#welcome time opposite au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saintobio · 1 month

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blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable.

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it?

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family.

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this.

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight.

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.”

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.”

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first?

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really?

“I want to do it.”

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.”

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure.

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was.

Did Sukuna feel the same?

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.”

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was?

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.”

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face.

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk.

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed.

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was.

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.”

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.”

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.”

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.”

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?”

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.”

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom.

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds.

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it.

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked.

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here.

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?”

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.”

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V.

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking.

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it?

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.”

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such.

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.”

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?”

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.”

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?”

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment.

Holy fuck was all you could say.

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty.

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.”

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier.

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing.

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.”

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself.

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out.

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?”

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw?

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.”

“Okay…”

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you.

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be.

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding.

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore?

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance.

“Haaa—!”

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock.

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!”

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!”

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you.

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.”

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.”

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have.

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.”

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.”

Why did he sound like he was giving up?

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.”

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.”

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.”

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay.

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly.

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s.

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.”

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.”

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on.

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued.

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this?

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.”

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.”

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon.

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school.

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.”

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.”

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.”

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.”

“Be serious,” you warned.

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.”

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.”

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?”

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?”

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior.

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.”

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment.

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.”

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark.

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?”

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?”

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires.

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.”

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?”

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.”

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this.

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too.

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue.

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together.

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating.

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close.

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face.

His ex-girlfriend of three years.

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?”

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies.

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.”

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?”

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.”

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here?

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.”

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?”

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.”

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve.

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.”

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!”

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head.

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed?

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it.

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?”

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.”

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?”

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.”

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?”

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?”

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.”

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life.

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right.

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart.

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?”

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.”

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp.

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.”

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.”

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.”

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?”

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad.

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit.

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.”

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.”

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared.

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.”

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“...Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.”

He knew what she was about to do next.

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses.

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face.

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.”

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night.

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you.

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago.

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do.

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart.

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?”

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?”

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.”

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?”

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.”

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?”

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out.

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.”

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!”

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!”

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.”

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.”

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

��

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you.

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you.

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way.

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others.

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up.

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop.

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.”

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully.

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.”

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well.

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.”

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.”

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.”

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future.

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader

3K notes · View notes

leejenowrld · 4 months

Text

my first and last (m)

pairing lee jeno x reader

word count 37k

synopsis meet lee jeno, campus heartbreaker, fuckboy, secret nerd. he’s the notorious guy that everyone wants but he only wants you —a shy, introverted stranger who appeared from nowhere, turning his life upside down. what starts as a reputation-defying connection swiftly evolves from strangers to friends and to intense, immediate love. it’s a twist the two of you never saw coming, the opening of your hearts to someone unexpected. but as personal struggles and external issues threaten to derail your connection, the once-confident jeno is left shattered and ensnared in the tumult of a love story gone awry.

chapter warnings first love au, irrelevant exes, explicit language, swearing, mentions of intense anxiety, drugs, alcohol, your average college au, opposite of slow burn, fluff which will make you scream, romantic jeno, loving jeno, a jeno who doesn’t really gaf about anyone but his girl, sweet boyfriend jeno, bestie yeonjun, yn and jeno paired for a uni project, touchy jeno, oral sex (receiving), throat fucking, blow job, hard dom jeno, sub reader, soft dom jeno, choking, riding, most loving kisses, reader sits on jenos face hehe, cute sex under the starlight on jenos trunk, jeno who rips off lingerie, protective jeno, jeno is horny, and a lot, his emotions, heart are all 110%, rough sex, choking, dirty talk, cute dates, girls who are bitches to yn :(, a jeno who gets so heartbroken and done dirty you’ll feel bad! gift giving, romantic gestures bf jeno

genre smut, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers, opposites attract

please leave asks !!

check out the mfal ml here includes text posts, never seen before scenes and behind the scenes content <;3

✧ ✧ ✧

Walking onto campus, you take in the sights of the renowned university. The buildings exude academic excellence, and the lush greenery adds a touch of serenity. Despite the early hour, the campus is alive with students hurrying by, creating a vibrant atmosphere.

Heading towards the director's office, you enter the building, sensing the prestige in the air. Portraits of distinguished alumni line the walls, and the marble-floored corridor echoes with the soft sounds of footsteps.

As you approach the director's office, you're called in for your meeting, and a wave of nervousness washes over you. You keep your head low, arms crossed over your body and walking steadily calculated. You instinctively avoid making prolonged eye contact with others, instead of maintaining a steady gaze, your eyes started to dart away, seeking solace in the periphery.

The director's office door swings open, revealing Johnny Suh, a figure synonymous with success in the academic world. Young, rich, and undeniably handsome, his reputation precedes him. Though you hadn't initially seen the appeal, you find yourself momentarily awestruck by his commanding presence, his handsomeness leaving you astonished.

He spent a few minutes welcoming you to the University, giving some background information and useful tips that you were incredibly thankful for. Then the conversation takes a swift turn.

"Y/N, I hear you're one of the top psychology students in the country.” Johnny remarks, his voice carrying an air of authority that matches his status.

Humbled but unable to deny the truth, you nod in acknowledgment. "I'm honoured you acknowledge that.”

"It's your first day here, and I know you're probably not expecting this, but I see high potential in you," Johnny continues. "I wouldn't recommend this if I didn't believe you could handle it. It's going to be tough, but your strong work ethic, dedication, and time management will be of great assistance."

Confusion clouds your expression as Johnny hints at a challenge ahead. Before any clarification can be offered, the door swings open again, revealing a figure you immediately find intriguing. He enters with an air of nonchalance. His hooded eyes, half-asleep gaze, and ruffled, messy hair add to his effortlessly handsome appearance.

Dressed casually yet impeccably, his cheeks are hollow, and his sharp jawline gives him an alluring edge. There's an enigmatic darkness about him that you can't quite explain but find strangely magnetic. His attire is a perfect blend of casual and put together, highlighting his innate sense of style.

He looks right at you, and his gaze is captivating and strong. You feel an unexpected flutter as your eyes meet, his presence leaving an indelible mark on your first day. As your eyes meet, a surge of surprise flickers in his gaze, and you, feeling an unexpected flutter, try to conceal the sudden shyness.

He takes the vacant seat beside you, eyes not leaving yours and you almost feel your heart stop. He’s even more breathtaking in person. His allure is heightened, perhaps by the subtle nuances of his expressions, the captivating way he carries himself,

“You’re new?” he asks, his voice low and thick with a hint of weariness.

You nod, meeting his intense gaze. “Y/N.”

“Jeno.” he replies, a small smile playing on his lips.

Professor Suh stood at the front of the room, "Welcome, Y/N and Jeno. I'm thrilled to have you both on board for this groundbreaking project that merges engineering and psychology, your respective majors. Your unique skill sets will be crucial in creating something truly impactful."

“Jeno, your unexpected excellence in engineering sets you apart without the need for boasting. Your laid-back energy and ability to achieve high results with minimal effort make you an ideal candidate for this project. You'll complement Y/N's hardworking and determined nature as a perfect counterpart.”

“Y/N, on your first day as a transfer, my meticulous examination of your records and discussions with past professors leave me with no doubt about your suitability for this project. Your dedication, serious approach to education, and future planning give me high hopes. The stark difference between your hard work ethic and Jeno's laid-back attitude is precisely why I envision a successful collaboration. Jeno's ease will balance well with your commitment, creating a synergy that I believe will lead to exceptional outcomes. I look forward to seeing how your distinct qualities contribute to the success of this endeavour.”

He paced back and forth, gesturing to the screen displaying images of urban spaces and people engaging with technology. "We're embarking on an innovative project that centres around Virtual Reality Therapy. This groundbreaking initiative involves harnessing virtual reality technology to craft therapeutic environments for individuals dealing with stress, anxiety, or specific psychological conditions. Y/N, given your background in psychology, your insights are pivotal. I encourage you to delve into understanding how people emotionally, socially, and culturally interact within these virtual therapeutic spaces as we pioneer this transformative approach."

Addressing Jeno, Professor Suh continued, "Jeno, your engineering expertise will play a vital role in translating the technical facets of our vision into reality. From efficient infrastructure to sustainable solutions and cutting-edge technology, I anticipate your innovative touch to shape and elevate this project."

As the excitement filled the room, Professor Suh's expression turned serious. "Now, a crucial point to address. Y/N and Jeno, I appreciate your collaboration, but it's important to maintain a professional boundary. Given the nature of this project, a personal relationship could introduce biases and conflicts of interest. Therefore, I must emphasize that you both cannot engage in a romantic relationship during the course of this project. We need clear focus and objectivity to make this endeavor a success."

The room fell momentarily silent as the weight of the statement settled. Professor Suh concluded, "I believe in your capabilities, and I'm confident that together, you can create something remarkable. Let's make a difference, not just in engineering and psychology, but in the lives of those who will benefit from our work."

Professor Suh continues with a firm but encouraging tone, “I expect each of you to approach this project with the dedication you’d give to a cherished hobby. I’ll be monitoring our progress weekly, and I want to see a well-structured timetable in place to ensure we’re on track.”

As the words lingered in the air, you were amazed. Your eyes reflected genuine enthusiasm for the challenge ahead. The prospect of making a positive impact resonated with you, and a subtle smile played on your lips.

On the other hand, Jeno wore an expression of the opposite. This collaborative endeavor seemed to hold little interest for him, and an air of mild dread crossed his features. The idea of putting in effort didn't align with his usual laid-back demeanor.

In this moment of contrasting emotions, you and Jeno shared a glance. Your bright-eyed enthusiasm met his more reserved skepticism. There, in that silent exchange, an unspoken understanding unfolded—an acknowledgment of your differing perspectives yet a recognition of the collaborative journey you were about to embark on. The dynamics between you two already hinted at the intriguing challenges that lay ahead.

Leaving the office together, you assumed Jeno, with his tired demeanor, would head off on his own. To your surprise, he turns to you, his hooded eyes meeting yours. The weariness in his expression contrasts with the kindness in his gaze, and your assumption fades as he wears a faint but warm smile.

In the dim light of the corridor, both your eyes meet, and unexpectedly, Jeno speaks, "It's your first day. Do you want me to show you around?" His voice, though a bit tired, carries a genuine offer.

You smile instinctively, grateful for the unexpected gesture. You nod.

Little did you know, Jeno's offer wasn't just about preventing you from getting lost. As he walks beside you, pointing out different buildings and sharing anecdotes, it becomes evident that he's intrigued by you. His questions about your interests and the way he attentively listens reveal a curiosity that goes beyond the simple act of guiding a new student. There's a subtle connection forming, and as you chat and laugh, the initial weariness in Jeno's eyes seems to fade, replaced by a genuine interest that neither of you can quite explain.

As Jeno points out various architectural details, his words flow with a quiet eloquence. "This is probably my favourite building, it’s a blend of neoclassical and modernist elements, I love the contrast. Can you see how the columns, though contemporary, draw inspiration from classical Greek design?”

Though you're not particularly interested in the intricacies of architecture, you find yourself captivated by the way Jeno speaks. His words, delivered with a smooth cadence, reveal a depth of understanding and an understated intelligence that intrigues you. You tune in more to the cadence of his voice, the rise and fall of each carefully chosen word, than to the specifics of the buildings he's describing.

"This structure is known for its sustainability," Jeno continues, gesturing towards another building. "The architect prioritized energy efficiency through the use of eco-friendly materials and innovative ventilation systems."

You nod, pretending to absorb the architectural information, but in reality, you're more attuned to the way Jeno effortlessly conveys his knowledge. His eloquence paints a picture of someone who possesses not only a keen eye for design but also a refined ability to articulate complex concepts. In the midst of the architectural tour, you find yourself appreciating not just the buildings but the subtle intelligence that radiates from Jeno's well-spoken descriptions.

There’s another reason why you feel out of tune when he’s speaking, it’s because all you can feel is stares. As you walk beside Jeno, so many peering eyes follow your direction, the weight of gazes lingers, making you feel out of tune with his words. The countless stares create a sense of unease, prompting you to cut him off. "Why is everyone staring?" you ask Jeno, confusion evident in your voice.

"They're not," he shakes his head reassuringly, but you know better – they are. He offers a kind smile, attempting to soothe your discomfort. "You're just shy. It's your first day."

Jeno notices subtle signs of distress in you as your hands tremble, breaths quicken and a flicker of unease in your eyes. Despite not fully understanding the reasons, an instinctive urge compels him to offer comfort. Maybe it's the sincerity in your gaze or the vulnerability that surfaces.

Jeno’s hand delicately finding its place on your chin. Panic seizes you, and your eyes widen in response to the unexpected touch. Yet, as your gaze meets his, a juxtaposing warmth begins to unfold. It’s a warmth you can’t quite explain, a comforting sensation that weaves through the panic.

His soft yet dark eyes look deep into yours. Jeno’s voice, a seductive and hushed whisper, slices through the ambient noise. “Just keep looking at me. Keep your eyes on me.” His words intensify the warmth, a juxtaposition to the escalating panic within you. It’s as though Jeno’s mere presence, coupled with his soothing touch and whispered guidance, forms a shield against the prying stares.

In that moment, the panic subsides, and your attention becomes tethered to Jeno. There’s an unspoken understanding in his gaze, a silent promise that despite the sea of eyes, his focus is a haven of reassurance. The inexplicable warmth persists, becoming a sanctuary within the storm of attention, and you find solace in the connection he forges amidst the overwhelming gaze of others.

Your first impression of Lee Jeno is so good. Truthfully, you’re not a people’s person. You stay to yourself, you have an incredibly small circle and you don’t particularly enjoy socialising, you rather stay inside and read a book or study. You didn’t expect to bond with someone on your first day like you had bonded with Jeno. You learned a considerable amount about him. He loved architecture even though he studied engineering, he was quite a nerd. He wants to be a pilot when he graduates, his favourite food is sushi (like yours) and he has an older sister. You even exchanged numbers, you told him to text you whenever he had a question about the project.

A sigh of relief escapes as you finally step into the comforting embrace of your home. Your social battery is drained, and with each steady breath, you revel in the tranquillity within familiar wall, immediately heading over to the fridge for some comfort food.

Proud of yourself, you reflect on succeeding through the challenges of your first day in a completely new city and university. There's a sense of accomplishment in not retreating to the bathroom but facing the day head-on. Making a friend, or at least someone you're excited about, (you’re not sure if he counts as a friend yet).

Truthfully, you find yourself thinking about him, Jeno. A smile lingering on your face like an idiot. The moment you sink into your bed, the cushions engulfing you, you can't contain the giddy excitement. Kicking your feet like a teenager, you revel in the warmth of the accomplishment.

Sure, he may be dreamy and handsome, and you playfully curse yourself for finding him so but hey, you're just a girl, and there's a certain charm in embracing those girly feelings amidst the challenges of a new day.

As you're about to dim the lights and start your favorite romcom, "Notting Hill," the ambiance carefully set with food and opening credits, the front door slams, causing you to nearly drop your bowl of popcorn. Startled, you turn to find your roommate, Choi Yeonjun, entering. His features look shocked, and your gaze instinctively scans the room before freezing when you realize his intensity is directed at you.

Without a greeting, his loud voice rings through the room, "Why the hell am I hearing that Lee Jeno walked you around campus this morning?"

You raise your brows in confusion. How did he find out? "Is he some celebrity or something?"

Yeonjun chuckles, giving you a judgmental look, treating your question as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. "News travels like the plague when it’s concerning Lee Jeno, Y/N. He's a big deal, the campus enigma. Probably the most popular and wanted guy around. He and his friends practically rule the institution. Notorious, but in a good way. He's like that guy in teen movies. He throws parties and he fucks everyone. Are you seriously telling me you don’t know? Didn't everyone stare?"

Your mouth widens in shock, you genuinely thought that Yeonjun was lying but it’s clear he’s not. Jeno had seemed like the most far from popular person ever, he seemed down to earth and friendly and he was such a nerd! The mental image of Jeno walking you around campus this morning, discussing architecture with genuine passion, clashes with the idea of a campus legend. He had felt so approachable, and the revelation triggers a whirlwind of thoughts as you grapple with this unexpected side of him. The stark contrast between perception and reality leaves you in a state of genuine disbelief.

You answer your roommate's question after a while of silence. “Everyone was staring but he just brushed it off while I was shitting myself. It makes sense now! He acted so calm because he’s used to the stares.”

Red rose to your cheeks as you thought about his sweet gesture earlier, a smile plastered on your smile. “He was really sweet though, he reassured me in such a cute way, his hands touched my face and he whispered in my ear –”

Yeonjun screams and it gives you whiplash. “GIRL! NO!” He shakes his head, acting as if you’re committing arson.

“Why not?” You question, your voice a low whisper as you frown.

Yeonjun is flabbergasted as he explains. “He’s a player, he’s a fuckboy. He practically fucks anyone with a pussy and apparently he doesn’t get into relationships. Plus, apparently he can be really intense and full on, especially when he’s high, yeah, he gets high and wasted. He throws all these notorious parties and to be fair, I’ve been to some of them and they’re great but it’s a lot of drugs, alcohol, smoking and couples fucking. I’m not kidding. He’s very extroverted and confident but in quite a sexy and slick back way, yeah he’s really fucking hot and I can see that you already think that. I just think you should keep your distance, Y/N, if I’m being honest, he’s the opposite of you.”

The weight of Yeonjun’s words settles heavily in the room, leaving you in another silence. The dissonance between the Jeno you thought you knew and the reality presented by Yeonjun leaves you grappling with a mix of shock, disappointment, and a lingering sense of disbelief.

Yeonjun apologizes when he senses your mood shift, but you brush it off, recognizing it's not his fault. You thank him for being a good friend and giving you a heads up.

As your roommate, Yeonjun is the opposite of you—outgoing, always taking you out to explore the city, and a great person to chat with. He has a boyfriend named Soobin, who happens to be an excellent cook. Despite how loud they are and the amount of times you’ve walked into them in questionable positions, you can't help but envy their relationship—they're your idea of couple goals.

✧ ✧ ✧

The professor, passionately discussing human interactions, captivates your attention until the door swings open abruptly. Your eyes widen as you're shocked to find Jeno entering, eyes locking onto yours. He appears well-dressed, his hair slightly messy, tight black shirt and his pupils dilated.

Despite the stares from the seminar attendees, he remains unfazed. "There you are, you gave me the wrong number, you idiot.” he declares, catching you off guard. In this unexpected moment, you reflect on Yeonjun's warning, realizing that Jeno's demeanour speaks volumes—confidence exudes from him. You would’ve never thought this earlier but since Yeonjun’s warning, you’ve been replaying his campus tour in your head and it’s clear that he’s confident, it’s crazy how one opinion can completely transform an existing opinion.

"How did you find me?"

His response is curt, "Doesn't matter. It’s a good time to start on the project now. I’m quite busy for the next few months so I’d be thankful if you were able to dedicate the next month or so to making good progress.” As he seamlessly transitions into discussing the project, he proves to be well-spoken and sweet.

You nod. “Of course.”

He smiles and mutters a thank you. “Give me your phone quickly.” You gulp as he puts his number in your phone, telling you that he’s added the dates to your calendar on when you’ll work together for the project, telling you to message him if you need to adjust them.

He poses the question, "Your house or mine?" An audible gulp escapes you before hesitantly suggesting, "Um… the library?"

Jeno laughs, "Can we talk there?"

You agree, "Okay, then my house."

Without waiting for your reply, he turns around, leaving you to process his abrupt departure. "See you tonight," he calls over his shoulder, disappearing as swiftly as he entered.

✧ ✧ ✧

Jeno has been coming over to work with you nearly every day. He drives.

You’ve grown quite… intrigued (if you say attracted then Yeonjun will get Heejin to hit you) by his kind gestures. He always brings over food and your favourite coffee. You told him your favourite coffee once, it was just something you said in passing and you didn’t expect him to actually remember and then start a ritual of regularly buying it for you.

His company is one that you find yourself growing attached to, you’re comfortable around him. You’re surprised how quickly you’ve gotten used to him, it’s rare for someone like you to warm up to a stranger so quickly.

His work ethic is the main thing that has you incredibly intrigued by him. He’s never late to your study sessions, he’s always engaged and every idea he has exceeds brilliance.

The sides of his lips curve up at your planning. “So cute.” He whispers under his breath, watching you as your brows furrowed in concentration, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you bring out the right folder, it was a massive baby blue one, labelled ‘Y/N’s and Jeno’s Virtual Reality Therapy project,’ in the most prettiest cursive writing, different types of stickers, butterflies, hearts and ribbons, accessorising the front.

“I have so many folders, I colour coordinate them all but it’s still so difficult to remember which is which.” You say with a heavy puff, Jeno taking the hefty folder from your hands and placing it on the well lit and presented study table in front of you.

He learns that you take studying very seriously, you’re always revising. You take pride in your notes, you gave him a tour of all your revision material and he’s never seen someone talk about studying with such a grin on their face, all your notes were so well written and organised, it gives him a new wave of awe for you.

“So, let’s brainstorm our ideas. So I said that we need to ensure that each virtual space is personalised to resonate with users emotionally, this could involve customizable elements like scents, sounds, and visuals to enhance the therapeutic experience. This helps with mindfulness. We can incorporate guided mindfulness exercises, providing users with tools to manage stress and anxiety within the virtual environment.”

Your lips automatically turn sour when you turn the page over in the written plans you’ve made, Jeno lets out a laugh when he sees why. It’s the engineering side to the project, you’ve made it clear that his major is something that you may never understand and have zero interest in. “I’ll let you talk about these ideas.” You wince, Jeno’s rough handwriting nearly making you cry.

“So we’re gonna implement advanced AI algorithms. These algorithms would adapt to user responses and needs, providing personalised guidance.”

You squeal, nearly jumping out of your seat and he looks at you with amazed eyes. You just had a lightbulb moment. You grin and clap your hands excitedly as you speak. “I just thought of an amazing idea, what if we create a way of facilitating connections among users who share similar therapeutic goals? We should aim to incorporate it, the sense of community can bring people together for additional support, they can assist on each other's journey towards mental well-being.”

Your turn to him pleading, lips in a pout as you give him the cutest puppy eyes you can muster. “Pleaseeee tell me you can make it work from your side, if you so no, I might cry.”

It takes Jeno a while to reply because he’s thinking, thinking about you. No one else would get this happy over thinking of a good idea, he finds you endearing and cute, you’re something that warms any darkness in his heart.

When you call out his name, he finally responds with a nod. “I’ll just need to create a way where users have autonomy to shape their therapeutic experiences and who they want to share it with. I can do that easily with database software, no problem.” You sigh and thank him, turning to the side and watching him as he furrows his nose, jotting down notes, a lot of mathematics and science that looks foreign to you.

“It’s a good idea, Y/N. Therapy is proven to work the best when you have someone to lean on.”

You nod like a siren as he speaks, following every word and never finding a fault, he is so smart. He always has good ideas, you’re amazed at how he can keep up with the psychology side to the project while you struggle to understand the engineering side to it. He works so hard and honestly seeing him in his element has made him even more attractive.

“Let’s take a break.” His words break your enchantment. You nod, he’s consistently been reminding you to take breaks and to be drinking your fluids.

“Do you wanna help Yeonjun cook?” You question, a small smirk playing on your lips at the change in his expression, his eyes lighting up and it makes you laugh hard.

“He’s here?”

“Yeah, he lives here.” You say sarcastically.

Unexpectedly, he, Yeonjun and Soobin get along like they’ve known each other for years. It all started when Yeonjun nearly burned the kitchen down in a cooking disaster. Jeno, like the genius that he is, salvaged the kitchen from going up in flames and salvaged the meal. It was the best meal you’ve had in your life. You’re not surprised that he was a talented chef, you’re growing to learn that he’s good at everything and it’s without effort.

Ever since then, Yeonjun and Jeno have started cooking together. It’s more like Yeonjun failing to follow the recipes, Jeno doing most of the work and then Soobin having to comfort his pouting boyfriend because he just wants to be able to cook one meal without fucking it up. You overhear the three of them in the kitchen sometimes. three people from complete different backgrounds but they bond and share stories, their laughter always making your heart yearn.

You and Jeno have the cooked meal in your room as you were studying at the same time. You grab your phone from your pocket, going onto Instagram and getting the delicious meal in your camera angle. You feel his eyes on you before he speaks. “I wanna follow you.”

You exchanged socials with Jeno and though it was difficult to fully control yourself as he was sitting right next to you, you were so close to hitting your head against a wall, anything to stop your head from buzzing.

The first thing you notice is the amount of followers he has, a whopping 5589, your 95 followers seemed silly in comparison. The second thing you notice is his feed. You have to bite your tongue from screaming. It’s absolute filth. Delicious filth. Your eyes light up at it and you admit, it’s sexy but you’re also wondering how the hell this was the same person.

Your eyes hover over countless shirtless photos, photos in the gym, at the beach, he had a physique that deserved this amount of posts. He had countless photos of him partying, drinking, loads where he’s just posing and he looks so handsome, like a model. His face belonged in runaways, so did his body. Your eyes also grow wide at how well styled he is in these photos, his poses natural, only he can pull this off.

“You have so many photos with that damn teddy.” You gulp when you realise that he was probably stalking your account just like you did to his, you now regret being so glued to your phone and his feed as you missed his reactions to your own feed.

“Do you wanna know why?” You continue when he nods. “I love travelling, it’s when I’m happiest. I love trying new food, seeing the culture, I love getting a break. This teddy has been with me since day 1, through thick and thin, so it means a lot to me that it’s also experienced some of my best memories with me. I make it tradition to take a photo in front of the country that I’m visiting biggest landmark, holding Theo.”

Jeno looks at the teddy bear with genuine admiration, his smile growing more tender. "It's worn out.” you mumble, a hint of apology in your voice. "But it's still sentimental," he says, understanding the value it holds for you. The moment feels beautiful, Jeno holding something that carries so many memories and brings you comfort.

As he looks at the teddy bear, you decide this is a memory worth capturing. "The tradition is taking a photo with my teddy, so..." you trail off, grabbing your camera.

Jeno, intrigued, asks, "What's the special landmark this time?"

You pause, then playfully respond, "My bed," only realising how it might sound after the words leave your mouth.

Flustered, you try to clarify, "I didn't mean—"

But Jeno finds it amusing, his laughter filling the room. "It's okay," he reassures you, still smiling. As the laughter lingers, you seize the moment, capturing it with a click of the camera. The soft bear rests in Jeno's hands, and he's caught in the act of laughing, his focus off the camera as he gazes at you.

Excitement builds as you show him the photo, his expression unreadable. However, there's a fondness in his eyes that speaks volumes. "Send me it," he requests, and before the words fully leave his mouth, the photo is already on his phone. It's a moment frozen in time, a memory shared, and a connection deepening between you and Jeno.

As the laughter subsides, a profound stillness envelops the room. Your gaze locks with Jeno's, and suddenly, everything else fades into the background. There's an intensity in the air, and it's as if a cascade of unspoken thoughts and feelings clouds your minds, creating a shared moment that defies explanation.

In the midst of this intimate silence, you find the courage to break it. Your voice, a mere whisper, carries the weight of vulnerability, "You know, I don't let anyone touch my teddy. His name is Theo." The admission hangs there, lingering, as the depth of trust and connection grows between you and Jeno. In that shared gaze, you both seem to get lost, lost in a space where time slows, and the world outside becomes a mere backdrop.

Finally, breaking the spell, you continue, "You're the first who's held him other than me." The words bridge the unspoken gap between you, sealing a bond that laughter and shared moments have forged. It's a moment both intense and intimate, etched in the quiet exchange of looks and the admission of something so personal.

Later that night, after Jeno had left, you find yourself scrolling through Instagram. Your heart races when you spot the latest post on your feed. A smile spreads across your face as you click on Jeno's profile, and the photo you took of him stands out in contrast to his usually serious and cohesive theme. It adds a touch of brightness and spontaneity.

Lee Jeno

*Image Attached*

Me and Theo :)

✧ ✧ ✧

Lee Jeno had seamlessly become a constant presence in your life, transcending the boundaries of your initial collaboration on the project. Friendship had blossomed, revealing layers of connection that went beyond the academic realm.

In the quietude of your shared space, you both spent countless hours together, revealing your true selves. Jeno’s kindness became something you grew incredibly attracted to. This became evident when Chaewon went through a tough breakup, and Jeno, true to his protective nature, comforted her in such a perfect way, he also held Chanhee accountable for his actions.

One evening, as the moon hung high in the sky, Jeno confided in you about his involvement in charity work, your mouth opening wide when you realise he works closely with the exact charity that you hold close to your heart. The revelation sparked a conversation that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Plans for the future unfolded organically, with both of you promising that you’d work hard so you could have a more active role in the charity, side by side. You even helped each other fill out the application for a post–graduate scheme the charity runs.

There were nights when words weren't necessary. The silence that enveloped you both wasn't awkward; instead, it became a source of comfort. Jeno cared for you in ways that transcended the project work. He brushed your hair, knowing it pained you to do it yourself. He cooked for you, he cleaned for you.

His caring nature extended to the smallest details—reminding you to take breaks during study sessions, massaging your hair and neck and personally ensuring you stayed hydrated by placing your water bottle in front of your lips every now and then. Jeno became attuned to your needs, completing small errands when the weight of your busy schedule became overwhelming.

As the night wore on, thoughts of Jeno lingered in your mind. You think about him all night long. His kindness had woven its way into the fabric of your daily life, making his presence as essential as the air you breathed. The bond you shared, born out of shared projects, charity work, and late-night conversations, had grown into something deeper—a connection that defied definition but spoke volumes in the language of shared glances, comfortable silences, and unwavering support.

In the hushed hours of the night, the doorbell's familiar chime cut through the silence, announcing Jeno's unannounced presence. It was 1am, this wasn’t unusual, it could only be him.

As the door closed behind him, Jeno's gaze found you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he licked them. "You look hot.” he declared, eliciting a flutter of giddiness within you. Blushing, you responded, "Stop it." Yet Jeno's playful persistence only deepened.

A hint of tipsiness clung to him, altering the atmosphere with a subtle shift in demeanour. Jeno's eyes, unable to look away from you, held a different intensity. "Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" he whispered seductively.

Shaking your head, you admitted, "It feels good.” embracing the newfound confidence his attention bestowed upon you. The sexy dress and meticulous makeup became a canvas, painting you in a different light.

“Does it feel good? Yeah?” His words lingered in the air, stirring emotions you were still discovering.

Your cheeks become red, quickly changing the topic. "Heejin was just bored and said she wanted to give me a makeover," you explained, attempting to divert attention from your newfound allure.

"Mmm," Jeno responded, his eyes revealing a flicker of something different. Captivated and a bit tipsy, his gaze lingered on you with newfound intensity. “I was gonna come over so we could do some work, but I feel quite distracted.” Jeno confessed, his eyes still locked on you. The suggestion of a new plan flickered in his gaze.

"You look good, let me take a photo." he proposed, and you found yourself becoming Jeno's muse. His skilled hands orchestrated the scene, capturing a moment blending sensuality with artistry. The photo, zoomed in, portrayed your cleavage adorned with a faint lace veil, jewelry perfectly placed, and his delicate touch moving your fingers over your chest, adding a new allure. As the camera clicked, the image froze in time, encapsulating a night of unexpected comforts and unspoken connections.

In the dimly lit room, the ambiance shifted as Jeno's intense gaze lingered on you. "You're beautiful." he uttered, his voice a low and seductive whisper that hung in the air. The atmosphere grew charged with an unspoken tension as his fingertips delicately traced over your fingers, still resting on your chest. A subtle chill accompanied the graze of his thumb over your rings, an act that heightened the intimacy of the moment.

Trapped in the magnetic pull of his gaze, you found yourself getting lost in the depths of each other's eyes. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in a silent exchange of emotions. The unspoken connection between you both spoke volumes, the touch of fingers and the locked gaze creating a romantic dance that transcended words. In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still, encapsulating the beauty of a moment suspended in the quiet acknowledgment of shared feelings.

Later that night you lay restless, head flat on your pillow, contemplating the desire to kick Jeno. Countless sleepless nights had been because of him, you keep thinking about earlier. As if summoned by your contemplation, your phone lit up, confirming your intuition—it was Jeno.

✧ ✧ ✧

Heejin insisted there was something brewing between you and Jeno, emphasizing the exchanged glances and the countless hours you spent together. Initially, Yeonjun and Soobin dismissed her claims, but once she managed to sway their opinions, you found yourself accused by three people of harbouring feelings for Lee Jeno.

Rather than denying it, you acknowledge the undeniable allure of Jeno. Who wouldn’t be captivated by him? He’s truly one of a kind. However, your feelings for him remain a fantasy, an unrealistic dream. “Even if I do, Heejin, he would never go for me.”

Heejin rolls her eyes at your apparent obliviousness. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Soobin, wearing a puzzled expression, questions you, “Why do you say that?”

“It’s what Yeonjun said to me. He said that he’s a fuckboy, he doesn’t get into relationships and doesn’t want anything serious. Plus, I don’t fit into his scene. We have a lot of fun in my house but I don’t think I’ve ever hung out with him or his friends on campus apart from the occasional small talk, it kinda sucks…”

You regularly find yourself thinking about Yeonjun’s warning and it surprises you because the Lee Jeno you had gotten to know was so different from that. He was kind, caring and thoughtful, you couldn’t imagine him as a notorious fuck boy but if you were being fully honest to yourself, it did make sense. There was no denying that he was horny and incredibly sexual, nor was there denying his unbeatable looks and the attention his presence attracts.

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I can’t believe what I said either. He’s completely different to what I stereotyped him as. He’s still the most popular guy on campus but he’s actually a really sweet and down to earth guy, you know? He cares about his studies but he also cares about having fun, that’s why he always gets high and parties. He’s really humble and having one to one conversations with him is actually life changing, I see why Y/N spends most of her time with him. I’m not gonna lie, I think I’m catching feelings.” Yeonjun laughs, claiming the last bit was a lie, wincing when Soobin smacks him on the head.

“I heard he’s stopped sleeping around, Seoyeon and Nagyung tried to initiate something with him but he turned them down, he’s been turning a lot of people down which is unlike him.” Heejin says, clearly she’s heard all the gossip.

“Why?” You whisper in a faint voice.

The three of them exchange amused glances, and before you can fully grasp the situation, you let out a heavy sigh, accompanied by a crying noise.

“I want him,” you admit, tears welling up as you cry out, letting your emotions take over. Uncertain about why you’re reacting this way, you simply know you can’t deny it any longer – you’ve fallen completely and utterly for him.

Heejin wraps you in a warm hug. “Why are you crying?”

In confusion, a hint of hysteria in your voice, you shake your head. “I don’t know! I just want him.”

The weeks continue and you and Jeno have made good progress on your project, you still spend a lot of time together. There’s a shift in the atmosphere and air now as you actively like him, you try to fight back your feelings when interacting with him but you act on them, in the worst possible way, in fear and awkwardness.

You’re different around him. You don’t know if he can notice it. You confuse yourself, you also confuse Heejin and Yeonjun, who are the only ones who know about your unrequited and secret feelings and you made them promise to not tell anyone (Soobin knows).

You undeniably act crazy, for some reason that’s beyond you, you try and play matchmaker for him. “There’s a girl in my class who’s really pretty and cute, she’s sweet and she’ll suit you. Her name is Karina, do you know her?” You question words that should sound sweet and helpful but there’s a disconnection as you speak.

He shakes his head immediately, “I’m not interested.”

You don’t know why you’re so adamant. “But I heard you like going for girls? She’s a girl, I think she’s interested in you as well.”

He turns it down once again. “I’m sick of all the fucking, maybe I just want something serious.” You wonder if his words are directed at you, or are you delusional? Self doubt fills you, your thoughts attacking and fighting against what you feel in your heart. You’re not his type. He would never go for you.

The atmosphere shifts, leaving you in a state of confusion and anxiety. Trying to deflect, you push, “She’s really pretty, like the prettiest girl on campus.”

“I think you’re prettier,” he says softly, his gaze fixed on you. The air turns serious and intimate as his words linger, weaving into the ambiance, creating a moment where your anxiety and overthinking become almost palpable.

✧ ✧ ✧

What you don’t realise is that Jeno fell for your first.

Underneath the soft glow of string lights in your cozy living room, Jeno sits beside you on the couch. The air is filled with the familiar scent of popcorn, and the soft melody of "About Time" starts playing on the TV. As the scenes of the epic love story unfold, Jeno's eyes occasionally flicker to the screen, but more often, they're drawn to you.

You're completely absorbed in the movie, blissfully unaware of the fact that Jeno has not paid attention to the plot at all, he’s watching you, experiencing a beautiful story unfolding right in front of him. He knows he's fallen in deep when the realisation hits him like a wave.

It’s not like you can complain about his lack of attention towards the screen, it’s not like you paid attention when he made you watch his choice of movie, some geeky sci-fi that you fell asleep to less than halfway through.

The warm, dim light accentuates the gentle curve of your smile as you feed him popcorn, turning to face him and smiling every now and then. He's mesmerised by the way your eyes light up with each romantic scene, and he can't help but smile in response.

The soft giggle that escapes your lips becomes music to his ears, and he finds himself captivated by the subtle nuances of your laughter. The way you effortlessly create an atmosphere of comfort and joy leaves him in awe.

Jeno tries to make sense of the fluttering sensation in his chest, an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. Falling for someone wasn't part of his usual narrative, yet here he is, embracing the complexity of emotions. Your kindness, the shared moments, and the discoveries of common ground are etching memories in his heart.

Despite your differences, the attraction grows stronger. He admires your calmness, a sanctuary he craves, while you find solace in his fearless spirit. Yet, the walls of your connection seem confined to the space within your house, and Jeno feels a longing to extend it beyond.

He suggests hanging out outside, but each invitation is met with your dedication to studies. Parties and town visits are dismissed with a polite reminder of your academic commitments. Jeno understands, even though he wishes to be part of your world beyond the books.

The realisation settles in—he should dislike someone whose life revolves around studying, but he can't bring himself to feel anything but admiration. The mystery of why he's drawn to you, combined with the unspoken tension between you two, leaves Jeno questioning the unexpected turn of his feelings.

He confided in his childhood best friend, the one who knows him the best, Na Jaemin.

Jeno sits on Jaemin’s bed, frustration etched on his face as he scrolls through your social media feed. Each picture elicits a sweet smile from him, and he can’t deny the growing warmth in his chest every time he thinks about you.

“What the fuck is happening to me, Jaemin?” Jeno blurts out, his gaze fixed on your adorable posts. “I never thought I’d fall for her, and now I’m planning our future and naming our hypothetical children.”

The words sound almost surreal as they leave his lips, and Jeno can’t believe he’s uttering such sentiments. Perhaps the alcohol has loosened his inhibitions, his attempt to drown his feelings gone awry as thoughts of you flood his mind.

Frustrated, he barges into Jaemin’s room, pouring out his heart about his unexpected attraction, his desire for you, and the constant presence of your thoughts haunting him.

“So, what do you want to do about it?” Jaemin inquires, assessing his friend’s dilemma.

“I don’t know,” Jeno confesses, uncertainty clouding his expression. The beating sensation in his heart felt so foreign.

“Is this normal?” Jeno asks, his voice laced with fear.

Jaemin can’t help but laugh at the irony. “This is the most normal you’ve ever been.”

✧ ✧ ✧

You don’t know how you found yourself indoors on a Friday night, laying on your bed, Lee Jeno beside you, as he talks to you about his favourite sex position.

“I love them all. The doggy, I love being able to touch everything, hips, tits, boobs, while I pound into the pussy like crazy. I love being restrained and tied up. I love when I’m choked or when I choke. I love when someone rides me, uses me to get off, doesn’t let me touch them. Fuck. But I also love sucking on titties while my dick is being bounced up and down on. Y/N, I just love sex.” He finishes with a satisfied sigh, playful eyes looking deep into yours, not breaking contact for even a second as he speaks.

He chuckles, “You?”

You nearly choke. “I – I don’t have as much experience as you but I just like plain old missionary, you know? I like looking into someone's eyes as we’re making love. I crave feeling loved and seen, I want every inch of my body kissed, I want a connection so deep that every worry fades away. I just want to feel loved and appreciated, you know?”

Jeno’s silent, his eyes turning dim as he sees you in a new light. It’s the way he’s looking at you. You blush, your eyes inviting him in a soft whisper. He hums and nods in agreement. “You’re adorable.” His finger moves to nudge your nose and you do the same to him.

“So you’re not a needy slut?” His unexpected change of subject makes you choke. You jab him in the chest, shaking your head, tongue prodding the inside of your cheek as he looks at you with a playfulness. “I always imagined you as one…” He mumbles, his firm grip on your face conveys a powerful desire for your unwavering attention, a silent plea for you to remain captivated by his gaze.

You roll your eyes. “Just because I want to feel loved by my partner doesn’t mean that I don’t have a freaky side.” You pout, crossing your arms as you refuse to look him in the eyes.

“It’s not my fault that I haven’t been given the opportunity to explore that side of me. I mean sure, I want to have crazy sex but when you’re as inexperienced as me, I mean, call me boring but my body count is only 1. What’s yours?”

He ignores your question, asking his own. “You’re not a virgin?” His tone comes across as more perplexing and shocked than he would’ve wanted but when he realises that you’ve not taken it the wrong way, instead you burst out in laughter, he sighs a breath of relief. His eyes light up at how precious your laugh is, it pulls at his heart string and makes him yearn for something that utterly and truly confuses him.

“I used to have a boyfriend.” You mumble, looking down and picking at your nail, a sense of loss in your voice which gives Jeno an unusual tear in his insides. He’s used to seeing you nervous but it still makes him wish he could take everything away.

“Hey.” He smiles, a sweet tone and his gentle fingers come underneath your chin, softly caressing the skin as he turns your face to look his way. Gone were the days where you’d break away from his intimate eye contact due to feeling butterflies. Though the fluttering sensation remains, there’s now an endearing quality that compels you to keep looking.

He doesn’t need to ask for you to open up and explain, you do that without a second thought now, that’s how comfortable you’ve become with him. “It was my first relationship, my first kiss, my first – you know.” You laugh awkwardly and he widens his eyes, tongue prodding against his cheek in annoyance. Why the hell is he annoyed?

“It was perfect. I mean – it seemed perfect. We were so different, in no world could I imagine being together. He was a lot more adventurous than I was, in a lot of ways. He used to party a lot, he had a very big friend group, he was really outgoing and social. He always used to receive so much attention and then obviously me, the only girl he’s ever settled down with, became the negative side of that attention that he got.”

“I realised that our differences didn’t make us an ideal match. I really wanted us to work, I wanted to prove to myself that the person you love doesn’t have to have the same likes and interests as you, because what’s the fun in that? I wanted to fall so badly in love with the world that he was in, I wanted to become familiar with it but it was too much for me. I used to get so overwhelmed with anxiety and pressure, I found myself acting so unlike myself, I didn’t want to change who I was for him but I ended up on that path. I mean, we broke up before it got extreme. It would’ve been easier if he was a cruel person but he wasn’t, he isn’t. I think I realised that I couldn’t put up with his hectic lifestyle, it all just became a bit too much. Sometimes, though, I felt like that relationship ate away at my self worth and that I begin to matter less and less. I feel like I was never good enough –“

“Don’t you ever say that.” He interrupts, not letting you undermine yourself. As he senses your silence and the stillness on your face, he inches closer. It’s now you who can’t tear your gaze away from him, your heart beats as you feel the warmth of his body. He gently wipes away a falling tear, the warmth of his eyes not leaving yours for a second. His hands then securing your shoulders. He pulls you into a warm embrace, you break into sobs, held tightly in his comforting softness.

You’re not sure when but the comfort in the touches escalated to a level that felt unusual for ‘friends’ but it felt so normal for the two of you.

He lays down on your bed, cushioned by the dozen pillows surrounded by you guys but the main thing warming his heart was your body pressed on top of his, your head tucked into the crevice of his neck as he smooths your hair. He occasionally drops kisses to your temple, his reason being that you were crying and he knows your number one comfort in the world is physical touch but he’s run out of his excuse when you stop crying.

You pout against his skin when he suddenly stops smoothing out your hair, he chuckles and immediately starts once again. What you don’t know is that his heart momentarily stopped as your lips made contact with your skin. It’s a feeling he’s never experienced, the flutter of butterflies in his stomach, the quickened beat of his heart like a melody finding its rhythm.

Your eyes meet in a silent exchange, an intimate haven A warmth envelops the air as your gazes intertwine, feelings that make sense, feelings that don’t make sense. The atmosphere is gentle, like a comforting breeze that whispers sweet secrets. In that tender moment, time seems to slow, and the world around you fades into a soft blur.

He rests his palm against your cheek, the contact making a genuine smile spread across your face as you lean into the touch, your cheek rubbing against his palm as you let out a hum of satisfaction. His other hand continues caressing your hair, you normally would’ve been annoyed as he was making fresh hair greasy but you can’t find it in you to act on that, especially not when he’s looking at you the way he is right now.

“I don’t ever wanna hear you say you’re not good enough, ok?” He says and his tone is comforting yet strict, it was conflicting in a way. He nudges your nose with his thumb. “You’re my favourite person right now.”

You nod, looping your arms around his neck in a bid to get closer. “I promise, I won’t.”

He goes silent then tuts, huffing in disbelief. “What about me?” He questions, offended. He’s exaggerating, he’s doing it to make you laugh and he hasn’t failed.

“You’re my favourite person right now too.” You admit, your heart is weighed down with emotion and your voice reveals your depth of feelings

“Did he treat you well?” Jeno asks, brows furrowing in concern, his protective stance making you smile.

“It’s complicated. Sexually, it wasn’t the best. After the relationship passed I realised that my needs and desires weren’t pleased the way I deserved them to be. It was always me getting down on my knees, I think I cummed like twice in the entire three months. It was just –”

“You deserve better than that.”

Jeno's intense gaze deepens, pupils dilating with a mixture of empathy and resolve. "You deserve better than that. You’re so fucking beautiful and intelligent. You’re so cherished. You deserve the best sex that anyone can ever give you, every need met. You deserve to cum a thousand times a night. I promise I’ll show you.” The tension in the air grows thicker as he leans in closer to you, just when you think he’s gonna kiss you, he smiles, his promise carrying a soft reassurance. It’s one that confuses you but you can’t deny the way your eyes lit up and the soreness of your cheeks from smiling.

A silence passes and it’s both exciting and terrifying. He’s never looked at you like this before. You want to ask him what he’s feeling, to act in the way that he’s looking at you and holding you but a part of you doesn’t have the confidence for that yet.

“Now you need to tell me, what’s up with everyone telling me you’re a fuckboy?” You question him, a poor way on your behalf to move the conversation forward.

You can see that he’s taken aback by your question in his eyes but they twinkle nonetheless. “I just love having sex.” He answers quickly and bluntly, eyes deep into yours as he reveals his truth, you try to laugh off your nerves but his gaze is locking with such intensity into yours. He chuckles at your reaction, at how red and flustered you’ve become. He loves this.

“I’m not a fuckboy though. You know me, you don’t think I’m mean, do you?”

You shake your head immediately, gulping and tearing your eyes from him as he calls you a good girl. He means it harmlessly but it fucks with your head. You quickly talk to ignore the racing beat of your heart. “You’re so sweet and kind to me – ” You laugh, stopping mid sentence to pinch his cheeks which to your surprise, he doesn’t even stop you from doing. “But Jeno… I’ve seen you be quite unfriendly to other people.”

“They deserve it.” He answers with no hesitation.

“I still don’t get why everyone kept speaking about you like you were a notorious fuckboy, you know so many people warned me to stay away from you, I obviously didn’t listen.”

He sighs, scratching his neck. “They’re just jealous that we get along so well but it doesn’t bother me because at the end of the day, we’re making the best memories together. And people don’t know the true story, they just comment on what they see and assume the worst. I’m not a fuckboy like that. Yeah sure, I like, well I used to like sleeping around but I was never a ‘rude fuck boy’. I have respect for each and every girl I sleep with, I make sure they’re cared for, before and after we’re fucking, that they feel good at all times whilst they’re with me. I make sure they don’t feel like I’m just using them for sex even though I don’t want anything further with these girls, I make it clear that the only thing I’m looking for is good sex and they always know that before going into it with me, it avoids disappointment and high expectations. Although I’ve had problems before, it doesn’t matter.”

