jaeminlights

[jaeminlights]

You weren’t supposed to see what you saw that night in the alley.

He wasn’t supposed to let you live.

But somehow, a glance turned into a warning…

A warning into a conversation…

And a conversation into something that neither of you could walk away from.

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Female Reader

Tropes: Mafia AU, Grumpy x quiet resilience, Witness-to-lovers, He fell first, he fell harder, Overprotective but respectful, “Touch her and I’ll kill you” energy

Genre: Romance, Suspense, Slow Burn, Angst with a (hard-earned) Soft Ending, Smut

Featuring: The entire Ateez gang as loyal, chaotic criminals,  Exes who don’t know when to stay gone

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

The city at night was never truly quiet.

Even this late, the air was alive with distant hums — traffic murmurs two streets over, a muffled bass thumping from some half-empty club, the occasional staccato of heels against wet pavement. But here, on this narrow side street, the sounds were softer, almost hesitant.

I tugged my scarf tighter, my breath clouding in the cold air as I made my way home from the café. My shift had ended just after midnight, leaving my fingers aching from the constant rhythm of brewing coffee, wiping counters, and punching orders into the register. Normally I’d stick to the main road — well-lit, full of late-night stragglers, the safety-in-numbers route.

But tonight… I just wanted to get home. Quickly.

The shortcut wasn’t dangerous, not exactly. It was just quieter. And I didn’t mind quiet.

I turned left down the alley, my boots tapping against slick concrete. The smell of rain lingered, fresh and metallic, though the sky was dry now. My footsteps echoed — too loud in the stillness — and I realized I hadn’t passed anyone in the last block.

Halfway through, the sound reached me.

Low voices.

At first, I thought it was just a couple of drunk friends cutting through to the next street, but as I slowed, the tone sharpened — clipped words, something between an argument and a warning.

I should’ve turned around. I knew I should have.

Instead, I pressed closer to the shadow of a building, following the curve of the alley until it widened slightly into a narrow lot between two brick walls.

That’s when I saw them.

Five men. Four standing in a loose half-circle, and one at the center — his back partially to me, but his posture straight, commanding. Even from here, there was something deliberate in the way he moved — not hurried, not aggressive, just… controlled.

The man facing him was speaking too fast, gesturing with sharp, jerky movements. His voice carried, the words spitting through the cold air: “—you can’t keep cutting us out—”

The central figure — tall, broad-shouldered, a dark coat falling perfectly to his knees — didn’t interrupt. He waited. Let the words die out.

And then, without warning, he stepped forward, closing the space between them. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I saw the flash of something metallic in the faint light — not a threat, not yet, but enough to make the other man flinch.

The argument wasn’t going to resolve itself.

The smaller man’s hand darted toward his jacket.

It happened fast.

One motion. One muted pop.

The smaller man crumpled like his strings had been cut, the gun he’d been reaching for clattering uselessly to the ground.

I sucked in a sharp breath — too loud, too sudden — and the heel of my boot knocked against something glass. A bottle tipped over with a hollow clink, rolling a few inches before coming to rest.

The man in the coat turned.

The light caught his face for half a second — sharp lines, dark eyes, unreadable expression, the most handsome i had ever seen— and in that frozen moment, our eyes met.

I didn’t think. I ran.

My breath burned by the second corner. The alley dog-legged right, then fed into a narrower cut between a shuttered print shop and a brick wall someone had painted with a mural of cranes and clouds. My boots slid on damp grit; my palm skinned against brick when I caught myself.

Behind me—nothing. No footsteps. No shout. The silence didn’t feel like safety; it felt like someone had pressed pause.

I ducked behind a stack of flattened boxes and held still, counting my heartbeat like it might be loud enough to betray me. A car hissed past on the main road beyond the alley mouth. A distant siren dopplered into somewhere that wasn’t here.

I risked a look back.

The lot where the men had stood was now a stage being struck between scenes. Two of them had vanished into shadow. The other two were moving with the efficiency of people who’d done this before—picking up the fallen gun with a gloved hand, lifting the dead man by elbows and knees, nothing sloppy, nothing wasted. The tall one in the coat—him—stood slightly apart, angled toward where I’d been, head tilted in that listening way predators have when they don’t need to pretend to be anything else.

He didn’t move.

If he’d seen me—if he cared—there was no sign of it in his posture. No jerk of command, no sent-hound. He just watched the mouth of the alley like he had all the time in the world to decide.

A bottle clinked somewhere nearer to me; I flinched. It was just the wind nudging trash. I forced my breathing quieter, counting backward from twenty.

When I looked again, they were gone. The lot was empty except for a scuffed arc of damp where a body had been and a dark bloom that wasn’t rain.

I didn’t wait to see if they came back.

The main street felt almost obnoxiously normal. Neon hummed. A convenience store door dinged cheerfully as someone went in for cigarettes or instant noodles or both. The crosswalk changed without drama.

I walked like I hadn’t been running, which is a skill you don’t realize you have until you need it. Hands in pockets. Shoulders down. Head up. Normal. Fine.

By the time I reached my block, the adrenaline had curdled into something colder. My building rose above the kimbap place like a stack of square jaws. The smell of sesame oil drifted up the stairwell; a comforting detail that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Up the stairs. Key in. Turn. Inside.

Shoes off, door locked, chain slid, deadbolt turned. I stood with my forehead against the wood and listened.

My apartment breathed back at me—fridge hum, heater cough, the neighbor’s TV murmuring a talk show through the wall. Everything exactly where I’d left it that morning: jacket slumped on the chair, mug in the sink, plant leaning toward the window like hope.

I moved like I was cataloguing evidence: curtains drawn, latch checked, bathroom window locked. It wasn’t fear so much as habit. Fear is messy; habits are clean.

My hands didn���t stop shaking until I was in the shower, water turned up too hot, forehead against tile. The sound of it covered the echo of the shot. The image of him—dark coat, steady hands—kept trying to push itself to the front of my eyelids. I rinsed my hair like I was washing a frame out of a negative.

By the time I toweled off and found clean pajamas, my heartbeat had agreed to stop pretending it was a trapped bird. I boiled water. I stared at the steam without pouring it into anything. I put the kettle back on the unlit burner and laughed once, quietly, because I’d made tea for shock and then forgotten the cup.

“Okay,” I told the kitchen. “Okay.”

On my counter was a pen I’d left next to a grocery list. I wrote milk, eggs, dish soap, and for no reason I could explain, don’t take the alley underneath, like future-me would need the reminder.

The window over the sink looked down on the street. I lifted the curtain an inch. Night had softened the edges of everything into a manageable lie. A couple in matching coats walked their dog. A cyclist glided through a yellow light like he had immunity. A black car idled two doors down where the curb dipped—lights off, engine a low animal.

It could have been any car. It could have been waiting for anyone.

I let the curtain fall.

Sleep wasn’t obedient. It came in fits, like a radio station you could only get when you stood in exactly the right spot and held your breath. Every time I started to drift, his face knifed through—clean lines, a look like math. Not cruel. Not kind. A decision wearing a person.

I told myself what people tell themselves after they’ve seen a thing they shouldn’t: you’re no one, you’re nothing, you don’t matter to that story. It wasn’t reassuring. Not mattering to people like that can be safer. It can also make you easy to erase.

At some point the city thinned down to ist skeleton—garbage trucks, a lone bus, the low chuff of the heater deciding to do ist job. I let go.

I woke just after six, the sky an ugly, earnest gray. My body felt like someone had set me at a slightly wrong angle in my sleep. I did the things you do to convince the day you’re allowed to be in it: wash face, brush teeth, tie hair, check pockets for keys and wallet. The mirror gave me a face that didn’t look like it had watched a man die in a throwaway lot. Good. Useful.

At the door, I hesitated and opened it a crack to listen.

The hallway smelled like detergent and old wood. A flyer for a yoga class had slithered under someone’s door and died there. No footsteps. No breath that wasn’t mine.

By the time I hit the sidewalk, people were already arguing with their mornings—coffee, kids, coats, keys. I folded into the current and let it carry me toward the café like it had any right to decide where I went.

The café existed in that space between trying and not bothering. We had a chalkboard menu and succulents that someone remembered to water every third Tuesday. The machine steamed and hissed like an irritable dragon; tourists took photos of their lattes like they’d never seen milk before. It was honest work. It was also good cover for a brain that, if left alone, would rewind alleys until they were holes.

“Morning,” Tom said, flipping the door sign. “You look like you fought the night and it won.”

“Night cheated,” I said, tying my apron.

Minhee—different Minhee; the universe had at least two—peeked around the pastry case. “Glitter Girl is back. She says the glitter was medicinal.”

“Is it?” I asked, pouring two shots like my hands hadn’t shaken six hours ago.

“Spiritually,” she said solemnly.

The first rush of commuters came and went in a blur of keep-cups and deadlines. The second wave arrived late, ashamed, and tipped to absolve themselves. The third wave was students with laptops and the stamina to order one Americano and stay until our descendants took over the lease.

I found my rhythm the way you find a familiar song on a bad day. Grind. Tamp. Pull. Steam. Wipe. Smile, but not in a way that invited conversation from men who thought their flat white came with your number.

At 10:17, I glanced up from a drip tray that would never love me back and froze.

Across the street, in the seam of two buildings where shadow lingered even when the sun tried, a car I recognized by silhouette alone idled with a kind of polite confidence.

Same deep color. Same quiet posture. Lights off. Nothing about it said look at me, which was exactly what made it visible.

The door opened.

He stepped out like the city had asked him to.

Dark coat.He didn’t head for our door immediately. He stood and looked, not scanning in that sloppy, nervous way, but taking in exits, angles, reflection in glass. Then he crossed, the light catching on him like it would have asked first if it had better manners.

He came in. He did not belong in our chalk dust and croissants, and somehow he didn’t disturb any of it. The bell over the door chimed like it had to.

Tom straightened like his posture had been insulted. Minhee arranged muffins with the fierce concentration of someone who was hyper-aware of graceful danger within ten feet.

The last time I’d seen him, he’d been standing over a body.

Now, he was standing at my counter.

“Morning,” he said. His voice was smooth, deep — the kind you felt in your chest as much as you heard.

“Morning,” I echoed, because apparently my survival instincts wanted to play customer service.

He rested one gloved hand on the counter. “Coffee.”

“What kind?” I asked, reaching automatically for a cup.

“Black. No sugar.”

Of course.

As the espresso machine hissed to life, I couldn’t help stealing glances. In daylight, there was nothing overtly threatening about him. He looked like the kind of man who could own a law firm or a gallery — or both — if you didn’t know what he’d done in the shadows.

When I set the cup down in front of him, he didn’t pick it up right away. Instead, his gaze flicked to my eyes, lingering a second too long.

“Y/N,” he said, as if testing the sound.

Hearing my name in that voice was unsettling in a way I didn’t like. “That’s me.”

“You work here often?”

The question was casual, but there was a precision to it — like each word was placed with intent.

“Often enough,” I said lightly, keeping my tone neutral. “Why? Thinking of becoming a regular?”

His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Maybe.”

I leaned one elbow on the counter, mostly to keep myself from fidgeting. “Well, we open at seven and close at nine. You can have all the black coffee you want in between.”

For a moment, he just looked at me, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that he wasn’t seeing the café at all — just me, like I was some puzzle piece he was deciding whether to keep or toss.

Finally, he picked up the cup, took a sip, and set it down again. “Good coffee.”

“Glad you approve,” I said, reaching for a cloth to wipe a perfectly clean spot on the counter.

He left the cup mostly full, sliding a bill under the saucer before standing. As he turned toward the door, he glanced back at me. “See you around, Y/N.”

The bell over the door chimed as he left, and I stood there staring at the empty spot where he’d been, my pulse a little too quick for comfort.

He knew my name.

But I didn’t remember giving it to him.

The rest of the morning slid by in fragments, each one separated by the hiss of the espresso machine or the scrape of ceramic cups.

Y/N took orders, steamed milk, and smiled where it was expected, but the image of the man in the black coat stayed lodged in her thoughts.

The way he’d said her name without asking for it.

The way he’d barely touched the coffee, as if he hadn’t come for the drink at all.

She caught herself scanning the door more than once, half-expecting him to return before her shift was over.

By midday, Minhee had noticed the difference.

“You’re distracted,” Minhee said, leaning a hip against the counter while the grinder roared in the background.

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied automatically, which only made her coworker’s grin widen.

“It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

Y/N didn’t look up from wiping down the counter. “Who?”

“Tall, dark, and expensive coat from this morning,” Minhee said with certainty. “Y/N, that man was hot hot. Not just hot—hot hot. Like ‘owns-a-private-jet-and-a-criminal-record’ hot.”

Y/N nearly choked on her own breath. “Minhee—”

“What? You can’t tell me you didn’t notice. He had that… dangerous thing going on. You know, the kind that makes you wonder if you should run away or ask him to ruin your life a little.”

Y/N snorted, partly to mask the uneasy twist in her stomach about how right she was. “Not my type.”

Minhee narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Didn’t even ask for his name?”

“Didn’t seem like the small talk type,” Y/N said, glancing toward the door again before catching herself.

“Shame,” Minhee said with a sigh, but the bell above the door chimed and pulled her away.

By the time her shift ended, the winter light had thinned into a pale, exhausted gold that stretched shadows long across the pavement.

Y/N wrapped her scarf tight and stepped outside, scanning the street before heading toward home.

Every parked car, every figure crossing in the distance, every shape in the corner of her vision seemed worth watching.

She kept to the main road, ignoring the temptation to cut through quieter streets. Her boots clicked against the pavement in a rhythm that felt louder than it should.

At every alley she passed, she glanced sideways without slowing.

But there was no sign of him.

By the time she reached her building, the street was quiet except for a delivery rider locking up his bike. The normalcy of it all made her almost laugh — as if she’d spent the day imagining a threat that didn’t exist.

She climbed the stairs, her breath clouding faintly in the cooler air of the hallway.

The lock turned without resistance. She stepped inside.

And stopped.

He was there.

Sitting in her armchair as if he’d been invited, one ankle resting over the other knee, a porcelain mug in hand. Steam curled from the tea as though it belonged here.

For a heartbeat, Y/N’s mind refused to make sense of the scene. The man from the alley — in her home — calm, composed, and utterly at ease.

“How—” She had to clear her throat to steady her voice. “How did you get in?”

He took a slow sip before answering. “Your lock isn’t very good.”

“That’s not an answer,” she said.

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he replied, setting the mug on the side table. “You buy decent tea, by the way. Or maybe you just store it well.”

Her pulse was a drumbeat in her ears. “You broke into my apartment to critique my tea?”

“I came to talk,” he said evenly. “But I thought you’d be more inclined to listen if you weren’t worried about being dragged into another alley.”

“That’s… not making me feel safer.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes — amusement, maybe, or the absence of it. “You saw something last night. I need to know what you plan to do about it.”

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. “And if I say nothing?”

“Then we’ll both sleep easier,” he said after a pause. “For now.”

The for now sat between them like a second shadow.

Y/N’s mind was running, weighing her options — not for the first time since last night. She could lie. Play it cool. Tell him she hadn’t seen anything.

But he was watching her the way people watch a chessboard — calm, patient, calculating ten moves ahead.

“I told you,” she said, forcing her voice steady. “I didn’t see much.”

One eyebrow lifted the faintest fraction. “That’s not true.”

Her pulse jumped. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“Because people who see nothing don’t spend the day checking over their shoulder.”

The fact that he knew she had done exactly that made the room feel smaller.

She crossed her arms. “If you’re here to scare me into silence, you’re wasting your time.”

He leaned back slightly in the chair, as if the conversation amused him. “You think I’m here to threaten you?”

“You broke into my apartment and are currently sitting in my armchair drinking my tea,” she said flatly. “So… yes. Threatening feels like a safe guess.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “If I wanted you gone, you wouldn’t have made it home tonight.”

Her stomach tightened, but she didn’t flinch. “Comforting.”

He gave the faintest hint of a smirk — the kind that wasn’t meant to soften anything, just acknowledge the game being played. “I prefer honest over comforting.”

She took a slow breath, letting the words settle before asking the question that had been pushing against her since the moment she’d seen him in the doorway of the café. “So… who are you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up the mug again, took a sip, and set it down with deliberate care. “Someone you shouldn’t have seen.”

“Yeah,” she said, “I got that much.”

A moment of quiet stretched between them. The muted hum of the fridge filled it, too loud in the silence.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he said, voice almost casual now. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

She hesitated. “Would it have done any good?”

His mouth curved — just slightly — and she got the sense that she’d given the answer he’d expected.

“You’re smarter than most,” he said. “That’s… useful.”

“I’m not trying to be useful to you.”

“You might not have a choice.”

The words weren’t a threat in tone, but they carried the weight of inevitability.

Y/N stepped toward the door, partly to put distance between them, partly to make it clear the conversation was over. “Are we done?”

“For now,” he said again, rising smoothly to his feet. He was taller than she’d realized in the café, his presence seeming to fill more space than it should.

At the door, he paused and glanced back. “Lock your windows, too. That tea wasn’t the only thing I noticed.”

And then he was gone — as silently as he’d arrived.

Y/N stood in the middle of her living room, the faint scent of tea still in the air, and wondered if she’d just agreed to something without saying a word.

The sound had been small — small enough that most people would have missed it.

A shoe scuff against damp concrete.

Seonghwa didn’t turn his head immediately. That was the trick — never look too soon, never betray that you’ve heard something you shouldn’t have. Instead, he let the conversation in front of him play out, his eyes still on the man who was speaking too fast, moving his hands too much.

Only when the words began to fray into stammering did Seonghwa glance toward the edge of the alley.

There. Just inside the shadow.

A woman.

The distance was enough to blur some detailes, but not enough to hide the way she froze when his gaze brushed her. The faint rise and fall of her shoulders told him her breathing had quickened. She didn’t scream. She didn’t call for help. She turned and ran. And for a short moment the moonlight lit her features. He had to admit she was pretty.

He could have given the signal. Mingi and San were close enough to intercept her before she reached the street.

But she wasn’t a cop. Not a lookout. Just someone who’d stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time.

More importantly, she had kept her mouth shut.

That alone made her more interesting than most.

Morning light was less forgiving than streetlamps, but when he saw her again hours later, there was no mistaking her.

The café was bright in a way the alley had never been. She stood behind the counter, hair pulled back, moving with the quick efficiency of someone used to being on their feet for hours.

Her eyes flicked toward the door as he stepped inside. The recognition was instant — he saw it in the way her fingers paused for a fraction of a second before continuing whatever task they’d been doing.

He ordered coffee he didn’t need. Watched the way she kept her tone polite but not friendly, professional but not meek. Most people cracked under silence; she seemed to understand ist weight.

Her name tag gave her away — Y/N.

The name suited her.

When she slid the cup toward him, he didn’t drink right away. Instead, he let the pause stretch until she glanced up at him again. Her eyes were steady, but her shoulders had that faint stiffness of someone trying not to react.

It was… intriguing.

He left the cup nearly full, sliding a bill beneath the saucer. As he walked out, he looked back just long enough to say her name.

Breaking into her apartment that evening was almost laughably easy.

The lock on the front door had taken less than fifteen seconds to bypass. The windows would have been even simpler.

He hadn’t touched anything but the armchair. Sat there. Waited.

When she arrived, the shock registered in her eyes, but again — no screaming. Just questions, sharp-edged and quick.

They talked. She pushed back more than most would. There was fear there, yes, but tempered with control. She was measuring him just as carefully as he was measuring her.

By the time he left, he’d decided she wasn’t reckless. But she was unpredictable, and unpredictability was dangerous in ist own way.

The headquarters was quieter than usual when he arrived. The top floors of the old office building smelled faintly of smoke from whatever San had been burning earlier. Maps and ledgers covered one wall; another was lined with locked cabinets.

San noticed him first. “Well, if it isn’t our ghost,” he said, grinning. “Where’ve you been, hyung?”

“Working,” Seonghwa replied, shrugging out of his coat.

Wooyoung glanced up from the couch, swirling a drink in his hand. “Working? Or visiting your little café friend?”

Seonghwa looked at him evenly. “She’s not my friend.”

“That’s not what Mingi said,” San cut in. “He said you let her go. Didn’t even send me after her. I would’ve made it quick.”

“She didn’t need to be chased,” Seonghwa said, his tone final.

Hongjoong emerged from the back, flipping through a folder. “If Seonghwa says she’s not a problem, she’s not a problem. For now.” His gaze lingered just long enough to make the point.

Wooyoung smirked. “So you broke into her apartment—”

“I was making sure she wouldn’t act impulsively,” Seonghwa interrupted, his voice even.

“Uh-huh,” Wooyoung said. “Over tea.”

San leaned back in his chair, laughter in his eyes. “Hot tea. Cozy.”

Seonghwa ignored them both, pulling a ledger toward himself. But Mingi, coming in from the balcony, shook his head with a grin. “You’re gonna watch her again, aren’t you? People like that… you don’t just leave them alone.”

Seonghwa closed the ledger. He didn’t answer.

Some things didn’t need confirmation.

He went back the next morning.

It wasn’t planned, at least not in the way most of his movements were planned. He simply found himself walking down the street where the café sat, the pale winter light catching in the glass door, the faint hum of the espresso machine audible even from outside.

She was there.

Her hair was different — tied low this time — but the quick, practiced movements behind the counter were the same. She didn’t startle when she saw him, didn’t stiffen. If anything, there was only the faintest flicker of recognition before she went back to her work.

“Black. No sugar,” he said when he reached the counter.

She gave a small nod and reached for a cup alresdy making it. “Your persistent.“

He let the corner of his mouth shift — not quite a smile. “I tend to.”

She didn’t answer, just set the cup down and moved on to the next customer.

It became a pattern.

Over the next week, he stopped by each morning. Sometimes she was the one to take his order, sometimes Minhee. On the days it was her, she was polite but brisk, her attention split between him and the stream of people coming through the door.

He watched for signs of strain — a glance toward the street after he left, a whisper to her coworker — but there was nothing.

By the fifth day, he started testing the edges.

Leaning a little closer when she passed him his coffee.

Letting his gaze linger a fraction too long.

Dropping small, seemingly harmless remarks.

“You make better coffee than your coworker,” he said once, his tone casual.

She glanced up from the register. “I’ll let her know you said that,” she replied, the faintest thread of dry humor in her voice.

Another day, he asked, “Do you ever take breaks?”

“When I have time,” she said, handing him his cup. “And when customers aren’t asking questions they don’t need the answers to.”

He found himself almost amused.

By the start of the second week, the subtle tension she’d carried that first day was gone. She still watched him, but not with the same wary edge. It was more… observational, as if she were trying to figure him out without letting him know.

Most importantly, she hadn’t gone to the police.

No detectives waiting outside the café. No sudden visits from people who asked too many questions.

Either she’d decided to keep quiet — or she’d already understood that reporting him would accomplish nothing.

He liked that she seemed to understand the latter.

On the twelfth day, the café was quiet enough that there was no one behind him in line.

She handed him his coffee — smooth, practiced, without hesitation now — and moved to turn away.

He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small folded slip of paper, setting it on the counter between them. “In case you ever feel like getting better coffee than this,” he said, voice low enough for only her to hear.

Her eyes flicked to his, then down to the paper. “And why would I need to?”

He let the faintest smirk touch his mouth. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll want to.”

She exhaled through her nose, an almost-laugh that she tried to turn into a scoff. “I think I’ll survive without it.”

But as she pushed the paper closer to her side of the counter, he caught it — the tiniest flush at the tops of her cheeks. She didn’t meet his gaze as she rang up the next order.

It was the first crack in her composure he’d seen.

And though Seonghwa didn’t make a habit of finding people attractive, he could admit — at least to himself — that something about her restraint made him want to test ist limits.

He took his coffee and stepped aside without another word. He didn’t need to look back to know she’d keep the number.

He left the café with the taste of burnt espresso he hadn’t actually drunk and the color in her cheeks lodged, unexpectedly, in his mind.

Not a full blush—she would never give him that. Just a quick, disloyal warmth rising beneath the skin as she slid his number off the counter like it was any customer’s receipt. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he might have missed it. But he had been looking. And he didn’t miss things.

Outside, winter light washed the street flat. Seonghwa paused at the corner long enough to watch her silhouette move through the window—efficient, precise, a quick half-smile for an old man who tipped in coins, an arched brow for Minhee when the grinder misbehaved. She’d settled since the first week. The fear was mostly gone. The wariness remained, sharpened into something that looked a lot like discernment.

Good, he thought. Fear makes people stupid. Discernment keeps them alive.

He didn’t pocket the observation as much as place it carefully with the others he’d collected about her: keeps her back to a wall when she can; watches reflections instead of faces; ties her hair differently depending on how little sleep she’s had. Small things that, together, suggested an interior life that wasn’t easily borrowed or broken.

By the time he reached headquarters, the building’s old elevator had decided it would only function if coaxed; he took the stairs instead. The second floor landing smelled faintly of paint thinner and citrus—someone, probably Yeosang, had decided the map wall needed “order.”

San clocked Seonghwa’s expression the instant he stepped into the main room. “Uh-oh,” he said, straightening from a sprawled position on the couch. “He’s got the thinking about a girl face.”

Wooyoung, never one to let a cue die, swung his boots off the table. “Impossible. Park Seonghwa doesn’t think about girls. He thinks about schedules and exits.”

“Sometimes both,” Mingi added, dropping into a chair and pushing a stack of empty takeout boxes toward Wooyoung with his foot. “But today… yeah. You look like you’ve discovered a new species, hyung.”

Seonghwa shrugged out of his coat and hung it carefully. “I look like someone who’s been outside.”

Yeosang didn’t look up from the map, but his mouth twitched. “Outside happens to contain a café. The café happens to contain a barista. The barista happens to have eyes.” He placed a red pin with surgical accuracy. “Cause and effect are fascinating.”

Hongjoong emerged from the back room with a tablet tucked under his arm. “Are we working or are we gossiping?” He looked around, saw Seonghwa, and arched a brow. “Ah. Both.”

Wooyoung propped his chin on his hand, stage-whisper dramatic. “For the record, I think it’s very modern of you to be interested in someone who watched you drop a man in an alley. It’s giving… enemies to lovers. Tragic operetta. Expensive suits and poor choices.”

San snorted. “It’s giving are you insane, actually. She saw him.” He pointed at Seonghwa with the kind of fond disrespect only San could get away with. “You know—” he flattened his hand and let it fall, the universal sign for one shot, done. “—that.”

“She saw a mistake corrected,” Seonghwa said, voice even. “There’s a difference.”

Mingi tipped his chair back two inches past comfort. “There’s also a legal difference. As in: witnesses are bad for business.”

“She isn’t talking,” Seonghwa said. He slid into a chair at the long table and opened a folder, as if the conversation were occurring in another room. “And she won’t.”

“And how can you be so sure?” Hongjoong asked, not unkindly.

“Because she understands cost,” Seonghwa said. “She weighed calling the police and decided it wouldn’t buy her safety. She weighed leaving the city and decided she didn’t want to live like prey. She’s pragmatic.” He glanced up. “Pragmatic people don’t run to institutions that can’t protect them.”

“That almost sounded admiring,” Yeosang murmured, selecting another pin.

Wooyoung grinned. “It almost sounded interested.”

San leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Let me get this straight. You’re curious about a woman who could point at you in a lineup.”

“She won’t,” Seonghwa said. Then, after a beat, with the kind of honesty that always landed heavier because it was rare: “And yes.”

The room did what it always did with admissions: turned them into toys. Wooyoung clutched his chest. “Park Seonghwa, developing feelings—”

“Curiosity,” Seonghwa corrected.

“—for a witness.” Wooyoung finished, triumphant. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

Mingi let the chair legs thump down. “Just keep it clean,” he said, the lightness shading into warning. “Rivals smell leverage like sharks smell blood. If they clock her as something to you—”

“They won’t,” Seonghwa said. “Because she isn’t.”

San’s grin thinned. “You sure?”

Seonghwa considered and chose the narrowest true thing. “I’m sure enough to control it.”

That, finally, satisfied Hongjoong. He tapped the tablet awake. “Good. Because we have other things to control.” He slid a list across to Seonghwa. “Shipments. A meeting on Thursday. And the man who thought he could misplace our money.”

“Already handled,” Seonghwa said, scanning the list. “He won’t misplace anything again.”

Wooyoung sighed theatrically. “Romance and revenge in one morning. You’re really spoiling us.”

“Clean that table,” Yeosang said mildly, pointing at the takeout graveyard.

As the banter ricocheted elsewhere, Seonghwa’s thoughts drifted—untidy, for once. He placed the morning in order: the way she’d ignored his remark until a traitorous flush betrayed her, the way her hand had moved the number without hesitation and without fanfare, like a person who keeps a fire extinguisher not because she plans to use it but because she refuses to burn.

Attraction had never been the point of anything he did. It complicated more than it solved. But there it was, threaded through curiosity like a darker thread in a clean weave. He didn’t need to tug it to know it would hold.

He closed the folder. “I’ll be out this afternoon.”

Hongjoong didn’t look up. “Shadowing our new statistic?”

“Maintaining a pattern,” Seonghwa said.

“Mm.” Hongjoong’s mouth pursed. “Patterns are how we win. They’re also how we die. Don’t make one anyone else can read.”

“I won’t,” Seonghwa said, and meant it.

He shrugged back into his coat and glanced once, briefly, at his phone. No messages. He didn’t expect any.

He was, however, very interested in whether she kept the number in a drawer or her wallet.

That would tell him something, too.

She didn’t look at the paper until she was home. Not really.

At the café she’d palmed it without thinking, slipped it where she kept stray receipts, and pushed through the afternoon rush like a person who hadn’t just been handed a fuse wrapped to look like a calling card. By close, the entire exchange had compacted into a handful of flashes: the way he’d said maybe I’m hoping you’ll want to, the way the air had felt thinner between them for a beat, the way Minhee had very deliberately not elbowed her in the ribs while very obviously wanting to.

Now, in the soft mess of her kitchen—plant reaching toward the window, two mugs by the sink like a failed duet—she unfolded the slip.

No name. Just a number. The handwriting was neat, angular, the kind that avoided flourishes on principle.

She set it on the counter and stared at it like it might change if she showed it too much attention.

Throw it away, said the sensible part of her. Put it in the trash, take the trash out, never think about it again. That was how you starved a problem.

Keep it, said another voice, quieter and more annoying because it wasn’t wrong. Keep it because if something worse than him finds you, this is a faster lifeline than 911. Keep it because the world you accidentally saw doesn’t care about your principles.

She washed the mugs. She wiped the counter. She dried her hands and then dried them again because they didn’t feel dry enough.

The number continued to exist.

She carried it to the bedroom and opened the top drawer of her dresser. The usual jumble: spare hair ties, a pack of travel tissues, a photo strip from three summers ago with people she didn’t see anymore. She hovered over the mess like a person undecided about which life to choose.

Wallet or drawer? That was the question. Wallet meant accessibility. Drawer meant denial dressed as tidiness.

She slid the number into a small, zippered pocket in the wallet she only took out when she needed ID. Not the cash pocket, not the card sleeve—the hidden one. Accessible if she had to dig. Forgettable if she didn’t.

“There,” she told no one. “Compromise.”

Her reflection in the hall mirror looked skeptical but conceded the point.

She ate standing up—toast, apple slices, cheese in unflattering squares—because sitting felt too much like admitting she needed comfort. After, she opened the window just far enough to let in a thin scrape of cold air. The street below was doing ist evening impression of peace: dog-walkers negotiating with beagles, the kimbap place clattering trays, a courier double-parking like a man with a vendetta against lines.

She scanned faces without seeming to. No black coats. No familiar stillness. No car idling with ist lights off the way it had in her head a dozen times.

There was, however, a man she didn’t recognize leaning against the corner mailbox, smoking. He was athletic the way men get when their job is moving other people’s furniture without breaking it. He wasn’t looking at her building. He was looking at nothing with commitment. But when a woman with groceries passed him, he glanced at the reflection in the shop window instead of turning his head.

Reflections. Not faces.

It could be coincidence. Lots of people checked themselves in glass when they thought no one was watching. Lots of people smoked. Lots of people leaned.

Still, her shoulders made a small adjustment—an inch higher, an inch back.

She pulled the window down quietly and let the latch fall into place.

Her phone buzzed on the counter with a message from Minhee: pls confirm your tall dark regular is actually human because I think he blinked wrong followed by a series of catastrophically chosen emojis.

Y/N sent back: he tips in exact change and existential dread and added a photo of a latte-swan gone very wrong. Minhee replied with a stream of crying-laughing faces and a single skull. The ordinary silliness peeled some of the edge off the evening.

She showered, let the hot water stripe the last of the day off her skin, and pulled on soft clothes she would never wear outside. When she came back to the living room, the number was not on the counter where her brain kept putting it in memory. It was in her wallet, in the zippered pocket, not burning a hole in anything.

She turned the TV on to something with cheerful colors and kind people baking. The comfort of rules, she thought. Follow the recipe, get the cake. Do the steps in order, and the thing holds.

Halfway through a segment about butter laminations, her buzzer rasped.

She startled hard enough to slosh tea down her wrist. No one buzzed her without warning. Delivery mistakes happened, sure, but those came with a sheepish voice on the intercom asking for apartment 3B or 5C.

She went to the panel, thumb hovering over talk and then not pressing it. Silence hummed in the wire like a held breath.

Another buzz. Longer this time, less polite.

She pressed talk. “Yes?”

Static. Then a pause, the kind that felt like someone becoming aware of their own breathing. No voice. No explanation.

She didn’t answer the silence. She held hers like a shield.

Whoever was downstairs let the button go. The building returned to ist usual old-bones creak. Somewhere, a door opened and closed. A dog barked twice and then decided it hadn’t been important.

She locked the deadbolt again because ritual calms animals. She was an animal. Calm was the goal.

A few minutes later, she checked the hallway through the peephole. Empty. The bulb at the far end flickered once, theater, then remembered ist job.

At her door, someone had left a flyer: a cheap print for a pizza place she already knew she would never call. She bent to pick it up and saw, beneath it, a narrower slip of paper she hadn’t noticed from the fish-eye warping of the peephole.

No logo. No words. Just a white rectangle with a small black dot, dead center.

Not a chess piece. Not a flower. A mark.

Her mouth went dry. She turned it over. Blank. The paper was good—too good for pizza.

She carried it to the table and set it next to her mug, the two objects domestic and ridiculous together.

Her hand moved before her mind caught up: she unzipped the pocket in her wallet and took out the number. The digits looked exactly the same as they had an hour ago, which was both obvious and annoying.

She stared at the phone. She didn’t dial. She told herself she didn’t because there was no emergency, because calling him would change a line she wasn’t ready to redraw, because she could take care of herself.

All true. Also true: the dot on the paper was a finger on her boundary.

She slid the number back into ist pocket and closed the zip with a small, decisive sound.

Not tonight.

But she moved the wallet from the dresser to the entry table, next to the keys.

And that, she admitted, was a redraw.

When she finally lay down, the room clicked into ist gentle nighttime choreography—pipes clearing their throats, someone’s radio a floor below, a late bus taking a corner too wide.

Sleep didn’t come quickly, but when it did, it was honest.

On the street outside, the mailbox smoker had vanished. Two buildings down, a black coat paused in a doorway, glanced up at a line of windows, and kept walking at the same unremarkable pace as everyone else.

Patterns were forming. Lines were moving.

And tomorrow would be another cup of coffee, another look through the glass, another decision she could pretend was small.

She didn’t knew it yet, but she would soon get a visit from her past.

She woke like someone had pulled a thread straight through her dream and out into the room.

At first it was just shape and sound—darkness, the thin blue of the streetlamp cutting a crooked rectangle across the floor, the hum of the fridge steady as breath. Then the other noise separated out from the background: a low murmur, followed by the soft thud of something bumped against a table.

Voices.

In her living room.

Adrenaline brought everything into focus at once. Y/N eased upright, bare feet finding the floor, and listened with the kind of stillness that turns a person into a sensor. Male voices. Three, maybe. One she knew like a bad song that refuses to leave the radio.

Him.

Her heartbeat tried to make itself known in her throat. She slid open the closet, slow enough that the hanger didn’t clack, and wrapped her fingers around the taped handle of the bat propped in the corner. It grounded her. Weight. Purpose.

The voices came sharper as she approached the bedroom doorway—words punching through walls. She could pick out laughter that wasn’t laughter. A scrape of chair legs across her floor.

She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the hall.

The living room lights were on—too bright, like the apartment was trying to pretend this was normal. On her rug, three men stood as if they’d been invited. Two she didn’t know: broad-shouldered, in dark jackets, that loose, coiled way of standing men get when they’re ready to move from talk to something else. The third turned at the sound of her step, smile cutting across his face like it had learned to sharpen itself where charm used to live.

“Y/N,” her ex said, drawing her name out like a taunt. Prison had turned his cheekbones into edges; his eyes were the same—hungry, mean. “Miss me?”

She lifted the bat, bringing it up to a ready line between them. “Get out.”

He laughed, glanced at the other two like she’d made a joke for their benefit. “It’s cute you think you run things now.”

“You broke into my home,” she said, voice steady in a way that felt like holding a plank over a river. “I told you to leave. That means leave.”

One of the men to his left—shaved head, scar across the eyebrow—tilted his chin toward her. “We just have questions. Then we’re gone.”

Her ex’s mouth thinned. “Word is you’ve been seen with people you shouldn’t. Specifically… the ones who dropped Jin-soo in an alley last week.” His gaze flicked over her, searching for the flinch. “You out here cozying up to Ateez now?”

Something cold threaded through her spine. So that was the name they were using for what she’d witnessed—a rival clan’s mess, an account settled. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter in this room.

“I don’t know anything about any of that,” she said. “And I don’t know you anymore.”

He took a step forward, and she adjusted the bat a fraction, enough to remind him of ist presence. The two men behind him shifted, a quiet corralling.

“Come on,” her ex said, smile gone, voice flattening. “You expect me to believe you just happened to be around when someone from us got killed? You think I don’t hear things? Guy in a good coat, looks like money and trouble, keeps showing up where you work.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You fucking a gangster now, Y/N?”

The bat didn’t waver. “Leave.”

“Answer the question.”

“I said—leave.”

His eyes flashed, that old ugly crease appearing between his brows. “You always thought you were better than me.” He moved fast, shoulders bunching, hand lashing out in a practiced grab—wrist, throat, whatever he could get.

She was already moving. Not toward him—past. She sidestepped the reach, the bat coming down in a short, controlled arc that cracked against his forearm. He snarled, recoiling, and the two behind him surged forward with a pair of curses.

Y/N didn’t try to stand the room off. She’d already mapped the apartment; she’d left the entry table where she could reach it. In the instant their weight shifted toward her, she pivoted, drove her shoulder into the nearest man’s chest—just enough to jolt him off his line—and slipped along the wall toward the hallway.

“Get her,” her ex barked, fury tearing through the word.

She didn’t run blind. Two strides and her hand closed over what she’d placed there hours ago because some part of her had known: wallet, phone. Both off the entry table, both into her pocket in a single motion that felt like pulling a ripcord.

Then the bathroom door. She shoved it shut, twisted the lock, and dropped the weight of her body behind it just as a palm slammed into the other side.

“Open the door!” A fist hit hard enough to make the frame shudder. “Open it or I’ll break it down!”

She backed away from the door as another hit landed—this one a boot. The hollow sound vibrated through the tile. They were angry. Angry could be sloppy. Sloppy could be used.

Her hands were steady now. She set the bat against the sink within reach, dragged the small laundry basket in front of the door as a wedge—not much, but weight is weight—and fumbled the phone open. Not 911. She’d made that calculation already and filed it under doesn’t buy safety.

Wallet. Zipper. The number slid out into her palm—neat, angular handwriting that had felt like a dare at the kitchen counter and felt like a lifeline now.

Another kick. The lock held, but wood complained in a language that promised it wouldn’t forever.

She pressed call.

The ring sounded too loud in the small room. She turned the phone to speaker, set it on the counter, and crouched low so her voice wouldn’t carry straight through the door.

One ring. Two.

He answered on the third, voice even as a metronome. “Yes.”

“It’s me,” she whispered. “Y/N. I—”

A thunder of weight against the door cut her off. “Open the fucking door!” Her ex’s voice, too close. “You think a flimsy lock is going to save you?”

She didn’t flinch. “I have company,” she said into the phone, words tight. “Three. One you know.”

Through the speaker came silence so focused it felt like a presence in the room. Then his voice, lower. “Are you hurt?”

“Not yet.”

“Location is the apartment,” he said, not asking. “Bathroom.”

“Yes.”

Another boot to the door. A hairline crack raced down the frame.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to the small frosted window above the toilet — the one she normally cursed for letting in cold drafts. Now it looked like an exit.

“Listen,” she said quickly into the phone, already dragging the step stool closer. “I’m not staying in here.”

“What—”

“I’m climbing out the window.”

There was the smallest pause, then his voice dropped into a register that meant he was already moving. “Where will you land?”

“Fire escape, back alley. Leads toward 8th.”

“Go,” he said. “I’ll find you.”

She shoved the window open, the hinges squealing against years of neglect. Cold night air slapped her skin. Another crash against the door jolted her forward — the stool rocked, but she steadied it, gripped the edge, and hauled herself up. Her phone stayed clamped between her shoulder and ear, his breathing steady on the other end.

“Y/N,” he said, low and precise, “don’t stop moving.”

Her feet found the metal grate of the fire escape. She swung down, boots clanging against the ladder’s first rung, and ran.

The alley was half in shadow, littered with broken bottles and the rust smell of wet iron. She didn’t look back until she was halfway to the street. That’s when she heard it — the bathroom door giving way with a splintering crack, followed by her ex’s shout.

“There! She’s out back!”

Her lungs tightened. She hit the street running, the phone still pressed to her ear.

“They’re following,” she said between breaths. “Two behind, one faster than the others.”

“Keep to the left side of the street,” Seonghwa’s voice came, sharper now, threaded with command. “There’s an intersection ahead. Don’t turn until I tell you.”

Footsteps pounded behind her, closing in. Her ex’s voice carried, furious and ragged: “You can’t run from me, Y/N!”

She pushed harder, every muscle screaming, the slap of her shoes against wet pavement marking the seconds between her and their reach.

“Two blocks,” Seonghwa said in her ear, each word a rung on a ladder she could climb. “Don’t look back.”

She didn’t — but she could feel them closing, could hear the raw edge in their breath, could sense the moment the night stopped being quiet and became a hunt.

Her feet pounded the wet pavement, the air cutting into her lungs like glass. The streetlamps blurred into streaks, and behind her, the footsteps grew louder.

„You can’t run from me, Y/N!“

His voice ripped through the night, and suddenly she was eighteen again.

She’d met him on a humid summer evening at a friend’s party — all swagger and easy smiles, the kind of guy who made you feel seen in a room full of louder people. She’d thought that was confidence. Later, she’d understand it was possession wearing charm’s clothes.

Back then, she liked the attention. He liked that she liked it.

“Two blocks,” Seonghwa’s voice said in her ear, grounding her for a second. “Don’t look back.”

She didn’t — but she couldn’t stop the next memory from hitting.

A winter later, the charm had curdled into control. He decided who her friends were, what she wore when they went out, how long she stayed at work. It wasn’t loud. It was subtle — a steady trimming away of her world until he filled all of it.

When she pushed back, his hands got faster than his voice.

The sidewalk tilted into a shallow downhill. Her legs wanted to stumble; she forced them steady, her grip on the phone slick with sweat.

By twenty, he was running with people she didn’t recognize — men with eyes like shut doors and laughter that didn’t match the stories they told. He’d joined a crew that thrived on fear, and the first time she saw a gun in his apartment, he told her not to ask questions if she wanted to keep what they had.

Then came the bank job. The news called it “armed robbery”; she called it murder. She’d seen the blood on his jacket before he stuffed it in a trash bag.

“Left at the next corner,” Seonghwa said. His tone didn’t change, but there was an edge to it now, like he’d shifted from listening to hunting.

The night she told him she was leaving, he laughed. Then he hit her hard enough to leave a mark she couldn’t hide with makeup. That was the night the police came for him — not for what he’d done to her, but for the bank and the body. She’d stood in the doorway as they cuffed him, her cheek aching, and felt something like relief for the first time in months.

She’d told herself he was gone for good. That prison would keep him far from her life.

The present slammed back in with the echo of his boots on the asphalt, closer now, too close. Her breath came in ragged pulls; her thighs burned.

“They’re right behind me,” she panted into the phone.

“I see you,” Seonghwa’s voice came through, low and steady. “Keep going. Thirty more seconds.”

The van rolled through the wet streets like a shadow that knew exactly where it was going. Inside, the air was tense, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty — it was loaded.

Yunho’s hands were steady on the wheel, eyes flicking between the road and the mirrors. San rode shotgun, leaning forward just enough to scan both sidewalks. Wooyoung sat behind him, restless energy contained but ready. Mingi and Jongho flanked the middle seats, both with the stillness of men who could move hard and fast the second they had to.

Seonghwa sat at the back, gaze fixed out the side window, tracking the blur of neon and shadow. His phone was in his palm, unlocked. The line was still open. He could hear her breathing, quick and shallow, every uneven footstep.

“She’s running,” he said quietly.

Yunho didn’t ask how he knew. “Where?”

“Close,” Seonghwa said, already leaning forward.

“Left side, two blocks ahead,” San called, eyes narrowing as he spotted movement under the dim spill of a streetlamp. “That her?”

Seonghwa didn’t answer immediately — he was too busy confirming. Jacket half-zipped, hair loose, phone clamped to her ear. Even from here, he saw the exhaustion in her stride, and beneath it, stubborn will.

“Yes,” he said.

Then his gaze shifted past her. Three men, closing in fast. The one in front had the particular forward lean of a predator who thought the kill was inevitable. The faint gleam of metal in his hand made Seonghwa’s muscles coil.

“Gun,” Seonghwa clipped out.

Mingi was already reaching for the sliding door handle. Wooyoung shifted forward, muscles primed.

Yunho eased the van just enough to match her pace. “We get her in, then deal with them?”

“Exactly,” Seonghwa said. His pulse stayed even, but his focus locked on her — the distance between them shrinking with every stride.

She looked up then — saw the van, saw them — and for a heartbeat, their eyes met through the cold night air. She didn’t hesitate. She pushed harder, every movement now sheer survival.

