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yourislandgirl · 2 days ago

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* ༘𐙚 THE RULE OF FLOWERS ✿˖˚ || 박성훈 x fem!reader || fic

summary: sunghoon thinks he’s about to get an early grave, or finally achieve his inner rebel’s dream of having a brush with the law, all thanks to your darling daughter and ... her “husband”??

genres: tired girl dad!sunghoon x mum!reader, fluff, crack, slice of life, parents!au,

warnings: attempts at humour, pet names, a little skinship (kissing), not much swearing for a change but sunghoon does say the word ass like once (the child is not present dw), silly dad!sunghoon, protective dad!sunghoon, kids taking everything literally, ref. to classic kids media (finding nemo, curious george), the kid doesn't have a name bcs ... deciding names is hard

w.c: 5.5k

[archive]

Sunghoon’s plan for the night was simple. After making your daughter’s lunch for preschool tomorrow, he’d wash the dishes, brew up two nice, warm mugs of tea for himself and his lovely wife, and then kiss his daughter goodnight before binging some ridiculous drama, until you pulled him into the bedroom to go to sleep.

It was the perfect plan to wind down. It was relaxing enough. And he was looking forward to it as he dried his hands of dishwater after placing your daughter’s colourful dinner plate in the drying rack.

But nothing could have prepared him for the scene that would enter the kitchen and adjoined living room.

“Stop running, you little monkey!”

Shrieks of laughter echoed off your quaint apartment walls. Sunghoon had barely sat down before jolting at the sight of his four year old girl, bright eyed with a mischievous grin on her face, running towards him at full speed. You were hot on her heels.

Her fluffy panda bathrobe was wrapped tightly around her, the hood falling back to reveal dark, slightly damp hair.

Sunghoon opened his arms wide and braced, ready to catch the cannonball he had for a kid. “Woah! Hold it,” reaching forward, Sunghoon scooped her up, laughing at the way she shuffled to escape his grasp but ultimately gave up, curling into him. “Now, where do you think you’re going?”

You slowed down, your own hair and hands a little damp from playing the family favourite Finding Nemo game in the bath with your little girl.

The same little girl who was grinning widely at you, safe in the arms of her father. “Mama’s chasing me.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “I can see that.”

“Because it’s bed time,” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling. “And your Little Miss Monkey book isn’t gonna read itself.”

Your daughter frowned. “Why not?” She asked with genuine seriousness.

“Because it’s not that kind of book, sweets.”

You watched the way you daughter gave her father a glance. “Why not?” She asked again.

Shrugging, Sunghoon tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I guess there aren’t any self reading books at the store.”

You took a few steps froward, a hand out for your child to hold onto. “We can look for one in another book shop sometime, okay? But right now, it’s time for bed.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Appa needs to come too.” She then proceeded to bury her face into Sunghoon’s chest.

All Sunghoon could do was smile at you. His uncontrollable grin had your heart leaping at the sight. Fatherhood had him melting at your daughter’s every request.

He would go to the convenience store during the middle of work just because he thought about his little girl and wanted to buy her favourite pocky. He would mute work calls just to take a few minutes to watch her twirl in the new fairy dress that your mother had bought her. He’d have an almost Superman-adjacent sense of hearing when it came to her small whimpers in the middle of the night, calling out for the two of you amidst a nightmare.

He was playing Superman again, holding your daughter as if she was flying, her bathrobe’s hood as her hero’s cape, doing a full loop of the world (your living room) before heading to her bedroom. As the three of you walked past the kitchen, Sunghoon felt a small hand tug on the material of his shirt’s collar.

Twisting around in her father’s hands, your little girl had her eyes glued on the kitchen island. More specifically the bouquet arrangement that Sunghoon had brought home yesterday. They were placed at the centre, in a lovely glass vase, reflecting little sparkles onto the countertop from the lights.

“Wait, wait.” Your daughter pointed at the flowers. “I want to do flower face time.”

You breathed out a little laugh, the endearing nickname for the act of smelling flowers had stuck with your daughter through the years. She’d watched you bury your nose into the fragrant petals every time Sunghoon handed them to you.

Sunghoon was just as aware of the nickname. Didn’t stop him from pouting in a comically confused manner, though. “You want to video call the flowers?”

Giggles started to bubble out of the kid that was beaming in his arms. “No!”

“Hello? Flowers?” Sunghoon waved a hand at the bouquet, fighting back a grin. “Can you see me?”

You leaned against the kitchen island, laughing behind your hand at the sight before you.

“Appa!”

“What?” Sunghoon’s dimple peeked through as his smile widened. “I thought we were face timing the flowers.”

“I want to smell the flowers.” The sheer power of your daughters eyeroll had you shaking your head in amusement. An all too familiar reaction to Sunghoon’s teasing.

You’d been on the receiving end of his teasing many times. Fighting back smiles as you tried to remain annoyed, and yet were incapable of staying in a dull mood when it came to the man before you.

The same man who was stroking his chin in a dramatic act of realisation. “Ah, right. Of course.” He manoeuvred your daughter so she could lean closer to the bouquet. “Here.”

Smiling, she took a deep inhale and nodded very officially. “Mm, they’re lovely.”

“Just like you?” You asked, poking her cheek lightly.

“Yep.” Her smile widened and just like that, a tiny dimple blossomed, right where your finger was, just moments ago. A perfect mirror to Sunghoon. As he held her closer, their faces smushed together, side by side, all you could see was a mini version of him.

Unbeknownst to you, all Sunghoon saw when he looked at your daughter, was you. Your warmth, your laugh, the way you see brightness in mundanity and appreciate any gesture of kindness or love, no matter how small.

Like the flowers. For as long as you could remember, Sunghoon had been gifting you flowers.

There was never a standard type or a pattern that he followed, he always said that he just entered whatever flower shop was nearby and picked up the prettiest bouquet he saw.

Sometimes it was for a special occasion, sometimes it was just because, and you quickly came to realise that your kitchen island was never bare — there was always a lovely arrangement in the vase. And the minute the old, wilted stems had to be tossed, Sunghoon arrived home that afternoon with a new bouquet in hand.

Every time, he would hand them to you with a smile, one hand behind his back. Like a prince.

You’d hold them closer and breathe in the scent before sighing, and you’d say, “Thank you. They’re lovely.”

And every time, Sunghoon would lean forward, kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear, “Just like you.”

“Appa likes flowers.” Your daughter mused to herself as Sunghoon carried her towards her bedroom. You were following behind them, smiling up at your girl.

“Mama likes flowers.” Sunghoon made a point to turn and look at you as he spoke. “Appa likes making Mama happy.”

Humming as a response, your daughter giggled to herself quietly. “My husband likes making me happy too.”

It wasn’t normal to see person freeze mid-step like in a cartoon. But that was exactly what Sunghoon did. In an instant you felt your eyebrows crease together, utter confusion flooding your face. But for Sunghoon? His shoulders tensed, he turned and looked at you with an expression of pure panic and what could only be described as befuddlement.

You cleared your throat. “I- What?”

“Excuse me?” Sunghoon moved his hold on your child, propping her up between the two of you so that you both could see her face.

Ironically, her own face held confusion. She patted Sunghoon’s arm. “You didn’t burp, Appa,” she said, reassuringly.

It was anything but reassuring to Sunghoon. “No, no, what husband?”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” You reached forward, your thumb gently stroking her soft cheek.

“My husband.” She said it so matter-of-factly. Like the very sentence didn’t just drop a bombshell into the middle of your conversation. Instead, she simply blinked at the two of you, “He gives me flowers. Just like you and Appa.”

Sunghoon leaned a little closer to you. “I think I just forgot how to breathe,” he whispered.

“You did not forget how to breathe”

“How do you know, Y/n? I’m imploding.”

Your daughter leaned closer too. “Who’s mimloading?”

“Who‘s your husband?” Sunghoon countered.

“Taesan!” You watched the way Sunghoon mouthed the name, as if committing it to memory. On the other hand, your little girl was still all smiles and excitement. “His flowers are in my backpack. I’ll show you!”

She started to wriggle out of Sunghoon’s hands, excitedly skipping towards her room once he placed her down. All you could do was watch her as she walked past the doorframe before you turned to each other.

“She has a husband?” Sunghoon tried his best to keep his voice low, a hushed yell that could only be heard by you.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples with your hands. “She does not have a husband.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “She said it with way too much confidence.”

“She says everything with way too much confidence. She’s four.”

“What are we gonna do?”

As he started to pace up and down the hallway, you slid in front of him to get his attention. “First step is to take a deep breath and calm down.”

He frowned. “I’m perfectly calm.”

“Two seconds ago you said you forgot how to breathe.”

“Well, five seconds ago our daughter was just our daughter, but now apparently she’s someone’s wife!” He gestured wildly in the direction of her room. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he had a point.

“Things are escalating here, Y/n,” he went on. “We need to keep up.”

“Okay, I get what you’re saying, but—”

Straightening up a little, Sunghoon gave a nod of pure determination. “I need to see the evidence.”

You shut your eyes tiredly. “Evidence? Really- Sunghoon!” You hadn’t even finished the thought before you opened your eyes to see him already walking towards your daughter’s room. So you hurried after him.

“What took so long?” She was sitting near her preschool backpack, one hand grasping a few green stems, some with small purple flowers.

Sunghoon crouched beside her “Sorry honey.”

“What did you wanna show us?” You asked.

She pushed her hand forward, showing off the small garden flowers. “Look!”

“Wow!” You gave her hair a small ruffle while waiting for Sunghoon to react.

“They’re…” He glanced at you hesitantly, but it took only one warning look from you for him to get his act together. “Pretty. They’re really pretty.”

Standing up, your daughter pointed at an empty green stem. “This one was a dandylier.”

“Dandelion.” You corrected her gently.

“Yeah, dandelion. And this one’s a- …I don’t know. But it smells lovely.”

Sunghoon nodded. “And, um, Taesan gave these to you?”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you watched Sunghoon fight every urge to switch from the usual soft expressions he gives his little girl, for a more stoic one. One that would actually fit his mood at that moment.

Your daughter nodded. “Yep. So he’s my husband, right?”

Sunghoon lost his balance and ended up sitting down, turning a little to meet your eyes. “I’m imploding again,” he muttered.

His wide eyed stare, basically begging you to figure out what to do, it was a little adorable. You sat down next to him, cross legged, and reached to pull your daughter closer. “Not everybody who gives you flowers is your husband, kiddo.” You placed her on your lap.

“Oh. Why not?” The genuine confusion in her voice was palpable as she leaned against your collarbone. “I thought that was the rule. “

For the first time since the corridor outside the bedroom, Sunghoon finally cracked a small smile. It was a look of amusement and endearment, wrapped together, as he gently took her small fingers into his larger ones. “I don’t get Mama flowers because there’s a rule,” he explained. “I get her flowers because I want to see her smile.”

Your daughter sat up a little. “If that’s it, then why are you her husband?”

“Oh my god.” You hid your smile behind your hand, stifling back laughter and failing to do it successfully.

“Mama smiles at a lot of people.”

Your eyes creased shut as you looked away, still finding the complete seriousness of your daughter’s tone to be hilarious.

Sunghoon just blinked a few times. The learning curve of parenthood had struck again and in the last few years, as your child picked up words and sentences and opinions properly, you each had been subjected to a lot of harsh truths told in a devastatingly cute voice.

“How do I answer that?” Sunghoon asked you.

You tapped your daughter’s nose, causing her to turn to you. “He’s my husband because we love each other and want to keep loving each other forever.”

“Oh.”

“Appa getting me flowers is like, an added bonus, you get me?”

She started nodding slowly. “I guess. But Appa said he likes making you smile, and Taesan likes making me smile too, I think.”

Sunghoon muttered something incomprehensible under his breath before standing up. “Who is this kid?”

“Sunghoon.” Once again, your eyes shut, a little tired of Sunghoon being so typically Sunghoon.

When you turned to look at him he was at the other end of the room, near a small bookcase. It had numerous bedtime stories, picture books, interactive music books, photo albums. Sunghoon was crouched in front of it, his fingers running across each spine as he tried to look for something.

“You kept her preschool class photos in this room, right?” He asked over his shoulder.

You scoffed in disbelief. Amused and yet equally concerned. “You are not seriously scoping him out right now.”

“I’m just getting an idea of what I’m up against.”

You wanted to laugh. “There is no up against, Sunghoon!”

“I’m just curious, babe.”

“Just like George!” Your daughter smiled over your shoulder.

Sunghoon smirked. “Exactly. I’m just like George.” He gestured to your child with his eyebrows. “She gets me,” he said to you.

“Yeah, I get you, Appa.”

Shaking your head, you held your kid closer and shuffled to her dresser. “Okay, why don’t you and I focus on bedtime.”

She hummed. “Okay.”

Sunghoon seemingly gave up his search and came to join you as you both worked in tandem to get your daughter ready for bed. Sunghoon helped her tiny hands through the sleeve holes of her pyjamas, while you gently brushed her hair. The whole routine feeling like a ritual as she relaxed against you.

You figured it was a perfect moment to talk to your daughter. “I’m sure Taesan likes seeing you smile, love. You have an incredible smile.”

Sunghoon stilled ever so slightly but let you continue, focused on hanging her small panda bathrobe on one of the tiny chairs in the room.

You carefully applied a little night time moisturiser to her cheeks as you spoke. “But you need to understand something; just because someone is nice to you, and gives you flowers, and likes your smile, doesn’t make them your husband. There’s a lot more to it than that. That’s the reason why all the husbands you’ve met are adults. Remember?“

“Oh. Yeah,” she drawled out in realisation. “So Taesan can only be my husband when he’s an adult?”

“Exactly.”

Sunghoon frowned, pouting a little. “Don’t encourage that!” He whisper-yelled at you.

“Oh, what? You think we’re gonna revisit this exact situation in twenty years?”

“We might?”

“And if that happens, I’ll owe you one. How about that?”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I have no doubt.” You rolled your eyes.

You felt a small tug at your shirt. “Mama?”

“Yeah?”

Your little girl looked deep in thought. “Taesan can still be my friend, right?”

“Of course he can. If you want him to be.”

“Yeah!” She said, excitedly. “He let me win at hopscotch yesterday and his mama makes really yummy cheesecake.”

“She’s in it for the cheesecake?” Sunghoon muttered dryly as he came to sit back down next to the two of you.

Smirking at him, you shrugged. “I can’t even blame her. It’s cheesecake.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t need Taesan for that.” He pouted again. “I’ll make her cheesecake.”

That immediately caught your daughter’s attention. She clambered over your legs to get into Sunghoon’s lap. “Right now?” Her eyes and smile were the hook, line and sinker.

“Sure—”

“No!” Your hand shot out and clasped over Sunghoon’s mouth. “Not right now.” You looked between both of them, pursing your lips to prevent a smile at the sight of their pleading eyes. “Later, okay? Soon,” you said, softly.

Sunghoon chuckled as your daughter practically deflated against him. “Fine. I wish it was now.”

You giggled. “I’m sure you do, baby.”

Carefully getting off her dad’s lap, she made her way back to her backpack.

“Where’re you going?”

At Sunghoon’s question, she held up the empty stem of the dandelion. “Is my dandyliar finished?”

“Well, it looks you already blew out your wish so, yeah.” You took the empty stem in your hands and placed it on her small drawing table. “But it’s ok. We can look for another one tomorrow morning.”

“Aw.” She deflated all over again. “I wanted to wish for Appa to make a cheesecake.”

“I’ll make you one.” Sunghoon groaned a little as he stood up before he took a few steps to cross the distance between them. It always made you smile at how your daughters many little steps to get from one point to another would take you and Sunghoon only one or two to bridge the gap.

Even just the sight of him standing beside her had your cheeks stinging with that good kind of pain where you feel yourself smiling longer and longer with each second, unable to suppress the warmth erupting from inside of you.

Sunghoon ruffled his fingers through your daughter’s hair. “I promise, I’ll make you one.”

“Pinkie!” She held up the single finger expectantly.

And Sunghoon responded readily. “Pinkie.” Sealing the promise with her thumb meeting his. “Perfect. Now,” he snapped his finger, pointing across the room. “Get in bed.”

“Carry me.”

You scoffed at the utter dramatics. Her hands thrown up, eyes closed as if defeated by a tiring day of colouring and hopscotch.

But Sunghoon didn’t complain. He never complained. If anything, he was hoping she would ask. “Of course,” his voice was soft, you could barely hear it.

“You know, you can climb into bed on your own, little miss.” You tried to chastise her. Your heart wasn’t really in it, but, it felt like something you were supposed to do.

She wasn’t having it though. “I don’t want to,” she said over Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“She doesn’t want to,” Sunghoon repeated, giving you a smug smile.

“Fair enough.” Joining Sunghoon at her bed, you sighed while crouching down to level with her. “Seems like you’ve had a nice long day.”

Nodding, your daughter laid back and shuffled into her pillows. “Did you have a nice long day, Mama?”

You thought for a moment. “Hm, sorta.”

Pouting, she looked at her dad. “Appa.”

“Yes, princess,” Sunghoon mused while he brought the soft covers up to her chin.

“Carry Mama to bed.”

Sunghoon grinned at the authoritative tone of a four year old, but couldn’t pass up on such an easy task. “It would be my pleasure.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. At the way his eyes still held the same love and affection and desire that he had years ago. That it hadn’t changed with time but rather aged with care.

Sunghoon’s hand snuck across the carpeted floor to rest on top of yours.

You could see the way he was ever so slowly leaning closer, out of pure habit if nothing else, but you needed to put your little girl to sleep.

“Before that, it’s time for Little Miss Monkey.” You gestured with your eyebrows to the bookshelf behind Sunghoon and giggled at the way he snapped back to the present before turning to get your daughter's favourite bedtime story

“Yes! Wait, I need Puddles.” She searched among her many stuffed animals to pick out the soft yellow duck. Her best friend, according to her. She held it close, getting back under the covers.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, opening the storybook. “Is Puddles ready?”

“Yep!”

And so began the nightly routine of Little Miss Monkey and her quest for the the perfect jungle party present. An odd story that seemed to stick with your daughter, whether it was the various different animals or the various different voices that Sunghoon insisted on using when reading for each animal, you knew the day was never really complete without Little Miss Monkey successfully reaching her jungle party.

As Sunghoon closed the book and placed it back on the shelf you leaned forward and gave your daughter a kiss on the forehead. “Get some sleep,” you whispered.

“But Puddles said she wants to stay awake.” Her stubbornness was still fighting with her exhaustion.

You had to admit, it was pretty cute. “Puddles said that, did she?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh.”

Sunghoon placed a hand on the small of your back, you could hear the quiet huff of amusement he let out.

But you weren’t one to give up that easily. “Well I’m sorry, sweets, but you and Puddles are gonna feel tired in the morning if you don’t sleep now.”

“Puddles won’t feel tired. She only feels tired if I tell her to.” Apparently your daughter got her stubbornness from you.

Sunghoon gave you a smirk, a sort of challenging grin as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“Oh, that’s right.” You nodded. “So she wants to stay awake right now because you told her to?”

“…No?”

Sunghoon bent down to whisper to her. “Mama’s gonna win this, princess.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

“Besides, you‘ll want enough energy to win at hopscotch tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Exactly.”

“So,” You leaned down next to him, your fingers trailing down your little girl’s forehead, following the bridge of her nose. “Close your eyes.”

“That tickles,” she giggled.

Sunghoon gave her hand a gentle kiss. “Keep them closed.”

“No peeking?”

“Nope.” Taking your hand into his, Sunghoon started to slowly pull you towards the door.

As you tip toed towards the door, you heard her gentle sigh. “Okay. Goodnight.”

You smiled, looking back to see her eyes still shut. Puddles held tightly as she curled on her side.

“Goodnight, baby,” you called out.

Sunghoon carefully opened the door to not be too loud. “We love you.”

You both waited for her reply. She always replied back.

“Mm, love you.” Soft and wispy, sleep was slowly catching up to her and you could hear it from her voice. So you did your best to shut the door extra slowly, waiting for the subtle click before quietly walking off.

You leaned your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder as you entered the kitchen. “Are you still imploding?”

“I’m fine. Cool as a cucumber.” He was doing his best to ignore the look of amused disbelief that you were giving him.

“Ya know, someone who’s actually cool as a cucumber wouldn’t use that kind of phrase.”

“Look, I just…” You chuckled at the arbitrary hand flails he was doing, incapable of articulating his feelings exactly.

“You freaked out?”

Sunghoon squinted at you a little. “I think my freak out was perfectly sound, given the circumstances.”

“Perfectly sound, huh?”

His hands went up to plead innocence. “Objectively speaking.”

“You wanted the kid’s mug, Sunghoon.” You scoffed as you walked towards the cabinets, getting yourself a glass of water.

“Again, a perfectly sound request.”

You paused after taking a sip, giving Sunghoon a blank stare while you wondered whether your daughter’s stubbornness really came from you or her father. “You should rethink your definitions.”

Reaching across the kitchen island, Sunghoon took a few sips of water from your glass. “Taesan should rethink his decisions.”

“My god.” You muttered under your breath as Sunghoon straightened up, already preparing to explain his point.

“No, no, babe, it starts with flowers and cheesecake and then the next thing you know, it’s February 14th and he’s gotten her a be-my-valentine chocolate box.”

“You’ve got be kidding me.”

“She loves chocolate, Y/n, she won’t be able to resist. That kid is scheming.” He pointed his thumb at the direction of your front door, as if poor little Taesan was waiting out there.

You laughed quietly to yourself. “My love, he’s a four year old child. He does not have that kind of speed.”

“Did you just black out and forget the way our own daughter was bolting around this house? Kids have speed, Y/n”

“That’s not- You know what I meant.”

Sunghoon slouched down on one of the counter chairs. “I’m coping with humour right now, okay? It’s either this or I eat a tub of ice cream.”

“You’re kinda cute when you’re like this,” you smirked.

“I’m glad my spiralling is entertaining to you.”

“Oh, very. But I hope this isn’t gonna be your attitude if she actually does get married in the future.”

“By that point in time, I’ll be alright with it.” He spoke with a lot of unearned confidence which had you raising an eyebrow. “I’ll try to be.” Your expression was unmoving. “It’s the thought that counts, okay?”

You shook your head, unable to hold off the smile as you got started on putting the dry dishes away. Sunghoon instinctively came to help, still trying to find a way to explain exactly what he was feeling.

“Look,” he started. “I just don’t think that she should be calling every flower-gifting-guy her husband.”

“Well, no. But we did our part in telling her as much.” You handed him the ceramic dishes that had to go on the higher shelves. “I think you can relax a little bit now, right?”

“I’ll relax after she deems my cheesecake better than Taesan’s mum’s.”

You smirked. “So we’re beefing with his mum now too?”

“It’s her kid.”

“Right,” You put the dish in your hands back on the rack. turning Sunghoon by his elbow to get him to face you. “Her sweet kid, who gave our daughter flowers because his mum probably taught him to treat girls nicely. And let them win every now and then. And share yummy food with them.”

He frowned. “Ok, so, I see your point. But—”

“Didn’t your mum teach you the same?” You crossed your arms, walking back to lean against the counter, a little smile on your face. “I specifically remember a scrawny teenager holding a lovely bouquet of lilies.”

“I- Scrawny?”

“You’re gonna look me in my face and tell me you weren’t scrawny at nineteen?”

“I was,” Sunghoon smirked, walking closer to you. “But I was hoping you remembered more about our first date than just lilies and my scrawny ass.”

You tried to bite your lower lip to keep from smiling wider. “I remember every moment of it, Sunghoon.”

“Good.” He leaned down slowly, his breath was warm against your lips right before he kissed you. Firm hands held your waist, lifting you on top of the counter as he pulled you against him. But then he froze and leaned back. “Mm mm,” he shook his head, “Back to point.”

You groaned, dropping your forehead against his chest, tired of the topic already.

Sunghoon was determined though. “That was a date, Y/n. Getting your date flowers isn’t life changing, okay? It’s law- Oh my god.”

“What?” You raised your head.

“I think she might be right about the rule of flowers…”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his low murmurs of realisation. “Aw, Sunghoon.” You reached up and cupped his face, brushing his hair back as he returned your smile.

“I just got scared there for a minute,” he whispered. “That’s all.”

“I got scared too. It’s normal.”

“Yeah, but you handled it like a pro, unlike me.”

You stroked his cheek. “Again, very normal for us.”

He frowned, trying to remain serious despite your playful smile, the teasing glint in your eyes. His resolve only lasted about three seconds before he sighed.

“Yeah.” Nodding, Sunghoon admitted defeat, pulling you closer once more as he wrapped his arms around you, his head slotting itself into the crook of your neck.

He felt the way you seemed to decompress in his arms, your own hands stroking his hair, lighting scratching his back. It was unreal how relaxing it was to hold and be held by you.

“You tired?” He murmured against your neck.

You hummed. “A little.”

“Alright then.” Stepping back, Sunghoon slid one arm under your knees and other around holding your waist as he lifted you.

“Woah, what—” Your hands clasped around his neck, confused, as he gave you a light kiss on the cheek.

“I believe I promised our daughter that I would carry you to bed.”

Your gentle laughter became a little muffled as you curled your face into his chest, listening to the steady beat of your husband’s heart while he carried you to the bedroom.

“Alright.” Carefully laying you onto the mattress, he propped up the pillows for you to lean against. “You get comfy. I need to head out for a moment, but I’ll be quick.”

You frowned. “Where to?”

“Convenience store.” He headed into the closet, as he spoke. “She wants a cheesecake so I need to get a few more ingredients. And I’d ask you to come with, but, someone’s gotta be here.”

