately, oppa.”

You sighed, pressing the pencil down onto the table a little harder than needed. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just… this stage is eating me alive.”

Wonyoung didn’t say anything right away. She just nodded and looked down at her flowers, fiddling with her scissors.

“I get that. I really do. But it feels like you’re mad at me, oppa.”

Your head snapped up. “I’m not- Wonyoung-ah. I swear. I'm just tired and I feel like I’m not doing enough. For this exam, for you…”

Wonyoung’s eyes flicked up at that.

“Don’t say that, oppa. You’re doing everything you can.”

She then set the scissors down with a soft click and walked over slowly to you. You stayed frozen in your chair, pencil still in hand, but your grip softened as she came close. Wonyoung crouched next to you, resting her chin on your thigh.

“You’re tired. And I know this exam is killing you.” she said gently. “But please don’t think I need more from you, oppa. You being here and trying hard already means everything, oppa.”

Your hand reached out automatically, fingers brushing through her hair.

“I feel like I’ve been snapping too much lately.” you admitted, the guilt was eating you up.

She nodded but her smile was soft. “You have.”

“Sorry…” you winced.

“But you’ve been hugging me in your sleep. Kissing my shoulder before you leave for work. Carrying my flower vases even when you look like you’re gonna collapse…” she took your hand. “So I forgive you, oppa.”

You exhaled like you’d been holding your breath for days.

“Come here.” you tugged her into her lap. She climbed into your arms without hesitation, arms wrapping around your neck.

“I love you.” you said against her hair.

“I love you more, oppa.” she whispered back. “But if you erase that drawing again, I will definitely scold you.”

You laughed into her shoulder, everything feeling a bit lighter again.

-

It started small, like always. 

You’d just come home from work, drained and quiet. Wonyoung was at the table, her laptop open and a notebook of arrangement ideas on the side. She looked up at you and smiled.

“You didn’t reply to my text, baby.”

You blinked, taking off your coat. “What text?”

She then turned the screen toward you - a photo of a new flower sample. “I sent it hours ago, oppa. I ask what you thought.”

You stared at the screen, mind blank for a second too long. Then you rubbed a hand over your face.

“I’m sorry, Wonyoungie. Work was hell today. I must’ve missed it.”

Wonyoung’s smile faltered a little, just a second. “You always say that lately, oppa.”

Her words weren’t cruel. They were soft and honest - which made them sting worse.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you like that, baby.” your voice was tighter than you intended.

“I know.” she replied quickly. “But it still makes me feel like I don’t matter sometimes, oppa.”

You sighed, not in anger - just exhaustion. 

“Wonyoung-ah, everything’s hitting me at once right now. I’m trying to be okay at work, at the exam, at being… with you.”

“So now I’m just another thing on your to-do list, oppa?” she flinched.

That one hit too hard. You looked at her sharply.

“That’s not what I want.”

“I didn’t say it was, oppa.” her voice cracked at the edges now. “But it’s starting to feel like it.”

Silence quickly settled, thick and cold. Your heart was loud in your chest, but you couldn’t find the next words. Maybe not yet. Not when both of you were teetering between tired and hurt.

Maybe this one wouldn’t end in a soft kiss and forehead touch.

Maybe this time, one of you had to walk away to breathe. 

-

This one started differently. It started with a question.

You were in the middle of sketching out something, you didn’t even remember what it was - pencil tucked behind your ear, back hunched, neck aching. Wonyoung peeked around the doorframe. Her eyes were tired. She held a small stack of flower mockups and a printed draft.

“Oppa.” she said softly. “Can I show you something real quick?”

You didn’t even turn around. “I’m kinda in the middle of something, baby.”

Wonyoung hesitated. “It’s just the layout for the welcome table. I can’t tell if the lettering feels too busy.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” you said, still sketching.

Silence. Then came a light sigh.

“Nevermind, oppa.”

You froze. Something about the way Wonyoung said it made your hands pause immediately. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t turn around. Instead, you pressed the pencil back to paper and kept going. You kept sketching for another minute. Maybe two. But things didn’t make sense to you anymore - the lines, the measurements. You were thinking about her voice. The way Wonyoung said nevermind like she knew exactly how this would go. So you stood up. Wonyoung was in the bedroom. She wasn’t crying. She was crouched beside the rolling cart, restocking twine and tags into labeled compartments like nothing happened. You leaned against the doorframe.

“Hey, baby.”

“What, oppa?” she didn’t look up.

“I’m sorry.”

 Her hands didn’t stop moving. “For what?”

“For brushing you off, earlier.” you swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to. I just- my head’s all over the place.”

Wonyoung gave a small nod but it didn’t feel like forgiveness. “You always do that, oppa.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn't.” she said. “It just feels… I don’t know, familiar.”

“What do you mean, Wonyoung-ah?”

She finally stood up. 

“It means this isn’t the first time. Me coming to you with something small, something that probably doesn’t matter to anyone but me and getting nothing as an answer from you while you do your thing, oppa.”

“I told you I was in the middle of something.”

“And I told you it would take just a few seconds.” she said, voice sharper now. “That’s all I needed from you, oppa. Just look for a few seconds.”

“I do care.” you shot back. “Do you think I enjoy being like this? I’m not ignoring you, I’m drowning.”

“So am I!”

Wonyoung’s voice cracked for the first time, that scared you more than if she’d yelled.

“You think this thing isn’t eating me alive, oppa? You think I don’t want to pause everything and just… be with you? But I can’t because I’m trying to make my dream happen. And sometimes I need you to see it, oppa.”

You were quiet. Chest tight.

“I do, baby.”

“I think we’re both just trying so hard not to fall apart. Somewhere in that, we’re just let things get between us too much.”

You stepped forward, slowly. “I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I, oppa.” her voice was smaller now. “But I’m scared that if we keep doing this - hurting each other without meaning to, it’s just gonna…”

You reached for Wonyoung’s hand. She let you.

“I don’t know how to do this perfectly, baby. But I want to try my best with you.”

She let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry too, oppa. For getting mad at you. And guilt tripping… pushing when you’re clearly just… barely hanging on.”

You pulled Wonyoung in gently and she leaned into you with no resistance.

“I love you.” you murmured in her hair.

“I know.” she whispered. “I love you too, oppa.”

There was nothing dramatic about it. No grand moment, no magic reset. Just two people, a little bruised, arms wrapped around each other in the quiet and hoping that was enough. Maybe for now. 

The next morning, you were making breakfast when Wonyoung leaned over the counter in your oversized hoodie, pressing her cheek to her arm while she scrolled through messages on her phone. The window was slightly opened. You could hear a bird singing outside. The air smelled like butter and coffee. Everything felt almost normal like the fight last night hadn’t happened. She smiled a little when you passed her a plate. 

“Is this even edible, oppa?”

You smirked. “I checked this time, Wonyoungie.”

She took a bite and gave you a dramatic thumbs up. You laughed, low and tired. But at least it was something - nice and peaceful. There was a moment, just then, where everything softened. Where she looked at you and you looked back, it felt like you were back to when these things didn’t matter. And then your phone rang. You stepped out of the kitchen, answering it in the hallway with one hand pressed to the temple. 

Fuck… Not now.

Wonyoung watched you from her seat. You knew she could tell something was wrong. 

“Wonyoung-ah…” you said carefully.

“What was that, oppa?”

You came back to the kitchen, slowly. It felt like you were stepping into a room you’d just set on fire. She was still at the counter, thumb hovering over her phone, eyes on you now. You hesitated.

“They want me in Pohang. Friday morning.”

Her face didn’t move, but something in her shoulders shifted. 

“For how long, oppa?”

“Three to four days…”

You could see Wonyoung counting in her head. Her lips parted but nothing came out. You kept talking like maybe if you filled the space fast enough, you could soften the blow. 

“I’ll be back by your opening. I’ll take the earliest train, baby. I swear. I- I’ll leave straight after I finish everything.”

She blinked. Still not saying anything.

“Wonyoung-ah… Please say something.”

She set her fork down, too gently.

“You said you’d be there, oppa.”

“I know…” you said. “And I still want to be. I just… I can’t promise the timing.”

A long silence stretched between you. Wonyoung looked at everything but your face.

“You’ve missed a lot of things lately.”

“Baby, I haven’t-”

“You have, oppa.” Her voice was scarily calm. “Little things, big things. I didn’t bring them up because I knew you were trying. I know you’re trying.”

“It’s always bad timing.”

You winced. “That’s not fair.”

“No.” Wonyoung stood up now. “What’s not fair is spending weeks planning something I’ve dreamed about for years, and knowing that even on that one day that’s supposed to be about me- you still might not show up, oppa.”

“I’m still trying. I’m doing everything I can to be there.”

“I don’t want you to try.” she snapped. “I want you to be there. Like you said you would. Like you always promise.”

Your voice dropped, sharp. “And what do you want me to do, Jang Wonyoung? Say no and risk my job? Ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for so you won’t feel abandoned for a day?”

Wonyoung recoiled. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for you to immediately regret it. But she was already turning away, arms crossed like she had to physically hold herself together. 

“I think this relationship might be a mistake, oppa.”

You froze. The air left your lungs.

“C’mon, baby. You don’t actually mean that…”

Still no answer. She didn’t deny it. That hurt you, really bad. So the words ripped out before you could stop them.

“You know what? Maybe it is. Since all I care about is stupid buildings and that fucking license exam.”

That was just enough to fuel Wonyoung’s anger. She glared at you, things hadn’t been okay for the last month now. It was time to release it all. Her eyes were sharp, jaw clenched, tears not even falling anymore.

“FUCK YOU, Han Haejoon.” she said. “You think you’re the only person who’s been working hard in this house? What I do is just some shitty girl’s play?”

You laughed. Bitter, ugly. 

“What the hell are you even saying? God, Wonyoung-ah, I’ve watched you obsess over every goddamn petals and call it a fucking ‘business plan’.”

Her mouth dropped open, stunned. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Yes. I. Fucking. Am.” you shouted. “I’m tired, okay? I’m so fucking tired of acting like your opening is the only thing that matters while I drown in deadlines and other shit. I have to keep pretending like I’m not falling apart too.”

“Well guess what? You’re not the only one. You’re just the only one allowed to show it.”

You didn’t know what happened at that moment. Were you just too tired to say something back? Was what Wonyoung said the truth? Nothing came out. Wonyoung wiped at her face quickly, like she was angry the tears were finally coming. 

“You’re a fucking coward, Han Haejoon. Do you know that?”