The man with the gun shouted, raising his arm, but she didn’t look back. The van’s side door slid open in a smooth, practiced motion, Mingi bracing himself at the edge.

She didn’t wait for help. She launched herself inside in one clean leap — and straight into Seonghwa’s chest.

His arms went around her automatically, pulling her in tight, shielding her with his body. He felt the tremor in her frame, the rapid beat of her heart against his ribs.

Outside, the gun’s muzzle flashed — and the rest of the world narrowed down to calculation.

The gun’s flash lit the wet pavement in a quick, ugly burst. Yunho was already moving — jerking the wheel into a sharp swerve that put the van between the shooters and the nearest cover.

“Go,” Seonghwa ordered without looking away from Y/N.

Mingi was out the side door in one smooth drop, boots hitting asphalt with a thud. Wooyoung followed, low and fast, peeling left to cut off their angle. San swung wide to the right, a blur of black coat in the dark.

The three pursuers skidded to a stop as the shapes came for them — not yelling, not wild, just deliberate. The kind of deliberate that makes your stomach remember instincts your brain wants to ignore.

The man with the gun barely had time to reset his grip before Mingi’s hand closed around his wrist, twisting sharply until the weapon clattered to the ground. Mingi kicked it away without breaking stride and shoved him back against the wall, forearm pressing hard enough to make his teeth grit.

One of the others lunged toward Wooyoung. Mistake. Wooyoung sidestepped, caught the man’s arm, and used his own momentum to send him sprawling across the wet street. A knee on his spine kept him there, the sharp hiss of his breath fogging against the asphalt.

The last one — bigger than the rest — tried to make a break for it. San was faster. He intercepted him in three long strides, sweeping his legs out from under him and planting a boot against his chest before he could get up.

Inside the van, Y/N twisted in Seonghwa’s arms, eyes wide. “They—”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, not loosening his hold. “They won’t touch you again.”

Mingi leaned close to the man pinned against the wall, voice low but carrying just enough to reach the others. “You get one chance. This is it. Next time, you don’t walk away.”

Wooyoung’s grip tightened on his own target, adding, “And you don’t run your mouth about who you saw. Not if you like keeping your teeth.”

San didn’t bother speaking. His look alone made the bigger man nod frantically.

Yunho tapped the horn twice — the signal to wrap it. In seconds, Mingi released the gunman with a hard shove, Wooyoung stepped back from his prone man, and San eased his boot off the last one’s chest. None of them needed to be told to run; all three bolted into the dark, disappearing down the nearest alley.

The sliding door slammed shut behind Mingi and Wooyoung as they climbed back in, breath even, movements precise. San slid in last, shaking a few drops of rain from his sleeve.

“They’re not coming back tonight,” Mingi said simply, settling into his seat.

Seonghwa finally loosened his hold on Y/N, just enough to look down at her. “You hurt?”

She shook her head, still catching her breath. “No. Just—”

“Good.” His tone left no room for argument, but his hand lingered a moment at her shoulder before he pulled back.

Yunho eased the van back into motion, melting into the city’s wet streets as if they’d never been there at all.

The van wove through the streets in silence, the hum of the engine the only steady sound. Y/N sat wedged between Seonghwa and the sliding door, knees drawn up, still barefoot. Her pajama pants — light blue with tiny white clouds — looked wildly out of place against the black leather seats and the quiet, dangerous men surrounding her.

She wasn’t shaking anymore. That had stopped two blocks after they’d pulled away. Now it was something else — a jittery edge under her skin, half adrenaline, half the bizarre reality of the situation.

“They could’ve at least let me change,” she muttered.

Seonghwa didn’t look at her. “Didn’t seem like you had time.”

She glanced at him sideways. “So this is normal for you? Scooping half-asleep women off the street?”

Wooyoung snorted from across the van. “Depends on the woman.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned, without raising his voice.

The van slowed as Yunho took a turn down a narrow alley, the kind of street that made the city’s map look like it was hiding secrets. The tires bumped once over uneven pavement before rolling to a stop.

The back doors opened, and cold air rushed in. They filed out with the same efficient silence as before, Seonghwa motioning for her to follow. She did, partly because she didn’t see an alternative, partly because the idea of walking home alone now felt laughable.

The building looked like nothing from the outside — brick, faded signage from some long-gone business. Inside was a different world. Warm light pooled over worn leather sofas, a long polished table, and the quiet movement of people who belonged there.

It smelled faintly of coffee and gun oil.

She was still taking it in when a man stepped forward from the far end of the room. Shorter than Seonghwa, hair pushed back neatly, eyes sharp but assessing. The kind of presence that didn’t need to raise ist voice to be heard.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, a note of respect in the way he spoke the name.

So this was their leader.

His gaze skimmed over her — from her mussed hair to the pajama pants — and stopped at her bare feet. “You were in the middle of sleeping?”

“Was,” she said. “Then I got interrupted by some charming company.”

Something almost like amusement flickered at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not hurt?”

“No.” She crossed her arms. “Which is surprising, considering you’re all supposed to be criminals. Why didn’t you just kill me when I saw… whatever I saw?”

The room went quieter, but Hongjoong didn’t bristle. Instead, his expression shifted — softened, in a way she didn’t expect. “Because we don’t like killing innocent people. And you didn’t seem likely to reveal us.”

She blinked at him, caught between disbelief and something she couldn’t quite name. “That’s… oddly noble. For a bunch of guys who apparently carry guns as part of the dress code.”

He let the comment slide, but his next words landed with more weight. “Also… my vice seems to have a soft spot for you.” His eyes slid briefly toward Seonghwa, who remained unreadable beside her. “And I can see why.”

Y/N’s mouth opened — to say what soft spot?, to ask what is that supposed to mean? — but the words tangled. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or worried.”

“Both,” Wooyoung said from somewhere behind her.

She shot him a look, then glanced back at Hongjoong. “Well, since I’m apparently not getting killed tonight, do you mind if I at least get a pair of socks? Or is that considered too much hospitality for a hostage?”

That drew the first genuine smile from him. “We’ll see what we can do.”

It was only then that Seonghwa really looked at her. The cloud-printed pajama pants, the thin cotton shirt clinging to her shoulders, the faint tremor she was trying to hide. She’d been out in the night air, barefoot, for longer than anyone should be. Her hair was damp with the mist still clinging to the streets.

“You’re freezing,” he said quietly.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he shrugged off his coat — black, heavy, still warm from his body — and settled it over her shoulders before she could protest. The weight of it was immediate, the lining catching her residual shivers and dampening them.

Her feet were another matter. The ache had started as a dull throb during the ride; now that she was standing still, it was sharper, pulsing up through her calves. She must have shifted her weight, because his gaze dropped to her bare toes.

“Come with me,” he said.

She hesitated. “And if I say no?”

“Then you keep standing here shivering while your feet get worse.” His tone left no room for further debate.

He led her down a side hallway to a small, tiled room with a clean, functional shower. “Use this. There’s soap and towels. Leave your clothes outside the door.”

She arched a brow. “Why? So you can burn them?”

“So I can get you something dry to wear.”

Before she could come up with a retort, he was gone.

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

[jaeminlights]

THE INVITATION | P.JS

PAIRING: Park Jisung x female!reader

GENRE: smut, college!au, halloween!au, thriller!au.

SUMMARY: Your crush on the introverted Jisung reaches its limit after several failed attempts to get his attention, so you use your last card and you invite him to a Halloween party without knowing what you've really gotten yourself into.

WARNINGS AND CONTENT: explicit smut, dirty talk, creampie, pussy eating, squirt, mask kink i guess?, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of blood, murder and death, mentions of past bullying, reader is kinda obsessed, jisung big dick agenda.

WORD COUNT: +17k.

AUTOR'S NOTE: enjoy a halloween fic in august!! also shout out to the bat jisung this is for you baby

‘’Oh my God, not again,’’ Yeji snapped his fingers at you, huffing. ‘’Hellooo, are you even listening to me?’’

‘’Are you gonna actually study or just sit there and glare all day?’’ Seonyun added, bumping you with her knee under the table, making you jump. 

You averted your eyes from the other table, from the boy that was receiving all your obsessive attention since you sat with your friends to study earlier. Park Jisung was just sitting there, looking hot and handsome, completely oblivious to the fact that you were losing your mind over him on the other side of the library.

‘’I wasn't glaring, I was… observing,’’ you defended yourself, smiling softly as you closed your notebook and started camping out your things, over with the study session. You were mildly irritated and tired. ‘’It's different.’’

‘’For fuck’s sake,’’ Yeji exasperated again, whining as she also started getting her stuff and gave you a side eye. A very judgemental side eye. ‘’Not you still crushing on that weirdo!’’

You wouldn't call yourself a desperate girl. You never needed or craved attention, because that just came naturally to you your whole life. You grew up being the cute, kind girl that everybody adored. Soft spoken but firm, a natural leader who invited everybody to her birthday parties and it was the event. Good at sports but never the captain, more like the glue that kept everybody together, often praised for being a good teammate who was the spirit of the group and went home with a medal for amazing sportsmanship.

Teachers talked good about you, you were super friendly to all of your classmates who had nothing to say about you but good things, your parents were smug and proud about your reputation and of course, your grades at school. It wasn’t about popularity, because that came and went, eventually. Everything would come to an end sooner or later. It was about being remembered. It was about being a presence in everybody's lives, positive and reassuring. A name that leaves a sweet taste, a girl who never hurt anybody. 

You feared that everything would change after you moved to another city with your family for your father’s work, but luckily that didn’t happen. It was a new beginning for your family and you knew that being the new girl brought its benefits, like a new wave of people wanting to meet you, interested and curious, as your life was settling back in. But also it had its challenges for sure, you were flesh meat in a place you didn’t know a single face and high school felt like a jungle sometimes. Things could go south real fast. You had something to prove and worked hard for it: you studied a lot to catch up, you won your place into the fencing team, not without gaining some unfriendly glances from the competition. Your grades didn’t suffer nor did you in the end, and your social life started functioning again when a new group of friends gathered around you once you were approved. Things just escalated from there. 

As time passed and you matured even more, you started noticing how you could play with people. Well, maybe play it’s a ugly word. More like you started noticing how people wanted to make you happy. Or at least make you smile, or gain your sympathy, hopefully waiting for you to wave at them in the hallway as you walk to your class. 

It was easy, really, how you could make them do things. First, starting with just simple favors like boys holding your books, girls bringing you water after fencing practice or somebody telling you the best books for the upcoming exams. It didn’t come from malice, really, but it was so easy, they were happy to win a minute from you, even just a glance. A soft ‘’thank you’’.

Your teenage years came and so did your stable position in the reign at high school, even if you pretended it didn’t exist. The power was there, but you weren’t an evil, manipulative person. With years and experience you realized that it wasn't the route you preferred or worked in your favor, center in the middle of the spotlight, a pretty doll for everyone to whisper about and pull your parts until you broke. A sort of queen enemy to the public, a tyrant so pretty it caused distrust. No. You knew better than that. You knew what it worked and what not. 

You weren’t hiding from the spotlight exactly, but you knew when and how to take a step back and let someone else bathe in the glory and the lights. To you, it was better to sit and observe, starting to collect strings and stories like an ambitious puppeteer. 

You created and manipulated people’s trust and so the secrets started coming to you: who hooked up with who, how your best friend Yeji rigged the coronation of the spring princess into her favor, who bought the exam’s answers, how Mrs Kim was fucked in her office for a good grade and an even better recommendation letter, who paid the school to kept the bully case buried. You weren’t hunting for the information, it just came your way and of course, you were a tomb. You didn’t leak anything. You had tons of weapons but chose peace, just looking at your puppets and dusting them with a soft smile, giving them a moment of life.

You didn’t need the queen B title, to be honest. You didn’t care. Your power came from another source, as you realised when you grow up. Men's eyes lingered in you with interest and barely contained lust, girls looked at you up and down and smiled at you, friendly but cautious of your beauty. You were used to enter a room, a class, a coffee shop and the whole world would tilted to your favor; classmates saved you a seat and passed you notes, a kind stranger would pay for your order - hell, you were sure the cute barista from the place you always go was a free coffee away from making the company bankrupt. 

But you weren’t a show off, nor all the attention went to inflate your head into an insane ego. You knew that wasn't the most intelligent thing to do and it would just deteriorate everything. You just lived your life, taking all the privileges that came your way silently with soft eyes and a kind smile. At least, until someone really dared to cross you. That was another story. 

So, yeah, you wouldn't call yourself a desperate girl. Except you fucking were. And the culprit had no idea, so that was worse, lost in his head with those big headphones and his eyes devouring a book, acting like you weren’t making holes in his head with your eyes.

‘’What about it?’’ You said nonchalantly as you could, trying not to open your jaw and bite at her head. You stole another glance at Jisung. ‘’Weren’t you supposed to be my friend, Yeji? Support me without judgment and all that?’’

Both of your friends shared a look, but it was Yeji who dared to talk after a moment. 

‘’Did you hit your head? This is not a judgement free zone, babe. Like at all,’’ she gave a small nod at Jisung’s direction with a frown. ‘’That guy is weird, always alone and has no social life. He’s just a ghost that goes to class and disappears. You think I want that for you?’’

‘’We don’t really know anything about him’’, Seonyun whispered, big eyes full of conspiracy and gossip, ‘’like, he doesn't go to parties, doesn't do any sport… He’s not in any team, not even in the loser's one! Like, he could be in the chess team or something at least.’’

You weren’t impressed. You shrugged with no effort to hide your boredom, lips pressed. ‘’So? Maybe he’s shy or introverted. Just because he’s not an alcoholic jock doesn’t mean he’s a freak,’’ you defend him, feeling protective. ‘’He’s just some guy, Seonyun.’’

Yeji rolled her eyes, giving Seonyun a look that screamed listen to this dumb bitch. ‘’Well, I was classmates in elementary and high school with him. So I do know things about him.  Little Jisung was a freak then too. Quiet and always in the corner alone, no wonder nobody liked him.’’

That picked Seonyun's interest. ‘’But Yeji, if he went with you that means he’s rich, right?’’

‘’He was on a scholarship, Seonyun. And that ungrateful rat threw it away when he left in the middle of the year. Guess he couldn't take the pressure,’’ Yeji scoffed.

You were barely listening. 

Your obsession started when you saw him at campus a few months ago. And holy fuck. Jisung, with his height, his deep voice, his perfect jaw and that mysterious aura turned you into a pervert. Really. You had your fantasies just like everybody and a normal sex life, but you weren’t a horny monster full of hormones. At least that was what you thought. You didn't believe it was that healthy to spend hours thinking about Jisung’s large and veiny hands on your neck while he railed you. Especially not in class, where you were literally disconnected from the world just to have your horny thoughts in peace. But there you were, your head completely full of images of him.

You tracked him down campus, gained information about his classes and what he was studying, and so you learned he was a future physical therapy doctor. Perfect. He would blend perfectly in your family of doctors. Maybe he could work in your father’s clinic after you two get married. 

Since you two shared some classes you couldn't control the way your mind would float and fantasise about him in a series of different scenarios. Like him fingering you under the table in the middle of an exam or him fucking you in the farterst and darkest corner of the library. You were often planning your life together and wondering what his favourite colors were or if he would agree to have the walls of your shared house painted juniper green. And then fuck you against them.

But there was one problem. Park Jisung was completely unaware of your existence. 

At first you thought that maybe he had a girlfriend or was another fuckboy who played hard, but you were completely shocked to know that he didn’t had a file of pretty girls waiting for a turn to fuck him. And that, to you, was completely ridiculous. He was just or even more handsome like other popular guys on campus. There were athletes, fuckboys and regular students that belonged in frats, but Park Jisung made them all look so… common. Boring. 

And you were going insane. 

You didn't get it. Anytime you would see him on campus he was alone. Sometimes he would talk with Zhong Chenle, the captain of the basketball team and a member of Neo Center Tech, but Jisung wasn’t a pledge there or in any other frat. So your only opportunities to see him were in class, at the library or maybe in the hallway, where you obviously gave him the flirting eyes with no success. 

To make things worse (on the verge of being catastrophic), you couldn't just forget about him. Bury him in the back of your brain and continue with your life. You tried, of course, but you knew yourself and knew that it wouldn't work. Your sorority was sister to NCT, so big parties were common in your life and a pretty big part of it. Chaotic, funny, wild parties that were legendary on campus started to mean nothing to you. It was background noise that annoyed you. Not that you loved them before but now being surrounded by people, especially drunk people, just made you too agitated. Like there was something missing, or maybe you weren’t supposed to be there. You sat on these parties pouting and falling into a silent pity party for yourself just because Park Jisung, the ghost of the campus, didn't look in your direction? Yeah. A lot of times.

You weren’t discreet at all in your interest for him and of course, Yeji and Seonyun noticed with horror. You were one of the popular girls and Yeji was mortified that you just even thought about involving yourself with such a lame loser, as she called him. She called it an early life crisis and even considered you were on drugs too. One night your friends organized a very drunk attempt to play seven minutes in heaven in the middle of a party and pushed you and Na Jaemin into a closet, thinking that it was a natural solution.  

That was when you remembered that inconvenience.

Jaemin had been chasing after you since high school. He was popular and wealthy, the kind of rich with so much power and influence that life to him was as easy as breathing. Things were just given to him. The perfect golden boy that was good at everything and controlled every corner of the world with his sharp smile, calculating eyes and a cruel brain. He was intelligent in a twisted way. He reminded you of yourself sometimes, except he was cold and his armor showed cracks, a fake smiling persona that enjoyed spreading fear on people. Everybody knew what he was capable of and kissed his ass anyways.

If you managed to get some puppets on stage he was the owner of the theatre. And that’s the thing with kings and queens and reigns and power: someone else could have a bigger army and more horses than you. And that meant that sometimes you had to bow. 

So you entertained him. Gave him your firsts, kissed him so hard until he believed you were his and moaned his name everytime he was between your legs trying to sew himself into your soul with no success. You weren’t his girlfriend and Jaemin never asked, not even once, because he was smart enough to never put himself in a position of weakness and he was good at reading you too. It takes one to know another, right? He knew you weren’t the pretty and caring princess you painted yourself to be and he actually liked that. Jaemin liked the chase and honestly, that you gave him freedom. He knew that with the right amount of time and pressure you would bend, if you knew what was good for you and your family. He would call you a game, but you were more than that. He was keeping you out of your cage for the moment, but not forever. Nobody would dare to touch Na Jaemin’s girl anyways. 

Jisung was still in your mind and it cost everything in you not to scream his name when Jaemin fucked you so hard in that closet you actually cried tears of pleasure. 

‘’He’s always wearing black and don’t get me started on that annoying sad boy vibe. One time I had to sit next to him in class and he was listening to Radiohead,’’ Seonyun implored you with her eyes, whispering like it was a huge terrible discovery. ‘’You can’t find that hot.’’

‘’It’s giving serial killer,’’ Yeji joked and Seonyun agreed with a small laugh. ‘’He checks all the boxes, if you think about it. A solitary loser ignored by the world, he only needs a prom and then boom.’’

‘’I think you guys have seen too many slasher movies. Just because he’s not in a damn frat and listens to rock doesn't mean he’s weird,’’ you rolled your eyes, wishing for more patience. You were exhausted from having the same chat over and over for weeks. ‘’Or a serial killer.’’

‘’Alright, babe, whatever you say,’’ Yeji laughed, looking at you a little defiantly. Her pretty eyes sparkle condescendingly, like a mother dealing with a rebel child that will come to her senses. ‘’But you have to admit that he has totally that vibe.’’

‘’Listen, we get it. You like your men tall, all Michael Myers-ish and looking like a catatonic Victorian child. No judgement here,’’ Seonyun added, trying not to laugh but failing miserably when her eyes found Yeji’s and both started giggling making you eye twitch. 

‘’Don’t come crying to us when he stabs you,’’ Yeji warned you. 

You said nothing as you just stared at them blankly waiting for them to finish, except that they found that cute and more laughable, cooing at you and your annoyed expression. 

‘’No judgment here!’’ Seonyun repeated, smiling. ‘’I mean, Yeji hooked up last week with Hendery so do we actually have a saying on who’s weird or not?’’ 

Yeji snapped her head at her, giving her a pinch in her arm and hissing as she looked around hoping that nobody listened to that. She huffed and looked at Seonyun between mortification and fury. All traces of mockery gone. ‘’Jesus fuck. Can you keep your fucking voice down? Nobody needs to know that.’’

‘’Especially not Jaehyun, right?’’ You asked Yeji, smiling down at her all fake. She tensed a little and reciprocated your smile, knowing that his boyfriend wouldn't find that threesome very funny. Poor Jung Jaehyun was one of the big fish on campus, a handsome lacrosse player with connections so good that Yeji actually had to work very hard for months to finally entangle him in her nets successfully. 

She recomposed quickly, adjusting her long hair with a sigh, ready to change the subject. ‘’I just don’t get it. You have Jaemin behind you since we were like sixteen. Na Jaemin. Why the hell are you acting like a lovesick puppy for Park Jisung?’’ 

You didn't say anything, the tension slowly building up between two queens who didn’t fear each other. History with you was all the way back since being teens, both knowing everything from the other. You liked Yeji or at least liked that she didn’t feel like interfering in your life and annoyed you, but sometimes tense moments will arise when she encountered that you weren't the obedient right hand of hers. And that, sometimes, bothered her. Maybe Yeji felt threatened by you or envious of your situationship with Jaemin and maybe you didn't like that Yeji thought she called the shots. You could knock her down from her tower if you want it to. 

Poor Seonyun was in the middle of it, a little uncomfortable but also knowing that these moments of crossed fire were pretty common. And her part was to cool things down as the good friend and peace maker she was, so Seonyun broke the tense silence with a cute laugh as she showed you both her phone in an attempt to distract the two dobermans in front of her from ripping their throats. 

‘’Oh my God, Jeno just texted me! He’s asking about the Halloween party!’’ She squealed, writing a response fast. You didn’t say anything but the tension calmed a little, a crisis averted. ‘’I can’t wait, I wanna show him what I’m wearing so bad.’’

A moment of silence passed and Seonyun watched you both with a frozen smile, waiting for any of you to catch the bait. Expecting.

‘’Nana texted me earlier, he wanted to know what we’re gonna wear too. But we don't even know that, hmm? Are we going to the store tomorrow, right?’’ Yeji asked you, a picture of calmness and diplomacy. Calm enough to be the first to give an olive branch.

‘’Sure,’’ you said, turning your head to watch Jisung again and noticing he was packing his stuff too. ‘’Tomorrow.’’

You were tired of wanting and not having. He wasn't doing any move and you started plotting another plan, a plan he couldn't resist. You noticed that the last couple of weeks Jisung had started to look at you. Dead in the eyes. Something had shifted and you wouldn't let it pass. So you had to initiate the approach slowly but surely. First, you advanced some seats in class which wasn’t easy because you were a late student and most of the seats that Jisung used - the first rows - were obviously occupied. 

Then, the little smiles and softs ‘’hi’’ started purring out of you and then questions about some paper or book or whatever, answers you didn’t listen to because you were busy staring at his cute mouth moving and his soft but deep voice that actually made you blush. Next part of the plan was your revealing but cute outfits to catch his attention. Nothing extreme or obvious, just enough to make your tits really good, short enough to show your soft legs and thighs. You would lean on your table and push your tits while you played with your pencil and kept your eyes on him. 

Jisung realised and looked, as sometimes you felt and even caught his eyes eating you. And then, he would barely smirk in a knowing way and you would end completely disarmed by that. Waiting for him to make a move, but you kept waiting. You were getting frustrated, all horny and bothered. But no more.

You didn't say goodbye as you left your friends, following Jisung out of the library with decisive steps. 

‘’Jisung!’’ You called after him, walking fast down the hallway to catch him. He wasn't wearing his headphones anymore and so when he heard his name being called, he turned around doubtfully. 

Once he realized it was you, his soft eyes traveled up and down your body, focusing on your pretty top that showed a good amount of cleavage. You smiled at him feeling like the cat that was about to eat the mouse. 

‘’Hi, Jisung,’’ you said, a little shy, blinking at him. He muttered something you didn’t quite catch under his breath, averting your eyes as he moved a little nervous. A soft pink colored his ears. 

‘’H-hey. Do you need anything?’’ Jisung asked, clearing his throat. You could see his hand tightening in the strap of his bag, wary and tense.

‘’Well, actually, yes. I need your presence,’’ you explained to him, taking a step closer to him. You smiled at Jisung, thinking how cute he looked being a little startled. ‘’There’s a Halloween party this weekend and… wait, do you have any plans?’’

‘’Uh— I… Halloween?’’ He murmured, playing with the strap of his bag nervously. He looked like a tall deer lost in the middle of a fucking speed highway. 

You giggled and took something out of your purse: it was a black envelope with a red wax stamp sealing it. You dared to take his hand and pushed into his palm the invitation to the party. ‘’Yeah, Halloween. I would love it if you come,’’ you whispered, staring deep into his eyes. ‘’To the party.’’

Jisung was a second from combusting from awkwardness or anxiety, you didn’t quite know. But, against all odds, Park Jisung finally studied the invitation with curiosity for a moment that felt close to eternity to you, until he nodded a little. Still, there was something unreadable in his eyes, maybe suspicion? It sparkled so fast it may be you just imagining it.

‘’It’s a costume party, so you’ll have to find me that night,’’ you bite your lip, trying not to smile too much and explode right there. ‘’I won’t tell you what I’m wearing.’’

‘’How I’ll know it’s you?’’ Jisung stared at the invitation in his hand scanning it and then at you again. He played with the envelope between his fingers, indecisive. Like he expected to explode at any second and burn him.

‘’That’s easy,’’ you chuckled, holding his gaze. ‘’I will be the one who doesn’t look away,’’ you whispered to him, slow and deliberate. Your words lingered in the space you two shared.

Jisung swallowed. ‘’Then how you’ll know it's me?’’ 

You blinked a little taken aback, but actually thought about it. Jisung wasn't flirting or teasing you. He was actually curious, waiting for your answer. You tilted your head and stepped into his space, smiling softly when you heard him inhaling sharply. You leaned in slightly, and he didn’t step back. 

‘’I’ve been watching you, Jisung. I see you. I’ll know if it’s you.’’

Jisung stayed still, eyes fixed on you, like he was trying to find or resolve something. His expression wasn’t one you were used to. Intensity shined in his eyes and for a second, something dark crossed his face and left just as fast. A black shadow that made him look more like a wolf than a deer, but It didn’t scare you, it lured you. You wanted to see it again. 

But then his posture sagged a little and took a step back, looking away from you. 

‘’You don’t know me,’’ he muttered, a touch of defiance in his tone. ‘’How could you know?’’

You smiled up at him, no mask. Not pretending, not trying to grab at his strings and making him another pretty puppet to play with. A sincere smile that lights up your pretty face. Heart beating fast just from standing in front of him, dying to touch him. You looked at him like you were about to whisper a life secret, just for him to hear.

‘’I know exactly who you are,’’ you said, lifting your fingers to trace his cheek gently. ‘’And I know what you can become.’’

You felt him shudder a little under your touch, his eyes didn’t leave yours until the moment broke when more people came out of the library, students you didn’t know. You smiled at Jisung again, this time, more playful and flirty, taking a step back. The hallway was spinning from the rush you felt, heart jumping from excitement. 

‘’Don’t get lost, yeah? I’d hate to go looking out for you,’’ you said softly, passing by Jisung to leave, your body brushing his like a whisper. A soft trace of your perfume engulfed him.  ‘’Don’t make me wait.’’

You didn’t see him crumpling the card in his closed and shaking fist, staring at you until your figure disappeared with burning eyes and his jaw pressed tight. 

In life, sacrifices had to be made. And you supposed one of them was shopping with your frenemy in a random, old costume shop. You liked the place and thought it had his charm, but some find it creepy. And well… it kinda was. Mr Lee’s Costumes and Mascots apparently froze sometime in the eighties as it was obvious from the decoration and the vibe, but time kept going outside the store so it turned into a weird combination of really old and very new items. It had a lot of racks of costumes spread throughout the store, going from classic and cute costumes for kids like clowns and skeletons to the most wild and modern, like a sexy Pokemon. 

There were mascot costumes displayed too and even the first one ever from your high school behind glass, like the precious piece of history it was. The place was poorly lit and full of old stuff that no one ever buyed, mirrors and nostalgia buried in dust. Old mannequins wearing costumes full of spiderwebs and long hallways where the fittings rooms were. Shelves were full of masks, wigs and accessories that had seen better decades. 

There were clowns everywhere too, and that was indeed creepy. Life size clown figures. You wondered what crossed in Mr Lee’s head to think that was a good decoration theme. Sometimes you thought maybe Mr Lee had cameras in their eyes from preventing stealing, because every time you moved you felt watched. You came close to one of the clown figures in the corner, staring at his face up close and studying his empty eyes, holding your breath. Waiting for something to happen. 

‘’Shit,’’ you said, jumping startled when your phone made a loud noise. You took a step back and frowned at all the messages from the Devil accumulating.

dickhead na jaemin: are you trying on costumes without me? i'm hurt dickhead na jaemin: i’ll paid for it so let me pick. dickhead na jaemin: are you ignoring me now? dickhead na jaemin: do us both a favor and don’t wear anything innocent it doest fucking fit you anyway. dickhead na jaemin: im starting to think you like making me wait. you: jesus go bother somebody else dickhead na jaemin: i like bothering you. let me pick your costume. i’ll behave you: you’re disgusting and im busy dickhead na jaemin: and yet you still answer me. cute. dickhead na jaemin: busy doing what exactly? 

You rolled your eyes and moved to the next rack of costumes, actually not knowing what to wear. Halloween was a special night to you and you wanted to use the best and most beautiful costume. What would Jisung like? Sexy? Classic? Bloody? You were scanning the options when your phone rang again, making you tighten your jaw. 

dickhead na jaemin: im being dead serious. i don’t want anybody staring at you. don't dress like a whore.

you: i’ll dress to make whorever i want stare

dickhead na jaemin: let me fucking guess. Tall? quiet? freak? 

You almost dropped your phone, staring at the screen with a shiver down your spine. The three dots on the screen moved and another text from Jaemin came. You could imagine him grinning triumphally, thinking he set a game and was about to win it.

dickhead na jaemin: ding ding ding! your little friend can't keep quiet, doesn't she? 

Your eyes snapped to Yeji across the shop, where she was trying on a pink wig and taking photos in the most clean mirror that was.

you: i don't know what are you talking about but leave him out of this  dickhead na jaemin: why? can’t take a joke? he never could either. you: leave me alone and stop texting me dickhead na jaemin: god you’re so dramatic and fun. enjoy your shopping princess.

The air around you felt colder, suffocating. You watched her looking at her photos and giggling, so unaware of the chaos and fury inside you brewing slowly. You stepped forward towards her, seeing red. Hands itching to hit her against the mirror and taint it with her betrayal until she cried bloody tears. You stood behind her, watching her silently in the mirror until she lifted her eyes and smiled at you.

‘’Did you find something slutty?’’

You ripped her pink wig and threw it at her face, seething. 

‘’You told Jaemin about him,’’ you said, voice cold. Yeji's face didn’t fall, just keeping her smile in place and shrugging. She didn’t deny it. She rolled her eyes in the mirror and turned around, facing you smugly with zero intent of hiding it. 

‘’Don’t act like it was a secret. You go around acting like a slut and you think your boyfriend won’t find out?’’

‘’I don’t have a boyfriend,’’ you reminded her, taking a step further into her space and pushing her against the mirror. ‘’Don’t try to spin this on me, Yeji. What’s your damn problem? Why do you care so much?’’

‘’Ohhhh, not the serious face,’’ Yeji purred, pushing your buttons when she wrapped her arms around your neck. She watched you get more furious with a satisfied smile, giggling. ‘’You should be grateful, you know? You have everything but of course you don’t play by the rules. Oh, no, you’re so different and good.’’

‘’Don’t push your luck, Yeji,’’ you said, smacking her arms out of you, voice dripping with venom and barely contained rage. ‘’You really fucked it up.’’

Yeji booed at you, laughing a little and then pouting mockingly. She tilted her head and dropped her smile, turning a little serious. ‘’Why? Because I don’t want you to fall from grace or because I warned Jaemin you’re a cheater slut?’’

‘’If you want Jaemin so much just fucking take him and leave me alone,’’ you snapped, fisting your hands. ‘’You’ll be making me a favor anyways.’’

‘’Please, I could have him if I wanted it, babe. Don’t need your permission. What I want is for you to stop acting like you’re better than us,’’ Yeji hissed, pushing her off the mirror to come close to your face. ‘’You’re as fucked up like me, but you love playing the good girl. And now what? You wanna get the nerd and pretend you’re above us?’’ 

You laughed bitterly, huffing. ‘’Oh my God, so that’s it? That’s what bothers you, Yeji? You can’t control something and you think you have a say in my life? You are really something.’’

‘’I do have a say in your pathetic life because I’m your friend and you’re being reckless.’’

You turned around and took a breath, trying to control yourself from strangling her. You didn’t want to do that in Mr Lee’s shop but things were getting difficult and your patience was thinner by the minute. You just didn’t get it, how she couldn't back off and leave you alone. You snorted and shook your head.

‘’I’m being reckless with what? My taste in men?’’

Yeji’s body came closer to your back, soft breasts against you. She moved your hair back and rested her chin on your shoulder, looking at you with those sharp, vixen eyes that softened just enough. She hugged you from behind and you didn’t move. 

‘’Don’t want you to drag Park Jisung back into our lives,’’ she warned into your ear, venomously. ‘’He’s in the past and belongs there. This is your last warning. Don’t piss me off, babe.’’

You didn’t say anything as you stared in front of you, a slow smirk forming on your lips. With a short snort your body relaxed a little and you looked over your shoulder, your nose brushing hers. ‘’I think you’re really confused here, so let me be clear,’’ you said softly, staring at her eyes. ‘’Don’t get in my way, Yeji. I don’t wanna fight with you, just like I don’t wanna show Jaehyun’s family what you do in Professor Suh's office. Getting on your knees for a better grade…’’ you sighed, shaking your head, ‘’I don’t think Mrs Jung will appreciate that, Yeji. It’s a little vulgar.’’ 

Yeji’s face fell and she paled a little, but still maintained her composure. You could see how the wheels in her mind were speeding in panic and confusion, the way her body trembled with anger gave her away. Your smile got bigger, enjoying how her determined exterior was crumbling right in front of you like a house of cards hit with a strong wind. Your threat hung there, cold and mocking. ‘’How do you know that?’’ 

‘’Girls!’’

Mr Lee appeared from behind the counter with his coat on, looking in a hurry but wearing his characteristic kind smile anyways. He couldn't sense the tension between you and Yeji, both smiling at him like nothing, separating like a bomb wasn't about to go off just seconds ago and take the store down. He jogged a little to the door, watching you both with a frown.

‘’I have to go home, our cat climbed to the roof again and my wife is worried,’’ he explained with a sigh. ‘’I swear that animal wants to bet his nine lives and gave us a heart attack at the same time.’’

You smiled politely and Yeji did the same, but it was forced and stiff, like you both were hiding a mess behind your backs. Mr Lee pointed at you and Yeji with his keys and gave both a stern look, like a dad scolding his daughters. 

‘’I’ll come back in ten minutes, max. Don’t burn the place down, no drama and boys while I’m gone, understood?’’

‘’Yes, Mr Lee,’’ both you and Yeji replied. Mr Lee stepped outside and left with the bell of the store ringing behind him, leaving the store in charge of two very mad girls.

Yeji picked up the pink wig from the floor and threw it on the counter as she passed by, making a bee line to the door, fuming and red.

‘’You’re leaving? You didn’t pick a costume,’’ you called her, standing in your place.

‘’I won’t waste my precious time dealing with you,’’ she huffed, not looking back. ‘’Jaehyun is waiting for me. Have fun finding something that fits your pathetic ass,’’ Yeji taunted you, sending you a flying kiss before closing the door with a loud bang that made the shop windows shake. 

You stood there, alone, in the middle of the still and silent store. You enjoyed the loneliness of it for a while, shopping quietly and trying to dissipate the tension that seemed to follow you like a shadow, heavy at your shoulders. Luckily, no other customers entered the store but you could see through the big windows that people started filling the streets, buying and preparing for Halloween, stores giving free samples of new candy and coffee that tasted like pumpkins. A group of people dressed as Ghostface passed by the costume shop and they hit the glass with their plastic knives, running away afterwards they caught your attention like it was the most funny thing in the world.  

You went deeper into the store, to the racks in the back where there were the long dresses. Some mannequins lined the hallway wearing antique costumes, dresses with masquerade masks and porcelain decorating their faces, like they froze dancing in the middle of a mysterious ball. A gown caught your attention and you took it, feeling how soft the black velvet was in your hands. It was vintage and kinda gothic, something created for a woman that wanted to torment her lover. The fabric cascaded to the floor, dark and dramatic, creating a smooth silhouette. You studied the dress with a smile forming on your face, imagining how it would look on you and how it fitted with Jisung style. You moved back into the store and to the change rooms, when the sound of the bell on the door stopped you before you could get far.

‘’Mr Lee? I was gonna try on this dress,’’ you called, walking again. The old man hadn't answered you and made you frown, a little worried. ‘’Mr Lee?’’

You stopped on your tracks. 

A man was standing in the middle of the store. Tall and silent, wearing all black and a mask on his face— a clown mask. It wasn’t like the ones you saw in the store. This one seemed really old, a vintage mask, the kind that looked like it belonged to a circus maybe hundred of years ago and filled kid’s hearts with laughter back then. But now, in the present, it caused an unsettled feeling, uncanny and intriguing. It gave the impression that it didn’t belong there, in the present. It was both haunting and wrong.

The mask was broken with black cracks from use, maybe a little dirty too. Like it was just picked out from a forgotten box filled with dust and time. The clown wasn't smiling but not serious either, frozen in a strange expression, closer to nostalgia. To you, it almost looked sad, a lost Pierrot waiting for the last applause, like the end came too fast and was confused by it. A quiet rage. 

So you were in an almost empty costume shop at night and a stranger was blocking your way. The realistic feeling was for sure to panic, or felt definitely in danger, but you weren’t someone who fell into fear like that. Instead you breathed in and out and kept your head cold, remembering how common it was for frat boys to run around scaring girls, luring people into their parties, doing mischief and pranks on everybody. This was just a customer and you were overreacting a little, startled by his disturbing, silent presence. 

Still, your pulse was accelerating and your throat felt dry, feeling his eyes on you. 

‘’Uh, are you… looking for a costume?’’ You asked, holding the gown onto your chest like it was armor. Your voice quivered enough to make it obvious that you were a little taken aback. ‘’Mr Lee isn't here.’’

The stranger moved his head. No. Silence filled the store and you didn’t dare to say something else. He started to walk slowly to you, moving through the racks and getting closer and closer, not rushing. But there wasn’t hesitation either, those black eyes from the mask fixed on you. 

‘’Well, Mr Lee should be coming soon, so,’’ you vacillated a little, turning around quickly. ‘’Wait for him, I guess.’’

You went into the last fitting room, the one that was at the end of the aisle, far from the world. You catched a glance of you in the huge mirror that decorated the aisle and gave you a vision of the whole store, seeing not only yourself but the man with the mask not far behind you. He followed you. The velvet curtain shut behind you and you stared at it, waiting. But nothing happened or moved, the curtain still and the store silent. You started to undress slowly, skin tickling with anticipation, your heart pounding heavily. 

You sensed his presence behind the curtain, slow steps taking the stranger there. A flash of fear stroked you, your senses sharpening with each second. The only sound was your breath and every rush of the clothes you were dropping to the floor, just standing in your white lingerie, lace innocent and angelic, delicate. You were pretending that the stranger wasn't right there. Waiting and listening. Breathing behind the mask. 

Maybe it shouldn't be making you wet and you shouldn't rub your thighs together with a sigh. It was wrong to feel a little thrill when you should be shuddering with fear or screaming, but you didn’t care. You were listening to your body and not your mind, trying to imagine what the stranger was thinking outside. What did he wanna do to you? How would he touch you? Your questions were interrupted when you saw long fingers peeking from outside, like crawls trying not to scare a prey, moving the curtain aside unhurriedly, the dark figure stepping into your space not long after. He filled the small fitting room and towered over you.

Your eyes stared at him in the mirror, feeling his warm body glued to your back. You gasped when the stranger raised his hand suddenly and something shone on it, something sharp and dangerous, too fast to stop it. Not that you were quick enough to even try to stop him. Your body froze as the masked man traced the lines of your collarbones with the end of his knife, moving it slowly to your chest, like a lover’s caress. A sharp feather exploring your sensitive skin, kissing it with softness. You held your breath, biting on your lip to not make any sound, not that you trusted your voice. Or what you were capable of saying to him. You let him explore your body and your curves, his knife tracing your stomach and your belly button like he was testing the limits. How far would you let him go?

You pushed back your ass tentatively, testing the waters as you rubbed his cock slowly, feeling him hardening against you. A breathless moan left you when his hand closed around your throat and he moved his knife precisely, too easy for him. He cut the straps of your bra and exposed your tits, giving them a hard squeeze with his hand. With a firm push he cornered you against the mirror and pushed your face there, now rubbing himself more freely in your ass and making you moan while he played with your tits. He pinched and twisted your nipples until you whined and pushed against him, feeling how your pussy was dripping and throbbing. 

The stranger tore off what was left of your broken bra roughly, like he was personally offended by the lace against your skin. With a firm movement of his hands he stretched the fabric and used it to cover your eyes, tying a tight knot at the top of your neck that sent you into darkness.

‘’W—what are you doing?’’ You whispered a little breathless, bringing one of your hands back to try to touch it, but the stranger slapped it off fast. 

Both of his hands folded your arms behind your back and gave them a firm squeeze, and you understood immediately: don’t you dare move them. You heard him moving behind you but couldn't see anything from the position and the blindfold, heat pooling in your stomach. The man grabbed your ass cheeks and squeezed them roughly and possessively, giving you a hard spank that made you gasp loudly and the mask drowned his chuckle. You parted your legs and bended a little, offering yourself to him, letting him see the sticky mess between your thighs. His long fingers caressed your aching pussy over your panties, making you clench around nothing. 

‘’Are you gonna do something or are you just keep haunting me?’’ You said mockingly, pushing onto his hand, whining. You swear you heard him saying something, but when he moved your panties aside and his fingers pushed deep into your dripping cunt, your mind went blank. 

The stranger moved them in and out slowly, opening your hole with two fingers that reached deep, making you moan loudly. He curled them and stroked the point that made you tremble and curse, the stranger fucking your cunt more quickly and hard, making wet noises everytime he thrushted his fingers inside you, daring to add a third. He relentless his thrust, now taking his time to stretch your hole slowly. You were making a mess in his hand, dripping and moaning without a care, feeling a delicious pleasure fill your veins and mind. He took his fingers out and slapped your ass again, making you whine and jump when suddenly you felt something different— wet and soft against your warm core. 

‘’Oh my God,’’ you gasped, his hands grabbing at your hips and pushing his face between your legs, mouth lapping at your folds like it was a dessert. ‘’Yes.’’

His tongue moved in circles around your clit, mouth slurping licking your sticky folds like he couldn't get enough. The stranger’s nose bumped into your hole every time he dived in and ate you like a starving animal, pushing his tongue and flattening it, recollecting your juices with it. You were dying to grab his hair and ride his face but you obeyed and didn’t move your arms, but that didn’t mean you didn't try it. He caught you fast and growled against your pussy, sending vibrations that weakened your legs, making you whine when he spanked you again in punishment. The stranger shoved his fingers inside you, ruthless and rapid, using his other hand to circle your clit at the same rhythm, making you shake from the pleasure and the pressure forming inside you. 

Your cunt throbbed and wetter even more, letting the stranger push your limits when his tongue licked your ass. You jumped a little but melted quickly, pushing your ass to his face and whimpering, craving more and feeling how the stranger’s spit was leaking down your slit. His finger caught it and shoved it into your hole with his fingers, creating a damp mess from his saliva and your slick, making you combust on the spot with a breathless moan when it was too much.

You came hard as you grinded the stranger's face and rode his fingers, pushing your throbbing pussy against him, whimpering with need. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his mouth and his flattened tongue, using him to prolong your orgasm until it made you feel overwhelmed. He gave you soft and long licks, making figures with his tongue on your soaked folds and thighs, like he couldn't get enough of tasting you. 

The stranger drove his fingers still wet from your slick past your lips, until you closed around his knuckles and sucked them. He moved his fingers on your mouth slowly and profoundly, making you taste yourself and gag a little when he pushed his veiny fingers too far up your throat. His other hand traveled down your body, barely rubbing your clit, your body twitching from the sensitiveness, moaning around his fingers.

‘’Girls, I’m back! Did you find something you like? I see the store still standing, so that’s good.’’

Mr Lee's voice ruined the dream you were floating and you whined a little in panic still sucking the masked man fingers. Holy shit. You stumbled a little when you straightened up in a hurry and tried to take the blindfold off, only to be stopped by a pair of firm hands. You both waited a moment, hearing Mr Lee was far away still and that’s when he let you go, pushing you softly against the mirror again and retrieving the knife forgotten on the wooden floor. You took off the blindfold just in time to see him leaving like nothing happened, mask on and walking out of the store without Mr Lee realizing as he was hanging his coat behind the counter. Just like a ghost unnoticed, taking advantage of the shadows of the night that engulfed the old store. 

You stood in the fitting room, breath caught and body tingling with desire, aching for more.

If hell existed on Earth, for sure it was located exactly between Jaemin and Lee Donghyuck, drunk and annoying. 

You sipped from your cup of coffee with too much sugar, not really in the mood for drinking in the middle of the week like your friend group. It was a pre party, something to give a taste of what’s coming for and pass the time. Meaning, a reason to get drunk in the middle of the week, not that the frat actually needed an excuse for it. Music pulsated loud, drowning conversations and smoke filled the room, but your mood didn’t fit the other’s, students coming with Halloween costumes, making out in the corners, playing beer pong with vodka. 

Yeji’s techno house playlist was giving you a headache and the smell of liquor wasn’t doing any good either, nor the loud laughs that sounded like a bunch of crows. You were more silent than normal, maybe a little nostalgic, body still imagining the masked man tongue on you. Reviving it over and over like a dream, like if you concentrated enough you could feel his hands again on you. A wave of longing hit you and you sighed, which caught Jaemin’s attention next to you. You weren’t on talking terms with him or Yeji and it was for the best, not in the mood to be annoyed by them.