“Sunghoon,” you sighed. “She doesn’t need it first thing in the morning.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sunghoon gave you a deadpanned expression as he walked back out, pulling on a coat and some gloves. “If I was her, I’d want it first thing in the morning.”

There was no point trying to convince him otherwise, so you simply did as he asked and got comfy. “You should get blueberries.”

“Already on the list.” He gave you a wink as you leaned across to your bedside table for the novel you were currently reading. “Can never have enough blueberries in this house,” he muttered.

“She gets it from you.”

Sunghoon just shrugged, walking closer. “They’re the perfect snack. Well, besides you.” He bent down to give you one last kiss, letting it linger a little longer than you’d have expected. The book had almost slipped out of your hands before he stepped back, smirking, like he knew exactly what he just did.

“Be quick.” You looked down at the page, not really reading anything but just not wanting to give him any satisfaction.

“Or you’ll miss me?”

“More like you‘ll miss me.”

“Right, cause that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.” He waved before walking out the room and soon, you heard the faint sound of the front door shutting.

You settled into the bed, bringing the covers up to your waist, and you’d just started to get into the novel when you heard the gentle buzz of your phone beside you. You breathed a little sigh, already expecting it.

You didn’t even bother checking who it was when you picked up. “Did you forget something?” You asked.

“Nope,” Sunghoon responded and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “I just missed you.”

a.n: this feels diff to my other fics bcs it’s so dialogue heavy but . i didn’t know how else to write the idea that i had. i feel like a family’s dynamic is seen really well through both verbal and non verbal communication but for a fic where the kid is so young, verbal communication just sorta made the most sense? hopefully people like this as much as descriptive/prose-y fics 🤞🏽

perm taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf — @itsrinsdrs — @enjakey — @kissmete — @jaylaxies — @tobiosbbyghorl — @hoondrop — @chaeneu

2025 © yourislandgirl

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yourstrulyangie · 12 hours ago

Text

CIGARETTES OUT THE WINDOW

𖦹 Synopsis: marriages these days were always so perfect. Couples loved each other with children roaming around a big house, it was all anyone had wanted. A beautiful marriage filled with love. The case for this couple was the complete opposite though. And it seemed that the topic of having no kids coming from strangers drained them. Maybe they weren't the perfect match for each other they always thought they were. A part of them knew that, they did not fully acknowledge it, but it always seemed to keep appearing in their heads every time they argued. He tried, he really tried. But maybe it was just time to let her go.

Word count: 10k

Genre: highschool lovers, happens during the 80’s, failed marriage.

Warnings: Violence. bunch of angst and hurt, infertility (not mentioned in who). smoking. implied pregnancy loss. brief depictions of self harm, mentions of death and sickness. Blood. Drug possession and use (viagra). Teen violence. Assault with deadly weapon. Strong language. Sexual jokes. Underage use of alcohol (i in no way support), mentions of abuse and parental neglect. In-law hatred. Mental health illness. Hyperventilation. Heeseung, Jay and Jake present in a flashback. Drugging a teacher. Endangerment. Misuse of alcohol. Suicide. Reader discretion is advised.

Note: this was supposed to be longer and published a long time ago (in my head) but that didn't work out so!! Its written in first person so it might be tacky🧍🏾‍♀️Please bear with me if this is a hard read its my first full work >⁠.⁠<

New Year's Eve.

She didn't bother to take down the christmas tree that had been there for a little over two years now, and he didn't bother to not smoke in front of his parents inside the house. They didn't care, and the only thing that seemed to affect the two was whenever children were brought up.

It was pretty obvious, everyone knew it. Even the store owner down the street knew about how they wanted their own, but never had any.

Park Sunghoon knew how much his wife longed for her own, he’d see the look in her eyes when she’d look at his nieces. He realised she loved kids way before they got married, sometime around high school, where the two would sneak out of school to skip and would go to some park, and she’d play with the little babies and sneakily give them some ice cream. Oh how he wished they were in an alternate reality where they had their own. But unfortunately, she drank too much and he wasn't home a lot.

It was maybe the fact that they didn't love each other that much anymore, but they’d been in love for years and years, they didn't think it could possibly fade away after all this time together.

Why would it suddenly become so bad? They weren't that reckless towards each other, were they?

Maybe it was the fact that soft good mornings and long kisses turned into cold coffees and a word count of less than five shared in two days. Now, they would lay down on the same bed and face away from each other like they were strangers sharing a cab.

He doesn't defend her in front of his family, she doesn't stay up late waiting for him to come at midnight, it was mutual, half intentionally. Again, they cared for too long that they just didn't anymore.

His wife as well knew how much he wanted kids. He’d talk about how all his colleagues have their first borns, second borns, third borns, his heart warms at the sight of them. He wanted a lot, until he just gave up.

The woman got pregnant a few years back, and the two were the happiest couple ever. He’d bring her roses after work every day and she’d bake his favourite pie, then they’d go to the beach on Sundays and he would swim while she tanned and laughed at him.

The awaited doctor appointment came during one of the second trimester checkups. They went hand in hand, smiles and giggles filling up the room, til the doctor broke it down. He said the baby's heart wasn't beating, and maybe she should visit a gynaecologist because there wasn't any other explainable reason as to why she would suddenly lose the baby.

It felt like her whole world had stopped, her dreams of having kids running around the park and having the biggest cakes for their birthdays shattered. She stared at the doctor with a blank expression, the lump in her throat tightening and hurting, waiting for any explanation, but the only one he could offer her was a tight lipped smile saying that they should try again.

Sunghoon didn't come home from the bar that night, and she stayed at home sitting on the balcony, smoking her first cigarette in a while. All the effort only for it to go away in a few minutes.

She could see Sunghoon pulling away, refusing to communicate with her and shutting her out, only because his parents were able to convince him that it was her fault, that she was reckless and smoked behind his back. That's why she lost his baby. She then did the same to him, it got so bad that she even prepared divorce papers once.

She decided to give him one more chance before she would show him the divorce papers. And she really hoped he would stay because she was prepared to let him go yet, not like this.

She watched from the stairs as he put on his shoes by the door, her hair still a bit neat and her cheeks crusty with dry tears. “..stay.” she spoke in a low voice, her voice hoarse but soft, as if she would just beg him to spend the night with her again. Just for once.

The man looked up at her, his expression plain, cold. The warmth and subtle light that would be in his eyes when he used to look at her were gone. He stared back at her, before he scoffed, turning to the door. “Please don't make me beg you to stay,” she said in a louder voice, a plea in it.

The man stilled, before letting out a sigh and turning to her again. “Im not going to sit here and baby you all day, you're a grown woman.” “hoon,” her voice cracked, pleading that he would listen to her, and stay for the night. Heck, she would even let him leave the next night if he only stayed with her on this one.

She stepped off the last stair, the nightgown swallowing her figure, and her shrunk down –used to be– baby bump. “Just one night.” “you think one night is going to fix anything?” he let out a bitter chuckle, and for the first time he actually looked at her. Her eyes were red, her breathing was shallow and her undereyes spoke for themselves. She hadn't been sleeping at night because he was gone and he’d forgotten to hide the cigarettes. Though it seemed that he did every night he left.

“No, but it would feel like it.” she said, her eyes slightly shiny, from tears. He went quiet, clenching his jaw, the keys in his jingled in a sound way too loud for the silence. “..you should go to bed,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead as he looked away from her. She shook her head, taking his hand in both of hers. Oh her younger self would have never believed she ever had to beg him like this, beg him to make her feel like she still mattered.

“Stop running away from me,” she whispered in a broken voice, tears almost escaping her eyes, lips trembling, her words lingering in the air between them like smoke of a cigarette she had forgotten to put out. “Im not running away from you.” “youre blaming me for something we both lost.”

She wiped away her tears, waiting for his response, but he didn't say anything, just stared at the wall in front of him blankly, before he didn't, he looked back at her and spoke. “I can't love you without resenting you.”

That felt like a slap to her. Harsh, raw, and true. But she didn't flinch, she didn't reply, just slowly processed his words, swallowing down the bile rushing up to her throat. Not now. “..you can't love me like you did before?”

“...no.”

And that's how Park Sunghoon ended up in the bar he was a regular at. “Buzz light blues”, the kind with lights that made him feel sick, even if he wasn't. But he didn't care enough to change to another one.

He asked for a whiskey, strong, neat, he didn't even have to repeat his words, everybody knew him around here, they didn't have to ask. He lit his cigarette quietly, like it was the only thing keeping his hands from shaking. His first drag was sharp, as if it was his lifeline. He slowly exhaled, leaning back in his seat, the smoke spinning around him and fading into the hum of the jazz music in the background.

“Rough night?” the woman who sat beside him asked, her voice tinged with a hint of playfulness. He stayed quiet, his eyes on the table, before he nodded his head, downing his drink.

“You want to talk about it?” the woman said, a smile on her lips, biting her nail. Sunghoon almost rolled his eyes, taking a puff of his cigarette and scoffing. “No,” the woman’s smile faltered, taking a sip of her drink and clearing her throat, her eyes falling on his ring. “It's new years, your family?” she asked, pushing her cup away and looking up at him.

“..it's new years eve.” he muttered back, brushing his hair away from his face frustratingly, leaning back in his seat, looking at his ring. “..exactly..you should be having fun.”

“It's new years eve.” he said again, this time as if he was more sure than the last time he said it. It would be the third year of him being married to the supposed love of his life, but he’s here talking to a woman who is trying to initiate something bigger than her. He doesn't like unloyal people. And he for sure isn't one himself.

He abruptly stood up, taking all of the cash in his pocket and putting it on the counter for the bartender who served him to take, before he stood up, leaving the bar without another word.

He stared at the water underneath him while he stood on top of a bridge, his eyes teary, nose burning, either from the alcohol he drank, or his tears, he didn't know. He stayed quiet, his Adam's apple bobbing in its place as if he was holding in a sob or a cry, he didn't want to be a coward. But he felt like one. Definitely.

He let out a sigh of frustration, stepping away from the bridge and looking back at the streets, before his movements halted again. He looked down at the snow beneath him, a tear from his eyes falling on top of it, and oh did it feel like his own tears made up their own trivia to mock him. To call him a cunt, to remind him all he ever rooted for won't get him the only thing he wanted. A fucking kid.

It frustrated him. The fact that anyone else could have one but it was so hard for him. When his wife's body decided it was about time to get pregnant it suddenly didn't want to carry a child anymore and killed it. Didn't even give it a chance to be premature or anything. Just a straight up miscarriage. It really made him think, has he really ever wronged anyone so bad in his past life they were coming after him now? Or maybe it wasn't even in his past life, maybe it was in this one. Maybe the man's window he decided to break when he was little or maybe even the teacher he glued his paper to because she didn't let him pass her class.

He scoffed, kicking at the white snow before cursing under his breath. He didn't want to look at it, it scared him, it made him feel disgusted it made him feel so damn overwhelmed. He brushed his hair away from his face, inhaling deeply as he tried, really tried to grasp onto himself, but he felt like every hair on his head was falling and every breath he took was useless.

Then finally, after he was fed up from the feeling and his ring was feeling a bit too tight, he took it off his slightly swollen hand and threw it into the water beneath the bridge.

It only hit him harder after that, the realisation that he’d thrown away his ring after he finally took a deep breath, he could hear the cars roaring and the waves under him clashing. He cleared his breath, and then jumped. Not up and down. But into the water.

The freezing water hit him like a brick wall— lungs folding in on themselves and eyes snapping wide. He didn't expect it to be so cold, and it definitely did not soothe any of the feelings he felt before throwing the ring. He couldn't lose it, no. It was a gift from her. A sign of his love and loyalty towards her. Till death did them apart, he swore. he didn't lose anything that she gave to him. He cares about looking like a pussy or being viewed as an unhappy man. He was unhappy, but he still believed he could love her, and he didn't want it to all hit him like a metal pole when he actually did.

Sunghoon didn't float. He dived.

He somehow was thankful for all the swimming classes he ever had and how he was devoted to it, even though he’d never gotten first place. He reached for the ring blindly, his lungs screaming for air, and he actually felt like a crazy man.

Then his fingers wrapped around it. Something small. Something cold. It was the ring.

He got back up to the surface, letting out an exhale and breathing in, swimming to a surface. He collapsed on the icy ground, his heart beating loudly in his chest, and it felt like that was all he could hear for the moment.

He looked at the ring, bringing it to his chest as if he wanted to protect it from all the wrongs in the world. Except he might be wrong himself. He let out a laugh. It was hollow and wet and bitter, shaking his head. This was all he was doing for a ring? The ring sat on his hands, cold and wet, biting into the lines of his fingers like it knew it didn't belong there anymore. He turned it, slowly, the silver color catching some yellow hue from the streetlight a few feet away from him, like it was mocking him. A promise once, now just weight.

He stayed like that again for a while, lost in his thoughts about how different things could have been if he had kids, or if he had married someone else entirely, though he wasn't sure his younger self would be loyal to anyone but his current wife. He stood up. It was time to head home.

Park Sunghoon sat at the dinner table, quiet, listening to his family talk about something he didn't care much about. His eyes fell on his wife, listening to his mother talk about how his cousin recently gave birth to a kid. The same cousin that she attended their graduation with Sunghoon. He looked at his mom, his eyes a bit narrowed, and once his mother caught his gaze, she changed the topic.

His wife looked in between them, watching as Sunghoon silenced his mother. He had to warn her, and even though they only barely worked, she was grateful for him actually doing something for once, instead of just complete silence.

She could see how his mother gave her sister a sharp glance, like she was telling her to look at her nephew, oh how his wife controlled him and always let him defend her when she couldn't. She clenched her jaw quietly, putting her fork and knife down before she stood up excusing herself from the table to leave.

Sunghoon watched as she left the dining room, and he could hear his mother starting to talk again, as if shaming her. Oh. Why was she shaming his wife? He couldn't even say anything to stop her. He scoffed loudly, giving his mother another glare before he stood up, going after his wife, into the backyard.

She wasn't smoking, she really tried not to, she didn't want her family in law to smell the smoke and say anything about how it was the reason she’d lost her baby a few years ago. She was starting to resent them. Sunghoon took a seat beside her, not even looking her way and staring into the little garden. The man felt a bit of movement, and looked down at her hand, only to see her scratching it profusely. He swallowed, staring at it, the way her skin reddened, her nails only scratching even more. He could see the way the blood pricked at the top of her skin, dragging along with each nail of hers. He looked away, shaking his head. “Stop it.”

The woman didn't listen to him, only scratching even harder as she stared off at the dark sky, she looked like she wasn't even bothered, like it brought her some sort of comfort, like she didn't want to stop. He hated it. The fact that she was hurting herself in place of finding comfort. It was only then he looked at her hand again and saw the blood, which had increased.

Roughly, he pulled her hand away, gripping the bloody hand tightly in his. The way the blood clung from her to him, the way he hoped,just hoped that he wouldn't see her scratching herself somewhere else when he would look at her.

His jaw tightened, looking at her again, only to see her looking back at him, nose red and eyes teary. Her other hand on her lap. She stared back at him, watching as the little blood trailed from his hand into his white shirt. Does he even care about her anymore? Or was it the fact that her scratching herself annoyed him so much he had to stop her?

Sunghoon let out a sigh of frustration, which softened a bit once he saw her looking back at him with her glossy eyes. He took out his handkerchief out of his pocket, pressing against her bloody hand. “I told you to stop it.” he muttered, his throat tight, as if he was holding himself from yelling at her to stop.

She looked at her hand, sniffing as she wiped away the tears that fell quickly, looking away from him. “..can we go home?” she muttered, her voice broken.

The ride home was quiet, so quiet.

The woman held her composure well, using silence, but even he noticed the subtle shift in her eyelids. Though through the intensity of her tranquil, her eyes held the smallest amount of pain. She ached to itch her wrist again, but Sunghoon told her to keep the handkerchief on it till they went back home.

She leaned her head back once they reached a stop light. And she could see it. Crossing the road with her parents, a beautiful toddler, happy to celebrate the new years. It wasn't fair, she thought, how other parents or adults had the opportunity to have kids, and when they took it, they would have the best kids ever.

She looked away from them, and her composure faltered for a second. Sunghoon didn't miss it, her look of envy, jealousy and sadness. It wasn't fair that other people had children so easily and they couldn't. He clenched his jaw, not really bothering to look at the couple as he stared somewhere else, his eyes tracing the lines of his steering wheel.

Once they got back to their house, it happened again, another fight. She sat down on the chair of the dining table, her eyes were poisonous to even look upon, so much hatred tainted to her soul. He looked back at her, cold eyes as he brushed his hair away from his face. This all started because he couldn't answer her simple question, was he scared of his own mother?

“So you just let her embarrass me in front of everyone like that?” she said, her voice wavering. It was a mix of emotions. Rage? Disappointment? Simple disbelief that he would even do this to her? She stood up, walking towards him, her height a stark contrast to his. But she could easily reach up and slap the calm look from his face.

He stared back down at her, nose flared in what only seemed like anger, at her because she was yelling at him, or maybe at himself, because he knew she was right. “She’s my mother.” “and im your wife!” she said back, her voice now lower, but still with the same bite in her tone.

Sunghoon scoffed, shaking his head and looking away “you can't defend yourself?” he walked away while asking, into the open kitchen a few feet away from them, only to open his alcohol cabinet, taking out a bottle of whiskey. She stared back at him as he turned his back to her, clenching her jaw once she heard him open the bottle.

“She’s your mother!” she said, walking back towards him, only for him to chuckle, not even glancing her way. “That's what i said.” he spoke, before he walked away with a glass full of whiskey, into the living room

Sunghoon came home from work to an empty house, the smell of dinner filling the house. Usually, his wife would be sitting in the living room watching television or in their room, asleep. But she wasn't. It felt empty, but he didn't really bother looking for her. He walked into the bathroom to shower, only to catch a glance of something in the bin.

White, a white base with a blue end, was his wife on drugs? He wondered, picking it out, and his world stopped spinning.

No, his wife was not on drugs. He held the object in his hand, eyes wide, looking down at the one line in its window. Had she really expected to be pregnant? After all this time? After all this trying? She shouldn't even hope, he thought, not with the amount of cigarettes she’d smoke on the daily, or the fact they just barely have sex anymore.

She came home late that day, not really looking his way once she did. The moment his eyes met hers, it was as if all hell had broken loose. He stood in front of her, throwing the pregnancy test on the table beside her, waiting for her to explain with wide eyes, filled with rage, maybe even horror.

The woman swallowed, looking down at the test, before letting out a sigh. “..i had symptoms.”

Sunghoon almost laughed in her face, his hand gripping his phone almost so tight that his own fingers shook with pain. “Symptoms? You think you can get symptoms?” he said back at her, in a biting tone, as if he was mocking her. She looked up at him, her eyes slightly glossing up at the sight of her own love of her life mocking her for her belief.

She bit the inside of her cheek, watching his reaction as he waited for her answer. Furry, anger, maybe even pain. “..stop it.” she muttered, her voice barely even audible, like a mouse being confronted by a lion. Her younger self would have never believed this. “Stop it? I should stop- oh my god,” he sighed, facing away from her as he tried to calm himself down, which wasn't really effective.

She shook her head, wiping away the tears that landed on her cheek, only to see him looking at her again, this time, a more composed expression. She stared back at him, his disheveled hair, dark undereyes, she really didn't want to add more to his tiredness. “..goodnight.” she muttered, before heading upstairs. He watched her as she went to their room. He scoffed, kicking at the chair beside him with a curse under his breath.

He didn't like how easy this all looked for her. How she could just turn her back on everything. He did too. But he convinced himself that it was different, that he had other things to worry about other than kids and pregnancy and parents in law, unlike her.

Sunghoon came home late the same night he jumped over the bridge, guilt consuming him from the inside out, and oh how he hated the feeling of wet clothes sticking to him. It was cold, and he for sure was trembling on his walk back home, barefoot. All he wanted to do now was go home and cry about it quietly on the balcony while he drank more.

He stepped into the porch, wiggling the door handle. Closed. He wiped away at his face, the silver ring still clutched tightly into his own hand, he didn't want to touch his pocket and find that the keys were gone. He looked around for where the spare key was placed, stumbling and mumbling under his breath, the water dripping from him to stain the wooden porch underneath him. He didn't care if his neighbours saw him and thought that he was crazy, that was a matter to worry about another time.

He finally found it, under the carpet, which was drenched in water now. He placed it in the key hole, and opened the door, stepping into the warm, familiar smelling house. The water left a trail of where he went as he walked deeper into the living room, eyes falling on the woman sitting down on the couch across from him, staring back. His eyes fell on the papers on the table beside her, divorce papers, he just got even more anxious. She didn't even think about asking where he’d been, why he was drenched from head to toe like he’d been drowning and his faint smell of alcohol, when he stepped towards her in front of her seat, and falling to his knees.

Her eyes widened, hands on his arms almost as if she was about to hold him before he fell but she was too late. He looked up at her through blurry eyes, his gaze glossy, looking at her with that same gaze again, like she was the only girl in the world. “..sunghoon, get up..” she muttered, watching as he shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks.

He sniffed, hands gripping the blanket on her lap tightly, burying his face in her lap, forehead against her stomach. He sobbed, and she could feel his tears making her clothes damp. She swallowed, her hand gently going up to brush his hair away from his face.

“..baby,” she muttered, watching as he just continued crying on her lap. He felt suffocated, and the fact that he was now in her embrace made him feel better. But he knew it wouldn't last long, it never did. He didn't care if he was going to wake up sick tomorrow, he didn't care if she found this weird after all he said to her hours back, he didn't want to lose her, that's what he knew.

“..im sorry,” he sobbed, hands wrapping at her waist, begging her, just for one more night. He didn't want her to leave, he wasn't ready to let her go, he knew she wasn't either, so he had to make her stay. “Please don't leave,” he said, burying his face deeper into her stomach. She could almost feel his fingers trembling around her, or the fact that his lips were turning slightly blue.

She looked at the papers on the table, her fingers twitching, her hand raised as she reached for them, but she didn't. Instead, her hand dropped on the top of his head. “..youre freezing,” she said in a quiet voice, picking up the blanket off her lap and wrapping it around him. He stayed in that position, crying his heart out.

He could still remember the way she would laugh when they would sneak away from class together, or the way they painted the abandoned nursery room pink together, and how they got paint everywhere. He didn't want any of it to end, and even though it might never happen again, he still clung to the very small slither of hope he had. She still meant the world to him. Even if it would never be like before.

It was supposed to be an important day for her. For them. But it really felt like it wasn't one anymore. She didn't even know why she bought the chocolate cake from the grocery store, it wasn't like anyone else would eat it with her. She sat on the dining table, staring at the cake like it knew all the secrets of life, like it would explain to her that all she went through would be rewarded, but it wasn't.

It sat there, an unlit candle slightly off centre staring back at her with a laugh full of mockery. The cigarette between her fingers filled the room with smoke, and every time she felt like she couldn't breathe, she would take a puff, then she would feel like she could breathe again. She didn't even know why she bothered to bring the cake. He wouldn't even acknowledge it.

The chair across from her stayed empty. The cake became warm, even the walls felt too quiet, like the house itself stopped trying to comfort her. She looked down at her hands– pale, chipped, old nail polish clinging to the edges. It reminded her of how he used to paint her nails. Used to. Before the silence, before the baby, before everything.

Her gaze fell on the figure across from her, giving it a small smile through weary eyes. She placed the cigarette on the table, letting out a tired sigh. “You know..” she whispered, voice creaking like old wood, “i would have gotten you a dinosaur cake, you liked them right?”

She let out a breathy laugh, it was weak and humourless. “Stupid, isn't it? Chocolates are more adult.”

She stayed silent, fingers playing with the wood of the table, which made her feel sick,yet comfortable at the same time. “..you wouldn't have liked how your dad drank,” she muttered, teary eyes looking back up at whoever was seated on the chair. Which was empty, but her brain told otherwise.

“..you would have hated me.” she whispered, letting out a laugh while wiping away her tears.

Sunghoon stood by the entrance to the kitchen, watching as she talked to..no one. At first, he thought that she was on the phone, and was saying some stuff while she was high on her cigarette to her mom or her friend, but she wasn't. A half eaten chocolate cake with an unlit candle on it, the cigarette’s ashes on the table, and he looking at whoever the fuck was across from her. Nobody.

He stared at her, and when she realised his presence she turned to stare back at him. He walked towards her, eyes narrowed with a hint of softness in it. “..i told you to cut down on the cigarettes–" she cut him off before he was able to pull away her cancer stick, shaking her head. “It's our anniversary.” he paused his movements, looking back at her, almost letting out a scoff, staring at her with wide eyes.

“You’re high,” he said matter of factly, stepping away from her and taking the pack of cigarettes on the table. “Im not high,” she said through teary eyes, and it looked like she was going to reach for the pack he snatched away from her, but she took his hand instead.

“Its our anniversary,”

She pleaded, begging him to hear her or even just stay. He looked away from her, pulling her off of him and throwing the pack of cigarettes into the bin. His back was now facing her, and she looked at him like he was the only thing she missed in the world. She hated how he didn't even look into her eyes for long, or how he never actually spent the night at home. She missed the younger him, and she definitely missed the younger her.

A quiet while went by after her words, he just stared at the bin, thinking of what to even reply with. “..go to bed,” he muttered after a pause, leaving the kitchen without another word.

The young boy watched as she passed by with her friends, his eyes only on her, it was like she was enchanting him with a spell, maybe she wasn't, but he felt like it. She was beautiful. And all it took from him to look away from her was a quick glance from her. His eyes fell on the floor, before they darted over to his friend, Jake.