And that was it. The whole apartment went quiet. She walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. It wasn’t hard or loud. You stared at the ceiling. Your hands were trembling, chest on fire. You didn’t talk for the rest of the day.

The next few days that followed were silent and slow, wrapped in a tension that didn’t scream- it just sat there. Heavy. Distant. You two avoided each other. Not deliberately, not cruelty. It just naturally happened. Wonyoung stayed mostly in the bedroom, while you retreated to your shared collection room - the one filled with pieces of your life together: Legos, pop ups, her books, a dusty stack of photobooth strips of you two… It used to feel warm. Now it felt like exile.

You slept on the floor with your hoodie pulled over your head, back turned to the door. She didn’t come in. You didn’t expect her to. The apartment felt too big and too small at once. Once, in the hallway, Wonyoung looked like she might say something. But your dumbass turned away before she could even speak a word. On Tuesday, you couldn’t draw. You couldn't study. You sat with your pencil pressed to the paper and didn’t get anything done. From the bedroom, you heard her practicing her opening speech. She sounded steady but you knew. She wasn’t.

Friday morning, you found breakfast waiting on the table in the collection room. Rice. Rolled eggs. Seaweed soup. Your favorite spoon wrapped in Wonyoung’s favorite floral napkin. No note. Just food and care. You stared at it for a long time. But you didn’t eat. It felt like accepting it would mean everything was fine again. But then again, you weren’t sure why this was happening. Everything was so nice and peaceful just a few months ago. You weren’t sure. You didn’t want to overthink too much so you got ready and went straight to work. Her breakfast was still there.

That night, your train was scheduled for 8:30. You packed your bag slowly before dragging your feet to the bedroom. Wonyoung had already cleaned the breakfast. You should’ve eaten it. You should’ve done things differently. The guilt wouldn’t stop humming under your skin. The door creaked open gently. She was sitting on the bed, eyes on her phone. No matter what happened, no matter how hard you both fought, Wonyoung was still the most beautiful woman in your eyes.

“Baby.” you said, voice quiet. “Can I come in?”

Wonyoung didn’t give you an answer. So you stepped in anyway. You stayed near the door since you were scared getting too close might piss her off even more or scare her off.

“I’m sorry, Wonyoung-ah.” you said. “For it all. I should’ve eaten it. I’m sorry for being such a jerk. I didn’t mean any of it. I was scared and tired.”

Silence.

“I know this relationship means a lot to you. It does to me too. I… I don’t want to lose you, Wonyoung.”

You took a breath and stepped closer. You reached out slowly, fingertips grazing her shoulder. She flinched, that was enough to make your hand drop right away. You backed off, like you just touched someone that wasn’t yours anymore.

“I’m really sorry, baby.” you said again. “I know I haven’t been good at showing it lately, but I really love you. I’ve always loved you. I really appreciate the trust you have in me… I’m stupid for acting like that the past weeks.”

Wonyoung didn’t say anything.

“I’ll be there for you, okay? No matter how hard things are… I promise I will try for you, Wonyoung-ah.”

Wonyoung still sat there, closed off. So you stepped back, grabbed your bag from the hallway and closed the bedroom as quietly as you could. You stole one last look for the last time. Still nothing. So you left. 

And when the door clicked shut, Wonyoung finally broke. She folded over slowly, like her body couldn’t even hold it in anymore. Her hands pressed to her eyes, knees drawn in, shoulders shaking. Not because she was mad or she didn’t forgive you. But because she missed you already. Wonyoung didn’t want things to end like this. She cried because she still loved you too much. And now she didn’t know what to do with that love anymore.

 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

You had barely slept. You stayed behind after the Pohang review long after everyone else had cleared out, doing everything you could to make sure you could leave without any guilt. Things thankfully worked out. Then Monday came. You managed to catch the first KTX back to Seoul, arriving back at about 7AM.  Your eyes were burning, body aching from too many hours in a suit. You didn’t go home or change. You just made one stop - at the little flower shop where you bought Wonyoung flowers on your first dinner together. Then you headed straight to the studio, still holding your breath, hoping you weren’t too late. You two hadn’t texted each other since that day, but somewhere deep down in you, you knew you could still fix this. That it wasn’t too far gone yet. 

The studio smelled like fresh flowers and sweet coffee. Someone had opened the front windows just enough to let Seoul’s spring breeze in. Ribbons fluttered gently from the display hooks, soft music hummed under the murmur of guess. It was everything Wonyoung had dreamed about. Warm petals, clean decorations, the faint bite of lavender from the candle burning on the counter.

Outside, the signage Hyewon and Yena’d agonized over for months now hung proudly above the door. Below it, a small welcome table was already covered in business cards, pastries, and iced teas. Yena had overtaken the center table, buzzing and hyping every guest like she was getting commission. Hyewon stood behind the counter, managing receipts and trying not to fold every time someone complimented the bouquet wall. But you didn’t see Wonyoung out front. Her parents were. And then you decided to walk in. Still in your suit and tie. In your hands was a modest bouquet of the same flowers you bought her on your first dinner together. You bowed quickly to her parents. Her mother blinked in surprise before breaking into a warm smile. Her father pulled you into a hug without any hesitation. “You got back just in time.” he said quietly, patting you on the back. “Good.”

You nodded, too choked to respond. Yena then spotted you. She hurried over, eyes wide.

“Oppa?” she said, her voice made it sound like you weren’t real. “She’s in the back room. Wow… You really came.”

You smiled at her, barely, and walked toward the half open curtain that led to the room. Inside, Wonyoung stood by the prep table, arranging a handful of freesia into a narrow necked vase. 

Her hair was loose, falling in soft curls down her back. She wore a white satin dress - the one you swore made her look like she belonged on a magazine cover. The hem swayed lightly as she moved, brushing against her calves, elegant and effortless. She hadn’t heard you come in. You just stood there, admiring her for a moment. You then crossed the space between you and wrapped your arms around her. Wonyoung startled, tense under your touch then stilled. It only took her a second to realize it was you. Your scent, your arms, your heartbeat right against her spine. She didn’t pull away this time.

Wonyoung turned around slowly, fingers still damp from trimming stems. Her eyes met yours and held. You reached out, offering her the bouquet. The same flowers from your first dinner together, back when things were simple. Just slightly wilted. She hesitated for a second then took them without a word. Wonyoung held them to her chest like she wasn’t even thinking. Her body moved before her mind could catch up.

“I’m sorry, baby.” you said. “For everything. I didn’t text you the past few days… I was stupid for that. I made you feel like you weren’t important when you’re the only thing that’s ever felt certain to me.”

Her expression didn’t give away much. Her eyes flicked side to side, then back at you. Her tongue pressed to the side of her cheeks - once, then twice. That same little tic she had whenever she didn’t want to react too quickly. Wonyoung was taking her time, trying to stay composed. She still didn’t say anything but her fingers adjusted slightly on the bouquet, like she was holding it tighter. And then she spoke.

“You really came back.”

A pause. She smiled. It was small and tired, but it felt real after everything. You couldn’t help but also feel the corners of your lips twitching.

“I missed you, oppa.”

You opened your mouth to say something else. Maybe  another apology - one of many still stuck in your throat. But Wonyoung stepped forward instead. She reached up, fingers slipping around your tie and tugged you down gently and kissed you. And just like that, it was finally perfect again. It was enough. Your hands flew to her waist, pulling her in like you didn’t want to risk losing her again. Wonyoung laughed into the kiss, quiet and breathless, and you didn’t care how messy it was. Everything had been crashing down around you for weeks. But now, in this moment, it finally st-

“Hey…”

You both froze. 

Hyewon stood in the doorway, holding a tray of mini croissants, blinking slowly like her brain was still buffering. Her voice was casual, but her expressions were not. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. It was enough to confirm she saw everything.

“I was just…” she said, stepping further inside toward the guest snacks table. “Croissants. Yena said we were low.”

You and Wonyoung didn’t move. Still a little breathless. Still holding each other. Hyewon glanced over her shoulder.

“So you’re back, oppa.” she said, almost teasing. “Wonyoungie almost cried this morning.”

Wonyoung groaned softly, dropping her forehead to your chest. “Unnie…”

You felt her laugh against you. And you held her a little tighter.

You decided to stay for the rest of the day, even if she didn’t ask you to. You manned the cash box when Hyewon needed a break, helped Yena tie ribbons on bouquets - even when she bullied you for your ugly ties. You cleaned the floor when they got just a bit messy. You ran drinks to guests. You helped them fix the card reader when it suddenly didn’t work. Wonyoung didn’t say much but her eyes found you, often. A glance here. A smile there. Fingers brushing your arms as you two passed each other in the back room. It was easy again.

By the time the last guests left and her parents waved goodbye, Hyewon and Yena shoved the two of you out the door - citing ‘go refuel your love’ as the reason. The sun was already starting to dip behind the buildings. The air had cooled down. Her sandals clicked softly on the pavements as you two walked together home, steady and light. Suddenly, it felt like the whole of Seoul had gone quiet just for the two of you. Like two main characters in a rom-com, having the time of their lives down an empty street in New York - that kind of feeling. Everything golden, suspended, a little too perfect to be real. And yet, somehow, it was.

Wonyoung looked up at you, eyes a little tired but glowing in that way that only happened when she was truly happy.

“Oppa.” she said, squeezing your hand. “You looked weirdly domestic today. Like hot. In a husband kind of way.”

You laughed. “Weirdly? So I’m not hot on usual days?”

“Not in the using scissors and tying ribbons kind of way.” she shrugged and giggled.

“Okay… I see how it is. Me doing domestic labor does something to you, huh?”

“Kinda.” Wonyoung replied, trying to sound like she wasn’t very obviously flirting. “Might make you wear an apron everyday now, oppa. You never wear one when you cook.”

You stopped walking. Wonyoung turned to look at you, confused. “Huh?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you just leaned forward and grabbed her by the waist in one swift move.

“Ah- Oppa!” Wonyoung yelped, laughing as her feet left the ground. You spun her once, then tossed her lightly into the air, just enough to make her squeal and swat your shoulder midair. She landed back in your arms with a thud against your chest, breathless and giggling.

“You’re insane, oppa!” she gasped.

“You started it, Wonyoung-ah.” you said, holding her tighter, forehead pressed against hers. Wonyoung couldn’t stop giggling now, her laughter echoing down the street like something from a dream. And in that moment, you didn’t care about anything but her.

A couple walked past on the other side of the street - maybe teenagers or in their early twenties, holding hands, sipping from a shared cup. The girl nudged her boyfriend, who glanced over and smiled.