Even if he was pretty high the sharpness didn’t disappear from his eyes or his smile. You weren’t fooling anyone, but especially not him. You were the image of a statue, tense and looking more like you preferred to be anywhere but there, pretending to listen Donghyuck talking about the last girl he fucked at some party with blank eyes blinking at him. Maybe your body was reacting on its own, because you were sitting on the edge of the couch like you were about to run out of there at any minute. 

‘’Are you bored?’’ He wondered, palm coming to rest on your tight and making you flinch slightly when he squeezed it. Jaemin took a sip of his beer without taking his eyes off you. He had his look on his face, slightly annoyed from being ignored for too long and a little playful, and that meant trouble. That meant he was about to start a game with you.  

You forced yourself to relax more and shrugged a little. Still, you nodded and everted his gaze like it was nothing, taking another sip. ‘’Mmm, yeah, kinda,’’ you fake yawned, stretching your legs a little. ‘’It was a long week and I’m tired. I think I’m heading out.’’

Donghyuck stared at you frowning. ‘’Awww, what? It’s not even midnight,’’ he whined, shaking your arm. He looked around the room lazily, like some king choosing some interesting paws to entertain him and his friends. ‘’We should play a game!’’ 

‘’Let’s play questions!’’ Some girl squealed excitedly, coming to sit on the arm of the couch. You didn’t even remember her name. Soojin? Sooya? Your brain gave up and didn’t function enough to recall her name, easily forgotten in some dusty storage in your head. 

The girl came to sit in the arm on the couch next to Donghyuck, giving him a flirty smile that he matched right away, stealing a glance at her pretty legs crossing. 

‘’That's a good idea, baby,’’ Donghyuck smirked, putting his arm around your shoulders and giving you a little shake, like he was trying to wake up. ‘’C’mon, don’t be so boring. This is my party and you’re hurting my feelings.’’

‘’Don’t bother our girl, Hyuckie, she’s not in the mood these days,’’ Yeji warned him, joining the group, followed by her boyfriend. Her pretty dress sparkled when she moved to the other couch to sit there, next to Seonyun and Jeno. Jaehun stayed behind her, smirking and fixing his disheveled hair. ‘’You should know better than mess with her.’’

Donghyuck listened and tilted his head, moving his eyes to you more scrutinizing. ‘’What is it, pretty girl? You can tell me. This asshole isn't making you cum lately?’’ Hyuck sent a mocking sympathy look from above your head to Jaemin, who responded by simply pulling his hair until he yelped and twisted in his place trying to get away. ‘’Alright, man! Chill, I’m sorry, fuck, it was a joke!’’

‘’Wait, are you still with her, Jaemin?’’ The girl from before asked, looking at him with so much unhidden hunger. She played with the straw from her drink with her tongue flirty, completely ignoring that you were sitting right next to him. ‘’I thought you were single, you know.’’

‘’Oh my God, is that true?’’ Another girl squealed, eyes gleaming from the juicy gossip unraveling right in front of her. She looked at you with curiosity and a little glint of envy, eyes scanning the figure of Jaemin sitting on the couch like the king he was, legs parted. ‘’That’s like, crazy. You’re totally boyfriend material, Jaemin.’’

You resisted the urge to laugh at their faces and instead sipped from your coffee again, drowning your thoughts with the oversweet taste of cold brew. If they only knew. 

‘’Hold on, you’re actually single?’’ Jeno asked Jaemin, settling on the edge of the sofa with his elbows on his knees, suddenly interested in the conversation. He raised his brows, smirking slowly. He barely glanced at you. ‘’So she’s fair game now?’’

Seonyun smacked his arm and her expression turned sour, trying to remind Jeno that she was still there, glued to his side. Trying to pretend that she wasn't bothered by his comment. ‘’That’s so dumb, everybody knows they’re together since always,’’ she insisted, sending a look your way. ‘’Right, honey?’’

Yeji snorted, laughing to herself a little too drunk to notice your murderous eyes on her when you heard her. 

‘’How about we hear it from the bachelor himself?’’ Donghyuck proposed, opening another bottle of beer. He took his heart dramatically, looking at Jaemin with hooded eyes, completely drunk. ‘’Tell us, Romeo, is there true love there in your tiny heart?’’

‘’There is love, Hyuck. And it burns just for her,’’ Jaemin said, brushing some hair from your face, tricking your ear with a low chuckle when he came closer. ‘’But I’m heartbroken. She doesn’t want me.’’

The group gathered around went crazy. The girls giggled and screamed with delight, envious but enjoying the gossip. Jeno laid on his back lazily, tracing your body with his gaze like he was planning to put a bet on your head and get the prize. Donghyuck was hardly sober to catch quickly on the drama and looked at you like he expected to laugh it off and joke about it too, but you stayed there silent and fuming. Jaemin enjoyed the little chaos he caused, smiling like he was actually a sheepish little boy rejected by his first love. He loved your irritated face and wanted more. 

‘’I know a lot of girls that would want you, Jaemin,’’ another girl chimed in, barely containing her excitement or intentions. ‘’I can take you to—’’

‘’I only want her,’’ Jaemin silenced her fast, tone sharp, smile tight. You recognized the anger and the mocking burning in his eyes, too familiar and calculating. Like he didn’t know if to play with you or cut your head first. ‘’But she has a crush on somebody else. I bet you can’t even imagine who he is,’’ he taunted, laughing. ‘’It’s so sad.’’

Another explosion of laughter and chaos erupted. Jeno and Donghyuck roared with laughter, completely entertained with the mess Jaemin was making. Yeji and Seonyun shared a somewhat worried look and then looked at you, the first shrugging a little like saying you know this was coming. They weren’t about to throw you a life jacket, that was for sure. Thinking that they were capable of defending you was ridiculous. You tried to stand up but Jaemin’s hand shot up too fast, yanking down with strength, so smooth that nobody noticed how his hand squeezed your wrist with warning. You said nothing as you kept your composure knowing that there was no exit, squeezed between Jaemin and Donghyuck.

‘’Who’s the lucky bastard?’’ Jeno asked. He was too interested, ignoring how Seonyun snuggled to his side. 

Jaemin smiled slowly, showing all his perfect teeth. He basked in the atmosphere, delaying the drama and making himself a shot before answering all the attention on him. He sighed loudly while looking at you, then a Jeno. ‘’Fucking Park Jisung.’’

‘’Shut the fuck up,’’ Jeno wheezed, shocked. A loud laugh escaped him, staring at Jaemin like he couldn't believe it. ‘’Park? Dude… that’s the most crazy downgrade. You gotta be kidding.’’

Donghyuck frowned, too drunk to catch on the name. ‘’Uh? Who the fuck is Park Jisung?’’ 

‘’You know who he is, you dumbass,’’ Yeji rolled her eyes, laughing a little. ‘’He was our classmate, remember? That tall, pale kid, the one who always cried.’’

Recognition flashed through Donghyuck's face, like he suddenly put a face on that name. Jaemin said nothing but his silence did, making Donghyuck straight up laugh even harder, covering his mouth, still shocked. ‘’Oh, shit. No way. Pee Pants Park?’’ 

You straighten up a little, frowning at Donghyuck. What?

‘’Your girl left you for Pee Pants Park? This is the best fucking day of my life,’’ Donghyuck wheezed, clapping his hand on Jaemin’s shoulder like he was consoling him. 

Everybody ignored you, but that comment made all the group laugh again, sharing knowing looks and grinning like they were replaying a shared joke in their heads. You tensed and waited, an odd feeling tightening your stomach, making you feel anxious. This little scene wasn’t over.

‘’Oh my God, I forgot about that one,’’ Yeji gasped, grinning. She baited her eyelashes to Jaehyun, who was close to her, listening. ‘’You gotta hear this, baby, it’s so funny.’’

‘’That shit wasn’t that funny,’’ Jeno said, getting himself a new cold beer. He smiled anyway, snorting. ‘’Okay, it kind of was.’’

‘’What are you talking about?’’ You asked suddenly, making everybody go silent for a second. Your sharp tone made everybody share some looks again, smiling behind their drinks and acting like you were out of their little sphere. It made you grind your teeth, irritated, knowing that they weren’t up to no good. 

Jaemin was the one who finally spoke, his face a mask of mock sympathy. ‘’Oh, right, you weren’t here around that time,’’ he murmured, pretending like he realized that just in that moment. He clicked his tongue and shook his head, frowning. ‘’Ah, poor little Jisung. Someone thought it be funny to prank him, push him inside a gym locker and leave him there for the weekend.’’

‘’That’s too much,’’ Jeno said, pouting a little. He chuckled. ‘’And fucked up. I bet he cried a lot when he heard the lock closing.’’ 

‘’He begged like a little bitch,’’ Donghyuck cleaned fake tears, acting like he was sobbing. ‘’Nooo, don’t leave me here! Come back! It was so sad, guys.’’

A new chorus of laughter erupted around you, sick and maniac, crawling at your skin like millions of needles. The realisation hit you like a punch. They locked him up, they left him there for days. Confined, alone and scared in the darkness.

‘’He always cried, like, take a joke for fuck’s sake,’’ Yeji added, huffing. ‘’Have some sense of humour, you know. It’s not that deep.’’

Jaemin chuckled and nodded, moving his attention to you again. ‘’When the janitor found him, he was drenched. This loser actually pissed himself,’’ he laughed, unable to continue. He took a deep breath. ‘’He couldn't even speak! He broke or something.’’

‘’It’s not like he was the biggest talker in the world anyways,’’ Yeji snickered. ‘’Not a loss, if you ask me.’’

‘’Park didn’t show up the next day, or the next, or the next,’’ Jeno explained, ‘’just disappeared like that. He left a mark on the locker and left,’’ he joked.

‘’He lost the scholarship and everything,’’ Donghyuck whistled, faking pity. He clicked this tongue, taking a sip of his beer. ‘’Damn. Poor dude. It must suck being a little bitch,’’ he added. ‘’That couldn't be me.’’

‘’Don’t be so sure,’’ Jeno joked, laughing when Donghyuck gave him the middle finger and fake-threatened to throw his bottle at him. 

Your knuckles were white from holding onto your skirt, barely listening to what they were saying. Disgust and sadness dripped down your body, engulfing you in a sea of something thick and cold that made your heart freeze and break. The repulsing feeling was too strong, filling your eyes with tears, not able to stay there no even a second longer.

‘’You’re all sick,’’ you started, standing and throwing what was left on your coffee on the table. Everybody went silent, one of the girls yelped when coffee splashed her a little. ‘’The most disgusting people I’ve ever met,’’ you snapped, voice steady even if your boy was shaking a little. 

Donghyuck broke the silence with a wheeze of laughter and everybody followed him, staring at you like you were the most ridiculous thing in the world. Jeno couldn't even form a sentence, doubled over in laughter with Seonyun. 

Nobody tried to stop you when you stormed to the door, seeing red and heartbroken, fists shaking with the desire to punch them and erase their horrible laughter. You didn't see Jaemin coming after you, nor did you expect him to throw you against the door and close it with a bang, preventing you from leaving and making you yelp with surprise and pain. 

‘’Don’t fucking touch me!’’ You seethed, pushing him hard. 

‘’Yah, are you mad for real? We were just telling a little story,’’ he smiled, holding you tightly. ‘’Just remembering our school days, princess. I didn’t think it would bother you like that.’’

You stared at his wide, fake innocent eyes, seeing how they shone with mockery and something darker and evil. You knew right there it was him the culprit, the one who was enjoying it even after so many years passed. ‘’How could you do something like that?’’ You whispered.

Jaemin frowned, tilting his head confused. ‘’Like what? It was just a joke. You’re overreacting,’’ he said, voice still tainted with amusement. ‘’Just like him.’’ 

‘’Don’t ever touch me again,’’ you spat, pushing him again until he finally let you go. ‘’Get your fucking head checked and leave me alone, Jaemin.’’

Jaemin's smile deepened, all unhinged and entertained. His jaw was tight, traces or anger in his eyes, not enjoying your challenging tone. ‘’Shit, you do like ruined stuff, don’t you? Maybe Yeji was right and you’re too pathetic for me.’’

‘’Fuck you,’’ you responded, staring face to face to him. ‘’And make your miserable head understand this— stay away from him too. Don’t even try it, Jaemin.’’

He chuckled, slamming his hand next to your head with force. He leaned in, smug but menacing. ‘’Or what? What are you gonna do, huh?’’

‘’Don’t think I won’t ruin you, Jaemin,’’ you warned him, low. ‘’I know too much shit.’’

‘’You think you can threaten me over him?’’ He laughed in your face, scoffing. Jaemin’s expression faltered slightly, enough to make any trace of fun disappear. ‘’You’re more lost than I thought. Don’t start something that will end you, princess. I don’t wanna play like that, you know what I’m capable of.’’

He came closer to you, brushing his lips in your clenched jaw, barely kissing. His other hand cupped your cheek and caressed it with his thumb, staring at you with more of a soft expression. Jaemin tried to kiss you and you shierked, pushing him and turning your face to the side, filled with disgust.

‘’I know exactly what you’re capable of, Jaemin,’’ you whispered, grabbing his wrist and moving away from his touch like it burned it. ‘’That doesn't scare me. The thing is, you don’t know what I’m capable of.’’

‘’We both know you can’t let me go, not for long,’’ he insisted, turning serious. Lighting flashed in his eyes, a storm that made him quieter but deadly. ‘’You always come back. You belong to me, not to a ghost. A freak with a pathetic past and no future.’’

You chuckled tired, opening the door. ‘’That freak is more human than all of you combined, Jaemin,’’ you muttered, not bothering to close the door when you stepped out.

He called your name but you didn’t turn back, steeping into the rain and walking fast, wanting to leave everything behind. Your body was shaking a little but the cold rain wasn't the culprit, something inside you was setting, heavy and icy. Tears fell on your face, blending with the rain, heart tormented thinking about what they did to Jisung, what other things you didn’t know? Why couldn't you have arrived earlier in the past and protected him, made things different for him? It hurt you knowing how alone he surely was back then, betrayed and pranked with cruelty. 

You weren’t that naïve to believe that things ended with your exit, because you knew them all too well. Jaemin wasn’t someone to have as an enemy. Stepping out was just out of order, and sooner or later they will make sure to tighten your strap to learn your lesson. But when that happened, you would be prepared. Waiting. 

Protecting. 

The day before Halloween you were on a mission. 

‘’Oh! I found you!’’ You smiled out of breath from the stairs, staring at the man sitting on the floor. ‘’Here you are, Ji.’’

He looked up from his book, brushing the bangs that fell into his vision. The black hoodie was too big for his body, hanging and drowning him. Jisung didn’t seem surprised, more like he was waiting for you to appear. He went back to his book, unimpressed. ‘’You followed me.’’

You fake gasped, stepping more into the book aisle. ‘’That’s a little rude,’’ you defended yourself while you studied some books, reading their titles one by one, humming low until you found something you liked. You grabbed Carrie and you flipped the yellow pages, barely reading some sentences. ‘’You make it sound like it’s bad.’’

Jisung was tucked away in a far corner of the library, too quiet and dusty. The place where people didn’t go and some whispered that it was haunted and others suggested it was the best point to make out. It was where the old books were sent to die of forgetfulness, close to the system ventilation that hummed nearby like a continuous low lullaby. The distant hum accompanied the rustle of old pages and distant conversations in the library, creating what to you seemed like a cozy corner, warm by the sundown that entered by the big window. 

Sitting cross legged on the floor, Jisung watched you come closer until you settled down next to him. ‘’I don’t like people cornering me,’’ he said with a sigh, a little annoyed. But he didn’t tell you to leave, nor did he move away. He closed his book and leaned back, careful. ‘’What do you want?’’

Funny. ‘’Keep you company,’’ you simply responded, your arm brushing his. You peeked closer. ‘’What are you reading, Ji?’’

Jisung smothered his palm over the old cover that was barely holding on from the use and time, stitched everywhere with pieces of tape trying to keep it together. ‘’Why did you invite me to the party?’’ He blurted. 

His expression turned unreadable, pressing his lips like he regretted asking that but couldn't control his curiosity. Jisung didn't look at you when scoffed quietly, opening his book again. 

‘’Nevermind—’’

‘’Because I want you there,’’ you answered, trying to catch his eyes. You stretched your legs and smoothed down your perfect skirt with an unknown sensation that made you a little fidgety, needing to do something. Nervousism. ‘’I already told you, Ji. I wanna spend Halloween with you, is that so terrible?’’ 

‘’You should spend it with your friends,’’ Jisung disagreed, unable to disguise the bite in this tone. Like saying left a sour taste in his mouth. He huffed tiredly. ‘’I don’t know if they sent you or what—’’

Jisung stopped talking suddenly, a weird tension settled between you and him, his posture stiff and cautious, like a cat about to run away at the first movement. You released the remaining air in your lungs until you deflated against the wall. You bit your lip, thinking of the best way to express what weighed on the tip of your tongue, not quite sure how to face the fragile situation in your hands. 

‘’Jisung, nobody sent me,’’ you said, looking at him. ‘’I know everything that happened, what they did to you—’’

‘’Stop.’’

‘’I heard it all and I’m sorry. They’re not my friends,’’ you reassured him, eyes begging for him to believe you. ‘’I wish there’s something I could—’’

‘’So that’s it? You pity me?’’ Jisung accused, jaw tight and closing the book with force. His ears were red from the growing anger, still he didn’t dare to look at you.

‘’What? No! Jisung— that’s not it. Just… I wish I could do the same to them. Make them pay.’’

That made him look. Really look. Jisung stared at you with too many emotions flashing on his face, fighting for dominion like his mind couldn't choose just one. Anger, surprise, vulnerability, relief, even pain. They break free from being caged away. Jisung’s gaze studied you, from your lips to your eyes, searching for something, maybe doubt or a lie. Relaxing a little when you didn't laugh cruelly or drove him to some kind of prank, but not trusting yet.

You covered his hand with yours carefully, sensing how cold it was. You stroke it gently, trying to warm it, outlining every vein and knuckle in silence. Just breathing with him, waiting. His hand twitched a little and you stopped the tremor holding his hand closer, moving it slowly to your thigh, fingers intertwined. 

‘’They’re untouchable,’’ he whispered with spite, bitter and angry. ‘’They believe they can get away with it forever.’’ 

Some heartbeats passed until you spoke again. ‘’Then maybe it’s time for some payback,’’ you pointed out, giving him a squeeze and smiling a little when he didn’t remove his hand from your grip. ‘’Don’t you know that nothing last forever?’’

You didn't see it coming, the way he pushed you and leaned over your body, caging you with a firm push. A gasp faded in your throat, still and silent when you noticed Jisung was too close and your body reacted immediately, lax and surrendered to him, looking at him even playfully. Well, well, he was exactly where you fantasised so many times. Your hands reached for his face but Jisung grabbed both your wrists, pushing them down to the carpet floor. 

‘’What are you playing? You think I’m the same kid they hit and bullied? The kid who cried and stayed silent? The one they pushed into lockers?’’ He asked you, low and with a calm that was too disturbing, dangerous. A mask with something dark hiding behind it, but still, you could see a small part of him wondering. Could he trust you? Asking for answers, begging for something or someone to believe him. To anchor him. ‘’You think you know everything about me?’’

You untangled yourself from his grip carefully and gently stroked his hair, brushing it back so you could see his black eyes staring back at you intensely. Jisung didn’t move, staring at you with a frown and a muscle in his cheek, like he was holding himself from snapping again. 

‘’No,’’ you whispered, playing with the black strands softly. ‘’You’re different, a stronger version. And they should be scared of it,’’ you pushed his nape down, trying to kiss him. 

‘’I told you I don’t need your sympathy,’’ Jisung sneered, brushing your lips with every word. ‘’You’re not my savior.’’ 

You chuckled amused and dragged him down roughly, heart fluttering with butterflies. ‘’I’m not here to save you, Jisung.’’ 

Jisung frowning a little, doubtful and hissing when you pushed up your hips, grinding slowly against him. You kissed and bitten along his jaw, holding him prisoner between your legs, trying to relax him, to make him understand. Your tongue circled his ear and sucked the earlobe, biting under it and making him suck a breath. 

‘’I’m here to stay,’’ you continued, tracing his neck with more kisses and love bites, trying to mark his pale skin. A low sound left him and you smirked, dragging your nails down the nape of his neck and sending shivers down his spine. ‘’I’m here to hold you.’’

His mouth crashed into yours, hot and consuming, taking you by surprise. He wasn't gentle nor soft, just taking ownership of your lips with possessive kisses that took away your air. His tongue moved deeply, playing with yours as his hands roamed down your body, squeezing your waist and thighs, rubbing himself shamelessly against your clothed pussy. A small part of you, maybe a tiny piece of common sense reminded you that you were in the library still, open to whoever wanted to see you and him grinding in each other and kissing until your lips were swollen in a lost corner.

‘’Ji—’’ you moaned, silencing yourself when Jisung suddenly flipped your positions. You ended up sitting on top of him, a little breathless, with his hands slipping under your soft cotton shirt. You didn’t waste a second, kissing him again eagerly and holding onto his hoodie as you licked his mouth and tongue, desperate for more. 

‘’You tempt me this whole time, acting like a pretty slut,’’ he mocked you, chuckling low. His hands were quick, unbuttoning your shirt until your pretty and pink lacy bra was in sight, making him groan by the view. Jisung pushed his face onto your chest, licking and biting your smooth skin, pushing your bra down with a harsh tug. ‘’Offering yourself to me like a needy girl.’’

You pressed your hips down, rubbing yourself on his cock, feeling his length under his pants. A whimper left you, too soaked and hot to care if somebody listened. You moved back and forth, grinding on the shape of his dick slowly and torturing. 

Jisung’s mouth latched into one of your nipples and sucked hard, tongue wrapping around it. He made a low content sound and you pushed him closer, moaning just for him as he flipped his tongue and sucked over and over, fine lips closing around the bud. ‘’What would Jaemin think if he sees you like this? Dripping and desperate for another man?’’ 

‘’I don’t care,’’ you gasped, opening your legs even more to rub faster, but it wasn't enough, you needed more. You were glad from his sweatpants and how easily it was to slide your hand inside it, mouth watering at the feeling of his hard, warm cock in your hand. The slow strokes made Jisung moan, muffed by the way he was pressing his face on your chest, kissing and licking your tits until red marks appeared. ‘’I’m not his. I just want you, Ji, please—’’

‘’You’re just an easy slut, don’t you? So easy and desperate,’’ he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, hands reaching to grab your ass and give it a firm squeeze under your skirt. ‘’Dying for me to fuck you. Take my cock out,’’ he gave you a spank and you barely held your loud moan. ‘’Now. Don’t make me wait. Now you’re shy?’’

‘’Mmmh! Somebody could hear us,’’ you panned, looking behind you. The sundown had ended long ago and the library was plunged into darkness, with only a few traces of warm light from a few lamps on the tables downstairs. Even so, they didn't reach the corner where you and Jisung were, but you didn't know if anyone checked these places around closing time. That sent you a thrill and you stroked his cock faster, mouth watering for him. ‘’I’m not shy.’’

‘’Then keep quiet,’’ Jisung rasped, smirking. He leaned his head back and looked at you so boldly and confident it made your pussy throb, your grip on his cock strengthening. Your hand moved up and down more quickly, making him groan and moan, breath stuttering when you let a string of split fell on it. ‘’Fuck— that’s it. Keep touching me.’’

You pulled down his pants enough to free his cock, staring at it with big eyes, moaning softly. He was… huge. Long and thick, with a pink head and veins, one of the prettiest cocks you've ever seen, just for you. You lifted your gaze back to his face, pouting a little. ‘’I don’t know…,’’ you fake hesitated, rubbing your thumb on the tip delicately. ‘’You’re too bossy for somebody who acted like he didn’t want me.’’

He grabbed your arms and held them behind your back with a groan, making you arch for him. His mouth descended to your neck, sucking biting hard, not a trace of gentleness. ‘’And you’re too mouthy,’’ Jisung said, moving his free hand down. His fingers moved your panties and slid through your folds, soft and wet with your arousal. ‘’Dripping too much to pretend you don’t need my cock.’’

You bit your lip when he brushed his fingers on your clit, massaging it slowly, making circles. Jisung bit and licked your collarbones hearing your soft moans every time he applied just the right pressure, rubbing your clit faster until your thighs tightened around him. 

‘’So soft and pretty,’’ he whispered, moving his touch and pushing his fingers inside you too easily, slow and deep, chuckling when you took a shaky breath. You tried to free your arms but it was impossible, Jisung could hold you down with just one strong hand. 

Your eyes closed and your forehead touched his, inhaling. ‘’Mhm, Ji— feels so good.’’

‘’Let me open your little hole,’’ he whispered against your cheek, feeling how you coated his fingers with your slick. Your gummy walls clenched around his fingers moved faster, searching so deep it made you squeal a little. He kissed you and ate your moans, a war of tangues and spit, exploring and conquering. A dirty kiss between you too that made you crazy with need. Jisung sucked and played with your tongue as the wet noise your pussy made every time he shoved his fingers into your hole echoed around, too obscene, so loud. ‘’That’s it, let me in, just fucking gave it to me.’’

Jisung curled his fingers, so far inside you you could barely think. Your body was hot and burning, crying against his lips when he pushed too quickly, too deep, just right, making you chase that feeling. Your hips rolled, needing to push him even further, moaning as you fell into his chest, breathing in his neck. The pressure was building deliciously and heated, the pleasure mixing with the adrenaline of somebody hearing how you soaked Jisung’s fingers. 

‘’You're gonna cum like a good girl, don’t you? Opening yourself to me, giving me this pretty pussy,’’ he muttered with a raspy voice, kissing your cheek and jaw, pumping his fingers fast and deep, making you moan again when he added another. The stretch was too good and your hips moved against his fingers, riding them urgently. ‘’That’s it, make a fucking mess. Keep going,’’ he demanded.  

‘’Jisung— fuck, don’t stop,’’ you moaned, still chasing the pleasure. The tension inside you broke and you crushed under it, whimpering when your orgasm hit you and you clenched around his fingers, overwhelmed when he didn’t stop. Jisung made sure to prolong your orgasm, still bumping his fingers in and out lazily until you whined and tried to push him apart, making him chuckle. 

‘’Don’t run from it,’’ he said as he fastened the pace, fucking your pussy again. He let you go off your arm and you didn’t doubt a second to hug him, shifting in his lap. You hold onto him whimpering but keeping your thighs apart, hole clenching and dripping, sensitive and pulsing. ‘’You’re gonna take it and make a mess on the carpet.’’

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. ‘’I can’t— Jisung, stop, I never done that—’’

His big palm pressed firmly against your mouth to quiet you. You never saw that look on him, so mean and hot, dominant, only able to blink a little surprised by it. You knew Jisung wasn’t what he was showing to the world, but this side was everything you could dream of and exactly who he was. Suddenly you were pushed on your back, spread on the carpet. Jisung towered over you and shoved his fingers inside you again while his other hand closed around your throat, keeping you down while he thrusted inside you ruthlessly. 

‘’I didn’t ask you,’’ he taunted you, coming closer to your mouth and licking it. ‘’You're gonna squirt around my fingers until you drench the carpet,’’ Jisung shifted closer, staring at your eyes. ‘’And if you don’t, I’ll keep going until you do. Don’t make a sound, yeah? We don't want somebody finding you like this, skirt up and legs opened, letting some freak use your pussy like he wants.’’

His words made you moan his name, hole tightening when he loosened the grip on your throat, just to move it onto your lower stomach. He pushed his palm there, curving his fingers inside you until he reached the point that made you whine and go crazy, bumping it over and over. Overstimulation wasn’t enough to explain how your body felt, burning and clenching, a sensation accumulating inside you that you tried to control but failed when Jisung moved a fourth finger inside you, dilating your cunt with no mercy. It was too much, too deep and fast, your mouth opening with no sound and nowhere to run. 

Your pussy pulsated and gushed, both of your hands pressed in your mouth to control your moans and whines when you cummed again. Jisung’s fingers were relentless, claiming you and leaving no other choice than to obey him, back arching and a wet feeling exploring inside you. 

‘’Fuck, that’s it, let it go,’’ Jisung commanded you, smirking at the liquid bursting out of you. You were lax on the floor, breathing heavily and spent and too sensitive to respond. He licked his fingers looking down at you, an arrogant glint in his eyes when he hummed your name. ‘’You taste so good.’’

Your eyes were teary from the pleasure and bliss, blinking dumbly at him, so cute and used that made Jisung smile. Steps on the stairs made him pause and listen, straightening up enough to spy from the bookshelf hidden in the shadows. A student was there, leaving a book where it belonged and lingering in the aisle, searching for another title. 

‘’Don’t make a sound,’’ he whispered in your mouth, kissing you as he pressed you to the carpet. He kneaded your tits and kept your legs apart, making you whimper softly. His touch was gentle but possessive, kissing you deep but soft, your body melting against his. ‘’We got company.’’

‘’Don’t care,’’ you responded, kissing him and rubbing your body against his. Your hands found his cock and you kept stroking it with swift moves, smiling when he shuddered and gripped you tightly. ‘’I need you’’, you complained. He hissed and he dropped his head on your shoulder, inhaling your smell and brushing your hair back to bite onto your neck. A low groan left Jisung when guided his cock to your pussy, rubbing it in your folds and slapping the tip on your clit. ‘’Please Ji. Just the tip?’’ 

Another voice joined in and Jisung groaned when another student joined the other, helping him looking for a book. Jisung sighed and held you close, driving his length onto your hole and covering your mouth with his hand as he slid the tip in. ‘’Fuck, your pussy didn’t loose, did it?’’ 

You were tight and warm, too inviting and tempting. You held a moan as he pushed a little more than just the tip, making your cunt stretch around him, barely taking it. ‘’It’s too big,’’ you whimpered, holding onto him. You loved the feeling and the burn, getting wetter because of his size, feeling small. 

The two students turned their heads around, thinking that they heard something, maybe a whisper or a step. Totally unaware that you were being stretched out a few aisles back, trying to keep silent. They found the book that they needed and quickly left the place, hurrying to the stairs and hushing about how maybe those old aisles were indeed haunted.

‘’You can take me,’’ he whispered in your ear, hands cupping your tits and leaving kisses there, tongue circling your nipples. He squeezed them and kissed your neck next, letting you get used to his thickness before sliding in more, making you moan again. ‘’Fuck, you’re so tight, let me— I know you can take more.’’

Jisung pushed his cock further and way past the tip and your mind went blank, just feeling his cock opening you completely. He thrusted a little and you arched, body burning and drowning in the intense sensation, never felt this close to anyone. You creamed around him and clenched, too desperate to take it slow. ‘’Just fuck me. Put it all in, Ji.’’

He thrusted again, burying himself inch by inch until you whimpered and took him— too deep and big, overwhelming you. Your fingers circled your clit lazily, staring up at him with blurry eyes and lips swollen from kissing so hard. 

‘’Mmh, fuck, Ji— you feel so good,’’ you moaned, sobbing when he pressed his cock deeply, thrusting slowly and eyes focused in the way your pussy was tightening around his lenght. ‘’Keep going baby, use my hole, use me.’’

Jisung groaned and slammed himself in, holding your tights up and opened, keeping his moves slow and profound. The sensation of being inside you was too much, so tight and warm and his, it made him lose his mind. It was impossible not to fuck you harder, no when you were so opened and begging for him, for his cock. You were moaning and babbling, eyes rolling back every time he hit that spot inside you fast and hard, your pussy dilatating and creaming. The sight destroyed Jisung, who was ramming into your pussy like a mad man, too gone to even care if someone listened to him fucking you raw and deep, balls slapping. 

‘’Tightest fucking pussy in the world, you’re sucking me in,’’ he moaned, shoving his cock with no mercy onto you. ‘’This is what you wanted? Now take my cock like a good slut.’’

A new orgasm hit you and you sobbed, hearing the wet sound you were making and the way his balls hit your ass every time he shoved his cock onto your pussy. You clenched around him and made him groan, fastening his pace. The pleasure swirled in your body driving you insane, too full and opened, swearing you felt him in your lower stomach. Your wildest, filthiest dreams were coming true and you couldn't help the lazy smile that formed in your lips, an intense desire to mark him forever and made him yours. Knowing that he was just where he belonged and you planned on keeping him there with you.

‘’Cum inside me,’’ you whispered, holding his gaze with imploring eyes, lips searching for him. ‘’Please Ji, fill me up, I want your cum dripping from me,’’ you begged, too stimulated and mind cloudy from the pleasure. ‘’Please, please, please.’’

Jisung’s pace faltered a little and his thrust turned sloppy, ears red and sweaty, just as destroyed as you were. ‘’Yeah? You want me to fill you up? Make you mine?’’ 

You nodded with another moan when he pounded your pussy harder and fast, taking everything from you. ‘’Need your cum, baby,’’ you panned, ‘’fill me up until it flows.’’

He slammed his cock deep and his body jerked when he came, buried inside you with a low groan. His cock twitched and you whimpered at the sensation of being totally full, your pussy milking every drop of his cum eagerly. You never let anybody cum inside you and the warm, wet feeling made you moan. Just knowing that it was Jisung breeding you made everything better and you hold onto him with a smirk. He thrusted again, lazy and slow and you whimpered when you felt how some of his cum leaked from your hole, thick and warm. 

You held his face and kissed him, caressing his back and shoulders as he enjoyed the aftershocks of his orgasm, caging you to the floor with his weight. ‘’Mmmm, don’t pull out, Ji. Don’t move, just stay like this.’’

‘’We’re in the middle of the library,’’ he replied, but obeyed nonetheless. He stayed buried deep, pulsing, making you feel filled and happy. Too tired to move, you kissed his jaw and lips, smiling softly as you both came back from the high, breathing together. A silence settled between you and Jisung, but it wasn’t awkward or tense. He stared back at you, moving a strand of your hair out of your face too gently. ‘’You’re really pretty,’’ he whispered. 

You stole another kiss, soft and featherly. ‘’Does this mean you’re going to the party?’’ 

Jisung let out a quiet laugh, hiding his face on your neck, rubbing his mouth where your pulse beat quickly. ‘’I'll make time.’'

You were alone in your room doing your makeup too concentrated, listening to your favourite playlist, humming to the songs while you painted your face. You were buzzing with energy and excitement, eating way too much Halloween candy during the day to try to extinguish your nerves. Fucking with Jisung in the library didn’t mean that your crush on him calmed a little, it was more like throwing gasoline at an uncontrolled fire. Just because he rearranged your insides didn’t mean that you were calm about seeing tonight and you wanted to cause an impression on him and eat him up completely after, dress prettily and make him go crazy. You sighed and stared at your wall with stars in your eyes, studying the pictures decorating it like every time you felt a little anxious or sad. There were a lot of different pictures in different locations, like the campus, buildings, the library, even the coffee shop or him in his car. But your favorite was the one where Jisung was attacked by a blast of wind and his dark hair was everywhere, him frowning cutely with his nose scrunched and holding onto his coat. He was just so cute. 

Maybe you should give some kind of late bonus to the photographer who followed and took all your precious photos of Jisung during the year. You were almost done with your makeup, studying yourself in the mirror, comparing it with a photo of Morticia Addams you downloaded to your phone looking for perfection. The foundation shade was way too much lighter, almost white. Your cheeks were contoured with a grey color and your lips painted a deep shade of red, eyes sharp with dark eyeliner and too much eyeshadow, looking theatrical and dramatic. The dress hugged on your body tightly, elegant and royal, a velvet dream created to seduce and kill. 

You were ready and giving yourself the last touches, applying perfume and admiring your dress once again on you in the mirror with intern giggles when your phone ringered. Messages from Zhong Chenle were there, coming one after the other, new and urgent.

CXZ: you there?? yo i heard your friends after practice talking shit about jisung CXZ: jaemin was saying something about old school traditions? whatever that mean. i dont have a good feeling about this CXZ: theyre looking for an empty locker now  CXZ: why im the only one panicking i see you reading my texts you: thank you. turn off the cameras please and go to the party x CXZ: 👍

You replied instantly, your fingers trembling as you hit send. A wave of silent fury surged through you, violent and hot, still your chest felt icy with a quiet rage that slowly took over you. Stay calm, breathe. They were really going to do it. They were going to touch him. After everything. After all the warnings. They had chosen to cross a line so deeply carved in you it might as well have been bone. Your ex friend group was dead set on testing you and daring to touch Jisung, and what was worse, you didn’t know where he was. A shaky breath left you like a sob, wondering all the possibilities, could they grab him before you? What if they already did? The thought cut deep, pure panic that sent you running through the door.

You did know where they were. 

The campus was deserted, obviously, as it was a Saturday night and everybody was in parties all around town, costumes and cheap liquor and a promise for a good Halloween eve. No witness could see the way you were walking like you owned the place, stepping into the corridors with your wheels clicking loudly in the silence, the darkness swallowing your black figure like a veil. The cameras weren’t running thanks to Chenle, you didn’t want any trace or proof of you or Jisung there, making sure there were blind spots everywhere. You never went to the locker room before or the sports building, feeding your nerves when it took you some minutes to finally reach the place, now stalking the corridors like you were the one chasing them. 

You stopped suddenly as if you had crashed into an invisible wall, shocked. Your eyes followed something on the floor, dark and gross, moving across the ground like a snake. It was a puddle coming from the girls' bathroom and extending down the hallway with a strong flow. Blood. You ran towards it, dodging the puddle of blood although the hem of your long dress caught some of it, heart threatening to leave your body. No, no, no. Please, they can’t hurt him.

The moment you pushed the bathroom’s door you thought you were actually about to die. The idea of seeing Jisung hurt like that, bloody and alone, was too much for your mind to handle, sending a chill down your spine. Tears filled your eyes, imploring whoever god was listening to you not to take Jisung away from you when you stepped into the bathroom. 

A scream threatened to leave your throat when you saw somebody on the floor, broken and spread in an awkward position. Her long, red hair floated on the floor like a doll who fell from a shelf, waiting for someone to pick her up. Her witch costume was drenched in blood but untouched, covering her delicate and stiff figure. Her neck was slided open, clean, a wound you never saw before and it made you tremble. The worst part was her mouth, wide opened and empty, her tongue laying next to her head like a forgotten piece.

‘’Oh my God,’’ you whispered, taking a breath. Relief filled your body and you leaned on the wall, huffing. ‘’It’s just you.’’ 

The mirrors in the bathroom were all broken, some parts on the floor or fallen on the sinks. But one was intact, the one behind Yeji. You read what was written on it, red letters that were dripping with blood that didn’t dry yet. Fresh. 

Silence suits you. 

You went to the main corridor, determined in your search of Jisung. A part of you knew that he was there, somewhere, but you couldn't hear anybody. When you turned a corner you spotted the door gym, half closed, like it was inviting you. Your principal plan was to find Jisung and get the hell out, but curiosity was a strong attraction that you couldn't control. You weren’t so much in a hurry now, feeling more cautious as you walked there, knowing that it was obvious that you weren’t alone in the building. Jaemin and the others could still be there. 

You entered the gym slowly, expecting something to jump out in front of you, but there was no noise or anyone. The place was too dark to see anyways. When you turned to leave a sudden noise stopped you in your tracks, a loud one. The scoreboard came to life out of nowhere like a game just began, music echoing the place and its red and green lights flashing the bodies of Donghyuck and Jeno hanging from the basketball hoops. Tied and beaten, blood pooling below each hoop, still wearing their hockey jerseys, now completely ruined and tainted. 

Their eyes were opened and frozen forever, like they couldn't still believe what came to them. Donghyuck’s head was slumped to the side, showing a huge hole in his head, part of it missed it. Jeno was different, just as broken but his face was carved, ugly cuts everywhere like they were a last thought, ruining his beauty. Both of them hang slowly, balanced by their own weights like forgotten puppets. 

You didn’t look back when you left, feeling the air grow cold and heavy, still not a trace from Jisung. You knew that the principal stage was what Jaemin most likely wanted to repeat and you went straight to it. The locker room wasn’t far from the gym, and surprisingly, it wasn’t immersed in darkness. 

The fluorescent light bulbs were on, humming a little with their annoying buzzing sound. The place was what you expected, wood branches and trophies behind glass, the coach office closed, a faint smell of sweat and the floor scraped from being walked on so many times, missing some pieces of paint.

‘’Jisung? Are you here?’’ You called softly, stepping more into the room. Your voice was too calm to compare to what was going on inside you. Fear and anxiety filled your veins, making you fidgety and nervous. You hated playing hide and seek when you were little. 

You started seeing the signs of what happened there. A branch was thrown, blood droplets started to become large stains that made a horrible trail towards a locker, like somebody was dragged there. The red, syrupy blood flowed like a river from the locker’s base, slow and haunting. Your whole body froze, heart stopping for a whole second when panic filled you so hard it gave you whiplash.

You reached out, trembling, not caring if your dress was caught in the pool of blood. You pulled at the locker trying to open the old metal, trying several times until the door gave way and suddenly opened. 

You blinked your tears and sniffed when you encountered the body inside it or well, what was left of him. Jaemin was… ruined. Broken in a way so brutal and wild it was difficult to know what actually killed him. His body was twisted and pushed into the locker in an unnatural way, blood everywhere. His throat was opened with a deep slice, face blue and violet, cut from maybe hard punches and jaw too wide, like it was yawning. It fell too low, broken and out of place. 

You swear, this little game was giving you a headache and a little heart attack every time you entered a room, stress and discomfort tugging at your body. 

Inside the locker were scratches and hand-shaped bloody marks, like he was trying to escape even if there was no way out. You stared at Jaemin’s dead body, turning your head when you heard a door opening slowly.

Your breath was caught when you saw someone coming from the coach office, standing not far from you and just looking at you. He was wearing the same outfit from the costume store, but now the delicate and old mask was tainted with blood everywhere, ruined. It was a shame, really. You didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe for you to run and scream, still like a statue waiting for you to make the first move. It felt like an invisible clock was ticking, or maybe it was just your heart fluttering. The stranger’s hand was gripping a knife, low but firm, shaking a little. 

Your eyes traced the killer’s figure slowly in silence, like a warm caress. A scoff left you and you shut the locker’s door, caging Jaemin there again. 

‘’You’re lucky I like you, because this was expensive dress.’’

The masked man tilted his head, cautious and unsure. He was still grabbing the big knife, dripping blood from its edge, twirling it on his palm like it was still alive and hungry for more, for another victim. You came closer, calm and steady, trying to show him how open you were, reaching surely. Still, you doubted a little, remembering how he didn’t like to be cornered, trying to give him space and don’t come too fast to him. You dared to cover his fist with your hand and your thumb brushed the skin of his wrist, smiling up at him softly. 

‘’If you kiss me right now, I might forgive you,’’ you whispered, your fingers tracing his mask and wiping away a red spot. ‘’I’m a little jealous, you know. You were chasing another girl while I was home getting pretty for you.’’

His chest trembled and you heard a little scoff, like he was laughing under his clown mask. He dropped the knife and grabbed at your waist with both hands, pressing you against him. It felt a little surprising, yet not quite doubtful, but his touch relaxed and turned more slow and deliberate. No hesitation, no doubt, touching you with a hint of possessiveness he dared to set free. His hands were warm against your bare back as he brushed his mask against your cheek, trying to catch your perfume.

‘’You were looking for me?’’ He asked, voice low and rasp, muffled by the mask he still was wearing.

You hummed. ‘’I’m always following you, Ji.’’

With a tentative move you lifted your hands, carefully taking off his mask and smiling when his bangs fell onto his eyes. The embrace was intimate, charged with tension and desire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, staring at him like he was your everything, so obsessively in love. Jisung smiled a little timid, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

‘’Let’s go to the party,’’ you whispered against his lips, kissing him softly. ‘’'You can rip my dress this time.’'

[jaeminlights]

soft♡

[jaeminlights]

city girl 𐚁 with mark lee and lee donghyuck (18+)

wc ⭑ 6.2k summary ⭑ moving from the city to the country was definitely a downgrade, but ranchers mark and donghyuck from across the street seem to make it a little better! warnings ⭑ threesome, fingering/oral (f rec), unprotected sex, a little bit of spit hehe, some spanking, oral (mark rec), bossy markie ♡, markhyuck beefing but it’s giving e2l, strangers to.. something? v mark centric at the end, aftercare !!! also more plot than i’ve EVER written in my life an ⭑ it’s finally here !!! the “+82 pressin fic” i’ve been talking about since march !!! i hope everyone is excited, and enjoy it thoroughly 🤍 i put a LOT of work into this to make sure it was at least out before holo…

you’ve always hated cowboys.

from your experience, they’re all so.. non progressive? they all look, act, and think the same way, generations upon generations of closed-minded boys, raised by conservative old men who were raised the same, and it makes your blood boil. if you had any say in where your family had moved, still living under the iron fist of your rich father, you’d have stayed in the city, far away from any of these dirty, stinky people rather than moving to yeehaw county.

not to mention, you’re stuck all by yourself, not a single man worthy of your standards in sight. the city would have what you’re looking for, you think. the country doesn’t have hard working, smart, considerate, handsome men, does it?

that’s what you think, sitting out on your porch with a strawberry lemonade while people watching. if there’s one thing you like about living in the country, it’s that you can actually sit on your porch without fear of being attacked.. and you sure do feel safe with your next door neighbor.

mark lee, the boy living at the small ranch across the street, son of its owner, sure has been making you feel pretty comfortable in the area. 

you’ve seen (stalked) him at night, out near the woods with his father having shooting practice. they’ve got all sorts of guns, and honestly, you have no idea what they all do, but you sure would be safe if protected by him— not that you want that.

right now he’s out with his horse, gwen, he calls it, riding around for fun, you assume. you never thought you’d compliment a farm animal, but she really is pretty, white fur shining as she walks. they’re going slow, and it’s really not like that, but he looks so good in his tank and blue jeans, looking off in the distance. his hips rock back and forth as she moves. his leg muscles tense every once in a while, so hot and defined through the fabric of his pants.. seeing his biceps flex as he guides her around, watching them engage when he tames new horses, it’s such an attractive look that you can’t look away. god, if your friends knew you were ogling a country boy-

“you’re really bad at being subtle.” a voice yells, pulling you from your trance. across the road, sitting on the fence, is the second of the only two attractive men in your town, also a rancher. 

lee donghyuck, mark’s best friend, also employed by his father. you see him on the ranch so often you’d think he lives there. he’s always where mark is, trailing behind him like a baby duck while doing chores on the farm that no one else probably wants to. 

even though most of them are gross, the more sanitary ones make him look really good. like, when he’s out picking up equipment used by the show horses, seeing him use so much strength has more than just your heart fluttering. his brows are always furrowed with frustration, a tiny little pout on his lips as he works, looking like he hates his job. sweat drips down his neck, tan skin littered with moles that you have to squint to see from your side of the street. he’s less devoted than mark, but you can see his effort with his muscles and how he handles all their farm equipment.