“Dude,” he whispered, holding in his laugh, which was let out once Sunghoon nudged him with his elbow. Sunghoon didn't dare to look back, leaning against his locker. “How many times have I told you to not laugh so loudly,” he muttered quietly, eyes slightly narrowed.

Jake shrugged, still looking at the group of girls walking by, “dude she totally wants you,” he said back, ignoring Sunghoon’s comment on his voice's volume. Sunghoon swallowed, his cheeks warming up slightly at the mention of the girl he liked, liking him back. Jake continued “You should just take her with you into those old classrooms and hit–” the boy let out a loud gasp as he looked at his best friend's gaze, eyes wide with shock. Or maybe even pure disbelief.

“What?” Sunghoon asked, a confused look on his face as he looked the boy up and down, trying to figure out if he just pissed his pants, or a rat was in there. “Dude you're totally blushing,” Jake pointed to his face, making Sunghoon frown.

“What?” Sunghoon repeated, this time more flustered than confused as he tried to deny it, but Jake was already jumping all over the place, rushing to Jay, who’s walked by. “Jay! You wont believe this!!” “jake no, shut up” Sunghoon attempted to grab his hand, but the skinny boy only ended up being pulled towards them.

Jay looked between the two, a skeptical expression on his features “did you actually put viagra into Ms. Kate’s tea?” he muttered, waiting for confirmation as he looked at the two youngins. “No, because this coward forgot them,” Jake shook his head, poking at Sunghoon's head, who just looked away in embarrassment. Not at the fact that he forgot to bring the viagra, he had trouble like that the whole time, but it was in fact because Jake caught his little crush.

“So this fella here has a crush on that girl from, um” Jake paused, trying to remember her class name, he didn't even know her actual name. He didn't bother paying any attention to the girls’ names in school.

“Tenth grade second?” Jay asked, looking back at Sunghoon, whose eyes went wide that he knew which class she was in. While Jake frowned, looking between the two. “What? You told him and not me?!” Jake asked, eyes darting back at sunghoon.

“How the hell did you find out?” Sunghoon took a step back in disbelief, ignoring Jake’s looks of confusion. “Dude you stare at her like shit during her football practice.” Jay shrugged, making Jake’s mouth form an “O” shape in understanding. “Is that why he begged me to go out to the fields with him when they had that competition?” Jay burst out laughing, facing away from the two. “Oh my god heeseung’s going to have a field day with this!” he brushed his hair away from his face, making sunghoon shake his head, eyes frantic.

“His sister is in her class, no?” Jake muttered, pulling Sunghoon closer and wrapping his arm around his shoulder. They clearly didn't look suspicious skipping class and making a little circle while they talked in low voices. You would think they were exchanging condoms.

“Nah they got beef,” Jay said, shaking his head, looking towards Sunghoon “i think there’s more to why Heeseung doesn't let you over to his house,” he said, taking a sip of his water bottle, which wasn't actually filled with water, instead with some old beer.

“Yeah that bullshit about how his parents don't like having anyone they don't know over is so clearly a lie.” Jake shrugged, his voice lower as he looked back at Sunghoon. Sunghoon just listened, before he spoke, shaking his head “what does that have to do with..her?” he muttered with a small frown, his hand moving to grab the beer full bottle and taking a sip from it.

“My theory is that Heeseun’s sister likes you, and she’s beefing with your future girl.” he said, and Jake continued “which means that she actually might like you back. Somehow,” he said the last word in a joking manner, earning a push away from Sunghoon.

“So are you going to hit or not?” Jay asked, a small smirk on his lips, listening as Jake continued “yeah she’s some hot shit man,” "Don't talk about her like that,” Sunghoon muttered, looking away with a small furrow of his eyebrows. “Aww he’s down bad,” Jay teased, earring a coo from Jake, and a groan from sunghoon.

The next time Sunghoon had ran into the girl of his dreams was when she bumped into him during lunch, his juice half spilling over her.

She let out a small gasp, taking a step back and looking at her shirt. The one she had spent all her summer savings on. She looked up at the offender, only to see that he was still staring at her, not a thought in his head. How pathetic of him, he thought, he couldn't even say a simple word to her.

“You ruined my shirt,” she said, really trying not to sound arrogant or mean, but the boy was just staring at her like a deer caught in headlights. He opened his mouth to move it, only for no words to come out. He really tried.

She swallowed, letting out a sigh before shaking her head, “whatever,” she muttered, walking away, back to her friends’ table.

When Sunghoon took a seat at a small table, he looked at Jay, almost in tears. “I couldn't even apologise to her,” he whispered, looking at the older man with a plain expression. “What, you knocked her up?” Jay said his question was a bit more serious, causing Jake to turn to them.

“Sunghoon knocked a girl up?” He said, a little too loudly, that if anyone was listening closely, they would be able to hear. Sunghoon's eyes widened, looking between the two and shaking his head. “What? No!” He exclaimed, shaking his head and putting the fork that he’d picked up a few seconds ago, back down.

“I bumped into her and I couldn't apologise,” he explained with a hushed tone, watching as Jake nodded his head in understanding. “My bad,” Jay said, taking a bite of his cold pizza. “This is nasty as hell,” he muttered, putting it back down.

“she probably figured it out dude, I heard she was the top of her class,” Jake added, taking a sip of his chocolate milk. Sunghoon let out a groan, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. “Im so pathetic,”

“Yeah right,” Jay chuckled, looking around, his eyes falling on the principal walking in with the same teacher they pulled the prank on. “Yo guys,” he muttered, catching the attention of the two as the teachers scanned around.

“Yeah we should probably go,” Jake whispered a bit louder, grabbing his bag and standing to leave the cafeteria through the second door, the other two mimicking his actions.

Once they got to a “teacher safe” area, Jay frowned, looking between the two. “How the hell did they find out?” He asked in a hushed whisper, taking out the leftover drug he kept in his bag, he needed to get rid of it.

“You need to get rid of that,” Jake noted, eyes falling on the blue and red coloured box. “Yeah no shit,” Jay retorted back in a whisper, looking around for anything

to dispose of the pills.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, hands slightly trembling. “..who even knew except for the three of us?” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of one of the ratting them out. But Jake wouldn't do that, neither would Jay.

“Stuff them in your shoes,” Jay said, taking out the small packs and taking off his shoes, giving some to Jake, and to Sunghoon, who stood there dumbfounded.

“..in our shoes?” “Got a better idea?” Jay muttered, looking straight at Sunghoon and raising an eyebrow, and when the younger one gave no reply, Jay nodded his head. “Right.”

Jake climbed up on the short wall, “we’ll skip tomorrow, they’ll forget about it by next week,” he said, walking and jumping from one wall to another, the other two just behind him.

When the three were far enough from the school, Sunghoon sat down on a bench, looking at the two. “..Lee Heeseung,” he said, suggesting that Heeseung was the one who told them. Jay looked back at Sunghoon, his expression shifting in realisation. “He was there when we were talking,” Jake said, in disbelief and slight denial that Heeseung would do this to them.

Jay kicked a random rock, shaking his head. “Your dad’s going to tweak if he finds out.” Jay said, still looking at Sunghoon, who clutched his fists at the idea.

“We can't let anyone find out,” Jake said, shaking his head. “They probably already told him,” Sunghoon sighed, eyes on the floor. He didn't regret doing what he did. He never did. What he felt now was anger. At the fact that his supposed “friend” snitched on him and how his dad probably found out, and is preparing to transfer him to another school.

“..we can't just let him be,” Sunghoon shook his head, looking up at Jay, who was already deep in thought. “..we can't, he’s a chaebol, we’ll be dead if we touch him.” “But Sunghoon is too!” Jake retorted, standing with the idea that they should definitely gang up on Heeseung for snitching.

“Jake, me and you have no one backing us up. Be for real.”

“Sunghoon's dad knows us—”

“Sunghoon's dad hates us.” Jay replied, his mouth only slipping out the harsh truth by accident. Sunghoon put his hand on top of his head, looking around, his eyes falling on a girl taking a regular stroll in the park. Lee Heeseung's little sister.

He nudged Jake with his elbow, gesturing for him to look at who he saw, and Jay looked as well, on instinct. Sunghoon's plain expression matched with Jake’s slightly angered ones, but Jay chuckled, standing up. Once the girl passed by them, he stood in front of her, hands in his pockets like she owed him all the money in the world.

“Im surprised Heeseung let you out here, all alone.” He said, watching as the girl, Lee Haerin, looked at whoever was sitting on the bench, eyes stilling on Sunghoon, who looked at her like she was just some white wall.

She let out a sigh, looking at Jay “what do you want?” “Your brother,” Jake said, standing up and also walking towards them, his glare on her more stern than the one on Jay’s.

The girl clutched her bag strap tightly, not knowing how to reply, only for Jake to continue speaking. “Do you know how much dirt I have on Heeseung? I could take away his little dream of taking over his father's company by him going to juvie for life.” He hissed, in a moment of pure rage.

The girl took a step back, caught off guard from Jake's words, the boy who would always acknowledge her when no one else would, not even Sunghoon. “..leave me alone.” she said, walking past them and avoiding bumping into Jake successfully.

“Pussy,” Jake muttered, walking back to the bench, letting out sigh in frustration. “She's going to go around saying some bullshit now.” Jay said, walking back towards the two "I don't care,” Jake muttered, shaking his head.

Sunghoon hadn't gone home that night, opting to stay at Jay’s instead of going home to get yelled at. He stared at the ceiling from a mattress laid out on the floor, his fingers going over the feel of the shirt he borrowed from the older.

“What if we actually go to juvie?” “for what?” Jay replied to Jake in almost a scoff, not really thinking whatever they did was a crime.

“Possession of drugs without licence,” Jake started listing, sitting up to look at the older. “And reckless endangerment.” He said, putting his pillow on top of his lap, leaning his head against the wall behind him.

“How much time?” Jay asked, a bit more aware that he could go to juvenile, what was even worse was that his 18th birthday was after a few months. “..nine months at most for good behaviour.” Jake replied, catching the attention of Sunghoon. “How do you even know this?” “My dad had all those books about them.”

The next morning, Sunghoon opened the door, which was being knocked on for almost the past thirty minutes. He didn't think about who it would be, and his expression quickly changed when he saw who it was.

“What the hell Sunghoon! They're looking all over the place for you.” The girl hissed in a low voice, the same girl that he’d thought about not being able to see again all night.

He stood there, hair messy and shirt on the verge of hanging off his shoulders. He didn't reply at first, his confused frown deepening, how did she know where Jay lived? He wasn't even able to ask. All he could hear next was her sweet beautiful voice that soothed his ears like honey. Though he couldn't fathom what she was saying.

“Are you even listening to me?” She huffed, clicking her fingers in front of his face. Before he shook his head, moving to the side to let her in. It was cold.

Her eyes fell on the other two boys on the floor, sleeping deeply, at peace, before she looked back at Sunghoon. “..your dad’s at school, he’s making hell of it,” she said in a whisper this time, watching as he stood still by the door after closing it, not moving a muscle, just staring back at her.

“..let him be,” Sunghoon finally mustered after a while, shrugging as he took a seat on the couch across from hers. “..the cops are going to get involved, Sunghoon.”

And that's exactly what happened when he and Jay almost beat Lee Heeseung to death. He still fought back stubbornly, landing punches on them and defending himself. But he was overpowered, especially scared at the fact that Jay brought a small knife with him.

Jake stood watch in the small shadow between the brick walls, and all he could hear for a while was sounds of grunts and hits, before a loud scream.

Sunghoon let out a scoff, grabbing the nearest brick and shoving it into Heeseung's mouth while he writhed in pain from how Jay pierced his thigh with the knife. And it all seemed alright for the two for a few seconds, till they heard police sirens.

Their eyes had widened, Jake jolting from his place to look at the group hidden in the dark end of the alleyway. Too close. They were too close for any escape method. And all Sunghoon and Jake could do was look at Jay for something to do. What could they do?

What did he do? Looking back at them with eyes that teared slowly, removing the brick from Heeseung's mouth, he looked between the two, hand gripping the knife lightly.

“Go.”

“What?”

“I said go. Now,” Jay ushered, pushing them away, he needed them to run. Sunghoon swallowed, the sirens too loud in his ears for him to be able to register anything. “Let’s just go Jongseong,” he shook his head, not realising that Jake had taken his hand, knowing he won't be able to pull away on his own.

“I’ll be alright.” Jay reassured, giving the two a quick hug, though Sunghoon wasn't able to let go. He held onto the older tightly, he didn't want to let go. Jay stood there, unable to do anything as his lips trembled, feeling Jake pull Sunghoon away from him by the waist.

Sunghoon objected, shaking his head and yelling Jay’s name while the other dragged him away, unable to look at the scene. They turned into a closed off alleyway, and while Sunghoon was busy being a crybaby over the older brother figure he had lost, Jake leaned over at a corner of a wall, emptying his stomach. The screams, the blood, the cops, he was scared of all of it. So scared he vomited

They somehow found themselves back at Jay’s cabin, only to find her. Sunghoon wasn't able to say anything, just staring at her with tearshot eyes while Jake clenched his jaw, speaking in a coarse voice. “..the cops will be here soon.” The girl’s expression changed, her long lashes drooping with slight guilt once she was able to figure out what happened.

Jake had returned back to his older brother's house, which was obviously safer than whatever was waiting for Sunghoon back home. It would only get worse.

So she took him back to her house, and snuck him into her room. “.. don't make a lot of sound,” she said, closing the window once he was inside, taking the first aid kit out of her nightstand drawer.

Her eyes fell back on Sunghoon, giving him a small smile before she spoke. “You could get an infection,” she said in a low voice, opening the kit and taking out what was required.

He looked back up at her, eyes tear stained and droopy, from crying. Her face somehow soothed his pain, opting to stare at it instead.

“.. it's not your fault.” She said, the q-tip in her hand gently grazing the bruise on his forehead. Before he let out a sob. She halted her movements, looking back down at him, only to see that he looked away from her, holding in his cry, soft sniffles filling up the room.

Her hands slowly made their way to his head, caressing his hair, she felt him lean his forehead on her stomach. He cried on her there, convincing himself that it was his fault, that he never even should have come up with the idea of drugging his teacher's tea.

He’d just lost Jay. The older brother he’d never had. Sure, they would argue a lot and Jay would never pay him back for the money he gave, but the fact that Jay had sacrificed his future for them showed that he cared. Jay was the home Sunghoon went to when his father drank his ass off and started blowing up the whole house. Heck, Sunghoon felt more at home with him than with his parents.

Maybe it was his parents’ neglect that he’d turned out like this. Or maybe it was that they were so strict with him he’d found life when he befriended Jay and Jake after he went into highschool. Whatever they had done was a terrible job. Whether at controlling his actions, or preventing them.

He’d started spending the nights at the girl's house, he met her parents and the two came up with petty excuses to make him spend the night. He never went back home to his parents anymore. Sure, he’d gotten himself, along with Jake, suspended after Jay convinced the cops the pills weren't his, but he avoided going back to that hell hole.

She offered the comfort he’d always needed, filling up a hole in his heart after a part of it had been ripped away. He loved her. She might have loved him too, that's what she said when they went to the park late at night, playing on swings and laughing.

“..i love you.” She muttered in a low voice, her hand caressing his knuckles, looking at him from under the slide. His eyes widened, his cheeks becoming red now that she’d confessed. He’d wished for times like this.

“..really?” He asked, his eyes wide, filled with hope and looking at her like she was the only star in the universe, like she was the light he’d found when suddenly all the lights in his world were turned off. Like she was his.

“..i love you too.”

But he barely said those words these days. Not even after their marriage. He’d missed their anniversary, hated everyone, and now his wife talked to their baby's ghost.

He laid down next to her on the bed, seeing her sleep peacefully, tear stains running down her cheeks. He needed a drink. That's what he always needed at this time of the day. Except today, he decided to actually stay the night.

He walked down the creaky stairs, unbothered to even fix them, he didn't care about what went on in this hell of a house now. He saw the way it mocked him, say the way it laughed at him, or his wife, whenever they argued.

He sat down on the dining table after he took out his whiskey bottle, pouring some for himself on a glass, and starting to drink his ass off.

His first glass was alright. He felt like it only made him more aware. He could see how the lights flickered slightly, or how the photo of him and the supposed woman of his dreams on their wedding day. The happiest day of his life.

The second glass started to bite more than it regularly did, he felt closer to cloud nine than he was to the floor, and it made him feel better. He poured another glass.

The third glass made him stare blankly at the edge of the table, eyes stinging with tears he couldn't even register. One more glass wouldn't hurt, right?

Wrong. It hit him like a truck. Like a wasp had stung his heart. Like he was suddenly living the worst nightmare of his teenage years. He was suddenly so much like his father. That glass made him recognise that.

He sniffed, the tears rolling down his cheeks burning his nose from the inside. Maybe it was from the alcohol, he didn't know.

He put the glass down, looking down at his ring. He was such a horrible husband. He didn't deserve her. She deserved anyone but him. His younger self wouldn't believe this, but maybe they weren't the perfect match he’d always thought they were.

He knew he married young, that he was already in the beginning of his thirties with a wife of five years. All of this isolation and coldness towards her because she’d lost their kid? She lost it too. It wasn't fair he was mad at her for something they both had lost. Maybe he was mad at himself because whenever they tried again for a kid, it wouldn't work. Or maybe it was because a part of him wished it’d never happen, that they wouldn't have anything else to lose. So that he wouldn't feel what he felt or he wouldn't see the state she was in all over again.

Sunghoon knew he was wrong for shutting her out like that, the way he kept her waiting for him every other night after that incident happened and sleeping on the couch, only for him to come home to go straight to work. He barely slept those days, she slept feeling hated.

He didn't know why he got mad when she shut him out as well. He’d remember the times she used to cry quietly in his embrace because of a small thing, now she cried with cigarettes between her fingers and the door left unlocked. He wanted her to keep trying, to win him back. But he was already a lost cause, she didn't even know what she was trying to win back. His heart knew it loved her, yet his brain hated her, for whatever reason.

The man stood up, his hazy steps making their way up the stairs again, maybe he was drunk, he didn't care. He didn't care if she saw him as well. He knew where she hid those papers. He entered the abandoned nursery room, stopping behind the door once he was inside. Sunghoon looked around, his heart clenching and squeezing itself. He painted this room with her. He set up all the curtains and the play table with her. When he still believed his love days weren't over.

He opened the closet, his eyes falling on the small folder in the back of it, tucked discreetly behind the unused toys. He took it out, hands trembling as he opened it. The shaking either from alcohol, or he was actually nervous. He would get shaky when he doesn't take his cigarettes as well. Divorce papers. A jury signature written on it, with her name at the top. All he needed to do was sign them. She never showed them to him. Not when he came back crying to her that night. Not when he apologised and begged her not to leave on his knees. She thought that maybe she would give him a second chance. And while she still didn't leave, she would think about them everyday.

Sunghoon took a pen, which he somehow kept, out of his pocket, hands shakily signing the papers. He did it. He signed them. Were they divorced now? Was he free from the everlasting guilt of not being able to fulfil his duty as a husband? For not being able to feel like she deserved the world? For making he feel like it was her fault? No. It didn't feel like it. Maybe it would haunt him forever, more so with the thoughts that the kids he never had would have hated him as a father.

Maybe it was fate that he didn't have kids. Did he even believe in it? He used to believe that they were fated together for life. But maybe they weren't. Their martial conditions now said otherwise. That fate didn't have their backs and maybe he was wrong in everything.

He would still inherit money even though his job does him good. He would still have available options for marriage, like the woman his mother suggested to him back when he opened up about wanting to get married. Actually no, he wouldn't marry her. He didn't want to marry anyone else. He was a coward and he was afraid that all of this would happen again.

He just hoped that her mental state would get better now that he's leaving. No worrying about having kids or questions that asked about how long they were married. Maybe he’d leave her all his money for her to go to a therapist. She wasn't alright. He knew he was the reason for all of her hurting. He wanted to be the reason that she was alright. That she was okay again.

He stood up again, leaving the room, only to instinctively walk into the one she was sleeping in. He stared at her form. Clad in an old shirt with her hair away from her face. She was still the same from high school. Except now she had dark undereyes, and most of her hair had fallen out. Stressed because of him? It was an understatement.

“..I'm sorry.” he muttered, though he didn't know if she would be listening or not. His shoulders gave up, he could just feel her pain through the way she clutched onto the blanket tightly. His heart itched for him to go towards her, maybe give her one last kiss before he left, or even rip the papers and sleep in her embrace like a baby. But his body wouldn't. It simply turned around and left the room, walking back down the dreaded staircase.

He stumbled, leaning on the wall for a moment. It wouldn't stop. The constant nagging, the laughs, the mockery, it was all still there. It was like his brain turned against him. I rejected him in his own body. The pain throbbing in his head was bad. It was like he’d already gotten a hangover, except for the fact that he was still drunk.

He swallowed back the vomit that was inching up his throat, walking towards the dining table, steps so slow that it looked like he was dreading this moment. He took his ring off of his swollen ring, his hands sweaty, even in this cold house. He didn't want to have a panic attack right here right now. He hated the feeling. He just wanted the sounds to stop. So he placed the ring back on the table, then left without a second glance.

Sunghoon went for a swim that night.

He also appeared in the newspapers the next morning.

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bywons · 2 months ago

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JUST MARRIED 、 psh

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬────𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍, 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎

❪ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝒾𝐒 ❫ ｡ 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝖽!𝗉𝗌𝗁 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 1OO3wc 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ──𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 drinking 贅沢／ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐄

★REBLOGPLEASE

“baby, please please,” sunghoon mumbles gibberish as he struggles to stand still, “it’s such a good idea, just hear me out!”

under the heavy influence of alcohol and the aftermath of some questionable yet impressive breakdancing at your friend’s wedding, sunghoon now stands flushed and breathless—face red, tie askew, a few shirt buttons undone. his tuxedo is bundled in your arms, and his hands are on your shoulders, trying to stabilize himself.

“we n-need to get married and—” hiccup “and, and m-move in—” hiccup “—will- will be the best hubby f-for you” hiccup

sunghoon grips your shoulders tighter, his weight tipping dangerously forward every time he leans in, eyes half-lidded with determination and booze-fueled affection. his lips purse in slow motion, aiming clumsily for yours.

you push a hand firmly against his chest. “nope. not happening.”

“my wife,” he whines, stumbling back a few steps on the empty road in front of the event, before striding towards you again, “you hurt me, i r-really need you!”

“sunghoon, the cab will be here any minute—”

you couldn’t even finish your sentence as sunghoon slumps his whole body weight over you, gathering you into a bear hug.

somehow, you manage to create a fair space between the two of you. pressing your hands on his chest, you try to push back as sunghoon wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulders.

“i love you,” he barely makes coherent sentences, snuggling his face at the crook of your neck, his lips gently pressing against it, “please marry me. we could elope. vegas. tomorrow.”

you laugh, something between blushing, humour and your heart swelling up to his words. you muster all your strength and push him until he’s just one arm away.

“i swear to god,” you sigh, trying to pry him off as his tux almost slips away from your hold, “you will wake up with zero memory tomorrow morning.”

“i don’t need memory,” sunghoon pouts again, chuckling out loud as he comes closer to you again, stumbling and swaying in his steps as he cups your face, “my body knows, my lips .. know.”

before you can say anything, he leans in and connects his lips with yours in the sloppiest, neediest kiss ever.

your brain short circuits.

his mouth is warm and clumsy, moving with unplanned precision against yours than he usually has— this is all desperation and tipsy affection. he hiccups once, twice into the kiss, chuckling before reconnecting his lips with yours. you feel your knees becoming weaker.

you try to push him away but he only leans in even more, humming into the kiss like he has been craving this all night. he slides his hand up your back, pressing you impossibly close to him, both his hands anchoring to your body.

he pulls back just a little, lips brushing yours, eyes fluttering. “you taste like forever,” he whispers, so seriously that your chest tightens despite the absurdity.

“sunghoon, there are still people here—” you gasp, pulling him back by his raven hair. he winces as the pull softly, but refuses to let you go.

“there’s no one here but us and destiny,” he breathes, and kisses you again before you can even roll your eyes.

this time the kiss is slower, softer, he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, his hands soon finding your cheeks. although he reeked of alcohol still, you couldn’t shake him away. you gasp softly as he tilts his head, deepening it—his mouth opening against yours with such yearning, you nearly forget where you are. his lips trail down to your jaw for a second, then back up, brushing teasingly slow before capturing your bottom lip again with a sigh.

“sunghoon,” you whisper against him, dizzy, drunk in love as well. but sunghoon only hums against your lips, and kisses them soft. slow. longer and lingering, blushing like he’s kissing for the first time.

“enough now,” you pant for breath as he pulls away, hitting his chest, “we have to go— what are you doing?”

sunghoon suddenly drops down on his knees. like, actually drops, hard, on the pavement outside the wedding venue with flickering lights still on.

you gape, “oh my god, ‘hoon! get up, you’re ruining your pants!”

“no!” he shouts, well, slurs incoherently while his arms wrap around your waist, “this is it. i have waited for this and i will say it.”

“get up—”

“y/n,” he cuts you off, dramatically clutching at his chest like he’s been shot. “i am so, so in love with you. like there is nothing in this world i wouldn’t do for you and—”

“oh my god.”

he takes a deep breath, then grabs your hand in both of his, pressing it to his heart. “marry me,” he says, eyes shiny with sincerity and tequila. “please. i’ll be so good. i’ll do the dishes. i’ll learn to cook. i’ll stop trying to do flips at weddings. probably.”

“you’re so drunk,” you try to lean in, eyes pricking with tears of both laughter and yearning.

“but I’m serious,” he insists, eyes locking onto yours like they’re the only steady thing in his spinning world. “i want to marry you. tonight. tomorrow. whenever. just—say yes. please, baby, please.”