“Joonhyuk-ah, that’s so cute.” the girl said.

“Yeah, they look happy.”

You heard it. So did Wonyoung. She groaned into your chest, smiling. “Oppa…”

You grinned, kissing the top of her head. 

“Let them watch, baby.”

But just as you started walking again, the guy across the street stopped.

“Hold the cup, Asa-ah.” he said.

Wonyoung peeked over your shoulder, confused - until the girl let out a squeal. The guy had scooped her up, threw her in the air and shouted-

“I LOVE YOU, ENAMI ASA!”

Right there. On a public street. No hesitation. The girl shrieked and hit him playfully, both happy and terrified while still clinging to his shoulders.

“YAH!! Are you crazy, Seo Joonhyuk?” 

“YES.” he yelled back, throwing her in the air lightly again. “I’m crazy in love with you!!”

You and Wonyoung just stood there. Stunned and silenced. And then, you both burst into laughter. It was the full body, bent over kind of laughing. Wonyoung clutched your arm, trying to stay up right. 

“I can’t- I ca- breathe, oppa.”

“This is crazy.”

“You did that, oppa.”

You looked at each other, grinning like two fools and totally in awe of the ridiculousness of it all. And something about it - the moment, the absurdity, the beautiful display of love on a Seoul street - just made the world feel like a better place. Happier. Wonyoung reached for your hand again.

“We should do that again next time, oppa.”

“Oh yeah? You want me to yeet you into the air while screaming my love for you in the middle of Gangnam next time?”

“Might be hot.” she smirked.

You squeezed her hand. “Noted, baby.”

The two of you kept walking - hearts full, steps in sync, caught up in a rom-com that didn’t need cameras or scripts to feel alive.

 ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

The next few weeks passed in a quiet rhythm you both learned to cherish. Wonyoung steadily settled into her new job. There were bad days - long ones, exhausting ones - but she was getting stronger. More sure of herself. 

And you?

You prepped for the last exam like your life depended on it. Late nights, early mornings, scribbled drawings were everywhere on your desk. Wonyoung stayed patient with her quiet support, sometimes sliding a cup of tea onto your desk or falling asleep beside you with a book open on her chest. Then the day finally came.

Exam day. 

You walked into that building with your stomach in knots and your brain already aching, but you did it. You finally got through it all. And when you walked out - shoulders sore, nerves fried, tie loosened around your neck - she was there.

Wonyoung.

In the brightest little dress you’d ever seen, like she had bottled sunlight and poured it all into her dress. A pearly cream dress embroidered with clouds, a curved moon and a sun, hugging her figure like it was made for her. In one hand, she held a bouquet - you weren’t lucid enough after the grueling exam to name a single kind of flower, but in your haze, you could tell Wonyoung made sure they had to match with her outfit. From the wrapping paper to the color palette. She made it herself. You could tell. You blinked hard, overwhelmed.

What would I do without you, baby?

Wonyoung stepped forward without saying anything at first. She just held the bouquet out with both hands, smiling softly like this was what she'd been waiting to do all day. You took it with trembling hands, eyes still locked on the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Congratulations on surviving, oppa.” she said gently. “You did so well!”

Before you could answer, before you could think, Wonyoung leaned in to kiss you. Right there. Outside the exam center. On the pavement where other examinees were dragging their feet and chugging vending machines coffee. For a second, you forgot how drained your body was. You forgot the test, the future, the stress. All you knew was her. When Wonyoung pulled back, your brain was completely blank, except for her. You heard some groan passing by.

“Fuck, even his girlfriend is hot?”

Another guy muttered under his breath. “I just bombed that test and now I gotta watch this shit.”

You couldn’t help it - you laughed. Louder than you meant to and quite shameless. Yeah, architect life was brutal*. Yeah, you were pretty sure your soul was still in that room. But even somehow, even in all that mess, you got lucky.

Real lucky.

*Shout out to all my architect readers (there seems to be more than I think lol)

Wonyoung then gave your tie one last gentle tug to fix it, then pulled back with a gleam in her eye. 

“Let’s go, oppa.” she said, sliding her arm around yours. “I booked dinner at SIGNIEL Seoul.”

She smirked. “81st floor. Window view.”

Your jaw dropped. 

“Is that why you insisted I wear my nicest suit and drive here instead of taking a taxi this morning?”

“Mm hmm.” she said sweetly, already dragging you toward the parking lot. “I wasn’t about to let you stumble into luxury looking like a zombie, oppa.”

You laughed, still dizzy from the kiss. “I don’t deserve you, baby.”

“Correct.” Wonyoung replied quickly. “But you do try really hard, oppa. So I love you a lot.”

Dinner there was something else, like a dream. The restaurant was perched high above the city, everything seemed like a living painting. Seoul glittered below, endless and golden. You barely made it to the table. The second you sat down, Wonyoung leaned over to unclip your tie and pour you water like she’d done this a hundred times. She liked taking care of you but… tonight felt nicer somehow. She then pushed the menu toward you gently.

“You’re allowed to order more than one thing tonight, oppa.” she said. “Or, you know, everything.”

You laughed. 

“You earned it.”

You hadn’t even realized how tired you looked until Wonyoung reached across the table to fix your hair - smoothing the strands on top. She couldn’t help herself after all.

“You look good in dress shirts, oppa.” she added, voice low. “Even when you look half dead.”

You laughed again. “I might cry into this steak tonight. baby.”

“That’s fine.” she said, flipping through her own menu. “Steak’s a good choice. Nice to know you still know what I like even after that grueling test, oppa.”

You leaned your cheek into your hand, watching Wonyoung like she was the only person left on earth.

“Wonyoung-ah. What would I do without you?”

She didn’t look up and just smiled. She clearly knew. 

“Probably forget to eat and wear ugly socks to work.”

The rest of dinner felt like falling in love again. The kind of love that was warm, steady or constant. Everything felt too nice, too expensive, too magical for someone who’d spent the last month drowning in architecture license exam stress. Wonyoung was glowing across from you. In that effortless way she always did when she was doing something she loved. And tonight? That thing might be dinner with you. She made you drink water every ten minutes. She cut your steak when your wrist looked like it might give out. She made you take photos together at the table, saying “You’ll thank me later, oppa” while resting her chin on your shoulder as the waiter snapped a few pictures. When desserts came - two little cakes, with ‘congrats oppa’ scribbled in chocolate - she clapped like you’d won the lottery. You watched her eyes light up with every bite, every teasing remark. You listened to her talk about the studio, about how Yena dropped a vase and blamed the wind… Wonyoung filled in every space you hadn’t realized had gone quiet in your chest lately.

After dessert, you leaned back in your chair. You were already imagining crawling into your bed the second you got home. But then, Wonyoung stood up and tugged at your hand.

“C’mon, oppa.” she smiled. “Let’s go to the rooftop. I want to show you something.”

“Rooftop?”

“It’s pretty. Trust me.” she nodded, tugging you toward the elevators.

And of course you did. So you followed her - up, up, past many floors, through the hallway that got quieter and fancier the higher you went up. You noticed her pace change when the elevator hit the hotel suite level. That little bounce in her step. The way Wonyoung bit her lip to hide a smile.

“Wait, baby. This isn’t the rooftop.”

She stopped in front of a sleek white door and pulled out a keycard from her purse. You were shocked.

“No way…”

Wonyoung beamed as she tapped the card and swung the door open. Inside? A suite. A ridiculously beautiful, corner window, high ceiling, imported soft bed kind of suite. You could see the whole city from here, even the Han river looked like it was twinkling for the two of you.

“Wonyoung-ah, you booked a room for this?” you spun around to look at her. 

Wonyoung didn’t answer you right away. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, pressing her cheek to your chest. You felt her heartbeat, calm and steady. She looked up at you.

“Do you remember our first dinner, when we just got back from Hong Kong?” she asked.

You blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

“After dinner, we went to my house.”

You nodded slowly. “Right…”

She smiled. “When you left, I kissed you twice. On the cheeks, right oppa?”

You chuckled. “Yeah. And I tried to kiss you on the lips.”

Her brows lifted, lips pouting as if she were saying ‘exactly’. 

“I stopped you.” Wonyoung said softly, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. 

“And I told you to wait your turn.”

“...Baby, are you suggestin-”

“Shh, oppa.” she reached up and placed her finger on your lips. Her voice was steady.

“We’ve been together for almost a year. And this is my first relationship and… everything, I guess. So I was scared at first. I didn’t know how to open up like that - physically, emotionally, all of it.”

You stayed quiet and listened.

“But you never rushed me, oppa. You always respected what I needed. You held me when I cried, stood by me when I was at my worst. You made me feel safe and loved.”

Her eyes didn’t waver.

“And now I’m ready, oppa. I want to be with you tonight. Not because I owe it to you. Because I love you. And I trust you.”

You just stood there, stunned and overwhelmed and so, so in love. Then finally you nodded.

“I love you, Wonyoungie.” you whispered. “More than anything.”

Before you could even say anything else, Wonyoung kissed you - soft at first, then deeper, hungrier until you were stumbling backward and falling onto the bed with her following right after. She crawled into your lap, hands sliding up to unbutton your shirt with a confidence that made your breath catch. Even in this dream-like state, you pulled back just a little, fingers brushing her wrist.

“Wait… do you have protection, baby?” you asked, voice low. Wonyoung didn’t answer as she reached over, opened the drawer on the bedside table and pointed inside. Your heart did a full somersault. You looked at her - flushed, glowing, eyes locked on yours.

“Why are you acting so confident if this is your first time?” you smirked, raising a brow. 

That got her.

Wonyoung’s face twitched as she darted her eyes to the side for a second before she tried to recover. 

“I don’t know…” she mumbled, slurring her words. “I guess-”

She didn’t get to finish. You flipped her over smoothly, catching the soft gasp that left her lips as her back hit the mattress.

“I got it from here.” you murmured, leaning down. Her fingers dug into your shirt, breath hitching as your hand slid against her waist. That was it, the moment everything melted away. 

Just the two of you, finally meeting in the middle. 

No more waiting.

Just love - messy, honest and overwhelming love.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

The next morning, the sun filtered in slowly and hazy through the curtains, shining softly on the sheets. Seoul was still quiet this high up, everything was just a hum below you. Your eyes opened to the sight of her bare shoulder, warm against your chest, fingers still resting where they fell sometime during the night. You almost didn’t want to move. That would ruin everything.

I could get used to this…

Then Wonyoung stirred, her voice muffled against your skin.

“You were… something last night, oppa.”