“you, yes you!” he yells, and when you pull your designer sunglasses off your face he nods. “yeah, you, city girl!” he hops off his seat on the fence, crossing the street and tossing his empty lunch bag in your garbage can before walking all the way up to your house.

“i’m sorry, can i help you?” you ask, feigning your best unbothered, innocent voice you can muster.

he chuckles. “uh, no? i’m just wondering what you’re doing out here eye fucking my boss.” he says, stance full of attitude as he taps the toe of his boot on the ground.

“i have..” you look him up and down, most definitely checking him out, disguising it as a judgemental look. “..no idea what you’re talking about.”

he raises an eyebrow, hand on his belt. he looks nearly just out of place as you, making a show of his country-esque outfit. “i think you do, miss. those, uh, what, hundred dollar sunglasses don’t do a good job hiding where you’re looking.”

you scoff. “these are way more than just a hundred. multiply that by like, four and you’re closer.”

he stops, probably thinking about what that even comes to, before shaking his head. “well, whatever. do you have a problem or something? why do you keep looking over at us all day?”

“next question.” you start packing up your stuff, putting it into your little tote bag. you look back to donghyuck, about to bid your not-so-nice goodbyes when you see someone behind him running over.

finally, he catches up, and it’s mark, stepping beside his friend, catching his breath. looking at the boy, he asks, “is there a problem?”

donghyuck looks at him incredulously, “are you serious? she won’t stop starin’ at us while we’re working, and honestly, i find it,” he makes sure to side eye you, “really annoying! so i came over here to ask about it!”

mark flushes. “dude-” he leans in, whispering in his friend’s ear, and you learn that he’s really bad at it, because you hear their entire conversation, entirely about you and mark reminding the other of how you’ve been their topic of conversation for weeks.

they have their private discussion for a little longer, donghyuck’s mouth hanging open by the end of it, until he eventually walks away from it, back to the ranch, with a smirk on his face. mark turns back to you, running a hand over his face.

“i’m sorry about him.. he’s a little bit dramatic, isn’t he..?” he chuckles, a sheepish smile adorning his features. he’s so hot yet so boyishly cute, and it’s hypnotizing. that’s all you can think about now that you’re “alone” with him.

you giggle, suddenly fluffing your hair and fixing your face. “just a little?” you both share a laugh, and you think of giving yourself a gold star for it later on. “it’s okay though, really. i’ve had people push my buttons in worse ways.

“i bet.” he says, “you’re from the city, right? i’m sure there’s plenty of uppity, pushy people over there, no?” you nod, and he reaches his hand out for you to shake. it’s so.. warm, large, enveloping your own. “you don’t seem like most of the ones i’ve met. i’m mark, by the way.” you respond with your own name, trying not to smile too hard at his hand in yours. “it’s nice to finally meet you after seein’ you around the past few weeks.”

“yeah, same goes for me..” you have no idea what to say. speaking to mark for the first time, along with his hot best friend (despite it being a headache), and for so long has your brain malfunctioning. his calloused hand against your soft, well kept one, and his sweet, slightly raspy voice filling your ears was thrilling.

he clears his throat. “..well, if you’re interested, you should come visit the ranch. i wouldn’t mind showing you around. hyuck too, he’s just a little salty right now.” he says, a cute and hopeful look pulling at his face.

you nod. “that’d be nice of you, mark. i’ve always been kind of skeptical of you country boys, but it’d be nice to have you change my mind on that, no?” he hums. “when would you like me to come by?”

“uh, would it be okay if you came tonight? i’d say you can come by in the daytime, but my dad’s not so fond of city girls, or any girls, so.. i know it’s kind of creepy, but i swear- i’m not a creep or anything. promise.” he puts his hands up, rambling.

“it’s okay, markie.” you flush at the accidental nickname. he definitely noticed it too, his cheeks burning a brighter pink than they have been the whole time. “i’ll see you then?”

he nods, watching as you take your belongings and make your way inside your house. once the door closes behind you, he turns and makes his way back to his own home with a smile.

𐚁𓄀✮⋆˙

it’s nearly 11 o’clock at night when you cross the street over to mark’s ranch. you’re most certainly freezing, the summer breeze sending chills up your spine, but it wouldn’t be cute of you to dress warmly. so, in your thin, tiny sleep shorts and tank, you make your way to the front of their home.

not knowing if you should knock, you stand there awkwardly for a few minutes, until someone comes from behind you and taps your shoulder. you spin around, nearly jumping out of your skin, until you recognize mark.

“shit- sorry- i didn’t mean to scare you.. it’s just, i had to walk out of the back door to meet you.. trying to be secretive, you know?” he chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

he tries to be respectful, but he can’t help himself from looking you up and down in your less than appropriate outfit. “..you’re cold. didn’t think to get changed, did you?” 

it’s then that you remember you’re in your sleepwear, definitely going without a bra, and you immediately cross your arms over your chest. “sorry. didn’t wanna get caught either.” 

you stand there for a moment, and since mark’s being a little shameless, you assume you can be too, so you take a moment to give his appearance a slow look up and down as well. he’s wearing the same bootcuts from before, this time paired with a thermal long sleeve. you can still see his shoulders through it, perfectly sculpted, and you’re about to let yourself zone out staring at them when a truck pulls up in front of the property. donghyuck jumps (gets pushed) out of it, stumbling before quickly collecting himself. as soon as he hits the ground, the car he came from speeds away, and he flips it off before jogging to meet the two of you. 

“sorry, they’re-” he gestures to his ride who’s already long gone, “i don’t know.” he grumbles. giving you a judgemental look up and down, he sighs before sliding his jacket off his frame, tossing it over your shoulders. 

“little skimpy for a farm visit.” he grumbles, sticking next to you as mark starts walking off somewhere around the farm. you both follow closely behind, bickering the whole time the other is trying to explain things to you. 

“hyuck, dude, shut up. i’m talkin’ to her, and you’re being an ass.” he says, punching the boy’s shoulder, before gently grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him, where you can hear his voice better.

he takes you around the entire ranch, explaining every little thing in detail and answering all of your questions. hyuck stands on the opposite side of you, hands in his pockets, simply listening and chiming in whenever he feels like it. they take you to meet all their animals, even the cats and herding dogs running around as well. it’s really sweet, honestly, and you can’t even bring yourself to care about your little vendetta against cowboys anymore. your friends and family can shame you all they want.. these boys are not only hot, but cute. and way nicer than you thought.

eventually you make your way back to the farmhouse, way quicker than expected. time really flies when you’re having fun listening to two attractive country boys talk your ears off about dirty farm stuff you couldn’t care less about!

mark offers to take you inside, and you don’t waste a second accepting his offer, the three of you entering his house silently, making your way up towards his small wing of the home. he allows you to freshen up in his bathroom, the two boys waiting for you when you re enter his connected bedroom. they pat the seat in between each other, and although a little flustered, nervous even, you sit down.

donghyuck’s eyes are heavy, trailing all over your frame. mark takes his friend’s jacket off of you, hanging it over a chair in the far side of the room. “you’re a cute little thing, aren’t you?” he looks to mark, waiting for his opinion. he simply nods, climbing to the top of his bed and sitting back leisurely.

you nod, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. you feel both sets of eyes on you, and it makes you feel so, so small, but in the best way. you finally make direct eye contact with hyuck, and he simply tilts his head. mark comes crawling over, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

“hey,” he starts, eyes carefully skimming over your features, “if you’re uncomfortable, you can leave if you want to. we won’t get upset, promise.” 

you’re immediately shaking your head, looking into his eyes with your glossy ones, giving your best pleading look. “no,” you start, putting one hand over mark’s and the other on donghyuck’s knee, “i want to stay.”

he hums, smiling down at you. there’s a moment where his features soften, his eyes skipping from yours to your lips, and back up to your eyes, before taking your chin between his fingers and leaning in for his first of many kisses. your eyes close, his lips featherlight against your own, touch so gentle and comforting as you lean into him. after a moment, he pulls away, giving you one quick kiss before going back to his original seat. 

suddenly, hyuck grabs you by your hips, flipping you so you’re facing him before pushing you up the bed until your back hits mark’s chest. once you’re laying how he wants you, he grabs the lower half of your face, crashing your lips against his way rougher than the other did.

he’s aggressive, kissing you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. he bites at your lower lip, pulling it between his teeth and letting it snap back against yours. you grip the hair at his nape, legs wrapping around him to bring him closer, whining into his mouth as you feel his hardness start poking against you. his grip is firm, pinch fingers prying your mouth open to let his tongue in, covering every inch of your mouth, the rest of his fingers pressing at the side of your neck. you whine, back arching into his body, your clothed clit bumping into the roughness of his jeans just right.

he shudders, pulling away to run a hand through his hair. “fuck, you’re so- i can’t fucking wait anymore..” he stands up, frantically unbuttoning his jeans before nearly ripping them off and throwing them somewhere in the room.

he crawls back onto the bed, kneeling right in front of you. he’s about to take his boxers off, and you’re so close to seeing what you’ve been thinking about for ages when mark puts his hand out.

“ah ah ah, hyuck, slow down.” he starts, and you can’t tell if the younger is serious when he starts pouting. “did i say you could fuck her yet? did you even ask her? don’t be so greedy.”

 hyuck slowly shakes his head, taking a breath and resting his hands on his thighs. reluctantly, you hear him mumbling, asking for permission. you look up at mark, and his look is so sweet, so affectionate, compared to how stern he was when scolding the other. one of his hands strokes your hair, the other wrapped around your torso, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

mark’s expression he gives his friend finally turns to something less condescending as he gestures to your lower half. he’s already jumping for the opportunity, but freezes when mark speaks up again, “stretch her out first. don’t wanna hurt our angel, do we?” you squirm, thighs squeezing together. the hand not touching your head reaches between your legs, pulling them apart. he stays there, holding them until you finally stay how he wants you to.

with newfound calmness, he rests his fingertips against the waistband of your shorts. he stops, fidgeting with the elastic, looking up at you, with his eyebrow raised. you nod, and that’s all it takes for him to grab them and pull them off your legs, throwing them in the same direction his clothes went.

mark takes one of your thighs in each hand, holding them open while pressing kisses down your temple and anywhere else his lips can reach. one of his hands slides up your leg, pulling away when he reaches your cunt, resting it back on your skin when he reaches your stomach. he moved up, up a little more, until he could slip under your tank top and begin palming at your breasts.

hyuck is on his stomach, kissing and biting at the fat on your thighs. he’s not gentle either, leaving rough bite marks and purple hickies all over the skin. he doesn’t go any further than that, except for his fingers, holding your hips, thumbs grazing over your lips, never moving any further.

there’s so many things going on with your body at once, overflowing your senses to the point where it feels like there’s nothing in your head but white noise. you think mark’s whispering a question in your ear, but hyuck’s so close to where you want him, you just whine, nodding your head to whatever the hell he just asked. 

donghyuck watches with a fixed gaze as mark slowly, teasingly pulls your top over your head. he presses kisses to your cheek and temple, apologizing for moving so slowly, but watching hyuck’s laser focus on your tits, desperately waiting for them to pop out, is too funny.

finally they do, and a shiver travels up your spine now that your body is fully exposed. mark’s hand pulls at your nipple, fingers pinching and twisting it, palms covering your breasts almost completely. your voice is timid, shaky as you sigh, leaning into the sensation. he continues, massaging you through your sensitivity. his lips are soft and gentle against the side of your neck, occasionally pulling the skin between his lips, tongue regretfully running over the marks that he leaves behind.

he pulls away, and gives you a soft smile before turning to the other. his demeanor changes from sweet to more demanding as he looks down at hyuck. “are you gonna sit there like a deer in headlights or are you gonna help her?” 

“are you gonna shut the fuck up?” he snaps, ignoring mark and choosing to put all his attention on you.

he spits, saliva hitting your clit, dripping at a teasingly slow pace. every single muscle twitches at the sensation, hips twitching in response. he hums, running a finger along your slit, fingers smearing your wetness all over. eventually, his fingers fall lower, until he’s able to slip his middle finger past your entrance, immediately curling it into you. you whine, rolling your hips into him, a feeling so simple already driving you crazy. mark’s hand is soft, petting your hair, keeping it out of your face and away from the sweat beading on your forehead. hyuck spits again, using it to help yet another finger push its way inside you, wasting no time in stretching you out, fingering you with near impatience, his desire to stretch you out and fuck you too strong.

the noises spilling from you fill the room, your cunt nearly dripping as it had been since it was light out, sound downright embarrassing. your voice is whiny, soft moans breaking the strings of whines and whimpers that spill from your lips. it’s endless, your head feeling like it’s spinning with the way donghyuck works you. you barely know the guy, and hopefully that’ll change, but he’s touching you, fingers scissoring you open and thrusting into you so good that it feels like he knows you so well already. they curl into you just how you like it, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, and he goes at a speed that isn’t painful, but so so good that you know you’re already done for.

“it’s good?” mark asks, one hand holding your thigh, the other pulling at your nipple. “hyuck’s taking good care of you, isn’t he, sweetheart?” mark’s voice is so soothing, so sweet, and it makes you feel even smaller, frail almost, letting yourself sink into his arms and donghyuck’s touch.

you moan, a high pitched whimper escaping when your lip gets caught in your teeth. “so good.. gonna cum..”

mark kisses your cheek. almost simultaneously, hyuck’s mouth is attached to your clit, and your back arches impossibly high as soon as you feel his tongue. “go ahead then.”

he grabs hyuck by his hair, pushing him into you deeper, and your hand lays on top of his, your legs twitching and hips bucking at the way he works you. his fingers are still inside you, curling into you and pressing against the spot that has your brain feeling fuzzy. his tongue swirls, flicks, and rubs against your clit so perfectly, you’ve never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure in your life. it’s maddening, all your senses are being taken over at once. you feel mark pepper kisses along the side of your face, and hyuck hums into you, just once, before you give in.

you yelp before your body stills, the air stolen from your lungs as you reach your high. it’s so good, and it’s only the first of many, but you can feel every nerve tingling, exploding with nothing but pure ecstasy. hyuck lays his tongue flat against you as you ride it out, chuckling with a little too much pride as he takes in every last drop of pleasure that leaves you. when you and mark let go of him, his hair is all messed up, but it looks so good when he sits up, all messy and tousled, lower face glistening as he wipes it with the back of his hand.

he wastes no time in asking again, so desperate and impatient, “can i please fuck her now? i think i’ll actually die if i don’t.”

mark sighs, “do you have to rush everything all the time? it wouldn’t kill you to just take a breath, y’know.. we’ve got all night.”

he rolls his eyes. still, he listens, even if it’s subconsciously. he pulls his boxers off, but he doesn’t even try anything yet. he takes a moment to sit on his heels and watch you, hand holding his erection. it’s so pretty, slightly curved and flushed with an arousal that looks almost painful. if you could see yourself, you'd understand.. your hair is all messy, splayed all over mark’s chest. your cheeks are flushed, and your lips match the red on them with the little marks that hyuck left from biting at them. he could cum on the spot from such beauty.

he leans in close, lips inches away from yours. not only is he in your personal space, but also mark’s, being that he’s right behind you. he only gives the other a look, one that seems almost challenging, bratty, before dipping his head down to kiss you once again.

you can taste yourself this time, and you’ve never been the type like that, but fuck is it hot when hyuck does it. his clean hand grazes the side of your face, the other still gripping his cock as it slides against you. he doesn’t push it in, just lets it glide through your folds, catching against your clit with each gentle thrust of his hips. you can hear him fighting the noises hiding in his throat, shaky breaths against your lips, his body almost vibrating against your own. your whines are neverending, legs twitching with overstimulation, yet you still crave the feeling of his thick, oh so beautiful cock pushing into you, stretching you out so well because you know it’s been a while.

almost as if on cue, he finally pushes in, immediately gripping you by your hip to ground himself. “what.. the.. fuck,” he murmurs, thrusting into you shallowly, taken aback my the feeling of you, so overwhelmed that he can’t move in fear of cumming too fast. 

“are you struggling, hyuck? maybe you should go home, let me take care of our girl.. you look unwell.” mark teases, knowing just how to make his friend crack, seeing the furrow in his brow and eyes slightly rolling back. is it the attitude or how far gone he is in you?

“shut the fuck up mark, i’m not fucking going anywhere.” he suddenly goes dead silent, both of his hands moving to your hips. 

he leans down, pressing a kiss right between your tits, before he starts fucking you, using a force that pushes your upper half into the man behind you, shaking the bed. you can tell that mark ended up pissing him off. his movements are so sharp, rough, dick poking at your insides like he hates you, and it drives you crazy. your hand slides up the side of mark’s neck, going until you can grip his hair, pulling it tight to hold yourself together while hyuck fucks you, staccato moans spilling from your lips in sync with his hips smacking against your own.

mark groans lowly in your ear, and you feel his erection against your lower back, feeling so big, twitching against you as you get pushed against it. it makes you let out a long, shrill whine, hips bucking up against hyuck’s. it’s so fucking insane, thinking about how you have the two hottest men you’ve ever seen wrapped around your finger, moaning and groaning in your ear like you’re the best they’ve ever had (you probably are, look where you’re all living). 

hyuck spits on your clit, roughly, watching it roll down and add to the ring forming around his shaft. “where you at, huh, baby? focus on me.” he holds your chin, gently compared to how forcefully he fucks you, and holds you like that until your eyes stay locked on him. he then leans down and kisses you with a satisfied smile, returning to fucking you how he had been. 

you can see sweat dripping down his brow, his neck, every surface glistening with all the effort he’s putting into you. it’s so good, your legs locked around his back, hand still tugging at mark’s hair, the other already pulling the seam of the bedsheets below you. every nerve in your body is overridden by pleasure, and it’s so blinding, all you can do is let hyuck take you, throat getting raspy with the volume of your moans.

“hyuck, fuck-“ mark starts, getting impatient, willing himself to stop grinding against your back. “donghyuck! stop fucking moving..” he cusses, something catching both of you off guard. hyuck knows it’s uncommon for his mouth to be this foul, but you can just tell it is by his face.

he keeps moving, albeit a little slower. “why, markie, huh? are you feeling left out?” he pouts, cooing at him teasingly. 

“i’ll fire you if you don’t stop being an ass. flip her over, now.” he orders, chest heaving and cheeks pink. even with such soft, pretty features, he’s so mean and authoritative towards hyuck, and it makes him all the more sexy when you’re turned onto your stomach, mark smiling down at you so differently to how he addressed the other.

hyuck’s still going behind you, holding you by your waist and pulling you into him, wet slapping filling the room, soft pants coming behind you. his hand cracks down on your ass, two, three times, chuckling lowly at the yelp you let out each time.

“oh, sweet angel.. you feel so good, don’t you? hm?” mark asks, thumb grazing your cheek.

“mhm, markie, i- fuck, fuck- i love it so-“ hyuck smacks your ass again, “so fucking much.. ‘s so good..” you mumble, laying your head against his thigh, sensibility overridden by hyuck’s cock, leaving you to nuzzle against mark’s leg, mumbling about god knows what.

he chuckles, slowly removing his belt as he does so, “a little too good, huh?” your eyes light up as he starts unbuttoning his pants and you rush to help him, “ ‘s okay. i’ll help you quiet down. you like that?” 

you nod vigorously, unzipping his jeans and pulling his boxers down enough to pull his cock out. it’s just as pretty as hyuck’s, a little thinner, but so long, and pink with arousal. he holds it in front of you, presses it against your lips, and you take it gratefully, moaning around it as he pushes his way in. you watch his head fall back, a slow moan escaping his mouth, head thrown back in pleasure.

“fuck, mark, she fucking loves this..” he groans, pulling your ass to way he the way your hole clenches around him, “squeezing me so hard..”

“mm, i bet she does.” you moan around him, half humming in agreement, “so happy she gets to fuck her favorite neighbors, huh?” you look up at him, eyes teary with each of hyuck’s thrusts pushing mark further down your throat, “show us how happy, okay? cum on hyuck’s cock, show us how much you love it.”

it’s then that his hand glides over your stomach, reaching your clit and rubbing quick circles against it, shamelessly moaning in your ear when you start squeezing, pulsing against him. mark pulls your head off of him, spit connecting your swollen lips to him. he starts jerking himself off in front of you, fist gliding easily with the amount of drool you left all over him. it’s so hot, both the boys are so vocal, carelessly moaning out, and it makes your legs quiver. no man has ever felt so bold, and has been able to make you feel this good. 

“mark, hyuck, gonna-“ you can’t even finish your sentence, voice raspy as you whine, gasping as your high gets closer and closer.

your lower stomach burns, it’s so hot with the feeling of your approaching orgasm, and it drives you crazy. your back arches, pushing yourself into the man behind you, eyes rolling back as he moves impossibly faster. in front of you, your tongue hangs open, marks tip rubbing against it as he fucks his hand.

“i know, angel, i know. go ahead, cum for us.” mark smiles, so sweetly, voice cracking and breaking as he speaks. 

“yeahhh,” hyuck sighs, “wanna feel you cum all over me.”

he keeps going, using so much force, and all it takes is a few more thrusts for you to break. it’s like something in you snaps, and you nearly scream, body quivering as you reach your high. it feels so good, body on fire in the best way, and it feels almost as if your whole world has stopped. hyuck’s right there with you, pushing himself all the way in as he cums, a broken noise leaving his throat as his cum paints your walls. at the same time, mark reaches his orgasm, spurts of cum hitting your tongue and cheek. 

you all take a moment to come down, hyuck pulling out and flopping on an empty space on the bed. you fall limply, still laying in between mark’s legs as your eyes fall closed. he watches you fondly, the both of you still coming down, chests heaving with deep breaths of air. your lips are in a pout, eyelashes long and pretty as they brush against the smudged mascara on your under eye. he looks around briefly before grabbing hyuck’s discarded shirt, close enough to reach, using it to wipe his cum from your face. there’s a soft smile on your face at his tenderness, and he can’t help but return it, even if you can’t see.

“that’s my fucking shirt!” hyuck complains, swatting at the man’s leg.

he laughs. “hm, sucks.” he looks at the clock hung up on the wall, “you have.. six hours until your shift starts. more than enough time to go home and wash it.” 

mark sees the way his friend rolls his eyes, heaves a sigh, and watches over you with the most conflicted look. it takes a moment of careful consideration, but he sighs, getting his lower half dressed.

he grabs the soiled t-shirt, holding it with his pinch fingers im disgust, “i’m sleeping here, in the guest room. washing this here too.” he grabs his jacket, holding it over his shoulder before grumpily making his way to leave. you stretch, humming before scooting up to lay against mark’s chest. his hand automatically finds your hip, warm as it glides comfortingly against your skin.

on his way out, hyuck complains, “don’t go doing anything without me! i’m fucking serious! she’s mine too!” the both of you just laugh at him, and he rolls his eyes, complaining during his whole departure.

mark looks down at you, brushing your hair from your face. things are a lot more peaceful now, almost intimate, being that you’re both alone. your eyes are low, hooded with fatigue, but you still have a mind to smile up at him and lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. it feels so comforting, just as much as his entire presence was throughout this whole thing. 

he pulls away, not after a few more kisses, gentle and sweet, “this can be whatever you want it to, okay? i won’t be upset no matter what that is. but we can talk later, okay? after you get cleaned up and get some sleep, how’s that sound?”

you nod, humming sleepily, and with the kindest, gentlest hands, he helps you out of bed. thank goodness the walk to the bathroom is only a few steps, because all of your weight is on mark as he guides you to it on your shaky legs. he sits you on the edge of his large bathtub, so luxurious you might even call it a hot tub with all the jets and things in it. he turns it on, warms the water, and puts enough soap for a layer of bubbles to hover on top of the water that begins filling the space. before helping you in, he wets a rag and cleans any mess that he and hyuck left, leaving kisses on your temple as an apology when he wipes at the sensitivity between your legs.

he then helps you into the water, and it’s so warm, so comforting, you relax into it immediately. he asks first before joining you, and when you nod weakly he removes his clothes, slipping in right beside you. he doesn’t say anything, he knows you’re tired and wants to give you the time to wind down. you relax against his shoulder, and he holds you to him by the waist, rubbing comforting circles into the skin. you almost fall asleep again, right there, enveloped in so much warmth and, dare you say safety. he doesn’t let you though, gently waking you up to help properly bathe you. you try to protest, tell him you can do it yourself, but he gently shakes his head and helps you anyway.

it feels like there’s so many borders being crossed right now. this is day one of speaking to the boys, also the first time sleeping with them, and here you are experiencing so much intimacy with one of the two. it’s weird, you have no idea what terms you guys are on, and frankly, you’re too spent right now to think about any of it. 

even as he pulls you out of the bath, so zoned out you didn’t even notice that he had finished, he helps you dry up, politely and respectfully patting you dry over a towel. he even helps you re-dress, fingertips grazing your skin as he helps you into a new set of his clothes. he speaks softly the whole time, murmuring about the work he has to do tomorrow, something to keep you present, and keeping his mouth busy while he helps you. he asks if you want to go home, you say no. 

as he helps you in his bed, sleep slowly taking over, he mentions briefly that he and hyuck would be more than happy to take care of you, help you get comfy in this new area. he makes it clear that he means that in more ways than one, gentle so as to not overwhelm you when you’re so sleepy. that doesn’t sound so bad, you think. you don’t give a fuck what your father, or anyone else has to say. it’s been a day, but mark already makes you feel safe and loved. hyuck does the same, even if he seems a little bit aloof. even with their short time in your life, they already make the country seem so much better, and you hope to see a lot more of them.

thank you so much for supporting! please reblog + share your thoughts! i’d appreciate it a lot ♡

city girl ♡ @dreamheil @yesohhsehun @nctdreamchaser @httpsxnox @ssweetreveries @oliviahyehyehye @sxmnc @haechanahceah67 @zhongzn @jaeminnanaaa17 @schatjze @mey-archive @minkyuncutie @barkbarkseungmin @sillypaperspyeagle-blog @seonghwastaar @imbyunchoi @markzmelons

nct 🏷️ @chenlezip @cinnayomiroll @prettymoles @jia127zen @polarisjisung @ikozen @tinkerbell460 @ninety-nite-99 @markkiatocafe

[jaeminlights]

゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ hyunjin dad headcannons

in which… you and hyunjin raise your daughter together, hyunjin being the loud and proud dad that he is.

warnings: some mentions of pregnancy failure, but brief, loads of fluff

authors note: nearly shed tears at this idea, i love this, meant to be headcannons but i just wrote loads of mini drabbles after a few headcannons

dad!hyunjin who cried when he found out you were pregnant. after many failed attempts between the couple, to then lead to their chance, their future. you could say hyunjin cried like a baby, no pun intended.

dad!hyunhin who as soon as he found out he was straight online, shopping for all the necessities. he wouldn’t stop talking about all the little outfits he’d be able to buy your baby.

dad!hyunjin who once you two had been to the booking appointment, with your new midwife, where the baby was confirmed to be healthy in every way. hyunjin couldn’t hold back from telling the group.

hyunjin had mysteriously called for a meeting with the others. they were nervous. hyunjin wasn’t the type to just randomly call a meeting, so the sudden request definitely threw everyone off.

“what is this?” chan asked.

he’d also brought you along but sat you on the couch next to han, to try and make the surprise less obvious. “i’ve been trying so hard to keep this secret. like so hard. but i can finally share something with you,” he turned around and pulled a little box out of his bag, handing it to chan who was sat in the middle of the group.

they all looked at him perplexed, to which he just gestured at the box, muttering a swear word, a habit he’d definitely need to stop.

you’d picked your phone up, wanting to record the special moments. these were his best friends after all, and was a monumental moment for the entire group.

chan opened the box and shuffled through the tissue paper inside, when he finally felt a piece of fabric. chan pulled the fabric out and unfolded it.

a small lilac baby romper, with the words ‘baby stay - february’ stitched onto the light coloured material.

the boys all had the same reaction. the confusion hitting them first, then a glance between you and hyunjin. but then it fully hit them.

chan was the first to jump up and hug hyunjin, yelling out in joy. the others soon following, tears in eyes, laughter and cheers coming out of their mouths.

you teared up at the support your new family were receiving. the love the baby would be given from the moment they were born.

the boys then came straight over to you, hugging you carefully, congratulating you. they knew how much motherhood meant to you.

ever since you and hyunjin began dating, you’d took on the motherly role, looking after all seven of them, even though you had your own life.

“holy shit, you’re actually going to have a physically baby,” han breathed, with a laugh.

“well, yeah that’s how this works,” hyunjin laughed back, holding you tightly.

dad!hyunjin who immediately began redecorating the spare bedroom of the apartment. he didn’t even know the gender yet, but he was so excited for this new life.

dad!hyunjin who wouldn’t let you do any work around the house. it became all him. washing? his job. cleaning? his job. doing the dishes? his job. you tried to intervene but he wasn’t having any of it.

dad!hyunjin who didn’t want to know the gender yet. he waited to find out with you and everyone else he loved at the gender reveal party.

the gender reveal party was a month or so after you two told everyone. you’d hired out a small air b&b in the countryside. somewhere where you two could spend the rest of the weekend together, enjoying the company of each other and the baby.

you’d told everyone to wear their predicted gender colour. you and hyunjin in pink. chan, felix and han also wearing various shades of pink. while changbin, seungmin, minho and jeongin wore blue.

and you guys even made that stupid tiktok of ‘i’m your mother and i think you’re gonna be…’, which all the stays loved, to say the least.

it was a small thing. no confetti or smoke. just a cake, that held yours and hyunjin’s future. one colour that would mean everything.

you and hyunjin held a glass each. smiling at each other, the joy evident in both of you.

everyone counted down from five, while you and hyunjin looked away. as everyone echoed one, you two pushed the glasses into the cake.

he looked at you, whispering a gentle, ‘three, two, one’. you both turned towards the glasses which now held coloured cake and lifted them up.

hyunjin yelled out in celebration. pink cake. he immediately enveloped you in a hug, tighter than ever, then placed a kiss on your lips.

ever since you guys met, he shared his dream of being a girl dad, so this wish becoming true meant a lot to the man. after showering you with love, he turned to his bestfriends, celebrating with them.

you turned to your own family. embracing each one of them in hugs, many congrats being passed around.

dad!hyunjin who that very night shared with the world the news he’d been longing to share. he posted on instagram a maternity picture of you, with the caption ‘baby stay - baby girl i can’t wait to meet you, bring on february 💗’. and the stays went mental.

dad!hyunjin who then immediately started buying baby clothes, shoes, socks, little hats and headbands. he was so excited to be able to choose her outfits, to match with her.

dad!hyunjin who stayed by your side the entire time you were in labour. his sole focus was you. he’d packed your bag in a hurry and immediately rushed to the hospital, excited but so stressed.

dad!hyunjin who praised you the whole time as you were giving birth. whispering how much he loved you, how incredibly brave you are. everything you need to hear in that moment.

dad!hyunjin once your baby girl was born, he didn’t even look at her at first. he just cradled your head and gave you all his attention. loving you hard as the midwife’s prepared the baby for skin-to-skin contact.

dad!hyunjin who cried his eyes out when he saw you holding his baby. his two babies. his girls. there right in front of him.

dad!hyunjin who cried even harder when he held her for the first time.

dad!hyunjin who facetimed each member one by one, having not told them that you were in labour.

hyunjin thought he was hilarious. facetiming the other members, but held the camera infront of his new born daughter, ‘ari’. the name which meant ‘pretty, lovely and beautiful’. everything that hyunjin, saw you and his baby girl as.

hyunjin called chan first. there had been a joke made about chan being the baby’s grandad, due to him being the hyung of the group. the phone rang two times before chan picked up, “hey hyunjin, how’s-” his voice cut off when he noticed it wasn’t hyunjin on the other end. it was his baby. their new born baby.

chan gasped and put a hand over his mouth, muttering a quiet ‘no way’. he let out a small disbelieving laugh. “what’s her name?”

it was felix next. felix might have been the most excited out of everyone. he’d bought loads of items for the baby once her gender was revealed and he always became so emotional whenever hyunjin spoke about his baby.

felix answered basically straight away and gasped immediately, his eyes turning glassy. he wiped his eyes and looked at the baby girl on his screen. “hyunjin…” he whispered.

hyunjin clicked onto han’s facetime, letting the phone ring as he smiled at each members reaction. han picked up the facetime, changbin on his left.

han let out a small cuss word, changbin immediately looking over to the call. the two were so incredibly happy, that they had to mute their microphone so that they could cheer loudly without upsetting the baby.

seungmin was next. he took a couple attempts to get through to, but once he did, he was beaming ear to ear. he congratulated you first. praised you for it all and then congratulated his bestfriend, amazed by the new baby of the family.

minho hadn’t shut up about the baby. dying to meet the little girl, as he’d kept complaining that you’d been pregnant for too long and that the baby was doing it on purpose. so when he picked up that facetime call, he immediately had tears streaming down his face. asking when he could meet her.

lastly, the couple called i.n. they knew he had a full day of photoshoots so they waited until the couple returned home from the hospital to call him, as that would mean jeongin’s long day would hopefully have finished by now.

after one ring jeongin picked up. “hey hyun-” he cut himself off staring at the screen, wide-eyed, in awe at the little girl who lay on her fathers chest.

he just stared. and he eventually muttered “i’m not the youngest anymore,”

dad!hyunjin who posted so many photos of you, him and ari. never of her face. just her little hand, or the back of her head where dark hair was beginning to grow. he was such a proud dad and he loved showing the world what you two created.

[jaeminlights]

06 ; spaces between us | l.jn

pairing: dad!lee jeno x f!reader (ft. na jaemin)

genre: angst, slight fluff

synopsis — three years after divorcing jeno, you've found a careful rhythm in co-parenting your son jun. the old fights about his work schedule and emotional distance have faded into polite exchanges and shared custody arrangements. but when small moments of connection start to feel like second chances, you begin to hope that maybe you could try again. though, it all falls apart when jeno asks to introduce jun to his new girlfriend. suddenly, you're forced to confront a devastating truth: the man who claimed he "wasn't good at relationships" during your marriage has apparently learned how to love properly—he just needed someone else to do it with.

a/n: i can't believe we're already at chapter 6 :")))))) i'm writing this after a long day of workkkkkk so please go easy on the grammar mistakes if any! i'll proof read again when i'm awake! lowkey this chap sucks… hfdjskss but as always, thank you so much for all the love and support~ see you guys in chapter 7 <3

sbu m.list | previous | next chapter

jaemin was scrolling through his phone when the quiet rustling of fabric pulled his eyes up. you were stirring, slowly peeling yourself up from the couch with your eyes still half-lidded, your hair tousled from sleep. you blinked blearily, scanning the living room that had mysteriously been cleaned and your two friends passed out in exaggerated positions—chen le flat on his back like a crime scene outline, renjun curled up with a cushion under his chin.

you scratched your head groggily, letting out a tiny sigh. then, with a soft, determined noise, you started to rise, only to sway backward unsteadily.

jaemin was on his feet in a flash, catching you by the waist with one arm and bracing the other hand just above the small of your back. “woah—where are you going?” he asked in a hushed whisper, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement.

you blinked at him, confused for a second, before gently pushing past him like you had a mission. “need to get covers... for le le and renjunnie…” you mumbled, your voice going high and sweet with sleep, like a sleepy child trying to sound serious. the sudden shift in your tone caught jaemin off guard—soft and unbearably cute. his heart tugged unexpectedly.

you stumbled again, and he was there once more, steady hands wrapping around your arm and shoulder. “okay, okay,” he whispered, half-laughing. “i’ll help you.”

you didn’t protest, letting him guide you down the hallway, your fingers still clutching onto his sleeve like a lifeline. in your room, you grabbed for the duvet covers from the closet, only for jaemin to gently take them from your arms, careful not to jostle you too much.

“hey i can do it.” you frowned.

“i know, but let me help you do it.” he said simply, voice warm and steady, looking down at you with that half-smile you didn’t quite know what to do with.

jaemin moved quietly, gently draping the covers over chen le first, then renjun—tucking them in like someone who’d done it before, who knew how to care even when no one was watching. they didn’t stir, lost to the haze of sleep and soju, soft snores filling the room.

he turned, ready to cover you too—only to find the space by the sofa empty.

his gaze shifted, and there you were, crouched by the full-length window, your arms loosely hugging your knees. the silver light from the streetlamps outside spilled across your face, illuminating the tired lines under your eyes, the deep crease in your brow. your lids were heavy with sleep—or drink—but your gaze was somewhere far, far away. he didn't need to ask where. he already knew.

his steps were slow as he came to sit beside you, close enough to offer warmth, not so close as to crowd. “are you not tired?” he asked gently, his voice softened by the late hour.

you didn’t answer at first. just hummed a vague, tuneless melody under your breath, the kind that sounded like it had lived in you for a while.

then, in a voice so quiet he almost missed it, you whispered, “i saw her today.”

your lips pressed together, forming a tight line, eyes still locked on the small backyard beyond the glass. the garden you always said you'd fix up but never did. the plants were withered, hanging limp in their pots. maybe from neglect. maybe from the weight of things unspoken.

jaemin didn’t ask who. he didn’t have to. he already knew.

and though it wasn’t his place—though he had no right—he felt it anyway. that flicker of quiet hurt on your face lodged somewhere deep in his chest.

“she’s han soomin,” you whispered, voice hushed like you were sharing a secret with national security implications. “as in the people we’re going against.”

your breath smelled faintly of beer and mint, and your brows were furrowed in such intense seriousness that it made Jaemin smile. not in amusement, but in soft disbelief—at how small the world was, and how tangled yours seemed to have become.

his lips parted slightly. “really?” he whispered back, leaning in just a little, matching your tone like you were both conspiring under the watchful eye of fate itself.

“yes,” you nodded, dramatically, as if confirming the final puzzle piece of a great mystery. you leaned your head against the cold glass, another sigh slipping from your lips, long and heavy. “she’s... her.”

jaemin didn’t answer right away. he just watched you in the dim light—your breath fogging a little patch on the window, your fingers drawing circles on your knee. then he crouched a little, trying to meet your gaze. “then all the more reason to win the case, don’t you think?” he teased, a slight lilt in his voice.

you puffed your cheeks out like a child caught between determination and drowsiness, your head wobbling slightly as you nodded. “yes. i have to,” you said, voice firm… or at least, as firm as someone half-drunk and fighting sleep could manage.

jaemin smiled—soft, fond, knowing. you’d forget this conversation by morning, most likely. 

and just like that, your head slipped onto jaemin’s shoulder—slowly, softly—like gravity had been waiting for the perfect moment to pull you toward him. this time, you didn’t stir or speak. your breathing evened out, lashes fluttering once before settling, and he knew you were truly asleep.

jaemin let out a quiet huff, somewhere between disbelief and a smile he didn’t mean to wear. “unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glancing down at you—at the way your lips parted slightly, your brows no longer furrowed in worry.

he adjusted slightly so your head could rest more comfortably, then ran his fingers gently through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear with all the care in the world.

“you really don’t make this easy,” he whispered, barely audible, more to himself than to you.

you looked peaceful like this—unguarded and soft in a way jaemin didn’t often get to see. and the thought crept up again: jeno never truly deserved you. not with how he let you slip through his fingers. not when there were people in the world who would’ve chosen you every single day.

like this, with the weight of your head on his shoulder and the city lights spilling gently onto the floor beside you, jaemin decided he’d stay a little longer. just like this.

you were awoken by the unmistakable sound of sizzling—followed by the soft thud of a cupboard closing. your brows furrowed, still half-asleep, but then the warm, savory scent of bacon hit you like a gentle slap. you shifted under the blanket, groaning quietly as the echoes of last night pulsed behind your eyes. one eye cracked open. then the other.

the second cupboard slammed shut, and you jolted upright, hair a mess of stubborn strands and pillow creases. rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you noticed renjun and chen le already awake, crouched like cartoon spies behind the wall that opened into the kitchen.

you stumbled over and joined them wordlessly, your head still foggy, and there he was—na jaemin. in your kitchen. barefoot. sleeves rolled up. flipping bacon like he belonged there. and beside him: fully plated grilled cheese sandwiches, fluffy scrambled eggs, toast slices stacked with almost concerning perfection, and a mug that had steam curling from it in soft spirals.

chen le leaned in, voice barely a whisper. “he can cook…?”

renjun looked like he was watching a scene from a drama. eyes wide, one hand clutching the wall. “what can he not do?” he breathed.

jaemin, completely unaware of the silent audience he’d gathered, hummed softly as he gave the pan one last flick—golden-brown bacon landing perfectly in line with the rest. the sizzle was crisp and satisfying, like something out of a commercial. you blinked, once, then twice—still half convinced your dream hadn’t ended yet.

and then he turned around, catching all three of you watching him from the hallway with the kind of slack-jawed awe usually reserved for celestial beings descending from the heavens.

“staring is rude, you know?” he quipped, lifting an eyebrow in amusement.

startled, chen le and renjun scrambled to the dining table, pretending they hadn’t been spying like kids in a cartoon. you, still groggy and unsure if this was a fever dream or not, made your way slowly into the kitchen. jaemin, without missing a beat, handed you a mug of steaming black coffee. plain. exactly the way you liked it.

you blinked at the mug, brows furrowing. you were pretty sure you ran out of coffee beans three days ago.

then your eyes scanned the kitchen—grilled cheese, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, juice. nothing in that spread looked like it belonged in your usually barren morning pantry. your frown deepened. “where did you get all of this?”

“the grocery store,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“you went to the grocery store?” you asked, still in disbelief. jaemin looked far too fresh, too put-together for someone who had supposedly gone shopping, cooked, and somehow also kept the house from burning down. did he even sleep?

truth was—while the three of you were snoring away, limbs flung in various directions across your living room, jaemin had quietly texted his assistant to do a grocery run. everything was delivered before sunrise, and he’d spent the early morning hours stocking your kitchen like it was a five-star Airbnb.

you opened the fridge, eyes going wide at the sight. fresh milk—the expensive kind from Hokkaido. neatly arranged packs of strawberries, blueberries, and shiny apples. a bundle of fresh spinach. and at the very back, a bright yellow box of Honey Stars peeking out like a guilty smile.

“you… stocked up my fridge?” you gasped, turning back to him in shock.

jaemin only shrugged, pouring orange juice into mugs for chen le and renjun. “i hope you don’t mind. i stocked up on jun’s favorite honey stars too. he told me he loved them, and that you rarely buy it for him.”

“yeah,” you muttered, sighing. “because he tends to finish the whole box the second i’m not looking—and it’s heaty for him.”

jaemin glanced over with a smirk. “then i guess you’ll just have to look a little more often.”

you opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss for words. and jaemin—he just went back to plating breakfast, like refilling someone’s entire pantry was just part of a normal Saturday morning.

at the han river campsite, the morning was calm and crisp, with golden sunlight slipping through the trees and dancing on the water. jeno had kept his promise—he took jun on a morning cycling trip while Soomin stayed behind to prep breakfast. they rode along the winding paths by the river, laughter echoing as jun pedalled with all his might on his little bike, the wind catching his giggles.

now, they were resting under a tree near the edge of the riverbank. jeno leaned back on his elbows, catching his breath as jun sat cross-legged in the grass, happily plucking wildflowers and stringing them into a tiny, uneven bouquet. in the bicycle basket sat a plush toy—an oddly charming little green dinosaur with button eyes and a slightly crooked smile.

jeno’s brow furrowed in curiosity. he knew every single one of jun’s plushies by heart—from the ones he bought him to the ones you sewed yourself. but this one? this was new.

“junnie buddy,” he asked, nodding at the toy, “where did you get dino-nim?”

jun didn’t look up. he was busy giggling at a bug that had crawled onto his finger. “at the carnival,” he said with a bright, distracted smile. jeno sat up straighter. “the carnival?”

“mhm!” jun nodded enthusiastically, brushing the bug onto a leaf. “uncle jaemin brought mommy and me to the carnival. we got dino-nim from playing basketball!"

jeno blinked.

the image came fast and uninvited—jaemin, beside you, tossing a ball into the hoop, winning your son a plush toy. winning him over. the kind of memory you used to make with jeno.

jun giggled again, proudly holding up his half-finished flower bouquet, petals sticking out at odd angles. “should we give this to mommy?”

jeno smiled, but it barely reaches his eyes. “yeah… let’s do that.” he crouched beside jun, gently resting a hand on his small shoulder. “and how about we make one for aunty soomin too?”

he said it lightly, but the suggestion wasn’t casual—it was careful, deliberate. he was trying. trying to bridge something he could feel but not fix. Because he’d noticed it—how jun still kept a polite distance from soomin, never quite melting into comfort the way he had with uncle jaemin.

that name had rolled off jun’s tongue so easily. so often. like jaemin had become a part of the scenery, part of you.

and jeno hated how tightly that lodged in his chest.

it made something hot crawl under his skin—the thought of another man stepping into the quiet, ordinary moments he used to share with you and jun. a plush toy from a carnival. a memory that wasn’t his.

he looked down at jun, who had moved on to picking another flower, humming contentedly to himself.

jeno swallowed hard, keeping his hand steady on his son’s shoulder, even as his pulse betrayed him.

later, back at the campsite, the soft clatter of breakfast prep filled the air—cutlery clinking, birds chirping faintly overhead. soomin stood by the picnic table, flipping through the breakfast trays, when jeno returned with jun trailing closely behind him.

“soomin,” jeno called gently, a small smile tugging at his lips. “jun’s got something for you.”

jun clutched the bouquet of wildflowers tightly in his little hands, but when soomin turned around, his steps faltered. he looked up at jeno with uncertainty, then back at her, then quickly stared at the ground, chewing his lip.

jeno bent down a little, his hand resting lightly on jun’s shoulder. “it’s okay, buddy. you can give it to her.”

jun stood frozen for another second, then finally, with slow steps, he shuffled forward and held out the slightly squashed bouquet. his eyes didn’t quite meet hers.