“sunghoon, baby,” you sigh, controlling your chuckle as you start to caress his neck and face, “get up.”

“if i—” hiccup “get up, will you marry me?” sunghoon pouts.

“yes!” you almost shout, a little laughter escaping you. your heart aches, he is a total mess, drunk to the nose, shit crumples and knees dirty from the pavement as he stands up. but through all of that, you know he means all of it.

“okay,” sunghoon straightens his back, holding your hands, “we are married now. can i kiss my bride?”

you almost cry, tugging softly at his hands, “yes.”

he doesn’t waste no time, immediately capturing your lips in his, pulling you impossibly close again. hands resting on your cheeks, sunghoon truly loves you.

스루 ܃ never lower your standards, if your man doesn’t get on his knees for you, boy next 😹

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shy9-29 · 2 months ago

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My Voice Stops Where You Begin | 박성훈

“she fell first, he fell harder.” - enhypen campus series

୨ৎ You fell first—loud, chaotic, hopelessly into Park Sunghoon. He barely spoke, barely looked your way… until he did. And when he fell, he didn’t just fall—he crashed. ✉️ wc. 19.7k - quiet 박성훈 x talkative yn | PT2

🏷️ @fancypeacepersona @k1ttyjwon @m1kkso @enjakey @motherscrustytoenailclippings @dearestdreamies @wonuziex @jendeuke-bae @haerni @koizekomi @mariegibeau @sheseung @httpenhoon @sievenderz @rikifever @skzenhalove @chvconn3 @wonzzziezzzz @blvengene @gvtdoll @a3r4-for3ver @sunghoon-cam @luvksnn @aaaaarmiiiiin @bloomiize

It was the first day of university, and you were already running late. The strap of your bag was digging into your shoulder, your coffee was lukewarm, and you were half-jogging across campus trying to figure out where “Hall B, Room 204” was. You burst into the lecture hall just as the professor was introducing himself, cheeks flushed, hair slightly out of place. A few heads turned. Some people smiled politely. One guy sitting in the back corner didn’t even glance up.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You were too busy trying to find an empty seat, preferably one not directly in the line of fire for first-day introductions. You settled in the middle row, somewhere between too eager and too aloof. You pulled out your notebook, took a sip of your now-offensively warm coffee, and let out a breath. That’s when your eyes wandered—just casually, no intention behind it. And that’s when you saw him.

Back row. Headphones in. Face like stone. Tall, pale, a little slouched like he was already tired of being here. He wasn’t paying attention to anything or anyone. Just staring ahead like the world around him didn’t concern him in the slightest. And somehow… that made you look again. There was something about him that didn’t match the rest of the room. Like he belonged somewhere else entirely. You didn’t even know his name yet, but for some reason, your stomach flipped.

Over the next few weeks, you saw him everywhere.

And you were everywhere too—because that’s who you were. Loud. Friendly. Constantly surrounded by people. You liked talking, liked filling up space, liked being known. But every time you were in the same room as him, something shifted. Your words dried up. Your laugh softened. You’d glance over at him and forget what you were even saying. It didn’t make sense. You had no reason to feel nervous—he wasn’t even looking at you. But still, you felt it. That slow, creeping kind of curiosity. That quiet pull.

Sunghoon was tired. Everywhere he went, there was a shadow. And not his—an annoying 5’3 one that followed him everywhere. You were always in his line of sight. Talking to someone, laughing too loud, waving your hands when you got excited about something. You were like color in an otherwise grayscale world. Yet she never spoke to him, not a single word. Just observed him from a distance. He noticed. He just didn’t show it.

You didn’t know it then, but that was when it started—when you first fell. You didn’t fall hard, not all at once. It was quiet. Subtle. The way your heart picked up a little when you spotted him in the dining hall. The way you slowed down just slightly when you passed him outside the library. The way you memorized his schedule without meaning to. You didn’t know him. But you wanted to.

And that want? It grew.

You started timing your days around him—not on purpose, at first. It was just that your 10 a.m. lecture happened to be one he was in, and you figured out pretty quickly that he always got there five minutes early, headphones in, hood up if it was cold. He always sat in the same seat: back row, second from the window. You always sat three rows down, a little to the left, just enough to keep him in your peripheral vision. You told yourself it wasn’t weird. People watched people. That’s what people did.

But you didn’t watch everyone.

You watched him.

Sometimes you’d catch little things. The way he tapped his pen when he was thinking, or the way his fingers curled around his water bottle like he was grounding himself. You noticed how he always had one earbud out during lectures, like he didn’t fully trust the silence. You wondered what he was listening to. You wondered what his voice sounded like when he wasn’t mumbling out answers or mumbling “here” during attendance.

You had about a dozen opportunities to talk to him. You were you, after all—there was always someone asking you something, pulling you into something. You weren’t shy. You never had been. But when it came to him, you just… couldn’t. You’d freeze. Smile too quickly. Look away. And he never made it easier—never looked at you long enough to give you a window, never gave you a reason to think he even knew you were there.

But he did.

Sunghoon knew.

He wasn’t stupid. You were loud. Impossible to miss. Like a radio that never turned off. Like summer in the middle of a dull winter. He noticed how you always seemed to sit near him, always looked like you were about to say something but never did. He told himself it was just coincidence. Just one of those things. But then it kept happening. Over and over. The same girl. The same smile. The same presence that made the air feel different.

And yeah—he was tired. All the time. Not from school, not from work. Just… life. People. Noise. But then there was you. This exhausting, glowing thing that wouldn’t leave him alone. You weren’t trying to, but you were there. In his classes. In his thoughts. In the parts of the day where he didn’t expect to feel anything.

And eventually, something cracked.

But not yet. Not then. Because you had already fallen. Quietly, completely, helplessly. And he hadn’t even started.

You flopped onto your bed with all the dramatic flair of someone who had just survived a war, limbs sprawled out, backpack tossed somewhere near your desk.

“Hes sooo fine,” you groaned into your pillow, voice muffled but full of conviction. “Like, actually unfair. How is someone allowed to look like that and not speak to a single soul?” From the other side of the room, Stella barely looked up from her laptop. “You mean Park Sunghoon?” she asked, already sounding unimpressed. “I don’t get it. It’s like being attracted to a white wall.”

You lifted your head, offended. “First of all, he’s not a white wall. He’s more like… a minimalist painting. You know, subtle. Mysterious. Expensive.” Stella snorted. “Girl, he blinked at you once and you’ve been writing fanfiction in your brain ever since.” You threw a pillow at her. “You don’t get it. There’s just something about him.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, catching the pillow and tossing it back. “Something emotionally unavailable.” You didn’t argue, mostly because she was right. But also because you’d already started thinking about what Sunghoon’s voice might sound like if he ever actually spoke to you. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling like it might hold the answers to your Sunghoon obsession. “Do you think he even knows I exist?”

Stella let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You sit three rows in front of him. You laugh like a Disney side character. You’ve accidentally tripped twice walking past his seat. If he doesn’t know by now, he’s either legally blind or willfully ignoring you.” You groaned again, dragging a pillow over your face. “Kill me.”

“He’s cute, sure,” she continued, typing something on her laptop, “but he literally said ‘no thanks’ when a girl asked him if he wanted to join their study group. No thanks. Like he was declining an email subscription.” You laughed, muffled by the pillow. “He probably has a really soft voice. Like… barely audible. A whisper. Velvet.”

Stella gave you a look. “You need help.”

“I need him.”

She shut her laptop. “No, babe. You need to talk to him. Say something. Anything. Even just ‘hi.’ Break the curse.” You peeked out from under the pillow, heart already doing gymnastics at the thought. “But what if he looks at me?”

“That’s the whole point.”

You stared at her, horrified. “Absolutely not. I’d combust on the spot.”

“Then enjoy your silent crush from the shadows, weirdo.” You flopped again, dramatically. “Fine. But if I die from unspoken romantic tension, it’s on you.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Put it in your will, Romeo.”

The next morning, you woke up with a mission: to maybe say something to Sunghoon today. Nothing crazy. Not a full sentence or anything. Just a word. A syllable, even. A polite “hey” if the stars aligned and your voice didn’t betray you.

You spent an extra five minutes picking your outfit—something casual but not too casual. Like, “I didn’t try, but also I absolutely did.” Stella noticed, obviously. “You’re wearing the ‘Hot but I’m Not Trying’ outfit,” she said through a mouthful of cereal. “Is today The Day?” You shrugged, grabbing your bag and pretending you weren’t already sweating. “It might be.” Stella clapped slowly. “Godspeed, soldier.

By the time you got to class, your nerves were starting to spiral. Sunghoon was already there, sitting in his usual seat—hood down, headphones in, fingers tapping against the desk to whatever he was listening to. He looked unfairly good in a black hoodie and gray sweats, like someone had just pulled him out of a moody K-drama. His side profile was so sharp it should’ve been illegal.

You walked past him, fully prepared to say something, anything—He looked up. Briefly. Just for a second. Eye contact.

And then—back down. Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just send your soul into orbit with a single glance.

You speed-walked to your seat and nearly collapsed into it, heart pounding like you’d just run a marathon. You turned around just enough to glance back at him. Still headphones in. Still unbothered. Still so fine.

You opened your phone under the desk and texted Stella:

Me: I made eye contact. I think I’m pregnant.

She responded instantly.

Stella: omg congrats on the baby!!! do u know if it’s a ghost or a shadow????

You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing out loud. You looked up one more time. Sunghoon hadn’t moved. Still in his own world. Still completely unreadable. But you swore—swore—the corner of his mouth twitched. Almost like a smile. Almost.

You spent the entire lecture pretending to take notes while your brain went into overdrive analyzing that one almost-smile like it was a sacred artifact. Had it really happened? Or were you just so far gone that you were starting to hallucinate expressions on his face that weren’t actually there? You tried to sneak another glance at him halfway through class, just to confirm—but he was fully zoned out again, one hand lazily spinning his pen, the other resting against his jaw, headphones still in. Unbothered. Untouchable. Beautiful in the way that made your brain short-circuit if you stared too long.

When the professor dismissed everyone, you packed up slower than usual, hoping—praying—that the universe would throw you a bone. Maybe he’d glance your way again. Maybe you’d make accidental eye contact and he’d hold it this time. Maybe he’d say something. Or you would. But, as always, Sunghoon stood up, slung his backpack over one shoulder, and walked straight past you like he hadn’t just been living rent-free in your brain for the last three months. You sighed so loudly, the girl next to you looked concerned.

The time you got back to your dorm, you threw the door open with unnecessary force. Stella looked up from her desk. “Well?” You dropped your bag and collapsed onto the floor like the tragic lead in a college rom-com. “He looked at me again.”

She blinked. “…And?”

“And I felt it in my knees, Stella.” She closed her laptop, looking both amused and vaguely concerned. “You’ve got it bad.”

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “I think I’m in love with someone I’ve never spoken to. Do you think they make support groups for this kind of thing?”

“I think it’s called delusion, girl.” You dramatically flung an arm over your forehead. “Well, I’m the president then.” She tossed a granola bar at you. “Eat something and touch grass.”

You caught it without looking, sighing. “I swear he almost smiled.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that counts as a conversation.”

She snorted. “Yeah, and I think you need help.” You took a bite of the granola bar and chewed in silence, thinking about the half-second twitch of his lips.

It was barely anything. Almost nothing. But to you? It was everything.

Later that night, you were curled up in bed, halfway through rewatching a comfort show you’d seen a hundred times, when the ping of a new email lit up your phone screen. You glanced at it lazily, expecting another boring newsletter or some campus event you weren’t going to attend.

But then your eyes locked on the subject line:

Group Project – PSY214: Social Behavior & Perception

Your heart stuttered. That was the class. The class with Sunghoon.

You sat up so fast your blanket fell off your shoulders. Opening the email, you scanned the body of the message like your life depended on it. The professor had assigned a project to be completed in pairs—not groups, pairs—and said you could choose your own partner, but you had to submit the name by the end of the week.

The universe had officially spoken.

You practically flew off your bed and ran out into the common area where Stella was on the couch, face half-buried in a bowl of popcorn, watching some true crime documentary with the volume way too high.

“STELLA.” You skidded to a stop in front of her, completely out of breath. She jumped, a kernel of popcorn flying out of her bowl. “Jesus—what?” You gripped the back of the couch like your soul might detach from your body. “Group project. Pairs. In psych. With Sunghoon. This is it. This is the sign. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask him.” She blinked at you. “Wait, you’re gonna speak to him?”

You nodded, eyes wide with some mix of fear and determination. “I have to. I’ve been given a golden opportunity by the universe. A gift. An invitation to break my curse of romantic cowardice. This is my moment. This is my origin story.”

Stella stared at you for a second. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“I know. But you know what else I am? A people person. I’ve never had trouble talking to anyone. It’s literally my specialty. I can charm strangers in line at Starbucks. I can talk my way out of a parking ticket. I can talk to Sunghoon.” She raised a brow. “Okay, but can you do that without short-circuiting and running away like a squirrel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “…I’m working on it.”

Stella smirked and popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Well, you better work fast. Because every other psych major with eyeballs is probably already plotting the same thing.” You dramatically flopped onto the couch beside her, clutching a throw pillow. “Ughhh. Why is he so fine and so quiet? It’s a dangerous combination.”

“Oh, speaking of dangerous,” Stella added casually, eyes still on the screen, “Did you hear Heeseung and his girlfriend got into a huge argument? Like it was full on hands on.” You blinked, thrown completely off track. “Wait—what? Are you serious?”

“Yep. My lab partner saw them holding hands outside the music building. She said it looked… not casual.” You groaned and buried your face in the pillow. “Okay, one emotionally unavailable man at a time, please.” Stella laughed. “You’re doomed.” You peeked over the pillow and mumbled, “Maybe. But at least I’ll go down trying.” She tossed a piece of popcorn at your forehead. “Godspeed, loser.”

And with that, your fate was sealed. Tomorrow, you were going to ask Park Sunghoon to be your partner. Or die trying.

The next morning, your alarm went off at an ungodly hour, and for once, you didn’t hit snooze. You shot out of bed like you had somewhere important to be. Like this was a mission. Because it was.

You had exactly one hour to mentally prepare yourself for what you were about to do: walk up to Park Sunghoon—aka human silence, aka your academic soulmate and secret crush—and ask him to be your partner. Easy. Simple. Nothing to be afraid of. You’ve talked to professors. You’ve hosted campus events. You’ve literally done improv in front of strangers. But now? Your hands were shaking because you might have to say five words to a man who barely speaks.

You stood in front of your mirror, practicing.

“Hey, wanna be partners?”

“No, that’s too blunt.”

“Hi! So I was wondering if—ew, no, too formal.”

“Yo.”

…Absolutely not.

From the other side of the room, Stella, still wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, cracked one eye open. “If you rehearse any longer, he’s gonna graduate before you speak.” You ignored her. “I’m manifesting smoothness, okay?”

“You’re manifesting cardiac arrest.”

By the time you got to class, your heart was already tap dancing in your chest. Sunghoon was in his usual seat—hood down, headphones in, all black hoodie, unreadable face. You stared at him for a full three seconds before you remembered you were standing in the middle of the aisle like a lost tourist. You snapped out of it and shuffled to your seat three rows down, pulse racing. You needed to catch him before class started. That way, if he rejected you, at least you could die quietly while the lecture played.

You kept glancing back at him, trying to time it right. He was scrolling through his phone now, completely detached from the world like he was on another plane of existence. Okay. This was it. You turned around. Took a breath. Stood up. Walked up the steps to his row like you weren’t having an internal breakdown. He looked up the moment you reached him. Direct eye contact. Your brain blanked for a full second.

“…Hey,” you said, voice not nearly as stable as you’d practiced.

He pulled one earbud out, eyebrows raised slightly. “Hi.”

HI. HE SPOKE.

“Um. I was just wondering if you wanted to be partners for the psych project?”

There was a pause. Not long, but enough to make your confidence start to wither.

Then he replied, voice low and quiet, “I already asked the professor if I could work alone.”

Oh.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. You hadn’t prepared for rejection. Especially not this calm, direct kind that somehow wasn’t even rude—it was just… final.

“Oh,” you said quickly, trying not to sound as mortified as you felt. “Cool! Yeah. That’s—totally fine.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just nodded once, almost politely, and put his earbud back in.

You turned around and walked back to your seat like someone had just unplugged your entire personality.

When you sat down, you stared at your notes without actually seeing anything. Your ears were hot. Your hands felt weird. You blinked a few times like maybe you could reset the whole moment.

You grabbed your phone and typed furiously.

Me: abort mission. i asked. he said no. he already asked to work ALONE. ALONE stella. like a damn lone wolf. i just got REJECTED by someone who doesn’t even TALK to people.

Three seconds later, the reply came:

Stella: …damn

Stella: okay but lowkey that’s so on brand for him

Stella: also that wasn’t even personal he probs would’ve said no if a supermodel asked

You slumped forward onto your desk.

If this was your origin story, then this was the flop arc.

And you were going to need emotional CPR before class even started.

Class ended with the usual rustle of backpacks and the scrape of chairs, but you sat frozen in your seat for an extra ten seconds, staring at the back of Sunghoon’s head like it had personally betrayed you. He was already standing up, slinging his bag over one shoulder, cool and quiet as ever. Like he hadn’t just shattered your plans and self-esteem into a thousand quiet little pieces.

But something in you snapped.

No.

You were done being shy. Done rehearsing conversations in your head and letting the moment pass you by. You were not letting Park Sunghoon disappear into the hallway without saying another word.

You jumped up, heart racing, and took a deep breath. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “We’re doing this. We’re not going to shrivel up and die from embarrassment this time.”

You rushed up the stairs after him, catching him just before he reached the door. “Sunghoon.”

He stopped, turning to look at you, that same unreadable expression on his face.

You inhaled. “You’re gonna work with me.”

His brows lifted, just slightly, caught somewhere between surprise and confusion. “I told you—I already asked the professor if I could work alone.”

You crossed your arms and raised your chin a little, tapping into your most extroverted, confident self—the version of you that could hold entire conversations with strangers and talk her way out of anything. “Then un-ask him.”

He blinked.

“I’m serious,” you continued, because if you stopped now you’d lose every ounce of courage. “You don’t even know me. What if I’m secretly a genius? What if we make the best team ever and win that bonus point thing he mentioned?”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, still quiet. Still unreadable.

You pointed at him. “You don’t have to like group work. But you’re gonna work with me.”

For a long second, he just stared at you.

The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile, not really. But something. He scoffed. Not in a dramatic, mean way. Just… soft. Dismissive. Like you were amusing. Or ridiculous. Or both. And then he turned and kept walking, like you hadn’t just declared war on his solo-project lifestyle. You blinked. Oh, hell no. You shoved your bag higher up your shoulder and stormed after him.

“Seriously?” you said, catching up to him in two strides. “You’re just gonna walk away after that?” He didn’t look at you. “Yeah.”

“You’re not even gonna consider it?”

“Nope.”

You huffed, falling into step beside him. “What is your deal with working alone? You allergic to people or something?” He side-eyed you. “You talk a lot.”

“Thank you,” you said flatly. “That’s literally the only reason I might save your grade.” He stopped walking. You stopped too, nearly crashing into him. He looked down at you—tall, pale, sharp-featured and quiet, like some sort of academic vampire who hated sunlight and group activities.

“Why are you so determined?” he asked finally, tone somewhere between annoyed and curious. You met his eyes, chin lifting. “Because I’ve never had someone ignore me this hard and still live in my brain rent-free. It’s annoying. So if I have to suffer through thinking about you all semester, you’re at least going to suffer with me. Equal pain.” His brows lifted just slightly.

“And,” you added quickly, “I don’t lose. So you’re working with me. End of story.”

Sunghoon stared at you for a beat longer. Like he couldn’t decide if you were insane or just persistent. Then he shook his head. And kept walking. But this time? He didn’t say no. You were halfway across campus the next day, trying to decide between skipping your next lecture or just emotionally disassociating through it, when you heard someone say your name.

Quietly. But definitely.

You turned around and almost tripped over your own feet when you saw him—Sunghoon. Hoodie, backpack, hands shoved in his pockets. Standing awkwardly like he wasn’t entirely sure he should’ve called out to you in the first place. Your heart did a full somersault. “Hi,” you said, maybe too brightly.

He blinked at you. “Hey.”

There was a weird beat of silence, filled with campus noise and your loud inner panic.

Then he shifted on his feet and muttered, “Can I get your number?”

Your brain exploded.

Was Park Sunghoon asking for your number? You stared at him, mouth slightly open, and he just stood there looking painfully neutral, like this was the last place he wanted to be.

“Are you—wait, are you asking me out?” you blurted, already regretting every second of your life.

His eyes widened just the slightest bit, like you’d accused him of a federal crime.

“No,” he said flatly. “For the project. So we can… communicate.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes going wide as the heat crept up your face. “Right. Duh. Obviously. Obviously.”

He looked vaguely uncomfortable, like he wanted to disappear into his hoodie. “…Yeah.”

You scrambled to pull out your phone, nearly dropping it in your panic. “Here—yeah—just put yours in. That’s easier. I’ll text you. So we can… project. Collaborate. Academic synergy.”

He didn’t reply. Just took your phone, typed in his number, and handed it back wordlessly.

You stared down at the contact:

Park Sunghoon

(no emoji. no extra letters. just cold, clinical formality.)

“…Cool,” you said, trying to recover some semblance of dignity.

“Okay,” he mumbled. Then turned to walk away.

You watched him go, mentally facepalming so hard your soul cracked a little.

Your phone buzzed a moment later.

Unknown Number: it’s sunghoon

Unknown Number: let me know when you want to start

You sighed and saved the contact with a little ice cube emoji, because it felt fitting.

Sunghoon Park: cold exterior, barely speaking… and you were so in over your head.

Later that night, you were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, your phone balanced on your chest like it owed you something.

You had been so sure he was asking you out. So sure. For 0.3 seconds, you saw your entire future flash before your eyes: couple study dates, matching outfits, walking hand-in-hand through campus while he pretended not to hate the PDA. The works.

But nope.

Just… strictly professional group project business.

You groaned and rolled over, smothering your face into your pillow.

From the other side of the room, Stella looked up from her laptop. “What now?”

“He asked for my number.”

Her eyes lit up. “What? Shut up—did he really?”

You turned your head slightly, muffled. “For the project.”

She stared. “Oh. Ew. Okay.”

You rolled onto your back again, holding your phone up like it personally betrayed you. “I thought he was asking me out. I literally said, ‘Are you asking me out?’”

Stella burst out laughing, no remorse. “You didn’t.”

“I did. And the way he looked at me? Like I just offered to burn down the library. He was so uncomfortable.”

“To be fair,” she said through a cackle, “he always looks uncomfortable.”

You sighed dramatically and stared at his text again.

let me know when you want to start

Simple. Distant. No smiley face. No unnecessary words. He probably sat there thinking about whether three words was too many.

You started typing back:

Me: hey! free tomorrow after 2 if that works? also we could meet at the lib—

Then deleted the whole thing. Too friendly.

Me: hi. library tomorrow at 2?

No. Too dry. You looked like him.

You finally settled on:

Me: hey! are you free tomorrow after 2? we could meet in the library to go over the project?

And then hit send before you could overthink it again.

You dropped your phone beside you and groaned. “This is the most effort I’ve ever put into a man who literally doesn’t speak.”

Stella didn’t even look up. “Honestly, that’s kind of your type.”

You buried your face in your pillow again.

Somewhere, your phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: ok

Sunghoon: 2 is fine

Two words. No punctuation. Classic. And yet—your heart did a full stupid little flip anyway.

You were ten minutes late.

Not fashionably late. Not oh-no-the-bus-was-slow late. Panicked, sweaty, tripping-over-your-own-shoelaces late.

The worst part? You couldn’t even blame traffic. You had literally just stood in front of your closet for fifteen minutes debating what shirt said I’m smart enough to do a group project but also hot enough to be a distraction.

By the time you rushed into the library, breathless and clutching your tote bag like a life raft, you spotted him immediately—tucked into a table near the window, surrounded by neat little piles of notes, black zip-up hoodie, dark jeans, laptop open, posture perfect.

And glasses.

You froze.

You had never seen Park Sunghoon wear glasses before. They were thin-rimmed and kind of crooked on his nose and, for some infuriating reason, stupidly hot.

He glanced up the second he noticed you, gaze sharp behind the lenses. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a weird, out-of-breath sound that wasn’t even a real word.

“…Hi,” he said, tone flat, but not mean. Just very Sunghoon.

“Hi!” you replied too loudly, stumbling as you dropped your bag into the chair across from him. “Sorry—I—I swear I left on time, but I forgot my charger and then I spilled, like, half a smoothie on my notes, and then I couldn’t find the entrance for some reason even though I come here all the time. It was a mess. I’m a mess. But hi!”

He blinked slowly, adjusting his glasses. “You’re here now.”

You nodded quickly. “I am. Present. Mentally, emotionally, physically—kind of.”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with that same unreadable face, like he couldn’t decide if you were hilarious or exhausting.

You shifted in your chair, suddenly aware of how loud your breathing sounded. And your heartbeat. And how you had no idea what to do with your hands. Why did your fingers feel weird?

“So,” you said, pulling out your laptop and trying to act like your brain wasn’t short-circuiting over the glasses situation. “Psych project. Brainstorm time. Right.”

“Yeah.”

He was already back to typing something, eyes flicking over his screen, and you realized he didn’t even seem fazed. Like this was just… normal.

For you, it was a crisis.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. How did he look so composed? So chill? So academically intimidating with that stupid zip-up and those stupid glasses and his stupid, quiet, mysterious vibe?