You let out a quiet laugh, arm tightening around her waist.

“You say that like I wrestled you.”

“You kind of did, you monster.” she teased, voice raspy. “And you’re lucky I let you.”

You glanced down at Wonyoung, strands of her hair splayed across the pillow, that flush still lingering on her chubby morning cheeks.

“Lucky, huh?”

She nodded sleepily. “Mm. One wrong move and I would’ve sent you back to that exam room, oppa.”

You laughed under your breath, hand moving to play with her cheeks. 

“Was I too… rough on you last night?”

Her eyes cracked open just slightly. “Uh… a little.”

“Baby-” your smile faltered.

“But in a good way.” Wonyoung cut in, grinning lazily as she snuggled closer. “Don’t get all guilty on me now, oppa.”

“Okay, just checking.” you let out a breath, relieved.

She hummed. Then after a minute, she said.

“You’re now required by law to take care of me for life, oppa.”

You just laughed. “What law?”

“Mine.” she mumbled, poking your bare chest. “No backing down now, Han Haejoon. That was… a legally blinding act of love last night.”

You laughed again, this time so hard it even shook Wonyoung a bit. 

“What logic is this, judge Jang?”

“Shh.” she yawned, pulling the blanket higher. “I don’t make the rule, oppa. Now take care of me. You are now sentenced to be by my side for life.”

And with that, Wonyoung tucked herself fully against your chest, already drifting again. This girl had just sentenced you to the best punishment ever and went straight to sleep.

“Guilty.” you whispered.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

You didn’t even get the chance to check your exam results first. Wonyoung found out before you did. She barged into your work space with her phone, yelling “Oppa, you passed!” while shoving the screen to your face. You were still processing the word PASS when she started crying, already on the phone with her parents to break the news like she’d been the one who took the test and became a licensed architect. Then, she even called your parents, beaming while she shoved the phone into your hand. From that day on, life got… better.

Her floral studio kept growing. You, now finally a licensed architect, had a steady and growing career at the studio. There were nights you came home too tired to even talk, mornings you overslept together and laughed through the chaos. But you built a rhythm - coffee in the morning, bickering in the grocery aisles, late night delivery food while she wrapped orders on the floor while you revised designs on your tablet. You fought sometimes. Of course, life had to happen. But it was over dumb things and never stuck. You two loved harder, apologized faster and made time for each other.

Two years passed like that. Not fireworks everyday but something much steadier. Real love. A relationship that made room for both of you to grow. And then one night, you looked over at Wonyoung - wearing an oversized hoodie, folding pamphlets for a wedding fair, nose scrunching as she was hyper focused - and something inside you just clicked. You weren’t getting any younger, and honestly, it also felt like the right thing to do. Obvious, even.

You were going to propose.

You wanted to get married. 

You would go to Wonyoung’s parents’ house alone, without her, to ask for their permission to propose to her and spend the rest of your life with her.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

Her dad set his teacup down gently, the soft click echoing throughout the spacious living room. You sat straight, knees politely together, heart pounding. The living room was cozy, warm with afternoon light. Her dad looked at you for a long moment. 

“So, Haejoon-ah.” he said finally, voice low. “You want our permission to propose to our Wonyoung and be our son-in-law?”

You nodded slowly, hands resting on your knees.

“Yes, abeonim. I’ve loved Wonyoung for a very long time. I really appreciate you guys treating me like I was part of your family whenever I come to visit or stay with her. That means a lot to me. You guys know how I treat and treasure Wonyoung. And… I want to spend the rest of my life with Wonyoung - with your blessing.”

There was a soft pause before her mom came to your side. She crossed the expensive looking table in seconds and wrapped her arms around you from the side, pulling you into a tight hug. Her voice cracked right beside your ear.

“Oh, Haejoon-ah. Of course. Of course.” she pulled back to look at you, eyes glassy. “You’ve always been family to us. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. Please propose quickly, hmm? I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been dreaming about grandchildren since you two started dating.”

You let out a breathy laugh, heart so full it almost hurt. Her dad shook his head fondly.

“She’s serious, you know.” he said, smiling. “She already showed me baby hanboks the other day.”

You bowed your head, eyes burning in the best way.

“Thank you, abeonim. Eomeonim. I promise I will try my best.”

Her mom nodded through a sniffle. Her dad raised his tea cup one more time.

“Well then.” he said. “It’s time you start planning something special. Our daughter deserves nothing less.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Rain tapped softly against the windows, and Wonyoung had just curled up on the couch. Her hair tied back, no makeup - just warm and cozy, tucked against the armrest with her legs folded up like a cat. You’d bought the ring a month ago. You had it hidden in the back of your drawer behind an old architecture model. You’d check it every few days like it might disappear if you didn’t. 

Well, today felt right.

So you sat beside Wonyoung with your sketchbook in your lap, pretending to flip through it. She glanced at you lazily, eyes still soft from a nap.

“Can you look at something for me real quick, baby?” you asked, keeping it casual. “New sketch idea.”

“I’ll be brutal, oppa. Don’t cry.” she teased.

She reached for the sketchbook with no hesitation, resting it across her knees. Wonyoung flipped open the cover, expecting blueprints. Concepts. Another half finished draft of whatever you’d been obsessing over this week.

But instead, Wonyoung found herself. 

A pencil drawing of Wonyoung in the kitchen, arms elbow deep in a flower bucket. Her hair was messily tied up. The caption scribbled at the bottom said.

First week moving into her apartment, she was a bit mad that I got some water on her ribbon.

She blinked, confused but still turned the page. Then another drawing.

Wonyoung standing in the back room at her floral studio, doing her things. You still remembered that scene like it was yesterday.

She didn’t know I would come back that early. She didn’t know how hard I ran.

Page after page, it kept going. Small moments. Big ones. Her asleep on your chest. Her on the floor, giggling after your little play fights. Her waiting for you after your last exam in her dress, holding the flowers she arranged herself.

Then came the last page. You, kneeling on the ground.

Sketchbook-you had one hand extended, a ring box open in the center of the page. Below it, in your neatest, straightest hand drawn typography.

Will you marry me, Jang Wonyoung?

Wonyoung stared at the page for a moment, frozen. Then she looked to the side. You were on one knee, for real this time as you held out the box you’d been hiding for a month. You had been gathering up courage for a month now. Her eyes widened. One hand flew to her mouth, the other still gripping the sketchbook like it could steady her. Her chest rose and fell, shaky. You held the box a little tighter now, heart pounding so loud it felt like it filled the room.

“Wonyoung-ah” you said, voice trembling. “Will you marry me?”

Wonyoung let out a choked laugh, a mix of joy and disbelief, and set the sketchbook aside with her shaking hands. She leaned down and crawled toward you on her knees, t-shirt slipping off one shoulder.

“Are you serious, oppa?” she whispered, eyes glossy, a grin breaking through her stunned expression.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” you nodded.

And then she was in your arms - hugging you so tightly the box almost slipped from your hand. Her face was tucked into your neck, shoulders trembling.

“Yes, oppa…” she said. “Yes, oppa. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Life was crazy. Love came at you fast. You didn’t know what to expect. Still, you wouldn’t change it for anything. 

From a heartbroken man in Hong Kong to a married licensed architect. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The first morning of your honeymoon came fast too. You woke up slowly, eyes adjusting to soft golden sunlight. The bed was so soft. For a few seconds, you just lay there - staring at the ceiling, heart full, body aching in a good way, wondering how the hell life got you here. And you turned your head toward the couch.

There your wife was.

Wonyoung, curled up on the window side couch in a fluffy robe, hair twisted up in a towel, legs tucked under as she held a small glass of fruit in one hand, nibbling casually. The city behind her didn’t mean anything to you now, it was just there to emphasize her beauty. She looked so good your heart didn’t know how to feel anymore.

“Morning, husband.” Wonyoung said with a grin, biting into a strawberry and raising her brow like she’d caught you in a crime scene. Her voice was warm and low. “Sleep okay?”

You laughed, still a little breathless from everything. From her. From last night. From the fact that this was all real - that you really got to call Wonyoung your wife now. The world kept moving but you felt like time had stopped in this hotel room. Wonyoung, in that sunlight, in that robe, looking at you since you were her future, her ending. The one you’d been fighting for, hurting for, working for.

You finally got Wonyoung.

You married Wonyoung.

And every version of you - the stressed architect, the deep in love boyfriend, the guy who almost lost her on the floral studio opening day - all dreamt of this moment. 

Hey, you made it.

The blueprints weren’t done. Not even close.

But they had never felt more complete. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ 

the series finally ended... idk how to feel lol. hope u guys enjoyed it. my 2nd series in just 2 months. crazy!! shout out to all my architects again!!! i giggled a lot writing it lol

[ducktoo]

….

(YESSSSSSSSS)

Busted (m!reader x Babymonster's ASA)

a little cute epilogue to The Years Next Door

tags(?): fluff

ASA x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~6.5k

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You didn’t set an alarm. You just… woke up. Naturally. Peacefully. The room was still a bit dim as pale sunlight was leaking through the curtains, casting that sleepy blue-ish tone across the walls. The air was quite dry but your blanket was wrapped around you like a second layer of your skin. Your room was quiet, but not in a lonely way. You stayed like that for a while, the warmth of sleep was still hanging on your face. You then lazily reached for your phone somewhere on the sheets, buried under the blanket from last night. No notification from Asa yet. 

7:03AM

You smiled to yourself. Just the thought of Asa made you feel fuzzy and warm inside. You tapped into the chat, thumbs moving without thinking.

[준혁선베🥋]

yah

wake up u sleepy head. it’s criminal to ignore ur boyfriend this early.

Still nothing. Of course not. The two of you stayed up until 2AM to scroll through online clothing stores together. Technically, Asa was scrolling and ranting about fashion algorithms being broken, while you mostly said things like “you would look good in those” and “you suit every color”. You didn’t plan to stay up that long. Asa just kinda kept… going. Every time you thought it was the last link, she’d hit you with “wait, just one more. this is so you.” It was always something slightly overpriced but stylish, and still, you sat through all of it - just happy she kept sending you stuff. After all, Asa knew best. She did completely change the way you dress anyway. 

You stared at your phone for a second, then typed again.

[준혁선베🥋]

i’m serious, enami asa. 5 more minutes and imma throw pebbles at ur window

not the cute kind either

i’ll hit the glass dead center

20 minutes later, still no reply. You sighed dramatically and decided to hit the call button.

Calling 김아사🌸

Ring

Ring

Ring

The line finally connected.

“... I will kill you, Seo Joonhyuk.”