He explains and a silence follows. You have so many thoughts, so many questions you want to ask and you don’t know where to start but before you know it, one is spilling from your lips before you can properly think of what you’re asking. “Why did you stop?”

He hums, looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“You said you ‘used’ to like fucking around, why have you stopped?”

“What do you think?”

You hiss in annoyance, he’s normally always keen to explain and talk through everything and anything to you so why is he being so secretive and blunt right now? You don’t understand why he’s keeping his words to a minimum.

“I don’t know so can you stop being so –”

“How am I supposed to have sex with these girls when I’m wishing that they were you?”

In the warm, charged air, their breaths mix like a dance, full of longing. Just a few words reshape everything. It's weird – no nerves or awkwardness, just a flutter in your heart, embraced in the moment. He holds you with strong arms, bodies fitting together perfectly. His captivating eyes connect with yours deeply. It feels just right, a special moment.

"Jeno," you say softly, and he responds with a hum.

"Yeah. I want you," he says, his thumb gently touching your bottom lip.

His radiant grin and those mesmerising eyes captivate your attention, urging you to keep gazing at him but you have a better idea. Your tender lips meet his, your eyes naturally close, succumbing to the delicate touch. The kiss, a mere caress of skin against skin, sparks a delightful frenzy within, setting your entire being alight. Immobile, you find yourself unable to resist, and there's no desire to. In this moment, you yearn for time to stretch indefinitely – the subtle hint of cinnamon warmth, the fragrance of fresh rain, and the exquisite sensation of his breath mingling with yours – a wish for this enchanting experience to linger.

Lost in each other's lips and locked in a gaze that speaks volumes, the night unfolds with passionate embraces and tangled limbs. You feel Jeno's desire, a palpable energy that fuels the connection. His scent, a mix of warmth and subtle cologne, envelops you, adding another layer to the sensory experience.

The kisses are intense and insatiable, each touch leaving an indelible mark on the night. Jeno's lips move with purpose, exploring and igniting a fervor that courses through both of you. The taste of him is addictive, the play of tongues an intricate dance of desire. As you straddle him, the heat between you grows, the kisses deepening in both intensity and intimacy.

It's not just a physical connection; it's a shared exploration of passion. Jeno's hands on your body convey a hunger matched by your own, creating an electric current that courses through every touch. The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the symphony of kisses, creating a sensory tapestry that encapsulates the entirety of this unforgettable night.

✧ ✧ ✧

As soon as you open the door, you barely have time to recollect your thoughts or greet him as his lips are pressed against yours.

He grabbed you firmly, and backed you up against the wall beside the door as he swiftly closed it. His lips come crashing into yours, tongue adjacent. You barely had time to think or react. Your eyes widened in astonishment as he pulled away for a moment, his eyes met yours with a smile.

“Hello to you too.” You whimper, his lips kissing along your jaw, while his hands slid along your body.

He breaks it up as he senses it’s getting too heated, you’re both breathing heavily and flustered. His eyes sparkle as he takes in your appearance, bottom lip tugged under his teeth as he looks you up and down. “You look cute.” He compliments.

You give him a giddy smile, feeling hot as his heated gaze is still taking in all of your body and he’s not hiding it. You’re laughing against his shoulder when he pulls you in for a warm hug, the embrace filling your veins with joy. He kisses your cheek, you tie your hands together and realise you really do look cosy. You were in the fluffiest of socks, your hair was in a messy bun and you were wearing your glasses. Your cheeks heat up when you remember that you were only wearing a t-shirt and underwear, you were sure he could see your nipples peek through your flimsy top and if you rose ever so slightly, your panties would be on show.

“I dress for comfort.” You say with pride.

“And I don’t?”

You shake your head, you were honest and unfiltered. “You really don’t, every day is like a runaway for you but I’m not complaining.” He always looks hot.

“Why are you so dressed up right now?” You question, glancing sideways to look at the clock. “It’s 1am. What are you even doing right now?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“What have you been doing?” He reverses his question back to you.

You clap your hands with excitement and he can’t help but grin at how cute he finds you like this. “I’ve been working on the assignment. Do you want me to show you all I’ve worked on?” You question, hand already in his and you’re ready to drag him to your room before he interjects.

“You should’ve showed me earlier when I was trying to sleep.” He is completely unfazed. Kissing your forehead as his form of apology when you start sulking. You grab his tie, the action making him flustered which you don’t realise.

You fiddle with the material. Eyes dancing over him again.

He exudes attractiveness in smart trousers that complement his silhouette perfectly, paired with a meticulously fitted shirt. Every detail oozes of confidence, from the crisp lines of the trousers to the way the shirt hugs his muscular and broad form with tailored precision. His black leather jacket is resting against his shoulders, adding warmth and comfort to his attire. “You still haven’t told me, why are you so dressed up?”

He doesn’t answer at first so you loop your arms around his neck to ensure his full attention is on you. He seems a bit distracted, you realise he’s looking down as your shirt has risen, he’s looking at your lace underwear peeking through, the all so familiar heat in his eyes that you’re so used to.

“Hey!” He meets your eyes with an apologetic yet guilty glance, he truly couldn’t help himself. He bites his lips and you take the time to truly take him all in.

His hair, pitch black and casually slicked back, has a few stray strands escaping the gel, falling playfully over his forehead. Your hand naturally reaches to caress the hair on his neck, enjoying its length. Fingers moving to dangle against his earrings, adoring how he was always so dressed up, he took so much pride in his appearance and the attentiveness was hot.

His face is like something out of a magazine, intense, heated eyes, soft cheeks, lips still swollen from your kisses, a sharp jawline, and the cutest dimples. He looks stunning, surpassing anyone you've seen before. It's not just his looks; the way he looks at you confirms he's a masterpiece, as if he's walked out of an impressionist painting.

His sides of his lips curve up in the most boyish smile as he checks you checking him out. “You think I’m sexy?” He questions, voice purposefully low and seductive. You’ve learnt that he’s quite shameless and cheeky, he has no limit or shame.

“Answer me.” He says as you’re silent.

“Yeah.” You answer simply, voice coming in a small whisper which makes him coo at how cute you are.

He kisses your lips briefly before finally telling you why he’s come to you in such attire. “You’ll see why I’m so dressed up in about an hour.“ He looks at his watch before finishing. “And now you’re gonna be dressed up.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as he moves your arms from around his neck so he can take your hand in his, walking the two of you outside to where his car is parked. He opens the passenger door with one hand, pulling you in front of him with his other, arm coming to rest around your front, his compact yet soft hold keeping you in place against his body heat, flush against flush. You’re so close to him.

You feel an electric shock of butterflies surge through your veins when he leans over to grab the bags on the seat, you lean over in tow. He’s made it difficult for himself to grab the bags by placing you in front of him but you learn that he’s just content to feel your body against his, you never realised how touchy and clingy he truly could be. He rests his head against your shoulder, kissing the skin below your ear as he sighs when you relish in his touch, leaning back into him, closing your eyes in bliss. Truth is, you find yourself craving for his touchy side.

“I don’t want you to get cold.” He explains himself. It’s his excuse, how could you get cold when you’ve been outside for a mere minute? You giggle when he ends the moment to drag you back inside. It was definitely an excuse.

“What the hell is in these bags?” You question, eyes widening as you look at the brands. This was a lot of money.

“Well, I remember you telling me that you felt like you didn’t have enough going out clothes so I got you some that I know you’d look really good in.” He explains like it’s nothing, laughing as he sees your agape mouth and startled eyes. No one has ever done this for you.

“You shouldn’t have!”

After a lot of back and forth, you trying to reject the gifts, him telling you to shush and to just accept this gesture, you finally accept the gifts with hesitation, promising him that you’ll make it up to him.

“When did you even have time to go shopping?” He left your house at around 10pm with a kiss to your forehead, telling you he had some university work to do. He felt guilty as you pleaded him to stay the night but he promised he would another day.

“I just couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking about you.” He explains, his honesty being a major turn on for you.

“I told you not to go.” You mumble with a pout.

“Well I’m here now.”

“I went shopping for you. It didn’t take long, I know what you like.” He says and you’re left wondering how?. You don’t even think you know yourself like that, whenever you’re shopping it’s always a lengthy struggle.

He leans down and your eyes nearly tear at how attractive he truly is.

His shirt clings to his muscles, showing off the definition in his lean and toned chest as he leans down, rummaging through the bags with a determined look. Your thirst is quenched by the view of his thighs, snug and fabulous, displaying their shape in a really appealing way.

He finally finds what he’s looking for with a satisfying grin, leaning up and handing over the material gently in your hands. Your skin beams at the luxurious silk, it’s smooth texture inviting a gentle caress in your hand. “You’re gonna wear this one.” He asks, more like tells but you don’t have a problem with it. Seeing the mere satisfaction he gets from telling you to wear a dress that he’s brought out for you and one that he likes is enough to make you feel confident and secure in the choice.

“You know my size?” You question in suprise, eyeing the label as you speak.

He wiggles his eyebrows, a smirk plastered on his face. “Of course I do.” His tone is playful.

You look at him with surprise, this is a side to him that’s so unexpected and different. Jenos, once more reserved and friendly with you, underwent a noticeable transformation when he received the green light of your interest in him. The subtle shift in his demeanour revealed a confidence that he had been hiding, he began to explore a more touchy and sensual side. His interactions became imbued with a palpable energy, as if he had unlocked a deeper connection and sought to express it through physical closeness. The change in his actions spoke volumes about the impact of your reciprocated feelings, turning moments of restraint into an exploration of intimacy.

The unexpected emergence of Jenos' flirty, touchy, and loving side sparked a thrilling response, stirring a sense of arousal. The contrast from his previous reserved nature amplified the allure, creating a magnetic pull of excitement. The novelty of exploring this unanticipated dimension of his personality added a layer of passion, turning the ordinary into an exhilarating adventure. The element of surprise, coupled with the genuine connection, heightened the attraction and fueled a sense of desire for the uncharted territories of this newfound intimacy.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Black.” You and him answer at the same time and his eyes lift up in satisfaction. You’re questioning two things, why would he ask if he already knows? And how does he know so much about you? It makes you question whether you’re an open book or whether he’s just so attentive and observant, you know it’s the latter. Even your best friend doesn’t know this much about you.

“You know, your favourite colour doesn’t match your personality.” He whispers, leaning down, his breath caressing your ear before his whisper does. “It makes me so much more intrigued by you, I know you have a side that you haven’t shown anyone, I can’t wait until you’re ready to show me it.”

You’re stunned by his words but he doesn’t even give you time to react fully or respond. “Try it on.”

“But where are we going?” You question, lips in a pout, cheeks flushed and eyes soft, hoping it would evoke sympathy so he’d tell you as you can’t stand surprises but he doesn’t budge.

“What’s with all the questions?” He says in an amused tone, secretly loving how you were freaking out inside.

“I –“

“Don’t you trust me?” He says, voice gentle and heart sincere.

“Of course I do.” You answer without thinking. He’s earned your trust through time.

“Good girl.” He smiles, thumb caressing your bottom lip, looking down at you with equal amounts of trust and appreciation in his eyes. What you felt for each other was undeniable and unquestionably mutual. “Now go change.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks become flustered, a redness that was starting to become usual around him. He pecks your lips before closing his eyes in front of you, covering his eyes with his palm before turning around. “Is this okay?” He questions and you nod, telling him yes.

Sliding into the dress feels like a graceful embrace, the feeling heightened as you know it’s picked out and chosen by Jeno. The silk glides effortlessly over your skin, casting a sensation. As it inches up, there's a gentle caress against your legs and thighs, and the dress wraps you in a luxurious cocoon, creating a heightened sense of elegance and allure.

You let out a shudder of cold breath when you realise that there’s a zip on the back, one that you probably would have reached with some effort but you had a better idea. “Jeno.” You call out to him, your faint voice filling the hot atmosphere.

“You’re finished?” He says, palm still over his eyes and they wouldn’t move until you told him so.

“Just turn around.”

A rush of breath escapes him as he emerges from a minute of darkness, greeted by the captivating sight of your back. The silhouette reveals a subtle curve, the graceful lines drawing his attention, and a mix of anticipation and wonder floods through him at the unexpected beauty unveiled before his eyes.

“Can you help me with the zip?” You ask, shyly, not knowing what to feel as you were met with his silence.

“Yes.” He answers and for the first time, he sounds speechless in your presence.

His fingers trace a delicate path along the exposed skin as he slowly zips up the back of your dress, eyes following in awe. The metallic whisper of the zipper weaves a subtle melody, punctuating the intimacy of the moment. The fabric yields to your touch, caressing your spine in a tender dance. Each upward motion is a silent promise, creating an electric connection between you, as if sealing the dress is an act of sealing the shared passion. The room is filled with an unspoken language, where every tug of the zipper threads binds you closer, making the ritual of dressing a ritual of desire. His fingertips create an intimate connection, his touch lingering as if etching a map on your spine. You’ve never felt closer.

“Done.” He whispers with a kiss to the back of your neck, leaving his lips there to linger, the feeling of his skin against yours leaving goosebumps.

“Thank you.” You mumble, moving to turn around and face him but before you can do so, his hands around your waist secure you. He moves your hair from one side and tucks it behind your ear, you relish in his touch, breath hitching in your throat when you realise you’re both standing in front of the mirror.

Your own reflection is a welcome surprise. The dress hugs your curves beautifully, accentuating them in a way you could’ve never imagined. The cleavage on show makes you feel shy but the way Jeno’s looking at you takes it all away. You can see how he’s looking at you through the reflection, his eyes carrying such intensity and heat, it speaks of desire.

His voice, a symphony of sensuality and seduction, whispered, "You look so beautiful, baby." His eyes, filled with desire, traced an enchanting path across your form, lingering on the curves that the dress embraced so gracefully. A subtle, knowing smile played upon his lips as his fingertips delicately explored those curves.

“Can you see how beautiful you look?” He pressed a soft kiss against your skin, the intimacy heightened as you pressed back, sighing as you melted fully into him. In that moment, the air was filled with the magnetic allure of shared affection, an intimate atmosphere that bound you together in the dance of whispered words, gentle kisses, and the tender touch that spoke volumes.

He hums when you haven’t answered.

“Yes.” You answer simply, not knowing that you could feel this way.

“Can I put your hair up?” He questions, voice coming out as a quiet lull. You nod, your hair is already in a messy bun but you assume he wanted to do it neatly.

You look in astonishment as he focuses on you with his full attention, smoothing out the strands and putting everything in place before creating what could’ve possibly been the best hairstyle you’ve ever seen on yourself. It was an elegant bun, framing pieces giving a whole new level of sophistication and elegance to your look, his attention to detail surprised you.

You laugh and it unexpectedly brings humour to such a heated and intimate moment. “When did you learn how to do all this?” You question, he could do hair better than you.

“I like when your hair is up.” He whispers into your ear, a playfulness deep in his tone which fucks with your head even more.

“You look so much better than I could’ve imagined and trust me, I’ve thought about you in this dress about a hundred times since buying it.” He admits, his hands glued to your curves, he’s unable to stop caressing them.

The dress was so utterly breathtaking. “Thank you Jeno, really.” You express your gratitude, looking in the mirror and admiring the sight of your own reflection once again.

The dress is crafted from lavish black satin, so enchanting, a lustrous sheen that catches the light with every movement. The fabric gracefully cascades, accentuating the contour and curves of your body while maintaining an air of refinement. Delicate lace embellishments trace along the neckline and hem, The plunging neckline subtly accentuates your cleavage, a sight that was welcoming and new, it adds a touch of allure without being overly revealing. Its captivating elegance lies in the delicate balance between sophistication and subtle seduction, making it the most secure and perfect choice for you.

You turn around in his hold, looking up at him with the most fervent eyes before you close the small distance between you both.

Your lips met his in a passionate embrace, a desperate dance of desire. The heat of the moment intensified as he kissed you back, moulding your mouths together, creating an electric connection. Soft sighs and gentle moans lingered in the air, merging with the intoxicating warmth. It was a steamy, lingering kiss—a fusion of longing and urgency that left you both breathless, lost in the sensual currents of the shared moment.

You back away with a whimper, breathing heavily and feeling unsatisfied. Just as you’re about to kiss him back, his words cut you off. “We have to go, we’re gonna be late.” His voice is forced and pushed out, leaving you with a small pout as you follow his lead, hand ingrained in his as he walks you to the car.

His hand doesn’t let go of yours as he’s driving. You possibly can’t imagine him being any more attractive than he is in this current moment, although you don’t know that you’re in for a surprise.

As he navigates the empty road, his strong, defined arms confidently grip the steering wheel. The hum of the engine harmonises with the low timbre of his voice as he occasionally speaks to you, the small talk filling the atmosphere but never once feeling awkward or forced.

His fingers entwine with yours in a silent promise. The occasional soft kisses on your hand punctuate the drive, moments of affection seamlessly woven into the rhythm of your journey. It’s like he can’t go a moment without him touching or kissing you, little do you know that this is only the start…

Your eyes carry a magnetic allure as he parallel parks so swiftly, something that you’re both envious and turned on by. The concentration that furrows his brow makes you smile at how breathtaking he looks.

“You’re staring.” Eyes not leaving the road as he fills the silence, turning around to face you for a split second with that smirk that pulls at your heart strings.

“You look hot.”

You look around when you’ve realised he’s parked, it’s a house that’s unfamiliar to you. “We’re at your house?” You assume, stepping out the car once he’s opened the door for you, hand finding yours once again.

He nods. “Yeah I left my wallet.”

You stop for a second and look up at the house, eyes narrowing when you realise you can see light through the windows, he explains that he has roommates, people you haven’t met before. Some sound familiar, some don’t. Jaemin, Donghyuck, Renjun.

“Come.” He smiles, arms outstretched when he sees hesitation in your walk and face.

Just as you’re about to walk in, you feel unsettled and confused, you look at each other and you’re surprised to see that he’s just as confused as you are. Was this a frat house? That was the only solid explanation you could think of at the moment because why was it so loud? You hear excruciating loud music from outside, the sensation making you wince and cover your ears, this truly sounded like the worst music you’ve ever heard. You see beer bottles scattered outside and you jump when the front door opens and drunken people come in and out the house, some staring at you, some are too wasted to even notice you but they all acknowledge Jeno, it overwhelms you just how many people recognise and greet him, was he that well known and popular?

“What day is it?”

You raise your eyebrows, confused as to why he doesn’t know. “It’s Sunday.”

He curses immediately, gritting his teeth, his features arranging into pure frustration. “I’m supposed to be hosting this party, I’ve completely forgotten.” He raised his voice over the crowd of people, merely giving him the bare minimum greeting when they shout his name. He's more concerned about maneuvering through the crowd, hand in hand, trying to get to a quiet room which seemed impossible due to the sheer volume of people partying.

You throb with an overwhelming intensity. The room is buzzing with a cacophony of laughter, music, and clinking glasses that engulfs the crowded space. The pulsating bass shakes the floor as bodies move in a chaotic dance, lost in the rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, mingling with the pungent aroma of various substances. In every corner, couples share passionately making out, their connection heightened by the vibrant atmosphere. Drunken people stumble through the crowd, their laughter blending with the ambient noise. It's a sensory overload of sights and sounds, it takes a toll on you going from such a quiet and intimate place with Jeno to this complete extreme, an intoxicating atmosphere.

As you and Jeno intertwine your fingers and walk through the crowd, a ripple of hushed whispers and lingering gazes follow you. Your connection becomes a focal point, drawing a spectrum of reactions from the surrounding onlookers. Some shoot judgmental glares, their eyes carrying a hint of intimidation and it’s aimed at you, Meanwhile, others wear expressions of genuine confusion and intrigued interest, as if trying to decipher an unexpected puzzle.

The weight of attention becomes suffocating, and your thoughts spiral with self-consciousness. You second guess every move, hyper-aware of the disapproving looks and the prying eyes. The once vibrant atmosphere of the party morphs into a claustrophobic maze, trapping you in a cycle of anxious thoughts. Jeno squeezes your hand reassuringly, but the external pressures persist, triggering a sense of vulnerability.

"Jeno, everyone is staring," you whisper under your breath, unsure if he can even hear. His response is a subtle tightening of his grip on you, silently manoeuvring you in front of him. His hands then find the sides of your face, his captivating eyes drawing you in, offering an inviting refuge that makes you forget the penetrating stares.

Your heart rate steadies as he leans in, connecting his lips to yours in a surprising move. You're taken aback, wondering how he remains unfazed by the judgmental looks. It's as if he's accustomed to the attention, his confidence astonishing you. You yearn to emulate his ability to brush off the scrutiny, but the weight of judgement lingers, a stark contrast to his composed demeanour

Feeling the tension in the air, Jeno senses your unease. Without a word, he slips off his leather jacket, the scent of familiarity enveloping you as it drapes over your shoulders. The jacket, infused with his comforting essence, serves as a shield against the prying eyes and judgement.

As you pull the jacket close, the soft leather and his distinct scent create a cocoon of security. The tactile reminder of his presence eases the nervous knot in your stomach. In that shared moment under the jacket's reassuring weight, the party's chaos fades into the background, replaced by a quiet sanctuary that Jeno, with his thoughtful gesture, has crafted just for you.

“How do you forget that you’re supposed to be hosting a party?” You question, breathing a sigh of relief when he’s finally found a vacant room, closing the door behind you and immediately pressing you against the wall, content on just holding you close to him.

“I told you, I’ve only been thinking about you. You fuck me up so much.” Jeno confesses, his voice laden with desperation and a hint of a low moan. It’s a confession painted with a mix of desire and torment.

“Jeno.” You sigh, voice laden with the same desperation and hint of low moan. Your breath catches at Jeno's intense confession, his words hanging in the air like a charged current. The vulnerability in his voice resonates with you, and a swirl of emotions envelops your senses. A mixture of surprise, desire, and a tinge of uncertainty dances in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

His expression swiftly shifts to one of apology, that beloved grin fading as he peppers your face with spongy and delicate kisses. "I’m so sorry," he whispers against your skin, his words leaving you with a sense of uncertainty and questioning.

“I can’t leave.” His tone is fixed and set and it leaves you silent, a frown on your lips as he explains himself. “I have a responsibility. Even though I completely forgot that I’m throwing this party, I’m still the host. if something happens under my roof, under my party. I just – I can’t have that.”

“What could go wrong?”

He truly can’t believe you’re asking that, he widens his eyes in surprise. “So much. It’s mainly the concern of dodgy people selling drugs and fights. I need to monitor it.”

You rarely get angry and even though you’re not, you feel the first sign of it. “It’s not your responsibility. Why do you always throw parties?”

“To give people a good time and it’s for me as well, I love getting high and partying.”

The judgement in your tone is faint but you can’t help it. “Are you sure it gives you a good time? You know you need to put yourself first. You could just… I don’t know… go to the cinema or go to the pub for a wind down. Does it always have to be clubbing, drinking, alcohol and drugs?”

You can’t even tell if your words had any effect on him as he simply doesn’t react. It’s like he’s ignored everything that you’ve said. He’s quick to change the subject. “Please can you stay? I’ll get an uber for you if you can’t but it will feel really pointless if I can’t be with you after all this.”

You purse your lips and contemplate. “ This isn’t really my scene.”

“I’ll be with you the whole night.”

You’re silent, contemplating, making a list of pros and cons in your head. You know that if it takes you this long to decide something then you should probably just go against it but it’s the way he’s looking at you which is making you consider staying. He’s totally checking you out. Eyes lingering on you with an intensity. His eyes trace the curve of your shoulders, gaze holding a certain hunger, lingering on the subtle contours of your figure, appreciating the sensuality in every curve. It's a magnetic stare, filled not just with desire but also a deep, sultry fascination, as if savouring the allure of someone already known but continually unveiling new layers.

"Do you feel good? Do you feel sexy?" He breathes into your ear, a seductive murmur that elicits a whimper. He's a master at this game, a menace, knowing exactly how to coax a "yes" from your lips.

“I do.”

“It will be a shame if you don’t stay.” He peers deep into your eyes, his gaze pleading, and his lips forming a pout.

“Why?”

“You’re someone who deserves to be shown off,” he confesses, taking your hand above your head and spinning you around. He whistles at the sight of you. “I wanna show everyone what and who they’re missing out on.”

“You look so fucking good.”

At this moment you think about your ex. You wanted to be more outgoing for him, it’s not that you wanted to change who you were, you just wanted to be more adaptable and better at adapting to surroundings and atmospheres you’re unfamiliar with but you failed to do so for him, your own insecurities and lack of self confidence led to the ultimate break up.

You don’t want the same to happen, you want to be a better version of yourself. Maybe you’ll have a good time, who knows?

You nod and he smiles. “Thank you, baby.”

“I’m not gonna drink though. I know that’s gonna be like avoiding the plague in a setting like this but I don’t want to even go near alcohol. I don’t know how your parties work but if someone tries to give me a drink or even sell to me I’m gonna be so uncomfortable.”

He tightens his grip on your hand, if even possible. “I’ll be with you, don’t worry.”

“Maybe I’ll have one drink if my favourite wine is here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You drink?”

"I don’t mind a glass every now and then; I just don’t like intense drinking; it gives me a headache," you say, pouting slightly. He can't help but find you incredibly cute, yet the paradox of your differences intrigues him. You, the last girl he imagined falling for, bring a delicious thrill down his spine. The contrast in your preferences and personalities adds a layer of excitement, making every moment with you an unpredictable journey he's more than willing to explore.

He speaks as he opens the door, leading you out of the confined room. “What’s your favourite drink?”

“I like a glass of Moscato here and there.” You smile, you’d love it right now. Its delicate notes of peach and orange blossom provide a pleasant, easy-going flavor that suits your taste preferences. This choice allows for you to have an occasional, milder indulgence without the heaviness often associated with other wines.

“Just keep by my side, ignore everyone else.” He sweetly smiles.

As you exit the confined room, You feel a newfound assurance coursing through you. With Jeno by her side, a steady and comforting presence, you navigate through the vibrant chaos of the party with a relaxed demeanour. The pulsating music and lively chatter now serve as a backdrop to your shared world. You don’t know how long it will last.

Jeno, true to his promise, remains a constant support, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back, a subtle reassurance that empowers you. As you step back into the lively atmosphere, Your gaze meets the curious and judgmental stares with newfound confidence. The weight of scrutiny dissipates, replaced by a sense of self-assurance, as you and Jeno seamlessly blend into the rhythm of the party, ready to enjoy the night together.

Moments later, Jeno gives you a cup, a knowing and prideful glint in his eyes as he does so, you eye it with confusion and wonder if he understood any of what you said to him but when he tells you to just trust him, you can’t fight with that.

As you take a sip, the liquid cascades down your throat, awakening a familiar sensation that extends beyond the taste buds. Moscato. The rich warmth of the beverage creates a parallel with the comfort you feel in Jeno's presence. It's not just the drink; it's the uncanny similarity between the smooth, familiar taste and the ease you experience with him.

“You’re unbelievable.” You mutter. In this moment, as you feel the warmth of the alcohol and his attentive gesture, your trust in Jeno deepens, a subtle fire of desire kindling within you. No one has ever made her feel so seen and appreciated, and the subtle undercurrent of attraction you feel for him heightens with each sip and lingering gaze.

“Try it.” You offer it to him, wide eyed with excitement as you hand him the same cup you drink from.

He has the smallest sip you’ve ever seen, giving you the fakest smile, you bite your tongue to hold back the laughter. “Mmmmhh.” He says, the enthusiasm not sounding wholehearted.

“You hate it.” You laugh and he nods, pouring one of his favourite beverages into another cup, when he makes you drink a sip of his for good measure, you nearly gag.

“Do we have anything in common?”

He shakes his head but answers sweetly. “It doesn’t matter.”

As time unfolds, Jeno's attentive nature becomes a delightful revelation, driving you to appreciate his considerate gestures. A dedicated table adorned with your favourite wine showcases a level of thoughtfulness that doesn't go unnoticed. While you're not going overboard with the drinks, the comfort of having the choice makes the evening feel personalised.

His attention extends to the music, playing tunes that align with your preferences. The amusing looks of distaste he expresses to certain songs add a playful touch, making the atmosphere all the more enjoyable. To top it off, the order includes the food you love, a shared delight in the delicious sushi, creating a thrilling connection between you both. Jeno's attentiveness transforms the evening into a curated experience, and you find yourself revelling in the charm of these thoughtful nuances.

“Don’t touch that.” He warns the partygoer who has his hand outstretched, ready to eat the sushi.

“It’s ok.” You shake your head, amused at Jeno.

People are saying hi to him every second, he returns the greetings and your eyes widen every time at the mass volume of faces you see, they’re all unfamiliar, it makes you think that you truly do stick with your two friends and that’s it.

It’s attractive how he can have his attention on so much yet at the same time, he monitors the party well. He’s stopped a few fights from happening and has kicked out anyone he doesn’t want here. He’s had his eye on everything and it proves a success, nothing has gone wrong. You feel like his mere presence just prevents disaster.

As he’s focusing on other things, it still feels like his full attention is on you, he’s stayed right by your side like he promised. He’s even introduced you to a few of his friends, you like to think of it more as acquaintances, there’s no way someone can have that many friends.

He whispers sweet words in your ears every now and then, his soft voice comforting you and taking you away from this lively setting.

“Let’s dance, baby.”

He’s a natural and he’s so attractive it almost starts to hurt.

You’re captivated by him, his movements seamlessly syncing with the rhythm. There's an innate allure in the way he moves, a magnetic confidence that radiates from every step and sway. The play of lights accentuates the contours of his figure, highlighting the subtle strength in his dance. As he loses himself in the music, a certain intensity flickers in his eyes, adding an extra layer to his already enticing presence. Watching Jeno move becomes a tantalising experience, awakening a newfound appreciation for the magnetic and undeniably sexy allure he effortlessly emanates

“Just let loose, baby.”

You do just that.

In the intimate embrace of the dance, your bodies press flush against each other, a magnetic connection that defies the rhythm of the music. Jeno's lips find yours in a heated dance of their own, exploring with fervour. His hands trace the contours of your body, igniting sparks of desire with every touch. In this heated moment, the world dissolves, and his focus is solely on you. It's a dance where lips speak volumes, and the only audience that matters is the intoxicating connection shared between you two.

You feel happy. Your heart beats to a melody of sheer bliss, and a contagious smile graces your lips. You realise he doesn’t shy away from PDA, he’s very touchy. You know he’s held back for so long when the two of you were just friends but now that he has the green light that you like him too, it’s full on. You thought he had become 100% with you, little do you know he’s still holding back.

“Where were we gonna go?” You ask him, curious as to what the plan was before you unexpectedly came to his party.

“It was a reservation at that place you told me about.”

Your mouth opens wide, shocked that he managed to reserve it but also sorrowful that you couldn’t make it. You much rather be there with him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll book it for another day.” He promises.

✧ ✧ ✧

Later that night, you find yourself sitting on his lap, falling deeply into the solace in your room, the atmosphere shifting from the chaotic party to an intimate haven. Legs on either side of him, you comfortably straddle Jeno, who's clearly a bit wasted. His eyelids have doubled in size, and he exudes a more flamboyant and touchy demeanour.

It's a welcomed change from the loud festivities, just the two of you basking in the quietude of the room. Smiles exchanged between you carry the weight of shared moments, and eye smiles speak volumes in the silence. There's a comfortable simplicity in the lack of conversation; you find contentment in merely sitting together.

Jeno, under the influence, becomes even more touchy, his hands finding solace on your thighs. In this tranquil haven, his touches add a layer of warmth, creating a cocoon of intimacy where unspoken connections thrive. The night unfolds with a unique serenity, a delicate dance between smiles, touches, and the quiet companionship that transcends words.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your bottom lip slightly pouted with guilt as Jeno winces. Amidst the tender touches, you've also been tending to his wounds. Despite Jeno's insistence on preventing fights at his parties, he made an exception this time. The guy had crossed a line, taking upskirt photos and making several girls uncomfortable. Jeno, unable to tolerate such behavior, took matters into his own hands, resulting in his current state.

As you carefully dab sanitized cotton pads on his wounds, placing plasters where needed, a quiet understanding passes between you two. Jeno's soft eyes meet yours, and in that moment, the silent acknowledgment of the unwavering bond you share transcends the chaos of the night.

Jeno is a mixture of emotions, pain and pleasure, he’s huffing and puffing. It all comes to a halt when you lean forward with an endearing tenderness, kissing the spots where he is hurt. Your lips, soft and gentle, leave a trail of comfort over each injury, a healing touch that goes beyond the physical.

Jeno, despite the pain, finds himself captivated by your sweetness. Your cute and gentle demeanor sparks a warmth within him, and a subtle smile plays on his lips. The intimacy of the moment transcends the physical, creating a connection that's as soothing as it is alluring. In this exchange, the boundary between care and desire blurs, leaving you immersed in a shared space.

You’ve never seen him as needy as he is right now.

“You don’t regret tonight, do you?” His voice sounds lower and deeper.

You think about how much went off track tonight but the unpredictability was a welcome surprise for you, you felt settled and secure. “I don’t.”

“You’re such a good girl.” He says, voice filled with adoration, words whispered in a low moan.

As the night breathes tranquility into the room, Jeno's hands find their way to the zipper of your dress, mirroring the earlier gesture of care when he zipped you up. Now, in the quiet confines of your room, the air charged with a subtle intimacy, he gently unzips your dress. The delicate touch of his hands grazing your back sends a shiver down your spine, an unspoken promise lingering in the atmosphere.

In the soft glow of the room, Jeno's touches transition from practical to tender. At some point, his lips find the curve of your back, planting kisses that create a symphony of sensations. Each touch, each kiss, weaves a delicate narrative of a shared connection, an uncharted intimacy unfolding in the hushed moments of the night. The room becomes a haven where gestures speak louder than words, and the dance of hands and kisses paints a portrait of a connection that transcends the boundaries of the night.

“My. Good. Girl.” He says between kisses.

In the soft glow of the room, Jeno's passionate kisses ignite a fervor between you and him. Your dress remains unzipped, a subtle invitation that adds an electric charge to the moment. As you straddle him, a perceptible difference in his demeanour emerges — a heightened passion, electrified and intensified, likely due to being under the influence. Each touch a silent confession that speaks louder than words in the hushed ambiance of the room. He tastes like blueberries, you were sure it was the artificial flavour of the vape he had been smoking from all night,

You gently break the kiss, both of you left flustered and breathless, the air pulsating with a shared intensity that hangs between you. The unspoken energy lingers, leaving a charged silence that speaks volumes. This is a lot for you. Before you carry on, you want to know where you stand because you really fucking like him and you trust him, you’ve never imagined that you could be capable of having such strong feelings.

“Are you my boyfriend?”

He’s silent for a while and your heart nearly stops. You knew it. You fucking knew it. It was too good to be true.

Just as you were about to get the hell out of here, to recollect whatever you had left in you, he turns to you with the gentlest expression you’ve seen from him yet. It’s there, unmistakably, in the warmth of his eyes—a promise of trust and a sentiment you can fall for.

You’ve never wanted him more than you do in this moment, and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he utters it loud and clear, his voice a proclamation of emotions. “Yeah,” he says, smiling at your shy reaction, and in that moment, you can sense the honesty in his words.

He confesses with a joyful certainty, “I’m your boyfriend,” and the air becomes charged with a newfound sweetness. It’s a declaration that dances in your heart, and as the words settle. He’s never felt this feeling before. It’s a cute and wholesome moment, an admission that wraps around you both like a warm, comforting embrace.

Lost in the warmth of the moment, Jeno leans in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle yet deep kiss. The embrace is like sinking into a plush cushion, soft and enveloping. Lingering in the sweetness of the kiss, you both get lost in each other, the world outside fading away.

You break away before it gets heated, giggling when he grunts. “Ask me to be your girlfriend then.”

In the soft glow of the moment, you can't help but pout, a playful desire dancing in your eyes. It’s something you want to hear, a declaration that would make this moment even more special.

Seeing your yearning, he smiles, a beautifully genuine expression that holds the promise of something sweet. Unable to resist, he gives in to your request. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asks, the words carrying the weight of a shared journey yet to unfold.

With a joyous grin, you respond, "Yeah, I will," sealing the moment with the confirmation you longed for. The air becomes charged with a newfound sweetness, and without hesitation, you close the distance between you two, a kiss marking the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your story.

Your lips move with a tender intensity, exploring his as if they hold the secrets of the universe. It's a deep connection. In this moment, the world outside is just a distant echo, and the only reality is the lingering taste of the kiss and the profound sense of being lost in each other's lips.

✧ ✧ ✧

In the midst of your relationship with him, you learned that you were his first girlfriend. You were the first person he had fallen for. Sometimes it felt like you didn’t know what you were doing, relationships were hard work but together, you fumbled through the learning curve, discovering an effortless synergy that made everything click.

As the closeness between you deepened, trust became the foundation of your connection. Previously, the memory of maintaining a distance while brainstorming ideas for the project has transformed into a stark contrast. Now, most study sessions end with you perched on his lap, the desk serving as an impromptu space for shared moments and passionate make-out sessions.

Navigating the challenges of academics together, he's proven to be both needy and comforting. Whether engrossed in gaming or university work, your presence becomes a constant as you find your place on his lap, offering silent support as he tackles tasks. The boundaries between your personal and academic lives blur, but in the chaos, you discover a comfort that transcends the ordinary.

Your relationship remains discreet, known only to those closest to you both. The private nature of your connection shields it from unwanted attention. Despite the potential challenges of not flaunting your relationship on campus, you find solace in his ability to always find a way to be with you. His frequent presence at your house becomes a source of comfort, and the moments he's absent leave an unmistakable void.

Every interaction is amplified in this heightened state of intimacy – eye contact carries newfound depth, touches resonate with electric energy, smiles become contagious, and each make-out session becomes a magnetic force pulling you closer. In this world shared only between you and him, the ordinary transforms into extraordinary moments that you wouldn't trade for anything.

Amidst the intoxicating blend of newfound romance and shared moments, there was one significant aspect that set your relationship apart. Despite being together for three months, the physical intimacy you shared hadn't yet extended to the realm of sex. It wasn't a reluctance on his part, it was you who wasn’t ready. However, there was a mutual understanding that you needed more time before taking that step.

One evening, after another study session that left the desk abandoned for a more comfortable spot on the couch, you initiated a conversation that had been lingering in the background. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared moments, you asked, "Jeno, you're not mad at me that we haven't done it yet, are you?" His response was a gentle shake of the head, accompanied by a reassuring smile. "No, baby, I'm ready when you are." His lips meet yours while you secure your thighs around his sides.

The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, and as your eyes met, you exchanged a silent understanding. "I won't leave you waiting long," you promised, a declaration that sent a delicious thrill down his spine. In that moment, your connection deepened, anchored by patience, respect, and your unspoken promise.

✧ ✧ ✧

It’s Jeno’s birthday. You’ve been planning this day for a little while now, you woke him up with a kiss at midnight, wishing him a happy birthday which led into a heated makeout session. Then when the sun rose, you made him breakfast, his favourite, pancakes and fruit.

He’s currently at his house to see his friends and family, he’s been gone for a few hours and promised you he’d come back for you soon. you’ve meticulously prepared your home for his return. The bedroom is adorned with candles, rose petals and low music creating an intimate ambiance, setting the stage for the surprise you’ve been eagerly anticipating.

You had all his presents in a designated area but the main present was what you were willing to give him, what you were finally ready for. Sunwoo had suggested that you go lingerie shopping.

Sunwoo was someone in your psychology class, you had become friends with him relatively quickly. He reminded you of Jeno, sweet but with a darker side, that’s probably why you got along with him so well. You found yourself conversing with him the most during your classes, opening up about your life, your relationship. Surprisingly, he knew the most about you and Jeno, as a fellow psychology student he was able to give you good advice and lead you towards acting with more emotional intelligence. He gave you a lot of tips for your first time, that explains why you were here, lingerie shopping.

You tried on piece after piece, your eyes lighting at how good they made you feel and look. You couldn’t believe how they accentuate your curves and cleavage, you looked hot and you were sure Jeno would think so too.

And now, you’re adorned in a captivating piece with a silk robe, your excitement palpable. Jeno has texted you that he’s 5 minutes away, nerves and giddiness take over. You’ve invested time in perfecting your makeup and hair, hoping he notices the effort.

“Hey.” You open the door to him, you’re already blushing. Your arms are around him as soon as he enters your house.

“Hey, you look beautiful.” He whispers into your ear kissing your lips briefly. He lets go to hand you over a bouquet of vibrant flowers. The colours seemed to mirror the warmth in his eyes as he extended the bouquet towards you, a silent gesture that spoke volumes of his affection.

“For you.” His gentle smile warms you, or was it his soft lips that he pressed against your cheek?

You thank him with gratitude. “It’s your birthday though.”

“I’m thankful for you.” You sigh, looking at the man who well and truly owns your heart. “It will look good in that vase by the window in my room. Speaking of my room, come with me.” You hand out stretches for him and he takes it then let’s go, you shoot him a confused glance until he suddenly lifts you up. you squel, legs around his waist as he leads you up the stairs and to your room, a journey that he knows too well.

As you enter your room, he gently places you down, his eyes instantly igniting with desire at the sight of you. A breathtaking smile graces his face, a mix of gratitude and admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you, my love," he murmurs, hand covering his heart, and his gaze overflowing with warmth as it locks onto yours.

"You like it?" you inquire, and a subtle nod is accompanied by a tender embrace, his arms enveloping you securely. He pulls you close, resting his head against your shoulder, an intimate moment filled with unspoken emotions. "I have more gifts for you later, but for now, there's one special gift I want to share."

His anticipation heightens as you guide him to sit on the bed. You notice his eyes deepening with desire, a subtle gulp betraying his eagerness. As you approach, a confident smile plays on your lips. Standing in front of him, you take the lead, revealing the silk robe's buttons.

His breath quickens, a heavy exhale escaping in a mix of impatience and desire. There's a primal urgency in the way he reacts, a husky moan escaping as he practically tears the buttons away, surprising you with his raw intensity, far from the delicate touch you anticipated.

You look him in the eye as you lead his hands to the buttons on your bathrobe, he becomes speechless as he rips the buttons off.

You embody a confidence that is alluring. The lingerie is elegant and sensual, a beautiful mix of silk and lace. The bra is a deep red with gold trimming, while the corset is made from a thin layer of silk with a layer of lace over the top. The panties are cut low on the hips, with a thin lace trim on the edge. The whole look is very feminine and sensual, making you feel like a goddess.

“Y/N…” He moans loudly, fingertips burning into your sides as his eyes roam over you, taking in every inch of your gorgeous and seductive body. “You planned this for me?” Jeno’s voice is a low growl, fingers fumbling with the buttons on your robe, eager to unwrap the gift you’ve prepared.

Your curves are perfect, like a goddess. Your skin is smooth and silky under the moonlight, the lace around your hips draws his attention first, eyes wavering as he doesn’t know where to look. You embody confidence, a goddess in the sultry lingerie — deep red silk with gold trim, a perfect blend of elegance and sensuality. The corset, a delicate layer of silk overlaid with lace, accentuates your curves. His moans echo your allure, fingers burning into your sides as his hungry gaze roams over your captivating figure

The red silk of your bra isn’t covering anything, it’s so see through and he can see your hard nipples peeking through the gold trimming, his mouth watering as he wants to wrap his tongue around the bud of skin, he wants to be sucking your nipples. Everything about you is perfect, from your smooth skin to your slender frame.

“F-Fuck, baby,” he grunts, strong hands, his arm veins bulging out as he’s tugging at the lingerie, unable to contain his impatience. “Need this off. Need to see you.” He says with an impatient growl, the material ripping off and breaking in one swift movement as he palms his erection, hands moving underneath his boxers as you can hear how wet he is

Pouting, you protest, “Jeno, I got this for you. It’s special.”

“I don’t care, baby. I’ll buy you more. Need to feel you,” he replies. You’re left standing bare, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed beauty. You don’t shy away from his heated gaze, looking you up and down with such fervent and impatience in his expression.

He lets out the loudest moan, eyes lingering on your boobs and your pussy, mouth watering and breath hitched in his throat. “Fuck baby, You’re all mine.” He whispers into your ear, bringing you down onto the bed and then turning the two of you around so you were under him. He palms his clothed erection, leaning down to rub it against your outer core, dry humping but only you were naked. “Do you see how hard you make me? Fuck, you turn me on so much.”

Curiosity takes your hands under his boxers, exploring his length. A soft whimper escapes as you realize the sheer size. Desperate to feel him, your hands glide along, expressing the longing within. “I’ve dreamt of you inside me for so long,” you confess, your voice filled with anticipation.

Locking your gaze in place, he cradles your head, maintaining the connection. His lips explore your breasts with tender kisses, leaving a trail of wetness and red marks. “You’re everything,” you murmur, hands embracing his cock, tracing its length. “I’ve yearned for this.”

You gasp out his name when his lips pepper around your nipple, moving with a delicious ferver, kissing and sucking with equal measure, his tongue darting out to soothe any spot where he's been too rough. He releases your nipple with a loud pop, his loud moan making your pussy acne. His lips move to your interboob, peppering wet kisses along the skin, his trail leaving wetness and red marks.

He locks your head in one place, forcing you to keep your gaze focused on him. “Tell me, how badly do you want me?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, moaning loudly, breathing frantically. You don’t want to mask yourself, you move your finger inside your clit, dragging it in one swift motion to reveal how wet you are. This action undeniably turns him on, what fucks him up even more is when you brazenly place your digit into his mouth, your unspoken words to demonstrate how wet you are. The taste of you sends a refreshing chill through his taste buds, as your icy sweetness gradually melts and coats his tongue.

“You need to use your words.” He breathes out heavily, ironically he’s struggling to balance breathing and speaking.

You cup his cheeks and hold him close, gently kissing him, your eyes soft and inviting, the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen and it’s driving him crazy, he wants to ruin you yet you’re still acting so fucking cute.

“I want you so fucking bad. I want you to eat my cunt and then fuck my cunt, Jeno, please, baby.”

You feel his hot breath on your face, dark eyes as he comes to whisper against your ear. “So wet and horny for me already, this is better than what I’ve imagined. Look at what a dirty little whore you are for me, so wet for me, begging for me to fuck your cunt.”

You hear a dark chuckle beside your ear and then you’re flipped around, you’re on top of him, you nearly got whiplash from how quickly he grabbed your hips and switched your positions.

“Come and sit on my face.” He commands, a tone that you don’t want to cross with. You’re so turned on, pussy throbbing for him that you forget to move. “Right now.”

“That’s it, baby.” He mumbles against your skin, gripping the meat on your thighs, hands gripping your bare ass to pull you down until you’ve securely framed his face. He can’t help but spank you before delving into your cunt.

His tongue delves into you without warning, your clit throbbing for him. He eats like a man starved, tongue delving into all the right places, eliciting a moan from you. Your thighs shake around his head as he tongue fucks uou at a more accelerated pace, the wetness of your pussy meeting his tongue. He devours all the juices with a groan.

“So fucking tight for me, pretty girl.” He grunts against you, a smooching sound and he kisses your cunt over and over again. “I love how you taste, such a good fucking girl.” He’s filled with praises today.

He makes room for three digits, an act that perplexes you because your cunt seemed so small and his fingers were so long. Your hands squeeze against his roots as he fingers you, his metal rings creating a coldness as he caresses your folds, an upward motion that makes you scream his name.

He tuts at what a dirty girl you’re being when you keep pushing down, your core pressing down so hardly on his nose but you’re so desperate for more, you’re on the verge of becoming undone on his tongue and fingers. Tears prick your eyes, you’re overstimulated at this point, whining and pleading with your eyes but it’s not enough.

“I’m not gonna let you cum yet.”

You cry out. “Why not?”

He doesn’t answer but you know why, it’s because he’s not done.

So you start begging and pleading, you tell him what he wants to hear, pulling at his strings how you know best. “You’re the owner of me.” You smile, thrusting against him as your grip on his hair tightens. “My cunt is all yours.”

He’s silent for a moment, then you feel the sides of his lips curve upwards against you. “All mine.” He whispers, leaving a spongy and chaste kiss against your clit. “I own you cunt.” His tongue laps at a faster rate, it only takes a few seconds for your high to come.