“for you,” he mumbled, barely audible.

soomin blinked in surprise, then knelt down to take the flowers with a warm, gentle smile. “oh, these are beautiful. thank you, jun.”

jun gave a tiny nod, then retreated quickly, hiding behind jeno’s legs again.

jeno gave a quiet chuckle, smoothing jun’s hair, before glancing at soomin. “he’s not usually this shy. he’s just... still getting used to things.”

soomin met his gaze with a soft expression and shook her head. “i get it. really. i’m just happy he’s trying.”

jeno said nothing when he dropped jun off at your place on sunday. just a quiet “hey” when you opened the door, and a clipped “bye” when he turned to leave. not once did his eyes meet yours—like the hug you shared, the fragile peace you two made, had all been scrubbed clean from memory. like it never happened at all.

and that stuck with you. the way he’d built his walls back up in record time, higher than ever, locking you out again without warning. and god, you hated it. not just the silence, but the way it made your heart ache—like losing something twice that was already half-gone to begin with.

you arrived at the courthouse a full thirty minutes early. the nerves wouldn't let you sit still, so you wandered the marble halls, hoping movement might settle the storm in your chest.

then, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

you turned towards courtroom 3B, the doors slightly ajar. through the narrow gap, you saw him—na jaemin, standing at the center of the courtroom like he owned the ground beneath his feet.

he stood with one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a file as he addressed the witness. the courtroom was silent except for his voice—measured, confident, cutting clean through the air like a blade finding flesh.

"so just to confirm," jaemin said, stepping closer to the center of the room, "you approved the transfer without verifying the originating account?"

his tone was calm but sharp enough to draw blood. the witness shifted in his seat, fingers drumming against the wooden armrest like a nervous tic.

"i assumed the documentation was legitimate—"

jaemin tilted his head, brows raised in mock confusion. "you assumed?" he let the word hang in the air like a noose. "could you kindly point out which section in your company's compliance protocol lists assumption as an accepted standard for financial verification?"

"badgering, your honor," the defense attorney shot up, already unraveling at the edges.

jaemin turned to the judge without missing a beat, smooth as silk. "i'm challenging a sworn statement that reeks of gross negligence, not badgering—unless the facts are suddenly too uncomfortable to sit with."

"sustained," the judge said, firm but clearly intrigued. jaemin nodded as if even that ruling worked in his favor. he stepped back, composed, already ten moves ahead while everyone else was still figuring out the game.

murmurs rippled through the gallery. the opposing counsel tugged at his tie, visibly rattled.

jaemin walked to the evidence desk, setting the file down with deliberate care—a final piece sliding into place on a chessboard he'd been controlling since opening statements.

"your honor, let the record reflect that the witness acted outside company protocol, directly contradicting section 12-b of their internal fraud prevention framework."

he turned toward the jury, voice unwavering. "in plain terms—this wasn't an oversight. it was carelessness. and when carelessness costs millions, it's not an honest mistake. it's corporate liability."

the defense lawyer moved to object, but the judge raised her hand. "overruled. counselor, proceed."

for the briefest moment, as jaemin stepped back and the courtroom held its breath, he glanced towards the door. you froze behind the narrow crack, certain he'd seen you. but he didn't linger. didn't falter. he turned back to the stand with the same razor focus that had just gutted a witness in broad daylight.

"i have no further questions, your honor."

the gavel hit. the trial wrapped. jaemin had won—undeniably and effortlessly, though you're not surprised. after all, the courtroom is jaemin's arena and in here, he didn’t miss. every question, every objection, every pivot—calculated. ruthless. and manipulative. judges leaned in when he spoke. juries followed him like he was narrating a thriller. even the opposing counsel watched him like they were waiting for the storm to pass.

but jaemin was the storm.

he didn’t raise his voice. he didn’t need to. his confidence wasn’t loud—it was undeniable. the kind that made even the most seasoned attorneys second-guess their notes. in this courtroom, jaemin wasn’t just the best lawyer in the room.

he was the standard everyone else failed to meet.

you stepped into the corridor, still catching your breath when a voice slipped behind your ear.

"i thought i saw you earlier."

you jumped. "jaemin! can you not sneak up on people like that?"

he smirked, annoyingly pleased with himself. "couldn't resist. how'd i do?"

you rolled your eyes, arms crossed. "fine."

"only fine?" he clicked his tongue, mock disappointment dripping from his voice. "can't wait to see you later."

the reminder hit like ice water down your spine—your trial was next. and this time, it wasn't just any opposing company.

it was her company. han soomin's. jeno's girl. you wondered if jeno even knew yet. that you were the one leading the charge, the one coming for everything his lover's company had refused to settle over.

you were flipping through your file, eyes scanning your notes for the hundredth time—highlighted points, cross-referenced statutes, every loophole you intended to close today. the courtroom buzzed faintly around you, but your mind was locked in, laser-sharp.

jaemin had disappeared into the corridor five minutes ago, called away by his assistant for something “urgent.” you checked your watch. fifteen minutes till trial began.

you stood and scanned the room, heart rate picking up. renjun was supposed to escort your key witness, miss seo, through the back entrance—away from press, away from prying eyes. you looked for his familiar figure in the crowd—

—and then you saw her.

soomin.

walking past you with her legal counsel, poised and composed. her heels clicked confidently against the marble floor. she didn’t look anxious—not in the way a person should when facing a trial that could cost her company to go bankrupt. no, she was smiling. a slow, smug, knowing kind of smirk that curled at the corners of her lips as her eyes met yours and drifted down your frame. your gut twisted. something wasn’t right.

then you heard it—“y/n!”

renjun came barrelling through the hallway, panting, eyes wide. your blood ran cold when you don't see miss seo with him.

you rushed forward immediately, grabbing ahold of renjun's shoulder like your life depended on it. “where is she?”

renjun doubled over, catching his breath. “she’s—she’s gone,” he huffed. “i went to the prep room, and—her stuff’s gone. bags, coat, everything. she’s not answering her phone.”

you stared at him, stunned.

"they bribed her." renjun spat, frustration heavy in his breath.

and your heart dropped like a stone.

you’d expected dirty tactics—but not this. not the key witness vanishing minutes before the trial. not soomin walking in with that smile like she already knew the outcome.

and jaemin was still gone.

you sat in the hallway, the courtroom doors towering just a few steps away. your mind raced, flipping through every possible backup plan, every argument you could still salvage without miss seo’s testimony. but it was like trying to finish a puzzle with the centerpiece stolen.

you refused to back down.

this case had already cost you too much time, too much sleep—and you weren’t going to let soomin walk into that courtroom with a smug smile and walk out untouched. not after what their company had done. the lives they've destroyed. not after they rejected the settlement like they were untouchable.

you clenched your jaw, fingers gripping the file tighter. there had to be something. anything.

“y/n.”

you turned sharply. jaemin had returned—his tie slightly loosened, hair wind-swept from moving fast. but there was purpose in his stride, something sharp and burning in his eyes. without a word, he took your hand in his and pulled you with him.

“jaemin, what—”

“just come.”

he led you into a side prep room, shutting the door behind you. you were still catching up when he finally spoke.

“jewel corp became my firm’s client,” he said, voice low, almost apologetic. his hand still wrapped around yours, like he wasn’t ready to let go. not yet.

your breath caught.

“wait,” you said, eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fall into place. “they’re your client now?”

he nodded once, jaw clenched. “it was confirmed an hour ago." you pulled your hand away slowly, your chest tightening with the slow, creeping dread of understanding. “which means… you can’t represent me anymore.”

jaemin didn’t answer. he didn’t have to. the silence was confirmation enough. your gaze dropped to the floor, brain racing. you were legal counsel on this case—but jaemin had been your anchor, your strategist, your backup plan. now he was legally bound to the enemy’s side. and it wasn’t coincidence. not with soomin walking into court like she already knew the outcome. not with her smirk. not with your witness disappearing right before trial.

“she planned this,” you said, voice sharp with disbelief. “she knew we were coming for them. so she took out our witness and bought your firm.”

“we need to delay the trial,” jaemin said, eyes darting toward the courtroom door. “if they’re playing dirty, we buy time and prepare for it.”

“how?” you asked, voice tight. “we’re five minutes from start.”

“i called in a favor from an old friend. he's submitting a motion for continuance on your behalf right now—based on grounds of witness tampering.”

your eyes widened. “renjun said it out loud. that she was bribed. if we argue that the disappearance of your key witness was the result of interference—intentional obstruction—then it compromises the fairness of the trial. and that’s enough to request a postponement.”

you stared at him. “won’t that raise flags? if you’re on their payroll now…”

“which is exactly why i’m not filing it myself,” jaemin said, firm. “you’ll use a temporary solicitor. just for this hearing. i’ve already got someone briefed—someone who owes me.”

you exhaled slowly. your stomach was still a knot, but your mind was already recalibrating.

“so if we push this… what then?”

“then,” jaemin said, “you build the case without me. and you come back stronger. but for now—we buy time. that’s the only way to beat them at their own game.”

you sat at the plaintiff's table, posture stiff, heart pounding behind your ribs. the courtroom buzzed softly—papers shuffled, whispers exchanged—but your ears were tuned into only one thing: the ticking of the clock on the wall.

the courtroom settled into a hush as the bailiff called the room to order, the sound of the gavel ringing sharp against the wood.

you rose to your feet.

jaemin wasn’t next to you anymore. but his absence didn’t shake you. in his place, you stood tall, fingers brushing down the front of your blazer to steady yourself, clutching the folder of evidence like armor.

you glanced once toward the defense table, meeting soomin’s eyes. she sat perfectly composed, hands folded in her lap, wearing a navy suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. her expression was unreadable—not smug, not worried, just... neutral. like she was watching a mildly interesting television program rather than facing a lawsuit that could topple her company's reputation.

then you turned to face the judge.

"your honor," you begun, “the plaintiff would like to request a motion for continuance.”

the words landed with the weight of a bomb. you could feel the shift in the room's energy—the way reporters leaned forward, the way the defense team's confident posture faltered slightly.

the judge looked up. “on what grounds?”

the opposing counsel leapt to their feet. “objection, your honor—this is last-minute and highly irregular. we’re ready to proceed—”

you didn’t flinch. didn't even glance in his direction.

“our key witness has disappeared under suspicious circumstances,” you said firmly. “as of this morning, she was accounted for. fully briefed. scheduled to appear. and now—she’s vanished. no message. no trace. and all of her belongings have been removed from her apartment.”

that brought the room to a near-freeze. “we have reason to believe this may constitute witness tampering.” gasps rippled across the courtroom like a dropped pin in a tomb. the judge’s eyes sharpened. “do you have documentation?”

you nodded once, and handed over a printed, sworn statement from renjun, detailing the timeline and witness disappearance. along with a copy of the hotel’s security log.

the judge read in silence. when she looked up, her expression had changed.

“i’ll grant the continuance.”

you exhaled—but it felt like coming up for air and you were ready to throw up. the defense immediately objected, slamming a hand against their table. “your honor—”

“you’ll have your trial,” the judge cut in, voice harder now. “but not today.”

// to be conitnued

taglist: @chaoticstrawberryland @bbykaixx @strawberrytyong @desiree-lee @mybearcollective @dilflover44 @kangshinwoolovin @kgneptun @firydst @httpsxnox @justineasian @sunflowerhae @huangberryyy @stelleduarte @luvleenono @ccoristu @gomdoleemyson @tinted-skies @dior-15 @socollectionmoom @blackberrywonie @dinonuguaegi @merakicafee @jenzyoit @haechsauce @lorena-mv33 @taeeflwrr @chocojiji

[jaeminlights]

what love left behind

— 012 clubbing incident

masterlist - previous - next

- taglist ; @serenedreamscape @haechology @spacejip @chenlesfeetpic @413ktz @galacticpurpl3 @slayhaechan @bananinhazz @jaeminnanaaa17 @flaminghotyourmom @iraa567 @toroufriteh @joneborder @chenlezip @cottonjaems @hyuckluvr-com @jwisteroid7 @haechanluverr @sofix-hc7 @blueblazings @sibwol @bbykaixx @hoeingthefuckup @markleesleftpinky @dearmynayeon @supergreatgoo @kswluvrr

[jaeminlights]

Better Than This? | Teaser

idol!haechan x idol!f!reader wc: 1.5k

summary: It’s been about two years since your relationship with Haechan began, and during that time, you two rarely clashed. Despite demanding workloads, sneaking around behind the scenes, and your tendency to retreat into your own world, your bond remained strong. At least, it was strong until your first argument escalated into your biggest fight, leading to your breakup. Now, as you reflect on your relationship and your actions, you find yourself trying to repair the rift with a man who seems to have completely shut you out.

contents: SWEARING, horrible attempts at humor, slightest most slight smut ever, deepthroating ig, mention of past sex escapades, angst, jealousy, college student writing about idol life :/, aespa is now 5 members... can you guess who the 5th member is?, miscommunication, emotional unavailability, reader is a bit of a bitch sorry she gets better, crying, a little bit of drama, fluff. uhhh that should be it lmk if I missed anything

(A/N: This is my first fic omg I'm finally off the bench... kinda scaryyy. This fic was literally inspired by a conversation between me and my bestfriend + kpop demon hunters LMFAO this could be shit but it could also not be shit idk. I'm open to tips and tricks! my dms are OPEN)

“Are you seriously about to leave?” you ask incredulously following closely behind your boyfriend, “We’re not done talking.”

Haechan ignores you still heading for the front door of your penthouse.

“HAECHAN!” you yell running around him to block the front door, “Why are you ignoring me now? As if you didn’t just basically insinuate that I’d cheat on you?”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything.” He spoke calmly, “I tried to explain what my issue was to you several times y/n, but you refused to listen so I’m leaving now, can you please move?”

“No.”

“Y/n please, we should just try this again tomorrow. Its late and we’re both just getting on each other’s nerves right now.”

“Oh, I’m getting on your nerves?” You laughed bitterly, “I’m not the one turning something as small as a few offhand comments into a huge deal. I was happy to see you today, but instead of enjoying our time together after almost one month you’d rather complain to me about something that happened almost two weeks ago!”

He simply stared at you, his face carrying an unreadable expression.

“No trying this again tomorrow. Can we just clear this up today? Please? I don’t want to fight with you Donghyuck.” You took a deep breath and reached for his hands, but he pulled them away.

“How can we clear it up when you refuse to listen to me?” He asks a bit dejectedly, “You keep brushing the way that I feel off and shutting me down when you feel as though what I’m saying isn’t that serious. I never really noticed before or maybe I just didn’t want to notice, but I think you may have been this way the entire time.”

Perplexed, you exclaim, “What?”

“Have you only been with me this long because I didn’t dwell on the way that you act outside of closed doors despite us being in a relationship?”

“Wha-“

“Why is it that you always push aside my issues with how ‘single’ you act around people who are obviously flirting with you?” he sighed, “and don’t say it’s because I have nothing to worry about, you always say that and I already know that, why can’t you just pay them no mind? Why do you always have to play into it? Then when it comes down to me having an issue with it you get so defensive but why can’t you just say, ‘okay my boyfriend doesn’t like that I do this thing I obviously don’t have to do so I’ll stop’? Why?”

“That was an interview channie that wasn’t real. Why are you acting as if you don’t know how that goes? That man was not seriously flir-“

“You’re doing it again.” He says while throwing his hands into the air, now walking back towards your kitchen.

“Doing what?” you ask while following him, “I’m not brushing you off I’m responding directly to you.”

“It’s not just that interview y/n you’ve been doing this even outside of interviews and I know our relationship is not public, nor do we want it to be, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about my girlfriend flirting with any and everybody.” He stops and leans against the kitchen island looking at you blank faced, “Then when I ask my girlfriend to reel it back a bit because I don’t like it, she tells me to get over it.”

You walk over to the counter in front of Haechan and lean against it mirroring him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It never goes any further than that though and you know it’s only to appease-“

“There you go again.” He cuts you off again for a second time, “Why can you not appease me? Your boyfriend?” He scoffs and stops leaning against the island. “Wow y/n you really don’t care at all about what I think or how I feel huh?”

“Of course I do-“

“Then why is it that every time this topic comes up you never hear me out?”

“I am! I’m just telling you wh-“

“Why can’t you just stop? Why is it always a reason why you HAVE to?”

“What? Do you not trust me or something? Do you not feel as though this is a bit silly-“

“You think anything pertaining to my feelings is silly.” He cuts you off for a third time shaking his head and beginning to walk out of the kitchen, “I do trust you and it’s never been about that. It’s always been about respect y/n, I respect you enough to not do things you don’t like if it makes you uncomfortable no questions asked but when it comes to me? You do this.” His voice falters slightly towards the end of his statement causing alarm bells to begin ringing in your head.

“Why is this suddenly a problem? I don’t understand. I’ve been this way since before our relationship and even after we got together-“

Haechan turns around and looks at you, eyes wide as if you’d grown two heads. “Were you going to say that even after we got together, I had no problem with it? Because that would be a lie. I know you flirt here and there and its just games to you, but I’ve never liked it, and you’ve always shut me down about it. Always.” He looks at you for a second and then looks to the floor shaking his head, “I love you so much y/n but I really don’t think I can do this anymore.”

You stilled and stared holes into the man standing before you.

A beat passes before Haechan turns back around and heads for the front door for a second time only to be stopped again by you.

“I love you too.” You say honestly, your heart beating out of your chest. “I really do channie and I do respect you. I..” You sense the sensitivity of the situation and look up to meet Haechans eyes which appear to be looking right through you, “I’ll stop. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know that it bothered you this bad, every time you brought it up you seemed to be joking. I never meant to make you feel as though what you felt didn’t matter.” You reach out for his hands, vision a bit blurred and this time he lets you hold them.

“Y/n-“

“I’m so sorry channie. I’m so sorry, okay?” You cut him off, "please just don’t leave tonight like this, not like this. Let’s talk tomorrow like you said, okay?” You pleaded shaking his hands at the end of each sentence.

He stared at you for a bit then pulled you into a hug. One hand sliding around your waist and the other caressing your head tenderly against him and you held onto him as tight as you could while your unshed tears began to fall—you could already feel the difference in his embrace.

“Don’t cry y/n” he says holding you tighter.

“Please don’t leave.” You mumbled into his hoodie pulling away to look him in the eyes, heart sinking after seeing that he has also begun to shed tears of his own.

“Y/n I truly do think its best that we end this here. I don’t think I can-“

"I said I would stop," you interject, "and I will, absolutely. I never meant to make you feel that way—I swear, I would never want to make you feel anything but happy."

Haechan gives you a small smile and says, “I don’t doubt that, and you did make me happy, but I think we need some time apart. Maybe there’s someone out there who won’t make such a big deal about your playful flirting, you know? Maybe we’re both at fault here.” He picks up his shoes from beside you and bends down to put them on.

You watch as he puts his shoes on your stomach starting to turn, “So we’re breaking up?”

“I don’t know, I just think we need some ti-“

“We are breaking up.” You state matter-of-factly

He straightens up and glances at you, a little startled by your sudden shift in tone, “well then yes, we’re breaking up, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Then just get out of my house.” You say sternly, “I apologized, I admitted I was wrong, and I promised that I would stop and fix the problem you had with me, and yet you still want to leave.” You turn to stand to the side of the door so that he could exit, “So leave.”

Haechan stares at you, his mouth opening and closing as he keeps changing his mind on what to say, before finally settling on, “We were friends before, and we can still be friends after this, y/n. We don’t have to cut all ties just because our romantic relationship is ending.”

"I want to cut all ties between us," you say flatly, avoiding his gaze. "It's fine, I get it now. Whatever. I don't even care anymore. Just leave."

[jaeminlights]

joon is so 😭😭😭

[jaeminlights]

I’m still trying to manifest a Choi San for myself.

[jaeminlights]

Love Again

SUMMARY |  You're a lonely single mother sleeping with your coworker, Yunho, who is also a lonely single dad, for the past few months. One night, after a passionate moment, Yunho suggests that maybe it's time for your daughter and his daughter to finally meet.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE |  smut, fluff, singledad!Yunho, singlemom!reader, blended family

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), slight dirty talk, praising, vaginal penetration, lovemaking

LENGTH | 6,128 words

TAGLIST |  ---

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  another dadteez fic but with singledad!Yunho and singlemom!reader this time around.

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

The moonlight spilled through the crack in your curtains, casting a silver glow across the bed where you lay tangled with Yunho. His arm was draped possessively over your waist, his breath warm against your neck as he slept soundly. You should have been exhausted too, after the way his hands and lips had mapped every inch of your body just moments ago, but sleep eluded you. Instead, your mind buzzed with the remnants of their shared passion and the weight of something unspoken that lingered between them.

Yunho stirred beside you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip. He murmured something incoherent, his voice thick with drowsiness, before his eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, clearly still half-asleep, but when his gaze settled on you, it softened with an affection that made your chest ache.

"Hey," he whispered, nuzzling closer to you. "Couldn’t sleep?"

You turned to face him, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Not really."

He propped himself up on one elbow, studying you with those piercing eyes of his. The dim light caught the faint stubble on his jaw, and you couldn’t resist reaching up to stroke it. His skin was rough under your fingertips, a stark contrast to the tenderness in his expression.

"What’s on your mind?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

You hesitated, unsure how to articulate the mix of worry and desire swirling inside you. It had been months since you two started this… arrangement. Late nights at work turning into even later nights at his place or yours. No labels, no promises, just raw, undeniable chemistry that neither of you could ignore. But now, lying here in the quiet aftermath of their heated encounter, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were shifting.

"I don’t know," you finally admitted. "Maybe… maybe I’m just thinking about how much has changed in such a short time."

Yunho watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "It has," he agreed softly. "But not all change is bad, right?"

You nodded slowly, though his answer did little to ease the knot of anxiety in your stomach. He seemed to sense your unease because he shifted closer, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest. His heart thumped steadily beneath your ear, a rhythmic reassurance that grounded you somehow.

"Hey," he said again, tilting your chin up so he could meet your gaze. "Are you happy with me?"

The question caught you off guard, but the sincerity in his eyes stopped any glib response from forming on your lips. "Yes," you said honestly, your voice trembling slightly. "I am."

You swallowed hard, torn between relief and the creeping realization that this conversation was headed somewhere serious—a place you weren’t sure you were ready to go. Before you could say anything, Yunho pulled back slightly, resting his head against the pillow and staring at the ceiling.

"We’ve been doing this for a while now," he began, his voice careful, measured. "Meeting up late, sneaking around… I think we’ve done enough sneaking."

Your stomach dropped at his words, a mixture of fear and anticipation churning inside you. Was he ending it? Was this the end of whatever this was between the two of you?

"What are you saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yunho turned to look at you again, his eyes searching yours for something intangible. "I’m saying… maybe it’s time for our daughters to meet."

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of your breathing. You stared at him, your mind racing as his suggestion sank in. Our daughters. The casual use of the word sent a shiver down your spine. This wasn’t just about the two of you anymore—it was about your families, your daughters' lives colliding in ways you hadn’t dared to imagine.

"You’re serious," you said finally, though it wasn’t really a question.

He nodded, his expression completely serious now. "I am. I think they’d get along. And..." He paused, his grip tightening around you. "And if you’re okay with it, maybe we could… I don’t know, do this properly?"

Properly. 

The word hung heavy in the air between you both, laden with implications that made your heart race. Proper means commitment, structure, and a future. It meant stepping out of the shadows and into the light, embracing something real and tangible. But it also meant vulnerability, exposing yourselves—and your daughters—to the possibility of heartbreak.

"Yunho…" you started, your voice trailing off as you struggled to form coherent thoughts.

"I know it’s a lot," he cut in quickly, sensing your hesitation. "And I get it if you’re not ready. But I just… I feel like we’re worth taking that risk."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and emotional. Were you worth it? The question echoed in your mind, challenging your deepest fears and insecurities. Could you trust him, trust this fragile connection you both had built? Or would diving deeper only lead to more pain in the end?

Before you could respond, Yunho leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It wasn’t frantic or urgent like your earlier encounters; it was slow, deliberate, filled with unspoken promises and emotions you weren’t ready to unpack yet. When he pulled back, his eyes were soft, pleading.

"Think about it," he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Just… think about it."

You nodded weakly, unable to muster any coherent words. 

"Come on," he said gently, tugging you closer. "Let’s get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow."

But sleep was impossible now. As Yunho drifted back into slumber, his arms securely wrapped around you, your mind refused to quiet. The weight of his proposal pressed down on you, stirring up emotions you didn’t have the energy to fully explore.

What would you say? The thought lingered as you stared at the ceiling, your fingers absently tracing the curve of his bicep. This wasn’t just about you and Yunho anymore—it was about the lives you’d created, the futures you’d built. And if you took that leap, there was no going back.

"Kiss me again," you murmured suddenly, surprising even yourself with the request.

Yunho’s eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across his face before it melted into understanding. He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "You always know how to keep me on my toes."

Before he could move, you surged forward, capturing his lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. You needed to feel him, to lose yourself in the heat of his touch, if only for a moment. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you pressed your body against his.

"Is this your way of telling me yes?" he teased between kisses, his voice laced with amusement and lust.

You pulled back just enough to glare at him, though the effect was ruined by the flush creeping up your cheeks. "Shut up and kiss me," you ordered, punctuating your demand with another searing kiss.

Yunho complied without hesitation, his hands roving down your sides as his lips devoured yours. The world outside dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace. It was reckless and impulsive, exactly what you needed to distract yourself from the gravity of his proposal.

But deep down, you knew this wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, you’d have to face the reality of his words, the choice you’d have to make. For now, though, you let yourself sink into the moment, reveling in the way his body felt against yours, the way his lips moved against your own.

"Tell me what you want," Yunho whispered against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "I'll give it to you."

"I just want this," you said, a sudden wave of emotion swelling up inside you. "I just want you, Yunho."

He looked down at you, his gaze tender and almost achingly affectionate. Then he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing along your jawline. "You have me," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. "You have all of me."

Your heart swelled in your chest as he deepened the kiss, losing himself in the feel of his mouth against yours and his hands caressing your body. No, the choice would come soon enough, but in this moment, he was yours. And right now, that was all that mattered.

Yunho hovered above, his fingers entangled with yours on either side of your head. With each movement, the mattress beneath you shuddered.

"Say my name," he panted, his forehead glistening with sweat.

He slid in and out, filling you perfectly with every stroke. Each time, he touched a sensitive spot, the one that made your stomach clench. A tiny noise escaped your lips, breathy, low, desperate.

"Y- Yunho," you managed.

He plunged deeper, bringing the sensations of your body even closer together. Everything else seemed so far away: the room around you, the world. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of him moving against you, bringing you to that blissful edge.

"That's it," he breathed, leaning down to trace the tip of his tongue up the column of your neck. "Say it again."

"Oh god, Yunho," you sighed as you rocked your hips to meet his thrusts.

A delicious smirk stretched his face as he captured your lips for a fleeting moment. He drove faster and deeper, the sounds of flesh against flesh filling the quiet room. His strong hands gripped your waist and his cock nudged your innermost barrier as a cry escaped you.

"Again."

You fisted the sheets above your head, desperately clinging to any sense of control. He slammed his hips into you, reaching further inside. "Oh God," you moaned, overwhelmed.

"Not quite." He moved faster, his pace erratic as he chased his climax.

"Oh, Yunho," you finally gasped, giving in to the white heat that surged through your entire being.

Your toes curled and you squeezed him tight as an explosive rush rushed through you.

"That's my good girl." A long moan escaped him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "You are a good girl, aren't you?"

A warmth spread through your abdomen as Yunho's orgasm rolled over him in slow waves. Your fingers slid through his hair, cradling his head. "The best girl."

The next morning, you wake up to the faint sound of birds chirping outside your window. The sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the room. Yunho is still asleep beside you, his breathing steady and calm.

Damn, you needed him again. Last night wasn't enough. The sun was barely peeking through the thick clouds, and you already needed more of his body heat and musky, earthy scent to start the day off. His weight felt warm, familiar and comforting.

He stirred, rolling onto his side and tugging your body into his. A slow, content smile spread across his handsome face when his eyes met yours, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his sleep-tousled hair and half-lidded gaze.

"Morning," you hummed.

"G'morning, beautiful,” he sighed.

You reached out, running your fingers through his messy hair, and his dark eyes fluttered closed, his expression relaxed and peaceful. A sense of longing filled your chest. What would it be like to wake up like this every day?

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, sensing the shift in your mood.

You paused, hesitating before replying, "Just... thinking about everything that's happened in the past few months. How we've grown closer, gotten to know each other better."

He raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I guess...I'm afraid of losing this. Us,” you said softly.

He glanced down, running his thumb along your bottom lip. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."

It wasn't fair how he always knew the right things to say and just the right way to hold you. How did he manage to be both perfect and imperfect simultaneously?

"What are you thinking?" You murmured back.

A hint of a smile played across Yunho's face. "I'm thinking about how much I enjoy spending time with you. How much happier you make me. How much I want this to work, so we never have to let go."

His words settled into your heart. They felt true, but they scared you nonetheless.

"But what happens if we screw this up?" you asked.

His lips quirked into a crooked smile. "We won't. Because we want the same thing, remember? To give this a real shot."

"You're right," you breathed.

As Yunho wrapped an arm around you, you realized he had been right the whole time. There was no way to predict the future, to see where this might end up. All that was left was to trust each other, to follow your instincts and hope it was enough. And right now, nestled securely against him, that sounded like a pretty damn good plan.

With his sturdy chest as your pillow, you closed your eyes, savoring his presence. Whatever happened next, you'd handle it together.

Yunho tilted your chin, forcing you to look directly into those chocolate pools. "So?"

His unvoiced question hung in the air, heavy and hopeful. But before you could answer, he kissed you then, his hand moving to cradle your face as his lips slid against yours, your hips rolling lazily toward his. Your hands grasped his toned chest, moving down his body until you found what you wanted. 

He let out a muffled sound, his breath hitching, before breaking the kiss to catch his breath. "Really? In the morning?"

Your fingers moved further down to stroke him, eliciting a low moan from him. "Don't complain."

He smirked, shaking his head, but it was quickly replaced with a gasp as he grew rock solid in your palm. You grinned at him and pushed him onto his back, moving to straddle him. His lips curved into a devilish smirk, but there was something soft, affectionate in his gaze as he reached to palm your breasts and fondle your nipples between his fingers.

His fingers stroked and kneaded at your nipple until it was sensitive. Your body hummed with pleasure, aching for him. You grinded against his bare thigh, earning a groan as he bit his lower lip and bucked up against your body.

He groaned loudly as he took control and flipped you onto your back, slipping inside. With each thrust, his length dragged out before plunging back into you, bringing forth little waves of bliss that threatened to swallow you whole.

"I can't get enough of you. Never will," he growled into your ear before nibbling your earlobe. His lips crashed down onto your parted ones. His tongue danced against yours, dominating the kiss. The sensation was exquisite, lighting up your nerves until they sang.

"O- oh god, Yunho," you sighed against his mouth as your fingernails scratched along the expanse of his toned back.

He thrusted again, harder, pushing further, stretching, making you cry out. The sound died out, swallowed by his hungry lips. Then another, another, until he was pounding into you, deep and rhythmic and insistent. Your heels dug into the backs of his muscular thighs, urging him deeper and deeper and deeper still. He let loose a shaky breath, panting.

"Do you like this?" Yunho panted against your lips. "This big dick deep inside you, filling you up and fucking you raw? I want to watch you cum, baby, and I won't stop until your pussy is nice and full."

You gasped, and his movements became even more frenzied, hips pistoning. He pressed his lips back to yours, kissing and nipping and licking. Your toes began curling into the mattress beneath. An overwhelming heat began swirling inside you, turning you molten. Your pleasure crested in waves, breaking and crashing around his cock.

"Fuck, yes, there's a good girl. That's my good girl," he drawled into the shell of your ear, voice wrecked. He rubbed the pad of his thumb across your wet, swollen clit in firm circles, edging you closer and closer to release. "Come for me, baby, let go. I've got you, I've always got you."

As if commanded by his words alone, your climax roared through you, leaving you trembling in its wake. The aftershocks kept your breath shallow, but you managed a contented sigh when Yunho gathered you tightly in his arms.

The two of you lay like that for some time: arms wrapped securely around each other; legs entangled and his fingers still lazily stroking your overheated flesh. The silence of the room was soothing, broken only by the soft ticking of the clock on your bedside table.

Finally, you poke. "Yunho... I think it might be worth it if the girls met."

His hand stills, his voice tinged with cautious optimism when he spoke, "Yeah?"

You look into his deep brown eyes and nod. He releases a shaky sigh, a beautiful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he closes his eyes and presses a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. When his eyelids lift to reveal those big, expressive pools of chocolate, he whispers against the skin of your forehead, "I'll try anything as long as it means having more of you."

His thumb brushes against your cheek gently and tenderly as he locks gazes with yours. Those intense brown orbs look directly into yours and then his lips cover yours in a feather-soft embrace. The kiss is just as meaningful as it is brief, a promise for the future.

"We could finally spend quality time as families. Let the girls play. Have fun," you whispered, enjoying the warmth from his closeness.

"And maybe go on proper dates," he added with an air of hopeful excitement. "I'm sure one of our mutual friends can watch the girls for a few hours. They all have kids so I'm sure our girls will be fine."

"Can you imagine Jongho's girls and our girls playing together? I'm not sure about Yunhee but I can already see Sera tag-teaming with the Choi girls and causing chaos," you giggled.

He chucked deeply at that. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"So are we doing this?" you asked.

His eyes softened. "Definitely," he promised, a tiny, lop-sided smile quirking the edge of his lips. "After today, things are going to be different. For the better."

Later that afternoon, you drive to Yunho’s house with your daughter in the backseat. She chatters excitedly about the playdate, her bright eyes shining with anticipation. 

“Is she nice?” she asks for the hundredth time, twisting around in her seat to look at you.

“Of course she’s nice,” you reply, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “She loves to draw and read, just like you.”

Your daughter claps her hands together, grinning wide. “That sounds so fun! Can we draw together?”

You smile, nodding. “Of course.”

When you pull into the driveway, Yunho is waiting outside with Yunhee. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, standing tall and confident in jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders. Beside him, Yunhee stands excitedly as she bounces on her heels, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders.

“Hi,” your daughter calls out, jumping out of the car and running toward them. “I’m Sera!”

Yunhee hesitates for a moment before stepping forward, her voice friendly. “Hi, Sera. I’m Yunhee.”

You watch as the two girls exchange shy glances, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Yunho steps forward, crouching down to their level. “Why don’t you two go inside and get to know each other? Maybe you can show Sera your drawings.”

Yunhee’s eyes light up at the suggestion, and she takes Sera’s hand without hesitation. “Okay! Come on, I’ll show you my sketchbook.”

As they disappear into the house, you feel a lump rise in your throat. They could really be good friends, you think, watching their retreating figures. Yunho stands and brushes his hands off, a proud smile on his face.

“See?” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I told you it’d be fine.”

You lean into him, sighing softly. “Yeah. You were right.”

He chuckles, his fingers tracing a path down your arm. “Come on, let’s give them some space. We deserve a little peace and quiet, don’t we?”

You follow him inside, your heart fluttering as he leads you toward the living room. The house is warm and welcoming, filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Yunho grabs two mugs from the counter and hands one to you, his gaze never leaving yours.

“So,” he says, lowering himself onto the couch and pulling you down beside him. “How are you feeling about all this?”

You take a sip of your coffee, savoring the rich flavor. “I’m… cautiously optimistic, I guess. It’s a lot, but I think it could work.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I understand why you’d be nervous. But I want you to know… I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think we could make it work. For all of us.”

You meet his gaze, your cheeks warming under his intense stare. “Thank you, Yunho. For trusting me enough to try this.”

Yunho’s smile widens, his happiness radiating through the room like a warm glow. His fingers brush against yours, sending a small jolt of electricity up your arm. 

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. “Seeing you and Sera here… it feels right. Like everything is finally falling into place.”

“I think I feel the same way,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You can’t help but smile back at him, your heart swelling with affection. The weight of the moment settles between you, heavy and hopeful.

He shifts closer, his arm draping over your shoulders as he pulls you into a gentle embrace. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It’s calming, grounding, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe that this—all of this—could be real.

“We’re going to make this work,” Yunho murmurs, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “For them, and for us.”

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settle within you. “Yes,” you say firmly. “We will.”

The sound of laughter echoes from the other room, drawing your attention. You glance toward the hallway, where Sera and Yunhee are now sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a sketchbook together. Their giggles are infectious, and you find yourself smiling even wider.

“They’re already getting along,” Yunho observes, his tone filled with pride. “See? This was the right decision.”

You lean into him again, letting the warmth of his presence soothe any lingering doubts. “It really was,” you agree. “And I’m glad we took this step.”

Yunho kisses the side of your forehead, his touch tender and reassuring. “Me too,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “More than you know.”

The amusement park looms ahead, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that sends a thrill through both you and Yunho. The anticipation is palpable as you load the girls into the car, Sera bouncing in her seat with excitement while Yunhee sits quietly, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Are we there yet?” Sera asks for what feels like the hundredth time, her voice laced with an eagerness that makes your heart swell.

Yunho glances at you from the driver’s seat, a smile tugging at his lips. “Almost,” he says, his deep voice resonating with reassurance. “Just a few more minutes.”

You reach over to squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about the bond you’re building together. This outing isn’t just about the girls—it’s about testing the waters of this new family dynamic, seeing how you all fit together in the chaos of laughter and rides.

When you finally arrive, the park is alive with energy. The air hums with the chatter of families, the distant whir of roller coasters, and the occasional burst of music from a nearby stage. Sera practically leaps out of the car before Yunho has even turned off the engine, her excitement contagious. Yunhee follows with the same excitement although more cautiously, taking in the scene with a reserved curiosity.

“Alright, team,” Yunho says, rounding the car to join you. His tone is playful, but there’s an underlying seriousness to his words. “Let’s make today unforgettable.”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nerves mixed with hope. Unforgettable. That’s exactly what this day could be, if everything goes right. But you know better than to expect perfection. Life rarely unfolds according to plan, especially when kids are involved.

As you navigate through the park, Sera quickly latches onto Yunhee, both girls chattering excitedly about which rides or games to play first. They head straight for the carousel, giggling as they choose their horses. You and Yunho trail behind, keeping an eye on them while stealing moments of conversation between yourselves.

“They seem to be getting along well,” you say, your voice soft but tinged with cautious optimism.

Yunho glances down at you, his dark eyes softening. “They really do,” he agrees. “It’s amazing to see.”

You fall quiet for a moment, watching the girls as they laugh and wave from atop their colorful steeds. There’s something almost magical about the way they interact, as though they’ve been friends their entire lives. It’s a sight that fills you with a profound sense of gratitude—and perhaps a little bit of fear. What if this doesn’t last? What if something disrupts this fragile harmony?

Before you can dwell on those thoughts, Sera tugs on your sleeve. “Mommy! Can we go on the big roller coaster now? Please?”

Her eyes sparkle with pleading, and you feel a pang of reluctance. The ride looks intense, even for adults. But before you can answer, Yunho interjects.

“I’ll take them,” he says decisively, his voice brooking no argument. “You stay here, relax for a bit. I’ve got this.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off with a gentle touch to your cheek. “Trust me,” he murmurs, his gaze steady and reassuring. “We’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, you nod, watching as he takes Sera’s hand and leads both girls toward the towering structure. The line is long, snaking around the perimeter of the ride, but Sera chatters away nonstop, clearly unbothered by the wait. Yunhee, on the other hand, looks up at the coaster with a mix of awe and trepidation.

You find a bench near the entrance and sit down, trying to calm your racing thoughts. The sun beats down on your shoulders, warming you despite the anxiety knotting your stomach. You glance at your phone, scrolling through messages that can’t hold your attention. All you can think about is the three people currently braving the roller coaster without you.

Minutes tick by, each one dragging on longer than the last. Just as you’re about to get up and check on them, a familiar trio emerges from the crowd. Sera is beaming, announcing to anyone who will listen that she wants to go again. Yunhee, however, looks pale and shaken.

Yunho spots you immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern as he approaches. 

“Yunhee didn’t enjoy it as much as Sera did,” he admits, his voice low and apologetic. “She’s feeling a bit queasy.”

You rise from the bench, brushing past him to kneel in front of Yunhee. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you say softly, reaching out to gently smooth her hair. “Are you okay? Do you need some water or maybe a break?”

Yunhee nods silently, her large eyes glassy with unshed tears. You exchange a worried glance with Yunho, knowing this wasn’t part of the plan. But plans, as you’ve learned, are often made to be broken.

“Let’s find somewhere quiet for her to rest,” you suggest, standing up and offering your hand to Yunhee. “We can still have fun, just at a slower pace.”

Yunho hesitates, glancing back at Sera, who is already scanning the area for the next attraction. 

“Give us a minute,” he tells you, crouching down to speak directly to Yunhee. “Do you want to tell Sera why you don’t feel well? She should hear it from you.”

Yunhee hesitates, then nods slowly. Taking a deep breath, she turns to Sera, who is waiting eagerly for her response. “I… I don’t feel so good right now,” she says softly. “Can we take a break?”

Sera’s face falls, but she nods understandingly. “Of course! We can still play games or something, right?”

Yunhee manages a small smile, and you feel a rush of relief. It’s a small victory, but it’s enough to remind you that not every moment needs to be perfect. Sometimes, it’s the unexpected challenges that bring you closer together.

As you lead the group toward a quieter area of the park, Yunho slips his hand into yours. His grip is firm, grounding, and you let yourself lean into the contact, finding comfort in his presence.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “One step at a time.”

You look up at him, your heart swelling with something akin to hope. Yes, you think. 

One step at a time.

It's been a few months since the girls have met each other and hit it off. The four of you are at a park and the air is thick with laughter and the distant hum of music, but in this quieter corner of the park, it feels like the world has momentarily paused. Yunhee sits cross-legged on a blanket, her sketchpad open in front of her, while Sera chatters excitedly about all the cute pets she saw. Yunho stands nearby, his arms crossed, watching the girls with a soft smile. His presence is steady, grounding, as if he’s already woven himself into the fabric of your lives.

You lean back against the picnic table, letting the warmth of the day seep into your skin. Your hand brushes against Yunho’s, and you feel the familiar spark that never fails to ignite between you. His touch. It’s always been more than physical for you—a reminder of the deeper connection you’ve both been reluctant to name. But today, something feels different. Sharper. More urgent.

“We should talk,” you say softly, your voice barely audible over Sera’s animated storytelling.

Yunho turns to you, his dark eyes searching your face. 

“About what?” he asks, though you can see the answer flickering in his gaze.

Us. 

The word hovers unspoken, heavy with meaning. You swallow hard, suddenly unsure of how to articulate the tangle of emotions churning inside you. The fear. The hope. The inexplicable desire to let him in completely.

“The future,” you manage at last, your voice trembling slightly. “Ours.”

He doesn’t speak immediately, and for a moment, the only sound is the rustle of leaves overhead and the faint laughter of other park goers. Then, slowly, he steps closer, his hands settling on your shoulders. The warmth of his touch spreads through you, steadying you even as it sends your pulse racing.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admits, his voice low and rough. “Every time I look at you, every time I see the way Sera smiles when she’s with Yunhee… or how Yunhee looks so much happier with you two around, it’s like everything I didn’t realize I wanted is right here. In front of me.”

His confession hangs in the air between you, raw and unfiltered. You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you let yourself truly see him—not just as the man you’ve been sleeping with, not just as the father of the sweet girl sitting on the blanket, but as someone who feels as deeply as you do. Someone who’s scared. Someone who’s hopeful. Someone who wants you.

“I love you,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, the words breaking free like a dam giving way. “I know it’s fast, and I know it’s scary, but I can’t pretend anymore. Not with you.”

Yunho’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he says nothing. His hands tighten on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing lightly against your collarbone. Then, slowly, he leans down, his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

The intensity of his words stirs something deep within you, something primal and undeniable. You rise to your toes, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s equal parts reassurance and desperation. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, and you sink into the embrace, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat against your chest.

When the kiss breaks at last, Yunho rests his forehead against yours again, his breathing heavy. You stay there, wrapped up in each other, lost in the moment.

“Mommy?” Sera’s voice interrupts the moment, and you pull away quickly, flushing as you turn to see both girls staring at you with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” you say quickly, smoothing your hair and trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Just… grown-up stuff.”

Yunhee looks between you and her father, her expression thoughtful. “Are you guys… getting married?” she asks quietly.

The question catches you off guard, and you glance at Yunho, unsure of how to respond. He meets your gaze, his eyes filled with the same mix of uncertainty and hope that you feel.

“Maybe,” he says finally, his voice steady despite the weight of the word. “If that’s what we all want."

"Do you love my mommy?" Sera asks him earnestly.

Yunho doesn't miss a beat. "Yes," he answers, his voice filled with warmth. "Very much."

"Do you love my daddy?" Yunhee echoes, directing the same question to you.

You turn to the serious-looking little girl with eyes wide open and shining like jewels. "I do. Very, very much," you say honestly.

Yunho looks at his little girl. "What do you say, Yunhee? Are you okay with this?"

Yunhee smiles sweetly, her cheeks flushing with color. "I'm happy if you're happy, daddy. And if it makes Sera my best friend for real, that would be great."

"What do you think, Sera?" You asked your daughter.

"Yes! Yes!" Your daughter yells jumping up and down and running to hug you tightly. "Yunhee we can be sisters and best friends now!"

At your daughter's announcement, you look up into the kind eyes of Yunho, who is watching you with an amused smile. "Seems like our little ones are getting ahead of themselves," he teases. "But I'm willing to follow their lead... if that's alright with you."

You look around at the two little girls beaming with excitement and the man who is slowly carving his way into your heart and it feels like everything is exactly where it should be. 

"More than okay," you murmur as you slide your hands up the length of his chest, wrap them around the back of his neck, and draw him in for another kiss. "More than I can say."

Sera’s face lights up, and she latches onto your arm. “Can we get matching dresses? And go on a honeymoon? And have a big cake with candles?”

You laugh despite the sudden tightness in your throat, reaching out to tousle her hair. “Slow down, kiddo. We haven’t even talked about any of that yet.”