Just the voice of Asa and it already made you grin like a fool.

“You say that all the time. I’m still here.”

“I was dreaming.” she mumbled, her voice low, heavy with sleep. “My brain was finally at peace.”

“And now you get to hear me. That’s better, right?”

She huffed - the kind of sound that came deep from her soul whenever you’re being especially insufferable. You could imagine how cute Asa looked right now, lips all pouty, half her face smushed into a pillow.

“Why are you torturing me like this?”

“Because I miss my girlfriend. Also, I haven’t seen your puffy sleep cheeks in a few days and I’m pretty sure I’m going through withdrawal.”

She went quiet for a moment. You could hear rustling, probably Asa pulling her blanket over her body like a cape while trying to get up.

“I swear, if I get up and you’re not at the window, I’m blocking you until the end of March.”

“I am at the window.” you said, hurrying over like a loser, palms on the glass, forehead also pressed against it. 

“Come on, I need visual confirmation that Kim Asa is still the most beautiful and cutest human being ever.”

“You need help, dummy.”

“And you need to come to the window. Let’s both get what we want.”

There was a beat of silence, then the faint sound of feet dragging across the floor. You leaned in closer to your window. Her curtain twitched. A tiny peek. And there she was.

Enami Asa.

Your Japanese goddess.

Your muse.

Your source of energy for life.

Your girlfriend.

Yours.

Her short hair was sticking up at every angle - fluffy and chaotic, like she’d just lost a fight with her pillow. Blanket wrapped around her like a burrito. Cheeks soft and round, still a bit puffy from sleep, lips pouty. Her expression blank as she looked at you with eyes half open. You felt your brain short circuit. 

Fuck.

She looked ridiculous. And perfect. And ridiculous. And perfect.

You made a face. 

“How dare you wake up looking like that?”

Asa blinked at you, slowly.

Then she scrunched her face, in a weirdly elegant way.

“You’re so dramatic.” she mumbled. “Go fall in love with someone else and bother them.”

“Yunah?” you teased, not missing a beat.

The second Yunah’s name left your mouth, you saw it. Asa froze - shoulders tight, mouth no longer pouty, eyes sharpening just a little too fast for someone who just woke up. You just made a mistake. She didn’t move. You blinked. She didn’t speak, just stared. And then, Asa pulled the blanket off her body way too calmly, stood fully upright in the window frame and looked you dead in the eye.

“Say that again.”

Her voice was quiet. Dangerous.

“Uh…”

“No, go ahead. I wanna hear it one more time. Slowly.”

You opened your mouth, trying to come up with an apology. Asa then tilted her head slightly.

“You want Yunah.”

“...No. I was just ki-”

“Because I can make that happen.” Asa shifted her weight, one hand coming up to rest on her hip like she was posing for a magazine cover while planning your emotional assassination.

“I’ll walk right into my bed and let Yunah play with your hair, feed you milk cartons and nuzzle her head on your shoulder. Since you like that so much.”

You blinked. A flashback hit you like a punch - those long, dark 3 months when Asa ghosted you. When you thought she hated you. When the only thing keeping you going was the hope of talking to her again.

“That’s oddly specific…” you mumbled.

Asa didn’t blink, smile or move.

“You’re not funny, Seo Joonhyuk.”

“I know.” you said instantly. “I know I’m not. I’m so unfunny. I’m the least funny man alive.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want Yunah?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you want me?”

“Only ever.”

Asa squinted, clearly still mad but starting to fold - you could see the tiny twitch on her mouth. You pressed your head against the glass, dramatic as hell.

“Enami Asa, please don’t let Yunah feed me milk again. I only want you in my life.”

She rolled her eyes, finally, letting a tiny laugh slip out through her lips.

“You deserve sour milk for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll drink it if it’s from you.”

She bit back a smile and closed the curtain in your face, softer this time. Less ‘You’re an idiot. I’m furious.’ and more ‘I’m still pretending to be mad but I already forgave you.’. And you, you stood there like an idiot again. Totally whipped. Absolutely Asa’s. The call was still on, somehow. Asa then said through the phone, voice low and serious.

“I don’t care if you’re joking. Don’t say other girls’ names like that to me before I’ve even brushed my teeth.”

Your heart skipped.

“I’m sorry, daarin*.” you said quickly, the word slipped out naturally.

*darling

You’d started calling Asa that a few weeks ago. She explained it shyly one night while you were both cuddling on her floor, watching some vintage Japanese rom-com with subtitles she kept correcting out loud. You’d repeated it back to her with the worst accent ever, just to mess with her. But now? You used it without thinking. 

You also started learning little bits of Japanese - not much, but enough, through lessons in her room or yours a few times a week. Flashcards that looked like they were made for kids. Doodles in her handwriting. Your notebook full of messy and scribbled translations. You now knew enough to understand when she muttered things under her breath when she was flustered, or annoyed. Enough to show her you were listening. That you loved her and cared about her. You also taught Asa English in return. She was really good at it - not perfect but she could understand basically everything. And she was so hot when she spoke English. And Japanese. Or maybe your girlfriend was just gorgeous in general.

The line then went silent. She hung up first. You stared at your phone for about 10 seconds before it lit up.

[김아사🌸]

im going back to bed

bring me my jelly, or else

You grinned.

[김아사🌸]

not any other brands either. my favorite

i’ll open the gate if it smells good and you apologize properly

[준혁선베🥋]

on my way, your highness

with peace offerings and deep regrets

She didn’t reply, she didn’t have to. You knew Asa was already curled up under her warm blanket, smiling at her phone like she wasn’t still mad at all.

Ten minutes later, you were at her gate, bag in hand. You dressed like you were ready for a date with her. Cold air was biting at your face. Before you even raised your hand to knock, the gate creaked open. Asa must’ve been watching. And there she was.

Tank top. Short shorts. Puffy jacket to help fight the cold. Hair still messy. Eyes still a little puffy from sleep. Lips in a pout.

So cute.

“You took your sweet time.” she said.

You held up the bag like an offering.

“Two packs of your favorite jelly and a steamed bun, still very warm.”

Asa stared at you for a second then stepped aside, holding the gate open. You stepped in and dropped on her porch table, wrapped your arms around her waist and her into you. Asa yelped softly and looked up at you, eyes wide. Then you kissed her. Cold nose brushing hers. Asa tasted like sleep and cold air and something you could never put into words. She kissed you back before pulling back, more surprised than mad.

“Joonhyuk…” she whispered. “What if the neighbors saw?”

You blinked and looked around. No one. But still, curtains and windows existed. Nosy aunties definitely existed.

“We’ve lived next to each other for years.” you said. “What do you think they think?”

She stared at you for a moment longer before rolling her eyes at you. Then she turned around and walked toward the door, muttering over her shoulder.

“You’re lucky I love you, dummy.”

You smiled, picking up the bag on her porch table and followed her inside. 

Her room was warm. Light from the window poured in soft and pale. The heater humming softly in the corner like background music. You were both curled up on her bed, backs against the wall, legs tangled under the blanket. One of the jelly packs sat on your lap as she dug in, eating quietly.

Asa was curled into you - arms looped around your side, head tucked under your chin, face pressed into your chest. Her body was warm against yours, soft in the way you loved the most. She took another bite of the jelly before picking one up and turning it toward you without saying anything. 

“Me?”

She nodded and gently pressed the jelly piece against your lips. You opened your mouth obediently. Asa was watching your reaction.

“It tastes like love.” you said. Asa snorted.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes, Joonhyuk.”

“You like that about me.”

She didn’t deny. Just smile into your chest and enjoy the quiet comfort. Then you shifted slightly, resting your cheek against the top of her head.

“Let’s go out today.”

“Hm?”

‘Let’s do something.” you said. “Walk around. Get food. Go somewhere dumb and romantic. Our families are gone today anyway.”

Asa hummed again, turning to look up at you with half lidded eyes.

“Wanna pick an outfit with me?” she asked, voice soft.

You gasped. “You never let me pick, Kim Asa.”

She shrugged. “I’m tired today, I’ll allow it.”

“Is this a trap?” you were suspicious.

“Maybe.” “Are you gonna fake compliment my choice and choose another outfit?”

“Definitely.”

You laughed, already reaching for her wardrobe.

“You have to trust your boyfriend, daarin. I have impeccable taste, you know?”

Asa sat back on the bed, hands playing with her jelly pack like a queen observing a peasant. You flipped through a few hangers, completely unsure of what you were looking at. Dresses, hoodies, skirts… Then you paused.

“Hey, this is my favorite ‘Back to the future’ t-shirt.” 

“You gave it to me when I went over to study for suneung that one day.” 

You turned toward her, holding it up.

“I wore it home and you said I could keep it.” Asa pouted. You folded immediately.

“Yeah. Of course. Right.”

Asa smirked, she knew the power she had over you. You stared at the shirt and mumbled.

“You don’t even watch this movie…”

Asa didn’t respond. She just smiled and kept twirling the jelly pack around like she wasn’t out here ruining your life. You then went back to flipping through hangers, drawers - hoodie, skirt, denim jacket… You had seen Asa in almost every outfit. From school uniforms to oversized jackets to puffy sleeve blouses she said was “artsy”. It still amazed you that she somehow slayed everything she wore. Effortless. No wonder she chose fashion design.

You took your time and pulled out what you considered would suit your girlfriend that day. You considered it for a bit.

Yeah, this feels right.

You turned to show Asa, holding everything up like a prize. She looked at the outfit you chose and scanned them carefully. Then she hummed and smiled wide, saying under her breath.

“My boyfriend has taste~”

You beamed and put the clothes on her desk. 

“Finally, some recognition.”

She popped another jelly into her mouth, clearly pleased with herself and you. You look back at the wardrobe for a second, then your eyes drifted down. Curiosity hit you instantly.

“What’s in this one?” you asked, reaching toward the lower drawer tucked near the bottom corner. You didn’t wait for an answer and reached to pull it open. Asa’s eyes flicked up from her jelly pack, realizing what you were doing.

“Wait-”

Your froze just as your fingers touched the drawer handle. Then Asa was right there, grabbing your wrist tightly before you could open it. You turned, startled. She looked just as shocked. Eyes wide, cheeks flushed deep pink. Her grip on you was too tight for something this small. Neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. Your voice came out quieter than you meant.

“...What is it?”

Asa didn’t meet your eyes. She just muttered under her breath, so fast it felt like ripping off a bandaid.

“My underwear, dummy. Isn’t it obvious?”