“Cum in me, baby.” You’re shaking above him and screaming out his name, the hot liquid pours into his mouth at once, he savours every last drop, the taste of you sending a delicious thrill down his spine.

As soon as you’ve wind down from your orgasm, you let out a whimper, looking at him with a frustrated pout, tugging on his hair once again. “Fuck me. Now.” He smiles at you, looking you deep in the eyes to capture the moment. He’s frozen in time, you lie there, a captivating beauty that demands attention. Your beauty unfolds gracefully, a canvas of anticipation. Patience graces your demeanour, a cute smile playing on your lips. Eyes wide with eagerness, each breath carries a weight of intensity. Messy hair adds a touch of chaos to the scene, a testament to passion's fervor. Love bites adorn your neck, eyeliner trailing down your face, mascara smudged and lipstick kissed away. Your swollen lips speak volumes. In this enchanting moment, he utters, "So fucking beautiful," and you become entirely his.

“I could just cum looking at you. Fuck baby don’t make me cum yet, it’s all about you.”

You pout. “It’s your birthday.”

He kisses your cheek softly. “It’s all about you.”

He curses suddenly and it draws your surprise, he looks at you with apology, disappointment thick in his eyes. “I forgot to bring protection, what the fuck is wrong with me? It’s the one important –”

You cut him off, a smile playing on your lips as you guide him to your entrance. “I started the pill a month ago.” You have been planning this day. He moans, a mix of being turned on and having adoration for you filling his desires. “You’re so good to me. You’re all mine.” He breathes heavily, lips closing onto yours as he enters you with a big grunt.

The second the sensation hits you, you cry out his name. “Fuck! You’re so fucking big.” You grip onto his forearms, head hitting the pillow as you look down to see where you’re connected, breath moving with anxiety when you realise his tip has only entered you.

“It won’t fit.” You cry out, covering your face with your hands. You navigate a mix of sensations, discomfort and pleasure. Jeno coos in your ear, easing you into him, expertly stretching you out, the discomfort slowly transforms into a growing sensation of pleasure.

“Yes it will.” His words convey the shared ecstasy of the moment, kissing your face softly and whispering praise upon praise as you ease into him, your tense body starting to relax and melt into his. “You’re such a good girl for me, taking me so well.” The connection between you intensifies with each rhythmic motion.

Your boyfriends deep voice echoes, he’s calling you all sorts, his good girl, his baby girl, he’s filled with praises but you're lost in a distant reverie, enveloped in the euphoria of his rhythmic movements, his cock sliding against your walls and reaching a realm so deep. Each thrust brings forth sharp gasps, the intimate connection intensifying as he explores deeper realms of pleasure. The sensation, a culmination of his every movement, is undeniably gratifying, leaving you immersed in the exquisite pleasure of the moment.

“You’re taking me so fucking well.”

Jeno admires the scene, picking up the pace with a faster rhythm, thrusting out just to keep slamming into you. Your toes curl in pleasure, your flushed face and agape mouth reflecting the intensity of the moment. Moans escape your mouth as desire takes over, your eyes glazed with lust, looking down as his hands cup your breasts, each thrust accentuates the pleasure, causing your tits to bounce with abandon.

Intense and breathless, he expresses his overwhelming pleasure with a raw exclamation. responding with short gasps to each thrust. Skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths, his low moans, your calling out of his name and the rhythm of his intense thrusts fill the room, creating a charged atmosphere.

Adjusting your position, he lifts your hips and throws one of your legs over his shoulder, his cock delving into you even deeper. The exquisite sensation elicits a visceral response, your nails finding purchase in the skin of his forearms as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

You’re quite simply cock drunk. “You’re gonna break my bed.” You scream, the squeaking becoming a constant. He hugs your g-spot over and over, hips moving at speed as you scream his name, back arching and toes curling, making it clear that he's the sole master of your ecstasy in that moment.

You find him utterly breathtaking like this, eyes filled with lust, his muscular scent, sweet sticking to his forehead, his radiant face under the moonlight. His beauty remains undeniable. “You’re mine, only mine,” You declare, this time it’s you solidifying the possessive connection in the midst of the intimate encounter.

“That’s right.” He smirks with satisfaction.

The knot tightens in your stomach and your mind succumbs to a blissful haze. You wrap your legs around his waist and he fucks you in this new position, deeper and harder.

“Jeno, fuck! I’m gonna cum!” you cry out. Hands gripping the sides of his face, smiling as you close the distance, symbolising your connection in a shared kiss.

“Me too, baby, me too.” His eyes rolling to the back of his head, hands roaming your body as his grunts and moans elevate,

“Cum in me.” You let out a small whisper, a heavy sigh of desperation as your pussy feels numb, you see stars behind your eyelids as he coos in your ear. Caught in a post-orgasmic daze, you sense Jeno’s movements slowing, his groans low and primal. As he releases inside you, the intimate connection lingers in the hushed aftermath.

Exhausted but determined, you summon every ounce of strength, gripping onto his shoulders and managing to turn him around. Despite the weariness, you take charge, your wearied efforts transforming into a newfound control as you settle on top of him.

Fatigued but fueled by desire, you climb back onto his cock. The fusion of weariness and desire manifests in every deliberate movement, creating an enticing dance as you reclaim the intimate connection. Guided by a languid rhythm, you move up and down, your movements acquiring a delightful sloppiness and an unbridled sensuality.

“Oh?” He questions, playful and surprised tone as he raises an eyebrow. Despite the confusion, a smirk plays on his lips as he gazes up at you. His eyes, filled with affection, he doesn't question your actions, yielding to your lead as you continue to ride him.

“You gonna ride me baby? Gonna take the lead?” He questions as you straddle him with a sensual grace, your movements creating a mesmerizing rhythm. Each rise and fall is a languid dance, your body moving with a delightful combination of passion and fatigue. The connection between you intensifies, the room filled with the subtle sounds of your shared pleasure. As you ride him, his appreciative gaze reflects both desire and affection, forming a silent but profound connection between your entwined bodies.

While you’re on top, he still has to make it clear that he’s taking the lead, a playful smirk on his lips, as one of his hands guides your movements, orchestrating the rise and fall of your body. The other hand, however, held a more commanding role, wrapping around your throat with a controlled intensity, you struggled for breath and it made you dizzy, your rise and fall on his cock becoming sloppier.

“Dirty slut is so eager to ride my cock but now you’re getting tired?” He hisses, tutting as he shakes his head.

You shook your head, breathing in deep as you put all of your strength into moving up and down his cock, the synchronisation of your bodies became a sensual performance, each deliberate motion met with a reaction that heightened the intimacy. His touch was both guiding and possessive, the mix of sensations sending shivers down your spine. The room echoed with the rhythmic sounds of your shared desire, creating a symphony that underscored the unconventional celebration.

Eventually, as the intensity peaked, he encouraged your surrender. You collapsed onto him, limbs entwined, the air heavy with the scent of passion. His firm hold remained, a subtle assertion of dominance even in the aftermath. Exhausted yet content, you found solace in each other's embrace. Drifting into sleep, the room remained cloaked in the warmth of the shared celebration, a birthday memory unlike any other.

In the tender aftermath, Jeno swiftly leans down to share another kiss, lips melding seamlessly. His touch, now gentle, explores your hair, while your hands cradle his face. Traces of each other linger on your bodies, leaving indelible imprints. The nature of your connection might be uncertain, but a serene tranquillity fills the air as he gazes into your eyes, a gentle smile gracing his face, he utters, "You're so beautiful."

You end up falling asleep in Jeno's warm embrace, limbs tangled with limbs, heart beating as one. Amidst his calming snores, you find a happiness that had eluded you for a long time.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your relationship with Jeno, to simply put it, had developed into something beyond your wildest dream. It had evolved into a cascade of passion, sensuality, and profound love. The intimacy between you two deepened, finding solace in each other's embrace more frequently than ever. However, Jeno's imperfection lies in impatience and an insatiable addiction.

He's hooked on you, craving the essence of your being — your body, the echoes of his name in ecstasy, the taste of your release, the feel of your lips, the warmth of your intimate connection. In a fervent repetition, he murmurs "mine, mine, mine" against your skin, solidifying the possessive claim he's staked over you.

His impatience surfaces as an ever-present yearning. When you're not around, he misses you deeply, and the count of unannounced visits to your door is immeasurable. His unconventional greetings involve sealing his lips against yours, a silent declaration of his longing that often echoes through the early morning hours, punctuated by the sound of your shared passion.

You're equally sucked in the allure of addiction, captivated by Jeno, the enigma you've grown to adore. The depth of your connection extends beyond the fiery passions to the tender embrace of his arms wrapping around you, you feel endless warmth and security. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head becomes a lullaby, soothing you into a serene state. In the quiet moments, tangled in each other's limbs, you find solace and an escape from the chaos of the world. Waking up to the tender gaze of his soft eyes and the warmth of his gentle smile has become the cherished highlight of your days.

You’ve become undone by his cock or his tongue in an array of intoxicating positions and locations. In the heat of his car, vacant rooms on campus or when you both escaped to a secluded retreat for three nights, the allure of each moment intensifies. You spent the entirety under sheets, the steamy rhythm of the shower, against walls, upon the floor, and against your desk— every corner of your house has been a canvas for your desires.

His touch, both restrained and blindfolded, adds a layer of mystery and anticipation, creating an irresistible blend of pleasure and surrender. Your lingerie, once delicately clinging to your curves, now bears the marks of his primal hunger, a testament to the wild intensity that defines your connection. The diversity of these encounters paints a vivid picture of your love, leaving an unmistakable imprint on every surface and scrap of fabric shared between you. Each escapade is a symphony of passion, a daring exploration of desire that keeps the flame burning bright in the intimate spaces you've claimed together.

You always find yourself restrained, blindfolded, there hasn’t been a piece of lingerie that hasn’t ripped from your body.

He can be soft too.

The overwhelming sensations he feels for you, the flutters and heavy beating of his heart. The sex between you and Jeno very rarely, but more often than he expected, takes on a soft and sweet rhythm. It’s a realm of vulnerability and tenderness, a side of him unexplored and new, venturing into the realms of vanilla passion.

After dates, he brings you home, his sanctuary, where the air is infused with affection and the scent of shared moments. His lips on every inch of your skin, an exploration of your body. His touches echo with reverence, each inch of your skin becoming a canvas for his affection. The air is filled with soft whispers, intimate and strong eye contact, soft smiles and the gentle hums of each other's names, a private serenade that only the two of you share.

In a surprising deviation from the usual, he doesn’t hastily rip away your lingerie but takes a moment to appreciate the delicate lace and silk adorning you. It becomes an act of love, a departure from the fervour, as he makes love to you whilst you’re adorned in the sensual lace.

Soft smiles exchange like secret promises, and amidst it all, his words echo softly, “my pretty girl,” encapsulating the beauty of the shared connection that transcends the raw passion to unveil a softer, more intimate love.

You've seamlessly integrated into Jeno's life, becoming a constant presence at his house, something that used to scare you but now the boundaries between you and his friends blur. They’re always walking into you and Jeno fucking, you have this acceptance that they have seen you naked.

The unexpected intrusions are sometimes awkward but you’ve learned that your boyfriend secretly loves it, it turns him on. He embraces the fact that they've witnessed you in intimate positions.

There was one memorable evening when Jeno was meant to be preparing dinner for his roommates, Jaemin, Hyuck, and Renjun. However, the evening took an unexpected turn when he found himself utterly distracted by you. What was supposed to be a casual dinner preparation morphed into a passionate encounter, you pushed against the countertop as he fucked into you, the sounds of your pleasure echoing through the walls. Your loud moans carried through the air, and to your surprise, his roommates walked in, initially thinking there was an emergency.

It was a comical yet slightly embarrassing moment, but the incident didn't deter your unabashed enjoyment. You've reached a point where you no longer attempt to stifle your sounds of pleasure, accepting the quirks and unexpected interruptions that come with being an integral part of Jeno's life.

✧ ✧ ✧

While there’s highs in your relationship, there’s undeniable lows. While the passion has increased to another level, so has the arguing.

You remember one time, you were supposed to meet him outside a cinema, he promised to take you out that night, one of your many dates but he never showed up. Instead, he was partying. He spoke to you on the phone, voice filled with apology as he pleaded for you to understand, he quite simply couldn’t get out, it was one of the parties that he attended, it blew out of control.

“I’m sorry baby, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You heard his apologetic voice, loud music and screams of partygoers in the background.

You’re too frustrated to respond. You hang up the phone with no further words.

You had it planned out in your head, you was gonna give him the intense silent treatment, ignore all his texts and calls, ignore when he rings the bell and most importantly, hold back on kissing or fucking him. Yet here you are at an unreasonable hour, in the front seat of his car, your usual passenger princess role that you had become so accustomed to.

“Y/N.” He gives you a warning, voices a low lull, he wasn’t even looking at you, he stares out the window, gaze distant, refusing to start the car until you gave in to what he wanted.

He knows you’re angry at him. His response to it is what sets you off even more, he’s not said sorry once for standing you up. That’s why you’re acting the way you are, refusing to meet his eyes, dodging his lips when he greeted you, pushing him away when he tried to hug you.

That’s why your hands stay nestled in your lap, you don’t want his contact but eventually you need to give in. Your boyfriend, being the most stubborn person you know, would not start the car until you held his hand, he doesn’t tell you that it’s the reason he’s staying still, jaw locked as he looks out the window but his warning as he called out your name and his outstretched hand is enough to make you sigh in defeat, giving in and taking his hand in yours. He always does this. He drives with one hand if it means that he can hold your hand and touch your thigh with the other.

The second his hand tightened around yours, you feel guilty at how his touch instantly electrified you, sending warm chills down your body. You missed him so much. He finally starts the car, turning to you with that smile you love so much, one that pulls at your heartstring.

As he held your hand with his vacant one, kissing your palm softly.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s apologised to you but you take nothing from it.

He sighs, realising that you’re giving him the silent treatment but he still continues his praises and sweet talking to you. “You look so pretty, you don’t think I’ve noticed? I’ll make it all up to you, I promise.”

You gulp, biting your tongue to hold back from breaking down in front of him. It’s true. You’re so dolled up, you spent so long getting ready, smiling once you saw the finished result, the prettiest full face of makeup and one of the dresses Jeno had gifted you, all for the self confidence to come crashing down when he never showed up.

“Aren’t you even gonna ask me why I couldn’t come?” He questions, opening the passenger door for you, hand outstretched to which you ignore.

You cross your arms against your chest. “I don’t care.”

He sighs. “Are you gonna let me stay the night?” He questions, leaning against the car door, eyes searching yours for a hint of forgiveness. The silence between you is heavy, tension palpable in the air.

Finally, you break the silence with a reluctant nod. He smiles, a mixture of relief and gratitude, and you find yourself softening despite your initial resolve.

There was two reasons why you said yes. You did miss him, you’ve become accustomed to falling asleep in his arms and you need him now more than other and the second reason was a bit selfish.

Jeno’s smile fades as he takes in the room with awe, the flickering candles casting shadows that dance across his face. Rose petals are scattered, creating a delicate pathway that seems to lead to a deep well of guilt within him.

“We would be having sex right now, we’d probably be having it all night long but instead you went partying and stood me up.”

His expression shifts, and you sense his internal conflict as he searches for words. “I’m sorry,” he finally utters, the words heavy with sincerity. “Please let me show you how sorry I am. I’ll take you on the best dates for seven nights straight.”

Jeno steps closer, a subtle seduction in his eyes. “Let me try to make it up to you,” he whispers, his voice filled with desperation.

But you stand firm, resisting his advances. “You went partying and stood me up,” you say, frustration coloring your tone. “I’m even wearing something really sexy under this, but it’s your fault that you won’t see it.”

Instinctively, his arms wrap around your waist, he gets whiplash from how fast you jerk away from his touch. His face reflects shock, realizing the consequences of his actions. “You’re not touching me tonight,” you declare, a line drawn in the emotional sand.

Jeno, not used to you rejecting his touch, looks bewildered. “We’re two mature adults,” you continue, your voice firm. “Talk to me about your emotions. I don’t think you’ve ever truly opened up to me.”

"I stayed at the party because of Jaemin, alright? His girlfriend had just dumped him, and he was spiraling out of control. I couldn't leave him alone—I was genuinely worried. You know how he gets, especially with hard drugs in the mix. My instincts were right; without me there, it could've turned into a disaster. He's my best friend, and I have a responsibility to look out for him. I'm truly sorry if my actions hurt you. Next time, I'll handle it better. I want you to know, you're my top priority. You're not my second choice; you're my girlfriend, my girl, and I never want you to feel anything less than my first choice. Always."

You pout, suddenly feeling so guilty. “You should’ve just told me that, next time just tell me the truth, ok? We need communication if this is gonna work.” Your words are punctuated by a tender kiss, a sweet moment as he nods, leaning his head down and resting it against your shoulder.

✧ ✧ ✧

Soft giggles escape your lips, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves as you steal a kiss from him. The world outside becomes a blissful blur, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your affection. He looks up at you, moaning softly, his hands gripping the back of your hair to pull you back down to his lips again.

The university campus buzzes with youthful energy, a tapestry of autumn leaves falling gently, creating a mosaic of warm hues. The scent of coffee and distant laughter fills the air, creating an atmosphere of shared dreams and academic pursuits. Amidst this lively backdrop, you and Jeno sit by the beautiful flowers, your favourite summer dress on as he lays his head on your lap, your hands locked as you share a casual lunch on campus with friends.

The sun filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground as you lean down to whisper something in his ear, a moment solely for the two of you. In that moment, surrounded by the chatter of friends, you close your lips in on his, the world quieting to the symphony of your happiness.

Your connection with Jeno forms a bubble that shields you from the prying eyes and whispers around you. One unexpected night, Sunwoo’s concern breaks through as you both share the living room, a movie playing in the background.

"Y/N, how is it going with Jeno?" Sunwoo inquires, her words carrying an undercurrent of worry.

A genuine smile lights up your face as you reply, "I'm really happy." However, the joy fades when you see the expression on Sunwoo’s face. "Is everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath, her concern evident. "I care about you, and I just want you to be happy. I can see you're in your honeymoon phase with him, and it's amazing, but please stay careful. I've heard things, and I need you to be aware."

Your head tilts in confusion, and he continues, "People have been mean and jealous, saying horrible things about both of you. I don't want to go into detail, but there are malicious individuals who would do anything to break you two up. Jealousy is a green-eyed devil, and I want you to be cautious. Every time you're seen together on campus, people are talking, and unfortunately, it's not all good. You're drawing a lot of attention, and I need you to be aware of the rumours circulating."

Just like that, your comfort bubble has been shattered. It wasn't his fault; he was being a good friend, and the truth was bound to come to light, considering the magnetic stares that seemed to follow you everywhere. Peering eyes traced your every move, intensifying every time you held hands with Jeno, shared a kiss, or simply engaged in conversation.

Before, you had a shield, a blissful ignorance that shielded you from the judgmental glances and whispered rumours. Now, you have nothing. The weight of those scrutinizing eyes presses down on you, and a surge of anxiety rises within. It's as if the once familiar campus has transformed into a stage where every step is observed and dissected by an unseen audience.

The secure haven you once had with Jeno is now tainted by the awareness of the scrutiny around you. The casual joy you shared now carries a hint of unease as you navigate through the campus, wondering about the malicious whispers and unfounded rumors that threaten to unravel the serenity of your relationship.

The once intimate haven of your relationship now feels exposed, the whole realm shifting under the weight of everyone's knowledge. It's as if an unwelcome spotlight has been cast upon you, and the familiar campus, once a place of shared joy, now echoes with the cruel whispers and judgmental glances that follow you everywhere.

The anxiety, a silent predator, wraps around your chest, constricting with every scrutinizing look. The rude eyes that pierce through your privacy seem to steal away fragments of your self-worth with each passing glance. You feel stripped bare, a vulnerability that leaves you yearning for the comfort of invisibility.

Jeno, seemingly impervious to the storm of judgment, becomes an inadvertent source of envy. These people, with their whispers and stares, never seem to penetrate his shield. He navigates through the campus with an ease that only amplifies the stark contrast to your inner turmoil.

One day, Jeno surprises you with flowers on campus, a tender gesture that should bring joy. But as he leans in for a kiss, you find yourself recoiling, aware of the peering eyes, the whispers, the judgment. His pout mirrors your disconnection as you take the flowers, your voice detached as you mutter a thank you.

He leans forward again, attempting to kiss you, but you dodge it. Surprise flickers in his eyes, replaced by a gentle pout. "Baby?" he questions, reaching out to touch you, but you evade his grasp.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.

"I don't want to kiss you because everyone keeps looking at you, at us," you confess, the weight of your unease finally surfacing.

"Y/N..." he begins, his voice a mixture of understanding and frustration, as he tries once more to bridge the gap between you. His eyes search yours with a mix of understanding and concern. “We can’t let people do this to us, this is us, me and you and the last thing I’ll let people do is dictate our relationship and make you uncomfortable.”

You try to focus on him, his smile, his soft words, his caring demeanour but all you can feel is the attention from outsiders. Your hands tremble imperceptibly, breathing becomes a conscious effort, each inhale and exhale a struggle against the weight of judgment hanging in the air. Your heart, a delicate percussion, echoes the rhythm of your anxiety, its beats amplified in the silent turmoil.

Tears, uninvited, well up in your eyes, and as you nod, they cascade down your cheeks, a tangible manifestation of the emotional toll. In that moment, vulnerability wraps around you like a heavy cloak. It feels as though you’ve done something wrong, an unspoken guilt that weakens your resolve.

The world outside blurs through the veil of tears, intensifying the sense of fragility that envelopes you. Jeno's tender touch wipes them away, his fingertips brushing softly against your skin. His eyes mirror an understanding so deep that it feels like a comforting embrace.

"Hey," he whispers, turning towards you with the softest voice, a gentleness that envelops you like a warm blanket. Leaning down, he cups your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. Everything else fades into a distant hum as you melt into him.

"Look at me," he urges, his eyes a haven of empathy. Your gaze meets his, and the vulnerability that you've felt transforms into a shared moment of intimacy. Jeno's presence becomes a blockage, shielding you from the judgmental world outside.

"Keep your eyes on me, not them," he murmurs, his words a balm to your wounded spirit. In that quiet exchange of glances, your heart slowly begins to relax. Jeno's comforting presence, combined with the unspoken promise in his eyes, creates a sanctuary where vulnerability is met with love, and every tear is met with the tenderness of understanding.

Feeling the reassurance of Jeno's presence, a warmth blooms in your chest. As he wipes away the last of your tears, you're overwhelmed by the tenderness in his eyes. Unable to resist the urge, you bridge the small gap between you, pressing a sweet, grateful kiss against his lips.

As the kiss lingers, Jeno pulls back, his eyes searching yours with concern. "Is anyone being mean to you?" His voice takes on a protective edge, a sincerity that resonates through the words. "If they are, I'll deal with them. I won't let anyone hurt you."

“I’ll tell you if anything happens.” You whisper. Jeno’s eyes search yours with a sincerity that demands your attention. “Promise me,” he implores, his voice a gentle plea.

"I promise." you affirm, instinctively outstretching your pinky, a whimsical gesture that seals promises between the two of you.

But Jeno, momentarily disregarding the lighthearted tradition, leans in and seals the promise with a sweet kiss. The warmth of his lips lingers, and a playful smile dances across his face. "You can't break it now." he teases, the gravity of the moment lightening.

You nod, the weight of the promise settling in your heart. "I won't." you assure him, a sense of determination in your eyes.

"I got you, Y/N."

✧ ✧ ✧

You don’t keep your end of the promise.

You and Jeno were on one of your many dates, except this one was the most luxurious of all. He had taken you to a a high-end dining establishment where opulence meets culinary excellence. As you step into this gastronomic haven, the ambiance drips with luxury. Chandeliers, resplendent in their crystal glory, cast a warm and flattering glow upon the tastefully adorned surroundings.

There was an atmosphere of sophistication. The air is laced with the subtle scent of exclusive fragrances, adding to the sensory experience. Every detail, from the meticulously arranged silverware to the plush velvet seating, screams extravagance.

The entire upper floor was just for you. Seclusion embraced the space as you and Jeno reveled in each other. Wrapped in a corset top that accentuated your every curve, you felt the warmth of Jeno's gaze fixated on the allure of your silhouette. A daring mini black skirt that barely covered your ass.

A long coat provided a modesty, concealing the sensual ensemble beneath. The promise of privacy on this exclusive floor lingered, and as the door closed behind you, the coat slipped away, unveiling an enticing look reserved solely for Jeno's eyes.

In the dimly lit, darkened expanse of the top floor, a sexy ambiance enveloped you both. The low music set the tone, creating an intimate atmosphere where only the sultry sounds of Jeno's low moans and your soft hums echoed, blending seamlessly with the alluring surroundings. Seated on plush furnishings, the connection ignited as you found solace on his lap. Jeno wasted no time, roughly removing your underwear and your corset, your boobs bouncing as you jumped up and down his cock.

Boyfriend air was real. You had radiated beauty before he picked you up – your makeup meticulously enhancing your features, and your hair styled with grace. Yet, now you sit here, a mess. His kisses had erased every last trace of makeup.

"Baby, stay here," he whispers, his warm breath lingering against your lips. "I'm just getting the bill." Leaning down, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead, sealing the promise of a swift return.

"Do you wanna come over to mine?" he suggests with a playful grin. You nod, your arms instinctively looping around his neck. "I'll drive us home," he declares, a warmth in his eyes. In that moment, it's clear – you just want to be with him, wherever the night may lead.

In the softly lit ambiance of the upscale restaurant, you patiently wait for him, preparing to put on your bra and top. Unexpectedly, an unwelcome intrusion disrupts the tranquility. Your mouth hangs open in shock, and before you can react, your chest is briefly exposed as a female waitress enters the room.

Quickly, you grab your coat to cover yourself, staring at her with a mix of surprise and discomfort. "What the hell?" escapes your lips, a blend of embarrassment and frustration.

You recall her as your waitress for the night, part of the restaurant's unique service where each floor and couple has a dedicated server. The bell, your discreet summoner, has been unrung, making her presence inappropriate.

She looks at you with a hint of disdain, and the encounter triggers a familiar sense of vulnerability. The ambiance of the restaurant feels stark, and the unexpected exposure intensifies your embarrassment. The thin fabric of the coat becomes a modest shield, but the discomfort lingers.

As you lock eyes with the waitress, who seems to take pleasure in your discomfort, memories of past judgmental stares resurface, adding to your unease. The sanctuary you usually find with Jeno is momentarily disrupted, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of exposure. The discomfort you've navigated with Jeno's support resurfaces, threatening to overwhelm you.

Recognizing her now, you realize she's a fellow student at your college. The slight awkwardness you noticed during her service takes on a new significance. You remember the way her eyes seemed to light up, especially when serving Jeno, which triggered a fleeting sense of jealousy. But it's a feeling you've grown used to – after all, Jeno is a heartthrob and everyone wants him.

While a twinge of jealousy briefly pricked at you, Jeno remained blissfully unaware of the waitress's admiration. It simply didn't register on his radar. He's become accustomed to such attention, unfazed by occasional glances and admirations. To him, these moments are like passing breezes – gentle and unnoticed.

Seated arrogantly on the table in front of you, she exuded an air of contempt, her eyes reflecting the rudeness that her entire demeanour conveyed. From the start of the night, her motives were glaringly apparent. You initially dismissed it as mere overthinking, the disinterest as she served you, the muttered words and the frigid expression with frozen eyes heightened your sense of unease. However her attention was completely different towards Jeno, it went from blatant flirtation to being overly helpful and kind.

"You know, seeing you with Jeno is disappointing. He deserves so much better. I don’t think you realize what a downgrade you are for him," she sneered, her words laden with contempt.

With a sinister grin, she continued, "Every other girl he’s been with beats you, by miles. In looks, in sex…"

As she casually mentioned sharing an intimate moment with Jeno, she revealed a video that sent tears streaming down your face. It’s taken from earlier, a moment you shared in solace but your feel vulnerable and exposed knowing she had been watching the whole time. The hurt intensified as she criticized your appearance and demeaned your connection with Jeno.

"Why the fuck have you filmed this?" you demanded, the raw emotion evident in your voice.

"Do you see how ugly you look? Watching this nearly made me sick. You’re not pleasing Jeno the way he deserves. You’re too soft and vanilla. Having slept with Jeno myself, he’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had. It's a shame he can't be rough with you because you're too much of a pussy," she taunted.

She questioned the authenticity of Jeno's feelings, suggesting he was using you as a distraction. Her venomous words stung as she predicted an inevitable heartbreak for you.

"I want him. And so does every other girl. It’s not fair that he’s with you. One day he’s gonna go back to his fuckboy ways. Just watch," she warned, her possessiveness on full display.

"Now you will stay away from him. I’m warning you now. Do not cross me. It will not be good if I see you together next week," she threatened, leaving a chilling anticipation hanging in the air.

As she cruelly exposed the intimate details of your relationship, tears streamed down your face, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. The room seemed to close in, an overwhelming wave of emotions crashing over you. Anxiety took hold, its silent fingers wrapping around your heart, squeezing with an invisible force.

Your breaths became shallow and rapid, as if the air itself was too heavy to inhale. A lump formed in your throat, choking back words that yearned to be spoken. The world around you blurred, a disorienting haze settling over your vision. Your hands trembled involuntarily, the once steady limbs now betraying your emotional turmoil.

In the depths of your anxiety, your mind became a battleground of negative thoughts. Each word uttered by her echoed, fueling self-doubt and insecurity. It felt as though the walls were closing in, the room shrinking to an oppressive confinement.

Moments later, Jeno returns, sensing the shift in your mood. The weight of sadness on your face doesn't escape his notice, concern knitting his features. He kneels in front of you, gently taking your hand in his.

"Baby?" he whispers, his eyes reflecting genuine worry. "Are you okay?"

You're taken aback by his perceptiveness, having mastered the art of hiding your true feelings. Despite your practiced smile, he sees through the facade.

"I'm fine, baby," you assure, the words a feeble attempt to shield him from your inner turmoil. A smile, though not reaching your eyes, plays on your lips. "Thank you for today." The gratitude is sincere, your heart warmed by his caring presence.

✧ ✧ ✧

As your fingers intertwine in the quiet of the car, he glances at you with a comforting smile. "Looks like there's a bit of traffic, we’ll be home in around a half hour." he mentions, the hum of the engine accompanying his words.

However, you're not fully tuned into the conversation. Instead, your attention is drawn to the night sky, captivated by the celestial wonders above. Animatedly, you share stories of constellations and the cosmic ballet, your voice weaving tales of the stars as the car meanders through the urban night.

A warm smile graces his lips, capturing the sparkle in your eyes. Spontaneously, he parks the car near a vacant mountaintop, city lights far below. The celestial canvas unfolds as you continue your stargazing dialogue.

Nestled in the open boot of Jeno's car, you find comfort against his body, head resting on his chest. Gazing at the stars, he whispers sweet reassurances in your ear, the night sky a celestial canvas where your anxiety gently fades, even if just momentarily.

Jeno kisses your forehead with a whispered question. You’re now standing side by side as you’re looking up at the stars and he’s looking at you. “Are you feeling better?”

As a contented sigh escapes your lips, you revel in the solace of being with him, the night sky weaving a temporary spell on your anxiety but you know this won’t last, you know the second you close your eyes tonight the real battle will start.

Choosing to shield him from worry, you offer a gentle smile and a subtle nod when he asks. "Yeah, I'm feeling better now.” you assure him, your words carrying a touch of gratitude. Your heart swells with appreciation for the unexpected haven he created atop the mountain.

Leaning into the warmth of his chest, you express your thanks for the day, the words a tender acknowledgment of his efforts. Deep down, you cherish the genuine concern in his eyes, but for now, the desire to spare him unnecessary worry guides your actions.

“I don’t buy it.” he looks at you sternly, lips dodging yours, a serious expression in his face.

"Jeno, please," you implore, the words hanging in the air. However, as he meets your gaze, captivated by the sheer beauty reflected in your eyes, he momentarily forgets what he was about to say. The softness in your expression, the way you look at him, sweeps away his train of thought. There's a pause, a moment where words fade into the background, as he's lost in the warmth of your gaze and the radiance that surrounds you. Eventually, a gentle smile curves on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the distraction your beauty has become.

His words caress the air, "Pretty girl." His voice is a low whisper, his fingers tenderly tracing the contours of your lips with the most captivating of smiles. It sends a poignant ache through your heart, the way he looks at you making you feel intense guilt. You fight back the tears that threaten to surface.

He’s still looking at you with concern, eyes searching yours for an answer. You don’t know how else to react. Desiring distraction, you impulsively lean in, seeking solace in the press of your lips against his, momentarily abandoning the conversation you had intended. Your fingers instinctively coil around the fabric of his shirt, his arms winding around your waist, drawing you into an intimate embrace. The dance of his mouth against yours unfolds, a gentle nip on your lower lip elicits a hushed gasp. Seizing the moment, he delves deeper, intertwining his tongue with yours in a tender kiss.

A smile graces his lips in the midst of your shared closeness and it seems like the imposing conversation has flown from his mind too. Your fingers weave through the strands of his hair, cherishing the softness as the warmth of his body provides a transient sanctuary from lingering concerns.

Jeno gracefully lowers himself, knees bending as his hands anchor at the back of your thighs. A swift jump and your legs encircle his waist, his firm grip ensuring your support. Lips reconnect, and he navigates effortlessly to his car. He’s glad that you guys have no company.

Amidst the soft glow of candlelight, an unexpected intimacy unfolds. You discover a new vantage point, perched on a shared blanket under the moonlit sky. You’re met with the familiarity of his car, the boot. You’re surprised when the position remains, you on top. You move even closer in his hold, a comfortable perch on his lap as your knees close in on either side of his hips. “Take this shit off.” He moans against your lips, smiling against your lips as you get in an awkward position so he can remove your skirt swiftly. Simultaneously, you unzip his trousers, freeing his cock from his pants, while he removes your lace panties.

His hands trace the curves of your thighs, fingers gripping the exposed skin, dangerously dancing near the skin of your pussy while your mouth melds with his.

“Already wet for me? Good girl.” He coos in your ear, one finger dipping in and out your pussy, covered in slick.

“Need you.” You cry out, he coos at how patience you’ve been for him as he grips your thighs, eyes looking softly into yours as he lowers you down onto his cock, the two of you moaning at the sensation of you adjusting immediately, he fits snugly into you, your walls instinctively accustomed to the feeling.

In the midst of tears, you whisper, "Jeno, you make me feel so much." Your emotions overwhelm you as you begin kissing every inch of his face, attempting to convey the depth of your sentiments.

You start with his forehead, the site of countless moments etched with shared laughter and joy. A gentle kiss lands there, a silent acknowledgment of the happiness he's brought into your life. Moving to his eyebrows, you trace the familiar arcs that crinkle with every teasing smile. Your lips linger, savoring the warmth of memories held in those expressive lines.

Kissing the bridge of his nose, you recall the adorable way it scrunches when he's deep in thought or playfully annoyed. Each touch becomes a silent tribute to the idiosyncrasies that make Jeno uniquely himself. Continuing to his closed eyelids, you remember the countless times you’ve dreamed of him and the security you find in the serenity of those closed eyes.

As you plant a tender kiss on his cheeks, the echoes of laughter and stolen moments resonate in your mind. You're acutely aware of the bittersweet weight behind the gesture, acknowledging the beauty of what was and the pain of what might never be again.

Finally, your lips find their way to his trembling mouth, sealing an unspoken promise of love and gratitude. In this melancholic dance of affection, you navigate the terrain of his features, each kiss a melancholy ode to the intricate mosaic of your shared experiences.

Jeno looks at you with a mixture of tenderness and concern, his eyes mirroring the emotions reflected in your tear-stained gaze. As your whispered confession hangs in the air, his fingers gently lift to graze your cheek softly.

The room feels heavy with unspoken sentiments, and Jeno's expression softens even more as he breaks away from your lips. His hand cradles your face, thumb gently brushing away the lingering traces of sadness. There's a depth of emotion in his eyes as he looks into yours.

He doesn't utter a word, but his actions speak volumes. Leaning in, Jeno captures your lips in a soft, reassuring kiss. It's a gentle promise, a silent affirmation that he's there with you, navigating the intensity of emotions together. His arms wrap around you, creating a cocoon of warmth and solace.

Jeno's touch is a blend of warmth and desire as he navigates your trembling body, his hands exploring the curves that respond to his every movement. Your sighs intertwine with his name, creating a symphony of longing and pleasure, while your shaky hands find solace on his sculpted shoulders. Biting your lip, you surrender to the heightened sensations as his grip on your thigh tightens, helping as you rise and fall on his cock.

His breath, laden with desire, mingles with yours, the air heavy with the intensity of your connection, your ass meeting your thighs. "Good girl," he murmurs, smiling behind the pleasure as you rise and fall on his cock with a determination in his eye. His praise ignites a new wave of sensations. Your eyes, lost in ecstasy, roll back, and the room echoes with the symphony of whimpers and cries that escape your lips when he consistently hits the sweet spot

“I need your cum in me.” you whine, the words catching in your throat as your body responds to the intensifying pleasure, a gentle band tightening around the depths of your core.

“I’m gonna fill you up with me, baby.” he moans, his voice a low, longing murmur. Jeno lowers his thumb to your clit, gliding down to trace delicate circles. The sudden touch makes you shiver, tension building within you as the sensations cascade through your body.

In the throes of ecstasy, you arch against him, a cascade of whimpers and moans escaping your lips. Jeno is attentive to your every reaction, synchronized in the dance of shared desire. Your cries become a symphony that resonates with him, each pulse of pleasure bringing you closer to a shared climax.

“My love.” you cry out, the endearment slipping out involuntarily, and it resonates deeply with Jeno. The intimate connection amplifies, pushing him over the edge. He responds with a fervent moan, releasing his pent-up passion inside you, a high-pitched resonance you’ve never heard before.

As the climax ebbs, you collapse onto him, exhaustion mingling with the lingering pleasure. Tears stream down your face, a release of emotions intertwined with the raw intensity of the moment. Your hands clench onto his back, holding on as if he could slip away.

In the aftermath, Jeno cradles you with a tender smile, maintaining the intimate connection. His gaze holds a vulnerability that transcends physicality, mirroring the delicate strokes of a poet. His fingers brush away your tears, tracing the paths of emotions etched on your flushed face.

With unspoken understanding, the room is filled with shared sorrow. Jeno’s tears join yours, creating a poignant language that weaves your stories together. In this silent dialogue of vulnerability, your connection strengthens.

In the tender aftermath, Jeno's eyes reveal a different vulnerability. With a gentleness that mirrors the delicate touch of a poet, he brushes away the tears that linger on your flushed cheeks. His fingers trace the paths of emotions etched on your face. As his thumb captures a glistening tear, you feel your sorrow enveloping the room.

Gazing into each other's eyes, you find solace in the authenticity of the moment. Jeno's gaze mirrors and you stay in silence, he’s still inside of you.

Breaking the silence, Jeno's voice, soft yet filled with genuine concern, pierces through the intimate atmosphere. His eyes still search yours as he whispers, "Tell me what you feel." The unspoken question lingers, he’s referencing earlier, inviting you to unravel the layers of emotions that intertwine your souls, creating a canvas painted with shared vulnerability and desire.

Jeno's touch is tender as he brushes away your tears, his fingers delicately tracing the paths of emotions etched on your face. The subtle quiver in his breath reveals the depth of his empathy, and you notice a glistening tear escaping from the corner of his eye, mirroring the vulnerability that binds you both.

His thumb moves gently across your cheek, capturing the teardrop, while his own tears fall freely. There's a shared sorrow in this moment, an unspoken understanding that transcends words. Jeno's emotions, laid bare, create a poignant connection between you, deepening the bonds that bind your hearts.

The weight of unspoken pain becomes palpable, threatening to engulf you in a sea of vulnerability. In response, you shake your head, a feeble attempt to ward off the imminent exposure of your innermost self. The fear of appearing fragile and broken takes hold—it's a dangerous territory you've meticulously avoided, a realm where the façade you've worn like armor is at risk of crumbling.

As he wipes away your tears, his gaze meets yours, expressing a silent solidarity. In that intimate exchange, you find solace in the raw authenticity of shared emotions. Jeno's teary eyes reflect not only your pain but also the profound connection that weaves your stories together. It's a moment suspended in time, where tears become the language of emotions too profound for words.

"I know what you feel; I feel it too," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to the ache in your heart. The connection deepens as you both acknowledge the profound emotions that bind you, creating a shared sanctuary where vulnerability is met with empathy. It's a testament to the strength of your relationship, forged in the crucible of genuine emotions that only serve to strengthen the bond you share.

A quiet gasp escapes as emotions swirl within, you take a deep breath, the weight of your emotions nearly overwhelming. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you muster the courage to speak the words that have been echoing in your heart.

"I... I'm scared, Jeno," you stammer, anxiety coursing through your veins like an electric current. Your heart races, and a subtle tremor invades your voice as you grapple with the overwhelming fear of confessing your emotions. The vulnerability in your words echoes the symptoms of anxiety—palpitations, a tightening chest, the fear of judgment that clings to every syllable.

Despite the paralyzing fear, you know you must tell him. You summon the courage to speak. "I love you so much that it hurts, Jeno," you admit, the words escaping in a breathless whisper. The admission carries the weight of both joy and fear, but amidst the internal turmoil, you yearn for a connection that transcends words, searching desperately for affirmation in his eyes. His boyish smile transforms into a warm and tender expression, tears streaming down. He's still inside of you, his presence lingering, and as he releases again, his hands gently cup your face, providing a moment of solace in the midst of the emotional storm.

"I love you too," Jeno whispers, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that mirrors your own. You hold each other tightly, your bare bodies pressed together, a mosaic of emotions etched across the canvas of your entwined forms. His toned chest provides a firm foundation, your breasts gently molded against the warmth of his skin. The lingering connection down there serves as a silent testament to the profound intimacy you've embraced.

Heavy breathing and panting compose a symphony, resonating with the echoes of shared desires. His arms, strong and secure, wrap around your back, creating a cocoon of intimacy. Fingers trace soothing patterns along the contours of your spine, and as you hold onto his shoulders, your tears find refuge in the curve of his neck.

In the midst of this physical closeness, you look into each other's eyes. His smile, though filled with tears, radiates warmth and acceptance, a poignant expression of love. Yet, in your gaze, there is no hint of happiness—only a profound sadness reflected in your tear-streaked face as you sob, the weight of vulnerability heavy on your shoulders.

The head fogs with unspoken words, each heartbeat echoing the ache of a love destined to unravel. Tears cascade down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the profound pain etched in your soul. Amidst the shared tears, he cries too, not realizing the true depth of your sorrow. He’s weeping because he senses your love, yet the cruel irony is that you, burdened by the impending departure, are the one who must leave.

As your tears mingle in the dance of heartbreak, the weight of impending separation hangs heavy. He can’t hear the words echoing in your head, nor understand the agony etched onto your face. This poignant moment, laden with unspoken goodbyes, is a symphony of sorrow.

✧ ✧ ✧

It starts off with feeble excuses, claiming sickness or the need to study. Each call and text from him goes unanswered, as you detach yourself without warning or explanation. On campus, you avoid his gaze, finding excuses to leave, trapping yourself in a web of avoidance.

Friends, unaware of the storm within, continue their routines, oblivious to your isolation. You become a ghost, fading from gatherings, leaving them in the dark about the torment devouring your soul.

His house, once a refuge, stands untouched by your presence. Dates become relics of the past, and everything shared dissolves into a haunting silence. You ghost him, ignore him, disappearing without a trace. The places where you once showed up now remain empty, a stark reminder of the void you've become.

In this self-imposed exile, you grapple with the agony of your emotions, feeling the weight of isolation press down on you. The world around you moves forward, while you remain suspended in emotional paralysis, unable to break free from the chains that bind you.

The sun-drenched campus feels both familiar and distant as you navigate its pathways, ensnared in your isolation. Suddenly, Sunwoo appears, concern etched across his face. Startled, you jump at his presence, forgetting how to act around people. Anxiety, that insidious disease, tightens its grip.

"Y/N," Sunwoo calls out, his voice breaking through the suffocating silence.

"Sunwoo," you cry out, seeking instant comfort from him. You allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, tears escaping as thoughts of Jeno intensify the ache in your chest. You miss him—miss his touch, miss the simplicity of your connection.

"Tell me everything," Sunwoo urges, his voice a gentle plea.

And you do. You spill the fragments of your shattered heart, revealing how you and Jeno were once strong until the world intruded, shattering the delicate bubble of your love. The honeymoon phase faded, replaced by imperfections and external pressures. You couldn't bear the stares, the rudeness, the guilt for simply being in love. It felt like you were an enemy, an intruder in a world that refused to accept your connection.

You recount Seoyeon's cruel warning, the video, her words a venomous echo in your mind. The weight of her threat compounds your already fragile emotional state. Sunwoo listens, his comforting presence a temporary respite from the storm within. Before he hugs you, you just stare at him and sob. His gaze doesn't hold judgment, and the rarity of that these days breaks you. It's a poignant moment where you realize he doesn't see you as someone who's done something wrong.

As you cry in his arms, the release of emotions is accompanied by a profound sense of trust. You never did anything wrong, and Sunwoo, understanding that, becomes a pillar of support. The rarity of finding someone who doesn't look at you with condemnation in these trying times makes you melt into him. You know you can trust him—always have and always will.

Sunwoo rocks you back and forth in his arms, offering a comforting refuge from the storm within. As tears stream down your face, he speaks softly, his words carrying a pain that resonates deeply.

"You love him?" he questions, the ache in his voice weaving a tale of pain that doesn't entirely make sense to you.

You nod, biting your tongue to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. "I'm scared," you admit, the vulnerability laid bare.

He shakes his head gently, a determined glint in his eyes. "You love him. Fuck everyone else." The weight of his words settles in, a declaration that in this tumultuous journey, your love is what matters. In his embrace, the fear eases, replaced by a flicker of courage to face the uncertain path ahead.

✧ ✧ ✧

As you sit peacefully on the campus, absorbed in your thoughts, Chaeyoung, Nagyung, and Seoyeon approach with an air of hostility. Their presence feels like a dark cloud disrupting the tranquility around you. Nagyung shoots you a venomous glare, and the atmosphere becomes tense. Suddenly, you're transported back to a painful memory – your date with Jeno, tainted by Nagyung's threats and bullying.

Nagyung's voice pierces through the present moment, her words echoing the past torment. "Jeno is still posting photos of you two on his Instagram. Did you not take my warning seriously?" The mention of Jeno's name sends shivers down your spine, reopening old wounds. Despite the tears welling in your eyes, you choose to ignore them, desperate to shield yourself from the emotional assault. The intrusive trio persists, invading your personal space and freedom of mind.

As you endure their taunts, tears well in your eyes, a silent defense against the emotional onslaught. Avoiding their gaze, you refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Despite your efforts to stay composed, Nagyung persists with another warning, this time invoking a sense of dread. She mentions the video with a snarl on her face. The mere thought intensifies your desperation to escape this distressing encounter, as their toxic words become increasingly unbearable. The urgency to distance yourself grows, making finding an exit your sole focus.

Their taunting has drawn a growing crowd, creating an overwhelming sensory experience. The stares and harsh words blend into a chaotic scene. Desperate to escape, you find your voice locked within, and your body feels paralyzed, as if controlled by an unseen force. In this moment, anger surges. You want to fight back, to regain control over your voice and movements, but an invisible restraint keeps you confined,

Sunwoo arrives, exuding a striking handsomeness that momentarily captures attention. His face bears a concerned expression as he looks at you, offering reassurance with a simple, "It's okay, I'm here." While he defends you against the trio, the ringing in your head and heightened anxiety make it difficult to decipher his words.

Certain phrases cut through the mental fog: "What's wrong with you?" and "You're all pathetic." He delivers a menacing warning, promising consequences, each word dripping with venom that silences the three girls who look stunned. Sunwoo, typically composed, adopts an unfamiliar rudeness, threatening the trio with a stern expression you've never witnessed before. The stark contrast leaves you both surprised and comforted, a mixture of emotions swirling as Sunwoo wipes away your tears.