But even as you say the words, you can’t help but imagine it—the four of you, laughing and arguing over wedding plans, building a life together from the ground up. The idea is both terrifying and exhilarating, a risk you’re starting to think might be worth taking.

Yunho steps closer, his hand sliding into yours. “One step at a time,” he murmurs, echoing his earlier words. “But maybe… maybe this time, we take bigger steps. Together.”

You nod, your heart swelling with the possibility of it all. Somewhere behind you, Sera is still chattering enthusiastically about flower girl dresses, while Yunhee continues to sketch quietly, her face tilted upward to catch the sunlight. It’s imperfect, messy, and real—everything a family should be.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

[jaeminlights]

@ everyone: if someone tells you they’re asexual/acespec (or aromantic/arospec), DO NOT QUESTION THEM!!!! Don’t say it might still happen!!!! Please!!!! (This goes for all identities but I’m having Feelings about being ace rn)

It’s so hard to deal with the internalized allonormativity, so anyone having the bravery and confidence to be comfortable in their identity is already impressive. Getting explicitly negative feedback is unnecessary and harmful.

@ aces, aros, and everyone whose identities are questioned: I believe you and I see you. I’m proud of you. Nobody can know you better than you know yourself. Your desires, and/or lack of desires, are valid. And real. I love you all so much.

[jaeminlights]

—princess • matz

※pairing; ❝parents!matz x daughter!reader❞ ※summary; ❝matz just loves their daughter too much ꩜.ᐟ❞ ※warnings; ❝this practically can be considered seonghwa x Hongjoong. If that is something that bothers you, don't read it. no homophobia.❞

parents!matz who are rushing everything in their schedule so that they can reach the daycare quicker. They are saying goodbye to their bandmates as soon as the shooting for the day is over.

parents!matz who are at the daycare even before any other parents. They'd just be standing at the door, hidden from the children's view as they admired how lovely their daughter had grown.

"She's so smart," Hongjoong would compliment, smiling.

And Seonghwa would nod in agreement. "She is our child."

parents!matz who are kneeling with their arms open as soon as the daycare doors open, ready to engulf the little girl.

Y/n would giggle, painting her fathers faces with sloppy kisses. "Daddy, i missed you so much!"

Seonghwa would pout, ruffling the girl's hair. "And you didn't miss papa?"

She would grin, shaking her head. "No!"

Smiling, the family of three would leave the earliest. Leaving the kindergarten teacher standing, with a smile on his face.

And when one day, Y/n tells her parents that a boy at daycare gave her a candy and a flower, Seonghwa would have to physically hold down Hongjoong from barging into the daycare the very next day, furious.

How could a boy dare to give his princess candy and flower? Has he gone mad?

"They're just kids, Joong," Seonghwa would say, trying to calm the younger down.

"Kids my ass!"

And that would become Y/n's new favourite word for the week.

"Babygirl, how was school today?"

"Ass!" She'd say with such delight.

"No, baby," Seonghwa would kneel down, cupping her small face. "We don't say that word, alright?"

Y/n would visibly slump, her smile replaced with a frown. "But daddy said it..." she'd say with a pout.

And when Hongjoong comes downstairs and asks his daughter "Does my princess want some cookie?"

"No! I want ass!"

The man is rolling on the floor in laughter, clutching his sides. "That's not funny, Hongie," Seonghwa would sigh.

"What? You don't find that funny?"

parents!matz who would try not to spoil Y/n but its hard not to when she's such an angel in their eyes. Everything she does is, according to them, worthy of being written down a journal.

And they do do that! The journal is still an ongoing record of all the accomplishments Y/n has achieved, no matter how small. The day she started to walk, to the day she called them "papa" and "daddy." Even the time she fell and scraped her knee. They hope to give her the journal one day when she's all grown.

parents!matz who loves their daughter so much.

do not copy, steal, or translate my work to any other sites. all belong to yup-thats-me™ on tumblr

reqs are open!🦦

[jaeminlights]

🍰

[jaeminlights]

Clueless: Arranged

Seungmin x fem!reader

Warnings: making out, some suggestive content MDNI

Genre: childhood/best friends to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Seungmin were best friends since childhood - both heirs to your separate family businesses. Your parents are trying to get you married, and Seungmin for once, is absolutely losing it.

Clueless Masterlist

The problem with being in love with your best friend for over a decade is that, at some point, it becomes something like an illness. And in Seungmin’s case, it was serious. Life threatening even.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Not Kim Seungmin. He would rather perish than confess to being hopelessly (pathetically) irrevocably in love with you. 

You, his childhood best friend and the only person who found his savage insults... cute. 

Right now, Seungmin was suffering in silence as your parents casually tried to set you up with some budding businessman (budding on his family business most likely). Which, to be fair, was just another day in the life of the elite.

But Jeongin - bless his meddling little soul - clocks Seungmin’s silent meltdown from a mile away. It’s a random Thursday night, and you were over at Seungmin’s place (so was Jeongin), sprawled on his leather couch in a tight little skirt that’s riding up just enough to make Seungmin’s left eye twitch. You were ranting about your mom’s latest matchmaking plot, oblivious to the way Seungmin’s gripping his whiskey glass.

---

Jeongin: 🚨 CODE RED 🚨

Jeongin: SEUNGMIN’S GIRL IS GETTING MARRIED.

Jeongin: HE’S NOT OKAY BUT HE WON’T SAY ANYTHING BECAUSE HE’S A PSYCHOPATH.

Jisung: LMAOOOO STOIC KING IS MALFUNCTIONING?? SEND PICS I NEED PROOF 

Chan: WHAT?

Changbin: EXCUSE ME??

Hyunjin: Rich people problems.

Hyunjin: Seungminnie, blink twice if you're in distress, babe.

Felix: Oh no, Seungmin!

Minho: Oh, this is delicious. Seungmin’s been eye-fucking her since the dawn of time and now he’s gonna let her waltz off with some crusty businessman? Pathetic.

Felix: Guys be nice, he’s probably crying into his pretentious alcohol rn

Seungmin: I'm literally right here. Shut the fuck up. 

Jeongin: BRO. You’re not fooling anyone, you look like you’re gonna hurl. 

Jeongin: SHE'S ABOUT TO BE DEALT OFF TO SOMEONE.

Changbin: WE CAN’T LOSE HER TO RANDOM BILLIONAIRE DUDE!

Jisung: SEUNGMIN CONFESS ALREADY OR I’M TELLING HER YOU JERKED OFF TO HER INSTA PICS  

Seungmin: I will end you.

Hyunjin: Seungmin, ew

Felix: OMG

Minho: Do it, Jisung. I’ll pay you.  

Changbin: I’ll hold him down. CONFESS OR PERISH  

Felix: Guys come on

Seungmin: I’m leaving this chat.  

Chan: NO YOU’RE NOT. WE’RE STAGING AN INTERVENTION. YOU’RE CONFESSING

Hyunjin: We will literally kidnap her from the altar if we have to.

Seungmin: Oh my God. Stop.

---

Seungmin's head was pounding. His heart was pounding harder. His entire existence was pounding with some kind of helpless rage, watching the love of his life get arranged-marriaged off.

---

Meanwhile, you were sipping on your iced americano, watching him.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, eyeing him. “You’ve been weirder than usual tonight.”

“Nothing,” he muttered, voice tight. “Just tired.”

“Bullshit,” you teased, shifting closer. You’re in his space now, close enough that he can smell your sweet perfume. “You’re hiding something. Spill it, Minnie.”

He clenched his jaw so hard. He’s Kim Seungmin - he’d rather skinny-dip in lava than admit he’s been fantasizing about pinning you down and kissing you senseless.

“I said it’s nothing,” he snapped, but his voice cracked just enough to betray him. His eyes flicked to your lips for a split second before he caught himself and looked away, cursing internally.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“Fine, be a grumpy asshole. I’ll just go flirt with my mystery fiancé then. Maybe he’s hotter than you.” you said with a shrug. 

Seungmin’s eye twitched again. He wanted to say something clever but instead, he just scoffed, turning to grab a glass of water he doesn’t even want.

“Do whatever you want.” he dismissed you, and you shrugged again, oblivious to the war raging inside him.

You sauntered out of the living room, hips swaying in a way that was absolutely going to haunt his dreams tonight. The second you were gone, he slammed the glass down, dragging a hand through his hair and muttering, “Fuck.”

Jeongin, who had been eavesdropping like the little gremlin he was (from the study), poked his head in. 

“Bro, you’re so screwed. Should I tell the others you chickened out?” he asked, and Seungmin grabbed a cushion and hurled it at him.

“Get out.”

---

Hyunjin: SEUNGMIN YOU EMOTIONALLY REPRESSED GREMLIN, GET UP AND GO CLAIM YOUR WOMAN BEFORE SHE'S DEALT OFF LIKE A STOCK OPTION.

Changbin: Oh Lord

Chan: Guys, focus. We need a plan.

Chan: Preferably something that won't get us  arrested, I am getting married in another month.

Hyunjin: Seduction arc.

Minho: We need to elevate the sexual tension. 

Jisung: Let's lock them in his penthouse. Followed by the fan favourite - striptease.

Hyunjin: With mood lighting.

Felix: One bed with silk sheets.

Jeongin: I'm here, I can lock them in. 

Seungmin: I told you to fuck off, Jeongin! And I’m blocking all of you.

Seungmin was already one minor inconvenience away from a full blown breakdown when you asked him to go for midnight boba the next day. It was kind of your thing - you and Seungmin, sipping bubble tea, making jokes only you two would laugh at - yeah, that was your thing. 

Now you were sitting on the hood of his car, under the soft glow of the streetlights, while the cool night breeze played with your hair. 

“I swear to God. I’m thinking of running away and joining a cult. I'm terrified of meeting this ‘perfect match’. Mom’s taste in men for me is tragic.”

Seungmin snorted, but it was a strained sound, like he was trying to laugh but also choking on his own soul. 

“Sounds like a real catch,” he deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Inside, though, his brain was frying. Who the fuck is this guy? His fingers twitched against his thigh, itching to do something. Anything, to save you. 

“Seriously, Min, why can’t I just marry you? We’d be perfect. You’re hot. I love the broody vibe. Plus, you’d never bore me to death.” you said all of a sudden, catching him completely off guard. 

Seungmin’s heart did a full-on somersault, and for a split second, his mask slipped. Eyes widened, lips parting like he’s about to say something stupid. 

But then he caught himself, muttering, “Yeah, right. You’d drive me up the wall in a week.”

“Rude,” You said, shifting slightly, your skirt hiking up just enough to show a sliver of thigh, and the way you’m were sipping your drink - lips wrapped around the straw, eyes half-closed in bliss - was straight-up torture for the poor man.

He leaned against his car next to you, clutching his own boba, trying so hard not to stare. But he was failing. Miserably so.

His eyes keep darting to you. Your lips, your hair, the way your blouse clung to your curves in the moonlight - and his heart hammered so loud he was convinced you could hear it. 

Get it together, Seungmin. She’s your best friend. Stop being a creep.

“God, this is so good,” you moaned, sucking down another tapioca pearl with an exaggerated slurp.

He tried to play it cool, nodding like he’s not internally combusting. He took a sip of his own drink, but in his distracted state (too busy watching your lips around that damn straw), he sucked in a cluster of tapioca pearls that shot down his throat. More likely down the wrong pipe, because suddenly he was choking. Full-on hacking like he’s about to cough up a lung.

“Shit! Min, you okay?!” You dropped your drink and started slapping his back, hard enough that he stumbled forward. When that didn’t work, you whacked the top of his head.

“Spit it out, you idiot!” And he did. 

He gasped in a breath, eyes watering, face red, and slumped against the car, mortified. No one said anything for a moment.

“I’m..*cough*...fine,” he wheezed, but he looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. 

You hovered over him, one hand on his shoulder, the other so close to his face like you wanted to cup his cheek.

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed finally, ruffling his hair.

“Shut up,” he muttered, voice hoarse, shoving your hand away. But his ears were burning, and he was pretty sure his dignity was lying in a puddle among the boba. 

---

Seungmin: I just choked to death in front of her. Kill me.

Hyunjin: Choked on your emotions or boba?

Jisung: LMAOOOOOO YOU WHAT??

Changbin: Bro you’re supposed to SEDUCE her not ASPHYXIATE yourself

Minho: Ok, so you are running for the 'most embarrassing' contest I see.

Felix: Oh nooo Min are you okay?? I hope she didn't laugh at you. 

Seungmin: Yes she laughed. This is so embarrassing. 

Hyunjin: This is not the sexy bad boy vibe you need here. Step it up, loser. 

Jeongin: Still no confession. 

Chan: Seungmin, did you choke on purpose to avoid confessing?

Seungmin: I hate all of you.

It was Friday morning, and Seungmin was still recovering from the boba incident - both physically and emotionally (his ego was in tatters). He was sprawled on his couch, scrolling through his phone, when it rang.

His mom. Seungmin froze, staring at the screen like it was a live grenade. If there was anyone Seungmin was scared of, it was his mom.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, voice flat, bracing himself.

“Seungmin-ah,” his mother’s calm voice flowed through the speaker, terrifying him further. “Come home this weekend. There’s something important we need to discuss.”

Seungmin’s soul left his body.

“What… kind of important?” he asked, his voice suspiciously higher than usual.

“You’ll find out when you get here,” she replied cryptically.

“Is it… bad?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why do you sound like I’m about to be disowned?”

“Seungmin, just come home. And bring a nice shirt.”

“…Can I get a hint?”

“No.”

The line went dead. No explanation, no elaboration. Seungmin stared at his phone, heart rate spiking. He was lowkey terrified, imagining everything from a surprise wedding to his parents selling him off to some shady business deal.

He tossed his phone onto the couch and dragged a hand down his face, muttering, “What the fuck is she planning?”

---

Seungmin: My mom just called. Wants me home this weekend for “something important.” Won’t say what. I’m stressed.

Jisung: OH SHIT. YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!

Changbin: BRO THIS IS YOUR MOMENT. CONFESS TO Y/N BEFORE YOU GET DRAGGED OFF TO THE ALTAR 

Minho: Wow plot twist

Felix: Min don’t panic!! But you have to talk to Y/N. Make a move before it's too late!

Seungmin: She said “bring a nice shirt.” That’s not a family thing. That’s a trap. 

Hyunjin: “Nice shirt” = you’re meeting your future in-laws. Or future wife. Or both. 

Jeongin: LMAO

Chan: Seungmin, you HAVE to talk to Y/N before this weekend. What if you're engaged by Monday??  

Seungmin: I’m not confessing shit.  

Jisung: COWARD ALERT. 

Minho: I volunteer to tie him up and drag him to her place. Who’s in?  

Changbin: ME. I’ll bench press him into submission  

Felix: Guys stop he’s having a crisis! 

Seungmin: I’m fine.  

Jeongin: “I’m fine” says the man who’s about to puke from anxiety  

Hyunjin: Imagine Seungmin in a tux, choking on his vows like he choked on boba  

Jisung: 🤣🤣

Seungmin: I hate you all.  

Chan: CONFESS OR WE’RE CALLING YOUR MOM AND TELLING HER YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH Y/N  

Minho: Do it. Do it. DO IT. 

---

Seungmin muted the chat again, his pulse racing with pure, unfiltered anxiety. Was he about to be forcefully married off to some chaebol heiress? 

Seungmin pulled into the driveway of his parents’ sprawling estate on Saturday morning, dressed impeccably, ready for battle. Or at least whatever cryptic nonsense his mom was about to throw at him. The second he stepped through the door, though, he knew he was screwed.

His mom was waiting in the foyer, arms crossed, that smug look plastered across her face (the one she got when she had already won and he didn’t even know the game).

It was terrifying, as her eyes flicked over his outfit, and she nodded approvingly.

“Good to see you, son,” she said, lips twitching. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” he replied, voice flat. “So what’s this ‘important’ thing? Can you just tell me now?”

She tilted her head, smirking wider. “You’ll see. Be patient.”

“Mom,” he pressed, leaning against the wall with forced nonchalance, “just give me a hint. I’m not in the mood for surprises.”

“Oh, you’ll love this one, darling,” she said, her tone dripping with glee.

Then she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving him standing there, palms clammy and heart racing. He dragged a hand through his hair, and sighed. 

The day dragged on with more of the same. His dad was no help either, just chuckling into his coffee. Seungmin’s stoic mask was slipping; he was pacing the living room, imagining every worst-case scenario.

Then, his mom dropped the bomb out of nowhere. She caught him in the kitchen as he was grabbing a glass of water and said, “You’ve got a lunch meeting in an hour. It’s someone important, and I want you to make a good impression. The car's waiting.”

His blood ran cold. “A meeting? With who?”

“You’ll see,” she replied, patting his cheek like he’s five years old. “Now, get going. And smile, Seungmin. You look like you’re going to a funeral.”

---

Seungmin: I AM IN HELL.

Hyunjin: SHE DID THE ‘SMUG MOM’ FACE, DIDN’T SHE?

Seungmin: She’s setting me up. Lunch with “someone important.”

Jisung: HOLY SHIT IT’S HAPPENING!! ARRANGED MARRIAGE ARC UNLOCKED ��

Changbin: BRO

Hyunjin: I bet it's Y/N, and his mom's been  planning this since they were fetuses  

Felix: Omg omg omgggg!! I really hope that's it!

Seungmin: I’m gonna throw up. 

Changbin: This is worse than Squid Games.

Hyunjin: LMAO 

Jeongin: Told you this weekend was gonna be wild. You should’ve confessed yesterday, dumbass  

Chan: Seungmin if it IS Y/N you HAVE to say something tonight. This is your shot  

Seungmin: I can’t confess if I’m dead from anxiety first  

Jisung: I can't wait for your wedding bro, it's gonna be an anxiety fest

Minho: I’ll officiate. “Do you take this choking hazard to be your husband?” 

Changbin: CONFESS OR WE’RE CRASHING THE DINNER WITH A BULLHORN 

Felix: It'll be ok, Min! Just be yourself ok? 

Felix: Ok, maybe not. But you know what I mean

Seungmin: Oh my God. 

---

He tossed his phone onto the bed, pacing again. His hands were trembling, his throat was dry, and he kept adjusting his shirt like it was strangling him. He was terrified because he knew this wasn't random. 

His mom was too calculated, too pleased with herself. But what if he was wrong? What if it wasn't  not you? He’d rather die than sit through that.

---

Meanwhile, on your side of the world:

You stood in front of the mirror, curling your hair with unnecessary aggression. Your parents had refused to tell you who this “perfect match” was.

“Someone you already know,” your mom had said. “Someone who will fit perfectly with our family.”

“What is this, Bridgerton?” you’d groaned.

But here you were, putting on a sexy black dress, and mentally preparing to reject another soulless rich heir. 

---

You: I’M GOING TO THROW UP.

Jennie: Who even is this guy??

Maddie: I'll be there. If he pulls some weird shit, I’m  dragging you out.

You: What if he’s mean? Or boring. Or

Jennie: The question is, what if he’s hot?

You: What 

Maddie: Babes, the actual real question is, what if he’s Seungmin?

You: Shut up.

---

Jeongin: RADIO SILENCE FROM Y/N’S SIDE.

Jeongin: I tried texting her and calling her, but nothing

Seungmin: I AM LITERALLY HAVING A PANIC ATTACK.

Hyunjin: Seungmin, listen to me. If it's her, I want you to go and kiss the fuck out of her. Like don't think. 

Jisung: SEUNGMIN, listen to Hyunjin for once. 

Felix: No but imagine walking into the restaurant and seeing her waiting for you? 

Changbin: I would actually scream.

Minho: This has some scope. 

Chan: Seungmin, just confess.

Seungmin: I wanna die

---

Ten minutes later:

Seungmin: I’m in the car.

Jeongin: WE’RE FOLLOWING YOU IN A SEPARATE UBER.

Seungmin: STOP.

Hyunjin: WE’RE HIDING IN THE BUSHES OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT.

Jisung: I’M GOING TO LIVESTREAM THIS.

Meanwhile, you were already at the restaurant, sipping on a glass of wine, nervously tapping your heel against the floor.

“Your guest is arriving, Miss,” the waiter said politely, and you turned toward the entrance. 

You nearly dropped your glass when Kim Seungmin, your best friend, your emotional support human, your secret crush for YEARS, walked through the door in a white suit, holding a bouquet of white tulips, looking equally shocked. 

Your heart stopped.

---

From the bushes:

Jeongin: OH MY GOD.

Jeongin: IT’S HER.

Minho: IS HE GOING TO PASS OUT?

Hyunjin: GET YOUR SH*T TOGETHER SEUNGMIN! I THINK WE NEED AN AMBULANCE

Jisung: OMG IT'S LITERALLY HER. 

Felix: KISS HER ON THE MOUTH. 

Changbin: I'm calling the ambulance just in case, because I don't think he's breathing. 

---

Seungmin froze in place. You stared at him, eyes widening, and he stared back, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

Your lips parted. “Seungmin...?”

His voice cracked. “Y/N.”

---

Seungmin was genuinely questioning reality at this point. Was this... real? Were you actually here, in front of him, looking unfairly beautiful in that very dress that always drove him insane - staring at him with those eyes that had been haunting his dreams since you both were sixteen?

(He was absolutely clueless about the fact that Jeongin, Hyunjin and Jisung were huddled behind a decorative plant, shoving each other to get a better view through the window. He didn't think for a minute that they were actually serious.)

---

Jeongin: OH MY GOD THEY’RE JUST STARING AT EACH OTHER.

Hyunjin: SOMEONE SAY SOMETHING.

Jisung: I'M LITERALLY ABOUT TO THROW A BRICK THROUGH THE WINDOW.

Chan: Jisung, we don't wanna get arrested, mate. 

Felix: NO ONE MOVE. 

Minho: This is so stressful. 

---

He barely had time to brace himself before you slammed into him, arms wrapping around his neck, hugging him so tight you were half-convinced you'd fuse into one person. 

Seungmin, for once in his life, didn’t hesitate. He dropped the bouquet as his arms snaked around you, pulling you flush against him. The restaurant faded away and it’s just you two, chest-to-chest, hearts hammering in sync.

---

Jeongin: SHE’S HUGGING HIM. SHE LITERALLY FLEW INTO HIS ARMS.

Changbin: Oh God

Jisung: I'M ACTUALLY CRYING. OUR PUPPY. 

Hyunjin: HE’S HUGGING HER BACK. FULL BODY CONTACT. CHEST TO CHEST.

Felix: I'm so happy 😭

Minho: Huh

---

Seungmin buried his face in your hair, and said, “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes wide, lips twitching into a grin.

“So you finally admit it?”

He huffed a laugh, but it’s shaky, raw, like he’s spilling his soul and doesn’t know how to stop.

“I’ve wanted to for the past ten years. Couldn’t figure out how to say it.” His grip tightened on your waist, eyes dark. “Better late than never, right?”

You didn’t even dignify that with a response. You just grabbed his face, thumbs brushing those stupidly sharp cheekbones before kissed him like the world’s ending.

---

Hyunjin: OH MY GOD.

Hyunjin: THEY’RE KISSING.

Jisung: OH FUCK. NOISES.

Felix: OH MY MINNIE 😭😭😭😭

Changbin: Congratulations bro

Minho: I'm actually so proud of him. 

Chan: Stop watching them like creeps and get back here. 

Chan: JISUNG DON'T TAKE A PICTURE YOU ASS! 

---

It’s messy and chaotic - all teeth and tongue and pent-up tension exploding in one glorious, unhinged moment. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, and he groaned into your mouth. You were practically climbing him at this point, and he’s matching your energy, kissing you back like he’s starving.

The kiss broke with a gasp, both of you panting, foreheads pressed together. You smirked, breathless.

“I never wanna stop. I wanna do this forever!” You mumbled against his lips. 

Seungmin made a sound that sounded so much like a growl. And dived back in, nipping at your bottom lip just to hear you squeak. It’s sloppy, ridiculous, and so stupidly hot. And you both hold on to each other like nothing else mattered in the world. 

Jeongin: SEUNGMIN FINALLY WON

Hyunjin: I always knew he would win

Felix: THE SHIP HAS SAILED.

Changbin: So that's all of us. 

Minho: But also, are they just gonna keep making out in front of everyone?

Jisung: Bro, let him cook.

Chan: We should probably leave coz the security is looking at you guys now. 

Jisung: Oh fuck

Jeongin: Channie hyung

Chan: Ok bye

Hyunjin: COME BACK HERE YOU COWARD! 

An hour later:

Seungmin: You stupid fucks got arrested?! 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonmoth @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @hanadulsetaad @hyunnjynn

[jaeminlights]

OFF THE ICE s.jy

synopsis ⤑ You were having fun. That’s all. You were young, in college, readying yourself for true adulthood. You didn’t know adulthood would come so quick, in the form of a baby you didn’t plan for. With a man who was more in love with Hockey than anything else. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen with him.

pairings ⤑ hockey player!Jake x pregnant!reader word count ⤑ 18k

warnings ⤑ pregnancy trope, smut, friends with benefits, angst , depictions of hockey injuries , probably more

crossing the line series.

read heeseung's story here.

Two pink lines. 

They stare back at you, unwavering. Bold. Permanent. 

Your breath catches in your throat. A dull roaring fills your ears, like the moment before a crash, when you see the impact coming but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You blink once, twice, waiting for the second line to disappear, for reality to snap back into place. It doesn’t. It stays. Pregnant. A hollow, sinking feeling settles in your stomach. No. No, no, no. This can’t be real. Your fingers tighten around the plastic stick, your knuckles aching from the grip. You were careful. You were always careful. Birth control, condoms, every precaution. You did everything right. So how the hell did this happen? 

You shake your head, your breathing ragged. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe the test is faulty. They mess up sometimes, right? You should take another one. Five more. Ten. You should drive to the store right now and buy every test on the shelf, because this? This can’t be happening. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you as you sink onto the closed toilet lid, one hand gripping the edge of the sink to ground yourself. 

Jake. His name crashes through your thoughts, and a fresh wave of nausea rises up in your throat. Oh my god. There’s only one person it could be. Jake. Your friend. Your friend with benefits. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them. Your mind flickers through the memories—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered jokes between kisses, the unspoken agreement that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was fun. Easy. No strings attached. Except now, there are strings. Big, life-altering, impossible-to-ignore strings. 

Your stomach lurches. You press a hand to it instinctively, but it’s still just you. Just your body, your life—except it’s not just yours anymore, is it? A shuddering breath leaves you, and suddenly, you feel so, so small. What are you supposed to do? You’re in your second year of college. You have plans, dreams, a future that doesn’t include cribs and lullabies and tiny fingers clutching at yours. You can’t be a mother. Not now. Maybe not ever. And Jake? 

Jake has hockey. The game is his whole world—the early-morning practices, the late-night workouts, the way his eyes light up when he steps onto the ice. He has a career to chase, a future that doesn’t include this. 

This will ruin everything. Tears burn at the edges of your vision, but you blink them away. You can’t cry. Not yet. Not until you’re sure, not until you go to the doctor and they tell you this is all some cruel mistake. Because if it’s not… You swallow hard, gripping the test so tightly it feels like it might snap in half. You can’t tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. If you don’t say it out loud, if you don’t give it weight, maybe it won’t be real. Maybe you can find a way to make this all go away. But deep down, beneath the panic, beneath the sheer, suffocating terror— You already know. This is real. And there’s no undoing it. 

Your breath shudders as you stare at the test, the past clawing its way back to you. You’re racking your brain trying to find when the two of you went wrong, when you stopped being careful. You know exactly how. The memory slams into you, sharp and unforgiving—that night. 

Two months ago. 

The house was packed. Bodies pressed together, the air thick with heat and sweat and the sharp bite of liquor. Music pounded through the speakers, rattling the walls, the bass thrumming through your chest. The whole hockey team was celebrating their win, and Jake was at the center of it all, grinning like he owned the night. Heeseung had won it all, again. Except he was too busy pulling his girlfriend into a random room to really celebrate much. 

You weren’t even supposed to be here—you had a paper due, an exam creeping up—but when Jake texted “Where are you? We won. Get your ass over here,” you rolled your eyes, threw on something half-decent, and showed up anyway. And now you were here. Back pressed against a bathroom door, your fingers tangled in Jake’s hoodie, his mouth hot against yours. A breathless laugh escaped you between kisses, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. “I just came to say congrats.” 

Jake grinned against your lips. “This is how you say congrats?” You smirked. “I was gonna buy you a beer, but—” 

His hands slid down your sides, rough and familiar, pulling you flush against him. “This is better.” And god, it was. You had always liked this about Jake—how easy it was, how uncomplicated. No messy feelings, no awkward expectations. Just heat, just want, just the press of his body against yours as he backed you up against the bathroom sink. Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging it up, your mouths moving together in that frantic, greedy way they always did when neither of you could be bothered to make it back to one of your apartments. 

“Quickie?” you breathed against his lips, teasing. Jake groaned, already fumbling with your jeans. “Fuck, yeah.” It was fast. Dizzying. His hands were everywhere, pushing, pulling, unzipping. Your back hit the counter, your fingers in his hair, his mouth tracing fire along your throat. Your skin was hot, your pulse erratic, and nothing else mattered—not the party raging outside the door, not the alcohol humming through your system, not the fact that you weren’t exactly thinking. 

It wasn’t until he was pressed against you, skin to skin, that something in the back of your mind lurched. You blinked up at him, breathless. “Wait—do you have a—” 

Jake cursed under his breath. “Shit. No. I didn’t—” He moved like he was about to pull back, but god, you wanted him. The ache was unbearable, your body screaming at you to just— “It’s fine,” you whispered. You’re on the pill. It’s just one time. Jake hesitated, his hands gripping your waist like he was giving himself a second to think, but then your mouth was on his again, and whatever sliver of self-restraint he had vanished. 

With one delicious roll of his hips against yours he was a goner. “Holy- f-fuck.” Jake hissed, his mouth agape and eyes heavy lidded as he looked down at where the two of you were perfectly intertwined. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

“How’s that feeling, champion?” You purred in his ear, your hands playing in his hair as he continued his assault on your pussy. 

“Such a pretty pussy..” Jake groaned. His grip on your thighs was almost bruising but you didn't care, you welcomed the pain. Your head leaned back, hitting the mirror as moans fell from your lips like a mantra. Jake’s lips found the column of your neck sucking and biting at the skin. “You like that, baby?” 

“Uh-huh” You nodded your head finding it hard to find the ability to speak when Jake was doing unspeakable things to you. Jake’s thrusts were starting to become frantic, his moans higher and more frequent as it became apparent he was closer and closer to the edge. The music outside the door thumped, sounds of muffled voices passing by the door fell on deaf ears. You were too wrapped up in the way Jake was making you feel, coupled with the buzz of alcohol flowing through your veins. It was almost euphoric when your orgasm hit. Your legs shaking in Jake’s grip. 

“God-” Jake breathed. Your orgasm served as a catalyst for his own. His hips slamming against yours with finality. It was reckless. It was careless. It was just once. Except once was enough. 

Present day. 

Your stomach lurches. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the memory away, willing yourself back into the safety of denial. But it’s useless. The test is still in your hands. The two pink lines are still staring back at you. And no matter how much you wish you could undo it— You can’t. 

Your hands are still trembling. Your fingers ache from how hard you’re clutching the test, but you can’t let go. If you set it down, if you let it slip from your grasp, that means you’re accepting it. That means this is real.A choked sound slips past your lips before you can stop it. Your vision blurs. Then it happens—you break. 

A sob rips through your chest, raw and unrestrained. You fold in on yourself, pressing a hand over your mouth to smother the sounds, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming. They fall in hot, messy streaks, slipping down your cheeks, soaking into your shirt. Your whole body shakes with it, shoulders curled forward, knees pulled up as if making yourself smaller might make this moment disappear. But nothing disappears. Nothing changes. You’re still here. Still alone in this room. Still pregnant. 

The word echoes inside your skull, over and over, until it drowns out everything else. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. The panic tightens around your ribs like a vice, and suddenly, you can’t breathe. You gasp, swallowing down air, trying to steady yourself, but it’s like you’re stuck underwater. Like you’re drowning. You don’t know how long you sit there—minutes? Hours? Time blurs, slipping through your fingers like sand. All you know is that you can’t do this. 

You can’t be pregnant. You can’t be a mom. You can’t tell Jake. A fresh wave of nausea churns in your stomach at the thought of him. Of his reaction. Of what this will do to him. To you. Jake, with his whole future mapped out in skates and ice and championships. Jake, who has never even hinted at wanting something serious with you—because this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Because it never has. And now, you’re carrying something that means everything. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your hands against them. If you don’t see the test, if you don’t look at it, maybe—maybe—No.

You inhale sharply, forcing your mind through the fog of panic. There’s only one thing you can do right now. Only one thing that makes sense. Before you tell Jake—before you even let yourself fully believe this—you need to be sure. A pregnancy test is just plastic and dye. It could be wrong. It could be wrong. A doctor. You need a doctor. 

The thought latches onto you like a lifeline. If you go to the doctor and they tell you this is a mistake—if they tell you that somehow, someway, those pink lines don’t mean what you think they mean—then you can pretend this moment never happened. You can wipe it from existence. You have to know. Your phone is on your nightstand, facedown, dark. You force yourself to move, to function. Your limbs feel heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and fear and the sheer impossibility of what’s happening, but somehow, you grab it. Your fingers are still shaking when you pull up the campus clinic’s number. 

You hesitate. Your thumb hovers over the call button, the moment stretching out in front of you. Because if you make this appointment—if you hear a doctor say the words out loud— Then it’s real. And once it’s real, you can never go back. A single tear drips onto the phone screen, smudging the numbers. You close your eyes. And you press call. 

The next day feels like a fever dream. You go through the motions, pretending your world hasn’t tilted off its axis. But every breath, every step, every blink reminds you that something is different. That there’s something inside you—growing, forming, changing everything. You haven’t said a word to anyone. 

Yuna had texted this morning to let you know she was crashing at her friend’s place again. You almost told her. You almost begged her to come home, to sit with you, to make you feel like you weren’t completely alone in this—but you couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not until the doctor confirms what you already know deep in your bones. So, you’ve spent the entire day in silence. Sitting with this information like a stone in your gut, waiting for the inevitable unraveling. 

You didn’t sleep last night. Every time you closed your eyes, the thoughts crept in—images of Jake, of your future, of what this means for the rest of your life. Of every possibility, every terrible outcome. You’ve always thought of pregnancy as some far-off, abstract concept—something that happened to other people, to people who were ready, to people who wanted it. But not you. Never you. 

And now, in just a few hours, you’ll be lying on an exam table, hearing a doctor tell you how far along you are. How long ago your life changed without you even knowing. The thought makes your stomach twist, nausea curling in your throat. You’re so lost in your thoughts that when your phone rings, the sudden sound makes you jump. It’s Jake. Your heart stops. His name flashes on the screen, bold and unmistakable, and for a second, you consider letting it ring. But that’s suspicious. You never ignore Jake’s calls. That would only make him ask questions.

So, you force yourself to breathe, force yourself to steady your voice, and answer. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” he echoes, his voice easy, warm. There’s the faint sound of voices and clattering sticks in the background, and you picture him in the locker room, probably shoving his gear into his bag while talking to you. The image is so painfully normal that it makes your chest ache. “What are you up to tonight?” he asks, casual, unaware of the chaos inside you. “Practice should be done around eight. You wanna come over?” 

Your grip tightens around the phone. It’s a simple question. A question you’ve answered a hundred times before with some variation of yeah, sure or your place or mine? But tonight, everything is different, and Jake has no idea. You swallow hard, throat dry. “I—I can’t.” 

He pauses. “Why not?” Because in less than two hours, I’ll be staring at an ultrasound screen, listening to a doctor tell me how many weeks pregnant I am. Because I don’t know how to look you in the eye, knowing that inside me—inside us—something is changing, something we never planned for, never wanted. “I'm sick,” you say instead. It’s a rushed excuse, flimsy and weak. “I think I caught something.” 

Jake hums, like he doesn’t quite buy it but isn’t ready to push. “You okay?” No. Not even close. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just tired. I think I just need to sleep it off.” Another pause. You know Jake well enough to know he’s debating whether or not to call you out. But finally, he just sighs. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.” 

His voice is so normal. So Jake. And for a moment, you almost break. You almost say, Actually, there is something I need. I need you to know. I need you to tell me what the hell we’re supposed to do now. I need you to promise that I’m not in this alone. But the words don’t come. Instead, you rush out, “I gotta go,” before he can say anything else. You don’t wait for his response. You hang up, your hand shaking as you set your phone facedown beside you. 

The room is too quiet again. Your heart is pounding, adrenaline making your whole body feel light and untethered. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when everything inside you is breaking apart. And yet, that’s exactly what you do. You wipe at your face, stand up, and grab your coat. The appointment is waiting. And whether you’re ready or not— You’re about to find out exactly how much time you have left before you have to tell Jake the truth. 

The air outside is sharp, biting against your skin as you step out of your dorm. It’s early evening, but the sky is already dark, winter pressing its cold fingers into everything it touches. Streetlights flicker to life, their glow hazy against the fog of your breath as you exhale, pulling your coat tighter around yourself. The clinic isn’t far. Just a short walk across campus. Still, every step feels heavier than the last. 

Your stomach churns with nerves, your hands stuffed deep in your pockets to hide their trembling. The closer you get, the more the reality of what you’re about to do sinks in. There’s no turning back after this. Once the doctor confirms it—once they tell you exactly how far along you are—you’ll have no choice but to face this head-on. No more pretending. No more hoping the test was wrong. You wish Yuna were here. You wish someone was here. 

But instead, you walk into the clinic alone, head ducked, shoulders curled in like you can make yourself disappear. The receptionist barely looks up as you check in, only nodding before motioning toward the chairs in the waiting area. You sit. The room smells like antiseptic and old magazines, too-bright lights buzzing overhead. Your legs bounce restlessly, fingers twisting in your lap. The other people waiting don’t even spare you a glance, but you still feel exposed, like someone could look at you and just know. Your name is called. 

Your body moves on autopilot, following the nurse down the hall, into a room. She asks questions. You answer without really hearing yourself, your voice robotic, like you’re reciting lines for a role you never wanted. Then the real part begins. You lie back on the table, cold gel spread across your stomach. The machine hums to life, and your heart pounds. You don’t know if you want to look. You don’t know if you can. But then the doctor says, “There it is.” And you do. You look. 

The screen is grainy, shifting black and white, impossible to make sense of at first. Then she moves the wand, adjusting the angle, and— Your breath catches. A tiny flicker. Your whole body freezes. “That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor says softly. “Would you like to hear it?” 

Your throat is too tight to answer. You don’t know what you expected, but not this. Not something so small, so fragile, so real. You nod. And then—sound. A rapid, steady rhythm, impossibly fast but undeniably there. Your vision blurs, and it takes you a second to realize you’re crying. 

Because this isn’t just a concept anymore. This isn’t just two pink lines or a mistake or a problem you don’t know how to solve. This is real. And whether you’re ready or not, this is happening. The doctor speaks again, gentle but firm. “You’re about seven weeks along.” 

Seven weeks. You squeeze your eyes shut. Because now there’s a heartbeat. Now there’s a timeline. Now there’s no way out of this moment, no way to pretend it hasn’t already changed you. You leave the clinic with a small printout in your hands, the black-and-white ultrasound photo pressed between your fingers. You don’t even know why you took it. Maybe because part of you knows that after tonight, everything is going to change. And Jake still has no idea. 

Back in the dorm you're still alone, Yuna not having come back yet. You were grateful for that as you just needed the time alone to process. Your phone buzzes. You flinch at the sudden vibration, your fingers tightening around the ultrasound printout still resting in your lap. It takes a second for you to move, to blink, to tear your gaze away from the tiny, grainy image on the paper. Another buzz. Your stomach twists. 

Slowly, like you already know what you’ll see, you reach for your phone and tilt the screen toward you. 

Jake: You feeling any better? 

You stare at the message, your pulse hammering in your throat. A third buzz. 

Jake: Practice just ended. Thinking about you. 

You suck in a sharp breath, a lump forming in your throat so quickly it nearly chokes you. Thinking about you. He doesn’t even realize what those words do to you right now, how they cut straight through your ribs, cracking something open inside you. You can picture him perfectly—his damp hair, his flushed cheeks, the easy way he leans against his locker while texting you, probably half-distracted, expecting you to reply with something simple. Something normal. But nothing is normal. Not anymore. The screen glares up at you, demanding an answer, but your fingers won’t move. 

What could you even say? Actually, I’m in my dorm having just left the doctor, staring at an ultrasound of the baby I never meant to have with you. But don’t worry, I’ll get back to you when I figure out how the hell to tell you. Another buzz. This time, it’s a call and you panic. Your heart slams against your ribs, and before you can stop yourself, you flip the phone over, screen-down, silencing it. The call cuts off. A few seconds later, another text comes through. 

Jake: You good? 

Your breathing is uneven. Your hands are shaking. You can’t do this. Not right now. You toss your phone away on the bed, like that will somehow make it all go away. Like that will somehow delay the inevitable. But you know it won’t you have to tell him soon, or it will eat you alive. 

For the next few hours you sit in silence, still not having left the dorm. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock above your desk.  You’re curled up beneath your blankets, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep after getting back from the clinic, but your body had other plans. It wasn’t restful, though. Even in sleep, your mind wouldn’t stop spinning, replaying the sound of that tiny heartbeat over and over and over again. 

Suddenly a soft click of the door was heard. You stir, blinking blearily as the light flicks on. “Hey, are you awake?” Yuna’s voice is gentle, cautious. You push yourself up, rubbing at your eyes as you watch her drop her bag by the door. She looks guilty. “I’m sorry for being gone so long,” she says, brushing a hand through her dark hair. “Our study session ran late, and we figured, why not just turn it into a sleepover? I should’ve texted you more. I feel bad.” 

You shake your head, forcing a small, tired smile. “It’s fine. You don’t have to check in with me every second.” Yuna eyes you for a beat, like she’s trying to gauge if you really mean it. Then she sighs, kicking off her shoes before flopping onto the bed beside you. “I missed anything exciting?” Yes. No. everything. 

You swallow, shaking your head again. “Not really.” Yuna shifts, turning onto her side to face you. Then, her brows furrow. Her eyes scan your face, tracing the dark circles beneath your eyes, the tension in your jaw, the way you keep fidgeting with the edge of your blanket. “Okay, what’s wrong?” she asks, blunt as ever. 

Your heart stutters. “What? Nothing’s wrong.” 

Yuna doesn’t buy it for a second. She gives you a look, her sharp, knowing gaze cutting right through your weak attempt at indifference. “Don’t lie to me.” You open your mouth—ready to deny, to deflect, to do anything but tell the truth—but something inside you breaks. The weight of it all, the sheer impossibility of holding it in any longer, crushes you. You don’t say a word. You just reach under your pillow, where the crumpled ultrasound printout is still hidden, and pull it out with trembling fingers. 

Then, without looking at her, you hold it out. Yuna blinks, confused for a second—until she takes the paper from your hand and sees. Her entire body goes still. Silence. She stares down at the black-and-white image, her lips parting slightly. Her throat works like she wants to say something, but no words come out. Seconds stretch, heavy and suffocating. 

Finally, she looks at you. Her voice is quiet, but sharp with shock. “Is this…?” You nod, your chest tight. Yuna inhales sharply. “Holy shit.” She sits up straighter, like the weight of the moment is finally hitting her. She looks at the ultrasound again, like if she stares long enough, it’ll make sense. Then, eyes wide—voice barely above a whisper—she asks, “…It’s Jake’s? Right?” You let out a dry, humorless laugh, wiping at your face. “Of course, it is.” 

She looks up at you, eyes still wide with shock. “He’s the only one I’ve been with in a year,” you add quietly, voice almost getting lost in the space between you. Yuna swallows, nodding slowly, like she’s just now processing how real this is. Like she’s flipping through all the memories she has of you and Jake—of the nights you’d leave your dorm with a smirk and come back in one of his hoodies, of the way you never quite called him your boyfriend, of the way he was always just there. Her gaze sharpens. “How did he take it?” 

Your stomach twists. You hesitate just a second too long. Yuna’s face drops. “Oh my god.” She leans forward. “You didn’t tell him?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before shaking your head. Yuna groans, throwing her head back against the headboard. “You have got to be kidding me.” 

“Yuna—” 

“No.” She sits up straight again, looking at you with something between exasperation and concern. “You have to tell him.” 

“I know,” you say, voice tight. “I just—” 

“No,” she interrupts. “Not later, not eventually—you need to tell him now.” You shake your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your whole body feels cold, like the weight of this conversation is seeping into your bones. “You don’t get it,” you say, your voice almost breaking. “Jake loves hockey. More than anything. More than school, more than his own goddamn life sometimes.” You sniffle, shaking your head again. “If I tell him this, he’ll—” You stop, choking on the words. 

He’ll what? Walk away? Shut down? Look at you like you’ve just ruined his entire world? You don’t even know. That’s the problem. Yuna softens. She reaches out, placing a warm hand over yours. “Jake is a good guy,” she says gently. “He would never do that to you.” You stare down at your lap, at your fingers twisting in your hoodie sleeves. She says it like it's a fact. Like there’s no question, no possibility of anything else. But she doesn’t know what you know. 

She doesn’t know how much Jake lives for the game, how hockey is the thing that keeps his blood pumping, how he lights up when he talks about it in a way he never has about anything—or anyone—else. She doesn’t know that you’re terrified. Because if you tell Jake, if you say the words out loud— it’s real and it’s scary. 

The tears come fast. Faster than you expect. One second, you’re staring at your lap, chest too tight to breathe. The next, your vision is blurring, and your shoulders shake, and a broken sound rips from your throat before you can stop it. Yuna reacts instantly. “Hey—hey, no, don’t cry,” she says, shifting closer. Her arms wrap around you before you even realize what’s happening, pulling you into the warmth of her embrace. “I got you. It’s okay.” but it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. You bury your face into her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. She doesn’t let go, just rubs circles into your back as you fall apart. 