Your brain stopped functioning. She let go like she’d been burned, spinning on her heel and walking stiffly back toward her bed, arms crossed over her chest. You were still standing there like an idiot, heart pounding in your ears. Asa took a deep breath, so flustered she couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Get out. I have to change…”

You nodded immediately.

“Okay. Got it.”

You shut the door behind you, a little too fast. You then walked downstairs,face still warm, and dropped onto her family couch with a sigh, arms splayed out, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. There was something between you and Asa. You’d known each other for many years. Basically grew up together next door. Dumb fights. First love. Inside jokes that didn’t make sense to anyone else. You’d been dating for over half a year now. Eight months and some change. Official. But still - moments like that one? 

You’d both go quiet. Shy. Flustered like you’d never known each other before. Still, you liked that. That it wasn’t smooth at all. That she could still make your heart skip like that - just by grabbing your wrist or saying the word “underwear” too casually. 

No matter how close you two got… there was always more to learn. More ways to fall even harder.

And clearly, more drawers to avoid.

You were lying on the couch, still recovering from the emotional damage when you heard the sound of light footsteps moving slowly down the stairs, like she was hesitating with every step. You sat up as Asa walked into view. 

She was wearing the outfit you picked - a fitted black top that hugged her frame just enough to make your brain go crazy, paired with a pleated black skirt and tights. A chain belt hung low on her hips, subtle but deliberate. Her short black hair was now brushed out and soft around her face. Asa wasn’t even wearing that makeup yet, but she looked put together already in a way that made your heart thud stupidly against your ribs - just like the day you first met her. An expensive looking bag on her shoulder.

Asa looked flustered, even now. Her arms were crossed for no reason. She stood there for a second, then cleared her throat and asked.

“How do I look?”

You wanted to open your mouth to say something smart or sweet, but you were stunned. You just stared.

“Too much?” Asa asked, shifting where she stood.

You shook your head, but your brain was still doing laps.

“No… uh, you look really good.”

Asa didn’t say anything. She just gave you a small look - one you couldn’t read - and moved to sit on the couch. She dropped her bag to the floor and pulled out her little make up pouch and her compact mirror. She perched at the edge of the cushion beside you, still a bit stiff, like your earlier moment upstairs was still on her mind. With a quiet exhale, she flipped the mirror open and started fixing her eyeliner.

You watched her. You couldn’t stop. The way she leaned in slightly, brows furrowing as she lined her eyes with careful precision. The way her lips parted when she focused. Asa was flustered, yes, but still effortless. Still so her. Your hand twitched on your lap. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to mess up the moment by speaking too soon.

You were hers. Completely. And judging by the pink still dusting on her cheeks, she knew it too.

Time passed by slowly as Asa did her makeup. She then snapped her mirror shut and tucked it back into her pouch. You watched her fix her hair one last time, fingers brushing through the ends before letting it fall naturally around her jawline.

“Let’s go upstairs.” you said. “Grab you a jacket.”

Asa hesitated for a second then looked at your arm, at what you were wearing.

“Can I have yours instead?” she said, voice light.

“Mine?”

“Black leather… I think it would complete the look.” she said.

Your heart made a noise. It wasn’t physical but it definitely happened.

“Yeah, sure.” you said, already sliding it off your shoulders. She took it without looking at you for too long. Your jacket made the look even better - like it was meant to be worn like that. You then grabbed your phone, your keys and without thinking, her bag. You slung it over one shoulder. Asa didn’t comment on it. It was the kind of thing you always did now.

You two didn’t have a plan as you walked out of her house. Her arms hooked easily through yours. Her grip was light but it kept you close and connected, reminding you she wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you. You walked through the neighborhood quietly, side by side. Past cracked sidewalks, small shops and familiar turns. Past pieces of both your life. There was no need to rush or talk much. Without knowing, your feet brought you to auntie Bomi’s snack stall.

She looked up from the counter, mid preparing the food and her face lit up the second her eyes landed on you two.

“Well, look who it is.” she called out, grinning like she already knew everything. “You two back from your little lovers’ trip?”

You laughed. Asa pulled her hand up to cover her laugh - that elegant gesture was one of the things you loved about her the most. You loved it back then. You still love it now.

“It hasn’t been that long since we last ate here, auntie.” you said, stepping to the counter with Asa still hanging onto your arm. 

“Long enough for me to miss you two’s awkward flirting.” she shot back, already grabbing a cup for odeng broth. She then slid it toward Asa, who took it with two hands and bowed her head slightly. 

“Hi, auntie.”

“When do you two start university?” she asked, already pouring broth into your cup.

“Thank you, auntie. Uh… next week.”

“Look at you.” she turned to Asa.

“All grown up. I still remember the day he dragged you here for the first time. You looked so shy.”

Asa smiled. 

“I didn’t speak proper Korean back then.”

“C’mon, your Korean was already perfect back then.” Auntie Bomi praised Asa, waving her hand like it was obvious. “You looked so cute I didn’t even let Joonhyuk pay. I remember it like yesterday.”

“You said we would eventually end up together that day, auntie.” Asa added quietly, her voice warm, almost shy.

“And look where we are today.” Auntie Bomi grinned proudly.

You glanced at Asa, who still had her hand up to cover her laugh, eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Took you two long enough,” Bomi added, shaking her head like the neighborhood mom she’d always been. You both stayed a little longer, sitting side by side on the bench next to her stall. The food was warm and nice. Asa leaned against you as you both ate before saying goodbye to auntie Bomi and wandering off again - nowhere in particular, hand in hand, just walking. 

Eventually, your feet took you to the park. The path curved gently into the trees, just like it always had. The swings creaked in the distance, swaying just lightly in the wind. Same chipped paint, same chains. You slowed near the curved stone wall at the entrance then looked toward the swings then at Asa by your side.

“...You remember when I cried here?” you said. “That day when I lied to go home early and went here to cry on the swings.”

Asa’s gaze followed yours. She nodded once, eyes fixed on that same swing.

“Yeah, I do.”

You took a deep breath. “I thought no one would notice me.”

“I felt really bad when I saw you like that…” her tone was careful. “Alone and crying.”

Neither of you said anything. Everyone cheered for you that day - coaches, teachers, friends, even people who stayed away from you when that incident broke out. But you felt overwhelmed, you were too lonely and tired. Like you were being squeezed from the inside out. And Asa hadn’t talked to you in quite a while. You knew why, you knew you deserved it. But still - not having her around made it much worse. You didn’t even mean to cry that day. You just sat down and it all came out.

“I was really lonely. Not having you by my side was…” you didn’t finish your sentence. 

Asa held your hand tight and pulled you toward the swings. You followed. The chains creaked under your weight as you sat down beside her, on that same swing you cried on. But this time, Asa’s presence wasn’t distant or uncertain - she was here with you now. Your hands rested in your lap. Hers did too. The wind shifted slightly, carrying the quiet hum of the street behind the trees. You could hear distant voices, a few birds, the sound of Asa swaying back and forth ever so slightly next to you. You glanced over at her. Asa looked awkward and apologetic. Her fingers were fidgeting in her lap like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say something or supposed to stay quiet. She let out a soft breath, barely audible over the wind.

“I was really scared that day…”

You could hear the truth in her voice. The way it cracked just a little. You two have talked about this a few times before but Asa felt the same way every time.

“I didn’t know if I should go to you. I kept thinking… maybe I was the last person you wanted to see.”

You smiled and stayed quiet. Part of you had thought about the same thing a few times. But you’d realized you loved Asa too much to ignore her.

“Minju and Yunah really helped me a lot. To get the courage and come up to you.” Asa went on, her voice quiet, thoughtful.

You nodded slowly, still watching her.

“I think Yunah said something like…” Asa paused and smiled faintly. “If you don’t go now, I will steal him from you.”

You laughed and dropped your head back against the swing.

“Yeah, Yunah was a menace.”

“She was kind of insane every now and then.”

“She still is.” you said, a little more quietly now. “I’m still thankful for her being there for me… uh, when you weren’t.”

Asa didn’t say anything right away. She just nodded and smiled softly.

“Were you… jealous?”

She looked at you like it was a dumb question.

“Yunah wouldn’t do that to me, dummy.”

“So… not really?”

Asa’s cheeks flushed as she looked away.

“... I mean. A little.” she mumbled. “I guess.”

You turned toward her more fully, the swing shifting under your weight. She added quickly.

“Not because I thought you liked her or anything. It just looked like something only I used to do. Not anyone else.”

You let the silence settle between you, soft and unhurried. Then you reached over, your fingers brushing against hers again before lacing together completely. You held her hand, gentle but firm. 

“Yeah. That was only yours.” you said. Asa looked at you.

“If I’m being honest, I only let Yunah do that stuff because I think I wanted to feel close to you. Like… subconsciously. I felt lonely without you. I didn’t have you so… yeah. It was stupid. It doesn’t work.”

The wind blew her hair slightly out of place, but she didn’t fix it. She just stared like she just saw that version of you that she hadn’t seen in a long time. 

“I didn’t like seeing it.” she said finally. “It just made me realize how far away I felt.”

“I know. I felt it too.”

She looked down at your hands, still intertwined. Her thumb brushed lightly against yours.

“I hated that we became strangers. It was like one day I woke up and didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.” 

“I never stopped waiting for you, Asa-ah.”

For a second, you thought she might cry - but she didn’t. She just squeezed your hand tighter. You two stayed like that, not swinging, not speaking, just being. It was peaceful. Like you both finally understood each other again.

“To be honest. If I was a girl, I would fall for me too. Handsome, gold medalist, charming-” you said while sitting up straighter with a smug grin. Asa cut you off with a smack on your elbow.

“You forgot annoying, dummy.”

“Okay, fine. Handsome, gold medalist, charming, slightly annoying.”

Asa rolled her eyes but the way she smiled gave it away.

“I still don’t like how other girls chase after you. Even if you’re annoying.” she muttered, arms crossing.

“Jealous, miss Enami?” you raised an eyebrow.

“No. Just territorial.” she said too fast.

“Same thing.”

“Careful, don’t forget what happened this morning.”

“Noted.”

There was a beat of silence. Asa glanced at the sky, then back at you, her tone softening.

“Do you ever regret it, Joonhyuk? Leaving taekwondo behind?”

The question caught you a little off guard. 

“You know what was in my mind when I was in the final? In China?” you asked suddenly.

Asa shook her head, curious.

“My family, this neighborhood…” you said quietly. “A Japanese girl named Asa living next door”

You paused.

“I’m being honest. I tasted victory and it felt really nice. Everyone cheered for me but…”

You turned to Asa.