Sunwoo's defense sparks a glimmer of hope within you, and your eyes light up with gratitude. As he smiles in reassurance, you make an effort to reciprocate, forcing a smile back, though feelings of unworthiness linger beneath the surface.

Witnessing him defend you creates a moment of vulnerability, you find yourself getting lost in his presence. Sunwoo gently wipes away your tears. Soft whispers escape his lips, words so sweet they make you giggle. Were you getting lost in his eyes?

His question breaks your trance "Where's your boyfriend?"

"I don't know, Sunwoo," you reply, your mind swirling with the reminder that you've ignored all of his texts.

"He should be here," Sunwoo asserts, concern etched on his face.

"It's not his fault," you instinctively defend him, your words flying past Sunwoo as he changes the subject.

"Do you want to come with me?" His hand gently rests on your back, a comforting touch that lights up a spark within you.

"Where?" you inquire, curiosity blending with uncertainty.

"Somewhere away from here," Sunwoo suggests, the idea hanging in the air.

"I don't—" you begin, caught in contemplation. The uncertainty about the proposal lingers, leaving you unsure if it's a good idea.

Finally, Jeno enters the scene, and an immediate tension envelopes the surroundings. Immature behaviour unfolds between him and Sunwoo, their gazes locking with an intensity laced with rudeness. The air thickens with arguments, and the perpetual tension that seems to shadow you becomes overwhelmingly stifling.

As you prepare to confront both of them, Jeno beats you to it. His eyes communicate a stern warning to Sunwoo, their locked gaze speaking volumes. In Jeno's intense stare, you sense an undercurrent of jealousy. He doesn't need words; the warning is implicit, especially as his eyes fixate on where Sunwoo's hand lingers on your back.

Sunwoo doesn't back away, he’s aching every second that you’re in this broken state. His frustration boils over. "Where the hell have you been?" His raised voice is directed at Jeno, who responds defiantly, "Shut up, Sunwoo, I swear to—"

"You're twiddling your thumbs while Seoyeon —" Sunwoo's words are cut off as he glances at you, his eyes softening instantly as he reads the silent plea in yours. Shaking your head, you silently beg him not to reveal the truth to Jeno.

"Sunwoo, stop it. Don't talk to Jeno like that," you interject, trying to diffuse the escalating tension. Sunwoo sighs, a heavy sadness lingering in his heart, all he wants to do is protect you but he also wants to respect your wishes.

Finally turning to Jeno, you realise you can't avoid him forever. You're a bit of a mess, dishevelled hair and tear-streaked cheeks. Jeno notices immediately and his eyes soften, his heart strings tugging and without a word, he pulls you into a comforting hug. You melt into his chest, shaking hands gripping onto his biceps. You hum in familiarity as he wraps his arms around you tighter. “I’m right here, baby.”

His fingers gently smooth out your hair, and he delicately kisses your face, his fingers following to wipe away your tears. You look up at him as if he holds your world. He has an undeniable hold on your heart. "Come with me," he suggests, and though you're initially reluctant, he pleads, "Please, Y/N."

"Don't you trust me?" Jeno asks, his eyes holding a sincerity that softens your defences. "I do," you respond, shedding silent tears as you hold his hand, letting him lead you away from the prying eyes.

Before parting, he kisses you softly, and in that vulnerable moment, everyone's eyes seem to be on you.

You catch sight of Seoyeon and Sunwoo, your breathing calming as you catch him defending your name. You watch as he snatches her phone from her with a relentless and anger that’s unpalatable, he must look crazy to others but you know what he’s doing. You feel a warmth in your senses, the cloud in your mind finally starting to dissolve when you see him navigate her phone. He’s deleted the video.

Jeno wraps his arm around you, a protective shield from the cruel stares and whispers. As he kisses your cheek softly, you find solace in the intimacy of the moment.

✧ ✧ ✧

In the familiar setting of Jeno's room, clad in his clothes post a shared shower, emotions swirl between you two. The act of cleaning each other felt tender, the guilt growing as his lips pressed against every inch of your body, each kiss carrying an unspoken declaration of the depth of his love for you. Jeno leans down, the rawness in his voice echoes, "I've missed you so much." The question hangs, "Have you missed me?"

Instead of verbalising, you lean forward, putting your mind off the pain by doing what you know best. Your lips press against his, a rough and passionate collision. There's an urgency as your lips connect, a mingling of longing and desire. The kiss deepens, and you bite down roughly on his bottom lip. As the kiss progresses, heavy breaths mix. The roughness of the kiss mirrors the intensity of your feelings, making every moment linger in the air.

Pulling away, Jeno gazes into your eyes, understanding etched in his expression. "You can always talk to me. I'm always waiting for you," he reassures.

Jeno silently leads you somewhere, and as you realize it's the room where the project is, you express, "Jen, I don't feel like working on the project now."

He gently hushes you and urges, "Just follow me."

In a secluded corner of the project space, Jeno guides you into an unexpected, confined pod. The air is charged with tension as he gently guides you to sit down, taking your hand in his. As he kneels before you, you glance around in confusion—this isn't the collaborative space you had developed; it's *your* pod.

"Jeno, what's going on? This is supposed to be our demonstration pod for the presentation." you exclaim, your worry evident.

Jeno, undeterred, whispers, "I don't care about the presentation right now." Holding your hand tighter, he reveals a pod personalised just for you—your favourite scent of vanilla, your favourite song filling the air with soothing melody, and a colour palette of soft lavender, muted gold, and touches of black. Images of blooming cherry blossoms and gentle ripples on a serene pond adorn the walls, creating a tranquil and visually pleasing environment.

Overwhelmed, you can't fathom how Jeno knows all these intimate details you've never shared. Tears well up in your eyes, and you ask, "How did you...?"

"I know you better than you think." Jeno says softly, wiping away your tears. "Let's do some mindfulness exercises together. It might help."

As Jeno leads you through deep breaths and visualisation, your internal struggle intensifies. The stress of using this personal creation for an impromptu session gnaws at you, overshadowing the intended therapeutic effect.

"We're going to get in trouble, Jeno." you stammer between breaths, your anxiety rising.

"I don't care about that right now. I care about you." Jeno replies, his voice steady but filled with concern.

However, you are too far gone. Jeno's efforts, genuine as they are, can't penetrate the walls of your distress. Realisation dawns on Jeno's face—he can't help someone who isn't ready to be helped. Holding your face in his hands, a tear escapes his eye.

"I love you. I want to help you." Jeno pleads. "My heart is breaking seeing you like this. Why won't you let me in?"

Sobbing, you abruptly stand up and leave the pod, leaving Jeno behind with a shattered expression. "I told you I loved you." he whispers, watching you disappear, unable to comprehend why you chose to leave despite his sincere efforts to connect. As you go, he notices the absence of those three words from you, and tears fill his eyes too, realizing the depth of your pain and the strain on your connection.

✧ ✧ ✧

The pulsating beats of the music echoed through the crowded room, a symphony of laughter and clinking glasses resonating in the air. Neon lights cast vibrant hues on the partygoers, transforming the space into a kaleidoscope of fleeting moments. Yet, in the midst of the lively chaos, your focus was on one person – Jeno.

The room felt suffocating as you navigated through the sea of bodies, your heart pounding in rhythm with the bass. This wasn't where you wanted to be; Jeno's infamous parties were the last place you'd willingly venture. Once, he had tamed his party spirit for you, a sacrifice to build a life together. Now, with the remnants of that love scattered like confetti, Jeno had reverted to his former self, perhaps even more recklessly.

He stood there, a red cup in hand, surrounded by the aura of popularity you once found intimidating. Memories of a time when he threw fewer parties for the sake of your connection flooded your mind. But now, any second threatened to pull him into the abyss of his "fuck boy" phase.

Summoning courage, you took a deep breath and approached him. His name left your lips, but he brushed you aside as though you were an apparition, the weight of his indifference making you feel transparent, like a forgotten ghost.

Attempting conversation only led to walls; he was rough, rude, a cruel reminder of a love now lost. The desperation to salvage what was left of a shared project pushed you to raise your voice, cutting through the noise of the party.

"JENO!"

His eyes met yours, a deadpan stare that could still weaken your resolve. The words you uttered about the pending project fell like heavy raindrops, but his response wasn't venomous – it was filled with an unexpected hurt.

"I'd rather fail," he said, and with that, he walked away, leaving you standing alone amidst the vibrant chaos, a solitary figure in a world that had once revolved aroundthe two of you.

As you gather your resolve to leave, the weight of impending all-nighters and deadlines bearing down on you, Donghyuck intercepts your escape with a mischievous smirk.

"Come with me," he insists, the insistence in his voice leaving no room for argument. "We're playing a game, and you have to be here. I won't let you go home yet."

Reluctantly, you follow Donghyuck into an empty room where a small group has gathered around a solitary bottle of alcohol placed in the center of the floor. Jeno sits on the opposite side, his gaze fixed on you. It takes a moment for you to realize why – you're wearing the dress he once gifted you, a stunning piece that captivates attention.

The atmosphere shifts as the game of spin the bottle begins. You shoot a glare at Donghyuck; this chaotic scene isn't your element. The room becomes a haze of alcohol, drugs, and unrestrained behavior. You feel like an outsider, an observer in a world that's foreign to you.

As the bottle takes its turns, the dares escalate, each one pushing the boundaries further. Yeji and Hyunjin had to dry hump, Chaewon and Ryujin shared an intense make out session and Karina faces a challenge that adds a layer of discomfort to the room.

Your mind begins to wander, almost fortunate to have escaped the bottle's whims, until it unexpectedly lands on Jeno. He maintains the same nonchalant expression, like a detached robot, throughout the game. Witnessing him in this state burdens your heart.

Then, your name is called, and the shock reverberates through you. Eyes widen, pulse quickens – you're suddenly the focal point of the game, and a daunting dare awaits.

“I repeat once more, Lee Jeno, would you rather kiss Y/N with the happy pill or do the same with Winter?” You gulp when you see that the bottle has landed on Jeno, Donghyuck’s words kept ringing in your head, you give him a deadpan expression and all he does is smile and blow you a kiss. He’s a menace. He planned this. You shake your head in annoyance as you see him rubbing his hand at the scene he’s created, the awkward silence, the tension, the stormy expression in Jeno’s eyes.

You gulp when you realise what’s truly going on. It’s a drug. You weren’t surprised, was it Jeno’s party if drugs weren't played with recklessly? You know Jeno loves them, he’s into that stuff, he’s crazy about it so why does he look so angry? You know him, you know his eyes should be growing with light and he’d be desperate to feel the release but he’s mad. He's abrupt and harsh. “Why are you involving drugs?”

There was a silence, Donghyuck just laughs

“I don’t want to do either.”

Jeno and Hyuck converse but it becomes a distant noise to you as you’re distracted. Your blood is boiling, you’re looking at Winter, her sweet smile and shadowed eyes giving you a racing heart. You know she doesn’t mean any harm by her actions, she isn’t a bad person but at the same time, her actions have had a negative affect on you.

Winter applies lip balm, puckering with certainty that Jeno will choose her over you. The anger you feel isn’t solely directed at her, but at the haunting memories of girls who made you feel weak and vulnerable, doubting the significance of your connection with Jeno. The realization hits – you stopped seeing Jeno to avoid this attention, to do what you thought was best.

No more. You’re taking a stand. You’re not focused on anything else, there’s so much booze and people, so much alcohol, so much music but your eyes are only on one person. the man you love so much. He’s arguing with Donghyuck so he doesn’t notice you move from your place, snatch the baggie from Donghyuck’s hand and give Winter a unapologetic glare, silently warning her not to move from her seat, it might’ve been childish but to your suprise she looks startled and sits back down.

You walk over to him and he immediately goes silent, eyes on you and instantly the light is restored. You’re shy and nervous but it doesn’t matter. he’s only one one that matters. making it up to him and showing him that you’re truly sorry and do want him matters the most.

He eyes the bag in your hand and looks stunned, eyes instantly going soft as he lowers you down onto his lap, hands moving all over. They grip the flesh on your thighs, biting his lip as he admires how sexy you look in the dress. His hands are gripping your waist securely, moving his face close to yours, showing the most concern and love in your eyes, that’s when you realise that the feelings never went, he’s never stopped adoring you.

“Baby.” he calls out your name softly, eyes looking over you in concern, you relish in his protective and caring touch that caresses your skin, you missed him so much

“Jeno.” you call out to him, holding onto his face so delicately, the two of you softly looking into each others eyes with giddy smiles, he nudges his nose against yours, calling you his pretty girl. Your spirits were too infectious to break. You truly ignored everyone else around you, especially Donghyuck, his background remarks kept ringing around, he was claiming that you were breaking every single rule in the game but you didn’t care

“Are you sure?” He questions with so much care as you bring the pill out of the bag, ready to put it on your tongue. he has strict eyes, you can see his protective side already. He wants your consent and he wants you to be 100% sure.

You know how much he loves stuff like this, you’ve always wished you was more outgoing for him. You don’t answer verbally.

You pull out pill from the bag, eyeing it like it was foreign, it was to you. You’ve seen Jeno do this so many times, you can do it. You handle it with care, making sure you don’t drop it as you place it on your tongue, eyes not leaving his as you do so, you see his breathing becoming heavy, a smirk that you love so much playing on his face. He’s in his heaven. He’s wanted this for so long. His two favourite things in the world. That combined with the fact he hasn’t touched you in so long, he’s already cumming in his pants.

You moan before you close your lips in on him, lips moving in a passionate yet slow manner, you haven’t done this in so long yet you instantly feel like home. You melt into his touch, fingers gripping onto him tightly as if he could slip away but you know he won’t ever again, it’s real, he’s yours.

He laughs against your lips when he realised you’ve become too indulged in the moment to forget that there was a pill resting on your tongue. He prods his own tongue against yours, the pill falling into his mouth effortlessly. Your tongues engage in a dance, conveying a depth of emotion that transcends words.

The warmth of your shared desire pulses through every lingering moment, igniting a fervent connection that speaks of longing, intensity, and the unspoken promises of passion.

The moment is heightened by a hundred, the kiss moves at a more rapid and intense rate, his hot breath moving against yours, you get lost in each other's embrace. Your kiss is making up for stolen time but you relish into him with a giddy smile when you realise that he’s yours and has always been. You won’t waste any time anymore,

You press against each together fervently, seeking solace and connection in the desperation of the moment. It's a collision of raw emotion, where the taste of longing lingers, and each kiss becomes a desperate plea for reassurance and a temporary escape from the overwhelming tide of uncertainty.

It’s frustrating that you had to do this with your clothes on, it’s clear that you both wanted to strip each other by the way your skirt had trailed so high up your thighs and how you’ve managed to unbutton half of his shirt. You’re gripping onto him for dear life as he starts thrusting against you, his hand pressed against your clothed clit, making rough motions as you grow more wet and frustrated as your lace thong sticks to you, you so desperately want him to strip you naked. His hardness prods against your pelvis, his tip meeting your folds every time he meets your hips.

You begin moaning his name against his lips, heavy pants and breaths against each other's mouth. In all honesty, you’ve both forgotten that there’s a crowd around you, your eyelids doubling explains why you’ve travelled to your own world with him. You’re so enchanted, desperate and horny for each other you genuinely forget you’re in the same room as people, so does he, his fingers are about to slide underneath your skirt and underwear to take it off in one rough motion, other hand reaching for a condom but you shake your head, telling him to cum in you because you’re still on the pill.

It’s so steamy. The 7 seconds has clearly exceeded a long time ago.

“Get a room! Can you guys take it somewhere else?” You’re finally brought back to reality, partially. You can only hear Donghyuck because he’s shouting close to your ear, tapping the both of you. You feel dizzy, you feel like you’re floating, you feel so good.

You ignore everyone, it’s just you and him. You continue to disregard everyone else as you finally hear all the background noise, the shouts and cheers, the whistling, the peering eyes. You don’t notice guys getting their phones out to film and take photos of you, you don’t notice Sunwoo knocking each phone from each shameless guys hands, deleting every photo and video and warning them with threats.

You’re out of your mind but you can recollect Jeno finally lifting the two of you up, he carries you to someplace more private, your legs around his waist as you continue to dry hump. You’re a mess, you keep moaning his name against his lips. “I know, I know, my love.” He whispers against your lips.

You feel a delicious thrill through your pussy, your heart beating erratically. The words ‘I love you’ are nearly slipping off your tongue.

“You’re my good girl, be patient and I’m gonna give you everything you want.” He promises, lust in his eyes. He magically manouvers through the crowds, dodging every single drunk, dancing person or couple all while making out with you passionately, his attention was 100% solely on you.

You let out a noise of excitement when you’re pressed against a wall roughly, Jeno follows shortly, his back pressing into yours. You travelled blind, you didn’t see a thing, you just maintained full trust in him. You can feel the change in atmosphere, it’s much quieter here, it’s just you and him.

He starts pressing kisses against the curve of your neck, languid and sensual, a heated whisper of desire lingered in the air. He caressed you with purpose, leaving his trail of heightened sensations behind with love marks and bites. You missed the feeling of him leaving hickeys so much. In that heated moment, your connection intensified, a symphony of shared longing and a promise of deeper, more intimate embraces to come.

He whispers against your skin, his touch although rough, lingered so softly on your skin. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.” He leans close to you, turning your tace to the side, his touch so caressing. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He says between kisses.

“Why did you ghost me like that? Hm?” He asks, fingertips gripping into your hips as he demands an explanation.

“I – I thought I was doing what was best.” You give a simple explanation, you was contemplating to fully explain what had happened, the conversation you had with Nagyung, the entire ordeal but now you’re standing here with the man you want to be with forever, so you realise that it doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe one day you’ll tell him everything but you don’t see yourself doing that anytime soon. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jeno. What matters is that I’m here with you and I’ll never do that to you again.”

“I’m so sorry, I truly am. It wasn’t right for me to ghost you like that with no explanation, I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you did something wrong. The truth is you didn’t, you were so good to me. You made me feel a way that no one has ever before, I never imagined that someone would make me feel so cherished and appreciated, you came from nowhere and rocked my whole world.”

He smiles against your lips, it’s clear your apology is sincere and it touches his heart. “It’s okay, I forgive you and now I want to punish you.” His voice goes darker and you know it’s the sex in him talking, it turns you on so much.

“Then ruin me.”

“But I wanna make so much love to you.” He groans, an internal conflict playing in his heart. “You’ve gone so long without my touch, are you sure you want me to go hard on you?”

You manage to lock the door behind you, filled

with determination. That tells him enough. He’s confused when you get down from his hold, nearly stumbling once you’re on the ground as dizziness overcomes you but you force yourself to have a strong stance. You try to appear more confident than you are, your eyes heavy with the desire to make him feel good.

Your eyes don’t leave his when you get down on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with doe yet seductive eyes. He groans, getting himself ready with a huff, unbuckling his belt, cooing down at you when you struggled to do it, he cups your cheeks. “My pretty girl, you wanna make me feel good? You wanna make it up to me? You’re gonna take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You nod, suddenly becoming shy at how direct he is. He tuts, shaking his head, fingers gripping the skin beneath your skin roughly, looking down at you and shaking his head. He wants you to beg for him. Your pussy grows wet at his change in attitude.

“How badly do you need my cock?”

“I need it so badly. I’ve been thinking about your cock every single day, I’ll do anything to feel and taste it.” You start begging and pleading, holding his hands softly and kissing the flesh as you know that you’re his soft spot.

But it makes no difference, he won’t give you what you need unless you beg for him the way he wants you to. His eyes grow dark and his voice goes deeper, looking down at you seductively, fingers pressing into your mouth as he gives you a taste for only second. “Say it then.” His finger prods between your top and bottom lip, eyes dark as he’s waiting for the word that he’s been so desperate to hear since rekindling with you:

“Please Daddy!!! Please fuck my throat, Daddy.” You scream at the top of your lungs.

“There’s my good girl.”

Your hands grip his clothed cock, impatiently waiting as he rids himself of his boxers. You bring your knees close together in a bid to feel something which doesn’t go unnoticed by him: “My greedy slut has no patience.”

He shakes his head.

Your anticipation builds as you grasp his thighs, eagerly opening your mouth and meeting his lustful gaze. His hand caresses your cheek before guiding his cock against your chin, his heavy length slapping against your skin. He enters your mouth, you close your eyes and moan into him instantly, savoring the sensation and losing yourself in the moment.

His deep groan resonates as you swallow, and he grips your face while withdrawing his cock slowly. Spit gathers at the edges of your lips as he thrusts back into your mouth. A whimper escapes as the head of his arousal reaches the back of your throat, causing your eyes to water.

"Fuck," he hisses, picking up the pace ever so slightly. Your hands ascend, clutching his belt loops, drawing him nearer until his hips meet your chin.

He lingers momentarily before withdrawing, granting you a brief respite before pulling him back in. He watches intently as each thrust causes your throat to bulge, his fingers pressing against your neck, relishing the sensation.

Your mind is adrift, captivated by him and the sensations he invokes. Your lips ache from the stretch, mirroring the intensity elsewhere. Unbeknownst to you, your thighs rub together, seeking relief from the building pressure within.

His hands descend, teasing with pinches and nipple flicks, eliciting involuntary jerks. His cock, unwavering, continues its rhythmic exploration of your mouth. Gripping your thighs, he forcefully spreads your legs, prompting a cough as he grunts at the tightness, his fingers tantalizingly close to your core. You hold onto his belt loops, immersed in the moment.

"So wet just for me, all for Daddy," he murmurs, his fingers exploring the depths between your thighs, causing your toes to curl. "I wish I could eat you out at the same time, baby," he groans. A whimper escapes as he inserts two fingers, your legs spreading wide in tandem with the rhythmic dance of his mouth and fingers, propelling you toward the precipice.

"So perfect for me. Down on your knees just for me, my cock in my princesses pretty little mouth." he declares, plunging his cock down your throat. Tears and saliva cascade into your hair as you whimper. He looks down at you with a mixture of adoration and sadism in his eyes. You can tell he’s still having a conflict, he wants to make love to you and make you feel like you’re in infinity but he also wants to ruin you.

Your chest heaves as he accelerates his fingers, his other hand anchoring you with pressure against your lower stomach. "Can you hear how wet you are for me?" he taunts, the audible squelch accompanying each swift movement. As the intensity heightens, a new dimension of pleasure unfolds, leaving you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

Your eyes begin watering as his thrusts become more languid, his eyes widening in size as he moans your name, sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth as his grip tightens on the makeshift ponytail he’s bunched your hair into, roughly yanking it to bring you even closer. “My pretty baby.” He admires you as you continue to open wide for him, drool and spit staining your cheeks

“Swallow.” He manages to demand in his hazy state, his voice a complete contrast to his gentle tone a few seconds ago. His cum drips out, so much of it.

You oblige like the good girl that you are, making Jeno’s heart race as he caresses your embrace, cooing at how good you’ve been for him. The liquid burns down your throat as you slurp every last drop, it drops all over your face. Jeno bites his lip and moans at the sight. Your panting against his cock as you savour every last taste, his cum that leaves a mark as it drips on your flesh.

The next thing you know is that he’s on the floor, knelt down beside you as he presses kisses all over your face. He melts at how cute you look covered in his cum, your cheeks a subtle pink as your lips curve up in a giddy smile. “Am I forgiven?”

He sighs, pressing the softest of kisses all over your face. “You’ve already made it up for me, my love.” He smiles, the most precious look ever. You don’t have time to respond because he lifts you up and kisses you, slamming the back of your body against the cold tiles.

“I’m gonna fuck you against the wall.”

He acts swiftly, aching desire between you both palpable. Impatience skips over prolonged foreplay. His hands roughly envelop your boobs as he profoundly fucks into you, your walls sucking him in.

His hips maintain a rapid, fervent pace against yours, igniting a symphony of sensations. Your voice rises, a crescendo of his name escaping your lips, the echo lingering in the air, dancing with the possibility of reaching others' ears.

"Good girl," he breathes, a whisper of dominance laced with desire. "You want everyone to hear how much you love me?"

In the aftermath, a blissful numbness envelops your body—a harmonious blend of pleasure and surrender. The echoes of passion's orchestration linger, leaving you immersed in the aftermath.

He continues his rhythmic movements through his climax, your legs trembling around him, creating a delicate balance. A subtle exploration finds that sweet spot, adding a layer of intimacy to the shared experience.

Whispering softly, he notes, "You're still so tight for me," expressing a connection that transcends the physical. The declaration of a need to be close, to share in the culmination of shared desire, adds a tender note to the symphony of emotions.

""I love you," you whisper with genuine warmth, the words echoing the depth of your feelings. "I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. It's you—always has been and always will be. I want to grow old with you, experience everything with you. I love you."

"You're incredibly beautiful. You're so good to me. You're my entire world," Jeno expresses, his voice a tender melody that wraps around your heart.

"Y/N," he speaks softly after a moment of quiet, his voice carrying a vulnerable tone that unveils layers of emotion. His eyes search yours, seeking reassurance and a promise of permanence.

"You won't leave me again?" he questions, the weight of his vulnerability evident in every word.

"Never," you reassure, your fingers tenderly running through his hair. "I will love you until I stop breathing."

A gentle smile graces his lips, and he closes his eyes, immersing himself in the rhythmic beat of your heart against his chest. His fingers weave through your hair, creating a comforting melody, and his breath becomes a soothing lullaby that caresses the intimate space between you two.

In a moment that lingers with sincerity and depth, he opens his eyes, gazing into your soul. "I love your more," he confesses, the words carrying the weight of every emotion he's ever felt. His declaration is not just a statement; it's a promise, a pledge to navigate the journey of love with you, embracing the beauty of every shared heartbeat and whispered melody.

✧ ✧ ✧

Beneath the celestial canvas of a perfect graduation day, the atmosphere buzzes with an electric mix of excitement and nerves. As you stand on the stage, a serene breeze gently rustles the diplomas in your hands, symbolising the journey of growth and resilience. Above, clouds drift in the blue sky like transient dreams.

You’re surrounded by the sea of your peers, each face reflects the shared triumphs and challenges of the academic voyage. The air is thick with your nerves but your newfound ability to navigate anxiety renders the experience more bearable. You’re doing better, emotionally and physically.

So many eyes are looking up your way but your attention is drawn, unwaveringly, to one face — your handsome boyfriend. Dressed in a graduation suit that complements the solemnity of the occasion, his recently dyed blonde hair adds a touch of vibrancy to the scene. He looks hot.

His gaze meets yours, and as if orchestrated by destiny, the world around you blurs, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus. The warmth of his mesmerising smile works like a balm, dissolving the remnants of nervousness that linger. In this shared moment, he blows a gentle kiss, a silent reassurance that transcends words.

He motions to his phone and you smile his way, breaking eye contact to take your own phone from your front pocket, his text messages leaving a mark on your heart.

As Professor Suh announces the imminent commencement of the valedictorian speech, you swiftly tuck your phone away. You draw in a deep breath. A fleeting but meaningful smile passes between you and Jeno, His eyes, a comforting anchor, capture your attention one last time.

You observe him lean back, sigh, and brace himself, a knowing expression gracing his face, he knows that you haven’t listened to him. A subtle smirk plays on your lips as you witness his friends, quick to tease him. With the echo of your smile lingering in the air, you step forward, propelled by a newfound confidence, falling into the depth of Jeno's eyes one last time before embracing the responsibility of delivering the valedictorian speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed faculty, honored guests, and my extraordinary fellow graduates,

As we stand on the cusp of a momentous occasion, I want to extend my heartfelt congratulations to each and every one of you. Graduating and completing your honors is no small feat, and you should all be immensely proud of your hard work and dedication.

As I reflect on the journey that brought us to this significant moment, I want to share a story that began on my very first day at this university—a story that unfolded into a groundbreaking initiative. A project, focusing on Virtual Reality Therapy, emerged as a transformative endeavor, leveraging VR technology to construct therapeutic environments for those navigating stress, anxiety, or specific psychological conditions. The aim was audacious yet profound: to pioneer an approach that delves into the intricate realms of emotional, social, and cultural interactions within these virtual therapeutic spaces.

I must admit, the inception of this project was nerve-wracking. The unexpected assignment, the weight of its aspirations—I never envisioned being chosen for such an innovative venture. Yet, in the midst of uncertainty, I found myself humbled and honored to be part of this ambitious pursuit.

This project was not a solo endeavor; it was a collaborative journey, and I had the privilege of working alongside someone exceptional. Jeno, my partner in this endeavor, brought his engineering expertise to the table, playing a vital role in translating our vision into reality. Together, we navigated the challenges and triumphs of this innovative initiative.

As the project unfolded, it garnered recognition beyond our university's borders. It's not my intention to bore you with the details, for the university has rightfully celebrated its achievements. This initiative has earned global accolades, winning numerous awards and gaining recognition worldwide—an accomplishment that resonates not just within these academic halls but across the international stage.

Yet, if I may be candid, my personal connection with the project has evolved. While its success is undeniable, and its impact has reached far and wide, my focus has shifted beyond the accolades. It's a testament to the journey we've shared and the growth we've experienced together. Jeno and I, alongside all of you, have played our part in this remarkable chapter of our academic lives.

Now, as I shift the focus of our journey to a more personal realm, let me unveil why this project has become the most profound and romantic chapter of my academic venture. It’s a tale of love, of unexpected connections, and how, amidst the pixels and algorithms, I discovered something far more intricate—the story of how I met my boyfriend, Jeno.

Picture this: as we navigated the intricacies of the project, Jeno, my partner in this venture, revealed a side of himself that extended beyond the confines of his engineering expertise. He was, in essence, the orchestrator of a symphony of intelligence and charm, yet too nervous to stand before you today. His modesty led him to suggest that I take full credit for our shared efforts.

I couldn’t, in all honesty, adhere to his suggestion. You see, I find an unparalleled joy in showcasing him, in proudly proclaiming that he is not only the love of my life but also a brilliant mind beneath the carefully curated image he upholds. Jeno, despite his attempts to downplay it, exudes intelligence effortlessly, and it’s this subtle brilliance that makes him irresistibly attractive.

Sure, we’ve had our fair share of arguments, a clash of wills rooted in the image he feels compelled to uphold. But, oh, how we love. Love transcends the disagreements, and the project, beyond its academic significance, emerged as the catalyst that brought us together. It changed my life, and if you were to look into my eyes, you’d see the depth of my feelings—a love that transforms the way we gaze at each other.

Our eyes tell a story of admiration and attraction, a silent language that binds us with an invisible thread even when words remain unspoken. My eyes, always twinkling and smiling in the company of the love of my life, bear witness to undying feelings—a connection that surpasses the boundaries of time and space.

I share this not merely as a personal anecdote but as a testament to what truly matters. Love, in all its complexities and simplicity, matters more than the rigors of university assignments. University, at its core, is about forging connections and savoring the joy in every moment. It isn’t the end of the world, and even if we stumble, even if we fail, we will endure and live on.

As I reflect on our journey, I can honestly say I have no regrets. This year, I faced a tough challenge—severe anxiety. It affected everything—my studies, friendships, and especially my relationship with Jeno. But I want you to know, I overcame it. My message to all of you is that no matter what life throws your way, you have the strength to overcome it. I believe in you.

Life is unpredictable, but that's what makes it beautiful. Live your life fully, surround yourself with good friends and family. If things get tough, our pods, created by Jeno and me, is there for you.

And speaking of Jeno, the love of my life, this speech is for him. He's been my strength, and I dedicate these words to him. Thank you, and may your journeys ahead be filled with triumphs and love.

So, as we stand on the brink of a new chapter, let’s celebrate the love that intertwines our stories. For in this shared journey, we find the essence of what makes university life extraordinary—moments of connection, joy, and, above all, love.

Thank you, and cheers to the Class of 2023. May your journeys ahead be filled with triumphs and love.”

As the cheers, claps, and laughter of the audience envelop the room, your joy is palpable. Hats soar into the air, mirroring the elation etched across your face. Happiness radiates from you, a beacon in the sea of celebration. Amidst the sea of faces, you find yourself scanning for one person, and a momentary pang of disappointment strikes when his seat appears empty.

However, a sudden embrace from behind interrupts your search, and there's only one pair of arms that could make you feel this secure. Your boyfriend envelops you in a back hug, his whispered words in your ear a sweet symphony of pride and love. He praises your performance, telling you just how incredibly well you did. “I’m so proud of you, I love you.”

His arms, strong and muscular, create a haven around you. You melt into the embrace, feeling the warmth and security he provides. Leaning back into him, his words take a playful turn. His hot breath against your ear, he smirks and teases, “You think you're the only one who can embarrass people?”

Suddenly, his lips meet yours in a public display of affection on the elevated stage. The kiss is not just a peck; it's heated, passionate, and unapologetic. The world fades away as he doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping.

In the heat of the moment, the kiss is all-consuming, a full-on collision of passion. Your tongues engage in a fervent dance, an intimate tangle that heightens the intensity. Jeno's bites on your lips add a playful edge to the heated exchange, each nibble sending sparks through the connection.

As he breathes heavily against you, the air between you crackles with desire. The sensation of his arousal intensifies, palpable in the way he presses against you. His grip on your hair is tight, an assertion of desire that elicits a wince, a sweet blend of pleasure and a hint of pain.

Amid the fervor, your arm circles around his neck, drawing him closer. A smile that plays on your lips before you break away to catch your breath. “I’m not embarrassed. Why would I be? I love you, and I don't care who sees and knows."

His grin widens as he witnesses your transformation—a bolder, more unapologetic version of yourself. In this moment, you radiate confidence, embracing the essence of who you are without concern for others' opinions. His love for you deepens as he watches you stand tall, proud of the person you've become. In his eyes, your authenticity and resilience are truly something to be cherished.

The audience, initially cheering for your performance, now witnesses a different kind of spectacle—one fueled by love, playfulness, and an unapologetic embrace of affection. It's a scene etched in the memories of those present, a testament to the unabashed love between you and your boyfriend.

As you both watch each other with affectionate smiles, Jeno can't help but speak up, his tone filled with playful disbelief. "Really? You're not embarrassed? What happened to that line you were gonna—" He pauses, groaning and widening his eyes as you tap on the microphone, shamelessly grabbing the audience's attention once again.

“Y/N. No. I was just joking. Oh God.”

A moment of silence descends like a dropped pin could be heard. "I have something to add," you say, holding Jeno's hand and locking eyes with him. "I don't believe in God, but God made you for me. I love you, Lee Jeno."

Jeno groans as people whistle but as he looks in your eyes, he has to admit that he’s quite fond of this moment. He shakes his head, coming up behind you once more. "I love you more," he counters with a teasing smile.

"Really, God made me for you? That's a good one," he remarks, his tone light but with a subtle darkness in his eyes.

You respond with a sweet smile, "Never in my life did I think I'd experience a love story like this."

Your gaze is light and affectionate, but Jeno's eyes darken as he playfully accuses, "My blasphemous girl."

The atmosphere is meant to be romantic, he’s kissing you so softly and cooing into your ear as you melt into his back, his strong arms caging you in. The crowd erupts in cheers, and you force a smile, concealing the internal struggle between desire and the need to maintain composure.

Your sharp warning cuts through the air, adding a tense edge. "It's supposed to be a romantic moment; I will cut your fucking dick off," you declare, your tone carrying a mix of threat and irritation.

"Don't talk to me like that when you're the one rubbing against me like a bitch in heat." He grits through his teeth, somehow managing to conceal himself when he lands a slap on your ass, warning you to behave.

"This is a cute moment. My parents are here, and so are yours. Your mom is crying," he whispers in your ear, prompting a wave and a few tears as you look her way but she’s not even paying attention to you, you roll your eyes as Jeno blows her a kiss.

However, he quickly shifts the tone, calling out your arousal. "And you're horny?" he remarks, a mix of amusement and admonishment. "You better stop, or the entire audience will hear you scream my name," he warns, heightening the suspense.

"And you're not wearing underwear? You needy slut.” Jeno teases with a playful smirk evident in his voice.

Your response, delivered with a pout, adds a touch of endearing innocence to the playful exchange. “You literally took it off in the car.” You protest, the pout reflecting a mix of innocence and mild reproach.

Jeno's counter, delivered with a chuckle. "Yeah, because you made me park halfway here because you wanted to ride my cock.”

“What was I supposed to do? You was so cute in the car, telling me that I’m your other half, that you see yourself marrying me and growing old with me, did you or did you not deserve to get your cock sucked in that moment?”

He gives you a knowing smirk. “I did.”

- -

if you enjoy please leave an ask <3 talk to me. i've uploaded this 3 times cus ive been shadowbanned

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hier--soir · 9 months

Text

a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something?

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.”

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you.

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome.

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.

thank you for reading!! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #ALP

4K notes · View notes

nana-gumi · 2 months

Text

devoted f.toji

pairings: fushiguro toji x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, arranged marriage, illness, inaccurate descriptions of heart disease (just did some research lol), megumi is 5 years old, mentions of abuse, some kissing, mentions of pregnancy, drinking, toji is giving mixed signals, suggestive themes, lots of cursing, happy ending. wc: 18k

a/n: this was a filo au that i posted on tiktok, but due to problems posting on tiktok, the story wasn't finished and now here it is with an ending!! sorry for the long wait my tiktok readers 🥹 i'm sorry if the ending did not meet your expectations :') will post the angst ending soon

despite the years his past wife died, he still couldn't move on. it's up for the fate to decide if you could change him.

happy ending | alternate angst ending

being an outcast in your family is the worst. you were forced to marry someone who's like you.

toji fushiguro, an outcast in his family and both of you were forced to marry each other. you've heard rumors about him. mostly bad ones. his father's company is famous after all.

toji have a son from his deceased wife. the time you met his son, megumi, you thought the kid will hate you but it was the opposite. he welcomed you, even told you that he was happy he finally has a mother.

you and toji never really interacted with each other that much, only if needed, like family gatherings or when megumi is around. who would want to show a kid that you're not interested with each other, right? but when it's just the two of you, both were completely a stranger to each other. there were times were you wanted to start a conversation because sleeping in one bed was awkward especially when there's no conversation at all.

you did start a conversation at some point but toji's presence was intimidating enough to shut you up. as time passes by, you're getting used to his presence. he seemed to be scowling at all times but you noticed that, that's just how he is. you continued to interact with him until you and him finally got comfortable with each other, where good morning and good nights were exchanged. but then you've grown attached to the man, especially his son.

when you asked toji why his last name is fushiguro, he told you that it was his deceased wife's last name. toji still refused to bring back his last name which is supposed to be zenin. he told you that his family once forced him to use zenin again but toji simply ignored them. even though toji was an outcast, none of his family couldn't argue with him so he kept the last name fushiguro while you stick with your own last name.

being an outcast, you didn't feel any love from your family and the simple things toji showed you made you feel loved. that night he let you borrow his jacket when it started to snow unexpectedly, those times where he makes extra coffee for you, he would even let you hug him if you have nightmares and most of all, he defends you from your family.

that's what you loved, no– love about him. but you wonder, does toji feel the same? and the answer was already obvious. toji only accepted the marriage because he doesn't have a choice. they will remove him from the business his family owns and he doesn't want that because he needs money for his son, megumi. he promised his deceased wife that he'll take care of megumi after all.

and you adore toji for that. sometimes you think, will toji cherish you the same way he does with his deceased wife? even if his wife died many years ago, he still have the love he has for her, as if she's still around to feel it.

you were currently laying on the couch as you hug yourself for warmth. it wasn't an argument with toji, but you just want to be left alone for now. the words "i love you" accidentally slipped out of your mouth, and you didn't mind if toji doesn't reply and you just hoped he didn't reply to it at all.

"i love you, toji." you whispered, enough for him to hear and his eyes looked guilty as he looked away from you.

"you shouldn't." toji replied. "you'll just hurt yourself."

"i know."

"you know we're married only in papers, we already decided to be just friends." you already know that, but you couldn't just hold back anymore, and of course he would say that. toji thinks no one could replace the love his deceased wife showed and gave him. she was there at his lowest point, she comforted him, told him the words he doesn't know he deserves to hear and toji just couldn't open his heart to love someone, at least not anymore. his wife was enough, megumi addressing you as his mother is enough, even a part of toji doesn't want it.

you glanced at the ring he's caressing on his finger. it should be the ring you placed on his finger on the wedding day but instead, it was the promise ring his wife had gave him. your heart couldn't ache anymore. you're so used at the empty feeling that it doesn't hurt you anymore.

"i'm sorry.." you mumbled as you excused yourself, deciding to just sleep on the couch. there you've grown to realize that being attached with toji fushiguro was the biggest mistake you'll ever done but you'll never regret.

you woke up with a shuffling beside you. you opened your eyes and saw megumi with his small blanket on his hand as he frowned at you.

"mama, it's cold." megumi said as he hurriedly draped his blanket above you.

"it's fine, megumi." you smiled at him as megumi tucked his small body on your arms.

"mama, did papa make you cry?" megumi asked and you pinched his nose as you disagree with his question.

"no megumi, mama fell asleep here while watching." you said.

"okay, i love you mama." megumi said and it has been minutes since he said those words and you were still silent that it made megumi look up at you.

"mama, i love you." he repeated with a hushed tone.

"i―" it was as if you choked on something as you embraced the child. "i love my baby too." you muttered.

after that conversation with toji, everything feels weird as if it's reminding you of your place, that you were forced to marry toji to strengthen your family's bond with the zenin's.

"papa loves you too." megumi mumbled and you just hoped it was true.

toji's mother suddenly visited that day without a notice and toji wasn't around. his family doesn't really hate you but there's always a weird atmosphere around when you're close with them. just when his mother asked where toji was, he suddenly came back from work.

you knew he went here in rush, and the way he wrapped his arms around you as his lips came in contact with your forehead made your heart flutter. but you reminded yourself that it was only for a show. his mother smiled at the scene as toji sat beside you on the dining table.

"what brings you here, ma." toji asked in an annoyed tone.

"i just wanted to visit my grandson." you excused yourself a bit as you made your way towards the kitchen to make them something to eat and drink, and when you came back, the question you and toji were avoiding got asked by his mother.

"when do you plan on having another child?" she asked.

"no plans yet, we're to busy to have another child running around. megumi is enough."

"it's been a year since you're both married. why not give it a try?"

"ma―" you cut toji off before he could say something harsh to his mother.

"we did try it, ma, but it didn't really work so we decided to just wait for the right time." you answered, lied for toji and his mother seemed to buy it.

"ok.. but i am getting old, toji. we need to see a female granchild too." she said before excusing herself to go to her grandson who was playing. toji huffed at her mother's response as he stood up from the chair.

"i am sorry about that, toji." you said because as much as possible, you wanted to avoid answering that question too. toji sighed as he left the kitchen to get changed and when he went back to the living room, his mother was about to leave.

finally. he thought.

"just give it a try." toji's mother told you as she went inside her car.

"why'd she go here without informing me." toji muttered as megumi sat between you and him on the couch, showing the chocolate his grandmother gave him.

"i was surprised too."

"that's fine, thank you for covering up for me." he said as he stood up from the couch and took the chocolate on megumi's hand while carrying him. megumi whined in surprise as his father carried him like a sack of rice as you slowly followed behind.

"papa!" he exclaimed, kicking and punching but it was no use.

"come on, we don't want mama to get mad for eating to much sweets at night." toji said. he wasn't talking about you, you know that.

he placed megumi down beside the refrigerator as he placed the chocolate inside.

"too much sweet is not good for you." toji said as he carried megumi once again.

you just finished washing the dishes as you walked past megumi's room, and their muffled voices made you eavesdrop at their conversation, and you maybe you just didn't.

"megumi, why are you being so stubborn? you don't want mama to get mad right?"

"mama doesn't get mad at me!" megumi yelled as you smile a bit at his words.

"megumi, did you already forget your real mama, hm? she'll be sad in heaven. you want that?" toji said and his words was like a needle that was continuously poking at your chest.

"huh? but mama is here." megumi said, pointing at the door.

"look, (name) is just a replacement for your mama, but your real mama? she loves you, her love for you couldn't be replaced by someone."

"even (name)?" megumi said, and the way he addressed you by your name, you admit hurts. you took a deep breath as you felt a sharp pain in your chest. but that's fine, you're already used to it.

"yes, now go and sleep okay?"

"okay."

megumi started acting awkwardly towards you the next day, he was trying his best to avoid your gaze, maybe even you. he would stutter through his words between calling your name or 'mama'.

"bye bye, (name).." megumi looks away at you as he held toji's hand.

"bye bye." you replied as you forced a smile and megumi looked back once at the front door as they finally left the house.

"papa, i don't want to see mama sad." megumi said as toji placed his seatbelt. megumi might be a kid but he can clearly understood human emotions. when he called you by your name earlier, he saw how your smile disappeared but then you covered it up by a forced smile, and you just let him call you by your name.

"she's not sad-"

"yes she is."

"you don't understand, megumi." toji said and megumi only kept quiet because he knew arguing with his father is useless.

megumi jolted awake. he fell asleep after being in school the whole day as he searched for your presence. he had a dream, a really bad one and he found you in your and his father's room, talking to someone in your phone. megumi heard a sob coming out of you. you said something that megumi couldn't quite hear as you finally ended the call. he watched as you wiped your tears with your palms and took a deep breath. megumi silently close the door as he went back to the living room, sitting patiently as you appeared on his view.

"oh, megumi. how was your sleep?" you asked as you kneeled infront of the boy. megumi observed your eyes, they were a bit red.

"it's fine, mama." you were taken aback. he's calling you mama again. you smiled as you cupped his chubby cheeks.

"are you hungry?" you asked and he nods as you guided him on his feet. he didn't let go of your hand.

"mama, i love you. you're my one and only mama." you felt megumi's small hands squeeze your big ones, as if he's reassuring you of something.

"i love you too, my one and only baby. now let's go and prepare dinner!" megumi noticed that your mood shifted, and he was proud of himself that he was the one who brought a smile on your face.

it's unusual for you to wake up with toji's arms around you. you knew toji didn't do it on purpose, he was drunk last night and you just want to indulge the moment, even just for a minute or even seconds. you felt toji moved and you immediately stood up from the bed.

why do you feel guilty? it's not like you and toji were cheating on his wife. but that's how you felt. toji was still sleeping as you sighed, placing the blanket above him as you went out of the room.

"good morning, mama!" megumi greeted as he closed his ipad off.

"morning, 'gumi. what do you want for breakfast?"

"anything you cook!" he answered as he sat on the kitchen stool, watching you prepare the ingredients you needed.

"pancakes or rice?"

"rice!"

"okay." you laughed at his energetic response.

"mama can we buy art materials later? my teacher said we'll do arts on monday."

"sure, let's go out after we eat."

toji heard you and megumi talking as he arrived the living room. and just as he was about to enter the kitchen, your body bumped on his chest.

"oh, i was about to wake you up. breakfast is ready." you said, about to went back to the table but toji held your arm to stop you for a moment. he placed his other hand behind his head as he looks away.

"did i said something weird? last night." he asked as you look at him for a moment before you shake your head left to right. toji sighed in relief as he let go of your arm, both of you sitting on the kitchen stool. you look at toji, and he looks at you, but you couldn't meet his eyes as you smiled at megumi and place the food on his plate.

you just finished brushing your teeth as you were disturbed with a loud thud outside the bathroom.

"toji? are you there?" you called.

it was as if your soul went out of your body for a second, toji appeared infront of you. a curse slipped out of your mouth as toji's weight fell on you.

this was your first time seeing toji drunk, even your first time encountering a drunk person and you really don't know what to do so you tried your best to pull him with you in the room since he was so heavy.

once you opened the door of your room, you and toji fell on the ground. does his wife encountered this event a lot of times? if so what did she do?

toji was whispering something. you couldn't quite hear him as you placed your ear close to his mouth, the smell of alcohol getting stronger than it was and he was apologizing. you were confused as you move away from him.

"toji, i can't carry you anymore." you said, trying to wake him up as toji's eyes slightly opened.

"my wife." he whispered, you don't know if that certain beat in your heart was because he called you his wife or maybe because he mistook you of his wife.

and the next words he uttered is what you didn't expect as he suddenly placed his hand on your cheek and you were completely frozen in your spot as he continued to speak.

toji's hand finally slipped from your face as his head fell on your shoulder and you sit there, processing the words he said just a minute ago

he didn't mistook you as if wife, he indeed called you his wife and it warmed your heart.