“…Did you always wear glasses?” you blurted before your brain could stop you.

He paused. Looked at you.

“Only sometimes,” he said simply.

“Oh.” You looked back down at your screen. “Cool. They’re… you know. Fine. Cool. Very… smart.”

A long pause.

“Thanks.”

You wanted to sink into the floor.

It was going to be a long group project.

You had just started to feel semi-normal.

Sunghoon was being quiet—shock—but not cold. You were actually getting into the flow of outlining the project. He listened when you talked. Nodded. Occasionally gave input. It wasn’t comfortable exactly, but it wasn’t the awkward apocalypse you were expecting, either.

And for a brief, fragile second, you thought this might be the first chill moment you shared alone.

Naturally, the universe had other plans.

“Oooohhh, what do we have here?”

You looked up just in time to see three people you had never met stroll up to your table like they owned the entire library. One was tall, with dark eyes and a mischievous smile—Jay, though you didn’t know that yet. Next to him was a golden-haired guy with a killer grin, arm slung around girl. Jake. And Jake’s Girlfriend, apparently.

Jay gave you a once-over, then looked at Sunghoon like he’d just caught him in a crime. “We just thought we should come check out Sunghoon’s first date with a girl.”

Your eyes widened. You choked on air.

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch. “It’s not a date.”

Jake’s girlfriend snorted. “At least he’s honest about it not being a date. Unlike my first date.”

Jake groaned beside her, dragging a hand down his face. “How many times did I apologize for that?”

You blinked. “Wait—what happened on your first date?”

She smiled sweetly. “He made a bet with his friends that he could get with me. You know, classic teen rom-com behavior.”

“Oh my god.” Your jaw dropped.

Jake threw up his hands. “And I said I was sorry! I was reckless and stupid.”

“You’re still stupid,” she muttered, but leaned into his side anyway.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon just sat there, jaw clenched, radiating quiet murder.

Jay leaned closer, ignoring the tension. “Oh, but she definitely wants it to be a date,” he said, nodding at you with a teasing glint in his eye.

You choked again. “I—What—No?!”

Sunghoon shot him a warning glare. “Jay.”

Jay held up his hands, smirking. “Alright, alright. Just saying. She looks real invested in this collaboration.”

Before you could combust, another voice burst into the mix.

“GUYS.”

You turned in your seat just in time to see a boy with bleached blond hair, glowing skin, and a phone clutched in one hand come skidding to a stop at your table.

“Heeseung and his girlfriend are having another full-on screaming match outside the student center,” he announced like it was breaking news. “It’s getting dramatic. One of them might throw hands. Or a smoothie.”

He finally looked at you. “Oh, hi. Who’s this?”

“Sunoo,” Jake sighed, “this is… uh…”

“YN,” you supplied, feeling very out of place.

“She’s Sunghoon’s group partner,” Jay said, emphasis on partner, like it was code for something else.

Sunoo’s eyes lit up. “Ooooooohhhhhh.”

Sunghoon let out a sharp breath through his nose, practically vibrating with annoyance. “Why are you all here?”

“Checking up on you,” Jay said cheerfully. “You’re weird about new people. We had to make sure you weren’t malfunctioning.”

Jake nodded. “And to be fair, you are being weird.”

“I’m literally sitting,” Sunghoon snapped.

“Okay, yeah, but like. Sitting with a girl,” Sunoo said, raising his brows. “A cute girl. You see why that’s suspicious.”

You stared at your laptop, cheeks burning. The chaos was unreal.

Jake shook his head. “Anyway, back to the drama—how long are Heeseung and his girl gonna keep doing this?”

Jake’s girlfriend crossed her arms. “Maybe don’t make bets about girls and they won’t cuss you out on campus.”

“Babe,” Jake whined, “again, I said I was sorry. Let it gooo.”

Sunghoon stood up abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.

“Where are you going?” Jay asked.

“Anywhere that’s not here,” he muttered.

You jumped up after him, trying to gather your stuff. “Wait—Sunghoon!”

He didn’t slow down, and you had to basically jog to catch up, face still on fire. Behind you, Jay called, “Have fun on your not-date!”

And Sunoo added, “She’s cute! You better not screw it up!”

You didn’t dare look back.

You finally caught up to him halfway down the library stairs, breath short and hands still fumbling to shove your laptop into your bag.

“Sunghoon—wait,” you called, your voice echoing slightly in the stairwell.

He didn’t stop, but he did slow down just enough for you to trail beside him instead of behind like some kind of out-of-breath gremlin.

You walked in silence for a second. Just the two of you. The air was heavy, thick with secondhand embarrassment and the faint smell of old textbooks.

“…They’re your friends?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. Not that anything about the last five minutes had been casual.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered.

You bit your lip, half-smiling. “They’re… a lot.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept walking, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands and jaw tight like he was trying to bite back actual rage.

After a beat, you added, “I wasn’t expecting company. Or, you know, being accused of trying to date you in front of half your social circle.”

He stopped suddenly, turning toward you.

You skidded to a halt too, your breath catching a little—not just from the speed, but the way he was looking at you. Glasses slightly tilted, dark eyes unreadable, lips parted like he wanted to say something and hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

Then, very quietly, he said, “You didn’t… seem mad.”

You blinked. “Why would I be mad?”

His brows drew together. “At them. For saying all that. Teasing you.”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I was dying internally. But it’s fine. You didn’t say it. You just… looked like you wanted to strangle all of them.”

“I did.”

A short silence.

And then—you laughed. Soft and sudden, the sound surprising even yourself. “Well, thanks for that.”

His gaze flicked to you, something small softening in his expression. “They weren’t supposed to show up. I didn’t… want to make you uncomfortable.”

You stared at him for a second. Because that? That was the most he’d said to you since the day you met. And also maybe the most thoughtful thing anyone had said to you all week.

“…You didn’t,” you said, voice quieter now. “Uncomfortable, I mean.”

His eyes searched yours for a second, like he didn’t quite believe you.

Then he looked away. “Good.”

You both stood there for a moment—just outside the building now, the cold air nipping at your cheeks, the sun sliding low behind campus buildings.

You finally broke the silence, tugging your bag higher on your shoulder. “So… should we try again? Like, library, take two? Maybe somewhere your friends won’t crash?”

He hesitated.

Then, finally—finally—he gave a small nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

You smiled. “Cool. I’ll bring snacks this time.”

He glanced sideways at you. “I don’t eat while I study.”

“Of course you don’t,” you said, sighing dramatically. “You probably highlight in perfect straight lines too.”

“…Sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes. “God. You’re such a nerd.”

But he didn’t say anything to that.

Just that same tiny twitch at the corner of his lips.

And for the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like you were chasing him.

You felt like maybe—just maybe—he was meeting you halfway.

Sunghoon should’ve known they wouldn’t just leave.

He exhaled slowly as he stepped out into the cold, the library door thudding shut behind him—and there he was.

Sunoo. Leaning against a bike rack like he’d been waiting for him since the dawn of time. His bleach-blond hair glowed under the dying sun, and his jacket was entirely too thin for the temperature, but he looked completely unbothered. Smug, even.

The second he spotted Sunghoon, his whole face lit up. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

Sunghoon gave him a flat look. “Why are you still here?”

“Because Jay and Jake went to get smoothies, and I wasn’t about to sit through their disgusting couple energy. Plus,” Sunoo grinned, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Sunghoon didn’t stop walking. “No.”

“You didn’t even hear what it was!”

“I already know it’s something annoying.”

Sunoo skipped a few steps ahead to block his path, walking backwards now, eyes wide and suspiciously innocent. “So… who’s the girl?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Group project partner.”

Sunoo squinted at him. “Right. And I’m totally just here to study Heeseung and his girlfriend’s dysfunction like a science experiment.”

“She’s not my type,” Sunghoon muttered, looking away.

“You don’t even have a type.”

“Exactly.”

Sunoo hummed like he didn’t buy that for a second. “She’s cute.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything.

“And funny. And a little chaotic. But in a fun, like, ‘I talk to my plants and lose my keys twice a day’ kind of way.”

Still, no response.

Sunoo leaned in closer, eyes glittering. “Do you like her?”

Sunghoon stopped walking. Just stared at him, unreadable.

Sunoo smirked. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone.” He started to turn, then glanced back. “Actually—wait. Can I have her number?”

Sunghoon blinked. “What?”

“Just to be friends! Gosh. You think you’re the only one allowed to befriend hot, unbothered chaos girls?”

“You met her for like two minutes.”

Sunoo grinned. “And that’s all I needed. I have a sense for people. And she’s my kind of people.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened.

“She’s part of our circle now,” Sunoo added, sing-song. “You brought her in. There’s no going back.”

“I didn’t bring her in,” he muttered.

“You literally let her follow you out of the library like a lost puppy.”

“I did not.”

“You didn’t stop her.”

Sunghoon looked away.

Sunoo smiled, victorious. “So? Her number?”

Sunghoon glared at him. “Ask her yourself.”

Sunoo squealed dramatically, spinning around on his heel. “Oh my god, I will. I’ll text her right after I follow her on Insta. This is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Behind him, Sunghoon muttered under his breath.

“…What was that?” Sunoo called over his shoulder.

“Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing.

Because for some reason, the idea of Sunoo texting you made something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

And he didn’t want to think too hard about why.

You sat on your bed that night, still in your jeans and hoodie, your bag half-unpacked on the floor, laptop open but untouched, and brain moving at 300 miles per hour.

Your phone buzzed.

Stella:

Did you die or did Sunghoon kiss you or did you die because Sunghoon kissed you. I need updates.

You groaned, flopping onto your back and lifting your phone above your face.

Me:

None of the above. His friends ambushed us mid-study session and fully acted like I was his girlfriend. In public.

Stella:

WAIT. Which friends. Are they hot. I need names and Instas.

You sighed dramatically.

Me:

Jay. Jake (with his girlfriend). And some guy named Sunoo who said Heeseung and his girl were screaming again.

Also I think Sunoo might be my new best friend. He glows. Like??? How.

Stella:

JAY? As in soccer boy Jay?? Jake the business major? THEY WERE ALL THERE? NOOO I WAS ON THE WRONG CAMPUS TODAY.

Also Sunoo’s TikTok skin care routine is literally witchcraft I’ve seen it.

You laughed quietly to yourself, phone clutched to your chest for a second as your smile slowly faded into something more thoughtful.

Because, honestly?

You’d expected today to be awkward. Maybe awful.

You did not expect to feel… kind of okay.

Actually, more than okay.

Sure, you wanted to sink into the earth and die when Jay said you looked like you wanted it to be a date.

But then Sunghoon had looked actually annoyed—for you. And when you caught up to him, he didn’t walk away. He didn’t ignore you. He let you talk, let you tease him. Even cracked a tiny smile that made your entire brain short-circuit.

He didn’t seem like the type to say much. But he listened. And he noticed things. Like whether you were uncomfortable. Like how loud his friends could be.

That mattered more than you expected.

Your phone buzzed again.

Stella:

Okay but real talk. Did you feel anything? Like when you were sitting next to him? Being in his aura or whatever?

You stared at the screen for a second, then slowly typed:

Me:

Yeah.

He wore glasses.

I’m ruined.

Stella:

…That’s fair.

You rolled over, kicking your legs up and burying your face into your pillow with a groan. This wasn’t supposed to be a thing. You were supposed to get through the semester, maybe stare at him from afar a few more times, graduate with dignity.

Now? Now you were saving a contact in your phone as:

Park Sunghoon (Glasses = my downfall).

And you had a very bad feeling this was only the beginning.

The next morning, you got to class early. Like painfully early. Which was weird, because you were usually a chronic just-in-time kind of student—just enough hustle to not be late, never early enough to raise suspicion. But today? You practically skipped through the lecture hall doors, iced coffee in hand and a hopeful delusion bouncing around in your head like a movie trailer.

You spotted him right away—Sunghoon, in his usual seat near the window, hoodie pulled over his head like a warning sign, eyes glued to something on his laptop. Stoic. Brooding. Beautiful in that intimidating, I-read-whole-textbooks-for-fun kind of way. You took your seat beside him without hesitation this time. Victory, right? You were learning. Evolving. No more fear. Just controlled chaos and denial. He glanced at you as you sat. Said nothing. But you were used to that by now. Instead, you sipped your coffee and let your mind wander—straight into fantasyland.

Scenario One: You two finish the project early. Miraculously early. And somehow, that leaves just enough time for a casual, post-study hangout. Maybe he’s like, “I know this café down the street, wanna go?” And you act totally chill even though you’re internally combusting, and then one drink turns into two, and then next thing you know—

Scenario Two: He starts talking more. Like, actually talking. Maybe even laughing. You learn he’s got this dry, sarcastic sense of humor. The glasses make a comeback. He pushes them up while making some off-hand comment about people-watching or Nietzsche or whatever he reads for fun, and you just melt.

Scenario Three: He thanks you—like, really thanks you—for making the project more tolerable. You say something witty. He says something slightly flirty. There’s eye contact. And maybe, just maybe, he asks you to hang out again even after the project is over.

You blinked, realizing you were smiling into your coffee like an idiot.

“…What.” You jumped a little. Sunghoon was staring at you now, one brow raised behind his lashes, suspicious. You cleared your throat. “What?”

“You were smiling like you won something.” You coughed into your drink. “Oh. Um. No. Just… thinking.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “About?” You hesitated. You. Your stupid hoodie. Your stupid perfect jawline. How good your hands looked when you typed. Us getting married in a cozy bookstore-themed wedding. “…The project,” you lied.

He stared for another second, then looked back at his screen like he didn’t believe you but also didn’t care enough to argue. Your cheeks were burning. You turned toward the front of the room, pretending to listen to the professor. But in your head? The fake scenarios were still playing. And in all of them, Sunghoon never scoffed and walked away again.

You weren’t even sure how you got on the topic of astrology.

One second, you were casually mentioning your moon sign, and the next, you were ten minutes deep into a rant about compatibility charts, birth time accuracy, and how Mercury retrograde was definitely to blame for your chronic inability to meet deadlines.

You were in it—hands flailing, iced coffee half-forgotten, your voice carrying across your little corner of the library like a talk show guest who forgot she wasn’t mic’d.

“And I’m not saying it’s always accurate, but like—come on, I’ve never met a Leo moon who didn’t want attention in the most dramatic way—”

Then you looked at him.

And he was watching you.

Not glancing. Not politely nodding. Not half-focused while typing something on his laptop.

No.

Park Sunghoon was sitting completely still, chin slightly tilted, dark eyes locked on you like he was seeing you—really seeing you—for the first time.

And it hit you all at once: the weight of his gaze. The fact that he hadn’t interrupted you once. The way his expression wasn’t annoyed or bored or even confused.

Just… quiet.

Focused.

Curious.

Your words trailed off mid-sentence. You felt your mouth go dry.

“I, um…” you stammered, blinking hard and glancing down at your hands. “Sorry. I was rambling again.”

A beat passed.

He didn’t respond right away. You peeked up.

He was still looking at you.

For someone who rarely spoke, he really didn’t need words to fluster you.

You quickly turned back to your laptop and muttered, “We should probably get back to the outline.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than usual, but not in a bad way. Just… different.

Like maybe something had shifted. And he noticed it too.

And for once, you were the quiet one.

One week later.

You didn’t know when it happened—if it was the third study session or the way he started waiting for you outside class without saying anything, just casually lingering like he wasn’t—but something had definitely shifted.

He still wasn’t talkative, not by any stretch. Park Sunghoon was still the same quiet, unreadable guy who typed like he was solving a national crisis and stared at his laptop like it offended him. But now, sometimes… he looked at you like you were the more interesting problem.

You noticed it during Wednesday’s library session. You were scribbling notes, brain on overdrive like usual, when you cracked a dumb joke under your breath about Freud being the original red flag. And he—Sunghoon—actually smirked.

Not a full laugh. Not even a chuckle.

But a smirk. Like his mouth twitched and everything.

You were so shocked you nearly dropped your pen.

Now, seven days into being partners, your nerves still spiked whenever he looked directly at you. Which—terrifyingly—he did more often now.

Today, though, you were running late. Again. You’d had a 10-minute breakdown over whether your hoodie looked “accidentally cute” or “accidentally homeless.” When you finally rushed into the same table by the window, Sunghoon was already there—hoodie up, laptop open, long legs stretched out like he owned the entire row.

You skidded into the seat across from him, breathless and messy as usual. “Hi! Sorry—I didn’t mean to be late, I got distracted because I was reorganizing my playlist and then I realized I accidentally put a breakup song on my walking-to-class mix and it ruined my whole mood—anyway, I’m here!”

He blinked up at you.

“You always talk like you haven’t taken a breath in ten minutes,” he said flatly.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself—then paused.

Because even though his words were dry as ever, there was a glint in his eyes. A little tease. The ghost of amusement.

You grinned, emboldened. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta fill the silence between us.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he pushed your coffee toward you like he’d been holding onto it.

You blinked. “Wait. Did you—?”

“You always get the same one,” he said, shrugging, eyes flicking back to his screen. “You were ten minutes late. I figured.”

Your stomach did a weird flip.

It was a tiny thing. Barely even a moment. But it was the first time he’d done something unprompted—something thoughtful.

Something soft.

You sat down slowly, hands warming around the cup.

Before, you were a loud girl with a crush and no courage.

Now, you were still loud. Still spiraling. Still catching yourself staring when he wasn’t looking.

But somewhere in the middle of library study sessions, awkward silence, and shared glances that lingered a little too long—

Maybe he was starting to fall too.

Later that night, you were back in your dorm, lying on your bed with your laptop propped on your stomach and your Spotify playing in the background. You were supposed to be finalizing the last few slides of the presentation, but instead, you were deep in the Notes app—typing out possible conversation starters like a 14-year-old girl prepping for a first date.

Which it wasn’t, obviously.

It was just a group project. A graded group project. Which meant this mild obsession with Park Sunghoon was wildly unprofessional.

Still, your brain didn’t care.

He remembered your coffee order.

He smirked at your joke.

He bought your coffee.

You flopped your head to the side with a groan and rolled over, phone slipping out of your hand. “I’m losing it.”

From across the room, Stella didn’t even look up from her phone. “You lost it when you called his handwriting sexy.”

“I never said that out loud.”

She looked at you now. “Babe. You whispered it during your FaceTime call with me while you were editing your shared Google Doc.”

You grabbed a pillow and launched it at her. She caught it with a grin and tossed it back.

“So?” you said, burying your face in it. “Is it crazy to think he might kind of like me too? Just a little?”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t know. He bought your coffee. That’s a huge deal for an introvert. It took me three months to get my introvert ex to say good morning first.”

You peeked over the pillow. “You think he’s soft under all that broody quietness?”

“I think he’s already soft,” she said, nonchalant. “You’re just the only person loud enough to poke through it.”

You blinked.

Huh.

It was a weirdly sweet thought.

You stared at the ceiling for a long moment, your brain doing its usual rom-com spiral. Imagining more coffee. A casual movie hangout after your project was done. Him smiling at you again. Him taking off his hoodie and you realizing he was even hotter underneath it

Your phone buzzed.

You nearly flipped off the bed grabbing it.

Park Sunghoon: Do you want to meet earlier tomorrow? Library’s crowded after 5.

Your heart skipped. He messaged you first.

You scrambled to reply, fingers shaking just a bit.

You:Yeah totally! I can do 3?

Three dots.

Park Sunghoon: Cool.

You smiled down at your phone. Not a date. Not even flirting, technically. But still… something. And it was enough to make your chest feel a little lighter as you sank back into your pillow, grinning like a complete idiot.You were definitely being dramatic.

It was just a study session. Just Sunghoon. Just your project partner.

And yet here you were, standing in front of your mirror like you were about to walk into a k-drama confession scene.

You’d tried to be casual about it at first—grabbed your usual hoodie, pulled your hair into a messy bun, told yourself today would be like any other work day. But then you’d caught your reflection and froze.

Nope.

Not today.

Today, something in your brain snapped—the part that remembered the way Sunghoon looked at you last time. The way he handed you your coffee without saying much but still said everything.

So now here you were, smoothing down the pleats of your white skirt, the fabric light and soft, bouncing just slightly with every step. You’d tucked in a pastel pink top—simple but flattering, cinched at the waist, with a soft neckline that somehow made your collarbones look like they belonged in a Pinterest moodboard.

You curled your hair into soft waves, taking your time with each section like you were preparing for a date—which again, it wasn’t. But your hair looked good, and that was reason enough.

Then came the makeup—just enough to brighten your face. A little concealer, a swipe of blush, dewy highlight, and a soft pink gloss that matched your shirt perfectly. Not too much. Not trying too hard. Just enough to feel… confident.

You stepped back and looked at yourself. Cute, but not overdone.

Like you just happened to roll out of bed this way. Like you totally didn’t spend an hour prepping for a guy who still hadn’t said more than five sentences in a row to you.

You grabbed your bag, gave yourself one last look in the mirror, and nodded. He won’t even notice, you told yourself. But your heart still raced anyway.

You arrived at the library fifteen minutes early.

Which was insane. You were never early. You were barely ever on time. But today, you found yourself practically floating through the entrance with way too much pep in your step for someone heading into a two-hour grind session.

You chose a table tucked near the windows, sunlight filtering in just enough to give you that natural-glow effect you hoped—just a little bit—he’d notice. You pulled out your laptop, opened your notebook, sipped your iced vanilla latte like it was some kind of calming potion and not a way to keep your hands from fidgeting.

Three minutes passed. Then five. Then eight.

And just when you started to spiral, you saw him. Black hoodie, dark jeans, headphones around his neck, glasses on. Glasses again? Was he trying to kill you?

He walked up without a word, dropped his bag in the seat next to you, and sat down like this was the most normal thing in the world.

You swallowed.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound breezy. “You’re early.”

“So are you.”

You blinked. He noticed?

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you said, smiling before you could stop yourself.

“I notice things,” he said, not looking up from unzipping his backpack.

Your brain promptly short-circuited.

You sat there a moment, trying to reboot your internal monologue, but he didn’t say anything else. Just pulled out his laptop, adjusted his glasses, and tapped a few keys like this was just another Tuesday.

You cleared your throat. “So… should we get started?”

He nodded, eyes flicking to the screen, and you did your best to focus, even though your heart was doing pirouettes in your chest.

Ten minutes in, he finally glanced sideways.

His eyes skimmed over you—your top, your hair, the soft gloss on your lips—and then right back to the screen.

Nothing in his expression changed.

But.

You swore the tips of his ears turned just the slightest bit pink.

It all happened so fast.

One second you were typing away, trying to figure out how to transition from your statistics slide to Sunghoon’s part about correlation, and the next, your phone buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop to the floor.

Mom:

hey—don’t panic. he’s stable. but your dad’s in the hospital. car accident. he’s asking for you.

The panic part, unfortunately, arrived immediately.

You gasped. Shot up from your seat like you’d been burned.

Sunghoon looked up, brows furrowed. “What’s—?”

“I—I have to go,” you blurted, already shoving your laptop into your bag with shaky hands. “My dad—he’s in the hospital—I have to—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t think to explain. Didn’t notice your phone sliding between the cushions of the library couch when you stood too fast. You were gone before Sunghoon could even stand.

He sat there for a while, blinking after you, confused and more than a little startled. But when the shock wore off, he assumed you just needed time. He figured you’d text when you got the chance.

Except… you didn’t. Thirty minutes passed. Then forty-five.

The seat next to him stayed empty. And despite the hum of the library, all he could hear was the faint echo of how your voice cracked when you said hospital.

He exhaled slowly and reached for his phone.

Pulled up your contact. You’re just checking. That’s it, he told himself.

He tapped the call button. And then frowned. Because your phone—the one he was calling—was… right there. Left on the couch like a forgotten piece of clothing, glowing faintly with the light from the screen. Missed calls. Texts. And one lockscreen wallpaper of you and your roommate pulling dumb faces at the camera.

He reached for it, reluctantly.

And that’s when he saw it.

Right there at the top of the screen, when the missed call alert faded away, was his name.

Park Sunghoon (Glasses = Downfall)

He stared at it. And blinked. And stared again.

Because it wasn’t just Park Sunghoon. It was “Glasses = Downfall.”

He slowly leaned back against the couch, completely thrown off, a mix of confusion and God, was that amusement?—starting to crawl across his face. Of course you saved his contact like that. Of course. He pressed his lips together, unsure if he was more concerned about you… or the way his chest actually tightened when he realized your phone was still here, and you weren’t.

Sunghoon was still sitting there, completely frozen, your phone in one hand and that ridiculous contact name burning a hole in his brain, when a familiar voice cut through the air like a ray of chaotic sunlight.

“Oh my God, is that her phone?”

Sunghoon looked up just in time to see Sunoo appear at the end of the aisle, eyebrows raised and lips already curled into a knowing smirk. His blond hair was perfectly styled, skin glowing like he drank actual light for breakfast, and he was strutting over like he owned the entire building.

“I knew something felt off,” Sunoo continued, stopping in front of the table. “She never leaves her phone anywhere. Last time she lost it for five minutes she had a full existential breakdown and accused Stella of cursing her.”

Sunghoon blinked, still not sure what to do with the phone in his hand—or the smirk that kept trying to tug at the corner of his own lips.

“She left in a rush,” he muttered, eyes flicking back down to the screen. “Family emergency.” Sunoo’s expression shifted instantly, eyes softening. “Wait—seriously? Sunghoon nodded once. “She said her dad’s in the hospital. She didn’t say much. Just left.”

“Shit,” Sunoo said, frown pulling at his mouth. “That’s… crap. Do you know which hospital?” Sunghoon hesitated. “No. I tried calling. That’s when I realized her phone’s still here.” Sunoo sighed and slid into the chair across from him, tapping his own phone screen rapidly. “I’ll call Stella. She might know something. Or at least be able to get in touch with her mom or something.”