“Maybe it’s not for me. The day I got home from China and you ran to my room after school and hugged me like that… That felt nicer.”

“It felt like I had something much bigger besides taekwondo. I wanted a normal life… with you in it.”

Asa tried hard to stop it but a tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She quickly wiped it with the back of her hand like she didn’t want you to notice but you did. Her eyes were a bit glassy, her smile small and shy. Asa didn’t know what to do with the way her heart was swelling in her chest.

You just stood up. Then you quietly reached out to her and pulled her up with you. She didn’t resist and just stumbled in your arms. You hugged her. Right there, in front of the swings you’d once cried on alone. The same swing she saw you at, months ago. But this time, you were holding her. You pressed your cheek into her hair, eyes closed.

“I’m glad you came to me that day.” you whispered.

She nodded against your chest, arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

“I’m glad you forgave me too.”

Eventually, your hands found each other again. Fingers naturally laced as you began to walk around the neighborhood. Through small back streets, past the convenience store full of memories, past the side wall of your school where the two of you used to wait for each other after dance practice or training, past faded murals, past old memories…

Eungam-dong was home. Asa was home.

On the way home, Asa was weirdly chippier. She started humming - soft at first, but it got louder with every step. You recognized the song. ‘Really Like You’ by Babymonster. She loved them. She had been spamming you with short clips of her singing it the last few days, even sending you the same clip twice, claiming it was the ‘remix’ version.

Uh 눈을 뜨는 아침부터 달이 지는 새벽까지

네 생각에 행복해

Her voice floated through the air - no background track this time, just your girlfriend humming the songs under her breath while swinging your hands between hers.

“You’re still stuck on that song?” you teased but you were already smiling. Couldn’t help it.

“I like it, duh.” she shot back, lips curved in that way you knew too well. 

“Plus, I sound good.”

“Hmm.” you tilted your head back, pretending to be thinking. “Yeah, not bad.”

Asa gasped dramatically. “Not bad? Excuse me? Do you know how lucky you are to get in this private concert for free?”

“I’m paying with love.” you smirked.

She bumped your shoulders with hers but kept singing anyway, the next line spilling out softly.

말하고 싶어 to say I love you

But, boy, I like you, really, really like you

This time, she looked straight at you while singing it - eyes teasing but soft, voice light, her feet doing a little shuffle step, dancing on the street. Then, she stepped closer, swaying her shoulders playfully before drawing a heart with two fingers on your chest. 

“What do you mean ‘boy i like you’?” you smirked, trying to sound cocky but it came out way softer than you intended. Asa tilted her head, lips curving into that grin.

“Exactly what I mean. “ she whispered back, eyes not leaving yours. Her fingers poked at your chest again, right where your heart was.

And in this moonlight, we're reaching new highs

But boy, I like you, really, really like you, yeah, yeah

She sang that part almost in a whisper, barely loud enough for anyone but you to hear. Your throat tightened a little. Years of being her best friend, months of dating her but you still felt like this. Like your chest might actually burst out if she kept teasing you like that.

“You’re really got me wrapped around your finger, Asa.”

“Obviously. I knew I got you the first day we met.” she shot back, smirking.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah? We were like what? Thirteen?”

“Yep.” Asa’s hand returned to hold yours, squeezing. “Didn’t need long to figure you out.”

“Really?”

“Yep. You looked so awkward at dinner that day. Accidentally touching my knees, knocking your spoon into my bowl. My dad thought you were afraid of me or something.”

“I mean, he wasn’t wrong.”

She laughed, leaning her head against your shoulder for a second before pulling away.

“Still can’t believe you like Babymonster that much.” you said, smiling.

Asa gasped again, eyes widening like she was offended. “Excuse me? They’re my girls.”

“It’s like they’re your personality, daarin.”

“They are my personality.” She swung your hands between hers again, grinning. “You’re just shy because you don’t want to admit you like them too.”

Yeah, maybe.

Later that evening, after raiding the fridge and bickering over ingredients, Asa decided to teach you how to make her signature omurice. “Like a grown up.” she said. The kitchen looked like an apocalypse halfway through and you earned at least three forehead flicks for your crimes against rice and eggs. She threatened to revoke your boyfriend privileges.

“Yah! Seo Joonhyuk!” Asa cried, smacking your arm with the back of your hand. 

“Why are you stirring the rice like that? That’s now how you- you’re gonna ruin it, dummy.”

You tried to defend yourself. “I’m just-”

“No. Stop. Give me the spatula.”

You pouted but obeyed anyway. Asa clicked her tongue, clearly disappointed. But her voice? Still soft. Still high pitched when she got flustered. And honestly, too freaking cute.

“Are you smiling right now?”

“No…”

“You’re the worst student I’ve ever had.” she muttered, scooping the rice with such precision you felt personally attacked. 

“One more disaster and I’m revoking your boyfriend privileges.”

You leaned close, whispering near her ear.

“But you love me, so you won’t.”

She then elbowed you lightly in the ribs.

“Don’t flirt while I’m saving your life.”

You just loved how Asa looked when she was trying not to laugh while acting all bossy. She might’ve been scolding you but her voice was also laced with warmth and love. You could definitely get used to this. You then both ended up finishing the omurice sitting on the floor, backs resting against the kitchen cabinets. Afterwards, you both cleaned up - she washed, you dried. You also got scolded twice for missing a spot and putting the pan away still kinda wet. Whatever. Asa let you live.

“I’m gonna run home for a second. Shower, brush, be right back, daarin.” you said.

Asa peeked her head out of the kitchen.

“Don’t take forever~ I’ll miss you.”

You didn’t. You showered like your life depended on it. Brushing, face wash, everything. You quickly locked your front gate behind you and sprinted back to the house next door like some kind of night time romantic mission. She left the gate unlocked. You stepped inside, locked the gates and kicked off your slippers and padded straight to the living room where she was already under a blanket, TV glowing softly across her face.

You didn’t even say anything and just slid right in next to Asa, arms immediately wrapping around her waist, pulling her in. She let out a small “mmph” as she shifted against your chest.

“Someone’s needy.” Asa mumbled.

“Someone made the best dinner ever.” you whispered into her hair. Asa snorted.

You both settled into the couch, her head tucked under your chin, fingers gently playing on her side. The drama played - ‘Love next door’. For the rest of the night, the room was warm and quiet except for the low sound of the drama. Your breathing had slowed, your body molded perfectly to hers under the blanket. Then Asa spoke, her voice soft, like she didn’t want to disrupt the peace.

“Hey.” she mumbled. “Wanna hang out with Yunah and Minju again? It’s been awhile since we saw them. Like 2, 3 weeks now.”

“If you don’t get jealous, I’ll go.” you smirked, eyes half lidded.

“Careful what you say, Seo Joonhyuk.” Asa smacked your chest but her hand stayed there after - the lightest pressure, fingers curling into your t-shirt.

After a few minutes passed.

“What about our families? They’ll be back tomorrow morning…” Asa spoke again, voice tired.

You blinked. “Uh…”

“Maybe it’ll be fine. I’ll wake you up early. They won’t find out.” she added.

You smiled into her hair. 

“Okay.”

She then yawned and shifted again, her legs draped over yours. You pulled the blanket a little higher over her shoulders, kissed the top of her then slowly let sleep take over. The world could wait. Just for tonight, it was you and Asa - warm, safe, full. 

You didn’t wake up to the sun. Or the sound of your phone alarm. Or Asa gently whispering your name like you hoped. You woke up because there was a sudden, suffocating presence in the room. You blinked, slow and groggy.

What…?

You turned your head and found yourself cuddling with Asa. Her cheek was smushed against your chest, blankets tangled halfway off your legs, her arm loosely draped around your waist. Both of you fell asleep while watching the drama last night. You then slowly looked up.

Your parents.

Her parents.

Her sisters.

Asa was still dozing, she shifted and mumbled.

“Mm… Joonhyuk.”

“Yah.” you whispered.

Asa pouted, still in her sleep and nuzzled closer to your chest.

“Let me sleep~”

She had no idea what was happening. Still in that dreamy morning haze, eyes closed, pouty, soft. Her voice was muffled against your shirt. You, meanwhile, were fully awake. You looked up again. Your mom had her hand over her mouth, trying hard not to laugh. Your dad was just shaking his head, he’d seen this coming from a mile away. Asa’s parents were whispering something to each other.

Lisa and Chisa? They were thriving. Lisa leaned in first.

“Wake up, you two. It’s rude not greeting your guests.”

You gently poked Asa’s side.

“Asa-ah… wake up.”

“Why?” she groaned.

“They’re back.”

She slowly opened one eye and looked at you. Then followed your gaze and saw her entire family with years staring down at her. Asa’s soul left her immediately. She jerked upright so fast the blanket fell off completely. Her hair was messy. She was definitely not ready for guests. Her mom, Ms. Keiko, stepped forward first, gently taking the lead like she was used to this by now. 

“We brought breakfast.” she said, smiling sweetly. “Figured you two lovebirds would be tired after your little… house date.”

You, still lying on the couch, felt Asa tensing by your side. Your mom then said.

“We knew you two’ve been in love with each other since you were thirteen.”

Chisa chimed in, grinning way too wide. 

“You two idiots weren’t exactly subtle, you know?”

Asa let out the cutest squeak and immediately buried her face in your shoulders again, hands covering her burning cheeks like she was trying to disappear.

Busted? Yes. Completely.

It was coming anyway. 

But honestly? Felt kinda nice.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

yayy! i will definitely write more for asa lol. i love her so much arrrghhhh

[ducktoo]

"Tonight, I'll send the glow of a firefly to you.”

IU x Reader

Note: I have been going back to listening to "Through the Night" recently...and this is my interpretation whenever I listen to the song. Kind reminder that this is fictional...and pretty moody.

Also IU songs are genuinely timeless. A 2017 song and yet still one of my favourite soft songs.

The apartment sits in stillness.

The kind that doesn’t just fill a space, but soaks into it—into the worn fabric of the couch where her imprint lingers, into the ridges of the floorboards that once echoed with her bare feet, into the air that hasn't moved much since she left.

It’s always like this at night. When you’re alone. When the lights are low and nothing is expected of you. Grief breathes louder in these hours. It doesn’t sob or scream. It exhales. And it waits.

You sit by the window, where she used to lean on rainy days with a cup of tea between her fingers. Her tea cup still sits on the sill. Washed. Dried. Untouched.

There’s a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, one she used to tug from your lap to cover herself before falling asleep on the couch. The fabric still holds a shape, somehow—like she’s paused mid-movement and will return any minute now to finish it.