"mama?" you were out of your thoughts when you felt megumi's hand above yours. "are you okay?" he asked as you look at him and then at toji.

"i'm fine, what was it again?" you asked, facing megumi as he smiled at you.

"papa will go with us later!" he said.

"oh? is that so?" you said as you look at toji, waiting for his answer.

he laughs at your reaction.

"looks like you don't want to?" he joked.

"it's not like that! it's always just me and megumi, since you're always busy.." you responded.

"yeah, today's a day off." you cursed internally. you have an appointment to the doctor today, you thought taking megumi with you would be fine, but toji? what reason should you tell him? you couldn't possibly say that you have a family meeting. no, you don't even have someone you can call a family, except for this two. plus toji would be updated if there's a family gathering.

maybe you'll ask the doctor to move appointments.

"are you sure? though i'm not sure when my schedule's gonna be clear again, (name)."

"it's fine choso, i can wait, just update me."

"sorry about that, i'm busy these days plus yuuji's been wanting attention too."

"is that so?" you said as you smile. "i want to meet him soon! looks like he's a good kid."

"soon, i'll bring him to the hospital with me."

"okay, see you next time then?"

"yeah. and (name), don't stress yourself too much, it's bad for the heart." you smiled at his words.

"of course, thank you. bye."

"who's choso?" startled by the voice, you immediately hid your phone behind you.

he was eavesdropping.

toji raised his eyebrow at your reaction as he opened his cabinet.

"a friend of mine."

"really? didn't know you have a friend." toji said in a voice you couldn't recognize, it was as if he's mocking you. you scoffed at him, deciding to just ignore his words.

you were about to leave the room but toji's voice stopped you.

"if you're starting to date someone, don't inform megumi about it. or he'll be sad." he said, mumbling the last sentence as you left. did toji really thought you were dating someone even if you're married already?

sure everything is one-sided, but you just don't have it in you to date someone, not when toji already has your heart, your everything. even if he doesn't know it. but you think it's better for toji to assume that choso is something in your life than choso just being an appointed doctor.

toji was too drunk when he got home and he think he just saw his deceased wife, but when he approached the person, it turned out to be you.

toji noticed that he was at the bathroom and felt your hands on his arms as you place it on your shoulder. he felt drinking that day, he wanted to forget everything or maybe when his wife appeared on his dream last night, the words he told her. he didn't want to wake up that night.

toji already forgot her face, her voice, how her hands felt on his. he already promised that they will meet again. in next life or in another universe. it doesn't matter where, as long as he could meet his wife again. but his wife told him in his dreams that he should move on, and he couldn't just do that.

toji did saw your efforts. he saw how you care for him, especially megumi. but he couldn't just stop himself from comparing you to his wife on his mind. no one could ever replace his wife. toji squinted his eyes, he saw you trying to pick him up.

"toji, i can't carry you anymore." but your words was a blur to him.

toji's hand twitched and moved on its own as he sat up from the floor.

"i'm sorry, i can't." he muttered as he placed his rough hand on your cheek, observing your eyes as he leaned his forehead on yours. "i can't love no more. i can't love you the same way. i'm sorry."

toji was the man of your dreams.

he might not know it but toji saved your life, he saved you from the hands of your greedy parents.

"i can't love you the same way, i'm sorry." the way he said those words were filled with guilt.

sometimes you put yourself on his place. if you were the one that has a past lover who died, of course it'll be hard to move on, especially when that person made you feel love and gave you the world.

toji was miserable back then, not until he met her. she fixed him. just like you and toji, you met him and he fixed you. the only difference was they loved each other. she loved him and he loved her, while you love him but he was stuck in the past.

there were times where you watch him sleep, not in a bad way, but just want to admire him where you whisper your love for him. he won't hear it of course. his dreams must be more entertaining than the words you're whispering to him.

toji's words that night made an impact to you. everything he does for you, you started viewing it as him just doing it for kindness and not for love. maybe toji just doesn't want to hurt you further because he knew how badly your family treated you back then. you were on the same page after all.

now you realized that maybe it was bound to happen, that being married with toji is enough, being a mother figure to megumi was enough. he already did enough for you, for taking you away from your hell life. you'll just pay him back by doing what you should for him and megumi.

you'll just love him silently. you'll bury your feelings deep inside your heart that only you, yourself knew. maybe wait for him to finally acknowledge you. but you knew it wouldn't happen this time around.

for now, you'll just watch him love someone who wasn't even around anymore.

toji was showing you a picture of his past wife because you asked him to see her. she looked a lot like megumi, but a female version. now you know why toji fell in love with her. even in the picture, it was already obvious that his wife was kind and a loving person. but you're kind and a loving person too, aren't you? the universe is so unfair.

"this is when she was 7 months pregnant." toji said as he pointed a specific picture. you smiled at his words as you continue to listen to him. but toji suddenly went silent all of the sudden and closed the album as he cleared his throat.

"why, did you want to see it?" he asked as he placed the album back inside his drawer.

"just curious, she looked a lot like megumi." you said as you lean your head on your knees, facing him. "how did you meet her?"

"it was an arranged marriage too." he said. "i wasn't really favored with it but i don't have a choice." toji smiled. how can a person like her make him smile like this when you can't? "she was simple, i suddenly fell in love with her." toji said with adoration in his voice as he looked at you.

you sighed as you lay flat on the bed and started stretching your arms.

"ah, i wonder if someone would love me that way too." you sighed as you turned your back on him.

"you will, but that couldn't be me." he said straightforwardly as if reminding you that you couldn't change his mind anymore and it made you curl yourself on the sheets.

"are you and that choso dating?" toji asked as you turn to face him. he was leaning his back on the headboard with a laptop on his lap.

"no? why'd you assume we're dating?"

"you've been going out a lot these days, i just thought."

"are you okay with that?" you asked.

"of course." and he didn't even hesitate which hurt you more. "i mean, maybe he's the one you're looking for?" toji said as he closed the laptop, the surroundings being engulfed with darkness, the bright moon outside being the only source of light.

but you're already here. you wanted to say those words but you already knew what he'll respond to it. toji lay flat on the bed as he placed his arms behind his head while you were still facing him.

"not gonna answer my question?"

"oh? what was it again?"

"i said maybe choso is the one you're looking for."

"toji-"

"i just want what's best for you, y/n. you know, i can't really.."

"toji, i already know that. choso is just a friend, nothing more, nothing less." you said followed by a sigh. "at least just let me be by your side." you whispered, hoping that he heard even just a bit of it.

"if you insist, but i already warned you." toji said.

"i know.." toji was just beside you, but he's far within your reach. has it always been like this? every night, you and toji always ends the day with a conversation, same question with the same answers and toji will end up with his back facing you. every night, you couldn't sleep. only whispering those three words to him hoping and praying that he'll hear it and say it back.

every i love you's that was whispered were left hanging on the air. sometimes it was tiring, thinking of the words toji said that maybe he wasn't really for you and you weren't the one for him.

"good night." you mumbled.

"good night." he replied and everything was dark.

i love you, toji.

those words you utter to yourself every single day and night, hoping that he'll say it back, maybe just once, and it might heal the void inside your heart. but not a single day he said it back.

toji felt guilty but he shouldn't be feeling this way. you were just married on papers and already agreed that being friends was enough. yet he couldn't help but watch as you curl yourself, as if seeking for a comfort he knew he couldn't give you. he apologized on his mind, he couldn't say it out loud because he knew how it would hurt you more, so he just stayed silent.

toji switched off the lights as he lay comfortably to the side with your back facing him. he doesn't know how long he's been closing his eyes but sleep just couldn't take over him.

"i love you, toji."

he froze on his spot and his body tensed as he heard you whispered those words. he then felt your fingers caress the scar on his lips.

"i'm sorry if you ever feel guilty for not returning my love for you. but always know that i understand you." you whispered and your touch disappeared on his skin as he felt your warmth get close to him. "i'll keep waiting, maybe someday.." minutes passed, toji was still waiting for you to say something but you were already silent.

he opened his one eye and the first thing he saw was your back, there were a space between you and him.

is it always this far? are you always this far from him? toji doesn't know. he tried to reach for you but he stopped himself. and then again, another apology had slipped on his mind. he couldn't say it back, not when he swore to only say those words to the person he loves.

toji finally closed his eyes as the sleepiness take over his body. he knew that the one for you, who'll cherish you, love you like how you deserve it will eventually come and toji was already certain that it wasn't him.

it was really true that first love never dies now that you've experienced it and toji was enough proof. you couldn't stop loving him the way he couldn't stop loving his past wife. how can you even wish someone to just die when they're already dead? it was weird but were you too cruel for that?

you just hope that someday, toji will look at you the way you've always been wanting and craving. you'll wait, even if your and his hair turns white or even if you only have enough time to live.

"just this once?" you whispered as toji held your cold hands as he placed it on his cheek.

toji closed his eyes as he placed your hand back on the bed, hospital bed.

"i'm really sorry.." he whispered back and it was enough for you to hear it.

a small laugh left your lips. it's so hard even to laugh now.

"that's fine, at least thank you for being here."

"i'll say it if you want."

"don't say something you don't mean, toji." you smiled at him.

"yeah, i guess so."

you sit up from the bed as you wake up. it was just dream, but it felt to real for it to be a dream.

you couldn't help but cry as you cover your mouth as you felt a hand on your back.

"what's wrong? another nightmare?" toji asked. even in your dreams, in your death bed, toji still didn't love you. even in your deathbed, toji still couldn't love you the way you wanted it. maybe it was sign that toji doesn't have to know your condition.

he doesn't need to know.

"it's nothing, let's go back to sleep?"

you went out again. toji heard you talking to someone on the phone, he guessed it was choso. he didn't mean to follow you but he still did.

toji ended up following you on a hospital and he was confused. are you sick? toji asked himself, but you always looked fine.

he anxiously tap his finger on the steering as he waited for you on his car and it took you more than 30 minutes to finally come out of the hospital again.

why does that doctor have to send you out? even placing his hand on your back.

toji watched you enter your car. he waited for you to leave before going out of his car to enter inside the hospital.

he was hesitant as he finally arrived the front desk.

he cleared his throat as he faced the lady infront.

"is there a patient named (name)?"

"(name)?" the nurse repeated as she looked down the lists but your name wasn't there. "i'm so sorry but there is no patient named y/n here."

"ah, mr. fushiguro. did (name) send you here?" toji turned around at the voice and he was met with the same doctor he saw outside the hospital. toji's eyebrow furrowed as he fully faced him. "i'm choso by the way, y/n's doctor. i guess she already told you?"

"mama?" you heard as you enter the front door.

megumi approached you as he embraced you.

"did you just woke up?" you asked as both of you went back to the living room.

"a while ago.."

"where's your papa?"

"i woke up when he left."

"he left? but he said it's his day off today." you mumbled as you recalled his words. "anyway, what do you want for breakfast, gumi?"

as toji entered the house, yours and megumi's muffled voice can be heard at the front door. it looked like you and megumi is having fun. toji finally entered the kitchen and saw you with megumi baking a cupcake.

"papa!" megumi exclaimed as he jumped down the stool to approach his father, the icing on megumi's clothes being transferred to toji's clean ones.

"welcome back, toji. where have you been?" you asked and it suddenly smelled like cigarettes.

she looks fine. toji thought, but he was trying to stare at you as if it'll reveal something.

"toji?" you called him with concern as he snapped out of his thoughts.

"just went out. who's that for?"

"mama said she wants to try baking!" megumi answered.

"is that so?" toji said as megumi hummed in response.

toji looked at you once again, but his stare was making you uncomfortable. there's something weird about the way he looks at you and it was scaring you.

"i'll rest for a bit." toji said as he left the kitchen.

"mama, did you and papa fight?" megumi asked as he approached you.

"no megumi, he's just tired." you smiled down at megumi to reassure him and he warmly returned your smile.

toji didn't left the room that day.

you lay down beside him, still minding the space with both of your backs facing each other.

you heard shuffling behind you but you paid no mind to it. and when you turned your body to the other side, you were surprised to come face to face with toji.

"hey." you started as you slightly move back to create more space. "are you not hungry? there's still left over from the kitchen.

"i'm fine." toji replied with a low voice as you nod at his words.

"good night, toji." you said as you went back to face the other side again.

you were waiting for his reply but minute passed, he was still silent so you took a deep breath and sighed while closing your eyes. but the moment you closed your eyes, you felt him move close to you. he tucked his arms below your body and then the other above you as he easily pulled you close to him.

"good night." he replied as you look up at him with shock. did he just initiate a physical touch? he's not drunk, right?

"mhm." you simply replied, still surprised. toji didn't move away after that, he stayed still and so were you.

"are you drunk?" you asked that made toji open his eyes.

"i'm not. why asking?"

"well, it's- is this okay with you?" you asked and your voice was too small that toji almost didn't catch it.

you were out of words. it was weird for toji to act this way, especially when he's not even drunk. does he need something from you?

it hurts to think that he's only being affectionate because he needs something from you. either way, you'll still do what he'll ask you because you love him.

"are you not comfortable with it?" the way you immediately stopped him when he was about to remove his arms around you was a desperate move, but you didn't want to lose this chance because it might not happen again.

"no, i like it.. it's just, we've never done this before, shouldn't you be the one who's uncomfortable with this? i mean-"

"shh, let's just stay like this." toji murmured as he pulled you a little more close to him. his warm breath fanning on your neck.

you smiled but if felt like something was missing. you felt complete but at the same time you're not. you placed your hands on top of toji's that was around you as you give it a light squeeze.

"toji." you called his name in a whispered tone as you heard him hummed in response. "i'm not her, toji."

you didn't know why you even said those words. toji was hugging you but there were possibilities of him thinking his wife on you. because why would he suddenly do this if not for that?

as those words left your mouth, the warm presence that was comforting you suddenly disappeared. you weren't even surprised when he did that, just a tiny bit of ache in your heart.

heh, i knew it. but it's fine, i still loved it. you thought to yourself as you ended up curling your own body again, seeking for the comfort that was there just a while ago.

maybe someday, toji will hug you again, but that time, you hope he'll do it as him thinking of you, not while thinking of his deceased wife.

"i'm choso by the way, (name)'s doctor. i guess she already told you?"

"hah?" toji rasped in confusion as he looked at choso. so this was choso and he's a doctor.

not bad. toji thought.

"then why are you here, mr. fushiguro? your wife left just 5 minutes ago."

"i know." toji replied.

choso raised his eyebrow at the man in front of him.

"do you perhaps need something from me?" choso couldn't help but ask because the way toji looked at him was different.

"yes, i want to talk to you."

both of them ended outside the hospital where there were no people around.

toji slammed his hand on the wall, slightly embarrassed as he watch the doctor laugh in front of him.

"what's funny." toji rasped.

"sorry, sorry-" choso replied as he pants, he never had a good laugh these days. "mr. fushiguro, are you assuming that your wife is having an affair with me?"

"i didn't mean it that way, i was just asking if you and (name) have something."

"mr. fushiguro, ms. (name) is just my patient, i'm sorry if it came off that way." choso said as he leaned his back on the wall. "plus i know my boundaries, i wouldn't go with a married woman, y'know." toji calmed his body as he leaned his back on the wall like choso did.

"she's always talking to you on the phone, that's why i assumed."

"(name) told me a lot about you."

"i'm hoping it's the good ones."

"not even once your wife badmouthed you, mister." choso replied as he offered toji a cigarette to which he declined.

"she's not sick, is she?" toji asked.

"mhm, your wife was diagnosed with arrhythmia."

"arrhythmia?" toji faced choso at his words.

"her heartbeat is irregular, mr.fushiguro. are you not taking a good care of your wife?" choso tried to joke him but he didn't expect toji to stay silent. "well, i hope she's not lying when she said she doesn't smoke and drink?"

"no, she doesn't." toji said.

"anxiety or any emotional distress can cause this. are you perhaps having a lot of fight? her condition has been like this for a long time now."

"no, we don't fight." toji said "is it harming her that much?" toji asked

"for now, it's not. but if she doesn't take a good care of herself, it may lead to a heart failure."

"how to avoid this?" choso looked at toji in disbelief. did you seriously kept it a secret to your husband?

"toji." you called him as he was about to leave the house. "i'm sorry about last night." you said.

you frowned as you heard the front door close. toji was ignoring you. you felt guilty for saying those words last night but you just couldn't hold back anymore. it was hurting you. why would you say that when toji only wanted to be close with you?

you sighed in defeat as you turn around, continuing the dishes you were doing.

you knew how toji hated it when it's about his wife, yet you still brought it up.

"toji!" you scolded.

it was yet another night where he came home drunk, you're almost starting to get used of this scenario.

"i said don't touch me!" he yelled back as you stumbled back a bit from the force of his push.

you were getting scared. not even once toji had yelled at you, this was the first time. was the words you said really did have an impact to him? now you feel more guilty than you were. you were scared that toji would start looking at you the way your family did.

only because of the stupid words you said.

"toji." you said in a more calmer tone as you guide him on his feet.

"let go." he mumbled.

"i will. let's go to the room first, okay?" you sighed in relief when toji did what you said without saying anything.

"mama.." toji's voice must've woke megumi up as he look at you with concerned eyes.

toji shrugged his shoulders to remove your hand on his shoulders as he kneeled infront of megumi.

"megumi, mama's not here anymore." toji said.

you were taken aback but megumi was more surprised than you were that he started crying.

he was pushing toji away from him as he cry.

"i hate you!" megumi yelled as he finally free himself from toji and hugged your leg.

"it's okay, 'gumi. go back to sleep." you said as you kneeled on megumi's level while he cried in your shirt.

toji stood up by himself as he entered your shared bedroom, closing the door with a force as you flinch in surprise.

"mama." megumi cried.

"it's fine now, he's just tired."

"you say that a lot of times." megumi said as he wiped his tears. "let's sleep together, mama." you look at your room door as you nod at megumi.

maybe toji needs to have his time alone for now.

you were humming a lullaby as you sing megumi to sleep.

you already sang the lullaby 3 times already and just like you, megumi couldn't sleep at all. he knew you were crying but he decided to not talk to you.

megumi pretended to be asleep as you finally stopped humming.

he heard you took a deep breath as you pulled his small body close to you.

"night night, 'gumi." he heard you whispered as he felt the dip on his bed beside him disappear.

megumi squinted his eyes and saw you walking out of his room as the door finally closed leaving him inside his now dark room.

megumi sat up from his bed as he silently followed you.

he was tiptoeing as he followed you to the kitchen.

you were sitting there, a glass of water between your hands as you stare at nothing.

you were too drained as you wiped the remaining tears your eyes could release.

megumi was lost in his thoughts and didn't hear you walking on his way, but before you could caught him, he showed himself to you.

"megumi?" you called him, slightly surprised at his presence. "what's wrong?"

"um water, mama." he said as he noticed you smile a bit before giving him a glass of water.

"all good?" you asked as megumi tucked you and himself on the blanket as he hug you. he nods in response as he sighed in content.

"mama, i will tell papa tomorrow to say sorry." he said.

"it's fine, 'gumi. he's just tired and mama understands." you said as you brushed megumi's hair with your fingers.

"okay, i love you mama."

"i love you too, now go back to sleep you have school tomorrow."

when megumi woke up the next morning, you were still sleeping beside him. he kissed your tear stained cheek as he went out to start his day.

he found his father on the kitchen counter, holding his head with his hand.

toji noticed megumi's presence as he immediately approached his son.

"where's your mama?" toji asked as he placed his hands on megumi's shoulders.

megumi noticed that his father was restless, but he deserved it for yelling at you last night.

"say sorry to mama, papa." megumi said.

"ha? where's she?"

"in my room. mama was crying because of you!" megumi yelled, he almost wanted to cry as he recalled your unreadable expression last night. "i saw mama drink so many medicine, papa." megumi muttered.

toji massaged his temples as he made his way to megumi's room with megumi following behind.

toji slowly opened the door and sighed in relief as he finally saw you.

megumi's small blanket couldn't even cover your whole body as toji approached you and gently carried you to the bed, transferring you to your shared room.

"let's not wake up mama for now." toji said as he pats megumi's head. "i'll drive you to school."

"papa." megumi called as he fixed the seatbelt of the front seat. toji hummed in response as he waited for the street lights to turn green. "do you hate mama?" megumi was hesitant at his question.

"no." toji responded plainly.

"but you always make mama cry." megumi mumbled. "you always say that she's not my mama and it's hurting her. i always see mama cry, i just stay quiet." toji ignored his son as he started driving.

toji went back home after sending megumi to school and you were still sleeping.

he sat on the bed as he tried to recall anything that has happened last night but he couldn't remember anything.

he felt you moved as he look at you. you were finally awake.

you saw him as you sit up from the bed.

"good morning." you greeted as you rubbed your eyes.

toji was waiting for you to say something about last night but you didn't and instead smiled at him as you stretched your body.

"megumi!" you exclaimed as you realized that you were supposed to send him to school.

"i already drove him to school."

"ah really? thank you." you said as you finally relaxed your body. "then, what do you want for breakfast?"

has it been always like this? toji asked himself as he watched you prepare breakfast.

is it always like this the next day when he came home every night he's drunk?

you were all smile but this was the first time toji noticed that it was forced. is it really always like this?

toji wasn't the one to get nervous but when he recalled the nights he came home drunk, he couldn't recall anything.

he must've said or did something hurtful to you that you do not wish to tell him the next morning.

megumi was always a witness to it but you always tell him to stay quiet.

"i'll go out later." you said as he snapped out of his thoughts.

"okay. want me to accompany you?" toji noticed the way you immediately declined his request and there, he exactly knew where you're headed.

toji watched you drink the hot chocolate in your mug.

"(name)." he called.

"mh?"

"i'm sorry. if i ever did something last night."

not just last night, every time he comes home drunk, toji would say something hurtful and you were even convinced that he means some of it.

the first time he came home drunk, he told you he couldn't love you the way you love him and that was fine for you. but second time he came home drunk, he said the words i love you, but it wasn't for you. he said i love you but not your name in it. the third night he came home drunk, he compared you to his wife saying that you couldn't replace the role of being megumi's mother and you know that.

megumi was there and he cried with you saying that he loves you and don't listen to what his father said to you. but then it happened again. he watch his father get mad at everything, including you, his mother who just wanted to help him get to bed. he knew his father wasn't in his right mind because he was drunk. he cried with you again that night.

megumi got used to seeing you hiding your sobs from him. he already saw you cry silently or sometimes you just sit there to stare at nothing. megumi once caught you breathing heavily on the bathroom and there was a blood on the sink. you told him that it was nothing and megumi was just a kid, of course he would believe you that it was just nothing.

but as megumi continues to grow, he's starting to think that his father hates you. he started observing the two of you and there was nothing wrong with your relationship, except when his father is drunk. don't get megumi wrong, he still loves her real mother but you were the one who raised him. he haven't seen his mother once, only in pictures.

"(name)?" you snapped out of your thoughts as you looked from your plate to toji.

"i said i'm sorry." he said.

"it's fine, you were drunk."

"so i did said something, huh." toji cursed under his breath as he heard you laugh.

"don't worry, it's not that deep."

it was. but remembering it will only hurt you more.

you've been having nightmares these days and you don't know if it's a sign for something. every dream you had was weird. there were times where toji would appear in your dreams. sometimes he hates you and sometimes, he loves you that you don't even want to wake up anymore.

you were currently sitting inside a hospital room as choso stood meters away from you.

"are you even taking a rest like i told you to?"

"yes."

"then why is your condition getting worse?" choso's words made you look at him, he was writing something on a paper.

"really?"

"really. (name), i am telling you this now, you'll suffer the consequences if you don't listen to me."

"but i do take rest."

"taking rest isn't enough, you should avoid your heart from getting tired. have you experienced panic attack these past few weeks?"

"n-no."

"you're lying."

"i'm not."

"your husband's worried, you know." you don't know why choso words made your heart clench, but you just hope his words were true.

"really?" you said as if you weren't convinced. choso looks at you and back at the paper as he sighed.

"i'll add another medicine, make sure to take it on time."

"why do we have to do these things?" you said as choso looked up from the paper to you.

"what do you mean?" choso asked as he raised his eyebrow at you.

"i mean, isn't better to just wait until it's over?" choso got silent, clearly surprised at the words you said. you noticed his reaction as you released a nervous laugh. "what am i even saying.." you said as you laughed at yourself.

"are you even hearing yourself?"

"i know what i said, choso. but don't worry, i was just joking."

"not a funny one. you just don't know it (name) but your husband's really worried."

"if you think your words would calm me, it's not working."

"huh?" you stood up from the seat before choso could say something.

"i guess we're already done here?" you said as choso nods.

"(name). take a proper rest."

you fell asleep the moment you got home and when you went downstairs, it was messy.

the television was on full volume and megumi was nowhere to be seen. toji was on the kitchen sleeping, there was a consumed bottle of liquor beside him.

"toji." you shake him to wake him up but it didn't work at first try so you did it again.

he was awake all of the sudden as he look around the kitchen. toji was drunk again as you thought of the things that happens every night he came home drunk. you hope he would just stay silent and wouldn't say anything anymore.

"let's get you to bed." you said as you helped him stand up but before you and toji reached the room, you fell on the floor as you entered the room. and the scene was so familiar to you.

"(name)." he called as you snapped out of the memory. "(nameee)." he called again.

"i'm here." you said.

"you're here?" he said as he touched your face as if he doesn't believe you. "you're really here." he said as he smiled and embraced you.

and you, you were taken aback, but you just let him.

"why did you leave me?" he said.

there he goes again.

"hey, look at me." he said as he held your cheeks with his thumb and pointer finger.

why does looking at him hurts.

"don't ever think that i don't love you, okay? i'm so grateful that you're here.." you were waiting for it. for him to call his wife's name but you didn't expect that he'll say yours. "if i started loving you, are you going to stay?" he said and you were speechless. "i'm sick of people leaving me." he mumbled as he embraced you. "i don't want you to leave. i promise, i'll love you like how you want it. i'll do it, i'll move on from her but in exchange, don't ever leave, okay? we'll heal you, you'll be fine."

what was he even talking about? it's not like your leaving or something, right?

you sighed, brushing off his words as you placed him on the bed.

"don't force yourself to love someone, toji. go to sleep, i'll look for megumi."

you were about to leave the house as you heard sobs coming from the house. and when you followed the sound, you were surprised to see megumi who tucked himself at a kitchen cabinet.

"mama!" he said as he embraced you.

"megumi, what are you doing inside the cabinet?"

"i'm hiding." he frowned as you wiped his tears.

"from who?" you said with a soft voice to calm him.

"mama.." megumi mumbled as his voice slightly cracked. "papa said you'll leave us."

"he said that?" you said as you kneeled into his level and he nods at your question. "he's lying." you said as megumi sighed in relief and embraced you once again.

"papa said you'll leave just like my real mama." megumi pulled away from the hug as he saw your surprised expression. "it's not true, right? mama."

your forced a smile as you pinched megumi's cheeks.

"of course, mama won't leave. never."

"toji, can you drive megumi to school today?" you muttered as you saw toji who was about to leave the room.

"what was that?" toji asked as he closed the door once again and approached you. you sit up from the bed and your vision started to spin.

"bring megumi to school." you said followed with a small cough.

"yeah sure." he hesitantly said.

"thanks." you mumbled as you lay back down on the bed.

"you okay?" toji asked as you felt him sit on the bed.

"i'm fine, must be a fever." you said but toji wasn't convinced and placed the back of his palm on your forehead to your neck and you were burning. toji was about to say something but he felt your cold hands on his.

"i'm fine, don't worry." you assured him with a smile as you let go of his hand and faced the other side. you were burning but your hands were too cold.

"i'll be back." toji said, immediately leaving the room as you heard the doorknob clicked.

toji was back after sending megumi to school. megumi insisted on seeing you before leaving but if he found out you're sick, toji knew megumi wouldn't want to go to school anymore. you weren't in the room when toji entered.

he started looking for you around the house and the kitchen was the last place he expected to see you. he sighed in relief when he saw you sleeping on the table with a glass of water in your right hand. toji's eybrows furrowed as he silently approached you. he can hear your soft snores as he went closer and closer.

"(name)?" he said in a whispered tone and you woke up within a second as you look around.

"oh?" was the only word you let out as you felt toji's hands on your shoulders. "i fell asleep."

"what are you doing here?" he said as you tried to stand up but you failed. you don't have the energy even to stand up.

"i got thirsty but i got tired before i even drink water." you said as you finally drink the glass of water.

"you should see a doctor." toji suggested.

"i'm finee." you said as you let toji guide you back to the room.

slowly, you sit from the bed as toji helped you to lay down. he placed a blanket above your body and went straight to the bathroom inside the room. he went back with a wet towel and a bucket of water as he started wiping your face with it.

"thank you." you whispered, even your throat was hurting. toji didn't respond as he continued on his task and after that, toji took another towel and placed it above your head.

"toji." you called as he stopped at the door he just opened.

'can you stay please?'

how badly you wanted to ask him to stay with you, but the dreams you had before started replaying in your mind. maybe you shouldn't. "it's nothing." you said as you pulled the blanket above your chin.

toji seemed to notice your distress as he silently closed the door and approached you again.

"i will be back. i'll just buy you food." he said as you covered your whole body with the blanket.

"okay." you said and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling.

do you have to be sick for toji to look out for you? maybe being sick is not that bad after all.

toji came back after five minutes, it's not that you're counting though, you were just bored.

"where did you go?" you asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"i'll just order, what do you want- i mean, you can't eat anything for now, let's just order a soup." toji looked at you as he heard you laugh at his words.

"there's no need, toji. it's not that hard to cook a soup." you said as you sit up from the bed, only for toji to push you back down on the bed as you let him place the blanket above you.

"don't be stubborn."

"toji, don't tell me you can't cook a soup." you said.

"it's not like that, okay? i just-" he paused for a moment before turning his back on you. "you seemed like you want a some company, that's why i am here." he said.

speechless, that's how you describe yourself now.

"is that so?" you said as you watch him scratch his head.

"i'll do this on my own way, okay?"

"okay. but let me, i know exactly where to order a good soup."

"this looks plain as hell." toji said as he opened the soup you ordered.

"but it's delicious, and why are you complaining?" you said as you raised your eyebrow at him. "i'm the one who's gonna eat it, not you!" you exclaimed as toji huffed in response.

toji started pouring the soup on a bowl before placing a chair beside the bed. and for a moment, you look at him and he looks at you.

"it's fine, i can do it myself." you said, trying to reach the bowl on his hand but he moved it slightly away from your reach. he hesitated for a moment before taking the spoon on his finger.

"ahh." he instructed.

"toji, this is embarrassing." you muttered as you move away from the spoon.

"how are you gonna get better if you're being stubborn?"

"just let me!!"

"tch, let me handle this." he said as you, again, tried to take the spoon from him but it was useless so you did what he said as he slowly placed the spoon with soup in your mouth.

it was quiet as toji continues to feed you, until it's the last spoon of the soup, you suddenly let out a cough as the soup dripped from the corner of your mouth and to the duvet.

"oh." you mumbled as toji reached out for the tissues. "sorry." you mumbled as you started to wipe the soup on the blanket and then the corner of your mouth. "we have to change blankets, i guess."

it was too sudden that you didn't have time to process everything when toji leaned close to you. you can feel his hot breath on your cheek as he pressed his lips on the corner of your lips, with him tasting the soup he just fed you.

you were sure you were losing your breath as he pulled away as if nothing happened.

"ah, sorry." he said as if he just didn't kiss you. he started to gather the paper bag of the soup earlier and took the blanket on your hands. "i'll get a new one." he said as he finally left the room.

why is he acting so normal when you're there sitting on the bed, trying to calm your speeding heart at the moments earlier.

you cursed under your breath as you hide your face with your palms.

why are you even embarrassed when kissing is normal to a married couple? it was normal but it was unusual for toji to act like that, you haven't even hold hands with him but a kiss? that's way more unexpected.

toji gently closed the door of the room as he leaned his weight on it.

"fuck." he muttered as he clutched the blanket on his hand.

seeing you wipe the soup on the blanket with that smile on your face urge toji to do that. he himself didn't expect it too. he cursed once again before proceeding to the task in hand.

you were startled when the door opens.

it was toji carrying a new blanket.

"i'll pick up megumi soon." he said.

"what about your work?"

"i took a day off." you hoped he did because you were sick. "you can't be left alone." he said as if he just read your mind.

"oh. thank you."

"not a problem. make sure to do the same when i got sick too." he joked, but it didn't fail to put a smile on your face.

"of course, i would love too! but i'm not saying that i want you to get sick!"

"mama!" you can hear megumi's voice from afar as he finally entered your room, throwing his lunchbox bag somewhere as he approached you.

"megumi, don't get to close." you said.

"mama! are you okay?"

"megumi, stop yelling." toji said as he entered the room, picking up megumi's lunchbox bag he threw minutes ago.

"you said mama is not sick!"

"megumi, don't yell at your papa." you said as megumi finally faced you, his face turning into a frown as he faced his father once again.

"i'm sorry, papa." he muttered.

toji was impressed that you could make megumi easily obey you. a thing he couldn't do when megumi was 3 years old.

"come on, change into your home clothes." toji said as he carried megumi like a sack of rice.

"i'll be back, mama!" he said before he and toji disappeared from your view and toji came back after a minute before closing the door with a sigh.

"come and rest." you said as you pat the empty space beside you.

toji sat beside you as the surroundings became quiet. he cleared his throat as he took the plushie megumi bought you and squeezed it.

"i'm sorry." he said.

"why?" you said, completely confused at the apology he just uttered.

"earlier. i didn't mean it."

oh.

"w-well, it's fine." you said as you conceal your stutter with a cough. "it's not like i'm complaining.."

"ha?"

"i mean- don't get the wrong idea!" you said, trying to find the right words. do you say it's okay, i liked it? or it's okay, i enjoyed it? "but.. did you regret it?" you asked, and the tension suddenly became heavy.

he was quiet and must be thinking about it.

"i did-" he paused, and that small pause sure made you nervous. "not?.." toji said in a questioning manner. you felt nervous and relieved at the same time.

"what about you?" he asked and you were more than confident at your answer.

"no. if i'm being honest, i really.. liked it." the last sentence were whispered.

"was that your first kiss?" he asked and you only hummed in response. it was true that toji was your first kiss, even if it was just a peck, his lips still touched yours.

you felt toji shift on the bed as he faced you.

"come closer." he said and you hesitated for a bit as you finally faced him and crawled a bit closer to him.

you were looking anywhere but his eyes as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. and then he's leaning close again.

"tell me to stop and i will." he mumbled, forcing you to look in his dark blue eyes.

"toji, are you sure about this?" you mumbled as you clutched your pajamas under the blanket. "don't do something you'll regret, toji."

he cuts you off by finally kissing you and it wasn't just a peck like you expected it.

he continued and deepened the kiss, until you're laying on the bed and when he finally pulled away, his hands was between your head as you clutch his clothes on his shoulders.

"toji-"

"shh.. i do not regret any of it."

"i need to confine you for 15 days, so i could monitor you properly."

"but i am resting!"

"yes you are, but it's not enough. it's better if it's being observed that you're taking a rest."

"is there another way?" you said as you clutch your phone in your hand. "i actually don't know how to tell my husband." you said as choso looked at you.

"but i already called him. he said he's on his way here."

"huh, what do you mean?" you said, completely surprised that it made you stand up from the chair. "he doesn't even know that i am sick." you said. "choso, i told you to keep it a secret right?"

"i'm sorry, he accused us of having an affair. i needed to." and then there was a knock on the door, and you knew who exactly it is. toji entered the room and you look away from him.

"take a sit, mr. fushiguro." choso said as he instructed him to sit beside you. you weren't looking at him but you can feel toji's burning gaze at you. choso left the room for a moment and being alone with toji became suffocating right now.

you suddenly felt his hand above yours. you thought he would judge or even get mad at you but you but he didn't.

"we'll talk later, okay?" he said as choso finally came back.

"15 days? if that's enough. as long as you treat my wife." toji said. he's doing all the talking while you sit there in silence and.. he really did call you his wife.

toji thanked choso after that as he held your hand and pulled you with him. you gave choso a last glance, a glance as if he just betrayed you and he was looking at you with his apologetic gaze, and there, you and toji left the hospital.

"when did you found out?" you asked.

"a few weeks ago. i followed you." toji said as the signal lights turned red and there was a faint sound of music in the background. "why didn't you tell me?" he asked and you hesitated for a moment as you sit up straight on the front seat.

"choso said it wasn't that life threatening, that's why i thought i don't have to tell anyone." you were mumbling that toji almost didn't understand your words.

"not life threatening but now you need to be confined for 15 days?" toji said and you went silent. "do you not trust me?" he suddenly asked and you immediately disagreed at his words.

"no!" you said. "sorry, i just don't want to be a burden and.. i thought you wouldn't care." you said, whispering the last sentence as you wait for his response. and he didn't respond anymore, until both of you reached the house.

"toji, i'm really sorry." you said and he finally looked at you.

"we're in this together, why would you think i wouldn't care?" he asked and you frowned.

"i'm sorry toji. i just didn't have enough courage to tell you because.. it's because of your wife."

"my wife?" he scoffed, raising his eyebrow as you nod.

"i don't know how to tell you because all you could think of is your wife!" you were frantic as you explain, trying not to say the wrong words because it might trigger him in some way as your emotions get the best of you. "i thought you wouldn't care because i'm not her." you said as you look down on the ground, trying to hold the tears that was eager to come out.

"but i do care, this is not about her. this is about you."

"you don't understand it, toji." you said.

"then i apologize if i came of that way, that you thought i wouldn't care because all i think of is my wife." toji said, emphasizing the words with sarcasm. "but you're my wife too, my wife now." he said, the sarcasm dropping on his voice.

"but i'm not the presence you've been wanting for, i know my place, toji. you reminded me a lot of times already." you said.

when did talking about your illness turned into fighting over his deceased wife?

toji sighed at your response and you took a step back when he stepped forward.

"i'm sorry, i want to be alone for now." you mumbled as you went to your shared room.

you and him were fine just last night? what happened now? it was all because of your stubbornness. it was obvious that toji was worried and cares for you but you're pushing him away.

you couldn't help it, you aren't used at him caring for you. you're mistaking his kindness into something, that maybe he's saying all of it out of pity or guilt.

that's right, now you realized why toji was weird the past few weeks. it's because he already found out and he just didn't tell you.

toji forced the door open with a key and he saw you sitting at the edge of the bed. you didn't even notice him until he sat beside you.

"i'm sorry." you said at the same time.

"sorry, i involved her again." you said as you felt toji's hand at your back.

"i didn't know you felt that way." he said.

"it's okay. i know how hard it is to move on from someone." you said as you held his free hand. "this will be the last time, toji." you said.

"what do you mean?" he asked.

"i'm not dying." you said with a laugh. "what i mean is this will be the last time i'll involve her. i finally realized it, toji. that no matter what i do, i still couldn't do anything for you to love me the way i love you." toji was about to say something but you cut him off. "but it's fine! like you said, we're married only in papers. i think i'm getting it now."

he was silent and you felt his touch disappear on your back.

"i just want to sort everything out before i stay in the hospital for 15 days." you mumbled as you sighed deeply. "sooo, friends then?" you said, the same exact words he told you before you two got married by force. but you saying it hit something in him, it made his chest ache.

he felt your hand take his and shake it, as if both of you just had an agreement. you didn't even wait for his reply as you finally sit up from the bed and started packing some clothes you'll be needing and he could only watch.

"don't worry, it'll only be 15 days. mr. fushiguro can still visit everyday but only around 10 AM to 5 PM." choso said as he glanced at your way.

"choso, did you know there was a theory that being hospitalized will only worsen your state. what if that happens to me?" you said.

"that's a lie, you're here not to worsen your state but to heal you."

"but what if? you know, everything is unexpected."

"why'd you even ask?"

"i don't know. i guess i'm ready?" you said and choso was looking at you with his judging expression. "just kidding." you said as you laugh.

"think of the people who cares for you. be strong for them because they're waiting for you to come home." choso said and megumi was the only person you could think of.

"my son." you said with a smile.

"yes, megumi's waiting for you so stop with your negative thoughts."

"ok, i will."

"mama!" your mood shifted as you heard megumi and he finally entered the room.

he was on his school uniform as he approached you, his upper body leaning on the bed as he tried to reach for you. you leaned close to him as megumi's small hands held you by your cheeks.

"mama, why are you here?" he asked as he frowned.

"mama needs to stay here for now but don't worry."

"why?"

"megumi, don't ask too many questions." toji said.

"it's fine." you said.

toji was watching you and his son interact.

megumi was still mad at him but megumi just didn't show you. toji mentally slapped himself as he recalled the happenings yesterday.

it was megumi frantically looking for you around the house.

megumi was running around the house as he call for you.

"where's mama?" he asked toji as he pants.

"she'll be staying at the hospital for now." toji said.

"why? is mama sick?" megumi said as he approached his father who's ignoring his question. "papa!"

"megumi, you won't understand. and yes mama is sick. now stop asking."

"why is mama sick!" megumi yelled, asking questions, eager to know the answers.

"she needs her heart to be healed. there, now go to your room megumi, you have school tomorrow."

"heart?" megumi muttered as he forced himself on his father's sight as toji sighed. "it's all your fault!" megumi yelled and toji ignored him. "you always make mama cry! now her heart is sad because of you! you always get mad at mama when you come home drunk!"

"what did you say?" toji said as he held megumi by his shoulders.

"i hate you! i wish it's you in the hospital not mama!" megumi said before he could even realize his words as toji let go of megumi. toji sat back on the couch and megumi ran out of the living room.

megumi cried to his sleep as he craved for your presence.

megumi was laying on top of you as you lull him to sleep.

"say sorry to your papa later, okay?" you said as megumi sniffed before nodding.

toji went to buy foods outside as megumi told you everything he said last night.

"it's not your papa's fault why i am here. remember that."

"mama get home soon, okay?"

"of course." you said as you pinch his nose. "stop crying now."

after some minutes, toji finally came back as you and megumi ate the food he bought.

megumi sat at the back seat as he hug his knees.

"i'm sorry, papa." he mumbled. "mama told me what i said is bad. i'm sorry." toji kept quiet as he drives.

he carried megumi who fell asleep at the back seat to his room, giving him a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

toji thought megumi was right, that maybe it was better that it was him in the hospital and not you. he didn't want to lose anyone anymore and toji hoped that he isn't too late.

he was blaming himself.

he already considered himself as a curse, because if he started to love someone, something bad will happen to them. worst is they disappear from his life.

is it a right choice to finally love you?

maybe not.

first week of your stay in hospital wasn't that boring as you thought it would be.

toji would visit you at the starting hours and will bring megumi from school at the last hour, though megumi always sleep on top of you since he wanted to be close to you.

toji would sit there in silence as you hum megumi a lullaby he once heard his son humming while doing his assignments.

toji knew megumi were attached to you but he didn't knew he's that attached to the point that megumi always cry every night, looking for you and will end up sleeping beside toji occupying the space you usually lay at.

"mama, i counted and it's 8." megumi said as he sat on the hospital bed beside you.

"that's right, 7 days more and mama can go home."

"but 7 days is too long." megumi said as he frowned.

"it's not if you stop focusing on it."

"okay, i will not!" you and megumi laughed at the same time and he kneeled towards you as he started wiping your under eyes with his thumb.

"mama, are you sleeping enough?" megumi asked.

"i am. it's just so boring here when i'm alone." you said as megumi embraced you.

"don't worry, mama. i will pray so you can go back home."

"thank you, 'gumi."

"mama." megumi whispered after a minute of silence as you hummed in response.

"papa is not sleeping well." megumi said as he look around as if someone was there to listen but it was just you and him since toji left when someone called him.

"why?" you asked.

"papa misses you, mama."

"he does?" you said as megumi frantically nods.

"he said it to me!" megumi exclaimed excitedly.

megumi was sitting on the kitchen stool as he stared at the cereal on the table.

he hates cereal, he loves the food you cook for him but since you weren't around, he needed to eat it for now.

"stop crying megumi. she'll be back soon." toji said as he drink his black coffee.

megumi wiped his tears as he sniffed.

"i miss mama." megumi mumbled followed by another sniff and toji sighed as he sat beside his son.

"i miss mama too but don't worry, okay? let's have faith and be strong for her too."

"okay. but papa if mama is back you better not make her heart sad again." megumi said as he waited for his father's response and minutes passed, he noticed his father was spacing out. "papa?"

"oh?" toji snapped out of his thoughts as he smiled at megumi. "of course."

"bye bye mama." megumi said as he look away from you and you knew he was holding his tears back.

"come here." you said as he slowly approached you. "don't cry, you'll be back tomorrow, right?" megumi nods as he wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "bye bye." you said as you kissed his forehead before he went back beside toji as he held toji's hand.

you made an eye contact with toji "see you?" you said and he only nod in response.

why are you expecting something when you and toji already settled everything as friends.

toji looked at you for the last time before he and megumi left the room, leaving you alone again.

what are you even expecting? it's not like he would do something.

you just hope that he did something though. maybe a kiss on your forehead? or just a simple words of affirmation, but nevermind.

you sighed as you hug your knees, you should stop thinking about something that'll hurt your own feelings, you didn't want to worsen your state more, do you?

as if it was a coincidence, choso entered the room with papers in his hand.

"hi." you greeted as choso entered the room.

"how are you feeling?"

"nice, i guess?"

"good job, there's a lot of progress." he said.

"wow really?!" you said excitedly.

"yes, you don't have to stay for another 7 days. did your husband left already?"

"they just left."

"call them back so you could finally go home with them."

"mama, do you hate papa?" megumi suddenly asked as he looked up at you, both of you laying on the couch with book in your hand.

"why are you asking that question? of course i don't."

"really? but why do you and papa always fight?"

"we aren't fighting, megumi. that nights you saw him getting mad was because he wasn't in his right mind and he was drunk."

"oh, okay." megumi said as he lay down back on your chest as you started playing with his hair again.

"i love your papa so much, 'gumi. more than i love myself." you whispered as you smile.

toji is currently helping you with the laundry since he couldn't force you enough to take a rest.

"take a rest." toji said for the nth time as you wait for the laundry to finish.

"i'll just finish this." you said.

toji sighed, another attempt to force you failed and he could only wait for you.

he was getting impatient as he stand just at the door. he couldn't leave you alone, he's worried something might happen if he lose sight of you.

the same lullaby you're humming for megumi can be heard at the background as he watch you attentively.

but a sudden gasp left your mouth, your humming getting interrupted as you felt him hug you from behind.

"just take a rest." toji said.

"i'm almost finished." you said, an unexplainable feeling stirring in your system. it was as if you're uncomfortable at the physical touch he just initiated.

weren't you craving for his touch? now that he did it, why are you complaining?

"come on. i'll finish that. listen to your doctor, will you?" toji said as he held you by the wrist and pulled you going to the room.

"do you know what you'll do?"

"yeah, i do the laundry before." he said.

"okay, let me know if you're done."

you've met toji before, back when you were in middle school. maybe he doesn't remember you but you remember him.

that time when someone was making fun of you, he involved himself and protected you. it wasn't really a fight, it was just him pushing them away that made them run away from the scene.

"thank you." you mumbled and when he looked back at you, you noticed a band aid on the side of his mouth that was already red in color. he only looked at you as he walked away. but before he could get away, you held him by his hand. he made an irritated expression that scared you for a moment as you stutter through your words.

"i have a band aid here." you said as you look at each pocket of your clothes until you found it in your hoodie. toji was watching with an unimpressed look as he stand awkwardly. he hissed in pain when you removed the band aid from his lip and replaced it with a new one.

"there." you said. he didn't even thanked you as he left and when toji saw his reflection on a random store, the design of the band aid was really, embarrassing.. a hello kitty design.

you were at the middle of college when your parents told you to stop. they had arranged a marriage for you that you didn't even want. you didn't want to stop college, you wanted to be free but they wouldn't let you. when you met your soon to be husband, you thought he was familiar but couldn't place your finger with. you were sure that you saw this man somewhere, you just couldn't recall where.

the scar on the side of his mouth made you curious as you stare at it and it suddenly made toji self-conscious.

"ah this scar?" he said as your eyes shifted from his scar to his eyes. you were on your first 'date' with toji. the one both of your parents said to get to know each other more.

"i got this from abuse." he said straightforwardly as you laugh nervously.