Sunghoon gave a slow nod, leaning back again as he watched Sunoo work through his contact list like a professional. The tension in his chest refused to ease, even as help arrived.

“Oh, and by the way,” Sunoo said casually, glancing up with that glint in his eye. “You’re totally blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Sunoo grinned. “Glasses equals downfall? I mean, really? I should’ve known.”Sunghoon cleared his throat and looked away, ears tinged unmistakably pink.

Sunoo smirked. “So… are we finally admitting someone has a little crush?”

“She left her phone,” Sunghoon muttered.

Sunoo leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, completely unfazed. “Mhm. And you’re staring at her lockscreen like it’s a live stream. Just admit it, Hoonie.”

“I’m not calling you that.”

“You didn’t say no to the crush part.” Sunghoon sighed deeply, resting his head back against the seat as Sunoo grinned like he’d just won a game no one else knew they were playing. Silence settled again for a beat—until Sunoo’s phone lit up.

“Stella’s typing,” he said, glancing down. “I’ll keep you posted. You just sit there and keep pining dramatically.”

“I’m not—”

“Sure, sure.” Sunoo winked. “Keep telling yourself that, Mr. Downfall.” Sunoo’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down.

“Stella says she doesn’t know which hospital either,” he said, brow furrowed. “But—and I quote—‘I know her lockscreen passcode because we are married spiritually.’” Sunghoon blinked. “That’s… specific.”

“She says it’s her birthday. Not Y/N’s. Hers.”

Sunghoon stared at the phone in his hand. “Why would it be Stella’s birthday?” Sunoo smirked. “Because Y/N is a simp. Obviously.” Sunghoon inhaled, then exhaled like this was already too much for one day. Still, he typed it in. The screen unlocked.

Sunoo immediately leaned over the table like it was a hot gossip vault opening in real time. “Okay, try checking her notes. Or her location app. She has a tracker on her parents, I swear—oh wait.”

He stopped. Sunghoon had paused, fingers hovering over the screen. Because the phone didn’t open to the home screen. It opened to her messages. With Stella.

And the last message sitting right there at the top read:

Y/N:

sunghoon is wearing glasses today i need the ground to take me out respectfully

Sunghoon’s jaw ticked.

He didn’t scroll. He should’ve scrolled. But he didn’t need to. Because Sunoo saw it too—and gasped like he’d just seen a scandal unfold on live television. “Oh my GOD—scroll up. Scroll up right now.”

“I’m not—”

“GIVE ME THE PHONE.”

Sunghoon sighed in defeat and scrolled up two or three lines, just enough for Sunoo to snatch the phone halfway through and start reading aloud in a dramatic whisper:

Y/N:

i swear to god i’m trying to focus

but his glasses. HIS GLASSES STELLA

why did nobody prepare me for this man to look like a kdrama male lead in a hoodie and glasses combo i’m actually in pain

he said ‘can you pass me the charger’ and i almost proposed right then and there

guys I swear his shoulder look extra broad today

Sunoo smacked the table. “SHE ALMOST PROPOSED.” Sunghoon covered his face with one hand, voice muffled. “Please stop.”

“Oh, I’m never stopping. You’re officially her villain origin story. I can’t breathe.”

Sunghoon reached across the table, retrieved the phone with a blank expression, and locked the screen again. “We’re supposed to be figuring out which hospital her dad’s at.”Sunoo, still giggling, waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m texting Stella for the tracking app now. But I need you to know that she was down so bad she literally contemplated death-by-glasses. That’s… that’s poetry.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. But the tips of his ears were pink again. And this time, he didn’t bother trying to hide them.

Sunghoon was halfway zipped up, bag slung over one shoulder, already mentally mapping the route to the hospital when Sunoo crossed his arms and tilted his head with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

“You know,” he said slowly, “you could save yourself so much embarrassment if you just admitted it.” Sunghoon didn’t pause. “Admitted what.”

“That you like her.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh?” Sunoo snatched Y/N’s phone off the table with a mischievous grin and unlocked it again. “Then I guess I’ll just keep reading her adorable little breakdowns about your glasses, and your hoodies, and—oh look—your ‘annoyingly attractive handwriting.’”

Sunghoon turned just enough to give him a warning look. “You’re making that up.”

“Sexy handwriting,” Sunoo repeated dramatically, scrolling. “Sexy. She called your handwriting sexy. Who even notices that in a group project? Oh wait—Y/N does, because she’s clearly unhinged about you and—oh my God.”

He stopped.

“Oh my God. She drew little hearts around your name in her notes app.” Sunghoon ran a hand down his face. “Sunoo.”

“I will stop,” Sunoo said sweetly, “if you admit you like her.”

“I don’t.”

Sunoo stared at him. Sunghoon stared right back, completely unreadable, posture cool and relaxed like he hadn’t just heard you almost died over the way he wore his glasses. The silence stretched. Finally, Sunoo groaned and dropped back into his seat, tossing the phone down like it offended him. “Ugh. You’re so boring.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond—just adjusted the strap on his bag, eyes flicking toward the exit. But if Sunoo had been paying attention to the way his fingers curled slightly against his side, or how his ears had gone just a shade pinker again… He might’ve known that silence wasn’t denial.

Sunghoon left the library with your phone in his pocket, steps quiet but fast as he crossed campus, hoodie drawn up just enough to shadow his face. He didn’t want to be noticed. He never did. But today especially—not with your words still echoing in his head like some cursed audio loop.

“kdrama male lead in a hoodie and glasses.”

It was ridiculous. And yet… somehow, it made the corners of his mouth twitch in the stupidest way. He forced it down, gripping the strap of his bag tighter.

The hospital wasn’t far. He caught the next bus downtown and kept checking your phone every few minutes—not that there were any new messages. But maybe… maybe Stella would text. Or your mom. Or you.

He shouldn’t be this tense. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He wasn’t even your friend, really. Just a group project partner who somehow got dragged into your world like a moth to a sparkly, chaotic flame.

But still—he needed to know you were okay.

And despite everything, despite the teasing and the denial and the unread messages, he didn’t leave that hospital lobby until someone told him where to find you.

Meanwhile, back in your hospital room, you were staring at the blank TV screen, hand curled loosely around a paper cup of vending machine coffee that tasted like burnt regret.

Your dad was stable, resting just down the hall. You were grateful—more than grateful—but you’d never felt so unmoored. Like you were floating outside of your body.And on top of it all… your phone was gone.

You groaned quietly and buried your face in your hands. “Of all days,” you muttered. Your soul was actively leaving your body just thinking about it. The door creaked open.

You lifted your head, expecting a nurse, maybe your mom.

Instead—there he was. Park Sunghoon. Black zip-up, jeans, perfect hair, and those same glasses that had quite literally rearranged your brain chemistry. Holding your phone. And looking… weirdly hesitant.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Your eyes widened. “You—what—how did you—?”

“You left this,” he said, holding the phone out like it burned. “At the library. Sunoo and Stella figured out how to track you. I came to check if you were okay.”

You stared at him. Your phone. His glasses. Your life. All colliding in one surreal moment. And then, quietly, Sunghoon added, “Your dad… he’s alright?” You nodded, still dumbstruck. “Yeah. Yeah, just banged up. He’s resting.” QA small, relieved breath escaped him. You took your phone slowly, your fingers brushing his, and suddenly every single message you’d sent Stella flashed before your eyes in a horror montage.

He had your phone.

He read your texts.

He knew.

You swallowed. “Did you… uh… see…”

He looked at you, eyes steady behind the lenses. Then—just the faintest quirk of his lips.

“You have a really dramatic way of complimenting glasses,” he said.

You made a noise that could only be described as a muffled scream into your coffee cup. And Sunghoon—stoic, introverted Sunghoon—actually laughed. Soft and low.

But real. And it was worse than the glasses. It was so much worse.

You wanted to melt into the hospital bed and never be seen again. Just fully disappear. Cease to exist. Have your body donated to science and your soul banished to another timeline where you never sent those texts and Park Sunghoon never—never—saw the words “sexy handwriting.”

But you were stuck here. In this room. With him. And the phone that had betrayed you.

You forced out a breath and tried to smile through your humiliation. “I was… under a lot of emotional distress. You know. Midterm season. Lack of sleep. Temporary delusion.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You wrote a three-message breakdown about my glasses before midterms even started.”

You blinked at him. “You read that far?”

He hesitated. Too long. Then shrugged lightly, gaze flicking to the floor. “Sunoo was reading out loud. I… couldn’t stop him.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m just going to die right here and haunt this room forever.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet for a second.

Then he said, “I didn’t hate it.” Your hands dropped from your face like you’d been electrocuted.

“What?”

He looked vaguely uncomfortable now, like the words had escaped before he could catch them. His fingers tugged at the zipper of his hoodie, eyes fixed on the floor. “The texts. I didn’t hate them.” You stared at him.

“No one’s ever said I looked like a… kdrama lead before,” he muttered. Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You do, though.”

Silence stretched between you. Long and awkward and warm in a way that made your stomach flip. Finally, you cleared your throat. “So… uh… thank you. For coming. Really. You didn’t have to.” He glanced up again, eyes soft behind the glasses. “I wanted to.”

Your brain short-circuited again. Before either of you could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. A nurse poked her head in. “Visiting hours end in ten, guys.”

Sunghoon gave a quick nod. “Right. I’ll go.” He turned to you, pausing just before the door.

“Text me when you get home?” he said, voice quiet. You blinked. “You want me to text you?” He looked away again, almost shy now. “Yeah. Just so I know you’re okay.” You nodded slowly. “Okay. I will.” He gave a little nod of his own, then slipped out the door. You stared after him, phone clutched in your hand, your entire body buzzing. And you didn’t even care anymore that he saw your texts.

Because maybe… Maybe he didn’t hate it.

The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet chime behind him. Sunghoon leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets, the cold metal pressing into his spine as he stared blankly ahead.

He hadn’t said much on the walk out of your room. He never did. Words weren’t really his thing—they always felt too heavy in his mouth, too slow to catch up to his thoughts. But somehow, tonight, they’d slipped out easier than usual.

“I didn’t hate them.”

“I wanted to.”

“Text me when you get home.”

He replayed those three lines over and over in his head, each one more revealing than he was used to. More open. Vulnerable, even. It made his chest tighten and something in his stomach twist in a way he didn’t totally understand. And then, before he could stop it—His reflection in the elevator doors caught it first.

A smile. Small. Barely there. But real.

His own face surprised him for a second. Like the muscles had moved without permission. His brows drew together slightly as he looked away, lips twitching back into something neutral. It wasn’t like him to smile over someone. But maybe… you weren’t just someone. Maybe you were starting to be the exception. And he wasn’t sure if that terrified him—or if it made him want to see you again even more.

The next morning, you were exhausted.

You’d barely slept. Between your dad being stable (thank god), the hospital vending machine coffee that had no right being that strong, and the emotional rollercoaster of Park Sunghoon seeing your texts, your brain was absolutely fried.

And yet, there you were—walking into lecture half-dazed with a granola bar in one hand and your phone in the other, scanning the room instinctively.

Your eyes found him instantly.

And you nearly tripped over your own feet.

He was wearing the glasses again.

Same black zip-up. Head down, hair a little messier today. But the glasses were there—slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose as he scribbled something in his notebook.

You froze for a second in the aisle, mid-step, like your brain blue-screened. People filtered around you, annoyed, but you didn’t care. He had to know what he was doing. There was no way he didn’t, not after reading your breakdown in full 4K resolution on your phone the night before.

You finally sat down, heart doing cartwheels in your chest, and tried not to glance back every ten seconds. But of course, your eyes betrayed you. You looked again.

And this time… he looked back.

Just a flicker of his eyes over the top of his notebook. A half-second longer than necessary. Then he turned away. But that half-second? It felt like it lasted hours. And even though you were 99% sure you were hallucinating everything—You swore he was smiling.

You: stella.

You: STELLA.

You: he’s wearing the glasses again.

You: I REPEAT. THE GLASSES. ARE. ON.

You: I am not well. I will not survive this class.

You: If I stop texting it’s because I’ve passed away from ✨visual overstimulation✨

You: and I look like a sewer rat today WHY is the universe like this

You were hunched over your phone like it was sacred scripture, thumbs flying, your screen dimmed just enough to look sneaky, but bright enough to see the disaster you were creating in real time.

You didn’t notice the presence behind you until it shifted. The air moved. Subtle.

“…You text like you’re narrating a crisis.”

You froze. No. No no no no no. That voice. You turned slowly. And there he was. Park Sunghoon. Reading your texts. Looking entirely unbothered. Glasses still on.

You stared up at him, every cell in your body internally combusting one by one.

“I—uh—”

He blinked down at you, face unreadable, then raised an eyebrow. “Sewer rat?” You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. And then the corner of his mouth tugged up. Just slightly.

“You look fine,” he said, voice quiet. And just like that, your brain did the only logical thing it could in that moment. It short-circuited. Completely.

You were still staring at him.

He’d walked away—already halfway to his seat like nothing happened—but you were frozen in place, still clutching your phone, eyes wide, brain buffering like it needed a software update.

He said you looked fine. He said you looked fine.

You hadn’t even washed your hair last night. You were pretty sure there was highlighter on your cheekbone that didn’t belong there. Your socks didn’t match. And this man—this walking iceberg of introversion—looked you dead in the eye and said you looked fine.

Your fingers finally remembered how to move.

You: STELLA

You: HE SAW MY TEXTS

You: AND THEN SAID I LOOKED “FINE”

You: STELLA I AM NOT OK

You: AM I HALLUCINATING???

You: IS THIS FLIRTING??? OR IS HE JUST… NICE???

Stella: what’s the difference

Stella: actually nvm HE CALLED YOU FINE BYE

Stella: u need to marry him IMMEDIATELY

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the dumb grin threatening to take over your entire face. You were not going to smile like a maniac in class. Not in front of him. You looked up. And immediately made eye contact with him. He was already watching you.

Not in an obvious way. But he hadn’t even opened his laptop yet. Just sitting there, elbow on the desk, head tilted slightly like he was waiting for your next move. You blinked. He looked away first. But the corner of his mouth twitched again. And this time—you smiled.

It was Friday night, and your dorm smelled like kettle popcorn, cheap wine coolers, and the faint singe of a burnt microwave pizza. Stella was sprawled across her bed, wearing fuzzy socks and eyeliner like she was going to war. Sunoo sat cross-legged on the floor with a giant bag of sour gummy worms and a pen tucked behind his ear like he was the host of Jeopardy.

You were halfway through a lukewarm sip of grape soda when Sunoo clapped his hands together like a villain hatching a plan.

“Okay,” he said dramatically, pointing the pen at you. “What if—plot twist—we invite Sunghoon to trivia night?” You almost choked. “What?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “You heard me. Tall, pale, wears glasses, makes your heart do backflips—that Sunghoon.” You immediately waved him off, face heating up. “No, no, no. Trivia night is sacred. It’s for us, and our weird little brains. He doesn’t even talk during normal group work. You think he’s gonna scream out ‘Switzerland’ during world geography?”

“Exactly why it would be hilarious,” Sunoo grinned. “Plus, he already likes you.”

“I—he doesn’t—”

Stella looked up from her phone and cut in, “He said you looked fine when you looked like you’d just rolled out of a 2009 Tumblr grunge blog. That’s basically a confession in Sunghoon language.”

You buried your face in your pillow. “I can’t. He’ll say no. He’ll probably run in the opposite direction and drop the course.” Sunoo shrugged. “So? At least then we’ll know he’s terrified of fun and allergic to joy.” There was a beat of silence. Then Stella said, “Or maybe—he’ll come.” You slowly peeked over the pillow. Sunoo smirked. “Wanna find out?” You didn’t say yes.But you did start typing.

You stared at his text reply for a solid ten seconds.

Sunghoon: I don’t think I’m a trivia night type of person.

Ugh. Of course he wasn’t. He was the study-in-silence, read-complicated-books-for-fun, looks-too-good-in-glasses type of person. You chewed your lip and typed back.

You: it’s not that serious!! it’s just a fun little thing!! u can even sit in the corner and judge us in silence like u always do

You: pls sunghoon

You: pls pls pls

You: I’ll owe u forever

You: like forever forever

You: like I will never ask u for anything again ever unless it’s for help opening a jar or fighting off a ghost

You: pls

The little typing dots popped up. Disappeared. Came back.

Sunghoon: …what time.

You let out a squeal so loud that Sunoo jumped and flung a gummy worm at your forehead.

“I take it he said yes?” he deadpanned. You grinned. “He said yes.” Stella threw her hands up. “THE POWER YOU HOLD.” Sunoo gasped, dramatically pressing his hand to his chest. “Should I prep an extra trivia round titled ‘Things That Make Y/N Weak in the Knees’? Number one: Park Sunghoon in glasses.” You grabbed a pillow and launched it at him, still grinning like a complete idiot. Trivia night just got a lot more dangerous.

The first round of trivia began, and you were already regretting your life choices.

Sunoo had been insistent about the rules. “If you get a question wrong, you take a shot of grape soju. It’s fun, it’s fair, and it’s how we build character.”

At first, you thought you could handle it. You weren’t a lightweight, and you could definitely stomach a little soju. But after one wrong answer, you could feel the heat of the alcohol creeping into your chest, and that was when you realized: This was going to be a disaster.

The first question was easy enough, something about ancient history, but you got it wrong anyway. You were too distracted, trying to avoid glancing at Sunghoon, who was sitting quietly in the corner, eyes occasionally flicking to your team’s answers.

“Looks like you’ve got a shot coming your way,” Sunoo said with a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair. “You know the drill.”

You took a deep breath and grabbed the small shot glass filled with the mysteriously purple liquid. You could feel Sunghoon’s eyes on you—probably the first time you were actually hyperaware of his gaze. Your fingers shook slightly as you raised the glass.

“To ancient history,” you muttered, making a face before knocking it back in one go.

The burn was immediate. Grape soju was sweet but deceptively strong, and you felt it hit the back of your throat like a truck. You immediately slammed the glass down, half-choking, trying to ignore the laughter from Sunoo and Stella.

“Alright, next question!” Sunoo was practically bouncing in his seat, enjoying your pain. “What’s the capital of…?”

But you barely heard him. You were too focused on not dying from the aftertaste of the soju. You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when—

“Uh, Y/N,” Sunghoon said softly, his voice cutting through the noise. You snapped your head to look at him, a little too fast, probably. “Huh?” He was still staring at his phone, but there was a flicker of something behind his glasses. “You missed your answer to the last question. It was ‘Rome.’”

You blinked at him. “Wait, really? You’re sure?” He didn’t look up, but his lips twitched. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Well,” you muttered, “I guess that means more soju for me.” You swore you caught the faintest, most reluctant smile from Sunghoon as he turned his attention back to the trivia board. DBut you were too busy silently dying from the soju to care about that.

Sunoo stood abruptly, grabbing his tote bag with a dramatic groan. “Okay, I love you all, but I have to go deal with my stupid brother who just tried to microwave a fork. Again.”

“That’s the third time this month,” Stella muttered.

“I know!” Sunoo wailed, already halfway out the door. “Natural selection is right there, but he keeps surviving!” Stella stood up not long after, stretching with an exaggerated yawn. “Well, I should probably head out too. I, uh… left my straightener on. I think.”

You blinked. “What? I thought you unplugged it?” Stella smiled sweetly, eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. “Hmm, did I? Guess I’ll go find out.”

She was gone before you could even respond. Now it was just you and Sunghoon. Alone. In a room that felt way too quiet all of a sudden.

You turned slowly to look at him. He was just sitting there, sipping water, looking completely unbothered. Glasses slightly fogged up from the warmth of the room. Zip-up hoodie half unzipped.

You, meanwhile, were sweating through your soul. You stood up too fast. Way too fast. The room tilted. And then, everything spun.

The last thing you saw was his eyes widen in slow-motion before your knees buckled and you collapsed—Right into him. You weren’t exactly the type of girl he expected to pass out on him. But there you were. Full dead weight. Head against his chest, breath shallow, skin warm. His arms had instinctively wrapped around you before you could hit the floor, but now he was just… holding you. And trying very hard not to panic.

“Y/N?” he said softly, shaking your shoulder. “Y/N—hey. Are you okay?” No response. You just… mumbled something unintelligible and curled in a little closer. Sunghoon blinked.

His heart was doing a weird stuttering thing. He didn’t like it.

You smelled like peach lotion and grape soju. Your hair was brushing his jaw. He was very aware of how close your face was to his.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip so you were slumped more comfortably against his side. Then he looked around helplessly, muttering to himself.

“This is what I get for showing up to trivia night.” Still, he didn’t push you off. Didn’t move.

In fact, he pulled his hoodie off and draped it around your shoulders, just in case you were cold. He was still holding you when you stirred a few minutes later. And he hated that part of him hoped you wouldn’t move. Not just yet.

Sunghoon didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t exactly trained in what to do when a girl passes out in your arms and also smells really good and your heart won’t stop doing weird gymnastics. So, naturally, he did the first logical thing:

He picked you up—awkwardly, carefully, like you were made of glass—and marched straight down the hall to Stella’s room. He knocked twice. Then again. Louder.

Stella opened the door a crack, chewing a piece of gum, her brows lifting when she saw you slumped half-conscious in his arms, wrapped in his hoodie like a weird little burrito.

“She’s fine,” Stella said, not even hesitating. Sunghoon blinked. “She fainted.”

“Yeah, from like three sips of soju. She does this. Lightheaded. Dramatic. A menace.” Stella leaned against the doorframe and popped her gum. “Just lay her down on the couch, she’ll wake up in like five minutes and scream about missing a skincare step.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

Sunghoon looked down at you. Your lashes fluttered slightly, your cheek pressed against his chest, breath slow and even.

“She’s drooling,” he muttered under his breath. Stella grinned. “Yep. Sounds about right. Before he could argue more, she closed the door with a lazy, “You got this, lover boy.” He just stood there for a second, deadpan. Then turned and made his way back to the living room, still carrying you like you were a drunk kitten. He carefully knelt by the couch and laid you down, adjusting a pillow beneath your head and slipping off your shoes so you wouldn’t wake up with sore feet. You looked… soft like that. Peaceful. Lips parted slightly, hands curled near your chest, still wrapped in his hoodie.

Sunghoon sat back on his heels and sighed.

“This is insane,” he muttered. But he didn’t move away just yet.

You let out a tiny groan, barely awake, before slowly turning over on the couch—and promptly rolled right off. It all happened in slow motion for Sunghoon. One second you were peacefully drooling on the pillow, the next your body was halfway to the hardwood floor with all the grace of a sleepy baby deer.

“Shit—wait—”

He caught you just in time, arms shooting out to stop your head from bonking against the floor. Your face smushed into his hoodie again, limbs tangled awkwardly, and your eyes fluttered halfway open in a dazed blink.

“…mm?”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just sat there on the floor beside the couch, exhaling sharply as he tried to situate you better. With zero idea what else to do—and absolutely no desire to wake Stella again—he gently shifted you, easing your head onto his lap.

You hummed softly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and curled in closer, like his leg was your designated pillow. Still barely awake. Still clearly unaware of everything happening. Sunghoon froze. Hands hovering. Brain static.

You looked so… small like this. Fragile. Sleepy and soft and completely unfiltered. The hoodie he gave you slipped down your shoulder, revealing the curve of your collarbone and the faintest shimmer of glitter from your makeup. A piece of hair stuck to your cheek. He moved it before he could stop himself.

He should’ve moved you back onto the couch. He should’ve gotten up and left. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed still. Letting your breathing settle against his leg. Letting the room fall into a warm, weird quiet. And when you shifted again, murmuring something incomprehensible and curling your fingers around the fabric of his jeans—he didn’t say a word. Just stared down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest, most confused smile.

The first thing you registered was warmth.

Not just the hoodie—though that was still wrapped snugly around your shoulders—but something heavier. Solid. Comforting. Something that smelled like clean laundry and mint and the faintest hint of boy.

And then you blinked your eyes open. Sunghoon. Your head was no longer just on his lap. You were in his lap. Full-on wrapped up in his arms, tucked against his chest like it was a survival instinct. One of his hands rested loosely on your back, the other curled by your waist, his breathing deep and steady, lips parted just slightly.

You didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe.

Oh my god. You were going to die. Actually die.

You could see the headline now: University Student Spontaneously Combusts from Proximity to Hot Introvert in Glasses.

You slowly peeled yourself out of his grip, as delicately as a bomb squad diffusing a mine, heart slamming in your chest the entire time. Somehow, miraculously, he didn’t stir. He just mumbled something low and incoherent in his sleep and adjusted slightly, brows furrowing for a second before settling back into what looked like the deepest sleep known to mankind.

You stared for a second. Just a second. Because what the hell. Then you bolted. You rushed down the hallway in socked feet, practically slammed open Stella’s bedroom door and—She didn’t even look up from her phone.

“I know,” she said, sipping her iced coffee. “And yes, I took a picture.” You froze. “What?!” Stella turned her phone around to show you the screen.

There it was. A full high-def, heart-attack-inducing image of you curled in Sunghoon’s lap, his arms around you, both of you asleep on the floor like a goddamn drama couple.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

“No, you don’t,” she grinned. “Now go wash your face. You drooled on his hoodie.”

You groaned and rubbed your face, trying to wipe off the secondhand embarrassment still clinging to your skin.

“Also,” you muttered, already backing out of Stella’s room, “send me those pictures. All of them. I need to know what level of unhinged I looked like.” Stella smirked around her straw. “Oh, babe. You looked whipped.” You pointed at her dramatically. “I will delete your contact.”