But she won’t.

And you know that.

Still, your eyes drift to the horizon, waiting. Hopeful.

You remember once—late into a summer night, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked out the same window—she said she'd send you the glow of a firefly.

To let you know she was thinking of you.

That she loved you.

You thought she was being poetic. You didn’t think it would be the last time she said it.

Now the fireflies come without her. And you're the one sending them, in some way. Hoping one finds her. Wherever she is.

You close your eyes. The memories pull you under like waves. They’re not dramatic. Just… constant.

You remember your first kiss. Not the moment of it, but the breath before—how close you were, how she smelled faintly like citrus shampoo and midnight. How your heart kicked against your chest like it was trying to warn you that everything would change.

And it did.

Now, whenever the silence gets too deep, you close your eyes and try to go back. Back to the farthest place your memory allows. Where she still smiles without worry. Where she still hums songs into your hoodie as she dozes off.

A place untouched by grief.

But even there, she slips. Like letters on the sand. No matter how hard you try to hold her in your thoughts, time washes her away. The sharper edges of her voice, the specific way she wrinkled her nose when annoyed, the odd, half-cough laugh she made when she tried to stifle a real one—they all begin to blur.

You bite back the tears.

You hate how memory is soft. And she was never soft—not in the way grief is. She was fire and wind and eyes that made you feel seen even when you didn’t want to be.

Now she’s just…fog.

You miss her again. And again. And more. Each night.

The journal lies open beside you. The page is blank, though the ink bleeds slightly through from the other side. You don’t write much anymore. You just look.

Sometimes you trace her name at the corner of the page.

Sometimes you don’t need to.

The words you want to say crowd your chest—restless and aching—but they never make it to the page. They can’t. Because what are you supposed to write? That you’re sorry? That you love her? That every second without her feels like you're walking underwater?

No. You’ve written all that already.

It wasn’t enough then, and it certainly won’t be now.

You look out the window again. The sky is thick and dark. The air is unmoving. But one small light glows and dances near the trees. A firefly.

You blink slowly, your head leaning against the cold glass.

You hope it finds her…or at least brushes against the memory of her.

Because if she can’t hear your heart now, then maybe she can see this.

A small, flickering light.

Sent from someone who still thinks of her before sleep. Every night.

And you don’t say it aloud. You don’t need to.

But inside—beneath all the things you can’t show her anymore, it’s that you love her.

Still.

-

It started with a bus ticket.

You hadn’t planned it. Not really. But the morning came, dull and grey, and something inside you refused to stay home—refused to sit by that same window and watch another firefly pass by with no promise of where it might land.

So you packed lightly. Her scarf, folded and pressed close to your chest. One change of clothes. Your journal, though you still hadn’t written in it. And the old film camera she used to mock because it took "too much effort for one photo."

You boarded the bus heading south.

The city fell behind like a memory you didn’t want to keep. Ahead: roads she loved. Streets she’d stuck her head out the window for, pretending the wind could carry her away. Trees she used to point at, wondering aloud how old they were. You remembered each place—not through landmarks, but through her voice echoing between buildings.

The first stop was the train station in the small town.

It looked the same. Maybe a little more faded, maybe the paint was peeling in more places than you remembered. But the platform… it still stretched out beneath the hazy sky like the day you got stranded there together.

That time, the rain came suddenly. A summer downpour so violent it drenched you both before you could even look for shelter. You panicked—typical, flustered, pacing and checking train times that had all been delayed. But she hadn’t. She’d laughed, calmly pulled you under a crooked awning near the far end of the station, and bought two cans of hot coffee from a humming vending machine with her last coins.

You sat there again—under that same crooked awning—this time without the warmth of her laugh, or her hands wrapping yours around the can to warm them.

Your fingers hovered in your lap. The space beside you was empty, but you turned your body slightly anyway, like muscle memory still believed she’d plop down beside you, wet hair clinging to her cheeks, and tease you for overreacting.

You stayed there for a long time, staring out at the tracks that didn’t seem to end.

No rain. No vending machine coffee. Just a memory warm enough to sting.

-

Next came the hill by the sunflower fields.

It wasn’t blooming season. You knew that. You’d checked before leaving. Still, something inside you needed to see it again. To see the slope where she used to pull you along, always a few steps ahead, always with that barely-contained excitement in her stride, like the flowers were waiting just for her.

She’d wear a straw hat too big for her head and hum songs you never recognized. You’d try to match her pace but fall behind, weighed down by heat and by her relentless enthusiasm. She’d look over her shoulder, grin, and shout at you to hurry, always ending her words with laughter.

The hill was bare now. Just rows of green stems not yet ready to bloom. The breeze tugged gently at your sleeves. The air still held that earthy scent you both loved—the scent she once said reminded her of home, even though she never explained why.

You climbed slowly, letting the wind guide you, your shoes brushing against brittle grass. At the top, you stood in the middle of nothing and everything.

No sunflowers.

No laughter.

Just the sky above and the wind across your face.

At the top of the hill, you took the disposable camera out of your bag. The same one she used to complain about, even though she secretly loved when you took photos of her when she wasn’t looking.

You lifted it and snapped a shot of the empty field. It wasn’t much. Just light, wind, and memory. But maybe that was enough. Maybe it was your way of tracing her shadow through the places she once touched.

Finally, you whispered her name there. Just once. Lee Jieun.

It didn’t echo back, but you kept moving anyway.

-

Each place carved out its own ache. A bench by a lake. A stone wall where she once carved her initials beside yours, saying it was cheesy but she liked the permanence of it. A seaside café where she once spilled her entire iced latte and laughed until she cried.

You didn't take more pictures. You didn’t need to. The moments weren’t yours to share anymore. They were yours to carry.

And then the final stop.

It was a quiet field, just outside the city. She picked it herself—years ago, when the thought of needing a place to rest wasn’t anything more than a far-off random conversation at 1 a.m., whispered between gulps of water and exhausted laughter.

"If I had to go,” she had said “…let it be here. Somewhere the wind can find me. Somewhere small and forgotten. Somewhere quiet."

You still remembered how soft her voice was when she said it….and now you stand at the edge of that field.

The sun had set an hour ago. The grass sways gently beneath your feet, as if the ground itself is breathing. The stars have crept into the sky, soft and diffused. You don’t bring flowers. You never do. She didn’t like them. Said they were too sad, too ceremonial.

Instead, you bring yourself. And every piece of her you still carry.

You stop at the foot of the small stone. No other words etched in gold, no flower vases or carved angels. Just her name, understated and soft. Like she always was in moments no one else saw. The date beneath it still feels impossible. As if time had no right to stamp itself on her life.

You lower yourself into the earth, knees brushing the wild grass, elbows sinking into your thighs. The air is cool. Damp from a day that flirted with rain but never followed through. Overhead, the sky deepens into blue-black velvet, thick and humming with the quiet pulse of night.

You don't cry. You don't speak. Muttering her name might break every pieces you have been holding back.

Grief has changed its shape. It no longer claws or shouts. It lingers like mist, curling in the corners of your ribs, asking nothing. It sits with you now, like an old friend. Familiar. Heavy. But bearable.

For a long while, there is only you and the wind.

And then a flicker. Then another. And another two.

Tiny golden glows begin to rise from the grass, hesitant at first, then gathering with soft confidence. Dozens. Then more. Fireflies, dotting the field like the stars decided to descend and hover closer to the ground tonight. They move slowly, weightlessly, swaying like they’re dancing to something you can’t hear.

You don’t move.

Your breath is shallow. Almost reverent.

In that light—subtle and shimmering—you feel something soften in the dark. Not a presence. Not exactly. But warmth. The kind of warmth she used to bring with her when she curled up beside you at night, breath steady and arms looped lazily around your waist.

You let the thought come, without shame.

That maybe Jieun’s here.

Maybe she saw the places you visited. Maybe she followed. Maybe she never really left.

The fireflies pulse brighter, rising into the air like lanterns let go without a wish. And for the first time in a long while, something in you begins to lift with them.

Not all the way. Not yet. But just enough to breathe without it hurting.

And as the night folds around you, soft and vast, the words surface—quiet, private, like a promise meant only for her:

"Tonight, I'll send the glow of a firefly to you.”

You don't know if she’ll see it…but you send it anyway.

And in that gentle glow, you imagine she might send one back. From wherever she is.

And that…is enough for tonight.

[ducktoo]

Welcome to 1k gangggg

1,000-

Followers were not what I expected coming into this after being a silent reader for years. Thank you to everyone who's read and (hopefully) enjoyed what I've put out these recent months.

Feel free to leave asks!

Hopefully more fics to come.

[ducktoo]

Twice fluff please. I'm not sure why but I am craving a slide of life idol x normal career man fic with angst and ends with a happy ending.

….huh

Maybe not with this specific request but have a twice fic already cooking okok um with any member or with your bias?

(Lowkey feel proud that im known for slice of life fic XD)

[ducktoo]

I have updated my masterlisttttt (more organised and also include my personal top 5)

Also side note, are there any plots yall would like me to try writing on? or groups that yall would like to see?

[ducktoo]

No 4. Is what i do on a daily basis

💥 Small Writing Habits That Genuinely Changed How I Write 💥

listen. i’m not here to sell you a productivity system or convince you that waking up at 5am will make you a novelist. i am deeply Not That Girl. HOWEVER, here are 5 chaotic little writing habits that quietly rearranged my brain chemistry:

✏️ typing BEFORE i know what happens i used to think i had to outline everything before writing. wrong. i get more done when i let the scene surprise me. just start with vibes and a line of dialogue. the rest shows up once you start moving.

🗣️ saying the scene out loud like a play no joke. talking my scenes out like a script?? life-changing. the pacing, the emotion, the rhythm of it all makes more sense when i act like i’m gossiping about my blorbos in a voice memo.

⌛ 20-minute timers (not for productivity, just to start) i tell myself “just 20 minutes.” sometimes i stop. sometimes i blink and it’s 2 hours later and someone’s been emotionally eviscerated in chapter 12. this one’s black magic. use wisely.

🕯️ re-reading my WIP like a book no editing, no judging, just reading through with snacks like it’s already published. changes how i see the pacing and emotional arcs. also reminds me it doesn’t completely suck.

🧂 leaving in the messy parts i used to delete scenes that felt “off.” now i just write a little comment like “THIS IS BAD BUT KEEP GOING.” turns out momentum matters more than vibes. shocking, i know.

anyway. tiny habits. huge mental rewiring. 10/10. highly recommend.