"um.. did it hurt?" you asked.

"no." he said as he placed his hand near his scar and as if something slapped you mentally, toji's current position reminded you of someone. that kid from the playground, the one who defended you from the bullies, the one that you gave the band aid you just bought because you accidentally scraped your knee, but you gave it to him. toji noticed you genuinely smile at him followed with a wholehearted laugh.

"what's wrong?" he asked and you only shake your head in response.

what a coincidence. who would've thought that the kid you kept on searching for, the reason why you stayed at the playground for who knows how long, hoping to see him again was being married to you? what an unexpected turn of your life.

getting to know each other means getting to know everything in your life. personal or not. it was as if that 'date' made your heart full and ended up being broken in the end. toji was the kid you've been looking for, for a long time now but then he suddenly told you that he was already married and they had a son together.

he clarified that he only accepted the marriage because he didn't have a choice. he told you he just didn't want to disobey his parents and megumi just need a presence of a mother.

"being friends will do." he said as you hesitantly nod.

you didn't even know why you suddenly remembered the past.

"(name), where did you put-" the words died in toji's throat as he opens the door, only to find you standing at one of his drawers, a folder in your hand as you continue to stare at the paper.

the folder was immediately snatched at your hands as toji placed it back on his drawer.

"that's–" you gasped.

"no, listen–" toji mentally cursed himself. he forgot to throw the divorce papers he requested back when it's the first month of your relationship. he forgot to throw it when he was cleaning his drawers the day you were at the hospital

you looked at him, and he hated that look in your face as another curse left his mind. what should he say? how should he explain it.

"well, if that's what you want."

"no." toji said as he moved close to you but your instinct told you to step back and you did. "that was, that wasn't.." he was stuttering through his words as he heard you sigh.

your heart was aching but you have to ease the pain. you didn't want to go back to the hospital again.

"it's fine, toji. you don't have to explain." you said as you sit at the edge of the bed.

"that was before. first month of us being married." toji explained and the small shift of your mood got unnoticed by him.

"is that so?" you said, looking up at him. "maybe i did something you didn't like to ask for divorce papers, huh." you chuckled as you recalled the first month of your marriage. it was megumi finally addressing you as his mother.

toji admitted that day that he didn't want megumi calling you 'mama' but he didn't want to wipe the genuine smile on his son's face so he just let him call you his mother.

"i'm sorry." he said followed by a strong curse.

"why?"

"fuck, i'm sorry. i didn't- that was before. i don't want a divorce now." toji said and the ache in your chest suddenly disappeared as you gave him a teasing grin.

"why? don't tell me mr. fushiguro is finally starting to love me." you joked and it was clearly just a joke, but the tension suddenly changed. he wasn't laughing at your words but was looking straight in your eyes with something in it.

"i'm just joking.." you said as toji finally looked away from you. he couldn't stop cursing mentally. he was lost in his thoughts and didn't feel you moving close to him and when you were about to place a hand on his shoulder, to simply get his attention, he suddenly held you by the wrist.

"toji, what's wrong?" you asked. he started gripping your wrist tightly and both of you were interrupted by the knock on the door.

"papa! lala wants to talk to you on the telephone!" megumi yelled as you look at the door but when you look back at toji, he suddenly leaned close to you, giving your lips a peck, as if it was to reassure you and suddenly he was at the door.

you were frozen in your spot as you watch him close the door, your hand flying to your lips and caress it and instead of an ache, your heart was beating with happiness.

it was one of those nights where toji couldn't sleep again. it happens when something is bugging his mind. he was staring at the ceiling with a deadpanned expression and your shifting caught his attention. both of you were surprised when both met each other's eyes.

it suddenly became awkward.

toji sat up from the bed as he leaned his back on the headboard. you stayed at your position as you stare at the ceiling. there are questions that wanted to be answered, but you think staying quiet would be the best option for now.

toji side glanced your figure, and there were space enough for another person to fit. has it always been like this? now toji is sure that it has been always like this.

toji doesn't know what to do as he continuously stare at you until you finally look at him. (his gaze was burning holes into you.)

there, you sat up from the bed too, doing what he did as you cleared your throat to ease some of the awkwardness that was around.

"can't sleep?" he asked.

"yeah, what about you?"

"can't sleep." you chuckled at his response as you bend your knees close to your chest. why is it starting to get cold?

"about the divorce-"

"i already told you that it was before.. i have no intention in pushing the divorce."

"why?" you asked and toji thinks he doesn't even know why. you were itching to know the reason when toji could've pushed through the divorce long ago.

"why? don't tell me mr. fushiguro is finally starting to love me." you recalled those words you said last morning and to your side, it was clearly just a joke so you removed that as one of the reasons why.

"was it because you found out i was sick?"

"no." he felt embarrassed on how quick he disagreed with your question. "i mean-"

"hm, what could be the reason.." you mumbled as if you're talking to yourself and toji couldn't help but observe you.

"it's best if we sleep for now." toji said as you hummed in response and started tucking yourself at the duvet, facing the wall. you weren't even surprised when you felt him pull you close to his chest. it was as if you're expecting him to do that. and he really did and there, you faced him as you wrapped your arms around his figure with your face hiding on his chest. toji inhaled your shampoo as he sighed in satisfaction.

"will this help you to sleep?" you asked as you look up at him. toji looked down at you with that stupid smirk on his face.

"i could ask you the same question." he said as he chuckled when you went back to hide your face on his chest.

"it will." you whispered but toji surely heared it clearly.

"then that goes the same for me."

"mama loves to cuddle." megumi said as he looked at toji's plain expression. megumi copied his father's expression after looking away from him, continuing the assignment he was doing.

"that's all?" toji said as megumi scoffed at him.

"you asked me what mama likes the most!" megumi argued as he fully face his father. "that's the most, mama loves cuddles!"

"okay okay, stop yelling." toji said when he heard your footsteps approaching them.

"good morning, mama!" megumi greeted as he ran towards you to hug you.

"good morning, megumi." you said, looking at toji as you nod at him.

"morning." he said as megumi pulled you on the table at the living room, showing his little drawing to you and toji.

"what's that?" you asked as megumi smiled.

"this is mama," megumi said as he pointed at you. "this is papa and this is 'gumi."

oh. it was a family drawing. your heart started beating through your ears as you look at megumi.

"my teacher said our assignment is to draw a family!" megumi exclaimed excitedly as he faced you and toji.

family? could you even consider yourself as one of their family? megumi could've drawn his real mother, why did he have to-

your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a hand on your back. you looked back and saw toji looking at you, it was different, the way his eyes calmed you. you awkwardly smiled at him as he pulled you close to his side while placing his other hand on megumi's shoulder.

"what's this?" toji asked as he pointed at a drawing which is color white and black.

"it's my dream dog! i want white and black." megumi said. your heart was racing as you feel the warmth of toji's palm on your side.

"why is mama carrying a stick?" toji asked as megumi huffed.

"so she can beat you when you hurt her again." megumi said as you laugh, finally joining in their conversation.

"that's cruel, megumi. i couldn't hurt your papa." you didn't even feel when toji already removed his hand on your side as he watch you and megumi, a smile making its way on his face.

"there.." you said as you dropped the pencil at the table.

"wow!" megumi exclaimed as you revealed some changes in his drawing.

"what are you holding, mama?" megumi asked.

"roses, mama loves roses." you said as you pat megumi's head.

"oh okay! then 'gumi loves roses too." megumi said as he grinned at you.

"but there are many types of roses." you said as you fixed megumi's disheveled shirt.

"really? what's your favorite among them, mama? megumi asked.

"the purple one!" you said as megumi nods at you.

"why not red, mama? red is famous one right?"

"yes, but i love purple more. because it means love at first sight." you said as you bump megumi's nose with your pointer finger.

you watch him look to the side as you follow his line of sight. he was looking at his father. you forgot that toji was even there as you look away with embarrassment. clearing his throat, toji stood up from the couch as he brushed his hair with his fingers.

"i'm gonna prepare for work." he said before leaving as megumi watch his father disappeared from his sight.

"mama, is papa your love at first sight?" megumi asked when his father wasn't around anymore. you smiled as you recalled the very first day you laid your eyes on him.

"he is." you said with admiration in your tone. "did you know i met your papa when he was a kid?" you said.

"really? what's he like?!" megumi asked with excitement as he leaned close to you.

"hm, he's still the same.. but he saved me from bullies." you said as megumi kept quiet, wanting to know more. "i scraped my knee but i gave my band aid to him because his lips were bleeding."

"is that why papa have a scar?"

"i guess?" you said as you ruffled megumi's hair. "it's just a secret between us, okay?" you whispered as megumi nods at you.

unbeknownst to you, he heard everything you told megumi as he recalled that day where he first got the scar on his lip, that hello kitty band aid. so it was you, huh.

toji left after eating breakfast and it was past lunch when you heard a knock on your front door.

but you weren't expecting visitors, who could it be?

you were surprised when you're met with, no one. but there was a bouquet of purple roses on your doorsteps.

you picked it up as you read the note.

'this is for you, i hope you like it.'

you bit your bottom lip to suppress the smile but it couldn't be helped.

you inhaled the scent of the roses as you finally went inside the house.

"thank you for the roses, toji." night finally approached as toji looked up from his laptop and to you.

"what roses?" he asked as you look at him in disbelief.

"that- you, weren't you the one-" toji suddenly laughed as he closed his laptop.

"i'm just kidding." he said as you glared at him.

"not funny!" you said, almost embarrassed when you stammered with your words just a minute ago.

"did you like it?" toji asked as he started preparing the duvet.

as if it was already planned, you move close to him as he finally covered both of your bodies with the duvet. "i love it."

toji's arms automatically made its way to wrap securely around you.

"how's your check up with choso?" toji asked as he switched off the lamp.

"he recommended me another medicine."

"huh? why? i thought you're getting better?" toji asked as you silently laugh at him.

"yes i am, it was just a vitamin, i mean."

"ah, is that so?"

"mhm."

"sleepy already?" toji asked in a teasing tone and you only further hide your face on his chest. "goodnight." he mumbled.

"i love you, toji." you mumbled against his chest. "you can say it back when you're ready." you said as you look up at him and toji lightly smiled at you.

"i'm almost there.." he mumbled.

"i can still wait.." you said as you looked at him with glint in your eyes. toji let you kiss him on the lips before you went back on hiding your face. he chuckled as he pulled you closer with his hand behind your head.

it was a random night, a random song that was being played on the radio can be heard as you sit down on the couch of the living room. the lights were all closed, the street light outside being the only source of light inside your home.

toji wasn't home yet and megumi is already sleeping in his room.

your head almost fell on the couch when the click of the door woke you up.

toji sighed as he closed the door.

"i'm home." he muttered, but didn't expect to see you approaching him in the dark.

"welcome back." you greeted as you took his bag on his hand, guiding him on the living room.

"have you eaten?" you asked.

"ye-"

"let's eat together, i'm hungry!" you exclaimed as you held him by his hand, guiding him to the kitchen. well maybe eating dinner for the second time wouldn't hurt. toji thought.

"megumi?" he asked.

"already sleeping." you replied with an almost sleepy voice as toji sighed.

"you didn't have to wait for me." he said as he stand beside your almost sleeping form. "let's get you to bed." toji said and carried you in a bridal style.

"toji.. let's sleep." you said as he unbuttoned his almost tight polo.

"yeah, i'll just changed my clothes."

"hurryy."

"did you drink?" toji asked as he lied beside you.

"no."

"why are you being clingy?" he asked.

"miss you." you mumbled, wrapping your arms on his figure. "did you miss me?" you asked and toji couldn't help but smell you.

you didn't even smell like alcohol.

"i'm not drunk, i'm just sleepy." you said as if you just read his mind.

"alright."

"you didn't answer me yet."

"i did." he said as you squealed in happiness.

"okay, good night. i love you." you mumbled.

toji gaze softened as he pulled you close to his chest.

"good night." i love you too.

it was late at night again and toji was still not home. megumi was sent back home by a school bus last afternoon.

you haven't eaten yet. you were waiting for toji so both of you could eat dinner at the same time again and the door clicked as you stood up from the couch.

"i'm home." toji mumbled.

"welcome back!" you exclaimed.

if yesterday you were sleepy, today you have a lot of energy. you took the bag from toji's hand as you walked ahead, only to be pulled back when toji held your wrist, placing a kiss on your forehead as he loosened his tie.

it sure caught you off guard as toji walked past you as if nothing happened.

"well, have you eaten?" you asked, almost stuttering.

"yes." he responded and you mentally frowned.

"okayy." you said as you help him remove his blazer.

"what about you?" he asked, but before you could answer, your stomach growling did it for you. embarrassing.

"well, i guess eating dinner for the second time wouldn't hurt, right?" he said.

"hi, welcome back.." you slowly said as you took toji's bag in your hand.

"i'm home." he muttered, walking past you but suddenly he went back and give your forehead a kiss before removing his watch.

"bad day?" you asked, helping him remove his blazer.

"yeah, i think i couldn't eat dinner with you tonight." he said with a frown.

"it's fine! you go and rest." you said, giving him a smile of reassurance.

toji frowned once again when you made your way to the kitchen. you were humming a song but you were stopped when you saw toji sitting at his usual spot. you blinked twice at him as he sighed.

"well, i got hungry." he said, not looking at your way.

"okay! i'll re-heat some more then." you exclaimed with a smile and toji couldn't help but mirror it.

"thank you for the food."

another bad day.

you noticed it the moment toji entered the house with a slumped shoulders.

"welcome back." you greeted, doing the same routine.

"i'm home." he responded, hooking an arm around you before placing a kiss on your.. lips? "what's dinner for today?" he asked as he started unbuttoning his polo. "(name)? what's wrong?" he asked.

"w-well, i made your favorite." you stammered as you made your way infront of him, helping him remove his blazer.

toji made his way first at the kitchen, taking a mug from the cabinet and it caught your attention.

"coffee?" you asked as he nods and suddenly, you placed a hand on his back.

"take a seat. i'll make you one." you said.

"i can do it myself."

"just let me take care of this, okay? you're tired from work." you said, turning on your back to make him a black coffee when you suddenly felt his weight behind you.

"thank you." he mumbled before going back to sit and it made you proud of yourself.

"welcom-" you were cut off when toji harshly kissed you, his hand flying at the back of your head as he pushed you, until your body collided with a wall. "toji-" you mumbled through his kisses as you pat his shoulder. "can't breathe!" you said as he finally pulled away, with him leaning his forehead on yours as both of you catch your breaths.

"bad day again?" you asked but he only clicked his tongue, continuing his task on you, the food you made being forgotten as he carried you and made his way on the bedroom, and also not forgetting to lock the door.

thank goodness it was saturday today.

your whole body was aching and toji was out of sight as you sat up from the bed.

"mama?" megumi's voice can be heard at the door as he knocked three times before opening, only to see you on the ground. "mama!" megumi exclaimed as he approached you. "papa help!" megumi yelled as he struggled to help you stand up.

"megumi look out for the food in the kitchen." toji said as megumi followed what he was instructed.

"it hurts." you said as toji easily carried you, placing you back on the bed.

"guess i went rough last night." he mocked.

"shut up!"

"i'm home." toji said as he entered the house. you smiled as you approached him.

"not a bad day anymore?" you joked as he laughed, hooking a hand around you as he placed a kiss on your lips. you were used to it now.

"yeah." he replied as both of you did the usual routine.

after the dinner, you were quiet. it was unusual for you to be silent.

"toji-"

"what's wrong?" he asked, cutting you off. the night you both shared was 2 weeks ago, you were supposed to have your period 2 days ago but none came.

"i'm late." you said, starting to get stressed. "i'm scared, what if i ended up being pregnant-"

"then that's good. megumi will have a playmate. is it not?"

"but-"

"it's okay." he said, taking your hand on his and you were surprised when he removed the wedding ring on your finger, placing a new one. "wear this from now on." he said, placing a new ring with a rare design on it.

"thank you.. i love it but, why?"

"i want to get married again." he said, looking straight in your eyes.

"but we're already married." you said as you frowned.

"but for real this time." he said with a smile. "you know, before, i wasn't-" he paused, he couldn't say it but you already understood what he was saying.

"i understand." you said as you laughed.

"will you marry me again?" he asked and you couldn't contain the big smile that was on your face.

"i would love too!" you said as you embraced him, with him spinning you around.

"i love you (name).. thank you for staying with me and megumi. thank you for not giving up on us.. on me." he said and you couldn't help but tear up.

finally. it's finally happening.

"i love you too." you responded with a shaky voice as he wiped your tears with his thumb before finally connecting his lips with yours.

it was worth all the wait.

#nana.gumi #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk angst #toji x you #toji angst #toji fushiguro angst #megumi angst #fushiguro angst #jjk #toji smut

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mrkis · 6 months

Text

you'll never find anyone like me — one. (l.dh)

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x afab!reader GENRE: college au, fluff, mature WORD COUNT: 14.9k

SYNOPSIS: you’ll never find anyone like lee donghyuck, and that’s what makes him so exciting.

CHAPTERS WARNINGS: slow burn(ish) type, so much plot & way too much dialogue, alcohol consumption, explicit language, a lot of mentions of donghyuck being obsessed, heavy tension between reader and donghyuck, mentions of parties & drugs, donghyuck comes across as very straight forward and also flirty, pretty people make reader nervous lol (especially donghyuck), tension between two main characters but no smut yet.

AUTHORS NOTE:: its finally here!! i'm so excited to start this series with you all, thank you for your patience!! also, for anyone new, this is linked to my 'NEO TECH COLLEGE' jaemin series 'the way life goes' although this can be read as a standalone.

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

It wasn’t exactly ideal enrolling into class halfway through the year, knowing you’ll have to go through that godawful stage of trying to make friends with people who already have chosen their own clique to spend the rest of their college years with.

You’re, unfortunately, the new student, the one that’ll be singled out during group projects or the one they pick last for the group because they didn’t want to choose you first… you really don’t know which one is worse.

Looking for a place to settle down was a close second to being one of the worst things to do after enrolling late. You didn’t have enough money to live by yourself and you sure as hell didn’t want to live with someone you hardly even knew, but you had to pick one, so you went with the latter.

Areum was actually the sweetest (and coolest) person you have ever met.

She welcomed you into her two bedroom apartment with open arms and even helped get you settled into your new room by offering to unpack your boxes and decorate the way you preferred, allowing you to have all the creative freedom you needed to call this place your home too.

Areum had even taken time out of her own busy schedule to show you around, letting you know about all the best food joints, best places to go to get coffee, best album stores to get your preferred music and even the best hangout spots.

It was, undoubtedly, a lot to take in.

Areum even introduced you to Minjun, a childhood friend of hers who is a college dropout and now the drummer in a two-man band with his older brother. (They’re pretty good, even though the older brother scares the shit out of you).

Minjun was the complete opposite of Areum yet they were alike in so many ways, it was easy to make friends with him just as it was with Areum. Minjun was sceptical of you at first though, but he immediately warmed up to you when you complimented his drum set to which he then showed you how to play. (You had no idea, but it was fun).

You cherish the friendships you have made with the two deeply even though you felt like you were intruding at the beginning, especially when you realised how long they have actually known each other and how close they are. But the pair happily invited you into their small friendship with big grins and playful jokes.

You were grateful to be starting something new with people who you felt instantly comfortable with, you were excited to see what your time in college had in store for you.

“Shit!” You repeatedly curse under your breath as you hurry across campus grounds with your bag strap sliding down your shoulders and your phone held tightly in your grip, staring down at the time that shined angrily at you due to your lateness.

Being late on your very first day wasn’t exactly something you wanted to experience, but the pressure of getting everything ready and the stress of overthinking lead you to being exhausted and oversleeping—you wanted the ground to swallow you up when you received the mass texts from Areum asking if you made it to your class in time.

You fix the strap on your shoulder as you rush into the building, eyeing the signs on the walls that would easily lead you to your music class and you groan when you realise it’s at the far end of the building, breaking out into another sprint and you’re grateful there’s no one around to see you make a complete fool of yourself as you run.

Glancing down at your phone, you wince at the time and you look back up to make sure you’re going to right way but you curse under your breath when you realise you’re heading straight towards someone’s back and you don’t even have time to stop yourself or control your speed, already bumping into them at full force which causes them to stumble forwards from the impact.

The person they’re with steadies them and you manage to get a quick glimpse at the girl who’s looking at you in shock before the victim spins around, his eyes angry and ready to curse you out but you don’t even notice how his eyes soften when he looks at you as you’re already profusely apologising to him.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I—fuck—I didn’t mean to fall into you like that, I’m just late and—”

“It’s fine.” The girl cuts off your rambling, sending you a reassuring smile as the guy continues to stare at you and you nod, mumbling another quick apology as you turn your head and see the door to your assigned class, quickly slipping through the door and letting it close shut behind you, heart racing rapidly in your chest at the full class of students who briefly glance at you before returning to their work.

The Professor looks up from his computer when you enter the room, gazing at you over the rim of his glasses and he gives you a welcoming smile, beckoning you over with his hand and you head straight towards him, getting ready to apologise for being so late but he’s already opening his mouth to speak first.

“I’m surprised you’re starting halfway through the year, but I’m happy to have you in this class. Welcome,” He smiles warmly at you and it instantly makes you feel better, your shoulders relaxing with a breath of relief as you smile back at him thankfully. “I’m Professor Kim Hongjoong. I’ll be your music Professor during your time here and if you need any help with anything, I’d be happy to give you some guidance… although, I have to encourage my students to ask one another. Team bonding type of stuff.”

“Noted.” You laugh lightly with a nod, adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder.

“Great.” Professor Kim grins up at you.

He dismisses you to a seat at the far back of the class next to a boy whose face is shoved into his computer screen, chunky headphones resting on his head as his fingers dance across a piano keyboard, nodding to the notes that play smoothly in his ears and you pull out the seat to sit beside him, sliding your bag off your shoulder and letting it rest by the legs of the chair.

Capturing your seatmate's attention, he turns to look at you and gives you a warm and welcoming smile, pulling the headphones from his head to rest around his neck. He introduces himself as Xiaojun and he takes the opportunity to point out everyone in the room to let you know their names, and even though it didn’t exactly help and you sure as hell wouldn’t remember everyone's names, you were grateful at least.

“How come you enrolled in the middle of the year?” Xiaojun suddenly asks you and you give him a sheepish grin in response. He raises a questioning brow, “Wasn’t going to enrol or something?”

“Something like that.”

“Interesting.” Xiaojun hums and he turns his head back to his computer screen while your attention is brought towards the classroom door that swings open, and embarrassment immediately washes over you when you recognise the guy that steps inside, the one you had forcefully slammed into on your way here.

You sink down into your seat in hopes to avoid him to keep your own dignity and your brows pull together in confusion when you see his eyes glance around the room, tilting his head to the side in thought and tongue prodding at his cheek as he scans over the row of seats before he finds you.

His lips curl into a smirk and his eyebrows raise in a way that has your heart thumping rapidly in your chest, immediately drawing your attention away from him when he drops down into a seat beside Yangyang, (a guy that Xiaojun had pointed out to you when filling you in on everyone’s names), who is too busy scrolling through his phone to notice his presence.

“Donghyuck.”

“What?” You hum, glancing at Xiaojun when you hear him mutter.

“That’s Donghyuck, the one that just came back in/” Xiaojun tells you and you made a small noise of acknowledgment, taking another peek over at him only to avert your eyes away when you realise he’s already looking at you and you feel hot, a little embarrassed and awkward at being caught.

“Has he got a staring problem or something?” You catch yourself mumbling under your breath and your eyes widen when you hear Xiaojun snort, completely capturing what you had just said and you groan, leaning back into your chair with a frown as Xiaojun looks at you with an amused smile.

“Something like that.”

The class surprisingly goes by quicker than you thought and both Professor Kim and Xiaojun were kind enough to fill you in on what you’ve missed so far, and what’s coming up soon. Luckily, as you enrolled in so late, you were excused from the upcoming assignment but were given a side task to write down everything you had knowledge of, including the instruments that you’re skilled in playing.

You found it quite simple and you’re positive you can jot down everything tonight so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later on. You’ve always been eager to please, so there was no way in hell you were going to leave this until the last minute.

You rise from your seat and grab your bag, slipping the strap over your shoulder as you subconsciously peer over at the other end of the room, your heart thumping wildly in your ears when you catch Donghyuck’s eyes already looking back at you while talking to Yangyang, leaning back on the desk with his hands shoved deep into his pockets and leather jacket draped over his arm.

His deep and intense gaze makes you feel nervous and you find yourself fidgeting in your spot, unable to tear your own eyes away from him, locked under his stare and the smirk that he gives you sends goosebumps rippling down your spine.

It’s when he pushes himself off the desk that brings you out of your trance, panic flooding through you when it seems like he’s about to advance towards you but he stays in his place when a hand carefully touches your arm, causing you to quickly turn towards the person that wanted your attention.

Xiaojun’s smiling warmly at you, but you’re surprised when you see that he’s not alone and instead, there are two other guys standing with him.

One wears a green hoodie beneath a grey jacket and matching coloured jeans, a beanie on his head with blue strands of hair peeking from beneath. The round, thin framed glasses on the bridge of his nose makes him look cute, yet the boyish grin he gives you makes you feel a little flustered and you move your attention to the other boy beside him.

He’s a lot more quiet and awkward, opting to give you a tight lipped smile as a greeting and nodding his head to say he’s acknowledged you. You’re not surprised by his shy demeanour𑁋especially with how he’s refusing to make eye contact and how his fingers nervously fiddle with the bracelet dangling on his wrist.

“This is Mark,” Xiaojun points to the one in the hoodie. “And this is Jihoon,” He points to the other before he turns to you and gives you a smile, “These guys are who I spent the majority of my time with, unfortunately”

“You love us, dude,” Mark’s boyish grin returns as he pats Xiaojun’s shoulder who playfully rolls his eyes and Mark looks at you. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch if you want?”

“Oh, thank you,” You smile appreciatively but it slowly drops when you realise what you had planned already. “Can I join you some other time? I have somewhere to be today.”

“Of course you can.” Mark’s grin widens as his hand removes off Xiaojun’s shoulder to gently knock yours and you grow nervous under the small contact, a shy smile spreading across your lips as you bid them a silent goodbye, brushing past the trio to get to the door and your mouth goes dry, your nerves amping up to a hundred as you once again meet Donghyuck’s eyes from his position next to Yangyang, how he watches you with a hint of intrigue and interest swimming in his irises.

You miss the way his eyes snap towards your new friends with a locked jaw, tongue prodding at his cheek as you leave the room.

Watching Areum work has always been fascinating to you: in awe of the talent that pours out of her hands and the patience she has when it comes to sculpting certain objects and/or people for projects or just to pass the time, how every piece is precise and perfect𑁋a complete masterpiece.

It’s the look of determination and joy that seals the deal for you, how happy and content she seems to be whenever she’s in her zone, and having the opportunity to witness her working in the studio at college for the first time is definitely the highlight of your already long and interesting day.

You bite into your lunch as you watch her from behind get her hands dirty while sculpting her recent project, soothing out the curves of a woman’s body that she has been putting together while humming a tune that plays quietly from the radio on the windowsill beside her.

Areum takes a step back to admire her work, a sound of approval slipping past her lips before she decides to take a break, unzipping her black overalls halfway to take her arms out of the sleeves and tying them around her waist securely so the rest doesn’t fall down completely, allowing her tattooed arms to be freed and on show with her white shirt.

“Did you make it to your class in time this morning?” Areum asks you as she leans against the open window, pulling her strawberry vape out of her pocket to take a drag and you shake your head, causing her to chuckle lowly. “I thought Minjun put an alarm on your phone before he left last night?”

“I slept through it,” You say bitterly, taking another bite of your lunch as she clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Thinking about today got me stressed and I overslept. Ended up almost being an hour late and not only that, I practically body slammed someone because I rushed to get to class. It was embarrassing.”

“Ouch,” Areum teases while scrunching her nose up, taking another hit out of her vape and blowing the smoke out of the window. You roll your eyes, twisting the cap on your bottle of water to take a sip. “Made any friends in your class though?”

You side eye her, “You sound like my mother,” She smirks at you. “Got to know this guy called Xiaojun. He introduced me to his friends Mark and Jihoon just before class ended. I only know those three so far.”

“Good,” Areum hums with an approving nod. “I know Mark and Xiaojun, I’ve bumped into them a few times… don’t know Jihoon though.”

“He’s kinda quiet,” You admit, remembering your very brief encounter with him. You smile, “He didn’t say anything but he seemed welcoming at least. They offered me to join them for lunch but I said I already had plans today.”

“You ditched them to hang out with me?” Areum looks at you with a blank expression and you nod, giving her an innocent grin as you finish off the last bite. “I don’t know whether to thank you or call you stupid.”

You swallow thickly, “I know you better than them so being with you right now is the safest and comforting option to me. I’d like to get to know them more eventually and hang out with them… but it’s kind of hard to do that when I get shy and awkward around people I don’t know.”

“You did well with me and Minjun,” She praises you and you feel your cheeks grow hot at that, trying to fight the smile that threatens to slip onto your lips. “But don’t worry, you got this. Take your time, there’s no rush.”

“I’m not going to rush,” You tell her, resting your chin on your hand as you look over at her, your other hand tapping a mindless tune on the wooden table. “I’m taking everything slowly.”

It took you just over a month to get comfortable in your new college.

You managed to remember everyone's names in your course and despite not talking to some of them, they had become easier to remember overtime.

Xiaojun, Mark and Jihoon never left your side during classes and just like Areum and Minjun, they also welcomed you into their group with open arms and jokes that had you laughing until your stomach cramped up and tears pooled in your eyes.

Jihoon became a lot more open with you as you did him. He was just like you—shy and awkward around people he barely knew or wasn’t comfortable with yet, didn’t want to speak up or take control of the conversation in fear of saying something silly, but when getting comfortable with the people it was non stop talking and cracking jokes, even pitching a few sarcastic comments here and there to make others smile.

Xiaojun and Mark were similar—outgoing and confident, striking up conversations and making friends as if it was the easiest thing to do, making others feel invited and welcomed although there was a few moments where you see their shy tendencies come through the cracks, noticing how shy Xiaojun got when being compliment on his voice when singing a song to himself under his breath and when Mark gets shy when he receives unwanted attention from others that compliment his work or his looks.

Aisha, a girl in your class, was one of the people that would compliment Mark over and over again, making him flustered and cheeks grow red with each word and giggle that slips from her lips. She’s gorgeous, so it doesn’t surprise you that Mark gets shy easily when she comes near.

Aisha is one of the people you haven’t properly spoken to yet. Her sociable and popular presence leaves you a little intimidated. You’ve shared a few friendly smiles and some small words in passing, but you haven’t had the courage to speak to her fully.

You, admittedly, like to admire her from afar. Seeing how confident and friendly she is, how she teasingly flirts and prettily smiles at others who conversate with her, how her delicate hands play with her healthy hair that cascades down her back, how her siren-like voices lures people in when she’s talking or even singing.

It makes you jealous, but not in a bad way. You could only wish you had the same confidence and likeness.

Donghyuck is another person you haven’t spoken to yet. You feel nervous being in his presence, how his intense gaze leaves you speechless and unable to think properly. How his lingering touches on your skin leaves goosebumps running down your spine every time he brushes past you to either get to his seat or if he was just walking by in the hallways.

He glances over his shoulder each time, lips curling into a grin, dark eyes piercing through you as he meets your eyes and takes in your appearance, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip before it tucks between his teeth as he takes in your outfit of the day.

Even if you’re wearing something that completely covers you, he makes you feel bare.

Xiaojun is the one that tells you to stray far away from Donghyuck, that he’s nothing but a ‘slut who loves attention and flirts with any living thing’. Mark did however clap back and told Xiaojun that he himself loves the attention too, which caused Xiaojun to jut out his bottom lip in a pout and turn away, but Mark mentioned how Donghyuck can be a little crazy sometimes and to try and not let his continuous stares and actions get under your skin.

You agreed, saying that wouldn’t be the case, even though you’re lying through your teeth already.

He is getting under your skin, leaving his mark on you and truthfully, it’s interesting.

You will never admit that out loud.

“Why are you being so quiet?” You hear somebody ask you suddenly and you rip yourself out of your thoughts, blinking at you try to see where the source of the sound came from but you let out a huff as a weight is knocked against your shoulder, hissing as you turn your head to see Minjun who had dropped down to the sofa to sit beside you.

He’s grinning at you in greeting but mumbles a quick apology when he realises he’s hurt you, rubbing the sore area before pulling his hand back to pull his phone out of his pockets.

You stay silent for a moment, staring at him as he mindlessly drums his fingers against the side of his phone as he reads a text and you immediately recognise it as the new song that he and his brother have been working on, the corner of your lips stretching into a smile.

However, his drumming comes to a sudden stop when Byeol pounces up on the arm of the sofa on his left, staring at Minjun with his tail slowly swishing behind him before he steps down onto Minjun’s thighs to find the perfect spot to rest and Minjun clicks his tongue against his teeth in annoyance.

“I hate this cat.” He grumbles under his breath despite raising his hand to pet Byeol behind his ears, loud purring noises rumbling from his chest. Minjun glances at you, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” You mutter as you reach over to pet Byeol too.

“About why you’re being so quiet.”

“There’s no reason,” You tell him truthfully, smiling as Byeol nuzzles his head into your palm. “I was enjoying the silence and just thinking about some things.”

“What things?”

Your eyes snap to him, teasing in your tone, “None of your business.”

“Ouch. You wound me,” He speaks monotone, pulling his hand away from Byeol to adjust the beanie on top of his head. “I have a show this weekend at Cherry Bomb, you’re coming right?”

“Obviously,” You hum. “Me and Areum never miss your shows.”

“Lucky charms,” Minjun grins, raising his hand with his pinky outstretched and you snort, wrapping your own pinky around his and squeezing tightly. “EJ and his girlfriend are coming too so we’re going to grab a few beers with them after it, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me,” You nod, retracting your hand from his to pet the cat who’s now climbing into your own lap, rubbing his face in the cotton of your shirt. You purse your lips in thought, “Can I invite people?”

Minjun raises his brow in interest, “Who?”

“Just these guys I’ve made friends with—they’re on my music course,” You briefly explain but you feel the need to go further as Minjun continues to stare at you. “They saw my Instagram post at your show a few weekends back and they asked about you, and they said they’d be interested in seeing you play and—”

“They can come,” He cuts off your rambling, grinning up at you and your brows pull together when he nudges your shoulder. “You don’t have to ask, you know. The more the merrier, right? Besides, Seungwoo will be happy to see some new faces listening to our music.”

“Is he giving you a hard time?”

“Just the usual,” Minjun shrugs. “Worried about the number of people showing up to watch, the amount of unfinished songs he’s written, stuff with our parents too… they’re not exactly supportive of me dropping out of college and him leaving work to pursue music. They say it’s a waste of time.”

“But you’re good at what you do,” You tell him truthfully with a kind smile. “Both of you. You’re booking out bars and performing in front of big crowds almost every weekend, I say that’s pretty impressive.”

The corner of Minjun's lips lift upwards, his head tilting to the side slightly as he looks at you, “You think so?”

You nudge his shoulder, “I know so.”

Minjun breaks out into a full smile this time and he nudges you back as a small gesture of a thank you before he shifts in his seat, getting comfortable leaning against the cushions as he resumes scrolling through his phone.

You relax into him, peering your head over his shoulder to watch the screen as he shows you his current Instagram home page filled with musicians, concert photos and the occasional selfie of those he follows. You hardly recognise any of them, apart from the few Areum had posted and EJ with his girlfriend, but you still wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and make flirty comments when you see the sexy mirror pictures posted by some.

Minjun just rolls his eyes and tells you to be quiet, huffing as he angles himself away from you.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here,” You hear Areum’s teasing voice from behind and you crane your neck to see her make her way over to the both of you, a fluffy white towel wrapped tight around her body and another wrapped around her hair from her previous shower.

She sits in the single loveseat opposite, crossing her legs beneath herself to get comfy and a smile slips upon her lips as Byeol meows loudly, jumping down from your own lap and to find comfort on hers, nuzzling himself in her towel and Areum holds him to her chest, stroking his fur and cooing softly.

“I’m always here.” Minjun gives her a grin.

“Unfortunately~” Areum hums, pressing gentle kisses on the top of Byeol’s head and Minjun rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he shakes his head.

Areum grins, already feeling proud at already getting under her best friend's skin but you knew deep down that it was just a little joke, knowing first hand how they always bite at each other to try and get one of them to react and lose, adding another point to their mental tally chart.

She coos as she talks to Byeol, scratching below his chin and rubbing behind his ears as you smile at the sight, hearing his loud purrs resonate from where he’s sitting on her lap and Areum’s phone that’s been gripped in her hand vibrates loudly, causing her to pull away from Byeol for a moment to check her screen.

You watch as her brows raise slightly, a smirk spreading across her cheeks and her bottom lip gets caught between her teeth, thumbs quickly tapping against the phone before she raises her head up, looking over at you with an unfamiliar glint in her eye.

Your face scrunches up, confused. “Why are you looking at me?”

Areum cocks her head to the side, “How do you feel about experiencing your first college party tonight?”

The sight in front of you is definitely… something.

The house is a lot bigger than you anticipated, expecting to be brought along to a little apartment or even a club for your first official college party, but Areum had thrown you into a complete loop as she brought you to a not so little apartment or club that was already filled with drunk college students, some already even sprawled across the front lawn messily making out or even staring up at the sky giggling to themselves.

However, you grimace a little when you see someone come stumbling out of the house with their hand clamped over the mouth, barely making it towards a bush before emptying out their stomachs with the most gruesome of sounds.

A guy comes jogging out of the house shortly after with a water bottle in hand and his phone in the other, your mouth starts to feel a little dry, the attractiveness and confidence that oozes from him as he comes closer stuns you for a moment, the shyness taking over you when he grunts and squats down to tend to the drunken person with their head shoved into the bushes.

The tight black fitted shirt he wears shows off the muscles beneath, how they bulge and tense when he reaches out to caress the person’s back as they retch loudly and your eyes can’t help but shift to his thighs, how the pants are tightening around them which each movement and you gulp, pulling your attention away when you feel Areum slip her arm through yours.

“Seems like you got your hands full already.” Areum speaks first with a teasing tone that’s directed towards the guy and he raises his head, dark eyes glistening under the night sky as he grins at her.

“You got that right,” He chuckles softly, putting the water bottle down on the grass to run his fingers through his dark mullet, gazing at you. “You’re new. I’ve never seen you here before. I’m Jeno.”

You introduce yourself and he repeats your name back to you with a hum and a nod, then he smiles and wishes you a good time at the party before turning back to the person who had seemingly stopped throwing up, ordering them to drink the bottled water and saying how he’s going to call a cab for them to get home safely.

Minjun, who had been quiet this entire time watching every thing unfold, gently pushes your shoulder to get you to walk and Areum pulls you towards the house by your arm, the loud music blasting inside already hitting your eardrums and you’re instantly hit with the smell of alcohol and weed when you enter.

The inside is a lot more chaotic than the outside, you conclude.

Sweaty bodies pressed against each other as they dance or makeout, some even fondling each other to which you immediately avert your attention away when they glance your way. Others are in small groups talking and even playing drinking games, you can just about see a group playing cup pong from where you’re standing at the entrance.

Minjun leans down to murmur in your ear, “So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s…” You pause, pulling a face. “Something. Very crowded. There’s people everywhere.”

Minjun’s chest rumbles with a laugh, “And this isn’t even the half of it.”

Your eyes widen at the possible fact of there being more people in the house, already feeling overwhelmed and Areum’s hand slides down your arm to take your own, lacing her fingers through yours as she helps weave you through the crowds, Minjun hot on your tail as he follows behind.

You glance around while she leads you both to wherever she wants to go and you spot a couple lounging together on the sofa, the pretty blonde smiling at her boyfriend who’s gently tucking her hair behind her ears as he’s mumbling something to her and she nods, causing the boyfriend to grin and clink his drink against hers.

“Here,” Areum’s voice grabs your attention and your turn your head to look at her when you feel her hand slip from yours, noticing that she’s brought you to the kitchen where only a few partygoers are standing, nursing their drinks and chatting with friends. Areum opens the cooler and passes a beer over to Minjun who dips his head in silent thank you before turning to you, “Want a beer? A seltzer?”

“Beer.” You’re thankful she hands you one that you’re familiar with, the ones that the three of you have shared in your apartment during movie and game nights, immediately cracking it open to take a sip and the satisfying burn and flavour that that runs down your throat has you smiling.

It unfortunately doesn’t take long for you to start to feel out of place, your back pressed against a wall in the far corner of the kitchen as you watch Minjun smoke with a guy you overheard is called Sunwoo, a dopey grin smile spreading across his cheeks every time someone had waltzed up to him with money in their hand for one of his baggies that he takes out of his pocket to slip into theirs.

Areum had politely excused herself from you a few moments prior to greet someone you somewhat recognise as one of her previous hookups, watching as Areum’s hand slips around her waist to hold her close to her body and the girl lets out flirtatious giggles, winding her own arms around Areum’s shoulders as they whisper in each others ears.

You sigh, pursing your lips as you take a glance down at the beer in your hand, shaking the can slightly to feel how much drink was left for you to drink and you frown when you notice it’s empty. You push yourself off of the wall and discard your empty beer in the overflowing trash can, opting to open the cooler and grab another to keep yourself preoccupied but you’re startled when another hand reaches in too, brushing against your own.

“Oh, sorry—” The voice pauses mid sentence and you glance up, your eyes widening in surprise when you see Xiaojun staring back at you with a similar expression. “It’s you!”

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a smile, excitement flowing through your veins as Xiaojun gives you a welcoming side hug, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Xiaojun pulls back to adjust the backwards cap on his head, not before running his fingers through his hair. You take this moment to take in his appearance, surprised to see him out of his knitted sweaters and chinos which is replaced with a loose fitted grey tank top and dark jeans, showing off his physique which caught you off guard immensely, not expecting to see the muscles.

“My roommate told me to tag along,” You briefly explain to him, pulling your eyes away from his arms and he hums in understanding, handing you a beer before grabbing one for himself. “Are Mark and Jihoon here too?”

“Jihoon’s at home. This isn’t his, uh—” Xiaojun waves his hand around comically. “—type of scene, you know. Mark’s around here somewhere though, lost him when this girl tugged his arm wanting to speak to him in private.”

You make a small noise as you nod your head, assuming that it was another student proclaiming their attraction towards Mark as you have witnessed many times before, feeling bad every time Mark had rejected them even if he was sweet with his words.

The confidence that people had to confess their feelings to the person they liked always made you jealous, wishing you had the courage to admit your own likeness towards someone but you could never get it out, knowing that the words would constantly get stuck on the tip of your tongue and the fear of rejection wasn’t exactly something you wanted to experience.

So you always held back on telling people how you felt, especially if you liked them. But yet again, seemingly lucky for you, there has never really been anyone that you’ve truly liked. You’ve had small mindless crushes that you knew would lead into nothing and you’ve been in the presence of a few attractive people that definitely make your heart flutter, but it’s never enough to make you want to confess.

A gentle touch on your arm brings you out of your thoughts and you turn your head to see Minjun standing beside, a gesture to show that he was finally back with you and you couldn’t have been more happier to have more people at your side, giving him a smile to which he returns, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“Oh. You’re the guy.” Xiaojun speaks up, eyebrows raised to his hairline in shock as he points at Minjun who looks back at him, seemingly confused but he slowly nods anyways which makes you snort quietly, finding the sight comical. “The drummer from that band, the one on her Instagram—LŒV, right?”

“Yeah,” Minjun hums in surprise before he makes a noise of realisation, piecing two and two together. “You must be one of the guys she told me about, that wanted to come see us play this weekend.”

You zone out of their conversation when Xiaojun praises him for his musical skills, the pair diving deep into the music discussion which usually you would’ve participated in any of time, but you find yourself getting distracted as you watch Areum delicately stroke the back of another girl that she’s talking with, pulling her in closely to whisper in her ear and laughing when the girl pushes her shoulder playfully before tugging her back in.

Your attention however pulls away from the pair when Areum places two fingers beneath her chin to bring her in for a kiss, feeling awkward to give them an audience and finding interest in a potted plant in the corner of the room, your lips quirking up into an amused smile when you see a drunk cradling it like a newborn, stroking the leaves and cooing.

The sight in front of you is hilarious and you would’ve taken out your phone to take a picture it if wasn’t for the fact you didn’t know this person, not really wanting to be caught and questioned taking pictures of someone you barely knew even if it would make a great memory… and definitely a great birthday card.

But your eyes flit away from the drunk to the guy that you met outside. Jeno, you remember his name. He strides into the house with a dark wet patch over the front of his clothes and an empty water bottle.

First, you grimace at the thought of that person he was taking care of outside throwing the water over him in a drunken fit, but then you feel a little warm and flustered when you realise that the water had made his shirt and pants stick to him more than it originally did, outlining his body perfectly, defining the muscles beneath the materials.

“Why are you ogling Jeno?”

“I’m not,” You immediately defend yourself, attention snapping back to Xiaojun who's already staring back at you with an amused smirk, raising his eyebrow. “I’m not.”

“Pretty sure you are,” Minjun joins in this time and you harden your gaze at him, causing him to grin. “You like him?”

“No.”

“He’s attractive, for sure,” Xiaojun hums, taking a glance at him over your shoulder and watching him as he disappears up the staircase, probably to change out of his wet clothes. “I wouldn’t get too close to him though,”

Now that piques your interest, “Why?”

Xiaojun opens his mouth, ready to tell you what you’re surprisingly desperate to hear until he closes his mouth, brows rising in shock when you feel someone's arms slip around your shoulders to bring your back into their chest.

You immediately recognise it as Areum, the sweet citrus smell of her perfume overwhelming your senses and you turn your head to the side to see her already smiling at you, giving you a comforting squeeze before letting you go to stand beside you to greet Xiaojun.

Xiaojun seems hypnotised by her beauty just like many others are and it doesn’t surprise you, the beauty and the confidence that radiates off of her is enough to have your own heart thumping in your chest and feeling shy whenever she meets your eyes or gives you a pretty smile.

“I’m Areum,” She introduces herself as she reopens the cooler to fetch herself another beer. “Her roomie.”

Xiaojun whispers back in a daze, “Hi roomie.”

The look on Xiaojun’s face was comical when it slipped into conversation that Areum wasn’t interested in men, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open in shock as he profusely apologised, worried that his dazed look and minor flirtatious comments made her uncomfortable but she shook her head, laughing as she explained everything was fine and that he had no way of knowing her preferences.

Still, the trio got along quite well and even Mark, who joined in a few minutes prior after complaining about how he was locked in the bathroom for five minutes, got along with Areum and Minjun too. It made you smile, seeing the people you liked getting along with each other and exchanging socials and numbers, it also made you miss Jihoon a little bit, wishing he was here so you could introduce them to your duo of friends.

However, you did make a mental list to remind yourself to text Jihoon tomorrow morning and tell him you’d add him to the groupchat that Xiaojun was desperate to make.

It doesn’t take long for you all to split from each other too: Areum grabbing your hand to steal you away for a little while and you were surprised that Minjun didn’t follow behind like he usually does, but you were happy to see him so comfortable enough to stick around with Mark and Xiaojun who were happily discussing music techniques and even other bands they both seemed to enjoy.

Areum brought you to the living room this time where the music blasted from the stereo, making it a lot harder to hear what she was saying to you but you managed, opting to lean in close so she could whisper in your ear and you did the same.

You’re feeling awkward and uncomfortable now though, nursing the third beer in your hand as everyone around you either dances or heavily makes out with the person they’ve come with or even just met, finding it hard to focus your attention on anything as in every corner you look, you see people wrapped up in each other.

A gentle touch is placed on your arm, “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” You hum, looking at Areum who is staring back at you worryingly. “Why?”

“You’ve gone quiet,” She points out and a frown makes its way onto your lips, “Want to go home?”

“What? No. It’s fine,” You quickly shake your head. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” Areum chuckles softly and when her gaze flicks over your shoulder, you see the surprised look on her face. “Seems like you’ve got an admirer tonight.”

Her words have you making a noise of confusion and she nods in the direction of your so-called ‘admirer’ and you’re embarrassingly quick to whip your head around, not making your movements subtle at all which she snorts at in amusement.