“You won’t.”

You didn’t respond, just turned and padded back down the hallway, heart still thumping like a drumline in your ears. You were about to sneak into the kitchen and grab some water to cool yourself down when you paused in the doorway of the living room.

And saw him .Awake.

Sitting on the couch now, hoodie still half-draped on him, hair tousled from sleep, glasses slightly askew. His eyes were on you. You froze. He blinked slowly. “You drool when you sleep.” Your soul left your body.

“No, I don’t,” you said way too quickly, straightening up like that would somehow erase the last twenty-four hours.

“You do.” He yawned into his hand. “A lot.” You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. “Why are you awake?”

“Why are you yelling?”

“I’m not—” you paused. Cleared your throat. “I wasn’t yelling.” He leaned his head against the back of the couch, eyes squinting like he was still somewhere between dream and reality. “You asked Stella to send the pictures.”

Oh god. He heard that? You stared at him, eyes wide. “Did you—did you hear everything?”

He looked at you. Quiet. Amused. And then—just barely—he smiled.

“I heard enough.” You stared at him, completely still.

“I heard enough,” he said again, softer this time, like he was trying not to laugh. The corners of his mouth twitched, and suddenly you couldn’t remember a single word in any human language.

“I—” You blinked. “You were supposed to be asleep.”

“I was.” He stretched a little, arms lifting above his head, hoodie riding up just enough to flash a glimpse of pale skin before he dropped them again. “Then I wasn’t. Mainly because someone kept squirming in her sleep like she was fighting demons.” You smacked your hand against your face. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You also talk in your sleep, apparently.”

“I do not.” He nodded solemnly, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. “Something about my glasses being your downfall? Should I be worried?” Your jaw dropped.

You knew that message was on your phone. You knew he saw it.

“I’m gonna throw myself out the window,” you said, already backing away. But before you could flee into the depths of your embarrassment, he tilted his head and looked at you—really looked at you.

“I didn’t hate it,” he said. You froze.

“What?”

He shrugged. “You sleeping on me.” Your heart tripped over itself. His voice was calm. Still low and reserved like always. But something about the way he said it—the almost casual, sleepy honesty—sent your brain into freefall.

“…Are you still half asleep?” you asked cautiously.

“Maybe.”

You swallowed, trying not to combust.

“Well,” you muttered, fidgeting with your hoodie sleeve, “good. Because if you were fully awake, I’d probably be more embarrassed.”

He smiled again. And this time, it reached his eyes.

You didn’t know what to say after that.

Because what could you say when the boy you’d been lowkey (okay, highkey) obsessed with just told you he didn’t hate having you wrapped around him like a human blanket?

Nothing. That’s what.

So you just stood there, blinking at him, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands like they’d protect you from the way he was still looking at you. Like you were interesting. Like he wasn’t just quiet by nature but quiet because he was thinking and you were the subject.

You were fully prepared to melt into the floor.

“Well,” you finally said, clearing your throat. “I should… probably wash my face. And, like, process… everything.”

“Okay.”

“Right.”

You turned, took one step toward the hallway—and then stopped and looked over your shoulder.

“…Are you gonna pretend this didn’t happen later?” He raised an eyebrow. “The part where you passed out?”

“The part where I passed out on you.” He paused for a second, then stood up slowly, stretching again. The early morning light caught on the curve of his cheek, his glasses slightly fogged from sleep, hoodie still draped over his frame like it belonged there—like you had put it there.

“No,” he said simply. “I’m not pretending.” Then he walked past you, brushing shoulders as he headed toward the kitchen like he didn’t just ruin your whole ability to breathe.

You just stood there. Frozen. And the worst (or best?) part? You were grinning. Like an idiot.

You made it to the bathroom on autopilot.

Face = burning.

Heart = sprinting a marathon.

Soul = temporarily vacated your body.

You splashed cold water on your face like you were trying to reset your entire nervous system. Not pretending. Those two words echoed in your brain like a broken record. Not “it’s fine” or “don’t worry about it.” Not “that was weird” or “forget it ever happened.” He wasn’t brushing it off. He saw you—drooly, embarrassing, possibly cuddly—and didn’t want to pretend.

You were doomed.

You patted your face dry and stared at your reflection. Your cheeks were flushed, lips puffy from sleep, hair a mess from the couch. And still—still—you were smiling like a middle-schooler who just got asked to dance at prom.

You pulled out your phone with shaking hands.

Me: stella. stella i think im going into cardiac arrest

Me: he was awake. AWAKE. HE HEARD EVERYTHING.

Me: AND THEN SAID HE DIDN’T HATE IT

Me: AND THEN SAID HES NOT GONNA PRETEND IT DIDNT HAPPEN

Me: DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE EMERGENCY

The dots popped up almost instantly.

Stella: BREATHEEEE

Stella: girl idk whether to plan your wedding or your funeral

Stella: either way I’m bringing snacks

You snorted and shook your head, trying not to slide down the wall in emotional defeat. Then came another message.

Stella: also you left your lip gloss on the couch and he picked it up and put it in his pocket

Stella: do with that what you will

You froze. Lip gloss? In his pocket? You stared at your reflection again. Yep. Definitely time to plan your funeral.

The days after the project wrapped up had been an emotional rollercoaster.

You’d convinced yourself Sunghoon would slip back into his quiet, introverted world. That after everything, after all the moments you thought meant something, he’d go back to avoiding you and staying distant like before. You had tried to prepare yourself for it—convincing yourself it was fine, that you could handle it, that it was just the project that brought you together and nothing more.

But deep down, the idea that he’d stop talking to you again made your stomach twist. And you couldn’t shake the thought: Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Maybe I was just his partner. And now there’s no more reason for him to even look at me. You avoided checking your phone. You couldn’t bring yourself to. It was easier to stay in the quiet, heart-aching limbo where you could pretend nothing had changed.

But then, as you sat on your couch in your hoodie and sweatpants, watching a rerun of a show you didn’t even like to distract yourself, you heard a soft knock at the door. You froze, heart skipping a beat. You glanced at the clock. No way. He couldn’t…

But when you opened the door, there he was. Sunghoon. Standing on your doorstep, with one hand nervously holding a single, bright white flower. For a second, you couldn’t breathe. His usual quietness surrounded him like a second skin, but this time, there was something else in his eyes. Something unreadable, but so undeniably there that it made your heart pound.

“Hey,” he started, clearing his throat, his voice softer than usual. “Uh, I… I know school’s over, but, uh… I wanted to ask… if you’d go out with me. Like, outside of the project. Since, y’know, we don’t have anything else left to do.”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry or pass out from the sheer shock of what was happening.

Sunghoon, Park Sunghoon, the quiet boy with glasses, the one who you thought would never speak to you again, was standing there with a flower, asking you out. And for a moment, it felt like time froze.

“Are you… serious?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, looking both shy and unsure of himself, a far cry from the usually reserved Sunghoon. “Yeah. I don’t… really know how to do this, but… I’d like to take you out. If you want.”

Your heart stopped for a second. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to say of course, but your mind kept catching up with your racing heart, trying to process everything in the last few seconds. And then, finally, you spoke.

“Yes.”

His eyes softened as he offered the flower to you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice more confident now. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

The air between you seemed to hum with a sudden, undeniable connection. You could feel your cheeks heating up, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the undeniable realization that maybe, just maybe, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

You tried. You really did. But every time you looked down at the flower in your hand—a little imperfect, probably plucked from someone’s front lawn or a park bush—you felt it again. That ridiculous, fluttery warmth curling in your chest, refusing to go away.

Sunghoon asked you out.

And not because he had to. Not because of a project or a group grade or a seating chart. But because he wanted to.

You were still holding the flower like it was made of glass, like if you squeezed too hard it might vanish. It was stupid how your brain was short-circuiting over one boy and one flower and one quiet sentence—but you’d been waiting for this. Hoping for it. Fantasizing about it, if you were being honest.

And now it was real.

“You’re staring,” Sunghoon said beside you, voice low and a little amused. You startled, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Was not.”

“You were.” You looked away, pretending to examine the sidewalk, the cars, the clouds—anything but the smug little smirk on his face. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He didn’t say anything back right away. Just walked beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He was wearing those glasses again—of course he was—and you didn’t know if it was on purpose or if this was just who he was now, but either way: you were suffering.

“You like the flower?” he asked after a pause, like he was trying not to sound like he cared about the answer too much. You looked at it again, smiling softly. “I love it. I’m naming it after you.”

“…You’re naming a flower after me?”

“Yup. Park Sunghoon the Second. A little awkward, but sweet once you get to know him.” He let out the smallest laugh. A real one.

And your heart did a front flip.

There was a silence after that—comfortable, not awkward. One of those rare quiets where everything feels calm. You weren’t rushing to fill the space, and neither was he. You were just walking, side by side, with nowhere to be except here.

Finally, Sunghoon said, “So… Friday. 7:00. You and me?”

You turned to him, grinning. “It’s a date.”

And this time, he smiled first.

Sunghoon was stressed.

Not the obvious kind, either. No pacing, no nervous rambling, no frantic texting. No—his kind of stress came in the form of sitting completely still on the edge of his bed, staring at the one (1) decent shirt he owned and thinking, Is this what people wear on dates? Do people even wear shirts on dates? What if I show up and she’s wearing something fancy and I look like a middle schooler going to church?

He hadn’t even put the shirt on yet. It was just… there. Staring back at him with judgment. Or maybe that was just his own reflection in the mirror. Either way, he was spiraling. Silently. But thoroughly. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, it was chaos.

“Okay, gloss or matte?” you shouted, holding up two lip products like your life depended on it.

“Gloss!” Sunoo said immediately. “It’s date night. You want him to think you’re kissable.” Stella raised a brow. “Do you want him to think that, though?”

You stared into the mirror, hair half curled, blush perfectly pink on your cheeks. “…Yes.”

They both screamed.

The room looked like a war zone—outfits scattered across your bed, makeup brushes covering the desk, heels and flats and boots thrown in different corners like a mini tornado had passed through your closet.

Sunoo held up your tiny pastel pink purse. “This one. It’s giving soft girl danger.”

“I second that,” Stella said, adjusting your curling wand temperature like she was your personal glam squad. “Okay, close your eyes, I’m doing the final spray.” You did as told, heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

This wasn’t just any date. This was Sunghoon.

And somewhere across town, Sunghoon was now staring at himself in the mirror, glasses on, hair tousled, that same black zip-up from the library night over a clean tee. He looked… okay. But he felt like imploding. What if I say the wrong thing? What if she regrets saying yes? What if—

His phone buzzed.

Stella: She looks insane. You better bring flowers. Or I will.

He blinked. Then slowly got up, grabbed his keys, and mumbled to himself, “…I need to find a flower.”

You were ready.

Or… as ready as someone who had changed outfits three times, nearly cried over a smudged winged liner, and threatened to cancel the entire date if her highlighter wasn’t even on both cheeks could be.

“Okay,” you breathed, staring at your reflection like she was someone else. “I think I’m good.”

Sunoo clapped his hands once. “You’re more than good. You’re edible.”

Stella popped her head back in from the hallway. “Sunghoon’s outside. I just saw him through the peephole. He’s standing like he’s afraid of the air.” You ran to the door, then paused. “Wait. Do I look like I’m trying too hard?”

“Yes,” they both said.

“Good,” you grinned, grabbing your purse.

You stepped outside and there he was—hands shoved in his pockets, hair slightly damp like he’d just showered, wearing that same black zip-up he always wore… but there was something different tonight. A tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze immediately lifted when he heard the door open.

And he was holding something. A flower. Just one.

Small, a little uneven, probably stolen from a nearby bush—but it made your heart lurch anyway.

“For you,” he said, holding it out awkwardly, like he was half-expecting you to laugh at him. Instead, you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re lucky I’m weak for stolen flowers.” He huffed a quiet laugh under his breath and looked down. “You look…”

You waited, watching his face turn a little pink as he fumbled for a word.

“…Different,” he settled on. “Good different.” You gave him a teasing smile. “I’ll take it.”He blinked at you for a second longer, like he was trying to memorize the way your hair curled or the way your earrings swayed every time you moved.

Then he opened the car door for you. And just like that, the nerves melted away. You weren’t just you anymore—you were the girl Sunghoon came to pick up, with a flower in your hand and butterflies in your stomach. And you had a feeling this night was going to ruin you—in the best way.

Going on a date with Park Sunghoon had always been one of the fake little scenarios you made up in class when you were supposed to be listening.

It was a regular thing, honestly. You’d be halfway through pretending to take notes on cognitive development, and suddenly your brain would short-circuit and drift off into “What if he asked me out?” territory. Maybe he’d slide you a note during lecture. Maybe he’d wait after class. Maybe he’d say something completely out of character like “I’ve been watching you for a while now.” (That one made you cringe and swoon.)

You never thought it would actually happen. But now here you were—sitting in his passenger seat, clutching a slightly-wilted flower in your lap like it was an Oscar trophy, wearing the outfit you and your best friends had screamed over not even an hour ago.

And Park Sunghoon? He was right next to you. Driving. Quiet. Focused. Glancing over at you every so often like he couldn’t believe this was happening either.

You tried not to stare at his hands on the wheel. Or the way his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose every time he checked the mirror. Or the vein on his arm that popped ever so slightly when he turned.

It was weird. Surreal. Like you’d stepped into your own daydream. Except this time, it wasn’t just in your head.

You didn’t know Sunghoon was that rich.

Like, you knew he dressed nice. Quiet luxury vibes. Always in simple but suspiciously well-fitted clothes, like someone who didn’t want attention but still made people look. You knew he had a certain air about him—put-together, unbothered, kind of mysterious in that he definitely has secrets way. But nothing prepared you for this.

The restaurant he brought you to wasn’t just fancy—it was the kind of place that didn’t even have prices on the menu. The kind where water came in a crystal bottle and the waiters bowed when they spoke to you. The lighting was soft, the chairs were plush, and the bread basket looked like a Pinterest mood board.

You sat there, blinking around like a tourist while Sunghoon just casually sipped his water, completely unfazed. You leaned in across the table, whispering, “Do you… own this place?”

He blinked. “No.”

“…But like, do you know the owner?”

He paused. “Kind of.” You stared at him. He stared back. You narrowed your eyes. “Park Sunghoon. What is your life?” He shrugged lightly, lips twitching like he was fighting a smirk. “Normal.” You looked down at the gold-trimmed menu.

Normal, your ass.

Your whole life you’d been daydreaming about going on a date with Sunghoon, and never—not once—did the fantasy include sitting in a place that probably had a Michelin star and a dress code for its bread.

And yet somehow, even with all the fancy things around you, the thing making your heart race was still him.

Still the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking. Still the way he asked, quietly, “Is this okay? I wasn’t sure what kind of place you’d like.” You smiled, cheeks warm. “This is… perfect.”

And when he relaxed just a little—just enough for his shoulders to drop and his fingers to uncurl from the edge of the table—you knew.

“I really like you,” Sunghoon said, voice soft and a little shaky.Your heart stopped.

“I mean, really like you. You’re… you’re so pretty it’s hard to look at you sometimes. And I

I’ve actually liked you this whole time. Even back in class, when you wouldn’t stop talking and I was trying not to laugh. I didn’t know how to say anything. But I want to now. I want to say everything. I want to spend my life with you.”

And then—he leaned in. His hand brushed against yours. You leaned in too, heart thudding, lips parting as your eyes fluttered shut—And just as his lips touched yours—The entire restaurant erupted into applause.

Chairs scraped, people stood, a waiter dabbed his eyes with a napkin. Someone in the back shouted, “True love is real!” The pianist transitioned into a soft romantic ballad. Rose petals fell from somewhere—somewhere.

You were glowing. Floating. Kissing Park Sunghoon, the boy you’d once been too scared to talk to, while the world quite literally clapped around you.

“Yn?” a voice said.

You blinked.

“Yn, are you… there?”

You snapped out of it, back in your seat, staring at your half-eaten appetizer. Sunghoon was looking at you, head tilted. “You zoned out for a solid two minutes. Did the salmon offend you or something?”

You blinked again, cheeks warming. “I—uh. No. Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You quickly took a sip of water. “Nothing important.”

Just, you know. The fake proposal-level confession and restaurant-wide standing ovation that just happened in your head. No big deal. Meanwhile, Sunghoon went back to eating his food like he wasn’t the main character in your delusions.

And you sat there, trying not to smile. Because, who knows? Maybe the real version wasn’t that far off.

For a normal person, this date would kind of be boring.

Like, objectively speaking—Sunghoon wasn’t exactly chatting it up. He wasn’t telling wild stories or cracking dumb jokes or even attempting to carry the conversation when it hit a lull. He was quiet. Subtle. His responses were short, sometimes just nods or hums. There was a moment when the silence between courses stretched so long, you were certain even the waiter felt secondhand awkwardness. But somehow… you didn’t hate it.

Maybe because even in the quiet, Sunghoon felt present. His gaze stayed on you like you were something worth listening to. Like your rambles about Sunoo’s latest crush and Stella’s failed DIY bookshelf actually mattered. He wasn’t loud, but he was tuned in—like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

Still, halfway through the meal, you sat back with a crooked smile and said, “You know, I think I’ve spoken more in the last thirty minutes than you have all semester.” Sunghoon glanced up from his plate, blinking behind those stupidly attractive glasses. “That’s probably true.” You narrowed your eyes. “Are you ever gonna say anything that makes my heart race?”

A beat. Then, casually, without even looking up: “You’re really pretty.” You choked on your drink. He didn’t even flinch—just kept cutting his steak, a small twitch at the corner of his lips giving him away.

You stared at him. “You menace.”

He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. “You asked.”

And suddenly the quiet didn’t feel boring at all. It felt dangerous. Like every second he wasn’t saying something, he was thinking it—and one day he’d say it all at once and knock you flat.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, so you actually think I’m pretty? What’s pretty about me?” you asked, a bit of teasing lacing your voice. You were trying to play it cool, but your heart was already picking up pace, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your napkin. Sunghoon, however, didn’t skip a beat. He set his fork down, his gaze lifting slowly from his plate to meet yours. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just that steady, almost unsettling focus on you.

“Everything.”

Your breath caught. You weren’t expecting that. The way he said it, so simply, so sure, like there wasn’t a single thing about you that didn’t deserve to be admired—it hit you right in the chest.

It was one of those moments where your entire world seemed to pause, just for a second, and all you could hear was your own heartbeat and the soft clink of silverware around you.

You didn’t know what to say. How could you? You’d spent so long trying to work up the courage to even talk to him, to make him notice you. And now he was here, not just noticing, but seeing everything—and everything meant more than just your smile or your laugh or the way your hair fell over your shoulders. It meant the little things, the things you never thought anyone would care to notice.

You swallowed hard, your voice almost a whisper. “Sunghoon…” His expression softened just a little. “You’ve always been… easy to notice.” And just like that, the room felt smaller, like the two of you were the only ones in it.

For a second, you forgot about everything—about the quiet dinner, about the fact that Sunghoon had been so silent most of the night. All that mattered was this moment. The way you had finally caught his attention. The way he’d fallen.

Sunghoon’s voice broke the silence, soft and unassuming, but there was a certain edge to it. “What about me?” he asked, looking at you with that same steady gaze. “Why do you like me?”

The question hung in the air, and you felt your pulse quicken. He was asking you about him. Sunghoon, the person who had always been so distant, so hard to read, was now waiting for you to give him an answer. An answer that felt so much more complicated than you had ever prepared for.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling a little too exposed under his gaze. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, trying to find the words. “It’s just… from the moment I saw you, I knew you were different. You didn’t talk much, but you… felt like you were always thinking, you know? Like there was something more behind the quiet.”

You leaned forward, trying to get your words right. “And it wasn’t just because you were… well, you. It was the way you didn’t try to fit in, the way you didn’t care what people thought. You’re… real. And, I guess, I’ve always liked people who don’t hide who they are.”

Sunghoon stared at you, those eyes of his intense, almost searching, like he was trying to figure out whether you were being completely honest or not. And then he sighed softly, as if something in him had relaxed just a little.

“And when did you start liking me?” he asked again, this time more quietly.

You thought about it for a moment, trying to pin down when the shift had happened—the moment when you stopped just noticing him and started feeling the things you couldn’t control. “I think it was when you… when you let me in. I never thought you’d actually be willing to work with me on that project. And even though you barely said anything, you still… listened. That was when I realized I had feelings for you.”

Sunghoon let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. “I never thought I’d be the one to make someone feel this way.” His lips curled up in a faint smile, something almost shy about it.

There it was again. The softest vulnerability peeking through his usually composed exterior. And in that moment, you knew it wasn’t just you who had fallen.

He had fallen harder.

Enhypen campus series | part 2

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okwonyo · 2 months ago

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FIGHT FOR YOU 。 𝗉𝗌𝗁

𝐈𝐕────𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎

❪ 𝖠 ★ 𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 ❫ 、 boxer!psh & fem!rea 1O8O fluff 𝘄 ｡ mention of blood skinship kissing ◞ ◟书

REBLOG = KISS ！

door closed but unlocked, you take sunghoon in after he knocks a few times on the door. he presents to you breathless, pecks heaving as he tries to calm the pace of his heartbeat. his hair is messy, sticky on his forehead due to his sweat. he is wearing a white tank top that sticks to his abs for dear life.

“hey, pretty,” he greets you. with his usual smirk tugging on his wounded lips. he still looks ridiculously handsome, even bruised and bloody.

you roll your eyes at the petname, although you still smile, and walk into the room without greeting him back, “close the door behind you.”

“so bossy,” he laughs quietly. he listens to your order however as you sit on the chair in front of the bed.

he sits down, right in front of you. he is quiet for a short amount of time, watching the way your fingers work softly to prepare the cottons and products you will use to ease the slight sting on his skin.

you hold his chin. turning his head to the side, you trail your eyes over his perfect jaw. you turn his head to the other side, looking at the wounds that you need to take care of.

he isn’t very bruised. just a cut on his lower lip and left eyebrow. there is also some reddened parts due to the hits he received, nothing some ice can’t heal.

“you didn’t come watch me fight,” sunghoon breaks the long silence. his lips are formed in a slight pout. it’s cute, even for a giant like him.

you laugh quietly, “i didn’t,” you can never bring yourself to. your knees buckle at the thought of him getting hurt alone. as you tap the disinfectant soaked cotton on his lower lip, you think that you will have a heart attack if you watched one of his fights.

“i won,” he tells you. you nod slowly, patting the tissue, letting the blood disappear from his perfect face. “you own me a date.”

he hisses when you press the material against his bruise. you didn’t do it on purpose, “i’m sorry—w–what?”

sunghoon’s fangs show up when he smiles so widely, “damn, do i make you that nervous?”

you sigh loudly, tossing the bloody cotton in the bin next to you, “please, shut up and let me work on you.”

he runs his tongue on his mouth, tasting the cleaned cut on his lower lip. “you can work on me anytime, sweetheart.”

you ignore his comment and the creeping blush on your cheeks. his presence makes your heartbeat go at a ridiculously fast pace. even more when he talks to you this way.

“so?”

“what?”

“you own me a date.” he presses while you clean his other cut.

you sigh once again, too busy focusing on your work to give him an answer just yet. you remember that he told you about how he wanted to take you on date. and you joked that if he won his next fight, you would think about it. but you thought it was meaningless joking.

“i don’t know what you are talking about,” you put the other tissue in the bin again. then you get up to take a pack of ice in the fridge.

you can hear the grin in his deep voice, “oh yeah?”

clearing your dry throat doesn’t help. your voice is still weak, “y–yeah.”

his gaze is hard to avoid. when you stand so close, applying ice on his bruise. you don’t know why you do it for him. he can do it himself. you don’t stop, though.

“then why are you red in the face, hm?” his goddamn smirk never wipes off his face, you swear it. his eyes are burning holes in your lips when he stares at them so shamelessly. how can he know anything about the state of your face when he is only focused on your mouth?

“stop it.”

“what?” he fakes confusion. tilting his head to the side.

“looking at me like that,” you are embarrassed of your voice’s ridiculously high pitch.

he seems amused by it. he chuckles, “like what?”

the tension in the room is building. you feel your body being pulled by his, telepathically, more and more, “like you want to kiss me or—or something!”

sunghoon falls silent. your eyes rest on his face after your sudden outburst and his gaze is still on your lips. slowly, he brings his hand to yours, the one that is holding the ice against his skin.

you can only blink as he brings it down, away from his face. “would you let me?”

you breath is stuck in your throat for a while. you eyelashes bat as you slowly try to take in what he just asked, “what?”

you want to hear it again. you want him to be clear, as he always is.

“if i kissed you,” his voice is quiet. you didn’t realize how close he got to you— or was it you who leaned in without realizing? “would you let me do it, doll?”

he is already close enough. he might be able to hear the sound of your fastening heart rate, “d–do you really want to?”

his lips tickle yours when he answers, “i really need to.”

the sound of the ice pack falling on the ground echoes in the entire room. you hold his face into your palms. his lips smash against your with such a passion that your body reacts to it like it would to electricity.

his hair are fluffy against your hand after you wrap your arms around his neck and run your fingers through his locks. he smiles against your mouth when you grip into his hair slightly.

his strong hands hold onto your waist. he yanks you closer to his body. you can feel the metallic taste of his cut on your tongue when his mouth moves so smoothly against your own.

sunghoon’s hand comes to hold your own. he slides your hand down to his neck, then your palm brush of his pecs and you soon feel his sculpted abs under the thin tissue of his tank top.

“fuck, love it when you touch me,” he says. it makes your knees so weak that you almost fall. but he holds you tighter and slides his tongue in your mouth when you yelp.

after thinking for a while, you decide that will let him take you on a date.