“I—I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice muffled. “I’m so scared, Yuna.” She sighs, resting her chin atop your head. “I know.” A fresh wave of tears spills over. You wish you didn’t feel like this. Wish you could be stronger, steadier, more in control. But right now, you’re none of those things. Right now, you’re just a girl who made a mistake and is staring down the consequences. Yuna squeezes you a little tighter. “Listen, whatever happens, you won’t be alone in this, okay? You have me. And when you tell Jake, you’ll have him too. And even if—even if he’s an idiot about it at first, I’ll kick his ass into shape.” That actually makes you let out a weak, teary laugh. 

Yuna gasps, dramatic as always. “Did you just laugh? Oh my god, it’s a miracle.” You sniffle. “Shut up.” She pulls back just enough to grin at you, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m serious, though. If worst comes to worst, you and I will just get married and raise the baby together. Two badass moms against the world.” 

A laugh bubbles out of you, real this time. “You’d hate being married to me.” 

“Yeah, but I’d do it out of love. I’d be the hot, rich, wine-drunk mom. You’d be the stressed one who has to actually parent.” You roll your eyes, but the weight in your chest feels just a little bit lighter. Yuna smiles. “See? You’re gonna be okay.” and you think, maybe she’s right, maybe you will be okay. 

The next day feels like a blur. Again. Like you’re going through the motions of life with no real end goal. You know you have to get up, do something. Tell Jake that he’s going to be a fucking father because the longer you keep this a secret the more its eating you up inside out. 

You spend most of your day in the dorm, curled up on the couch with the TV playing some random show you’re not even paying attention to. The volume is low, just background noise to fill the silence, but it doesn’t stop your mind from racing. Jake has been calling all day. Text after text, call after call—his name keeps flashing on your screen, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. You know you should. You know avoiding him won’t make this easier. But every time you reach for your phone, your stomach twists, and your fingers freeze, and the weight of what you have to tell him slams into you all over again. So you do nothing. 

You let the calls go to voicemail. You leave the texts unread. And now, as the sun sets and the room is cast in a dim, golden glow, you’re still here—still stuck, still waiting, still pretending for just a little longer that none of this is happening. But then there's a knock on your door. And you're scared shitless because you think you know who it is. For a second, you don’t move, barely even breathe. Then another knock—firmer this time. 

Slowly, legs unsteady beneath you, you rise from the couch. Your hands feel cold as you grip the doorknob, pulse hammering in your ears as you turn it and pull the door open. And there he is. Jake. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, his hair still damp from a shower, his brows drawn together in confusion and concern. His eyes—those warm, familiar eyes—scan over you, taking in your messy hair, the exhaustion written all over your face, the way you’re not meeting his gaze. 

He shifts his weight, tilting his head. “…What’s going on with you?” You grip the edge of the door tighter. Your throat closes. Jake exhales, his expression softening as he reaches up, brushing his fingers over the side of your face like he’s trying to pull you back to him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.” 

His voice is quieter now, tinged with something almost like worry. You swallow hard and your chest tightens, because this is it. There's no more running because Jake is right here in front of you. Jake doesn’t wait for permission. The second you hesitate, the second you shift like you might try to close the door on him, he pushes inside. 

The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in. He stands there, shoulders tense, his eyes scanning over you like he’s trying to read your mind. His brows are furrowed, frustration flickering behind his gaze. “What the hell is going on with you?” he demands. 

Your stomach knots. “Jake—” 

“No, seriously,” he cuts in, voice sharp. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me all day? You haven’t answered a single one of my texts, didn’t pick up any of my calls. I had to come here just to get you to look at me.” You take a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself. The room feels too small, the air too thick. “I told you. I’m sick.” 

Jake scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit.” Your breath catches. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing as he watches you. “You don’t just disappear like that. You don’t just cut me off without a reason.” He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep his temper in check. “Did I… do something?” His voice is quieter now, more cautious. 

“Because if I did, just—tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” His jaw clenches. “I just—fuck, I don’t know—I miss you.” Your heart stutters. You stare at him, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs, making it even harder to breathe. “I’ve wanted to run here to you all week, tell you about my game, watch movies with you. Anything, but you're shutting me out.” This is Jake. You’re jake. And suddenly all of it feels so much worse. 

Your voice is small when you finally speak. “You didn’t do anything.” Jake takes a step closer, searching your face. “Then what is it?” You inhale shakily. Your hands tremble at your sides. Your throat burns. It’s time. There’s no easy way to do this. No way to soften it. 

So you just say it. “I’m pregnant.” 

Silence. It crashes over the room like a tidal wave. Jake doesn’t move, for a moment it looks like he doesn’t even breathe. Completely still. His face goes blank, his lips parting slightly like the words haven’t fully registered. His fingers twitch at his sides, his whole body stiff with shock. You stare at him, heart pounding, waiting—waiting for something. Some kind of reaction. Some kind of response. But he doesn’t say a word. Your stomach twists. He just keeps standing there, frozen, staring at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire reality. And maybe you had. 

You bite your lip, blinking back the burn in your eyes. When you finally speak again, your voice is quieter. Sharper. “This is your only chance to take the out.” Jake’s brows pull together slightly, but he still says nothing. You swallow the lump in your throat. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want to be responsible for a baby, you can walk away. Right now.” Your voice shakes. “No one would blame you. I won’t blame you.” Jake blinks. Still silent. Still motionless. Your heart slams against your ribs. You hate this. Hate this. Hate that you don’t know what’s going through his head. Hate that you feel this vulnerable, this exposed, this small. 

You force yourself to look him in the eyes. “I know hockey is your life..” You trail. “ I know that’s what you’re thinking about right now. You forget that before..this, we were friends. good friends. I know what hockey means to you and I would never in a million years ask for you to choose. So I'm giving you a choice. be a dad or walk away. Neither of those involve not playing hockey. but i’m telling you right now. if you choose this, if you’re all in you better be all in because this is your only time to tap out. don’t get my hopes up then crush them when it gets too hard because i’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Jake just stands there. Still silent. Still unreadable. 

“Why are you not saying anything?” You whispered brokenly, the silence almost too much to bear. “Please say something.” 

Finally, Jake’s mouth opens but then it shuts again like he’s trying to find the ability to speak. Like a failing fish out of water. It’s nerve wracking, your body feels like it's on fire. “Please Jake.” You beg, at your wits end. 

“You’re giving me an out..” He trailed off, and your heart sank at the words. Was he really going to walk away and leave you to raise a baby alone? The thought terrified you to no end. “You’re giving me an out and a very big part of me is screaming at me to take it. it would be the smart thing, the easy thing and maybe the best thing for my career. My brain is ticking, yelling over and over ‘take the out, take the out. but there is a small part of me that outways the rest, a part that won’t let me be like the man who didn’t have the guts to raise me. that refuses to leave this kid, my kid, without a father. so, yes I'm quiet and yes I'm not saying anything. because my mind is going to war trying to think of a way to be a dad and a damn good hockey player at the sametime.” 

“Okay.” You said simply. And for a while you both sat in silence, neither of you finding the right words to say. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Did you figure it out?” You asked him. Jake’s eyes closed, a deep breath falling from his lips. 

“No.” He said simply, “but I will.” Your head shot up in surprise, your eyes wide and glassy with tears threatening to spill. 

“You’re in?” You ask with a strained voice. 

“I’m in.” 

Jake and yourself had a lot more that you had to talk about, that was for sure. But the confirmation of him staying and raising this baby with you had definitely lifted a large weight off your shoulders and although you were less terrified it didn’t mean you were prepared. You were having a baby for god's sake. That scared you to death. And you weren't sure if you were entirely ready for it. 

Over the next few weeks Jake does things that prove he's all in. The first time Jake shows up, you don’t expect it. You step out of the campus doors, arms wrapped around yourself, still shaken from your last appointment. The air is crisp, biting at your skin as you take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. And then you hear it. The sound of footsteps. The rustling of fabric. And then - “Hey.” Your head snaps up. Jake is there, leaning against the side of his car, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it all day, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder like he just came from practice. 

Your stomach flips. “What are you doing here?” you ask. Jake shrugs, pushing off the car. “Thought you might need a ride.” 

​​You hesitate, tightening your grip on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I can take the bus,” you say, voice quiet. Jake raises a brow. “You could. Or you could let me drive you home.” You don’t have the energy to argue. Not today. So you nod. Jake doesn’t say much on the ride back. He keeps his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel, but every so often, his gaze flickers toward you — like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there. 

It keeps happening. 

A few days later, a jersey appears on the back of your desk chair. One of Jake’s, the fabric worn in places, his last name sprawled across the back in bold letters. You pick it up, running your fingers over the lettering. There’s a note tucked into the sleeve. "Just in case you need something warm." Your breath catches. 

The next time you see him, you don’t bring it up. But when you wear the jersey around your dorm, you pretend not to notice the way Yuna raises a knowing brow. Jake keeps showing up. Not in the obvious ways, not in ways that force anything. But in the background. In the small things. A decaf coffee left on your desk when you step out of class. A text asking if you’ve eaten. A moment at the rink where he catches your eyes before disappearing into the locker room. He doesn’t say anything about the pregnancy. Not yet. But he’s there. And that terrifies you just as much as it comforts you. 

Jake isn’t there. Not really. His body is on the ice, his skates cutting across the surface, his hands gripping his stick, but his mind—his mind is still sitting in that sterile doctor’s office, staring at a screen where a tiny, flickering heartbeat had filled the room. "There’s your baby."  He can still hear the doctor’s voice, still feel the way his stomach had plummeted as the reality of it settled in, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. "Your baby."  Jake clenches his jaw, gripping his stick tighter. 

“Jake!” The sharp bark of his name barely registers before — CRACK. The puck flies past him, a blur of black and white as it slams into the boards. “Jesus Christ, Sim!” Jake blinks, snapping back into focus just in time to see his coach skating toward him, fuming. His teammates shift uncomfortably, casting wary glances between them as Coach Bennet stops in front of Jake, eyes blazing. 

​​“You wanna tell me where the hell your head is at today?” Coach snaps. “Because it sure as hell isn’t here.” Jake swallows hard. His grip on his stick tightens, knuckles going white. “I—” Coach doesn’t let him finish. 

“You’ve been slow all practice. Missing passes, losing pucks—you’re a vital part of this team, Sim. You don’t get to check out like this.” His voice drops slightly, but it only makes the words hit harder. “Get it together. Now.” Jake nods stiffly.  He doesn’t say anything. Because what the hell is he supposed to say? That he can’t focus because his whole life changed forever? That there’s a baby now—a real, growing baby—and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with that? That every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is that ultrasound? 

Coach exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Take five.” Jake doesn’t argue. He skates off the ice, his heart pounding. He needs to get his head straight. Now. Because if he doesn’t — He might just lose everything. 

Jake barely makes it through the rest of practice. He’s off. Way off. His passes are sloppy. His shots lack power. He’s slow to react, too caught up in his head to play the way he’s supposed to. By the time Coach blows the final whistle, Jake is drenched in sweat and running on empty. His entire body feels tense, like his muscles are wound so tight they might snap. He just needs to get out of here. 

He needs to shower, grab his stuff, and go check on you. But before he can make it out of the locker room — “Yo, Sim!” Jake glances up, spotting Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon making their way toward him. Jay slings an arm over his shoulders, still dripping wet from his shower. “We’re heading to a party tonight. You coming?” 

Jake doesn’t even hesitate. “No.” 

Jay pulls back slightly, raising a brow. “No?” 

“Dude,” Sunghoon snorts. “It’s a Friday night, and you’re passing up a party? Who are you?” Jake exhales, shaking his head as he shoves his gear into his bag. “I just—” He hesitates. “I have somewhere to be.” 

Heeseung leans against the lockers, crossing his arms. “You’ve been weird as hell all day, man.” Jay nods. “Yeah, what’s going on with you?” 

Jake grips the strap of his duffel so tight it hurts. He could make something up. Should make something up. But instead — it just spills out, before Jake could stop it. “She’s pregnant.” The words hang heavy in the air. None of them move. None of them speak. Jay blinks. “Wait. What?” and Jake laughs.

Or at least, he tries to. It comes out more like a broken, choked sound. His throat feels tight, his chest squeezed so hard it physically hurts. “She’s pregnant,” he says again, voice cracking. And then, before he can even stop it — He’s crying. Right there, in the middle of the locker room, surrounded by his teammates, Jake fucking breaks. 

His head falls into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he lets it out. Because he’s scared. Because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Because this isn’t part of the plan. And for the first time in his entire life, he doesn’t know how to fix it. “Fuck, man,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first to move, stepping closer and clamping a firm hand on Jake’s back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jake shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” His voice is raw, shaky. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.” 

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. “Okay, first? Breathe.” Jake tries. And fails. He sucks in a breath, but it feels like nothing is getting in. His heart is racing, his mind spinning, and everything is just — “Jake.” Jay squeezes his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this.” Jake lifts his head, eyes red, glassy. 

“We got you, man,” Heeseung says quietly. “No matter what.” Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. And, I mean—” He gestures around. “This isn’t exactly news you should be dealing with alone.” 

Jay nudges him lightly. “Have you told her how you feel?” Jake wipes at his face, sniffing. “I don’t even know how I feel.” His voice wobbles. “I just—I need to see her.” Jay exchanges a glance with Heeseung before looking back at him. “Then go” 

Jake doesn’t wait. He grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and leaves. 

The knock at your door startles you. You freeze mid-reach for your phone, heart suddenly hammering in your chest. You already know who it is. For a second, you consider ignoring it. Pretending you’re asleep. Pretending you’re busy. You’re not sure you want any company. But you can’t do that forever. 

So you force yourself up, smoothing down the front of your sweater as you cross the room. You take a steadying breath, gripping the doorknob with fingers that tremble just slightly, and pull it open. Jake stands there. The first thing you notice is the hoodie—dark gray, pulled up over his head, casting a shadow over his face. His duffel bag is slung over one shoulder, his hockey gear probably stuffed inside. His posture is a little tense, like he had to talk himself into coming here. But the real thing that catches your attention is what he’s holding. 

A takeout bag. Your throat tightens. “I, uh…” Jake shifts on his feet, glancing down at the bag like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with it. “I remembered you said you were craving this, so I thought—” He hesitates, clears his throat, then lifts the bag slightly. “I figured I’d bring you some.” Something cracks inside you. Because it’s such a small thing—just food, just a meal—but the fact that he remembered that he went out of his way after practice when he was probably exhausted, when he could have avoided all of this — You swallow hard and step aside, voice softer than you mean for it to be. “Come in.” 

Jake hesitates for just a second before stepping inside. The door clicks shut behind him. He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate, just walks straight over to your desk and sets the bag down before collapsing onto your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this is normal. Like nothing between you has changed. He stretches out slightly, fingers drumming against his thigh before he looks at you. 

“So,” he says, voice easy, like he’s not breaking some invisible barrier by being here. “How was your day?” You blink. It’s such a simple question, but it feels heavier than it should. Because what does he want to hear? That you spent most of it overthinking? That you barely slept last night, kept up by the thought of everything crashing down around you? That every time you close your eyes, you see your own future in a way you never imagined it before? Instead, you inhale deeply and say, “It was fine.” Jake gives you a look. You fidget slightly under his gaze before sighing and elaborating. 

“I had class this morning,” you start, perching on the edge of your chair. “Yuna and I grabbed coffee after, but the barista completely messed up my order, so I ended up drinking the strongest espresso of my life. I swear I could hear colors after that.” Jake snorts, shaking his head. “Then I came back to my room, tried to take a nap, but the guys across the hall decided to have a full-on garage band session at, like, peak volume.” You groan, rubbing your temples. “It sounded like someone was murdering an electric guitar.” 

Jake tilts his head. “Were they at least good?” 

You deadpan. “No.” He chuckles, the sound low and familiar, something that almost makes you feel lighter. So you keep talking. You tell him about your classes, about how Yuna dragged you into watching some new drama that she’s absolutely obsessed with. About how you got sucked into a rabbit hole of cat videos on your phone, and one was so funny that you laughed until you cried. And the whole time, Jake listens. Not just in the polite, half-distracted way people sometimes do. No—he really listens. He nods at the right moments. Asks questions. Throws in sarcastic comments that make you roll your eyes but also bite back a smile. And it’s so… easy. 

For a few minutes, it’s like things are the way they used to be. Like there’s no giant, life-changing revelation hanging over your heads. Like it’s just you and him. Like it’s always been. But that’s the thing about pretending. Eventually, reality always catches up. 

You shouldn’t be staring at Jake. But you are. It’s not your fault, really. He’s sitting on your bed like he belongs there, hoodie still pulled up, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on your blanket. The room is dim, just your bedside lamp casting a soft glow, making everything feel warmer. Closer. And maybe it’s the lighting, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s here, but — he looks good. Really, good. You could blame it on the hormones but you know that’s not entirely true, you were attracted to Jake enough to fuck him on the regular. 

Which is so not what you should be thinking about right now. Especially when everything between you is so much bigger than it used to be. Still, you can’t help but glance at him as you chew your food, watching the way his jaw tenses like he’s caught up in his own head. So, to fill the silence, you ask, “What about you? What did you do today?” 

Jake blinks, like you’ve just pulled him out of a thought he wasn’t ready to leave. Then he sighs. “Practice.” You raise a brow. “That’s it?” He huffs out a soft laugh. “That’s pretty much all I do.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning back against your pillows. “Yeah, yeah. Hockey is life.” Jake smirks. “Glad you’re finally getting it.” You nudge him lightly with your foot, and for the first time in days, something feels normal. But then you see the way his smirk fades slightly, the way his fingers keep fidgeting. 

“How was practice?” you ask. Jake hesitates. And you can tell — whatever it is, he doesn’t want to say it. But after a moment, he sighs. “It sucked.” That makes you pause. Jake never complains about practice. Even when he’s exhausted, even when he’s been chewed out by his coach, even when he’s sore and bruised—he always shrugs it off. It’s just part of the game. So the fact that he’s saying it now means something. 

“Why?” you ask, setting your food down. Jake drags a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I don’t know. I couldn’t focus. Coach was on my ass all day. Kept telling me to get my head in the game.” He shakes his head, voice quieter now. “I just… couldn’t.” Your chest tightens. Because you know. You know why he couldn’t focus. And it hits you, suddenly — Jake is scared. Maybe not in the same way you are. Maybe not in the overwhelming, spiraling, how-will-I-ever-handle-this way that’s been sitting heavy in your chest since you saw that test. 

But still—Jake is scared. And for the first time since this whole thing started, you realize, You’re not the only one whose world is changing. Jake won’t look at you. His eyes stay fixed on some invisible point in the room, his jaw tense, fingers still picking at the frayed thread on your blanket. He looks like he wants to say something, like there’s too much sitting on his tongue, but he doesn’t know where to start. And for some reason, that makes your chest ache. 

“Jake…” you start carefully. His head tilts slightly, but he still doesn’t meet your gaze. You swallow. “Is it because of—”

“You,” Jake says suddenly. The word is soft. Quiet. But it still punches the air right out of your lungs. Your breath catches. “Me?” Jake finally lifts his eyes to yours, and god, they’re unreadable. Dark, searching—like he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do with everything inside him.

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is rough, like he’s only just now admitting it to himself. “It’s you. It’s… this.” He gestures vaguely, and you know he means all of it. The pregnancy. The secret you held onto for weeks. The way everything between you is shifting, unsteady, the ground cracking beneath both of you in real time. And it’s weird. Because part of you has spent so long thinking about how this will change your life—how everything is unraveling for you—that it didn’t even occur to you that Jake is unraveling too.

That he’s scared. Just like you. The thought makes something twist deep in your stomach. You exhale, shifting slightly so you’re facing him completely. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up for you.” Jake’s brows knit together immediately. “What?” You glance down at your hands. “I know hockey is your whole life, Jake. I know you’ve got… plans, and dreams, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. And now it’s just—” You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek before whispering, “I don’t want you to hate me for it.”

Jake stiffens. The room is silent for a long, painful moment. Then, suddenly, he shifts—pushing himself off the bed and moving toward you so fast that your breath stumbles. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s closer now. Close enough that you can see the way his knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping his hoodie sleeves.

“Don’t say that,” he says, voice low. “Don’t ever say that.” You blink up at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his eyes. Jake shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I could never hate you.” Your throat tightens. “But I—”

“You didn’t do this alone.” His voice is firm, certain. “You didn’t just wake up one day and decide to flip my life upside down. I was there, too.” You let out a weak, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m the one carrying it.” Jake flinches slightly at the word carrying, but he doesn’t look away.

“I know,” he says. His voice is softer now. “And I know it’s different for you. I know I’ll never fully get what that feels like.” He swallows hard. “But this isn’t just on you, okay? I’m scared too.” Your heart stutters. Because this is Jake. The Jake who’s always been so steady. So sure of himself. Who skates like nothing in the world could shake him. And now he’s sitting in front of you, looking like he’s the one who can’t find his footing.

You don’t know what to say. So you just nod. Jake exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before falling back onto your bed. He stares at the ceiling for a long second, letting the silence settle between you again. Then, with a small, almost bitter laugh, he says, “God, no wonder Coach was on my ass all day.”

That startles a laugh out of you. It’s small, barely there, but Jake notices. His lips twitch. “Oh, so now it’s funny?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. “I mean… kinda.” Jake groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Glad you’re enjoying my suffering.” You roll your eyes, nudging his foot lightly with yours. “It’s not suffering, it’s called consequences.” Jake drops his arm, lifting his head to give you a flat look. “I don’t like that word.”

You smirk. “Well, get used to it.” For a moment, you just sit there, looking at each other. And something settles. The air is still heavy, the weight of everything still pressing down on both of you. But… It doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore. 

The rest of the night kept going just like that, sat next together watching reruns, laughing about everything. You’re trying to focus on the show playing in front of you. Really, you are. But it’s hard—and not just because Jake keeps making little comments about the plot, half-serious, half to mess with you. It’s because you can’t stop thinking about it. Something that has been plaguing you these past few weeks. The feeling has been creeping up on you for weeks now, an itch under your skin that only seems to get worse. At first, you thought it was just stress, or maybe a weird symptom of everything your body was going through. But now, sitting here next to Jake, your legs tucked up under you, his thigh warm where it brushes against yours — 

You know exactly what it is. And god, it’s humiliating. Because there’s no good way to say it. Hey, Jake, I know our lives are changing forever, but by the way, I’m really, really horny. You press your lips together, eyes flickering toward him. He looks relaxed, his arm slung lazily over the back of your bed, fingers occasionally tapping against the blanket. His hoodie has shifted slightly, revealing a strip of skin above the waistband of his sweats, and why are you even looking at that? 

You force yourself to look back at the screen, gripping your blanket like it might physically restrain you from saying something stupid. But then Jake shifts, turning toward you slightly. “You good?” You freeze. “What?” 

Jake gives you a look. “You keep making weird faces.” Shit. You clear your throat, shaking your head quickly. “I’m fine.” Jake raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure?” 

No. “Yeah.” but he doesn’t look away, god can he just look away. “Because if something’s wrong—” 

“I said I’m fine,” you blurt, a little too quickly, a little too defensive. Jake blinks. You clamp your mouth shut. Then, slowly, his expression shifts. Like he’s figuring something out. Like he’s putting a puzzle together, piece by piece. And suddenly, you regret everything. Because this is Jake.

Jake, who knows your body better than anyone. Jake, who has spent the last year reading your little shifts and signals, knowing exactly when you wanted him—when you needed him—even before you ever said a word. And now he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what’s on your mind. Your stomach flips. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something — But you panic, snatching the remote and turning the volume up way too high.

Jake flinches at the sudden blare of noise. “Jesus—”

“Sorry!” You fumble with the remote, lowering it again. “My hand slipped.” Jake stares at you. Then—slowly—he smirks. Your stomach plummets. “Your hand slipped?” he repeats, amusement dripping from his tone. You nod quickly. “Yep.” Jake tilts his head, still watching you. Your heart is pounding. And you realize, with absolute horror, that there is no way you’re getting out of this.

Jake is still watching you. And you can tell by the glint in his eyes, the way his smirk is growing, that he knows something’s up. So, before he can start teasing you, you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “Are you gonna sleep with other girls?”

Jake stills. His smirk drops instantly. His whole expression shifts from amused to completely caught off guard. “What?” You don’t back down. You cross your arms, looking straight at him. “Now that I’m, you know…” You gesture vaguely toward your stomach. “Are you still gonna sleep with other people?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “No.” Just that. No. No hesitation, no confusion, just a simple, matter-of-fact no. And that does something to you. Because you weren’t even sure why you asked it. Maybe because you never really talked about exclusivity before. Maybe because things between you have felt so different lately, and you needed to know. Or maybe because part of you was scared that nothing was different for Jake  that he’d still be going out, still be with other girls, while you were here, pregnant with his child.

But now, sitting here, watching the way his brows are still pulled together like he can’t believe you even asked  Something inside you loosens. You exhale. “Good.” Then, before you can overthink it, before Jake can even process what’s happening You lean in and kiss him.

Jake freezes. It’s so different from the way things used to be. Before, your kisses were quick, hungry, never filled with anything but need. But this is slow. This is intentional. And it’s Jake who responds first.

He melts into you, his hand reaching up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just right as he deepens the kiss. His lips are warm, familiar, but there’s something new in the way he kisses you now, something softer, something that lingers. And god, you need him. Every built-up thought, every moment of tension from the last few weeks, crashes into you all at once. You press closer, hands fisting into his hoodie, pulling him in.

Jake makes a low sound in his throat, his grip tightening slightly, his other hand sliding down to your waist. His fingers skim the hem of your shirt, hesitate — Then he pulls away just slightly, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard. “Are you—” His voice is hoarse, strained. “Are you sure?” You nod. Jake studies you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. But when he finds none, his lips crash into yours again. And this time  Neither of you stop. Jake kisses you like he’s making up for lost time.

Like he’s been waiting for this, just as much as you have. His hands slide up your sides, slow and careful, like he’s still giving you a chance to change your mind but you don’t. You can’t. You press closer, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie, and that’s all it takes. A low curse slips from his lips as he pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it aside. The sight of him, his flushed skin, his rapid breathing sends a shiver through you. He’s so warm, and when his hands find your hips, you let him guide you back against the pillows, your body reacting on instinct.

Everything feels different. Not in a bad way. Not in a way that makes you hesitate. Just in a way that makes you aware of the weight of his body, the way he touches you, the way he looks at you. Because for the first time, it’s not just mindless. For the first time, Jake is looking at you like he actually sees you. And god, you want him.

His lips trail down, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder everywhere. His hands are careful, slower than usual, like he’s savoring the moment instead of rushing through it. And that’s the thing there’s no rush. Because tonight isn’t about just getting lost in each other. Tonight is something else. Something neither of you have had before. And as Jake’s lips find yours again, breathless, desperate, needing you let yourself fall. 

He took his time peeling off every layer of clothing that stood in your way, his sensual kisses leaving butterfly like feelings in his wake as he moved them up and down the expanse of your neck. It was more romantic than you had ever experienced. He was taking his time with you, cherishing your body as he helped you, cradled you. There was beauty in the way the two of you were finally joined, again. 

You are on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips, lifting yourself up than crashing down to the tune of your own heartbeat in your ears. Jake drank in the sight of you, his hands running up and down your body, squeezing at your breasts like a vice. They were noticeably bigger and it was apparent that Jake loved it. 

Your moans and groans grew in tandem as Jake whispered dirty things into your ear. The gasps he let out everytime your hips slapped against yours served as a catalyst to your already awaiting orgasm. It hit you like a tidal wave, washing over your body in its wake. Jake followed not long after. His body is shaking along with yours. And when it was over, you sat atop him with him still nestled deep inside of you and fell asleep. Feeling more peaceful than you have in weeks. 

The next morning, the first thing you register is warmth. It’s different from the usual comfort of your blankets or the lingering haze of sleep. It’s heavier, grounding, and when you blink your eyes open, it takes you a second to realize why. Jake is still next to you. He’s lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, one arm stretched lazily across your waist. His breathing is slow, deep, even, and in the soft morning light filtering through your curtains, he looks so peaceful. So different.

Jake is always moving, always carrying some kind of restless energy on the ice, at parties, even just sitting next to you. But right now, he’s still. His hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles, his lips parted slightly as he sleeps. You can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the subtle weight of his arm over you, and for a brief, fragile moment, you let yourself just exist here. In this sliver of morning where nothing has to be said. Where nothing has to change. But eventually, Jake stirs.

He shifts against the pillow, letting out a low hum as his lashes flutter open, still heavy with sleep. His grip on you tightens for a second before he pulls away, rubbing at his face. You watch as he blinks a few times, clearly still waking up, before his gaze finally settles on you. A small, lazy smile.

"Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice low, hoarse. You swallow, forcing yourself to look away from the mess of his hair, the sleep-drunk warmth in his eyes. "Morning." Jake shifts onto his side, his movements slower than usual, more relaxed. His eyes flicker toward the bedside table, where his phone buzzes quietly, before he turns back to you.

"The frat’s having a thing tonight," he says, voice still rough from sleep. "Not a party, just a small get-together. You should come." You hesitate. "A get-together?"

Jake nods, stretching one arm above his head before letting it drop back onto the pillow. "Yeah. Just the guys, Yunjin, Yuna, Heeseung’s girl. No crazy shit." He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “It might be good for you.” There’s something careful in the way he says it. Like he’s watching for your reaction. And the truth is, you don’t know how to feel. You haven’t really been out since everything happened. The idea of being around everyone again of feeling like things are normal when they’re so clearly not makes something twist in your chest.

Jake notices. "You don’t have to," he says, quieter now. “I just thought—" He stops, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just thought you might wanna get out for a bit. Clear your head.” And the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker to your stomach for the briefest second before meeting yours again.  You know what he means. He’s giving you an out. If you don’t want to go, he won’t push. If you say no, he won’t mention it again. But the idea lingers.

Because part of you does miss it. Misses laughing with Yuna and Yunjin, miss sitting around and watching Heeseung get bullied by the guys, miss feeling like yourself. Even if things aren’t the same anymore. You exhale slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. “…Okay.” Jake blinks, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually agree. Then slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah?” You nod, and something inside you eases. This could be fun and god knows you need that in your life right about now. 

That night, air is crisp as you step outside, carrying the first whispers of winter on its breath. You tug your coat tighter around you, relishing in the warmth as you walk alongside Jake. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, the fabric pulled over his head, but you can still see the easy grin playing at his lips. There’s something light about tonight, something you hadn’t expected. It’s been weeks of suffocating thoughts, of holding your breath, of feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on your chest. But tonight, for the first time, that pressure isn’t there. Maybe it’s because you’re choosing this. Or maybe it’s because Jake's here with you. 

Jake glances at you as you walk. “You good?” 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“You sure?” He nudges your arm lightly with his elbow, playful, teasing. “Because I don’t wanna show up and have you ditch me two minutes in. That’d be kinda embarrassing.” You roll your eyes but can’t fight the small laugh that escapes you. “I’m not gonna ditch you.” Jake hums, side-eyeing you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “I dunno. You’ve been real unpredictable lately.”  You nudge him back, a little harder this time, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

The sidewalk stretches ahead, illuminated by the golden glow of streetlights. It’s late enough that campus is quiet, the usual bustle of students reduced to only the occasional passing group, muffled laughter carrying through the air. The night feels calm. Jake walks beside you in that familiar, effortless way—like being near you is second nature. And maybe it is. Maybe, despite everything, it always has been You glance over at him. “So, what exactly is this get-together?”

Jake shrugs. “Just a small thing. Heeseung and Jay wanted to do something before our next away game. No crazy party, just hanging out.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

“Swear on my life.” He presses a hand over his heart. “No surprise kegs, no random strangers passing out in the hall. Just us.” It sounds… nice. Like the kind of normalcy you hadn’t realized you missed until now. The thought makes you exhale softly, your steps slowing just a fraction. You hadn’t expected to feel good tonight. Hadn’t expected to look forward to anything, let alone this. Jake notices your pause and turns slightly, walking backward now so he can face you. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head, “we can still turn around, you know. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” But you do.

So you shake your head. “I wanna go.” Jake studies you for a second, like he’s searching for any hesitation. But there isn’t any. Not tonight. Eventually, he nods. “Okay,” he says. Then, his lips twitch into something softer. “Good.” And as you near the house, the sound of laughter spilling out onto the porch, the glow of string lights hanging from the windows, You realize you’re glad you came. 

The warmth of the frat house greets you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The air is thick with the scent of garlic bread and pasta, something home-cooked and rich, filling the space with a kind of comfort you hadn’t expected. Laughter hums in the background, the low murmur of conversation weaving between the sound of utensils clinking against plates. It’s not the kind of party you’d grown used to at this house. No booming music rattling the walls, no overwhelming crush of bodies moving in tandem, no spilled drinks coating the floor in sticky regret. Instead, it feels warm, familiar. Like a gathering of people who actually care about each other. Jake’s friends greet him instantly, throwing easy nods and teasing jabs his way. Jay claps him on the shoulder, Heeseung tosses some offhand comment about how “Wow, Sim, you actually showed up for once?” but then their attention shifts to you.

“Hey!” Yunjin grins, pulling you into a quick hug. “We were wondering if you’d come.” You smile. “Yeah, Jake convinced me.”

“Good. You needed to get out,” Yuna says, appearing at your side with her usual knowing smirk. “You can’t just sit in the dorm watching Netflix and eating fruit snacks for the next few months.”

You narrow your eyes. “That was one time.”

Yunjin snickers. “Sure, babe.”

There’s no judgment in their words, though, just familiarity. That easy friendship that makes your chest loosen. Everyone settles into a comfortable rhythm as the night unfolds, plates passed around, laughter spilling over casual conversation, Jake leaning back into the couch beside you, his arm draped along the back of it, close but not quite touching. And then, at some point, the conversation shifts.

“So,” Yunjin says, sitting forward, her eyes flickering between you and Jake. “We have to talk about something important.” You blink. “Uh… okay?”

Yuna grins. “A baby shower.” You choke on your drink. “A what?”

“A baby shower!” Heeseung’s girlfriend nods eagerly. “Come on, you have to have one! It’ll be so cute!” You stare at them. “I mean, I—”

“It’s not really up to you,” Yunjin interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ve already decided. We’re throwing one.” Jake huffs a small laugh beside you, shaking his head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You’re having a baby, dude. This is happening.” Jay gestures between the two of you. “You might as well have a party for it.” You glance at Jake, unsure what to say. The idea of a baby shower hadn’t even crossed your mind yet. There’s been so much to think about. doctor’s appointments, your classes, the slow, terrifying reality of your life shifting that something as normal as a baby shower hadn’t even made it onto the list. But the way everyone is looking at you excited, hopeful, like they genuinely want to do this for you makes something warm settle in your chest.

Jake’s knee bumps against yours as he shifts beside you. “What do you think?” he asks, voice low enough that it’s meant just for you. You hesitate for only a second before nodding. “I think…” You exhale, looking back at your friends. “I think it sounds exciting.” The girls cheer. Heeseung claps Jake on the back. “Guess you better start making a registry, man.” Jake groans, but there’s something soft in his expression, something light. Something you’d love to see over and over again until you die. 

The conversation drifts naturally, flowing from one topic to the next like the rise and fall of a tide. The laughter still lingers in the air, the warmth of it curling around you like a blanket, but then the topic shifts. Jay leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Man, this schedule is gonna kill me.”

Heeseung snorts. “You say that every year.”

“Yeah, and I mean it every year.” Jay groans, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Back-to-back away games? We barely get time to breathe.” Jake lets out a low chuckle beside you. “You’re so dramatic.”

Jay lifts his head just enough to glare at him. “Shut up, Sim. You love this shit.” Jake shrugs, unbothered. “I mean, yeah. It’s hockey. What’s not to love?” And just like that, the floodgates open. The guys dive into a conversation that feels almost foreign to you, play schedules, practice drills, strategies for upcoming games. They speak in a language that’s second nature to them, that thrives in their bones, their voices animated, hands gesturing wildly as they argue over stats and game plans. And at first, it’s nothing. At first, you just sit there, listening. But then — Then it starts to settle.

Jake does love this. It’s not just a hobby, not just a college sport—it’s his life. The hours, the dedication, the grueling schedule—it doesn’t seem to weigh on him the way it does the others. He thrives in it. He needs it. And this is just college. If he’s this busy now…

The thought creeps in, slow but merciless. If this is what his schedule looks like now—morning practices, late-night workouts, weekend-long away games—what the hell is it going to look like when he goes pro? Because he will. You know it as sure as you know the sun will rise in the morning. Jake was built for this. It’s what he’s worked for, what he’s bled for. Hockey isn’t just something he loves. It’s his future. And where the hell do you fit into that?

You blink, barely registering that the conversation is still going, that the guys are still talking and laughing and teasing each other, that the warmth of the room hasn’t faded—but suddenly, it feels distant. A dull, steady ache starts in your chest, creeping up your throat, tightening around your ribs. You stare at the flickering candle on the table, at the way the wax pools and hardens, melting and reforming in an endless cycle. They keep talking. And you go quiet.

You don’t even realize how still you’ve gone until Jake nudges your knee with his own. “Hey.” His voice is softer now, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You look up, meeting his gaze, and there’s a slight furrow between his brows, that subtle shift that tells you he notices. “You okay?” he murmurs, low enough that the others don’t hear. You should say yes. Should push down the thoughts clawing at your chest, the creeping fear that tells you this is a mistake, that you’re deluding yourself into thinking this can work, that you won’t get left behind in the wake of his future.

But your throat is tight. So you just force a smile, nodding once. Jake doesn’t buy it. His gaze lingers, sharp and searching, like he’s trying to figure you out. But before he can press, someone calls his name, dragging him back into the conversation, and you take the out for what it is. You breathe. And the doubt lingers. The room is still alive with conversation, laughter curling at the edges of words, but your mind is somewhere else. Distant. Tangled.

Jake is talking again something about next week’s game, about how they need to tighten their defense but the words barely reach you. They swirl around the room, carried by voices that belong in this world, that fit. And then there’s you. Sitting here, stomach heavy with something that feels like lead, pressing against your ribs, against your lungs. Because how does this work? How do you fit?

You glance at Jake from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees, brows furrowed as he listens to Heeseung explain something about their last game. He’s so focused. So in his element, like this is exactly where he’s meant to be. And then there’s the baby. And you. Where do you fit in all of this? It was easy, easier when the thought of being pregnant was still something distant, something you were still getting used to. But now it’s real. You’ve seen the ultrasound. Heard the heartbeat. There’s something inside you, someone that’s growing, changing, becoming more real every single day. And Jake..

Jake is here. He’s showing up. He’s bringing you food and taking you to appointments and rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way every time he catches himself looking at you for too long. But for how long? Because this is just college. This is before the contracts, before the NHL scouts come knocking, before his entire life shifts into something so much bigger than campus arenas and team dinners. You bite your lip, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. Jake loves hockey. It’s the one thing he’s never wavered on, the one thing that’s been steady, unwavering, untouchable.

And you, You’re just a detour. A pause in his story. A moment in time that he never planned for. He’s already stretched so thin. His schedule is already brutal. Morning practices, games, travel, training when would he even have time for you? For a baby? For late-night feedings and diaper changes and God, what were you thinking? This isn’t sustainable. This isn’t something that fits neatly into his world.

The realization crashes into you all at once, so heavy you almost feel sick. You need to talk to him. But then Jake laughs beside you, head thrown back, voice warm and unbothered, and when he looks at you, his smile is easy, soft. And for a second, just a second you wonder if maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he’s trying. Maybe he wants this. Maybe…

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low, meant only for you. “You’re quiet.” You blink, jolted from your thoughts, your heart hammering against your ribs. You force a small smile. “Just tired.” Jake’s eyes linger for a second longer, like he doesn’t quite believe you. But then Jay nudges him, pulling him back into the conversation, and the moment is gone. And you, You’re still stuck wondering.

The night air is crisp when Jake pulls up in front of your dorm, the distant hum of campus life still lingering in the background, laughter from passing students, the occasional roar of a car engine down the street, the muffled bass of music from a party somewhere nearby. But inside the car, it’s just you and him.

The warmth of the heater hums softly, filling the silence that has stretched between you since you left the frat house. Jake’s hands are still wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, but he’s not in any rush to move. His eyes flick to you as you shift in your seat, your fingers curling and uncurling in your lap. “You want me to come in?” His voice is careful. Not forceful, not overbearing gentle. An offer. A quiet attempt to be there, to be with you.

You shake your head almost immediately. “No, it’s okay. I think I just wanna sleep.” The words leave your lips too quickly, too practiced, and you can tell by the way Jake’s brows furrow slightly that he catches it. That he knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out on it. He just exhales slowly, watching you for a long moment before nodding once. “Alright.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel, a restless little rhythm, like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how.

You push the car door open before he can change his mind and insist, before he can see through you too much. The cold air bites at your skin as you step out, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You feel Jake’s gaze on you as you turn back toward the car, gripping the edge of the door. “Thanks for the ride.” Jake gives a small nod, his lips pressing together. “Yeah. Of course.”

You linger. For some reason, you linger. Your fingers tighten around the door, the weight in your chest heavy and pulling.Like there’s something that wants to slip out, some small confession that’s buried too deep for you to name just yet. But then Jake shifts in his seat, glancing toward the windshield, and the moment shatters. You clear your throat, forcing a small smile. “Night, Jake.”

His lips twitch slightly, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Night.” You shut the door and walk away before the doubt in your head can make you turn back.

Inside your dorm, it’s quiet. Too quiet. The air is still, untouched by Yuna’s usual presence—her music, her laughter, her constant, grounding presence that keeps you from feeling like you’re alone with your thoughts. But tonight, you are alone. You toe off your shoes and drop your bag by the door, shrugging off your jacket and letting it slip from your fingers onto the chair nearby. The room feels colder than usual, or maybe that’s just you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers threading through your hair as you stare at the floor. The doubt is back. That creeping, suffocating feeling that has latched onto you ever since the conversation about hockey at dinner. How does this work? You feel like you’re standing at the edge of something. A reality you’re not prepared for, a future that you don’t know how to step into. Jake is here now. But what about when the season gets more intense? What about when the scouts come, when contracts are on the table, when suddenly he’s got offers from teams that are miles and miles away?

What about when the NHL swallows him whole and you and this baby become nothing more than a footnote in his history? Your fingers tremble slightly as you rest them against your stomach. It’s still flat, still unchanged, but you know you know something is growing, shifting, taking root inside you. And yet, you still don’t know where you fit in Jake’s life. Maybe he’s showing up now. Maybe he’s trying. But what if this, this thing between you was never meant to last? You press your lips together, blinking rapidly against the sting behind your eyes. You’re exhausted, your body heavy with the weight of your thoughts, but sleep won’t come easy tonight. 

It’s been a week. Seven days of silence. Seven days of unanswered texts, of ignored calls, of messages left on read. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, that eventually, Jake would force his way in. That he’d demand answers, refuse to let you keep pushing him away. But still, when the knock comes; sharp and insistent against your dorm door and  your stomach drops.

For a second, you think about pretending you’re not home. But then his voice comes through, firm but edged with something else. Something raw. “Open the door, please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers curling against the fabric of your hoodie. There’s no running from this. No delaying the inevitable. So you inhale, force your hands to stop shaking, and pull the door open. Jake is standing there, still in his practice gear, sweat dampening the strands of hair curling against his forehead, his hockey duffel slung over one shoulder. He must’ve come straight from the rink, must’ve been thinking about this the entire time because his eyes are already burning with frustration. “What the hell is going on?” he demands.

You cross your arms over your chest, stepping back just enough for him to push past you into the dorm. He does, kicking the door shut behind him, and suddenly the room feels too small. Too full of him. He turns to you, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “You’ve been ignoring me.” You scoff, arms tightening around yourself. “Yeah, well. Maybe that’s because I needed some space.”

Jake shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “Space from what? Me? The baby? This whole situation?” He exhales, something heavy behind it. “You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t know when something’s wrong with you?” You look away, fixing your gaze on the floor. “Jake—”

“No.” His voice cuts through the room, not loud, but firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.” Your throat tightens. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” he says, stepping closer. “Tell me why you suddenly don’t want me around. Why are you acting like I’m already failing at something I haven’t even gotten the chance to do yet.” The words hit you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You don’t mean to let it slip out, but suddenly, it’s there.The fear that’s been clawing at you, the doubt that’s been growing like a weed. “Because I don’t know if you can do it, Jake.” Silence.

His expression shifts, the frustration flickering into something else—hurt. You swallow hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You might think you can handle it, but… this isn’t just a game, Jake. This isn’t a season, or a practice, or something you can walk away from if it gets too hard.” Your voice shakes, but you push forward. “This is a baby. A whole life. And you’re already stretched so thin. Your schedule is insane, your life is already moving in a direction that—” You shake your head, looking away. “What if I’m just setting myself up for disappointment?”

Jake exhales sharply, stepping closer again, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are stormy, filled with something desperate, something pleading. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he says, voice rough. “I don’t know how to make you believe me when I tell you that I want this. That I want to be here.” Your lip trembles, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “You can’t just say it, Jake. You have to prove it.” Jake flinches like the words sting, like they land somewhere deep inside him. He presses his lips together, dragging a hand through his hair. “And how am I supposed to do that if you won’t even let me try?” The words linger between you, thick and heavy, suffocating the space between breaths. You don’t have an answer.

So you just whisper, “I need space.” Jake’s shoulders rise and fall with a slow, controlled breath, like he’s forcing himself to accept it. He nods once, lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine.” But then his voice softens, just barely. “I have an away game this weekend. I’ll be gone until Monday.” His eyes search yours, like he’s looking for something, anything to tell him you’re not slipping too far away. “But I’ll be back. And when I am, we’re talking about this.”

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Okay.” Jake lingers for a moment, like there’s something else he wants to say. But instead, he just exhales, shoulders still tight with tension as he steps back toward the door. And then he’s gone. And the second the door clicks shut behind him, the weight in your chest pulls you under. 

The dorm is cloaked in darkness, save for the faint blue light spilling from the television screen. The glow flickers across the walls, illuminating the mess of blankets you’ve curled yourself into on the couch. The volume isn’t high, but it doesn’t need to be. The sound of the game filters in clearly, the scrape of skates on ice, the sharp whistles, the distant roar of the crowd.

You’d told yourself you wouldn’t watch. That you’d let the game pass without so much as checking the score. But now you’re here, heart hammering against your ribs, watching him. Jake. The camera zooms in as he weaves through the defense, his body moving like something fluid, something effortless. His hair is damp with sweat beneath his helmet, strands sticking to his forehead as he skates into position. He’s good. He’s so good.