Your heart thumps loudly in your ears as you spot Donghyuck manspreading on the sofa a few feet in front of you, long dark hair hanging over his eyes and a joint resting between his lips which he inhales deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs for what seems to be an eternity until he exhales, passing the joint over to Yangyang all while staring directly at you.

You feel hot beneath his intense stare, the dress you're wearing now seeming a little too tight and revealing that you subconsciously wrap your arms around yourself to cover up, not missing the way Donghyuck’s lips curl into a smirk before he brings a bottle up to his mouth, chugging the alcoholic beverage.

You clear your throat, “That’s Donghyuck.”

“I know.”

Your head snaps towards Areum in surprise, “You know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Areum laughs lightly as she puts down her empty beer can on the windowsill. She presses her lips together as she leans back against the wall with her hands shoved into her low cut jeans. “Everyone here pretty much knows Donghyuck. He’s best friends with Jeno and that group.”

“Jeno…” You repeat the familiar name and you jab your thumb in the direction to where he’s standing, now dressed up in something completely different than last: wearing a white and dark grey ombre dress shirt with the buttons left undone, revealing his toned chest. You couldn’t look at him for too long without feeling flustered. “Him?”

“It’s his house—” She pauses, “Their house. They all live together, all five of them. But the sixth one recently moved out to live with his girlfriend.”

“Oh,” You blink, the curiosity inside of you building. “How do you know so much about this stuff?”

“They’re well-known,” Areum shrugs nonchalantly. “Some might say popular, I guess. Everyone pretty much knows everything about them… For starters, Jeno is the main guy that throws all these parties. He’s kind of a gym freak and he’s secretly really smart, he’s an engineering student. Jeno’s also one of those quote unquote ‘renown fuckboy’. He dated Miwoo for a long while—she’s the black haired one wearing a pretty black dress—but they broke up,

“Jaemin is one of the quiet ones, kind of mysterious in some ways too. You’ll hardly ever see him that much though, but he does appear every now and again to be around Jeno—they’ve been best friends for years. He’s a photography student who used to be in a serious relationship with a girl named Eunbin but they broke up. He did end up having a friends with benefits relationship with one of the girls in the group and then they got together, she’s currently away on a writer's trip,

“Renjun’s also one of the quiet ones, more of an observer. He sits in silence the majority of the time but he’s mean when he wants to be, plus doesn’t exactly take shit from anybody either so he can be kind of intimidating to some people. He’s an art student, some of his work is showcased on the walls in the art department. He’s also dating the pretty blonde that he's sitting with his arm around right now—Haru,

“Shotaro is the friendly and cute one that constantly smiles no matter what type of situation he is in. He’s pretty chilled out, carefree. He’s a dance student too… a really good one. He’s practically the baby of their group—everyone has a soft spot for him. He did however end up getting into a fight with Hyunjin because Yeji—Hyunjin’s ex—kissed him at a party. But even though Hyunjin was the one that threw the first punch, he ended up looking worse than Shotaro thanks to Yangyang who jumped in,

“Yangyang is another renown fuckboy, practically fucks anyone with a pussy between their legs. I’m almost positive he has slept with the majority of the girls in this room. He drinks and smokes weed a lot, and recently he’s been taking some harder stuff until he can’t physically function too. He once had a crush on one of the girls in their group—Jaemin’s now girlfriend—but nobody really knows what happened between them. I’m assuming he kept his feelings to himself considering Jaemin and her are all coupled up now, but anyway. Yangyang’s best friend is Donghyuck, you probably won’t ever see one without the other, they’re like two peas in a pod,

“Donghyuck… he’s interesting, I guess. A jokester, pretty dramatic at times but he can also switch into his serious mode which hardly no-one has ever seen. He parties a lot, definitely can outdrink anybody in this room. Smokes weed too and pops a few pills thanks to Sunwoo. He’s a little emo too which gives him a lot of attention—he’s attractive, he knows it. He sleeps around a lot and with anyone too, he plays both teams. But something kinda flipped in him after a while when he got a little obsessed with Aisha who actually rejected him not so long ago—”

“Isn’t, like, obsessed too much of a harsh word?” You cut her off with a frown, not liking the way she explained him to you. “Maybe he just had a crush on her or something? A big one?”

Areum laughs at that, clearly amused as she shakes her head. “No, sweetheart. When I say obsessed, I mean obsessed. The thing with Donghyuck is that he gets obsessed with people he likes pretty quickly… It’s like he gets infatuated with them, wants to give them his all and more.”

You can’t help but ask, “Is Aisha the only one that he’s been… obsessed with?”

“I doubt it. I heard that Donghyick was once obsessed with Jeno when they first became friends. It’s not that shocking, to be honest. Jeno is an attractive looking guy,” Areum explains to you as she pulls her hand out of her pocket, now holding a strawberry flavoured vape and placing it between her lips to inhale. She blows the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, making sure not to aim towards your face. “Donghyuck’s obsession with people can be pretty intense and sometimes I think Aisha made a lucky escape, although I’m familiar with how much she enjoys attention so she’ll probably want it back once she realises he’s got a new obsession.”

“A new obsession?” Your brows raise in surprise at that and you lean in closer as if what she’s telling you is about to be top secret. “Who is his new obsession?”

The smirk that spreads across Areum’s cheeks makes your body buzz and heart beat rapidly in your chest, growing even more curious but also nervous to know the answer as you watch as she takes another quick inhale of her vape before glancing over your shoulder.

“Well, with the way he’s staring at you over there with that look in his eyes, I think you’re the next target,” Areum’s eyes meet yours. “You’re his new obsession, sweetheart.”

His new what?

“No I’m not,” A laugh forces its way out of your throat, a nervous one at that. You found it slightly ridiculous, really. There was absolutely no way that you could be his ‘new obsession’. It doesn’t make any sense. “He hardly knows me. We haven’t even spoken a word to each other… I think you’ve got it wrong.”

“Maybe,” She hums, eyes flickering over your shoulder once more. “But with the way he’s walking over here, I think I might be right on this one.”

He is what?

You’re glued in place, unable to turn around and see if she’s telling the truth or teasing you. The look on her face seems serious which makes you feel nervous, but the tone she uses is light which makes you think maybe she is playing tricks, wanting to tease you and see your reactions.

But it’s the deep call of your name and the warm hand touching your upper arm is what makes you realise that she is, in fact, not lying.

The nerves and the anxiety kicks in as you turn to face the person who had called out your name, your breath getting caught in the back of your throat as you meet Donghyuck’s dark eyes and that smile you have seen plenty of times before in class—the smile he always gives you when you catch his attention and when you meet his gaze.

Having been this close to him, Donghyuck, without a doubt, is prettier up close and your tummy flutters at the proximity, almost wanting to take a step back just to put some space between you so you can breathe properly, to conjure up a thought or to even start the conversation as it dawns on you how long you’ve been embarrassingly quiet for.

“Hi,” You greet him, mentally kicking yourself for how silly your voice sounded. You open your mouth to speak again and you immediately regret what comes out, “You’re the guy from my music class.”

One of Donghyuck’s brows lifts in amusement, seemingly surprised but also enjoying how you’re pretending you don’t already know him but he plays along anyways, nodding his head slowly with that smile that makes your hands clammy. “I’m Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck,” You repeat with a nod. His eyes darken at you saying his name, tongue coming out to sweep over his bottom lip to wet it. “I’m—”

“I know who you are.” He cuts you off and the embarrassment you feel amps up to a hundred, remembering how he called out your name a few moments prior. You’re unsure why you’re acting weird and awkward, maybe it was because he made you feel nervous.

“I’m going to get us another drink,” Areum tells you, placing her hand on your shoulder to get your attention and you turn to her, eyes widening at the thought of her leaving you. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

The second Areum slips into the crowd to head towards the kitchen area, Donghyuck takes her place by the wall, leaning against it comfortably as his ringed fingers run through his dark locks, pushing his bangs out of the way and revealing his forehead for a split moment before his hair falls back into place, the tips almost touching his eyes that never seem to leave you.

He finally asks, “Why did you pretend not to know me?”

“I don’t know,” You immediately reply, unable to stop yourself. “I didn’t mean it. I think I’m just nervous.”

The smile on his face widens before his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth, tilting his head to the side, “I make you nervous?”

“Big parties do,” You partially lie, clearing your throat. “People everywhere, you know… gets overwhelming.”

Donghyuck hums, “Right.”

“I’m serious,” You defend yourself for whatever reason and Donghyuck finds amusement in your voice and actions, eyes sparkling as you seemingly come out of your awkward shell for a few seconds, talking to him in a tone as you would with close friends and he even spots the corner of your lips twitching, almost smiling at him. “Being in a room crowded with people isn’t exactly something I enjoy.”

“I believe you,” He tells you softly. He wants to keep this conversation going, enjoying this side of you that’s slowly becoming comfortable with him already. He likes it, the sparkle in your eyes, the tone of your voice, the subtle peaceful expression on your face. He wants more. “Are you enjoying yourself here?”

That makes you pause. Are you enjoying yourself? You came with Areum and Minjun, two people who you enjoy being in the presence of. You stumbled across Xiaojun and Mark, two other people who bring enjoyment into your life and you were actually ecstatic when seeing Xiaojun for the first time earlier. The beer that was available in the cooler happened to be one of your favourite alcoholic beverages (you’ve had three of those already.) and the music that blasts from the speakers happens to be of a genre you listen to on the regular.

You finally have your answer, “It’s not so bad.”

“Could it be better?” Donghyuck presses and your lips press together in deep thought before shrugging your shoulders, somewhat agreeing. Donghyuck leans in towards you, “Could I make it better?”

Your brows pull together in confusion, “You can do that? How could you do that?”

Donghyuck can’t help but smile at that and you grow even more confused when he begins to laugh softly, shaking his head. You wonder if you said the wrong thing or if there was a certain meaning behind his question that you failed to pick up on.

A frown forms on your face due to you feeling a little stupid, thinking that he’s laughing at you or your dumb response and Donghyuck immediately notices you rebuilding the walls, how that look on your face that he adores slowly starts to slip and he straightens up against the wall, toning down his teasing.

“I like your dress, by the way.” His compliment shocks you, not expecting it to come from him and you instantly look down at your dress.

At first, you wonder what’s wrong with it. If there was a stain you didn’t notice or if there was a tear in the fabric, but then you come to terms with that fact there’s nothing wrong with the dress and, actually, it’s probably one of the best that you own. It doesn’t cling to your body uncomfortably nor does it seem loose, it fits you well.

You raise your head to thank him, but your words are stuck in the back of your throat when you notice the way he’s looking at you. He’s drinking you in, taking in your appearance, gaze roaming over the length of the dress with a deep inhale before his eyes snap back up to yours, the dark look returning.

“It’s pretty,” Donghyuck exhales, leaning his head back against the wall while keeping eye contact with you. “You’re really pretty.”

You’re flustered now. The attention from him becomes a bit too much and you find yourself feeling hot under his intense stare and there’s an unfamiliar feeling swirling in the pit of your tummy, something you’ve never felt before and it shocks you, but you try to not bring too much attention to it.

You debate on whether to thank him or to compliment him back on his own outfit: a loose graphic white shirt of a band you recognised paired with denim ripped jeans with chains hanging off the sides and a pair of doc martens on his feet. His signature leather jacket, one you’ve seen multiple times before in class, drapes across his shoulders.

He does look good (really good, but you won’t admit that part.)

As you open your mouth, surprisingly finding the confidence to compliment him on his own outfit choice, it gets taken away from you when Areum announces her return as she comes towards you with drinks in her hand, followed by Minjun, Xiaojun and Mark who decided to tag along.

You smile when Areum passes you a fresh drink, completely forgetting about the other that had become lukewarm in your hand and you’re unsure on what to do with it until it’s plucked from your grasp and you turn to look at Donghyuck who had taken it from you, clinking the can against your own in a small ‘cheers’ before he pushes himself off of the wall, his shoulder brushing yours as he heads back to where he originally came from.

You’re a little confused on why he left, watching as he drops down on the sofa beside Yangyang who looks like he’s exhausted, slouching against the sofa cushions and nodding to whatever Shotaro—you remembered him from when Areum pointed him out—was talking about and Donghyuck takes the joint from between his fingers, leaning against Yangyang as he takes a drag all while watching you.

It’s almost deja vu, the whole scene reminding you of earlier when he was looking at you from afar before he came on over to introduce himself. You find him odd, extremely odd, but you can’t deny the fact how intriguing he is.

“So,” Areum’s voice grabs your attention. “How was it?”

“Fine,” You quip, turning to face the four. “He seemed fine. Nothing about that conversation screamed ‘I’m obsessed with you’ so, I think you were wrong with that one.”

Mark almost drops his beer, the alcohol sloshing and spilling over his hands as it almost slips from his fingers as he stares at you in shock, mouth agape, “Dude… you’re the next target?”

You deadpan, “Can you stop calling me a target? It feels like I’m about to get assassinated.”

Xiaojun frowns, giving you a look of sympathy as he steps in closer to pat your back comfortingly, “You poor thing… my condolences. Stay strong, soldier.”

"Be quiet."

An hour or two later you find yourself standing outside to get some fresh air alone, staring down at the liquid in your cup. You’re not sure how many you’ve had but you hate how you’re unable to feel the buzz that’s affecting those who are around you, glancing up at the few strays of people that are stumbling across the well-kept grass or are giggling to themselves as they stare up at the star filled sky.

You wonder at first if the drink you have isn’t actually alcoholic, but from the reactions of your friends (who had been drinking the same brand with you the majority of the night.) they were already tipsy, or in Xiaojun’s case, drunk.

Maybe you just weren’t feeling it.

First college party jitters, Areum had called it when you had confided in her about the problem and you were undoubtedly embarrassed to hear her call it that, but she had reassured you that it was fine and that it was normal, and even she had experienced something similar when she came to her first college party at the beginning of the year.

Still, it made you feel embarrassed.

With a heavy sigh, you finish the rest of your drink, pulling a face at the burn that trickles down the back of your throat as you turn on your heel to head back inside where your friends are but you crash into something hard, causing you to stumble backwards in shock and a pair of hands come out to grab your elbows, steadying you on your feet.

“Careful, princess.” The person speaks. Any other time, the pet name would’ve made you flustered, especially with that deep tone, but you barely acknowledge it as you try to shake yourself out of your startled state and you wince when you put too much pressure on your ankle, figuring you must’ve twisted it awkwardly when you bumped into the stranger.

You curse under your breath as you feel the throb but you try not to pay too much attention to it as you finally meet eyes with Donghyuck who is already staring back at you, the grip he has on your elbows tightening slightly as you make eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry.” You apologise instantly, “I didn’t see you.”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck dismisses it with a shake of his head and his attention drops down to your ankle, his brows pulling together. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Oh, yeah, just a bit. But it’s fine, honest—”

The words get caught at the back of your throat as Donghyuck kneels down onto the grass to inspect the damage, cold fingers delicately touching your leg and trailing down to your ankle, the sudden action causing goosebumps to rise to your skin and you can just make out the corner of his lips twitching.

He traces the area with the pads of his fingertips slowly, suddenly aware of how close he’s leaning in as you feel his breath fan over your calf. His hand takes a hold of your ankle gently and carefully not to hurt you, the delicate strokes of his thumb sending a shiver up your spine and you wonder if he notices how nervous you’ve become.

Donghyuck presses his fingers down on a certain spot on your ankle and you hiss in surprise at the throb that comes with it, your hand instinctively slapping down on his shoulder in retaliation for the pain he caused but your mouth drops open in surprise while he glances up at you with a grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“It’s not broken or anything,” He informs you before you could start to apologise again for your sudden actions, raising back up onto his feet. “You just twisted it awkwardly when you bumped into me.”

“Do you major in nursing alongside music or something?”

Donghyuck smiles at that, a laugh leaving his lips. “No. I’m just good at knowing my way around a body,” You immediately pick up the suggestive tone in his voice and your brows raise in surprise, feeling flustered and shy under his gaze that doesn’t waver from you. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve crashed into me—”

“Accidently.”

“Right,” He hums. “What’s that saying? Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence—”

“And three times is a pattern,” You finish. “It’s not a coincidence or pattern. Both are mistakes. I don’t go walking around searching for you in hopes to bump into you.”

“Aw, that’s a shame.”

“That I’m not purposely bumping into you?”

“That you’re not searching around for me.”

Your face grows hot at his forwardness and your eyes flick downwards to a patch of grass you suddenly find interest in, the shyness that creeps upon you making it hard for you to look at him.

Donghyuck remains staring at you and the corner of his lips curl into a smirk, amused at how easily you seem to be flustered when it comes to him already. He basks in it, he loves knowing how much he affects you and it excites him even more when he dips his head to meet your eyes but you avert your attention elsewhere.

He dips his hand into his jean pocket to pull out a singular pack of cigarettes, “Do you want one?”

“I don’t smoke.”

Donghyuck pauses, his fingers ghosting over the opening of the pack. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

You frown and that's when you look up to meet his eyes, confused. “Why wouldn’t I mind?”

“Some people don’t like being around smokers,” Donghyuck shrugs. “The smell and all.”

“I’m at a party where the air reeks of cigarettes, weed and alcohol,” You point out, a smile slowly starting to form on your lips. “I wouldn’t be here if I minded the smell. And besides, I can smell the weed on your clothes from earlier too and I haven’t said a word about it. I’m fine.”

He blinks once, twice, “Do I smell bad?”

“No,” You rush out to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, not at all. You smell fine.”

“Just fine?”

“You smell good.” You correct yourself.

The smirk returns as he tilts his head to the side, “Yeah?”

You come to a conclusion that he definitely enjoys making you embarrassed and flustered, and you let out a breathy laugh, tongue prodding at your cheek in slight annoyance at how easy it is for him to make you feel this way.

If it was anyone else, you fight back. You always fight back. Being roommates with Areum and close friends with Minjun, Xiaojun, Mark and Jihoon had made you defensive, being a victim to their countless teasing and jokes you had learned over time to return it.

But unfortunately there is something about Donghyuck that makes your words get caught in the back of your throat and your mind go completely blank, unable to think properly or even say something back.

“Whose is this?” Donghyuck’s already changing the subject, almost giving you whiplash at how easily he can switch to different topics without hesitating or missing a beat. His fingers reach out to touch Minjun’s jacket that’s draped over your shoulders, something that he had given you to keep you warm while you stepped outside. Donghyuck hums, brows pulling together. “You weren’t wearing this earlier.”

“Oh.” Your own fingers graze over the leather jacket. “It’s Minjun’s.”

Donghyuck drily asks, “Who?”

“He’s a friend.”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue against his teeth with a hum, “Yeah, well, your friend's jacket is covering this pretty dress of yours.”

The tone in his voice made your brows raise in surprise, the slight annoyance and disapproval of Minjun’s jacket covering—what he claims—a pretty dress was something you weren’t expecting, although it made your chest blossom with warmth and your face grew hot at the subtle compliment.

He’s not speaking now, which makes you feel a bit awkward having to stand in silence with him, minus the music that’s blasting from inside the house and a few lingering people out in the garden that are having drunken conversations around you. His lips are pressing together tightly, jaw locking and unlocking as his brows furrow as if he’s thinking deeply about something, fidgeting in his spot with his fingers twitching around his own jacket after he retracted them from Minjun’s.

You think maybe it’s time for you to leave, to say your goodbyes and find your friends so you can be free of the awkward tension you’re feeling. You want to stay with him though, not exactly eager to disappear away from him so soon just like how he practically walked away from you earlier when the others had come to join the conversation.

“Do you want another drink?” You catch yourself asking him before you could ever register the question in your head and your heart thumps wildly in your chest as Donghyuck slowly turns to look at you, “I mean, I noticed your hands are empty—and I want another drink too, so…”

Donghyuck stares at you for a moment longer before a smile breaks out onto his lips and he nods, agreeing to get another drink from the kitchen with you. But what you didn’t expect was Donghyuck to hold out his hand, wiggling his fingers enticingly in the air to coax you into taking his hand in your own.

You’re hesitant to take it, not wanting him to feel how clammy your palms already are and you most definitely didn’t want to embarrass yourself for being so nervous during this entire interaction.

“I don’t bite, you know,” He says with a whisper and it sends shivers tingling down your spine at how close he leans in to tell you that. He tilts his head to the side as he smirks, “Unless—”

“DONGHYUCK!”

The unfamiliar voice that shouts out his name startles you and your head whips around so fast you swear you hear a crack, immediately noticing a pretty, long haired girl stumble out of the backdoor of the house, almost tripping over her own heels before she collects herself, bringing her hand up to her forehead and squinting as she scans the garden for the boy in question.

You slowly face Donghyuck again and he’s still looking at you, not even paying attention to the calls of his name that echo throughout the garden, not even flinching at the loudness. He’s still holding his hand out to you, waiting for you to take it so you could both go inside but you feel as if maybe it’s the wrong thing to do right now, looking back and forth between him and the girl.

You state, “Someone is calling for you.”

“I know, she’s drunk, ignore her,” Donghyuck dismisses it with a shake of his head and he reaches out further towards you, fingertips brushing over the top of your hand. “Let’s go get that drink, princess. Yeah?”

You don’t even get the chance to decide to accept or decline as the girl approaches you both and immediately throws herself at Donghyuck and punches his arm repeatedly, rambling about something that he had kept hidden from ‘the rest of them’ and she even goes as far as shoving her hand into the front pocket of his jeans.

You blink away awkwardly, unsure of what to do or even to say but you look back at the pair when she pulls out a small bag of weed with a wail of victory.

“I knew you fucking had it,” She hisses, landing another punch on his arm and he rolls his eyes, trying to snatch it out of her grasp but she pulls it away quickly out of his reach, almost bumping into you in the process and her eyes widen in surprise. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

You shake your head, “It’s fi—”

“Miwoo.” Donghyuck speaks her name through gritted teeth and it instantly rings a bell, remembering that she was one of the girls that Areum had told you about earlier, one of Donghyuck’s best friends exes. “Why don’t you take the weed and go share it with Yangyang? Yeah?”

“You’re really pretty,” Miwoo completely ignores Donghyuck to compliment you, eyes checking you out from head to toe with a smile that makes you feel a little flustered but it disappears, replacing with a grimace as she jabs her thumb back at Donghyuck, “Why are you talking to him?”

Donghyuck’s hand comes up to rub the bridge of his nose, seemingly getting frustrated with his friends words and you can’t help but smile at that, finding the situation a little comical and you watch as Donghyuck manages to get her attention, the pair getting warped into a miniature argument that has you trying to bite back your amusement, pressing your lips together tightly to try and not smile even wider.

Although, your watching moment is cut short when you hear Areum call out your name and you turn to look over your shoulder to see her beckoning your forwards and you nod, wanting to politely bid your goodbyes to Donghyuck and Miwoo but you decide against it when you them at each other's throats with petty insults, quickly making your escape to Areum who loops your arms with hers, tugging you back into the house where the others are patiently waiting for you.

Donghyuck notices your disappearance almost immediately and his shoulders drop with a sigh, glaring at Miwoo who isn’t the least affected by his darkened gaze as she dips her fingers inside the baggy to pull out a pre-rolled joint.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” Miwoo grins before she meets Donghyuck’s eye, “She’s really pretty.”

“Yeah, I know,” Donghyuck mumbles under his breath, tongue prodding at his cheek in annoyance as he rips the bag and the joint out of Miwoo’s hands. “Give me that. You don’t deserve it, asshole.”

The amusement on your face is obvious when Xiaojun and Mark step into the Dreamies Café, both dressed in oversized hoodies and wearing sunglasses to block out the brightness of the sun and the lights from burning their eyes, arms dangling at their sides as they drag their feet across the flooring towards the table where you and Jihoon are sat waiting for them.

You arrived ten minutes before the two of them did and you were surprised to already see Jihoon sitting at the table with everyone's preferred drinks, and even when you tried to hand over the money for your own, he just looked at you as if you deeply offended him and swatted your hand away before pulling out a chair and telling you to sit.

Xiaojun doesn’t seep a word as he slumps down in the seat opposite you, but he does gesture a quick thank you to Jihoon for the drink and he lifts the straw to his lips to take a long sip, chest rumbling with a satisfied hum as he relaxes into his seat, the ice clinking in his iced matcha as he continuous to drink.

“Hey,” Mark greets you both as he sits on the seat at the end of the table, fingers curling around the plastic cup of his watermelon ade as he glances over at Jihoon. “Thanks, man. I’ll venmo you the money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon dismisses with a wave of his hand. “It’s on me anyways. You paid for my drink last time we were here,” His gaze suddenly flicks over to Xiaojun, the corner of his lips twitching. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” Xiaojun grumbles, craning his head back. “But fuck those cocktails tasted good.”

“You know, you’re probably going to have to give Jeno the money back for raiding his stash.”

“Actually, it belonged to Yangyang,” Xiaojun corrects as he digs his hand through the front of his jean pockets, pulling out his phone and swiping up to get to his notification bar and he angles the screen towards the three of you with a grimace. “He dmed me on Instagram this morning telling me to pay him back but I’m not even going to open it.”

“Dude,” Mark gives him a pointed look. “You can’t do that.”

“But I can,” Xiaojun locks his phone and places it down on the table with a grin. “And I will.”

Jihoon murmurs, “But you drank his stuff without his permission.”

“He uses my laptop in classes without my permission!” Xiaojun argues back immediately, “It’s payback.”

“You shouldn’t have given him your password.”

“I didn’t. I gave it to Donghyuck because he wanted—” Xiaojun suddenly pauses, blinking a few times as he registers his own words before smacking his lips together with a nod, exhaling deeply through his nose. “Yeah. That’s my fault. Should’ve guessed Donghyuck wouldn’t keep his mouth shut about that.”

The mention of Donghyuck has you thinking back on last night and a subtle smile makes its way onto your lips, twisting the straw of your coffee in between your teeth as you go over the interaction in your head.

The smirk he always has, the tone of his voice as he speaks to you, the way he always keeps eye contact and doesn’t even falter once when something else is going on around him. His somewhat flirtatious comments and his lingering touches is what surprises you the most, but you tell yourself that maybe that’s just his personality.

He’s like that with everyone, he must be.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” A teasing voice breaks you out of your thoughts, startling you as your head shoots up and you see Xiaojun grinning at you across the table, chin resting on the palm of his hand as he waits for you to explain the reason for your smiling but you remain tight lipped, causing his grin to drop. “Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be nosy.” You fire back jokingly.

A soft call of your name makes you turn your head to Jihoon, “Did you enjoy the party yesterday?”

“It was fine,” You nod your head. “Didn’t get as drunk as everyone else did, but it was fine. College parties can be kind of overwhelming though,” You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly as you admit, “I don’t know why but I didn’t expect that many people to be there…”

“Yeah, Jeno is pretty well-known,” Mark hums as he takes a sip through his straw, leaning back in his seat comfortably. “Don’t get me wrong, like, that entire group are pretty much well-known but it’s mainly Jeno that gets the most attention and rallies everyone up for parties.”

“Areum kind of explained everything to me about them last night,” You say. “They’re an interesting group, I think. They also come across as a little intimidating apart from Shotaro… he was just smiling the entire night.”

“Shotaro’s sweet,” Mark agrees, nodding his head. “Also, once you get to really know them, they aren’t that intimidating—”

“I don’t know about that. Renjun still makes my skin crawl.” Xiaojun interrupts with a shiver.

“Renjun’s just not a people person,” Mark explains with a shrug of his shoulders. “He’s actually really nice if you have a one on one conversation with him,” Mark then turns his attention back on you, “But seriously, none of them are that intimidating once you get to really know them or be around them. Take Yangyang and Donghyuck for example, we don’t find either of them ‘intimidating’ since we share a class with them.”

“They’re just annoying,” Xiaojun chimes in again with a grimace on his face. “Especially Yangyang.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that, “What’s your problem with Yangyang?”

“Yangyang likes to annoy people a lot,” Jihoon is the one to explain to you as Xiaojun rubs at his temples at the mere thought of Yangyang. “He enjoys getting on people's nerves and, fortunately for him, Xiaojun reacts to everything he does so that just makes him do it even more… although, he hasn’t really been doing anything lately. He’s just been kinda numbed out.”

You hum, “Areum also mentioned that he indulges himself into some hard shit, alongside the weed and the alcohol.”

“That’s heartbreak for you, I guess.” Mark mumbles under his breath with a frown, tone sullen and your brows pull together in confusion, wanting to question it a little bit more but you struggle to find the opportunity when another topic is brought up.

“And obviously you know so much about Donghyuck already.”

“No I don’t,” You snip, sending a hard look Xiaojun’s way as he bats his pretty eyelashes at you. You repeat, “No I don’t”

“You were outside in the garden with him for quite some time last night~”

“I’m surprised you even remembered that considering when I walked back into the house, you were on your eighth shot dancing with one of the kitchen chairs.”

“Hey,” Xiaojun points his finger at you, “I may have been drunk but this brain of mine remembers everything.” He then smiles at you, “What did you guys talk about? Did he mention that you’re now his new obsession?”

Jihoon almost spits out his drink, “You’re his new obsession?”

“Why do you all call it that?” You huff with a frown, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed over your chest. “It sounds mean—and wrong.”

“It’s kinda the truth,” Mark gives you a sorry expression. “Donghyuck does get obsessed with people and I’m almost positive he even knows it himself… He falls for people hard and he becomes so infatuated with them until they say they want nothing to do with him, and he just… stops.”

“He was into Aisha before,” Xiaojun states but you already knew that from Areum’s previous explanation. “He liked her a lot and I’m pretty sure she was into it for a while considering she flirted back and there were even rumours that they hooked up, like, once or twice… but I guess she got bored with that so she made up a lie and told Donghyuck that she was dating Mark—”

“Me. Of all people.” Mark points to himself in disbelief and shakes his head, the expression on his face being enough to get a laugh out of you.

“I mean, I would believe it,” Jihoon shrugs his shoulders, causing Mark to look at him incredulously. “Come on, you once walked out of a bathroom with her at a Halloween party with your spider-man costume unzipped and your mask gone—”

“I had to fucking piss really bad and I couldn’t get out of the costume because I was drunk so she helped me,” Mark immediately defends himself, a pout forming on his lips. “Besides, it was hot, I wasn’t going to wear the mask all night.” He then fires back up, “I wouldn’t fuck someone in dingy club’s disgusting bathroom, dude!”

Xiaojun blinks, “You lost your virginity in a cheap motel room with your ex-girlfriend.”

Mark bites back, “You lost yours in your grandma's basement, shut up.”

“Okay, wow, uncalled for.”

“Don’t argue…” Jihoon sighs, rubbing his forehead at their raised voices and your brows raise as the pair both turn to look at Jihoon with blank expressions before they speak in sync.

“You lost yours in the college janitor closet and got caught.”“Wait, really?” You gape at Jihoon in shock, not expecting someone like a quiet and socially awkward Jihoon to do something so scandalous on campus grounds. But your shock dies down and morphs into shyness when you realise the trio are now looking at you, expecting you to chime in with your own embarrassing virginity story but the problem was, you had none. Your virginity is still intact.

“Do you not have one?” Mark questions after a few minutes of awkward silence and you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. He questions genuinely again, not a hint of teasing in his tone as he whispers quietly. “Are you a virgin?”

You nod.

“Aww…” Xiaojun coos softly, causing your head to snap towards him as he smiles sweetly at you, “That’s cute.”

Your face immediately burns with embarrassment as you sink further down into your seat, a deep frown settling on your lips, “Don’t ever call my virginity cute again.”

“Wow… I’m immensely impressed,” Professor Kim mumbles under his breath as he slips the headphones off of his head after listening to a little recording you had made on your computer, his lips curled into satisfied grin as he places the headphones down on the table and you beam happily, glancing between him and your computer screen. “I’m also really impressed that you finished this today. I was expecting you to show me the finished product by at least next week… I’m grateful that you take this class seriously.”

“I enjoy music,” You tell him honestly as you tap your fingers nervously on your desk, “Is there anything I need to change or to work on?”

“There’s nothing you need to work on, it sounds great,” He compliments yet you prepare yourself for the rest, “But for changes? I would like to encourage you to partner up with some of the other students in the class, work together on a piece and let your music styles blend together to see how well it compliments each other, or even try and create something new.”

“So, like a group project?”

“Exactly,” Professor Kim nods. “Like I said, you’re impressive. You’re an amazing guitarist and pianist, your music is incredible when you’re solo. But I would like to hear it within a group too. Yangyang is an incredible bass player that you can maybe add. Xiaojun and Aisha are amazing vocalists, Donghyuck too and he’s also great at the guitar. Jihoon is talented with the keyboard and Mark can do just about everything. Seriously, think about it. I would love to hear how you sound within a group.”

With a kind smile and a gentle pat to your shoulder, Professor Kim excuses himself to go talk to another student, leaving you alone to think about his words.

It’s not that you didn’t want to work in a group. You’re almost positive that working with your friends will be a fun type of chaotic mess that will have your stomach cramping and tears streaming down your cheeks from laughing so much.

It’s just that you didn’t know how to work in a group. You’ve always been independent in some sort of sense, especially with your own creations. You preferred sitting alone with your headphones snug on your head, testing out different sounds and techniques all by yourself, choosing what sounds best and what suits your needs.

But working in a group? Settling on one thing that will make each of you happy? That is foreign territory… that is stressful.

“So, what did he say to you?” Jihoon asks with a gentle nudge at your shoulder to get your attention and you pull your eyes away from your laptop screen to give him a tight lipped smile.

“He liked it. He just wants me to try out group work,” You almost start pleading, “Got any room in your group project for me to fit in?”

“Sure,” Jihoon nods with a kind smile, “Although I feel like I should probably warn you by saying that sometimes it’s not just me, Mark and Xiaojun working together… Donghyuck and Yangyang sometimes come back and forth, especially for Mark.”

Your brows raise in surprise, “They’re in your group too?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like them coming to us when we’re working to borrow Mark for their project,” Jihoon explains to you as he nods over at Mark who’s currently leaning on a desk with Donghyuck and Yangyang at his sides, peering over his shoulder to look at his laptop screen. “Mark pretty much floats in and out of other people's groups. It’s what you get for being an allrounder I guess.”

“Professor Kim mentioned something like that.” You mumble as you watch the trio, the corner of your lips twitching upwards in a slight smile as Mark scoffs at something Donghyuck says, swatting him away with his hand as Donghyuck grins mischievously and murmurs something in his ear, causing Mark to push at his head this time and Donghyuck stumbles back with a laugh.

Yangyang remains silent, idly drumming his fingers on the desk and rubbing tiredly at his sullen eyes beneath his hood. He seems to stop when turning his body towards you, as if looking your way to which makes your back straighten up, especially when Donghyuck’s head whips around at a mumble from Yangyang, looking directly at you.

From across the room, Donghyuck smiles that crooked grin of his and his eyebrow quirks up when he sees that you’re already staring back at him. You can feel the warmth rising to your cheeks at being caught, and though you try to suppress the shy feeling that creeps in, you know he can already tell exactly how you’re feeling as his eyes twinkle with amusement, tilting his head to the side as if to tease you even more.

Donghyuck’s eyes never leave you as you turn away, trying to busy yourself with something else as your heart thumps wildly in your ears, feeling too overwhelmed to glance back at Donghyuck despite seeing him in your peripheral vision.

“You really have caught his attention,” Jihoon mutters beside you with a chuckle and you whip around to face him, eyes wide. “I thought that maybe Xiaojun and Mark were teasing you… but I guess Donghyuck really has started to take a liking to you. You are his new obsession.”

#nct dream fic #nct dream au #nct series #haechan au #haechan fic #haechan series #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #fic: you'll never find anyone like me #neo tech college series

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juniperskye · 1 month

Text

Why are you in my head?

Sneak Peek: Eddie and you are soulmates. The legend of soulmates is that you start to hear one another’s thoughts around age 16 – not all the time, but when you’re feeling a strong emotion. It simply flows out of you and into the other, the legend also states that the closer you are, the more you can hear them. **The events of season 4 did NOT happen** I did also use some of the dialogue

Bold are Eddie’s thoughts; Italics are reader’s thoughts. (mind you, they are essentially hearing both sets of thoughts)

Eddie Munson x Fem Sunshine! Reader (Soulmate AU)

Fluff - Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1364

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, explicit language, let me know if I missed any!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You had known all about soulmates, your mom had told you bedtime stories about soulmates and how she and your dad met throughout your entire childhood. They had been hearing one another’s thoughts for quite a while before your dad saved your mom from being run over by a biker as she stepped off the curb. She’d tell you how when their eyes met she could hear him thinking about how beautiful her eyes were and he heard her thinking about how handsome he was. You have hoped and dreamed of meeting your soulmate since you were four years old.

You had a soulmate, that much you knew. You had been hearing his thoughts for the last few years, they were few and far between which frustrated you. Your mom had explained it just meant he wasn’t close by, which sucked. You were hoping that the distance would decrease, given your family’s plans to move.

Hawkins, Indiana wasn’t exactly a town that people were flocking to…but here you were. Your mom had been offered a job at their hospital there as the supervising nurse and your parents had decided it was too good an offer to pass up. Your dad had contacted the local police department to see if they had any openings, to which they asked for a letter of recommendation and pretty much offered him the job.

Things were working out well for your parents. You hadn’t really been sure about the move. Your soulmate’s thoughts had been pretty quiet the last few days but, a part of you knew it was because your anxiety of this move was clearly drowning out his thoughts.

The car finally came to a stop, and you glance up for the first time since you’d gotten in the car that morning, too focused on the music playing from your Walkman and rereading The Hobbit, again. You looked up to see a modest home in a cookie cutter neighborhood, you were grateful for your parents and their ability to provide you with the things you need, but some days you wished your family wasn’t so…average.

“Sweetie, why don’t you head in and pick your room?” Your mom suggested.

“Really? I get to choose?” You asked.

“You have your pick, other than the master bedroom. You and I will organize the remaining rooms.” Your mom explained.

Damnit, if I could just get the chords right.

You quickly jogged up to the door, letting yourself in. You made your way upstairs first, checking out the two small bedrooms up there that were situated opposite the master bedroom, separated by a full bathroom. While both rooms were nice, they didn’t give you nearly enough room to “express your creative freedom” as your mom had encouraged. On the main level there was a kitchen, dining room, sitting room, powder room, and living room. There had been a door leading under the stairs, you were pleased to see it led down into a fully finished basement that had a full bathroom.

“MOMMMMM! I chose my room!” You called as you ran up the stairs.

There we go.

*Eddie’s POV*

Hell yeah! This is fucking perfect!

The thoughts had rung out like an alarm in his head. Her thoughts had never been this loud and clear. What had changed?

She better let me make the basement my room!

Had she finally moved? He had been hearing all her nervous thoughts about packing up and moving across the country. She must be closer now if her thoughts were coming in like this now.

YES! YES! YES! Now…how to decorate?

He smiled to himself. She seems sweet based off what he knows. He had asked Wayne about soulmates when he was growing up. He’d asked questions like “why can’t I just think of my address, so she could find me?” and Wayne had explained that it didn’t work like that. Thoughts were passed back and forth at moments it was needed – in times of excitement, or when we needed comfort, or to vent. There was some sort of neurological algorithm as to what thoughts were sent when.

*End Eddie’s POV*

You had started unpacking pretty much the second your parents agreed to let you make the basement your room. Your dad had even agreed to take you to the hardware store to pick up paint this weekend.

“You’ll start at the high school on Monday. The principal confirmed that he received your transcripts and all your credit hours transferred, so you’re right on track.” Your dad explained.

“Oh, awesome! Did he happen to send my schedule or anything so I could familiarize myself with it beforehand?” You asked.

Oh fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck! I am so late. O’Donnell is gonna kill me!

Your hand flew to your head, the volume of his thoughts brought forth a pounding in your head. They had never been this loud before.

“Bug? You okay?” Your dad looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m okay! Just a headache. Too many thoughts in there I guess.” You chuckled lowly.

“Honey, was it his thought?” Your mom questioned.

You hadn’t told your parents much about your soulmate, only that you had been able to hear him and that he was, in fact, a him. They had also been aware that you hadn’t been able to hear him lately – that was when your mom explained that your thought can sometimes drown out theirs.

“Yeah, it was and uh, I don’t know, I guess it was kinda loud.” You shrugged.

“How loud?” Your mom asked.

“I don’t know, loud enough to give me a headache. It was like he was in the room with me.” You looked at your parents, a knowing grin making its way onto each of their faces. “What?”

“Nothing bug. Let’s go see if your principle sent that schedule over.” Your dad wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side.

Monday morning had come way too soon, though you’d had an incredibly productive weekend. Your room was painted and decorated, you’d finished rereading The Hobbit and had begun rereading Pet Cemetery, you’d also memorized your class schedule.

Your dad dropped you off at school, he also told you he was planning to go and check out a car for you after his shift – that had left you pretty excited.

Finally! My own car!

The day was dragging on pretty slowly…truthfully you were ready for lunch.

Then Vecna will make a surprise return.

What the hell?

This campaign is going to be epic!

His thoughts had come and gone like this since you’d arrived in Hawkins. Just back and forth with random tidbits that left you more confused than anything.

The bell ringing had been your saving grace. It was finally time for lunch, and now you were feeling anxious again…where were you meant to sit?

You looked around and before you could take a step, a voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

Here we fucking go.

“We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But as long as you're into band or science ...or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets...”

God he’s hot.

“It's forced conforming. That's what's...killing the kids!”

Assholes.

Kids were either laughing at his outburst or calling him horrible names, but you just stood there. Could this really be him? This super-hot guy who just caused an entire scene in the cafeteria.

“Me, I am army-crawling my way toward a D in Ms. O'Donnell's. If I don't blow her final, I'm gonna walk that stage next month, I'm gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I'm gonna flip him the bird, I'm gonna snatch that diploma. I'm gonna run like hell outta here…This year is different. This year is my year.”

He took a step back and bumped right into you, but before you could fall to the ground, he grabbed your arm and pulled you up and against his chest.

Holy shit.

You both let out a quiet chuckle.

All at once, colors were brighter, smells were sweeter, touches were softer. Everything came together in that moment; you couldn’t believe it. Here he was.

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luveline · 2 months

Note

hi jade!!

if you’re still taking hurt/comfort requests could i request poly marauders and how they all respond to one of remus’ chronic pain flare ups/his chronic pain in general? i think you did one with reader a while ago so feel free to ignore if it feels too repetitive. i love the way you write remus and his chronic pain it means a lot to me as someone who has chronic pain too!! sometime when i have a flare up i reread all your remus fic and it makes me feel so much better ♥️

thank you lovely!! modern au, fem, 1k

“I just don’t know what to say to him,” James whispers.

You wipe the lip of the bowl, the steam that’s billowing from it fragrant with fresh chopped basil and warm on your cheeks. “You do, Jamie, you’ll just say what you always say to him.”

“I feel like he must get very tired of me, I just verbal diarrhoea at him while he’s crying.”

You give James a loving smile. “And he appreciates it, I promise. Are you gonna come in and keep us company?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe you can have a look if he’s up for both of us and come and get me?”

James is too much a sweetheart. He’s been taking care of Remus for years and he’s still never sure if he’s doing the right thing, especially when Sirius isn’t there. You promise James you’ll come and get him as soon as Remus says it’s okay, which he most likely will, and start up the stairs with Remus’ dinner tray to the master bedroom.

Remus thankfully isn’t crying now despite a rough morning. He’s sitting against the headboard with his jaw locked and a loose neck pillow on his shoulders for support, the TV on a low volume opposite and lighting his face.

“Can I turn on the light?”

“Please.”

You flick it on. “Your soup. Did you want toast?”

“No… Thank you.” You put the tray on his lap carefully. He tips his head up, smiling weakly. “Thanks, dove.”

“You’re welcome.” You sit down at the top of the bed with him. “Can I stay?”

He’s insistent that you stay. You’ve not got much to say while he eats, his small mouthfuls a mixture of relief and wincing, but you take up station by his worst leg and run a loving hand up and down the front of it. When you’re sure he’s alright, you let your hand slide under, your finger to the soft part behind his knee and pushing downward.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” you say, beginning the familiar motions of a massage.

“I don’t think you could,” he says over the lip of his glass of water.

You turn away from him with a smile. Even poorly, he’s a wild flirt. “You’ll have to tell James he’s allowed to come and see you. He doesn’t want to be annoying.”

“I’ll shout for him.” He sighs and holds his tray on either handle. “Jamie!” he calls, sounding himself but admittedly heartbreakingly tired. “Can you come here? Please?”

James is straight up the stairs. He was probably waiting on the bottom step. “Yeah?” he asks, his irises like mint two pence pieces, his hand sliding down the door frame.

“Can you move this for me? And sit down?”

It’s as lovely an invitation from him as any when said so tenderly. James walks around to Remus opposite side, putting his tray on the wide window sill before situating himself in the mountain of blankets. It must be weird to be someone’s boyfriend but to have been their best friend for a long time before it; they fit together effortlessly in some ways and maintain a certain shyness in others. James has no problem sitting as close to Remus as he can, but he doesn’t look at him right away, not until Remus leans up to kiss James’ brown cheek.

“You’re never annoying,” Remus says.

James wraps an arm behind Remus’ back, confident though cautious not to hurt him. “If you say so,” he says sincerely.

Time slugs slowly for you all when Remus is in pain, but eventually he has to lay down, his leg twitching frantically in your hold, his nose pressed hard to James’ arm. You persuade some painkillers into him and stay at his side with his water bottle, your cheek resting on his shoulder.

You get out your phone to text Sirius. He’ll get upset if he isn’t in the know.

Hi Siri, Remus is in lots of pain, has had 600mg of ibuprofen and three co-codamol because he hasn’t had any paracetamol yet, is that okay?

Sirius texts back quickly. That’s fine, don’t give him anything else even if he asks for it, three co-codamol is one too many

Sirius again, on the way home. do we need anything from the shop ? miss you lovely

You’d smile if you weren’t worried about the boy shaking under your cheek. I miss you too, don’t worry about getting anything

Sirius does worry, you can hear the crinkle of a shopping bag when he gets home a few minutes later. “He was quick,” you say, sitting up to kiss Remus’ cheek. “He’s gonna hog you now.”

“Love you, dove.”

“I love you.”

Remus tries to savour that through the hot pain rushing all over. His pain is strange, it always has been, disobeying reason and often people’s belief. Half of it is a mystery, the other misery, and you and the boys have always believed him nonetheless. He’s never treated as childish or dramatic, only cared for, James’ endless stories and Sirius’ stern concern, and now you, his sweetheart, with all your soft touches and tone. You speak to him like he’s your favourite person on earth, voice underlain with fondness, always. And you’re selfless more often than not as you are right this moment, moving back to his leg, giving Sirius room to crawl breathlessly into bed beside him.

“Hello, gorgeous. What’s hurting tonight?” Sirius asks.

Not said to undermine him, Sirius just needs to know. He wants to fix everything.

“My back and my legs, mostly,” Remus confesses through a shiver. He’ll cry soon. No one will make him feel bad for it.

“Maybe you should try laying on your front for a bit, yeah? James can still harass you,” —Sirius brings his hand to Remus’ cheek and strokes it gently with the bends of his knuckles— “it’s less pressure on your back, is all.”

Remus feels himself calming already. It’s hard to feel hopeless when he’s well looked after.

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sunboki · 27 days

Text

— THE ALCHEMIST. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. historical! au, set in 1940’s Korea, alchemist! au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. abusive behavior toward women, impoverished communities, overall sexist beliefs of the time, reader dresses as a man, mentions of death & disease, smoking (not reader or minho), war conflict, making out??

WORD COUNT. 9.6k words

AUG'S NOTES. although it was a bit out of the blue, i had such a great time writing and shaping this universe, thank you to all the love and support thus far<3 also, huge thanks to @comet-falls for instilling the peaky blinders/historical! minho vision in my head with how incredible tooth and claw was, i truly owe it to you :)

SYNOPSIS. Cities stricken with poverty, the lack of male presence in your home while surviving in a male-dominated society leaves meager food on the table and a piling debt. Left no choice but to make a risky decision, you decide that, if biology wanted to fail you, you’d simply try another approach.

alternatively :

In which deception introduces you into an entirely new reality, and The Alchemist.

It’s one thing surviving with the knowledge you can change something, whatever it may be that’s wrong.