분지 ܃ for sallie 🎀

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orimuraa · 2 months ago

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• Me and my girlies - PSH ↳ ┊: perfect night - le sserafim

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆sunghoon being a girl-dad ⨾

۶ৎ husband!sunghoon x fem!reader┆fluff┆petnames, mentions of pregnancy, hoonie is so whipped hehe┆wc 377

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hehe here’s another girl-dad fic 🤭 thank you to the anonnie who requested it !! sorry it took so long TT i was just taking a small break but i’m back now!

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

everyone always thought sunghoon would be a boy-dad. he always seemed like he wanted to see a younger version of himself grow up again, re-living his memories that he didn’t have as a kid.

but the day you told sunghoon you were pregnant, he started manifesting a baby girl.

it shocked you, your mom, and his members. sunghoon wanted a baby girl??? that was new.

sunghoon had said: “i want to be able to take care of her. i live with the guilt of leaving yeji behind and i want to prove that i will be better as a father of a sweet girl.”

when you were out running errands, sunghoon took it as a chance to have “father daughter” bonding time.

he would crouch down in front of the crib, cooing at his beautiful daughter and smiling to himself.

he was so proud of you for being able to give him this happiness. your daughter had your eyes and sunghoon’s nose. just enough resemblance to make sunghoon’s smile bigger.

he didn’t even hear you come in through the front door as he was too lost in thought.

“hoonie? you alright?” you asked, setting down the groceries and walking over to your husband and baby.

“oh! hi darling,” he jumped a bit, before realizing it was just you and kissing your temple as a greeting.

“just thinking,” he hummed, his hand subconsciously finding a spot on the small of your back.

“yeah? well i hope they’re good ones,” you giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder as you both stare lovingly at your daughter.

and that’s how these quiet moments went. lots of comfortable silences and just good presence.

as your daughter grew everyday, sunghoon absolutely loved playing dress up. he never minded all the clips in his hair, or the crazy nail polish was more on his knuckles than his actual nails. he loved it.

he felt like he made up for all the lost years of being an older brother. he had always resented himself for leaving yeji behind to grow up on her own, but now? he got a second chance in life. a chance to take care of his two lovely princesses. and he was not going to mess that up anytime soon.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

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jiwuu · 2 months ago

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꒰ 𑄽୧ ꒱ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 sunghoon when you're unusually quiet

0.5k── fmr x prk sunghoon, est. relationship, fluff

you were quiet tonight.

not the usual soft, content kind of quiet— no, this one sat heavier. it was the kind of silence that filled the space between words you weren’t saying, curling in the corners of your shared apartment like mist.

sunghoon noticed it right away. he always did.

he found you curled up on the couch, knees tucked to your chest, the tv playing a show neither of you were watching. he didn’t say anything at first. just sat beside you, close enough to brush your shoulder, and let the silence hum between you.

“bad day?” he asked gently, after a while.

you nodded, eyes still fixed on the screen. “just… tired. of everything, kind of.”

sunghoon didn’t push. didn’t ask for the details. instead, he pulled you into his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin as if that was the safest place on earth.

“you don’t always have to be okay you know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “not with me.”

that’s what broke you.

not the day. not the pressure. not the spiral of thoughts in your head.

just him holding you like you were something precious, whispering those words like a promise. it was enough to make the tears fall, quiet but uncontrollable.

“sorry,” you sniffled, burying your face deeper in his hoodie.

he held you tighter. “don’t apologize. if i could take the hurt out of you and put it in me, i would.”

you let out a broken laugh. “that’s dramatic.”

“i’m dramatic about you,” he said simply, brushing his fingers through your hair. “i’m allowed.”

when your breathing slowed and your hands relaxed against his chest, sunghoon kissed your knuckles softly and whispered, “you’re doing better than you think, you know.”

you looked up at him, and he smiled, soft, sincere, and just for you.

letters from author ୨୧ i love my comfort man

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flwrstqr · 1 day ago

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LOVE-STRUCK ★ WHEN THEY'RE DRUNK

𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ᪲ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗂'𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄, 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾

❪ 𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗦&𝗖𝗢 ❫ 𝑙’ drunk!enhypen & fem!rea 1OOO◞ ◟书 fluff established relationship 𝘄 ｡ drinking skinship petnames cursing ❞ DAILY

다니 ⦂ hope you guys enjoy, some of jake's part was inspired by this one scene in a book TT if you know you know..

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung’s warm hands are all over you the second you open the door—so very drunk, his grin crooked as he sways a little. “baby,” he slurs, eyes glassy but glowing, “you’re so pretty… fuck, you’re so, so pretty.” he cups your face with both hands like you’re made of porcelain, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and then suddenly you’re in his lap, your knees pressed to either side of his thighs as he nuzzles your neck. “how’d i get so lucky, huh?” he mumbles, lips brushing your jaw as he breathes you in. “my pretty baby. mine.” he keeps whispering, eyes half-lidded and adoring, fingers tracing your waist just to feel you close. every few seconds, he pulls back to look at you again, smitten, then leans in with a pout. “kiss? just one? okay, maybe five. or ten. god, i love you.”

PARK JAY

you know jay is drunk and you can tell—eyes darker than usual, jaw clenched, one arm locked tight around your waist like he’s staking a claim. he’s still your gentleman—just a little clingier, a little more flushed, and ten times more possessive. every time someone glances at you for too long, he narrows his eyes, pulling you closer until there’s no space left. “do i need to fight someone or what, baby?” you roll your eyes but he’s already cupping your face, kissing you hard, possessive, hot. you gasp against his mouth and he grins. “you’re too pretty,” he says like it’s your fault, pressing his forehead to yours. “can’t help it if everyone wants you. but they’re not getting you. ever.”

SIM JAKE

you don’t even know how the conversation got here, but jake’s leaning against the hallway wall, flushed cheeks and the dumbest, softest smile you’ve ever seen, eyes half-lidded. “jake,” you murmur mid-sentence, and he immediately groans, tilting his head back. “god, i love it when you say my name,” he slurs, all dreamy and gone for, like you’ve just said the most profound thing in the world.. “how the fuck did i get so lucky,” he mumbles under his breath, more to himself than you, but loud enough to make your heart lurch. he grins again, stupid and in love. “seriously. i must’ve saved a country in my past life or something.”

PARK SUNGHOON

he’s leaning most of his weight on you, arm draped around your shoulders like it’s the only thing keeping him upright, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed as he slurs, “you see her?” to the cab driver, then louder, pointing like a proud drunk fool, “yeah. mine. she’s mine. look at her. god.” “sunghoon, please,” you whisper, trying to shove him gently into the cab as you get in with him. he giggles, presses a kiss to your temple. you finally press a quick kiss to his lips just to shut him up, and he melts instantly, sighing against your mouth. “mm, love you,” he hums as the cab pulls off.

KIM SUNOO

sunoo’s clinging to your arm, swaying just a little, cheeks pink and eyes shiny as he looks up at you with the most serious expression his tipsy self can manage. “marry me,” he says, for the third time that night. you laugh, brushing his hair back, “baby, you already asked me that.” he pouts immediately, “yeah, but you didn’t answer properly.” he huffs, then reaches for your hands again. "i mean it,” he whispers, tugging you closer, forehead pressed to yours. “i’d be such a good husband. i’d make you food. and cuddle with you.” you kiss the corner of his pout. “so?” he blinks up at you. “is that a yes?” you nod and he beams, already planning your imaginary wedding while half-asleep against your shoulder.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon’s got his head tilted, eyes locked on your face, and resting warm on your thigh as the party hums around you. he’s definitely drunk—his smile’s loopy, his fingers are fidgety, and he hasn’t looked away from you in what feels like forever. “what?” you laugh, cheeks heating under his gaze. “is there something on my face?” he shakes his head slowly, lips parting like he’s trying to find the right words, then just breathes out, “nothing. just. fuck. you’re so pretty.” it knocks the air out of you a little, the way he says it like he’s seeing you for the first time. he grins after, leans in to press the gentlest kiss to your cheek. you swear you’re the drunk one now, heart flipping like he hasn’t been your boyfriend for months.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki’s flushed, hands warm on your waist as he presses you gently against the wall, kisses trailing lazy down your throat, breath hot and lips clumsy. “do you have a boyfriend?” he mumbles, slurred and low like he’s not the one pinning you there, like you’re some stranger he’s trying to charm. you blink, half-laughing. “i do.” he freezes, lips ghosting over your skin, then pulls back slowly, brows furrowing as his drunk brain catches up. “the fuck—” he starts, eyes narrowing. you roll your eyes, grinning. “it’s you, idiot.” his mouth finds yours with a big grin. "say that again," he mumbles against your lips, and you do, again and again, between kisses and breathless laughter.

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boyfhee · 14 days ago

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ㅤㅤ DEVOURㅤ﹑ㅤpark sunghoon

ㅤ ﹙158O﹚────sunghoon is hot and he doesn ’ t know it ｡⠀

𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋⠀ 雨，⠀loser vampire bf sunghoon x fem readerㅤ゛AMOUR⠀，skinship, fluff, petnamesㅤ﹙◜ᴗ⁠◝⁠﹚ㅤsunghoon biceps meal yeah .. this is very self indulgent ><

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ REBLOG FOR SMOOCHES !

the eerie silence of the apartment doesn’t escape sunnghoon’s attention. his footsteps feel oddly loud against the tiles, a sigh rolling off his tongue as he steps inside the kitchen; and a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

“i think you should choke me,”

nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared your dear boyfriend for the words that leave your mouth as soon as he walks out of the shower.

with his head whipping towards you, he freezes in stance— jaw dropped, eyes wide open, head tilted in confusion.

“huh?” sunghoon gives you a questionable look, blinking him to some logic— anything to make sense of your words. “wouldn’t that be life threatening?”

and you shrug. “i could be into that,”

sunghoon doesn’t think he has met anyone like you in his seven hundred something years on earth.

his fangs amused you instead of scaring you the first time he told you he is a vampire. you went around for weeks wanting him to bite you— turn you— but he successfully talked you out of it.

now that you have found a trace of normalcy in the five weeks that you have been dating him, your mind finds amusement in his biceps.

“last time,” he pops a cherry in his mouth, shifting weight from one leg to the other. “you wanted me to headlock you,”

“and that was hot as hell,” you insist, eyes gleaming with mischief. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he’d think you might have gone insane.

and you could be— evidently— the veins on his arms and hands do nothing except making you gulp, only onto that last string of sanity.

you don’t think your pretty face, vampire of a boyfriend realises just how hot he is, really.

he thinks it’s a plain obsession— well, one is supposed to be obsessed with their lover. he catches you ogling him when he’s changing the bulb and thinks it’s because you want something.

according to sunghoon, there is absolutely no reason for you to zone out while looking at his hands except that they are pretty, well maintained and manicured.

you also don’t think he knows you joined the same gym as him to watch him workout and not to accompany him in following a healthy lifestyle and improving your heart’s health. simply looking at him heals you enough.

even now, he is standing clueless about why your eyes have zoomed in on his biceps. sunghoon stretches his arm, unintentionally flexing his muscles and it drives you crazy. his sweats hang low on his hips and it’s a sight to see.

you need him and he can’t catch a hint.

“so is that a yes or no?” you make your way to the kitchen, standing behind him as he reaches out for the coffee mugs placed on the top shelf.

you wonder if he puts them there deliberately to tease you, giving you that taunting flash of a slip of his waistline as his shirt rides up when he raises his arm.

your boyfriend shakes his head with a sigh, clearly failing to understand the logic behind your request. “you’re weird,”

“just once,”

“no,” a curt reply.

you’re really testing his patience.

“c’mon, sunghoon, it’s—”

“darling,” and it’s quiet again, aside from your heartbeat echoing in your ears when he easily cages you against the counter, between the very arms that make you weak in the knees. “i am not doing anything that risks your life,”

stupid.

you want to tease, explain what you mean, but your words are lost. sunghoon is hot and his lack of self awareness is life threatening because he is standing close— so close, you can feel the scent of his cologne intoxicating your senses.

you can still see the remains of water on his neck, droplets making their way down his skin. his face is a little flushed from the hot shower while yours is from how hot he is making you feel.

sunghoon’s eyes trace your face up and down, almost setting your heart ablaze when you feel his gaze on your lips for a brief second.

“understood?” he mutters, low and quiet, tucking a finger under your chin to make you look at him, eye to eye, soul to soul.

and you can only gulp when he leans a little closer, pressing himself against you. “yes,”

“good girl,” and he’s gone, stepped back, focused on his coffee, once again unaware of how his actions have left you trippy and dazed.

it is quite infuriating because he does not do it knowingly. sunghoon barely tries and your world shifts a little, stomach flipping and chest fluttering.

unaware of your inner turmoil, he turns around and switches on the coffee machine.

your fingers trace over the edge of the counter mindlessly, mind in a trance half because of what happened, and half due to the sight of his muscular back.

another glance— a quiet step in his direction, lower lip tugged between your teeth and your arms snake around his torso from behind, a cheeky grin forming on your lips as you poke his biceps with your index finger. you’ve never been the one to give up. “can i bite?”

and sunghoon gives up, hands up in the air. “babe, i am the vampire in the relationship,”

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faeyun · 5 months ago

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ˋ 𑁍 ⨾ THE DOLLMAKER

you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore.

❛ 박성훈 𝑥 𝑓!reader ❜ 𓈒𓈒 ❨ 歌 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ❩ 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍𝗒 ＆ 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 ＆ 𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗋!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 ✴︎ 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙙𝙪𝙗𝙘𝙤𝙣, 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹 (𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦), 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴, 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 (𝘧. 𝘳𝘦𝘤), 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 (𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭), 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘮. 𝘳𝘦𝘤), 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𓏸 14,8OO ╱ 𝓶. list

( 𝓷 )。 went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but it’s finally here!! my first post on my new blog (that’s not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier… hehe enjoy loves!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.

And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. You’d ask for nothing more.

But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where you’d be set alight with how well you presented yourself—with how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.

In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoon’s watchful eye. You loved how he’d dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you in—frills and lace. Loved how he’d fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasn’t up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compare—his perfect creation.

Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as you’re growing to hate the idea, you just can’t let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You don’t know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, you’re too scared to find out what that life entails.

So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes it—and you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.

You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didn’t know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.

Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didn’t even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girl’s dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.

It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasn’t quite right. Sometimes he couldn’t accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.

“You’re too flawless,” Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.

You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. “I don’t think I’m flawless,” you smile at him, “I’m just as flawed as everyone else—just as human.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoon’s eyes that you knew all too well.

“You’re flawless to me,” he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He captured them with a certain roughness—the type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.

You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. “You’re my muse,” he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.

You suppose that being so perfect wasn’t so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off of you—if it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.

Maybe it wasn’t perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotion—an act of love.

Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. “Please,” you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. “Please,” you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.

Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. “So soft,” he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldn’t anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.

He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.

Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoon’s thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. “Perfect,” Sunghoon breathed out.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he did to you every night—left you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.

In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasn’t there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didn’t look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldn’t help but feel was mocking.

No matter how often it happened, you’ll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about it—the two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.

You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.

What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.

“We’re here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, ma’am?” you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.

A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didn’t realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from home—something he didn’t do as often anymore. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world—the most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.”

You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. “The news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.”

Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. “This has been—” You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girls—six missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girls’ image.

Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?

You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didn’t.

Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.

The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! “Oh!” you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. “Oh no,” you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.

Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.

It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a moment—at yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? “Fine,” you say, smoothing out your dress, “I’ll play along.” You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.

You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dolls’ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.

At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didn’t touch. Sunghoon didn’t even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. You’ve never even seen the inside of it… until now.

There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than you’ve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.

In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldn’t even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room you’ve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didn’t even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.

Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. “I don’t understand,” you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. “What does this mean? What is that behind him?”

There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You weren’t sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.

Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that look—that inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, “Do you understand now?” You still weren’t sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoon’s humming still filled your ears and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to convey—you could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.

You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.

Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didn’t mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didn’t dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.

You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. “Eat up!” you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.

His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. “Thank you, darling…” he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re never so jumpy.”

You’d been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morning’s encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you should’ve known that nothing gets past your husband.

“It’s nothing,” you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. “I guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that you’re home.”

Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words coming out muffled. “I know I've been working more and more lately and I haven’t had much time for you.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “Can’t you work from home?” you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Like you used to? You work so much and you’re always gone. I miss you when you’re not here, and in return I’m sad the whole day.”

Sunghoon’s black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. “I don’t have all the tools here that I do at the shop,” Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. “But, I might be able to work from here tomorrow… I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?”

You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didn’t work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoon’s face even larger this time. “I suppose that’s okay,” you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Yeah?” You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. “I love that sound,” he says, holding you closer. “I want to hear it forever.” He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.

Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. “Eat,” you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didn’t let you get far. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Your dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,” Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. “Do what I said,” you scolded him.

Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.

When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. “Those missing girls…” you started, finally finding your voice, “on the news… Isn’t it odd that they favor me?” Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. “I-I mean… how they favor each other. And I favor them too, don’t you think?” you continue. You really hoped that you didn’t sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasn’t started to drive you mad and see things that aren’t there—that aren’t true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anything—no emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon,” you said in the gentlest whisper, “What if I’m next?”

“Missing girls?” Sunghoon says, “I’ve heard about them. But, don’t worry—” he reached over to caress your cheek “—I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “No one but me will ever touch you,” Sunghoon muttered against your hair.

His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.

Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didn’t get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?

You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didn’t want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with you—didn’t want to risk him thinking that you weren’t flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm… Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.

Him touching you wasn’t something new—he always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, it’s normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didn’t know what the dolls’ game was, but you didn’t like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. He’d never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.

Slowly, you began to drift off—your body getting heavier and heavier in his arms—and you let sleep overtake you.

A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.

You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. “Enough,” you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. “I don’t know what you all want from me.”

The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldn’t keep doing this.

You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didn’t even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.

Sunghoon wasn’t in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasn’t in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.

You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasn’t there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasn’t in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dolls’ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.

You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll inside—the grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.

Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.

That couldn’t be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoon’s doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.

After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard something—humming.

It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.

Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.

What if Sunghoon wasn’t even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was him—that the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasn’t in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.

More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you weren’t seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.

You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.

The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen over—Sunghoon’s hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.

Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?

He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. It’s big eyes bored into you.

Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.

You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldn’t worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.

You’d be upset and worried, yes, but he didn’t have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.

A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoon’s footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.

With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, “Why are you out of bed?”

Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.

You sat up more. “Well, I’m not tired anymore,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoon’s hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. “No?” he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.

Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t tired anymore?” Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.

Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, “Yes.”

Sunghoon’s fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Fuck…” he muttered lowly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to seeing this, and it’s all for me to admire.”

He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer view—just like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. “Entirely,” you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. “It will always be all for you—I’ll always be all, entirely yours.”

You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husband’s watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasn’t even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldn’t decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonight—which one always won.

You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husband’s love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, you’d do anything for it—to keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.

Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasn’t busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.

Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours. “Like my own, personal little doll,” he continued, his voice low. “The real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.”

His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. “How much,” he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, “I’d do for you? How I’d do anything?” Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoon’s gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. “Do you?” Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time you’d blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. “And I love you just as much. I’d do just as much.”

“No,” Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. “The way I love you, it’s… cavernous. Deep and dark—pitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.” His hand trailed down to your chin. “It consumes me, my love for you. I can’t control it… I can’t control the things I’d do to ensure you’ll always love me. And you will… won’t you? Always love me?” Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoon’s body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. “I’ll forever love you. There’s nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.”

Sunghoon’s body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. “Good…” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. “Because sometimes… The thought of you no longer loving me… i-it drives me completely insane.” His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoon’s lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.

He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. “It makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see it—see how much my love for you breaks me apart.” With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. “My sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.”

Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoon’s pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.

It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldn’t even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.

You guessed that you liked being used—liked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.

He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoon’s mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. “Taking everything I give you so well, my love. It’s like your body was made for mine.” Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. “Do you feel good, darling?”

Sunghoon’s hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and he let out a laugh. “Please,” you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, “please.”

He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. “Please, what?” he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. “What are you begging me to do to you?”

You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you would’ve thought you weren’t breathing at all—instead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. “Please,” you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.

“No, no, no!” you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoon’s own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. “I’ll continue once you can tell me—” his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length “—what you want.” Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when he’d move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.

“Tell me…” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didn’t give him an answer. Sunghoon’s hands laid flat against the back of your thighs—right next to where you needed him the most.

“I… I-I want you…” you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. “Closer…” Sunghoon says through a grunt, “but, I’m going to need more than that from you, my love. Don’t you want to be good for me and do what I asked?”

A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock… see your pretty face as you cum around it. Won’t you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?” Sunghoon continued.

How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it all—saw it all. Enough with holding back—like he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didn’t feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?

“Do it…” you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. “I w-want you… to do it.” Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasn’t using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoon’s head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.

Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. “Do what?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.

You didn’t have to say anything else. Sunghoon’s hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoon’s warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it all—hand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.

His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldn’t tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.

Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. “You like being my doll, don’t you?” Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. “Don’t you?” he asked a little louder when you didn’t answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.

His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. “You know,” he starts, his voice no longer so low, “you really are truly flawless, doll. My muse…”

Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, “It angers me how much I can’t capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thing—the real you. It makes me… so angry…”

He’s pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoon’s wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.

Sunghoon’s pace is brutal, and you’re suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didn’t care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoon’s wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.

“S-Slo—” you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so you’d feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldn’t think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himself—at you—like you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you would’ve thought that you’d be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely weren’t trying to be quiet in the slightest.

Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. “Forever my perfect little doll, to bend—” he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half “—and to break—” he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him “—and to put back together and play with as I please.”

“Sunghoon,” you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didn’t get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoon’s cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Pretty dolls don’t cry.”

Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. “I love you,” he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.

Your hands moved from Sunghoon’s shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. You’d give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.

Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoon’s lips pull into a smile, “I love you so much.” He said it like it was a confession.

Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motor’s limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.

His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoon’s cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoon’s cock. You were a mess.

Over and over, three words came from Sunghoon’s lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I—”

Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldn’t move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldn’t feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.

Sunghoon kissed you again. “Stay here,” he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. “Absolute perfection,” he said under his breath before standing to his feet.

You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.

You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didn’t start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.

Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. “I could fuck you all night…” he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, “and into the morning, too.” His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. “But then we wouldn’t have the full day together, would we, my love?”

You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoon’s slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.

His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadn’t been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snail’s pace against your walls. “Are you sore?” he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.

You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldn’t ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. “A little,” you say.

Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. “I’m sorry, my love,” he says and his lips meet yours again. “Let me make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.

His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. “I’ll be gentle,” Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.

Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongue—acidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.

If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then you’d forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.

Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didn’t have to work, but it still wasn’t enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didn’t help.

It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.

You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. “The search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.”

The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.

Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didn’t want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.

You recalled the way the door to the room opened—the pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.

You didn’t really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoon’s doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoon’s books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.

In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.

The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didn’t even really know what was in front of you… It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.

You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didn’t look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even further—it barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.

Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.

The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.

The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully hum—the sound off tune and terrifying—did your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly… it hummed Sunghoon’s melody, the one he hummed when he worked.

Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girls—the six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.

You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.

The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.

Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his “experiment.” It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didn’t want to believe it.

Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasn’t who he said he was—that he was a kidnapper, a killer.

You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. “No!” you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. “No, this is all a misunderstanding—a mistake! Sunghoon wouldn’t do this… He isn’t that type of person!” You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.

Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creation—Sunghoon’s experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.

The dollhouse.

It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you… it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasn’t just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craft—no. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice… He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.

Sunghoon’s words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” You finally understood it now.

Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. “I’m sorry,” you cried, unsure if it even heard you. “I’m so sorry.”

You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didn’t even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.

Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. “This is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?”

Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. “I… I-I think my husband kidnapped those girls…” you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.

“Something scare you, darling?” Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine.

You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didn’t even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.

Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.

He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.

Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. “I thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when I’m here.” His voice was still gentle—soft—and it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.

You voice shook, “Y-You kidnapped those girls, didn’t you? Turned them into… into…” Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everything—the dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. “Into… what?” Sunghoon asks.

“...Into me!” you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoon’s hand tightened around yours. “You killed them… and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?”

Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. “They aren’t dead!” he says. “And I swear to you that I’ll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as… reborn.”

You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldn’t let you go anywhere. “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Was all of this—” you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen “—just practice for the real thing?” you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoon’s hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.

“No!” Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. “No… can’t you see? This—” he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls “—is a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.”

“A-And that experiment of yours—the missing girls? Behind the wall?” you asked.

“That… is my dedication to you—m-my oath.” Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didn’t believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.

You didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that you’ve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didn’t let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldn’t tell which one of you was more terrified.

His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. “Come… Come with me…” he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. “Please,” he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. “You know I’d never do anything ever to hurt you.”

Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. “I know how it looks,” Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. “But there’s no pain, no sorrow, nothing.”

It didn’t try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didn’t hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. “It just is,” Sunghoon continued. “And when it’s fully done, and completely polished, it’ll be flawless.” He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. “Like you are.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.

His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air you’ll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt right—it felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you now—like he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didn’t hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.

When Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they?

Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoon’s lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.

You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoon’s muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.”

You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how you’re in different clothes and there’s a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.

Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. He’s wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. “Are you here, my love?” Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they look—shiny. There’s slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and they’re the same.

You look doll-like.

Once you’re steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how it’s styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoon’s face, his eyes meeting yours.

His eyes are shining—completely full of love and pride. You’ve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.

“Perfect.”

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

✉️ ⦂ would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately… like hehe yes i’ll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (๑´ω`๑)

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @fancypeacepersona @deobitifull @tinycatharsis @strawberryshoujosundae

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