You can see it in the way he moves, in the way the opposing team struggles to keep up. They’re aggressive, irritated because they know they can’t outplay him, so they’ll try to beat him down instead. And that’s exactly what they do. The hits tonight have been brutal. More than usual. It’s a grueling, ruthless game, bodies slamming against the boards with resounding cracks. The referees aren’t calling much, letting things slide, letting them play too rough.

And then, Sunghoon goes down. Your breath stutters as you watch him crash against the ice, his body crumpling on impact. He tries to get up, his gloved hands pressing against the rink, but something is wrong. His leg. You can tell immediately. The way he winces, the way his teammates circle him in concern, the way the trainer rushes onto the ice. The cameras cut in close. His face is tight with pain.

It takes two people to help him off the ice. Your stomach is twisted in knots, your hands clenched into fists. You hate this. You hate watching them get hurt like this. And then, Jake. He’s too fast, moving up the rink, his stick handling the puck with precision. The opposing team is trailing behind him, trying to keep up, trying to stop him.

They can’t. So one of them doesn’t even try. The moment it happens, you feel it, the wrongness. The guy comes in too fast. The check is too high, too hard, too reckless. And Jake never sees it coming. Your breath stops. Jake’s body is airborne before he crashes into the boards with a force that shakes the glass. The sound of it is sickening,a violent collision of bone, plexiglass, ice. His head snaps back. His helmet slams against the wall with a brutal crack. And then he slumps. He doesn’t move.

Your vision blurs. The game fades into the background, the commentators talking too calm, too casual as Jake remains still. His limbs are tangled awkwardly beneath him, his hand curled slightly over his side, his helmet tilted askew. He still hasn’t moved. Oh God. Move, Jake. Your stomach is in your throat, a sharp, rising panic clawing up your chest. Your hands are shaking. Your breath is coming too fast, too shallow, and you feel like you might be sick.

Then, slowly, he stirs. Not much, just a twitch of his fingers, a subtle shift in his shoulders. But it’s enough for the trainer to rush onto the ice, teammates circling him as he tries to push himself up. The camera zooms in, his face is twisted, his brows drawn together in pain.

His hand is gripping his ribs. Your throat tightens. You can see it, he’s hurting. Even as he shakes his head at the trainer, even as he tries to play it off. He’s trying to act fine, trying to prove he can keep going, but you know him. You can see through it. Jake’s not okay. Tears burn at your eyes, and you don’t even try to fight them. You don’t care that you’ve spent the last week avoiding him, don’t care that you’ve been drowning in doubts, don’t care that you still don’t have all the answers. Because none of it matters right now. Jake is hurt. You just want to be with him, you need to be with him. You have to get to him, and fast. 

You barely remember how you got there, your feet pounding the pavement in a haze, the world a blur of motion as you rushed toward the hospital. You’re too frantic to think, too scared to process anything more than the fact that Jake was hurt, hurt in a way you couldn’t ignore, couldn’t pretend didn’t matter. The lights from the hospital sign flicker above you as you stumble through the entrance, the sterile scent of antiseptic and disinfectant hitting you like a wall. Your heart is hammering, the fear sitting heavy in your chest as you make your way to the front desk, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I—I’m looking for Jake Sim," you stutter, your voice shaky, too soft as you try to push past the thick knot of panic that clings to your throat. The receptionist eyes you, takes a moment to type something into her computer. “Room 214,” she says flatly, barely glancing up. “He’s being kept for observation.”

Room 214.

The number echoes in your head as you make your way down the hallway, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly. You can hear your pulse pounding in your ears, a steady thrum as you walk faster, too fast, the air around you seeming to constrict with every step. You reach the door. For a moment, you just stand there. Your hand is trembling as you push the door open, the sight of Jake in the bed almost too much to bear. His face is pale, too pale, and his eyes are closed, though he’s awake. He’s hooked up to an IV, his forehead glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

He looks - fragile. Your breath catches in your throat as you step into the room, and it takes everything in you to swallow the rising lump of emotion that threatens to spill out. You’ve seen Jake take hits, seen him get back up from injury after injury. But this feels different. His head turns when he hears the door, his eyes opening slowly, a small smile curling on his lips when he sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough but warm, like he’s trying to ease the tension in the air. His smile is weak, his usual confidence stripped away by the injury, but it’s still there. It’s still him.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you whisper, your throat tight. You move to his side, hovering for a second before reaching out to touch his hand, your fingers trembling against his. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, the solid reassurance you’ve been craving, yet his grip feels fragile in a way you can’t quite shake.

“I didn’t mean to freak out like I did,” you murmur, your voice cracking. “I know you love the baby, and I know you’ll be there for them. I—I know you’ll be a good dad.” He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a faint wince on his face as he shifts his weight, but the way his lips curl into something resembling a smile makes your heart ache.

“Baby,” he says, his voice low but steady, cutting through the tension that’s been hanging between you for days. “I used to think hockey was the world, that I lived for it, breathed for it. that it was my life. That hockey was the reason I woke up in the morning. I love hockey, hockey will always be my passion and it will always be what I want to do, and who i want to be. But it’s not my life. you are. you two are my life, you and this baby and I wouldn't want it any other way.” 

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until the air rushes out in one long, shaky exhale. Jake’s hand reaches up, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the pain he’s in. “I’ve been an idiot,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been so focused on everything else, and I didn’t stop to think about what you needed. What we needed.”

Tears sting your eyes, a sudden rush of emotion overwhelming you. You hadn’t known how badly you needed to hear those words until they were out in the open. “Jake—” But he’s not letting you finish. He pulls you closer, gently, not forcefully, as though he’s afraid you might break. And when his lips meet yours, it’s soft, soft in a way that makes the world feel like it’s finally falling into place.

You close your eyes, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying melting away in an instant. His kiss is tentative at first, just the brush of his lips against yours, a delicate reassurance that he’s here. That he’s not going anywhere. But then, as if the words he’s spoken have unlocked something inside both of you, the kiss deepens, slow and aching, full of the longing that’s been building between you for weeks. The warmth of his lips against yours is the grounding force you needed to remind yourself that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze full of tenderness, full of something real.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs. “I’m staying. I’m gonna be here for you, for the baby… for us.” The words resonate deep inside you, a wave of warmth flooding your chest. You don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, you believe him. You lean your forehead against his, closing your eyes as the world seems to slow down. The hurt, the uncertainty, all of it seems to fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

“I love you,” you whisper. And this time, it’s not a question. It’s not something you’re trying to convince yourself of. It’s just the truth. He smiles, the familiar glint of something unbreakable in his eyes. “I love you, too.” In that moment, you realize that everything’s been leading to this, a moment of vulnerability, of surrender, of knowing that no matter what comes next, you’ve got each other. And maybe that’s all you really need.

AFTER. 

The baby shower is a blur of light and warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of happy conversations filling the air. The room is decorated with soft blues and yellows, little stuffed animals and pastel balloons drifting lazily overhead. It’s a cozy, intimate gathering. more like a family get-together than a grand celebration, and everything feels perfect. The air smells faintly of sweet pastries and flowers, and there’s an undeniable sense of anticipation hanging in the air, as if everyone is waiting for the moment when you and Jake’s little one will finally arrive.

Yuna is by your side, her bright smile radiating as she hands you a piece of cake, teasing you about cravings you’d been indulging in the past few months. You laugh along with her, feeling lighter than you have in ages. There’s a sense of peace in this room — a fleeting, magical calmness that you don’t want to end. Every now and then, your hand drifts to your swollen belly, gently pressing against the soft curve of it, as if the little life inside is dancing along to the rhythm of the moment.

Jake, ever the protective figure, is right by your side, his hand resting on the small of your back, his gaze never straying too far from you. His face, always so expressive, is filled with an emotion you can’t quite name, something soft, something cherishing. It’s hard to imagine a time when things were uncertain, when you wondered if he could be the father you needed, the partner you dreamed of. Because now, standing here with him, you know the truth. He’s already there. Already doing everything he can to show you he’s in this for the long haul.

“Do you need anything?” Jake asks, his voice low, full of the kind of care that only someone who loves you like he does can muster. You shake your head, the warmth from his touch making your heart swell. It’s moments like these, quiet, simple moments that remind you how far you’ve come from the uncertainty you once felt. How far you’ve both come.

“Just you,” you smile up at him, the words coming out without a second thought, and he grins at you like it’s the best compliment he could ever receive.

The guests are all mingling now, with the occasional burst of laughter ringing out as the game ideas you and Yuna came up with take full effect. Everyone is gathered around, exchanging baby gifts, newborn clothes, soft blankets, bottles, stuffed animals. Your friends and family are here, laughing and celebrating this new chapter of your life. The people you love most are sharing this with you. And even though there’s a bittersweet ache in your chest, because Sunghoon is absent, recovering from that god-awful injury, there’s a deep sense of thankfulness that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

“Hey,” Jake says, breaking you from your thoughts. His voice is so gentle, his hand finding yours in the crowd. “I need to step outside for a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod, watching as he slips through the door. You know he’s been feeling the weight of everything lately, the pressure of balancing his career, school, and this new role as a soon-to-be father. You trust him to make it all work, to prove to you that he can handle the responsibilities. But there’s a piece of you, a vulnerable part, that still worries. The doubts always seem to rise like whispers in the back of your mind.

“Win or lose; I want to come home to you,” Jake had said to you not long ago, those words echoing in your memory like a melody. They settle in your heart like a promise, something real, something that matters. The door opens softly, and you look up to see Jake reentering the room, his eyes catching yours immediately. His smile, though small, is genuine, and you feel your breath catch in your chest. The way he looks at you, the way his hand rests against your back once more as he steps closer. it’s as if he’s still trying to wrap his mind around the miracle of everything that’s happening.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” he asks, his voice full of tenderness, vulnerability slipping in beneath the surface. You nod slowly, your hand resting over your belly as you meet his gaze. “We already are, Jake. I already know we are.” The words settle between you both, and for a brief moment, the noise of the party fades into the background. All that matters is this. this feeling of being connected, being here, in this moment, together. The baby, the future, it’s all a little clearer now.

Jake’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The room seems to hum around you, the laughter and chatter distant, but in this small space between the two of you, the world feels as if it’s standing still. Everything has changed. The uncertainty, the doubts, the fear. it’s all been replaced by the certainty of one truth: You’re in this together. And when you see Jake’s face soften with that same familiar warmth, you know it’s true. He’s here. He’s home. “Win or lose,” he whispers, echoing the words he had said to you weeks ago. “I’ll always come home to you.”

Your heart swells in your chest, the weight of his promise settling deep inside you. And in that moment, you know it’s all going to be okay.

reg taglist. (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah

series taglist. (★) @saejinniestar , @chwesun , @vixialuvs , @slut4hee , @xylatox , @ghstzzn @skyearby @m1kkso @jakeswifez @heartheejake @hommyy-tommy @yunverie @lalalalawon

@strayy-kidz @wolfhardbby @kwiwin @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @starfallia @mariegalea @adoredbyjay @strxwbloody @lovingvoidgoatee @beeboobeebss @zyvlxqht @weyukinluv @flwwon

@guapgoddees @demigodmahash @cloud-lyy @heesky @ikaw-at-ikaw @shuichi-sama @shawnyle @kwhluv @iarainha @ikeuwoniee @mora134340

[jaeminlights]

prettiest virgin

》 pairing: dilf! j.yh x fem babysitter! reader

》 wc: 7.8k

》 plot: every night this summer, you fantasized about your boss, Mr. Jeong. babysitting his adorable daughter all summer had turned your small crush on the young, single dad into a lust-filled infatuation. after an awkward encounter that left you both humiliated, you did your best to keep your distance at his daughter’s birthday party. that is, until fate trapped you in a bathroom with him while the party carried on outside.

》 content: oh boy, let's see, age gap, aged up yunho, virgin reader, reader lowkey down bad and porn-obsessed, bathroom sex, mirror sex, panties stay on!! grinding, cowgirl stand and carry, yunho basically using you like a fleshlight, use of sir and good girl, filthy dirty talk, cum eating, cum facial, multiple orgasms, reader obsessed with his cum lol, thigh fucking, sucking his dick while he watches porn??? MONSTER CAWK YUNHO

》 playlist: prettiest virgin- agar agar, candy- doja cat, I fucking lust you- d'african, taste so good- sabrina claudio, less of you- omar apollo, real life- the marias

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again, but here you were, laying in bed with a vibrator cupped to your clit, eyes glued to your phone screen as you tapped on the first video in the big dick category. It took a while for the vibrator to buzz you the right way, but once you found your sweet spot, your head sank lower into your pillow and you had to bite your lip to keep any sounds from slipping out of your mouth. This was the fifth night in a row that you jerked off, and honestly, you were exhausted; Tired of waking up late because of your little late-night endeavors, tired of feeling gross each time your wetness leaked out and stained your panties during the day, and most of all, tired of being a virgin. 

The video you were watching had your favorite pornstar in it. The guy himself wasn’t at all your type, but his cock was pretty. And big. It’s weird to admit, but this is how you imagined Mr. Jeong’s cock looked like. You had been babysitting Mr. Jeong’s six-year-old daughter for the summer while school was out. She was an angel. Hana reminded you a lot of Bubbles from the PowerPuff Girls cartoon, with her sweet little voice and sensitive nature. You loved spending time with her. 

Yes, throughout the summer, you had developed a crush on Hana’s Dad. How could you not? He was everything a man ought to be— tall, handsome, and kind. His being a good father was just a plus in your eyes. He worked from home, so you’d see him occasionally throughout the day. During his break, he’d come downstairs from his home office to color with Hana for a few minutes. During lunch, you’d sit with them on the patio, watching with heart eyes as he wiped ketchup off of her little mouth. 

Lately, your infatuation has become all-consuming, and you resorted to buying a vibrator from Amazon to help ease your frustrations. And that’s when this little habit of yours began. It felt odd, at first. You didn’t want to be the type of person who watches porn every night for hours, imagining your boss doing all these things to you. It just sort of happened. And instead of easing your frustrations, it made them worse. 

You hated being a virgin. Vibrators weren’t enough. You, for lack of a better term, needed to be dicked down. Preferably by Mr. Jeong, but that would only happen in your wildest dreams. It wasn’t like he made it easy for you. Yesterday for example, when you were preparing Hana’s PB&J, Mr. Jeong reached over your head to grab a mug from the cupboard above you. “Behind you,” he alerted, his fingers grazing over your waist as he pulled his coffee mug out. You stood frozen, the place where he touched you burning hot on your skin. 

Every time he touches you, whether it’s the accidental brush of his fingers when he hands you your check or the deliberate weight of his hand on your shoulder as he thanks you at the end of the day, it only makes you crave him more and more.

The video you were watching had an obvious size kink going on. The male pornstar was huge, and he was able to pick up his petite partner and fuck into her with ease. Your thighs clenched thinking about Mr. Jeong picking you up like that and pumping you up and down his length, stuffing just the tip of his big cock into you because that’s all that could fit. Your core tightened, and your orgasm was imminent, until…

It died. Your vibrator died. 

“Oh, fuck off!” You cursed, slamming your head back into your pillow. Stupid cheap fucking vibrator. Here’s to another night of being a lonely, twenty-something virgin, going to bed unsatisfied and unwanted. You sighed, exasperated.

Mr. Jeong was older. You didn’t know much about his wife. It was a sensitive topic for him. And Hana was too young to remember her final moments. He couldn’t possibly want anything to do with you, and instead, you filled your head with unrealistic fantasies to keep yourself up at night and made yourself cum to them. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you were around more boys your age. 

Too tired to continue with your fingers, you shifted to your side and tried to make yourself comfortable. It was 4 in the morning now, which meant you’d only get about 3 hours tonight. Just great, you thought to yourself, waiting for the exhaustion to finally lull you to sleep. 

—

You were rather sluggish today, struggling to keep your eyes open as you drove to Mr. Jeong’s house. The cold brew you picked up before heading over there wasn’t much help. Instead, it just made you even more tired. I need to stop jerking off before bed, you told yourself. Luckily, it was Friday, which meant you had enough time to catch up on the lost hours of sleep this weekend. 

You sighed as you measured out the detergent to wash Hana’s favorite tutu, the warm and fuzzy smell of fabric softener reminding you of your blanket at home, making you want to sleep even more. Hana got upset this morning before you dropped her off to ballet practice when some syrup from her drive-thru pancakes dripped onto her tutu. To quiet her tantrum, you promised her you’d go back home to wash it so it's nice and clean for her to wear when she comes back, and that you’d also bring her second favorite tutu for practice— a purplish-blue one with pink glitter dusted around it. It didn’t feel right just washing one piece of clothing, so you decided to go upstairs and quickly grab the dirty clothes from Hana and Mr. Jeong’s hampers. 

You yawned as you made your way up the stairs, stopping by Hana’s room first. Her room was, as always, a chaotic mess—Barbie dolls and crayons scattered across the floor in colorful disarray, old juice boxes, and snack bags left forgotten on the desk. No matter how many times you tried to teach her the importance of cleaning up after herself, the lesson never seemed to stick. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed the clothes from her hamper and stuffed them into the laundry basket.

Leaving her room, you headed toward Mr. Jeong’s, but froze mid-step as a strange, muffled sound reached your ears from his office. At first, you assumed he was in a meeting, but as you drew closer, the noises grew more alarming—strained and uneven, almost as if he were in pain or… crying?

You gently set the laundry basket down on the floor, carefully tiptoeing toward the door. Pressing your ear against the cold, wooden surface, you strained to make sense of the muffled noises coming from inside. A sharp hiss followed by a low, frustrated “fuck” caught you off guard, making your breath hitch.

Startled, you raised a hand and knocked lightly on the door. “Mr. Jeong?” you called softly. No answer. Concern gnawed at you, and without thinking, you turned the knob. The door creaked as it inched open, the sound slicing through the stillness.

“Mr. Jeong, is everything—” you started, stepping inside.

Mr. Jeong swiveled in his chair, his face frozen in a mask of shock and embarrassment. The two of you stood locked in place as if time itself had come to a standstill. The only sounds in the room were the filthy, lewd moans of a woman coming from his computer. Your gaze dropped instinctively, trailing down his frame until your eyes caught on something in his lower half— his long slender fingers gripping tightly onto his erect cock. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his voice sharp with panic as he scrambled to pull his pants up, hastily stuffing himself back into his waistband. His movements were frantic, his face flushed a deep crimson. “I-I thought you were at the ballet school!”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, the heat rising so quickly you felt your face must be as red as his. “I-I was,” you stammered, your words tumbling out awkwardly as you tried to steady your voice. “But… Hana’s tutu got dirty, and I… I came back to grab another one…”

The porn video continued playing in the background, the sounds of the ridiculously wet blowjob making the awkwardness even more unbearable.

Mr. Jeong, finally snapping out of his daze, spun back to his computer and fumbled to exit the site, the click of the mouse unnervingly loud in the heavy silence. He turned back to you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came. His expression was a mixture of shame and desperation, his face still a deep shade of red.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice breathless and shaky as you struggled to compose yourself. The urge to flee was overwhelming. “I-I should get back to Hana. So sorry again!”

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and hurried out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.

—

You had worried earlier about how you’d make it through the day, feeling so drained and sluggish, but the shock from what happened had jolted you awake like a surge of electricity. Now, a different concern gnawed at you—whether you’d be able to sleep at all tonight. Embarrassment burned through you, and you were sure poor Mr. Jeong wanted to disappear off the face of the Earth after that moment.

Yet, despite yourself, your mind kept racing, replaying the image of his cock. It was so big. It was prettier than the pornstar’s you watch every night. It looked so firm in his hands, the tip flushed pink just like his cheeks. You wondered how it would feel between your legs. Would you even be able to take it? You had dildos in the past, but nothing more than the size of your palm.

“Cash or card?” Hana chirped, her cheerful voice snapping you out of the inappropriate thoughts swirling in your head about her dad.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking down at her as she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor. The living room was a mess, scattered with the colorful pieces of her cashier playset. She pointed at the small plastic credit card in your hand, her expression expectant.

“Oh, uh… I guess card?” you replied, handing it over. You watched as she swiped it through the toy terminal, her little hand expertly mimicking the action.

“Boo beep!” she said with a grin, the sound effects spot-on, before handing you back the card along with a tiny plastic milk carton. “Here you go!”

You couldn’t help but smile, her playful innocence pulling you further from your earlier embarrassment. “Thanks, Hana. Can I have a bag, please?”

“That’s fifty cents extra.” 

“Little haggler, aren’t you?” You teased. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs, pulling Hana’s attention away from the transaction. “Daddy!” she exclaimed joyfully, rushing toward Mr. Jeong and wrapping her tiny arms around his legs in a tight hug.

“Hey, peanut,” he greeted with a warm smile, scooping her up and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Daddy, I did a pirouette today at practice! Wanna see?”

As Hana spun around, tripping over her own feet a couple of times, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag. You kept your eyes down, moving toward the door with a quiet sigh of relief. For once, you were thankful it wasn’t payday; no need to linger any longer, no forced small talk with Mr. Jeong. He seemed just as relieved as he tried his best to avoid you altogether. 

“See you next week, kiddo,” you said, ruffling Hana’s soft hair before heading for the door.

“Wait, Daddy! Can Y/N come to my birthday party tomorrow?”

Mr. Jeong’s smile faltered, replaced by an uncomfortable glance in your direction. “Oh, um, well… why don’t you ask her, sweetie?” he said, quickly deflecting the question back to you.

Hana ran up to you, pressing her small body into your legs and looking up at you with those wide, pleading eyes. “Y/N, can you please please please come to my birthday party? There’s gonna be ice cream cake!”

The urge to say no was strong. You could sense Mr. Jeong’s discomfort, and honestly, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend away from him. But her hopeful gaze, the way her lips stuck out in a small, almost irresistible pout… it was too much to deny.

“Oh, well… I think I have to go somewhere this weekend and…” you started, but then her lower lip began to tremble, and you hated seeing her upset.

You let out a soft sigh, the words slipping out despite yourself. “I, uh, I guess I can come for a little bit.”

“Yay!” Hana cheered, her excitement spilling over as she jumped up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You exchanged a quiet good night with Mr. Jeong, the awkwardness lingering between you both, before disappearing into the warm summer night. The air was heavy as you made your way to your car, but your mind was racing.

As you sat behind the wheel, you cursed yourself under your breath. You should’ve held your ground, should’ve said no when you had the chance. But now… now you are going to a party with Mr. Jeong. How were you supposed to handle that? How were you supposed to navigate a whole afternoon, trapped in the same space with him, when the last thing you wanted was to face him after walking in on him jerking off earlier?

You huffed as you put your keys in the ignition. This was going to be a long weekend. 

—

The next day came quickly, too quickly, and you dreaded the whole affair as you pulled up on the driveway. You showed up about thirty minutes later than the time on the invitation, hoping to blend into the chaos without much fanfare. Sure enough, no one seemed to notice.

The house was buzzing with activity. Little kids, probably Hana’s classmates and friends from ballet, darted around like wild animals, screaming and leaving a trail of toys and crumbs in their wake. You weaved through the commotion, making your way to the table piled high with brightly wrapped presents.

You set down your gift; a doll set Hana had been dreaming about for weeks. Suddenly, you felt a small squeeze at your leg. Looking down, you saw Hana beaming up at you, her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug.

“You came!” she squealed, bouncing with excitement.

“Of course I did. Happy birthday!” you said, smiling as you ruffled her hair.

“Come meet my friends!” she insisted, grabbing your hand before you could protest.

Hana dragged you into the backyard, where her friends were splashing in the pool, their parents sitting nearby and watching them like hawks. Hana proudly introduced you to two of her closest friends—“important friends,” as she whispered with a serious nod that made you chuckle.

As you chatted with Hana’s friends, you felt a familiar pull in the corner of your eye. Mr. Jeong stood near the grill, just within your peripheral vision. The moment you glanced in his direction, your heart gave a sharp tug. He was watching you.

Your breath caught, but just before you could process it, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the childlike conversation in front of you. As you nodded along, a thought crept in—was he still looking at you? The possibility made your skin prickle, a slow heat creeping up your neck, your pulse growing erratic. You fought the urge to glance his way again, but curiosity got the better of you. You glanced up again, a quick and casual move, but this time, he wasn’t looking anymore. He had already turned his attention to another parent, nodding along to whatever they were saying, sipping on his ice cold beer. Still, your skin tingled, like his gaze hadn’t fully left you.

The mix of the screaming children, the sun beating down on you, and the overwhelming energy of the party soon had you retreating. With a quick excuse, you headed for the shaded table, grabbing a Coca-Cola and savoring the brief moment of quiet.

You chugged the fizzy drink, the burn in your throat oddly satisfying as it momentarily cooled you off. As you set the half-empty can down, your ears caught snippets of a hushed conversation from the table next to you. Two women, likely mothers of Hana’s friends, were whispering, and one word made you tune in: Yunho.

“His wife passed away a few years ago, back when Hana was just learning to walk. Poor guy, raising her all on his own.”

“God, but he’s so cute, though,” the other one said, not bothering to lower her voice.

“I know, right? If I didn’t have Leo, I’d totally take him out for a spin.” They dissolved into giggles, clearly enjoying their little moment until their eyes flicked toward you.

You froze, caught mid-sip from your drink. The sudden attention made your cheeks warm as they realized you’d overheard them. One of the women quickly cleared her throat, trying to cover the awkwardness.

“So, which one’s yours?” she asked, her tone friendly, though her shoulders were tense—probably hoping you hadn’t heard the part where she casually considered sleeping with Mr. Jeong.

“Oh, none of them,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “I’m Hana’s babysitter.”

You took another sip of your soda, trying to ignore the way the two women were looking at you. It was obvious they had some kind of assumption about you and Mr. Jeong, and it made your skin prickle with discomfort.

“Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Jeong had a babysitter,” the long-haired woman said, glancing at her friend with a knowing look.

You shifted under their stares, suddenly feeling like you were being sized up. They both looked down at your exposed legs, your flowy skirt just barely covering your knees. You knew what they were thinking. Their curiosity wasn’t just innocent small talk. It felt more like they were trying to figure out if you were a threat. A young, single dad and his younger, pretty babysitter? Sounded like an overdone porn plot. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your fingers anxiously slipped against your soda can, sending the cold, fizzy liquid spilling down the front of your shirt.

“Oh, shit—” You gasped, stepping back as the sticky sweetness seeped into the fabric.

The two women let out little gasps, covering their mouths, but neither of them moved to help.

“Ugh,” you muttered, shaking your hands off. “Excuse me.”

Quickly, you turned and made your way inside, walking past clusters of parents and kids until you reached the staircase. Your face was burning with frustration. This whole weekend was just one embarrassment after another. Everything had felt weird since yesterday. Mr. Jeong had been acting strange, you’d been acting strange, and now you had people assuming things about you that weren’t even true.

You climbed the stairs, the noise of the party fading as you finally reached the bathroom. With a sigh, you pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting the door behind you.

The cold air from the vent hit your damp shirt, making the fabric cling to your skin uncomfortably. Grimacing, you pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the sink. You turned on the faucet, grabbing a towel to try and clean it before the stickiness set in.

As you rubbed at the stain, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed, your hair slightly messy from the heat outside. You looked… flustered. Not just from the soda incident, but from everything. From him. From the way he was staring at you, from the way you’d been thinking about him all day, despite knowing you shouldn’t. It was no surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before, your hands stuffed inside your panties all night, forcing yourself to cum over and over as you thought about Mr. Jeong pumping his big hard cock after a long day. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of categories he liked. MILF? Hentai? Gangbang? Did he have a favorite pornstar? You desperately wanted to know what he liked, how he liked it, his greatest desires. But what was the use? You were only driving yourself mad with these little fantasies. 

You let out a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sink. Get it together.

Before you could pull yourself back to reality, you were startled by a sudden commotion outside of your door. And before you could even react, the door knob turned and the door creaked open.

Your heart jumped into your throat as Mr. Jeong stepped inside, his eyes focused on something behind him, mid-sentence. “I’ll be right there, just gotta take a leak—”

He stopped. Completely frozen.

His eyes landed on your bare skin, the lacy edge of your bra, the way the damp fabric of your shirt sat crumpled in the sink.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, as if snapping out of it, his eyes shot up to yours, and his face turned to that shade of red you’d seen before. “Shit” He spun around so fast he nearly slammed into the wall, and shut the door in front of him.

Your face burned with mortification. You grabbed your shirt, holding it up against your chest even though it was still wet. “What are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, trying to sound indignant, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted.

He ran a hand through his hair, his head still facing the door. “It wasn’t locked! And my friend is outside and—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go.”

Silence lingered between you. You should’ve told him to hurry up and leave. Should’ve thrown something at him, and scolded him for barging in like that.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way the muscle in the side of his jaw tensed. He was still standing there, motionless and breathing a little too hard, like he was trying really, really hard to control himself.

“…Are you gonna go?” you asked, your voice softer now.

Mr. Jeong hesitated, his hand lying still on the doorknob. He let out a shaky breath. ���My friend is still out in the hall, maybe, I don’t know, I don’t want him to come in after me and see you. I’m just gonna give it another minute, just to be safe.” He whispered. 

The bathroom felt impossibly small like the walls had closed in on you. The silence stretched, almost suffocating, broken only by the soft inhales through his nose and the distant chatter from the party downstairs. The faint drip of the faucet filled the space between you, but neither of you moved, let alone spoke.

It had only been a few seconds—maybe ten, maybe twenty—but it felt like minutes, like an eternity of you two just standing there, backs turned, bodies tense.

You both strained your ears, trying to pick up any signs of his friend lingering outside, but the house was too noisy, too alive with the sound of kids playing and parents chatting. There was no way to tell.

Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes lowered down to your body, just for a second, before he snapped his head forward again, almost too quickly, like he’d been caught looking.

His throat bobbed. “I think he might be gone,” he murmured. “I don’t hear anything.”

You nodded behind him, staying in place.

He exhaled deeply, his shoulders finally relaxing. “I’m really sorry,” he said, sounding defeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you replied, gripping your damp shirt tighter against your chest. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I should’ve locked the door.”

“Right. Um… thanks,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added, “I also meant about yesterday. I feel so embarrassed. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable about working for me. Hana really likes you.”

The mention of yesterday sent a small twist through your stomach. You swallowed. “I’m sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have walked in on you like that.”

He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “I guess we’re both just bad at locking doors. Makes us even.”

A small, nervous laugh slipped out of you, easing some of the tension in the room.

“And you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone does it—it’s normal,” you said, trying to reassure him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Maybe to ease his discomfort. Maybe to ease your own.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh yeah?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “You jerk off in front of your babysitter too?”

The teasing tone in his voice made your cheeks warm up. But it was the way he turned then, fully facing you, locking his deep brown eyes onto yours, that made the air shift; buzzing with something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.

His smirk faded as quickly as it had come as if he suddenly realized how inappropriate his words were. But he didn’t apologize this time. And more importantly—he didn’t leave.

Your stomach twisted into knots again, breath growing heavier, shallower. Fuck. He was so hot. His sharp jawline, so strong and well-defined, tensed ever so slightly. His broad shoulders, so effortlessly commanding, made you feel smaller in the best way. And those eyes—deep, warm brown, always soft when he looked at Hana—weren’t so soft now. They were sharp, locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race. Even the faint crinkles near his eyes, the ones that usually appeared when he smiled, seemed more pronounced at this moment, only adding to how devastatingly beautiful he was.

You should have said something. You should have slipped on your cola-stained t-shirt and left the bathroom. But instead, you stood there, heart hammering in your chest, letting the weight of his gaze consume you. You couldn’t leave him. Not yet. 

And then, without a second thought, you let your damp t-shirt slip from your fingers, the fabric pooling at your feet. 

Mr. Jeong's gaze dropped to your cleavage, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His initial serious expression made your heart flutter with uncertainty. Have you crossed a line? But then, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his eyes met yours again, they held a spark that made your heart skip a beat. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mixture of sternness and intrigue.

“I just want to help…” you replied softly, stepping closer with careful slowness. Each step brought you nearer until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Your eyes locked onto his, filled with intent and a hint of mischief.

With a soft but bold touch, you reached out to cup his clothed cock, feeling its firmness beneath your palm. You applied a teasing pressure, grinding your hand against him. The sudden contact made him draw in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he absorbed the sensation. “You didn’t get to cum last time, did you?” you murmured, your voice a sultry whisper that broke the tense silence between you.

His eyes opened slowly, a mix of desire and astonishment etched on his features. The initial hesitation seemed to melt away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop a moan from escaping. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his pant seam threatening to burst open. 

As if all his restraint had snapped, he pressed one hand against the back of your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, while the other slid just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. He slammed his lips onto yours, finally giving in to the wild desire that had been simmering between you all day. Your lips moved messily while he grinded himself against your hand.  “Fuck, you’re fucking crazy,” he said breathlessly into your lips, “And no, I didn’t, but I did think about creaming on your face before bed last night.”  

You could already feel a wetness pooling between your legs, his words being the boost you so desperately needed to move forward. You kept kissing him hungrily while undoing his fly, his half-hard cock springing out in anticipation. You took him into your hand, your fingers barely meeting as you gripped around him, stroking him gently while he cursed into your mouth. 

Mr. Jeong pulled away and spun you around in one swift move, pressing your body against his chest and trapping you in his embrace. Your hand remained obedient and eager, pumping his cock as his big hands roamed your body. One hand squeezed your breast, while the other slipped underneath your skirt. “Wore this skimpy little thing on purpose, didn’t you?” His words cascaded down your neck, “Little slut.” 

You moaned softly as his fingers rubbed against your clothed clit, your sticky wet juices leaking through the fabric. Mr. Jeong gathered the front of your panties together and pulled with a force that made you gasp. The fabric wedged against your throbbing pussy, leaving you whimpering as you bucked your hips against the friction. 

“Your so fucking wet, Y/N…” He teased, his lips pressed against your ears, sending a rush of butterflies in your stomach. “You liked what you saw yesterday, didn’t you? Couldn’t stop thinking about it, could you? Bet you came in on purpose, hmm? Heard what I was doing and wanted to help me cum?” 

A deep, throaty moan escaped your lips. You loved the way he was talking to you, the way he reduced you to a horndog little pervert, and deep down, you knew it was true. You were addicted to the thrill of it all. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I wanna be your good girl, your slut. Wanna help you cum sir, please. Want your hot load on me. Please, sir, I need it.” Your words were an invitation, a desperate plea for the intense pleasure you’ve craved for so long, and you knew he couldn't resist.

Mr. Jeong shifted from behind you and you felt the warmth of his cock, a tantalizing tap against your cunt, which forced an excited yelp from your lips. His hand covered your mouth, a gentle yet firm reminder to keep quiet. “Don’t want anyone hearing us, do we baby?” 

His cock was sandwiched between your sopping-wet folds and the tight fabric of your panties. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but grind your hot, eager pussy over his length. Your back rested against his chest, and you could feel his heart pounding in sync with your racing pulse. The fabric of your panties provided delicious friction, and you moaned softly into his hand, the sound muffled but still carrying the weight of your satisfaction. 

You pressed your thighs together, squeezing his cock as you rode him, the sensation being too much for the both of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum too soon,” He panted, his head falling forward and burying into your shoulder. 

You grew restless, your grinding becoming faster and wild, the sounds of your quiet and desperate begging like music to his ears. “Please, sir, cum in my panties, I’ll be so good,” You pleaded with tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. The thought of walking around in his cum-soaked panties gave you a thrill. You could feel your clit pulsing as you rutted against his shaft, the sheer bliss of it beyond anything you’d ever experienced. “I’m gonna cum, sir, please…oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

As your orgasm subsided, his cock still pressed against your swollen clit. You felt a numbness, a euphoric high that left you floating, your wetness a warm, inviting contrast to his hot, throbbing length. Shivers ran down your spine, and you felt like you were hovering, your consciousness detached from your body. 

Mr. Jeong lifted you in his strong arms, carrying you like fragile glass. He brought you to the bathroom mirror, and as he held you up, you couldn't help but be amazed at the sight of his length against your body. It was almost surreal, the difference in scale, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He snaked a hand around your waist, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your wet, glistening cunt to the cool air. You shivered, feeling a rush of vulnerability. He slapped his cock against your wet cunt, grinning, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. 

“What are you doing, sir?” you asked shyly, your voice soft and hesitant. You had never experienced this position before, and the sight of your legs spread wide and your cunt so open and exposed made you nervous. Mr. Jeong's hands grasped under your thighs, supporting your weight, and you could feel his strength and his muscles bulging as he held you up. “I wanna see this little pussy take my big cock,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Wanna watch it stretch and take me deep.” 

You gulped, your heart racing in your chest. You had never taken something this big before, and Mr. Jeong was indeed impressive. The thought of being stretched, of accommodating to his size, both excited and intimidated you. You wanted to tell him about your virginity, but the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to turn him off, and so you remained silent, your mind racing with a mix of emotions.

Noticing your worried glance reflected in the mirror, Mr. Jeong's eyes narrowed, a hint of disappointment creasing his features. “What's wrong, baby? You wanna stop?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. 

“No,” you said quietly before reaching down to grasp his cock. With a firm grip, you began to work him up and down, the weight of his hard length in your hands making your pussy twitch. You pushed his cock against your entrance, the head pressing against your tight, virgin opening. “Please, sir,” you begged, your voice pathetically dry. “I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you stretching me, filling me up. Wanna be good for you.”

The thought of giving up your virginity to him was both scary and exhilarating. You wanted to be his, to belong to him in the most intimate way possible. You pumped him desperately, your core aching to have him stuffed deep inside you. 

The head of his cock pressed against your tight opening, and you could feel the stretch, the burning sensation of being filled for the very first time. A sob escaped your lips as Mr. Jeong slowly lowered you over his cock, the mirror reflecting it all. You watched in awe as his hot, throbbing rod disappeared inside your body, the sight of it stretching you, filling you, almost too much to bear.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunted, his eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and awe. The sensation of being filled by his impressive size was intense, and you were intoxicated by a mixture of pain and bliss, the feeling making your mind numb. He was incredibly gentle at first, pushing just the tip of his cock into your walls, treating you with the utmost care. But as tension built within him, his eyes grew darker, a fierce lust taking over. With a sudden, primal urge, he began working you over his cock, pulling you up and down, your tight pussy gripping his length. You felt incredible to him, like a fleshlight come to life, and even he struggled to mask his moans as your body adjusted to his size. 

The pain was fleeting, replaced by a deep, satisfying pleasure. “Oh god, sir” you whispered, your voice strained. “It feels so good. So full... Please, don't stop.” Your sweet pleas made his ears buzz, his stomach fluttering from just how sweetly you begged for more of him. 

“God, you’re doing so good for me,” He praised, almost giddy with how effortlessly you fit him. His eyes never left the mirror, his thick bulge disappearing into your tight, wet pussy, a sight too mesmerizing to look away from.  “Such a good girl…look so pretty on my cock” He huffed, “My little cumslut.” 

His words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you felt your pussy clench around him in response. You wanted him to keep talking dirty to you, to fill your ears with every filthy word and fantasy he had while pounding into you. 

Mr. Jeong grew tired, and he placed you back on the ground, pushing your body down against the sink, the cold marble against your bare stomach sending a chill down your spine. He lifted your skirt, rubbing himself against your puffy pussy lips, the overstimulation driving you wild. You felt his cock, thick and hard, lining up with your hole, and you knew what was coming. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as he pushed into you in one swift, powerful motion, filling you up completely. He stilled his hips, giving your pussy a chance to adjust to his size, to wrap itself around him, to pulsate and invite him deeper. You were stuffed, every inch of your pussy filled with his cock, his balls swinging and slapping against your raw skin with each thrust.

With each snap of his hips, you cursed under your breath, your fingers gripping tightly to the sink as if it were your only anchor in this storm. "S-so big!" you yelped, your voice filled with a mix of awe and fear. Your body was now completely at the mercy of Mr. Jeong, his powerful strokes sending waves of pleasure and pain through your sensitive pussy.

As he continued to thrust into you, he brought one hand up, pressing his fingers against your mouth, effectively silencing your moans. "Gotta do something about that mouth, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers, still wet with your juices from before, found their way into your mouth, and you gladly accepted them, your lips closing around his digits. You moaned deeply, your tongue wrapping around his fingers, tasting yourself on them. You lost yourself in his touch, his hard cock massaging your gummy walls, his fingers probing and exploring your warm mouth, his lips licking and sucking your ear lobe as he whispered filth to you, bringing you to the brink of another orgasm.

As your eyes met your reflection in the mirror, you were struck by a sense of unfamiliarity. Your makeup was smudged and running, the black mascara staining your tears and streaking down your cheeks. Your hair was frizzy and chaotic, some sweat-drenched strands framing your face and sticking to your warm cheeks. Your lips looked wet and swollen as you gagged around Mr. Jeong’s long fingers, the saliva dripping down your chin. You loved it. You looked like a woman who had been pleasured beyond measure. There was an intoxicating power in seeing yourself like this, a power that made you feel alive and desirable. It reminded you of the pornstar Mr. Jeong was watching yesterday, her fucked-out expression now mirroring your own. 

"Oh god, sir, it's too much!" you moaned, pulling his fingers out from your mouth. "I can't take it! I'm gonna cum again!"

“Fuck, me too,” He grunted as he pulled out of you, feeling the inevitable approach of his own release. Relief washed over you, your body weakening, your walls clenching and spasming around nothing. Mr. Jeong spun you around, placing a hand on the top of your head, pushing you to your knees just as your body swayed with the first waves of your climax. 

As Mr. Jeong jerked himself off with his hand, his eyes never left your face, now a beautiful canvas covered in the ropes of his hot cum. Though still reeling from the intense orgasm he had just given you, you opened your mouth wide, obediently accepting his thick, white cum as it splashed over your tongue. The taste was both bitter and sour, but you loved it, a unique flavor that was all his.

You licked your lips, moaning softly as you savored his taste. You kissed his tender tip, running your tongue over his slit, relishing the feeling of his cum leaking out, warm and sticky.

With a playful smile, Mr. Jeong rubbed his tip against your lips, leaving a trail of cum as he did so. "Shit, baby, you look so pretty with my cum on your face," he said, his voice shaky with post-orgasmic delight. "My sweet little cumslut."

Taking him into your mouth once more, you swirled your tongue around his sensitive head, moaning from the taste and texture of his cum. You pulled off with a plopping sound, a satisfied smile on your face. "Taste so good, sir," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration and gratitude. "Thank you for letting me taste your cum.”

Mr. Jeong, clearly pleased with your gratitude, ran his fingers through your hair affectionately, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. Suddenly, there was a hard knock on the door, snapping you both out of your little daze. 

“Yo, Yunho,” a voice called from the door. “Are you taking a shit? How much longer are you gonna be? Hana’s ready to cut the cake.”

Mr. Jeong flinched, his hands moving fast as he pulled his bottoms up, stuffing himself back inside like a guilty teenager caught red-handed. “Uh, just a minute! I’ll be right out!” he called back, voice strained.

The man sighed. “Alright, well, hurry up. The cake’s melting out here.”

You both snapped into action, scrambling to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. The rush of reality crashing back down made your heart pound even harder than before. Just as you were ready to bolt, Yunho suddenly froze, his expression shifting once he realized the mess he left on your face was still dripping down your cheeks. 

Then, without a word, he grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped the sticky white jelly from your flushed face. “Sorry,” he murmured, his fingers barely grazing your skin, his eyes burning with the same embarrassed, heated look from before.

Once you were clean, he lingered for a second too long, standing so close you could feel his breath on your lips. He parted his mouth as if to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, his fingers anxiously tapped against his thigh, a nervous habit you had never noticed before.

“You should go first,” you said quickly, sensing the weight of the moment. “I’ll come down after.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered, stuffing his shirt back into his waistband before slipping out the door with hurried, uneven steps.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and sank onto the toilet seat. The room still smelled faintly of him, and it felt unreal how fast the energy had shifted. Had he just been hit with regret? Was he now scrambling to shove this whole thing into a locked box in his mind? Now no longer in the heat of the moment, did he think what you two did was wrong? Were you going to get fired? 

For the rest of the party, Mr. Jeong successfully avoided you. He busied himself slicing tiny squares of cake for the kids, nodding along to endless small talk with the other parents as if nothing had happened.

You took the hint, feeling a slight shame in your chest.

Slipping out early, you gave Hana a tight hug before heading back to your car. The second you settled into your seat, your phone buzzed in your pocket. With a sigh, you pulled it out, expecting something mundane.

But when you read the message, you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Jeong Yunho: See you Monday ;)

—

Your sleep schedule had indeed improved, and you found yourself no longer relying on toys to satisfy your desires. The structure and routine of your new life, with Hana and Mr. Jeong, had brought a sense of balance and fulfillment. You enjoyed the daily interactions with Hana, whether it was playing frisbee in the backyard or teaching her simple math in her room. Your bond with her grew stronger each day, and you found great joy in being a positive influence in her life.

However, it was the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays that held a special place in your heart. These were the days when you dropped Hana off at her ballet recitals, and while she was practicing her pliés and pirouettes, you would return to their home to tend to your other job.

Your knees were growing sore from scraping against the carpet under Yunho’s desktop table. Sounds of girls moaning emanated from his monitor. Though you were curious about what he was watching, you knew it was none of your business. Instead, you focused on the task at hand and wrapped your warm mouth over his throbbing cock, nestling yourself between his legs from under his desk. The width of his bulge filled your throat, and you gagged lightly, a sign of your complete submission to him.

Yunho, lost in the porno he was watching, seemed momentarily unaware of your presence. He was engrossed in the images on his screen, his eyes droopy and his breathing heavy. Your mouth bobbed up and down, your lips wrapping tightly around his shaft, and you could feel his excitement building. The sound of his moans mixed with the pornographic sounds on his computer made you clench around nothing, forcing you to slip your hand past your waistband. 

As you continued to suck him, you could feel his hands running through your hair, gently guiding your movements. You massaged his warm balls with your free hand, feeling his cum bubbling up in his sack, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he released his load into your waiting mouth.

"That's it, baby," Yunho whispered, his voice soft yet dominant. “Keep that pretty mouth on me. So good…so, so good for me.”

I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider leaving feedback if you enjoyed this x.