It’s another when that problem isn’t merely changeable, but biological.

Your problem? You’re a woman.

Not as easy to fix, right?

With your father lost in the war, fruitlessly straining to support a family of girls, the household is left helpless.

Representation is nonexistent, and merely walking outside frets harassment and laughter struck in your face at the mention of working.

A woman, working? Hilarious.

Or, apparently to the men in pubs it certainly is.

Some things you can’t change, yes, but there are always alternatives. And as for now, you’re helplessly searching high and low for that alternative, whatever it may be.

Selling yourself is possible, though the inability to remain connected to your family eliminates that option.

When you get so desperate, there’s no incentive in guarding your pride. Because being called derogatory names isn’t as bad as losing them, the people you call home.

October welcomes little warmth, biting your fingertips and sending a tremor of chills cascading down your spine. Minimal sunlight peers through dense clouds, shrouding the atmosphere in a depressing haze.

You’re on your way to the apothecary, but not to purchase anything. The pennies in your pocket won’t amount to anything in the face of medicinal prices, which happens to be one of your many alternatives.

Since day one, you’ve had a rock to rely on.

Medicine.

Lack of money meant improper living conditions, entailing sickness.

Constantly.

Whether it was your mother, your younger sister, yourself, an infection of some sort occupied your respiratory system, wreaking havoc for wallets and mental health altogether.

Purchasing necessary medication became impossible the further you drowned in your debt, to the point drastic measures needed to be taken in order to prevent death from infesting itself in the household as well.

Then came the question. If you couldn’t purchase the medicine itself, why not collect the ingredients?

Alternatives.

Behind the apothecary you discovered mint hedges that, if mixed with wormwood and balm, could aid in curing Sun-ja’s current sickness, colic.

Although, you’d have to be swift in your efforts, ensuring the shop owner didn’t notice your presence.

Too many times had you nearly been caught, risking a good beating from the red-haired, burly man regarded as Mr. Myeong.

Fiery red hair complimented an equally unruly personality you aimed not to cross by. Ever.

Yet, unlike Mr. Myeong, his wife was the polar opposite, an ideal magnet. She was petite and soft-spoken, but out of her appealing traits, you found her resilience to be most attractive.

Mrs. Myeong is stubborn. She’s strong in what she believes, sporting an unquestionably vocal opinion that can’t be quenched.

The woman is, likely, the only woman capable of sealing her husband’s mouth shut.

Hidden between thorn ridden weeds sits your desired leaves, abundant in supply.

You clutch your satchel closer, plucking as quickly as possible whilst crouched to the ground, maneuvering through tickling grasses and itchy reeds.

Your mission remains successful, until the wretched sound of a doorknob rips your head upward, the red-haired man in question standing nonplussed, arms crossed.

He wears a cocked brow, examining what you’re desperately trying to veil away.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Stealing, are we?” Black boot clad frame thumping closer, you immediately prepare to run, hair standing on end like an agitated feline.

Instead, his huge hand swoops down to grab your collar, other evidently ready to land a harsh slap to your face.

Instinctively cringing, you brace for the stinging impact.

That is, before a saccharine, lullaby-worthy voice rings from the cracked doorway, belonging to none other than Mrs. Myeong.

“Honey! Have you seen the new envelope that came in?”

Heels clicking whilst padding over cobblestone to where you two stand, her husband fixates you with a stern, threatening glare.

Finally dropping your frame to the ground, you slump forward, pulse pounding loud enough you fear your chest may implode.

Mrs. Myeong, though wearing a taut expression, ushers him off, delivering a curt nod your way, intentional brows furrowed in place.

‘Thank you’ You wish to say, but hold your tongue, watching them disappear inside.

Another time.

Walking home was rather uneventful (much to your delight), left to enjoy the crisp, cool air sifting through your lungs in steady rhythm, the lazy billows of cigar smoke dwindling from gaping doorways.

Calm.

Nothing calm ever lasts long.

Stashing the house key back into your decrepit leather draw bag, your footsteps still upon entering, struck terror-filled.

Your mother, strawn across the floor, hacks amongst her rampant coughs, body convulsing in desperate shivers, skin drenched a ghastly blue.

Sprinting to her side, you kneel down, rolling the woman over to find her face utterly battered, new black eye beginning to swell, cheek bruised a mawkish purple against hollowed cheekbones.

Sharks.

To your left Sun-ja hides in the corner, rags for a blanket pulled to her chest, shielded between the wall and a tipped cabinet.

Over and over they’ve begun visiting, to the point your mother became recognizable by her continuous black eye, her torn clothing and stooped posture.

Exhausted, she was exhausted.

Yet, she took the beatings. The torturous punches. Jarring slaps, traumatic insults, tarnishing. Your mother took it so you wouldn’t, so you and Sun-ja could live.

And it’s at that moment you make up your mind, discover this occasion’s alternative.

“Cut it off.”

“Cut.. Cut it off?” Hyunjin gapes, fingers stalling their descent down a strand of your hair.

You smile, grimacing the longer consideration poises.

No point in thinking too much.

“Yep. Give me the most boy-ish haircut you can.” You emphasize, gesturing toward his scissors expectantly.

Hyunjin, your personally appointed hairstylist, doesn’t seem too convinced. He’s debating, expertly reading your features.

Currently, you’re holed up in his room, a miniature apartment located near the furthest section of town, close to the coast.

In wee hours of morning you boarded the train here, inhaling salty, ocean-smelling breeze. Back in your old residence you met him, your neighbor Hwang Hyunjin. It’s a miracle you still stayed in contact, bond aging like the finest of wines over countless years.

Enough to where you trusted him to help you enact this alternative of yours.

Starting with a haircut.

The man stares at you through the mirror, dark, inky hair matting the longer he runs his hands through it.

Thoughtfully trying to figure out your reasoning, he evidently catches on the moment you witness his eyes roll, releasing a heaving sigh.

“You cannot be serious.”

A torrential truth keeps you from responding, gaze directed at your feet.

“Y/n,” He uttered, eyes filling with a concern you avoid meeting, avoid regarding in a whole. “You don’t have to do this, the war is going to end soon and your father will come ba—“

“He’s dead.”

Silence engulfs the room.

Collecting yourself, you scorn his frown.

“He’s dead and gone. Now I need to protect them, provide for them.“

You deny the shakiness of your voice.

“So, Hyunjin. Cut off my hair.”

Accordingly, he does without another word. Snip by snip, tress by tress falling below, scattering the tile floor in endless strands.

By the time you see yourself, it’s hard to recognize the person in the reflection. Never had you considered your hair a viable source of identity, but now that it’s so sparse, the effect is eminent.

Failing to see yourself in your own reflection beckons a different kind of sadness. For the person you’ve introduced yourself as reigns no more. She’s been replaced.

Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, embrace just as comforting as you remembered. His hand reaches to caress your cropped hair, rocking back and forth on his heels, chin resting on your head.

“Be careful, okay?”

Nodding into his shoulder, you wipe salty streaks from your cheeks.

Hurts.

“And if you need a place to take shelter, I’ll be here.”

Steadying in his hug again, you pull back, cherishing his kindness with a chaste kiss to the cheek.

“Thank you, really.”

Shaking his head at your gratitude, urging you out and lingering by the doorway till your figure retreats in the distance.

Next stop, Mrs. Myeong.

If anyone has any idea how to source the clothing you’re needing, your best chance would be thanks to her.

An hour later you arrive in familiar avenues, creeping out of sight into the apothecary in hopes the woman you’re looking for is working the counter.

Much to your pleasure, after a few unsuccessful attempts do you grasp her attention, edging forward under the guise of a regular hoping to converse.

“I need your help.”

Initially, she carries that sternness, wordlessly lifting your hooded head a bit to notice the latest adjustment. Shock written over her face, Mrs. Myeong drags you along with her, closing the door to a back room.

“My child, what is going on?” She whispers, tone urgent. You can’t help but feel fond of the affectionate nickname.

“I need male clothing and,” You hesitate, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “something to bind my chest with.”

Similar to Hyunjin, she steps back, assessing the situation at hand. Spending a brief few seconds roaming your figure, the woman works hastily toward fetching a petticoat, meticulously fitting each article atop your stock-still frame.

“You’re conceited,” she grumbles. “And foolish.” Carefully peeling off your upper-wear, she’s managed to cut a piece of thick cloth to use as a make-shift binder, assembling the fabric over your breast.

The experience, although strange, wasn’t as painful as anticipated.

“But be careful, and stay in contact.”

Your response is hushed.

“Breathe in,” The older woman instructs, securing her creation with a threaded pin before moving onto other aspects, like a proper coat and pants.

Mr. Myeong’s trousers, though having to be sewn to fit, make do, and you’re reminded to return tomorrow for shoes. Otherwise, the attire is completed, paired with a curved hat to finish.

Sure, the entire male concept is foreign, but given time, you’ll gradually acclimate.

Oh, right.

Your alternative?

Since medicine is what you know, you’ll stick with that. Difference being medicine is a men’s occupation, and so, if you can’t be a female working in the field, why not become male?

Well, somewhat become male.

It’s a risky wager, easily placing your life on the line in the process.

For your mother and Sun-ja, however, it’s your turn to take the beating. Your turn to endure.

Observation is a virtue. It can save and preserve, heed to oncoming danger, and simultaneously (and discreetly) supply useful information.

Today, seated on a bench in Daegu Station, your first observation is the abundance of people scurrying like mice.

Some tall, some short. Distinct moles, eyes. Upturned and downturned lips. Mustaches, beards. Much to see.

Your legs cross and uncross, Mr. Myeong’s oversized heeled shoes beginning to sink at your ankles. Hat strung low enough to peer out without attracting attention, your gaze is magnetically drawn to a magazine held on the adjacent side of the train tracks, title on display.

Prized Alchemist Lee Minho suspected of being the lone survivor of the Red Plagu—

Ignorant to your surroundings, your senses posed numb to the incoming train, blocking off the last few words of the title from view the moment it soars past—nearly sweeping the fedora off your head.

By the time the last few train cars passed, the man honing said magazine had disappeared, and you were left wondering if the experience was merely a figment of your imagination.

Although, you did have one lead. A name.

Lee Minho.

Where you’d find him remained unknown, deciding to rely on a magazine parlor first and foremost for more intel.

To no surprise, nearly every magazine rack lay lined with haughty opinions regarding the war and its evident cruelty.

Many onlookers of both Americans, Koreans, and foreigners alike chatter amongst themselves about their own take between gossiping hands and fumes of tobacco.

In this town, located far off in the business district by a ship port, people are everywhere.

Wives of sailors, families of soldiers off at war. Women honing gleaning parasols and ivory gloves reaching to their elbows.

Languages you’ve never heard before utter their enunciated syllables, vocabulary petulant with accent—all shrouded in dismay.

Roaming the store endlessly to no avail, you prepare to adventure back through dusty streets and battered wooden stall-shops before a peculiar name pauses your footsteps.

His name, The Alchemist, Lee Minho.

“Bring ‘em home I tell ‘ya,” An aged man by the deepened grooves of his face, hollow cheekbones and bunched wrinkles grumbles.

A fat cigar hangs loosely from thin lips, pale baker boy cap adorning a bald head.

Some sentences estranged, you identify his sentences as French, heavy in dialect, throaty and broad.

And although your fluency stay patchy, exposure from French immigrants who’ve relocated near home allow minimal understanding as to what they’re talking about.

“Say, did you hear that Lee Minho chap was a Red Plague?” His counterpart offered past his own leering cigar, foot tapping incessantly.

The other hacks his bewilderment, feeble fist pounding on an equally feeble chest.

“The Alchemist?”

The man’s astonishment returned with a nod, you lean closer, pretending to be consumed in an article.

“Said he was only nineteen when it happened. Shipped ‘em off only for disease to kill them all. One survived, now people are speculatin’ it’s him.”

Either of them sigh out long drags.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Is all the other huffs in disbelief, and upon recognizing the conversation approaching an end, you stir to action, willing your voice to deepen an octave.

Attempting to appeal in your broken French, you stall the two, cautiously claiming you’re in need of his whereabouts for an esteemed business transaction to which, through confused stares, you’re given loose directions.

Loose, but feasible.

80 Kent Avenue, dark blue doors.

Directions that, according to the sudden blank of streetlights, would have to wait until tomorrow. As for now, the world beckoned you to rest, and any progress would prove futile and rather impossible in the dark.

Luckily, a run-down Inn gifted good few hours of shut-eye before dawn peered through the windowsills and you were begrudgingly forced to your feet.

Fitting the binder snug across your body and fastening your trench coat through minuscule belt loops, you’re taught with much haste the stark difference of men’s prestige entitlement.

First access to everything, the ability to have their way with a woman whether she willingly obliges or not, and just about ten billion other things someone of your hidden status couldn’t fathom.

A man’s world is a world only possible through disguise. Yours just happens to be a last resort.

Charming the mistress at the front desk was unexpectedly effortless, not to mention how easily she spilled the details as to where Kent Avenue would be located.

Another noticeable attribute of your new appearance, no one asked as to where you were going nor your intentions, they merely dipped their heads and wished you off.

Adjustments.

Adjustments that, if you’d been born different, would be normal.

Kent Avenue lay twisted in shadows. The surrounding area brims in barely flickering labels and creaking doorways leading to who knows where. Quaint isn’t the word for it. More ancient, all-knowing.

This place has been here for centuries with many stories to tell, most just haven’t heard them yet.

Significantly dark blue doors make the Alchemist’s residence easily noticeable, starkly contrasting with wooded architecture. Massive doorknobs engraved with lions, windows shielded by moth-eaten curtains. Grand, in its own form.

You swore each door stood eight feet tall, the left in particular left slightly ajar.

Wait, ajar?

Doing a double take to ensure your vision wasn’t playing tricks on you, you inch forward, widening the dark gap exponentially until all you faced was a black abyss—apart from the miniature lamp beaming yellow light in a far corner.

Carefully tiptoeing into said black abyss, the further you explore, the greater the visibility increases. Leather cushioned furniture, clean, polished desks. The desk the lone lamp rests upon is a chestnut wooden, ink feathers residing in the upper corner.

Somehow, the matter grants envy, resentment grating your nerves. This man lives comfortably while other’s are beaten for possessing nothing. Maybe it’s a petty, unnecessary thought; and maybe you’re foolish, but all odds are against you, your disposition seems righteous.

Getting too lost in your head turned out foolish as well.

“What’s this?” A voice behind you whispers, voice ghosting chills tickling your neck at an alarming pace.

Whipping around, eyes struck wide in shock, the person responsible for the remark comes into view, his stature opposing the tone muttered in your ear seconds ago.

Not a plump business man like you imagined, not adorning a spectacle, no pipe in sight. Instead, one lone button right below the chest fits snug white sleeves cuffed by his elbows, black vest hugging a slim torso.

Conniving, cat-like eyes analyze your expressions while dark brown hair parts to the side, loose strands covering his right eyebrow. And when he reaches up to brush a few frayed tresses to the side you note sleek gloves covering long, pale fingers.

If anything, this man is more similar to a Vampire.

“Trespassing, are we?”

Collect yourself. This is your opportunity.

Swiftly brushing off your clothes, you clear your throat.

“I have an offer.”

“An offer?” A smile belonging to that of a Cheshire cat adorns his lips, one leg propping itself over the other, fingers intertwining in front of him.

Ensuring your voice is clear and concise (while keeping the deeper, male-ish tone), you state your claim, despising how utterly debilitating it feels being caught under his observative stare.

Like he sees through you.

“I would be a valuable asset to your studies in alchemy. I know about herbs and their uses better than anyone else, and where they’re located.”

Sure, the bargain might’ve sounded arrogant, but you were technically cosplaying as a man when most men of your time couldn’t shut up about themselves, arrogance was the least of your problems.

Gnawing at his cheek as you spoke, he pauses a moment, then laughs.

Amused.

Dark lashes dust above equally dark eyes, nearly black as they study you.

“You want to be my apprentice? Is that it?”

You remain close-lipped.

“I’ll tell you one thing, kid. This world is all about money,” He raises a cane from where he reclined, using the end to tip your chin up and meet his eyes.

“No?”

To which you simply stare back at him, refusing to avert eye-contact.

“I’m sure that’s what you’re here for anyways.” Rising from his place, he sighs heartily. “But see, I’m a greedy man, not a good man.”

Abruptly, his countenance falls flat.

“And my job isn’t fun, so you’re out of luck.”

Immediately, you’re frantic, trying your hardest to ignore his obvious statement to leave. The last thing you need is to run out of luck, run out of options.

And so, you hastily wrack your mind for a solution, an excuse, whatever keeps you in this dimly lit room.

“You- You were part of the Red Plague, weren’t you?” Spitting out words from the depths of your racing mind, The Alchemist stops, fixing you with an unreadable look.

Red Plague as in, the group of young men enlisted during the war that all died of a deadly disease but one. One who, many speculate is the man before you.

Breathe in.

“I may not know much about you, but I know what it’s like to want to save somebody.”

Breathe out.

Now it was his turn to stand there, and for a second you swore you saw a flash of sympathy cross his face.

You wet your lips. “I’ll run your errands and wash your clothing, I’ll clean this place spotless. Plus, it’s not like I’m a woman asking for a job, so please, give me a chance.”

Slowly, The Alchemist raises a brow, laugh disbelieving.

“Since when did being a woman have anything to do with this?”

Huh?

How.. odd.

If anything, the majority would wholeheartedly agree, likely hiring you on the spot with how impalpable such a jest seemed.

He would’ve laughed, maybe slapped your back. Would’ve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, proclaimed you his friend.

Yet, you almost feel flattered. Flattered in a strange, unrealistic manner.

Basking in a deplorable quietness, The Alchemist sighs, combing a gloved hand through silken strands.

“I have a spare room around that corner.” He points, leather gloves narrowly highlighted by orange lighting. “Make yourself useful, hm?”

And like that, even if it was a long shot, you landed it. More specifically, landed a job.

How preposterous.

How exciting.

Yet, it began hesitantly. As if he was initially testing your usefulness. Sending you on runs to the nearby gardens, having you make sure a concoction didn’t derange itself while he fetched better flasks. Easy things.

However, you didn’t complain. A boring job was better than no job, and as long as a few coins were emptied into your pocket afterward, you’d continue to work without whining.

Burdock, oregano. Motherwort that would erupt billows of chemically-infused air when added to oils or sugars.

Then you noticed The Alchemist. His quirks, his characteristics.

He shifts between a long trench coat or tight vests, his hair is always styled a certain way, though some days, when he just wakes up, he has this tiny bird nest of hair atop his head, it’s charming.

He yawns a lot.

He wears heeled shoes, maybe from his shorter height, maybe preference.

And rather peculiarly, the longer you stay in his lair, the greater you notice the many scars littering his forearms, collarbones. Miniature cuts and imprints left on porcelain skin.

Those observations, conjoined with his reactions, make for a truly interesting character.

Reactions being his dislike toward loud noises, the matter in which his shoulders scrunch at a loud clap outside, eyes blown wide, fearful.

The longer you stay in his lair, the more you notice him, nonetheless his fears. Whether suspicion clarifies anything in specific, there’s no denying he’s a man of war.

Lee Minho has secrets, and as badly as your nosiness itches to uncover them, you, as you had promised earlier, will keep your lips sealed.

And it makes you wonder, what’s life like on your side of the street? What throng of unfairness left you awash, left you both suffering?

You wonder about your oppositions and similarities in different points of each other’s lives. Minutes, decades before you ever met.

Certain stones shall stay unturned, but you hope, maybe one day, those questions will be answered.

Interestingly enough, he never asked about your name; not even when you gingerly introduced yourself as your last name, a rather awkward fit.

Likewise, you don’t complain. There’s only two of you in the house after all.

A week in, you’re finally introduced to something new.

The Alchemist plans to have you tag along with him to Port Nova, a docking station located on the outskirts of Busan.

Business thrives in ship ports, the sole source of connectivity for a growing country like Korea. Each day, millions of shipments come in from countries you can’t name, so you’re not surprised in the slightest he’s headed there for a transaction.

You are surprised he decided to have you tag along.

Even more so that, as you hop off the transit, hurriedly tailing his left, he veers off a sharp turn, approaching a worn Burlesque Club, glittering sign halfway dangling from its perch on a scarlet red awning.

English letters spell out Nova Burlesque, a few missing letters left astray to the side, electrical bulbs spasming with sporadic lighting on the dusty ground below.

In the daylight, the place appears ordinary, blending in with its crumbling, desolate surroundings.

Although, you have no doubt this place utterly delights in the eve, pink-neon inviting enough to lure unaware foreigners upon first arrival.

“Mr. Lee,” You utter, returned with a short scoff from the man who insisted you refer to him by his name, Minho.

“Where are we going?”

It’s hesitant, unsure of whether to intervene, but Minho only smirks, whispering a not-very-assuring “You’ll see” you begrudgingly go along with.

Inside is the last of what you anticipated.

Oh dear.

You’ve only been to minimal Burlesque Clubs, but the ornery perspective of faux jewelry, a glittery, hallucinatory stage, and the constant rendition of Why Don’t You Do Right whirling on scratchy records isn’t present here.

Alternatively, there’s stools scattered around a marginally illuminated clearing, some upturned, others occupied by burly men with equally burly beards.

And in the middle, a boxing ring is situated. The stench of sweat and blood soaks the air in a metallic, pungent aroma.

A brisk realization crosses your mind, a conclusion of a sort.

Play a fool’s game, earn a fool’s reward.

Only you, Hyunjin, and Ms. Myeong know the lengths you’re willing to go to secure your family's well-being, and now, at odds you can’t compromise, you have to do everything in your power to maintain your act.

This is a test.

Sifting behind you, he murmurs a hushed: “Cover your ears.” That you begrudgingly oblige to, cupping either hand over your ears as Minho clutches his leather holster, concealed within the confines of a frequently worn coat.

In a split second, a gunshot is fired to the ceiling, the bullet's shell casing dropping atop the welt of his pointed shoe.

Stunned silence ensues.

Arm still extending the revolver in the air, you haphazardly remove your hands, dragging the hat further over your face as more eyes focus on the both of you.

“I’m looking for Reiner and Manfred.”

The longer the tension rises, the further you grow self conscious.

“Already?” A man bellows from inside the ring, breaking the awestruck spell whilst gripping his opponent by the collar, fist poised and ready to strike.

Unusually, they seem to know each other.

Minho merely exhales a loud sigh through his nose, practically two times smaller than his apparent acquaintance.

Said acquaintances grumbles.

“Leave it to our champion to interrupt the show.”

And with that, he hooks the contender in the jaw, sending him pummeling down to the tarnished mat where hoards either cheer or groan, hustling money left and right over the victor.

Champion of the show? You’re adding that to your collection of never ending questions that’ll likely stay unanswered.

From the crowd arises two men. The victor from the ring and another from the crowd, dressed lavishly opposed to his white tank top-wearing counterpart.

Reiner and Manfred, you assume.

Serving as a mere shadow in The Alchemist’s wake, the four of you hustle outside, met with a nonplussed Minho and two, mildly confused (and enormously tall) men.

Foreigners, certainly.

“..Care to introduce the pipsqueak?” Reiner presumably more talkative, piques, beady eyes scouring your figure enough to where you scorn the beads of sweat collecting upon your temple.

Pipsqueak my foot.

You stave down the retort, inhabiting Minho’s shadow as the three discuss matters of a hospital transaction. Almost like you weren’t there at all, as it’s always been.

If it weren’t for the technicalities, you would’ve interjected, made your presence known. Except, other than herbal instances, you’re a novice in the business department. You’ll leave that up to your current mentor to arrange.

Again, lips sealed.

Minho, ignorant to the previous victor’s question, continues to sign legal documents supplied by the calmer individual, Manfred. You internally thank the gesture.

Well, before Reiner’s sordid gaze becomes too stifling to brush off.

“I’m Mr. Lee’s apprentice, L/N. Nice to meet you,” You initiate, fearlessly reaching out a hand he heartily shakes, features graced with amusement, massive hand practically engulfing yours.

Pardoning a gruff “Likewise”, he nearly sends you flying from the timbre of his voice alone.

“Say,” Reiner mutters, finally completing the last of the package transfers. “Don’t you think this one seems a bit feminine?”

Your jaw ticks, nervousness shrouding your being like an unrelenting fog. Minho’s fingers close around your elbow, pulling you closer, brows knit.

“Perhaps you need your eyes checked, Reiner,” He offers, tone nonchalant opposed to the vice-like grip latched to your arm.

Heftily chortling, the man only pats your back, causing your entire body to surge forward upon impact.

“Well regardless, it’s a cute little thing ain’t it?”

Manfred simply grunts his acknowledgment while you bite your tongue, coveting your retaliation when he referred to you as “it”.

No use growing angered. The feeling is futile.

Luckily, your irritable arrangement comes to a hasty close, more than gleeful to have an understandably annoyed Minho steer you from Port Nova onto a short train back to Kent Avenue, to your newly established home.

A home, but not really a home. Semi-permanent, unofficial.

Either way, you wouldn’t complain. Despite the constant efforts in diminishing your past identity, you didn’t feel as conscious when around Minho.

Safer.

As if, in an alternative reality, you could tell him. Your truths, your burdens.

No. You won’t jeopardize this opportunity. You can’t.

At least, not yet.

“I’ll be back Mr. Lee!” You shout, wielding a briefcase bag to your person, nudging the ghoulish door open using your hip.

As usual, you’re headed off on a restocking trip.

Except on this occasion, the restocking consists of hunting down a peculiar herb: Chinese Chrysanthemum. It’s an appealing plant with fluorescent leaves and a constant need for sunlight.

It’s no surprise he’s sent you to fetch such goods. After two months, you soared in and out of the residence routinely, scouring Korea while Minho hunched over a wildly diverse array of vials and flasks, glasses propped on his slightly hooked nose, hands firmly resting on a wooden exam table.

Studious. He is very studious.

However, a catch diverts itself from eye view. A catch you hadn’t considered until your two feet stepped from squealing train tracks.

Somehow, although unusually intentional, you wound up in a rather peculiar area. An area you never imagined paying a visit to in your wildest dreams.

In the midst of economic outrage and warring circumstances, you’re standing in one of Korea’s most unstable, informal districts. A place that, according to your overhearing ear, was where your precious Chrysanthemum lodged.

This district had an infamous name.

The Den.

A fitting name in actuality, where a person didn’t realize they were stuck till it was too late, unable to see where they’re going, living in belief there’s an incentive to the finish line in a race run in circles.

Also, a place the Sharks who torment your family report to.

You can hear your heart thrumming in your ears, nearly ricocheting out of your chest with its horrid cacophony.

Calm down.

Calm down. Think of the goal.

All you have to do is find a flower.

Grounding yourself, you pinpoint some viable resources.

Fertile soil, maybe even sandy, likely in the inner portion of The Den.

Plus, you’re dressed as a man, you might as well act outrageously boisterous.

But you’re not, you’re afraid. Perhaps not external, but inside, your lungs feel as if they’re being violently crushed, sinking deeper in an unsteady submersible to the very bottom of the ocean. And for a second, you truly contemplate going back, telling Minho you’re incapable of the task.

Yet, what would you say? You’re haunted by a vision that hasn’t happened? Fearful for a future event with no guarantee? If you had ever done something so horrid, they would’ve found you ages ago.

This time, you’re in their domain, invading what’s theirs as they’ve done to you.

Greater. You aren’t who you used to be, in more ways than one.

Genuinely, what is there to lose?

That’s it. You’ll complete the mission and return. No run-ins, no fear barricading your job.

In and out.

Initially, you scout out your surroundings, regarding the faint sound of voices funneling in the distance, the smell of mixtures you hate being able to identify, far off machinery croaking before smoke spurs from rusted screws and bolts.

Amongst the chatter of street vendors and the many, notorious gang members patrolling in and out of abandoned shops, you roam avidly, keeping as low a profile as possible.

Number one priority is to not be noticed. Drawing attention to yourself is a one way ticket to failure, and the last thing you need is to arrive back to Minho empty-handed.

However, through the blinding clouds of smoke billowing from exhaust pipes, a specific building, shrouded in the shadows of charcoal residue, douses your peripheral.

A Greenhouse.

Bingo.

Quickly looking around, you shrink low to the ground, racing forward to carefully creak open glass double doors and slip inside.

It feels as if you’re enclosed in a furnace. Mere seconds in and sweat already begins gathering upon your temples.

Though that becomes the least of your concerns after assessing what lies inside.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands of flowers and herbs. Rare species, some critically endangered, just sitting here.

It’s strange.

Why would, in the case such an abundance existed, not be used? Why hadn’t this Greenhouse been raptured from the inside out for such valuable items?

It’s not until a commotion stirs ahead of you that you understand the answer to the question.

With about five plucked Chinese Chrysanthemums expertly sealed into their coordinating bags, a piercing hiss followed by multiple shouts and hollers cause you to shrink back, gazing around haphazardly.

A hiss?

From your perspective nearly kissing the dirt, your vision allows a minuscule glimpse of multiple backs turned, boisterously amused men gathering around something in the front of the Greenhouse.

You feel the need to know more.

Inching forward tip-toe by tip-toe, amidst the roaring crowd, you spare a look between the sea of legs to find an utterly deplorable sight.

A cat.

No, not just a cat, cat fighting. They’re watching cats maul each other for the fun of it. As if they aren’t living creatures, but toys for their entertainment.

And perhaps it’s a foolish decision, perhaps laughable being worried, being angered, but you are and you refuse to leave knowing you could’ve done something to help them.

Hastily scouring the floors, a can of Spam discarded below Foxglove stems proves useful enough, tossing it as far as possible where it whacks against the glass wall, immediately averting their attention.

This is your chance.

As dark clouds and incoming rain thunder outside, you don’t waste the opportunity, sprinting forward while the men make toward the direction of the sound and hoisting the first cat you see into your arms.

Sprinting past narrow pathways and dimly lit streets, you force your eardrums numb to the threats they call after you, mind trained on one thing besides getting as far as possible from here.

To Minho to Minho to Minho.

A hand grabbing your shoulder causes you to shriek, swiftly dragged off where you swear your last breaths will be taken, the feline in your arms scrambling with panic.

“What are you doing?” Your captor furiously whispers, hidden in the low lighting of an apparent alleyway.

Wait. You recognize that voice.

“Hyunjin?”

How does he recognize you?

Just then does a breeze swipe past your head, sending chills trickling down your rain-soaked neck.

Your hat is gone. Must’ve fell off while you were running.

“Wh.. what are you doing?” Slipping from his grasp after the men’s hushed conversation becomes inaudible, you regard the man with an incredulous stare.

“Answer my question first,” He reprimands, and as the cat resounds a pained meow do you assess the dire nature of the situation.

You need to get this cat to Minho, and fast.

“Can’t- Can’t talk right now I’ve got to go—“

“Wait!”

Though, as your footsteps breach the security of the alley, the placating cry of crows mock your left, hurried footsteps belonging to those occupying the Greenhouse heading toward you in rampant haste.

Hyunjin’s hand holding your wrist, you grace a tight-lipped smile his way.

“Let’s not see each other like this again, okay?”

He returns a miniature grin, teeming with mischief.

“Agreed.”

Upon letting go, you race off, attempting to speedily navigate back to the train station whilst torrents of streaming droplets cascade down your face.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks, I’ll need it!” You respond back, voice permeated against the rain, eyes frantically searching for a place to evade.

Finally, a crowd appears, swarming amongst diners and flickering street lights.

Your perfect hideaway.

Swimming through the hive of people, you catapult yourself into the nearest phone booth in sight, fumbling through deep pockets before cashing a coin into the metal slot and jarring your index over slippery metal numbers.

Praying the combination is correct as you hold the wired telephone to your ear, you’re consumed with utmost relief upon hearing The Alchemist’s voice answer on the other side of the crackling line.

Amidst roaring rainfall drowning the booth, you differentiate shouting a ways off, likely belonging to the men from earlier.

“Mr- Mr. Lee?”

“Yes? Where are you?”

“Are you.. Are you allergic to cats?”

Never in your life did you think you would be so overjoyed seeing blue doors.

Clambering inside—the rather upset cat in your arms hissing their dismay—you’re overwhelmed with an unexplainable happiness seeing Minho’s face peer from the guest room.

Relief.

“L/N wha..”

Words dying in his throat as he gives you a speechless once over, your urge to hug him dissipates instantly, beckoning a new set of garments upon realizing how utterly drenched your precious disguise is.

Simultaneously shoving the cat his way before rushing to your room, you thankfully strip of your fretfully cold attire, welcomed in the comforting embrace of clean clothing.

A mere five minutes later you exit, greeted by Minho’s stockstill frame. Hand half-raised, evidently about to knock.

You forcefully clear your throat, praying the momentary awkward tension is alleviated.

Luckily, The Alchemist takes it upon himself to break the spell, eyes dancing across the floorboards in order to avoid your own.

“Well, she’s stable. Her vitals are fine, nothing too critical apart from a few cuts here and there. Just shaken up.”

Your stare of astonishment earns a confused tip of his head.

“That fast?”

Said (apparently female) cat rubbing her body along your calf with an obviously delighted purr, you appear nearly concussed, crouching down to pat the soft, striped fur lining her back.

Minho snorts.

“What can I say, I get work done.”

Maybe he is a vampire after all.

Mirroring your crouch, he watches your interaction, similarly feline-like inspection unnoticed till glancing up.

And for a swift moment, you swear he saw through you. Lips parted, eyes scrutinizing. Piecing together the building blocks to a wavering structure you’d strived so hard to build, to protect.

No. You’re overthinking. He couldn’t possibly know.

You failed to notice the forlorn look on his face, one that ushers to ask if you’re okay, fetch a hot beverage to warm your evidently cold hands.

“Might I ask how you ended up bringing this one home?”

Leave it to him to take the title as your greatest ally and worst enemy at the same time.

Ah. Right.

“Y’know I was about to get to that-”

You pause, deriding the high pitch of your voice into something more appropriate. He cocks a brow.

“As I was saying, it wasn’t my intention to bring her back, but the place she was trapped at, the place with the men- the plants..”

According to his expression, you’ve grown two heads.

…

“Go on.”

“Look, the place I found the Chrysanthemum was having cat fights. Do you remember hearing about the dog fights in Gangwon? It’s the same thing. We can’t just sit still while they’re torturing innocent animals.”

“I don’t know what you got yourself into, but I’m an Alchemist, not a hero,” He sighs, and your hand stalls its petting, face falling while the cat in your lap flicks her tail back and forth expectantly.

He has a point. You got yourself into this, you went into the Greenhouse. It’s not his duty to clean up after your messes, but perhaps you can convince him, even by a small margin.

Play a fools game, earn a fools reward.

You’ll mop the floor of your own mess.

“Minho, please. Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?”

Stifling silence making an additional appearance, you nervously await the verdict, perched rather hilariously outside of your bedroom door.

Chewing the skin of his cheek, he scolds himself for falling so susceptible to you, though you won’t ever know that.

“Fine, but you’d better have a plan.”

Ah. Great.

You don’t.

At dawn’s arrival you’re swept upward, fixing a hasty bout of tea and toast prior to dressing in the privacy of your appreciated quarters.

You don a much-needed hat, hopping aboard the first train of the day with a well-dressed Minho in tow.

Retracing your steps turns out easier than you anticipated, The Alchemist tailing you as you had done him at Port Nova.

Though, just when the task seemed a cake walk, you manage a meager detour, regarding your unimpressed mentor.

“From what I can remember, it’s around here somewhere. But I might be wrong, I stumbled upon it by accident and it looks a bit scary but I think—“

“Stop! Stop- Stop talking. Please.”

You quickly shut your mouth, allowing the man to lead instead till the sight of familiar landmarks becomes a gradual reassurance of your location.

Perhaps now it’s safe to talk.

“Mr. Lee, what did Reiner mean by calling you a champion-“

Shoved against the brick wall, your sentence dies instantly, panickedly glancing in all directions assessing the all too familiar pistol Minho‘s drawn, conspicuous in close proximity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He enunciates, tone unusually gruff whilst scanning your surroundings.

Your face warms an involuntary pink you clamber to ward off, drawn to the sight of his tense jaw and the feather-like arrangement of long lashes, focused on something elsewhere.

Your retort dies not only from his beauty, but upon the familiar Greenhouse coming into view.

“Looks like we found where your little friends are playing.”

Though, as the man begins forward, you grab him by the sleeve.

“Wait! We can’t just waltz in.”

His hand, slipping from the warmth of his pocket, cups your chin, unbearably close to your face to the point you can feel his breath on your nose.

Curse the butterflies.

“Well there’s no need for an introduction, so let’s listen this time, shall we?”

Left at a loss for words either from your slack mouth or the concerning amount of sweat building upon your palms, you don’t argue back, lingering right outside the door, craning to hear voices.

By the sound of it, at least four people are inside at the moment, and the longer you stay out here, the more ample time becomes for additional threats to show up.

As if reading your mind, he slips through the rugged door, gesturing for you to follow while silently navigating through dense, humid underbrush and overgrown foliage.

However, your quiet voyage is quelled when a twig, unbeknownst to the two of you, cracks under the pressure of his foot.

“Shit,” He mutters, cringing back at the immediate quietness that ensued.

The Alchemist curses as well.

Interesting.

Amidst the men bearing closer, Minho turns to you, tone urgent.

“When I get up, you run and free the cats. Don’t look back, just go.”

Nodding hastily, you reacquaint yourself with the area, ensuring a dead set beeline to where the cats were held without interruptions.

Minho, a split second before you can ask a question, whips the gun from his coat pocket, the sound of bullets whipping through the air enough indication it’s time you go.

Finnicking hands make it hard to unscrew the wired cages, surges of adrenaline helping speed up the rescue as you double check every feline has escaped.

Heeding to instruction, you don’t look for The Alchemist, solely driven to freeing the cats and fleeing the scene. No more problems.

Almost an exact replica to your last visit here, a hand drags you off right as you exit the Greenhouse doors, back pressed against his (whom you realized was Minho, not Hyunjin, thanks to the leather gloves) front.

And perhaps from running, perhaps from something else, you can feel his heartbeat, oscillating in a nonstop orchestra that sends your own heart pounding from the confines of your rib cage.

Stifling a shaky inhale you’d held in as the last of the perpetrators scattered elsewhere, you instantly step back, denying every urge to coddle him like a child, fretfully check him for injury.

A certain fondness lay reserved for Lee Minho, a fondness you can’t discern of at the moment.

“C’mon, quick, Soonie might get scared if we’re gone for too long,” He ushers, crashing your tunneling train of thought right off its rails in the process.

“Yeah-“

You stop.

“Soonie?”

“Yeah, Soonie.”

“You named her?”

“..Yes.”

It’s a genuine struggle hiding your laugh.

“I didn’t find you the type to take in cats.”

“Today you’ve been proven wrong, apparently.”

A sort of giddiness you never experienced fills your chest, wishing nothing more than to look back at the man and swoon.

How could you not? He was very much dexterous, and attractive without a doubt, that much was known to anyone who laid eyes on The Alchemist.

Your trek home proved relatively easy, able to skillfully get to the station away from prying eyes and trod along a mixture of gravel and dusty roads without issue.

Silently celebrating your success, you nudge your counterpart's hip, the unimpressed side-eye he grants doing little to dull your happiness.

“Aren’t you an Alchemist? How come you’re oddly good with a gun?”

He clicks his tongue.

“Aren’t you my apprentice? How come you’re getting yourself into trouble when your only instruction was to fetch herbs?”

You conceal a smile he obviously catches, glare failing to quiet your bubbling laughter, his own lips tugging upward.

“It was necessary Mr. Lee! And you know you love Soonie.”

“Unfortunately.”

Nearly a month into her residence, and Soonie has become an effervescent force to be reckoned with. Although initially sassy and wary, she’s transformed into the most affectionate cat you’d ever met.

You have to give it to her, she’s grown on the both of you, a lot.

Plus, you might just have to thank her for unleashing Minho’s tender side, whether that’s the two of them cuddling on the couch while he naps or him picking her up and treating her like a baby while you watch from afar.

Over the course of the five months you’ve been here, you’ve sent countless checks back home—enough to where dues could finally be paid and the hope for a good life came into view.

Everything seems right, seems ideal.

But of course, on an equally ideal Thursday evening, a thousand pounds of bricks drops right on top of your head.

“How long were you planning to keep it from me?”

He, Lee Minho, The Alchemist, voices.

Simultaneously, your stomach plummets to your feet, peeking over your shoulder to find his back facing you, hunched over a straus flask.

Then the bomb drops.

“You being a woman, that is.”

Abruptly pausing, you don’t reply, worried you’d say the wrong thing, unintentionally summon the catalyst to this arising catastrophe.

Yet, you can’t stay quiet for too long. And a fear lingered inside, a fear that if he looked at you, you would break.

“Forever.”

Doing just what you dreaded, he turns to you, wearing a horribly serious expression.

You avoid eye-contact.

“Because you thought I would fire you?”

A nod.

“And that’s why you said that, when you first came to me? That you weren’t a woman asking for a job?”

Another nod.

He sighs, pulling glasses from atop a hooked nose. You remain staring at the floor.

“I don’t decide who to hire based on what they are. If you can do your job and do it well, you’re worthy enough to work.”

Minho spoke softly, the dim, orange lighting of his lamplight doing little to shake how overwhelming the occasion is, how it feels as if your disguise is wearing, thinning to an impossible degree.

Except, your world isn’t ending like you thought it would if someone found out, so why do you feel so heartbroken? So overstimulated with realization?

“How did you..” you trail off, raging tears longing to spill.

No, you can’t afford to cry now. You’ve held out so far, it will stay that way.

Should stay that way.

Minho dips his head lower in order to fully see you in all your lip-chewing, anxiety-ridden glory. The ghost of a smile rests upon his lips.

“It was impossible not to tell. You’re unusually tiny, those shoes are massive, and, um, I do the laundry.”

Watching his once bemused expression dissipate, you mark this as the first time you’ve ever seen him genuinely flustered—and, upon realizing he’d likely seen more than necessary as well, you’re also diminished to a bright red.

The room wilts in stillness before he exhales, stepping a bit closer to where you linger by the bookshelf, your heels tapping against the frame.

Tone minimizing itself terribly gentle, The Alchemist carefully collects your cheeks in his hands, urging you to see him, see those terribly thoughtful brown eyes granting a terribly kind disposition.

“It’s been scary, hasn’t it?”

Well, you had held out thus far.

Cracking into pieces, you melt like droplets of honey in his fingertips. He perfectly catches them in the jar.

Out of anyone in this world, you can’t help but be grateful he was the one who found out, found you.

Chest bubbling with breaking sobs, Minho’s thumbs caress your under eyes, swiping away the many salty droplets in their continuous descent.

Own hands shakily reaching up to hold his resting on your face, you stand there, soaking in his wooded, earthy scent and the soft hums he occasionally emits as if a reminder he’s still there, listening to your cries without intent to leave.

“Mr.. Mr. Lee… It was so scary, I’m so tired Mr. Lee,” You hiccup, mentally berating the endlessly freefalling tears, how your once staved emotions reduced your strong, dutiful voice into nothing but a stuttering mess.

Carefully swiping drool from your chin, he leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t know why you did it, but I promise it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

Then another kiss to your forehead, staying there until your sniffling and breathing calms.

Gathering yourself if only slightly, you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him into a warm hug he gradually accepts after a beat of shock.

“Thank you, Minho.”

And just when he thought the shock faded, he’s struck again from the sound of his name leaving your mouth.

Minho.

Mr. Lee had been charming, but Minho, it was different. A good kind of different.

He particularly favored the way it sounded falling off your lips, two syllables he’d replay over and over, savoring each a little bit more than the last.

More so, he wished to substitute his nagging thoughts with you, have you narrate the phrases bouncing inside his skull.

Perhaps then everything wouldn’t be so loud, if he had your voice to nullify the battlefield.

Unfortunately forced to separate, Minho adjusts his tie, clearing his throat in a manner you can’t help but feel nervous about.

You like this flustered Minho.

“I’ll.. I’ll run you a bath.”

You wince at the rawness of your skin when your face wrinkles in a chuckle.

“Do I smell?”

Minho, frantically scrambling for an excuse, rubs his temples, exasperation evident in the grooves of his face, the curve and dip of prominent cheekbones portraying a mature visage.

“No I-“ He grumbles. “It helps calm you down.”

Merely able to halfway staunch your irrevocable glee, you call his name as he begins stepping out, ears an adorable pink.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N. L/N is my last name.”

Not allowing you view of his front-side, you listen to his whispering with delight, testing the newly discovered title on his tongue as if to memorize it.

Ah, you’re falling in love.

Or maybe you’ve already fallen.

Hastily closing the door behind himself and letting you get situated in the bath, it’s not long into your relaxing that you notice a shadow seeping through the door’s crack, a figure standing there, debating.

“Minho?” You announce amusedly, watching the shadow jump and causing you to bite your frothing laugh whilst choosing what to say next.

“Would you like to join me?”

The Alchemist audibly chokes on his saliva outside the door.

Sparing a few seconds for him to collect his oxygen, you hadn’t been prepared for when he replies a quiet: “Another time”.

Your eyebrows shoot up with surprise.

Daring.

Then his shadow, after furious shuffling, disappears, serving as a reminder of your extended time spent bathing.

Assembling the copper drain and pulling foreign nightwear over dampened skin, opposed to your usual rush to your room, you allow the chilling air to grant its harsh greeting, leaving the steamy room in its wake.

No more secrets. What a breath of fresh air.

Minho, still cooped up at his desk like routine, barely moves when you place your hands on his shoulders, adorning those charismatic glasses, lips pursed thoughtfully.

“You should go get some rest Mr– Minho,” You beckon, response a sleepy blink of his eyes, obviously exhausted.

“...I really wanted to kiss you.”

The remark drifting off as a murmur, you crane to hear him, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Hm?” Humming, you lightly push his back toward his quarters, the man begrudgingly following your inaudible orders.

At least he’s cooperating.

Abruptly, he turns around, evading your hands that ease his back forward, sporting a pout adorable enough you might just lose your mind.

How unfair that someone could behave like this and expect you to not go insane.

“When you started crying.” His eyes flicker to your lips, if only for a moment. “I really wanted to kiss you.”

A portion of your stock-still frame wants to blame his tiredness, but another so badly wants it to be true, wants those words to be irrevocably real.

Fighting the urge to scream with how stupidly childish he’s making you feel, you reject every ounce of sensibility, looping one arm around his neck, using your other hand’s index to tug him closer by the belt loop.

Trust, the feeling is mutual.

Why waste the opportunity?

“What’s stopping you?”

The utterance barely graces air, and in milliseconds he’s crashing into your lips, a wordless confession it is real, not a mere figment of your imagination.

Stumbling to loosen his tie whilst keeping your faces impossibly connected, you fall deeper and deeper into the manner he tilts his head, expertly diminishing you into puddy in his touch.

Back and forth, memorizing your taste on his tongue.

Clumsy footsteps lead to his sofa, your fingers tangled in his dark strands, his kneading your waist.

And it’s not until your lungs cry for oxygen that you pull apart, Minho’s bottom lip tugged and bitten, yours swollen with his feverish kisses.

Both of you avidly messy, you can’t bring yourself to care, too busy enjoying the afterglow, his dazed smile.

“Whoever you want to save,” He starts, carefully smoothing over your skin with his thumb . “I will save them, deal?”

Returning that same lazy smile he directs at you, the both of you lean back on the couch, a twine of legs and limbs flailing in every direction.

Close, closer.

A part of you aches at the thought, blinking up at such a stunning tragedy. Aches knowing you can’t return the favor, can’t say the same, promise him that same promise.

Because according to the Red Plague, he’s lost that person, those people. So you remain silent, merely hoping one day they’ll receive proper eternal rest.

That's something you might be able to promise.

Tipping your chin up to where it sits right above his heart, those brilliant eyes of yours blinking up at him do little for his well-being.

Has anyone told you you’re beautiful? Because he thinks you are, he knows you are.

Just this once and I won’t rope you into anything ever again, okay?

Minho grins deeper, brows creasing, expression doused in unadulterated adoration.

“And yet, you rope me into something else,” He whispers to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s run another bath. I’ll join you this time, hm?”

FIC TAGLIST. @linocz @foxinnie8 @wonniesverse